Page 3 of Haze of Obedience

But it wasn't fast enough for me.

A little over fifteen years and I had earned a sizable sum of money. I was rich by most people's standards, especially in Mexico. But I was barely a household name outside of my home country.

When Mateo Duran approached me, pointing out all the things Rafael wasn't able to accomplish that he assured me he could, I made the tough call and fired my manager.

Mateo delivered everything he promised.

But I didn't know it would require not only my freedom but my soul in exchange.

At first, everything was exciting. Within a year, I was headlining concerts in every Latin American country. Mateo and my new management firm provided the best of the best for me. Private planes, designer clothes, parties with VIP's who weren't just in the music business, but ran the world.

No longer was I unknown and unimportant. Heads of nations, the most powerful men in the universe, knew my name. They wanted me to perform at their parties. They requested me. Night after night, I sang. When I told my manager I needed a break, he sat me down and asked me if I wanted to continue to rank number one.

Of course, I said yes.

He promised it would just be a few more months of chaos. Then I would have my spot secured in the Latin charts. He even waved the golden carrot and told me he was using the Embassy parties' exposure to crossover into the United States.

I agreed to keep performing, and he offered me a pill that would give me some more energy.

At first, I declined. Drugs were rampant in the music business, but I didn't want any part of them.

He tried to convince me that they were all natural and nothing addictive or harmful.

I still said no.

Two weeks after, I was to perform for the United States President and British Prime Minister, and I crashed. He came to my hotel room and didn't even offer me the pills. A team of people held me down. One closed one side of my nostrils while the other held cocaine on their finger until I inhaled it all.

And that was the beginning of my new reality. There were no more choices in my career. My managers made things happen for not only politicians but leaders of drug cartels, corrupt businessmen, and anyone else who had money to pay.

Breaks were not in the cards. Vocal chord injections became part of my new routine to combat the strain on my voice. Drugs gave me energy at first, but then, they masked the pain that spiraled in my body and soul.

No one could help me get out of hell. Who would I tell? The Mexican president? The U.S. one? They were all in bed together, and my fate was sealed.

But it wasn't just on stage I was to entertain these men.

The first politician that I slept with was my choice. I met him at an embassy party, and we hit it off. After several nights together, I thought we were forming a relationship. Antonio would watch my performances then meet me backstage. The rest of the night, I would hang out with him and his cronies.

I didn't care about the others. In my lonesome, screwed up world, he gave me hope that what was happening around me wasn't long term. It was something I needed to deal with and get through, but that there would be a way out. He could be my way out, and love could still exist for me, even though I had made the wrong decision by changing my management team.

He was a high ranking official in the Mexican government. Surely he could save me. But I was a fool.

Love doesn't exist for a girl in my shoes. Once you're owned, you'll always be property. He was the one who showed me that lesson.

The night I confessed to Antonio what was happening to me, he looked at me with pity in his eyes, as if I was nothing more than a dog. "That's the problem with women when they are given too much."

"What?"

"You like those fancy clothes you wear?"

"I earn these clothes."

He grunted. "Everything is provided for you, by us."

"Us?"

"The Global Leaders."

"Who?"