Played like a Guitar - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

We were shown our seats inside the most romantic restaurant I had ever seen, with round white tables, red rose petals covering the interior alongside old brown and gold candelabras. The jazz music and dim lights further contributed to the intimate atmosphere.
"You didn't expect me to fly all the way here to surprise you, querido?" - Valentina asked, pinching his cheeks real hard. The couple were sitting in front of me, ignoring my existence. Not for long.
"I didn't actually, I thought you were busy with your collection." - he replied, trying to cover the tattoo, miffed that his girlfriend appeared out of nowhere to ruin the end of a perfect day.
"Why yes, but I missed your beautiful face so much I just had to fly all the way here and see you." Good thing my stomach was empty, otherwise the tablecloth would be covered in a nasty green substance by now.
"I'm leaving for Vienna tomorrow, though." - he informed her rather coldly for someone who hasn't seen his fiancée in a while.
"And I will be joining you, of course. My jet is waiting for us at the airport, no need for you to be cramped in...business class." - she muttered. People call her an influencer? She glanced towards me, almost surprised to find me sitting there.
"So, Nova, what brings you here? I love your outfit, it's so...simple!" Even though other guests were dressed fancily in suits and gowns, I preferred my dirty white shirt and sugarcoated cardigan, thank you very much.
"How nice of you to ask! Victoria, was it?" - I chuckled like a single-brain-celled idiot. "Anyways, I'm finishing my master's here, currently waiting to receive the student of the year award as a matter of fact." - I bragged, sending Jamie a bitchy glance, and based on the single drop of sweat dripping from his forehead, he got the memo. "It's a golden shiny trophy for smart people like me. You make other people sew clothes for you, right?" - I explained to her in simple English terms so her tiny brain could understand.
"It's Valentina actually." - she corrected me. "You'd think the star student could remember a simple name, especially mine." - a demonic evil laugh echoed throughout the restaurant. "I'm kidding! Actually, I design statement pieces everyone will be wearing this summer. My dear friends Anna Wintour and Donatella Versace are so excited to see my creations! Don't worry, I will gladly give you a discount if you can't afford the real price." How about I flip the table and smash your head against the floor?
"I heard they have really good sushi here." - Jamie brought up irrelevantly, in the middle of a war.
"Muy bien, darling. Only the best for you." - she kissed the very same lips I tasted an hour ago, my blood boiling inside from anger and jealousy. She's lucky I chose German over Spanish in high school, otherwise I would've given her a piece of mind she would understand clearly. "Is that a tattoo?!" - she hollered in astonishment, shifting his neck towards her to see it up close.
"Um, yeah...just had it done before you came here. Do you like it?" - he acted as if Valentina was his mother, as if what we just did was completely illegal.
"It's...it's...what's the word? Ah, yes, adequate." - her fake smile visible from a mile away. "Nothing that lasers can't solve nowadays." - she already planned its removal, but he wasn't exactly protesting either.  Instead, he gave her a short recap of all the places we visited beforehand to which she answered phlegmatically with "uh-huh's" and "yeah's" while deciding what Instagram filter to apply to her latest post.
"Valentina, do tell me more about the proposal! I never got to ask Jamie about it." I felt no remorse digging into their life affairs.
"Ah, it was so romantic! He proposed to me during our vacation at my parent's villa in Ibiza. We had lots of food, drinks, an entire orchestra and most importantly, no paparazzi! Those pendejos ruin everything!" - her high pitched voice and zero self-awareness made listening to her quite a nauseating experience.
"Oh, sounds lovely! Must be hard being followed all the time and having no privacy whatsoever. But from what I've heard so far, you two are quite difficult to capture together." - I sipped loudly on the wine. Jamie pretended to peruse the menu, trying to figure out the motive behind my sudden inquiries.
"Well, you see, Jamie is always writing, painting and creating new music in his little art room. My baby never takes a break! I tried to convince him to go on a little trip to Barbados or Bora Bora, but he never listens!" - she exhaled in frustration. A harsh faith indeed.
"He paints too? That's interesting, I didn't know that." - I sent a judgmental look towards him, but he didn't have the courage to face me directly. What else was I unaware of? More importantly, why does it bother me that his own fiancée knows him better than I do?
Pretending to care about her life, I asked about her dad's company and why she decided to pursue the fashion industry instead of music. Apparently, money and prestige circulated in her family for generations now, making the Delgado's one of Spain's most prominent legacies. Her grandfather was a famous reggaeton artist back in the days, but after retirement he created his own record label to ensure all his self-made wealth wouldn't go to waste by the rest of the family tree. How ironic.
