Monina, a musical love

By Carlos Díaz del Castillo

It is the story of a youth music band, who in the late seventies and early eighties, begin to see the growth and subsequent success of their band. In this one stands out one of his new members called Mónica, who has had to suffer the consequences of a kidnapping when she was fourteen years old and who, according to the opinion of experts and musical critics, can become a great star.  There is no lack of romance, jealousy, competition, problems and moments in which the most prominent members of the group must come to make crucial decisions, which will end up affecting the future of the band.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Dec 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071579985

Book preview

BAD NEWS

It was September 1979. Only two thoughts occupied Esteban Palacios' mind: his girlfriend and his music group. Riding the school bus across the streets of Bogotá, he thought about his good luck. He was dating the most beautiful girl in the universe and he had the honor of being a member of Los Cuarenta (The Forty). It was the group with the greatest potential in the country's music scene, according to the opinion of critics and analysts in the medium. He watched the fast movement of cars through the avenues, while listening to the music that the driver of the vehicle shared with his passengers. Tabaco y Ron, El Guayabo de la Ye, and El Pávido Návido were some of the tropical successes of the moment[1] that rumbled through the speakers of the aged bus on that sunny afternoon. Luckily, he liked most of the music genres, except for rancheras, or the so called "música de carrilera (t/n: lane music, low class music). Some of his fellow travelers listened to his own music through the recently released Walkman" – a device that due to its high cost few were able to enjoy the privilege of having. If his musical group continued to succeed he would start receiving money soon, so he could buy one of those devices. And he would also be in a position to invite his girlfriend to the most striking places in the city.

After a long tour, he finally arrived to his house at the time when the clock was about to strike four in the afternoon. As it has become a habit in the last month and a half, the first thing he did, after leaving his suitcase and jacket on the bed in his room, was to pick up the phone and dial Mónica's number. He had been dating her since the day of his friend Edgar's birthday party. One may say that it was his first love, his first serious girlfriend. Just under two years ago he had been dating Adriana, a very pretty girl who was also part of his music group. Unfortunately, the affair had limited to a couple of Saturday afternoon visits and a trip to the movies, all this in a span of just two weeks.

He had met Mónica three months ago at the school bazaar. Despite being a student from another school, she had attended the event thanks to the invitation of Catalina, an Esteban classmate. It had been one of many bazaars the directives used to organize each year with the aim of raising funds... until the moment when the two friends appeared on the scene. Esteban was in the parking lot of the school buses waiting for a classmate. Then, he suddenly saw Catalina, who was with a girl of approximately fifteen years old, descend from a black car, quite luxurious by the way. From the first moment he became fascinated with this beautiful young woman with long brown hair, beautiful blue eyes and spectacular body, dressed casual in jeans, tennis shoes and white blouse. There was no classmate in school, neither in his course nor in any other, as beautiful as this friend of Catalina. The handsome young man, taking advantage of the friendship he had with his classmate, came over them keeping the hope of getting to know that perfect girl.

Although she was very pretty, Catalina's friend turned out to be a very nice, kind and simple person. This made possible from the first moment that the two teenagers began to develop a good friendship. Fortunately, four months before, Mónica had ended a relationship with her last boyfriend, and at the time she had the idea of meeting new people. She wanted to start enjoying new and different plans. The three spent a fun day, enjoying the games, meals and music offered by the bazaar. At the end of the day, Esteban had written in a piece of paper, kept inside his wallet, his new friend's phone.

He started calling her up almost every day. There were outings to the mall, to play bowling, to the movies, and to eat pizza or hamburgers. And it was at the party threw by Edgar, his best friend, three weeks after he met, where things finally happened. The friendship relationship became a courtship, at the time they danced to the rhythm of a famous vallenato[2], which was very popular in those days. A few days later, Mónica confessed that when she heard him playing the guitar and singing the well-known Neil Sedaka song, Laughter in the Rain, she realized that she should be her girlfriend. It was a rainy night, during a small meeting organized by Catalina. The way he interpreted the song, and the feeling that he put on it were quite convincing.

Since then, they had been seeing each other at least two or three times a week, specially on Saturdays and Sundays, and on some afternoons after school. They met when neither of them had to do many tasks, and Esteban was not busy practicing with his musical group.

He felt fulfilled: he had always wanted to have such a person. A person so beautiful not only in the physical, but also in her interior, in the spirit, in the way she thought and acted. He knew he was falling in love, and realized that this feeling was equated.

That afternoon, when he picked up the phone to call her, he remembered his promise to take her to try the new ice cream shop near her house, on 78th street with carrera 9 in Bogotá[3]. He just had to change clothes and take the bus that, in a matter of forty minutes, would leave him two blocks from her house. He had not seen her for three days, and he couldn't wait her to open the door and hug her and give her a long kiss. He dialed his number, and a minute later someone answered. He was surprised when an unknown voice, masculine and adult, spoke to him in a serious and official tone. He thought he was wrong in number, but nevertheless asked about her in the most polite way possible.

Good afternoon, sir, could you be so kind to put me through to Mónica? To which the voice, on the other side of the line, responded with a formal and severe pitch.

Good afternoon. Who's calling?

You're talking with Esteban Palacios.

Esteban Palacios?

At that moment, Esteban listened as the person covered the horn for a few moments. Immediately, he distinguished the voice of his girlfriend's mother, who spoke to him from the other side of the line. She had a rather hurried and nervous tone.

Hello, Esteban. Where are you? Something terrible has happened!

Esteban felt his heart rise in his throat.

Hello, Mrs. Clemencia. What happened? I was calling Mónica because we were going out for ice cream.

In a nervous voice and on the verge of crying, her girlfriend's mother replied, Oh, dear boy, they took Mónica this morning, some guys kidnapped her when she was waiting for the school bus!

