With his hands in his pockets, Lief began to walk through the main streets of the Land of the Dead, where everything assaulted his senses with a vibrant saturation of colors.
But unfortunately, wherever he passed, the music and laughter faded, the skeletons pressed against the walls and covered their eyes, opening a silent corridor for him as they observed the oddity of a living body walking among them.
Indifferent to their reaction, Lief maintained a steady pace toward a colossal open-air stadium that dominated the center of the location, from which deep bass emanated, making the ground vibrate.
Clearly, the important thing was here.
Upon reaching the base of the grand entrance staircase, two seven-foot-tall skeleton guards, dressed in security uniforms, stepped forward, blocking general access.
But before Lief had to stop, the guard on the left, as if receiving a message, quickly bowed and extended an arm toward a discreet side access.
"Sir. Madam Dorothy is waiting for you inside."
Without questioning them much, Lief followed the guards through the service door, leaving behind the roar of the crowd to immerse himself in the backstage area.
The inner hallway was a beehive.
Dozens of skeletons ran back and forth dragging thick sound cables, a group of dancers adjusted the sequins on their dresses while a makeup artist polished their cheekbones with shiny wax in front of the mirror.
The guards cut through the tumult and guided him to the end of the corridor, stopping in front of a double door upholstered in black velvet.
Knock Knock
They knocked and stepped aside.
"Come in."
With that familiar voice, Lief pushed the door and entered, being greeted by a wave of perfumed air.
The room had walls covered in dark violet silk and the floor disappeared beneath a long-pile black rug. Dorothy was sitting in front of a lighted vanity, finishing adjusting an earring on her ear.
Observing Lief approach through the mirror's reflection, her lips curved into a smile.
"Darling, you arrived fast."
Turning in the chair, she revealed a black evening gown that seemed made of shadows, which left her pale shoulders and bare feet exposed.
"Your methods of transportation leave a lot to be desired," Lief replied, stopping in the center of the room.
"Did you like the vortex? I designed it with you in mind." Laughing softly, Dorothy stood up and walked toward him. "Freefall is a lot like falling in love, don't you think?"
Invading his space, she stopped inches from him and ran the tip of her finger directly over Lief's chest, just above his heart.
"So, sweetie... do you have my intruder yet?"
Taking a step back, Lief created distance, "He's a scared child in an unknown world. He will fall on his own."
"If that's the case, let the game continue a little longer." Dorothy withdrew her hand with a satisfied smile and snapped her fingers.
The entire wall in front of them instantly transformed into an immense transparent glass window.
Giving a view that dominates the entire stadium from above.
Below, thousands of skeletons waved light wands, creating a sea of colors, while the spotlights on the main stage began to converge in the center.
Lief approached the glass, observing the magnitude of the spectacle with interest.
"The stage is set..." whispered Dorothy, standing beside him and looking out at the crowd, "If you feel the urge to perform tonight, I can make a spot for you in the program right now."
...
Far from the main hustle and bustle of the Land of the Dead, in a narrow alley, Miguel dropped down behind a pile of junk, clutching the guitar against his chest, feeling his heart pound hard against his ribs, trying to catch his breath after the run.
The echo of the chase seemed to have faded, but the frustration was still there.
He just needed his blessing...
"Hey, kid. You look like the devil is chasing you."
A raspy voice startled him and he turned his head sharply toward the shadow of the wall.
There, leaning with total nonchalance, was a gangly skeleton. He was wearing a frayed straw hat and a vest that had seen better days.
"...Who are you?" asked Miguel taking a step back.
"My name is Héctor."
The skeleton adjusted his suspenders with a charming smile and limped into the light, "And if my eyes don't deceive me, you are looking for the entrance to Ernesto de la Cruz's party. Let me save you the trip, without an invitation, the guards will throw you out before you touch the red carpet."
"... How do you know I'm going there?"
"Because you are the only living person with that look of tragedy and a guitar on your shoulder," replied Héctor, "But today is your lucky day, chamaco. Ernesto and I are old friends.."
!
Miguel's eyes widened, distrust giving way to hope.
"Do you really know him!?"
"Of course I do and I can get you in there," assured Héctor, approaching and lowering his voice, "But I need a small favor in return."
Rummaging in his pocket he took out an old photograph with great care.
"You will cross to the world of the living, right? I just need you to put my photo on an altar. My family... I need them to remember me. If you do that, I will take you to De la Cruz's very door."
"..."
Miguel looked at the photo and then at Héctor…. It was his only real chance.
"Deal!"
