by Chris Perez
I waited anxiously for Abraham or A.B. to call. I fully expected to be fired and I was miserable, not just because my stupidity had caused Selena to leave me, but because we were finishing up an album that Abraham was sure would launch our careers in Mexico and the rest of Latin America. Selena y Los Dinos would move on and leave me behind.
As more time went by without any phone calls, I grew increasingly agitated. What had happened? Did the other two guys take the heat for me, and not mention me being there? Much as I would have liked to escape Abraham’s wrath, that wouldn’t be right, I decided. I knew that I had to tell the truth, apologize, and try to make amends. That was the very least I could do for the Quintanilla family.
Finally I drove to the studio, where I knew I’d find Abraham. He was in the control room with one of our sound engineers, watching Selena record a vocal track. She saw me come in but ignored me.
I joined Abraham, not knowing whether I was going to be fired on the spot, or if he’d ask me to finish the record first, then go. I told him what had happened at the hotel the night before, holding nothing back.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Nothing like that will ever happen again. I let things get out of hand. I didn’t stop it. I don’t know what else to tell you, but I apologize, and I will pay for all of the damages.”
To my shock, Abraham accepted my apology. He knew that I meant what I said. He even put his arm around me and, once again, reassured me. “Everything will be all right, Chris.”
My face burned with shame. Why had the other two men been fired, while Abraham was willing to give me a second chance? I like to think that, even then, he saw me as a son. In any case, once again, I was nearly crippled with guilt by my deception. I was being honest with this man I respected—but not completely.
On the other hand, things were over with Selena and me. What did it matter now? For just an instant, I even let myself think that maybe it was in Selena’s best interest to break things off with me.
Abraham told me that he had an errand to run. “You going to be here for a while?”
I thought of Selena in the studio, and nodded. “Just a bit,” I said.
“Good. Keep an eye on her,” Abraham said, and took off.
“Okay.”
Selena finished singing and came into the control room. I had been standing behind the engineer. Now she stood right next to me, her arm rubbing against mine, and said, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said, my arm tingling. “I came to apologize to your dad. I told him everything.”
“What’s the deal?” she asked.
“We’re cool.”
“You’re going to keep playing with us?”
“Yes.”
Immediately, she put her arms around me and pressed her body close.
“Wait a minute,” I asked, laughing. “I thought you just broke up with me and we weren’t together anymore.”
“Shut up,” she said.
“No.” I turned to her. “In all seriousness, I need to apologize to you, too.” I told her my plan to pay for all of the damages, and added, “I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much. You know that I’d never deliberately do anything to hurt you. I don’t want to lose you.”
She hugged me hard. “Of course you’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”
We stayed like that for a long time, despite the fact that the engineer was in the control room with us, having to act like he didn’t see or hear anything at all.
By this time, I had started telling just a few close friends about Selena. I had also told my parents that we were seeing each other. I knew they would be supportive, but the first time I brought Selena home to meet my mother and stepfather, she was extremely nervous.
Selena was about to perform in San Antonio, so she was dressed for the stage in a glamorous red outfit and she’d brushed her shoulder-length hair out. “I want to look my best when I meet your mom,” she confided shyly.
The meeting between Selena and my mother went well, I told her later. I could tell that my mom liked her.
Still, Selena said, “I was more nervous about meeting your mom than I was about going onstage tonight.”
After that night, however, Selena spent a lot of time at my mother’s house whenever she came to San Antonio. She had an excuse to do that now, because she had found shops in San Antonio that sold leather, jewelry, beads, and other things that she needed to make her belts and costumes. Looking back at pictures of her during that time, you can see her wearing these big rhinestone belt buckles that she used to make.
Selena would tell her family that she was shopping in San Antonio, and then she would come see a movie with me, or we’d go out to eat. We weren’t as afraid of being recognized in the city, though I was still on guard. Selena would want to walk with her arm around me, but I’d say, “Hey, you know how much I want to be affectionate with you in public and all that, but until you think your dad’s ready to hear about us, we’ve got to be careful.”
Sometimes, Selena would just come hang out at my mom’s house. She was more relaxed with my mother than she was with almost anyone else, probably because she was away from all of the things pulling at her—and because my mom accepted us as a couple. Selena used to sit in the glider in the backyard, just swinging and talking to my mother. She also loved taking walks with my mom around the neighborhood because it was quiet and nobody ever recognized her.
She enjoyed watching my stepfather cook, too. Once, he had bought a big roast with a bone. While we were in the kitchen talking, Selena watched Pops, mesmerized, as he cut up the meat for stew and set the bone aside. She was fascinated by these small domestic details because she had been on the road for so many years with her family.
“What are you going to do with that bone?” she asked.
“I’m going to make soup,” Pops said.
“Really? You can use a bone to make soup?” She was amazed.
Another night, when my mom suggested a walk, Selena asked if she could walk to the corner barefooted.
Startled, my mother told her that of course she could. “But why do you want to?”
