Like a Love Song

by Gabriela Martins

  I raise my chin. “And also I’m your friend? Because I’m going to need some validation on that front. Artists are extremely needy and insecure, and it makes me very stressed out that you’re not.”

  William offers me a proper smile. “We’re friends, Natalie! We’re friends.”

  I grin back at him. “Good.” But I can’t help adding, “Even if you’re doing this for money, I’m glad that you’re my fake boyfriend.”

  That gives him pause. The waiter comes by to set down our lemonades—I’m giving up my smoothie for this today—and then he tells me, “Yes. It is about the money. But it’s not like that.”

  I put up my hand. “It’s okay. You do you. You’re allowed to like money.”

  He runs both of his hands through his hair. The messiness is endearing. I like it better than the suave look he had on the red carpet. It feels more William.

  “How do I explain it? Well, I do like money, of course, who doesn’t? But that’s not why I decided to jump on a plane to the United States when my agent said he had a way for me to quickly make…a lot of dollars.” William sits a little closer to the table and lowers his voice. I instinctively move closer, too. “I have five siblings. I’m the second oldest. My older sister, Amanda, and I, we both always took care of the family, but now that Dad’s gone…”

  I set my jaw, my stomach sinking.

  William glances away to collect his feelings. “He left us so much debt. My side gigs and Amanda’s accountant job aren’t enough to help the whole family. There’s too many of us.”

  I shut my eyes.

  What the hell.

  “There’s a lot that’s weird for me, that makes me…uncomfortable. My followers blowing up, people suddenly taking an interest in my family and following them, too. My little sister Lou had to delete all her social accounts because people were flooding them with questions about me,” William says, his head down for a moment, trying to murder his cuticles. I can feel my cheeks flush with heat when he mentions Louise. “I don’t really care about Hollywood, but I care about their big paychecks. I have no interest in becoming a celebrity, I don’t. But I…I have to do right by my family.”

  My hand has a mind of its own, and it reaches out for his, stopping his little act of self-penitence with the cuticles. I squeeze his hand.

  “I am so, so sorry, William. People shouldn’t be doing that. Maybe I can—”

  “It’s not your fault,” he adds quickly. “Ashley’s assistant gave me a big check, and that’s helping so much. If you want to take responsibility for anything, that’s what you should be focusing on.”

  I reluctantly let go of his hand, shaking my head slowly. “I…” I trail off, and then look up at him again. “I’m so sorry that your family is going through this. But I’m also happy that they have you.” I mean it, too. It’s the most honest I’ve been in a while.

  He looks at me again, his eyes welling up. He laughs about it, keeps his hand firm in mine, and with the other he wipes the tears out of his eyes. “I miss them, if I’m honest. It hasn’t even been that long, and we FaceTime every day. My sister Louise sends me memes almost hourly….But I miss them, yeah. It’s hard being here on my own, in an unfamiliar industry and a foreign country and all.”

  It makes me admire him even more.

  I am preparing myself to tell him that—that I think he’s brave, that I think he’s kind, that I think he’s beautiful. But he doesn’t give me the chance. Instead he changes the subject.

  “So, um, your grandma. Have you talked to her again since you called her?”

  The abrupt shift makes me laugh uncomfortably. “I mean, no, but that was, like, yesterday.” I raise my shoulders, a little defensive. “It’s complicated.” And then, for no apparent reason, I tell him something I haven’t told either of my closest friends: “Mom wants us to go back to Brazil for Christmas.”

  He nods. “My family’s Jewish, and Hanukkah is important to us. Ashley said it was okay if I went home and stayed with them that week, that as long as the tabloids are being fed, et cetera, it’s not a breach of contract?”

  I wait for him to say something else, until I realize that he’s waiting for my okay. I have to do my best not to laugh. Does he really think that I would hold the contract against him and be like, you can’t go? “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Thanks,” he says. “Are you excited about Christmas with your family?”

  I glance around for a second. “I don’t…have what you have with your family, William.” I make a face, take a sip of the sweet lemonade so saying that out loud won’t taste as bitter. “I love them. But from a distance. They think I’m a snob. They don’t really like me.”

  “I think that you make a lot of assumptions about what people think of you.”

  I take the deepest of breaths, make a pillow of my arms, and rest my face in it.

  He still sounds soft but firm when he asks, “What’s really the problem?”

  And the answer pours out of me before I can think twice. “I’m afraid.” I raise my head from my arms and meet his gaze. “If I keep my distance, then they can’t reject me. They can’t hurt me. But if I go, then I’ll have to know. I’ll have to live it. I’ll have to actually…be vulnerable.”

