Chapter 21
Luna
I can’t take any more photos. I’ve been capturing the countryside, the coast, and all the authentic sights on the road to La Capital.
The car is quiet. Sel is lying in the back row, and Rio is sleeping half on me with his hand on my lap.
I’m reviewing my weekly calendar to ensure everything is posted as expected and that there are no issues with any content coinciding with negative social media events.
It’s part of my job to ensure there is no blowback of any kind on our clients.
I post to Morena & Miel, thanking the patrons for helping us sell out of the Sosa shirt. It makes me laugh that we were able to sell every single unit except the ones that Sel and I kept. I can’t wait to tell her.
“You’re not going to sleep?” Rio whispers in my ear, sending goosebumps down the back of my neck.
I turn my head to the side and meet his eyes. Our mouths are so close, and I take the invitation and kiss him.
“I’m too stimulated to sleep.”
He smiles. “All I did was lay on your shoulder.”
I elbow him.
“You sold out the shirt?” There’s laughter in his voice, which triggers a chuckle from me.
“Yup. I bet you they were not expecting that.”
“No,” he says, kissing my neck. Then he whispers, “I’m sorry we are spending our last day traveling to the city. Zao asked, and it’s a good opportunity, especially with the tour.”
“It’s okay. I haven’t been to La Capital in such a long time. I can’t wait to see Zao again. Plus, it will be fun to see you guys do your thing in the barrio.”
“He is good to me. When Mami died, he came to spend time with me at least once a week while I was here. I didn’t want to see anyone, but he would come, and he, Tito, and I would drink beers and talk shit.
He was just taking off big time, and he could’ve been with people who wanted to party and celebrate with him. ”
“See? Now that you said that, me and Zao are BFFs.”
He kisses my temple. “I was planning to lock myself with you in the casita. Solos. I have so many things I want and need to do with you before we jump on that plane tomorrow afternoon.”
I tilt my head and let him full on kiss me and then lean on his neck the way he was leaning on me before.
“You leave for Cali the day after tomorrow.”
He nods against my head. “We are going on the red-eye, and then we have rehearsals for two days ahead of the show. After, we go to Arizona and then Vegas.”
“We haven’t been that far apart since we started seeing each other.”
“I know,” he says softly. “When are you flying to me?”
“I have a couple of interviews this week. After that, we can make it work.”
“You were only at the one concert in New York, and I feel like it will be weird not to have you at all of them. Like, I don’t know how to do this sin tí.”
He knows how to turn my heart into a puddle.
“You know I’ll be watching and rooting for you. I just have to do these interviews. You’re going to kill it, and I’ll be there soon. I promise.”
He hugs me and I end up dozing off.
I wake up to the sound of horns everywhere. I’m disoriented and he says, “Welcome to La Capital.”
An hour later, after crazy traffic, we arrive at Zao’s barrio, Buenos Aires.
We ride up a hill lined on both sides with houses and businesses.
Many home businesses have clothes hanging from the window bars.
The colmados, convenience stores, are playing music like a club.
The kids are running around and waving at the car.
It brings a smile to my face. We find Zao at the top of the hill, hanging with a bunch of guys and laughing.
He’s just a regular guy here, and people leave him alone while keeping a watchful eye to protect him.
When he sees our SUV, he opens his arms. We climb out, and Rio goes to hug him, picking him up off the ground. The little kids come running, and we are soon surrounded by them. Zao tries to pick up Tito, and they both laugh when he can’t. Then he comes to hug me and Sel.
“Bienvenidas a mi barrio. Welcome,” he says, trying his English. “We’re filming in the caná.”
Rio takes my hand, and we follow Zao through an alleyway between the blue hair salon and the peach facade of the bakery building.
Our feet tap against the gray cement road that leads the way into half-paved steps that are partly dirt and covered in moss due to the filtrating water from the roofs.
On each side of the steps, there are houses adjacent to each other like rowhomes made of cinderblock and cement, brushed over in more pastel colors that give them personalities like ladies dressed in their Sunday best. On our trek down the steps, we zig zag to avoid the slippery moss.
Rio’s hand tightens around mine as he maneuvers us like he does this every day.
I’m concentrating so hard on my steps I almost run into his back.
When we pause, I look up to find the world has opened up and we are facing a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree hill – a patchwork of yellow, blue, and orange houses like sorbet shades – quilted closely together, some separated by trees and water tanks, and stacked over each other to fill every inch of the semicircular panorama.
Beyond are the mountains in their green best.
My breath snags in my throat. This majestic vista of humble abodes stitches itself into a tapestry that I’ll never forget. I take out my phone and snap photos. It’s the only way I can explain to anyone the beauty of this favela.
We keep moving down the steep steps down with houses on both sides and people coming out to their porches, yelling for Rio and Zao.
We stop in front of a blue house where there’s an old lady with the warmest copper brown eyes and a soft smile sitting behind the iron gate that surrounds the porch of her house.
