Page 7 of Wishing for La Luna
“Rio, you broke his nose and dislocated his shoulder. He won’t be able to make his next gigs.”
I shrug. “He had it coming.”
“Yeah, I won’t argue with you there because everyone knows Noryel DD was in real need of an ass whooping. But it didn’t need to come from you. It was reckless. You keep acting like a hot trigger and falling for traps constantly. This shit is getting old.” She turns her finger in a circle as if to saylook around us. “Do you know the kind of favor I had to pull so charges weren’t pressed against you?”
Anger storms up my spine. She doesn’t have to do me any fucking favors.
“No, you don’t. Because I, Esme, and Kresh are constantly bailing you out. I should cut my losses with you, Rio. I could be making this money with someone easier to manage.”
And now she throws the whole team in my face. Esmeralda “Esme” Fernandez is my lawyer, and Lucrecia “Kresh” Bravo is my agent. Both work in tandem with Maeven to manage my career. But at this point, I don’t care. “Do it, then. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone who doesn’t want to be here.”
I sit back down on the chair.
“Get up. I’m not doing this here.”
She turns on her heel, walking in quick, New York strides. I follow because I’m not dumb enough to stay in jail if I shouldn’t even be here. Outside the room, the cops are waiting for us. Esme, with her asymmetrical bob, is talking to them. Her no-nonsense lawyer expression is on full display as she nods.
The officer who arrested me hands me my jewelry and phone. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Fuck you,” I say back.
Maeven stops walking to pin me with what I recognize as hershut-the-fuck-uplook—flat lips and a scowl that could scare the hair off a Maine Coon. I smile and follow her out.
Outside, a large Suburban is waiting for us. We hop in, and Esme leans close, her eyes sharp on mine. “Stop fucking up. You’re lucky we were able to secure witnesses who saw him throw the glass your way before they got paid off. But you can only get lucky so many times, Rio. It’s getting old. We don’t want you to ruin everything you’ve got going on.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
We drive up the West Side Highway to Riverdale to drop off Esme. I’m always struck at how different from the other parts of the city it is. If you went by the all the lush trees and the mixture of private homes and exclusive buildings, you wouldn’t think there are subway stations and poor neighborhoods just miles away. The suburban feel is like a mirage. I don’t get to contemplate that much as we are soon headed to my place in the Upper West Side. Maeven stares out to the night river view as we maneuver back on the highway. The silence in the car is heavy, other than the driver’s loud gum smacking. Maeven’s not on her phone like she always is. This time, she’s pensive, her leg tapping on the floor of the car like a ticking time bomb.
She’s going to quit.And she should.No one signed up for this shit, but she’s getting paid well, so fuck her. If she wants to walk away, goodbye. I’m not begging anyone to stay, even if I lose opportunities. So what? I can make more songs, and I can hire another publicist. One that doesn’t nag so much.
Except, she’s like family, with a fierce and protective presence, taking care of me during my worst times.
I’m not forcing anyone to stay, though.
When we get to my place, she jumps out of the car, and we head into the building. Tito, my cousin and bodyguard, is waiting for us at the door, wearing fresh clothes and a baseball cap. He’s built like a linebacker, pure muscle on every inch of his body. His imposing body is at odds with the worried expression on his face. His brown skin looks a little ashen too. We got separated when I got arrested, and he was probably the one who called Maeven and Esme.
He claps my shoulder and ushers us into the building. “How was it?”
“It was fine. Almost had to fight someone there too.” I look at Maeven as I say it, but her face remains blank. I want to piss her off so she can quit and walk away without dragging this shit out. I hate when people make up their mind and then keep pushing shit off.
Tito looks at me, his eyes panicky, his mouth pale. He knows she’ll dump me too.
“Maeven, what were you getting into?”
She doesn’t bother to look at us. “Esme and I were having dinner with Vale and Alondra. We were working on their wedding plans.”
Shit. Alondra is Esme’s best friend and Maeven’s cousin—they’re all like sisters. She lives in North Carolina with her fiancé Valentin. They’re in town to discuss wedding planning and were supposed to meet us after to celebrate my album release.
Yeah, I’m getting my ass dropped today.
The music blares before the door opens to my penthouse. It’s not any music. It’s my music, my art, my pain,mi alma. The people who were partying with me at the club are all here. When everyone sees me, they scream my name.
A few girls surround me, and someone hands me aPresidentebeer.
Maeven intercepts it instead, her eyes pelting me with that look I can’t decipher. “Tell them all to get the fuck out.”
“They came to party with me.”
