Plain Choice (The Plain Fame Series Book 5)

by Price, Sarah

  She could scarcely believe what he was saying. “This is just so unreal,” she said. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  He laughed and held her in his arms. “Ay, mi amor, that’s what makes you so beautiful!” He picked her up and twirled her around. “Beautiful and rich, sí?”

  When he set her back down on her feet, she noticed how happy he was. She wanted to tell him that money mattered nothing to her. Whether they paid her six dollars or six million dollars, she really did not care. But instead she said, “If this is what you want, then I am glad. I just trust you will tell me what I need to do to honor this agreement.”

  “Just keep being you,” Alejandro said, placing both of his hands on her cheeks and leaning down to kiss her lips. “That’s all anyone is asking of you.”

  The only thing she wanted was some time at the beach, to feel the warm sand under her feet and to watch the waves as they pulsated against the shoreline.

  They had slept late that morning and would leave for Paris the next evening. Their time in Los Angeles had been limited, and with so much activity, it had flown by far too fast. Before he left the apartment, Alejandro had promised to bring her to the beach in the afternoon after he met with his team at the recording studio.

  But by four o’clock, she still hadn’t heard from him. Sitting out on the balcony, Amanda had her Kindle on her lap and was reading the Bible. The sun was still shining brightly, but the air was cooling down. Earlier, when she’d gone for a walk after lunch, it had bordered on hot. While she didn’t mind it, especially with no humidity, she much preferred the cooler air.

  From inside the open sliding door, she heard her cell phone. Setting her Kindle on the small table by her chaise lounge, she hurried inside to fetch it. Two texts: one from Alejandro and one from Celinda. She looked at Alejandro’s first:

  Sent a car to bring you to Marina del Rey. Meet you there to watch the sunset over Malibu.

  V.

  She read the text twice, a smile on her lips. Even if he was running late, his thoughtfulness made her happy. Quickly, she hurried into the bedroom to change into a sundress and tossed a sweater over her arm. When the sun went down, the air could get chilly in Los Angeles, even in the late spring.

  The drive from the apartment to Marina del Rey took longer than she anticipated. Santa Monica Boulevard was congested with rush-hour traffic, although, from what Amanda had seen on her few trips to Los Angeles, there weren’t many times it wasn’t congested. After forty minutes, the car pulled into a marina and stopped at the edge of the parking lot.

  Amanda looked around, wondering why the driver had brought her there. Was this where Alejandro was meeting her?

  There were several large boats tied to the end of the docks, one that reminded her of Alejandro’s yacht in Miami. As the driver opened the car door, she could hear a strange barking noise coming from the water. When she looked in that direction, the driver merely said, “Seals.”

  “Amanda!”

  She heard someone calling her name and turned her head in that direction. A crowd was on the back of a boat, which was not as big as Alejandro’s yacht but large enough to accommodate at least twenty people. For a second, Amanda hesitated. She did not recognize anyone on the boat and worried that someone may have recognized her. But when the crowd parted and she saw Alejandro walking toward the back of the boat, she felt better—even though she was disappointed he was not alone.

  He jumped from the boat to the dock and hurried to meet her as she carefully moved down a sloped walkway from the parking lot toward him. At the bottom of the walkway he greeted her with a warm kiss that tasted of rum. “There’s my Princesa!” he said with a happy smile on his face. “Come, mi amor. Meet my friends.”

  Immediately, caution lights went off inside her head. As Charlotte had forewarned her, she now knew that in the music industry, there was no such thing as friends. The men wore khaki shorts and polo shirts while most of the women were in short sundresses, with the exception of one who wore a skirt with a bikini top.

  Why on earth would Alejandro think that any of these people were his friends? Amanda had never met them, and as he introduced her to them, she realized she had never heard of them either.

