Alberto glances into the rearview mirror as he drives back to the airport with 3MB and Ricardo in the backseat, disbelieving that he had somehow agreed to this, the two wanna be bandmembers going on and on about topics that he can't even come close to fathoming. Ricardo sometimes chimes in but for the most part he sits and listens with a small smile on his lips. Del Rio stops at a red light, glancing over once more, just to lock eyes with McIntyre. He narrows his eyes at him for a moment before turning back to the road, wondering if, in all of the time that Ricardo's been spending with the two remaining members of 3MB, either man had considered telling Ricardo what had happened at the bar between he and Miz months back just after he had first taken out Ricardo. How the ring announcer would react to such things.
He had been so pleased for the younger man's joy when he'd been invited to compete as the third man in the band, he hadn't even considered the repercussions, unsure if Ricardo even has an inkling of Mike's actions that night, or if it would change his opinion on either of them. He's uncomfortably aware that his money wouldn't have held Mahal or McIntyre's tongues this long if they had wanted to say something, and he almost considers dragging them aside and offering them more to ensure that they'll keep quiet forever, but he knows that Ricardo deserves to know everything, the sooner the better and he should be the one to say something, if not Mike.
He's worried but when they arrive at the airport, he reaches out for Ricardo, the former ring announcer stopping short as Drew and Jinder walk ahead. "Uh, guys, I'll catch up with you later," he calls out to them. "Alberto and I have something to discuss right now."
"Alright, see you around, Ricardo," Drew responds, throwing up the horns before dropping an arm around Jinder's shoulders as they walk side by side through the airport to arrive in time for their flight back to America.
"These last few days were fun," the younger man says slowly. "Actually wrestling... as myself... for the first time in a long time... and... you here, supporting me through it. Didn't really win anything, but still. It was nice. I enjoyed myself."
"I'm glad, mi amigo," Alberto responds quietly, looking up at him. "I need to tell you something." Ricardo bites his lip, looking like he's expecting the worst, as if he thinks Del Rio will have changed his mind about their being friends again, so Alberto spits it out as quickly as he can, to take that look off of his face. "Do you remember Summerslam weekend... when I had... that black eye and everything?"
"Si, of course I do," Ricardo nods, brow furrowing as he's drawn back into thinking about the worst period of his life. "Wha- what about it?"
Alberto lays it all out there, how he had been at the same bar as Mike the night before the PPV, and how Mike had punched him out until John and Alex had split them up, Del Rio's money encouraging the three members of 3MB to spread false stories to confuse the situation so no one would know the truth, keeping Mike from getting into trouble.
Ricardo stares at him, thrown and amazed by all that he'd just been told. "You... you did all of that... just for...? And then I came back with RVD and..." Guilt overwhelms him as he considers everything that had followed, shaking his head. "What a waste of time that ended up being. He couldn't even hang around for two months." He closes his eyes and sniffs. "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if I had just... stopped being prideful and given you the bucket the night that he left? Helped you like you wanted me to?"
Alberto smiles wanly. "Sometimes, mi amigo, but... I think things played out the way they were meant to. If you had done that, exactly what I had wanted to put an end to would've resumed, and I might not have had the strength to stop it again. At least this way, you've had the time to train, and now you're competing and showing your ability to crowds, as you should've been able to long ago. If I had rehired you that night, you wouldn't have had this opportunity."
Ricardo chuckles lowly, staring at his hands sheepishly. "This is true, I suppose."
Alberto smiles at him, briefly wondering what Mike will have to say at his confession. Shaking it off, he glances at the clock. "Si, it is. Now come, or we'll be late for our flight back to Florida."
After wrapping up the post-holiday tour, Ricardo leaves 3MB behind and returns to Florida, relieved to be home. He drops his bag in his bedroom and flops face down on the mattress, breathing in the familiar scents that he always misses when he's traveling and staying in hotel rooms for extended periods of time. He's not sure how much time has passed, falling into a light doze, when fingers rest on the back of his neck, squeezing faintly. He stirs and grunts a little before tilting his head so he can speak. "Hola, Alex."
"Hey, man. How'd it go?" his roommate asks, sitting on the bed next to him.
Ricardo shrugs, rolling onto his back so he can look at him. "Not bad. It was fun, though I don't think 3MB will want me to be a permanent fixture, especially once Heath returns. Which is fine, I'm just happy I competed in Madison Square Garden for the first time."
Alex nods, grinning slightly. "I'm happy for you, man." He sobers quickly, however, when he notices a small look of displeasure on Ricardo's face. "Is... something wrong? Did Del Rio do something?"
The younger man takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "No... I mean, not really. He... told me about Summerslam weekend, though." Alex looks uncertain and Ricardo sits up, facing him. "Did... Mike tell you about the bar fight?" Realization dawns on his face and the former ring announcer takes a deep breath. "I'll take that as a yes."
Alex shakes his head, leaning forward. "Look, I was there, ok? And so was Morrison- you have to understand, at the time, Mike was going through a lot between AJ, and what Del Rio was putting you through. Words were exchanged, and he just... punched him out. It was over as soon as it began and we dragged Mike out of there before things could go worse; we're not sure how exactly the stories became so confused, but that's the truth."
