Plain Return (The Plain Fame Series Book 4) (18 page)

“Go sit on the chair there.” He pointed toward the back of the stage, near where she needed to climb up to the platform in another hour. “Dali will be right over.”

“She’s with Isadora,” Amanda said.

“Just go, Amanda!” The way his voice boomed at her, and the way he shouted without looking at her, caused Amanda to question him no further. She bit her lower lip and hurried in the direction he had pointed. But when she paused to glance over her shoulder, she saw him holding Stedman by the shirt, their faces just inches apart. Whatever Alejandro was saying, Stedman wasn’t arguing, and when Alejandro released him, Stedman merely backed away and disappeared.

Alejandro brushed off the front of his shirt and took a deep breath, not caring that more than a few people had witnessed the scene.

“Come on, Amanda,” someone said, taking hold of her elbow. She turned to see who it was. Geoffrey. He guided her to the back of the stage and motioned for someone to get her some water while she sat down. “Just stay here for now,” he instructed as he handed the water bottle to her.

The lights dimmed as the live music started. She didn’t need to see what was happening to know that when Alejandro appeared, the spotlight would blast onto his figure as he stood in the center of the stage, his hands crossed in front of his waist and his head bent down.

By now, she knew the entire performance. Rather than watch, Amanda leaned her head back and shut her eyes, trying to figure out where the day had gone wrong.

“Hey.”

Geoffrey was watching her.

“Everyone has an off day,” he said, and she wondered if he had read her mind.

“Off week,” she sighed but said no more. She crossed her legs and stared off to the side, not wanting to talk to anyone who might have witnessed the scene between Alejandro and Stedman.

And that was when something caught her eye.

Normally, she didn’t pay any attention to magazines, especially the tabloids. But this one’s title was in English, and given that they had been in South America for three weeks, she hadn’t seen much English as of late. She leaned over and picked up the tabloid from the top of a black crate. Obviously, someone from the Viper team had been reading it and tossed it aside. Now it was in her hands, and she couldn’t help taking in the image on the folded back page.

It was her.

Only it wasn’t truthfully her.

“What is this?” She wasn’t speaking to anyone around her, merely thinking aloud. When Geoffrey glanced up, Amanda turned her back to him so that he couldn’t see what she was staring at. With her mouth hanging open and her breath rising and falling rapidly, she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

The page showed two images of her. Inside the larger image there was a small inset photo of her carrying Isadora on her hip in the gardens of the rented Buenos Aires house. The clarity of the photo indicated that whoever had taken the picture had done so from nearby, not by using a long telephoto lens. While that concerned Amanda, it was the larger photo that triggered in her a more emotionally charged response. It was a photo of her with Alejandro. He wore a suit, and she wore the same outfit she had been wearing during the pretour photo shoot, the one at which she had felt tired and irritated about the busy schedule that Dali had shown her.

Amanda remembered that day well. She had wanted to go home after seeing the schedule, a schedule that had not included any time for her to spend with Alejandro. Within a few minutes, he had walked into the room and headed directly toward her. In hindsight, she realized that there had not been any fuss from the others regarding Alejandro’s unexpected appearance. In fact, she had seemed to be the only one amazed to see him there.

The photograph showed Alejandro, his forehead pressed against hers as he held her by the waist. Her eyes were shut, and the expression on her face did not show her true emotions. Although she had felt joy when he appeared and surprised her that day, in the photo she looked crestfallen. Whether due to the timing of the photograph or the angle at which the photographer had taken it, the photo seemed to portray something very different from what had occurred.

Even worse, the background of the photo was not the white backdrop that had been behind her at the photo shoot. No, this photograph made it look as though they were standing in her dressing room backstage at the Rio arena.

The headline read “Viper Breaks News of Secret Love Child to Amanda.”

What her eyes saw, her brain could not comprehend. How was it possible that such a photograph existed, for certainly such a thing had never happened?

Stunned, she began to read the article. With each sentence, her heart began to pound faster and a rage built up, for everything that she read was a lie. How was it possible that a magazine could print an article that was made up one hundred percent of fabricated deceptions?

“Geoffrey!”

She spun around just as he looked at her, and then jumped to her feet.

“What is this about?” she demanded, holding out the magazine for him to take.

