There were so many good restaurants in Rio, from French to Italian to traditional steaming black bean feijoada and elaborate churrascarias with enormous slabs of meat cut right at the table for diners to choose. When Blake asked Julia what she was in the mood for and she promptly answered seafood, he knew what to try.
They went back to the hotel to change and then hopped a cab to Ipanema, a long crescent of pale sand that ended in two tall peaks on its far end. The day was winding down and the light sent long shadows along the shore as the water turned a deeper blue. That wasn’t stopping any of the beachgoers from enjoying the last rays of color and the ocean breeze, even as the bars and restaurants along the strip were starting to light up.
The place Blake had in mind was quiet and out of the main fray, but it had gotten rave reviews. They were early enough to get a seat outside on the terrace and ordered a bottle of Portuguese vinho verde recommended by the waiter. It arrived crisp and chilled, and Blake smiled at the intensity with which Julia held his eye as they clinked their glasses, taking seriously Chris’s admonition not to tempt fate and risk bad sex.
Blake knew Julia didn’t think the superstition was anything but funny, but on the off chance that it was actually true, he hoped it only applied to the person you were locking eyes with. The thought of Julia having seven years of knock-out sex with somebody else left a bitter taste in his mouth that had nothing to do with the wine, which was fresh and acidic and slightly effervescent, ideal after a long day walking in the heat.
Still, he couldn’t help feeling a heaviness steal over him as he watched her lean back in her seat, fingering the condensation on the sides of her glass. Was she even going to tell him what she’d done?
“This is perfect,” she sighed, looking out at the water through the palm trees lining the walkway down to the beach.
Well, that answered his question, at least. It looked like avoidance was going to be the strategy of the evening. Blake was just going to have to learn to keep up.
They ordered a grilled hearts of palm salad as an appetizer and a chilled pumpkin soup with prawns and the hint of something spicy—cayenne, to balance the saffron threads?—that made the whole dish come alive.
“When I first came to Brazil, I was in the Amazon,” Blake said between bites. “All I ate was the most basic fried fish and grilled meat from those ubiquitous food stalls.”
“And pineapple juice?” Julia winked.
“And pineapples.” He laughed. “And then I got to Manaus—that’s the major city plunked down in the middle of the rainforest—and it was like I’d never seen food before. I had no idea Brazil was known for its cuisine, you know?”
Julia nodded as Blake remembered his first bite of the thick, smoky feijoada that was Brazil’s national dish.
“I may have imagined that I’d be spending my vacation sipping cocktails on the beach, but I never thought it would be quite this nice.” Julia swirled the light, straw-colored wine in her glass and took another sip before spearing one of the palm hearts with her fork, mopping up the cilantro and lime vinaigrette.
“I can assure you that my other travels have definitely not been like this.”
“Tell me more about where else you’ve been.”
“Tell me why you Googled me.”
He had meant to keep quiet about it, but half a glass of wine later the words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was going to say them. A request to match her request. A challenge for more information to balance out the information she’d gained.
Her eyes grew wide and she paused mid-breath, suddenly at a loss for words. Then she smacked her forehead. “The search history?”
“Bingo.”
“I’m not a very good sleuth.”
“No.”
The blush on her face was the deepest he’d seen. But there was no attempt to cover anything up or act like she’d done nothing wrong. Just embarrassment, pure and simple.
“I was chatting with my friend Liz and I told her about you. I’m sorry, should I not have? I didn’t know. But,” she laughed and gestured around her. “How could I not?”
“And then you said…?” he prodded, his stomach in knots.
“And then I admitted to her that I didn’t really know that much about you.” Julia put her glass down. “That I don’t know that much about you.” She changed her tense emphatically, stressing all that still remained unsaid between them.
He put his glass down on the table louder than he’d planned. “And you couldn’t, for instance, ask whatever it was that you were so desperate to find out?”
Julia jumped, looking startled at his tone. “It wasn’t like I set about to go snooping on you.”
“But that’s exactly what you did,” he pressed, aware of his voice rising in the restaurant. How could she not see what she’d done?
She bit her lip. “Look, you’re making too big deal out of this. I honestly wasn’t even going to say anything.”
His fork clattered on the table. “Well then I’m glad my whole life isn’t a big deal to you.”
Julia looked stunned and for a moment Blake regretted his words. But the flash of all those cameras on him still stung. How could he be on the front page of the tabloids and at the same time not matter at all?
“You know that’s not what I meant,” she said quietly, clutching her glass and looking away.
Blake sighed. Suddenly he felt exhausted. What did it matter? They barely even had two more days. “Look, let’s forget it. Forget I found out, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“I didn’t think it was a problem,” she said. “But obviously it was, and I’m sorry.”
“I just wish you would’ve asked me directly, instead.”
“Ask you what?” She threw her hands up on the air. “I barely know anything about you. You’re completely vague on whatever you do say about your life, and I’m sorry but it didn’t occur to me to check in with you beforehand about whether you were a famous TV writer who’d gotten completely screwed. I didn’t think it was my business.” She paused, then added, “I still don’t.”
