ONE WEEK UNTIL NOCHEBUENA
LEILA
“I’ll be right over there, behind the camera guys,” I told Viviana Guerra, Latina superstar and gorgeous, perfect human. The woman I’d been in love with for a decade now, who also happened to be my boss.
“Okay,” she said in that soft voice she only used in private. In front of the cameras, for the world, Vivi G was a larger-than-life bombshell who loved the spotlight. In private—the way I knew her—she was a gentle, almost shy woman who spent too much time on her own.
“Do we have anything else after this?” she asked, turning her attention away from the hosts of the morning television show she was about to go on to promote her upcoming live Nochebuena special. It was the first of two dozen appearances we’d do in the next five days.
She already looked exhausted.
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. Knowing it usually took her a day or two to adjust to the flurry of intrusive questions—and at times, unkind comments—I’d made her schedule lighter on the first and last day. “Just this today. Later we have a wardrobe check and then your sister is bringing the kids for a couple of hours.”
“Oh, good.” She turned fully around then and smiled at me, that soft one I only ever saw when those she loved were involved. “I thought I wouldn’t get a chance to see her before they left for their cruise.”
The “cruise” was a private yacht Viviana had rented for a seven-day trip in the South Pacific as a twentieth anniversary present for her sister and brother-in-law. It was an extremely generous gift, but she didn’t expect her sister to stop by and say thank you before she went on it. That’s how she was, selfless, and I hated that only a few people knew that.
“Five minutes!” the production assistant informed us as she walked across the sound studio to where Yanelis and her two partners were currently canoodling. She’d been in a heated conversation with Viviana before I’d walked up, but she left us alone the moment I returned. That had been happening a lot lately, lots of secretive, hushed conversations that seized as soon as I was within earshot.
“I confirmed they received the disclaimer asking not to mention anything connected to your personal life,” I reassured my boss in a whisper, my mouth not too close to her ear, where I could accidentally brush her skin, but near enough that I could see the smattering of freckles on the nape of her neck and shoulders. I leaned back a bit more, just a fraction of a centimeter, and swallowed hard as I got a whiff of her scent. She used a special body wash that smelled like cloves and orange zest, and I was addicted to catching little traces of it through the day. Everything about her was delicious and decidedly not mine.
Not. Mine.
I was so in my head I missed what she said, and then when it registered, I was certain I got it wrong.
“What did you say?” I asked, very careful not to run my finger along the edge of her slouchy, bright-red blouse, which was revealing a whole lot of supple, sun-kissed shoulder.
“I said, I don’t mind if they ask me about what I want next.” There was something to her posture, the intense way she was looking at me that made my blood rush between my temples.
“I don’t understand,” I answered dumbly as she flicked those long, curly lashes at me. She shifted in my direction, and I was pinned under that new way she looked at me sometimes. Like she wanted to extract every thought from my brain. It had been happening for weeks now, and I still could not figure out what was happening, other than every time she did it, my entire body went rogue on me. Mouth dry, hands sweating... heart racing. Chaos.
Because something was absolutely up with my boss. Viviana had always looked at me with fondness. She’d been kind and loving to me from the first moment we met. We were close, more than close—I knew her better than anyone else in her life. I was aware of every single thing she loved and loathed. I took care of her. It was my job; more than that, it was my pleasure. But in ten years together, she’d never given me the impression she saw me as more than her friend.
But now, whenever she locked her eyes on me, I felt like I was being torn open.
“I’m serious.” She leaned in a little, her proximity making goosebumps break out all over my body. From that angle, I could see the lacy edge of her red bra under the blouse, and my mouth felt like I’d eaten a fistful of sand. “I don’t care if Ruben wants to ask me about my love life. He can ask.” She waved her hands, as if the kind of questions she’d obsessively avoided for years were no longer consequential. “Oh!” she exclaimed while I stood there, stunned. “Will you have dinner with me tonight, after Gloria and the kids leave?”
I made myself blink as I struggled for a response, knowing she was about to be called on set. “Uh, yeah. Sure,” I mumbled, confused as hell. “You need me to order something? Carbone or—”
“Nope,” she said with a shake of her head, then winked at me. My entire lower body felt like it had morphed into Jell-O. “I’ll cook. I put an order in this morning.”
I forced my mouth open and pushed out words despite being certain I was hallucinating. “You ordered groceries?”
Another bright smile, this time paired with a sneak peek of the tip of her very pink tongue between her gleaming white teeth. “I sure did. You know I love ordering stuff on the phone.” She held up the latest model of iPhone in her hand like she was presenting me with Exhibit A. “It said it would arrive between noon and 2:00 p.m. So it’ll be waiting for us.” She did like to personally buy treats for her niece and nephew when they came over—they were eight and ten and loved their sweets—but that was different than buying groceries for dinner. Dinner she would cook for me...
“What are you making?” I fought the urge to narrow my eyes at my boss. Reminding myself of my seven-figure salary did the trick.
“Your favorite.”
“My favorite?” Why did I keep responding to everything like a question? Viviana just laughed a twinkling laugh like I was cracking her the hell up.
My favorite food was caldo de bolas verdes, which took hours to make, so...
“Actually, more like your second favorite,” she corrected, interrupting my thoughts. “The caldo takes too long and I’m a little rusty, so you’ll have to be happy with rice and peas and bistec picado.”