Esteban felt his legs weaken. His heart began to beat faster than usual, and he had to sit in the first chair he found so he wouldn't fall to the floor.

Oh, nooo! It can't be true! How does it come? It's terrible! But what is known? How did that happen?

Four guys took her, in a blue car, a bimmer I think. Look Esteban, it's hard to keep talking here, they haven't communicated with us so far, and it's better to hang up if they're calling. As soon as I know anything I will call you... or Marcela, Mónica's sister, will call you.

OK, madam. What a shame! I will be waiting for any news. May I stop by?

You better not, everything is in turmoil here; we will call you, take care of yourself, and then he heard how the lady hung up the phone.

Esteban felt the world coming over him. What had been beautiful and perfect during the last month and a half, became tragic and dark by a supremely serious event, which he could do absolutely nothing to help solve. Impotence reigned, and the only thing that occurred to him was to curse and insult the guys who caused all this. It didn't help at all to know so few details of what had happened, besides the impossibility of approaching her house.

His first reaction, still with his heart beating at a demonic pace, was to call Edgar, his best friend, to tell him what happened. He was equally surprised and offered all his support, knowing that in such a delicate and extreme situation, very little could be done.

From that moment, the days began to pass too slow waiting for any news. Every time the phone rang, Esteban hurried to answer before any member of his family. He hoped it was his girlfriend telling him that she was already free, that the nightmare was over, or at least receiving news from her mother or sister. It seemed incomprehensible that at such an early age, his girl has faced a hugely difficult and extreme situation like this. Even though he watched on the television and listened to the radio negative news from the country on a daily basis, reporting tragedies that were happening to other people, he could never imagine that something like this could happen to him. His mood was way down, and on several occasions he had avoided trying the food served. He attended school and group rehearsals by obligation, but he felt that nothing really motivated him. He thought it was not fair that a person so complete in every way, had to deal with some thugs for whom law, justice and goodness represented absolutely nothing. He thought about how well she and her family lived. Money was never lacking, there were luxuries and abundance in every way; and he wondered if that was the price that had to be paid to access and enjoy a life without any limitation. He wondered if it would not be preferable to have a loved one who did not have money to get on a bus, but who was exempt from this kind of risk; or if it was worth going through a situation like the current one, in which the life of that person was in danger, as long as they had a fairly comfortable economic position.

After two long weeks without having any news, and with his mood increasingly declining, he decided to take the initiative and call Mónica's house. Unfortunately, the phone always rang busy. This led him to think that the line would have broken, or that for some reason about the safety of the family it would have been disconnected, or they would have decided to change the number. With such a dark outlook ahead, he decided to tell Edgar to go with him to his girlfriend's home, and ask what was known about her fate. The next day, since there was no rehearsal of the music group, he went out with his best friend to her house, not without having prepared himself before psychologically to receive any kind of news.

They got to the luxurious colonial-style house, located on 79th street with 9, at five o'clock in the afternoon after spending almost an hour riding an awkward bus that defied the usual traffic jams in Bogotá on the rush hour. Outside the house nothing seemed unusual. The two friends approached the main entrance and rang the bell. The wait seemed eternal, but after a couple of minutes the door opened and Marcela, Mónica's older sister, appeared behind it wearing her school uniform. She was with a man wearing formal suit and tie, who couldn't hide his bodyguard appearance.

Hi, Esteban, how are you doing? Come in quickly, please, Mónica's sister said kindly but nervous as she invited them with her arm to enter.

The house was quite large and luxurious, and Marcela took them to an auxiliary room where the three of them sat down.

I introduce you to a friend, said Esteban, addressing his girlfriend's sister.

How are you? she said with a kind smile as she sat in a comfortable bergère.

Well, so-so, here accompanying this man, Edgar replied, fascinated by the beauty of Marcela, who despite looking one or two years older than him, with her school uniform stayed on a level still achievable for his aspirations.

Are you also from Los Cuarenta? Marcela asked Edgar.

No, I would like to, we have been friends for years, but I can't play instruments, the music genius is this dude here, Edgar said pointing at his friend with a nod.

Marcela smiled and looked at Esteban.

Sorry for showing up here, Marcela, but it has been more than two weeks since I have not heard from Mónica, and I was also calling and that phone rings as damaged.

Yes, I can imagine... it's my fault. My mother did tell me to let you know. For the sake of everyone's safety, we had to change the phone number. I was supposed to call you, but with this tough situation, I forget everything.

Oh, relax, Esteban replied. But what has been known so far, or what has happened?

Marcela looked at the fireplace, which was in a corner of the small room, doubting what to say.

She finally answered, Well, look, the guys, that is, the kidnappers, called the next day of the abduction–

So what did they say? Esteban interrupted.

Basically they want a hundred million[4].

One hundred million? Oh my gosh! –Edgar said looking at them both– that is an arm and a leg.

Yeah, it's a lot of money, said Marcela.

But what does your dad say? Esteban asked.

Well, he's collecting the money, 'cause a lot of people owes to my dad and he had to get paid. And yesterday he sold one of the cars.

But is Mónica fine? –Esteban said, sitting in the front of his chair– what is known about her?

Not much... yesterday they sent a picture of her holding the newspaper of the day in her hands, she looks a little thin, but fine. She appears with a jean and a black T-shirt, it looks like his school uniform was taken off.

Oh no!, terrible!, my poor Monina!

Edgar turned to Marcela.

But what can we do for help? I'd do whatever is necessary...

Marcela looked at him with a tender smile.

Don't worry... What's your name?

Edgar, Edgar Enciso.

Cool down, Edgar, we only can wait for my dad to collect the money and pay them.

But if you changed your number, how can they reach you? So the guys can call... Esteban asked.

They are communicating with the other line, which only my parents can use.

Does the police already know?

