Chapter 33: You Can't Fight Fate

Victoria meticulously sprinkled the orange cempazuchitl petals onto the floor leading up to the mini ofrenda her abuelito had set up on the makeup table in his dressing room. Looking over her work her little brow furrowed in agitation as she saw a few petals drifting away from the straight edges she had made. Placing her basket aside she picked up her small wooden ruler and scooted the petals over towards the others, nodding in satisfaction at the perfect triangle she had made from the door to the ofrenda. "I'm finished Abuelito!"

Héctor lifted the arm covering his eyes and looked blearily at the flower petals. "Uh... wow. I've never seen a flower path look so pristine before."

Victoria quirked her head. "Pris-tine?"

"It means beautiful. Perfect." Héctor smiled as the little girl beamed up at him. He knew that his granddaughter loved being praised almost as much as she loved learning new words. Groaning as he sat up from the sofa, the change in movement set off a short burst of hacking coughs that he tried to smother with his fist. The act left him gasping for breath and a deep ache in his chest. His eyes opened when he felt a little hand on his arm and he looked down to see Victoria staring at him worriedly. "Estoy bien, mija. It's just a cough. Don't worry."

Picking up his granddaughter and settling her into his lap, the two of them looked at the ofrenda. It looked so different from the one at home. Smaller and with garish lightbulbs circling it instead of soft candlelight. But there were flowers, candies, a glass of water and of course a bowl of chocolate covered strawberries in front of a foto of Leti. His favorite picture of her, dressed in a traditional Oaxacan dress and holding a radish with her name carved in it as she beamed for the camera, was one of the few items he had managed to snag before he had left his home in Santa Cecilia behind. Sighing sadly, he rested his cheek atop Victoria's head and held her tightly as they drank in the view.

"Abuelito?"

"Hmm?"

"What was Tia Leti like? Was she like me?"

Héctor snorted out a laugh. "Like you? Oh, no no no. You, mija, are a gentle, prim and proper little lady. Leti was like a hurricane. Couldn't keep her room clean for more than an hour, ran all across the town with everyone scrambling to try and find her, and she was the loudest, craziest little girl ever." His smile turned wistful as looked at Leti's foto. "But she was also so clever. So funny. And she loved her family so so much. Anytime she entered the room everything became so much more brighter and fun. She was perfect."

Victoria looked up at him. "Pristine."

Héctor nodded. "Sí... She was pristine."

"Why did she die?"

With a soft sigh Héctor twisted Victoria around so he could face her. "Well, she got very sick. So sick that she couldn't get better."

Victoria's eyes widened and placed her hands on his chest. "You're sick! I don't want you to die!"

"Ooohhhh..." Héctor cradled Victoria's close to him and rocked her gently. "I just have a chest cold. Your Tia Leti was a different kind of sick. Don't you worry, I'm not going to die for a very long time."

Victoria snuggled up close to her grandfather. "I'd miss you if you died. Do you miss Tia Leti?"

"... Every day."

A soft knock at the door drew their attention away from the ofrenda to see Coco standing in the doorway. Héctor smiled warmly as he looked at his daughter decked out in a beautiful, shimmering folklórico dress and her hair done up with braids and flowers. Her expression however was crinkled with apprehension and doubt. "Papá, I need to talk to you-"

"No, Mamá!" Victoria cried out. "Not my pristine flowers!"

"Huh?... Oh!" Coco hiked up her flowing skirts and tiptoed around the petals into the room with a smile. "Perdon, mija. Papá I have some concerns about the show tonight. About the final number?"

"What about it?"

Coco played with the end of one of her braids, and for a moment Héctor wasn't staring at the most vibrant new star of Mexico, but his little girl coming to him with a problem. "It's just... You know how we all agreed that I would sing Remember Me with Tio Nesto? How Theresa encouraged it? I just... don't feel right singing it. Not that version. That was our song Papá from when I was a baby. It's very special to me. I like Tio Nesto's version just fine, but... I feel like it would cheapen my memories of it. Do you understand?"

