Rhythm of Love

Rhythm of Love

By Maria De Angeles

~~~

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved

Copyright © January 2013 by Maria De Angeles

Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 1

Today we’ll celebrate this blog’s first year anniversary at Marisco Center. I got one of the brands I work with, Reina rums to sponsor it so the drinks are on the house. I hope my local supporters can make it to the party! As you might know I started this blog to deal with my frustrations as a writer. At the gossip magazine I work at, which I’ve been forbidden to name here, I don’t feel I’m fulfilling my career goals. This blog is the closest outlet where I can express myself completely. Especially since lately I’ve begun to notice that it’s become a common theme in my life that I have to keep my mouth shut to get ahead. When I was a kid my mother used to pinch me whenever I was around company if she thought I was going to say something that embarrassed her. She wasn’t one of those, Oh kids say the darndest things parents, who shook her head and laughed. No sir, she believed in keeping her kid quiet with painful pinches under the table so I wouldn’t make her look bad. I’ve gotten pinched in many ways since then. At the nameless magazine, I often feel wrong writing misleading captions about female celebrities to make them seem as if they’re jealous of each other or fighting. Why do the famous chicas always have to be divided to sell magazines? I never see them instigating drama between male celebrities. But of course if I suggest any non-degrading creative captions I get a stern look from my editor and my suggestions immediately get shot down. So far I’ve been rewarded for opening my mouth by being deprived of important assignments.

Following Amber’s blog entry, came the phone call she had been dreading. She was already expecting to hear from her boss, which was what had inspired the post. Amber answered the phone with a calm greeting that didn’t match the internal havoc her nerves were wreaking. Hello, how are you? her boss, Michael, asked politely but coldly.

She responded with a meek, Good thanks.

Amber we have a problem with one of your accounts. The manager complained about you.

Amber could already guess which account he was referring to. One of the lounge owners who bought from her was a lewd guy who was always hitting on her. The last time she had seen him he had asked her out and she had politely but coldly turned him down.

What did he say? Amber asked, fearful of the response.

The owner of Le Poisson says you aren’t very attentive to their needs and he just canceled his order with us. This was a big client that we couldn’t afford to lose just like that.

Well I wasn’t inattentive. He’s just mad because I wouldn’t take his harassment.

You could have handled the situation more delicately. If you work with bar owners you have to learn to deal with their personalities.

So I have to take sexual harassment? Her voice rose with anger.

No one is saying that, but we can’t just go on losing accounts like this.

This is the only one I’ve had a problem with, she pointed out.

Well it’s big enough to lose us a lot of money.

She sighed because she didn’t know what to say. What did Michael want from her? Why didn’t he just fire her? She wasn’t going to apologize for having some dignity.

Just don’t let it happen again, Michael finally barked before hanging up.

Don't let him ruin your night, her roommate Genesis piped up from her spot in the kitchenette, guessing what had happened. Focus on your launch party. If you let the day job kill the energy that you have for your dream job then they win.

Amber smirked, Blogging isn’t my dream job. It’s just the only way I can get my genuine writing out there.

Whatever it is, you’re doing a great job and you shouldn’t let anyone stop you from going forward. Now let’s talk about your wardrobe for tonight. Santos is going to be there and I snagged you some hot outfits from my shoot today.

Genesis, or Geni as Amber called her, was a stylist and costume designer who didn’t mind hooking Amber up now and then. Especially if her long-term crush Santos was involved. Amber tried not to show her excitement. She hated letting her girly side out to play because it made her feel silly. Instead, she sighed. What am I going to do without you Geni?

Geni was leaving her to tour with a dance company for a few months. I don’t want to know. You might be looking a hot mess now and then but I’ll try and Skype with you when you have to attend press events for Mi Gente to guide you.

Amber laughed at the mention of her freelance job with the gossip magazine, Oh please. They don’t pay me enough to invest in wardrobe.

Yeah but the people at their press events might have higher paying opportunities so you better change your outlook. Now let’s talk Santos, Geni said steering the conversation back to the juicy subject. "Nice move getting mi primo and him to perform tonight."

Geni's primo or cousin was Cortes, Amber's best friend. Santos and him had been a music duo since high school when her crush had first started. The crush had survived Amber's college relationship and had intensified after her breakup. I'm just giving the guys support. It’s the same thing they would do for me.