  No sooner had she boarded the boat and started meeting his so-called friends than the boat began to leave the dock and motor a painfully slow five miles per hour, heading away from the marina into the narrow inlet that led to the open sea. Amanda glanced at the front of the boat, wondering where the captain was going to take them. Knowing Alejandro, it would be some wonderful place that she had never even known existed. She just wished they could experience it alone.

  As the boat began to move through the channel, Amanda walked along the deck toward the bow of the boat. She could hear music playing from the boat’s stern and knew that the men and women were dancing. But Amanda preferred to stand at the bow and watch the reflection of the sun on the water as the boat cut toward the wide-open ocean.

  “Amanda! Look!” Alejandro found her at the front of the boat and pointed toward the shoreline. Three seals played in the waves, dipping their heads out of the water before disappearing, their tails slapping against the surface.

  “Oh! How beautiful!” she gasped. “I heard them earlier, but how very special to see them!”

  He chuckled at her and put his arm around her neck. “How very special to see you so happy, Princesa.”

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “Look how the sun just sits so perfectly over the horizon,” she said. Then, pointing, she asked, “What is that mountain?”

  “¿Dónde?” He squinted and lowered his sunglasses to peer at the place where she pointed. “Ah, sí! That is Malibu, Princesa. It’s a beautiful place. I will take you there on our next trip to Los Angeles. Such an amazing beach, and the restaurants!” He kissed his fingertips. “¡Ay, qué rico!”

  She wanted to ask when that would be and whether Isadora would be with them. The apartment was not as large as their condominium in Miami, but Amanda could easily convert one of the spare bedrooms into a special place for Isadora.

  “Come, Princesa,” Alejandro said at last. “Let’s go mingle with the people.”

  “Who are they?”

  He shrugged. “People.”

  “Just people?” she asked him incredulously. “How do you know them?”

  “From the label. Two of them are singers I’ve recorded songs with in the past. One is my LA sound engineer. The rest are their friends.” He pulled his sunglasses down over his nose so that he could have eye contact with her. “It’s good to mingle with people sometimes, Amanda. You never know when you might need them.”

  He took her hand and led her to the back of the boat. As she had suspected, several women were dancing to the music while the men lingered around the outdoor bar, drinking beer from bottles. When Alejandro approached them, the group parted to make way for him while someone handed him a beer.

  She stood nearby, watching as Alejandro conversed with them. She marveled at how he managed to move so swiftly and smoothly through a group of people, talking and laughing with them despite not really knowing them. He made them feel as if they were the most important people in the world. Perhaps, at that moment, they were, she thought.

  With a deep breath she set her shoulders and decided she, too, would do the same. Emulating Alejandro would take her out of her comfort zone, but she needed to try. Standing on the sidelines was doing nothing to help him or her.

  “I’d like a water, please,” she said to the bartender. The person next to her turned and smiled. Amanda took the opportunity to strike up a conversation. “The weather tonight is simply magnificent, ja?”

  “It’s always magnificent in Los Angeles,” the woman replied cheerfully.

  “So you are from here, then?”

  It was the right question because the woman began to talk about how long she had lived in Los Angeles, where she had moved from, and what she did for a living. Amanda found that just
by asking a few questions, the woman continued talking, her eyes lighting up and her facial expressions animated. More people began to loosen up and join them, all of them vying for Amanda’s attention as they eagerly began to monopolize her.

  She felt him behind her, his body pressed against hers as he wrapped his arm around her chest. He leaned forward, his cheek against the side of her head. “Mi Princesa. She holds court, sí?”

  Several people laughed, and while Amanda didn’t quite understand what he meant, she smiled to be polite.

  “I want everybody to raise their glasses,” Alejandro said. No one questioned his demand. When everyone’s arms were lifted, Alejandro did the same. “Let’s make a toast! To Amanda Diaz!” Everyone cheered as they looked at her. Uncomfortable with the attention, she felt her cheeks grow hot. “Not only is she my wife, but she is now part of the Viper marketing team!” More cheers.