Héctor hummed a little to himself and cuddled Victoria closer. "Well it's a little short notice, isn't it mija? I mean the show will be starting soon." Seeing Coco's distressed look he smiled warmly at her. "But I'll talk to Ernesto about it. He's a born performer, he can handle last minute changes and be able to wing it."

Coco visibly relaxed with a smile and came over to hug the both of them. "Gracias Papá!" Scooping up her daughter from his arms and settling her on her hip, she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Just make sure not to tell Theresa, okay?"

Héctor chuckled. "Oh, I would never. I'd like to see the look on her face when one of her brilliant ideas gets rejected without her say so." While he had acknowledged Theresa as a brilliant manager with a sound business mindset, her personality was bristly and hollow and he pushed his daughter into doing things she wasn't comfortable with far too often. He was happy that Coco was starting to find her own footing as a celebrity without being told what to do all the time by that bruja.

"Also get some rest before the show, Papá." Coco said softly. "You're sick and need lots of sleep."

Héctor waved her off. "It's just a cold! You worry too much, mija."

"Uh-huh. Sure. You forget I'm a mamá now. It's my job to worry."

"Mamá?" Victoria asked sweetly as she fingered the elaborate beads of Coco's necklace. "Can you sing me your song? The one you're going to sing tonight?"

Coco melted at her daughter's big eyes and sighed. "Of course, mi angelita. Let's go so your abuelito can get some sleep, si?" A she left, daintily stepping over the flower petals again, Héctor could hear her softly singing to Victoria. "Hear the bells ring, calling you hooome... Calling your souls to retuuurn..."

Héctor's smile faded and he once again looked towards the ofrenda. A short cough came up unexpectedly from his chest, but he managed to keep his lips shut to suppress it. Uncapping his hip flask, he took a giant swig of... What is it today?... Ah, whiskey. Smooth. Licking his lips, he looked at Leti's picture and ran a finger across her cheek.

"Hola, mi amor." Héctor whispered. "I, uh... know this a little unorthodox: Having an ofrenda in a dressing room and not at home... But y-you always said you wanted to see one of your Tio Nesto's stage shows. You were always too young to go... Never got the chance to... But you're twenty years old now! Definitely old enough!... So, I want you to enjoy yourself tonight, mija. Dios knows you deserve it and more." He held up his flask at her picture and clinked it against the glass of water. "Salud, Leticia."

A soft knock at the door interrupted Héctor's toast. Turning he saw Vicente in the doorway, wearing a fine tuxedo and a stern look on his face when he saw the flask in Héctor's hand. Choosing to ignore it he stepped though the petals on the floor, making Héctor cringe as his granddaughter's work was sullied. "Are you ready, Señor Rivera?"

Héctor blinked at him several times. "Ready?... What time is it?"

"It's 4:30."

Héctor snorted and raised the flask to his lips. "Please Chente, now you're really starting to become a worrywart. The show doesn't start for another hour and a half. No need to start babying me so soon."

Vicente sighed tiredly. "Not that, Señor. I'm asking if you're ready for your visit with your wife and son?"

"PPPPPPPPTTTTT!"

Héctor spat a mouthful of whiskey all over the make-up table and yelped as the candles briefly blew up at the exposure of alcohol. Vincente leapt over to the ofrenda and managed to pat out the ends of the slightly singed flowers and Héctor frantically tried to wiped off the splatter on Leti's picture.

"Joder! Mierda! Wh-wh-WHAT?!" Héctor turned wild eyes at Vicente as he brought the picture frame down with a loud bang. Grabbing Vicente by his coat jacket he roughly shook him. "Imelda is here?! And Miguel?! Why-wh... Why didn't you tell me before now?!"

With a huff Vicente pried off Héctor's hands and brushed his jacket down indignantly. "I did tell you. Several times this past week. You were probably too drunk to remember."

