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Socorro Rivera tucked her braids under her cap gingerly, carefully pinning them to the back of her head. She looked at herself in the broken piece of glass and nodded triumphantly. They couldn't turn her away now!
Coco felt a bit strange in the worn and patched overalls, but she could get by.
She pulled the scrap of newspaper out of her pocket and looked at the large building. Maybe this time they wouldn't refuse her application.
This had been Coco's dream, well, plan really, ever since she'd been a small girl. Originally, when she was smaller and had still been allowed to dance and sing, she would have arrived in America a very different way. She would not have arrived by hiding in the back of a farmer's wagon and hopping a train to the place called California. However, that was what she had done.
Originally, Coco had wanted to visit this place when her Papa became famous and could share his music with the world. Now, she visited this place because Ernesto De La Cruz was making a moving picture here.
Her Mamá probably had gotten her note by now, but Coco wasn't worried. Imelda wouldn't be able to find her amid all the hustle and bustle of Hollywoodland, even if she decided to come after her to America.
Unfortunately, to get close to Ernesto De La Cruz one had to have a job there. She had applied for a job of a stagehand in training, fetching and carrying things for the more experienced. They'd turned her away with a laugh, saying that a little niña like her was better suited for a part in the film than for a stagehand.
Well, Coco was fairly sure she'd get the job now.
She put the newspaper back into her pocket, a hand going to her front where the picture of her Papa was. Mamá had torn the face of her father out of the original a long time ago, the new and improved picture stuck on the wall for almost as long as she could remember. She couldn't even remember what it had looked like whole and put together. Luckily, she'd saved the battered, crumpled piece.
Well, she was absolutely sure that Ernesto De La Cruz was her Tío Ernesto. He was the one who had been there when her Papa disappeared, or as her Mamá firmly said, when her Papa had left. Coco refused to believe it. The Papa that she remembered and knew from her collection of letters and música would not have left like that. She had to find out what had happened, and so, she had decided to go directly to the source, to the last person who had seen her papa.
Coco slipped into the building, placing herself in the crowd of boys looking for jobs. Coco frowned at the unusually huge group, but dismissed it quickly. The warehouse was large, sets being placed, men shouting orders, people scurrying back and forth at every moment.
A man eyed her suspiciously, and she grinned, hoping she looked welcoming and sounded like a boy, "Hola señor." He frowned. Coco decided she should probably slip back into the crowd.
Coco was drawn to the commotion in the back. A woman was shouting loudly at people, and to Coco's surprise she knew what she was talking about, "Alright, extras! I want people on my right to form the group who'll be skeletons for the Día De Los Muertos scene!"
Coco looked back, and saw the man who'd frowned at her, talking to two men in uniforms and pointing in her direction. Uh-oh.
Coco rushed over, skidding to a stop in the group of extras. She saw makeup artists making the rounds and she darted closer, shoving between groups of people who startled as she passed. The woman with the burnished bronze hair who had been shouting orders frowned at her, "Hey! No running!"
Coco skidded to a stop breathlessly, "Lo siento, señorita."
The woman seemed taken aback by her Spanish, but smiled, "Well. I'm sure it's alright, hijo." She flattened her short hair and asked, "Are you an extra?"
"Sí! Uh... I'm here to be a skeleton!"
"Well, you can call me Cecí and one of you..." She grabbed at a person with paint in their hands and dragged the startled person over, "You can help this young man become a skeleton."
The woman smiled at Cecí as she walked hurriedly away already shouting orders. She picked up a big glob of white face paint, she smiled sweetly and asked in a thick American drawl, "And what's your name, young man?"
Coco blanked before blurting the one male name on her mind at that moment, "Héctor! My name is... Héctor."
"Well, that's a very nice name."
Coco admired her skeleton paint and looked around the group. There were perhaps thirty of them, some still getting painted, others walking around or waiting for their paint to dry. Coco froze when she heard someone yell, "Hey, Héctor!"