  Should I write about that? No, I shouldn’t. It’s not the first time I’ve thought about it, but it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. Hearing my own voice saying these words…I’m equal parts relieved and embarrassed. Embarrassed because I know I’m not supposed to feel that way. If I’m brave enough to step on a stage with hundreds of thousands of eyes on me, surely I shouldn’t be afraid of my own family?

  But relieved too, because it’s no longer just my secret to keep.

  He nods, taking another sip from his lemonade. “Or you could have a wonderful Christmas at home. With people who love you.”

  I tilt my head and consider that. Maybe.

  My phone vibrates, and we exchange a look.

  Oh God. What now?

  BOBBI:

  I have amazing news.

  Let’s schedule a meeting ASAP

  I stare at my phone, feeling something in my stomach turn. I look up at William, and he’s checking his own phone. “Something wrong?”

  With a hint of suspicion, he shrugs. “I don’t know. Cedrick texted me a while ago, but I hadn’t seen. Says he wants to meet, that someone made an offer. I don’t know what the project is, though.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to audition for roles for that to happen?”

  “Typically. But sometimes when they like your work, they can make an offer to you first. And if you say no, then they open auditions.” He pauses. “I have never gotten an offer like that before. That’s…weird.”

  “You know what,” I say, turning my phone screen down. “Let’s just quit everything, and start over somewhere where nobody knows who we are, and nobody writes fanfic about us together.”

  I’m obviously joking, but his smirk makes me pause. “Fans have written about us together?” He raises his eyebrows. “Is it smutty?”

  I roll my eyes and make a face at him.

  “JK!” he yells, laughing. The actual letters. J and K. “Just kidding.”

  I’m about to tell him he doesn’t have to explain the acronym, when I realize I don’t care. His phone is forgotten on the other side of the table. We’re going to have these lemonades and then we’re going to ask for some cheesecake, and I’ll schedule a meeting with Bobbi when I’m home.

  “You know,” William starts. “I know we’re only a month into the contract and everything…but if it’s okay with you, I should go to London for the next few days. I need to help my family with the bank. Amanda’s the only one who really knows how to handle these situations, but she’s very overworked, so I need to help Mum.”

  “Oh.” I fight the urge to reach out for his hand
on the table between us. “That’s—don’t worry about the contract. It’s okay, really. I promise. Go to London.” I offer him a small smile. “Family stuff sounds like the most important type of stuff.”

  He gives me an appreciative smile.

  To myself, I think: Stop talking about the contract.

  * * *

  The idea was that Mom and I would watch a movie together, but I can’t stop thinking about Bobbi’s proposition that she pitched to me over a call earlier this evening. She seems to think it’s such a golden opportunity, but…I’m not so sure.

  I try to focus on the movie, but it’s boring. My mind starts wandering, and before I know it, I’m sneaking a peek at Mom and unlocking my phone to check the time. She’s so engrossed in the movie she doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’m on my phone.

  Biting the insides of my cheeks, I go to my texts and click on William’s chat.

  NATALIE:

  DON’T CALL!!!!

  i’m supposed to be paying attention to a movie

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  ?

  NATALIE:

  i’m with mom

  and you always end up calling

  so like, now i can’t answer the phone

  i’m pretending to be a good daughter

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  It’s delightful that you’re actually pointing out that you’re pretending.

  NATALIE:

  yes i…i am delightful

  anyway

  what did cedrick want?

  was it shady?

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  I wouldn’t say it’s shady.

  But it’s…I don’t know how I feel about this.

  That director we talked with?

  She really wants me to play a sidekick.

  NATALIE:

  THAT’S AMAZING

  CONGRATULATIONS OMG

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  Not so fast.

  NATALIE:

  if you say you wanted the hero or nothing

  i’m going to leave mom and go straight to your hotel

  and kick your ass

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  It’s a four-movie contract with exclusivity.

  I couldn’t be in anything else.

  NATALIE:

  can they do that?????????

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  Because I’m a no-name actor who’d be getting my big break….

  Yeah, they can.

  And I don’t know what to do.

  You?

  What did your agent want?

  NATALIE:

  well, my thing was actually shady

  you know how i’ve ALWAYS written all my stuff?

  some artists don’t

  but it’s my BRAND

  I ALWAYS WRITE MY STUFF

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  Yes…?

  NATALIE:

  bobbi found someone willing to sell a whole album to me

  and i’d take credit for the lyrics too

  but i’d be singing someone else’s truth

  it’s like my own agent gave up on me writing my stuff

  it hasn’t even been that long but…

  i can write songs. i’m just…not doing it right now

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  Oh.

  NATALIE:

  yeah.

  oh.

  hey

  you don’t want to make a decision now do you?

  because i don’t

  i’d very much like to not make a decision at all

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  I’m listening.

