by Sarah Price
But Mike’s response actually surprised him. “Alex, Alex!” he said cheerfully. “I heard the LA meetings were great, and the production team says the video is coming along great!”
“Sí, sí,” Alejandro said impatiently. “But about this Lititz thing . . .”
“I know,” Mike said joyfully. “Brilliant move, Alex. Simply brilliant! I should have known to trust you.”
Alejandro frowned and stared at the phone as if he held a foreign object in his hand. No tirade? No screaming? “¿Qué?”
“The media is all over you about that girl.”
“¡Exactamente! And they need to leave her alone,” Alejandro said, punctuating the air with his index finger, even though no one else was nearby to see his animated gesture.
“Leave her alone?” Mike repeated, enunciating each word.
“¡Sí!” Alejandro stood and began pacing the floor. “Divert their attention. Maybe arrange for some public appearances with some of the girls at clubs to defuse it. Don’t you agree?”
There was another long pause. Silence. Alejandro waited for Mike to respond, and for a split second, he wondered if the call had been dropped. He glanced at the phone in his hand, but the signal was fine and the timer was still running. He placed the phone back against his ear in time to hear Mike clear his throat, never a good sign.
“Are you insane?”
Three simple words.
Alejandro was stunned. Speechless. For a second, he stared at the phone in his hand. Had he heard Mike properly? Trying to comprehend what Mike was saying, Alejandro’s mind flipped through different scenarios as to why his manager, the very man who hated the idea of Alejandro changing Viper’s image, would be asking such an outrageous question.
But just as quickly, it suddenly dawned on him. It was the publicity that excited Mike. The fact that so many fans expressed their interest in Viper and “his” Amish girl was totally unexpected, a true marketing coup. Mike must have known, and as such, he must have instructed people to not distract Alejandro with updates about the media frenzy. His own team was feeding the viral effect of Alejandro’s trip to Lititz. Clearly, Mike was not realizing the impact that the media was having on Amanda’s life and family, or perhaps he did not even care.
“No,” Alejandro said, his voice cold as ice even as he tried to control his temper. “I’m not insane. But perhaps you are.”
“Alex!”
“No!” Alejandro shouted into the phone. “This girl did nothing. She had a life, a chance, a way to be a real person. But now that has all changed!”
“It happens, Alex,” Mike said, his voice low and slow. “Collateral damage. You knew that when you took her back to her town. Once people knew you were there . . .”
“Ay, mi madre,” Alejandro said, his hand flying to his head as though he had a headache. He rubbed his forehead, the words collateral damage stinging his conscience. Deep down, he knew that Mike was right: Alejandro should have considered the long-term outcome. Now the thought of Amanda being so exposed, so tormented, and the look on her face from the photos, her eyes in particular, haunted him. “Make this go away, Mike. Please!” he pleaded.
“Alejandro, the media is enamored with her,” Mike said. “Don’t you see it? Your sales are skyrocketing. They love this. You were right!”
Alejandro rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I was right about what?”
“The media! They are tired of the bad-boy Viper image. This new side of you is in,” Mike said, his voice thick with excitement. “They are thirsting for something different, something new. You gave it to them.” He lowered his voice but couldn’t contain his delight. “You gave them Alejandro!”
You gave them Alejandro. He cringed at the words. He clenched his fists. Now it is my fault, he thought. No, he would not accept that. “No, no,” he said. “You are wrong! For years, you forced me to be Viper. You can’t turn it around now, Mike. You can’t say that the public is tired of Viper! He’s still here!”
Mike sighed. “Once Viper went to Amish land, he disappeared, Alex. But you found the golden ticket with this girl!”
“Get her out of this, Mike!”
The laughter that came over the line surprised him. Mike was enjoying this, and that angered Alejandro even more. “What would you have me do? I can’t shut down social media and gossip rags!”
“Don’t give me that crap,” Alejandro snapped. “Get me in some clubs tonight with some girls, get the media there, alert the paparazzi.” He took a deep breath. “Anything to get their attention away from her.”
“Seriously?” Mike said, his voice dripping with disbelief. It was clear that he neither agreed nor could believe that Alejandro was taking the high road. “Ethics over sales? Where is my Alex?” Mike hesitated before asking the one question that was on both their minds: “Did you fall for this girl?”
“Don’t go there, Mike!” Alejandro snapped. “I don’t know her at all. But I do know she didn’t ask for this.”
For the rest of the morning, Alejandro tried to think about anything other than Amanda and the photos that he had seen of her, plastered on the tabloids. How could he not have known about this? Why hadn’t someone told him? Clearly, Mike had issued a gag order to Alejandro’s inner circle, but there should have been other signs. Someone who was loyal enough to him. Yet as soon as he posed the question, he already knew the answer: loyalty did not exist in his world. They knew that he’d be infuriated rather than embrace the media’s attention. They chose themselves over him, the very person they were sworn to protect.
And he realized that he had no one to trust, after all.
