Chapter 26
M AYBE GOING FOR A RUN AT NOON WASN’T THE BEST IDEA. There are tall trees and impenetrable wild brush on either side of this narrow street, and the sun is scorching the island and reflecting up from the asphalt. It feels like I’m trapped in a bubble of humid heat. My cell is tucked into my running shorts and I’m listening to Meri on headphones, so even my ears feel hot.
“You never have to get me another birthday present. You’re good for life.” Meri already expressed her gratitude on the phone last night. And in a biblically long text she sent this morning.
“That’s a substantial amount of savings,” I respond, catching my breath. “Of time and money. Thanks.”
“I mean it. That was so cool,” Meri squeals. “And that was sweet, him asking all those questions about you. You guys must be getting close working together, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I mean he’s…” I pause because I don’t know what to say. I’ve replayed our conversation at the bar so many times, but my feelings about it are jumbled.
He made me feel he wanted to stay and keep talking. Was he flirting with me? I know I was. He was so sweet and open with Meri. Then again, that could have had nothing to do with me. That’s just who he is, a charmer. René being René.
“He can be nice sometimes.”
“Really? Tell me everything.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Oh man, you have to admit he’s even sexier in person.”
“Yeah, he’s okay.” A couple of cars zoom by, so I veer onto the narrow path on the side of the road. “I just don’t trust him, his whole act.” I’m trying to jog quicker but I’m mostly hopping, jumping, and sidestepping to avoid the tree roots jutting out of the dirt. “And we’re stuck here, and everything revolves around him and he’s so”—I almost trip over a rock—“closed off.”
I see the beach through the tangle of trees and stop jogging. “First he’s all cool like he doesn’t have a care in the world, then he makes you feel like he’s actually listening and remembers things you say.” And offers to take you to the places in your father’s song. But what about Camila? Does he have any idea how she’s felt about him all this time? “If this is how he treats women, no wonder they stick around.”
“He didn’t cheat on Natalia,” Meri declares proudly, a point in his favor.
“And what’s that all about?” Gruffly, I push aside branches as I make my way toward the beach. “Why let people believe you cheated on someone you loved? Doesn’t make any sense. I think he’s hiding something.”
Meri moans in disagreement. “Though I did read he may have a secret tattoo”—she pauses for dramatic effect—“inside his lower lip.”
My brain gets distracted by the thought.
“But what was he talking about?” Meri sounds worried. “What happened to you at a waterfall? And with birds?”
“Oh, nothing. A seagull took my food on the beach. It was funny,” I say to calm her, and I hold back telling her about the waterfall. My knee is pretty much healed now anyway.
“Give me a second,” Meri says. I hear someone approach her with a question about makeup brushes. Meri knows exactly what they need and why. It’s a sweet opportunity to hear my little sister at work, being knowledgeable and helpful. She also sounds good. Maybe whatever was upsetting her has been resolved? It’s amazing the effect Meri’s happiness has on me. It boils down to this: if she’s okay, I’m okay.
We say goodbye just as I find shade beneath a tree filled with dusty rose-colored mangos. I breathe in the warm breeze and take in the calls of unusually loud birds and the not-so-distant sounds of waves crashing. I contemplate the possibility of going for a swim in shorts and a sports bra.
At least I’m not in the studio waiting around like an idiot. Thankfully, ángel has taken over the schedule. René isn’t going to the studio until after lunch and then he’ll perform at the showcase. He also plans to return to the studio, so we’ll be working late into the night.
Who knows if we’ll capture an actual song being recorded, but at least I’m finally feeling hopeful. Maureen arrived early this morning but went directly to the beach where the concert is taking place.
I have a new idea I want to pitch to her. The making of the album could center around in-depth footage of René opening the doors to his private life back home, and not so much in the studio. We could focus on how those aspects of his life influence his work, without actually seeing much of the work. This is me, keeping calm and carrying on. Making lemonade.
Out of the corner of my eye, a horse appears. It’s not a baby but also not a full-grown adult. Golden auburn with a blond mane and tail, and a narrow patch of white on its nose. It’s poking around a patch of dry grass near the beach. An ache forms deep in my chest.