As discreetly as I could, I pressed my palm to the left side of my chest, just to make sure my heart didn’t burst out of its confinement. I had no idea what was happening, none, but my body would not be able to take much more of it.
“In ten!” yelled the PA, and before I could ask Viviana what exactly was going on with her, she and Yanelis were headed up to the stage and greeting the hosts of Breakfast Bochinche.
I stood in the spot I’d said I’d be and watched Viviana play the role of Vivi G. The studio was fully decked out in a holiday theme. There were tall silver Christmas trees around the dais where the hosts did the show. Fake snow and lights sparkled all over. She looked radiant among the holiday décor in custom Alexander McQueen cream slacks and red blouse. On her feet were strappy Louboutins, which were embellished with an eye-watering sum of real freaking diamonds. She had her signature hoops on, made of platinum and tiny diamonds. She’d gone for a sleek, high ponytail, baby hair laid in perfect little swirls. Her face was fresh and young, her caramel skin glowing as she smiled at the adoring crowd. She looked to me just like she had the first year I’d started working for her. Only now there was a serenity to her that hadn’t been there until recently.
“You’ve had a big few weeks, ladies,” said Ruben Ruiz, the male host of the show, looking between the two pop stars. Viviana grinned at him while Bad Kitty stuck her tongue out, her signature move.
“The new Latina holiday queens,” said Carla Camilo, former Miss Universe and co-host of Bochinche, with an enthusiastic nod. “You all have the number-one song in the country. ‘Navidad with You’ is the most streamed holiday song this season.”
“That’s right,” Yanelis crowed. “Me and my girl Vivi showing them how Latinas do.” She shook her shoulders with her usual brashness, and the audience loved it. The rapper was a newcomer, but she’d made big moves in the last couple of years. Vivi G’s career, on the other hand, had seen a dip. She was a veteran now, part of the old guard to some. Even with this special and new single putting her back in the spotlight, things just weren’t like they used to be.
I knew that stuff bothered her, that she’d been worried about being redundant. That she didn’t know what she would do with herself if she lost her career. Except right now, as I looked at her, the usual unease at not being the center of attention was not there. She only smiled indulgently at Bad Kitty’s antics, content to be in the background for once. Eventually the hosts turned their attention back to her, and she took her time responding to their question.
“It’s been a good year,” Viviana finally said, and I grimaced at the opening she’d just given Ruben, who was notorious for using any excuse to go for the jugular.
“It didn’t start off that great,” he said with that benign smile. The man had verbally eviscerated thousands of guests while deploying that “sweet abuelito” expression. “I heard you even made a vow of celibacy for your New Year’s resolution.”
That cabrón.
Furious, I took a step forward, not caring if anyone heard me. He knew perfectly well the breakup was off limits. Ruben was not going to make a fool out of Viviana, not on my watch.
I unclipped my walkie-talkie from my belt with every intention of forcing them to go to a commercial break when Vivi found my gaze and gave a shake of her head. Nothing anyone watching at home, or even in the live audience would’ve noticed. But when your every waking moment was spent anticipating Viviana Guerra’s needs, you learned to recognize when she was giving out a distress signal and when she wasn’t.
“I think we should focus on the positives—these are the holidays, after all,” Yanelis told Ruben with a pugnacious smile on her face. But Vivi once again didn’t seem to find the man’s words upsetting.
“It’s fine, Kitty,” Viviana said, then turned to Ruben and Camila. “The truth is my year got off on a seriously wrong foot. Once again, what I thought was my happily ever after turned out to be not so happy,” she told them with such vulnerability I choked up. I hated this. Hated that she was putting her heart out there like that for people who just wanted to drum up some juicy sound bites for clicks. “And it’s true...” She laughed then, waving her hand. “Well, not about the celibacy.” The audience laughed, and she beamed. She wrecked me without even trying. “But I did take this year to reflect on what I wanted. I also made a point to practice some gratitude for the many riches I already have.”
She turned so her entire body was facing the audience, but her gaze—that golden, warm gaze—was locked on me. I had to remind myself to breathe so I didn’t black out.
“I’ve been blessed with a long career in a business that rarely allows women like me in. I’ve done things my way, and at times that’s meant I’ve rubbed some people the wrong way.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and fake-whispered, “Men. I’ve made a lot of them real mad.” This time, the audience roared. She had them in the palm of her hand. “I’ve decided that I’m ready to make some drastic changes, to reach for the gifts that have been offered to me that I have not been smart enough to take.”
Her eyes were burning me now, my skin prickled under her attention. What was happening?
“I’m ready now.” She said it looking in my direction, as if the words were meant for me.
I was not the only one sensing that, despite the casual demeanor and easy smile, Viviana meant every word she said. That whatever was coming would be monumental. For a beat, the audience, the hosts, and Yanelis seemed to be frozen, as if we were all holding our breath for her big reveal. But after a moment, she tapped Ruben on the knee and laughed.
“You’re not getting the exclusive, Ruben.” He pouted, and she grinned evilly. “Let’s talk about the Nochebuena Special! That’s what we’re here for!”
After that, both Vivi and Yanelis launched into the details of the production happening in a week. They both smiled for the camera and even teased a few of the original songs they’d do together. By the time she walked offstage and came looking for me, I could passably fake like whatever I had seen in her eyes hadn’t upended my world.