Page 14 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“You don’t like the fan attention?”

“I love it, I’m just really tired… But back to the point, Guilherme never said you guys were this famous.”

“GenZ was the biggest national teen phenomenon, we didn’t have fans of all ages, but kids and teens can be crazy,” she points out, smoothing both sides of her hair, as if adjusting the bun that is perfectly in place.

As we walk with three two-meter-tall men on either side of us, I take the chance to look in the only direction I can: up.

It’s so green, in a confusing way, it’s also harmonious and everything fits together. The contrast of the forest with the sun is so beautiful, nothing like my house in Canada, which was always a mix of cold and snow.

“Enchanted with my wonderful city, Mr. ‘I need a guide’?”

“It’s so…” I blink twice, furrowing my brow looking for a word, but I can’t find one. “So!”

“That’s because you haven’t looked over there.” Alexandra points towards the forest, and in the blue sky, there’s Christ the Redeemer, arms wide over the city.

“Wow, and really, if the food here is good, this has high chances of being one of my favorite places in Rio.”

“Relax, we’re just getting started, A.Jzinho. There’s still so much more of the city for you to see.”

“A.Jzinho? What the heck does that mean?”

“Your best friend is Brazilian, you should know.” She retorts immediately.

I try to argue that it doesn’t change anything, but our security guards clear the way, positioning themselves beside us, and the view of a mansion with a modern pool in front catches me off guard.

“Whoever had this idea must’ve been heavily criticized, but they were definitely a genius,” I say, looking at the view of the pool, the mansion, the forest, and Christ in its entirety. Like a puzzle that doesn’t make sense when you mention it, but once you put it together, you realize it’s a little piece of paradise.

It only takes a few seconds for the few people in the restaurant to rush towards us, leaving their half, which was full, almost empty. Before the two-dozen people get close, the security guards take their positions again, but I push them far enough to talk to them.

“I’ll talk to everyone, but we need to make a deal, okay?”

They don’t stop screaming, some are crying, and others just nod between the screams.

“My Vagabonders, listen up!” My voice commands attention, and Alexandra laughs loudly at my side. They scream even louder, and as I look at her, her disapproving expression makes it clear that asking for silence is a grave mistake in this country. Better get straight to the point. “Calm down, I’ll talk to you all!”

“All?” one of them asks, and I nod.

“But our deal is: first you, then I’m going to sit down for breakfast, and my Vagabonders won’t interrupt, okay?”

They look at each other, pausing for a second or two, but agree amid a new wave of screams and cries.

“You know this isn’t going to work, right?” Hammer glares at me.

“It will, they’re good girls,” I assure him, because I know the kind of relationship we have with our girls.

“And you’re going to form a circle around our table,” Alexandra adds. “So let the boy talk to the fans, Hammer, no one wants posts about rejection on the internet during this tour.”

“Of course not, that’s why we said it’s better not to tour the wonderful city.”

I roll my eyes at his passive-aggressiveness and force my way between two of the security guards; they’re both two meters tall, but so am I.

For fifteen minutes, I hug, wipe tears, and caress the faces of more girls than I expected on a Monday afternoon, but it’s fine. At the end of the day, making them happy provides me with the career of my dreams, so it makes me happy too.

I take photos, record stories, and videos with some little groups that form, and I step away from the girls, leaving them disappointed that I don’t kiss fans offstage.

“If I see any of you at the Friday show, I’ll pick one to kiss, but you’re too young, so it’ll just be a peck.”

“But we’re over 18!”

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