To Selena, With Love (9 page)

I waited anxiously for Abraham or A.B. to call. I fully expected to be fired and I was miserable, not just because my stupidity had caused Selena to leave me, but because we were finishing up an
album that Abraham was sure would launch our careers in Mexico and the rest of Latin America. Selena y Los Dinos would move on and leave me behind.

As more time went by without any phone calls, I grew increasingly agitated. What had happened? Did the other two guys take the heat for me, and not mention me being there? Much as I would have liked to escape Abraham’s wrath, that wouldn’t be right, I decided. I knew that I had to tell the truth, apologize, and try to make amends. That was the very least I could do for the Quintanilla family.

Finally I drove to the studio, where I knew I’d find Abraham. He was in the control room with one of our sound engineers, watching Selena record a vocal track. She saw me come in but ignored me.

I joined Abraham, not knowing whether I was going to be fired on the spot, or if he’d ask me to finish the record first, then go. I told him what had happened at the hotel the night before, holding nothing back.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Nothing like that will ever happen again. I let things get out of hand. I didn’t stop it. I don’t know what else to tell you, but I apologize, and I will pay for all of the damages.”

To my shock, Abraham accepted my apology. He knew that I meant what I said. He even put his arm around me and, once again, reassured me. “Everything will be all right, Chris.”

My face burned with shame. Why had the other two men been fired, while Abraham was willing to give me a second chance? I like to think that, even then, he saw me as a son. In any case, once again, I was nearly crippled with guilt by my deception. I was being honest with this man I respected—but not completely.

On the other hand, things were over with Selena and me. What did it matter now? For just an instant, I even let myself think that maybe it was in Selena’s best interest to break things off with me.

Abraham told me that he had an errand to run. “You going to be here for a while?”

I thought of Selena in the studio, and nodded. “Just a bit,” I said.

“Good. Keep an eye on her,” Abraham said, and took off.

“Okay.”

Selena finished singing and came into the control room. I had been standing behind the engineer. Now she stood right next to me, her arm rubbing against mine, and said, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I said, my arm tingling. “I came to apologize to your dad. I told him everything.”

“What’s the deal?” she asked.

“We’re cool.”

“You’re going to keep playing with us?”

“Yes.”

Immediately, she put her arms around me and pressed her body close.

“Wait a minute,” I asked, laughing. “I thought you just broke up with me and we weren’t together anymore.”

“Shut up,” she said.

“No.” I turned to her. “In all seriousness, I need to apologize to you, too.” I told her my plan to pay for all of the damages, and added, “I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much. You know that I’d never deliberately do anything to hurt you. I don’t want to lose you.”

She hugged me hard. “Of course you’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

We stayed like that for a long time, despite the fact that the
engineer was in the control room with us, having to act like he didn’t see or hear anything at all.

By this time, I had started telling just a few close friends about Selena. I had also told my parents that we were seeing each other. I knew they would be supportive, but the first time I brought Selena home to meet my mother and stepfather, she was extremely nervous.

Selena was about to perform in San Antonio, so she was dressed for the stage in a glamorous red outfit and she’d brushed her shoulder-length hair out. “I want to look my best when I meet your mom,” she confided shyly.

The meeting between Selena and my mother went well, I told her later. I could tell that my mom liked her.

Still, Selena said, “I was more nervous about meeting your mom than I was about going onstage tonight.”

After that night, however, Selena spent a lot of time at my mother’s house whenever she came to San Antonio. She had an excuse to do that now, because she had found shops in San Antonio that sold leather, jewelry, beads, and other things that she needed to make her belts and costumes. Looking back at pictures of her during that time, you can see her wearing these big rhinestone belt buckles that she used to make.

Selena would tell her family that she was shopping in San Antonio, and then she would come see a movie with me, or we’d go out to eat. We weren’t as afraid of being recognized in the city, though I was still on guard. Selena would want to walk with her arm around me, but I’d say, “Hey, you know how much I want to be affectionate
with you in public and all that, but until you think your dad’s ready to hear about us, we’ve got to be careful.”