You can tell yourself whatever you want. Just make sure you look good. Geni unzipped a dress bag and pulled out some options. She gripped a purple brocade print fitted satin dress. The minute I saw this I thought of you. How about we put your body to good use? She eyed Amber's baggy cargos and halter disapprovingly. Geni didn’t seem to find her roommate's tomboyish style as endearing as Amber thought it was. And maybe you can wear these with it! Geni practically screamed with excitement as she whipped out a pair of four inch black pumps. To show off your long legs.

I thought the point of having long legs was that you don’t have to wear heels, Amber said without a hint of excitement.

Amber these are seven hundred dollar shoes! Show some respect!

Amber laughed. See that’s ridiculous. They’re seven hundred dollar shoes and look just like thirty dollar ones from Strawberry’s. Geni grumbled, knowing it was pointless to try and get through to Amber. She could only hope one day she would see the light.

Okay, I’ll wear them. I trust your opinion, Amber gave in. Let the torture begin. Amber got up to follow Geni into her room, where the primping would take place.

****

Santos had been given his nickname by his close friends because of the attention his heavenly singing voice attracted in the church choir. When he joined the choir, throngs of girls started attending church regularly just to hear him sing. Once the congregation doubled in size the pastor knew that the choir boy must have been sent from above. The Spanish speakers in the parish began referring to the owner of the angelic voice as Santos which is Spanish for saints. Eventually the nickname trickled into his social life and stuck. Remembering some Spanish from the short amount of time he spent with his father, he easily learned the Spanish gospel songs. He became bilingual in music and after rolling with Cortes he was fluent in slang. Their love for music was what brought the two boys together into what eventually became a career choice rather than a hobby. Santos’ mother was less than pleased with his decision.

Honey, why can’t you do something serious? Chanel would start out in annoyance as she readied herself to go out somewhere. Then she would launch a disgruntled speech comparing Santos to his father, who she had divorced nearly a decade ago when she caught him cheating on her with a younger woman.

Ma please, don’t start.

Don’t you tell me when to start, she cried, following their usual pattern of conversation and powdering the cocoa colored skin of her face with foundation.

Where you going now? he inquired.

Excuse me? I’m your mother. I don’t have to give you explanations. She rushed off into the other room to get dressed and he heaved a sigh of annoyance. No matter what he said, she always found a reason to fight with him. Then she had the nerve to wonder why he had left her house to move into a cramped one bedroom apartment with Cortes. Santos summoned up some patience and said, I’m asking because I wanted to invite you to my show ma.

Oh baby you know how I feel about that. She wrinkled her nose. Besides I’ve got to go to your cousin’s birthday party. You were invited, but I guess you’re too busy with your music to remember.

Well, I’m working tonight. I don’t remember anyone skipping out on their day jobs for my birthday party. The difference between me and them is that I work at night.

Chanel sucked her teeth disapprovingly at him. He grumbled, Have fun, and stomped his way out of her apartment. Chanel’s lack of support was both hurtful and infuriating. Instead of taking the bus he walked the twenty blocks to the spot for his show to blow off steam.

Santos arrived at Marisco Center just in time to see Amber sauntering into the place with Geni. He had to do a double take to make sure that it was indeed his friend Amber because she was donning a short come-hither ensemble that was very uncharacteristic of her usual wardrobe. The fabric of the dress was a soft beckoning film on her body that showed off the curve of her waist and perky breasts. The hem was also high enough to allow spectators to revel in the sight of her shapely long legs. Hey, he greeted her. She flashed a dazzling smile that reached her eyes. Amber was one of those people whose entire face lit up when she smiled. She gave him her standard kiss on the cheek greeting.

Thanks for coming, Amber gushed sweeping her hair off her neck. Damn that move, it made him wonder what her tresses would feel like against his fingers and lured his eyes to the exposed skin.

No way. Thank you for having us perform. He gave her a warm hug and held onto the embrace a little longer than he should have, aroused by her appearance. It was the first time he could truly appreciate her figure and he was pleasantly surprised. Still, he didn’t compliment her because it felt out of place in their relationship. She had always been one of the guys so flirting felt odd. Santos tried to keep his friends and lovers in separate places, where they belonged.

Amber walked into her party feeling like she was on top of the world until she saw the turnout of the crowd. She could tell about seventy five percent of the people there had shown up for the open bar and were not loyal readers of her blog. The owner of the restaurant had advertised the party with posters to all the locals and they had gladly shown up. Amber couldn’t tell him not to do so because he wasn’t charging her at all for having her launch party there.