She turned eyes wide, but it was directed at one of the tall men next to her. He greeted the person jovially, a straw hat pulled over dark hair, "Cheech! How are things?"
"Ah, Héctor, managed to escape that slavedriver?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that... Strictly speaking?"
The short stocky man patted his arms, "Well my friend, how long do you have until you have to leave?"
The man with her borrowed name shrugged, "Eh, maybe a couple hours, Chicharrón? I figured I'd look around, but then Cecí roped me into being a skeleton."
The shorter one laughed, "You look pretty good for a dead guy!"
Héctor chuckled as Chicharrón moved on. He turned and caught Coco staring curiously. Coco's eyes widened and she quickly stared at her Rivera-made shoes resolutely. The man spoke kindly, "Well, hey there chamaco."
"Hola, señor."
Héctor laughed and bent down to her level, "Ah, a familiar language! Don't worry, muchacho. I don't bite. What are you doing so far from home?"
Coco met his eyes hesitantly, "I wanted to meet Ernesto De La Cruz, Señor."
Héctor snorted, but then covered it up with a cough, "Enough with the señor, you can just call me Héctor."
Coco shrugged and then realized what her cover name was, "But my name is also Héctor."
He laughed, "Oh, no. That's definitely a problem."
Coco nodded in agreement and then glared at her Rivera boots again. She hoped that he would leave. He was nice, but she needed to find Ernesto De La Cruz.
"Say, I'll tell you what, Chamaco. I'll help you meet De La Cruz, but then you gotta go home to your familia, okay? This is no place for a little kid."
Coco looked up at him, "Really?"
"Yeah, sure."
She narrowed her eyes, "But how do I know you're not lying?"
Héctor crossed his heart, "I know De La Cruz personally. Trust me, if he sees me, he will immediately come over."
Coco eyed him. Something about his voice was slightly familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed friendly enough, and his eyes were honest if a bit tired. The skeleton paint obscured any defining features, swirling designs carefully painted on around his eyes and cheekbones.
Coco sighed, "Alright, Héctor. But my familia is perfectly fine with me being here!"
Héctor gave her a knowing look as he stood up, "Aw, come on kid. Do you think I'm an idiot? Your parents have no clue you're here."
She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone, chamaco, and I'll get you to Ernesto. But you gotta promise to go straight home to your papa and your mamá. Familia is more important than some dream of meeting a celebrity."
Coco crossed her arms, "It's just mamá now, actually."
He winced, "Ah, chamaco. Lo siento."
Coco frowned, "Look, can't we just go find De La Cruz?"
Héctor nodded, "Sí, we can. Unfortunately, he doesn't come in till late at night. We'll have to wait until then."
Coco sighed, but before she could reply, Cecí called loudly from across the warehouse, "Skeletons! Line up!"
Héctor nodded at the other side, "C'mon, hijo. That's our cue."
"But I don't actually know how to dance! Or sing! I was just supposed to be a stagehand!" Héctor looked utterly bewildered as they were moved along by the group, "What kind of kid doesn't know how to dance?"
Coco rolled her eyes, "It's a long story!"
Héctor took her hand, "Hey, don't worry. I'll teach you." He flashed her a grin, a golden tooth glinting, "I used to be a pretty good músico, if I don't say so myself."
Coco was not reassured.
A week earlier.
Imelda Rivera nodded at Felipe and Óscar gratefully, "Gracias, hermanos. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Don't worry, hermana-"
"-it's the least-"
"-we could do."
Imelda hefted her suitcase, "I just... I cannot believe that Coco would run off like that! America? Ernesto De La Cruz? How did she even remembered that idiota?"
Óscar shrugged, "She is-"
"-your daughter-"
"-after all."
Imelda rolled her eyes, smoothing the dark wrinkles on her purple dress, "Remember, Pepita needs to be kept track of or else she will leave dead mice on the floor and the shoe orders are-"
Felipe sighed, "In the shelf-"
"-over the counter," Óscar groaned.
"We know," they finished in unison.