His father followed in his footsteps to manage and promote amateur artists in hopes of making them world known top tier celebrities and spread Spanish influences across the globe. She was so rich and spoiled that she wore branded designer clothes ever since she got out of her crib, so because her dad pressured her to do something useful with her life like the rest of the human population, she opted for fashion which was her absolute "favorito". In other words, unlike the rest of her ancestors, she grew up with no talents and went for the easiest choice considering her ginormous budget.
Scrolling through her phone gallery, she revealed sketches for her summer collection for men and women. Not gonna lie, most of them looked stunning and I even secretly wished I had some of the pieces in my empty closet. Huh, maybe she isn't as impotent as I was led to believe. They had me covered in jealousy, reminding me how luck and circumstances influence and change one's life completely. When you're born Delgado, your future is automatically secured, since you have enough resources to make all your dreams come true. When you're born Westwood, you must work extra hard to be noticed and to make a name out of yourself with no guarantee that you will succeed. Life sucks.
"You mentioned your company only promoted Spanish artists, so how come you accepted the Midnight Blues as one of your own?" - I asked.
"Well, you see, Jamie's padre works for our record label and saw huge potential in them, and after we first met I convinced papá to finance their second album and tour, which is why they switched from Jessie's music company." If this is true, then that's why Jessie was the leader of the band and pushed everyone else aside freely. He abused their talents and his position since he was the one who made their first gigs possible. So, when they switched labels, Jamie had an advantage this time and let everyone shine on stage. That's really sweet of him, now that I think about it.
"Does this mean your father also owns a publishing company?" - I referred to his poems.
"No, no. Jamie organized the book tour on his own without even telling us! The cover of his poem collection could've been on billboards all around the world, but he chose these... promociones." - she spitted out almost in disgust, like a nasty hairball was stuck in her throat. "As humble as always." - she added, patting him on the shoulder, and he just smiled quietly. Maybe he wanted this personal project to be his own entirely. Not surprised.
She gossiped about the fashion industry and her celebrity "friends" for the following hour, during which I kept staring at her idiotic boyfriend judgmentally. How could he sink so low? It's like Einstein hooking up with an airhead. Their chemistry feels so shallow when compared to ours. We were supposed to be in his room, watching movies and cuddling, not ranting about her attending Brad Pitt's private yacht party or her shopping spree with Jennifer Lawrence. Hell, she even attended Beyoncé's wedding when she was younger.
"Oh, this reminds me, will you be joining us at our wedding in July?" - she asked completely out of the blue, and the unexpected question felt like a blow to the chest, shattering my heart to unrecoverable bits. What? A...wedding? He is getting...oh, I see. "That's what the ring is for, doofus." Don't cry, don't you dare cry in front of her Noah! Have some respect for yourself! I tried hard to remain calm so as not to melt down like an ice cream in front of her. What little chance of us being together vanished into thin air and oblivion.
"Oh? Jamie didn't tell you? How silly of him! I was so sure all his friends were informed." - she played with his non-tattooed ear, and he returned her a fake simper, sensing my misery overcoming me. She won and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Actually, I was..." - he finally decided to speak up, trying to explaining himself in vain but I denied him the opportunity to finish his sentence.
"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom." - I rushed towards the bathroom, trying to hold in the tears and salmon sushi. I assume he tried standing up based on the sound of his chair sliding, but she forced him back down. Thankfully, the restroom was empty so I could cry my heart out in peace, collect myself and go back. My eyes were bloodshot red and puffy, my nose was running, and I looked emotionally devastated. Why am I even surprised? This was never going to last, and I knew it all along. I don't regret kissing him, but the whole situation is so damn infuriating! "You thought he was going to break up with her because of you?" - the voice mocked. How could he confess his love for me, and then look her in the eyes like nothing happened? Was he really going to spend his whole life with that selfish bitch? All for what? Money? Fame? Recognition? JUST LEAVE ALREADY!
I splashed some cold water on my face, pausing my thoughts for a moment and focusing on my breathing. "Don't let him ruin you, he's just an indecisive boy. You're better than this, you deserve to be more than just a second choice." - I convinced my feeble reflection. "One more night and he's gone." I readjusted my shirt before unlocking the door, only to find the heartbreaker waiting for me on the other side. How thoughtful of him.
"Look, I planned on telling you but..."
"But what? Playing with my emotions was more entertaining? I don't want to end things between us like this again, so just let me clear my head for the rest of the night and we can say our goodbyes first thing in the morning like normal people do, okay?" I didn't even give him the chance to reply, returning to the dining area to wish Miss O'Dea a good night before heading to my room.
"Sorry about that, I got a bit sick from the sushi. If you don't mind, I'll go get my room keys now. Good night you two, and thank you for letting me stay." - I excused myself and she waved back, thrilled to see me leave whereas Jamie just sat there disheartened by the unfortunate series of events.
