Chapter Four – A.J.
They said I wouldn't be nothing
Now they always say congratulations
Worked so hard, forgot how to vacation
Congratulations - Post Malone
Hearing fragments of Alexandra ’s conversation with the manager last night stirred something in me. I didn’t catch everything, but I got the context and confirmed with Rick that the point we’re at is the same: Our parents don’t love us enough to accept our careers.
Maybe I was just worried she’d spend the night alone, thinking about the things said in that hallway, and not the adrenaline of the moment, but I suggested to the guys we bring her and Thalia here. My excuse was a toast and pizza to wrap up the first few shows, and everyone agreed.
Leaning against the glass doorframe with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and my feet between the living room and the balcony, I watch the sun bathe Leblon and, even though I don’t want to, it’s impossible not to think about the highs and lows that music has given me so far.
The first thing my parents said when I dropped out of medical school to sing was that I would never amount to anything, that the music world is rotten, and that good people like me never make it in that world.
Thinking back on the obstacles I faced during the first two years of my career, I can’t say they were wrong, and even after all this time, it still hurts to remember.
Weeks after I turned eighteen, I left Canada for the United States with the promise of becoming the next Shawn Mendes. A year later, the only thing I had achieved was the habit of drinking a shot of vodka at breakfast to face the day, and two roommates who were also signed to my manager.
In other words, we hated each other, and everything was a competition. For new songs, party appearances, women, guys… everything was savage in that world. Just like my parents warned me.
To be honest, I did get a hit song. Always Us blew up so much that it played everywhere in the U.S. But it was one of those cases where everyone knows the song but no one knows the singer. In the end, it didn’t really change much for my career.
And then came that day.
One single day, with a meeting and a proposal that destroyed everything I thought I had achieved.
So, my parents were right. So right that, consumed by shame, I preferred to get government aid during COVID, move into a student apartment, and work at a fast-food restaurant than tell them what had happened and go back home to finish my studies.
And I was so wrong that, even though they reached out a few times, I never answered or picked up, and in the end, I changed my number.
The shame of having fallen suffocated me. And, to be honest, it still consumes me now, even though I’m on top of the world.
I shift my weight and swallow every fragment of my journey, from the dreamer kid who left Canada to Next Idol , almost two years later, and now, when I am someone, not just to my parents, but especially to that jerk who tried to destroy my soul.
I take another sip from my cup, feeling secure in knowing that I’ve risen high enough that he’ll never be able to bring me down again.
“Head in the clouds?” Alexandra asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I take in her crumpled face, wanting to explain to her that not having the support of the people we love isn’t the end of the world, and that, as far as Vicious is concerned, her career is going to take off.
“No, just thinking about my life,” I say instead, but I’m not lying.
“Ah, right, how’s the life of the Vicious Bonds guitarist?”
“I was actually thinking about the other life . Before, and everything I lived through to get here.”
“Was it hard?”
“Very hard!”
“Do you think it was worth it?” It’s not a simple question, she wants hope. But I can’t promise anything.
“I like what I have today.”
“And what are you seeing there?” Alexandra moves closer to me, leaning on the other side of the door and observing the most beautiful city in the world, with her hair tied in a low bun, wearing clothes she borrowed from Guilherme.
“Rio. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye,” I confess, but I shake my head, still trying to push those thoughts away. “But anyway, what are you doing today?”
“After three shows, in three days?” She laughs nervously. “Definitely resting.”
“We travel tonight, you know, right?” I ask, feeling the wind mess with my hair, and she nods. “And where’s Thalia?”
“She already left. Some people work Monday morning, you know?” Alexandra scratches her face, yawning.
I laugh at the image this woman paints of me. Of course, I know that. By this time, I’d already been tired of serving burgers in my old life.
“Well, even though you didn’t ask me what I’m doing today, I’m going for a walk around your wonderful city this morning.”
“Since when is eleven-thirty “morning”?”
“Don’t even go there,” I scold her, stepping away from the doorframe. “I was going to invite you to come with me.” I give her shoulder a playful nudge, only for Alexandra to swat my hand away.
“I refuse the invitation.”
“What’s the harm?”
“I need to rest.”
“Did you know you’re the carioca [5] here? You could be a good host and give me a tour,” I tease just to drive her crazy, but to my surprise, Alexandra laughs with her eyes half-closed.
“I’ll talk to the head of security. Depending on what we can do, I’ll show you my city,” she says, turning and resting her hand on my shoulder. “And you, for God’s sake, get dressed.”
“What’s up, scared of not resisting my six-pack?” I smooth my abs, and she rolls her eyes but slides her hand down them.
“Yes, A.J.,” she rests her hand on my chest and sighs. “I’m really scared. Please, get dressed.” Alexandra pushes me and walks past, her oversized shirt swinging.
I look away from the hem of her shirt and stop asking myself if there’s more clothing underneath it.
***
Alexandra spins with arms wide in front of a green backdrop with a smile so beautiful that it seems like a moving painting.
“All right, Barbie Nutcracker, where are we?”
“At Parque Laje . You’re going to love this place!” she assures me, and Hammer, my head of security, steps forward.