The club was dark and noisy, packed with several hundred people on the second floor alone. Lights flashed overhead, and the beat of loud music pulsed through his ears. He stood in the VIP section, too aware that everyone was staring at him, both those who were nearby and those who were not permitted entrance to where he lingered by the bar.
He didn’t feel like being here, but he knew all too well that public appearances were the only way to create distance between his name and the Amish, especially from Amanda. The more people who saw him at clubs and with other women, the more likely they would share those photos, and the less likely they would remain so fascinated by his week in Lititz at the Beilers’ farm.
His arrival at the club had been met with flashbulbs and fanfare. Even Alejandro had to admit that Mike had done a fantastic job with the media. Somehow Mike had leaked the news that Viper would be visiting the hottest nightclub in Miami that night. When his black Escalade pulled up and the bodyguards stepped out to open his door, a mad crush of screaming fans and paparazzi crowded around the vehicle. It had taken five minutes to push everyone back and to control the crowd before Alejandro was able to exit and make his way toward the front doors of Club O. He paused, turning to wave at the crowd, his eyes hidden behind his trademark dark sunglasses.
Inside the club, some of his regular entourage had already been waiting: old friends from growing up in Miami and new friends in the music industry. And, of course, there was the regular crowd of women, dressed in skintight pants or miniskirts with stilettos and tattoos. They stared at him, smiling seductively, each one hoping that she would receive his attention, perhaps a quiet moment and a drink or even an invitation to leave the club with him as the early morning hours rolled in.
Alejandro wasn’t in the mood for any of this, however. He hadn’t been since his stay at Lititz.
During his European tour, he had been too busy to play at the clubs or socialize with the ladies. Back in Miami, he had been focused on the next round of concerts, starting on the West Coast in just a few weeks. Now, all that he could think about was the photo of Amanda, with such imploring sadness in her eyes, that had greeted him from the paper that morning.
“Hey, you,” a soft voice whispered in his ear, followed by the light touc
h of a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder.
Switching into Viper mode, Alejandro casually turned to gaze at the beautiful, leggy blonde who started to wrap her body against his. “Ay, mi madre,” he murmured. “¡Qué mujer linda!” It was a game. He knew it. She knew it. A beautiful woman would approach him, he’d buy her a drink, perhaps they’d dance, and then he’d move on to the next beautiful woman. And there were always plenty of beautiful and willing women to choose from at Club O, or anywhere else for that matter. Plain-looking, unsophisticated women never seemed to show up at these places. It was always the tall, thin, sultry women who made their way inside.
“I thought you’d say that,” she replied, her fingers touching the lapel of his white jacket. She lifted her eyes to gaze into his face. He noticed her picture-perfect eye shadow and long, thick eyelashes. He wondered how long it had taken her to get ready for this evening and how much it had cost her. “Now, what about buying me a drink?”
“Sí, sí,” he gushed, aware that others were watching. He nodded toward one of his men, who quickly produced a tall glass of bubbling champagne. “For you,” Alejandro said as he took the glass and handed it to her, his gesture smooth and fluid. He had done this a thousand times and knew how to move so that every movement flowed and screamed sophistication and charm. “Salud, mi linda,” he said, his eyes staring at her from behind his sunglasses as he tipped his own glass at her.
“Salud,” she replied, a sparkle in her eyes. The other women in the VIP section were glaring at her. Under different circumstances, Alejandro would have found it amusing. It had always amazed him that, after just a few hit tracks, his world had changed. From singing at smoky, dark clubs to being the main attraction at the hottest concert halls, he wasn’t certain he would ever understand the shift. Now, wherever he went, there were women vying for his attention, hoping against all odds to be the one in whom he took an interest . . . even if only for a few hours.
Alejandro kept his eyes on hers as he set his glass down on the bar. “Dance with me,” he said, reaching his hand out for hers. She didn’t even hesitate, letting him take her glass from her. She placed her fingers on his palm and let him lead her toward the dance floor. Like the parting of the Red Sea, people moved aside to make way for the famous Viper and the lucky lady he had selected to be his dance partner.
Within minutes, every pair of eyes in the club was on them; people watched and whispered about the erotic dance between Viper and the unknown woman. The cell phones were snapping photos, and for those with strong signals, the social media outlets were being flooded with the images. Viper wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing her against his body as they moved to the beat of the music. She smiled at him and said something that only he could hear. He tilted his head back and laughed. Then, while everyone watched, he lowered his nose to her neck and nuzzled her. More photos. More uploads.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, their bodies still moving together. He placed his other hand on the back of her head, and knowing full well that the next few seconds would produce the image to flood the entertainment news websites and tabloids in the morning, he lowered his mouth onto hers and kissed her. It was a deep kiss that looked full of passion and lust. Just as it happened, he released her and began dancing on the floor by himself, his arms over his head and his hips moving rapidly. He grinned at her and motioned for her to join him. She did. And when the song ended, he pulled her once again into his arms and favored her with yet another passionate kiss.
Holding her hand, he led her back to the VIP section, and then, despite the throng of people staring at him, he whispered to one of his men so that, within seconds, he was whisked out of the club, his hand clutching the woman, who seemed all too thrilled to be dragged along. The rest of the women in the crowd seemed to breathe a disappointed sigh of resignation while the men watched with guarded envy.
