by Sarah Price
Without answering, Mike put his arm around Alejandro’s shoulder and started guiding him toward a back room. “Alex, I want you to keep an open mind about this shoot, all right?”
Open mind. Alejandro frowned and looked at his manager. “What’s going on?”
“Just promise me that, OK?”
“Mike?” There was an undertone of warning in his voice. “What are you up to?”
They stopped in front of the doorway as Mike gestured inside. “They’ll get you prepped in here, and I’ll see you in the library,” he said, his cell phone ringing in his breast pocket and his attention immediately distracted.
It didn’t take long to get changed into the black suit for the shoot and to sit through the application of makeup. After thanking the stylist team, Alejandro hurried toward the double doors, his curiosity piqued, despite the feeling of dread in his chest. There was music playing from speakers in the background and a crowd of people blocking the doorway. As he made his approach, someone noticed him and began to nudge others to clear the way. He nodded as he walked past them and into the room.
That was when he saw them.
Four women. Only these women were not the typical ones he worked with during photo or video shoots. No long, flowing hair. No skintight dresses with sequins and sparkles. No four-inch heels and fancy jewelry.
Instead, these were four women . . . beautiful women . . . dressed in Amish attire. Each one wore a different-colored dress with a simple white heart-shaped prayer kapp tied to the back of her head. Only Alejandro immediately saw that the heart part of the prayer kapp was too pronounced and the dresses were not real Amish dresses but poorly copied knockoffs. None of the women wore shoes, and he noticed that all of them had brightly colored nail polish on their toenails.
“What is this?” he exclaimed. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on Mike and Marybeth. The room filled with instant silence. “Mike? I asked a question.”
“Alex,” Mike said, trying to sound good-natured as he walked toward Alejandro. “I asked you to keep an open mind!”
As Mike reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, Alejandro shoved it away. “An open mind?” he repeated in disbelief. “What is there to keep an open mind about when you are completely mocking my wife?”
“It’s not a mockery!” Mike laughed. “It’s marketing!”
“I won’t do it,” Alejandro stated, raising one eyebrow as if daring Mike to argue with him. His voice was flat and emotionless. There was no questioning the conviction of his words.
It was the blonde, Marybeth, who cleared her throat and joined the two men. “Actually,” she said slowly. “You will.”
Her candor surprised him, so he turned his head to stare at her. “Excuse me?”
She flipped through a manila folder and produced a document. “If this is your signature, then you are obligated to do the photo shoot,” she said, handing the papers to him. “You can keep that. It’s a copy.”
Quickly, Alejandro scanned the document. Indeed, it had his signature at the end of it.
“Page four has the section you might want to reread,” Marybeth said casually.
Grimacing, Alejandro turned to that page and his eyes focused on a highlighted section. He felt his blood boil and clamped his teeth together as he read the paragraph about the agreement to possibly use Amish artifacts, including but not limited to farm equipment, clothing, housewares, and furniture, in the photo shoot.
He glared first at the woman and then at Mike. “You knew about this?”
“Just keep an open mind,” Mike repeated for the third time. “There is no disrespect meant.”
With a laugh, Alejandro threw the papers at Mike. “There is only disrespect meant!”
Without another word, he stormed toward the four women. They were beautiful, that could not be argued. But they were clearly anything but Amish. Still, he knew it wasn’t their fault. Models took their jobs when and where they could get them. He tried to calm his temper as he nodded at them, too upset to trust any words on his lips.
Standing in between them, he turned around. “You want this done?” he snapped, his blue eyes narrowed and still fiercely glaring at Mike and Marybeth. “Then let’s get going!”
For the next forty minutes, photographers directed the women to move around Alejandro: placing their hands on his shoulders, surrounding him, acting chaste behind him with folded hands, reaching out for him. Alejandro stood there, stoic and emotionless, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. Occasionally, he would turn as directed, but he gave nothing more than the bare minimum.
As the photographers moved around him, Alejandro disappeared into his own thoughts. How would he explain this to Amanda? What would be her reaction? Knowing Amanda, she would not show her disappointment or disgust at the use of staged and very inauthentic Amish imagery to sell Viper. But there was no doubt that she would feel it.
His inability to prevent this angered him. He should have seen it coming. Mike had clearly crossed a line, and now Alejandro was faced with a bigger challenge. He had no choice but to replace his longtime manager. Yet to do so would create upheaval and turmoil that Alejandro was not willing to face. Not yet. Of course, there was the issue of Mike’s contract. Alejandro made a mental note to contact his lawyer as soon as he could to find out what his options were.
“Fabulous!” the photographer shouted. “That’s a wrap for this set.”
Without a word, Alejandro stormed away, his arm brushing others as he moved toward the room with the white backdrop. Once again, he planted his feet in the middle of it, his hands clutched behind his back as he waited for the “Amish” models to join him and the photographer to continue taking pictures.
“Come on, Alejandro!” Mike stood on the sidelines, his arms crossed as he shook his head. “Work it a bit, eh?”
A raised eyebrow was the only response that he received.
