Chapter Thirty-one - A.J
You're on your own, kid
You always have been
You’re on Your Own, Kid - Taylor Swift
I watch Alexandra’s eyes wandering around the room, but I don’t rush her. I let her take her time before responding. Alexandra asks me the time, knocks back her beer so fast it startles me, and, after placing the glass on the coffee table, she takes a deep breath.
“Why the question?”
“Before I tell you about my story, it’s important for me to understand why you agreed to come with us to the United States. I mean, I know the money was good and all, but it felt like you were putting your career on the back burner, you know? That freaked me out a little.
If I’m going to be completely honest with her, I need Alexandra to trust me the same way. As painful as it is to touch this wound, it’s necessary.
“There are videos of me singing when I was eight months old. And I didn’t start talking until I was over a year old.
” She smiles, showing all her teeth. “It seems impossible, I know, but my parents were musicians, my house belonged to music, we breathed songs, so I became the girl who sang before she could talk.”
Alexandra falls silent for a few seconds, tapping the tip of her foot on the floor.
“After my mom died, in a car accident coming back from a show, my dad lost the will to sing. The light music brought him turned into darkness, and he isolated himself from the world, from his friends… Seeing me wanting to sing just over a year after that was an affront to him.” Alexandra swallows and clears her throat.
“We started fighting every day, we were both grieving, and I didn’t want to keep stressing, you know?
I moved into the apartment my mom left me and lived with my choices. ”
“And between that moment and you coming on our tour…”
Alexandra takes a sip of her drink, and I do the same, don’t want it to get warm.
She starts off by dropping a bomb on my lap and explaining that her parents had been swindled by their former manager and label.
This alone made her dad become jaded with the music industry, so she tells me that during that time, she had to hold things down at home and take care of the legal expenses, which were not cheap.
To make matters worse, her mom’s death, right after a show, was the last straw in her dad’s anger towards everything they once loved.
So, Alex couldn’t count on him, or even the people she’d known since childhood in that world, because her dad had forbidden everyone from helping her “stay in this rotten world.”
“I lost a lot of money with all the setbacks, and even though I can live comfortably with what I still have, investing in a music career is really expensive,” she says, taking another sip.
“Staying with you guys wasn’t about giving up on a dream, but understanding that you guys don’t tour for a whole year, being with VB gives me more visibility, and some opportunities need to be seized,” she finishes, shrugging with a peaceful expression.
Apparently, it hurts her a lot less now than it did two months ago, when Alex spent a lot of time feeling miserable.
“I didn’t understand at the time, I even got a little pissed off, didn’t want to say anything, but I kept wondering if Victor wasn’t just keeping you with us for his own selfish reasons…”
“Maybe the guy has horrible reasons, but I’m still on top, our music is successful in all languages, my followers just keep growing…
” she lists, turning back to look at me.
“So, in the long run, it was the best choice. And deep down, I feel like our generation has two fears: Growing up and doing things slowly, both of them are killing us. Being with you guys was choosing stability and a safer path,” she insists, more like she’s accepting it than telling me.
Or maybe she just needs to remind herself of this sometimes to ensure she hasn’t lost focus. I nod, studying her calm face while finishing my first glass of beer, and Alexandra is halfway through the second.
“I invited you to the party at the penthouse after the first show because I heard you talking to Thalia.” I sigh, running my hands over my legs.
“I didn’t understand everything, my Portuguese was still horrible, but I could tell your dad’s love was like mine, conditional on which career we’d choose.
And I didn’t want that to affect you, you know?
It was such a special night… Your first big show in years… ”
“It was an incredible night. You guys were happy for the first show in Brazil, and I was radiant to sing for so many people again…” she smiles with the memories.
“The first thing my parents said when I dropped out of med school for music was something like ‘This isn’t going to get you anywhere.’” Alex finishes her drink and slams the glass on the table, muttering “classic,” but doesn’t interrupt me.
“But there’s one thing they said that I ignored: ‘The music world is rotten, and good people like you will never grow in this industry.’”
