by Price, Sarah
“I reckon I understand why the bishops allow so little access to the world,” she said aloud, her mind wandering.
She couldn’t imagine her sister visiting such a place as Prague and then being able to return unchanged to Lititz. In just one year, Amanda had changed so much, and now understood far more about the world and how it operated outside the confines of the Amish community. To return to such a plain and simple lifestyle would be difficult, indeed. But she did not regret leaving. After all, the choice had been hers and hers alone. In some ways, she had forced the issue by reaching out to Alejandro through the media when the bishop wanted to send her away. Had she not reached out to Alejandro, the paparazzi would have eventually lost interest and moved on to something else. She hadn’t realized that then, but hindsight provided clarity on the situation.
“There is a saying from a philosopher,” Alejandro commented, “that no man can step into the same river twice, for the river has changed as has the man.”
She had to think about that for a moment. It was true that rivers were constantly moving and the water never stayed in one place. But the man? Perhaps the knowledge that the river was wet or a rock slippery changed the man?
“That’s quite a profound saying,” she admitted. “I reckon if the river is life, the constant motion of it changes a person from one day to the next, ja?”
He nodded as they sat down at the outdoor table that overlooked the Old Town Square. He motioned to the server to bring them coffee. “And how quickly it changes, no?”
She saw him glance over the top of his sunglasses toward the street. When he grimaced, she knew that if she turned around, she would see a crowd gathering. He sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing at his temples. It was frustrating to always be “on.”
“How many?”
He shrugged. “Twenty?”
But crowds grew, and Amanda suspected that by the time they finished their coffee there would be twice that many people standing outside. Of course, she knew that was the name of the game. They had to remain on, talking quietly and smiling to each other, presenting the face of the Royalty of Rap to the public instead of simply being themselves. And when the time came to leave, they’d have to exit through a back door in order to escape the crush of their adoring public.
Yes, she thought, no one can step into the same river twice.
Backstage at Prague’s O2 arena, Amanda was surprised to see Enrique and Celinda sitting together in the greenroom, her legs gently brushing against his. Enrique’s arm lay across the back of the sofa, not touching Celinda but definitely hinting at more intimacy than just colleagues. Amanda was about to back out of the room when Celinda spotted her.
“Amanda!” She leaned forward and patted the chair next to her. “Come listen to this idea!”
That was the last thing Amanda wanted to do. However, she did not want to be rude to her friend.
“Where did you go today?” Celinda asked as Amanda sat down.
“Old Town Square,” she answered, avoiding Enrique’s invasive stare. “And you?”
Celinda glanced at Enrique and smiled, a smile that said more than Amanda wanted to hear. Amanda ignored the look Enrique gave Celinda in return. “Oh, this and that. I’ve been to Prague before, so it was nice to sleep in late and then grab a bite to eat near the Lennon Wall.”
“Lennon Wall?”
“It’s a long wall of graffiti near the Grand Priory Square,” Celinda explained. “All for John Lennon.” When Amanda still wore a blank expression, Celinda laughed. “He was one of the Beatles, a famous rock band from the sixties.”
“Oh.”
“Well, anyway,” Celinda said, moving to a new topic. “We leave Prague tonight and go straight to Vienna. We have all day tomorrow to do whatever we want in Vienna. So we were thinking that the four of us could go see Schönbrunn Palace. I hear it’s lovely and almost rivals Versailles. Enrique arranged for a videographer to film us!” She laughed and clapped her hands, leaning backward into Enrique’s shoulder. “Enrique and Alejandro can use the footage for their new video! Wouldn’t that be fun? Just random real video, not that structured stuff that the studios make us do.”
Amanda had forgotten that Enrique and Alejandro planned on recording a song together. She suspected that Alejandro hadn’t spoken about it recently because he knew how uncomfortable she was around Enrique. And, truthfully, Amanda was looking forward to a lazy morning at the hotel, catching up on her correspondence and enjoying a quiet, relaxing day. Walking around a large palace with tons of tourists in the summer heat was not something she considered fun. She’d had enough of palaces and castles in England and France, anyway. The opulence of the royal families was something that did little to appease her dislike for the media’s nickname for her and Alejandro. Filming at Schönbrunn Palace would only add more fuel to the fire of being called the Royalty of Rap.