"Well then you should have told me when I wasn't drunk!" Héctor growled out as he wiped the mirror of the spat-out whiskey.

"Which would have been when?"

"Ay, callate! Don't give me that- AAAH!"

Vicente jumped as Héctor let out a small shriek. "What now?!"

"Dios mio! Look at me!" Héctor cried out as he looked at his reflection for the first time, and actually cared what he saw, in who knew how long. "I look like a corpse! These bags under my eyes, this stubble! Am I broken out?!" His panicked rambling let out another burst of coughing and he bent over painfully as he endured the fit.

Vicente patted Héctor on the back harshly until he was able to take in a deep enough breath. "Señor, you should just sit down and-"

"Make-up!" Héctor croaked out and pushed Vicente out of the way. "Get the make-up girls in here pronto! I need them to work their magic on me before they get here!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Señor. They are here"

"QUE?!"

"PAPÁ!"

Suddenly all of Héctor's fears and anxieties melted away as he saw his little boy in the doorway jumping with excitement. Miguel was dressed up in the most adorable toddler-sized tuxedo and his hair was brushed back to look like a little gentleman, but his sweet face and gapped baby teeth made Héctor's face split into the first real smile that he had in months. "Miguelito!"

"Papá, Papá, Papá!" Miguel squealed and tore through Victoria's flower petals and into the waiting arms of his father. "I missed you Papá!"

Héctor pressed a kiss into Miguel's soft hair and held him close. "Oh, mijo... You don't know how much I missed you too!" He pressed more kisses on the boy's plump cheeks, then held him out at arm's length to get a good look at him. "Feliz Cupleaños, mi hijo! I'm so happy that I get to say that to you! Do you know how old you are today?"

"I'm this many!" Miguel said as he held up three fingers.

"Sí! Not long now and you'll a whole hand! You've gotten so big, Miguel! Pretty soon I won't be able to lift you up."

Miguel nodded proudly. "Uh huh! Mamá says I had a growth spit!"

"Growth spurt, Miguel."

A gentle voice drew a gasp from Héctor. Oh, that voice. Turning towards the door his insides melted at the sight of his beloved wife, standing there is a stunning black dinner dress and a white fur stole draped across her shoulders. In one hand she held a sparkling clutch against her waist and in the other she held a picnic basket stuffed with what he could tell was offerings for the ofrenda. Her hair was done up in a tight high bun and Héctor could see the beginnings of silver start to creep from the corner of her forehead, but she still looked as lovely as the day he had married her. How much he loved her. How much he missed her! He was so entranced by her beauty that he almost forgot he held their son in his arms.

"Papá!" Miguel said, jolting Héctor's attention back to him. "Mamá says I can't see the show. I'm not too little! It's my birthday, I'm big now. She says it's a black-tie party, but I'm wearing a black tie. See?"

Still too gob smacked by the sudden appearance of his wife, Héctor's fried mind tried to come up with something to placate the boy. "I-uh... W-well... You... uh..."

Imelda took the little boy from his father's flustered hand and set in down, looking him in the eyes with a stern look. "Miguel, black-tie parties are for adults only. There's going to be drinking and smoking there. It's not for children."

"Awww..."

"Ah, fear not Miguel!" Vicente stepped in and placed a hand on the little boy's shoulder. "We have a room in the back prepared to celebrate your birthday. We have candy, galletas, party games and much more just for you!"

Miguel hopped up and down in excited glee. "YEAH!"

"And your sobrina Victoria is there too!"

"...Oh. Okay..."

Vicente hummed a laughed and looked up to see his boss staring his wife like she was a priceless treasure, and she looking at him with a guarded expression. Awkward. "I'll uh... leave you two alone. C'mon Miguelito, let's go have a real party. Say goodbye to your parents."

"Okay. Bye Papá! Bye Mamá!"

"Bye..." Héctor whispered, still not tearing his gaze from Imelda as Vicente and Miguel left the room. They stared at each other for a few long, agonizing seconds before Héctor finally managed to crack a smile at her. "Imelda."