The SUV was waiting for him, and Alejandro, ever the gentleman, held the woman’s hand as she slid inside and disappeared into the vehicle. Alejandro followed and waved just once to the crowd. And then the door shut, the tinted windows blocking him from the people who were busy snapping photos.
He leaned his head back on the seat and sighed. Taking off his sunglasses, he rubbed his eyes. “¡Gracias, Maria!”
She laughed. “Anything for you, Alejandro!”
The driver waited until the bodyguard sat next to him. Then, looking back over the seat, he asked, “Where to?”
Alejandro waved his hand. “Anywhere, but lose the paparazzi.” He hesitated. “If they are aggressive, go back to my place. We can escort Maria home later.” He reached forward to the ice bucket that was built into the side of the door. “Drink?” he asked as he poured himself one. When she nodded, he handed his glass to her and poured himself another one.
“I was supposed to be in New York tonight,” she said lightly. She lifted her glass to him in a silent toast as she added, “My trip was postponed. Mike called me just in time.”
“¿Sí?” he asked, smiling at her. “How so?”
Maria raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Did you think I would be sitting home alone, Alejandro?” She frowned teasingly, her light hair hanging over her shoulder in loose waves. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes sparkled at him. “Really?”
She was too beautiful to sit home at night. He knew that about her. Laughing, he touched her knee. “No, no, I guess not.” He leaned over and planted a friendly kiss on her cheek. “You are good to me, mi amiga.”
“Always here to bail you out,” she replied teasingly. “Just like back in Cuba!”
He touched her hair. “I like the new color.”
“You think I look nice as a blonde? I’m not so sure.”
“It’s different. Nice for a change, no?”
Maria shrugged, too busy digging into her purse for her compact to check her hair in the small mirror.
For the rest of the drive, they rode in silence. She stared out the window, and he stared at his cell phone, checking the pulse of Twitter and Facebook. Indeed, speculation was running rampant as to who was this mysterious woman. Tweets were flying over the Internet, links to photos of the dancing scene at the club. Viper was back, and his impromptu stint with Maria was a success, he thought. Within days, the haunting image of Amanda would be forgotten, the paparazzi would leave her alone, and they would both get on with their very different lives.
Yet as he monitored the viral action associated with his abrupt departure from the club, the beautiful Maria photographed hanging on his arm, the gossip, and the Retweets, he wondered if all that was truly what he wanted. Was it possible to truly forget Amanda?
Chapter Sixteen
The overcast sky made the day seem even more gloomy as she stood by the window, peering out at nothing in particular. Her cast had been removed just two days before, and she was enjoying the liberty that it finally afforded her. She knew, however, that her freedom to move around was limited by the people who were still stationed near her parents’ farm. Even when they had gone to the doctor’s to have the cast removed, she had been followed by several cars, and the photographers had taken her picture as she was going into the office and when she left. She had kept her head down and tried to move away from them, but they were too aggressive for her to avoid.
The doctor had smiled at her when she entered his office. “Amanda,” he said, “I see you have your entourage with you.”
“My entourage?” she asked, not understanding the word.
He nodded toward the window as he lowered the shade. “The people who followed you.”
Lizzie had merely shaken her head, dark circles under her eyes. No one at the Beiler house had been getting much sleep these past few weeks.
The paparazzi hadn’t left the area. Instead, they seemed to multiply. Their cars and vans were parked alongside the road, and they were constantly snapping photos of
any Amish buggy that drove down the road. It didn’t take long for the word to spread among the community, and the locals did their best to avoid the area. The family who lived across the road had repeatedly complained to the bishop, but there was nothing anyone could do. The major concern was when the children returned to school. The parents were alarmed about how to protect the children on their way to and from the schoolhouse.
In the first few days, the police had merely stopped by several times a day, shooing the paparazzi away. But the more they chased them, the more arrived. By the second week, police were stationed at the farm around the clock, trying to keep away the photographers who continued to sneak about the property. The situation caused great anxiety.
“Those people are so intrusive,” Lizzie said wearily.
Amanda had looked at the doctor, her own face gaunt and drawn. “Why are they so interested in me?” She knew the answer from the perspective of why her in particular, but not from the perspective of why in general. In her world, private lives were kept just that way: private. Clearly, the Englische had a different perspective of what was off-limits to public scrutiny.
The doctor had shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Amanda. But I can tell you that there is a lot of interest in you. People have caught wind of your story, and they seem to be quite taken with you, your religion, and your relationship with that singer fellow.”
Now, despite the fact that her cast was removed, her father and mother had insisted that she’d continue to stay in the house. Amanda had protested, but her daed was quite firm with her. After all, just the day before, he had found two photographers in the cornfield, trying to approach the house, hoping to get a photograph of the newly healed Amanda. When Elias had tried to chase them off his property, they had proceeded to take his photograph, following him toward the house until Elias had no choice but to flag down the police officer who was stationed at the end of the driveway.