"Excellent. Now, the plan is simple," said Héctor, putting the photo away, "The only way to get an invitation right now is by winning the music competition at Plaza De La Cruz."
The transition to Plaza de la Cruz was a whirlwind of improvisation.
Héctor managed to sign him up at the last minute, while Miguel tuned his guitar in a hurry.
Minutes later, he was standing under the blinding spotlights of the stage with the plaza bursting with expectant skeletons.
The murmur of thousands of spectators was deafening, but the instant his fingers strummed the first note, the murmur cut off.
He closed his eyes and sang.
His magnetic voice projected over the crowd. The noise transformed into silence and then into cheers.
The connection was immediate, for the first time, he felt he was where he belonged.
The prize was within his reach.
"MIGUEL!"
But a furious shout broke his spell.
Among the crowd, Imelda advanced like a storm, pushing her way through the crowd, followed by the rest of her family.
"Let's go! The show is over!" Héctor jumped onto the stage, grabbed Miguel by the arm and dragged him toward the shadows of the backstage just before Imelda's boot touched the boards.
They ran through the back hallways, dodging musicians and technical equipment, until coming out again to the relative safety of the side streets.
The contest plan had failed miserably.
Miguel leaned against a wall, breathing with difficulty.
In the distance, Ernesto de la Cruz's mansion shone at the top of the city like an unreachable beacon, surrounded by blimps and party lights.
"We can't give up now..." he murmured looking at the tower.
He observed the movement at the main entrance of the plaza.
The contest's winning band was being escorted by a security detail toward the trams leading to the party.
Hardening his expression, Miguel adjusted the guitar on his back.
Taking advantage of the commotion of the celebrating winners, Miguel blended in between the musicians' legs and the instrument cases. Managing to cross the security perimeter and finally sneaking onto the transport heading to the mansion.
Miguel crossed the mansion's extensive courtyard, dodging waiters with trays and groups in formal wear.
At the end of the pool, illuminated by spotlights and surrounded by admirers, was him.
The legend.
Ernesto de la Cruz.
He was laughing, holding a glass and greeting with an elegance Miguel had seen a thousand times in the movies.
Clutching the guitar against his chest, he took a breath and pushed his way through the crowd until he was in the front row.
"Mr. Ernesto De la Cruz!" he shouted breaking the murmur of conversations, "I am your great-great-grandson!"
"..."
Silence fell over the immediate circle.
Ernesto lowered his glass and looked at the living boy with genuine curiosity.
Seeing the guitar and the determination in Miguel's eyes, a charismatic smile spread across his face and he invited him closer with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
Seconds later, Miguel found himself playing chords alongside his hero..
The music flowed between them, an electric connection that confirmed all his hopes. Ernesto draped an arm around his shoulders, introducing him to the elite as his own blood.
Euphoria lifted Miguel.
"ERNESTO!"
But a broken voice cut through the celebration.
Héctor burst in, ignoring the guards trying to catch him and planted himself in front of the star with clenched fists.
Ernesto's smile froze, transforming into a mask of tense courtesy.
"Security, please," he said in a soft, but contemptuous tone, "This man is bothering the guests."
"Bothering?" Héctor laughed bitterly, "You stole my songs, you got rich off my work and now you pretend I'm a stranger!"
"I'm sorry, my friend, but I don't know you."
"You lie!" Héctor took a step forward, facing him, "Remember that night at the hotel! The night I decided to go back home!"
Ernesto's expression changed imperceptibly.
Héctor continued, the words coming out like a torrent of pain repressed for decades.
"..."
Miguel watched the scene paralyzed. His gaze darted from Héctor's anguished face to Ernesto's serenity.
The pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity. The songs in the movies, the style, the lyrics... they all spoke of a deep and personal love that Ernesto never showed, but that Héctor distilled in every word.
Ernesto adjusted his jacket cuffs, looking at the security guards who were finally arriving to restrain the intruder.
"Take this man away. He is delirious," he ordered coldly, turning his back on him.
Héctor fought weakly against the guards, but his strength was useless.
His bones flickered, becoming translucent for a second.
Oblivion was finally claiming him.
He dropped to his knees with desperation breaking his voice.
"Do whatever you want with the songs, Ernesto... keep them all," he pleaded with invisible tears, "I just want to cross the bridge. I just wanted to see my daughter one more time before disappearing... I just wanted to see my Coco."
"Coco?"
Miguel looked at the gangly skeleton the guards were dragging away.
Mama Coco... his great-great-grandmother...
Then Héctor…
________
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