A poet stood on stage reading from his self-published book and a middle aged crowd with maybe two teenagers listened. If no one new came in then this was all the audience they would be getting for the night. Frustrated middle aged poets. A couple of the women shot Santos hungry looks.

Ooooh we’re going to have to keep an eye on you tonight, Amber murmured playfully, trying to suppress her disappointment in the turnout. "These tipas are on the prowl." She made an animalistic face for emphasis and he laughed.

Man, I appreciate any crowd I can get but I really don’t think they’ll be into our sound, Santos mustered.

They might surprise you. Your music is romantic and everyone loves that! Besides, she continued in a cheerful tone. It’s early. More people might show up. She spotted Cortes and after greeting him didn’t hesitate to complain, Barely any of my fans are here.

There’s a few people here, he pointed out.

I have fifteen thousand fans online. How can most of the people here be bar regulars?

Look at it this way, it means you have a lot of long distance fans.

Well I was hoping some press would be interested in my event.

Relax. It takes time, Cortes assured her.

You ready for this? You still want us to perform? Santos asked Cortes, returning with some of the appetizers. He laid an arm around Amber and suddenly the turnout of the party wasn’t important to her. In fact, Santos was here. The turnout was great. Her mind went to a happy warm place that only Santos’ presence ever invoked, where there was no room for criticism or concerns.

Of course! You’re the best part of the party. The room was swirling as if she was on a carousel. She was sure of it. Try a Reina mojito. They’re great.

I can tell, he joked. You probably had a few of them by now.

She had just had a sip but she didn’t correct him because if her giddiness was that obvious, she was happy that he thought it was the alcohol and not him.

Since no one else showed up, Santos and Cortes decided to begin their performance. Santos sang to the group of older poets with the devotion an artist would show to longtime fans. He was grateful to them for sticking around. Three older women stood by the stage, gyrating in poorly fitted clothing while the lone teenager in the room miserably sank into her seat as if she wanted to disappear. No doubt one of the three fans belonged to the teen. Santos could see Amber suppressing her laughter from where she sat. After his last song, one of the women wearing a plaid corset and too tight jeans that dissected her thighs from her camel toe handed him a flimsy business card that had clearly been printed at home. Another twirled her hair piece, signed a self-published book and placed it in his hands. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. At this point Amber decided it might be a good time to save him and linked her arm through his. Let me treat you to a drink, she offered,

Cortes joined them at the bar after packing up his equipment. Santos shook his head sadly at them. Things are getting worse guys. We need to get better publicity.

I’m sorry, Amber offered."

It’s not you at all Amber. We’re grateful to you. We have fans too and none of them showed up.

We have to start somewhere, Cortes pointed out.

Yea but we already started mad long ago, now I’d like to move forward. Santos gave Amber a pleading look. Help a brother out. Can’t you use your connections at Mi Gente to get us some recognition?

Amber would have told him that she had no connections at Mi Gente, that she mostly worked out of her computer at home and sent out her writing by email only to have every bit of the fifty word segments she wrote changed with nothing but her name intact, and sometimes even that was screwed up. She had put her artistic integrity aside for a dollar a word. She really would have told him but at that moment he laid a hand on her waist that made her entire body feel like jelly. Warm waves rushed through her body, his tide reeling her in. She held back any signs of enjoyment, despite the alcohol in her blood. Points for her.

I’ll see what I can do, she said, against her better judgment. There was no denying Santos’ touch and his smoldering brown eyes, especially not when you’d been pining away for him in singlehood for a year.

Chapter 2

The sun glistened against Lawrence’s cappuccino colored skin. He pulled Bianca onto his lap and planted a soft kiss on her lips. Hold that pose! the photographer shouted at them. After his flash went off, he signaled towards a path. Great! Now maybe take a walk holding hands. They stood up and Lawrence grabbed her hand, leading her through the park. Bianca moved forward, awkwardly aware of the photographer’s presence. Lawrence had hired him to shoot their engagement photos. She hardly thought it was necessary since they had plenty of candid shots as a couple but apparently it was all the new rage.

Look at each other, the photographer instructed.

I’m going to kill him, Bianca whispered to Lawrence.

I’m the happiest man alive, Lawrence replied as if he hadn’t heard her. He had been ecstatic when she had given him the yes although he should have expected it after three years of dating and two breakups in between. She was in the process of officially moving into his apartment, which she had unofficially been living in after they made up from their last break up.