Imelda sighed, knuckles white against the handle of her suitcase, "That girl had better not have gotten herself in any trouble! There are so many vagabond musicians there, who knows what she's already gotten herself into!"
"Well, you'd better-"
"-go after her."
"Yes! Yes, alright! ¡Adios! Do not burn down my house!"
The twins waved as Imelda boarded the train, handing her suitcase off to a conductor. She waved goodbye until they were out of sight.
Felipe looked at Óscar and sighed, "It is going to be a long walk home."
"Aye. But Imelda is not here."
"Singing?"
"Of course!"
Héctor and Coco followed the instructions, listening to them about the choreography. The director moved between the extras, shaking his head at others and moving them to where he wanted them to dance.
Coco and Héctor found themselves together in the middle. The director stopped before them, "Alright, we don't have many children, so how's your singing?"
Coco opened her mouth and then shrugged, "What do you want me to sing?"
"Un Poco Loco, kid. Isn't that why you're here?"
Héctor laughed nervously, "He, uh, Sí. Yes. He can sing Un Poco Loco."
Coco glared up at Héctor who shrugged sheepishly, "I can sing it very well!" She bit her lip, "I mean, at least, I think so, señor director."
"Well, go on."
She opened her mouth, blanched, and then shut it, turning red, "I've never sung for anyone before."
The director rolled his eyes, "We don't have time for this. I need to know if you can sing or not-"
Héctor jumped into the conversation, "He can sing! He's just a little nervous, let me talk to him really quick." The director huffed and moved on to the next person. Héctor knelt down beside Coco, "Look, chamaco. You want to meet De La Cruz, right?"
She nodded.
"Now, I know you're nervous but don't worry. Just shake it out. Like so," he shook out his shoulders and arms. Coco giggled. He smiled, "Then just let yourself go. If you sing with all your heart he'll like it, trust me."
Coco nodded as the director came back over. He eyed her, "You ready, kid?"
"Sí! I'm ready!"
Coco looked at Héctor who nodded encouragingly. She opened her mouth and sang. Her mamá and her papa had sung so wonderfully together before he had disappeared, before her mother had become so very sad.
She sang like her father was watching.
The director interrupted her, "Alright, kid. You can sing." He laughed a little, "Just wait a few years and you'll be less of a soprano, eh? You'll work though. We need you to give a little solo at the beginning."
Coco blinked. Héctor patted her shoulder and she grinned.
Coco laughed with delight as Héctor gave her one last twirl, the skeletons around them slowing to a stop also.
Someone shouted over the din, and Héctor shook her hand, "Ah, that was the final take! You did good chamaco!" Coco grinned elatedly. She'd forgotten how much fun it had been to sing and dance so freely. Usually, she'd have to dance in secret, fearing her mother discovering her at any moment. Her feet ached after endless hours of spinning and singing, but she hardly noticed.
Héctor was still talking, however, "Sorry for having you do the girls steps. I didn't realize until later."
Coco tossed her head, "Ah, it's alright. I'm used to it."
"¿Que?"
She froze, realizing what she'd just said, "Uh..."
A skeleton jostled them and Coco almost fell over. Héctor yelled at them as they walked away. He turned back, "Ah, sorry about that, Héctor."
Coco grinned, "It's alright, Héctor." She looked around, "Will Ernesto be here soon?"
Héctor nodded, "Soon, I think. They don't need us anymore, though. Pretty sure they only needed us skeletons to sing Un Poco Loco."
Coco bounced on her boots, "That was a wonderful song! My papa used to sing that to my mama when I was little."
Héctor shrugged, suddenly down, "Ay. It was made for a woman."
"Really?"
He nodded, "Yes, I- uh, Ernesto wrote it for the most beautiful woman in all of Santa Ceclia, but that was a long time ago."
Coco shook her head, "I remember him in Santa Ceclia, he wasn't that talented. My pa-" she stopped mid sentence, "Is that him?"