Imelda's head dipped a little, as if trying to draw in strength herself, and met his gaze stiffly. "Héctor..."

Say something, cabron! Say that her eyes are like molten copper that melts away the ice of your heart! Say that her face is more beautiful than the finest painting or sculpture in the Louvre! That the sound of her voice shatters all the blackness in your soul and purifies it with a golden, heavenly light! You're a writer and a poet! Just say something! Anything!

"You look good!"

Mierda!

"Thank you... I wish I could say the same." Imelda said, not unkindly. Indeed, she was staring at him with a critical eye and what she saw made her look worried. "You've lost too much weight, Héctor."

Héctor ran a hand self-consciously across his stomach and chuckled nervously. "Ah, yeah... W-well, I was insisted to do so. You know, they say the camera adds ten to twenty pounds. Got to look my best on screen!"

"I see..." Imelda stepped passed him and walked over to the ofrenda. She stared at it with a little distaste but smiled wistfully when she saw Leti's picture. Bending down she started to pull items from the basket and set them on the table. "I heard that you're also sick."

"It's just a chest cold. I promise you I'm fine-"

"And that you've been drinking a lot."

'Damn you, Chente!' Héctor thought angrily. He sighed harshly and decided that the fake positivity was not going to work. He crossed his arms and started to pout like a child. "Well, I haven't been having the most ideal time out here, now have I? They've been running me ragged to get this stupid movie finished and I've been worried sick about Matty and-…" He saw her flinch slightly at the name as she set down a bowl of pepitas in front of her parent's foto and he scowled. "He wrote to me. Said you sent him some boots."

Finishing up with a basket filled pan de muerto, Imelda nodded as she made the last adjustments on the offerings to make room on the table. "Sí, I did."

Héctor's chest ached at her confirmation. Every year on his birthday he would always get a new pair of shoes made lovingly by his wife. Despite her prideful boasts that her shoes were built to last a lifetime, and indeed they were, she always made him a new pair in various styles and colors to keep up with the latest fashions of the time and to show off the superior qualities and craftsmanship whenever he walked out with her on his arm. But for the last few years she hadn't made him any, and she wasn't on his arm anymore. And he couldn't help but feel cheated.

"So that means you forgive him then?"

Imelda snorted and crossed her arms in anger, still not looking at him in the eye. "Of course I don't forgive him! I will never forgive him for leaving his family to go on this foolish crusade of his, especially when he wasn't even forced to go!" She paused and dipped her head again, her expression slowly melting from anger into a deep sadness. Héctor itched to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he feared any sudden movements on his part would only serve to spook her. So, he waited. "But..."

"But?"

Imelda huffed out a bitter chuckle and a small smile graced her lips. "Even if it costs me the rest of my life... I will never stop loving him..."

Héctor's heart clenched painfully at that and he slapped a hand over his increasingly watery eyes and choked down the lump in his throat. He really should have stopped himself. But he lost control. No, he had no control since the moment she walked into the room. He never did when it came to her. "And me? Have you... stopped loving m-me?"

Not taking his hand away from his eyes he didn't see what expression flitted across her face. But the long pause and lack of immediate answer was enough for him, and he finally broke.

"Please let me come back!" Héctor whispered desperately, some tiny part of his self-control reeling in his voice to avoid making a scene for anyone outside. "I just want to come home to my family, Imelda! I've missed you all so much! If you-… If you want, I'll even buy a separate house in Santa Cecilia! We won't have to live together if that's what you want. Just so I can at least see Miguel."

"Héctor-"

"I'll do anything you ask of me! I always have! I'm only asking for you to do the same!"

"Héctor, I did not come here to discuss this with you. Please don't ruin this night for me-"

"Then why did you even come?!"