His eyes barely skimmed the article, and she knew at once that it was not the first time he had seen it. And if Geoffrey had already read it, certainly Alejandro had, too.

“It’s a tabloid, Amanda,” he said calmly as he handed it back to her.

“It’s all lies,” she retorted. “Alejandro didn’t tell me about it in the dressing room. Besides, who would have access to this information?” She glanced down at the magazine. “To this photo?” she asked, specifically pointing to the one of her holding Isadora. “And the larger photo is fake! Why, this whole article is fake!” In disgust, she flung the magazine to the ground. “Why the magazines find any of this fascinating is beyond me,” she mumbled. She couldn’t sit anymore; her nerves made her jumpy and her thoughts were like flames licking away at her self-control. Standing up, she smoothed down the front of the dress, the strands of red crystal beads and sequins glistening under the lights behind the set.

“They just print what people buy, Amanda.”

She did not like arguing with anyone; it made her feel empty inside as if part of her deflated and the emptiness filled her with negative energy. “Well, I’d like to know where they got that photo! It wasn’t even taken here, Geoffrey. It was taken in Miami and . . . fixed or whatever it is they do to photos!” She began to pace, trying to shake off feelings of hurt and anger. “How would they have gotten that photo?”

He remained silent and glanced down at his watch.

“And that other photo? The one of Isadora and me? Who took that?” She stopped pacing and put her hand on her hip, facing Geoffrey. “That was at the country house, Geoffrey. The media didn’t have access to the property. I want to know who took it! And why they sold it to these horrible magazine people!”

“Amanda . . .”

“They must be held accountable for spreading stolen photos and hateful lies.”

He reached to grab her arm, and she abruptly stopped walking. “Don’t pursue that, Amanda. You won’t like what you find out.”

“What are you saying?” She pulled her arm free and shifted away from him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Just then, a stagehand ran over to Geoffrey and interrupted them, frustrating her further. Geoffrey gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ll be right there,” he said to the man. Turning back to Amanda, he apologized for having to leave her. “Security will help you get up to the top of the stairs, Amanda. I have to go attend to a different matter. Forgive me.” Without waiting for a response, he hurried in the direction in which the other man had disappeared.

As the concert continued and the audience responded to Viper, Amanda returned to the chair and sat in it, her eyes roaming over the partially open magazine on the floor. Curiosity got the best of her, and she leaned over to retrieve it again. She took more time to read the article and even flipped the page. Then she caught her breath. There was a photo of Alejandro surrounded by beautiful women; in it, he was looking at one of them with deep emotion in his eyes. The article implied that he had known about the child and that he had married Amanda so that she would tend to the illegitimate daughter while he partied with socialites in Rio.

Have faith, she told herself and shut her eyes to pray:

Dear Lord, please give me your strength to withhold judgment and provide understanding to my husband during these trying days. Please place your hand upon his head and bless my husband with your love and wisdom. We are both in need of your guidance to navigate these unknown waters. Amen.

Almost thirty minutes passed before she heard the music that indicated she should start preparing for her ascent up the stairs. Only one security guard came over to assist her, and since he was Argentinean and spoke no English, Amanda didn’t try to engage him in a conversation.

Shake it off,
she told herself. Her anger and frustration needed to be compartmentalized, pushed away while she was in front of the fans. After all, they had paid to see a music concert, not to witness a meltdown by Viper’s wife.

Taking deep breaths, she waited until the song ended and the lights flashed before the arena was covered in darkness. Only then did she slip through the curtain and stand at the top of the stairs, waiting to descend.

The bright spotlights moved to highlight where she stood, and Amanda lifted her arm in the air in response to the wild cheers from the audience. This time, however, she didn’t exaggerate her steps nor did she try to promote playfulness with Alejandro when he met her at the bottom of the staircase.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it, just enough to catch her attention. Their eyes met, and she saw a reflection of herself in him. She realized that they both felt frustrations and irritations: Alejandro with the unexpected way Isadora had popped into their lives, unintentionally separating them. Amanda knew that her eyes told a similar story, though in her case, she wanted to be home, getting Isadora situated. Even though the little girl was genetically another woman’s child, Amanda felt a strong attachment to her. She hesitated to call it love, although she suspected that she was indeed falling in love with Isadora.

Alejandro must have been surprised to see his own dark, moody emotions echoing back at him. Certainly, it was not something that he was used to seeing.

