Chapter Twenty-three - A.J. #2
“And I’m helping, Mom, that’s all,” he defends himself, touching her cheek with that tenderness only sons can get away with. “You need me here?” He asks his dad.
“Go enjoy your romance, Guilherme. I’m trying to score some points too,” Carlos mutters the last part to me, and I can’t help bursting into laughter again.
“A.J.!” Richard calls from across the yard, and I excuse myself quickly, crossing back to the covered patio where the cold can’t reach us.
“We’ve got three songs for the new album,” Rick announces, excited. I take a seat.
“Three?” I ask, watching the girls step back into place.
“Jesus, you look like an eskimo,” I snort when Alexandra sits down in a white, knee-length coat. I squeeze her cold fingers gently, pulling her closer. She sticks out her tongue — just a peek of pink between her slightly chapped lips. “A charming eskimo.”
“At least that,” She winks at me, and Richard’s voice pulls me back to the conversation.
“Yes, three. Guilherme and I have been writing non-stop these past few weeks.”
“Ah, the power of love...” My words make Richard go pale, and Dani tenses up before sitting next to him — but Guilherme just pulls Beatriz onto his lap.
“Love is amazing. You’ll agree with me sooner than you think.”
“Do you guys always write the songs together?” Alexandra asks, rescuing me from sinking into my own awkwardness and the funny thing is: She has no idea I’ve been trying to silence a brand-new song in my head for days.
“Not always,” Guilherme says. “We’ve got a team of writers. Sometimes we all work together, sometimes we write separately, and sometimes they do their thing while we handle something else. There are three songs on our first album that the four of us wrote together.”
“That’s cool. I’m excited to see you guys writing during the tour,” Alexandra says, turning to me.
“I’m especially excited to see you writing with them. Enough hiding your talent already.”
“A.J. doesn’t like writing,” Richard chimes in from across the table, as if that little fact had slipped his mind.
“A.J. had Always Us before you guys were even a band. I think he does like writing,”
Alex says with a dry laugh.
“Oh my God, that song that played nonstop throughout pandemic?” Beatriz stares at me, shocked. “Even I, who spent the pandemic pretending I wasn’t alive, know that song.”
“A.J. sings that song, Alex. But he didn’t write it... right?” Thomas asks, looking at me.
“Written at my bedroom window, in Vancouver, actually,” I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table and scratching the back of my neck.
“The whole thing?” Richard still stares at me in disbelief. Probably because I always made it seem like writing wasn’t really my thing. Then he blinks three times before I nod and say:
“Every word.” In the notebook hidden under my mattress, the one I haven’t dared touch in years. Richard crosses his arms, giving me that we need to talk look. I ignore it. “We can talk about songwriting later,” I say, breaking the awkward silence and touching Alexandra ’s hand under the table.
“So how were things in France and England, huh?” I ask Thomas and Richard, and Thomas answers first.
I tilt my head toward Alexandra and whisper a quiet “thank you,” even though writing songs is a complicated place for me.
Thomas talks about how good it felt to spend nearly a month in one place, how having a routine helped him reset. He’s quiet, perceptive. This guy who loves his silence as much as he loves his bass, and even if he never said it out loud, I know the tour almost broke him.
Richard chimes in about how weird it was going back to his parents’ house in a small town in the English countryside — just him and them, day in and day out, with the occasional visit from friends or people from his parents’ church.
“At first it felt like a nightmare, then it just… felt like home again. Even with that look of disappointment that always shows up eventually.”
“Your parents don’t like your career either?” Alexandra asks, half-laughing at the tragic-comic tone.
“I’ll give you the short version — Carlos is already slicing the meat,” Richard says, brushing his hair back over his shoulders. “My parents kinda hate me because I’m not the perfect son.”
“Your parents love you, Richard,” Daniele cuts in like she’s said it a million times. “You’re almost thirty. Acting like the victim is ridiculous.”
“I’m not playing the victim, babe. I’m just not who they dreamed of,” Richard shrugs, filling his glass and Dani’s with diet soda.
“The fact that they treat you so well despite you being the exact opposite of what they expected is proof they love you, Big Bear,” Dani sighs, and Richard kisses the side of her head.
“I hate that your favorite sport is being right,” he mutters as she leans into his neck.
“Aww, how cute,” Carlos teases, setting the board of grilled meat on the table. “Now let go of my daughter and let’s eat.”
Beatriz rushes back inside with Solange.
“Jeez, Dad, relax,” Guilherme says, sipping from his glass like nothing happened. I fight hard not to laugh, and Alexandra squeezes my hand under the table.
With just a look, she silently asks if Dani and Rick are a thing. I try not to answer. But she sees it in my face. In shock, she swallows hard.
“So… Dani, how do you feel now that they’re back?” Alex asks, still a bit thrown.
“Nervous, honestly. They left here on the rise and came back blowing up — top 10 on Spotify, top 8 on Billboard. I felt like a proud mom watching her kids grow up,” Dani says with a smile, looking around at all of us, and we silently thank her for everything she’s done for the band.
“I don’t even know how we survived that long without you,” Guilherme says proudly. “I can’t believe you’re doing the rest of the tour with us.”
“Me neither. This year felt endless,” she groans as Sol and Beatriz return.
“Time to eat!” Beatriz announces, bringing out the perfect sides.
The rice comes out first, followed by farofa , Brazilian style coleslaw, and black beans — presented, of course, in order of importance.
Conversation flows easily.
Guilherme acts as his mom’s personal translator as she proudly tells us she’s starting English classes on Monday.
Alexandra stays quieter, but she’s at ease — smiling often, interacting with the girls. The guys, already used to her, go out of their way to make her feel welcome. Until Guilherme’s parents realize who she is.
Sol apologizes, explaining she just arrived yesterday and can barely remember her own name. Carlos doesn’t miss the chance to put Alexandra on the spot, telling her to catch everyone up.
She starts out shy, with Guilherme translating the basics.
But soon, he only has to hit the highlights — everyone but Thomas already understands some Portuguese.
Alexandra sets down her fork and begins to talk about her journey since the soap opera and GenZ end— carefully skipping over the lack of support from her father.
She explains how she ended up with Vicious Bonds, thanks to Guilherme.
After that, she answers a few questions, her voice growing more animated as she shares stories from the tour — through the eyes of someone outside the band.
Over the past few years, this house has been the truest reflection of “family” I’ve ever known.
Here, I found warmth again — comfort and safety.
So watching the girl who was once unsure about coming, now sitting right beside me, laughing and sharing stories, makes me quietly thank God that she fits so effortlessly into this family — maybe because, just like me, she needs one too.