Yes, but that has not helped, even that telephone line is tapped; but whenever they call they only take about thirty seconds to talk, and the police say that that's not enough time to track the call.

Yeah, they must talk for at least three minutes, Edgar said.

Surely, Sherlock, the master of investigations, Esteban said without abandoning his expression of repressed anguish.

Ain't you see the movies? You gotta watch some and you'll see they need at least three minutes to talk.

Yeah, sure.

And my mother is furious with my dad for calling the police. She says it's best to pay the ransom and that's it, instead the police can try a rescue and that may be super dangerous, said Marcela.

That's heavy, you never know what will happen, Edgar said.

Right, I think it's best to pay, these people are very dangerous, Esteban said.

Edgar stood up and walked to the fireplace, which was turned off, and leaned against the edge.

So you guys never light the fireplace, do you? It's pretty nice here to make a little reunion.

Hey bro, what's wrong with you? My girlfriend is kidnapped and you're talking about making parties into her own home.

Calm down Esteban, at least your friend maintains a cheerful spirit, which is stimulating for what these days have been, said Marcela, smiling at Edgar.

You see, brother?, the thing is that you have to put a little humor to these calamitous situations. The only problem here is that with this rug so thick... it's hard to dance.

No!... my mother will kill us if we start dancing here, but we could do that back in the game room.

Wherever, and even better with this pretty girl, Edgar said, beaming at the attractive girl.

Listen, bro, get your act together! Are you already hitting on my sister-in-law? Besides, you're too young for her.

Your friend is very nice. I promise you, as soon as Mónica comes back, that we'll have a very good meeting, Marcela told Esteban.

'Course, that day will be time to put together a big time celebration, so this dude could chill out. You can't imagine, Marcelita[5], how he has been the last two weeks.

Marcela gave them a sweet smile.

What a shame! I have not offered you anything.

Don't worry, don't worry... but how did it happen? Esteban asked.

Marcela looked around to make sure no one else listened to them.

It was very fast. Moni[6] and I left at seven, as usual, to wait for the school bus in front of the house. There was a blue bimmer parked across the street. As soon as they saw us, four guys got out of that car, they carried machine guns... they came over us, Marcela said as she bit her lower lip and looked at the ceiling.

Oh no! Bummer! –Edgar remarked, sitting down– those guys definitely were street-savvy.

Yeah, two of them grabbed Moni while the other two pushed me so that I couldn't get into it... At that moment I realized that they wanted to take her away, that it was a kidnapping... Marcela got into tears.

Esteban and Edgar looked at each other without knowing what to say.

I told them that they would better take me... I mean, when I saw my little sister's face and the way she started screaming. I told them that I served them more than her. But they ignored me... They got her to the bimmer... I managed to see her lying on the floor. That car had the passenger chair removed from the front so they could make her lay there–

Weren't more people out there? Anyone to do something? Esteban asked.

Not much, at that time it's still calm around here, there were two ladies in the corner who stared in terror, and a group of students from the university next door, but what could they do?

Sure, with four guys armed to the teeth... Edgar said.

The case was that Clarisa, the maid, heard the screams and got out, but the guys already had Moni in the car and speed away to the south.

Anyway, a maid can't do anything, and since everything happened so fast, you can't call anyone, I guess... said Esteban.

Sure, those guys already know how they're gonna act, Edgar commented.

Marcela wiped her tears before continuing, So that's how it happened, I went quickly to the house to let everyone know.

Oh no. Well, I don't know, at least they called to ask for the rescue... –said Esteban– that is, with the photo and all at least we know it's fine.

Yes, at least. I would show you the photo but the police have it.

Esteban stood up from his chair.

No, don't worry, we're leaving, you must have many things to handle, but you can ask me anything you need, whatever. I am very aware.

Edgar added, also standing up from his chair, Hey, it was really nice to meet you, Marcelita. And count on me for anything, I hope your little sister will be back soon.

Thanks, I say the same. Look, Esteban, I swear you that as soon as I know anything new worthwhile I'll call you. This time I swear I won't forget it.

Thanks, Marce, I count on that. Greetings to your parents, take care.

It was half past four in the afternoon when Esteban entered the headquarters/studio of Los Cuarenta. It was a large and modern building with all the technology necessary to fulfill the functions of a sound recording studio, with a capacity for a little more than fifty musicians. Its interior was built in the form of a stadium stand, forming a curve that had been covered by a yellow carpet that gave it not only greater comfort, but a feeling of greater amplitude. In its lower part, there was the stage, or place where they rehearsed, and where also remained the bigger musical instruments such as the piano, the harp, the marimba, the drums, and some others. All the walls and ceiling were covered by acoustic foam that allowed its total soundproofing. Most of the group members were already there, scattered in small groups waiting to start the rehearsal. It was a group of young men and women whose ages ranged between fourteen and nineteen, all of them experts in the interpretation of one, two and even three musical instruments, as well as in the perfect handling of the voice.

Esteban greeted several of the group members, without stopping, before going to sit in the drums bench, his favorite instrument. He had begun to practice it at age eight, when he had received classes at the conservatory of the National University. Although his intention, and his mother's, was to enroll him in the flute course, but there were no available seats and therefore drums had been the most attractive option at that time. Once settled, he grabbed the drumsticks and began to play. First, the cymbals in a fairly smooth but rhythmic way, then he continued with the bass drum, the toms and the snare drum. That was what he always did to warm up his hands, arms and wrists. At that moment Arturo entered the room, a boy about nineteen, with dark hair down to his shoulders, dressed entirely in black and with a cheerful and jovial face. All the musicians fell silent and turned to look at him. It was one of the oldest members of the group, and at that time he served as musical director.

Hello gentlemen... and ladies –Arturo said from the top of the studio– Ready to start today? –he added cheerfully– Remember that this weekend we have a gig at the Bullring.

