Chapter Nine – A.J.
Don’t look down ‘cause we’re still rising up
right now and even if we hit the ground we’ll still fly.
Now or Never - Julie and the Phantoms
Twelve hours.
Five bad naps.
A terrible breakfast, and then we finally got to the hotel.
We’re staying in the penthouse of one of the nicest hotels in Madrid, with a panoramic view of Retiro Park . As usual, after everyone drops their stuff off in their rooms and takes a shower, we meet in Guilherme’s room.
“Are the girls outside?” Thomas asks with a smile, and our lead vocalist, by the window, nods.
We all rush out to see our fans gathered outside the hotel, holding signs and gifts and looking all starstruck.
“I really wanna see them, even if I have five security guards with me,” Rick pauses. “But I’m dead tired. Can we try after lunch?” he asks, flopping on the white sofa by the window.
Some people would say the suites are modern, with cool tones that make the room feel bigger. For me, a white room with ice-colored furniture just feels like a hospital reception.
“Sounds good.” Thomas sits next to Rick while I walk up to Guilherme.
“Dude, we’re days away from our first show in Spain, we have the eighth most played song in the world, and we’re one of the top five things people are searching on Google.”
“It’s insane. It’s like the dream of my whole life, but it’s just so overwhelming,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“I never really dreamed of being famous…” Richard thinks out loud, putting his legs on Thomas’s lap, and Thomas raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. “I always just wanted to be free. And Vicious gave me that. But yeah, it’s overwhelming.”
“You had the most played song once, A.J., was it the same for you?” Guilherme asks, glancing at me.
“No. Because the song was a hit, not me. I could still walk around freely. Now... I don’t think I can do that without Hammer and the crew around.”
“Back in the GenZ days, it was nuts. I went from being a kid from the favela one day to everyone loving me the next... It was a collective freak-out. Sometimes it’s hard to believe I lived through that.”
“Alex said your fans were… intense.”
“Brazil, right? You saw how it is.”
“Thomas, you were a model, and now you’re a pop star. How’s that feel?” Richard jokes, and we all laugh. It’s rare to see him making jokes, but Thomas’s serious face does wonders.
“I used to be just good-looking, now I gotta have substance,” he shrugs, acting like it’s nothing. “But being a rockstar and being a model has one thing in common.”
We all raise our eyebrows and stare at him.
“We have to make tough decisions.”
“Decisions?”
“Tough ones?”
Both Guilherme and I ask at the same time.
“Stop talking in code,” Richard sits up, impatient.
“Dani sent the videos and images for us to approve for the vlog this week, but we also need to rest. So, do we deal with them now or watch the Champions League replay from Thursday while we chill?”
The answer’s obvious, no need to even ask. In a flash, we’re already rushing to the living room.
***
As soon as the clock ticks from 7:59 PM to 8:00 PM, I hear three knocks on the door. Alex walks in, carrying a crate of cider under her arm like she’s hiding something shady.
“You’re late.”
“You don’t even believe that,” she laughs, checking out the suite from one side to the other. I watch her eyes move from the sofa where my backpack is, to the messy bed, and finally to the minibar. “Are all the rooms exactly the same?” She walks across the room and puts the cans in the freezer.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, it’s just so white . It feels like a dentist’s waiting room…
At least the sheets are nice,” she says, putting my backpack on the floor and throwing herself on the sofa.
“And it’s more comfortable than my bed in Brazil!
And that bed was really good!” she adds, running her hand over the upholstery with a pleased smile.
“So, you managed to rest?”
“Sort of. What about you?”
“Enough.” I sit down, putting her legs over mine. “I hung out with the guys, we watched a game, talked, went down to see the Vagabonders... It’s good to rest with them, it’s been so hectic since the tour started…”
“I get it...” Alex whispers, looking at all corners of the suite but not at me.
I take a deep breath, hating that we have to address this, but knowing it’s necessary.
“I think we need to talk...” I say quickly, watching her for any reaction.
“Yeah, we do,” she replies, swallowing hard, and moistening her lips.
