Chapter Sixteen - Ale
She’s the girl in the song, the woman of creation
Sometimes our friend, other times our downfall
The power that lifts us, the force that makes us fall
Which of us doesn’t know that all of this makes you, our owner?
Dona – Roupa Nova
After an hour and a half, all the songs I love to sing, two outfits, and an amazing grand finale, I’m exhausted. But the energy still pulses through my whole body. The show was a success, and the excitement still resonates as we cross the parking lot and get into Thalia’s car.
Against the bodyguards’ wishes, who follow us in the car behind, A.J. throws himself into the seat next to me, and he looks as impressed as I feel. Which doesn’t make sense at all.
“I still can’t believe you’re here. Like, what did you do? Charter a flight?”
“I chartered two flights. You can fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow afternoon if you want.”
“She wants to,” Thalia practically shouts from the front seat. “Who would miss the chance for a private jet when flying economy?”
“And, uh, I’m still in shock with what you do on that stage,” A.J. says, with a smile that I swear is full of admiration, his eyes sparkling. “Your voice, the songs… everything! I don’t even know how you manage it.”
“She manages it because she’s amazing, you know?” Thalia spits out the words, and it’s not because my manager and best friend isn’t happy; she’s just pissed she’s been playing Uber.
I laugh so loudly that A.J. looks at me confused, but Thalia’s look in the rearview mirror, followed by a little puff of air, makes me laugh even more.
“Alright, what did you think of my little show?” I ask the guy who crossed the continent to see me sing.
“My Portuguese lessons helped a lot today! I understood most of the things!”
“I’m a proud teacher now.”
“Just don’t let Dani hear you say that, she’s been trying to teach me this confusing language for three years.”
“Which one was your favorite song, A.J.?” Thalia asks, and I’m grateful. I want to know which Brazilian melody touched him the most.
He thinks for a moment, a nearly involuntary smile forming.
“Dona.”
“This guy likes to obey a beautiful woman,” Thalia comments, making A.J. laugh, and I join in the laughter, but my heart is warm now.
“That’s one of my favorites,” I say, tilting my head back and closing my eyes for a second, soaking in the happiness of the moment.
I’m tired, yeah, but being with Thalia, who fights so hard for me, and even with him, who’s been my company in chaos of the Made to Never Break World Tour , after a night like this, makes me feel grateful.
The car drives through the streets, and we keep talking about the show.
A.J. really liked the night; he’s not just trying to be nice because he mentions things I can barely remember happening.
The conversation stays light and lively, and when we enter my apartment’s street, I place the pizza order through the app while I explain to A.J.
that Bon Jovi is the only foreign thing my dad listens to.
I don’t even know why, he just… likes it. So I ended up liking a few singles too.
“And, man, your fans? You know they’re just as obsessed as the Vagabonders, right? There were signs saying ‘I’ve been following you since 2017,’ and I wasn’t even singing in 2017!”
“They’re amazing, right?” I ask, aware of the responsibility, and pull my feet up to the seat, turning toward him. “Sometimes I pretend it’s no big deal, just because I know I’ll never get the success I had back in the GenZ days on my own.”
“You can’t know that,” Thalia corrects me, and I roll my eyes because it’s like she has no idea what GenZ was like when she talks like that.
Me, alone, singing what I sing? I’ll never fill a stadium.
“I agree with Thalia, but let’s focus on the present,” A.J. says, taking a lock of my hair off my face. “I could feel the energy and the happiness from the crowd, Alex. The way they seemed to connect with your music…”
“I only saw that chaos when you showed up,” I joke, pulling his fingers from my face and holding his hand against the seat. “I was afraid they were going to invade the stage, okay?”
“You’re welcome,” Thalia points out.
“They didn’t expect you, I didn’t expect you. It was a surprise for everyone. It was so cool, Thalia. Thank you so much!” I say, meeting her gaze in the rearview mirror.
“I’ll admit I was scared you’d hate it.” A.J.’s words make me look back at him. “It was your moment, your show,” he explains, moving his hands as if he’s still processing what happened.
“I’d only hate it if it all went wrong, you know? Like, if people started trampling each other or something.” I shrug. “But the show was perfect. Like, our song became even more amazing in that setting.”
“It was beautiful, small, and intimate,” A.J. tries to put into words what weighs on my heart as we pass through the garage gate.
