Chapter 29 #2
“Someone’s in a mood,” he says, adding, “I was hanging out with these two girls, and someone at the club took photos and videos. Somehow it was taken in the hallway of the hotel.”
“Somehow?” I ask, not understanding how he can be so cynical. “You didn’t see people walking behind you and recording you in a hotel hallway?”
“I was busy.”
Yeah, with each handful of ass.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There’s no way we can say you and Adina were on a break, is it?”
“Not really. We just got back together.” And there is no emotion in his voice.
“Why are you doing this to her?” I blurt out and then course correct. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know, and I don’t care.”
“You guys used to be tight.” It’s as if he doesn’t remember why we’re no longer friends.
“It doesn’t matter. How about something like this: Thierry is focused on his career and personal growth while rebuilding his relationship with Adina. It’s a one-step-at-a-time process, and his personal life is not up for discussion at this time.”
“I like that,” he says.
“I’ll run it by Victor and send it out. Route any communications my way. Do not try to answer them on your own. And please try to stay away from messy situations.”
I send the email to Victor, who responds with a thumbs-up right away.
I answer the emails from media outlets and hop on a couple of interviews.
I’m home by three in the afternoon, sorting out our to-do list for Enlace so I can email Sel and set out our calendar for the next month.
The new shipment for Morena & Miel arrived.
Baggy athleisure jumpsuits that are so soft.
We have a meeting to discuss them and the other new pieces this week.
I miss Sel so much. We’ve never been apart this long. This tour will be on for much longer, and I can’t wait for her to come back to town.
Something else fucking Rio took from me.
As if summoned, a text comes through from her.
Sel
Girl, this shit is a trip. I think you made him impotent.
Me
What?
I begin to sort through the items.
Sel
K is trying to be all over him. He’s ignoring her.
I push my phone away. As much as I love my cousin, I don’t want to hear about him. It’s enough that I see him on my TV, my feeds, everywhere…including every corner of this house. I need a break from Rio.
“Because FUCK him.” My words bounce off the wall as my chest heaves.
Damn, maybe I need a nap. I’m tired and in a funky mood. I lie in my bed. There’s a funny feeling in my stomach, and if I get sick, I’m going to murder Hank, that fucking germ-ridden asshole.
I wake up disoriented, with my stomach feeling like an oven, hot and simmering. I grab my phone from the pillow. It’s two in the morning, and I have a bunch of messages and missed calls.
Sel
Did you die? I’ve been calling you. Call me back.
I hit the call button, and she answers. There’s so much noise I can’t hear her, but she waves at the screen and then tips the phone to the stage.
Rio is in the middle of it, and I can see him singing and moving those hips in a way that is so familiar it conjures many memories.
Some from my unfortunate backslide sexathon with him.
She switches to text and sends me the link to watch the concert.
Sel
Call you when we’re out of here. It’s too loud.
I shouldn’t, but that doesn’t stop me from tuning in to the live feed on my phone while I cook some Ramen.
At this point, I’m watching so I can hate him some more.
I hope his pants tear or fall off, but the girls would enjoy that too much.
Shit, if they see how gifted he is in the dick department, it would make them more obsessed than they already are.
And he knows how to use it too.
He’s smiling and dancing without a care in the world. I take the noodles to my bed and project the concert on my TV screen. I can barely pass the broth through my throat.
Giovanni sends a message.
Gio
Hey, stranger. I hope you’re doing well.
Me
I’m good. You? You guys are on a winning streak. Great to see.
We are still casual friends. I ghosted him after the night I lost my damned mind and let Rio plow me all over this apartment.
Stop thinking about that, Luna.
I couldn’t face myself after backsliding. I also realized it’s not fair to drag anyone into the mess that is my love life…or lack thereof. But we can still be friends.
Gio
I’ll be in New York in a few weeks. Maybe we can grab a bite?
Me
I would like that.
I’m about to type a message apologizing for disappearing when the music stops, and Rio announces a guest, “Let’s welcome, la reina, Katya.”
And my stomach flops, with his voice echoing in my ear.
Lo que mi reina quiera.
This fucker just called her what he once called me. I see red, which intensifies as Katya steps onstage in her sheer jumpsuit and sky-high stilettos. No, not just stilettos, YSL Opyums. Those are my dream. She rushes to him, and he catches her in his arms. She plants a kiss near his mouth.
On my fucking spot.