“I reckon I should check with Alejandro,” she responded at last.
Enrique pursed his lips as he studied her, his eyes moving from her face to other parts of her body. Just one more black mark against his name, she thought as she crossed her arms over her chest. “¡Sí, claro!” Enrique said in a mocking voice. “Since Viper arranged the film crew to meet us there, his answer will most likely be yes, sí?”
Celinda playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “And here I thought you were so clever!”
“When did he schedule this?” Amanda asked, hoping her voice hid her irritation.
Enrique shrugged. “Maybe five weeks ago?”
So that explained it, she thought. He had scheduled it prior to her arrival in Europe. She wondered if agreeing to this video was part of their contract with the label. Probably not, she told herself, since Alejandro had scheduled the shoot before she’d signed the contract.
Someone leaned around the open door and said, “Sound check, guys.”
Enrique rolled his eyes and slid his arm away from Celinda. “Like it’s even needed,” he mumbled, but loud enough for the man to hear. “It always works fine, sí?” He reached down to help Celinda to her feet. Amanda noticed the glow in her friend’s eyes when she placed her hand in Enrique’s and stood, brushing her arm against his side so that he had to steady her.
Amanda followed them to the stage and then walked out onto the floor. She saw Alejandro talking with the sound engineer in the back. Not wanting to disturb him, she wandered up the aisle and sat a few rows away.
“No, no,” Alejandro said. He wore a short-sleeved shirt that exposed his tattoos and his muscular forearms. He leaned over and pointed to something on a monitor. “Too much bass, man. It drowns out the vocals.”
The engineer nodded and twisted some dials, adjusting the different sounds.
Amanda watched, amazed at how Alejandro knew about the different aspects of the equipment. At every concert he oversaw the setup of the stage and tested the different speakers. Amanda had long ago noticed that Enrique left all of that to his own crew, who tended to defer to Alejandro. It struck Amanda that as much as Alejandro had been a playboy like Enrique at one time in his life, his attention to the professional side of the business had far exceeded anyone else’s on these tours. Despite his not having gone to college, he was, without doubt, the most intelligent man she’d ever met.
“When did you sneak over there, Princesa?” he asked while walking over to where she sat, leaving the engineer to finish correcting the sound levels.
“Just a few minutes ago.” She stood up and let him pull her toward him, his hands on her waist. “I was watching you,” she said flirtatiously.
“Oh, sí?” Music started to play over the speakers, and Alejandro began to sway to the song. “Like a stalker, sí?”
She swayed with him, his hips pressed against hers. “Nee, not a stalker.”
“No?”
She lifted her head so that her lips were close to his. “Like a crazy fan.”
He shut his eyes and moaned. “Not another one.”
She laughed. �
�The craziest of fans!”
His mouth twitched, so she knew he was trying to hide his smile. “Craziest, eh? Then I shall have to reward you.” He kissed her. “But not until later, sí?”
Someone called for him from the stage. He glanced over his shoulder and responded in rapid-fire Spanish.
“Before you go . . .”
He turned back to her. “¿Sí?”
“Celinda and Enrique . . . they mentioned something about a video?”
“¡Sí, sí!” He lit up at the mention of it. “A play on the whole Royalty of Rap. Brilliant, sí?”
“They seem awfully close these days,” she said as if it were just a casual observation.
“Close?” He scratched at the back of his neck as if trying to escape the topic.
“Alejandro,” she said, “I don’t believe I need to remind you of his reputation. He’s not exactly a one-woman kind of man.”
Alejandro tossed his head back and laughed. “No, Princesa, that he is not.”
She didn’t appreciate his reaction and found no humor in the situation. “I don’t want to see Celinda hurt, especially after her breakup with Justin.”
