Chapter Fifteen - A.J. #2
“You’re staying here, and you’re not moving,” Hammer warns me, pointing a finger at me. “If you think about greeting her on stage, or singing with her, forget it.”
“See you later, Hammer.” I dodge his hand on my shoulder and watch him leave the area.
“I don’t know what he meant, ‘cause you, up on that stage, would be very welcome,” Thalia says, trying to adjust a headset to block out the loud sound around us. But I shake my head.
“It’s her moment, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” She laughs, clearly confused. “Not cause a complete meltdown between fandoms at her first solo show in God knows how many months?”
Thalia looks at me, her eyebrows raised, and I get where she’s going. But Hammer’s right, it wouldn’t be wise.
“Who are they?” I point to the girl playing cajón and the guitarist behind Alexandra.
Thalia starts explaining, and I try to stay focused, but I can’t hear much clearly.
The voice Alexandra pours into the microphone pulls me in like a magnet.
I catch some phrases, words, fragments of a song with advice too sad for the light smile on her face as she strums the guitar, making me swim through the lyrics, even though I don’t completely understand them.
Alexandra recites a poem about how the world will crush dreams and about abysses and corners, and I can’t understand how this song can make her smile.
I try to bring my attention back to Thalia, but I give up the fight and stay watching her until the end of the song because something holds me to her like only a siren’s song could.
As soon as she finishes, applause echoes through the space. Alexandra laughs to the side, the way she does when she’s a bit awkward, and grabs a glass of water before talking to the fans. At this moment, I remember to turn my face to Thalia.
“I know, she’s amazing. But they’re just backup musicians, they’re not that relevant, but you up there would be,” she jokes with a wink.
“Can I ask you to hold on to a piece of my… disguise?” I ask, holding out my black coat to her, which she grabs from a distance like touching something hot in these Carioca’s lands would burn her, and walks off.
Alexandra starts singing another song, slower but just as powerful.
The crowd doesn’t cheer as loudly, but she, eyes closed, raises her voice, making them clap, even though they’re not singing the song as passionately as she is. The chorus is repetitive, but not in a bad way, just… sweet while it seems to say a lot more than the word “Owner” can carry.
Watching the crowd, I spot two security guys standing in the upper gallery, and Hammer by the entrance.
Nobody seems to care much about them, just like they wouldn’t care about me.
A guy with sunglasses, dark clothes, and a cap among three hundred girls who came to see a woman, but Hammer and Thalia forced me to stay on the side of the stage so I wouldn’t draw attention from the audience.
The sweet chords of the song make me give up trying to understand and translate everything.
I pull my phone out, open Shazam , find the song but the guitarist stops in front of Alexandra, making the crowd go wild with a part that reflects something she represents, about how a woman can be so strong and fragile at the same time.
About the power to captivate, to enchant… but also says she can destroy us.
I try to ignore that part, but I see the guy kneel in front of her at the end, and I feel an uncomfortable sensation. But then I remind myself that I kiss other people on stage, so this sight could be much worse.
For the sake of my peace of mind, the guitarist moves to the corner of the stage, and Alexandra takes the whole place for herself again. Between slower and more upbeat songs, she sings, tosses her hair in different directions, dances, smiles, and I feel like I need this Alexandra on stage with me.
“Stop drooling, she’s coming over here at the end of this song,” Thalia yells in my ear, making me feel embarrassed.
“What do you mean?”
“Water, bathroom, and clothes.”
“She’s changing clothes? But she looks so beautiful.”
“We’re about to enter the last part of the show, it’s different music styles,” Thalia explains as Alexandra finishes the song and says she’ll be back in three minutes.
Then, she turns and runs straight into me.
She stops, right there, and I smile, using my finger to call her over.
“How did you get here?” Alexandra asks, hands on her waist, but walking, making me step back twice.
“I sent some messages to Thalia, and she got me a ticket,” I lie, winking.
There were no tickets left, and her manager just let me in. Alexandra crosses her arms, furrowing her brow as she alternates her gaze between me and her cousin.
“This is the time when you hug your friends who made a surprise for you and stuff…” Thalia says, and thank God I understand the words, because when Alexandra tries to translate, I pull her by the waist and hug her.
“You smell so good.” I inhale the scent of her hair involuntarily.
“I always smell good, A.J.” she scolds me, pulling away. “Now wait here, I’ve got two and a half minutes.”
