Chapter Fifteen - A.J.
Step into my world bittersweet love story about a girl
Shook me to the core voice like an angel, I’ve never heard before
Perfect Harmony - Julie and The Phantoms
I never thought a word could taste so sweet until I said “vacation” after ten months on the road. Getting to my apartment, calling the cleaner, hiring a new driver, and reactivating the delivery services was sweeter than anything.
The only challenge is getting used to the silence. Guilherme’s at home with Beatriz, Richard stayed in England after the shows, and Thomas made sure to spend his free time with his family.
It’s been four days since I’ve been away from them, and I already feel weird, but at least I’m not the only one, because our group chat on WhatsApp is blowing up.
What’s weird, though, is being away from Alexandra. Especially because whatever she’s dealing with back in Brazil, it’s keeping her busy.
But then, I get a message from her after I leave the gym:
Alex: I was walking around the house and stubbed my pinky toe on the edge of the table. It hurt so bad, like, almost as much as being near you.
Alex: Since your face was the first thing I thought of when the pain hit, I guess that means I missed you.
I read and reread the message like twenty times on my way home. Now, I can hit the video call button and see her face, ‘cause I definitely miss her.
“Good morning...”
The second Alex picks up, her smile fills the screen, and I let out a relieved sigh. She looks happy, which is a change from how she left Dublin on Monday.
But what surprises me the most is her hair pulled back in a high bun and the golden makeup with red lipstick on her full lips, which I quickly try not to look at.
“Cat got your tongue?” she asks in Portuguese.
“Wow, are you coming or going?”
“Why the question?” She raises an eyebrow.
“You look beautiful.”
“You wanna know why I look good, or did I misunderstand?” she asks, frowning, and I confirm the question. “Does that mean I’m… usually ugly?”
“Oh my God, of course not,” I say and burst out laughing, but her piercing look still digs into my soul. “You just look different than I thought you would on a Friday morning at home…”
“You’re right. I was testing hair and makeup…”
“So, your event in Brazil was an important one then…”
“It’s a professional event,” she whispers, as if it’s a secret, but I smile.
“You have a show?” I ask, excited, and she nods, with such a small grin it almost feels like a crime that she’s happy about it. “I’m the guy who sang outside a Five Guys for almost a year, Alexandra, you can be happy in front of me for having a show.”
“Sometimes I wonder what the guys think of this phase of yours.”
“They don’t know.”
“What do you mean, ‘they don’t know’?” she asks, like it’s a big deal. But talking about that moment isn’t my favorite subject. “No one in the band knows?”
“Dani knows,” I respond and try to tie my hair with one free hand, but she quickly answers with, “Dani’s not in the band,” like any normal person would.
“Dani doesn’t get on stage, but she’s part of the band. It was even weird being on tour without her.” I clear my throat and give up on the bun, throwing my hair to the side. “But come on, talk about the show.”
“Since we went to Europe, Thalia and I have been working behind the scenes for a mini-tour in some states, because of my return, and the release of the new songs… We had this show booked, and almost everything was set for the other five, but the others ended up being postponed to next year. You know, Made to Never Break…” she says, but stops talking for a bit, and I even think the call cut out, but the wind in her hair tells me she’s just.. . thinking.
“Still listening…”
“This show already had a contract, it was sold out, so we decided to keep it… It’s nothing big, not even a real show. It’s more like a little something so I’m not ignoring the people supporting me here in Brazil.”
She stops talking, like all the words she said are in the wrong place, and touches up her lipstick, trying to stay busy.
“It’ll be a teaser, next year you’ll come back with money and experience, it’ll be good,” I point out, because it’s obvious that this is a real show, and she deserves to be happy about it.
“That’s the plan.”
“It’s good to have those fans who’ve been with us from the start, right?”
“For me, it was a process, actually.” Alexandra holds her phone, stands up, and walks to what seems like a small balcony.
“In what way?”
“I spent a lot of time annoyed with the comments like ‘Finally, you’re like Maria Flor again,’ when I did a cut that reminded my character in the soap opera, or the ‘Dub that audio from the soap opera that’s trending,’ and the ‘I’ve been following you since GenZ’ comments on my posts.
At first, I hated it, because it felt like I would never just be Alexandra again.
But… After two years of therapy, and realizing people can cling to whatever they want, I’ve moved past it, I’m really grateful that they stuck around.