Héctor swallowed nervously at the sight of a broad musician clad in blue with a large decorative sombrero, "Sí, that's him."
He looked down at her, "Look, you wait here. I'll be right back. I'm just going to wash this makeup off my face. As soon as he recognizes me, you'll get to see him one on one."
Coco raised an eyebrow as if to say that she'd believe it when she saw it. Héctor winked and skipped off. Coco yawned and then grimaced as the makeup cracked around her face.
She should probably wash hers off too...
Five hours ago
Imelda Rivera rubbed her forehead, feeling like ten years had been added onto her age. She'd tried to get into the warehouse, but they'd laughed at her saying that if a little girl had got in, they'd have certainly noticed.
When Imelda had insisted that Coco was definitely there, they escorted her out unceremoniously.
So now, Imelda was perched on a bench, glaring at any passerby.
She would hit them with her boot, but she probably should not get arrested. This was where Ernesto De La Cruz was filming, so this must be where Coco was. Besides, those guards were estupido. Her Coco was smarter than that.
Imelda straightened her yellow skirts, stopping momentarily to stare up at the sky. She paused. Well, if they wouldn't let her in, she could certainly sneak in, tonight when it got dark. No one would keep her daughter from her if she had anything to say about it.
Coco got tired of waiting for Héctor.
She had always been good at finding hiding spots, and now was no exception. She hid in the shadows of a fake building, watching the celebrity curiously. Ernesto De La Cruz grinned charmingly as he talked to the stagehands and the director. That white guitar on his back was strangely familiar.
Then, there was that familiar straw hat. Héctor.
He walked to Ernesto slowly, hands held out as he said something, back still to her. Ernesto took one look and immediately grabbed his hand, mumbling excuses to the people as they passed out of sight.
Coco blinked, but then, fidgeting with her overalls, she skittered past out of the door they'd left through. The exasperated director was still shouting at people as she passed.
She cracked the door, peeking outside curiously. The town was full of lights against the darkness, but there, in the almost unbroken shadow cast by the building, Ernesto De La Cruz had a fistful of Héctor's shirt, "I thought I told you not to go out?"
Héctor shrunk, both men barely discernible in the darkness, "Look Ernesto, I- I was in a disguise the whole time. No one would have recognized me!"
"Someone might have, you fool!"
"Por favor, Ernesto, you can't closet me up all day, and then still expect me to have the inspiration to write your songs!"
Coco blinked. She'd talked to a few people at one of the train stops about the rising star Ernesto De La Cruz. They'd said he'd written all his own songs. Of course, Coco hadn't really had the chance to listen to any of them, except Un Poco Loco just a few minutes ago.
Ernesto snarled, "This will not happen again, Héctor. I will fulfill my promise to you, mi amigo, if you so much as tell anyone your name!"
Coco frowned, what was going on? The Tío Ernesto she remembered had not seemed quite like this.
"Sí, I understand Ernesto." The musician let him go, and the lanky man slumped, "Ugh, Ernesto your grip had not changed in so many years."
Ernesto ran a hand through his hair, "And best you remember it! If you show yourself to anyone, I will get rid of you and your familia- as much as it pains me to do so."
Héctor snorted, his lips twisting into a wry grin and his golden tooth glinting in the dim light, "We both know you're not sorry." He made no move against the larger man, probably because he knew how easily he could be overpowered.
Ernesto glared, "You are my friend, but I won't hesitate, Héctor Rivera."
Coco gasped, hand to her mouth. Rivera?
Ernesto glared at the door, "Is there someone there?" Coco backed away, but he had already lunged, grabbing her hand before she could leave.
He pulled her out, brow furrowing, "An eavesdropper?"
Héctor turned pale at the sight of her being pulled out by the musician, "Ah that- that was the matter we needed to discuss. I ran into him while I was out. He wanted to meet you-"
Ernesto glared harshly, before trying to regain composure, grip loosening. She wrenched her arm away. She tried to make out the details of Héctor's face, but it was too dark.
