Chapter 7: Under Contract

The four seated Riveras watched the doorway where Héctor stood facing his friend, music partner, and older brother Ernesto de la Cruz. Truth be told they all thought that when Ernesto were to reappear again he would look worse for wear, a shell of the man he used to be. After so many months without communication they had all assumed something bad had had bound to happen to him. But here he was, just as suave and barrel-chested as ever, with his charming smile and the glint of mischief in his eyes.

"My friend," he grinned and held out his hands. "It has been far too long."

Héctor sputtered a little and shook his head. "Too lo-… Too long?" Imelda could see his shoulders begin to tremble from behind and his hand clench the doorknob, as if he was trying to hold himself back. "Ernesto, it's been six months. How could you-… Why?-… Do you have any idea how worried I've been about you?!" he finally shouted.

Ernesto's smug grin finally faded and he had the decency to look a little ashamed. He took a step back as he held up his hands in order to calm his irate friend down. "I'm sorry, Héctor. I've been through, heh, quite the journey since I last saw you."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't flatten you where you stand?" Héctor growled as he raised a fist.

"Because you would probably end up only breaking your hand?" Ernesto said, his smile back.

Héctor immediately lowered his fist to his chest protectively. "Well… maybe. But still! I thought you were dead Ernesto! I was so- Ah, gracias a Dios!" Héctor's anger instantly faded to relief and he flung his arms around Ernesto and pulled him into a tight hug. "Gracias a Dios! You're alright!"

Ernesto's eyes widened when Héctor had embraced him, but then they softened as he returned the hug. "I am sorry, hermanito. And I'm glad to see that… y-you're alright as well." Imelda squinted a little at the look that passed over Ernesto's face. He almost looked… haunted. Then his eyes turned towards her and the cockiness had returned. "Imelda! How wonderful to see you again!" He then gestured to her full form. "I also see that congratulations are in order." He turned to Héctor and leered. "You didn't waste any time, eh muchacho?"

Imelda bristled a little at that while Héctor chuckled nervously. "Heh, si… Oh Ernesto, so much has happened since I've been home! Come, sit and eat, I'll tell you all about it."

"I also wanted to talk to you about some things, Héctor." Ernesto looked at the dinner spread on the table. "My my, Ensalada de Noche Buena! How very festive… But where's the carne?"

"Oh!" Héctor shrugged apologetically. "Lo siento. Imelda can't stand the smell of meat cooking right now. We've just had to make do-"

"My friend!" Ernesto clapped a large hand on Héctor's back. "I cannot stand to see you not meeting your dietary requirements. A man needs to eat meat! And I know just the place! How about you and me go to Salvador's, for old times' sake? We can talk there!"

"Oh, w-well, Imelda is-"

"Imelda!" Ernesto interrupted. "You don't mind if I steal your husband for the evening, do you?"

Imelda's eyes widened and her face paled. Steal? No… No no no! Not again!

"Stupendo!" Ernesto crowed, ignoring Imelda's obvious turmoil and began to push a weakly protesting Héctor out the door. "Come amigo, we have a lot of catching up to do. Don't worry; I'll have him back in no time!" And with that he slammed the door and left the other four Riveras reeling over what had just happened.

"Mama?" Coco glanced at Imelda with big, worried eyes. "Is Papá leaving with that man again?" Coco vaguely remembered seeing that man with the mustache from a long time ago. The last time she had seen him, her Papá had left with him and was gone for such a long time.

"No Coco, don't worry cielita!" Imelda smiled. "He is just Papá's friend who he hasn't seen in a long time! They're just going to talk. It's alright!" Imelda rubbed her stomach as she felt the baby inside of her kick. "It's alright." She repeated. Oscar and Felipe got up from the table and put their hands comfortingly on her shoulders. "It's alright…"

Héctor bit into the chorizo sausage and moaned appreciatively. "So good." He said. "I gotta admit, I was getting tired of just eating rice and vegetables these past few weeks."

"No problem, mi amigo." Ernesto smiled. "I just want the best for you. In fact… Oye, Sal!" he yelled out to the owner. "Another bottle of tequila, por favor. The finest you have!"

"Finest?" Héctor asked and swallowed. "Ernesto you don't have to do that for me."

Ernesto placed a hand to his chest and pretended to look offended. "Héctor, you should know by now that I would move Heaven and Earth for you!" Salvador placed a dark blue bottle in front of them and Ernesto grimaced. "El Paso? This is the finest you have?" The owner shrugged before walking away, and Ernesto sighed before pouring three shots. "Ah, good old Santa Cecilia. I guess I've been spoiled by the wares in Mexico City."