Hey, –said a blond girl with short hair and glasses, holding her violin in one hand and a soda bottle in the other– finally, are we going to start with Alfredo de la Fe or Pink Floyd?

Well, Melissa, let's see how strong we are with Alfredo's theme to see if we can stand it, if not... I guess it would be better with Héctor Lavoe, I think it's a little risky to start with Pink Floyd.

Arturo, what kind of audience, more or less, are we waiting for this concert? asked a boy of about sixteen, dark curly hair, green eyes and attractive face, dressed in jeans and gray shirt.

It's gonna be a little mixed-up. People are waiting for salsa, but they tell me that there's a lot of rockers who are going to attend. I think that, for what happened a month and a half ago in the Colosseum, it seems that they were quite excited.

It's that the little rock set was gravy that day, and also Esteban did it right with that drums, said Andrés while he took out a microphone from a black box at his feet. Esteban looked at him and smiled in gratitude for his words.

Well, –Arturo said, going down the steps of the room– Let's start with ‘Quítate Tú’ (t/n: ‘Get off, you’ in English) to see if we put Melissa to show us what she knows.

"Right now, Mr. Director[7], no problem," Melissa said, as all the members of the group took their respective instruments and settled into their places.

That afternoon, the rehearsal started with the leading of the wind instruments, followed by the rhythm of the congas. Since the drums are rarely used in this musical genre, for this particular performance Esteban became part of the backup voices, which was his second function within the group.

Los Cuarenta was a group that, as the name in Spanish implies, was made up of exactly forty musicians, all of them aged between fourteen and nineteen. The condition to belong to the group was to be almost an expert on playing at least two instruments, besides having a voice well-educated for the interpretation of different styles of music. The group was formed in early 1977 thanks to the initiative of a teacher who gave private lessons and also taught in several schools in the city. The professor put himself in the task of bringing together the most outstanding of his students, with the idea of creating a group that had the ability to perform different musical genres, both national and foreign. After a little over a year of hard work, he traveled to Vienna, Austria, to make a doctorate in one of the most prestigious musical schools in that country, taking advantage of the fact that he won a scholarship only granted to the most prominent music teachers in the five continents. Due to his departure, the group was about to disappear, but thanks to the union of its members and the moral and economic support of its parents, it was possible to continue, and thus prevent each musician from taking his own way. Arturo, one of the oldest members, and also very prominent in the performance of the piano and saxophone, took the direction from that moment, and his knowledge and personality led him to be unanimously accepted by the rest of his companions.

The philosophy of the group right from its foundation was to play covers, in the most reliable way possible, of the most famous and well-known songs and melodies of the rock, pop, disco, salsa and tropical genres. Based on that idea, the group had managed to approach impressively its goal, and both the press and the attendees of their shows stated that in most of their interpretations it was almost impossible to differentiate between the original performers and the interpretation of their music made by Los Cuarenta.

They had started with small performances in schools, universities, companies, and some bars which had the capacity to accommodate all its members. Over time, and thanks to their outstanding work, they had already managed to do a couple of concerts in stages with greater capacity, and with the fruits of their concerts, they had been able to rent and condition the studio that become their headquarters and the place for meetings and essays. At that time the group consisted of twenty-one women and nineteen men, and had a support group of ten people who were in charge of technical and logistic stuff.

That day at the end of the rehearsal, being half past six in the afternoon, Andrés, one of the most prominent singers of the group and Esteban's good friend, stowed his microphone and approached where he was.

He sat next to him and in a discreet tone asked, How is everything going?, what has been known about Mónica?

Nothing, brother, the same thing. Marcela, her sister, called me yesterday–

Really? What did she say!?

Well, it seems that her dad already has the money to pay the ransom.

Good thing, 'cause a hundred rocks is a big ticket.

Yes, now they're waiting for the guys to call and see where they should leave the money.

But, OK, at least it's almost solved.

Well, hopefully, it's been more than three weeks. Trusting God, as my dad says, we'll soon have her back.

Yes, God willing. And, does she continue with the piano?

Yeah, of course, she plays it super well, especially the classics.

Is she still wanting to enter the group?

Well, who knows... after all this... who knows in what shape she'll return...

Of course... you don't know... Andrés said.

So, do you picture her playing piano here? Esteban asked.

I do, the thing is that she gotta wait until there'll be a quota.

'Course, but rumor has it that if Arturo gets the New York thing, he'd be leaving in a matter of two months.

And it would also be time to look who will be leading this, said Andrés.

Well, everything is much more solid now, it's not like when Juan left to Austria.

Fortunately, the money is starting to show now, especially to pay the rent for this, Andrés said, looking around.

Esteban stood up from his seat.

But it's a key point to have this studio, if we don't, imagine us rehearsing in the garage of your house.

There's no room even for the drum set.

Or, who knows, in Patricia's garden, Esteban said.

Nooo, his dad would go out and fill us with lead, Andrés said while he laughed.

How's that going? Are there any chances for you?

What can I tell you... she's playing hard to get, it happens that the ex is still around.

Mmm, it's complicated... and that guy still race cars, doesn't he?

Andrés stood up from his chair.

I think so, he's a daddy's boy, you know that races cost a big ticket.

Well, now you gotta sell the bicycle and give the initial fee for an R4, Esteban joked.

Of course, very easy, I better go for a bimmer at once.

Nooo, it was in a bimmer where they took Mónica away.

Really? I guess it was a stolen car, said Andrés.

Surely, and it's said they took off the passenger seat to make her lie there and without anyone seeing.

It happens that those fellows are super tricky.

Exactly, I wish they put their intelligence to do good deeds, Esteban said.

OK, keep me informed, I hope everything goes well. I'm leaving, otherwise I'll have no food.

All right, dude. Take care, see you Thursday.