Slowly she backed away, "I- I just wanted to meet you Señor De La Cruz. To ask you a few questions- if- if that was alright."
Ernesto was relaxing, smoothing back his hair, seeming to think that she hadn't heard anything, "Oh? And what's your name?"
She muttered, "Um, Héctor. Like his."
Ernesto glared again at the lanky form behind him, as he followed her retreat beyond the building's shadow, "Oh, well. That's, well, I would say it was a good name if not for him." He added smoothly as if he were teasing the other man, "Mi amigo gets into trouble sometimes."
They were in the light and Ernesto stopped, Héctor peering over the other man's shoulder as if he wasn't sure how close he could get.
Coco couldn't believe she hadn't recognized it earlier. Of course, that wonderful face had been under several layers of paint, and masked by a decade of age, but there was no way that wasn't her Papa.
She froze, trying to think. Why hadn't he come home? He was here, alive and well... She went back over the conversation- songs and threats and... Threats against a family... She pointed at Héctor, "You- you write his songs."
Ernesto blinked. Héctor looked puzzled.
"But you don't want to write them."
She pointed at Ernesto this time, "The people I've met say that you write your own songs... But you don't."
Tears were forming, "You said something about him not supposed to be going out... You said you'd fulfill your promise... You threatened him. You threatened his family!"
Ernesto's brows drew down as he realized she'd heard everything, "You don't really think that, do you?"
Coco grew angry, "You're keeping him captive, aren't you?"
"No!"
Héctor gaped at her in astonishment. Coco looked at him pleadingly, poised for flight, "I'm right aren't I?" She knew he was her father. Her papa. He had to be.
Héctor's mouth snapped shut, when Ernesto looked back at him he shrunk away, "No, you're wrong, you're completely wrong. Ernesto is- is... He's... Mi amigo." He seemed to choke on those last two words.
She stomped her foot, "Why are you saying that? He can't hurt you out here!"
Ernesto decided that she knew too much, "Because he knows that I can get to his wife and child before he can! Now, are you going to keep your mouth shut for a couple of pesos or do I have to silence you in another way, Héctor?" He sneered at the name.
Coco suddenly felt angry. Almost too angry for her small body to hold it all in. How dare this man, this man she'd once called tío, threaten her papa. She would not stand for it.
Coco yanked her ragged hat off, scattering pins to the ground as her braids tumbled over her shoulders, "My name is Coco Rivera, and I am not afraid of you Ernesto De La Cruz- espero que te pudras en el infierno!"
Ernesto blinked with astonishment, Héctor gaped, mouthing silently, 'Coco?'
It only took a moment for the singer to spring into action. He grabbed at Coco, but missed as she danced away, almost falling over backwards in her haste. Héctor sprang into motion, tackling Ernesto, "Don't touch her, cobarde!"
She watched them tussle for a moment, but she knew if she tried to go after Ernesto with her shoe like her mama taught her, then she would most definitely get hurt, or worse, get Héctor hurt.
Coco bolted for the door, who would believe her? But she had to get somebody! Ernesto was larger than Héctor- than her papa, she had to get help. She couldn't get her papa back only to see him taken away from her again!
She ran into the warehouse, shouting as loud as she could, "Help! Please! Someone stop him! He's going to kill mi papa!"
Imelda dropped to the other side of the wall quietly. She looked around, but that estupido guard and his friend were nowhere in sight. She trotted towards the warehouse doors. She stopped before them, brow furrowing. Maybe it was better to go around the back.
She tiptoed quietly, traveling the length of the huge building. Who needed someplace this big? It was almost ridiculous.
She froze when a side door banged open. Imelda hid behind a stack of crates, eyeing the two men. She could see clearly the form in the dark blue clothes with the glittering gold designs and large sombrero, but his friend beside him was not wearing anything so flashy.
Well, he didn't seem to be his friend at all, really. The heavyset man in blue slammed the other against the wall. Actually... She squinted and moved closer around the crates. She recognized that man. It was Ernesto!
