My Cherie Amour (Fully Posted)

Chapter 33

Cherie

Save for a few, side-swept tendrils, Cherie's long, dark curls were secured in a top knot. Mascara lifted and lengthened her lashes. And deep cherry red tinted her lips. Admiring the effect, she decided she was ready.

"Last show!" Dante crowed upon entering her dressing room. Her family's longtime manager motioned to the open door. "Are you ready to work your magic?"

Giving him a wink, she left for the stage.

Much like its namesake album, the show for Compassion was eclectic, combining Cherie's newest material, early records, and favorite covers. As a teaser, however, it started with her in the shadows, her conga-playing hands alone under the glare of the spotlight.

Eventually, those seemingly disembodied hands received help from all-female percussionists, half of whom identified as Black Creoles, and half who were indigenous Mexicans. They each wore clothes that reflected their people, her people, and together, they made a storm of sound.

This intro transitioned into a full reveal of Cherie in a shimmering gold salsa dress, and she flew through a jazz medley, beginning with a fast-paced version of Jorge Ben's "Mas Que Nada", and ending with an easygoing cover of "A Night in Tunisia"—the latter of which included dancers to portray her parents' love story. Fittingly, Marc, Paulina, Cherie's siblings, and her Butterfly Orchestra backed her.

Familiar faces disappeared, though, when she performed the songs she and Blaise worked on together. Tellingly, their collaborations were set off by one of the dancers saying, "Cherie, it's time you told your own love story." Reliving with abandon the giddy, early days of their love, she lost herself in a universe where her jazz fusion background met his funk-rock alchemy.

Trouble in paradise was indicated by a costume change, and she became a cynical, pinup sailor girl with musical weapons—a trap kit, bass, and electric violin. Adventures in synth-pop, including tunes she'd composed in part to show Blaise how well she'd studied his sound, preceded sonic experiments she and other friends had done in punk rock and country. Special assistance from her Uncle Antonio was the crowning jewel on her altar of angst.

The mood mellowed completely when Cherie portrayed the broken-hearted girl seeking comfort with her parents, playing violin while her mother played piano and her father used rain sticks for a cover of the Beatles' "Blackbird."

After this, Cherie turned her musical focus to message songs a la her Oakland activist heroes, with intermittent hints at healing from a romantic heartbreak. Singing, dancing, and playing timbales, congas, and bongos—sometimes two at a time—rounded out another ninety minutes of music.

Overall, there was no shortage of variety in her selections, as she breezed through a funk medley with special guests from her early band gigs and session jobs, a duet with James for Stevie Wonder's "Jesus Children of America", a medley inspired by her Club Laveau days, and a final act celebrating more of the music she and Blaise worked on together, pseudo-closing with "I'll Be Around" as a nod to their goodbyes.

Two up-tempo encores later, and Cherie Valiente was officially done with promotion for Compassion.

"Way to go out with a bang!" Dante said while he hugged Cherie offstage. "I'm glad we got that televised. You're going to be more in demand from now on, lady. Are you sure you want to stop here?"

"Very sure," Cherie said breathlessly. "It's been a nice ride, but I need to close this chapter of my life. I need to take care of me."

***

Bahia felt new to her.

Maybe it was because she was in a totally different part of it than where she'd been with Blaise, or maybe it was because she was staying in a secluded beach cottage instead of a hotel, but whatever the reason, Cherie was glad. She didn't want the location to be tainted by their fallout.

"Am I doing it right?" she asked Henrique, her handsome, Afro-Brazilian surfboard instructor.

"Oh, yes," he said.

His dazzling smile almost blinded her.

Shading her eyes, Cherie hopped off the board and looked out at the water. They were refining her stance on land because the tides were erratic.

"We'll get you on the water soon enough," Henrique said. "In the meantime, come to my family's party this evening. I promise there's good food and music."

"What else could a girl want in life?" Cherie asked. "I'm there."

"Good. Please save me a dance. My Papa says I'm not allowed to date students, but he never said I couldn't share a samba."

Blushing, she nodded.

After Henrique left, Cherie went into her cottage to shower and slip into sleepwear. Carving out periods to rest was part of her new commitment to herself, and she was sure she'd need to do something to offset a possible long night of dancing.

Rosa had done her big sister's packing, reasoning that it was the least she could do since choreographing the Compassion tour boosted her career. That said, some of the items she chose drew surprise. Cherie grinned when she came across pajamas with pictures of drumsticks on them, shook her head at an ivory lace nightgown she didn't remember buying, and did a double-take at the sight of a black, button-down silk shirt she'd sometimes worn as a nightdress.

Hesitantly, she gathered that last garment in her arms.

"I love to see you swallowed by my shirts," he said. It was the final night of their vacation, and they were lying in bed. "I love it because it means that you're surrounded by me."

She smiled. "Is that all that you love?"

"No, Cher. I love the paradox of you, because it reminds me of my Gemini self, and because your grit fascinates me. You're not afraid to treat your calluses like badges of honor. You sweat, and you strive, and you don't allow the boys in the room to tear you down."

She interlaced their fingers. "Well, if I want to survive as a musician who just happens to be female, I have to stand my ground. Otherwise, those boys in the room could take advantage, both personally and professionally. And I've had my fill of violations, so if I have to fight, or be 'difficult' to protect myself, so be it."

"But that's just it, you aren't all fight," he said. "There's this softness to you, and even it shape-shifts. Sometimes you're a nurturing mother. Sometimes you're a kid full of life. Sometimes you're a shy little thing that craves safety. Sometimes you're a woman whose strength, whose power, lies in femininity."

"Wow. Is that your nice way of saying I'm all over the place?"

"Nah. It's my honest way of saying that I'm grateful, so grateful that you've shown me those layers. And the wild thing is, I know there's more." He touched her cheek. "Think I'll ever get to your center?"

"Maybe," Cherie said. Then, with a boldness she hadn't intended on showing, she added, "But I think you know what you'll find."

There was silence, but it was soon overtaken by kisses, laughter, and repetitions of the same three words in perfect harmony before they fell asleep.

Cherie resisted the temptation to put the shirt on, tossed it aside, and dressed for the party early. But when the fun was over, and she'd washed away the dance floor, she saw it was still on the other side of her bed. Aching with fatigue, she didn't want to fight.

She fell asleep wrapped up in the memory of Blaise.

🌹