“And still, here you are…” she says, not understanding the tremble in my voice.
“I came to the U.S. under the wings of one of the biggest music producers in the world, Big D.” I say, and her eyes light up.
Any artist worth their salt has heard of him.
“He discovered me because of Always Us, we released the official version, and it blew up worldwide, then the pandemic hit. It was a shock for everyone, I was supposed to open for Ed Sheeran, but those shows got postponed, and I found myself locked in one of Big D.’s apartments, with two other guys I was competing with for everything. ”
“Like new songs?”
“That too, but events, women, guys, podcasts… everything was something only one of us would get. And that just made us hate each other.” I drink half of my beer at once because this subject always hurts.
“Back then, I wanted to go home, it was clear I wasn’t going to have a career coming out of there.
But I couldn’t, my parents had warned me, and I chose not to listen. ”
“Did you try to talk to them?”
“Never.” I laugh nervously just thinking about it.
“I didn’t speak to my parents after I left home, like, never again.
.. To be fair, they tried to keep in touch when I moved, but I was too rebellious, and after a while, I changed my number, so…
” I shrug, the weight of regret pressing on my heart.
“But then there was that day, the fateful day when the label managed to get a song written by Shawn Mendes, and that was big, because his songs were the best compositions on the market.”
“He’s awesome, but he’ll never have a decent career, he lives off Camila Cabello, poor guy,” Alexandra says, making me laugh. “But what about the song, didn’t it work out?”
“I, my roommates, and a few other Big D. clients recorded a demo. To be honest, mine wasn’t the best. After eleven months away from home, living in a dump, eating like a homeless person with food restrictions and getting peanuts for Always Us – because most of the money for the song I wrote went to Big D.
and the label, I wasn’t in my best. But I really wanted that song…
” I bite the inside of my lower lip, trying not to break down.
“I promised Big D. I’d record it again and again until it was good.
I had already made a hit, so it would be easier for the label to invest in me. ”
“You know, A.J., you’re an amazing guy and all… but you don’t have to talk about this,” Her fingers trace along my forearm before she cups my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “I can see it hurts you. I don’t want you to feel this way because of me.”
“It’s not because of you,” I retort holding her hand in mine, because it’s true.
“It’s just weird remembering how that blonde guy in the gray suit, who had everyone’s life in the studio in his hands, just agreed.
Without me needing to say it twice. That surprised me, that guy loved being pampered…
We went to the office to talk about the details, but he asked the other singers to stay in the studio.
I remember exactly how he closed the door behind him, slow, with no snap, like he was giving me time to understand what was coming next. But I didn’t understand.”
“How so?” Alexandra asks, confused. “He had already agreed to work with you, what else would come besides a contract offering you the minimum of the profits from your work?”
“There are a lot of options in this market, Alex. Exploitation isn’t the worst of them.”
You want this song?
“He asked, rubbing his right eyebrow with his thumb, one of those automatic gestures that had always been part of the character. I was already tense, but that question caught me off guard.”
Of course, I want the song, I just begged you for it.
“I said, he didn’t sit down. He never sat when he talked to me. He preferred standing, leaning on the table, or slowly walking around the room, reminding me that the space was his, and I was just passing through. Then he asked:”
But do you want it to boost your career, or do you actually like it?
“I frowned. Didn’t know where he was going with that.”
It’s good, I want it, I feel like we’re gonna do great together, “I answered straightforwardly . I knew being confident was essential, especially in front of him. So I added”: And there’s the fact that the songwriter is the most successful Canadian of recent times.
This nationality bridge is definitely going to be good marketing.
“He nodded slowly, evaluating me, then continued:”
You’re right.
“Then he took off his jacket and leaned on the table, arms crossed. I should have noticed then. The look rose to meet me and shone with something I couldn’t immediately identify.”
And how far are you willing to go to get it?
That was the next question, and I felt a cold pang in my stomach so agonizing.
“A.J. he just… he didn’t…” Alexandra murmurs squeezing my hand. I shake my head and continue: