The run had reinvigorated her, and the refreshing shower completely melted away the tension.
She put on denim shorts and a black tank top, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and applied a touch of eye makeup.
Now she recognized herself, after all this time. She looked at her eyes, which were so deep they seemed dark, while her long lashes cast shadows around them.
Belinda had never thought of herself as beautiful, nor had she wasted any time on her appearance. She had always had to compete with very tall blondes, heavily made up, curvy and dressed like they were on the covers of Vogue. She had tried for a while, in middle school, to imitate the others, but being small and thin, always on the move, she couldn't really look like them. Plus, she loved black and electric blue, she liked t-shirts and jeans, and she didn't want to give up her sneakers. If being feminine meant turning into a doll, with makeup on her eyes and Barbie-like clothes, then it wasn't for her.
The great rockers, she used to say, wore black, had masculine cuts, and accessories that were definitely not pink.
She had found her dimension, her style, and she felt good that way. Even though, for her cousin's wedding, she had worn a fantastic, long turquoise voile dress that made her look like a mermaid; she still blushed just thinking about all the compliments she'd received.
On the contrary, her sister was born a woman; she dressed elegantly, finding the most fashionable accessories, had long, blonde hair, and eyes as bright as stars.
There was no comparison between the two; Belinda had wondered many times if they were really sisters.
She opened the bathroom door and looked at the two girls waiting for her in the bedroom.
"Let's go!" she exclaimed resolutely, grabbing her phone and purse.
Naomi studied her outfit with a knowing eye, handing her a pair of sparkling earrings. "If you went to a job interview looking like this, they wouldn't hire you. You look even younger in this outfit," she muttered critically.
"And yet this time they'll hire me, because I'm the one who has to accept or decline!" her sister mimicked her, heading for the door.
They quickly crossed the street, heading toward the hotel and, once at the reception, they asked for André.
Belinda glanced distractedly at the clock; it was already after eleven. The boys were surely still asleep, since they weren't supposed to play that evening.
André arrived a few minutes later, with his soft step and elegantly dressed. He greeted them, inviting them to grab something at the bar, but while Naomi and Annalisa gladly accepted, Belinda declined the offer with a smile.
"I need to talk to her, alone," the girl began.
"Didn't we just eliminate formalities and agree that you'd address me informally?" he reminded her with a smile.
"Yes, sorry… Shall we sit at that table?"
He looked at her curiously, but followed her, carrying the cup of coffee he'd ordered.
"So," the girl began without preamble. "I've been thinking about your proposal, and once again I'd like to thank you…"
"You want to refuse, right?" he interrupted her regretfully.
"No, I've decided to accept, even though I need some guarantees," he admitted.
André became wary. "About what?"
"Simple: I want my name never to be mentioned, written, or disclosed, not at conferences or during interviews. Also, no photos!"
"But..."
"No buts!" she exclaimed adamantly. "I'll only accept under these conditions, André. I'm also willing to forgo the money you offered me if these demands are met."
The manager studied her, drumming his fingers on the table, thoughtful.
"I don't understand," he admitted finally, shaking his head.
"You don't have to understand," he replied with a shrug. "I don't care who I am. The concert is for the kids; I'm just an extra whose name you're not required to reveal, do you?"
"Do you have any idea what a ruckus the media is already creating? The newspapers have already published yesterday's photos, and it's a success! How can you expect me to keep your identity a secret?" she exclaimed, agitated.
"This is your job, right?" she emphasized seriously.
André stared at her for a few moments, puzzled, trying to figure out what he was missing, but the girl's resolute gaze didn't help.
"Would you even give up your fee for this?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes!"
"It must be a serious reason, then. Should I be worried, Bel?"
"No, I don't think so. It's just my problem." She looked at him for a long moment with sincere eyes. "You can get all the information you want about me, if you're worried my request might damage the band's credibility, I won't be offended. In fact, go ahead and do your research, and then tell me if you still want me to work for you."
"There won't be any need," Bill's voice decreed behind him, suddenly appearing.
"It's not that I don't trust you, Bel, it's just that in this job I've learned to be cautious."
"And we've always been grateful," Bill replied seriously. "But this time, you were the one who dragged Bel into it, and now, if she makes just one request, you'll grant it. Right?"
"Yes, okay," the man relented, standing up. "Bill, I'd like to talk to you for a moment..."