“I just want to feel the warm cement on the soles of my feet,” Selena said. “I never get to do that.”
Another afternoon, I was outside washing the car with my stepfather. Selena and my mom had just come back from shopping when all of a sudden the ice cream truck came by. Selena ran back outside, all excited. “Can we get some ice cream, Chris? Can we go to the truck?”
I laughed and said sure. Selena made a beeline for that truck, reminding me again of all of the simple things about childhood that I’d taken for granted that Selena never had. She had given up her childhood to make music and go on the road with her family.
She never complained about it, but Selena was never really allowed to be a carefree child the way most of us are. Sometimes I felt that loss for her. I was happy to give her at least a glimpse into the way ordinary people lived. Looking back, I only wish that I could have given her more.
FOUR
FACING A FATHER’S WRATH
C. W. Bush / Shooting Star
Ultimately, it wasn’t anything that Selena and I did that brought our relationship to Abraham’s attention and brought his wrath down upon us both. It was her sister, Suzette.
We had just finished playing a show in El Campo, Texas. Selena and I were hanging out on Big Bertha while the road crew broke down the equipment. Everyone else was either outside or in the bar as she and I relaxed in the front lounge area of the bus. We weren’t doing anything suspicious. We weren’t even sitting next to each other; I was seated at the table and Selena sat on the couch across from me. We had changed our clothes and were just talking when we heard the bus door swing open.
Instinctively, Selena and I both straightened up and fell silent as someone ascended the steps of the bus. It was only Suzette. Before I had time to feel relieved and make a joke, however, I saw from Suzette’s expression that she wasn’t as pleased to see
us as we were to see her.
“Oh, God,” Suzette said. She rolled her eyes at us, then spun around and got off the bus again, slamming the door so hard that the bus rocked a little.
Selena and I exchanged puzzled glances. “What was that all about?” I asked.
“No idea,” Selena said.
It never occurred to either of us that Suzette would go to her father at that moment and tell him about us. Why would she? Suzette and I had always been friends. Like the rest of the band, she knew about Selena and me; she had already told us, “Look, I’m not involved in what you’re doing together. And if Dad asks me, I’m going to say that I don’t know anything.”
A few minutes later, the door to the bus swung open again. This time it was Abraham. He climbed the steps but stopped near the driver’s seat, staring straight at me.
“Chris, can you come here for a second?” he asked. He appeared calm, but his mouth was set and his voice was hoarse from either fatigue or tension.
“Sure.” I got up from the table, alarm bells sounding in my head.
“What’s going on?” Selena asked.
I shrugged and followed her father. By the time I reached the top of the bus steps, Abraham was standing on the ground again, just waiting. His dark eyes were hard and his shoulders were pulled back. What was going on?
We had performed in Houston the night before; Abraham had been paid for that show in cash and had somehow rushed out of the hotel room in the morning without retrieving his briefcase full of money from under the bed. By the time he remembered, we were already setting up for the show in El Campo. Abraham decided to borrow a car from my friend Carlos, whose band was opening for us that night, so that he could race back to Houston, feverishly hoping that by some stroke of luck the money would still be there.
It was, thankfully. Still, I reminded myself that this mishap had caused Abraham to miss our show in El Campo—and had probably made him even more exhausted and irritable than he usually was, particularly since he had nobody to blame for that mistake but himself.
As I joined him on the street, I ticked off every other possible reason that Abraham might feel compelled to call me aside like this, too. None of the reasons seemed like good ones. Had I said or done something to set him off?
Abraham was certainly angry. He started to walk away, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands balled into fists. Thinking, Oh, man, please don’t let him try to do anything, I followed him toward the back of the bus, where the generator was making a loud clacking sound.
Suddenly Abraham stopped so fast that I nearly ran into him. He wheeled around and pointed a finger at me. “Suzette just told me that she walked onto the bus and saw you and Selena holding hands,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys, but whatever it is, it stops right now.”
I remained silent as Abraham continued to yell and jab his finger in my direction, trying to intimidate me. “And one more thing!” he finished. “If you say a single word about this conversation to Selena, I will deny it and she’s going to believe me.”
What had made Suzette say something to him? To this day, I have no idea. It was probably just a rift between sisters—nothing serious, just a bad mood.
I could have denied holding hands with Selena. That was the truth, after all. But I didn’t bother. Abraham had good reason to be accusing me. Besides, I was tired of living with the worry that, every day, Selena and I were doing something wrong by loving each other and hiding it from her father.
I had known that, sooner or later, Abraham would discover our secret, and this worry had been a constant thorn in my side. Here we were, so happy and so in love, yet there was this one thing that I constantly itched to fix. More than for me, I wanted to fix the situation for Selena’s sake. She worked harder and was more generous than anyone I’d ever met. She deserved to have her father’s blessing and have people be happy for her.