Losing myself in the confusingly numbered corridors, my anxiety increased progressively. The frightening image of her walking down the aisle in a stunning wedding dress, waiting to exchange vows with the love of my life, agonized every part of me. A staff member was kind enough to help me find my room so that my emotional breakdown wouldn't frighten other guests. Crawling my way towards the bed, I fell straight onto the carpet, curling up in my own sorrow. "Told you so." - my subconscious added salt to wound.
It was a familiar feeling; one I haven't experienced since the last incident. The same emptiness inside, lack of energy and motivation to live. I pitied my horrendous appearance in the mirror once again, only this time I had a lion judging me. A symbol of bravery, he mentioned. If I got through it once, I could get over it a second time. "Only this time he loves you back." - the voice noted. Okay, let's see what we've got in here.
The room was bigger than my studio apartment, furnished with a ginormous king-sized bed with royal red covers, matching pillows, towels, and carpets. So many things I never dreamed of owning: a massive TV emerging from the desk in front of the bed, 24/7 room service, a minimalist tub with jacuzzi jets on each side and a grand balcony with a fascinating view. Might as well take advantage of it.
I removed my dirty clothes, put on some relaxing music, splashing around in a long warm bubbly bath with a nourishing face mask on, reveling in the celebrity treatment I was offered. Walking around in the hotel's silk bathrobes, I turned on some random movie and opened the free snacks and drinks included in the mini fridge. I don't need him to have a good time."But you want him." - the voice contradicted. As much as this luxury treatment was motivating me to be successful enough to afford it on my own in the future, it was useless without having someone to spend it with. Money can't buy true love.
An hour or two passed swiftly, when I heard guitar strings being played outside. I slid the balcony door, trying to figure out where they came from. I identified the source as arriving from the balcony above. It was him; I could feel it. I laid against the wall, listening to the tender melody. Was Valentina sitting besides him? The tune was once again familiar, but dated. After hearing the first few lines, I recognized "This Is The Life" by Amy MacDonald, a nostalgic radio hit and one of my dearest childhood songs, perfect for guitar performances. I chanted along, unable to control myself, the lyrics resurfacing as the song progressed.
An unsettling silence prevailed near the end of the song, making me wonder if I interrupted an intimate moment of theirs. I thought I heard a page getting ripped out from a book and a few seconds later, something curious emerged: a small paper wrapped like a scroll, hanging down by a thread towards my balcony. A note from him. I took it with curiosity, and read the words delicately written on it.
Dearest backup vocalist,
Sorry about tonight, I wanted to make it special, but I fucked everything up as usual.
Will you ever forgive me?
I miss you...
Aw, how sweet. I turned it around, writing a reply on the other side with a pen I found on the night stand:
Dear Amy,
Yes, you did. I think it's best if we remain friends from now on, wouldn't want your future wife finding out about us.
Our secret is safe with me. Now finish the damn song, my vocals were on point.
XOXO
Another paper got shredded, this time more aggressively. Sounds like the idea of us being friends did not sound appealing to him. Likewise.
Mind if we meet outside?
We need to talk.
PS: She's asleep.
Hell no, I ain't falling for it anymore.
No. Goodnight, Jamie.
"That's it, 'goodnight'? Is that all you have to say? After everything?" - he asked from above, closing the balcony so she wouldn't overhear our argument.
"You're not in a position to make such comments, Jamie. You keep on hiding all these things from me and then complain when I overreact. It drives me crazy! I keep giving you second chances, telling myself it would be different every time, but it ends up biting me in the ass afterwards! I'm sick and tired of your bullshit!" - I half-whispered, half-shouted.
"Look, I don't want her to wake up. Can we please talk this through? Don't make me barge in to your room." - he warned.
"There's nothing to talk about. Besides, I locked the doors, there's no way you're getting in. Can't you just let me be for the rest of the night?"
"I love you." - he said, catching me off guard. Those cursed three words again. Damn him.
"Don't say that when you don't mean it, for fuck's sake! You can't just play with my emotions like you play your stupid guitar! I'm done." - I decided to retreat inside, too emotionally drained to continue arguing aimlessly. But before I could close the door entirely, I overheard him swearing in the background. Checking what the fool was up to from below, my heart stopped instantly. He climbed over the other side of the balcony, more than fifty feet from the ground.
"Jamie, get back inside right now! What the hell are you doing?! Are you insane?" Is he really doing this? No, he must be testing me. He wouldn't actually jump, right?
"I'm doing this for you, to show that I meant what I said." - he looked down, calculating his options. No freaking way.
"Okay, okay, I believe you! Just please go back inside! I'm begging you! Wait, JAMIE, NO!"
Time paused during those milliseconds, the image of the deranged romantic falling down to his certain death, just to prove a point. I turned around, covering my face with my hands, trying not to scream my lungs out in terror. He's dead. He killed himself. An assisted suicide, and it was all my fault.