Chapter 32
Luna
New York
My eyes are fried. I stare at my screen and continue to review my draft of this crisis-response plan. I’m so tired I feel dumb. I’ve been looking over the same email for way too long.
“Thierry Banks is in hot water again. A woman he was partying with posted photos in his bedroom. Of course, social media is on fire.”
I mute the TV because I already know what's happening. It’s the call that woke me up way too early after a restless night.
I’ve been sorting through the numerous emails from Adina, her mother, and media outlets seeking a statement.
Dumb-ass Thierry is panicking. Bethany Belmont is demanding I do something immediately.
This lady really thinks I am her employee.
My phone pings with a text from Maeven.
Maeven
Your response statement looks good. Mama’s proud of you.
I chuckle.
Me
High praise from the best. Now my life is made. Honestly, I don’t know how you do this every day.
My phone rings. She’s calling me.
“I sense an SOS,” she says before I can say hello. “What do you mean by how I do this?”
I try to laugh it off. “Don’t mind me. I’m tired.”
“Spit it out, Luna,” she orders.
My stomach starts to burn, because she’s so perceptive. And I don’t want to give up too much or expose all my doubts. Or worse…my condition? I’m already questioning too many of my decisions. At least I can discuss work-related matters with her. She’s the only one who truly understands.
“I don’t know, Maeven. I ask myself if this is what I want. Is this what I busted my ass for in college? Do I want to spend my days cleaning fuckboy messes?”
She sighs. “It takes a lot out of you, especially because I imagine part of you feels sorry for Adina. That makes it even harder. As you know, I dealt with this before…”
She’s talking about her former client, Mateo de la Cruz—New York’s darling, home-run God, and patron saint of fuckboys everywhere. He had a scandal every week.
“I couldn’t handle something like that day in and day out.”
She chuckles. “Of course you could. You’re definitely cut out to do this. I think the issue is do you want to?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Mateo was a challenge for me. He was also an exercise in how far I could stretch my limits and my spinning skills…until he got hurt one Christmas Eve. I saw the damage that sticking by him was doing to someone I cared about and the emotional toll it was taking on me. It was Christmas, and I was away from those I love because he was an idiot and needed to be put in a hospital. It gave me perspective, and I knew I had to get out. I wish I could say I was smart and walked away. I stayed longer. Then one day, I drafted a plan for him, gave him my notice, and walked away.”
“That’s what I want to do,” I blurt out before I can think it through.
Without missing a beat, Maeven switches to FaceTime.
In two seconds, her face fills my screen.
Her skin is radiant and flawless, even without makeup.
But she frowns, staring at my face. “I want to say this while looking at your face. Clients like Thierry wear you out but shouldn’t make you question your love of PR. ”
I nod. “I know. It’s a combination of things.
My time in the public eye was a bit much.
I miss dedicating my time solely to small businesses.
Every time I have to write a plan to handle fuck-shit, I tell myself I should be creating a new product with Sel for Morena & Miel.
The past few days have significantly altered my perspective.
If I’m going to put in this kind of time, I want to work for myself.
I don’t want to clean up for serial cheaters, or deal with Adina’s neurosis or Bethany’s need to control the narrative. I learned about what matters.”
She’s quiet for a minute, and I regret my rant. She was a good mentor, and it’s like she wasted her time with me.
“Walk away, Luna.”
I’m stunned. “What?”
She smiles. “You are 1,000% right. You have other ideas, interests, and talents. Most of all, you have all this knowledge that can be better used in the service of your passions.”
“But shouldn’t you be telling me to give it more time… Seriously, what if I’m just venting, and now you have me on the verge of quitting?”
She laughs. “You were not just venting. You may not have known it, but you needed this talk. Putting more time into this won’t change your mind.
Sometimes we can be sure of something in a very short period of time.