So much for keeping quiet. Héctor's shout rattled the light fixtures slightly and some of the conversations from the other dressing rooms screeched to a halt. At first he thought his voice, usually so calm and jovial, would scare his poor wife and spook her just like he had feared it would. Imelda didn't even flinch. Instead her face grew cold and she gripped her clutch tighter to her chest. That was even worse.

With a steady voice, Imelda spoke quietly. "I came... to see my daughter perform on stage... No other reason." And with that she briskly walked past him and out the door, her heels clicking away until all was silent.

Silent except for the blood rushing though his ears and his heart hammering in his chest. A gradual pain settled in his head and behind his eyeballs, but Héctor was too numb to even try to lift a hand to cradle it. It was nothing compared to his cramping insides and his stinging eyes. Blindly reaching for his hip flask in his breast pocket he was dismayed further when he found not even a half a mouthful was left in it. Without a sound he chucked it as hard as he could at the wall, leaving a large dent and cracked paint, and collapsed into the sofa.

With a brief knock on the door, Héctor let himself into Ernesto's dressing room. "Ernesto-"

"Joder!" Ernesto shot up from where he was crouched over the makeup table and vigorously started to wipe at his face frantically. "Madre de Dios, Héctor! Knock next time, I'm not even fully dressed yet!"

"I did knock..." Héctor slowly made his way in, not even registering his friend's frantic actions. "I need to talk to you about the show."

"Uh-huh. What about it?" Ernesto asked, facing away from Héctor. Plugging one nostril closed he sniffed as hard as he could to get rid of any lingering evidence to what he had been doing. As a tiny burst of energy and euphoria hit him he did the same to the other.

"I should have come sooner, but... I was preoccupied with something." Héctor sadly walked over and sat at the makeup table, placing his aching head in his hand. "Coco doesn't want to join you for Remember Me. She doesn't feel comfortable with singing your version of the song. It's too personal for her."

"Couldn't you have told me this earlier, hermanito?" Rubbing a finger on the underside of his nose, Ernesto silently cursed at the white powder still present and scrubbed the residue against his teeth.

"I know, I'm sorry..."

"Well no matter!" Ernesto shucked off his robe and grabbed for his sleeveless undershirt. "You know me. I prefer to bask in the spotlight alone on stage. And if Coco is uncomfortable singing it with me then I won't pressure her into it."

"Ernesto?"

"Besides, you know my version is a little, heh, sensual. I don't want to sing that to my own goddaughter that way."

"Ernesto."

"I mean I've known her since she was a baby. It just wouldn't be right-"

"Ernesto!"

"What?" Turning around Ernesto saw Héctor looking down at his makeup table with a confused expression, a long finger tracing a path through a few lines of fine white powder that were left on it. His stomach dropped as he saw Héctor rub the powder between his fingers, confusion slowly turning into surprise and dread. "Ah! S-sorry, I left that there. You startled me and I didn't get a chance to clear it away. You weren't supposed to see that."

"Ernesto, what is this stuff?" Héctor brought up the finger to his nose to sniff it before his brain kicked in enough to jerk it away before he could inhale. Wiping it off quickly as if it would burn him, he turned incredulous eyes towards Ernesto. "Is this cocaine?!"

"Uh... I... Si." Ernesto sighed, wincing at Héctor's horrified expression. Putting on his best charming smile he held out his arms in a friendly gesture. "I simply use it as a stimulant for when I'm onstage, Héctor. A person with my busy schedule needs all the help they can get. How else would I have been able to shoot three movies and two concert tours in one year? I'd offer it to you too, mi amigo, but it... Heh, it's damn near impossible to stop!"

Héctor shook his head, looking both dumbfounded and betrayed. "I don't... I don't understand! How long have you been using cocaine?"

Ernesto groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. He should have said nothing. He really shouldn't have. But he knew this junk had the nasty little habit of making him too chatty for his own good. "Ay... I don't know. Off and on for about... twenty years maybe?"

"Twenty years?!"

Ernesto grabbed him by the shoulder and pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhh! Keep it down, pendejo!"