  He gave her a hug, his arms holding her tight, and then he lifted her in the air, his arms holding her as if she weighed no more than a feather.

  “¡Ay, Princesa!” he said. “I’m so proud of you!” He let her slide down his body until her chest was pressed against his before he leaned into her, his lips seeking hers, not caring that other people were nearby and watching.

  His display of affection warmed her heart but did little to make her feel more comfortable. Pride, she thought, is a sin. Yet, for some reason, it didn’t feel sinful to her. Didn’t Proverbs state that her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Praise and pride, so closely linked. She didn’t know where the one stopped and the other began. In order to give the former, one had to have a little of the latter.

  For the next hour, as the sun set behind the mountains of Malibu, the party continued. Amanda stayed by Alejandro as much as possible while still mingling with his “friends.” But as the bottom of the sun disappeared and the boat turned around toward the marina, she found herself mentally exhausted from being so tuned in to the people around her. She didn’t know how Alejandro managed to keep up his positive energy for so long every day. All she wanted was to get off the boat, return to the apartment, and enjoy a nice quiet evening at home with her husband.

  From the look on Alejandro’s face, she doubted that was going to happen. And, to her further disappointment, she realized there wouldn’t be any time in the schedule to visit the beach.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “There’s something about him that I just don’t care for,” Amanda confided in Celinda.

  They sat outside of a Paris cafe under an overhang, which protected them from the sun. Two security guards stood nearby while a table of Parisians paid little attention to them, regardless of whether they recognized the two women.

  “Enrique?” Celinda said and laughed, dismissing Amanda’s concerns with a wave of her hand. “He’s all talk, Amanda. Perfectly harmless.”

  “I’m not so certain about that,” Amanda replied. She remembered far too well how, when they were in Argentina, Enrique had surrounded himself with beautiful women wearing skimpy bathing suits. What was supposed to be a relaxing week for just her and Alejandro had turned into a twenty-four-hour party for everyone—everyone, that is, except Amanda.

  Celinda sighed as she reached for her glass of white wine. “There are far more dangerous people out there, Amanda. You’re fortunate to have Alejandro’s protection.”

  “You have Justin’s,” Amanda pointed out.

  Celinda shrugged. “Do I? Do I really?” Her chocolate-brown eyes peered at Amanda from beneath long black eyelashes. There was something wholesome about Celinda, and Amanda was glad they had managed to catch up on the tour. “When I needed him the most, he left me. And why?”

  Amanda knew the stories that had circulated in the tabloids, but she also knew that tabloid stories were often far from the truth. So she remained silent.

  “He’s on tour, Amanda,” Celinda said at last. “An unattached Justin sells more than a committed one. I feel like a rubber band the way he pulls and releases me.” She shook her head, a strand of her thick dark hair falling over her cheek. Absentmindedly, she pushed it away. “I see the stories about him, the photos. He’s just twenty-one, Amanda. I’m well aware that he’s out with other women.” The casual way that Celinda admitted it made Amanda wonder if her friend was holding back something, perhaps denying how she truly felt about Justin Bell’s infidelity, which had, ultimately, led to the dissolution of their relationship.

  “You don’t know that,” Amanda said, but she didn’t sound very convincing, even to herself.

  Celinda laughed again. “Yes, yes I do. That’s the nature of the entertainment industry. Fidelity is as rare as successful marriages in this business!”

  Amanda found nothing humorous about what Celinda said. She, too, had worried that Alejandro had been unfaithful to her. The media’s portrayal of Alejandro with Maria had convinced Amanda that he’d slept with another woman. Yet the media was wrong: Alejandro had never strayed. Even in South America, Amanda never questioned whether Alejandro had remained true to his wedding vows, even after she had departed and returned to her parents’ farm.

  “Besides,” Celinda said in a more somber tone, “he’s not currently the darling of the social media world right now anyway.”

