by Sarah Price
“My father is in the hospital,” Amanda said matter-of-factly, as a way of explanation.
Lizzie began to fuss, rubbing her hands together nervously. “Amanda was kind enough to return home to help with the farm while her daed is unwell,” she offered.
The bishop turned to look at her, his eyes cool and emotionless. “So I have heard.” He cleared his throat as he shifted his eyes to Amanda. “I have also heard that there is a hired man helping here as well.”
“My husband arranged for that,” Amanda stated, feeling a sense of pride that her own husband had stepped forward to offer extra help when the rest of the community had not. Had they expected her mamm to milk, feed, and muck the cows? Had they expected her to abandon her duties to her husband when he needed her the most? Or, she wondered, were they punishing her mamm for her daughter leaving the community?
“Is he plain?”
Amanda fought the urge to roll her eyes. What difference does it make? she wanted to ask. “He is Mennonite. From Ephrata.” The bishop raised an eyebrow, and Amanda felt the need to explain. “He was a farmer but lost his farm. Now he hires himself out to others, and Alejandro is paying for him to help while Daed is unwell.”
“Then you will be leaving soon, ja? And taking with you those people?”
Amanda wished that Alejandro had been next to her in order to confront the abrupt manner with which she was being addressed. However, she knew it was most likely best that he was not here, for she could only imagine what his response would have been. Always the gentleman, he would have found a way to defend her while letting the bishop know that his manner of speech was totally unacceptable.
But he wasn’t there to speak on her behalf. Since the question had been directed to her, Amanda knew that the bishop was waiting for her response. While disappointed in his abrupt manner of addressing her, she knew that she had made the choice to leave the Amish community while her parents had not. She needed to respond and to choose her words wisely. The last thing she wanted to do was to say something confrontational that would jeopardize her parents’ standing in the church.
With a deep breath, Amanda nodded and swallowed. “I am married now,” she said. “I am not here to stay.” Her eyes flickered at her mother, who seemed to cringe at the announcement. “My sister is to be married next week, and then she will travel here with her husband. We will decide how to best care for Daed as a family then.”
The bishop nodded his head, approving of the plan. Apparently, family decision making was tolerable under his guidance for the g’may. “That is gut,” he admitted. Then, for the first time, he turned to look at Lizzie. “I have heard that he will recover, ja?”
“That is yet to be seen,” Lizzie stated. “To what degree, anyway.”
“We will pray for him at church,” the bishop said.
“Danke.”
He looked at Amanda again but said nothing, his eyes disapproving. She wondered what he had thought when he had noticed her uncovered head, no prayer kapp pinned to the elastic headband to keep it in place. With her simple dress, one that was plain but clearly not Amish, she knew that she stood out as a non-Amish woman. Yet her mannerisms still reinforced the fact that she once had been one.
From the disappointed and fierce look on his face, she knew exactly what he thought of her: a lost sheep from the flock, one that had willingly drifted away from the shepherd and found peace in the company of wolves.
She felt the muscles in her jaw ache as she clenched her teeth, angry that the bishop’s main concern had been her return to the farm, rather than her father’s well-being. Still, she knew better than to say anything. She was no longer part of the community and, as such, had no voice or right to complain. Her heart felt heavy as she realized that she had changed more than she had thought. Never would the old Amanda have wanted to lash out at the bishop. Once again, she was stunned by how little she fit into the place once considered her home.
Chapter Four
Tried to call earlier. No answer.
Meeting with Mike in thirty minutes.
Tonight is the Teen Choice Music Awards.
Wish you could go with me, Princesa.
V.
Alejandro stood against the window, one hand pushing back the sheer curtains as he peered outside, his blue eyes searching the crowded streets below. Despite it being November, the sky was blue and the sun shone. From the look of the people walking by the apartment building, he could tell that it was warm outside. After all, Los Angeles had near-perfect year-round weather.
Behind him, Mike leaned back in his chair at the table and tapped his finger against the stack of newspapers that were strewn across the glass tabletop. He watched Alejandro carefully, too aware of the tenseness in the man’s shoulders and the way the muscle in his jaw contracted.
“You can’t go alone,” Mike said for the third time. “It’s the Teen Choice Music Awards, for crying out loud, and you are being presented with the Latino Award!”
Alejandro sighed and shook his head. Was it only ten years ago that he was still struggling to make ends meet? Performing in raunchy bars for food and then fighting with others because they made fun of his singing songs onstage? Prior to that, he had mostly been considered a street thug, singing by the corner store in street sing-offs with other gangster-wannabe kids. It was lucky that he hadn’t been killed. Several of his friends had been.
To have survived that lifestyle was nothing short of a miracle. Indeed, the fact that he had come so far in such a short period of time continued to amaze him. It was something that he vowed to always remember and respect. “Teen music? How did that happen?”
They both knew what he meant. His music was not necessarily teenager-friendly. Most of his labels were marked “Explicit” and “Parental Advisory.” In order to get airtime, they always had to create softer versions that were appropriate for all audiences. To have been nominated for such an award was quite surprising.
Mike rolled his eyes. “That’s not important. What is important is that you simply cannot go alone to the after-parties!”
