Chapter 25
W ITHOUT LETTING GO OF THE DOORKNOB, I GLANCE OVER MY shoulder. The room is softly lit and cozy. There’s rattan furniture and a vintage-looking bar along one wall. René is standing behind it, holding a cocktail shaker in the air.
“What’s up? Who’s that?” Meri sounds thrilled, as though she may already know the answer.
“Sorry, I’ll just—” I say to René and pull the door open.
“ Hola ,” he calls out, speaking to whoever’s on my video call.
“ Hola, René ,” Meri says softly and slightly creepily. I aim the phone so they can see each other.
“Ah, it’s the sweater thief.”
There’s a pause on the line. “What?”
“He saw my screensaver,” I explain.
“Oh, but did you tell him that was your idea? That was her idea.” She’s going a mile a minute, and I can feel her nerves through the line.
René gazes at me. “Take a seat.”
“Yes, Dani, take a seat,” Meri echoes.
I let go of the door and sit on the rattan barstool closest to it. René motions for me to hand him the phone, so I hold it over the bar. His fingers overlap a few of mine as he takes it, causing a ripple of heat up my arm.
I look away and focus on the gorgeous room. There are a couple of golden sconces on the walls in the shape of suns on either side of the bar, and the lush wallpaper is covered in palm trees. I notice there are three glasses filled with drinks on a tray. The window is open, letting in the music playing out by the pool.
“So, can you tell me why your sister has a problem with Mother Nature?”
Meri giggles nervously. “What do you mean?”
“Since she’s been here, she’s wiped out on a waterfall, gotten stuck in a thorny weed patch, and been attacked by seagulls. Is this a new issue or has she been like this her whole life?” He sets the phone down on the bar and leans over, giving Meri his full attention.
“Really?” Meri sounds concerned. “A waterfall?” She flounders for a moment, surprised she hasn’t heard about any of this. “No, not at all,” she finally replies. “She used to climb trees all the time. She was really good, actually.”
“Is that right?” He narrows his eyes and takes a step back to look at me. Like he’s trying to locate the tree climber inside.
“Our mom would get so upset and Dani would tell her she didn’t have to worry because she was ‘one of the trees.’”
“No, I said I was ‘one with the trees.’”
René’s dark eyes look up at me and I’m suddenly aware of what I’m wearing. The pink slip top. The lack of a bra. As though reading my mind, his eyes run down my neck and onto my bare shoulders.
“So, it’s just Puerto Rico she has a problem with?” he asks, eyes back on mine.
“I guess,” Meri says, cracking up.
“And is the blazer situation a medical condition?”
My mouth drops, and a laugh escapes. He’s wearing his reading glasses so he’s back to being a more down-to-earth version of himself. Without the dark sunglasses, he’s lost El Rico’s brash bravado and now he’s just Clark Kent. Or just René.
“Don’t get me started, but yes, we’re pretty sure it is.” Meri’s having such a great time. It’s nice to hear the bubbliness in her voice.
“She’s something else, your sister.” He shifts to a more serious tone. “On the outside she’s tough, and stubborn,” he jabs good-naturedly, “and she tries to slink into the background, but the truth is she’s excited and curious about everything.” He looks at me and I feel my pulse pick up. “She’s an observer. Maybe that’s why she loves photography?”
Meri goes uncharacteristically quiet. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” she replies at last, her curiosity piqued.
“Okay, okay.” My face feels flushed. It’s strange to hear René theorizing about me. Or to know he’s been thinking about me at all. Curious and excited? These are not words I’d use to describe myself. More like shut off the world and plowing forward. Then again, deep down, “curious and excited” sounds like the me I was before. Does he actually see her? Are there remnants of her still around?
I lean over the bar and pick up the phone. “Say goodbye to René, Meri. He has to get to the studio soon.”
“No, wait. Why? I’m sure he has more questions. It sounds like he has a lot of concerns I can help with.”
“Nope, he’s all out of concerns. Aren’t you?” I ask, playing along.
“Nice to meet you, Meri.”
“You too! So nice! Wait, one last question. Please!”
Without hesitating, René reaches for the phone, his eyes conveying he’s happy to comply. “Shoot,” he tells Meri.
“?Que paso con Natalia?”
My stomach drops to the floor. Only Meri would ask a question René has refused to answer every time it’s been posed by journalists. Including some pretty well-known ones.