I can’t look away. They start singing their new slow song, where he sounds like he’s trying to seduce her, looking at her like wants to eat her alive. He tells her he had a dream about her.
You were wearing your best outfit, tu desnuda piel.
And my tongue drew maps of pleasure on it
Your moans are the soundtrack
Tu pones lo verbal
Yo pongo lo visual
Cuando tenemos sex, baby es un ritual
It’s not just bellaqueo
Esto es espiritual.
When her verse comes on, he sits on the stage steps, and her hips roll in sambas while she stands between his legs, singing to him with that angelic soft voice. His eyes are on her ass, his smile from ear to ear, as he follows her movements like a hypnotized fool.
My face grows hotter, my stomach is boiling, and this fucker stands up, his body rubbing against her, next second he’s perreandola with his face near her ear.
Like we were that night at the club, after our first kiss, when the world could have collapsed around us and we wouldn’t have noticed.
That’s when I lose my mind and almost throw the noodle bowl on the nightstand. I grab my phone and start venting.
Me
Glad to see it’s all scripted.
So much for it’s not the same as what we had.
I guess a month does change EVERYTHING.
And you had the nerve to come de ridiculo dique jealous to my house.
Mirate la sonrisa, degraciao. If you smiled harder, your face would break. Azaroso.
Even after hitting send, I can’t stop watching the undulating of her hips. She’s so comfortable singing with her head on his chest. I should tell him to fuck off too.
No, Luna, unsend all that shit. You sound jealous and fucking unhinged.
Yeah, I need to unsend all of that. But I don’t want to. I want to text him all the swear words I know because he was here azarándome la vida, but look at the fucking smile on his face now.
The nausea rises so fast and furious that I have to clutch my throat.
One second, I’m in bed, and the next, I’m running for my life to the bathroom.
In my leap from the bed, I knock my noodle bowl onto the floor.
I barely make it before I start throwing up.
Every thirty minutes, like clockwork, I’m in the bathroom.
Fucking Hank.
Worst of all, a message comes through from Rio.
And then another message.
Fucking Rio.
And a third.
Because I never hit unsend on all of mine.
Fuck me.
* * *
Rio
Me
Would it make you feel better if I confirm it?
Would that feed your delusion that you did the right thing by breaking up with me?
Would it make you feel good about being with someone you don’t want to be with?
And you want to talk about curses? Tú me azaraste la vida a mí.
I stare at my texts back to Luna and no longer feel the anger I did once the concert was over and I checked my phone.
I was livid last night, texting like a fucking loco and so pissed I skipped the after-party to come back to the hotel.
I called her, and she didn’t pick up, just like she hasn’t bothered to answer.
Nothing pisses me off more than being ready for the fight, only to be ignored.
I’m embarrassed too. I shouldn’t be denying shit. She broke up with me, used me as a sex toy for a night, and told me to get the fuck out.
Easy, Riomar. You’re warping the memories.
I blow out a mouthful of air as Tito comes out of his bedroom to sit in the suite’s living room. The suite has three bedrooms. He occupies one with Sel. I have the other, and there’s an extra one with two beds for my barber and my assistant.
“So?” Tito asks, dropping himself on the couch. “What’s up?”
“Where’s Sel?” I look in the direction of their room. I don’t talk about Luna when she’s around.
“Went for a walk to talk to her mom and to see if she can finally get a hold of Luna.” He chuckles. “I think she low-key hates you for last night.”
I roll my eyes. “She and her loca-ass cousin.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What happened?”
“She blew up my phone, blasting me for the performance with Katya.”
Tito purses his lips. “You had to know that was coming. It looked pretty intense…she looked ready para dartelo ahí mismo, and you looked ready to take it.”
And that’s what pissed me off the most. I almost moved on. “At one point, I was.”
“But?” he asks.
I shake my head, not ready to tell him or anyone how I was feeling Katya one second, and the next, she triggered a memory of that video Luna sent me dancing to my music, hips rolling, hair wild. Then Katya smiled back at me, and my fucking dick died.
“Luna got me fucking crazy. Katya has an insane body, and she’s so laidback and sweet.”
“She looks like she would be down for whatever you want too,” Tito says.
I shrug. Because yeah, she is. She’s insinuated it many times. But it’s not going to happen while I am still so hooked.
Even the fucking song we have together is about Luna. I wrote those lyrics for her.
“But she’s not the one you want.”
And it galls the fuck out of me. “The one I want—”