A demo for the label. That was what they were asking him to do now; in front of him hovered a call from a Warner Records executive.
—It's not in my contract.—Billy said with a smile.—That was how it worked: only ten songs a year had videos, and that phase was already over, since the next album would have a total of five videos, and five videos for the album itself.
—It is.—the man on the line replied.
—I've already chosen the songs and the singles covered by the contract; you'll have to wait until June to renew those tracks.—Billy answered.
It was a tough negotiation, and all Billy wanted was to ignore further commitments and travel to New York, to break away from Los Angeles, which felt completely closed in on him; he even preferred England over everything that kept chasing him.
—I want to be in a movie.—Billy said.—I want it to have great actors, to be an independent film, nothing flashy—just a movie that lets me improve my acting and meet people in the industry.—
—That can be done.—the voice on the line sighed.
—Don't forget to get a beautiful woman; I want a blonde beauty, one of those that only exist among angels. I'll send my notes and how I want the video to develop.—Billy added.
Jerry was behind it all, giving his approval. He was the one who had forced him to take the call and negotiate not over bread, but over something he truly wanted, something more important than anything else.
—When you negotiate, give them a way out and they'll give it to you. Once you have that exit, just do what people in this business do best—and that's getting things. Everything can be arranged; you just have to offer the way out and never ask for money. That annoys them; it's better to ask for a favor.—Jerry told him, with that old-man voice that knew he wanted to help a committed kid.
—So I didn't go too far.—Billy asked, thinking he might have overstepped a bit.
—Not at all. They'll keep pushing, and they'll do it in unpleasant ways. It's better that you gain something; always move with people's interests when you find common ground. That's when they understand the value of your work and give something in return for that value.—Jerry said.
—So I just ask, and ask for a few things.—Billy whispered.
—You just ask and keep going, kid.—Jerry laughed, seeing him so unsettled by the request, one that seemed to fade as another opportunity arrived at his door; there was no doubt he would enjoy the film they were about to get him.
—But you've taken on more work.—Michael Ocklars replied.
—Is that good or bad?—Billy asked.
—It's good, kid. Work is the only good thing there is in life.—Jerry was as direct and blunt as ever, while the chandeliers continued to sway. Concerts in England for the summer, shows in May along the East Coast and a few other states. In December, the warm climates where he was welcomed—Las Vegas, Arizona, and Los Angeles. One year to leave, one year to return. He simply smiled.
…
Two days was all it took to find a woman he didn't know, but who was exactly what he wanted for a video of that kind. Sara Jean Underwood was undoubtedly a beauty at the time—her siren eyes, her sculpted body, and that bronzed, elegant, sexy vibe made you want to bite into and tame every inch of her skin. A Playboy actress.
What impressed most was her generous figure, which seemed to stand out with that eager gesture—perhaps a bit older than Billy's taste, nearing twenty-two—green eyes that seemed to bite into the sky. Billy merely whistled at the model they brought him.
—I want her to do both videos we have in the studio; she's the image I'm looking for right now.—Billy said, taking in the woman's slender body; everything about her screamed beauty, even in the simplest details—a marvelous presence that seemed to silence people. The way she danced—everything was sex; her body carried a hot energy about how women were supposed to move.
He never had a single doubt.
—Although I want a French woman for the next few days.—
—You just keep asking, kid.—Michael commented, taking a seat in the studio, while the two of them were filmed on part of the set; it was nothing surprising, yet it could be utterly wonderful to watch how everything filled with air.
…
—It was a pleasure working with you, Sara.—Billy said, making a sincere, unhurried deal.
—Yes, a pleasure.—It was simple, almost a modus operandi in which women seemed to take everything lightly.
—Then I'll see you in the video.—Billy replied, moving on to the next shot, everything captured in slow motion.
The Sweater Weather video begins briefly: a concert wrapped in black smoke that fades away. The next day, Billy wakes up with a headache. He gets into his car, stops at a roadside restaurant, where a woman with beautiful eyes watches him from the tables she's cleaning. She drops her apron and leaps toward him. He grabs her by the waist, lifts her into the convertible, and they drive along the California highways, as several close-ups unfold.
They arrive at the beach, Billy's feet sinking into the sand, the woman dancing, simply shedding whatever remains. Part of it all feels like a striking way of imprinting something on people—the defining trait of life, one that cuts through as the beauties of the angels are reconnected. The shots are good, and every part is simply a love story. Nothing entirely clean remains.
The script offered tender moments, each of them minimal, yet meaningful.
—Looks like we have to shoot a romantic scene on the beach.—he said simply; it was the palms, the gestures, the reverent way it all passed—small embraces, simple moments, and a professional distance that seemed to reach the sky.
A long video: every curve of the camera, everything felt eagerly wonderful, from different angles, as life flowed through a serene yet anxious space where the lens captured the moment. Just smiling, embracing, and moving.
...