Chapter 42
A WEEK LATER, I CLIMB THE METAL SPIRAL STAIRCASE FEELING numb and wobbly. It was Camila’s idea we use René’s rooftop for the interview. There’s a Zen-looking garden with oversize fanned palms, plush rattan furniture, and a clear view of Culebrita Island.
“What do you think?” James asks, stepping away from the camera.
We’ve set up the interview beneath a pergola wrapped in climbing plants.
“Yeah, Dani, how do I look?” Camila beams. James asked her to sit in the interview chair so he could adjust the lighting.
I take a seat and look at the monitor. It’s absolutely perfect. Camila’s glowing under the warm lights and series of sun reflectors James has set up, Culebrita Island framed on her right.
“Beautiful.”
Camila’s been so much happier this past week. Things between her and René seem to have smoothed over, though they haven’t spent as much time together. She and Santiago are now open about their relationship. They spent their afternoons in the pool, while René and ángel took the boat out. ángel flew in a few days ago to help facilitate the checkout.
René and I have barely spoken. He’s been busy fine-tuning all the songs and recording a new one I love. A genre-blending sexy jam that combines reggae with salsa.
“We’re all set.” James is in a better mood, too. He and I have slipped comfortably back to a good place and we’ve even gone jogging together a few mornings. It seems getting things off his chest helped. Everyone around me seems better off after unloading their feelings. But not me. Anything I’ve unpacked while I’ve been here feels stuffed back in again. I’m like one of those jack-in-the-box dolls. All wound up and ready to pop.
I grab the clipboard out of my bag and take a deep breath. René will be here any minute.
I need to be creative. I need to be persuasive. This interview needs to wrap everything we’ve filmed over the past month with a tidy bow. I know the label will see this as the ultimate test. For him and for me. If René can’t give his own label a proper interview, how will he handle the endless rounds of press needed to promote the album in the coming year? And how can I keep my job if he won’t open up after I’ve had a month to get him to warm up to me? What will that say about my ability to connect with artists?
I hear the clang of the metal steps. ángel arrives and, after approving the interview look, joins Camila on a bench near the pergola. Does it concern me they’re going to stay for the interview? A little. But having some familiar faces around for René can’t hurt.
When I hear the next set of steps on the metal staircase, I find I’m all out of inspirational quotes. I know I can do this. Well, I have to do this.
René appears on the roof wearing head-to-toe white linen. He’s had a fresh buzz cut and, as always, looks magazine-spread-ready.
“Hold on.” He takes his sunglasses off, and Camila pops over to take them from him. I see the move as a personal favor and sink more comfortably into my chair.
“Well, first, thank you for doing this.” I only mean to sound professional, but it comes out a bit frigid and it hurts treating him like this, like he’s just another recording artist.
He uncrosses his legs, stretches the fabric out, then crosses them again. “It’s what you need, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes,” I stammer. “It’s what the project needs.”
“Right.” He forces a smile.
I smooth down the pages on my clipboard. “Okay, why don’t you tell us how you felt when you first heard you were getting a record deal.”
René looks at the camera and then looks away, as though collecting his thoughts.
“You know what?” I lift the clipboard in the air. “We don’t need these.” I open the bag hanging from my chair and tuck the questions away. “Just keep your eyes on me, and take me through the process of putting together your debut album. As though you were just telling me a story. If you miss anything, I’ll ask you about it at the end.”
“Sure, that’s fine.” Our eyes lock, and we both smile. His acquiescing, mine offering support.
“Two years ago, I took a meeting with a label,” René begins. “Not Ocean,” he clarifies. “The last thing I’m thinking is that it’s for another duet. It can’t be. Those usually don’t require this kind of formal meeting. They had this huge food spread, and I was signing autographs and taking pictures. The president’s daughter was a big fan and she was there with a group of her friends. When we finally got down to business, it turned out all they were offering me was the duet I did with Natalia. Of course I was honored, but it was hard to focus on that.” He pauses. “I thought my life was about to change.”
It’s a relief this approach is working but I’m taken aback by just how well. He’s being so open .
“Since I started out, I’ve been making other people more famous. And I…” René clears his throat. “I don’t know when exactly, but that had stopped being enough.” This isn’t feeling like an interview. It’s as though he’s talking just to me and the camera isn’t even there.
“When Ocean Records bought out the Puerto Rican label I had signed with, I had a hard time trusting them at first. I believed they didn’t care about me or know anything about my music.” He flashes me a grin and I feel my cheeks go hot. “But then they let me come here and do whatever I wanted. It’s been a dream come true. I guess it’s like with any relationship—things can’t be one-sided. You have to trust people have your back and hope they know you’ll have theirs, no matter what happens.” He glances over at Camila and smiles warmly.