I didn’t want to lie to Abraham anymore. At the same time, I also didn’t want to defy him or make him any angrier than he already was. If there were any right words or right deeds I could have done to change his mind about Selena and me, I would have done them. I just didn’t know what they were.
So I just said, “Okay.” What else was there to say? All I wanted at the moment was to defuse the situation. My only other option would have been to tell him, “No, I’m not going to stop seeing Selena.” I had a pretty good idea how that would go over.
Thankfully, my response seemed to satisfy him. Abraham turned on his heel and stormed off. He must have thought he’d won. He didn’t know how serious my relationship with Selena already was. He certainly didn’t suspect that Selena and I were already lovers, or that we saw each other nearly every day when we weren’t touring. In his view, his daughter and I were just two kids who’d started flirting. In love? Impossible.
Once Abraham had huffed back into the building with the road crew, I rejoined Selena on the bus. “I think your sister told your father that she came on the bus and saw us holding hands,” I said.
Selena was furious; she wanted to go after Suzette and have it out with her. I had to calm her down. I didn’t want Selena arguing with Suzette in front of everyone. What good would that do? Everyone we cared about except Abraham had already been told about us, or had seen us express our feelings for each other in some way—my mom, Selena’s mom, my friend Carlos and his mom, our friends, everyone in the band—so fighting out in the open could only make things worse with Abraham.
Things were incredibly tense on the bus in the days after that. I was trying to walk a fine line between keeping Selena happy and making everyone else happy, too, including her father and the band. I didn’t want to lose my job. And, stupidly, I kept thinking that once Abraham calmed down, we would all be able to talk openly about what was going on and he’d accept the situation.
That didn’t happen. Instead, Abraham grew increasingly difficult to be around. He was in danger of losing his little girl—and his star—and his guard was up. The band members, including A.B. and Suzette, turned their backs on me, scarcely speaking to me unless it was absolutely essential to the work we were doing.
Meanwhile, I continued to act like nothing was going on between Selena and me. I didn’t want to act disrespectfully in front of Abraham, nor did I want to jeopardize my position in the band. I loved playing with Los Dinos. I also knew how upset Selena would be if I weren’t able to play with them.
I was frankly surprised that Abraham let me stay. He must have assumed that I was going to do whatever he said. Everyone else did. Besides, how could I possibly be a threat, or worthy of his daughter’s affection? He was in charge of his family and his band. I was just a lowly guitarist, and musicians were a dime a dozen.
At the same time, Abraham was now on high alert for any potential trouble within the ranks. He kept a sharp eye on us and made sure that, ninety-nine percent of the time, he was with Selena everywhere she went. Little did he know that Selena and I were still seeing each other in San Antonio and Corpus whenever the band wasn’t on the road.
Naturally, it hurt my feelings when the other band members shunned me. I thought we were friends, but now they made it clear that nobody had my back. On the other hand, what did I expect? Like me, nobody wanted to lose his job or mess with Abraham. They weren’t telling me not to see Selena, so I guess that was their way of showing some support for us, but that was about as far as it went.
At one point, A.B. and I were sitting together on the bus when we happened to notice Abraham pacing slowly back and forth on the sidewalk below, clearly moping. I wanted to go down there and tell Abraham how I felt about Selena, but I knew there was nothing I could say that wouldn’t provoke another fit of rage.
“Dude, I hate this,” I told A.B.
“Hate what?” he asked.
“I hate it that it’s so hard for your dad to think about Selena and me being together.”
“Don’t worry,” A.B. reassured me. “Dad will get over this. You’ve ju
st got to give him some time.”
Man, I said to myself. I don’t see that ever happening.
Despite all of this exhausting tension, Selena and I were still happy together. We always had a great time going out to eat, hanging at my mom’s house in San Antonio, or visiting friends who knew about and accepted our relationship.
One of my favorite memories is of a time I visited Selena in Corpus Christi and we ended up taking a long walk by the water. We walked all the way to the tip of one of the jetties, where we sat and talked about our situation, promising each other once again that nothing could ever tear us apart.
As we sat there, Selena put her head on my shoulder and started softly singing one of my favorite songs, “More than Words,” by a phenomenal band called Extreme that I’d introduced to her not long before. Those lyrics seemed to describe our feelings for one another perfectly.
I had never been more content than I was at that moment, sitting on that jetty in Corpus and having Selena sing to me. How amazing it was, I thought, that this woman I loved so much would sing for me, and me alone, in her incredible voice, as the water sparkled silver beneath a wide blue Texas sky.
After Selena passed away, Extreme came to Corpus to play. The band dedicated that song to her because I had met them once and told the lead singer how much Selena loved the lyrics. But that was later, after everything.
The day that Abraham finally threw me out of Los Dinos started out like any other day. We were again traveling on the bus. We had just finished a show and we were all sitting up toward the front. The atmosphere still crackled with tension. The band members were clearly getting tired of this whole situation and mostly ignoring me. I’m sure they wished I’d leave so that peace could reign in their world once again.