by Price, Sarah
Standing in the two-story foyer of the condominium in Miami, her small suitcase by her feet, Amanda looked around in wonder at the room: white marble floors, the beautiful curved staircase, the crystal chandelier, and the round table with the vase of fresh flowers. It didn’t surprise Amanda that she felt like a stranger in her own home. She had spent more time away from it than in it since her marriage to Alejandro. Still, she had memories of the condominium, which slowly came back to her as she approached the staircase. After kicking off her shoes, she ascended the steps.
The door to the bedroom she shared with Alejandro was open. She did not linger in the doorway, but entered with mild curiosity at the furnishings. The white comforter on the bed reminded her of waking in Alejandro’s arms. The chair by the window reminded her of the night she had a sunburn and sat watching the party unfold on the rooftop patio. The mirror where Alejandro had stood behind her on their wedding night, his hands on her shoulders as he gazed at her reflection, easing her fears before he made her his true wife in the eyes of the Lord.
For a moment, she felt overwhelmed by the memories. Her chest lifted and fell rapidly as she began to breathe faster, her heart pounding and her blood pulsating. The bed called to her and she moved toward it, sitting on the edge near his pillow. She let her fingers move toward it, tracing the place where she imagined his head would rest if he had slept there the previous night.
“Amanda?”
Startled, she looked up at the sound of her name, spoken in such a casual manner by their housekeeper. Señora Perez stood in the doorway, her head tilted to the side as she studied Amanda.
“Oh!” Amanda stood up and rushed to the housekeeper. “I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t frighten you.” She gave Señora Perez a warm hug. “I didn’t know how to contact you to tell you I was coming.”
The housekeeper stepped back, a small smile on her lips. “You are staying?”
That is a great question, Amanda thought.
The previous day, she had tried to call Dali, hoping that she might answer the phone to help her book a flight to Miami. After her fifth attempt, Amanda had given up on her and tried her second option: Harvey. While he had never flown before, he had traveled by bus recently and found the flight schedule using a friend’s computer.
“I don’t have a computer,” she had replied.
“True,” Harvey responded. “But you have that there phone, don’t you? I’ve never done it myself, but I know people use the fancier ones like it’s a small computer.”
After Amanda returned to the house to fetch the phone, Jonas had come upon them.
Curious to see them huddled together staring at the cell phone, he wandered over to inquire further.
“What are you looking at there?” he asked as he approached.
Amanda did her best to hide her frustration. “I need to get back to Miami, but I don’t know how to get a ticket for a plane.”
“Oh, ja?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Mayhaps I can help you, then. My younger bruder had one of those things, and he used it to look up stuff on the Internet.”
To Amanda’s surprise, it took Jonas only a few minutes to figure out how to use her phone to retrieve the phone number for American Airlines. Once she had called the airlines, booking the flight from Philadelphia to Miami had been relatively easy. But as Amanda contemplated Señora Perez’s question, she knew she needed help to fly to another country.
To begin with, she didn’t even know what country Alejandro was currently in. And then there were all the issues with international travel, including exchanging currencies and different languages. When she was on the South American tour, other people took care of these arrangements. And of course, she had been with someone the entire trip. Even when she returned with Isadora, Dali had accompanied her. The only person Amanda knew who could help her was Dali, so it was problematic that, for some reason, her former personal assistant wouldn’t take her phone calls.
Amanda looked at Señora Perez and shook her head. “No, I’m not staying. I need to find Alejandro, but I don’t know where he is or how to get to him. Dali isn’t answering my phone calls.” She glanced down at the phone in her hand. If only she could get through to Dali. Perhaps, she thought, if she used a different cell phone to contact her. “Do you think . . .”
Amanda stopped talking, and Señora Perez watched her with curiosity. She coaxed her to finish the question. “¿Qué, niña?”
“I need to use your cell phone. Would that be alright?”
Señora Perez gave her a questioning look, but did not say anything. She reached into her pocket and withdrew her phone, handing it over to Amanda. “Everything is good, sí?”
Amanda bit her lower lip and took the phone. Clutching it to her chest, she shook her head. “No, no it’s not, Señora Perez. But I’m trying to make everything good.”
The older woman seemed to contemplate Amanda’s response, a studious expression on her face. After what seemed like an eternity, Señora Perez nodded her head. “He is not himself when you are not with him,” she said in a soft voice. “He needs you.” She paused before adding, “He loves you.”
Amanda caught her breath as tears welled in her eyes. As much as she knew that he loved her, she needed to hear it. The memory of his gentle caresses and sweet words whispered in her ears was simply not enough. She needed more affirmation from other people to convince her that the upcoming journey had a final, and favorable, destination.
“He is in Europe now and you are going to him, sí?”
“Sí, I am,” Amanda responded. “And that’s why I need your phone. To make some phone calls.”
“Bien. Take your time. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen making you something to eat when you are finished.” She gave Amanda an encouraging smile as she backed out of the room, shutting the door so that Amanda could have her privacy.
Dali answered on the fourth ring.
“Dali, don’t hang up,” Amanda spoke quickly into the phone.