Frustrated, Mike cursed under his breath and turned away, mumbling something to Marybeth, who never left his side. She didn’t seem as frustrated as Mike with Alejandro’s lack of enthusiasm for the photo shoot scene. That, alone, intrigued Alejandro.
When the shoot was over, Alejandro gave each of the models a hug and kiss on the cheek. His anger was not toward them, but he did refuse to stand with each one individually for a private photo. He knew that would disappoint the models; however, he didn’t want to risk those photos circulating in the media. He could already envision the headlines, and not one of them was something he wanted Amanda to see.
“Could you have looked any more miserable?” Mike snapped as they walked toward the room set up for Alejandro to change. “I mean come on, Alex! It’s marketing!”
Abruptly, Alejandro stopped and spun around, a finger pushed into Mike’s face. “It’s disgusting. Capitalizing on my wife’s religion? You’ve crossed the line, Mike, and I’m done warning you. That part of my life is off-limits.” As if to make his final point, he jabbed at Mike’s shoulder. “Off-limits!” he repeated before turning around and storming away.
He could feel his blood coursing through his veins. It had been a mockery, and he had been trapped by legal documents that he hadn’t read thoroughly. His anger was just as much directed at himself as at Mike. How could he have been so careless? he berated himself as he changed. It would be the last time that Mike did something so openly hostile toward Amanda, he told himself. And possibly one of the last things that Mike did for him, period.
He hadn’t counted on Mike to wait for him.
“What’s gotten into you, Alex?” Mike walked beside him, keeping up with Alejandro’s brisk pace. “You have to learn to separate it, man. Separate your personal from your professional life or you are going to lose it!”
“I’m not losing anything, Mike,” Alejandro snapped back. “But you are! You’re losing your sense of decency, and I won’t have Amanda be a casualty in whatever game you think you are playing.”
“Hey!” Mike reached out and grabbed Alejandro’s arm. The
gesture startled Alejandro. He stopped walking and spun around. To his surprise, Mike’s face was contorted in anger, a fierce expression in his eyes. “This isn’t a game, Alex. This is real. And you brought her into it. You can’t have selective fame, my friend.”
“Selective fame?” He almost laughed at the expression.
Mike released his arm. “You know what I mean. You can’t have some pieces of your life for the public and keep the rest private. It doesn’t work that way. Not if you want to continue with this conquest of world dominance in the music industry, Viper.”
The way he said Viper sent a chill down Alejandro’s spine. “World dominance does not have to include the destruction of my soul,” Alejandro countered. “Using Amanda to sell the image is not part of the plan.”
Mike laughed. “Not part of the plan? I don’t think you have a say in that matter. The public demands her. It’s a bundled set at this point, Alex. You made sure of that when you married her.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Hey, you made the rules. I warned you about getting involved with her. It was to counter your image. Now, the softer side of Viper has emerged, and as always, you were right. The public loves it and is eating it up. Deny them the girl, and watch your fans fade, Alex. I’ve seen it before, and I do not want to see it again.”
Alejandro shook his head at Mike. “You’re wrong.”
“Try me,” Mike retorted. “But don’t blame me when it backfires.”
Disgusted, Alejandro walked away, his steps heavy and his fists clenched as he moved past the doors and hurried toward the waiting car outside of the building entrance. Alone in the car, Alejandro removed his dark sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes. When had it become so complicated? he wondered.
Chapter Nine
Are you in Boston yet?
Or Providence?
I can’t keep up.
Missing you.
A.
It was Sunday and they had just returned from church. It had been a disastrous day from the moment she had awoken, and she was missing Alejandro more than ever. Had he been with her, she thought, he would have known what to do.
Earlier that morning, her daed had insisted on going to church, and Amanda knew what that meant: her mamm couldn’t handle him alone, so she would have to go along. She had arisen early to milk the cows, knowing that it would take extra time without any help from Harvey. Mamm had come out to help her, but Amanda had quickly shooed her back inside, telling her to get Daed ready, when in reality, she was mostly concerned that it was too cold for her mamm to work.
By the time Amanda had finished the milking and harnessed the horse to the buggy, she barely had time to wash up and change, never mind have a quick bite to eat. She hadn’t known what to wear, fluctuating between her regular plain clothing or a simple skirt and blouse.
“I’m not plain, Mamm,” she said when her mamm had walked by the door and paused, checking to see what Amanda was doing. “What do I wear?”
“They know you aren’t plain,” Lizzie had responded. “Dress accordingly, then.”
There were only two cars waiting outside of the driveway, something that had surprised Amanda. She hadn’t left the property since the incident at the natural food store. With Mamm driving the horse and Daed seated next to her, Amanda had no choice but to crouch in the backseat of the buggy. She had hoped that the photographers would not follow them, but one glance out of the back window had quickly dashed that hope.
Once they pulled into the driveway of the farm where the service was being held, Amanda had breathed a sigh of relief: the two cars had not followed them onto the private property. For a moment, she dared to imagine that the rest of the day would go well.
She was soon proved wrong.
The men had come to help with Elias, expressing their surprise that he had arrived at all. Luckily, the worship service was being held at the farmhouse, which meant no steps and plenty of space for his wheelchair. To Amanda’s relief, the men had promptly taken over Elias’s care, which freed up Lizzie to go inside with the other women, a social outlet that Amanda had suspected her mamm desperately needed.
