Hot Stuff

by Various

  ‘He didn’t need to leave,’ Lexi said.

  ‘It is okay. It is time for João to go to school.’

  The smaller of the women came over and wrapped her arms around Miguel while she nattered in Portuguese. Eventually letting go, she ran her hand lightly over Lexi’s cheek then dashed back to the open kitchen.

  ‘Ana Clara thinks you are beautiful.’ Miguel’s blush showed through his tan.

  ‘Please tell her thank you.’ Now it was Lexi’s turn to redden. God, what’s with this dorky teenager business? ‘So . . . what is this traditional food of which you speak?’

  ‘Ana Clara is preparing now.’

  Lexi glanced over at the women who were busy cooking, but not so busy that they couldn’t stop grinning at her and Miguel.

  He shifted in his seat. ‘My village is very small and everyone is like family. When we are away from home, especially in the big cities, we find each other. Blood and water are the same thickness for us.’

  Miguel’s lovely face made her wish she had longer in Rio. Perhaps if the promoters were happy with her performance they might book her for more gigs on the surfing circuit, and if they did that then she could hang out with Miguel more often. Whoa! Where did that come from?

  Ana Clara arrived at the table with a full tray and set it down. She stood by, arms crossed, and nodded towards the food as she said something to Miguel.

  ‘She wishes for you to eat everything. A satisfied belly is a happy belly, yes?’

  ‘Okay.’ Lexi looked up at Ana Clara, who gave a curt nod and marched back to the kitchen.

  Pointing to the first plate, he said, ‘This is bolo de fubá, a cornmeal cake popular in our region.’

  ‘Cake for breakfast?’ Lexi eyed off the delectable delight, her stomach growling.

  ‘Do not forget the fruit.’ He smiled and pointed at the bowl filled with red, yellow, orange and green.

  ‘Gotta love a balanced diet.’ She broke off a piece of the still warm cake and placed it in her mouth. Her tastebuds danced for joy with the sweetness and fluffy texture. ‘I’m never leaving here.’

  The smile lines deepened around Miguel’s dark eyes. ‘You must try the cafezinho.’

  He pushed a small cup of black liquid towards her and she took a sip. Rich coffee flavour with a hint of chocolate exploded in her mouth. ‘Tell Ana Clara she needs to adopt me.’

  Miguel laughed and ate some flatbread. ‘You are nothing like the rock star I imagined.’

  She wished his opinion didn’t matter, but in her world people only told her things they thought she wanted to hear. Well, with the exception of Kat, who had no problem with the truth. Lexi suspected Miguel would also be frank, regardless of whether she liked it or not.

  ‘Is that a compliment?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  Her bullshit detector remained silent as she tucked into the red açaí berries. ‘So where’s your favourite place on the circuit?’

  ‘Bells Beach.’

  Lexi had to force the berries down her throat before she choked on them.

  ‘What is wrong?’ Miguel rested his hand on hers. She jolted with his touch and prayed he didn’t notice her shaking.

  ‘Nothing.’ She pulled her hand away, picked up a juice and skulled it. Out of all the beaches in the world, why the hell did he choose Bells, her local beach? Visions of the rescue helicopter buzzing above her prone body flashed before her.

  ‘You do not look well.’ His eyes held concern.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She gritted her teeth.

  ‘Lexi . . .’

  Forcing happiness into her tone, she asked, ‘So, is it nice returning to surf in your home country?’

  Miguel frowned.

  Uh-oh. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘No,’ he mumbled, then pushed the plate of fruit away. ‘You do not need to worry about my problem.’

  Thanks to Kat’s sleuthing the night before, Lexi had learned of the rumours about Miguel and his career. It would be cruel to hound the poor guy for details, especially when she wasn’t willing to impart information about her own history. Neither spoke as Miguel tapped out an intricate series of beats onto the table top.

  ‘I like the rhythm,’ she eventually said, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘It is a favourite song of mine.’ Miguel downed the last of his coffee.

