Page 13 of When Javi Dumped Mari

“She exists, goddammit,” I say, my cheeks burning as I try to keep the grin off my face.

“Of course she does,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips.

We stare at each other a few beats, and then we both burst out laughing.

“Seriously, Javi. What were you thinking? Fantasia?”

“It’s a perfectly beautiful name,” I say under my breath. Using my full voice, I add, “Well, if you knew, why didn’t you call me out on it?”

“There was no reason to. You didn’t want to be available, and I got the message loud and clear.”

“It wasn’t about you, specifically.”

“Oh, it was very much about me, but I’m not mad about it. We’re choosing not to be together in that way, and that’s perfectly fine.”

“We ended up in the right place, though, right?” I say, genuinely believing that to be true.

“Yeah, we did.”

She flops onto her back again, and I inch closer, arranging myself so we’re perpendicular to each other, my head resting against her side.

“You owe me some honesty, though,” she says.

“That’s the only lie I’ve told you.”

“I don’t doubt it, but that’s not what I mean. I need you to share something real with me. Because I’ve done enough sharing for the both of us.”

She has a point. I mean, it couldn’t have been easy to talk about her parents just now.

After a beat, I say, “I’m afraid of heights. Like really afraid of heights.”

“How interesting,” she says in an amused tone. “If we’re ever in a situation where that information is relevant, I’ll bear it in mind. But that’s not the kind of sharing I’m talking about, and you know it.”

Mari absently runs her fingers through my curls as she stares up at the night sky, an occasional firefly zipping by.

Now that the violinist has stored away her instrument, it’s soothingly quiet on the quad lawn.

With Mari’s gentle hands sifting through my hair and the starry view above calming me, it’s hard to keep my eyes open. Or maybe I’m avoiding the subject.

“I’m waiting,” she singsongs.

“Poking around for dirty secrets?”

She chuckles softly. “Do you have any?”

“Not dirty, exactly.”

“That’s a shame.”

I can’t help smiling. Talking to Mari is the best part of my days.

Every sentence reveals something about her personality.

And the more she shares, the more I want to reciprocate.

Even if it dredges up unpleasant memories.

I blow out a slow breath, then take a leap.

“My junior year of high school, my brothers and I were on the cusp of being signed to a major record deal.”

She sits up slightly, dislodging me from my reclined position. I twist my torso to face her, unsurprised by the look of shock on her face.

“ You were in a boy band?”

“Almost,” I say, shrugging. “We hadn’t finished any songs, but I was working on a few. I was angsty as hell in high school, and I have the terrible lyrics to prove it. ‘Stuck on you like peanut butter’ was an actual line I wrote.”

“Oh God,” she says, cringing.

“Yeah, I know. But in the meantime, we did covers at local festivals and malls. And we were a hit. Our parents were impressed too, so they entered us into a talent search. Not one of those scammy ones, either, but a real one sponsored by Pinnacle Music.”

Her brow lifts when I mention the well-known record label, and then she settles back down. Once I return to my preferred position, she asks, “Okay, so then what? Give me all the sordid details.”

I bristle, wishing the whole sad episode didn’t bother me as much as it does.

Mari has no clue that sordid is the perfect word to describe what happened, and she certainly didn’t mean to hit a nerve.

It was shameful. I’m tempted to sanitize the details, but she asked me for honesty, and I want to give it to her.

“We had what felt like hundreds of meetings with the label and an outside manager they found for us. It was clear the company was prepared to put some real money behind our group. Then at some point, it started to feel like the original idea of the band—my idea, actually—was being distorted. I wanted to work on stuff that would set us apart. They wanted us to talk about cars and sex. I pushed back, and the label didn’t like that, so they dropped me. ”

“The label dropped you?”

“No, my brothers did.”

She gasps. “Javi, no.”

“Yeah. They blindsided me too. Didn’t break the news to me until a couple days before we were supposed to sign the contract.

Said they found someone else who would be a better fit.

Asked me if I’d consider taking a more passive role.

I was crushed, but I stepped aside. Thing is, I wasn’t even mad about the deal.

It was the betrayal that really hurt. The group was my idea.

My way of strengthening my relationship with my brothers.

But they left me behind and never looked back. ”

“I’m so sorry that happened,” she says softly. More urgently, she says, “Tell me there’s a happy ending. Tell me they flopped so bad.”

I sigh. “Wish I could, but I can’t. Their first album was certified gold. Nothing after that came close to the success of the first LP, but they’re a bona fide pop group with a huge social media following.”

“What did your parents think? How’d your brothers get all this past them?”

“My parents don’t know what went down. I just told them I wasn’t ready to commit to the group.”

“You covered for your brothers,” she says, her eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“But why?”

“Because this was a major record deal. A chance for my brothers to do something that would make life easier on my parents. I wasn’t going to mess that up for them.”

“So this is why you’re no longer close with your brothers.”

“I don’t think we were ever all that close, honestly. I spent my high school years trying to be cool like them, trying to hang around them. But they always brushed me aside. Until the band. But in the end they did what they always did: deserted me.”

“Well, then, now it’s your turn.”

“My turn to do what?”

“To get revenge. In your head, of course. Tell me what you would do.”

As usual, she knows just what to say to pull me out of my funk. “I’d secretly finance a tell-all documentary about their rise and spectacular fall. I just need to wait until they crash and burn, the fuckers. And I’d make sure it was broadcast on multiple networks.”

“What’s the group’s name?”

“The Triborough Boys.”

Her fingers pause in my hair. Yeah, she’s heard of them. Everyone has.

“I’ve heard of them,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Thanks for not gushing.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, continuing to massage my scalp. “Feel better?”

“Much.”

And it’s true. I’ve never shared what really happened with anyone, not even my parents. And although I feel exposed, I’m comforted by Mari’s response. It tells me that I can be vulnerable around her and she won’t throw it back in my face.

“Hey, Javi,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to listen to your advice when it comes to guys from now on, no questions asked. It’s dangerous out here in these Rob-infested streets, and I could use the help. In return, I’ll get rid of all my Triborough Boys downloads. Deal?”

I smile. “Deal.”

And you know what? This girl is worth being petty for.

I jump to my feet and hold out my hand. “Let’s go to the bookstore.”

“What for?” she says, taking it.

I give her a devious smile. “For glitter.”

Thursday, October 16, 2014

WhatsApp Voice Message

Marisol, it’s your mother. I just want you to know that I put the Sedal Rizos styling cream in the mail to you.

Five bottles. It was expensive, filha. Maybe you can find it online now?

Tell Javi and the girls I said hello. Oh, and that boy you were dating is a jerk.

Esqueca ele! Te amo. Tchau. Tchau. Tchau.