Plain Fame (20 page)

Elias took a deep breath and stared at his daughter, clearly feeling the pain that she felt. “Bishop, I will have to ask you to give us some time to consider what you have requested,” he said. “It is time and prayer that will help us understand and interpret the will of God in this matter.”

The bishop grabbed his hat from the table. His hands were large and chapped, red from having worked in the fields for so many years. The wrinkles and dryness spoke of decades of hard labor and, clearly, a lack of understanding when it came to issues of Englische law. “God has already spoken in this matter,” he said sternly.
“Be ye of the world, be ye for the world,”
he quoted. Putting his hat back on his head, he glared at Elias. “I would think you would know the difference, Elias!” And with that, the bishop stormed out of the kitchen, letting the side door slam shut behind him as he left.

There was a long silence among the three of them as the bishop clambered into his buggy and drove down the lane. Even from the house they could hear the cars that revved their engines and began to follow the bishop’s buggy. The paparazzi were following him now. Later, of course, they would return to stake out the Beiler farm, hoping to snap a coveted photo of Amanda or her parents. But, for now, they were finally alone.

“What do I do, Daed?” Amanda asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

Lizzie didn
’t wait for her husband to speak. Her face was pale, and her eyes wide with fright. “You need to contact Alejandro,” she said quickly and firmly. “He created this problem. He needs to fix it!”

“
Lizzie!
” Elias said sharply. “That is the last thing we need to do! It would only make it worse.”

But Amanda was no longer listening. Instead, she was mulling over her mother’s words in her mind. Could Alejandro fix this? He had, indeed, created the problem. And his involvement was a far more likable solution than being banished to Ohio, she thought. She wasn’t certain how she could do such a thing. Without a telephone, she couldn’t call him, not that she even had his phone number. She didn’t know his address to write to him, either. But she knew that there was only one way to get out of this: through Alejandro.

Chapter Seventeen

Alejandro sat in the armchair, feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was hot under the studio lights, and it didn’t help that he was wearing his typical black suit. Between the high temperature, the humidity outdoors, and the heat inside Studio 1A from the spotlights, there was no escaping the fact that summer in Los Angeles was hot. Unbelievably hot.

It had been a week since he had ventured into the public eye with Maria. A week of paparazzi and questions, crowds and photographs. But still, the emphasis was on Amanda Beiler, the most famous Amish woman in the world. It was frustrating him that he couldn’t distract the media, get them to change course and focus on something else.

The media had barely mentioned his staged encounter with Maria at the club. A few photos made the social media circuit, and he noticed a few comments on Twitter. But an overwhelming majority continued talking about Amanda and the Amish.

Alejandro had tried to step up the distraction. With his encouragement, Maria had staged a catfight with another woman at a club, cleverly timed so that the paparazzi were nearby and it was caught on film. Despite Alejandro swooping in to separate the two women and quickly leaving the building with Maria, there were still more questions about Amanda than about this new, mysterious woman in his life.

Now that he was in Los Angeles again, preparing for his West Coast concert tour, he had insisted that Mike land him a spot on the entertainment news program. One interview, he had insisted. Just one about the music, about Maria, about the tour.

“Come on, Alex,” Mike had whined. “They don’t care about Maria. No one is buying it.” It continued to infuriate Mike that Alejandro wouldn’t seize the opportunity of the fans’ interest in Amanda by playing on it. “You know it, Alex. They just want more of this Amish chick.”

Shaking his head, Alejandro had countered, “It’s the idea of Amanda that they want, simply because she is Amish. I’m not doing it. I’m not exploiting her. We have to give them something else to focus on.”

Mike laughed.
“Marry Maria, and that will stop the rumors.”

Alejandro had frowned. While he had known Mike was teasing, the joke stung. “Let’s be serious, Mike. That’s outrageous and not going to happen.” He had tugged at the sleeves of his shirt underneath his suit jacket. “
Besides, I
’m not the marrying kind.” He had looked up at Mike, raising one eyebrow in a perfect arch. “A married Viper is a career killer, no?”

Now, as he sat in the chair, waiting for his turn to be interviewed by Sue Jarrell, the hostess of the top entertainment show in the country, he only hoped that Mike had made the rules of engagement clear. Alejandro had agreed to the interview as long as the questions focused on his latest album, his tour, and, of course, Maria.

“Two minutes, Viper,” someone whispered.