  ‘It’s got an unusual beat.’

  ‘It is called forró, which means party for all. The music is from northern Brazil and is usually played with an accordion, bass drum, and triangle. Sometimes the fiddle or flute or guitar is added, but I like the traditional forró.’ He smiled and the heavy cloud surrounding them vanished. ‘I listen to it before a big event because the music reminds me of my roots and how far I have come.’

  She nodded slowly, taking in Miguel’s words and studying his earnest eyes.

  ‘You would like to listen to it?’ He placed a berry in his mouth, his gaze not leaving her.

  ‘Actually, I would. Maybe being exposed to a different style of music will help.’

  As he leaned forward a large piece of dark wavy hair fell across his eyes. Miguel pushed it back. ‘Are you having trouble writing music?’

  She nodded.

  ‘What is stopping you?’

  Lexi twisted the serviette between her fingers. ‘Me.’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘Nor do I, to be honest. I’ve worked hard for my success, but now I feel like I’m self-sabotaging.’

  Miguel raised his eyebrows, but she didn’t feel like he was judging her — unlike her band members, record company execs and, sometimes, even Kat.

  ‘We must rectify this situation, yes? We meet at Ipanema Beach at nine tonight.’

  If Miguel Ferreira had said this yesterday she would have questioned his intentions. His endless stream of female fans meant he could snap his fingers and have anyone he wanted, forró or no. But this flicker of vulnerability he’d shown gave her faith that he genuinely wanted to help her find her mojo.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, not entirely convinced he could help, but feeling it was worth a try. She’d already lost her muse, what else did she have to lose?

  ***

  Lexi breathed in the salty air as she pulled the shawl tight, even though the night was warm. Kat was out on a hot date with the drummer from the cover band, so Lexi was left to her own devices. How wonderfully convenient Miguel Ferreira had asked her to accompany him, although she wasn’t entirely sure his presence would help or hinder — he’d either inspire a storm of songs or he’d distract her so much she couldn’t think clearly and get anything written.

  Only one way to find out.

  The bright lights of the kiosk reflected on the incoming tide. Her stomach knotted, even though the waves were so small, so peaceful, so innocent. But she knew their potential, and the nightmares she experienced made sure she never forgot their danger.

  Once again a sharp pain shot across her lower back and she surreptitiously rubbed the spot.

  ‘You are all right?’ asked Miguel, who had snuck up beside her.

  ‘Fine, fine. Just an old injury.’

  ‘From?’ He tilted his head to the side, his kind eyes making her want to blurt out everything even though she refused to talk about it to anyone except Kat.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she eventually said.

  ‘We all have those. Come,’ he motioned for her to sit at a table near the edge of the beach. ‘Tonight is the night of forró and we will find the inspiration that has eluded you, yes?’

  Lexi smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It is no problem.’ Miguel ordered two Brahma beers and sat so close that electricity zapped across her skin.

  The loud speakers burst into action with a beat similar to the one Miguel had tapped on the table at the café. People partnered up, twirling and swinging their hips to the fast-paced rhythm that was similar to the Samba. The four-four beat pulsed through her body and a sudden urge to dance gripped her
.

  Standing, she held out her hand. ‘Come on.’

  ‘I thought you had the pain in your back.’

  ‘It’s gone.’ As long as I don’t think about the accident. ‘Teach me.’

  Miguel stood and enveloped her in his strong arms. She closed her eyes, furtively inhaling his cologne mixed with the salty freshness of the ocean. He moved to the left then right, gently showing her the basic steps. Music filled her ears and joy spread through her soul as Miguel expertly guided her across the floor. Their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat and she willed herself not to fall for this superstar surfer who reminded her of the life she could have once had.

  ***

  The sun crept over the horizon, the partygoers long gone, except for Lexi and Miguel sitting on the shore. She wiggled her dance-tired toes in the sand, still uncertain if Miguel was the perfect distraction or inspiration. ‘Thanks for a great night.’