  ** reading

  NATALIE:

  you know my friend padma?

  dj lotus?

  she’s headlining a new festival

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  You never introduced me to any of your friends.

  Should I be concerned? Am I not a good enough boyfriend?

  NATALIE:

  LISTEN!!!!!!

  i mean, READ!!!!

  let’s go to this festival in portugal as soon as you get back from London and forget about our wonderful but undoubtedly shady agents

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  That’s very out of nowhere.

  I mean, I’d like to. But I don’t know if I can.

  NATALIE:

  i’m paying

  BRITISH BOYFRIEND:

  It’ll be my honor to escort you to this important event.

  “Are you okay? You look whiter than usual,” I tell William.

  William has been quiet since we got on the plane. Now he has a white-knuckle grip on the arms of his first-class seat. He nods briefly at me without looking away from the flight attendant, so I poke him.

  When he turns to me with wide eyes, I ask, “Are you afraid of flying?”

  He scoffs, shaking his head, but the death grip on the arms of his seat says otherwise. “Of course I’m not. I’m European. We travel around on low-cost flights all the time. It’s how we’re so cultured,” he teases with a cocked eyebrow.

  I roll my eyes. “This isn’t a low-cost airline. Unlike your usual flying bus, this probably won’t catch fire while we’re up in the air.”

  His nostrils flare and I see him swallow a knot.

  “I don’t—”

  I slap his arm. “JK, William, JK!” When he gives me a horrified look, I clarify, “Just kidding. It means just kidding.”

  That does get a little smile out of him.

  “You know, it’s all right if you’re not a big fan of flying. I’m not a big fan of cruises. I always get seasick. Ever been?”

  His eyes go from me to the flight attendant, still giving safety instructions ahead of us. “I really think we should listen to him.”

  “Nah. It’s always the same. Plus if the plane is going down, we’re probably dying anyway.” I poke his middle again, and he actually glares at me. I’m living for this. “Did you know that in all of history there’s only been one actual commercial plane crash where there were survivors? Captain Scully in New York wasn’t a crash, only a malfunction in the engines because of birds. But a crash…It was in Brazil, too. In the seventies.”

  William takes a deep breath. “Yeah? How did they survive?”

  He probably wants a distraction, but I can’t help but think about that time at the movie premiere when he told me that it was cute when I talk a lot. If my cheeks are blushing a bit now, that’s simply not my fault.

  “The pilot had to insert the coordinates to the destination—it wasn’t automatic. So, let’s say, instead of inserting 030, he put only 30. And the plane read it as 300 instead. Some passengers who were used to taking that flight tried warning the pilot, but he didn’t want to admit that something was wrong…so eventually the fuel ran out, and he said to the passengers that they were going down: ‘E eu desejo a todos um bom fim.’ ” I do my best impersonation of a Brazilian man, and he blinks at me. “It’s from the black box. You can hear it on YouTube. He says: And I wish you all a good ending.”

  His eyes widen, and his grip on the seat arms tightens. “He said that? He actually said that?”

  I nod. “What softened the landing, sort of, was the trees. Very tall, lots of branches…when it did hit the ground, it wasn’t as intense anymore, and most people were wearing seat belts. Still, some lived, and some didn’t.” I shrug. “Then they had to survive in the Amazon rain forest until one of the groups found a farmer and went back for the rest of them.”

  “Whoa,” he says. He still has an ironclad grip on the armrest.

  I laugh. “
I can see that you’re very chill.”

  That makes him break into a smile. “Oh, I’m extremely chill, darling.” He winks.

  I give him my most unimpressed look. “You only use darling when you’re full of it. The only appropriate response is to laugh at you.”

  “I choose to think you’re laughing with me instead, mind you.”

  I ignore him, reaching for the screen in the seatback in front of him. “Mom’s the one who drove me to the airport, you know. She had a flight the other day to Boston for work, and she told me they have good stuff to watch now….” I give him what’s supposed to be a meaningful stare. “Choose a movie! Or a TV show! Or even a concert. What do you want to watch?”

  He studies me, eyes slightly widened.

  “How—I don’t get you, Natalie. I really don’t.”

  I poke his shoulder, only vaguely aware this is the third time I’ve poked him within the last five minutes. “Aw, c’mon, William. Is it really that hard to believe I want my fake boyfriend to have an okay experience flying? Except for terrifying you a second ago, which is beside the point.”

  William shakes his head. I’m not sure whether he’s saying no to this or no to whatever’s on his mind. Then he sighs and looks at me with new energy.

  “Okay. Let’s watch movies. And then sleep. And then wake up back in Europe.”

  “Portugal!” I exclaim. “I love it. Their beaches. Their food, William! Their food is fabulous. Their colonization history, not so much.”