They filmed them in a romantic pose, one where it seemed they only moved closer just enough. Cate's rule proved entirely true—she didn't want too many people interfering in her roles. Meanwhile, Billy was only the supporting character. Even so, both women and men looked at them like pieces of meat—how unpleasant it was for him to notice those stares. He preferred a slow, complete connection, the kind that wasn't simply clean or obvious.
—Scene 45, Take 1—
The kisses continued, this time more intense, drawing in everyone who wanted to sit down or sway along. A song played from a record, and the scene carried a kind of fervor, where people approached and assumed one thing or another without hesitation.
—You could say it… I'm not familiar with this band.
—That's exactly how everyone likes it— Shiba replied, now laughing.
—It's one of the best albums from the '80s—they even teach it in class to you younger people now— Shiba added.
Watching Billy smile, he was completely naked except for a small piece of fabric covering his most intimate area, though in a way that felt natural rather than simplistic or crude. It was simply how he approached the shot.
The music blasted at full volume, and even if Billy refused to say or do anything unnecessary, he moved closer to Shiba, who wore a navy-blue shirt slightly too large for her. Without wanting to be intrusive, he did what he knew best—he provoked the moment. He lifted Shiba with strength as she let out an excited scream, carried away by the intensity, while he kissed her neck.
—Cut—
—You're strong— Cate commented, finding herself in Billy's arms.
—I am, actually. Let me help you— Billy replied, lowering her carefully, and that was it. All his scenes were fully captured—from the moment Shiba goes to his house and they talk about the teacher who discovered her, to the way Barbara Covett behaves, portrayed through Judi Dench's magnificent performance. For him, it embodied what people learn about the finest nuances of acting, and it made Billy understand that whenever he performed, he had to be completely certain. From then on, only the tour remained. The new album, Clow Dessert, with a neon image of Billy over the city—a graphic design concept he chose because three of his albums formed a sequence: photographs of different places that, together, created a single image of him walking through shifting expressions.
In the first, he sat in an open field, gazing at the horizon. From there—
The next was darkness, with only his eyes and part of his face illuminated. It was like a map, leading into the following image of him from behind. And the final one showed him turning—and that turn was what hypnotized. That was the magic. From the very beginning, Jerry believed everything had to connect, everything had to carry a subliminal thread. It was in that detail where the magic came alive—because otherwise, who could claim otherwise, or distort the truth?
—Thanks for your small pieces of advice— Billy said, knowing she had helped guide him through those roles. It taught him how to do within a role—to observe, to know when to keep his gaze neutral, and when to let his eyes speak for him.
He acted with everything he had. That was Cate's philosophy: to push yourself to the limit, to scream and explode like a real person—but only after restraint. And Cate was skilled at containing her emotions, releasing them exactly when they needed to break free. Those were the qualities of an actor. Emotions—they shaped and illuminated everything. And a truly good actor was incredibly hard to find.
It was night, and everyone wanted to go home. When the days were long, they slept in a trailer—not so small, after all.
—Well, it seems you really do want to act— Cate said.
Billy did want to become a great actor—and a great musician. He didn't want to change his appearance, but acting stirred something in him. Something told him he had to do it. And with the fame he pursued, whatever came after would remain there.
—I like it. I feel like when I do it, I can become someone else—and it's fun— Billy replied.
—It's a shame I don't get to see that very often now— Cate said aloud, convinced that most of the time it felt like a parody. And that "parody" was the kind of work she wanted to do every day—it was how everything found its resolution.
—Well, I think you should take a vacation if you can— Billy suggested, knowing that completely disconnecting from life is the best way to return to something with renewed desire. Sometimes all it takes is a moment to silence the unrest in your head—a day of celebration, a night with someone you desire, a party, or simply sleeping all day.
—A vacation—
—You know, the Bahamas… and no one from your contact list. Or wherever you like to go. I'd recommend Denmark—it's so liberating, just the peace you find there, with no one to bother you— Billy said.
The words lingered in the air.
—I heard you've got another album on the way—
—Yeah, I do. One per year—or more. Now they're pushing me to release two back-to-back— Billy replied, knowing it was normal for people to always look for the most profitable way to make money off him. A complete lack of respect. But it was what people wanted, and all of them were, in some way, part of life and its structure.
—You should come. I've got tickets for beautiful ladies— the guy laughed, looking at Cate. —I'm serious, though. You can come. I think you have my number—and Michael Ocklars', who's something like my main agent and representative. He handles everything—
—Noted, cowboy. I think my husband likes rock. Well, actually, he does—he owns a few of your records. Says you're acceptable for the times— Cate said.
—Well, I'm no Nirvana— Billy replied, understanding that purists were hard to satisfy. That's why his next album needed leather—rock. Even though he loved it, finding the balance was difficult. So all he wanted was to deliver songs—songs that moved people. He would pour his soul into them, and the rest would become history.
...