"You were still there this whole time?" Héctor asked, dumbfounded and a little frustrated. If he had known that Ernesto was right where he had left him then he would have been able to find him much sooner. "That city is so expensive, Ernesto! How were you able to afford to live there for so long?"

Ernesto shrugged. "I sang." He said matter-of-factly and sipped at his drink, pulling a face at the taste.

Héctor's brow furrowed. "Sang what?" Ernesto didn't answer and twirled his drink around. "My songs?"

Ernesto winced and smiled apologetically. "Well, you know I never had the talent for songwriting…"

"Ernesto…" Héctor growled.

"But I gave you full credit each and every time!" Ernesto held up his hands. "Cross my heart!"

Héctor paused. He did? That was… very unlike Ernesto. At the beginning of their partnership Ernesto was always bragging to people about Héctor's songwriting. But towards the end of their tour, everyone started to believe that Héctor was just the background guitarist to the great Ernesto de la Cruz's act, something that Ernesto never seemed to be willing to correct. "To who?"

"Everyone, including my new manager. No, our new manager?" Ernesto purred.

"We have a manager?" Héctor asked, eyes wide.

"Who do you think this third shot glass is for?" Ernesto smiled as he held up the glass. Something caught his eye and he perked up. "Speak of the devil. Fredo, over here!"

Héctor turned and saw a man enter the restaurant. He was a head shorter than Ernesto, thin as a toothpick, had large, straight bright white teeth that barely fit inside his mouth, and his thinning hair was greased back. He also had on the most beautiful, most expensive suit that Héctor had ever seen and as he got closer he smelled of the finest cologne that no one from Santa Cecilia could buy. The man screamed of money.

"Ernesto, my boy!" he said in a deep, booming voice that didn't fit his short stature at all, and shook Ernesto's hand. "What a… fine establishment this is. Very quaint!" His beady eyes turned to Héctor. "Is this the maestro himself?"

"Si, this is my songwriter, Héctor Rivera. Héctor, this is Fredo Barrera. He discovered me about two months ago." Ernesto guided Héctor to the short man, who grasped Héctor's hand in a bone crushing grip. Héctor concluded that this man was a giant in a small package.

"Pleased to meet you, senor." Héctor said, wincing as he took his hand back.

"Oh, no. The pleasure is all mine." Barrera hummed a laugh through his nose. "First I got the man with the golden voice, now I have the opportunity to acquire the real talent behind him."

Héctor quickly looked at Ernesto in alarm. Ernesto was a proud man; surely he wouldn't let this pipsqueak talk down to him like that? But to Héctor's shock Ernesto simply nodded his head and looked at Héctor with pride. Was Ernesto being… humble? What had happened to him these last few months to change him so drastically?

"Let's talk business, Senor Rivera." Barrera smiled.

Imelda sat in the rocking chair in hers and Héctor's bedroom and looked at the small clock on the bedside table, where it read 12:32 in the morning. As tired as she was there was no way she would be able to sleep knowing that her husband was with Ernesto doing and talking about God knows what. Plus the baby inside of her was kicking up a storm, possibly sensing the turmoil that Imelda was feeling and becoming anxious as a result. Imelda rocked slowly and tried to soothe her baby to sleep, trying not to let her worry get the best of her.

Things to talk about. The last time Ernesto had wanted to talk with her husband he had convinced Héctor to go on that stupid musical tour and had taken him away from her and their daughter for half a year! Towards the end of it she had had the foreboding feeling that she would never see him again. But he had managed to break free of Ernesto's grip and had come back to them, and everything had been so blissful Imelda should have known it would never last. She was ashamed to admit that a part of her had wished that Ernesto would never return, even if it would hurt Héctor, as long as he stayed with his family. But of course Ernesto was back, and he would slither his way back into Héctor's life and control him like the bully he was.

He dark musings made her miss the sound of the courtyard doors creaking open, but soon she could hear the gentle singing of her husband as he walked towards their bedroom. She clumsily pushed herself out of the rocking chair to stand and meet Héctor as the door slowly creaked open. Héctor peaked inside, but relaxed and smiled when he saw her.

"Imelda, you're awake! You didn't have to wait up for me. You and the baby should be sleeping." He walked over and placed a hand on Imelda's stomach, and Imelda recoiled at the stench coming off him. He reeked of tequila and another smell that made her nearly gag in disgust and the baby roll inside her.

"Héctor, that smell! Have you been smoking?!" Imelda asked, pressing her hands to her nose.

"Ah!" Héctor smelled his clothes and grimaced. "I'm sorry, mi amor. No, I haven't been smoking. That was Fredo Barrera, my new manager! Ernesto and mine, that is! Can you believe it?! Mira mira!" He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and showed it to her. "I signed a contract with him for Barrera Records! They make all of my favorite records Imelda, and now I'm a part of it! Well, Ernesto will be singing on the records, but I'm the songwriter, so my name will be right on the records with him! In print! Can you believe it Imelda?!"