He didn't turn to look at him; his attention remained on Belinda for a long time, then he broke into a broad smile. "Afterwards, please... Bel, come with me, I want to show you something!" He took her arm, leading her toward the elevators.
"Wait, I have to warn you..." The girl tried to protest, looking for her sister.
"The others are in good company," he reassured her, continuing to walk, without looking back.
Belinda felt the urge to break free and run away, not wanting to be at the mercy of another of the singer's whims.
She wasn't confident what might happen, and now that she'd accepted the job, she feared Bill would take advantage of every possible opportunity to force her to admit her attraction to him.
The elevator doors opened, and she noticed that he'd pressed the button for the top floor. She looked up to observe him, catching a mysterious smile and the look of a child who's giving a surprise and enjoying keeping it a secret.
A small gasp and they stopped, the doors opened, and a dimly lit room opened before them.
"Where are we, Bill?" she asked, stepping out and looking around.
"Afraid?" he teased.
"No, but if we hadn't come up, I'd think we were in the cellar."
Still laughing, he took her arm and helped her up a small flight of stairs, until they reached a small door with a push handle.
A huge terrace overlooked the hotel, offering a view that dominated the entire city. Belinda's eyes widened and she approached the balcony, looking down fearfully. It was a magnificent sight: the cars were tiny, the people looked like ants, and the buildings were as if they were stuck in a giant model.
She enjoyed the view with a big smile.
"How did you find out? Hotels usually don't let you up here."
"I found it the other night, by chance. I went out and stopped to look at the stars. You should have seen the night sky, Bel, it's spectacular!"
"I believe it!" he murmured, imagining the scene.
They remained for a few moments, enjoying the warm air and the light breeze that reached that height. Then Belinda remembered her earlier conversation with André.
"Bill, you heard the terms of my collaboration, right?"
"Yes. No press, photos, statements, or names," she repeated in a colorless voice.
"And is that okay with you?" she asked doubtfully.
She received a shrug.
"I wonder one thing: you could ask for anything you wanted, why these conditions?"
His gaze became serious and focused when he rested on her.
Belinda shook her head, refusing to explain.
Bill took a step closer to her. "You'll get what you ask for, as long as you're honest with me."
The girl stepped back, but she had reached the corner of the balcony and it was impossible for her to move back any further.
"I don't like being photographed," she muttered, turning her head to the side.
With a quick movement, Bill grabbed her hips, hoisting her onto the low concrete wall surrounding the balcony, eliciting a scream from her.
"Are you crazy?" she shouted. "I might fall off!"
"It's okay, I've got you," he reassured her, making no move to let go.
"Let me get off, damn it!" she commanded, trying to free herself.
"I'm not even thinking about it!" she replied, leaning her stomach against his knees.
Sitting on that wall, she was as tall as him and could observe his face, free of makeup and beard, his straight hair pulled back in a light low ponytail, and his lips stretched in a faint smile.
His eyes held her captive even more than his hands. She shifted in annoyance, knowing she wouldn't be free unless she gave him an answer.
She snorted. "What do you want, Bill?"
"To know you. I'd like to understand what's going through your head every time you look at me and why you're always trying to escape. And it seems you're not just running away from me."
"What are you saying? It's not true!" she protested.
"Really? I can understand if I make you uncomfortable and you want to avoid me, but André offered you a job that would put you in the spotlight. It would be a great opportunity for you if you want to make music, sing, perform in life."
"I don't want to steal your thunder, Bill," she replied sarcastically.
He smiled. "No one's stealing my thunder, don't worry."
Belinda had a scathing retort prepared to comment on his egocentricity, but she let it go.
"Are you afraid of the press, or do you just not want to be seen with me?" he asked point-blank, frowning as if struck by a sudden thought.
"I don't want to be seen with you, are you happy?" He snorted. "My music is different from yours, as is my style, my way of singing, and..."
"You're making up a lot of excuses." He gave her a gentle shake. "I want the truth, Bel. I deserve it!"
The girl felt like slapping him: how dare that overbearing giant call her a liar?
She barely suppressed a cry of frustration.
"Come on, stubborn little thing, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I'll let you go!" he whispered in her ear and then laughed amusedly.
Belinda flinched at his warm breath. "Okay, you nasty bastard, I'm telling you! I don't want to be singled out by the press or talked about, because I'm hiding from someone who wants to hurt me. I don't want to be a danger to you, or to the band, but most of all, to my sister, okay? Let's do this show, take all the success and that's it!" she exhaled suddenly.