He lifted his arm and started dancing with her. But this time, the movements that were usually playful and light were danced with much more force and drama. At first Amanda stumbled, not expecting the deviation in tempo to his steps. But it only took her a few seconds to catch on that it was his emotions that were driving the dance, instead of the opposite. She followed his lead and when she turned from him, she walked down the stage, waiting for him to come after her and pull her back into his arms. He spun her around, and she looked away when she’d finished the turn, instead of gazing up at him. The next time he spun her, he took the initiative to push her away. Angrily, she stomped her foot and glared at him. When he came toward her for the end of the song, she placed her hand on his chest and pushed him away before removing herself from the stage.

The crowd applauded and cheered, thinking the angry dance moves were choreographed.

Despite the crowd chanting her name, Amanda stormed to her dressing room and locked the door behind her. Only when she was ensured of privacy did she release her emotions, allowing herself to cry, her hands covering her face. If she had suspected it before, she now knew that she was not strong enough to carry both of them. Living under the microscope of public scrutiny and media approval was harder than she had imagined. She wished she was secure enough in who she was as a person and as his wife to adapt to Alejandro’s constant emotional needs, which conflicted so sharply with the melodramatic desires of Viper.

Chapter Sixteen

“We need to talk,” Amanda said.

Five o’clock in the morning. That was the time on the clock when the door to their hotel suite opened and Alejandro entered. He was dressed in white slacks and a black shirt, both wrinkled and reeking of alcohol and smoke. His sunglasses dangled from the front of his shirt and his hair hung over the front of his forehead, casting a shadow over the left side of his face.

Amanda stood in the center of the room, dressed in a navy linen skirt and a light, airy, white-and-navy pin-striped shirt. She was ready for the day—and for the confrontation with Alejandro that she knew lay ahead of her.

When he hadn’t shown up at the hotel after the show, she’d known that he wouldn’t return until close to dawn. With Enrique Lopez staying in the same hotel and making guest appearances during Viper’s concerts, Amanda hadn’t needed to ask where Alejandro had been. She spent the better part of three hours trying to sleep, but couldn’t do so. She tossed and turned, her mind reeling with thoughts about what she knew needed to be done. Finally, at four o’clock, she had arisen from the bed and showered, then had gotten dressed and prepared herself for what she knew would be a long morning.

Now, Alejandro stood before her, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep as well as too much time spent with Enrique.
“Ay,
Amanda
,”
he said. “You know I was out with Enrique.”

She nodded. “
Ja
,
ja
I do.”

He started to unbutton his shirt. “Then can we discuss this later? I need to sleep a few hours.” He walked toward the bedroom door.

“I’m leaving,” she said as he walked past her. She turned and stared at his back. Her heart felt as if it were racing and her skin tingled, each nerve on fire. “Did you hear me, Alejandro? I’m leaving Buenos Aires.”

“Excuse me?” His hand was on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it. He remained in that position, waiting for her to repeat herself. When she didn’t, he dropped his hand and turned to face her. “What is this about? My firing Stedman?”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You fired Stedman?” This news only made matters worse. After all of those weeks fighting with Stedman during their practices in Miami, she had actually begun to appreciate him and his quirky ways. “What on earth for, Alejandro?”

“You were right about him,” he said casually.

“Oh, Alejandro,” she said, her voice sad. She knew what had happened and blamed only herself. Hadn’t Dali tried to warn her? “Tell me that you didn’t fire him because of me. That’s not fair.”

He thrust his hands into his front pockets and lifted his chin in defiance. “He was becoming too close to one of my investments,” he replied.

“‘Investments’?”

Remaining defiant, he stood there and stared at her without speaking.

“I’ve told you before that I’m not one of your possessions, Alejandro. And we have a responsibility to that little girl sleeping in the other room. This is not a life for her, and it’s certainly putting a strain on us.” She wanted him to say something . . . anything. But he remained silent. “I’m going home, Alejandro, with Isadora.”

The cold expression on his face frightened her. He looked at her, emotionless, as if he’d barely heard a word that she said.

“Don’t you want to say something, Alejandro?”

“You are not leaving.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes I am. And I’m taking Isadora. She needs stability and routine.” Pursing her lips, she lifted her hand and placed it over her own chest. “I need stability and routine. Maybe Europe will be different, but I do not care for these South American women.”

