Chapter Twenty-seven - A.J.
I’d bet all my money that I will lose to you and hand you my life
Here’s to hoping you're worth all my time
I might barely know you, but still
Don’t love you yet, but probably will turn me into something tragic
Just for you, I let it happen
Let It Happen - Gracie McAbrams
I managed to slip under the radar earlier in the afternoon, even got out of playing Werewolf with the guys at the end of the day, but when Guilherme’s parents headed out for dinner and left us in charge, I didn’t bother hiding in my room.
The house to ourselves means pizza and a night of jamming, just like the old days. The girls are upstairs making drinks while we head downstairs to set up the basement.
“We should’ve ordered another one.” Guilherme points to the stack of four pizzas. “If Thomas eats like he always does, I’ll have to fight for my survival,” he complains as we bring the chairs to the pool table.
“It’s not my fault if you guys have bird stomachs,” Thomas shrugs, opening one of the pizza boxes — but Richard closes it right away.
“We’re waiting for the girls, man. Let’s show some respect to the people bringing the drinks.”
“You don’t even drink,” Thomas argues, clearly annoyed. “And we need a table down here. We’ve got pool, a couch, even a projector. We’re past our early twenties, we need somewhere decent to sit.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say with a laugh, standing proud at my glorious twenty-four.
They laugh too, and for a second, it’s like we’re those kids again — pulling all-nighters down here, playing whatever came to mind.
Guilherme watches me for a beat before opening his mouth.
“So what’s up, A.J.? You gonna tell us, or are we gonna have to drag it out of you?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Tell you what?”
“You’ve been acting weird,” Thomas jumps in before Gui can answer. “Ever since you got here, it’s like your head’s always somewhere else.”
“You guys are imagining things.”
Richard crosses his arms, about to throw me under the bus — like I haven’t kept his secret about Daniele for years.
“Right. So this whole silent-and-distant act has nothing to do with Alexandra, huh?” he asks, betraying me with zero shame.
“Obviously not.”
“So you two—” Thomas starts, but I lift a hand to cut him off.
“We’re here to eat and play. You’re losing focus. Let’s not start with this crap.”
“What crap?” Beatriz asks, walking in holding a bright yellow pitcher.
“They’re trying to figure out why A.J. spent the whole day locked in the room,” Guilherme explains, going to meet her.
“Oh, he had a migraine,” Alexandra announces and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one who caught the irony and fury in her voice. “Didn’t you guys know?”
“The good news is it’s gone. Let’s eat. I’m dying to hear you guys sing,” Daniele steps in to save me, though her eyes linger on Alexandra.
She sets a tower of plastic cups on the table and hands a bottle of Coke to her boyfriend.
“Exactly. Let’s eat,” I say, grabbing the biggest slice of pepperoni pizza and heading for the couch.
This basement carries our story. Not just because we started here, but because it’s also where our first attempts at a logo are spray-painted, where Daniele posts all the articles about us, and where our first instruments still hang.
Even though we don’t use them anymore, it’s nice to look at them hanging on the highest point of the wall and remember where we came from.
I shake off the nostalgia and head back toward the couch, but stop because it’s already taken by Daniele and Alexandra.
The guys are still around the pool table, and Beatriz hasn’t come to sit with the girls, because Guilherme looks at her like he’d rather eat pizza straight off her.
The basement is warm. Not just because of the heater, but because of everyone being together, talking, laughing... Clinging to the end of vacation and almost forgetting that we’re back on stage tomorrow.
Lying on the couch, Daniele wears one of her ridiculously short, high-waisted denim shorts — which Guilherme hates — and a slightly worn white shirt that makes me laugh: “But, Daddy, I love him.” And Alexandra …
Alexandra is next to her, wearing baggy pants, her hair loose, and a shirt that clearly belongs to Dani, because the phrase on it is “I promise it’s not me, it’s you” in huge black letters.
She’s right. The problem is me.
I should be talking, paying attention to the guys, teasing Guilherme for eating so slow and almost ceremoniously. Or even hurrying everyone up to start playing.
But all I can do is stare at her.
At the way her hair falls over her shoulders. At the way she rests her fingertips on her knee while listening to Dani excitedly tell some story.
“So, are we playing?” Richard asks, grabbing our attention.