I'll be here, Andrés said before starting to climb the stairs leading to the exit of the studio.

On Saturday night the Bullring was bursting. The 14,500 tickets were sold out, and Los Cuarenta were getting ready to make their third big concert in less than two years. The idea was to make a performance based on the hits of the moment in the salsa and rock genres, and mix them with some of what was known by certain people as chucu-chucu music[8], from the top orchestras of the tropical genre such as Billo's Caracas, Los Melódicos, Nelson Henríquez y Pastor López.

That afternoon, Esteban had spoken with Marcela on the phone, and she told him that her father had already given the ransom money to the kidnappers. At the time they were waiting for news about the site where they were going to hand her over. He had his mind set on what was happening to his girlfriend, so he would have wanted to be at her house waiting for her possible return. Yet, his commitment to the group for such an important concert prevented him to get away from the Bullring.

It was 7:45 at night, and the whole group was in the dressing room preparing to go onto the stage. Arturo, standing on an armchair asked for silence and addressed his teammates.

Well, gentlemen... and ladies... they told me that the tickets are sold out, this place is bursting at the seams. It looks like it will be the biggest concert in our history. If we're doing well tonight, there's the possibility of being hired to do a tour nationwide– to which all attendees reacted with exclamations of joy. "Needless to say, I trust your ability to get this through. As you know, we'll start with ‘Tania’ by Fruko y sus Tesos. Then we continue with 'Vamos a Reír un Poco' (‘Let's Laugh A Little’) by Héctor Lavoe and ‘Guaguancó del Adiós’ (‘Farewell Guaguancó’[9]) by Roberto Roena. And, as always, the brasses gotta do it to the max. Good luck to everyone."

Arturo went down from the chair and approached Andrés.

This is your night, do it great for the group and for you, and you will see tomorrow Patricia will be begging you to ask her out.

OK, thanks, I hope my voice comes out as it should.

Don't worry, you always let it out, and he kept walking towards the exit until he met Esteban.

I see you pretty nervous, everything OK?

'Course, just thinking about my girlfriend, she may be released this weekend.

Wow, great! We all hope so. By the way, who else knows about this in the group?

About the kidnapping?

Yes, of all this story.

Only you and Andrés, and I don't know if he told Patricia... I hope not.

Don't you want people to find out?

I really don't know... She wanted to join the group and, well–

I understand, –interrupted the director– you told me that she plays the piano...

Yeah, she's an expert, she has been practicing it since she was a little girl, and she sings really well too.

What else does she play?

The harp, Esteban said with a little smile.

Excellent! I gotta meet her.

As soon as she's with us again, I will introduce her to you.

Yeah, it'll be great to meet her, hopefully things happen... Well, tell me if there's anything new, if you need to leave let me know, there we have Daniel to replace you.

It's OK, I'm going all out for this concert.

Be inspired by her and you'll see how everything works out tonight.

At that very time, the noise of the audience waiting for their artists was almost deafening. Melissa, who was almost at the exit, shouted at them.

"Mr. Director... Esteban... people wait for us."

All right, all right... let's go all out, destiny calls us, Arturo replied, and both headed quickly towards the door leading to the stage.

Esteban was the last one to go out. The ring looked quite dark, and only the reflections of the lights of the buildings around made it possible to distinguish the grandstands full of people. He looked for his place in front of the microphones, next to the two other backup singers, Patricia and Ismael. Ten seconds later he heard Arturo giving the signal and the wind and percussion instruments started with the first Tania chords, while the lights above them began to spin, and turn on and off to the rhythm of the music. The yelling of the public didn't take long to come out, and twenty seconds later Andrés started with the words Voy a la ciudad, voy a trabajar... (I'm going to the city, I'm going to work).

After a little more than 45 minutes of the show, people cheered more and more the performing of Los Cuarenta. They delighted their audience with the greatest successes of salsa and tropical music of the moment. Esteban focused on the intonation he had to keep in order to give the voices the perfect tone that had made the group stand out so much until now. He was next to Patricia, the pretty girl for whom his friend was willing to do everything; and Ismael (who came from Istmina, Chocó), the member of the group with the biggest talent according to his criteria. His friend Andrés alternated in the main voices' microphone with Eduardo and Juan Carlos, making a flawless performance. Meanwhile, Arturo showed the Bogotá public through his piano, that he was born for great things.

The salsa and tropical set ended with the interpretation of Venezolana (Girl from Venezuela) by Pastor López. Then, Esteban took advantage of the fact that the stage lights went out for a few seconds, and he sat in the drums bench. So, he got ready to start the rock and disco set that would start with the song Fantasy by Earth, Wind & Fire.

Within minutes, Ismael went from being a backup singer of salsa, to become the main voice of the music style that took over the clubs in the big North American cities with its rhythm.

Esteban, while playing the drums, remembered why he was not sitting next to Marcela waiting for Mónica to appear. There was no one like him in the group of forty musicians who could match him in the handling of this instrument. Seeing himself playing in front of over 14,000 people, plus those who were on the balconies of the buildings next to the Bullring, made him feel grateful and fortunate to be part of this wonderful group. At the same time, the anger and frustration he felt by the fact of not having his girlfriend by his side, or at least among the audience, led him to play his instrument with much more force and dynamism than he was used to. He had faith that she would be returned by her captors before the end of the weekend. Concurrently, he was afraid that this would not happen, or that she could return completely changed or traumatized, and she would not want to go out with him again. He really wanted to be in front of her, hug her and kiss her. To protect her and take her away from all the dangers that may arise. He wanted to talk to her at that very moment, even when he was busy playing the well-known hit How Deep is Your Love by the Bee Gees, next to his thirty-nine companions, and in front of an audience that acclaimed them more and more as the night progressed. He thought there should be a kind of long-range cordless phone, so in case Mónica was sent back she could communicate with him immediately to the concert site.

