“Héctor, this isn’t working out. It’s over,” I said bluntly. And that’s when he gave me his famous phrase: “One day your mom’s gonna give you a swift kick in the ass . . .”
That kick was about to come.
As soon as my mother accepted the fact that Héctor wouldn’t be fathering her grandchildren, she embarked on a search for a gallant knight. Obviously, he would have to be to her liking.
The first candidate was the boxing champion Saúl “El Canelo” Álvarez.
“Look, baby, I met Canelo’s manager and he gave me two VIP tickets to Saturday’s fight,” she said. A clever ploy. Since I love boxing, I accepted. “He’s really cute, young and very handsome. I’ll introduce you, mija,” she insisted, before having me put on a sexy dress and fake eyelashes.
The fight was awesome, and after the final bell, we went into the locker room. Wow, he doesn’t look too bad! I thought. I was surprised that his face was in such good shape, after his fight. And—of course—he was victorious.
“Hola, Canelo, how are you, mijo?” My mother got straight to the point. “Look, I want you to meet my beautiful daughter.”
Canelo shook my hand. I found him to be very polite and somewhat shy.
“Very beautiful, right? I made her all by myself,” she said, forcing the issue yet again.
“Yes, very beautiful indeed,” Canelo replied, very gentlemanly.
But, truth be told, there were no sparks from that introduction. We politely said good-bye, and everyone went their own ways. There was no physical attraction or chemistry, no angels playing the harp. I just wasn’t his type, nor was he mine. I don’t know why, but I don’t like famous men when it comes to boyfriends. It’s just one of my things.
The next candidate was a doctor.
“Chiquis, baby, he’s Persian, handsome, elegant and he looks like Andy García.”
“Momma, I have nothing in common with a doctor.”
“He doesn’t have any children!” she added with a big smile on her face. To my mother, that was vital. She was obsessed with finding a man who didn’t already have a family.
Without even asking for my opinion, she sent him a few pictures of me, and even set up a dinner date for us to meet.
“A blind date? Momma, you’re crazy!”
The night before, I sent the poor guy a text and canceled the date. My mother was really bothered by that.
“Fine, keep partying with your friends. You’re missing out.”
But like in an episode of The Bachelorette, my momma found the next candidate quick as a wink. His name was Carlos, and at the time he was the marketing director of Plaza Mexico in Lynwood, the place where my mother wanted to open a sports bar.
“You’ve got to meet this guy. He’s thirty-one, tall, single, handsome, no kids. And he’s got blue eyes! Oh my God, I’m going to have grandchildren with blue eyes!” My mom was hallucinating over this Carlos guy. “Look, baby,” and she showed me a picture of a blond baby that she’d clipped from a magazine. “If you marry this guy, your children will look like this. Chiquis, you know I can’t have ugly grandchildren!”
To make her forget about her disappointment over the doctor, I agreed to go out with Carlos. We went out for coffee a couple of times, but it wasn’t going anywhere either. My momma wouldn’t be getting her little blond grandbaby. Oh well.
Carlos was gorgeous. In fact, he had worked as a model. A smart, funny and very kind guy. But I have to admit that handsome men intimidate me. I felt nervous, staring into that perfect face. My God! It was like sitting in front of Eduardo Verástegui and trying not to drool.
Carlos called me one more time, but after that he gave up. Maybe he also felt a bit intimidated by me: the famous daughter of Jenni Rivera. That has frightened off more than one potential suitor!
His good looks and my last name—we can be so foolish in this game of love.
But love would—on its own, without any help from my mother—come knocking on my door. Or rather, it sent me a text message: Hola beautiful. Someone gave me your number. How are you today? He already knew who I was, and had been eyeing me at the Billboard Mexican Music Awards. Apparently, we were sitting only three seats away from each other at the theater, but I don’t remember having seen him.
It took me a month to answer that mysterious text: Hola. And just like that, little by little, we started exchanging greetings. And then the first flowers arrived. A huge bouquet! Immediately, I called to thank him. It was the first time I’d ever heard his voice. After that, he sent me a picture and I accepted an invitation to dinner.
This guy intrigued me right from the very start, but he didn’t intimidate me. I still had some fear toward men. It’s a trauma that I think I’ll be dealing with for the rest of my life. After the normal butterflies from the first encounter settled down, I felt good just watching him and listening to him.
But the one who didn’t feel good about it was my mother.
“Chiquis, is it true that you’re dating this guy?”
“Yes, Momma, and I really like him.”
“But why, why, why, mija? I’ve heard so many things about him.”
“Well I’m going to keep on seeing him. I tried to make things work with Héctor because you begged me to, but that just wasn’t happening. Now, I’m making the choice about who I want.”
“Mija, this guy already has four kids with one more on the way!” That was the part that was killing her. “You don’t need to be dealing with all that. There’s going to be so much momma drama and baby drama . . .”
“Momma, he’s already separated, and besides, there’s nothing wrong with having kids. You have five, and all your boyfriends loved you just the same,” I argued, trying unsuccessfully to convince her. Neither of us was willing to budge on this particular occasion. No way. I was tired of obeying her when it came to matters of the heart.