Ricardo nods slowly, considering all of it. 3MB's role in it, what he can only imagine Mike's point of view to be, all of the facts leading up to it. "I'm not mad, at Mike or anyone else," he finally admits. "It was so long ago... it just reminds me of that whole month, and..." Alex leans forward, tugging him into a one-armed hug. He sighs, staring out the window at the dark sky. "What time is it?"
Alex glances at a clock and breathes in softly. "It's almost 9 PM." In three hours, it would be 2014. He hopes that the upcoming year will be a much better one for them all. Glancing back down at his quietly ruminating roommate, he grins. "Hey, get some comfortable beach clothes on and meet me outside, I have an idea."
"Hermano," Memo Montenegro sighs, following his brother from his car down a sandy beach, not realizing the significance. "What are we doing?" When Alberto says nothing and Sofia merely smiles, the younger brother frowns at them both, far from liking being ignored, and trudges after them a bit further before coming to a stop between the water and a row of apartments. As Alberto and Sofia work on shaking out towels to sit on, his frown grows even more. "Hermano-"
"Sit down, Memo," Alberto murmurs finally. "This apparently is one of the better places to watch fireworks." Memo is still staring at him incredulously but he sits before his brother will grow annoyed, leaning back against the warm sand. It's thankfully a nice night, the breeze soft, moon bright, and the sounds of the waves hitting the sand soothing.
They've laid there he's not sure how long when he realizes that his brother's dark eyes are focused on something feet away- his own eyes trail in that direction before he hesitates, recognizing the people who have Alberto's attention so thoroughly. Alex Riley and Ricardo Rodriguez sit a little higher up the beach, digging around in the sand like a couple of five year olds, passing the time waiting for the clock to strike midnight while making what looks like a sloppy sand castle. Finally the silence begins to annoy Memo and he turns to look at his brother. "Are we going to go over and say hola?" Or are you going to just stare at them all night? he thinks dully, still unable to make sense of the drama between his brother and the ring announcer stemming from August. Of course, much of it had happened just after he had left for Puerto Rico, so he had only heard bits and pieces of the true story, and had thought it was resolved when he'd arrived at his brother's home just to fly immediately to California for a Christmas party at The Miz's house, but now... he doubts this also.
"Perhaps after the fireworks," he murmurs. "I'd rather not disturb him right now."
Memo rolls his eyes in exasperation before once more settling down on the towel, quietly thanking Sofia when she hands him a bottle of water.
Ricardo trails his fingers along the pile of sand they're struggling to form into something resembling a sand castle, his eyes roving around the beach as he looks for a kid who might have a shovel and bucket he could... er... borrow... when he thinks he sees something familiar, his hand sinking into the sand and demolishing the one wall they'd gotten to look somewhat sturdy. His eyes widen as he stares down at the pile of sand, shaking his head. "Lo siento," he mutters, before looking back over at who, even from this distance, is clearly Alberto, Memo and Sofia sitting on a couple of towels, watching the sky as they wait for midnight and the fireworks. "Ay..."
Alex eventually looks up from trying to recover the sand castle wall and realizes what Ricardo is looking at, his eyes widening. "What are they doing here?"
"I guess like everyone else," Ricardo mumbles, staring at his hands. "Here to see the fireworks."
A-Ri highly doubts that that's the only reason, watching his roommate for a moment before purposely kicking the sand so that what remains of their castle crumbles to the ground. Before the ring announcer can say anything, however, he makes it to his feet and holds out a hand. "C'mon, man. I get the feeling maybe we'd have better luck with the sand over tehre a bit."
Ricardo swallows and stares up at him, hesitantly taking his hand to pull himself up. "Wh- you're sure?"
"Yeah, man. Let's go see." They walk side by side closer to Del Rio's towel, Ricardo growing more and more anxious the closer they get. "Hey, is this a good place to make sand castles?" he asks, smirking as Alberto jerks in surprise, startled that they're even standing there.
"Eh, castillos de arena?" he mutters, glancing down at the sand before looking back at Ricardo. "Si, I suppose it would do. Is something wrong with the sand where you were at?"
"I think it was defective," he says smoothly before sitting between Memo and Sofia, winking slightly at the housekeeper, who grins softly at him as she greets Ricardo. "Do you want to help us try to figure out how to make one last, even if it's just for a few minutes before tide washes in?"
Alberto purses his lips, unsure what to do, but as Alex and Ricardo begin another attempt at it, Sofia slowly begins to help, her soft hands somehow just the right touch to keep the damp sand from shifting into a million little grains. Memo joins in, clearly awkward and unsure of what he's doing, but apparently enjoying himself anyway, and Alberto watches with a small smile until finally he feels the urge to do something, patting together the sand and piling more onto the front wall until it forms the shape of the Del Rio family crest above what he thinks is their attempts for a front door. He's just finished, feeling Ricardo and Alex's eyes on him, when people begin counting back from ten all around him. He realizes in some surprise that it's finally midnight, 2013 and its terrible chain of events finally put behind them.
He looks up as the first fireworks streak across the sky, reflecting against the wet parts of the sandcastle, before he turns to glance at Ricardo. "Feliz año nuevo, mi amigo."
The younger man beams at him and nods, eyes gleaming. "Feliz año nuevo."