“Amanda?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. The surprise in Dali’s voice was undeniable. As Amanda suspected, Dali had been avoiding her calls on purpose.
“I . . . I need your help,” Amanda said at last.
“I no longer work for you.” The dryness of her tone said more than her words.
“But you can still help me, Dali. I beg of you.”
Another long pause.
“Please, Dali. I need to get to Alejandro, and you are the one person who can help me.” Amanda leaned against the window, the phone pressed to her ear.
On the other end of the phone there was some shuffling, and Amanda realized Dali was not alone. Someone else was with her. “I can’t talk right now, Amanda.”
“Dali, please!”
Her former assistant sighed. “You left Miami, Amanda. I told you not to do that. You didn’t tell me where you were or when you were coming back. You didn’t return my phone calls. Do you realize what type of damage control I had to do? I had to cancel appointment after appointment—appointments that I pulled strings to arrange on such short notice! Not to mention the other people I upset by not granting them appointments. Do you know what your actions did to my reputation?”
“I . . .”
Amanda wasn’t certain how to respond. She hadn’t realized that her departure from Miami and her weeks in Pennsylvania had impacted Dali in such a way. It just wasn’t something Amanda had ever considered. Her experience with working among the Englische was more than just limited: it had been nonexistent prior to meeting Alejandro. And she certainly had not known anything about the music industry. From Alejandro she had learned that it was a cutthroat and dark world where people used each other, not caring who they hurt in the process. She knew that women often used their bodies to attract attention. And she knew that for every person who made it, there were tens of thousands—maybe even hundreds of thousands!—who did not.
Even
more important was the fact that many musicians lacked the business acumen to keep the money they actually made. Record labels were renowned for creating contracts to entice aspiring artists to sign with them and offering attractive advances that, more often than not, could never be recouped. Between the cost of paying back advances, managers, and lawyers, many would-be stars often found themselves bankrupt, the dream of success within the music industry conflicting harshly with the reality.
But Amanda had never thought about the music industry outside of what she’d gathered from talking with Alejandro or the bits and pieces she overheard in his meetings with Geoffrey. Now she realized that by leaving for Lancaster with Isadora and not returning Dali’s phone calls, she, too, had unknowingly contributed to the backstabbing dark side of the entertainment world.
“I didn’t know,” she admitted meekly.
“I didn’t think so,” Dali responded, a sharpness to her voice that startled Amanda.
“Please, Dali,” Amanda begged. “I want to fix this. I must fix this.”
Dali sighed into the other end of the phone. There was a long pause, and Amanda heard the sound of a door being shut and the squeak of a chair. She suspected that Dali had gone into her office so that they could continue the conversation in private.
“What exactly do you want, Amanda?” Dali said at last.
“I . . . I want to know where he is or how to get to him.”
When Dali laughed this time, there was no mirth in it. “How to get to him? If he doesn’t want someone reaching him, they don’t. It’s as simple as that. I can’t help you, Amanda. Why don’t you just contact him yourself?”
Amanda cringed at the question. She didn’t want to share her personal information with anyone, especially someone outside of her family. However, she suspected she owed that much to Dali. After all, as Dali had pointed out, Amanda’s choices had affected her assistant’s life, too. It was something Amanda had not even considered before this phone conversation. Suddenly, she felt a heavy weight on her chest, and she saw images of the different people who had come in to and out of her life over the past year: Mike, Maria, Stedman, Dali. While the reasons they no longer worked for Alejandro were different, there was one common thread throughout their disappearances from Alejandro’s life: Amanda.
Amanda shook her head and pleaded one last time. “He left me, Dali, but I think for the wrong reasons. And I need to make this right. Please help me,” Amanda whispered as she sank down into the chair. “I’m so sorry for everything. Truly I am.”
This time, the long stretch of silence was followed by a more compassionate tone of voice. “I imagine you are,” Dali said. It sounded as if Dali had opened a drawer, probably in her desk. She ruffled through some papers, and apparently finding whatever she sought, she cleared her throat. “Fine, Amanda. I will make the arrangements for you.”
For a moment, Amanda thought she had not heard Dali correctly, especially after just learning how her actions and lack of experience had upset her former assistant. She had truly feared that Dali would not help her. But hearing Dali agree to help was music to Amanda’s ears. “Danke! Oh, danke, Dali!”
“Now, hold on a minute. This comes with a price.”
Amanda frowned. “A price?”
“I will organize your tickets and arrange for you to have an agenda and escort. But you have to promise that you’ll do everything that is asked of you. Is that clear?”
If agreeing to Dali’s demands could bring her back to Alejandro, Amanda would agree to anything, even going to the moon. “Yes, yes, that’s clear. Anything and everything you want,” she responded, meaning every word.
A drawer shut and more papers shuffled in the background. “Good. Now let me go. I have company.”
As Amanda hung up the phone, she realized how little she knew about her assistant. Who was her company? A boyfriend? A husband? Friends or family? She had never really inquired about Dali on a personal level. Dali had a stoic wall around her, but still, to not even have inquired about such things? Amanda felt ashamed as she held Señora Perez’s phone in her hand. She leaned her head back. How could she have not seen it before? While there were people trying to tear her and Alejandro apart, there had been people who had tried to keep them together. The only problem was that she’d recognized the former and ignored the latter.
