To Selena, With Love

by Chris Perez

  As the months went by, Selena increasingly relied on Yolanda for assistance, especially once she started thinking seriously about opening up a third boutique where most of her fan base was, in Monterrey, Mexico. We didn’t know anything about managing a business. Yolanda didn’t either, but she acted like she knew, and we started leaning on her more and more. We were eager to be independent of Abraham, and besides, Yolanda had personal connections in Monterrey and was always willing to drive down there with Selena to explore business prospects.

  I didn’t really see Yolanda much. If I happened to drop Selena off at the boutique in Corpus for her to get her hair and nails done, I’d chat with Yolanda for a few minutes. That was pretty much the extent of my interactions with her, other than occasional lunches with Yolanda and Selena, where they would talk about business or people they knew and I’d crack a joke here and there.

  I never saw Yolanda as a threat. She was like all of those girls in high school I used to feel sorry for because they seemed to have no lives of their own. There was no reason to ever suspect that she was dangerous. In a weird way, I think that all of us were probably even more accepting of her than we might have been if Yolanda had been another kind of woman—pretty or ambitious or clever—because we were so determined to judge her not by her looks or talents, but by where her heart was.

  I will regret every day I live that I was so blind. In my defense, I was young. I was in love. I had friends and a wife I adored. I was making music in a band that was increasingly successful and I was making plenty of money. The way I saw things, Selena and I had a bright future ahead of us. My main concern was that Selena was as happy as I was, and that seemed to be true.

  There was just one small thing that, looking back on it, probably should have been a red flag. It happened at one of our annual band parties.

  Soon after I became involved with Selena, Yolanda started arranging annual parties for the band members, their families, and close friends every year. Selena and I loved those parties. We thought it was cool to hang out in a restaurant or some other regular place with everybody together; ironically, because our band was always working, it was difficult for us to find much time to socialize together.

  Gradually, as the years passed, however, I started to sense a growing distance and even a weird vibe between Yolanda and some of the other people at the parties. I didn’t know it at the time, but Yolanda had started taking her role as Selena’s personal assistant to the next level; people who wanted to reach Selena would increasingly have to get around Yolanda first. Suzette would stand up for Yolanda if anyone complained about her, though, and Selena herself would say, “Send them to Yolanda,” if someone wanted to see her and Selena was too busy, which was often the case.

  Anyway, at one of these band parties, the restaurant bathroom was vandalized, and Selena heard from Yolanda that I had been involved in it with some other guys.

  Remembering the way I had gotten drunk and trashed that hotel room the year before our marriage no doubt made Selena even more suspicious. “Did you trash that bathroom, Chris?” she asked. “Yolanda says you did.”

  “No,” I said. “You know I couldn’t have done that. Selena, you know where I was. We were together the whole time.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Selena said, and we moved on to talk about something else.

  The conversation didn’t really register with me at the time. Because of the band’s success, Selena and I were always swatting away silly rumors. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see this conversation for what it really was: a warning sign that Yolanda was trying to come between Selena and me, the same way that she was trying to make sure that Selena didn’t get too close to anyone else.

  Despite Yolanda’s attempts to make trouble between us and the increased pressure that came with being more successful, Selena and I were more in love than ever. We worked as a team whether we were taking care of our dogs or our house. In everything we did, I tried to follow the advice a friend gave me before I got married.

  “I don’t think a relationship can ever work if each person gives just fifty percent,” he had said.

  “Why not?” I asked, puzzled. “That sounds fair to me.”

  He shook his head. “No, the real way to think about marriage is that you have to each give one hundred percent.”

  Selena and I both gave one hundred percent to each other. We never kept score the way some couples we knew did, with a “you did that, so I’m going to do this,” kind of tally. We had no pet peeves with each other. We were best friends.

  For instance, in the same way that Selena had always dreamed about opening her own fashion boutiques, she knew that my goal since high school had been to become a songwriter who produced music on my own. Even though Selena had been adamant about me staying with Los Dinos so that I could be on the road with her, she did everything she could to support me in reaching this goal.

  By the time Selena opened her boutiques, Abraham had started to manage different bands through Q Productions. When he found a rock band in Corpus that he wanted to take on, he asked if I’d like to write some songs for them. The idea didn’t sound appealing to me—if I’d wanted to form a rock band or even write music for one, it wouldn’t have been with these particular musicians. But I decided to do it because I wanted to help Abraham, and maybe I would learn something in the process.

  One day, the singer of this band came over to work on a song I’d written, with lyrics by Ricky. Selena was there, wearing one of the bandannas she always used to tie up her hair when she was dusting and vacuuming at home. She cleaned the house while this singer and I worked for hours on a song in our home studio. I had no idea that Selena was actively listening as I kept trying to teach the guy to do the song a certain way, putting emphasis here or there on the lyrics and hitting certain notes. But he just couldn’t get it; he never really understood what I meant. Finally, frustrated, I told him we were through for the day.