Blake opened his mouth, then closed it again. That was what she thought—that he had been screwed? Not that he had it coming to him? In the scandal and gossip of Australia’s celebrity world, public opinion had determined there was something wrong with him for not holding on to his star. But here it was like Julia cared but also didn’t, and Blake didn’t know whether it made them closer or further apart to know that she’d seen this side of his life and basically shrugged.
“So what did you tell Liz?” He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but he still had to ask.
He was surprised to see Julia laugh. “I mentioned that I’d met someone, and Liz said—okay, first you have to understand that she’s Liz. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten and we’ve been through everything together. It made her life to know that I was having a good time.”
No, Blake had to revise his earlier assessment. Now she was sporting the deepest blush he’d ever seen on her. It made something bubble through his insides, cutting through his anger. She was having a good time?
“And then she was all, Oh my god who is he, Google him, look him up, blah blah blah.” Julia imitated a frenetic, high-pitched voice and Blake got an instant picture of who Liz was. “Sooooo.” She took a gulp of wine far more sizeable than the sips she’d been enjoying. “I did.”
For a second Blake couldn’t speak. “Wait—you were just like, I don’t really know this guy, and it was your friend who told you to stalk me?”
“I wasn’t stalking you! It’s the internet! Everybody uses it.”
“I didn’t Google you,” he pointed out.
“Maybe you should have. What if everything about me is totally made up? What if I’m actually…I don’t know. A wanted fugitive in the States.”
“Julia.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Nobody makes up being a high school math teacher.”
“That’s why it’s
the perfect disguise!”
He shook his head. “Nobody.”
She frowned. “So that’s why I never go on any dates?”
“I find it utterly impossible that you don’t go on any dates.”
“You think I’m lying to you?”
“I don’t know. You’re the one with the built in lie detector.”
“Not lying. Math teacher, no dates.” She paused. “Are you still upset?”
Blake took a deep breath and looked out across the terrace to the endless ocean outside. Was he? “I thought you—”
“Didn’t trust you?”
He shook his head. “It’s not just that. Well, yeah, it is, but also I thought you wanted to find out if I’m really…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish the thought.
“I’ll admit that when Chris and Jamie were talking about your TV show, I didn’t quite realize that when you said famous, you meant famous. But, uh, I don’t care, if that’s what you’re thinking about. I mean, wait!” she said quickly, choosing her words. “I don’t mean I don’t care, like I don’t care about your life. I mean that the objective state of your fame or lack thereof is of no interest to me, or has no bearing on my interest in you.” She exhaled warily. “Is that better?”
Blake tried to separate out the different strands of thoughts tangled inside him. He was surprised to find that it was nice knowing she’d mentioned him to her friend. It wasn’t like he was a secret, after all, and it meant that even as a fling it had enough significance to warrant a conversation. If she was telling the truth, which she’d given him no reason to doubt, then it had just been curiosity and appeasing a friend’s prurient appetite for detail.
“I felt like it was snooping and told Liz that it was weird,” Julia said softly, lowering her eyes. “But it’s a good thing I looked at your passport that one time because I would have been totally mortified to have been gushing to Liz about you and then been forced to admit I didn’t even know your last name.”
Two pink spots darkened on her cheeks from where her previous flush hadn’t gone down. Blake leaned forward, intrigued.
“Gushing? Do tell.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Josh.” But she stuck out her tongue when she said it.
“I was always Blake growing up, but then when I started writing professionally it was J.B. Williams, so I became known by my first name instead.” Blake shrugged like it had just happened, but actually he’d made a conscious choice to create his public persona as Joshua, the first name he never used. When he became Josh Williams, it felt like the real him, the one who had always been and would always be Blake, was still the same inside, no matter where his career went.
It had wound up being a blessing to have that extra layer separating who he was inside from the man he was to everyone else. When the acclaim started rolling in, it was weird to read about this Josh guy who was sort of like him, but also sort of not. And when everything in the tabloids was about the Josh who’d been cheated on and dumped, turned against by Australia’s favorite celebrity couple both on and off the screen, the one thing that kept him sane was that at least all that was happening to Josh and not him.
It wasn’t really true, of course, but it was also a way to test how well people knew him. If they saw only the celebrity side, they knew Josh. But to his family, his friends, and the people he loved, he was Blake.
To Julia, he would always be Blake.
Their waiter came by and for a minute they were quiet as he refilled their glasses, taking away the empty plate and leaving them the soup to polish off. Julia soaked up the creamy bisque with a slice of bread and Blake followed her lead, splitting the last prawn with his knife for them to share.
“I’m sorry about Liam,” Julia said so quietly Blake thought he’d misheard. It was so not what other people had said to him when they heard about the scandal. He must have looked completely confused because Julia repeated it again. “Your friend, Liam. I’m sorry, that sucks.”
“Yeah,” Blake said slowly, chewing on the last bite of bread. “It did suck.”
He sighed then, deeply. A sigh that, as soon as he let it out, he realized he’d been holding in for months.