After a little more over two hours of playing covers, the show came to an end, but not before playing two encores, with the interpretation of Da Ya Think I'm Sexy by the British Rod Stewart. Esteban stood up when the stage lights went out completely, and put the drumsticks that had not been broken in the bag where he used to carry them.

At that moment, Patricia, who was next to him storing the trombone, told him, Sometimes it seems to me that you're here wasting your time.

Esteban looked at her in surprise and asked, What do you mean?

You could easily replace Ron Wood.

Esteban laughed, "In The Rolling Stones? You're crazy, I can barely play a couple of cumbias and three bambucos[10]."

So modest, the boy! I tell you that tonight you were fab.

Really?

You seemed possessed playing that drums. I had never seen you play with that energy, it was awesome!

Well, something positive must come up from all this, I guess...

You were the best, Patricia said.

I don't think so, Andrés sang so far out, don't you believe?

Andresito does what he can, but it seems to me that Ismael was much better.

Well, is that Ismael is the real deal, the rhythm that he brings with him is not overcome by anyone.

But you were great, I congratulate you, Patricia said, and before she left she came over him and gave him a kiss in a place quite close to his mouth.

Esteban stared at her as she made her way to the dressing room. She was a very pretty blonde, and besides being nice she had an impressive voice for singing. It would be someone with whom he could go out if Mónica did not exist, and if her friend Andrés was not after her.

It was half past ten at night when Esteban found a public telephone in the dressing room of the ring. He just picked the handset up and immediately thought it was too late to call his girlfriend's house. He would have to wait until the next day to find out what happened.

I compliment all of you, –said Arturo– what a severe concert we just gave! Rodolfo, our beloved manager, is happy, out of his mind, gentlemen... and ladies. I think good things will come. I liked so much Esteban on the drums, Ismael and Andrés on the main vocals were super, and you Patricia are not just beauty, your trombone could not have been better. Everyone won an invitation to my uncle's bar in La Candelaria[11]!

The feeling of joy and positivism invaded all the members of the group. They filled Arturo's uncle's bar, and comments about the performance's success did not stop. The Cuban son[12] liven up the atmosphere. In one corner Melissa chatted cheerfully with Ismael and Juan Carlos, while Andrés and Patricia shared a small table with a bottle of firewater. The site was decorated with photos of renowned Caribbean musicians, rustic tables with their respective chandelier, and fique[13] lamps of different colors.

Andrés, who already had a couple of drinks, tried to hold Patricia's hand. She, with some surprise, took it away and said, Hey, don't get romantic just because your friends say you sang well tonight.

And don't you think I sang well? Andrés asked.

Well, you have improved, but you need a little more practice.

So when that little is gone, are you gonna accept me to go out?

Mmm, it's complicated, because becoming a decent singer takes time, and I don't wanna become a spinster, the pretty blonde joked.

Andrés laughed out loud.

A woman as divine as you, spinster? Never ever.

Get real! You're making me blush.

You're beautiful in any color.

Yeah, especially green, like the ‘Green Hornet’, –said Patricia raising her eyebrows– and I'm already starting to say silly things, I guess this spirit is starting to affect me.

Hey, seriously, look... let's go out for lunch tomorrow, there are some great burgers in front of Unicentro[14], said Andrés.

Oh, I don't know. The thing is Francisco wants me to go with him to the racetrack tomorrow.

What? You have nothing to do with him anymore.

Well, I know, but my parents love him.

So, are your parents going to engage with him or what?

Patricia poured herself a glass of firewater and guzzled it. She made a face like it had quite a kick and then smiled from ear to ear showing her spectacular teeth.

Just let's have more invitations like this one, I like the liquor better than hamburgers.

"All right!, say no more. Next Friday we can go to a little bar near the carrera 15 that is worth it, they only play rock and some disco."

Do you think they would let us in? They do here because it's Arturito's uncle's bar, but I don't think they would let a couple of brats of 15 and 16 pass the door, even less in a bar on the 15th.

You're already fifteen? asked Andrés.

Yeah, man.

And you didn't invite me to the party.

There was no party.

How come?

Can't you see that my dad is unemployed and my mom has to give us everything, and she doesn't earn much where she's working.

Oh, what a pity, I didn't know...

Chill, let's drink the other one –Patricia served Andrés and filled her own cup– cheers, to you to take a lot of firewater so your voice may improve.

Cheers, for the cutest girl in Los Cuarenta, said Andrés.

Not in Los Cuarenta, we're only twenty-one women, and Adriana is prettier than me, and even Luisa.

Not at all, you're the most complete.

But the poorest too.

Money isn't everything...

Sure, go tell that to the man who comes by every month to collect the rent.

I know, –said Andrés– but there are people, like your ex, who only spend their time bluffing, living on appearances.

Let's get Pachito out of this.

Now it's ‘Pachito’–

Of course, he always has been. But hey, speaking of money, the girl who was with Esteban... she has a lot, right?

Seems so, said Andrés, feeling uncomfortable.

And they're still going out, don't they?, I haven't seen them together for a while.

A while?

Yeah, like a month.

They're still together. What happens is that she's... in Europe, I think.

That's what I tell you, some people lack of everything... and others have in excess.

Hey, are you so bad in your home? Andrés asked serving more firewater in both glasses. Patricia grabbed hers, and they both emptied them in one sip.

Nooo, it's not like that, we're OK, is that sometimes my socialist side gets me, especially in this bohemian kind of environment with Cuban son and backpack.

Oh, OK... but yes, you're right, there are people with a lot of money in this country, said Andrés.

Yeah, now, back to the subject, the two or three times that Esteban brought his girlfriend to watch the rehearsals, they always arrived in expensive cars with driver and everything.

Yes, I remember, it's because Mónica's father is an architect and has made a lot of money building houses.