  Amanda tilted her head, trying to understand what Celinda meant.

  “I mean that his antics in South America . . . Brazil, in particular . . . have not won over many fans. And now he’s touring on the West Coast, trying to clean up his image. I heard he’s even teamed up with some underage YouTuber whose only talent is that he looks like Justin. I suppose that’s fair though,” Celinda said. “The kid exploited his resemblance to Justin to gain millions of followers, and now Justin is exploiting him to appeal to the younger teenybopper audiences.” She laughed and shook her head. “It serves both of them right!”

  Amanda didn’t like what she was hearing. When she’d met Justin and Celinda last year in Los Angeles, they were the hot couple, featured in every tabloid and on every entertainment show. With their tumultuous relationship always front-page news, even the die-hard Justin fans sympathized with Celinda’s heartache. But Amanda did not remember him that way. He had seemed attentive and abundantly affectionate to Celinda. The demise of what had appeared a storybook romance made Amanda even more determined to stay in tune with Alejandro’s moods and needs.

  “Do you miss him?”

  Celinda shrugged in a noncommittal way. “At times, yes.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “With Justin and me?” She laughed. “Oh, Amanda, you’re so refreshing to be with! I’m so glad I can spend this time with you. You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

  Amanda didn’t respond, not quite certain what to make of Celinda’s comment.

  Taking Amanda’s silence for confusion, Celinda leaned forward. “He’ll be back. He just needs some time to experience life. He’s young. Younger than I am.”

  “He’s the same age as me,” Amanda commented.

  Celinda waved her hand dismissively. “Oh Lord, Amanda! You are light-years ahead of everyone in this industry!” She laughed once again, the sound joyful and friendly. “The way you work the media and the public . . . why, you’re more in demand than I am!”

  Amanda panicked when she heard that. “Oh!” she gasped. “That’s not true!”

  “Yes. It is true,” Celinda said, picking up her drink. “And that’s OK. If it has to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.” She took a sip and glanced over Amanda’s shoulder in the direction of the street. She nodded her head. When Amanda looked, she saw a small crowd starting to gather, trying to peer inside. “Word has spread, my dear.”

  “Word?”

  Slipping on her sunglasses, Celinda glanced around to make certain no one could overhear. “Fans. They’re outside the door.”

  Amanda checked in the direction of the door and noticed the gathering. “Oh help.”

  “Shall we have some fun, Am
anda?” Celinda teased. “Play with the fans a little?”

  “Play? How?”

  Celinda gestured toward the back of the cafe. “We can leave through the back and see how long it takes for them to catch on. Then we can hurry down the street and visit some shops. When the word spreads, we’ll see how quickly it takes for the street to shut down and police to be called.”

  That didn’t seem like much fun to Amanda; she could only imagine what Alejandro would say when he learned about it. The sparkle in Celinda’s eyes and the smile on her lips told her that this was not the first time Celinda had played such a game.

  “That boy band from London can shut down a street in ten minutes,” Celinda said. “Let’s give the security guards a run for their money.”

  Celinda threw some euros onto the table and gathered her purse. Amanda followed her, casting an uneasy look over her shoulder at the window where the fans had gathered. In just a few minutes, the crowd had doubled in size. A fan frenzy, Alejandro called it. While Celinda thought of the mobs as fun, Alejandro always warned Amanda that they were dangerous. Now Amanda was following Celinda right into the heart of creating a mob scene.

  They slipped out the back door of the cafe and headed toward the Champs-Élysées, one of the fanciest shopping streets in Paris, according to Celinda. The tree-lined avenue hosted hotels and stores, many of them frequented by the rich and famous. Amanda followed Celinda down the sidewalk, ignoring the few turned heads that recognized her. She felt her pulse quicken, wondering if the crowd from the cafe had realized that the two young women had slipped out the back. When she heard noises behind them, Amanda knew that the impromptu group of fans had figured it out and were following them.