“When I take you to Culebra, you’ll see the wild horses on the beach.” My father’s voice echoes in a memory when I was little.
“Really? Why are they on the beach?” I asked.
“I don’t know, nobody owns them. They’re just free to run around. You see them everywhere.”
“I want to go.”
“We’ll go.”
Standing on tippy-toes, I reach a mango on one of the lower branches and approach the horse until I’m only a few feet away. Unsure if it’s safe to have a wild horse eat right out of my hand, I toss the mango at him. As soon as it drops its head to grab it, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. What if horses can’t eat mangos? What if it chokes on the large seed? So I kick the mango. The thing flies off toward the beach, reaches a slope, and starts to roll quickly down a hill.
The horse trots in that direction, so I run after it. The slope is steeper than I thought, and my knees buckle beneath me. I drop down on the sand and the horse reaches the mango. It scoops it up, chews and chews, and then hacks a few times before spitting out the pit and ambling away.
Stepping out of the SUV, I see ángel and Maureen standing on the stage that was built overnight for the showcase. Mo is a bold pop of color in a long, purple dress. It’s late afternoon and the beach is buzzing with stagehands and tech crew making last-minute adjustments. In less than an hour, three ferries filled with fans, influencers, DJs, journalists, and promoters will arrive from San Juan at Culebra’s ferry terminal, where busses are waiting to bring them to the beach.
While James unloads the camera equipment, I look off in a trance at the beach. Playa Tamarindo is one of the largest beaches on the island so there’s plenty of room for the stage we’ve built. It’s a simple structure framed by large speakers, and strategically placed in front of a row of tall palms. It’s hard to imagine the stage isn’t always there, ready for the next concert on the beach. Soon, three new artists will be performing, and René will join one of them for a song.
I step onto the sand, excited for the event. James and I will be covering the performances and interviewing the new artists. Artists who won’t push back.
You know in the movies, where the sensible girl gets a sexy makeover? Well, that’s not what’s happened here. This is more of an internal makeover. I feel lighter and optimistic. Well, that and there’s no blazer. I’m wearing a formfitting coral vest with matching slacks that cinch up around the ankles. My hair is half up, half down, and I’ve put on my largest gold hoop earrings.
“Hi!” I call out with confidence as I climb up the steps onto the stage.
I may not have much resembling footage of an artist recording actual songs, but René has given us access to his home life and I know that’s going to impress Mo. I know from the chat rooms, his fans are begging to learn more about where he grew up.
Santiago appears on the other side of the stage to start the sound check, and ángel turns to greet him.
“Hey, Dani. Puerto Rico suits you,” Mo says after she gives me a big hug.
“Thanks. It’s good to see you.”
“I heard about the new song with Natalia.” There’s a trace of confusion in her voice. Probably wondering why I haven’t told her all about it. “ángel’s brought me up-to-date. How did that go?”
My face goes rigid. The image of Camila pulling my ears under the bar flashes before my eyes. I don’t know what to say. It doesn’t sound like she knows we weren’t there. “René is so happy with it,” I say, deflecting. “It’s a really great track. Everyone thinks it could be the first single.”
“Excellent! I can’t wait to hear it.”
Me too. I smile wide and try to loosen my back muscles. It occurs to me that letting Camila call Natalia could have actually helped René. Maybe he’s one of those artists who writes best when he’s upset. I may have deprived the world of the best rage anthem ever written.
“But even better than that, René’s invited us to his hometown. We’re going to get a tour, meet his family.” Maureen’s eyes light up.
“Really? How’d you manage that?”
“Oh, you know. I learned from the best,” I respond, tossing her a friendly compliment. She squeezes my arm sweetly and smiles.
By the time the fans have filled the beach, I know Maureen is happy. She’s watched as I’ve done poignant and fun interviews with the new artists who are performing tonight, interviewed a few fans, and even had James set up a camera on the stage so we could get a neat time lapse of the audience filling in.
James is the only one allowed to record the concert. Everyone in the audience has had to drop their cell phones into individual pouches, which will remain locked until the concert is over.