As Héctor rambled on Imelda sat down on the bed in shock, her worst fears realized. She should have known. Héctor's dream had always been to play for the world. If his chance were to present itself, then of course he would, and should, take it. But the thought of him being away from her again made her feel ill. For how long would it be for this time? And after tasting the fame and fortune he craved, would he even want to come back?

"But yeah, Fredo smoked about three cigars the whole time I was there. It made me sick too." Héctor chuckled. "I had to get out of there as soon as I could, but also so I could share the news with you! What do you think, Imelda?"

"When will you be leaving?" Imelda asked, her voice cold and strong. She had slipped back into her icy demeanor from when Héctor was gone and the whispers of the townspeople were starting to get to her. They would not see her falter and break down then, and they would not see it now. It was easy. She would not cry over this man anymore!

"Leaving?" Héctor asked.

"Yes, when are you leaving?" Imelda snapped. "You and Ernesto are a team now, signed contract and everything. I assume you'll have your own studio, have to go on more tours, build your new empire, and you can't do that in Santa Cecelia! So I repeat, when are you leaving?"

Héctor smiled. "Well, Ernesto is going to be doing all that by himself, while I stay here in Santa Cecilia with mi familia!"

Imelda's stern countenance broke and her eyes widened. "Que?" she whispered.

"It's part of my contract, see?" Héctor said as he pointed out a specification on the paper. "I will write Ernesto songs, but I can do that anywhere, which for me is right here with you! Now Fredo did want me to come back with them originally, but Ernesto, of all people, insisted that I stay here where I'm happiest. He said I could write him songs while I'm in the toilet, for all he cared!" Héctor giggled. "But don't worry, I won't. I'm a professional, you see!"

"But how will he get the songs?" Imelda asked.

"Well I could mail them to the studio, or they have… uh… Cor-… Couriers? I think? Those are guys that come personally to pick up and deliver important stuff to make sure it gets back safely! It's all very complicated stuff, and I must admit I've had a little too much to drink so I can't really talk about it clearly." Héctor grinned sheepishly. "We should get to bed though. I have to get up early to deliver those work boots to the mines in the morning! We can talk about all this later."

"So… you're s-staying?" Imelda asked, daring to hope.

Héctor turned back to her confused, and then smiled at her with eyes full of love. "There's no place I'd rather be, diosa."

"Oh Héctor!" Imelda cried and crashed into her husband, wrapping her arms tightly around him and sobbing with relief. "Gracias a dios! Oh Héctor, Héctor!" She sobbed loudly into his shirt, saturating it with her tears that she had been trying so hard before to keep at bay.

"Oh Imelda, cálmese, cálmese!" Héctor soothed as he hugged her back. "Whatever is the matter, mi Corazon?"

Imelda sniffled and looked up at him with watering eyes. "I was s-so scared th-th-that you were going to… l-l-leave me again! Leave us! Oh, gracias a dios!" she sobbed again, harder this time.

Héctor sighed and kissed the crown of her head. "Oh Imelda, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have worried you like that." He lifted her head up by her chin and looked her in the eyes. "But you must know that I would never leave you when you're with my child. Hell, I wouldn't leave you even if you weren't. My place is with you, and Coco, even your stupid brothers. And a home filled with love, family, music, and shoes."

For the next few minutes Héctor held Imelda while she sobbed out all of her worries, while gently rocking her and singing sweet words to her. Finally her shaking abated and she soon turned ashamed. "I'm sorry; I don't know why I cried so much."

"Oh, I know you're not a cryer, Imelda." Héctor grinned and then pointed at her stomach. "It's the kid's fault. Pregnancy has always made you weepy. Like when you put your shoes on the wrong feet the other day."

"Don't remind me!" Imelda said through a smile as she wiped her tears away.

"Well, I know something that will cheer you up!" Héctor said as he pulled out another small piece of paper from his jacket. "Want to see what two months of royalties for my songs looks like?"

Imelda took the paper from him, looked at it, and gasped. "A check! For… five thousand pesos?! Héctor!"

Héctor grinned proudly. "Now we won't have to fight over the sewing machine anymore. We can each have our own!"

"Oh, Héctor!" Imelda wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, both laughing and moaning into it as they fell back onto the bed. The fact that Héctor was finally able to live out his dream, while also still being willing to help her achieve her own, made Imelda the happiest woman in all of Mexico.

"You should have seen me when I saw the check." Héctor laughed. "I nearly choked on my chorizo!"