He lifted his eyebrow at her words.

“I need to go home. This pace that you keep . . .” She shook her head. “It’s insane, Alejandro, how you just keep going and going. I can’t keep up with you. I’m turning into a person that I don’t care for. I want to go home and get away from these people with their cameras and lies and skimpy outfits and immoral desires.”

She thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, which added to her irritation.

“Besides,” she added, “my brand image is not this world. I’m your Amish farm girl,
ja
? Your Amish farm girl cannot adapt to this new world of touring with Viper.” She glanced at the open magazine on the table. She had brought it back to the hotel with her and left it open for him to see. “My leaving will just feed the beast, anyway. The media will love to write more trash and lies about what my leaving signifies, and, of course, the fans will devour that news and Viper’s image will soar.”

“Amanda . . .”

She pointed to the magazine. “How did they get that photo, Alejandro? Both photos!”

He held his hands up in front of himself as if to ward off an attack. “We had to break the story, Amanda.”

“We?” Her eyes traveled to the magazine. She felt drawn toward it and crossed the room, her fingers reaching out to touch the inset box with the photo of her carrying Isadora. Tracing the image, she stared at it as she realized what Alejandro had just admitted to her. “You authorized someone to release this photo?”

“It was a controlled burn, Amanda.”

Controlled burn? She knew what that meant, but she didn’t really feel as if their private lives needed to be aired in such a manner.

“Controlled,
ja
?” She pointed to the other photo. “What’s the story behind this one, then? I remember when this photo was taken. And I can assure you that it was not last weekend and not in my dressing room.”

“Ay,
Amanda
,”
he said. “It’s just a story.”

“It’s a lie.”

He shrugged, clearly not concerned with the article. “A story to feed the curious.”

She shoved the magazine away from her. “Our lives are more than just a story, Alejandro. We need to live them in reality, not in their fantasy.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled something in Spanish.

“Don’t do that.”

“Amanda, this is our lives,” he snapped back at her. “Our reality
is
their fantasy. When are you going to realize that?”

She didn’t agree. Living her life for the media, allowing them to take such liberties with her privacy, and now learning that her own husband had permitted his inner circle to leak private photos? “And this is how you want to raise your daughter?”

“I didn’t
want
to raise my daughter!” he shouted. “If I had, don’t you think I would have been involved from the beginning?”

She gasped at his words. Covering her mouth with her hand, she took a step backward. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

“Ay,
Amanda
.”
He shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

But she didn’t. Did he feel nothing for Isadora, despite having accepted responsibility for her? Didn’t he see how special she was? His words stung, and she knew in that moment that she had made the right decision.

“I don’t know what you mean anymore,” she said.

“You are just upset, Amanda,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “Emotional over not being pregnant.”

“That’s not it, Alejandro,” she said, although she wasn’t certain that there wasn’t a glimmer of truth to what he said. She did feel emotional and worried about, once again, not being pregnant. That was not the root of the problem, however.

“You told me earlier, no?” He stared at her with the same void expression. “But you have your
hija
now. You should be happy, not upset.”

The coldness with which he spoke hurt more than his words did. Did he actually presume that Isadora’s presence eliminated her desire to have a child with him? While she was learning to love Isadora, that didn’t mean that she no longer wanted a baby.

“You don’t mean that,” she said slowly, trying to swallow her pain. “Children are not interchangeable. And loving one does not mean you cannot love another.”

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “
Sí
,
sí
, I know. That’s not what I meant. Look, it’s late . . .”

“Or early,” she said, interrupting him.

“I need to sleep, Amanda. Come to bed,” he said. “You will feel better later.”

But she knew that she wouldn’t. “What I do know is that taking her home is the right thing to do. She needs to be surrounded by love, not resentment.”

He stepped toward her and reached out to touch her arm. “Don’t be like that, Princesa.”

But she moved away from him.

“If she has you,” he said, “she has love.”

Amanda felt a tightness in her throat. She told herself that he didn’t know what he was saying, that his words were not expressing what he truly wanted to communicate. For if he did, he would not insinuate that her love was enough for Isadora. After all, wasn’t it Alejandro who had announced to the world on New Year’s Eve that he wanted to start a family? Wasn’t it Alejandro who had declared his love for her over and over again? What would happen if they did have a baby? Would he be capable of loving the child or would he turn his back on it, too? Was he only capable of loving one person with all of his heart?