Okay, that’s it. I think we’ve got it. The photographer jabbered excitedly. I’ll get these to you ASAP. I know how couples get about their engagement photos."

I’ll bet, Bianca commented. She was relieved the torturous practice was over but an engagement dinner lay ahead of her. Her husband to be had invited his family to New York for the weekend so they had no choice but to have the dinner on the same day. The photographer showed them a couple of his favorite shots and took off, once again promising to send them retouched photos pronto.

I have to go. Bianca kissed Lawrence in a hurry after seeing the time. I have to help my family decorate and get ready. The dinner was being held in her parent’s ample backyard and a few of her cousins were coming over to help them set up.

Okay. I’ll see you later. Lawrence gave her a peck on the cheek and sent her on her way. When she arrived at home, her cousin’s cars were already parked in the driveway. She barely recognized the yard. It was already decorated with flower arrangements, fancy tableware and romantic torches. "Guys, I’m not getting married today!" she joked.

A few of her female cousins shrieked and hugged her. We’re so happy for you, one of them shouted in the fury of embraces.

Thanks. She looked around. What is there left for me to do? You guys did everything without me!

Get ready silly, her mother, Danya appeared at her side. This is all about you honey.

Bianca’s tear ducts were already threatening to get to work. Her mother was always going out of her way to make her feel special. She should have known she was going to use her engagement as an excuse to spoil her even more. Thanks. She squeezed her affectionately and ran in the direction of her room to find herself an outfit.

Oh good, you’re here. Her father intercepted her and exited his study without much of a greeting. Can I talk to you?

I was going to get ready. She frowned, positive that he just wanted to talk to her about work. He had launched his own record label in the past five years and it was his daily obsession.

It’ll only take a minute.

She reluctantly stepped into his study and he began to question her about the social networking page he had asked her to make for the label and a few of the artists he had. We don’t have enough fans… he observed bitterly.

Well I just made the page. You need to pay for the advertising to get people to join. She was sure she had given him that information already. Her father seemed to think he could save money on a personal assistant by having her act as one.

Interesting. Did you send it to your friends?

Yes, but I only have six hundred friends. That’s not going to get you anywhere near what you want. She did not make an effort to hide her annoyance. She could hardly believe that he wasn’t even attempting to enjoy her engagement dinner. It seemed her mother had to be caring enough for the two of them.

Have you spoken to your friend Amber?

Not really. Why does that matter?

Remember I mentioned she has some kind of a page for her writing? he asked.

Yeah. I know she writes and has some kind of a blog. Bianca had seen her mention it once or twice in her status updates but she had never read it.

Yes, she has about twice as many fans as we do. How do you think she does that? I don’t think she can afford advertising do you?

Probably not, Bianca eyed her nails disinterestedly. I don’t know how she does it.

Maybe you should ask her.

We haven’t spoken in a while, she snapped.

Well maybe you should. I think I need an independent promoter and she just might be what I’m looking for. He paused and stared at the computer screen, scrolling down and clicking his mouse. Hmmmm…resourceful….yes, can you set up a meeting?

I’m not sure-

Yes, I think you should do that. He smiled at her certainly. I know you can do it sweetheart. If she helps me save money on advertising, it goes to your wedding present. He beamed at her. She knew this was his way of getting her to do what he wanted but she didn’t care. It was easier to just do it than to have him nagging her or deal with his moodiness because she hadn’t succeeded.

I’ll talk to her. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get ready for my party.

He nodded, Of course. I’ll do the same.

When Bianca emerged from her room in a rose cocktail gown and her hair swept back, Lawrence and his family had already arrived. He gave her a long kiss for show, which provoked a few woo-hoos. Bianca blushed, which was very unlike her. She pulled away to get herself a plate of appetizers and a shy voice reached her ears, Hey Bianca. She turned and was stunned to see one of her least favorite people, holding a tray of cocktails.

Checa! I didn’t expect to see you here. Although Checa was only older than Bianca by two years she had once been her boss. She’d married a much older man with kids and had hired Bianca to babysit on numerous occasions. At first they had been friends but Checa turned out to be an emotionally unstable bundle of drama that had blown up in Bianca’s face. Having her at her engagement party was awkward at the very least.

I’m working. Blood red maragarita? They’re pretty good. We got the recipe from your friend’s blog.

Bianca glanced back and forth from the margaritas to Checa incredulously. Did she just say she’s working? And why is Amber’s blog suddenly so popular? This was the second time in one night