I fanned myself. “I’m fine, thanks. Just a bit nervous.” I didn’t even have to fake a nervous laugh. Much to my relief, he didn’t seem to know who I was. But my tension over being exposed nearly gave everything away. I exhaled slowly, letting my nerves relax.
I needed to change the subject, so I walked across the room to the wall of awards. “Are these Grammys?” I liked how they were shaped like old-fashioned gramophones.
He smiled, then came over to take down the one in the middle and offer it to me. “This is the first Grammy I ever won.” I hefted it in my hand, surprised by how solid it felt.
“You have an awful lot of stuff here.”
He laughed. “That’s a good way of putting it: stuff. Sometimes I feel trapped by it all. Good thing Karen keeps it all organized. I’ve got an entire room full of things that I don’t know what to do with. The original lyrics for many of my songs, less-important awards, the first guitar I ever bought. . .” He smiled, his dark features lighting up my deepest recesses. “Stuff.”
With a nod, he turned and started to leave the room. “Speaking of guitars, let me show you my collection. Your mother’s will soon be there.” He led me to a large room that was full of guitars. Like everything else he collected, these weren’t secured in any way. Instead, each one hung on hooks that made it easy to remove. He even took down an acoustic guitar and strummed it a few times. “This belonged to Eric Clapton.” He hung it back up.
Each electric guitar had a cord attached to it, connecting it to the wall. He picked one of them up, slung it around his neck, then flipped a switch on the wall. When he strummed it, the chord reverberated through the room from hidden speakers. Then he started to play an old song from his first album.
My mind reeled, struggling to accept what was happening. A personal performance by Alejandro—nobody would ever believe it. I had to force myself to stand still and not move to the beat. After a few bars, he stopped. “Do you know this song?”
I pretended ignorance. “Is it one of yours? I think I’ve heard it. It’s nice.”
He burst out laughing. “‘Nice,’ eh? Of all of the songs I have written, this one is my personal favorite. And I just played it on a guitar that Jimi Hendrix once owned.”