by Sarah Price
There was a new energy about him. One that surprised her. How quickly, she thought, he transitions between the public face and the real Alejandro. It was as if he turned a switch, moving seamlessly from one world to another. But always, she thought, with complete composure and polished sophistication. He behaved differently than he had at the farm—more aware of his surroundings and deliberate in his conduct. It was definitely a stronger and more calculated image that he was projecting, something that she immediately recognized as such, and at that moment, she promised herself that she would try to mirror his actions.
He spoke to the waitress, then handed her the menu. When the waitress disappeared, Alejandro reached for his coffee mug again. There was still steam lifting from the hot liquid. He shut his eyes as he sipped it. “That’s good coffee, Princesa. Have you tried it yet?”
She shook her head. She had forgotten about the coffee. It wasn’t something that she normally drank. Not wanting to appear rude or unappreciative, she took a sip from her own coffee.
“Did you sleep well, sí?”
The question surprised her. Again, color flooded her cheeks. That was a very intimate question, she thought.
He noticed the blush and chuckled to himself. “I ask only because you are in a new place and yesterday was a stressful day, Princesa. I do not mean to inquire in any other way.”
Her cheeks reddened even more. “I slept, ja. But it’s such a big room and so . . .”
He looked at her inquisitively, wondering why she had hesitated. “So what?”
“So bright!”
Again, he laughed. “I imagine that it is rather different for you. Those big windows can let in the morning sun and brighten the room.” He laid his arm against the back of the booth where he sat. “Just wait until you see Miami,” he said. “The sunrises there are spectacular. And the sunsets in Los Angeles! Magnificent!”
“Miami?” She hadn’t thought about that, hadn’t given much worry as to where she was going with Alejandro or what the arrangements would be. She knew that he lived there . . . in Miami. She must have known that she would be visiting his condominium. Mayhaps even stay there. The idea that all of this was real suddenly frightened her. “Los Angeles?”
He noticed the apprehensive look on her face. It was as if he could read her mind. “Amanda,” he said, leveling his gaze at her. “I left Los Angeles to come here for you. I flew here as soon as we spoke on the phone. I canceled some very important meetings and interviews. I have no choice but to return there, Princesa. Not to mention that I start my West Coast tour in a few days.” His tone was serious and stern yet gentle at the same time. “We will fly out tomorrow.”
The color drained from her face. “Fly?”
He raised one eyebrow at her question. “Sí, fly. That is how we get to Los Angeles.”
“I’m not allowed to fly,” she whispered.
“What do you mean you are not allowed to fly?” he asked, an amused look on his face. “Of course you are allowed to fly!”
Amanda chewed on her bottom lip, staring at Alejandro with large brown eyes. She didn’t want to upset him, but the bishop didn’t allow the people to travel by airplane. It was forbidden. Indeed, long-distance travel was only permitted by bus, train, or boat.
“The bishop has never allowed us to travel by an airplane,” she responded slowly.
“Well,” Alejandro said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I don’t think the bishop is here to stop you.”
“I’ve never been on an airplane.” Truth was that she had never even considered such a concept. Flying? In the air? Traveling around the country? “I’d be too scared, Alejandro.”
“Ay, mi madre,” he muttered, shaking his head. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and said a few words in Spanish.
“I’m sorry.” And she was. She hadn’t meant to cause him any angst. Hadn’t meant to upset him. But the idea of getting in a plane terrified her.
“We can discuss this tomorrow, no? I don’t want to argue today,” he finally said.
Argue. It was an ugly word. People in the Amish community rarely argued. In fact, Amanda was surprised when Alejandro said the word. It rolled so easily from his tongue, a word that she couldn’t remember ever having used. Her parents had never argued. Sometimes the elders in the community had a discussion over the Ordnung and what should or shouldn’t be banned. But argue! It was disrespectful to argue. The wife answered to the husband. The husband to the church. And the church to God. There was nothing to argue about when the community was structured properly.
“I should think I don’t want to argue ever,” she whispered. She lifted her eyes, surprised to see Alejandro staring at her. If he had heard her, he gave no indication. “I will fly, Alejandro. But I will be scared.”
He nodded his head. “I understand, Princesa. But I will be there with you. And I told you that I will let nothing bad happen to you.”
The waitress who approached the table, with two plates of hot food in her hands, interrupted their conversation. She smiled at Alejandro and glanced at Amanda before she set down the plates on the table.
Amanda stared at the strange concoction before her. Two round pieces of bread with what looked like eggs on top and a golden and creamy sauce dripping down the edges, barely hiding the pink hint of meat. Asparagus was on the side of the plate.
“What is this?” she whispered. “It’s not breakfast food . . .”
He laughed at her. “Eggs Benedict. It’s my favorite!”
She frowned. “Eggs what?”
“Eggs Benedict,” he repeated, kissing his fingertips. “It is delicioso! You will like it, I promise.”
Not wanting to sound ungrateful, she didn’t question him further. It certainly wasn’t what she was used to eating for breakfast. Mamm always made scrambled eggs, toast, breakfast meat, and potatoes. Sometimes, in the winter, she would serve hot cereal. But never anything as fancy as what was set before her now.