What in the name of...?
She watched with growing horror as Ernesto threatened the second figure. Oh, she'd always known that De La Cruz was no good! She hoped Coco hadn't run into him yet, she didn't want her daughter anywhere near him.
Then Ernesto grabbed at the door, no someone was by the door, and dragged them out. It was a boy, but, and then Imelda caught sight, just for a moment, of the boy's terrified face in the light.
It was Coco. It was her Coco!
She almost started forward, but Ernesto seemed to think that everything was alright. Until Coco backed up and started pointing fingers, "You- you write his songs. But you don't want to write them. But people say that you write your own songs. But you don't."
Imelda moved closer around the crates, but the two men were transfixed by her daughter, "You said something about him not supposed to be going out... You said you'd fulfill your promise... You threatened him. You threatened his family!"
Her daughter's voice rose in pitch after Ernesto said something unintelligible, "You're keeping him captive, aren't you?"
She heard Ernesto's response this time, "No!"
"I'm right aren't I?"
The second man spoke, and Imelda stopped, eyes wide, because she recognized that voice. "No, you're wrong, you're completely wrong. Ernesto is- is... He's... Mi amigo."
"Why are you saying that? He can't hurt you out here!"
Coco had found Héctor. Coco had found her worthless papa. The man who had broken both their hearts. He was here? He had such nerve-!
Ernesto shouted out her thoughts, "Because he knows that I can get to his wife and child before he can! Now, are you going to keep your mouth shut for a couple of pesos or do I have to silence you in another way, Héctor?"
Imelda shook her head, she could worry about this later. The situation was escalating, she needed to be prepared for anything.
Coco pulled off her hat and shouted furiously, "My name is Coco Rivera, and I am not afraid of you Ernesto De La Cruz- espero que te pudras en el infierno!"
Imelda had never been more proud.
Then Ernesto jumped forward, but Héctor stopped him with a swift hit. She pulled off her boot quickly as she watched them scuffle. Coco ran inside as Imelda rounded the crates, darting forward to help.
Héctor managed to land a few good punches before Ernesto beat him back, but by then Imelda was there, "You liar! You said he had run off!" Ernesto turned with horror and got a face full of boot, "You won't touch him or mi familia again!"
One more good hit and he grabbed her arm, "How- how are you even here?"
She pulled back, but his grip was too tight. Héctor managed to get upright, spitting out blood as he stood clumsily.
Imelda snarled, "I heard everything! You won't get away with this! I'll tell everyone!"
Ernesto looked ready to hit her, but he laughed instead, "No one will believe you, Imelda! You are just some mujer loca who attacked me! The world will not believe you because the world es mi familia."
Imelda tried to wrench free again, and then stamped down on his foot with her own, the heel of her boot jamming into his toes. He yowled, and then glared at her, "You'll pay for that!"
Héctor threw himself into Ernesto and the two fell to the ground, Imelda stood back, boot raised. Ernesto came out on top, standing up straight with an arm around Héctor, holding him in front of him like a human shield, "Get back!"
Imelda glowered, "You are a monster Ernesto De La Cruz. And you!" She gestured at Héctor, "You never came back!"
He tried to look apologetic, but it was hard to when there was blood dripping down his face and a madman holding him captive. Imelda wordlessly put her shoe back on her foot, "Why? What did you do?"
Ernesto laughed, eyes wild, "As if you don't know. Héctor wanted to give up on our dream! The dream we'd had since we were young! He wanted to go back home to you and Coco! We hadn't even been on the road a year!"
Héctor spat from Ernesto's iron grip, long legs scrabbling to get a foothold, "You poisoned me!"
"You were so set on leaving! But then I didn't put enough in, and he woke up. You weren't supposed to wake up! You weren't supposed to recover!"
Héctor managed to get his feet under him, but Ernesto tightened his grip until he was forced to fall limp again, "You forget my friend, how many times we've done this dance." He looked up at Imelda, anger burning his eyes, "He woke up in a grave to find me shoveling dirt onto his body. It was too hard to explain that away, but I couldn't let him go."