That is called instinct. I didn’t listen to mine, but I’m advising you to follow yours and your heart. ”
My eyes well up, and I look down, only to stare at my belly. The doctor confirmed the pregnancy yesterday, and I haven’t been the same. It’s one thing to see it on a pharmacy test and quite another when a professional confirms it.
“I don’t know if I trust it anymore.”
“Are we still talking about work?” When I don’t answer, her brows raise. “I’m here for you as always. I am still your publicist, and like a priest or lawyer, whatever we talk about stays between us—but mostly as your friend.”
Something wet drops in my hand, and for a second, I’m confused until I realize it’s a tear.
Fuck.
“Listen—” She frowns, looking at something on her screen. “What the fuck? I’m going to kill his ass!” she yells.
“What’s wrong?”
Maeven looks at the screen again, and when she does, there’s something mixed with the obvious anger in her eyes.
She groans. “Rio dropped a mixtape.”
His name alone wakes up the fluttering in my belly. I went to bed thinking about him, about us, about the six-week consequence of our last time together.
It’s the size of a grain of rice with eyes, nose, and lips. Lungs and kidneys are developing, as the doctor told me.
“Is he going to be in trouble with the label?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. He told us yesterday, and there’s a clause in his contract that allows this. But I haven’t even listened to it. Let me go handle this. Before I go, your plan is perfect. Send it along with your resignation letter.”
For the first time all morning, I feel better. I text Mami to tell her.
Me
Quitting this job. Going back to my roots.
Then I prep the package, write a standard resignation letter, and send both.
Victor calls me almost immediately, and the conversation takes over an hour. I’m firm on quitting. He’s disappointed and upset about it.
I thank him for the opportunity and hang up.
Mami
Just landed. Good girl. It’s not for you. Coming over this afternoon.
I check social media, and I’m confused. Thierry’s name is no longer on the top trending topics. His name was pushed way down by Rio. He’s trending number one, followed by Sangria, bloodletting, mi diosa, and then Niko El Rebelde.
Mi Diosa? My heart starts pounding, but when I click the topic, all I find is people talking about Katya.
I switch to my notifications, and I see the mixtape alert. I navigate to his YouTube channel. The mixtape is pinned to the top of his page, and the cover image alone makes my stomach drop.
It’s the cliff at El Cabito. He took the photo while we sat at the restaurant. It was right before we decided to jump—no, before I convinced him to jump.
I take my laptop and go sit on the couch. The second he starts speaking, goosebumps pop out all over my skin, from head to toe.
You brighten my way
So I can see the whip coming as you flog me
Now, I’m ready to bleed.
The pain in his voice brings tears to my eyes. It must be about his mom.
And then the first song kicks off, and he’s talking about a woman he doesn’t want to be attracted to.
If you don’t want me to kiss you, don’t open your mouth.
The Knicks game comes to mind. That’s when it dawns on me. Oh shit…that’s about us.
An hour later, I’m an emotional mess. He took me on a journey of what we lived through together, like I don’t go through it in my head at least twice every single day of my life.
I cry like I’ve needed to for months. Our love was real, palpable, beating. The last track tells me it’s over for him. It’s in all the details and the title: “Bloodletting.” He bled me out like I’m venom.
But I can’t do the same, because he’s in me so deep and alive.
All I can do is cry and cry because it’s over.
It hurts like hell. I bawl until the headache brews, and then I close my eyes.
I don’t know when I fell asleep, but when I open my eyes again, my mom and Sel are in front of me, staring down at me like something is wrong.
“I’ve been calling you for hours, Luna. You text me that you’re quitting your job then don’t answer my calls, and this one”—she points at Sel, who is pale behind her—“is freaking out and won’t tell me why.”
The nausea rushes up my body, and my brain tells me to start running. I barely make it to the toilet. Everything comes up in waves until I’m coughing and crying at the same time.
I heave until my body calms down. Then, I get up, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I look in the mirror and try not to yelp at my reflection—swollen eyes in a gaunt face as I swish mouthwash.
