Epilogue
THREE YEARS LATER
He takes the stage, his shoulders back, cutting a confident figure before the five-hundred-strong audience, mainly young women with a certain look.
It’s hot inside the large hall, despite the air-conditioning being ramped up to maximum.
But that’s the problem he’s found as he’s travelled across South America.
The venues haven’t been large enough to hold his ever-growing following.
He needs to be careful. He knows that. But he’s got it all under control.
The atmosphere is electric. ‘Welcome, Salvador,’ he shouts into his microphone.
A young woman lets out a hoot. Several others echo her excitement.
He flashes his green eyes at the woman, smiling and nodding his thanks.
‘It’s a pleasure to be here.’ Whoops and cheers chorus around the building.
‘I’ve been overwhelmed with the level of support everyone has given me since I started my tour of Brazil.
It’s quite remarkable how many faces I recognise.
’ He’s lying, of course. It’s all part of his spiel.
He doesn’t recognise one single face in this audience, but he learned first-hand from his father how to build a loyal following.
He owns the stage. The audience belong to him.
He continues. The same as he saw his father do on the videos he watched that summer as a teenager.
The ones the police never uncovered because he already had them.
He changes it up slightly, but mainly focuses on adapting your mindset to believe YOU can live the life YOU have always dreamed of.
His voice is powerful, commanding. ‘Imagine where you want to be this time next year. Picture yourself in that perfect job. Perfect house. Perfect relationship. It’s all achievable if you just open up your mind and follow the Jason Nysa path.’
He fills his lungs with the energy buzzing before him.
It’s exhilarating. ‘During this two-hour session, I’ll teach you the principles of making a lifetime commitment to YOU.
’ He turns and struts along the stage. ‘To regain control of your life and break through barriers to create the life YOU want to live. Only YOU have control of your future. At the end of the session, I shall be taking questions, and then when it’s over, I shall meet the lucky few backstage who won the draw to join me for a breakout session next weekend. ’
He looks across the gawping faces. The audience his father never had. Because his father was stupid. He got caught. That will never happen to him. He’s far too clever.
Thank you for reading my fourteenth published novel.