  ‘Have you found this mojo we have been seeking?’ His expectant tone made her heart sink.

  ‘I . . .’ She Lexi stared at her feet. ‘I’m sorry to say I haven’t.’

  ‘You do not need to be sorry.’ Miguel placed his finger under her chin and a jolt of electricity travelled across her shoulders. His face inched closer to hers. ‘Some things take time.’

  ‘I don’t have that luxury.’ She had no idea if she was referring to the song writing or the little time she had before leaving Miguel and this beautiful city.

  ‘Then time should not be wasted.’ His dark eyes searched hers as she held her breath, her pulse racing. When their warm lips met, Lexi willingly dived under a wave of passion, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, pressing her body against his. Miguel gave in to her unspoken demands, his fingers lost in her curls as he tilted her head back, his warm breath grazing her skin.

  Oh, God.

  Once they broke apart, she leant against his muscular chest. ‘I’m going to miss Brazil.’

  ‘Will you miss me?’ he whispered into her hair.

  ‘Maybe.’ She looked up and winked.

  Miguel slowly let go of her, then stood. ‘Then we must make your time here more memorable. Please stay here and I will return very soon.’

  ***

  Lightly touching her still tingling lips, Lexi smiled as she relived the moment with Miguel. His dashing off had been strange, but she didn’t mind a few minutes to sit peacefully and reflect. Closing her eyes, she tuned into the waves crashing against the shore as she hummed and swayed with the easy rhythm.

  ‘I am here!’

  Lexi opened her eyes. Miguel stood before her, bare-chested. The years of competing in endless summers had given him a perma-tan that accentuated his broad shoulders and well-defined chest and biceps. The moment her eyes caught a glimpse of the luscious V of his hipbones — her weakness — she gulped.

  Then she noticed a surfboard tucked under each arm.

  A sharp pain lodged in her chest.

  ‘I cannot let you leave without trying the surfing thing, Lexi Leonard.’

  Her stomach churned.

  ‘What is wrong?’ He peered over his sunglasses.

  ‘Nothing.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘It does not look like the nothing.’ He stood the boards in the sand and knelt before her. ‘I understand surfing is scary for many people, but maybe trying something new will help your creativity, yes?’

  ‘It won’t help.’ She looked away.

  ‘You will not know until you try.’

  Lexi shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the group of men playing soccer, but she could barely see them through blurred vision.

  ‘Lexi . . .’

  Miguel placed his hand on her arm, but she moved away.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do it.’

  ‘Why not?’ His annoyed tone made her feel worse. ‘No wonder you are having problems with writing the music. You must open yourself to something new, and creativity will follow.’

  She bit her lip while Miguel stewed. Why the hell did she get involved with a surfer? That was trouble in the making. She snuck a glance at Miguel, who stared at the ocean, his brows drawn together, lips pursed. The poor guy wanted to help and all he received was her cold shoulder. He deserved better than this.

  A small ball of courage grew within. Quietly, she said, ‘I used to surf.’

  Miguel turned to face her, his eyes wide. ‘No more?’

  ‘No.’ She took a deep breath, her need to confide in him escalating. ‘I was good. Probably could have turned pro.’

  ‘What happened?’ He gently ran the hand down the side of her face and she melted with his touch.

  ‘An accident.’ Hot tears stung her eyes. This time, though, they weren’t from recalling tragic memories, they were from Miguel’s kindness.

  ‘Why do you sit on the beach if surfing makes you sad?’

  She shrugged. ‘I can’t fully tear myself away. It’s the only place I feel fully connected with Nature.’

  Miguel nodded. ‘May I ask what happened?’

  She squeezed her eyes shut, debating whether to fully let go and trust. Miguel, of all people, knew the lure and power of the ocean, so he would understand more than most people.