The late afternoon sun is still blazing, but the crowd is unbothered. They’re swaying around happily to music pumping through the speakers. There’s a sense of joy and privilege to be at the exclusive event. While there’s buzz for the new artists who will be performing, everyone I spoke to is here to see René.
The music shuts off and the audience cheers wildly as Santiago walks onto the stage to where his DJ stand is set up.
“ Hola, hola, hola. ” Santiago speaks into his microphone with a big smile. “I don’t think you’re ready,” he teases, making the crowd scream even louder. “You have no idea what you’re about to experience.” The crowd quiets down to listen. “I’m so excited for you but also a little jealous that you get to hear these artists for the first time.”
I’m standing with James on a small riser in front of the stage. We have a great shot of Santiago and can easily turn and get shots of fans’ reactions. Maureen is babysitting some of the VIPs near the soundboard behind the crowd.
Santiago introduces Lazaro Amparo, a young Puerto Rican rapper wearing a baseball hat on backward, who jogs energetically onto the stage. Right away, he kicks into a fast-paced rap song. After he’s sung a few phrases a cappella, Santiago starts an updated version of a classic salsa track and then adds a live piano riff on his keyboard. It’s a great party starter and the audience loves it.
The next artist, Tempo, is a more classic reggaetonero with a unique high-pitched voice that doesn’t quite match his rugged, bad boy look. His performance is more energetic. He gets up close to the crowd, singing and dancing right in their faces with his low-hanging pants.
I keep an eye on the monitor, but once in a while I scan the crowd to make sure there isn’t anything James should be aiming his camera at instead.
From where I’m standing, I can see the action happening just offstage in the wings. I tap James’s shoulder and point it out to him. He complies and zooms into it, so I follow the action on my monitor. Backstage, René and Camila are dancing together. Somewhat provocatively. It’s a great visual to have. René and Camila enjoying the new music. But I also can’t help scrutinizing their moves. They’re so comfortable around each other. He holds her close at times as they dance.
When James returns to covering Tempo’s performance, I don’t take my eyes off René. He’s wearing white-framed sunglasses, and a white short-sleeve shirt with dressy white pants. He could be heading out to play a round of golf, except that none of the shirt buttons are buttoned up. His stomach and chest muscles are peeking through, his tattoos adding color to the overall look.
“How’s everybody feeling?” Santiago calls out to the crowd. They yell back in unintelligible excitement. “Can you handle one more?”
“ Sí! ” the crowd shouts back in almost perfect unison.
The lights dim over the stage and Santiago kicks off a beat. After a few moments, René’s voice is heard. There’s an effect on his vocals, but the audience goes wild with excitement.
René’s still offstage and I watch him holding the microphone close to his lips, head tilted down. It occurs to me, I haven’t heard René sing in person. Not actual words anyway. So far in the studio, we’ve only been around as he’s played the guitar or hummed a few bars.
René steps onto the stage and the crowd whoops and cheers. The sound effect on his microphone goes away and his real voice kicks in. René’s deep and raspy voice is mesmerizing.
“Everyone, meet Juan,” René says, welcoming the young rapper who was waiting for his cue.
“This is the first single off my new album. It’s dropping next week and you’re hearing it here first,” Juan says, addressing the crowd, and then to René, “Thank you, man. For making this possible.” A faster drum layer kicks in, Juan raps his solo, and I watch the audience sway with the slow, melodic rhythms and his smooth vocals.
He raps about his first love and how he compares every woman he meets to her. When he’s done, René steps forward to sing the chorus. His rap is more like a conversation letting woman after woman down. He dances as he sings, every move requiring zero effort.
It’s not you, it’s not me, you’re just not her.
René connects to the audience so easily. When a girl yells something from the crowd, he waves and flashes her the sweetest grin. Even in sunglasses, he’s completely real and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I let go of the monitor so it hangs freely on its strap around my neck. When performing live, René “El Rico” Rodriguez sounds just like he looks. Slick, breathy, and smooth. Easy, yet certain.
He steps aside when Juan comes in for the bridge. I watch René and find that I’m practically holding my breath. My stomach is cinched tight, anxious to hear his voice again.