Our eyes meet, and the air in the room gets heavier. Neither of us looks away, but anxiety sets in.
“Okay, let’s do this.” I clap my hands, trying to lighten the tension with a smile. “We count to three and speak at the same time.”
“Are we fifteen?” Alex props herself up on her elbow, incredulously.
“Come on, Alexandra. Let’s go.”
“Fine. I’ll count.” She straightens up and stares at me like, somehow, there could be a winner in our little Cold War. “One... two... three!”
“How are you dealing with the rumors that we’re a couple?” I ask, but even before the words leave my lips, I regret it and think about setting myself on fire or digging a hole in the ground, because Alexandra isn’t talking about this.
“There’s no exceptional place to visit in Madrid because apparently, all the beautiful places in Spain are in Barcelona!
” I wait for her sentence to finish just after mine, feeling like an idiot, but that only lasts a few seconds because we both feel the same thing in each other’s eyes and burst into a weird, awkward laugh.
Our laughter echoes through the space, and for the first time, it feels like a real room.
“Okay, I guess my point is simpler.” My friend sits up, pulling her legs to herself.
“Is there any specific place you’d like to go?”
“Not even a specific restaurant, A.J., let alone a cool place.”
“Well, I don’t know if, or how much, you like soccer, but I really want to go to Santiago Bernabéu .”
“The stadium?” Alex smiles, excited. “I like the idea, but I think we can invite the guys to join us too.”
“Why?”
Alex settles herself on the sofa, leaning forward as she thinks about the answer, her smile playing with the idea.
“I don’t know, they’re all straight, right?” she asks, and I nod because, as far as I know, yes. “They must be crazy about Cristiano Ronaldo and would definitely pay a lot of money to sit in the locker room where he’s been.”
“Alexandra, I hate you so much,” I growl in Portuguese, and she smiles widely.
“We know that’s not true!”
“Now...” I change the subject and swallow hard because it feels a bit strange to talk about this.
“A.J., these rumors don’t bother me. It’s just silly speculation. There’s nothing between us, for me, what matters is this here,” she says, tapping her finger between us.
“Do I have your word?” I ask, offering my pinky to her, and she frowns at me.
“What?”
“Swear Alexandra, you know. Honestly .” I shrug, because it’s an obvious thing.
“Yeah, A.J.” She interlocks her finger with mine. “You have my word.” Her tone is so casual and unhurried that I feel bad for thinking Alex would freak out.
“I was scared, but I’m glad you don’t care about that.”
Alexandra looks at me for a few moments and sits, her legs crossed in lotus position, her eyes always on me.
“For some reason, from the beginning, you welcomed me, A.J. Maybe because of ‘that complicated thing’… and I, who learned to push people away for fear of disappointment or, I don’t know, just fear…
I embraced you back”, She tosses her hair back and looks at me again “That kept me from feeling lost among the boys, the musicians, the crew... I was far from everything I knew, but I had you.” Alexandra rests her hand on my right thigh, a calm look in her eyes, but suddenly, a small storm clouds it, and her hand pulls away.
As if she had said more than she intended, opened up more than she wanted.
I shake my head, telling myself that this girl handled this way more maturely than I did, and fall silent for a moment, absorbing her words, but still with a question on my mind.
“How would it be for you... if it were real? Not with me, but, like, having people make your life a soap opera just because you like someone?”
The only reaction Alexandra has to my question is a smile, almost melancholic.
“I think we’ll never know because, for me, it’s not a priority. I was really young when I married music, you know? Since then, men were never at the top of my list,” she explains, shrugging, and I nod.
I’m curious and trying to understand what made her marry music so early, but aware that now is not the time to look over that wall.
“But hey, you came here to chat or am I actually going to play Far Cry 4?”
“I’ll teach you how to play, A.Jzinho. Watch and learn.” She throws me a cheeky grin after calling me little A.J. What I hate and she knows!
But she doesn’t are, cause she’s a little brat.
Beautiful, interesting, and hot.
But still, bratty.