"Twenty years and you never told me?!" Héctor's voice broke at the end and to Ernesto's horror he saw tears begin to glisten in Héctor's eyes. "And I never noticed. I should have! How could I have not noticed you were doing this?!"

"You were never supposed to notice, Héctor." Ernesto soothed and patted Héctor's shoulder with a chuckle. "Guess I'm not as bad of an actor as you think I am. But don't worry, I'm fine-"

"What else?"

"Perdon?"

"What else are you on?" Héctor asked, his gaze starting to turn into a glower.

Like rat being corned by a cat, Ernesto nervously backed up with his hands raised placatingly. "Nothing, me amigo! Honest."

"No me mientas!" Héctor growled and took one of Ernesto's wrists to stretch out the arm. "You think I don't know track marks when I see them?! Leti's arms were covered in them towards the end. So what is it then? Heroin? Is this why you're always wearing long sleeves?! To hide your shame?!"

"N-no!" Ernesto stuttered, his heart hammering in his chest. All of his secrets were coming undone before his very eyes and he was powerless to try to stop it. Only try to plead his case. "L-look, sometimes I need help getting to sleep! Either I'm too wired or I have bad night terrors, but I can handle it! Y-you didn't even notice, si? No one else will. I have it perfectly under control. I am in control!"

"Ernesto..."

Héctor's anger was snuffed out immediately, replaced by horror as he took a good look at Ernesto's wrist in his hand. He gazed over the four raised lines that streaked across and he suddenly felt nauseous, as the tears finally started to fall from his eyes and his heart broke for his friend. Looking at the other wrist his fears were confirmed by the sight of four more identical scars. "Ernesto, what-"

Like lightening Ernesto snatched back his wrist and held it protectively to his chest, his expression eerily blank and his back rigid. "You weren't supposed to see that either." Turning his back towards Héctor he reached for his white button up shirt and began to put it on.

Héctor gulped down the stomach bile from the back of his throat and sniffled, his horrified eyes never leaving his brother as he watched him dress. "Ernesto... I don't understand. What happened?"

"Not now, Héctor."

"Did you... try to kill yourself?"

"Not now."

"Ay, Madre de Dios!" Héctor cried out and fell to his knees hard, frantically crossing himself and raising his hands in prayer. "Dios, perdona a mi amigo! Perdona a mi hermano!"

"Stop it, Héctor." Ernesto growled as he finished buttoning up his shirt and reached for his chaqueta. There's no point, anyway. I'm already damned.

Héctor continued rapidly speaking the prayer as Ernesto stiffly finished getting ready. "Right now, my friend is struggling with a difficult trial. I can see his strength is faltering, Dios, and know that you have all of the strength that he needs."

"Why don't you save that strength for yourself Héctor?" Ernesto sneered as he combed his hair back into it's usual curl. "You need it more than I do. You don't see me pining for that cold bruja that you call a wife." Checking his appearance one last time he gazed at Héctor's reflection in the mirror, kneeling and continuing to pray for him. For him! Feeling his stomach roll at the very thought he grabbed his sombrero with a growl and smashed it on his head and smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt. With a turn he made his way towards the door, preparing to ready himself for his big entrance, when a hand grabbed hard onto his pants and yanked back hard.

"Where are you going?!" Héctor asked incredulously with wide, scared eyes that reminded Ernesto of when he was a little boy following him around.

Ernesto's frown deepened and he tried to wrench away from Héctor's grasp. "Where does it look like I'm going. I have a show to do."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Héctor shouted and laboriously climbed back to his feet while still keeping hold of Ernesto. "There's no way you are going to perform in this state!"

Ernesto laughed darkly. "You think is this first time I've performed on drugs? Some of my best shows where ones I don't even remember performing!"

"Well I didn't know about that then, but I do now!" Héctor snapped back and tried to pull him away from the door. "I'm taking you to a hospital!"

"No, Héctor!"

"You'll thank me later!"