“I’m not going with anyone but Amanda,” he replied. “How would that look if I showed up with another woman?”
For the past four days, Alejandro had been in Los Angeles, recording new songs. Tonight, he’d attend this event and by the next day, he’d be in Boston for the weekend concerts. It was a busy schedule but that was the time of year: holidays meant appearances around the country, and that, in turn, translated into extra sales of songs and larger audiences at upcoming concerts.
“How will it look if you arrive alone?”
Alejandro laughed at the exasperated look on his manager’s face. “Like a married man who is going out without his wife!” He stood up and smoothed at the creases of his black suit pants. He turned to look at the mirror on the wall and straightened his red tie. With the dark suit, the tie looked extra bright and sensual, Alejandro thought. “Teen Choice Music Awards, sí?” He glanced at his manager’s reflection in the mirror. “That’s quite surprising, no?”
His manager shrugged. “How many Latino stars are out there, Alejandro? Not many. How many have risen to the level that you have after coming from so little? None that have reached your level. Your lyrics might be questionable at times, but you are an inspiration.” Impatiently, Mike glanced at his watch. “Speaking of inspiration, the car is picking you up in ten minutes for the radio interview. Remember? Justin Bell is joining you, too.”
A sigh escaped from Alejandro. Evening rush hour on the radio: a joint interview with Justin Bell, the current teenage heartthrob of the music industry and the object of complete adoration from teen and tween girls around the world! Certainly there would be a mob scene at the radio station, just as much for Justin as for Viper. The eyes of every teenager in the United States would be on the show tonight, but the ears of every teenager in Los Angeles would be listening to KAMP-FM 97.1 that afternoon.
It had already been over a week and a very long one at tha
t. The last information he had from Amanda was that her daed’s release from the hospital was scheduled for the following day and, so, her sister would be returning to the family farm shortly. With his travel itinerary, the days and nights flew by quickly. He was always busy and always on. That also meant that he was increasingly exhausted and irritable.
It was getting harder and harder to maintain the smiles and good mood knowing that the only person he wanted to see was thousands of miles across the country and working the family farm. To make matters worse, when he had to go out at night, he found himself increasingly distant from the women. In the past, he would have enjoyed his evenings at the restaurants, clubs, and parties. Having women throw themselves at him did have its benefits. But that was then; now he found that the women were playing a new game. The goal wasn’t just to catch his attention but to drive a wedge between him and Amanda.
And that was simply becoming annoying to Alejandro.
“Any word on that nurse for Elias?”
Mike shut his eyes, lifting his hands to his brow and rubbing his temples. “Alex,” he began calmly. “You have to snap out of this. It’s been what? Ten days? Eleven? We have business to focus on, my friend.”
Alejandro cast a quick glare over his shoulder at his manager. His blue eyes narrowed, and he took a second to catch his breath before responding. “I asked a question,” he managed to say. “The nurse?”
Taking a deep breath, Mike nodded his head once. “Taken care of.”
“When?”
“Next week.” He glanced down at a folder, his eyes shifting over a piece of paper. “A week from Monday.”
Alejandro nodded, although that information didn’t necessarily please him. That was still ten days away. “Bien, gracias.”
Mike shuffled some of the papers on the table and changed the subject. “Now, can we talk some business? Did you get a chance to see the video? They want to release it before Thanksgiving.”
“Sí, sí,” he replied dismissively, returning his gaze to the window. “I went to the production studio yesterday, although I already had watched it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You know that.” He released the curtain and turned around, both of his hands behind his back as he stared at his manager. “I trust that you will arrange transportation for Amanda, sí?”
Mike glanced at his watch again and started to stand up, collecting his papers. “You need to get going. We’ll catch up in Boston this weekend.”
“Mike?”
Stopping what he was doing, Mike looked up and met Alejandro’s steady gaze. “Yes?”
“Transportation for Amanda,” he repeated, this time not as a question but a statement. “Get that nurse situated and then I want Amanda here . . . back with me.”
“Of course, Alex,” Mike said, rolling his eyes and clearly frustrated. “Whatever you request.”
Alejandro reached into his pocket for his phone, clicked on the screen, and checked the time. With a deep breath, he reached for his suit jacket that hung over the back of a chair; then, without another word, he sauntered out of the room, leaving Mike standing there, alone. Just as he was about to walk through the front door, he heard Mike swear, loud enough so that Alejandro could hear before the door shut behind him. Alejandro stood in the hallway long enough to collect himself before he slid his arms into the jacket and strode over to the elevator, pressing the “Down” button. He didn’t care if Mike was frustrated. It was time for his manager to step up and earn his salary, and if that meant he had to help manage Amanda as well, so be it.
Later that night, as he stood on the red carpet, his back to the Teen Choice Music Awards backdrop, he posed and smiled at the photographers, ignoring the questions about why Amanda was not with him. Despite the throngs of reporters with special access passes to the celebrities, Alejandro waved them away as he hurried along the carpet toward the entrance into the building.