***
We get home still buzzing with adrenaline from the show. The first thing we do is enjoy the perks of a house with three bathrooms. One in the social area, one in my room, and one in the guest room.
I take a shower to think about how much I loved this night, this show, and how much I loved that Thalia and my fans insisted so much for me to do it. It wasn’t my biggest moment as a solo artist, but it was definitely the most special one.
I always knew that opening for Vicious would make a difference, but now I’ve gone from two hundred thousand listeners to the most-played song in the country, and that’s not just huge. It’s the realization of a dream I didn’t even know I had.
That’s why I focus on humming anything that stops me from crying and get out of the shower as soon as I’m clean. No time to enjoy the relaxing cold water of my Rio 40o today.
When I go back to the kitchen, I run into A.J.
sitting at the island, waiting. He’s wearing a pajama set of mine because he didn’t bring anything to sleep in.
The shirt, poor thing, looks like a tight crop tee on his broad shoulders, and the pants only fit him because I always buy size GG, even though I wear M, for comfort. Pathetic and adorable at the same time.
I run to him, hugging him from behind, and breathe in the fresh scent from his wet hair as he laughs, grateful and almost embarrassed that he flew all the way from New York just because I had a show that I pretended not to care too much about.
“Maybe I won’t say this often,” I rest my elbow on the island, stopping beside him, “but singing our song at my show was special for me.”
A.J. turns the stool to face me.
“It was special for me too.”
“It still surprises me how cool you are…” I shrug, not wanting to inflate his ego too much.
“Just so you know, I’m not as much of an asshole, kissy guy, and clueless as you thought.”
“Asshole you’re not, clueless is still under review, but the kissy part I’ll never know…”
“How come?”
“Oh, you know. You said you’d never kiss me…” I tease, twirling my hair around my fingers, and his hand reaches my waist.
It’s a big hand. Sometimes I forget that the nice guy who sings with me is a six-foot-two hottie.
“That’s not exactly what I said…” A.J.’s low voice is so hoarse it must scratch his throat when it comes out. Warm, raw, direct. I swallow hard and take a step back.
Because even though I forget that A.J. is work sometimes, I remember at some point. I always remember.
“I think it was,” I hum, sitting down on the other side of the island.
“You know what? I think about your kiss since the Paris show,” A.J. says seriously, his voice low and raspy, walking toward me. “And maybe I really wanted to kiss you today during our song.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and his intense eyes on me make me cross my legs, but I play along.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.” His big, precise hands move down from my face and stop at my waist, pulling me closer. “And I could kiss you now, if you begged me and all, you know... there’s that condition.”
Oh my God, what a hot man.
“I can beg,” I say, surprising him. “But I won’t be able to go to your house when we get to New York.” My words make his hands pull back to his body. “I won’t turn you into a fling, A.J., you’re work and my friend. I don’t want to ruin that with sex.”
He raises his hands, his eyes burning me.
“You’re the one who brought up sex,” he jokes with a cheeky laugh, and my cheeks burn. “But I don’t see why a kiss would ruin things.”
“Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few months is that with you, it’s never just a kiss,” I say, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away. “And I don’t want to lose the best thing the tour gave me.”
“Alright then…” He shrugs. “You know, we wouldn’t ruin anything, I’d resist. But you didn’t even beg…”
I shift in the chair because my body obviously wouldn’t come out unscathed from a guy like him, with that size and that charm. And he steps back with an awkward and sly smile at the same time.
I’m a freaking warrior.
“Of course, you’d resist, A.J., for sure.”
I roll my eyes, and we laugh so loud that Thalia sticks her head out of the room.
“What happened?” she asks, still from the living room, and walks all the way through the open space before I answer.
“Show stuff.”
“No pizza yet? I’m starving.” I shake my head, and she heads to the fridge to grab two beers for her and A.J. and a Coke for me. “I was handling stuff for you, you know?”
“Actually, the pizzas are right there.” A.J. points to the boxes on the stove, and I get off the counter to grab them and take a breather away from him now that his abs are burned into my hands.
“Two-thirty in the morning?” I ask, taking a slice of the chicken pizza from the box.
“Yeah, being a manager for someone who doesn’t have rivers of money to spend on their career is a job that requires patience.” She throws herself onto me, sitting down.
I laugh, but at the same time, it hits me.