“Go for it, babe, I wanna record everything about this night.” Dani laughs, and I laugh with her. But the way Guilherme pulls away from Beatriz shows that her slip-up, calling Richard “babe,” doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I hate when you treat the guys like this, you know?” Guilherme spits out the words, walking toward us. “And you’re pathetic with those ridiculous shorts that almost show your uterus,” he says, in Portuguese.
“You’re not my dad.” Daniele argues without even looking at him.
“Maybe that’s why you’re like this, he gives you whatever you want.”
“Daddy just respects me!” Dani snaps, and her eyes go straight to Richard.
They haven’t gone public to protect the band — Guilherme can’t know, because his reaction would be exactly this.
Even so, my friend expects her man to defend her.
And Richard, who never disappoints, walks toward us.
“I’m not that sixteen-year-old girl who was brought here just to stay away from the dangers of growing up around bad influences in Rio, Guilherme,” my friend says with mockery.
Alexandra translates Daniele’s words when she sees me lost. Even though we practice Portuguese, long sentences still confuse me.
“You’re being…” he opens his mouth to speak, but Richard touches his shoulder and turns him to face him.
“ You’re being such a jerk. You shouldn’t talk to her like that, not now, and never.
” Richard raises his voice just enough to embarrass Guilherme and crosses his arms. “Daniele’s a grown woman, she knows exactly what she wants to do or not, wear or not.
You can’t control her and call it “care” anymore. ”
With each translated phrase, Alexandra ’s eyes widen a little more.
“I didn’t know you were the official defender of my sister.” A sarcastic laugh leaves Guilherme’s lips as our vocalist narrows his eyes, staring at Richard like never before.
“Dani’s part of the band, I’d never let you humiliate anyone here, Guilherme, wake up.” Rick deepens his voice and dodges the mess he got himself into. “And I think this needs to stop here, you’re ruining an amazing night because you’re scared your sister’s a human being with desires.”
Alex starts to speak, but I shake my head because this one I understood. And I agree.
“And I think you’d better…” Guilherme clenches his fists and yells, but Beatriz steps in front of him.
“Stop it, Luv,” she warns, hands on her hips. “Jealous of a grown woman? You’re being ridiculous.” With that, she turns on her heels and walks off toward Daniele.
“You say that because you don’t have sisters.” Guilherme walks past Richard, bumping his arm into his, but Richard doesn’t budge and smiles at my friend.
“Actually, she says that because he listens to me, Gui. Unlike you.” My friend’s words come almost in a whisper. “I’m not your little doll in a showcase anymore.”
“Stop tripping, Dani.” Guilherme breathes deeply. “It’s not… like that. Sorry if I want to protect you, but that’s the role of older brothers.” He shrugs, speaking without words that this won’t change.
But I understand my friend’s pain. To Guilherme, she’s the perfect sister — the amulet, the biggest trophy of the band — until she stops being.
Until he realizes she’s not just his little sister anymore, but a grown woman, fully capable of making her own decisions.
Coming from the tough reality they grew up in, Guilherme sees himself as the protector, whether against delusions or this vague fear of watching her lose her way.
So, Guilherme and Richard continue staring at each other, trapped in a heavy silence.
The tension is thick, almost physical. Guilherme knows full well that our drummer will never understand this weight, and Rick, for his part, shows no interest in thinking about the wounds that growing up as a peripheral youth opened in our vocalist. To Richard, it’s sad and punitive to control Daniele’s life because of a past that has nothing to do with the present.
So, we all glance at each other, waiting for them to give in and end this Cold War.
When they both breathe deeply and nod at each other, deciding to let the tension go, everyone breathes a little easier—though Guilherme doesn’t say a word, and Richard moves toward Daniele in silence, pulling her into a hug like he’s trying to protect her from her brother.
“So, guys…” Thomas calls, his voice so normal that I wonder if this guy was even here for the last few minutes. “Aren’t we gonna play?”
He hops off the pool table and heads for the bass. Alexandra looks at me, raising an eyebrow, and I don’t think Richard and Guilherme are in any condition to do anything together just yet.
“Do you sing?” I ask her.
Alex laughs softly, the answer obvious, and her face seems to ease the tension a bit. The atmosphere, however, is still heavy, full of unspoken words hanging in the air.
The chords of Maybe start, held together by just me and Thomas, but Richard quickly detaches from Daniele to sit at the drums. It won’t look like he was just consoling her if this two stay glued together all night.