“Today, Princesa, I must meet with two radio stations for interviews. Mike arranged it when I changed my plans,” he said, as he cut the food delicately.
“Mike?”
“My manager,” he explained. “During the tour season, I visit local radio stations whenever I can.” He glanced up at her. “For marketing. The more I market, the more songs sell and the more people want to attend concerts. It’s a cycle.”
“What will I do?”
He wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin and sat back against the seat. “Well, I have arranged for someone to take you shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Sí, shopping for clothes.”
Amanda frowned. “Whatever for? I have plenty of clothes.”
His eyebrow raised, and his mouth twisted into a hint of a smile, the corner lifting ever so slightly. “Amanda,” he started slowly. “We will be traveling to many different areas, and you will be all over the media. The best way to not call attention to yourself is to dress more . . .” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “More not-Amish,” he settled on. “If you dress like an Amish woman, you will stand out.”
Ever since she had been born, Amanda had been raised to not stand out in a crowd. As a toddler, she had worn mini versions of her mother’s dresses. On Church Sundays, both she and her older sister, Anna, wore the same-colored dress to worship. Even as a baby, she wore the white prayer kapp and had been taught quite early to never chew on the ends of the strings that hung over her shoulders.
“Why do we all dress the same, Mamm?” she had asked when she was in her first year of school.
“It’s prideful to want to be different,” her mother had explained. She was at the counter, kneading some dough to make bread.
“But John Yoder doesn’t wear black pants and suspenders,” Amanda had confided. “He wore blue pants to school yesterday.”
Her mothe
r had laughed, her hands full of dough. “Oh, Amanda, their family is Mennonite. They aren’t Amish. He doesn’t have to wear Amish clothing. It’s OK for him to stand out. They have different beliefs than us.”
“Not Amish?” The thought had never crossed her mind, but she understood what he meant. If she had left the Amish, she should certainly attempt to adapt to his world. There was merit in what he suggested. “Well, there is one problem,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t have any money.”
This time, his laugh was hearty and loud. Several people smiled and glanced in their direction. Within minutes, his cell phone would be vibrating with the tweets from several guests who would comment on Viper laughing over breakfast with Amanda, the Amish woman. But, for now, he didn’t care.
“You are such a delight,” he said, still smiling.
“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” she said.
“Ay, Princesa. You don’t have to worry about money. It may be an issue for some people, but I will take care of you, don’t worry.” He bowed his head theatrically and waved his hand before her. “It is my pleasure, Princesa, to do this for you. After all,” he said as he looked up at her. “I am the one who got you into this, sí? I promised to get you out of it.”
The idea of Alejandro paying for her didn’t suit her one bit. She had always been taught to be self-sufficient and to take care of herself and her family as best she could. It suddenly dawned on her that everything . . . from the hotel to the meal to the flight tickets to the new clothes she would have to wear . . . was being paid for by Alejandro.
“I’m going to have to pay you back,” she said, horrified at the realization that she hadn’t given thought to that part of the arrangement.
His mouth twitched, the corner lifting slightly, and he fought the urge to smile. Instead, he tapped his fingers on the table and studied her. He seemed to be considering something and working something through in his mind. Amanda gave him the space that he needed and took another bite of the breakfast, which, to her surprise, was indeed delicioso.
“What if you worked for me?”
She almost choked on her food. “What?”
He nodded. “Sí, escúchame,” he said, leaning forward so that she could hear him better. “You are acting the part, sí? As such, you will become part of my marketing effort. Every tweet and every photo that is taken of you and plastered on social media or the gossip news stations helps me. Even last night, the television shows that were discussing your departure from Lititz promoted my music. I will give you a salary for working for me, for helping to promote me.”
“I don’t want to promote you,” she said solemnly. “I want them to leave me alone.”
“But they won’t, and you know that. So play along with it, and give them what they want while getting what you need. In exchange, I will take care of your expenses,” he announced, seemingly pleased with this arrangement. And with that proclamation, the discussion was over. He looked at his watch, then glanced around the restaurant. When he spotted the waitress, he made a motion with his hand for the check. “Now finish your breakfast, and we shall get moving, sí? The driver is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”
She looked up, surprised by the urgency in his voice. It was only eight o’clock and already he had to leave? She wasn’t certain how she felt about being left alone.
“What shall I do?” she asked, feeling small and meek and not liking that feeling.
He took the check that the waitress handed to him and signed his name, which, from what Amanda could see of it, was barely more than a scribble on the paper. As he handed it back to the waitress, she hesitated and stood there for just a moment. He didn’t notice at first, but as he reached for his sunglasses, he realized she was still there.
“Viper . . . uh . . .”
The dark sunglasses hid his eyes but he was clearly watching her. “¿Sí, mamacita?” he asked, his voice low and deep. “You want an autograph, no?” With a big smile, he nodded. “Of course!”