For the next two hours, René talks about each song on the album—his inspiration, the music, the desire to make something authentic and new. When he gets to the song about me, I realize I’m holding my breath.
“I meant for it to be a solo album, but there is one duet. The idea was kind of forced on me”—he shoots Camila a playful look—“but it ended up being an important piece of this album. Having Natalia participate on a track”—he pauses—“provided some closure I didn’t know I needed.”
He looks at me, his gaze softened. “I never cheated on her. You asked me”—he squeezes his eyes shut and corrects himself—
“ people have asked me why we didn’t set the record straight. Well, I’ll tell you.” He leans in. “She wanted to defend me back then, but I asked her not to say anything. You see, being dumped simply because she didn’t want to be with me or I wasn’t famous enough didn’t really work for the El Rico brand.” His eyes have gone glossy.
“René, I don’t—” ángel tries to interrupt but René waves him off.
“It’s fine, right? This is the kind of stuff you wanted, right?” There’s hurt in his voice. “You see, early on, I created this seductive, arrogant persona. A weasel. He served me well, and I’ll admit at times I lived up to it. But I’ve outgrown him and I’ve decided this album is going to be called simply René .”
There’s nervous laughter coming from ángel and Camila, but I can’t look away.
“Okay, well”—I let out a breath—“you’ve covered every—”
“Are you sure?” He sounds defeated. “There has to be something more. For example, I’ve never said where ‘El Rico’ comes from. They assume it’s salacious, but ‘Rico’ was my nickname growing up. It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t much of a talker when I was a kid,” he says dryly. “I loved my grandma’s cooking. One day she was feeding me and ‘rico’ was my first word. How’s that? You think you got enough?”
“Yes,” I say firmly.
“Here’s another one,” he continues, ignoring me. “People are always curious about the hidden tattoo on the inside of my lip. It’s not very El Rico either, but…” He lifts his hand to his mouth. “James, you’re going to want to zoom in,” René says, tugging at his lower lip.
“No,” I say.
“It’s fine.” His hand tugs down at his lip.
“Seriously, stop!” I shout, rising from the chair.
I feel a range of conflicting emotions. Relief, because we got everything we needed from the interview. And then some. But there’s also this sticky, uneasy feeling. Why did he do that? Did René have to be so damned obliging? And what could he possibly be thinking by dropping “El Rico”?
I wrap the cord around the video monitor and hand it to James, who immediately unwraps it. I try to break down one of the lights, then remember I don’t know how.
“Are you sure you want to go back?” James sounds worried.
“Yeah, I need to get home. The earlier the better,” I respond coolly.
“You don’t want to enjoy another day here?” He reaches beneath a chair for a power strip. “The flight change was only a hundred bucks. We could go snorkeling.”
“No, thanks.” I take a seat, but then get back up. “But I’m glad you’ll get to enjoy the island.” James watches me carefully as he packs a light into its box.
I walk to the other side of the rooftop and find my cottage just across the garden. This is where René must have been standing the night he saw me in my underwear on the balcony. Instantly, I feel exhausted and my body aches. Like I’m coming down with something. He was telling the truth. The view of the lounger is partially blocked by the railing.
I find James sitting on the ground, taking a break.
I grab a bottle from the cooler and take a seat next to him.
“Cheers.” He holds his water bottle in the air. “You did it.”
“Yeah,” I say half-heartedly. “It was touch-and-go there for a moment, huh?”
“Thanks for bringing me.” He unrolls the sleeves of his shirt. “I hope I was able to get you what you wanted.”
“Yes, you were great.” I feel like we’re no longer talking about work. “Thank you . For everything.”
We sit there watching the sun set, feeling mutually spent. The two of us on this roof, unable to move, feels like we’re wrapping up more than this project.
I rest my head back on the planter. “Um, so, when my dad passed.” James turns to look at me, waiting for me to continue. “I found this home improvement catalog on his nightstand.” I feel my eyes sting. “There were all these pages folded to items he must have wanted. A picnic table, outdoor lights, a screen to hide the trash cans. It took me two years, but I bought every single one of those things.” The last of the sun dips behind a cloud. “I know this sounds strange, but I was glad to have something to focus on.”
James leans over and hugs me. Gently at first, then tighter, and I let the air leave my body.
“Thanks for sharing that.” He squeezes me tighter. “Best gift you’ve ever given me.”
“Really? Better than the coffee bean cuff links?”
“The ones that looked like poop emojis?”
I nod.
“Yeah. Even better than those.”