“Fefa,” Rio says and goes in to hug her. He slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out some bills and puts them in her hand. He kisses her leathery cheek and then turns around. Zao and Tito do the same. She waves at us, saying, “Dios te bendiga.”
“Who is she?” I ask.
“The first lady of this barrio,” he says.
I wave back at her, smiling into her bottomless gaze, and her smile deepens. It’s another thing that’s hard to explain to people who haven’t been there. You can sometimes see the love in people’s faces without words. How their smiles can fill hearts.
We keep going down the steps until we reach La Canada de Guajimía, a ravine with running water, which has unfortunately also become a landfill. No one seems to notice though. The flat area in front of it is packed with people. Cameras are already set up and music is blasting through speakers.
Zao motions for someone’s attention. “El nino lindo llegó. Estamos listos.”
“You see?” I say, “I’m not the only one that calls you pretty boy.”
“You got your verse?” Zao asks before Rio can answer me, and he nods. “Luna and Sel, you can be in the video in the back.”
“When did you write your verse?” Tito asks.
Rio smiles, and it’s enigmatic and cryptic. “I sent it to him the other day.”
They tell everyone to dance but not make noise as the piano music plays out.
“Zzzzzzao.”
“Con Rio,” he croons.
They go through the whole song, and then when Rio goes to do his verse, he walks to me, and we flirt as he sings like we did in his video. Then he goes through the lyrics.
They call her sosa
Envidiosas cause they know que es especial.
She’s diva
Una fiera
Beautiful, Intelectual
Flat belly, pretty lips y las tetas natural
Cuarto bate, like Judge
Bringing every player home
She’s the one to watch, the triple threat
With an ass so epic that it breaks the internet
And everyone goes, “Ooooohhhhhh.”
The whole verse is about me, a response to Perla’s and Noryel’s song.
We have to do the same scene a couple of times so I can stop laughing. At the end, Zao comes to stand by me, and he asks, “?Y como es, Luna?”
As rehearsed, I shrug and go, “Oops,” like I did in the video in my bedroom.
After the recording, we go to dinner with Zao, and they catch up while we meet his girlfriend and her friends.
We head back to Rio’s. The ride is long, and we are all sleepy. But once we get home, we go to the beach outside his house. It’s something we talked about doing before everyone fell asleep on the ride back. I’m on Rio’s back, and Sel is on Tito’s, and we talk about the next time we’ll come here.
We chat and play around for a bit, and then Sel whispers something in Tito’s ear, and soon they head back to the main house.
We stay behind, under the stars, and he switches me so we are now face to face with my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“We are finally alone.” His hands tighten on my back, and our lips come together in a carnal way that was inevitable but I’ve been craving all day. “I haven’t had you to myself all day.”
“You got me,” I say, moving against him.
My head drifts back into the water so I stare at the sky as he kisses his way down my neck. A wave splashes us in the face, and we laugh.
“Let’s take this inside.” He guides me upstairs to his room inside the big house, and we trickle water across the balcony but go into the bathroom to use the shower. We don’t make it there.
We find ourselves in front of the sink, like the first day we got here, but I’m not putting on pretend makeup. I’m pressed against him as he frees my tits from my bathing suit top and rubs them while kissing my ear.
“Mirate lo bella que estas. All tanned and wet. Your skin tastes like salt. I’m going to lick every inch of it.” His hand sneaks between my legs. “Si, so fucking wet.”
He kisses the back of my neck, sending a thousand chills over my body. His mouth slides over my spine and down my back. I close my eyes as he slides my panties down to the floor.
“Open your eyes, Luna. I want you to see.”
He bends me over the bathroom counter. I almost jump as his tongue slides over my lower back, through the cleft, and parts my cheeks with his hands.
My eyes fly open as he licks a trail to my pussy from behind.
He kneels, and I tilt my ass up, and he dives in, licking and sucking me until my legs begin to tremble.
“I love it, salaito asi.”
He runs his hands up my body, standing, and pushes down his swim trunks. “Miranos.”
He pushes his cock inside me and steadies me with his hands.
“Dime que ese toto es mío.”
“It’s yours. Cojelo, destruyelo,” I find myself moaning and trying to brace against the counter.
The sensation is so intense, and I watch the look on his face as he works for it, biting his bottom lip. I’m caught in his concentration, and the orgasm rocks me so hard I let my head hang.
He bites down on the back of my neck and lets himself go.
We shower and put on robes from the closet, and without a word, I take his hand and lead him to the casita.
Crossing the threshold, it hits me that I’m going to miss this place and being here with him, and something cold blows through my chest.
We lie on the bed, naked against each other. I think he’s feeling it, too. Then he rolls over me, framing my face with his hands.
“Dime que soy tu macho.”
“Tu eres mi macho y yo soy tuya,” I say as I nestle him between my legs. “Forever.”