"If I go to a hospital then word will spread!" Ernesto growled out, trying to pull the blue fabric out of Héctor's fists. "I can't have that, Héctor. My reputation is too important to me. And I have to do the show. The world is waiting! My family needs me-"

"I'M YOUR FAMILY!" Héctor cried out, grabbing Ernesto on both sides of his face and shaking him hard enough to knock the sombrero off of his head. "I'm your family! You are my brother, and you tried to kill yourself! You never told me! I could have helped you! Why didn't you tell me?! I have the right to know!"

Ernesto's blank mask slowly fell away as Héctor cried and screamed into his face, his own eyes filling up with tears. For a second Héctor saw something in Ernesto's expression that he had never seen before in his cocky, arrogant, charming friend. He saw something dark, black and so so painful that Héctor had no time to say anything before he was enveloped into a bone crushing hug. Ernesto clung to him like his life depended on it and Héctor could feel the intense shuddering of his body pressed against his. Ernesto was terrified.

"You're right." Ernesto whispered brokenly as he hugged Héctor harder and pressed his eyes into his shoulder. "You're right... I should have told you... And I-… I've been putting this off for far too long."

"Ernesto?"

With a stuttering sigh Ernesto pulled back and wiped the tears off of his face. Looking back up he paused for a moment, gathering the strength he needed, and finally managed to choke out. "Héctor... that night... all those years ago... I-"

"Señor de la Cruz! Two minutes to showtime!"

The sound of the innocent pageboy's voice startled both men badly and they both jumped with fright. The boy paid no heed to the distress in the room and went on his merry way back down the hallway. As the sound of his footsteps faded away Héctor sighed in relief and forced his breathing back down to normal. Looking back at Ernesto he was surprised to see a small, bitter smile on his face. "Ernesto?"

A small chuckle came out and Ernesto's smile grew bigger, yet sadder. "I really am a coward. Just one second and all my courage flies right out the window."

Héctor shook his head frantically. "N-no. Ernesto no!"

"Get out of my way Héctor. We'll talk later."

"Ernesto no! Please!"

"Just one more show. That's all I ask."

"You're not going on stage!"

"Yes, I am!"

"I won't let you-"

*WHACK*

….

….

Ernesto stood over Héctor's sprawled body on the floor and his hand slowly unclenched from a fist, the only sounds in the room being his own frantic panting and his own blood racing through his ears. The sight of Héctor laying limp and unconscious brought back traumatic images from his past nightmares and with a terrified gasp he knelt down and placed a finger against Héctor's neck. A steady thrum and the sight of Héctor's chest moving up and down with breath caused him to sag with relief. He was only out cold. Would probably wake up with a sore jaw and a terrible headache, but that would be all.

But for how long would he be out?

With little effort Ernesto was able to lift Héctor up by the armpits and drag him over to the open broom closet in the dressing room. Propping him up into a comfortable position and checking once again that he was showing signs of life, Ernesto closed the closet door and stuck a chair underneath the doorknob for good measure. He wasn't going anywhere for a while.

Sadly looking at the door one last time, he ran his fingers through is hair to instantly fix the curl and straightened his chaqueta out. Pulling his sombrero back on he ambled out the door, grabbing his prized gold guitar on the way out.

"Apologies, old friend. But the show must go on."

Vicente walked down the hallway of the backstage, jotting down notations in his schedule book while sucking on a lollipop that Miguel had graciously given him from the party. Despite being several feet away and under the main stage he could still hear Señor de la Cruz warbling away to the cheering masses. After two years of working for Rivera de la Cruz Productions the starry-eyed wonder he had felt for the celebrity had faded in a comfortable working relationship and he had felt no need to actually watch the show after seeing him perform so many times. He did stay a little to see Coco perform, however. She was always a treat to watch. Besides he also wanted to see the look on Theresa's face when, against her own demands, Coco wouldn't be performing in the finale. Oh, it was delicious!