“Finish the tour, Alejandro,” she said softly. “Focus on the tour now, and we can focus on us afterward.”

His eyes narrowed. “You are not leaving,” he said one more time.

“Don’t do this to me,” she said, tears beginning to well up. “Please, Alejandro. I just can’t . . .”

“Neither can I.” He closed the space between them. “I need you with me. You know that.” Despite her protests, he wrapped his arms around her. “I can’t do this without knowing you are here . . . with me.”

She lost the fight to hold back her tears. A sob escaped her throat, and she clung to him. She just felt so tired. Her body ached from the reality of Alejandro’s travel schedule, and her heart ached from the fantasy of Viper’s busy life. Now that there was also the added responsibility of Isadora, she had a choice to make. She had wondered before about the reasons behind God’s plans for her, but she at least knew what he wanted her to do now. Everything in the past year . . . everything since Aaron’s death . . . had led up to this moment. A responsibility and a choice.

“Just two weeks,” she whispered, her tears staining his shirt. “We’ve survived much worse, Alejandro.”

Later that afternoon, after the car had arrived to take her and Isadora to the airport, Alejandro stood in the center of the suite and watched her walk toward the door.

They had slept for five hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, his gentle breath warming her shoulder and neck. When she’d awakened at ten o’clock, she had carefully slipped from underneath his arm and hurried to the bathroom to change. She hadn’t wanted to wake him; he needed more sleep. With it being Saturday, he had fewer obligations before the show, and her and Isadora’s flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until four in the afternoon.

When he had awoken and she was not beside him in bed but sitting with Isadora and reading an English picture book, Alejandro’s dark mood had returned. No amount of consolation on Amanda’s part would appease him.

Now that it was the time for her to depart, he simply stood there, his jaw tense and his eyes sharp. His displeasure with her decision was apparent. He had said little since he had awakened, and she could see that he was trying to maintain his temper.

Two security guards had already taken her luggage downstairs, and another stood outside of the door to escort them down to the lobby. With the tickets having already been booked and the car outside waiting, there was nothing more for anyone to do but say good-bye.

Without being asked, Dali reached out toward Isadora. During the time they’d spent at the country estate outside of Pinamar, Isadora had come to trust that going somewhere with Dali did not mean that Amanda would not return. So when Dali said, “Come, Isadora,” and took the little girl’s hand, she willingly followed her. Together, they walked out the door. “We’ll meet you in the car,” Dali said over her shoulder before the door shut.

Amanda waited until she heard the click of the door handle. She needed this moment with Alejandro, a chance for one final explanation. The last thing she wanted was for them to part on such terms. Despite everything—the photos, the women, his feelings about his daughter—she loved him. And she knew that their wounds would eventually heal. They just needed time to adapt as a family. Even more important: he needed time to get to know his daughter outside of this fantasy world, immersing himself in the only reality he needed: his family.

But he simply stood there, his legs slightly apart and his hands held before his waist. It was a cold stance, one that he usually used at the beginning of his sets. But he wasn’t singing and she wasn’t his fan, at least not today.

“You could at least say good-bye to us,” she finally said.

He lifted an eyebrow and stared at her, his dark hair casting a shadow across his forehead.

“It’s two weeks, Alejandro.”

Oh, she knew that she sounded stronger than she felt. Being separated again wasn’t something she wanted to happen. However, she didn’t see any other solution to the situation. He still had tour dates in Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay ahead, followed by the last two concerts in Mexico. While Alejandro claimed that he needed her by his side, she knew that Isadora needed her more. He would be busy almost every day with appointments, recordings, and concerts. Dragging Isadora to all of these different events was not responsible, she reminded herself as she stood there, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

But he remained mute.

“You asked me to take on this responsibility,” Amanda said calmly.

“I wanted to hire a nanny.”

Amanda took a deep breath. Arguing with him frustrated her. “A five-year-old needs a home, a place to run and play. She needs a place where she can learn routine and responsibility.” She walked toward Alejandro and placed her hand over his chest, pressing it against his heart. “She needs to trust love, Alejandro. That’s a lesson we all must learn. I trust our love enough to do this. You need to trust our love enough to let me.”