She looked relieved and handed him a blank piece of paper that looked like an unused check. He glanced at it and frowned, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. “My name’s Julie, if you don’t mind,” she stammered.
“I don’t mind, but I think I will bring down a signed photo for you. Isn’t that better?”
“Oh yes!” The excitement in her voice was more than noticeable.
“¡Bueno!”
Again, the waitress hesitated. She glanced at Amanda and looked back at Alejandro. “Do you think that . . . ?” She left the rest of the sentence unfinished.
But Alejandro had understood. He shook his head. “Not today, mamacita. Let’s give her some space and time to adjust.” He didn’t wait for the woman to answer as he stood up, straightening his jacket before reaching out his hand for Amanda. Once she was standing, he placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her past the staring guests at the restaurant, immune to their looks and whispers. He hoped Amanda was able to feel the same.
Chapter Three
Within minutes, they were apart. He walked her to the door of her room and, using a flat piece of plastic, opened the door for her. He held it with one hand, his body blocking part of the entrance. “I’ll be gone for most of the day,” he said. The thought left her feeling very alone. She gave a short intake of breath, not wanting to complain or to show him the fear she felt.
Still, he noticed.
He had smiled at her, understanding the feeling. “You will be just fine, Princesa. Relax and enjoy yourself. When Lucinda calls for you on the phone, you must answer it and be ready. She is a whirlwind, but the best.” With that, he leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his arm rubbing against hers as he guided her into the room.
And then he was gone.
At first, she hadn’t known what to do. She wasn’t used to being alone and without any specific chores. She had never had “nothing” to do in the morning.
For the first thirty minutes, she paced the floor in the hotel room, her mind in a whirl. She wondered what was happening back at her parents’ farm, how they were dealing with her departure. With her absence. Her heart seemed to rip in two as she glanced at the clock, watching the time and knowing that at nine o’clock, her father was mucking the dairy barn and her mother was probably washing clothes.
She missed them already and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.
She continued pacing until ten o’clock. That was the time when the personal shopper would call the room. He had given her very specific instructions: Amanda was to take the elevator and wait for the woman at the concierge’s desk. He had even shown her exactly where to meet and introduced her to the young man in a black suit who was to ensure that Amanda was delivered safely and without issue to the care of Lucinda, who, Alejandro had requested, would assist Amanda in his absence.
When the phone had finally rung, Amanda felt grateful for the noise. She was tired of silence, of having nothing to do. She was weary of the voice inside her head that kept telling her she had made a mistake. That one voice berated her until another voice reminded her that the bishop had wanted her sent to Ohio. The church had viewed her as a problem, and in a move that surprised even her, he felt that banishing Amanda was the only way to address the issue.
“Hello?”
“Amanda Beiler?”
“Ja,” she said.
The voice on the other end was high-pitched and very sophisticated. It was a cultured voice without any hint of an accent. “Viper instructed me to call you from the concierge’s desk. I will wait for you here, and then we can get started,” the woman said. “I’ll see you whenever you are ready.”
When Amanda left the room, she wasn’t certain what to do. She shut the door behind her and paused, wondering if she was supposed to lock it. Then she realized that the key was left on the dresser by her suitcase. She tried to open the door,
but it was already locked. First mistake, she scolded herself. She hadn’t thought that through, and now because of her mistake, she had no way of getting back into the room.
Thankfully, she was alone in the elevator. She stood there, staring at the buttons, trying to remember which one Alejandro had instructed her to push. Her brain felt full already from all the new decisions that she was facing. She finally decided on “L,” which was the last button at the bottom.
When the doors opened to the lobby, she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew exactly where to go and did all that she could to stare straight ahead, ignoring the people who gawked at her. Certainly it was unusual to see an Amish woman in such a fancy hotel. What made it more unusual was that they all seemed to know that she was there with Alejandro. She hurried over to the concierge’s desk and said a silent prayer of gratitude to see a tall, blond woman already standing there waiting for her.
“Amanda?” the woman asked, holding out her hand.
Amanda nodded and let the woman shake her hand. “You are Lucinda, ja?”
The woman raised an eyebrow at the lilt in Amanda’s voice. Pursing her lips, she studied Amanda for a moment, her head tilted to one side. “I can see potential,” she said, mostly to herself. “Yes, a lot of potential, but we have our work cut out for us today.”
“Potential?”
Lucinda exhaled and nodded toward the door. “Let’s talk in the car. I have a driver waiting for us. It’s best to hurry and avoid the paparazzi.”
The word sent a shiver down her spine. Were they still out there, waiting like they had been at her parents’ farm? She didn’t ask the question that was on her mind. Instead, she followed Lucinda obediently, knowing that if Alejandro entrusted her care to this woman, she should, too.
Indeed, there were reporters outside of the hotel. Security had set up a slight blockade so that there was a distance from the entrance to where the reporters were waiting. Lucinda didn’t pay any attention to them and hurried past the crowd toward the car that was waiting for them. Amanda, however, stopped, just for a moment and stared at the reporters. Their cameras began to flash as they took her photograph. Several people had larger cameras, probably videotaping her as she left the hotel.