Free To Selena, With Love by Chris Perez

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?
    Abraham was certainly angry. He started to walk away, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands balled into fists. Thinking,
Oh, man, please don’t let him try to do anything
, I followed him toward the back of the bus, where the generator was making a loud clacking sound.
    Suddenly Abraham stopped so fast that I nearly ran into him. He wheeled around and pointed a finger at me. “Suzette just told me that she walked onto the bus and saw you and Selena holding hands,” he said. “I don’t know what’s going on with you guys, but whatever it is, it stops right now.”
    I remained silent as Abraham continued to yell and jab his finger in my direction, trying to intimidate me. “And one more thing!” he finished. “If you say a single word about this conversation to Selena, I will deny it and she’s going to believe me.”
    What had made Suzette say something to him? To this day, I have no idea. It was probably just a rift between sisters—nothing serious, just a bad mood.
    I could have denied holding hands with Selena. That was the truth, after all.