by C. J. Anaya
She caught Felicia giving her the evil eye from across the room and couldn’t help but give her a friendly wave as if they didn’t just absolutely loathe one another. Felicia’s narrowed eyes and clenched jaw shouldn’t have made Midge feel so smug at that moment, but they did. For someone as calculating and cold as Felicia, she certainly broadcasted her anger easily enough.
Les Lassiter made his arrival with his normally toothy grin. Brody was right on his heels.
“Today,” Les began, “we’ve got another wonderful date challenge for you which is going to get you out of this hotel and interacting with the friendly people of Brazil.” A round of applause began, building the already anxious energy within the room. Midge had to admit she was excited to see the sights and experience the bustling city all over again.
“As many of you know, my company seeks to bring people together, fanning the flames of that love and passion that so many people find difficult to discover on their own,” Brody said. His gaze swept over Midge, almost suggesting that their relationship certainly didn’t suffer from that issue. “It takes passion, enthusiasm, and an appreciation for what romance is all about to run this company and make it the success it has become, and I’ve never encountered more passion, enthusiasm, or romance from any other culture than I have from the people of Brazil. Today, we’re sending you each on your own individual scavenger hunt so you can have the opportunity to capture that for yourselves.”
An excited murmur swept through the room. Not even Midge could find a single thing to be upset or nervous about with the anticipation of interacting with the locals of Rio.
“We’re passing around an envelope with a list of activities you need to capture on digital camera. The young lady who is able to capture the most items on her list by the time ten o’clock rolls around will be the winner of the next one-on-one date.”
Cambria and Charlene giggled in excitement as they were handed their cameras and envelopes. Midge quickly accepted hers and then turned to her friends as a new plan presented itself. She’d lost her cool with Brody the previous night. That couldn’t happen again.
“I think we should work together, don’t you?” she asked them. “We’ll get these items checked off much faster than anyone else and then one of you can decide who gets the one-on-one date with Brody.”
“You don’t want to win the challenge?” Charlene asked.
“I’ve already had my chance,” Midge stated with a shrug.
“Well, in that case we should just be helping Charlene, since I’ve had mine as well,” Cambria said in excitement.
“That is so nice of you guys,” Charlene squealed.
These girls constantly surprised Midge with their kind and giving nature. This was a competition, after all, but it seemed like Cambria and Charlene were more than happy to do what was fair rather than act all cutthroat about the whole thing, a refreshing departure from what she was used to.
“All right, ladies. You have ten hours to complete your scavenger hunt and to show up back here with your camera and list intact,” Brody shouted above the chaos of the room. “Ready, steady, go!”
Midge, Charlene, and Cambria looped their arms together and took off with one purpose and goal in mind: to make Charlene the winner of this latest date challenge.
Midge smiled and gave herself a mental pat on the back as they exited the hotel and started walking down Avenida Lúcia Costa.
Truce over, Brody Prescott.
It really was a perfect plan.
“First on my list says to capture the Brazilians’ enthusiasm for food. How am I supposed to do that?” Charlene asked as the girls continued their walk amidst curious glances from people on the street.
Midge figured the sight of a man following them with a huge camera on his shoulder might seem a bit peculiar.
“I know exactly where to go, ladies,” Midge volunteered. “Let’s grab a taxi and head over to Ipanema Beach.”
Midge hailed a taxi and once the girls piled in she gave the taxi their desired location. “Playa de Ipanema por favor.”
“Tudo bem, senhorita,” the young man responded. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, with creamy mocha skin and wild curly hair. He gave the girls an impish smile and a wink, eliciting laughter from them as they headed to their destination. Once they arrived and exited the vehicle she turned to the driver and said, “Pode esperar aqui até a gente volta?”
“Sim, sim. Vou te esperar aqui.”
“Muito obrigada.”
Midge turned to see a mixture of surprise and respect in Charlene and Cambria’s expressions.
“What?”
“I didn’t know you could speak Portuguese,” Cambria said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“It’s very basic. Just stuff I learned when I lived here with my father while he was filming Samba Heat.”
“That movie was amazing. I decided I wanted to become a professional ballroom dancer after that.” Cambria started dancing her way across the warm sand as Midge and Charlene followed.
“Did you?”
“Of course not, silly. My mother enrolled me in acting classes and that was that.”
“Is that where you get your dramatic flair?” Charlene teased.
Midge smiled at their playful banter as she led them along the beach, weaving her way through gorgeous Brazilian women taking in the warmth of the sun.
“Did you see that? Some of those girls are topless,” Cambria squealed.
“Just go with it, sweetie. Indecent exposure isn’t really a thing here.” Charlene winked at a well muscled man giving them the eye as they walked by. As a result, he failed to see the volleyball headed toward him and got knocked square in the head.
“You’re a hazard to the male population here, Charlene,” Midge said in a wry tone.
Charlene placed her hands on her hips and gave them a little shake. “Yes I am, and don’t any of you forget it.”
Midge suddenly wished they had worn bathing suits and sarongs for the occasion. Her yellow sundress was cool enough, but she felt like joining in on the next volleyball game they encountered.
“Where exactly are you taking us Midge?”
“Over here. Some of the best food in Brazil can be found in these barracas.”
Midge led them to Barraca do Uruguay, a food stand that specialized in made-to-order sandwiches that were to die for. She remembered coming here almost everyday with her father during his lunch break and grabbing a sandwich or two. Then they would sit and enjoy the warmth of the sand and the salty sea breeze as he talked about previous visits to Brazil or his plans over the next few days.