“God this wine is good,” Julia mused, taking another sip, and Blake couldn’t help it. It was so ridiculous, he laughed as she put the glass down.
“What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder like maybe she’d missed something funny.
“I just—” Blake shook his head.
“It sucked? This wine is good? What’s so funny?”
“I’ve spent months dealing with the fallout from this, so much so that if I had to hear one more word of fake pity, or commentary on how I must have had it coming, I probably would have done something that would not have reflected favorably upon Australia’s largest TV network. Which was why it was definitely time for me to flee the coop for a while, so to speak. “
“And?”
“And then you come along, and I don’t want to tell you this stuff because God, who wants to talk about it? I nearly had a heart attack when Chris and Jamie started talking that day in the van, like what if they said something incriminating… But you Google me and you find probably the worst, most salacious websites on the planet and all you can say is, Sorry about your friend?” He exhaled again.
“Wrong thing to say?” She furrowed her brow.
“Perfect thing to say.” He smiled warmly, meaning it.
“Friends should be your friends. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
“It sounds so simple when you say it.”
“It is,” she said, and the look in her eyes was fierce and protective. She’d said that she’d been friends with Liz since they were kids; he had a feeling that when she was close to someone, she didn’t let them go.
He’d sensed that what they were doing was new to her. But now he felt a warning, too. She’d acted fine with their fling and fine when he said he was leaving for Argentina. This was different, though—whatever it was. He didn’t want her to be hurt when January first came and they were inevitably done.
But he didn’t want to remind her of that. All he said was how lucky Liz was to have Julia in her corner.
Julia made some kind of half-laughing, half-huffing noise that could only be described as a snort, something so out of character for her normally composed features that it made him laugh. “At least the girl knows it,” she said. Blake raised an eyebrow but she didn’t elaborate.
Their main courses arrived, grilled flounder with coconut rice and fried plantains and a spicy fish stew with coconut milk, tomatoes, cilantro, and lime. The fish was fresh and flaked off the bone, the stew rich but still light, balancing sweetness with a spicy kick.
“Remind me again why I live somewhere landlocked,” Julia commented as she pulled apart pieces of fish in the stew to soak up the broth.
“I have no idea,” Blake said, spearing a plantain and passing it to her to try. “I’m a coastal boy, remember?”
She imitated the way he said “remember,” slow and particular and then garbling the consonant on the end. “You’ve got that accent and don’t appear to know what a sunburn is. How could I forget?”
He teased her about American Midwestern accents, cracking up until they realized people at the other tables were looking and they’d better pipe down. By the time they finished eating and had polished off the wine, the sky was a brilliant orange lighting up the palm trees. It made the mountains look like they were on fire over the sea.
“Dessert?” Blake asked when their plates were cleared.
Julia shook her head. “I’m stuffed.”
“Too stuffed for chocolate soufflé? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that sensation.”
“Oh, if there’s going to be chocolate involved…” Julia conceded that she might have a little extra room.
It was dark and drizzled in raspberry sauce, with a dollop of homemade brown sugar and rum whipped cream dusted with pistachio bits. Blake groaned in delight.
When they left the terrace, the beach was empty but the streets were starting to fill, the pulse of the Brazilian nightlife singing its siren song. Blake wondered what he’d be doing right now if he were in Buenos Aires. Would he have found a group to latch on to? Would he be in a bar, with tourists or locals or grizzled gauchos swapping stories before parting ways the next day?
Would he be thinking about Julia? And if so, would he be congratulating or kicking himself for letting go?
But there was no way to know. It was impossible to picture what he might be doing if he weren’t in Ipanema, like it was impossible to imagine what he’d be doing with his life if The Everlastings hadn’t broken through.
If he’d grown up with a father. If he hadn’t scrapped an old script that was giving him endless agony and started furiously sketching out new ideas fast as he could, the wisps of ideas turning real as bricks the faster the words poured forth.
If he hadn’t met the right people who saw the idea and helped bring it to life. If he hadn’t known the perfect aspiring actor and actress to play the leads.
And then, if he hadn’t come back early from a run and walked in on that actor and actress, his best friend and his girlfriend, in his trailer. If he hadn’t seen the man he’d come to think of as a brother going down on the woman he’d been sure would become his wife.
For all her Googling, Julia didn’t know that part of it. No one did. Not even the tabloids got that detail right. All anyone knew was Kelley and Josh, and then Kelley and Liam, the transition so seamless it was like something out of a screenplay, with no real people involved. No live animals were harmed in the making of this feature. But Blake didn’t have to bleed to feel pain.
Somehow Kelley’s newly hired publicist had known how to give it the right spin. Josh could be pitied and perhaps a little bit scorned, for what had he done to drive her away? But it was orchestrated in a way that created intrigue and boosted ratings instead of turning people off. Meanwhile Kelley got to be everyone’s darling, living the fantasy of true love with her dear friend and co-star, recounting in interviews the moment when everything “clicked” and she realized that when she looked deep into Liam’s eyes, she wasn’t acting when she proclaimed her love.
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