by Price, Sarah
Without another word, Dali pushed through the first set of doors, pausing just long enough for a stunned Amanda to catch up with her. As Dali plowed through the second set of doors, a bright light blinded Amanda for a second, and she struggled to slide on the sunglasses. When she realized that it wasn’t sunlight but the bright lights of reporters’ camera flashes, their brilliance reflected off the white umbrellas stationed outside, Amanda forgot Dali’s advice and stopped walking.
“Amanda! Amanda!”
Voices called to her from both sides. Amanda looked to her right and saw a tall young man with red curly hair and freckles on his nose, waving his arms in her direction.
“One photo. Please!” he begged, standing on the balls of his feet and shifting his weight eagerly from one to the other as he tried to capture her attention.
The look of desperation on his face, the longing for just one photo with her, tore at her heart. She had seen that look before in the eyes of the women at the Meet and Greets before Alejandro’s concerts. It was the same look worn by the even younger women who lined up outside of buildings and hotels, hoping that, just maybe, they could catch a glimpse of Viper as he walked from the car to the entrance.
Amanda glanced toward the car where Dali stood with her lips pressed tight together, visibly irritated that she had not listened to her. For a moment, Amanda hesitated. But then, as if she’d heard Alejandro’s voice inside her head, Amanda knew what to do. She smiled and walked over to the lanky boy who didn’t look to be much older than she was. She let him hug her, his lean body pressed against hers. When she pulled back, she was surprised to see that he was weeping.
He gave a nervous laugh, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Words seemed to escape him.
To save him from further embarrassment, she smiled. “You wanted a photo, ja?”
“Oh yes!” He turned around, positioning himself so that he could take a photo of her standing beside him. With his cell phone held up in the air, he took the selfie, a big grin on his face. “I can’t thank you enough,” he gushed. “You just made my life.”
She would have found the statement unusual, but she had heard it so many times at Alejandro’s events that the words did not surprise her. However, she couldn’t believe that he was saying such a thing to her. Before she could reply, several other people pushed their way through and began to take photos of her, two of the women crying and hugging her before taking a picture with her. Slowly, Amanda made her way through the crowd, pausing to meet with fans and smiling for the professional photographers.
“What was that, Amanda?” Dali snapped when Amanda finally made her way into the car. “I was most specific in my instructions to you!”
Dali’s voice had an edge to it that startled Amanda. No one had ever spoken so sharply to her. “I . . . I’m sorry.”
“You should be! What on earth were you thinking?”
Amanda didn’t respond right away. She sank down in the seat of the car, wishing that it could just swallow her up so that she could disappear. What had she been thinking? The crowd had surprised her. All week she had been at the dance studio and no one had made a fuss over her. Usually, the fans waited for Alejandro . . . their Viper. Amanda was just his wife, and as far as she knew, they wanted photos with her only because she was in a relationship with him.
“It’s what Alejandro would have done.”
“I suppose I don’t have to point out that you’re not Alejandro!” Dali dug through her attaché case, until she finally found her phone. Shaking her head, she began typing something on it. Her cheeks blazed red, whether from anger or agitation, Amanda didn’t know. “I don’t think you understand it yet. You are a brand, Amanda. And there is a price associated with your brand image. Don’t cheapen your brand image in such a way,” she snapped, “because if you do, you cheapen his!”
“A brand?” The word sounded cold and unfeeling, but she had no idea what it meant. The only brand that she could think of was what some farmers did to their livestock. Amanda frowned. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Really?” Dali scoffed at her. “Well, I’m not going to be the one to explain it to you. Clearly, you aren’t about to listen to me.”
“Dali . . .”
Her own cell phone vibrated, and Amanda pulled it out of her bag. She glanced down and was only slightly surprised to see that Alejandro was calling her. Turning her shoulder so that her back faced Dali, Amanda answered the phone. “Ja?”
“Amanda.”
She’d already known who it was. The stern tone of his voice, however, dismayed her. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What was so wrong?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, the edge was gone from his voice. “I know, mi querida. But it’s not safe to mingle with the crowds if I am not there.”
“You make the fans happy.” She fought the urge to cry. “That’s what you always do, and it was what I wanted to do. For you.”
“Sí, sí,” he replied. “You must be careful, though. And posing with people on the street . . .”
“I’ve seen you do it!” She felt like a child, being scolded by her parents.
When he laughed, she knew that she couldn’t stop the tears. With the back of her hand, she wiped them away.
“I do, sí,” he said softly. “But there is always a reason. A strategic reason, Princesa. There is a price for such a photo, and today no one made any money but the media. You’ll learn more on our trip, sí? Just listen to Dali when she tells you to do something.”
“I thought I was being kind,” she whispered, part of her wanting to turn off the phone and the other part to justify herself.
He lowered his voice so that, presumably, whoever was near him could not hear. “And you are, Princesa. You have a large and caring heart. I love that large and caring heart. Don’t change. But be safe about it.”