  “Let’s just pick this up tomorrow,” I said.

  The second I had walked him out the door, Selena was standing right beside me. “Babe, how did you not lose your mind with that guy, going over and over that song?” she asked.

  I laughed. “Not every singer is as good as you are,” I said. “I wish they were. But your dad really wants me to do this.”

  “I can sing it,” she said. “Let me sing it for you.”

  I thought she was joking. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I know what you want,” she said. “I was listening to you this whole time.”

  “The whole time?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, the whole time. And I want to sing that song. I like what you wrote,” she said. “Please can I sing it?”

  I felt awkward, truthfully. Here was the superstar Selena, who just happened to be my wife, and she wanted to sing my demo! On the other hand, I couldn’t resist hearing what she could do with my song.

  “You know what?” I said. “Let’s go.”

  We both put on headphones and I turned my back as I started up the machines on the mixing board. As soon as the music started, she said, “Okay, I’m going to sing it,” and she did.

  Selena nailed that song the first time through from beginning to end, exactly the way I’d been describing it to the other singer. At the end of the song, she added even more to it.

  I was in shock. How was it possible that I could be so lucky? Selena had been supportive enough to stick around to see how this thing would turn out, and then she took that song from zero to one hundred in about one second.

  The fact that Selena would sing my demo with the same kind of heart and talent she put into singing any song our band did meant a lot to me. That recording was a source of comfort to me for a long time after Selena was murdered, because it was something of hers that I could hold on to as my very own.

  For our second wedding anniversary, I decided that the gift Selena needed more than anything else was a romantic getaway—a retreat from music, the fashion boutiques, housewor
k, and even the dogs. I wanted to take her somewhere beautiful, a place we had never been to before, a location far enough from her family and work that Selena and I could just be together and completely relax. We’d taken that trip to Acapulco at the start of our relationship, of course, but even that had been in the company of her brother and sister. This was going to be our trip alone.

  After talking to a few people, I decided on Ocho Rios, Jamaica. This was the first time I had ever planned a trip on such a grand scale, so I had a travel agent help me choose the resort and make the arrangements. I then hid the package with the tickets and brochures in my bedside table underneath some other reading materials, praying that Selena wouldn’t look there.

  I had expected to meet some resistance from Selena’s family. To my surprise, though, when I told them the plan, even Abraham didn’t say anything negative. They kept my secret, too, so Selena was shocked when we arrived in the San Antonio airport after a concert and I told her we weren’t going home with the rest of the family because we had a connecting flight to Miami.

  Selena was all excited, thinking that Miami would be our final destination. She loved to shop in Miami. All I had told her in advance was that she was going to need a bathing suit because we were going somewhere tropical.

  I can’t remember now what it was, but Selena said something to me as we were boarding the flight to Miami that made me say, “What are you talking about? You don’t do that in Jamaica!”

  Selena started jumping up and down and laughing. “I got you to tell me! I got you to tell me!” she teased.

  “Just for that little trick, maybe I ought to take you home,” I said.

  “No, come on, tell me, are we really going to Jamaica? All by ourselves?” she said.

  “We are,” I told her, and she put her arms around me.

  I might have felt worse about Selena guessing our destination, except that I had another surprise for her as well: a ring that I’d had made by a jeweler friend back in San Antonio. It was just a simple white gold band, but I’d had the jeweler add a row of small diamonds. I was sure that Selena would love that bit of flash combined with the ring’s simple elegance.

  Once we landed in Jamaica, I started having doubts about my choice, because outside the airport shuttle windows the scenery looked so much like many of the smaller towns in Mexico we’d already visited. It was dark because there were no streetlights, and I was growing increasingly nervous—how much could I trust that travel agent, really?—but Selena was still having a great time, chattering away and fully enjoying herself.

  I wasn’t going to ruin the moment for her. Besides, the farther we got from the airport, the more aware I was of the fact that we were finally alone.

  All of a sudden, the airport shuttle started slowing down. I heard the strains of a reggae band through the open windows, so I thought that we must be getting closer to the resort. Then I saw a single light with a bunch of people beneath it.

  “What’s going on?” Selena asked. “It looks like a party. Those people are all dancing.”

  Sure enough, we were still in the middle of nowhere, but these Jamaicans were having a blast beneath the single streetlight of their small town, dancing to reggae music issuing from one big speaker and drinking Red Stripe beer out of brown bottles. They were having such a good time that Selena couldn’t resist standing up right in the middle of the shuttle bus and dancing.

  “Sit down!” I told her as the bus lurched over yet another pothole in the road. “I don’t want you to get hurt before we even get to the resort!”

  The bus turned onto another road, a long driveway, and then suddenly we were at the resort. Everything was brightly lit and looked beautiful. I relaxed completely then, knowing that I’d picked a good place for us after all.

  “I can’t wait to check things out,” Selena said.

  “Okay. Here you go.” I started pulling out the brochures I’d brought with me then, and laying them on the bed.