Alexandra heads towards what I believe is her dressing room.
Thalia calls one of the three men walking around, and when he gets close, he brings me a stool. I’ve been doing two-hour shows for two years, I don’t need to sit, but the support team is so small, and they’re running around so much that I choose not to be rude.
I grab my phone and go straight to the band’s group chat. Family photos, couples, and typical foods fill that space, so I post a picture of the stage and close the conversation. Then, I open the one with Thomas, who has unread messages.
Thom: Why are you in Brazil?
Me: How do you know that?
Thom: The GPS we set up on all the phones alerted me.
Me: Oh, nothing. Just... sightseeing.
Thom: I just saw your pic in the group. Did you go to sing?
Me: Technically no.
Thom: Explain that properly…
Me: I came to watch a show, but I’ll sing a little bit.
I lock my phone screen when I see Alexandra coming back through the small hallway, wearing ankle boots, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. Stylists don’t always know how to plan wardrobes for places that are forty degrees.
“You really are a best-seller with a great cover, huh?” she says and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for coming,” she yells on her way to the stage.
“Are you going to sing our song?” I ask, holding her hand.
“Of course I am.” She frowns like it was obvious.
“It’s going to be amazing, and you look beautiful,” I compliment her.
But, as always, she doesn’t need my compliments. Or anything that isn’t... the music. Grabbing the microphone and singing is the only thing that makes Alexandra smile from ear to ear, and that’s contagious.
The second part of the show is more electric. The guitar guy gets more space to take risks, and the girl who was playing cajón changed to a drum kit during the break.
Alexandra sings what Thalia tells me are three of her songs and two covers of Brazilian songs.
After that, the leather jacket and tight pants make perfect sense with her singing Man, I Feel Like a Woman , and I even get a little moved when she starts singing You Give Love a Bad Name ; why, of all the women in the world, did it have to be her singing Bon Jovi?
But the song ends, and the little crush I thought might show up inside me calms down, making room for two songs that take the crowd to another level of madness. I realize she’s singing GenZ songs even before Thalia tells me.
They sing, dance, and throw presents on stage. Very lively and happy, I can say, satisfied to be living this dream that feels as much theirs as it does hers.
At the end of the songs, Alexandra talks to the audience, throws the four picks she used during the show to the fans, who are much more well-behaved than the Vagabonders would ever be, and after she introduces the musicians and thanks them, the lights go out.
But she hasn’t sung Maybe yet, so I understand this is the bonus track.
And the crowd gets it too, because they start shouting the name of our song.
The others who get it are Hammer and my security guys, because the seven huge men come to the front of the stage and make a human barrier, like he knows I’m about to break the only rule he gave me.
The lights go out, and the guitar’s melody begins, shy at first but taking its place in the space.
Then, the spotlight hits Alex. She floods the room with her voice, eyes closed, the tenderness in her words and the delicacy with which she plays change the atmosphere and make my heart race.
Unlike anything we’ve ever lived, this night is about her, and the moment Thalia puts a microphone in my hand, I know exactly what to do.
With two steps, I’m in the audience’s view, and the tone of my voice following hers catches Alexandra’s gaze. Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops for a moment, but my friend soon smiles at me, and I smile back, walking toward her as the crowd goes crazy.
But I don’t know if it causes trouble for the security, because all I can do is look at the most beautiful woman of the night.
Her eyes shine, and she walks to me, grabs my free hand, and takes me to the center of the stage, where her microphone waits for her on a stand. But we’ve never used two microphones before, so I bring her face close to mine with a touch on her chin, and we move even closer before the chorus.
We sing like the story is ours. Two wounded, passionate people sharing a mic .
I place my free hand on her waist and pull her closer.
Now, our bodies are closer than ever, since it’s the first time we’re singing standing, and I can’t take my eyes off her lips, which are staring right at me without even blinking.
We’ve performed this song in over thirty shows and worked on it until it was perfect for weeks before this. But today, here, singing with Alexandra scares me. Because I’d do anything to live this with her forever.
As if somehow sharing the stage, the microphone, and my very breath with her is the only thing that feels right. We reach the final chorus, and like every night, I rest my forehead against hers to sing the last lines. But this time, it’s different.
Pulling away hurts physically and my feet nearly refuse to leave her side. I don’t want to stand on stage for the final ovation of the queen of the night, but this time, it feels wrong to pull away from Alexandra.
And there’s nothing right about it