“A.J., Alexandra, the tour manager asked me to give you the following message: You have one hour. It was very hard to close half of this place for you, even on a Monday,” he stresses, not specifically to either of us, then turns to me.
“Don’t be disrespectful.” He deepens his voice, and I know that was the message James gave him.
“James is a pain.”
“But they’re right.” Alexandra nudges my shoulder with hers and walks through the park behind our wall of security. “Let’s go.”
“It’s so funny, back in the GenZ days we did this all the time. Closing places, walking with half a dozen security guards.” She laughs with the memories. “At least half the space will be empty, so it’ll be easy to control the madness if there is any.”
“I wish we didn’t have drama at this hour, but I know it’s almost impossible.”
“You don’t like the fan attention?”
“I love it, I’m just really tired… But back to the point, Guilherme never said you guys were this famous.”
“GenZ was the biggest national teen phenomenon, we didn’t have fans of all ages, but kids and teens can be crazy,” she points out, smoothing both sides of her hair, as if adjusting the bun that is perfectly in place.
As we walk with three two-meter-tall men on either side of us, I take the chance to look in the only direction I can: up.
It’s so green, in a confusing way, it’s also harmonious and everything fits together. The contrast of the forest with the sun is so beautiful, nothing like my house in Canada, which was always a mix of cold and snow.
“Enchanted with my wonderful city, Mr. ‘I need a guide’?”
“It’s so…” I blink twice, furrowing my brow looking for a word, but I can’t find one. “So!”
“That’s because you haven’t looked over there.” Alexandra points towards the forest, and in the blue sky, there’s Christ the Redeemer, arms wide over the city.
“Wow, and really, if the food here is good, this has high chances of being one of my favorite places in Rio.”
“Relax, we’re just getting started, A.Jzinho. There’s still so much more of the city for you to see.”
“A.Jzinho? What the heck does that mean?”
“Your best friend is Brazilian, you should know.” She retorts immediately.
I try to argue that it doesn’t change anything, but our security guards clear the way, positioning themselves beside us, and the view of a mansion with a modern pool in front catches me off guard.
“Whoever had this idea must’ve been heavily criticized, but they were definitely a genius,” I say, looking at the view of the pool, the mansion, the forest, and Christ in its entirety.
Like a puzzle that doesn’t make sense when you mention it, but once you put it together, you realize it’s a little piece of paradise.
It only takes a few seconds for the few people in the restaurant to rush towards us, leaving their half, which was full, almost empty. Before the two-dozen people get close, the security guards take their positions again, but I push them far enough to talk to them.
“I’ll talk to everyone, but we need to make a deal, okay?”
They don’t stop screaming, some are crying, and others just nod between the screams.
“My Vagabonders, listen up!” My voice commands attention, and Alexandra laughs loudly at my side.
They scream even louder, and as I look at her, her disapproving expression makes it clear that asking for silence is a grave mistake in this country.
Better get straight to the point. “Calm down, I’ll talk to you all! ”
“All?” one of them asks, and I nod.
“But our deal is: first you, then I’m going to sit down for breakfast, and my Vagabonders won’t interrupt, okay?”
They look at each other, pausing for a second or two, but agree amid a new wave of screams and cries.
“You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Hammer glares at me.
“It will, they’re good girls,” I assure him, because I know the kind of relationship we have with our girls.
“And you’re going to form a circle around our table,” Alexandra adds. “So let the boy talk to the fans, Hammer, no one wants posts about rejection on the internet during this tour.”
“Of course not, that’s why we said it’s better not to tour the wonderful city.”
I roll my eyes at his passive-aggressiveness and force my way between two of the security guards; they’re both two meters tall, but so am I.
For fifteen minutes, I hug, wipe tears, and caress the faces of more girls than I expected on a Monday afternoon, but it’s fine. At the end of the day, making them happy provides me with the career of my dreams, so it makes me happy too.
I take photos, record stories, and videos with some little groups that form, and I step away from the girls, leaving them disappointed that I don’t kiss fans offstage.
“If I see any of you at the Friday show, I’ll pick one to kiss, but you’re too young, so it’ll just be a peck.”
“But we’re over 18!”
“Fine, I’ll give you two pecks.” I smirk, being dragged by my security guards into the shell, and they wave their hands furiously.
“Why didn’t you kiss any of them?” Alexandra asks, confused and curious.
“Didn’t you know? I’m saving my kisses for you,” I tease.
“I didn’t know you were going celibate.” The comment is so involuntary it stings.
“My kisses are part of the show, can’t just kiss everyone around, or it loses the magic.
But one day you’ll beg for a kiss, and I’ll refuse without hesitation, because you dismiss me too easily.
” I wink at her, flipping my hair, and Alexandra ’s look at me is playful, not aggressive, which surprises me.
“You wanna bet?” She raises her right eyebrow in challenge.
“That you’ll beg?”
“No. I’m a persistent girl when I want something,” she points out, twirling a lock of hair with her fingers, and gives me the smirk of someone who’s about to destroy my life. “We’ll have to see if you’ll really refuse,” she says with disdain and takes two quick steps toward one of the empty tables.
Be careful with that bet, Alexandra Saldanha.
I only play with fire when I want to burn myself.