Héctor rolled his eyes, "Stop talking about me like I'm not here!"
Imelda still looked horrified, on the verge of fight or flight, as if she was still deciding whether or not to take her daughter and go.
"He was my best friend and you took him away from me! All he does is try to get to you, do you know how hard it is to get him to write one song? That's all I ask!"
He let go of the lanky musician. Letting him cough into the ground as he continued with burning intensity, "You betrayed me Héctor! That's not what friends do!"
Imelda answered, "You tried to kill my husband! You threaten me and my daughter, you keep your best friend captive for years, and you still dare to call him your amigo? You disgust me, Ernesto De La Cruz."
"Sí, I did all that. But I did what I had to do! I seized my moment!"
Imelda didn't respond, the side door of the warehouse banged open to reveal Coco with almost the whole of the crew behind her, and they did not look pleased. Imelda gaped at them, as did Ernesto and Héctor.
Coco grinned triumphantly, "I don't think she's just a mujer loca now, do you, Tío Ernesto?"
"Help! Please! Someone stop him! He's going to kill mi papa!"
Coco bumped into the woman who had the bronze hair from earlier, Cecí, the one who'd made her a skeleton, "Please! I need your help!"
The woman blinked, "What? But- wait-? You're a girl?"
"Yes, yes I am! I am, I'm sorry I lied, but please! I need your help! Mi papa, he is in trouble! Por favor!"
Cecí shook her head, "Alright, I'll help. What's wrong?"
Coco turned and fled back to the hallway and towards the back exit, "It's Ernesto De La Cruz and it's complicated! ¡Vamonos!"
Cecí grabbed several extras, the security guards following suspiciously. At the sight of the head of costume leaving with a big group and a panicked girl leading them, people who had simply been waiting, started trailing away. The girl hushed the people behind her, and the whole group stilled, listening, waiting.
The director, wondering where on earth half of his cast had gone, found them bunched up in the dark hallway, just outside of the warehouse's service entrance. He opened his mouth to yell, but they all glared, shushing him. He paused and listened, and found that he was hearing a fight going on outside, and that he could not believe his ears.
A woman shouted, angry and utterly bewildered, "Why? What did you do?"
Ernesto De La Cruz, the star of the movie they were currently working on, shouted furiously back, "As if you don't know. Héctor wanted to give up on our dream! The dream we'd had since we were young! He wanted to go back home to you and Coco! We hadn't even been on the road a year!"
A third voice joined in, rough and hoarse, "You poisoned me!" The accusation was ridiculous, Ernesto De La Cruz would never-
"You were so set on leaving! But then I didn't put enough in, and he woke up. You weren't supposed to wake up! You weren't supposed to recover!" Ernesto responded thunderously. Muffled gasps in the corridor, the girl who had said her name was Héctor still stood, waiting, at the door.
More scrabbling and coughing, some sort of scuffle was happening, and then Ernesto snarled venomously, "You forget my friend, how many times we've done this dance..." A pause and before he continued with his awful unthinkable story, "He woke up in a grave to find me shoveling dirt onto his body. It was too hard to explain that away, but I couldn't let him go."
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" The crew and cast looked at each other in horrified amazement. To think that a would-be murderer was here, famous, and Mexico's charismatic rising star?
Ernesto kept talking, unknowingly digging his own grave, just as he had said he'd done so many years before, "He was my best friend and you took him away from me! All he does is try to get to you, do you know how hard it is to get him to write one song? That's all I ask! You betrayed me Héctor! That's not what friends do!"
The woman's voice rose in an outraged crescendo, "You tried to kill my husband! You threaten me and my daughter, you keep your best friend captive for years, and you still dare to call him your amigo? You disgust me, Ernesto De La Cruz."
The girl turned, gesturing as Ernesto continued, "Sí, I did all that. But I did what I had to do! I seized my moment!"