He nodded his head and tried to put on his game face: black suit, dark sunglasses, and a half smile as he faced the camera. Mysterious and aloof, a look that he had practiced many times in front of a mirror. He noticed a flurry of activity as the chair was prepared for Sue Jarrell. With one minute to go, she hurried over to sit next to him. She was a leggy brunette wearing a cream-colored suit that showed off her West Coast summer tan, one that he imagined she stretched out throughout the year. Her hair hung over her shoulders in a full wave, and she touched it briefly before looking up at him.

“You ready?” She smiled.

“Sí, sí,”
he responded.

The cameraman motioned and began counting backward and then, silence. The red light on top of the nearest camera flashed on, and Alejandro knew that they were live. Millions of people were watching him; millions more would watch the YouTube clips over the next few weeks.

“My next guest doesn’t need any introduction. He’s the Master of Hip-Hop and a truly global sensation!” Sue Jarrell said, smiling into the camera. “And we are honored to have him with us today as he is getting ready to start a three-week tour on the West Coast before heading back to the East and then to Latin America.” She shifted her weight in one smooth motion. The camera seemed to follow her every movement. “Viper,” she said, addressing him directly. “Tell us about this latest album of yours.”

Great transition, he thought. “Well, Sue, I want to start by thanking you for having me here today. It’s been a whirlwind of travel since this last album dropped, but the fans have been so responsive. It makes the long days and extensive travel so worthwhile.”

“This album has been holding out at number one for six weeks now,” she said, but it came out more like a question.

“Sí, sí,”
he said, nodding his head. “I haven’t ever seen anything like it. The songs were all so special to me, so that response from the public means that much more.”

“You draw on your own experiences for your songs; isn’t that true, Viper?” Sue asked.

“
Sí,
that’s true,” he said, nodding his head. “These songs are mostly about my experience growing up as a
cubano
in Miami. It’s not easy to move to America and learn the language, the culture, the people. The streets give you quite an education.” He laughed and added, “Dade County taught me well.”

“I imagine that culture is important to you,” she asked.

“Of course. My family is from Cuba. It’s obviously very different from America. The food, the music, the life,” he said. He was relaxing. The interview was proceeding well. Fans loved hearing about his childhood. “Growing up there was quite hard. Long hours of work, and not a lot of payoff. Putting food on the table was a daily struggle.”

“You live here now, yes?”

He smiled at Sue. “
Sí, sí.
But I still have plenty of family back in Cuba.” He paused, more for effect than because he meant it. “Leaving family behind and not being able to share your life with them is hard, Sue. And I think many Americans can relate to this. If they are not immigrants themselves, then they are likely to be first- or second-generation Americans. They grow up on their own, juggling a lot to survive.”

“Are you a survivor?”

He laughed. “I’d like to think so.”

“You recently survived a harrowing experience in New York.”

Alejandro tried to remain emotionless. He didn’t respond. The transition from Cuba to New York suddenly seemed too obvious. How hadn’t he caught that?

“Do you want to talk about the car accident?” she asked.

He shifted his weight and leaned forward, his eyes meeting hers. “Not particularly.” Silence. “There isn’t much to tell.”

“Your car ran into a girl, an Amish girl,”
Sue said.
“That’s some story, Viper.”

“Seems clear-cut to me.” No response. The silence was awkward, so he added, “It was an accident, and she is fine.”

Sue smiled.
“But you spent time in her community back in Pennsylvania. What was that like? Living on an Amish farm?”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his beating heart. Had Mike told her to avoid these questions after all? Sue Jarrell had an impeccable reputation. She always followed the rules that were set forth by the manager. That was one of the reasons he had granted her the interview. Besides being brilliant and well versed on current events, she was kind and fair. Immediately, Alejandro knew. Certainly Mike had done this to him on purpose.

“I stayed there,
sí
,” he began cautiously. “But only to make certain that she was situated and fine before I left for my European shows.”

“There’s been a lot of talk in the media about this Amish girl,” Sue continued. “Is it true that you are secretly dating her?”

Alejandro clenched his jaw and caught his breath. “She’s Amish,” he said. “That’s ridiculous sensationalism.”

“So, no songs coming out in the near future about your stay at the farm?”

Despite his best effort to remain expressionless and neutral, he knew that he was frowning. “I’m more focused on my current songs, the ones on my new album. You know that I’m touring the West Coast, promoting this album. In fact, next week, our concert tour opens in Los Angeles.” Why won’t she get off the Amanda track? he asked himself. “It’s the first album where the non-Latino crowd has responded so positively, too. While we are sold out in Los Angeles,” he continued, “I heard that our San Francisco, Seattle, and Phoenix concerts sold out in record time, too.”