Especially since the guy had really won me over during those first few dates. I was totally smitten. I was attracted to him because he was brave, a real man, with his own successful business. He worked in the music industry as well, so we had a lot in common. He was really funny, able to make me laugh so hard it hurt, and he wasn’t with me because of my mother’s fame. He was just there, sitting in front of me, listening to my dreams and regrets, because he wanted to.
And while I was all caught up being the silly little love bird, the scandal surrounding my brother Mikey broke. The mother of a girlfriend two years underage accused him of sleeping with her daughter. The headlines broke my heart. Mikey’s a rapist? I could almost hear the words “Like father, like son” on the lips of every member of the public and the media.
My beloved Mikey is a child of God, and his only sin was to fall in love with a girl who was fourteen when he was nineteen, and under California law, that’s considered statutory rape. Having sex with a minor, even with her consent, is punishable by jail time, even though the defendant had just legally reached adulthood himself. During the trial, it was revealed that the girl’s mother allowed them to do things alone together like going to the movies among many other places—and that both families knew they were dating—but the law is the law, and this mother wanted justice.
“Mijo, you have to pay the consequences for what you’ve done, but I will always stand by you,” I remember my mother saying to Mikey in the kitchen one morning before going to court. Like all members of the family, my mother was both responsible and brave. She never taught us to throw a stone and hide your hand. The Riveras face their problems head-on, and therefore Mikey would face the judge and the media frenzy that surely would be waiting for us in the end.
“I’ll always defend you, Mikey. I’m always going to defend you,” I said, offering encouragement of my own. “I remember the day you met that girl, at Mom’s wedding, and I remember how annoying her mother was, trying to get that girl to sing to the bride and groom. Hell no! The red flags should have gone up right then and there.”
Mikey simply replied with a hug, and left
for his date with the law.
In the end, they reduced the charges to three misdemeanors, and he was sentenced to one year of probation. The worst thing was that his record would be marred forever, as was his soul, because Mikey is a noble human being with the biggest heart I’ve ever known. I knew he was scared of being compared to our father.
“You’re not like Dad, Mikey,” I’d say to him during those dark days. “You’re not like him.”
And that’s how we kicked off 2012: with lawyers and a trial, a new boyfriend and wedding plans. Though it wasn’t me who would be walking down the aisle. Jacqie was getting married to her boyfriend after a year-long courtship.
“You can’t invite Chiquis’s boyfriend to the wedding,” I heard my mom say to Jacqie in her office with the door ajar.
“But, Mom, Chiquis loves him. It should be her decision, not yours,” Jacqie protested.
“I don’t want to hear it. I’m the one paying for this wedding, so I decide who gets to come.”
They were talking about my boyfriend! I burst into the office like a bull and confronted my mother.
“You know what, Momma? Maybe Héctor was right. I’ve never had the balls to contradict you, but from now on, it’s gonna be different. I’ve been dating him for three months now, and besides, it’s my sister’s wedding, not yours.”
“And I don’t care. If I’m paying, he’s not coming. Period,” she said, taunting me by leaning back in the chair behind her desk.
“You don’t even know him!”
“Nor do I want to. If you want to date him, go right ahead. But I don’t want him around my family or my children.”
The gossip had already gotten to my mother: rumors that my boyfriend had connections to organized crime, that he didn’t play by the rules and other such lies. Jealousy is always a factor when it comes to the music industry, and if you’re successful, to some people, that automatically makes you the bad guy.
“Look, Momma.” I was ready to speak to her like I never had before. “I’m a grown-ass woman. An adult. And you need to respect my decisions.”
“Oh really?” she said, sarcastically while leaning across her enormous desk. “You’re some grown, badass woman?” she continued to challenge me.
“Listen, Mom, I know what you’re like. Let’s not start a war here,” I said, trying to put out the flames as best I could.
“What are you implying, Chiquis?” she asked.
“I’m saying, don’t let this get in the way of our business and our personal lives. I love you.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, sweetly, but with that look in her eyes that was always there when she was planning something.
For the next week, we barely spoke to each other, until one day when she sent me a text: We need to talk. Come home.
I’m with my boyfriend now, I texted back, determined not to let her manipulate me, but I was fearful inside.
I don’t care. You need to come immediately.
She was so insistent that I started to get even more nervous. I got in the car and headed for Encino.
My mother was waiting for me behind the same massive desk where she liked to play the boss. And that’s exactly what she was doing!
“Chiquis, I need you to leave. You have to move out of the house.”
“Are you serious? Why?” I immediately felt dizzy and blood rushed all over my body. I had to sit down.
“I was just reviewing some accounts, and look at this: a $3,000 charge at BCBG, another $500 at Bebe. You’re spending my money!”
“Momma, every year we do our taxes together and you know how much I spend. This isn’t anything new. You’ve known. I never tried to hide anything. You know I like to shop. And besides, it’s not just your money, it’s our money.”
“Chiquis, I pay you very well. You should be spending your own money on your own whims. Not mine.”