He went through the motions of the evening, greeting his peers and different players in the music industry. Several times he posed with various singers whom he had featured in his songs and sometimes performed with onstage. The night was about sound bites and being photographed with the right people. It was a game that Viper played well.
Still, his mind continued to return to Pennsylvania. He found himself constantly glancing at his phone, checking the time and calculating what time it would be in Lititz. He wondered what Amanda was doing, what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He wondered if she was missing him as much as he was missing her.
“Excuse me,” he said to the three people who were standing next to him, engaged in a conversation of superficial music-industry gossip. “I am expecting a call. Permiso.” He didn’t wait for their response before he hurried through the crowd and found a quiet corner to use the phone. With shaking hands, he called Amanda. He needed to speak to her, needed to hear her voice, or else he simply couldn’t get through the night.
“Hello?”
The sound of her voice, so sweet and innocent, with a hint of the Amish accent on that single word, caused his heart to beat faster. Oh, how he missed her! “Ah, Princesa!” He turned his back to the crowd and covered his one ear with his hand so that he could hear her better. “How are you this fine evening?”
“Alejandro!”
He laughed at the enthusiasm in her voice. “Who else would be calling you, eh? Were you expecting someone else?”
He thought he heard her gasp. “Oh, nee, nee!” There was a hint of panic in her tone. “I . . . I just never thought you’d call so late! I thought you had an awards thing tonight.”
A smile crossed his lips. “I think the producers for the event would be disappointed to hear you call it an awards ‘thing,’ no?” He laughed again. He could only imagine the indignation on the faces of the producers if they had overheard Amanda’s comment. In Los Angeles, ego was everything; a deflated ego was career suicide. “You know that you could probably watch it from your phone, Amanda.”
There was a slight pause, and without being there, he knew that she had lifted the phone from her ear to stare at it. “Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about doing that!”
“Oh, Amanda,” he sighed. “We’ll have to teach you how to use that device, no?” Quickly, he changed the subject. “I wanted to say good night before attending the ‘awards thing,’” he gently teased. “And to let you know how much I miss you, Princesa.”
“I miss you, too,” she said softly. “Daed should be home soon, and then Anna will arrive.”
“Everything else working out fine, Princesa?”
Another hesitation. It was as if she was collecting her thoughts before she responded. Immediately, he knew that something had happened. “Vell, not really,” she admitted. If there was one thing Alejandro knew that he could count on from his wife, it was that she would always tell the truth. “The bishop was here.”
He took a deep breath, waiting for his wife to continue. While he had never truly met the bishop beyond that one church service he had attended, back in the summer, he knew enough about the way the Amish worked; a visit from the bishop was most likely not one of a social nature.
“He’s rather anxious for me to leave,” Amanda said drily.
“As am I,” Alejandro added, trying to lighten her mood.
She didn’t respond.
“Amanda,” he started. “There is nothing that he can do to you now. And your father is in the hospital. It makes perfect sense that you are there to help out until he is well or other arrangements can be made, no?” Someone tapped him on the shoulder and Alejandro peered around, smiling when he saw Justin Bell. “One minute, man,” he said to his friend, holding up a finger so that Justin would wait for him to end his call. “Don’t worry, Princesa. Before you know it, your father will be fine and we will be together again. Now, I must go. We will talk mañana, sí?”
“Ja,” she whispered.
“¡Bueno! Adiós y te amo, Princesa.”
“Te amo,” she replied before he hung up the pho
ne.
He gave Justin a quick embrace, slapping him on the shoulder in a gesture of friendship. The younger man had a small crowd of people behind him, people who Alejandro didn’t know. In the distance, Alejandro thought he caught sight of Justin’s girlfriend, Celinda, but she was talking to her own group of acquaintances. “What’s up, man?”
“Heard you’re going to be in New York for Thanksgiving, Viper,” Justin said, running his fingers through his blond hair, his bright blue eyes searching the room as if looking for someone or something. “Having some people at my hotel on the Wednesday before. You should bring Amanda.”
“Sounds good.” He hadn’t given much thought to that Thanksgiving week in New York City. All that he knew was that he was busy with back-to-back events on Wednesday and two concerts over the weekend before he returned to Los Angeles for another awards event. He also knew that he wanted Amanda to join him. “Hey, good luck tonight,” Alejandro said before lifting his hand in the air to give Justin a high five.
For the next fifteen minutes, he mingled with the crowd. He was constantly surrounded by a group of people. There was an electric energy in the room as everyone lingered before slowly making their way into the main auditorium. It was as if no one wanted to be the first to sit down. To do so might mean missing something or someone important in the reception area.
Alejandro was relieved when the bell rang and ushers began to gently guide people through the doors and into the auditorium toward the front, which was reserved for those who had been nominated for awards as well as the big-name players in the industry.
The problem with the awards shows was that Alejandro had to remain on during the entire event. One of the first things he had learned was that the camera could always be pointed in his direction, even if not filming a close-up of him per se. There were too many stories of celebrities caught whispering to someone else, their lips easy to read, or putting on lipstick, or even worse, nodding off to sleep. For three hours, Alejandro had to be on high alert, to look his best from every angle, despite wishing he were anywhere else but here.