When I come out, my mom is sitting on my bed. Sel’s hovering at the door. Mami is looking at me with those Dominican mom eyes—the ones that miss absolutely nothing.
“How far along are you?”
“Six weeks,” I say. “Rio’s baby.”
She rolls her eyes. “Shocker. Well, what are we going to do, Mariposita?”
I know what she’s asking, as so many moments cross my mind like they did during my pitiful listening party of one earlier. His smile the first time we met. His relief the night before the concert when I told him I was with him. His haunted eyes in the casita. Our kiss underwater.
You had my soul in your hands
All of me was there.
He doesn’t know it, but he took my heart with him along with all the love he felt.
But he left me a part of him, and I can’t help but place my hand over my belly.
Mami bursts into tears.
“We’re having a baby,” says Sel and then starts to cry too.
I don’t cry. After the last few hours, I don’t have any more tears left.
“You’re moving in with us.” My mom sniffles.
I shake my head. “No. It’s time for me to grow in life and business. I’m going to have a kid who needs me.”
“When are you going to tell Rio?” she asks.
“I don’t know.”
“That mixtape happened, and he doesn’t even know about the baby. Can you imagine when he finds out?” Sel shakes her head. “He’s going to go nuclear.”
I can practically hear his angry voice and accusations, and what if he doesn’t believe it’s his baby? I’ll die if he makes me have to prove it.
The nausea is back, and I rush to the bathroom like a bomb detonated in my belly. I sit on the floor later, mouth sour and exhausted, when Sel brings me my phone.
“He’s texting you.”
My heart takes off, pounding away as I look at my phone. Three texts.
Rio
You won’t get this, but I need to say it. This wasn’t to hurt you.
I just needed to tell our story. Because it’s real.
Now that I did, you’re free of me. I won’t bug you again. Goodbye, Luna.
* * *
Rio
“When we do the song in France, we should kick it up a notch. I’m thinking a Moulin Rouge-style set with a bed.
When the intro kicks in, the lights can dim, and I can dance and climb on the bed with you, on top of you,” Katya says the minute we sit on the jet en-route to Amsterdam.
Her jet-black hair brushes back and forth across her shoulders as she explains.
The excitement is clear in her delicate oval features.
It sounds sexy and exciting, and I think the crowd would enjoy it. She’s been pitching ideas for the last hour since she got to the private lounge to wait for our flight.
“Yeah, we can talk to the set designers and see what they come up with.”
Her hand goes to my face. “You look so tired. Get some sleep.”
She doesn’t sit next to me but lies down on the seats across from me.
I haven’t slept for two nights. I’m exhausted, but the minute I lean back in my seat, words start swirling around my head. But I try to force myself to sleep. Twenty minutes later, I give up and retrieve my notepad from my backpack and give in to the muse.
It only took seconds
Twelve palabras from her lips
To send my world to hell
Y empezar mi calvario – again
Soy Rio
I wasn’t alone anymore
The light was shining on me
But I’m now in the dark again. Yeah, again
In a world I no longer know who I am – otra vez
And it’s because the moon went away
Leaving me like a winter day
El sol no me calienta
I’m no longer visible
Only exposed for the vultures
I’m a breathing carcass
Perdi la luna
Perdi su mirada
Nada brilla sobre mi
Desde que no tengo su amor
Me siento solo
Necesito de ti
Nada mas llena mi alma as I live
Wishing for la luna to shine on me.
I stare at the notebook, with my face tingling and heart racing.
“What are you writing?” Katya asks, lifting her head from the seat.
I look up at her and am frozen in place but snap the notebook shut.
“Just my thoughts.”
She shrugs and goes back to her phone. And I return to my purgatory, because that is where I must be.
I let out my blood for nothing. Luna is still standing there like my personal hellhound, haunting me, ready to tear my flesh from limb to limb and let me burn.
I tried to let Luna go, but my heart laughs at me. Because the words are still coming. She’s never going away.
Fuck. Me.
To be continued with Lost Between el Rio y el Mar