” She laughs, leaning against an orange wall, and I take my chance:
“And your shame about saying you have a show, when’s that gonna pass?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, with the wind making one stubborn curl, that didn’t stay in the bun, sway.
“You were all like ‘Oh, it’s not a real show,’ and blah, blah, blah.”
“But it’s true, it’s a small, intimate event for three hundred people.”
“Is that your usual crowd?”
“No, I can do two thousand with the right promotion.”
Even like that, her words still waver between pride and shame. Like two thousand isn’t impressive enough.
“So, only your craziest fans are gonna be there?” I ask, but it’s just another attempt to remind her that it’s gonna be an amazing night, with two thousand or two hundred fans, because they really love her.
“Something like that…” She smiles with certainty.
“And you’re gonna sing without me…”
“I’ll make the effort, A.J.”
“I think that’s unfair, ‘cause I can’t sing without you anymore.”
“Oh, stop with the crap.” Alexandra laughs at my drama. “Imagine the headline: A.J. Fortin sings at Solar de Botafogo and drives three hundred fans crazy. It’d actually be amazing.”
“Soul what?”
“ Solar de Botafogo . It’s the name of the theater where I’ll sing tomorrow. But enough, let’s hang up, you weren’t even supposed to know about this show. Now I’ve told you everything about it, you and your golden boy act. I hate it.”
“When will I see you?”
“I’m flying out Sunday night, so… Monday.”
“I’ll make a sign that says ‘Petulant and Annoying Girl’ to pick you up at the airport.”
“I’ll never tell you my flight, A.J., wake up.” She retorts, laughing. “See you Monday.”
“See you then,” I say, and her face disappears, leaving me alone on my blue sofa, with my blue walls and a loneliness that seems to suffocate me.
But I don’t stay alone for long, because my notification bar reveals messages from Daniele.
Dani 3: Loved the video from your last day on the road, seriously. You and Richard, and you and Alex, are the best things about this band. I’ll post at 12 PM.
Dani 3: You guys are cute. Annoying, but cute.
Me: Don’t be ridiculous.
I send the message and throw my phone on the couch, getting up to turn on the TV and Nintendo.
Dani 3: I’m serious, I know you.
Me: Wasn’t it you who said I’m not in love with her?
Dani 3: Not in love, but you're pretty excited…
Me: You know that’s not it, Dani. I told you about her thing with her dad, with Victor… I like being there for her because, when I needed, I had no one.
Dani 3: I know you just want her to be okay, man. I know how much that hurts you because of Big D. But…
Me: There’s no “but.” She’s super private, and I don’t like the jokes about it.
I drag the cursor to Kingdom Come and get ready to try to finish this damn game. I’ve got time for it.
Dani 3: If you say so.
Me: I do.
I send the message and watch the first few seconds of the game.
Me: You know where Soul lar de Bora fogo is?
I ask, trying to figure out if the place has any significance. Dani will definitely know if it does.
Dani 3: SOLAR DE BOTAFOGO?
She corrects my terrible Portuguese, and I give a thumbs-up on the message like her dad taught me.
Dani 3: In Botafogo, why?
She answers right away, and I can see the disgust on her face for the obvious info she just gave me.
Me: Alex has a show there, I wanted to check online if it’s a cool place…
Dani 3: Oh my God, in the thank-you video for the top 10, you let her boss you around the whole time, and now you're crossing the continent to see her show?
Me: She wasn’t bossing me around.
I lie.
Me: And I’m not going to Rio to see her show, you’re crazy?
Dani 3: Well, I’ll post a naked pic if you don’t go to this show.
Me: Then you can go ahead and prepare for the breakup, ‘cause Rick’s not the type to share, and like I’ve already said, I’m not going to her show.
***
I’m at her show.
I only managed to get to Rio an hour before the show started.
Hammer – pissed as hell – and six other plainclothes security guys escorted me from the airport to this so-called Soul place, and the performance had, of course, already started by the time I arrived.
But standing on the right side of the stage, I can say Alexandra Saldanha looks radiant.
The golden dress hugs her body like it was custom-made, and her curly, long, full hair serves as a crown. Reflecting the moment, because in front of these three hundred people hypnotized by her singing, she is the queen of this place.
The spotlight shining from below, right in the center of the stage, makes her even grander. Even though she’s under one sixty. What catches my attention the most, though, is her voice.
I’ve heard her sing before. I sing with her. But what Alexandra is doing on this stage is not music, it’s magic.