Sometimes, Selena would just come hang out at my mom’s house. She was more relaxed with my mother than she was with almost anyone else, probably because she was away from all of the things pulling at her—and because my mom accepted us as a couple. Selena used to sit in the glider in the backyard, just swinging and talking to my mother. She also loved taking walks with my mom around the neighborhood because it was quiet and nobody ever recognized her.

She enjoyed watching my stepfather cook, too. Once, he had bought a big roast with a bone. While we were in the kitchen talking, Selena watched Pops, mesmerized, as he cut up the meat for stew and set the bone aside. She was fascinated by these small domestic details because she had been on the road for so many years with her family.

“What are you going to do with that bone?” she asked.

“I’m going to make soup,” Pops said.

“Really? You can use a bone to make soup?” She was amazed.

Another night, when my mom suggested a walk, Selena asked if she could walk to the corner barefooted.

Startled, my mother told her that of course she could. “But why do you want to?”

“I just want to feel the warm cement on the soles of my feet,” Selena said. “I never get to do that.”

Another afternoon, I was outside washing the car with my stepfather. Selena and my mom had just come back from shopping when all of a sudden the ice cream truck came by. Selena ran back outside, all excited. “Can we get some ice cream, Chris? Can we go to the truck?”

I laughed and said sure. Selena made a beeline for that truck, reminding me again of all of the simple things about childhood that I’d taken for granted that Selena never had. She had given up her childhood to make music and go on the road with her family.

She never complained about it, but Selena was never really allowed to be a carefree child the way most of us are. Sometimes I felt that loss for her. I was happy to give her at least a glimpse into the way ordinary people lived. Looking back, I only wish that I could have given her more.

C. W. Bush / Shooting Star

U
ltimately, it wasn’t anything that Selena and I did that brought our relationship to Abraham’s attention and brought his wrath down upon us both. It was her sister, Suzette.

We had just finished playing a show in El Campo, Texas. Selena and I were hanging out on Big Bertha while the road crew broke down the equipment. Everyone else was either outside or in the bar as she and I relaxed in the front lounge area of the bus. We weren’t doing anything suspicious. We weren’t even sitting next to each other; I was seated at the table and Selena sat on the couch across from me. We had changed our clothes and were just talking when we heard the bus door swing open.

Instinctively, Selena and I both straightened up and fell silent as someone ascended the steps of the bus. It was only Suzette. Before I had time to feel relieved and make a joke, however, I saw from Suzette’s expression that she wasn’t as pleased to see us as we were to see her.

“Oh, God,” Suzette said. She rolled her eyes at us, then spun around and got off the bus again, slamming the door so hard that the bus rocked a little.

Selena and I exchanged puzzled glances. “What was that all about?” I asked.

“No idea,” Selena said.

It never occurred to either of us that Suzette would go to her father at that moment and tell him about us. Why would she? Suzette and I had always been friends. Like the rest of the band, she knew about Selena and me; she had already told us, “Look, I’m not involved in what you’re doing together. And if Dad asks me, I’m going to say that I don’t know anything.”

A few minutes later, the door to the bus swung open again. This time it was Abraham. He climbed the steps but stopped near the driver’s seat, staring straight at me.

“Chris, can you come here for a second?” he asked. He appeared calm, but his mouth was set and his voice was hoarse from either fatigue or tension.

“Sure.” I got up from the table, alarm bells sounding in my head.

“What’s going on?” Selena asked.

I shrugged and followed her father. By the time I reached the top of the bus steps, Abraham was standing on the ground again, just waiting. His dark eyes were hard and his shoulders were pulled back. What was going on?

We had performed in Houston the night before; Abraham had been paid for that show in cash and had somehow rushed out of the hotel room in the morning without retrieving his briefcase full of money from under the bed. By the time he remembered, we were already setting up for the show in El Campo. Abraham decided to borrow a car from my friend Carlos, whose band was opening for us that night, so that he could race back to Houston, feverishly hoping that by some stroke of luck the money would still be there.

It was, thankfully. Still, I reminded myself that this mishap had caused Abraham to miss our show in El Campo—and had probably made him even more exhausted and irritable than he usually was, particularly since he had nobody to blame for that mistake but himself.

As I joined him on the street, I ticked off every other possible reason that Abraham might feel compelled to call me aside like this, too. None of the reasons seemed like good ones. Had I said or done something to set him off?