“You guys were so beautiful together,” she adds, so innocently. As though she were talking to an old friend. I have no idea what René’s thinking, I can’t dare to look at him. I’m too busy staring at the back of the phone. Willing it to evaporate.
“Well, Meri. I’ll tell you.” He sounds somber but unruffled, so I look at him again. “She meant everything to me. One day we were talking about marriage, then she was off on her tour for three months, and when she got back, she ended things.”
“What? Why?” Meri squeals, and my back goes rigid.
He taps the bar softly with his thumb. “Let’s just say, if you’re not tough enough in this industry, people can get in your head sometimes. Convince you”—he measures his words—“they know what’s best for you.”
My eyes widen. I can’t believe he’s opening up like this. I quickly fill in the blanks. Someone close to Natalia convinced her René wasn’t right for her. The label? Her family?
“How horrible.” Meri sounds as though she’s on the verge of tears.
“Yeah, it was a really hard time. But we’re in a good place now.”
“I knew it, I just knew it. I knew you wouldn’t cheat. I never doubted you.”
“Thanks. I’m lucky to have a fan like you.” He glances at me but I have trouble maintaining eye contact, seeing as I always doubted him.
“All right, Meri. I think we’ve taken enough of René’s time.” I reach for the phone and he waves goodbye to Meri before handing it back to me. “I’ll call you later, okay?” I tell her.
“Okay, bye. Call me back. Have a great rest of your day,” she rattles off quickly, trying to soak up every last moment of being on the line with René.
I hang up and slip the phone into my bag. “She’s a really big fan. Thanks for that.”
“Yeah, I remember you said that on the beach.” He digs behind the bar for something.
“Why haven’t you ever—” I try to bring up what he’s just revealed about Natalia, but he speaks at the same time.
“What can I make for you?” He picks up a lime from a fruit basket.
A popular bachata song comes on the speakers outside, sending its relaxing vacation vibes into the bar. René’s here offering me a drink and I can tell he’s enjoying playing the part of bartender in this beautiful room. I scan the row of alcohol on the shelf behind him. There are old bottles with handwritten labels and brands of rum I’ve never heard of.
“I had rum at lunch so I should probably stick to the same. To be safe.”
“You went with James?”
I keep my gaze aimed at the bottles on the wall. “Yeah.” I try not to read too much into his question.
“He’s your ex, isn’t he? The one you were indifferent about?”
My mouth drops with a scoff. I nod feebly, wishing I hadn’t told him about that.
“I figured. I was getting a vibe.” He cuts the lime, squeezes a slice into one of the glasses, and stirs the drink vigorously with a long metal spoon.
“He’s a good guy.” I feel the need to defend him. “But we’re just friends now,” I say lightly, wanting to be done with the topic. “What are you having?” It slips out somewhat coyly.
“Here, you can try it.” He places a napkin down in front of me with a flourish and then places his drink on it.
I smile and take a sip. “That’s”—my face cinches up—“tart.”
“You don’t like passion fruit?”
“No, no, I do. I just wasn’t expecting something sour.”
“You want something sweet instead? I can make anything.” He stretches his arms over his head and folds his hands behind his neck all cocky.
I scan my memory for a complicated cocktail. As he waits for my order, he places his hands on the bar and leans over, closer to me. His scent is warm and musky, like spicy wood.
“Damn, you’re really concentrating. Don’t hurt yourself.”
I can’t help but smile. “Shh, I’m trying to think of something really difficult.” My voice has gone hushed, I don’t know what’s come over me, but that was also flirtatious. Something in his eyes tells me he’s noticed. And in his body, too. Like every part of him has blinked in surprise. “Maybe something with egg yolk and bourbon.” I tap a finger on my lips. “Or one of those drinks that requires a burned twig of rosemary.”
“Burned twig—” he starts to repeat, then interrupts himself. “You have a nice smile,” he says, impressed. “It’s like… a square.”
“A square?” I scoff. “How is that nice?”
“It’s just the shape your mouth makes when you smile.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s anatomically impossible.”
“It’s nice. It’s different. Different is good, Dani.”
I try, but can’t stop smiling, so I cover my mouth. “Oh, congratulations.” I rest my elbows on the bar. “I heard about the new song.” I may have messed up royally by missing it, but I am genuinely happy for him.
“Thank you. Está buenísma ,” he gushes, rubbing his face.
The disappointment over last night’s fiasco feels raw again. I had the chance to film the creation of his new song and I missed it.
