I breathe in the scorching air of Mexico, the desert, so much like Arizona, like so many other pces that seemed to offer him a moment to remember himself. Whether he was afraid or simply uninterested in questions of morality, he was having fun. Security remained tight, yet his presence was welcomed by many. And though it may not seem so, some women were simply breathtaking—and for Billy, that was reason enough to count her as one of the remarkable ones. Mexico City was nothing short of intense, overflowing with people.

  Billy stayed at a private suite in the marvelous Hilton Mexico City, where everything was wonderful and modern by his standards. For a week, he had performed in Quito, Bogotá, and Caracas. Scarlett was leaving him the next morning due to work commitments, but the time they had shared had been filled with affection. It was brief, yet intense.

  -So many people here, the manager of the popur taco pce arranged for us to have their food brought here so that we could try it. It’s all for my blog. – Billy said, kissing the blonde softly on the lips. What awaited them afterward was a marathon of 1940s films, the ten most important of the decade, followed by the cssics of the 1950s—all on VHS, from a private collection Billy had borrowed from Warner’s own libraries. They were filled with such great stories that they couldn’t stop talking about them. Together they rehearsed, made love, and repeated the cycle. In their little forgotten world, their fields of love were cinematic, magnificent from any angle.

  So I can say it with good reason.

  -I’d love to try that famous food. – Scarlett replied.

  -It’s a chef from Mexico, recognized with two Michelin stars. He started with a street stall and ter opened a small restaurant right across the way—it’s always packed. – Billy answered, knowing perfectly well that the fire of their retionship would live in her memory like sunlight. She didn’t even realize how pleased she was. And when one is truly happy, the memory sts like freefall, suspended in time.

  And so, time passed, leading to one of the most deserved encounters for any restaurateur. Yet for Billy, there was something more: a secret deal had been signed, making him a shareholder of the restaurant. It was the only way he could be fully welcomed into such an enterprise. But things began to change, as the effects of social media—still a novelty—started spreading. Billy’s name was becoming recognized among young people. His original purpose had been simple: to eat free at restaurants without caring that his fame already outweighed the cost.

  But now, things were changing—people were following his ideas. He was too na?ve to realize it. Jerry, however, sharp as a fox, already had his eye on the long game: showing the impact and guiding Billy into investing in small restaurants, each of which would generate passive income, all funneled into his Swiss account.

  -Mmmm, trying these dishes was such a great idea. I really enjoyed the vegetable soup. And those Venezuen arepas, made with corn and cheese—they’ve become a weakness I never thought possible. – Billy said, almost savoring the words, his lips curling into a smile that seemed to rise from his pate itself, simple yet irresistible, like hunger arriving in the most fitting ways.

  -Then we’ll leave El Cardenal for tomorrow. – Scarlett replied with a pout, wanting to spin another story out of culinary delights.

  -You’re leaving tomorrow, and as always, I’ll invite another beautiful woman. – Billy said, closing the conversation outright, ending with the simple truth: one of his key ideas was to use his fame as a tool for sharing.

  A pyful punch nded.

  -Shut up with that nonsense. – Scarlett snapped.

  -It’s just a meal, jealous girl. –

  -Watch it. – Scarlett said, pouting again, fully aware of his rebellious streak, his fame, and the way he seemed to shrug off the anger she tried to hide.

  -What good is the sun if you never let its warmth embrace you? What good is the moon if it doesn’t point to the stars? And my love, what good is it if it isn’t missed? –

  She rolled her eyes and gave him a deep kiss, one of those that felt seamlessly woven into her boldness. Then came another punch.

  -It may seem funny or silly to you, but don’t py with that. – the blonde replied firmly. She would forgive nothing that reeked of infidelity. Betrayal, disrespect—those were impossible in her world, even if her heart trembled at the thought.

  -No one’s pying with that. Take a breath. Insecurities aren’t good for beautiful women. And even if you have them, letting your emotions take over never ends well. – Billy sighed, noticing the twist of her lips, the false ring in his words, and the trace of guilt he longed to bury like a tomb among stray thoughts.

  …

  He tried a meal à carte with the band, filming a video in segments, doing all he could to keep it safe. He took that chance to showcase his best formus, each one hidden in the bance of sauces, familiar yet refined. A long table was set with a full spectrum of fvors, spiced hot enough to make anyone cry at the fleeting idea of such a dish. There was a hearty bean soup, a sad prepared in several different styles, served in small and rge bowls alike, adding up to their favorite fvors.

  -That’s the apule tamal. – the chef said.

  -Wow, that’s delicious. – Sugar Egg replied, devouring the food. Of the five dishes, the first was chocote with apule tamal, paired with what they called cheese bread. Then came eggs with beans, simple portions, until the kitchen filled with the aroma of chiquiles, tacos, and traditional drinks—a magnificent spread, no matter where one looked.

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