Billy took a sip of juice while watching Jack squirm on a couch with Kate Bosworth. Last night's party had been more intense than expected. He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the exhaustion, and glanced around for the car waiting for him. He had a concert in ten hours, but all he wanted was a little more sleep.
He inhaled the cold air, pulling his jacket tighter against the sharp gusts that lashed his face. It was both invigorating and frustrating—a sensation that teetered between refreshing and irritating. But he didn't care.
The lingering mix of smoke and sweat hung in the air. The mansion was nearly empty now, just an echo of last night's chaos. Kate and Jack had rented it for a week—a reckless display of excess. Jack, though, was lucky. He had contracts with several clothing brands and media networks. Fame had hit him hard, and in the entertainment industry, he was considered a true celebrity.
-How's it going?- Billy murmured, stretching and letting out a long yawn.
One thing was clear—this crowd leaned more toward pop music. The industry had already started shifting, integrating more electronic elements into its arrangements. He had been toying with the idea for months now—maybe blending electronic sounds into his music. After all, rock had always been adaptable, evolving to fit its time, as long as it didn't lose its essence. Ballads will always be necessary for any artist. Or maybe… two versions of the same song. Now that was an interesting thought.
-Can you stop at the square? We need to make an appearance. It's mostly just workers there now, but I wouldn't mind finding a nice place for breakfast. I hear there's a great spot nearby.- The young man asked, though his mind was on more than just breakfast—he wanted to experience something beyond the usual French cuisine.
The driver nodded and took him to one of the most luxurious restaurants in Paris.
-Yeah, sure, let's go to a restaurant. Just don't make my life hell.- Billy muttered.
As he stepped out of the car, he took in the crisp morning air. Last night had been insane. His leather jacket hung open over a half-unbuttoned white shirt, paired with blueberry jeans and black Armani shoes. His long hair was slicked back, and as he pulled off his sunglasses, he realized—this was a five-star restaurant.
-Thanks, Carter.- Billy said as he strolled toward the entrance, moving like he owned the place. He didn't even acknowledge the hostess at the front.
-Sir, I'm afraid you need a reservation.- the woman informed him in French. Billy didn't understand a word.
-I'm sorry, but I'm starving, and we don't have much time.- he replied, speaking slowly and deliberately so she could understand. He slipped off his sunglasses, rubbing his temple. His headaches had become more frequent—too many back-to-back concerts. At this point, recovery was a necessity. Hot water therapy, honey tea, fresh orange juice—he followed the routine religiously.
-Then I'm afraid you'll have to leave, sir.- The woman responded firmly.
-If you kick me out, I'll piss on the carpet and tell everyone how terrible the food is. In a few months, you'll be wondering what stupid thing I did to ruin your business, and it'll all come down to the fact that you didn't bring me breakfast.- Billy said with a smirk. -No offense, darling, but I'd like to see a menu. Oh, and maybe a cup of hot chocolate… Yes, that sounds good. I hope it's decent.-
Just then, three more people walked in behind him—a cameraman, a writer, and a web developer. They looked like they'd barely slept.
-Sorry for the delay, we didn't expect you to be up for breakfast this early.- Victoria Lehman said. She had been living one of the most intense lives since she started working for Billy, despite her lack of experience.
-Apologies for the trouble, ma'am. We're just his documentary team, recording his daily life.- Victoria added, her crisp business suit giving her an air of authority that seemed to calm the hostess, who had been seconds away from calling security.
The woman hesitated before heading to the kitchen. She wasn't sure who Billy was. Security informed her that he was a musician, though not someone they listened to. She hesitated again but ultimately decided to make an exception. The way some people in the restaurant kept staring at him unsettled her, but she returned to her post at the entrance, unsure of whether to intervene or let things play out.
A waiter was sent over to take their order. Billy asked for the entire breakfast menu—tartines, croissants, croque-monsieur, croque-madame, chaussons aux pommes, and omelets.
-Unfortunately, croque-monsieur and croque-madame are just ham and cheese sandwiches with béchamel sauce.- Billy noted as he sampled the food. -Though, to be fair, the preparation is more detailed and richer than I expected.-
He took a deep breath, knowing the cameras were rolling. He described each dish, tasting and critiquing. It was a new experience—different, yet something that would likely become common in the future. Free food reviews were just another way to boost a restaurant's reputation. Still, his bill soared past 300 euros for a simple breakfast. His team joined in, sharing their thoughts. Victoria, with her refined palate, had the final say.
-It's even better when you drink something with it.- she said, sipping her hot chocolate.
Things were moving fast. Jack woke up on the massive sofa in the middle of the room, his head pounding. He vaguely remembered being with Billy last night. Most people had already left when Billy started playing the piano, filling the air with music. Somewhere in the blur, he had kissed Kate, and then… they'd passed out.
-Shit.- he muttered, checking the time. 2:30 AM. He had to be in Paris in thirty minutes—impossible. He was screwed.
This was what they called unfinished business.
-Babe, I have a concert to get to… Get ready, or we'll miss it.- Jack shouted, scrambling upstairs to find his clothes.
-Are we coming back later?- Kate asked sleepily.
-Damn it, Kate! Move! I'm the bassist! You'd better get dressed fast.- Jack yelled, shoving his things into a bag.
-Shut up, asshole!- Kate snapped.
-Billy's going to be late.- Jack muttered to himself as he bolted out the door. His reckless nature mirrored Billy's. They both had a habit of pushing things to the limit, always walking the line between chaos and control.
But Billy had Jerry. Jerry was his anchor, the one who always grounded him, taught him everything, and looked out for him like a father.
Jack turned on the radio. The music played, but the news wasn't good.
...