“That’s awesome. I’m sorry we missed it.” I can’t believe he’s gotten a song down that he’s happy with. “And not just for work purposes,” I add, meaning it. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t planning any collaborations on this album. But”—he moves some of the glassware around on the bar—“it worked out.” Something seems off about him all of a sudden.
“What’s this new song about?”
“You know, it’s a… it’s a party track.” Now he’s the one unable to maintain eye contact.
Of course he doesn’t want to share any details with me. He knows I’m not a fan of reggaeton. Or of him . I feel guilty all of a sudden. For believing the worst when it came to his breakup with Natalia and for not respecting the guy’s music. Especially when my feelings have changed. I’m not ready to run out and buy every reggaeton album, but I do admire René’s talents and how hard he works on his music.
“I’m really happy for you,” I respond. “So, what’s on the docket today? Do you plan to work on it some more? It would be great to get something on camera.” It feels a little strange and uncomfortable asking him directly, but I’m desperate.
“Not really, sorry. I want to move on today.” He turns and pulls a pear-shaped bottle from the top shelf. “I think you’d like this.” He pours me a shot.
“Thanks.” I bring the glass to my lips, and I’m hit with the strong scent of rum. I take a careful sip, but the warm liquid goes down smooth. “That is really good.”
He puckers his lips proudly, and gets back to squeezing lime into each of the drinks on the tray.
“So, Natalia”—I gather the courage to press him—“why didn’t you set the record straight? Why let people believe you cheated?”
“Why?” he repeats. “Same reason I don’t do interviews. They take one look at me and make their judgments, and in the end it doesn’t matter what I say. Do you really think they’d believe me?”
He has a point. “Okay, but why not have Natalia deny those allegations for you?”
“That’s… a longer story.” His eyes dart around the room and land on the window. “Speaking of coming clean, sorry if I blew your cover. I assumed your sister knew you got hurt on the waterfall.”
“It’s okay. No, I hadn’t told her.”
He takes a long sip of his drink. “Why not?”
I let out a deep breath. “I didn’t want her or my mom to worry. I don’t normally do that kind of stuff.”
“And why is that?” I glance at the pretty drinks he’s prepared, all ready to go on the tray. While René leans comfortably over the bar, with no intention of delivering them anytime soon.
“I guess I always try to be a good role model and wouldn’t want Meri to take risks like that. I don’t know”—a new realization sinking in—“probably also because I can’t afford to take risks like that.” Admitting this makes the bar feel stuffier. There isn’t any room in my life for injuries. Or much of anything other than work. “I guess I had a lot of responsibilities when our dad died. I imagine it’s like when you have kids. New parents are probably less likely to go parachuting,” I declare, as though this were a well-known statistic.
I can’t remember the last time I had more than one drink or stayed out too late. At first, I felt I didn’t have a choice. Mom was a wreck. If I didn’t go straight home after work, who would be there for Meri if she needed help with her homework? Or get her to school on time in the morning? Now, it’s habit, I guess. Making sure I’m there to help everyone’s week run smoothly.
“I see.” He puckers his lips slightly and flashes me a disappointed look. As though he were just about to offer we go skydiving. “I think you’re too tough on yourself. Your sister seems all grown up now.”
The muscles in my back loosen. I open my mouth to say something just as his phone pings with a text.
“Actually, Daniela,” he starts casually as he responds to the text.
“Dani,” I correct dryly.
“Dani,” he repeats with a grin, and slips his phone into his pocket, “I need to go home soon. Why don’t you guys come? If you think it’d be good for the making-of.”
“Home, home?”
“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle.
“Yes, that would be incredible.” Capturing footage of René going back to his hometown almost makes up for the missed recording last night. Between the rum and this invitation, I feel my first sense of relief in days. “Yes. Please, and thank you,” I list off.
“Well, you checked it all off there.” René puts his hands on his hips.
“I’m anything if not thorough.”
He raises an eyebrow and smiles warmly. He leans over the bar, pressing more of his weight on the counter. I seem fine, but I can feel sweat forming on the palms of my hands.
“On the way back, we can hit one of the lyrics in your dad’s song.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry about that. I’ll do it on my own time. I don’t want to waste yours.”
“It’s not a problem.” The bedroom eyes have woken up behind his glasses.
“Great, thanks.” I feel winded and like I’m struggling to keep up.
His phone pings again with a text and he sighs. “I’ll see you in the studio.” He picks up the tray of drinks and heads out.
“Yeah, see you,” I respond, a little delayed. And then I just sit there after he’s gone, trying to catch my breath.