Alejandro shook his head as he placed both of his hands on her cheeks. “You worry too much,” he said. “Remember what happens when you worry.” He growled playfully at her before planting a gentle kiss on her lips. “Celinda is stronger and smarter than you give her credit for, mi amor. She knows what she is doing. So no more worrying, sí?”
She watched as he jogged down the aisle toward the stage. He jumped onto the stage in one fluid motion, not an ounce of struggle.
Chapter Nineteen
If Amanda had thought the Notre-Dame Cathedral opulent, she couldn’t help but gasp in awe at the beauty of Schönbrunn Palace. When their car pulled up to the yellow building on the outskirts of Vienna, Amanda stared out the window, her mouth hanging open. The courtyard, protected by a gated wall, was as wide as the building and deep enough to accommodate two, if not three, more buildings.
“People used to live here?” Amanda asked incredulously.
“Sí, Princesa,” Alejandro said as he slipped his cell phone into the front pocket of his short-sleeved shirt. He leaned forward and looked through her window. “That is why it is called a palace. The royal family of Vienna lived here.”
“It must have been a very large family!”
He laughed and shook his head. “Not by Amish standards.”
They pulled up to the small army of cars and trucks already in the side parking lot. Alejandro helped her out of the car, and after she thanked the driver, he guided her toward the courtyard and the main building. Several horse-drawn carriages stood at the ready for anyone willing to spend seventy-five euros for a ride around the grounds. Amanda paused long enough to pet the velvety nose of one of the horses, inhaling the musky equine scent as if trying to store it up inside her brain.
“¿Princesa, listo?” he called out when he realized that she no longer walked beside him.
A man that Amanda had never seen before came up to Alejandro and began speaking to him in Spanish. She turned her attention to the massive building before her, which appeared to be three stories high, with the center section rising into a fourth story. It was perfectly symmetrical: the first and third floors had small rectangular windows, exactly on top of each other, only interrupted by the large, arched windows all along the second floor. Six white pillars marked the entrance at the center of the building, where two arched staircases curved upward to the second floor. Directly beneath that section of the building was a breezeway. When Amanda saw a horse and carriage pull through and continue to the other side of the building, she realized that it was likely where the royal family had been picked up and dropped off by their carriages.
“Come, Princesa,” Alejandro called out to her. “You can explore later. We only have the Great Gallery for one hour. After that it will be open to the tourists again.”
He motioned for her to join him as he ascended the stairs that led to the second floor.
What she thought had been windows turned out to be doors. When they approached the first set, she hesitated and caught her breath.
“Oh help!”
Inside the doorway was a long, wide room, completely empty except for the cameras, lights, and crew that were already set up, waiting for them. Amanda walked into the room, her mouth agape. Opposite each window and door was a mirror of exactly the same size, which reflected the light and gave the illusion that the room was larger and more airy than it really was. Beside each window and mirror were tall, ornate pillars that led upward to two arched ceilings with frescoes painted in each center. She craned her neck to stare at the ceilings, taking in the cream-and-gold molding that framed the frescoes. Layer upon layer of woodwork and rosettes drew her eyes toward the magnificent paintings that loomed above her.
“What is that?” she whispered.
“It’s a painting for Maria Theresa,” someone said from behind her.
Amanda turned and saw a man dressed in a suit with thick glasses and thinning hair.
“I’m one of the docents here,” he explained, his English perfect and without a trace of an accent. “They asked me to stand by in case of questions.”
“I see.” She looked back at the fresco. “Who was Maria Theresa?”
He smiled and for a moment she wondered if he was mocking her lack of knowledge. “She was the Empress of Vienna in the mid-eighteenth century.” The man hesitated and took a quick breath before he continued. “You may know her better as the mother of Marie Antoinette . . . ?”
Amanda shook her head.