And then she pushed open the door, and they all spilled out into the night.
Héctor sat slumped on a bench, his worn straw hat beside him, and melting ice from a nearby store pressed against his blackened swelling eye.
A person who claimed they knew somewhat about medical treatments had examined him and stated that he had a concussion. He didn't quite know what that meant, especially considering everything seemed to be going wobbly... and double.
He glanced upwards at the crunch of gravel and his eyes widened at the sight of a fifteen year old girl (¡Ay, Dios, mío! Fifteen years old? Had it really been that long?) in overalls, nervously fiddling with the ends of her dark braids.
Héctor didn't know what to do. Should he say something? Hug her? Apologize? Tell her how proud of her he was? How brave she was? He sighed, "Listen-" Coco spoke at the same time, "I have-"
They both stopped abruptly. Héctor shrugged sheepishly, "Do you want to go first or should I?" Coco tugged on the end of her braid, "You go first."
He swallowed, "Coco, I'm... I'm so sorry, I- I'm sorry I abandoned you and your mamá, I should never have gone with Ernesto-"
Coco interrupted him, "Don't be so stupid."
He blinked.
Coco frowned, "Papa," he brightened noticeably, "It wasn't your fault. Tío- I mean, Ernesto is at fault for this. He's the one who tried to kill you and then trapped you for twelve years." Coco darkened visibly, glaring at the burgeoning crowd not too far away, the sound of sirens and yelling and her mamá trying to call everyone to order.
She looked back at her father, holding her head high, "You are not to blame."
He smiled softly, his crooked grin almost tearful, "Ay, mija, you are just like your mother."
Coco rubbed at her eyes fiercely, "I missed you a lot, papi."
"Coco-"
Coco kept talking, trying to speak through the sudden rush of emotion, "I- I sang every night papa- I did...! I never forgot you, even though mamá wanted me too. I snuck away to dance, and I sang so I would always remember. I never believed you'd leave us papa- I never did!" The tears came faster.
Héctor was already on his feet, pulling his daughter to his chest in a fierce hug, the movement making the world swim dizzyingly, "I sang too, Coco, I sang too."
She cried into his stained shirt and ragged blue vest, "Te amo papá, te extrañé mucho."
He kissed the top of her head, tearing up himself, "Te amo, mija."
Coco rubbed her eyes, annoyed that she'd ended up crying so much, but her papa did not seem to mind. He was content and happy, holding her close next to him as if he desired nothing else in the world other than to be there with her.
The crowd of people had finally dispersed into the rapidly approaching dawn and a figure in yellow marched up to them, exhausted and angry. Imelda glared at her daughter, "Coco! What do you have to say for yourself? You worried me sick! How could you go running off like that?"
Coco opened her mouth to respond but Imelda had already moved on, "And you! You! I- I am so angry at you, you stupid wonderful mariachi! What were you thinking?"
Héctor had a silly lovesick grin on his face, "And I love you, mi amor."
She turned red, "Why you insufferable músico! It's been twelve years! Do you really think that I have the time or the money or the inclination to take you back?"
He stood, taking Coco with him, her hand in his, "Imelda, mi diosa, mi vida,"
Imelda stood still as stone, "Héctor-!"
He pulled her into a hug, voice earnest and desperate and more gentle than she'd ever heard it, "I missed you and Coco so much."
Imelda opened her mouth to protest, but Coco's hopeful anxious look stopped her. She saw her daughter's dry reddened eyes and felt her husband's fragile bones.
Imelda sighed and wound her arms around him, trying futilely to ignore how much she truly missed Héctor. How much she was worried for him and his dazed drifting. Hadn't someone said he'd had a concussion...?
Coco grinned widely and wiggled her way in between them.
Imelda surrendered with a grudging sigh and let her eyes close, leaning into his familiar yet unfamiliar embrace. She hummed softly, murmuring almost inaudibly into her husband's shoulder, "I missed you too."
He snorted quietly and hugged them both tighter.
The sun rose.