"Forget the tour. Tell me what happened."
"I don't want to!" she repeated stubbornly, hiding her face in her long hair.
"Stop running away, Bel. I just want to help you..."
Her arms left her sides, reaching her back where her hands moved in circular motions, giving her warm, affectionate massages.
"Stay out of this, Bill! You..."
She felt tears in her eyes, and the tenderness in his voice made her fear he was about to collapse. She found herself wrapped in his embrace, pressed against his chest, while affectionate lips left trails of kisses through her hair.
Something cracked in her armor, and warm, wet streaks ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with small shivers, but his hands continued to massage her gently, trying to comfort her.
"Throw it out, Bel! I swear you'll feel better afterward," he whispered in a soothing voice.
Sniffling and trying to dry her face, Belinda tried to keep her voice steady so as not to sob.
"My ex-boyfriend, Alex, who was also the leader of my band, tried to kill me last year," she murmured, trying to ignore the pang of pain that was overwhelming her.
She felt him stiffen for a moment, but then he pulled her tighter against him again.
"Where is he now?" he asked, his lips on her hair.
"Until this morning, I thought he was being held at a facility, but apparently, due to a legal technicality, he was sent home. I don't want him to find me, Bill! He's unbalanced and could hurt the people close to me. I don't want anything to happen to you or anyone else, do you understand?"
"He won't find you!" he replied resolutely, kissing her cheek.
His hand left her back and found her face. He pulled away slightly so he could look at her, giving her cheek a deep caress.
"You don't understand…" she protested, imagining possible scenarios in which Alex would take out his anger on the same boy, if he knew of her existence.
"He won't hurt you, don't worry. You'll be safe with me!" she exclaimed firmly, her gaze wandering over his pained face.
Belinda sobbed. "I'm doing something crazy, I should leave. Now that he's free, I'm putting everyone in danger… I'm sorry, but I'm giving up André's proposal."
"Don't even think about it!" she exclaimed. "We have plenty of security, and no unwelcome person has ever come to us. You'll come on tour, and nothing will happen!"
Unable to raise any further objections, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His caresses continued slowly, pleasantly, and his breath on her cheek made her feel almost drunk. She pulled away slightly to study his face, and it came naturally to tilt her head to kiss him, but just as she was about to savor his lips, she felt a finger press against hers.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she tilted her head back to look at him. He was smiling and slowly walking away from her.
"Not like this, Bel." She shook her head. "It would be easy right now, but it's not what I want."
"So what do you want?" she murmured in surprise.
"For you to kiss me because you want me. Not a charitable shoulder to cry on, not a star in the spotlight. Me! You have to want me, as a person. You have to feel what I feel when I look at you. You have to want me as deeply as I want you… And heaven knows how hard it was to stop myself in this moment."
That vibrant tone shook her to the core: it wasn't a whim of the moment. Bill wanted her, he wanted her even though she had just confessed her sad past.
She felt her hair grow warm, her face flushed with a strange euphoria. As if to apologize for his refusal, the boy gave her an affectionate pat and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek.
Sighing, she let go of him and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief, climbing down from the wall and heading for the door.
With a soft laugh, Bill hugged her from behind, pressing her back against his chest, and rested his chin on her head.
"You're so unique, Bel! You could have been offensive, insulting me... Instead, you retreat into your shell and run away, but it won't be forever, you know? I'll push you to stop... in my arms, if possible."
Belinda felt adrenaline rushing through her veins and a strong desire to accept the challenge, even though she knew she was doing something stupid.
She turned in his arms and raised her head until she was looking into his eyes. She placed a hand behind his neck and pulled him down to her height.
"Okay, Bill, let's play by your rules!" She smiled mischievously, throwing back at him the answer he'd given her the night before.
She planted a resounding kiss on the tip of his nose and broke free, heading for the exit, but pausing for a moment before opening the door.
"Is my makeup smudged?" she asked seriously.
"No." Bill laughed and joined her. "You're perfect!"
"I think it's a little difficult to be perfect with you here." She laughed amusedly. "But you could give me some advice or lend me something from your beauty case, my diva!"
"My beauty case and I are at your disposal, little princess!" Bill chuckled, bowing to her.
"What an honor, thank you!" she teased. "But let's make a first rule: don't call me 'little' again or you'll see me seriously angry."
In response, Bill picked her up and started down the stairs, laughing.