She was absolutely right about that. I couldn’t argue that point at all. My mother had always been generous with me, but children always tend to take advantage of the situation. Though it’s also true that I always worked diligently for her without complaint, and I truly felt that the money belonged to me as well.
“Okay, then, Momma, I’ll pay you rent. Let me show you that I can be more responsible. I never stole a penny from you. Nothing was done behind your back. You always knew what I was spending money on, and where I was spending it.”
“No, because you’re a fucking adult now, remember? Well, now we’ll see just how badass of a woman you really are.”
“Oh, okay, now I understand! This isn’t about my shopping, it’s about my boyfriend. It’s because I’m still with him.” Suddenly it was all very clear to me.
“No, it has nothing to do with him. But since you think you’re such a grown-ass woman, then go right ahead.” My mother had already made up her mind. My pleas were falling on deaf ears.
“So what’s gonna happen with Chiquis ’N Control?” I suddenly remembered that we had just started my third reality show, and my mother was one of the executive producers.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that. For now, the only thing you have to do is move out of my house.”
At this point, I simply burst into tears. I just couldn’t hold them back any longer. Just the thought of not being able to see my babies every night broke my heart.
“Okay, fine, I’ll find another place to live. Just answer one question: Am I still working for you?” I managed to get that out between the sobs.
“No. You have the money from the other two shows, so you can make things work with that. Think about what your next move will be. But, as of today, you no longer work for me.”
The next day, I found out that she had removed my name from all the bank accounts and other legal documents, and that she had hired someone else to take my place.
As I’ve said time and again, my mother was calculating. In less than a week, she had set everything up perfectly.
Begging was useless: “Momma, please, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll change my habits, I’ll do whatever you want.” The mere idea of being away from Johnny and Jenicka was simply mortifying. And she knew that.
With a wounded heart, I found a small apartment in Van Nuys. It was a garage that had been converted into a one-room combined kitchen and living space with a single, small bedroom.
On March 16 2012, there I was: back in a garage. Only this time I was all alone, and without a bike.
I swear, if it wasn’t for my true friends, I would have died there. Ellen, Julie, Dayanna and Gerald packed up all of my belongings from the house in Encino and loaded them into a U-Haul. That U-Haul was filled with nothing but clothes and shoes! That evening, I realized that my mother was actually right: I did have a shopping addiction. But I also knew that behind all this was something much more serious than a bunch of stupid shoes and bags.
Too much shopping, a boyfriend she didn’t approve of and a dash of jealousy: that’s the perfect recipe for mother-daughter drama. Yes, my own mother told me later that same year that she felt jealous of me. Jealous of me as a mother, not as a woman. Jealous because I seemed like more of a mom to her kids than she, who gave birth to them.
Now, with a real husband in the home, her outlook on life had changed. She wanted to cook and take the kids to the doctor, just how I had done, and she felt like a bad mother because she couldn’t. All those years on the road and staying in lonely hotel rooms were taking a toll on her heart. I remember trying to encourage her, telling her that a bad mother never would have sacrificed as much as she did for us. Maybe she wasn’t physically there each and every night in Encino to tuck us in and give us a kiss good night, but the example of strength that she set was something that stayed with us from the moment we woke up until the moment we fell asleep. To this very day, she’s still a presence in that house. She’s the love and the energy of the family.
“A good mother isn’t always the one who stays home baking cakes, Momma.” I remember I told her that once to try
and lift her spirits.
And a good mother is also someone who teaches you a tough lesson from time to time. And there I was, doing my work while surrounded by the moving boxes and the mess in my new apartment.
Esteban stayed out of this whole episode. All he said to me, making sure that my mother couldn’t hear him, was: “I hope things get fixed between you and your mom soon. You’re my daughter too, and I don’t like seeing you like this.”
At least Ferny would have stood up for me. He would have said, “Jenni, stop this shit.”
Sometimes I think that if Esteban had shown more character, my mother would have loved him more. Though I do know that he was fighting for me in his own way. In an attempt to soften my mother’s heart, he recorded my niece Jaylah placing one of my bags next to the moving truck, and he sent it to her. What Esteban may have lacked in courage, he more than made up for in good intentions.
Later, Esteban told me that after my mother returned from her trip, she stood in my empty room alone for a few minutes. When she emerged, her eyes were red, and she didn’t say a word.
I was never very talkative either. I just lay there on the bed my friends had bought me at Ikea. I didn’t bring a single piece of furniture from my mother’s house with me. I didn’t want to be accused of stealing or taking anything that wasn’t mine. What I wanted was to start over from scratch: all new things, and all of them my own.
But in order to start from zero, first you have to hit rock bottom. And I was getting close. I didn’t shower for three days, and I left all my damn clothes in the U-Haul parked in the driveway. I missed my babies so much! And they didn’t even call me. They were happy at school, with their friends, going everywhere with Esteban. Oh, they don’t need me anymore, I would stupidly torment myself. So that’s the game now, is it? I was at such a low point that my own petty jealousy was sinking me, and to top it all off, I kept telling myself, Chiquis, you have no job, you have no family, you have nothing.
Forgiveness Page 11