Unfortunately, once they had entered the farmhouse, the women who had been assembled in the empty kitchen next to the gathering room had stopped talking and stared at the two newcomers. Lizzie had ignored the silence and made her way through the line of women, first shaking their outstretched hands before bestowing the kiss of fellowship on the women’s lips. Uncertain what to do, Amanda had walked behind her mamm but noticed that the women turned their heads while shaking her hand: the first rebuff of the day.
The second came only moments later. Rather than sit with the women she had always sat next to, her peers and friends, she was forced to sit up front with the elderly, a place of honor for guests as well as a separation from the younger women. Her cheeks had flushed red, this time from embarrassment, as she sat there beside her mamm, something she had not done since she was a child.
While the first hymn was being sung, the congregation had waited for the bishop and ministers to return. It was during this time that the leaders of the church usually left the room to decide, among one another, who was to preach the sermons. When they returned to the room, taking their seats in the front row of the men’s side, that was the signal to stop singing the hymn at the next stanza.
It hadn’t surprised Amanda to see the bishop stand and, for a few brief moments, pace the floor before his congregation. What did surprise her was his sermon.
“What does it take to be a disciple of Jesus?” he started in a loud, booming voice. “Is it praising his name? Is it turning the other cheek? It is speaking no evil? Or is it living a life that mirrors the words of the Bible? ‘Whoever wants to be my disciple,’ the Ausbund says, ‘he must forsake the world, in his heart also become pure and hate his own life.’” The bishop stopped pacing and stood straight before the congregation. “We are a people who forsake worldliness because we want to be disciples of Jesus and follow his teachings. We choose being God’s children over earthly treasures!”
Inwardly, Amanda had groaned, knowing full well that the sermon was directed, in part, toward her. After all, not only had she chosen to join the world, rather than forsake it, her very presence back in the community had brought the intrusion of the world with her. She tried to tune out the rest of his sermon, knowing that her cheeks were blazing red, the humiliation of his words too much for her to bear.
And then had come the fellowship hour.
The men had immediately converted the large worship room into a dining hall, creating long rows of tables by using trestles to slide onto the legs of the church benches. The younger boys had collected the Ausbund hymnals and neatly stacked them in wooden crates. Meanwhile, the women were dishing out the food, all of it having been prepared prior to the service so that the only true work was serving it to the church members. Still, plates and utensils had to be set out, cups had to be filled with water, and the platters of food needed to be placed on the tabletops.
When she had tried to help the women, they had simply responded by ignoring her. After all, Amanda rationalized, guests did not help serve food or clean up. Their silence and lack of accepting her help was a clear indication that they no longer considered her part of the community. She had chosen to not take the kneeling vow and had opted to marry outside of the faith. In return, they chose to keep her at arm’s length in order to remain pure by forsaking the outside world, a world that Amanda was clearly a part of as a result of her own free will.
As if that was not bad enough, during the first seating Amanda had been forced to sit and eat with the older women and very young mothers who needed to feed small children. During the meal, no one had spoken to her, blatantly ignoring Amanda, although she had been somewhat pleased to see that her mamm had engaged in plenty of conversation.
The time to leave had not come fast enough for Amanda. She hadn’t even cared that the photographers had snapped photos of her, using thei
r intrusive telescopic lenses, when she had climbed into the buggy.
Driving down the lane toward her parents’ farm had never felt so good before in all her life.
It had been not even fifteen minutes after they had returned when the cell phone rang. Having just come inside from unharnessing the horse, Amanda was at the kitchen sink, washing her hands, while her mamm sat in the rocking chair next to Daed. The room was silent except for the gentle ticking of the clock that hung on the wall. But the ringing of the cell phone caught the attention of everyone.
She had left it on the table and hurried over to get it, pausing for just a moment to wipe her hands on a dry hand towel. Only one person ever called her on the phone, and she felt embarrassed that she had to answer the call in front of her parents. Still, since she hadn’t heard from Alejandro in a few days, she quickly grabbed the phone and answered it, moving away from the table and heading toward the door.
She placed the small device to her ear and turned her back toward the kitchen. “Alejandro!” she said happily as she answered the phone.
There was a brief pause. “Amanda, it’s Carlos.”
It took her a minute to realize that the voice on the other end was not her husband’s. “Is everything all right?” she asked in a moment of panic.
“Sí, sí,” he reassured her. “Alejandro asked me to contact you.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. It was almost two in the afternoon. She imagined that he was already engaged in interviews before the concert that evening. Certainly he was busy; he always was before a concert in a new city . . . even on Sundays.
Carlos cleared his throat on the other end of the phone. “He asked me to call you as he needs you to come to New York for the week.”
New York? Amanda glanced over her shoulder at her parents, both of whom were watching her with apprehension and great interest. She shook her head, indicating that nothing was wrong, before she turned around again and lowered her voice. “I . . . I can’t,” she started. “My daed just came home. My mamm will need my help. And my sister isn’t to arrive until Tuesday for dinner.”