It was time, she realized, to make amends and correct the wrongs of her recent past.
She vowed to start immediately.
Alejandro walked off the set, accepting the towel that one of the stagehands handed him. A group of women lingered on the side, and Alejandro felt a hand on his arm. When he looked down, he saw one of the gofers who worked for Geoffrey.
“Geoffrey said you should go meet those women,” the young man said. “Friends of the CEO of Movistar?”
Alejandro nodded and tossed his damp towel to him. “I’m on it,” he said while approaching the women. They smiled as he did, each one dressed to the nines with tall stilettos and form-fitting dresses that showed off their curvaceous bodies.
“¡Ay, qué rica!” Alejandro said as he sidled up to them, Viper in full gear. He let his eyes rove over their bodies and stood by each one while their friends took photos. He even planted a chaste kiss on their cheeks, lingering just long enough so that each one felt a connection. Then he excused himself and continued toward his dressing room.
He needed a shower. A hot shower to dull the aches in his back and thighs. During his concerts he gave it everything, throwing himself full force into his performance and dancing with the troupe of girls. After a few weeks without performing, his body told him that he hadn’t been prepared from a physical perspective.
That, however, was something he kept hidden from the audience.
“Alejandro!”
Inwardly, he groaned when he heard Rochelle, one of the numerous assistants on his payroll, run up to him.
“There are some men in the greenroom Geoffrey wants you to meet,” she said.
“Ay, mami. I really want to change first.”
But Rochelle gave him a look—the look. If Geoffrey wanted to see him immediately after a show, it had to be important. Sighing, Alejandro acquiesced and turned away from his dressing room.
Three men wearing black slacks with custom-made shirts and expensive shoes greeted him when he entered the room where VIPs and staff often congregated backstage. There was always plenty of food and drink available so that they could watch the concert from the monitors. Most of the greenrooms were fairly sterile, furnished with simple furniture and chairs without fancy decor. The one in Madrid was no different.
“Viper!” The larger of the three men stepped forward and shook his hand. “Victor Byrne, Vice President of Vantage Studios.”
Alejandro accepted the handshake. “Mucho gusto.”
Victor introduced the other two men, but Alejandro already knew that he’d never remember their names. That was Geoffrey’s job. Besides, Alejandro suspected that the important man was apparently the one standing before him. “Geoffrey was kind enough to spend some time with us during the show.”
Geoffrey appeared and immediately jumped into the conversation. “Victor’s over here from New York. Apparently, they’d like to discuss a movie.”
“Oh, sí?” His curiosity piqued, he considered Victor with more interest. Movies were one of the many untapped areas where he wanted to bring the Viper brand.
“We’d like to film your concert and have it in the movie. It’s an action film being shot in Los Angeles right now. We were going to use an actor to re-create the concert scene, but Danny here”—he paused and looked over at one of the other men—“suggested we consider an alternative.”
Nodding his head, Alejandro motioned to Rochelle to fetch him some water. “Keep talking . . . ,” he instructed Victor.
“They’d like you to go to New York to meet their team and discuss details in three weeks.”
“Ah!” He accepted the proffered bottle of cold water from his
assistant, pausing to thank her with a simple nod of his head.
Geoffrey waited for Alejandro to down half of the bottle. “You have time just before Prague,” he said.
Twisting the cap back onto the bottle, Alejandro handed it back to Rochelle. “Leave any information about the movie with Geoffrey,” he said to Victor. “And I’ll see you in New York, sí?” Slapping Geoffrey on the arm, he gave him a tired smile and started to leave the room, more interested in a shower than a script.
“One more thing,” Victor said before Alejandro left. “We’d like to invite you to the Whitney Art Gala. You and your wife, of course. Your manager says it’s the same week. We’ll put you up at the Peninsula while you’re in the city.”
Alejandro stiffened at the mention of Amanda. He glanced at Geoffrey and lifted one eyebrow, an unspoken communication that while Victor Byrne might know what the public wanted, he clearly didn’t know what the public knew: Amanda was not with him. Such a slip meant they hadn’t done their research. They’d be easier to negotiate with come contract time.
“Coordinate with G,” he said and managed to walk through the door without further interruption.
Chapter Five
The itinerary that Dali handed to her was not exactly what Amanda had expected. It listed times, names, and addresses. Amanda scanned it, noting that there was no mention of a hotel, so that she could freshen up after the plane arrived in the morning, and that London’s O2 arena, where Alejandro was performing that night, was listed at the very end of the schedule.
“What is this?” Amanda asked as she set the piece of paper onto her lap.
Dali stood before her, her arms crossed over her chest and a stern look on her face. “It’s your itinerary.”
“Well, I reckon I can see that,” Amanda said, glancing through the list of items on the document once again. “Why am I meeting with all of these people? You have me arriving in London at six in the morning and meeting with a radio show, news program, and press people? And then what’s this?” She moved the paper onto the table and pointed at an item. “A lunch meeting? But I don’t know these people!” She stared at Dali, a look of bewilderment on her face. “I . . . I just don’t understand this.”