Is Mónica the girl's name?

Yeah, they've been dating for more than two months now, the chick is pretty cool.

Two fake months, because if you're in Europe...

Well, I suppose that time is not worth much.

At that moment Esteban arrived at the table. He had a beer in his hand.

My dear colleagues!

Take a sit Esteban, have you got drunk or what? Patricia asked.

"Nooo, not at all, I was talking to the guy who plays the records. The disc jockey[15] as they call it now. You can tell he knows a lot about Cuban son."

Well, there's no way he doesn't know... working here, said Andrés.

Patricia handed Esteban a chair.

But come and sit next to me, I wanna ask you something.

Esteban sat down and Patricia moved her chair to get even closer to him. Andrés looked at her, between stunned and upset.

We were saying here, with your pal Andrés, that you've been with your girlfriend for more than two months, but actually as the girl is always on trip, at the moment of truth they're not two months... In my opinion...

On trip? Esteban asked with surprise, looking at Andrés.

Yeah, I was telling Pati that Mónica is now traveling through Europe, said Andrés.

Esteban picked up the bottle of firewater and said, Hey, gimme a shot of this.

All yours, –Patricia said as she served him a drink– but don't change the subject.

Esteban drank the firewater, This mix is gonna kill me, I already had two beers and now with this firewater...

Mmm, so you don't wanna talk about the girl, Patricia said.

But, why is that big interest about her? Andrés said.

Well, nothing, it's because we were talking about the rich people, Patricia said.

Pretty blondie, it looks like the drinks went to your head already, Andrés said.

Oh, look!, don't start with that, we're celebrating here, and we can talk about anything. So Esteban, is your girl on a trip or not? Or did you break up and Andrés is making things up?

No, blondie, we didn't break up, is that with the excitement of the night I forgot about the trip, Esteban said.

Sure, sure... Patricia took the bottle and poured it into the three glasses. Cheers for Esteban's girlfriend, so she returns soon from Europe before this beautiful boy falls into the grip of another girl.

Esteban and Andrés looked with surprise and toasted with their partner.

Esteban arrived to his house at three in the morning. When he woke up, after ten o'clock in the morning, he had a little headache, product of the drinks at the celebration evening. He got up thinking about having breakfast with plenty of orange juice and immediately calling Mónica's house. He dialed the new phone, already known by heart, and waited for someone to answer, hopefully Marcela, whom he had the most confidence in.

Hello, said a female voice on the other side of the line.

Hello, do I talk to Marcela? Esteban said.

Yes. Hello, Esteban, how are you doing?

Well, Marce, thinking on all of you, how are you doing?, what happened?

We're OK, thank you... let me tell you that they called this morning, and will call back tomorrow, Monday, to mark a delivery point.

But, why so much waiting, so much mystery? Esteban said.

Oh, I don't know, we're all on the brink of hysteria, the guys already have the money and everything, I don't know what they're plotting now...

This seems bogus, I don't know why they play in that way with people. They already got what they wanted.

Exactly, I don't understand either. Look, I swear I'll call you tomorrow as soon as we know something, but it's better not to use these lines a lot.

All right, Marce, I'll wait for your call; whatever happens, call me, please.

I promise you, take care of yourself.

Thanks, we'll talk tomorrow, good luck.

The waiting became prolonged and Esteban was no longer sure that things would work out. There was no reason for the kidnappers to delay the delivery in such a way, unless they hid her somewhere away from Bogotá and were preparing something to bring her back to the city.

Being Sunday and without much to do, he decided to pass by Edgar's house. The day was sunny, and he chose to walk the twenty blocks which separated him from his friend's house. The traffic was smooth at that time and some avenues were occupied by cyclists, skaters and people who went jogging, walking or doing any kind of physical exercise. He remembered the couple of times he went out with Mónica to walk along these ciclovías (cycle tracks), when they had drank salpicón (hodgepodge) or eaten mazorca (cob) or arepas with cheese[16]. He liked that his girlfriend, despite eating all the food served, maintained a slender figure, most likely because of his age and the exercise he did almost daily in his home gym.

It took him a little less than half an hour to reach Edgar's house. He received him kindly and made him go along to the den. In there, sitting comfortably, he asked about Mónica's fate. Given Esteban's somewhat pessimistic response, Edgar decided to take action.

Look, bro, I was talking with my sister's father-in-law about this case, you know he's in the police.

Really? Esteban said, surprised. Tell me, what did he say?

First, that the kidnapping very surely was made, or perpetrated as the women on the news say, by some people close to her family.

Like a friend of them? Esteban asked.

Yeah, a friend or even a relative, someone who knew not only the fact that they have money, but also their customs, their schedules, their routine...

Well, no idea, I've only met her parents and her sister... the one that you liked.

Oh, nooo... then Marcelita is the kidnapper, Edgar laughed out loudly.

Esteban smiled and said, And surely you're collaborating.

For her, I'd do whatever she wants... I'd collaborate in everything.

Right, but get serious. So what else did this policeman tell you?

Edgar stood up from his chair and looked out the window that overlooked the garden of his house.

He said that these guys like to play with people, put them running from one place to another, put them to wait, make several calls, change the sites of delivery of the money, delivery of the kidnapped...

Now why do they do all that? Esteban asked.

To confuse everything. The idea is that if the police are aware of the matters, it would be not so easy for them to catch the guys.

Of course, that's why they still don't give her back, I think, even though they already paid them since like Friday.

They have been paid already? asked Edgar somewhat surprised.

Finally the father could gather the money. Now they're waiting, the guys have told they'll call up tomorrow.

Edgar was thoughtful for a while and said, Have you seen what my dad got?

No, what did he get?

Edgar went to a corner of the den and removed a piece of black cloth that covered something that was on a table. It was a radio device with a microphone, commonly used by ham radio operators.