After he’d said good-bye, Amanda held the phone in her hand for a few minutes. She stared out the window of the car, embarrassed that she had been reprimanded, both by Dali and Alejandro, as if she were a schoolgirl. Her cheeks burned from the humiliation of having cried in Dali’s presence, so she refused to turn around and apologize to the woman. Instead, as soon as the car pulled up to their building, Amanda grabbed her things and darted out of the door that the doorman opened for her, barely pausing to thank him.
All she wanted was to spend time with Alejandro. But his time seemed to be an increasingly rare commodity these days. His days were spent with his team in endless meetings about the tour, and his nights kept him in the music studio. When he finally returned home, she was often already asleep. He’d quietly undress, leaving his clothes over the back of a chair, before sliding under the sheets and tucking his arm around her waist as he gently pulled her toward him. That was usually when she awoke: the exact moment that her back pressed against his chest and she felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck.
He’d sleep and she’d lie there, listening to the sounds of his breathing and feeling the strength of his arm holding her tightly against his chest. Sometimes she’d stroke his arm, tracing her fingers along the outline of his tattoo. He would awaken, just for a moment, and kiss her shoulder before falling back into a deep slumber.
Now, as she exited the elevator and proceeded toward the main entrance to their condominium, she felt the tears begin to fall. Once inside, she ran up the stairs and headed for the bedroom, ashamed by her reaction to all that had happened. She flung herself across the bed, knowing that she needed to let it out and just cry. No one was home besides Señora Perez and maybe Rodriego. They wouldn’t disturb her even if they overheard her sobs.
She must have fallen asleep because she awoke to the noise of the light switch clicking in the bathroom. As her eyes fluttered open, she realized that the sun had already set. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, feeling groggy an
d fuzzy headed. “Alejandro?” she called out. She knew it must be him for she heard the water running in the sink. She slid off the bed and quietly tiptoed across the carpet to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. “Alejandro?” she asked again as she pressed her fingers against the door handle.
He stood at the sink, splashing water on his face. When he saw her in the reflection of the mirror, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel. “Princesa,” he said, his eyes watching her as he dried his face. “You were asleep. Did I wake you?”
She shook her head, sections of hair coming loose from her bun. She must have lost her pins while she slept, for strands of her hair hung down her shoulders and brushed against her face. Pushing it back from her cheeks, she let her hand linger on the back of her neck. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what, Princesa?” He dropped the towel into the sink and turned to face her, leaning his hip against the edge of the marble vanity. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile as he reached out his hand for hers. When she took it, he pulled her into the room and against his chest. “Ah, Princesa,” he sighed, burrowing his face into her hair. “I have missed you these past few days.”
His confession almost made her cry once again, but she didn’t think she had any tears left.
He kissed the side of her head, still holding her tight in his arms. “Such a life for you, no? There is much to learn.”
She wanted to learn, but she did not know what understanding she was missing. She still didn’t see why she shouldn’t have taken photos with the fans. Nor did she understand what Dali had meant about her being a brand. Even Alejandro had said that there was a price for photos. Price? What price? And for . . . a photo? She didn’t understand what they were talking about, and the confusion weighed heavily on her. She wanted to do the right thing. But if she didn’t know what the right thing was, how was it possible for her to do it? She wanted to ask him for an explanation, some clarification that would help her avoid making inadvertent mistakes that would upset others. But navigating his world was becoming increasingly difficult, especially now that they had returned to Miami.
And that was one more thing that bothered her. Miami was supposed to be their home. She wanted to create a routine for Alejandro, but every day presented nothing but irregular schedules. The only constant thing in their lives was change.
As if reading her mind, he pulled away and held her at arm’s length, keeping his hands on her shoulders and massaging them gently. “How was the rest of the day? Good?”
Amanda stood there, mute, staring at him. How could she possibly tell him the truth? That she abhorred Jeremy’s dresses with their mesh fabric sides and low-cut necklines and how Stedman was trying to make her do things that she simply didn’t want to do? The thought of telling Alejandro what she truly felt caused her to do the one thing she didn’t want to do: burst into tears. Horrified, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
With his hands still on her shoulders, he leaned down and peered into her face. “What is this, Princesa? Tears? Not from my Amanda,” he said in a soothing voice. She thought she heard him chuckle, not unkindly but in a bemused sort of way. “Such emotions, Princesa,” he whispered. “Are you feeling all right?”
And there it was. The truth.
Did he know her so well, she wondered, that he sensed what was really bothering her? Burrowing her head against his shoulder, she continued sobbing, not caring whether her tears stained his shirt. She clung to him. “Yes . . . no . . . oh, I don’t know anymore,” she said.
He let her cry, rubbing her back and soothing her with a soft “Shh.” When she finally calmed down, he released his hold on her and leaned over to pull a tissue from the container on the vanity. Leaning down again, he dabbed at her eyes. “Your emotions, Princesa,” he said slowly. “Do you think . . . ?”
When he didn’t finish the sentence, she blinked at him. “Think what, Alejandro?”
He smiled at her and gave a last dab at a final tear. “Perhaps something is bothering you? Perhaps there’s a chance . . . ?”