“Should we expect a surprise visit from this Amish girl on the tour?”

Control your temper, he told himself as he rubbed at his face. Why so many questions? he wondered. “I can’t imagine an Amish girl would be interested in such a thing.”

“
Well.
” Sue laughed. “You
are
Viper.”

“Amish don’t listen to music. They don’t know my songs. And I’m fairly certain that they don’
t travel,
” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. “The media made a much bigger deal out of it than was necessary, no?”

“Maybe,” Sue said nonchalantly. “But it isn’t every day that a major music icon spends so much time with an Amish woman. I suppose the public gets curious. Seems like such an unlikely friendship.” The way she said
friendship
made him cringe. It rolled off her tongue, dripping in sarcasm.

He remained silent, keeping a cool demeanor on the outside while cursing Mike on the inside. There was no doubt about it now. Clearly, Mike hadn’t given them the rules of engagement. In fact, Alejandro imagined that Mike had encouraged it.

“The interesting thing,” Sue continued, leaning forward. “The Amish are a very close-knit community. From what I understand, they don’t let outsiders break into their world. Yet you stayed on a family farm and, from what I have read, went to worship with them and even courted the young woman.”

He clenched his jaw. “I think it is better if we stick to discussing my upcoming tour,
sí
?”

Sue laughed. “That sounds like a man deflecting the question, Viper.”

Silence.

“You know that the media has not left the community, and it has been over a month,” Sue continued. “A month.” She made it sound like it was years. “Such a long time, don’t you think?”

Alejandro inhaled deeply and stared at her. “About my West Coast tour, Sue . . .”

She shifted her weight again so that she was staring directly into the camera. “There you have it, an exclusive interview with Viper about his weeklong stint as an Amish man. While we have no admission of wedding bells, clearly there are sparks flying under these buggy wheels.” The red light over the cameras blinked to black, and everyone began moving around. The segment was over.

Alejandro ripped the microphone off his lapel.
“
Dios
mío,”
he shouted. “What was that?”

Sue Jarrell blinked and looked at him. “Excuse me?”

He stood up and glared at her. “Those questions. They had nothing to do with my tour or music.”

Coolly, Sue leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs at the ankle. “No, they didn’t.”

“What was that about?”

Sue raised an eyebrow. “It was about your fans, Alejandro,” she said sternly. It surprised him that she used his given name. Most talk-show hosts and media personnel called him Viper.

“Get off your broom, Jarrell,” he snapped. “That was about your ratings!”

She smiled, a nonchalant and cool smile. “I beg to differ. It was about what is on everyone’s mind in America . . . everyone who cares about Viper, Viper the Latino Lover with the sharp sting, and his sweet, innocent Amish girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he exclaimed, lifting a hand to his forehead in frustration.

“Maybe not in your eyes,”
Sue smirked.
“But America wants to believe that she is, and that’s what this was about, my friend.” She leaned back, obviously enjoying watching Alejandro try to control his temper. “Maybe you’ll find that the American public knows you better than you know yourself. Maybe you’ll realize that I just did you a favor.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped, waving away a young man who approached him with a bottle of Perrier water. Instead, he pointed his finger at Sue Jarrell. “You people are the reason she’s suffering right now. You need to just leave her alone!” He threw the microphone onto the ground and stormed away, reaching into his pants pocket for his cell phone.

Already there were five text messages from Mike, each one telling him that other entertainment shows had called, demanding equal airtime. Furious, he threw the phone against the wall, ignoring the fact that it shattered into pieces. How could Mike have done that to him? No, he thought bitterly. To Amanda.

For a moment, he hesitated. No one was around to see him stop walking. He stared at nothing, and his mind raced everywhere. It had been a long time since he had cared about someone else more than about himself. Years, he realized. And that had most likely been about his own mother when he had labored to help her improve her life in America. After all of her sacrifices, he wanted to set her up in a nice living arrangement in Miami. She had fought him, stating that she preferred the small apartment in Miami, to stay near her friends and relatives who also had emigrated from Cuba to Florida. But Alejandro had foreseen the future and knew that, eventually, when fame hit, she wouldn’t be safe there. It was because he cared that he fought so hard to protect her and prevailed.

Now he found himself in the same situation with Amanda, fighting to protect her, but it was only making it worse. The more he fought it, the more she was exposed. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have looked back . . . merely moved along. But there was something about Amanda that clung to him, deep within his heart and soul.

And then it dawned on him.