This serves to communicate with people around the world, Edgar said.

Yeah, I've heard about it, I remember once they gave me walkie-talkies for Christmas. I went out to the street in front of my house and ended up talking to a guy who was a ham radio operator who lived nearby.

What happens is the walkie-talkies don't have much reach, but this device allows you to talk to anyone over much longer distances.

And what's the scope? Esteban asked while looking at the device.

If you use it by day it can cover the whole country, at night you can go far, including the United States.

And why it has more range at night?

I don't know very well, something that has to do with ionization, a technical stuff.

Oh, and do you know how to turn it on, at least? Esteban said jeeringly.

So funny, Edgar turned on the device and started looking for frequencies. Here you can listen what the police are talking, or taxi drivers, or ambulances, or any other ham that's on the air right now.

Hey, what if Mónica's kidnappers talk around?

You could search, but I don't think they use this system, it would also be too hard to match the frequency and exact time they were talking.

But if the guys suspect that Mónica's house lines are tapped, isn't it possible that they use something like this to communicate?

Maybe to talk to each other, but I think they can't call directly from one of these units to a house phone, –Edgar replied– but if we receive something, it would be great, anything to help Marcelita's sister.

So? –Esteban said curiously– have you already called her?

No, bro, they could record the conversation and it ain't worthy. You better take me with you when you go there.

Well, as soon as we can, count on it, –Esteban said– but don't you think she's a little too old for you?

Nooo, it's OK. How old can she be? Around sixteen?

Yeah, I guess... Mónica is almost fifteen... then Marcela must be around sixteen, seventeen tops.

Tops, Edgar said in a forced tone.

Well, but since you like veterans... Esteban said mockingly.

Not veterans, women with experience.

Well, good luck with that. Maybe we can go out all four one day.

We gotta put faith in the matter, maybe we all could be in the cinema next weekend or something, Edgar said.

Let's hope so, Esteban said, wrinkling his mouth.

So what? Did you like the device? asked Edgar.

Yeah, it's great. But what do you people use it for?

Right now it's the excitement to learn to use it well. We like to turn it on mostly at night that you can hear more clearly. We talk to other ham radio operators who teach us how to handle everything about the frequencies and codes they use.

It looks interesting... Esteban said.

Oh, yeah. Tonight, when my dad comes home, we'll turn it on for a while.

"Well, if there's anything interesting, tell me. Now I'm outta here, 'cause my mother said that today there'll be ajiaco[17] for lunch, and it's about time."

OK, tell me anything, we're talking, Edgar told him as he escorted his friend to the house door.

Monday was an eternal school day for Esteban. He was eager to get home to wait for Marcela's call with the latest news about her girlfriend's fate. During recess after lunch he looked for Catalina, the classmate who introduced him to Mónica, hoping she had some new information about her. He found her sitting on the grass, in a corner of the soccer field, chatting with a partner.

Hey, Cata, how's it going? Esteban greeted.

Hi, Esteban, go ahead and sit standing. Psych!, sit down, we're all right. We're here with María Claudia advancing with our class notes.

Esteban sat down and greeted María Claudia, Hello, how are you doing?

Well, did you like the lunch today? María Claudia asked while she adjusted her glasses.

Normal, as always.

It's that the girl here is feeling like sick and says that lunch sat her super badly, Catalina said.

Oh, yes, I was fine in the morning and now my belly is hurting, said María Claudia with an upset face.

If you want, we'll go with you to the infirmary, Esteban said, looking Catalina out of the corner of his eye.

No, don't worry, –said María Claudia as she stood up– "I'm gonna pay a visit to the ladies room[18], see you guys soon." Then she walked away from them towards the main school building.

Poor girl, everything always sits her bad, Catalina said.

Maybe she has amoebas or something.

Then she must purge herself, Catalina replied mockingly.

Or go to the doctor to see what he says.

Oh no! The doctors are the worst, you go with a small thing and comes out with ten evils, Catalina said.

Yeah, that's true... Hey, changing the subject a little, have you heard anything about my Monina?

I was gonna ask you that. I talked with her sister last night, and she told me that they were already waiting for the delivery, because the father already put the money, Catalina said.

It's the same as I know, I also talked to her last night.

That they are supposed to call today about where they deliver her, Catalina added.

Yeah... the rest of the classes must pass quickly, so I get home to find out what happened.

Don't be so worried, I'm sure that this will soon be solved, Catalina said.

I hope so... Esteban said raising his eyebrows.

She told me she really wants to join your group.

Did she tell you that for sure? Esteban asked.

Yeah, you know she's so into the piano.

The strange thing is when I suggested it to her, she said it's OK, but she didn't show much enthusiasm... Esteban said.

I find it weird... lately when we talked, that was her favorite subject.

I think she wants to conceal it to me and doesn't want to show much urge, in case they don't accept her... I don't know.

Could be... do you think she can enter? asked Catalina.

Well, from what I've seen, I do believe it. When she starts playing the piano at home she's huge. She's very strong in classical music, and if you play that you can play anything, Esteban said.

What about her voice? I ask you because you're the one who knows well about that, 'cause when she sings like fooling around, she does it super.

The truth is I haven't heard her sing, but if you say so...

Haven't you heard her? It's the height, she imitates this lady perfectly... the one who sings ‘I Will Survive’...

Gloria Gaynor, Esteban said.

That's it, exactly, you should hear her, it's impressive.

Great! I gotta listen to her, also because imitating the voice of that lady is not easy... Then, the next thing is to wait until there will be a quota.

So, is there none right now?, asked Catalina.

No, right now we're exactly forty, and as the group is called Los Cuarenta, then they don't receive anyone else.

Now, is there no possibility that someone will leave?

"Well, Arturo, the one who's acting as a director right now... he's holding on to see if