  ‘I . . .’ She swallowed hard then locked eyes with his. Any fears she had of revealing her story swept out to sea. ‘It was a day full of perfect breaks. I’d been practising manoeuvres for my next amateur tournament.’ She hung her head. ‘I didn’t see it coming. No one did.’ A lone tear slid down her cheek and Miguel gently wiped it away, but she pushed on, her need to recount the experience overcoming any fears. ‘A rogue wave knocked me off the board and pounded me into the sand. I’d wiped out before and come out with scrapes and bruises, but this one was different. When I got knocked off the board it flipped and smashed into my spine. There was pain, then numbness.’ She puffed out her cheeks, her shoulders feeling lighter a she spoke. ‘I . . . I . . . remember salt water rushing up my nose, being confused about which way was up, then my face smashing into the rough sand.’

  ‘People rescued you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She’d be forever grateful to her surfer friends who had risked their lives to save hers. ‘I saw the helicopter, then blacked out. When I came to I was in hospital in traction. I’d herniated five discs and torn a lot of ligaments.’ Her throat constricted, but she pressed on regardless. ‘The doctors weren’t sure if I’d walk again, although I was determined to prove them wrong.’ She glanced at her feet, still amazed that they could carry her to any place she wanted and allow her to dance all night, just like she had with Miguel.

  He placed his arm around Lexi and pulled her close. She rested her ear on his chest, concentrating on his steady heartbeat. A feeling of peace wrapped around her.

  ‘I am glad you proved the doctors wrong.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘You had a lot of time in hospital, yes? What did you do to stop from being bored?’

  ‘Music.’ She slowly ran her fingers across his smooth, tanned stomach. His muscles twitched and she resisted running her hands all over him — for now.

  ‘You started writing?’

  ‘Up until then it had been a hobby, but being hospital-bound meant I could spend more time doing what I loved. In the end, it saved me.’

  Miguel pushed his sunglasses back on his head. ‘Why don’t people know this about you? It is a story of great courage.’

  ‘It’s not, really. I did what I needed to get me through a really difficult time.’

  ‘And you made a career out of it.’

  ‘Not that it’s going ahead in leaps in bounds right now.’

  ‘You need to get back in the ocean.’ His tone sounded confident.

  She sat up, her heart racing. ‘No.’

  ‘You must find a way.’

  ‘I won’t be pressured!’ She shoved her things in her bag and stood.

  ‘Maybe you should stop letting your failures dictate your future.’

  ‘What the hell is that suppose
d to mean?’ She countered, her hands on her hips.

  ‘I am sorry for your traumatic experience, but out of that came your music, no? And now you are stuck with the music, so perhaps returning to surfing will help. Sitting on the beach has not changed a thing. Maybe you need to go deeper, yes? The ocean is the perfect place to heal your soul. Do you not see that it is central to your life?’

  Lexi’s jaw set hard. ‘It doesn’t look like the ocean is doing any favours for your career. Maybe you should stop dishing out advice and practise what you preach.’

  A flicker of hurt flashed across Miguel’s handsome features.

  You are such a bitch, Leonard.

  She leant down and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

  Miguel stood and picked up the boards. ‘It is sad when someone who knows the power of words uses them with such venom.’

  ***

  Lexi stood on the shore of the beach, a thin film of sweat on her forehead. It should have felt strange to hold a surfboard under her arm, but it felt completely natural, just like it used to.

  ‘Just because Miguel said it was a good idea doesn’t mean you have to do it today.’ Kat’s fearful tone did nothing to allay Lexi’s nerves.

  ‘I’m doing this because I want to, not because someone else thinks I should.’ She just wished Miguel would pick up his damn phone or at least reply to the dozens of apologies she’d texted.

  Lexi took a tentative step into the water, then one more. Small waves lapped around her ankles. Each cautious step took her deeper until she had no choice other than to ease onto the board, her stomach flat against the fibreglass. Trepidation coursed through her veins, and her breath escaped in short, sharp bursts. She turned to face the shore, but instead of finding Kat on her lonesome, a handsome Brazilian kept her company.