“If you’ve been to Paris and visited the Palace of Versailles, you’ll notice that much of the influence in decor there is similar to here at Schönbrunn Palace. One of the reasons for that is because Marie Antoinette grew up here, and after marrying King Louis XVI, she had a hand in decorating Versailles before she was beheaded.”
“Beheaded? You mean like . . .” She searched her memory for the name of the woman Alejandro had told her about at Warwick Castle. “Boleyn?”
The man looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes.
“Maria Theresa was the last of the Habsburg line to rule Vienna,” he said, changing the subject.
“And she lived here?”
The man nodded. “With her sixteen children.”
Amanda’s mouth opened. “Sixteen? Why, she had more children than any Amish woman I know!”
She felt a hand on her elbow and heard Alejandro say, “Excuse me” to the man as he directed her toward the back of the room.
“Mi amor,” he said with a strained voice. “I need you to help us get through this hour. They are waiting to get you dressed and fix your makeup. Please, Princesa.”
Feeling like a rebuked child, she hurried along in the direction that he pointed. As soon as she neared the rear corner, a young woman guided her behind a large screen where Amanda was ordered to change into a pretty cream-colored dress with a tight bodice and full skirt. Two other women helped with the zipper while straightening the bottom. From the other side of the screen, someone called out in German and the older of the women shook her head, gesturing for everyone to hurry up. Amanda felt more hands tugging at the dress before someone took her arm and led her toward the makeup table. Bright lights, little brushes, more words that she couldn’t understand. But within fifteen minutes, she was back in the center of the Great Gallery and waiting for Alejandro to join her.
What she hadn’t expected was to see Enrique and Celinda emerge, holding hands and laughing from a doorway that Amanda had thought was just a mirror. Celinda wore a dress similar to Amanda’s, only it was a different color, one that played up the rich olive tone of her skin. Enrique, for once, was dressed in slacks and a decent shirt. Despite how much she disliked him, Amanda had to admit that, when dressed properly, he was a handsome man.
“Amanda!” Celinda lit up when she saw her and hurried over, leaving Enrique to stand by himself i
n the center of the room by the fireplace. “You look absolutely divine!” Then, spreading out her hands, Celinda took ahold of her skirt and twirled around. “Aren’t these dresses just so fun?” She stopped spinning and the fabric of her dress wrapped around her legs. “They used to wear this style back in those days—isn’t that amazing?”
“What days?”
“Oh, the early 1800s, I think. Maybe late 1700s. These are replicas of dresses worn by the Habsburgs.”
Celinda didn’t have time to explain any further. Alejandro emerged, dressed in all black. Immediately, he was surrounded by several people, each one speaking to him over the other. Within minutes, music was blasting throughout the hall, bright lights flooded the room, and cameras began to roll.
Without needing any direction, Alejandro began singing the song, dancing by himself while Amanda watched. The cameramen filmed from different angles as he sang and danced to the music.
“Girls?”
Amanda looked up and saw that one of the crew members was motioning for her and Celinda to join them in a different corner of the room. It was hard to hear over the music, so Amanda tried to follow the man’s directions, two cameras recording every move that she and Celinda made. The recording of the video would be done in stages and then edited together. One hour of filming in the Schönbrunn Palace might amount to thirty seconds of useful material. But she tried to follow their instructions: walking with Celinda through the grand doorway, standing by a fireplace in an adjourning room, gazing out the windows into the courtyard. While Amanda had no idea about the story line of the video, she knew that it had been well thought out and planned in advance.
When the crew was finished filming their pieces, Celinda hurried over to where Alejandro was now singing and dancing with Enrique. Curious, Amanda watched them, too aware of the number of cameras, lights, and people focused on her husband. Amanda wondered how Enrique could have arranged something of this scale, between reserving the Great Gallery and organizing all of the staff. And the dresses? Amanda knew the video shoot was something Alejandro had arranged long before the European tour had started. She remembered that, just recently, he had met with some people in Los Angeles regarding an upcoming video shoot. Certainly something as sophisticated as this was the work of someone with cultured tastes—and that person was certainly not Enrique.
