Meli leaned back on her hands and pursed her lips as she thought. Finally, she said, “Not as much as you would think. Is it embarrassing? A bit. But it’s my life. I’m not going to stay with someone just because of what the tabloids might say, and I’m also not going to hold back because of that same fear. You get me?”
Gina nodded slowly. “I think so.”
Meli had a point, but it was easy for her to say that now—she was an international superstar. Had she had the same philosophy when she was just making a name for herself?
Gathering her courage, Gina asked, “Do you wish it had turned out differently?”
Meli looked her dead in the eye. “No. I followed what was important to me. Would it be nice to have a partner to share all this with? A family? Sure. And maybe it will happen, someday. I’m an optimist. But I went after what I wanted, and I got it.”
The fame. Yes, Meli had the fame. She’d made it big, and lived life on her own terms.Bronx Girlwas Meli’s creative vision, and although she was letting the professionals do their jobs, it was clear who was in charge here. Everything about it was inspiring.
But there was a sadness in her eyes when she talked about her failed marriages. And when Gina later read the script in the taxi on her way to the Bronx, her heart broke each time one of Meli’s relationships combusted. Four times she’d tried, and four times her marriages had exploded spectacularly. The men left, and Meli was alone. But she still had her career—the fame, the fortune, and the fans.
Maybe Gina shouldn’t have asked Meli if she wished it had turned out differently. Maybe a better question would have been, was it enough?
Every time Gina walked in the door of her mother’s apartment, she was welcomed by the smell of home, a mix of the lemon-scented cleaning polish used on the old wooden furniture, thehomemade rose potpourri in decorative bowls on the windowsill, and the sazón used so often in Puerto Rican cuisine.
Gina still had keys, so she let herself in and dragged her suitcase through the living room and down the hall to the second bedroom, the one she used to share with her brother and sister. After storing her luggage by the wall, she flopped onto the twin bed, covered with a quilt made by her great-grandmother.
The toll of being awake for a day and a half pulled her under. Before Gina passed out, her phone buzzed with a text from her agent, Penelope.
How many press stops should I book for you?
Ugh. This was aboutThe Dance Off.Gina had won, and everyone was going to want to interview her. She typed her response before she could talk herself out of it.
None. I need a break. Gonna stay with my family for a couple days.
Are you serious? You need to maximize the publicity to stay in the viewers’ hearts and minds—and those of casting directors.
Gina didn’t bother to reply that she’d already lined up her next gig. Tossing the phone aside, she settled her head onto the pillow. Yeah, she knew all about the planning, the timing, the exposure. She just didn’t care. What did it matter? They’d only want to ask her about Stone. And if that was the most interesting thing about her… what was the point?
For three years, her goal had been to winThe Dance Off.Now she’d done it. It was the ideal time to turn that win into opportunities. And while she was thrilled with theBronx Girljob, she couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm to run around to more meetings. It was hustle. It was work. Gina wastired.
And okay, she was lonely, too. She missed Stone. She missed strategizing with him and explaining her thought processes. He always wanted to know thewhybehind her decisions. Not to question her, but to better understand so he could help.
She’d lost her why. Whatever had driven her all this time was gone. She’d wanted to winThe Dance Off,thinking it would fulfill some need. But now she’d won, and she still didn’t feel fulfilled.
What was missing?
Stone.
No, it couldn’t be that simple.
Gina woke with a start when her mother entered the room.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were sleeping.” Benita backed out of the door. “I’ll let you rest.”
“No, Mami, está bien.” Gina rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Five. I left work early, because I knew you’d be here. Sleep if you need to sleep.”
“No, I’ll get up. That was a good nap.”
“I bet you needed it.” Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug. “I missed you, mija.”
“I missed you, too.” And because it was her mom, and mom hugs beat out all other hugs, Gina let the tears come.
Benita gasped, then hugged her tighter. “¿Qué pasó, Gigi?” she asked, resorting to Gina’s childhood nickname.