A chance of what? she wondered. And then, all of a sudden, it dawned on her. Was he insinuating that she might be pregnant? Were her emotions caused by changes in her body? “I . . . I don’t know,” she answered. She hadn’t considered such a possibility. “It has been a while.” She felt herself blush when she said that and averted her eyes.
“Hmm.” The way that he said it, a mischievous undertone to that single sound, made her dip her head and hide it against his arm as he embraced her again. He laughed and gently rocked her from side to side. “We’ll have to find out, sí?”
A baby? Was it possible? She tried to remember when she’d last had her monthly course. And her emotions had seemed all over the place lately, especially since they had returned to Miami. A warm glow spread throughout her body at the thought that, mayhaps, she was carrying Alejandro’s baby. Oh, she thought, how wunderbar that would be! To give him such a gift, and to share the miracle of life together! She laughed with him, suddenly feeling as if the weight of the day’s emotional burdens had lifted from her shoulders.
Chapter Six
Wearing black slacks and a high-collared white shirt with black onyx cuff links at the wrists, Alejandro stood in the doorway, watching Amanda. She was leaning slightly over the bathroom counter and peering into the mirror, putting on the final touches of her makeup. She could feel the heat of his stare, and as she applied a clear lip gloss, she looked at his reflection beside hers.
“You’re staring,” she said, her eyes holding his gaze in the mirror.
“Sí.” His eyes never moved, and the corner of his mouth lifted, just a touch, as if he was trying to repress a smile. “Sí, Amanda, I am staring.” His voice was soft, almost like a gentle purr. “I am staring at the most beautiful woman in my world.”
His compliment caused her a moment of discomfort, and she looked away. Growing up, beauty was something to be seen in God’s gifts to the world: nature, not people. Personal beauty was not something that was discussed among family, friends, or community. Doing so was a sign of one of the worst sins: vanity. Even though Alejandro knew this, he often made flattering remarks about her. She wasn’t certain that she would ever get used to them.
As always, he chuckled at her reaction and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
She didn’t know if she would ever get used to his compliments or the look in his eyes when he watched her with a mixture of mild curiosity and barely veiled longing. There were moments when she caught him staring and wondered how long she had been unaware of his silent observation. But always he wore that look, the same one he wore now as he watched her getting ready for an evening out in Miami.
“Is that a new dress, Princesa?” He crossed the room, the thick heels of his glossy black shoes clicking on the marble tile. “Did Jeremy pick that out?”
Amanda turned so that her back faced the mirror and playfully held out her arms as if she were a dancer. Unlike Lucinda, the horrible woman who’d picked out her clothing in Philadelphia and insulted her by calling her prayer kapp a hat, Jeremy not only understood Amanda’s style but also embraced it in most of her day-to-day outfits. Still, her new wardrobe was not perfect. This dress, dark navy with a high neckline, was proof. Jeremy had added the rhinestones around her neck and the low-cut back, which Amanda had complained profusely about. And, of course, he disagreed with her over the style of her dresses for the tour. In fact, several of the new dresses were a bit risqué for her taste. But in dealing with Jeremy, she had clearly met her match: her protests were ignored, the dress with the low back now adorned her body, and she knew that her stage dresses would be suggestive, to say the least.
“You like, ja?”
“I like, ja,” he teased, reaching for her extended hand and gently pulling her toward him. With his other hand, he held her, the small of her back fitting comfortably against his palm.
The warmth of his skin gave her a shiver, and she shut her eyes, enjoying his attention.
The past two weeks had been long and busy. She chastised herself now for having envisioned that their return to Miami would be followed by them living a normal life as newlyweds, something they had yet to experience. After all, she reasoned with herself, what about Alejandro was truly “normal”? Certainly not his lifestyle, that was for sure and certain.
Now, her days were filled with so many appointments, she barely realized that she hardly saw her husband until the evenings when he returned to their condominium—sometimes with an entourage, occasionally by himself. Always she made certain to be ready for his arrival so that when he walked in the front door and called out for her, she was just in the other room, waiting.
Always waiting.
If he was alone, she didn’t mind that he would sweep her into his arms, sometimes lifting her off the floor as he carried her into the living room, her weak protests mere pretense, for she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms. Instead of putting her down, he’d spin her around, nuzzle at her neck, and warm her lips with a kiss before setting her back on her feet. Leaving his embrace always made her heart ache. It hadn’t taken long for her to figure out the routine, a routine she accepted despite it being far removed from the one she’d envisioned for their life in Miami.
Most nights Alejandro appeared around seven o’clock; he would pour himself a drink and offer her a glass of champagne or wine. Usually she would simply shake her head and instead accept the sparkling water with a twist of lemon that Señora Perez had waiting for her, as if by magic. At that point, Alejandro would then join her on the sofa, stretching out his large frame as he leaned his head back and sighed. He would remain silent for a few minutes as he unwound from a long day of meetings and interviews. After he’d had a few minutes to relax, he’d ask her about her day, which had been filled with just as much activity as his.