41. TIAGO
TIAGO
MIAMI
I’m flicking through article after article on that tool Logan Rogers. How ‘hurt’ he is. How ‘brave’ he is. How men’s mental health charities want him to represent them.
The fuck?
His ‘screenshots’ are bogus – only four of them vaguely back up what he’s saying.
His ‘receipts’ could be for anything, for anyone.
His insinuation that Jules sponges off men is hilarious – she won’t let me pay for anything.
And she doesn’t have a downer on grandmothers – my abuela loves her.
I’ve never seen her force feed someone so musically.
I calculate the time in London and call Jules for the millionth time. I’m so sure she won’t pick up that I’m startled by her face appearing on my phone.
‘How are you doing?’ I rush to ask.
She looks… surprisingly great for someone whose whole life is their brand, and said brand is being torpedoed by some dude who’s built like a refrigerator and has a mental capacity to match. Of course it took him eleven months to pull together an argument; he probably takes an hour tying his laces.
‘Fine,’ she says. It’s neutral. Difficult to interpret.
Her hair’s tighter than I’ve seen it in months, a slick bun that makes her look young and fragile.
My fingers itch to pull it out and comb through the long strands.
The light catches her eyes and there’s a strange look to them.
Too wide, bright with the kind of fear that makes her look unfamiliar.
Fuck, I wish I was in London right now. There’s so little I can do four thousand miles away.
‘I hate him so much,’ I admit.
She snorts half-heartedly. ‘Join the club.’
‘It’s a bump in the road, Jules. You’ll get over this.’
She shrugs like it doesn’t matter. That’s even more concerning.
‘No one will buy it. He comes across as a bitter asshole. Being loud doesn’t make you right.’ She refuses to soften. ‘Listen to me, Jules. Your followers know you can care deeply and protect yourself at the same time. It doesn’t make your content any less authentic.’
She looks away from the camera. ‘I have to go.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘Bye, Tiago.’
I throw my phone on the bed and clench my fists.
Why’s she locking me out? All I want to do is be there for her.
The thought of her being alone through all this is eating me alive.
She needs total control over her life – what happens when it goes wrong?
This would be a lot for anyone to deal with, let alone someone with a condition like hers.
I read testimonies of OCD attacks – when anxiety hits the roof and patients fall victim trying to tame it – and I can’t… Jules…
Fuck it, I’m going to London. If she hasn’t learned intrusion is Colombia’s love language by now, she never will.
I throw together a bag and go out to the yard to say goodbye to everyone. I start with the pool house.
‘I’m going to London for a couple days,’ I announce to no one in particular, but I notice JC sitting up. ‘I’ll be in Mexico City in time for race weekend media. Probably Wednesday, or early Thursday.’
I turn on my heel.
‘Ahí.’ JC’s voice stops me short.
My brothers’, ‘Uuuuy’.
I pause and he walks in front of me. ‘What the fuck?’ he hisses. ‘If you checked your schedule for once, you’d know we’re flying to Italy tonight to have a meeting with Martinelli at their headquarters. You’re not missing it so you can play Casanova.’
What? Martinelli are summoning me to their HQ? They’ve never done that before.
Well they can wait because this is more important.
‘I’m sorry but you’re going to have to reschedule. Jules needs me.’
‘Have you lost your mind? You went to her to help your reputation. Hers is now in the garbage, and you want to still associate yourself with her? She’s a fucking fraud, Santiago.’
I get right up in his face, close enough to feel his breath. ‘Take that back.’
‘Once again you’re choosing pussy over your own family.’
‘I’m choosing someone who backs me over someone who doesn’t.’
Anger flares in his eyes. ‘I used Volare as leverage and got you a meeting with the Martinelli board.’ He pushes me. ‘Don’t you dare say I don’t back you.’
What? That’s so—
But logic sadly loses to testosterone, which has just clocked that he pushed me. ‘Backing someone is more than making a call.’ I shove him back. ‘It’s listening, it’s caring, it’s supporting—’
‘You’d know that, would you?’ He uses two hands to thump my chest. ‘You passed me over—’
My fists pulse at my sides, ready and waiting. ‘I said I’m sorry! A thousand fucking times sorry! But I’m done apologising to you. It’s never enough. Your pride is so fragile—’
‘Woah, woah, woah!’ Isa skids between us and pries us apart. ‘What is wrong with you two? Do I need to take my earrings out?’ Her gaze swivels from one to the other. ‘Do I need to take my earrings out?’
‘No,’ we mumble.
‘Alright then.’ Her arms drop. ‘Apologise to each other. You’ve both wronged one another and that’s not what we do. La familia es la familia.’
Murmurs of agreement sound around our audience, which I’ve only just realised we have.
‘I want it loud, and I want to feel it in my toes,’ she instructs, because little sisters never miss a minute to be bossy.
Might as well go first. My fourteen-year-old brother’s watching and I’m not setting a good example. I want him to know real men admit when they’re wrong, even if they get nothing back.
‘I’m sorry, I am. I didn’t trust your judgement and I hired Jules to help without consulting you.
I didn’t think you could manage me in that situation, and I was wrong.
’ Tuts and mumbles echo around us. I don’t recall asking for input.
‘If I could do it over, I’d approach it differently.
You’re my brother, JC, and I respect you as my manager. I just wish you’d listen to me more.’
I feel like the pressure’s eased a little as a round of applause starts up.
‘That was very nice, Tiago,’ confirms Isa with a grin. ‘My toes are happy. JC, your turn.’
This oughtta be good.
Silence descends around us and JC stands there looking nonplussed. I did my part. I’m in the clear. That man and his fucking pride.
‘Just apologise, man,’ yells Trey from the back.
‘JC!’
‘Ya, pide perdón.’
‘?Bueno!’ JC snaps, running his hands through his hair.
‘I accept what you’re saying.’ I’m not sure it could sound more pained but credit where credit’s due.
‘I… I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t come to me earlier in the season.
I take back calling you stupid and irresponsible.
You’ve grown up a lot this year and… any team would be lucky to have you. ’
That was… too good. Did Isa tip him?
‘But I won’t apologise for trying to do right by you and your career,’ he continues. ‘That Volare situation smelled fishy as hell, but I could’ve gone about it in a different way. And I could… listen to you more, I guess.’ He looks at his feet. ‘I didn’t know I didn’t.’
Even heartier applause breaks out and I release a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.
Isa smiles like a little angelic gremlin.
‘Fine, I’ll go to Italy,’ I relent as everyone goes back to their sun beds, satisfied with the show. ‘Then I’ll fly on to London.’
JC bobs his head slowly, thinking it through. ‘Deal.’ He opens his arms.
‘You know Jules is more than pussy to me,’ I say as I draw out of the embrace.
‘Of course she is, she’s family,’ Isa chips in.
‘I’m starting to get that. I’m sorry for what I said about her.’ He scratches the back of his head. ‘I just hope you know what you’re doing.’
I turn back toward the house to add nice pants to my luggage. ‘It makes no difference. You support the person you love no matter what.’