  Selena said, “Oh, man, look at this!” and “Wow, they’ve got this, too!” as she read about everything from horseback riding on the beach to rafting river rapids nearby. “This is paradise!”

  I was laughing, but I was also thinking about how to give Selena the special ring I’d bought her for an anniversary gift. Finally I hit upon the perfect surprise. Whenever Selena went to sleep, she had this funny little habit of sometimes tucking her hand inside her pillowcase. So, while she was in the bathroom cleaning up after the trip, I slipped the ring in its little blue box into one of the pillowcases on the right side—the side Selena always slept on.

  I thought that Selena would want to chill out in the room and take a nap; that way she’d find the ring immediately. Instead, she wanted to go exploring right away because she was so excited. We had a little argument about it.

  “Really?” I said. “You want to do all that stuff right now, without resting first?” I tried not to stare too hard at the lump in the pillowcase.

  “Yeah, I really want to see everything,” she said.

  Finally I said, “Okay, whatever you want to do,” because of course the last thing I wanted was to ruin our special trip.

  We went out, and had dinner and some drinks. Then we walked around the resort and checked out the beach at night. It was a clear night and we had a good view of the moon and the stars. We had such a good time that I completely forgot about the ring as we walked on the beach under the moonlight, where we started to talk again about starting a family.

  “I can’t believe you did this for me,” Selena said. “Things are so perfect. Nobody has ever been as good to me as you are, Chris.”

  That’s when it hit me, bam! I’d left the ring in the pillowcase! Now I started to sweat, sure that the maids had come in and tidied up the room while we were out, and worrying that the ring might have been stolen.

  I started acting like I was really tired. “Yeah, it’s been a great night, and this is a beautiful spot,” I said with a big yawn. “I’m glad you like it. Let’s go on back to the room and rest, okay? Tomorrow we can try those river rapids or whatever you want to do.”

  We started walking back to the room then, with me trying not to break into a run. To my relief, I could see that the ring was still there.

  Sure enough, that night Selena lay on the right side of the bed like she always did. I sat up and turned the TV on, which Selena never minded as she was going to sleep.

  All of a sudden, I heard her say, “Huh? What’s this?” as she reached her hand into the pillowcase.

  “What’s what?” I said, grinning down at her beautiful face.

  Selena pulled the ring box out and opened it. She jumped out of bed and put the ring on, her lip trembling a little. “Oh, Chris,” she said. “You didn’t.”

  “I did,” I said. “Happy anniversary.”

  She started crying then, really sobbing. She climbed back into bed with me and I held her until she was smiling again. We fell asleep that way, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  That trip to Jamaica only confirmed what I’d always known about Selena: my wife was an adventuress. She wasn’t the sort of woman who was going to just lie around the beach if she could go exploring.

  We could have stayed at our all-inclusive resort and done nothing more than lounge by the pool or dip ourselves in the warm surf, but Selena was determined to make the most of our precious free time together. One of the things she had never tried was riding river rapids, so off we went on a tour that included not only shooting the rapids on a wild green river, but also hiking and climbing up steep rocky trails. Selena was physically fit—not from going to the gym, but because she was always dancing—so she had no trouble on those climbs. I just made sure that I was the one behind her while she climbed them in her bikini!

  At one point, we were given the option of taking a shuttle bus home from whatever remote place in the jungle we were, but Selena and I chose to extend our excursion. We rented a boat, almost like a canoe, and paddled upriver. It was as if we were
the only people in a new world, surrounded as we were by tropical plants, insects, and animals we’d never seen before. There were even monkeys in the trees.

  It was our own special Eden, and whenever things got hectic for us after that—as they were destined to be, given Selena’s rapid rise to fame—I would remember the dreamy look on Selena’s face in our private paradise.

  TWELVE

  AMOR PROHIBIDO

  Courtesy of Everett Collection

  The band was conducting a sound check with Selena onstage when one of her biggest hits of all time was born.

  We were fiddling with the equipment and tuning our instruments when Selena just started spontaneously singing the words to “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom.” I had never seen these lyrics lying around the house, despite the fact that Selena was always writing in notebooks and on little scraps of paper and leaving them wherever she happened to be sitting or standing when she got an idea for a song.

  To this day, I can’t remember what stage we were on when we created “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom” together. Many of the events during 1993 and 1994 are a blur because we were keeping up such a frantic professional pace. Selena y Los Dinos had been riding high since winning the Grammy for Selena Live! Ever since the concert at the Memorial Coliseum in Corpus Christi, Texas, we had been performing constantly, hitting both our usual venues and commanding many larger ones.

  More than twenty thousand people turned out to hear us at the Pasadena Fairgrounds in August 1993, for instance, and in September we drew a crowd of seventy thousand at La Feria de Nuevo Leon in Mexico. That October, Selena was one of the featured performers at the Tejano Grand Finale show of the Coca-Cola Road Trip at Guadalupe Plaza Park in Houston.