Walking past the dressing rooms his ears picked up a distant sound. Trying hard to distinguish the sounds from the concert to the rooms, he was finally able to pinpoint it coming from Señor de la Cruz's dressing room. Stepping inside, the lollipop fell out of his mouth at the sounds coming from it.

"LET ME OUT! ERNESTO! LET ME OUT OR SO HELP ME I WILL STRANGLE THE LIFE OUT OF YOU! HIJO DE PUTA! LET ME OOOUT!"

Vicente rushed over to the door in shock and tried decipher who in the world was screaming from the broom closet. With a gasp, he exclaimed, "Héctor?!"

"Chente!" Héctor cried out. "Chente, get me out of this pinche closet!"

Vicente fumbled with the door but finally managed to unjam it from the knob, and that was when Héctor tumbled out onto the floor. He hacked out choking coughs that left his whole body shaking and spitting out whatever was heaved from his lungs and Vicente could see a dark bruised had formed on the lower left side of his jaw. "Héctor! Who did this to you?!"

"Ernesto!" Héctor growled, panting to get the air back into his lungs and his face clenched with rage. "How long was I out?! Where is he?!"

"He's on stage! The show is almost over-Héctor wait! You need to see a doctor!"

"Bastardo!" Héctor hissed and marched out the door despite Vicente's protests.

Making his way through the maze of hallways connecting its way to the main stage, all of the stage hands only took one look at him and instantly pressed against the wall to give him room to past. One only had to look at the murderous rage on their employer's face to know that this was a man on a mission and no one was going to even try to stop him. Almost everyone.

"Señor Rivera!" Theresa popped into Héctor's field of vision and briskly kept up to his furious pace. "What is this about Coco not singing with Señor de la Cruz for the final act? Why was this not run by me! We agreed that this was the best way to end the show! There was going to be a photo shoot of her and Señor de la Cruz under the bell-"

"Not NOW, Theresa!" Héctor shouted and threw the insufferable woman out of his path, ignoring her squawk of protest.

Finally, Héctor made his way to the backstage and stood behind the giant set design. If Vicente was right, and it was the end of the show, then Ernesto should be on the escalator and rising up to the top. Indeed, he was able to hear Ernesto singing his heart out to the audience and knew exactly what position he was in based on what part of the song he was on. Climbing up the stairs to the top, Héctor couldn't help but agree that Ernesto was performing a well as he always did. He could even picture his fat, stupid face winking and smirking towards his familia.

Well, wait till they see you with my hands around your throat while I throttle you!

Reaching the top, he peaked around the corner of the elaborate archway, and sure enough Ernesto's blue sombrero rose over the edge and he gracefully came into full view. Fists clenching in anger as he watched Ernesto hand his golden guitar over to the stage hand, Héctor waited for his move.

Until you're in my arms agaaaaiiin...

End of the line amigo! You're going to get yours!

Remember Meeeee!

*CRACK*

In less than a millisecond a deafening toll ripped all sound away and filled Héctor's head with a cacophonous ringing, and a violent shifting of the ground beneath knocked him off his feet and falling hard to the stage floor. He lay there in a sprawl for who knew how long, his eyes wide with shock and waiting for his senses to come back to him. The loud, persistent ringing still buzzing in his ears, Héctor lifted his head with a groan and looked up to a large, shadowy object blocking out the stage lights. Squinting past the dust and debris in the air, he was able to make out the vague shape of the church bell that just seconds before had been suspended over the stage.

Right above Ernesto.

…

Ernesto?

…

"Nesto?" Héctor whispered, not noticing that there were people starting to run around him. Some of them looked like they were screaming. "Was this part of the show?... I don't remember... Did you change the show, Nesto?"

He also didn't notice Vicente coming towards him and pulling him up to a sitting position, patting his body to check for injuries. He was shouting something at him. He couldn't hear. He just kept looking at the bell.

"I don't understand... Where are you?... Where did you go? Nesto?"

…

"Nesto?!"

…

"ERNESTO!"