Chapter 36
“A RE YOU ALL RIGHT IN THERE?” T HANKFULLY, THE VOICE belongs to James.
“Yeah.” I’m trying my best not to move but an especially pointy part of a beach chair is digging into my shoulder blade. “I was just wrapping up a call.” I watch for his shadow beneath the door to walk away, but it doesn’t. “Everything okay?” I sound concerned, like he’s the one being weird.
“Yeah, they’re just going to take a break.”
“Cool! I’ll be right out.”
A few minutes later, when I open the door, James isn’t there. Across the hall, in the kitchen, I see the fridge door is open.
“So, how’s it going in there today?” I ask all casually and like I wasn’t just hiding out in the closet.
“Not too bad.” The deep, raspy voice makes my lungs deflate. The fridge door shuts, and René is standing there holding a stick of butter. Behind him, the dinner buffet has been cleared and the kitchen smells like strong coffee.
I decide to just run with it, like this is exactly how I meant to approach him. “Well, that’s good to hear.”
He sets the butter down, empties still-hot coffee grounds into a bucket near the sink, and repacks the espresso machine. For what feels like an eternity, I stand there not knowing what to do. He’s wearing worn-in jeans and a Bruce Lee T-shirt with black leather sandals. It’s probably the sexiest I’ve seen him. Keep your head in the game. Get him to agree to the interview. Now. Just do it.
“ ?Cafecito? ” He raises an espresso cup in my direction.
“Sure, thanks.” I drag one of the stools so it’s directly across from him and take a seat at the counter.
“Sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
“Butter?”
“Butter?” I repeat with a laugh.
“You don’t like café con mantequilla ?”
“No,” I say with a snort. “Well, actually, I do love dunking buttered toast in my coffee and then drinking up all that buttery drizzled residue the toast leaves behind. So, I guess this would save a step.”
René chuckles faintly. It’s enough to make my whole body relax. “Exactly. I prefer to cut to the chase.” Taking his time, he scoops up a spoonful of butter and dunks it in my coffee a few times, so it softens. “My hands are clean,” he declares, then pushes the butter off the spoon with his finger until it slips into the coffee.
“I believe you,” I say, all breathy.
He huffs at this, keeping his eyes down. And I don’t know how to respond. So I focus instead as he does the same thing to his own coffee. The melted butter, the finger, the hot steam rising from the espresso.
I try my coffee, letting the creamy butter on top slip in with the first sip and then melt in my mouth. “Wow, I might never have toast again.”
He fights back a grin. “Cuts out the middleman.” He takes a slow sip, his eyes on mine.
He declines my offer to help and washes everything up meticulously. I discover then and there that it’s possible to be turned on by watching a man wipe down a counter properly.
When he’s done, he leans against the counter. “I was looking for you earlier.”
“You were?” That’s odd, because I’ve definitely been around and not hiding in a closet.
“I need your help with something. I have an idea for the album I think would be great for the behind-the-scenes.”
“Really? You got it. What do you need from us?”
“No cameras. Just you.”
I sigh dramatically. “How would that be good for the making-of?” I can feel things are better between us again.
“Take pictures,” he declares, like it’s the obvious solution.
“Fine.” I scoff. “I guess I can do that.”
“Great.”
“So, what is it? What’s the idea?”
“Ah, you’re just going to have to trust me. Do you think you can do that?” He’s trying to make light of what I said the other night, but I can’t tell if he’s really over it.
I want to tread lightly. I can’t acknowledge our conversation from the other night. I don’t want to talk about the song he wrote. What I need to do now is move past it. And get him to agree to the final interview once and for all so I can finish this job.
Two days later, I’m standing in the middle of the parking lot, on the only small island of dry gravel. The rest of the front lawn is soggy with mud after all the rain from the past few days.
The guard at the gate was under strict instructions and said I absolutely had to wait here. Whatever René has planned, it’s a welcome distraction. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my conversation with Meri. How long has she been considering quitting her nursing school path? Why didn’t she felt comfortable telling me sooner? And why hadn’t Mom told me about the guy she’d met? I can’t shake this feeling that my absence has freed them somehow. Like as soon as I’m gone, everybody does what they really want.
“Ready?” René calls out from the front steps, a broad grin on his face. The sight of him looking so cheery and excited to spend time together has a multitude of effects on me. It’s like being shot with a soothing tranquilizer that somehow also elevates my heartbeat.
“I’m not sure,” I yell back, curious as to what he’s up to. He motions for me to follow him as he walks around the main building. I don’t know why he doesn’t want James to come. The last two days René’s been nothing but accommodating. Not only did he let us properly capture the recording of a new song, but we filmed him making his buttered coffee, getting his hair freshly buzzed by a barber friend on his patio, and having dinner with Camila and Santiago.
As I turn the corner and onto a small field on this side of the property, my feet come to a halt. Two large ATVs are being unloaded off a flatbed truck by a woman in a black leather jacket and matching cap. René is next to the truck, talking to the main studio tech.
“What’s all this?” I ask when I’m close enough.
“Cool, huh? We need these to get where we’re going.”
“Uh… yeah.” I check out the ATVs. They’re very intimidating. They have bright yellow wheels, and a see-through shell exposing their motors and technology like an exoskeleton. They are so souped up, they’re like giant mechanical bees.
The truck makes a loud rattling sound and I jump. Thankfully, René’s missed my reaction. He’s busy looking through the contents of a large backpack the tech has just handed him.
The leather-clad woman hits a switch that raises the flatbed back up, now free of ATVs. This all seems a bit extreme. I have no idea where we’re going. Plus, the sun is setting. Am I expected to drive that thing back here in the dark?
“Hey, do you want me to put that in the storage trunk?” René asks, motioning to James’s camera hanging on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry but I would need, like, a two-hour lesson before I can take that thing on the road. Maybe three.”
He smiles and my shoulders soften. “I think you just need to—”
“If you say, ‘Let go,’ I’m going to get really upset.”
He opens his mouth to speak.
“Don’t say it. If you really want me to get on that thing, you’re going to need to say something else.” Even with my nerves frayed, I can feel a charged flirty energy between us.
“Let.”
“Don’t say it.”
“Go,” he whispers.
I exhale loudly and roll my eyes.
“I’m sorry.” He gives my arm a little squeeze. “And I’m just kidding. Actually, you’re going to need to hold on tight.”
He’s wearing baggy shorts and a black shirt with the faintest of florals. Only the bottom button is buttoned, so my eyes wander down his chest. The interview. “I’ll do it, if you promise to give us a proper interview.”
“Right.”
“We’re running out of time, and I really want to do it while we’re here, while it’s all still fresh.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he says, and I feel my chest drop with relief. “Can it wait until the end?”
“That would be ideal, actually. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be too busy. That way we can cover everything. One big interview,” I say to summarize.
“Fine. Yeah, we’ll get it done.” It’s as though he’s just confirmed a dental appointment.
The leather-clad woman introduces herself as Vega and hands me a helmet. She walks me through the basics, spitting out words like “throttle,” “clutch,” and “kill switch.” She tucks James’s camera into the storage compartment, and then helps me mount the thing like a horse.
“Can you put this away too?” I pull off my white linen blazer and convince myself my black silk tank and dark jeans I’m wearing can handle a little mud. I feel René watching me as I take off my ponytail and slip on the helmet.
“I’ll go ahead and turn the headlights on for you,” Vega says. “And when you speed up, make sure you lean forward so you don’t flip back.”
I nod, my lips in a tight smile. With her not so reassuring final words in my ear, I let my whole body settle into the seat.