She missed it. She missed those talks with her father when he asked for her opinions and valued everything she had to say. A lump formed in her throat as she considered how difficult it must have been for him to discover she had no interest in joining his business after everything they’d shared together. She’d managed to only see her side of things rather than wondering if perhaps her father had wanted her to work with him, not to control or dictate her choices, but to simply continue that connection they shared.
She swallowed down an unexpected lump of emotion lodging itself in her throat and took a bite of her delicious chicken sandwich flavored with a tangy spread.
After they took pictures of themselves ordering and eating their food they decided to tackle something else on Charlene’s list.
“Brazilians are passionate about their soccer. Capture an image of you playing street ball with the locals,” Charlene read.
“Easy,” Midge responded. “You can literally go into any neighborhood in Brazil and find children willing to play a game with you. Let’s check off a few more items on the list here before we go searching the neighborhoods.”
After taking several pictures of themselves on the beach with various locals, volleyball players, and vendors they headed back toward their taxi.
“So, Midge,” Cambria began, “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to butt into your busine
ss or anything—”
“Even though that’s exactly what we both want to do,” Charlene said. Cambria elbowed her in the ribs and continued.
“There’s obviously a really deep connection between you and Brody, and so far I haven’t heard you say one thing about it. At least not to me, anyway. What exactly do you feel for him?”
Midge became painfully aware of the cameraman trailing them at the moment and bit her bottom lip as she realized that changing the subject wasn’t going to be an option.”
“I care for him a great deal more than I thought I would,” she said, surprising herself with her honesty while simultaneously worrying about Brody seeing any of this footage.
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ hovering at the end of that statement,” Charlene said.
“Well, it’s complicated. I mean, obviously you both are here for Brody. You’ve already gone on a date with him, Cambria. You know how charming he is, how easy it is to fall into conversation with him and drink in every word he has to say.”
Cambria nodded in enthusiastic agreement.
“Preach, girl. That man is too tempting for his own good.”
“You see. You’ve already become attached to him, and Charlene, I’m sure you’ve enjoyed your conversations with him during the cocktail parties.”
“He’s scrumptious. That’s all I’ve got to say on the subject. Any woman who doesn’t fall under that man’s spell is either dead or gay, and even then I’m thinking there’s room to negotiate.”
“So we all begin to care for him, and we have to do it in a way where we can protect ourselves in case he sends us home, which is insane. I can’t understand why any of us agreed to this kind of heartache. It’s completely masochistic.”
Cambria laughed at that.
“But don’t you think Brody is worth it? I’ve always been of the opinion that anything worth loving and worth loving well is also worth hurting for if it comes to that.”
“You think a man is worth that kind of pain?”
Cambria thought long and hard about it and shrugged her shoulders.
“I suppose we could simply avoid men altogether for the rest of our lives, but it seems to me that eternal loneliness is more painful and permanent than a few heartaches on the road to finding the person you’re meant for.”
“Why is the blond one of the group suddenly spouting out sage words of wisdom? I thought you got your degree in Fashion Merchandising. Now you’re Gandhi?” Charlene said, in a good natured tone.
Cambria sniffed and turned a haughty look on them both. “Make fun of me if you want, but at the end of the day I’ll have Brody all to myself while you girls are still hiding behind your own shadows afraid to give your heart to anyone.”
“Well, I do believe we’ve just been challenged, Midge. Are we prepared to open our hearts and chase after the same guy?”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Midge asked wearily.
Charlene smiled and put both her arms around Cambria and Midge and said, “Suckers. That’s what we are. Lovesick fools.”
The rest of the day flew by in a blur of sights, sounds, and sweets as the girls continued to sample the city’s culture, monuments, and all the food they could get their hands on. By the time eight o’clock rolled around, they had managed to cross several items off their lists, though they were nowhere near close to finishing all the tasks.
But there was one item in particular that Midge assured her friends they absolutely had to participate in.
“Get a picture of yourself dancing with a local at a street festival,” Charlene said. “What’s a street festival? Is that like Carnival?”
Midge laughed. “Not even close, but they are so much fun either way. Something amazingly special about Brazilian people is their unapologetic love and expression of music. They will literally sing and dance anywhere and everywhere, and street festivals are a perfect way to experience that. Let’s head over to Lapa and check out the night life.”
Their driver whisked them away to Avenida Mem de Sá, and then got out and actually joined them. Midge figured the sweet sounds of rhythm and samba music wasn’t anything the young man could deny himself.
Grabbing Charlene’s hand, he immediately led her into the tightly packed crowd and began dancing with her, much to the young girl’s delight.
“Hurry, Cambria, you have to get a pictures of this,” Midge said, laughing as the atmosphere of the festival lightened her spirits even further. She watched in amazement as people of all ages danced and sang to the music coming from a large street band on a makeshift stage in the middle of the street. It wasn’t long before she and Charlene were swept up by friendly young men interested in dancing with two girls who were obviously tourists. Following her partner’s lead, she allowed herself to get swept away, grateful that there was no language barrier when it came to dancing.
As the band wrapped up the last notes of the samba, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around in surprise to discover Brody Prescott wearing a sultry smile. The street lights illuminated his features, making them appear more angular and defined. It sent her heart racing in a way that had nothing to with exertion from her previous dance.
“Posso dançar com ela?” he asked, directing his question toward the young man she’d partnered with.
The curly-haired boy gave them both a smile and then spun her in and right out into Brody’s accommodating arms just as the music picked up again. Brody led her into a fast cha-cha and then dipped her low causing a throaty chuckle to escape her lips before he lifted her back into his arms. Midge looked around the area, wondering if anyone from her father’s crew had managed to penetrate the crowd of people, but it appeared that the dancing hordes were too cramped for camera and crew to follow. Relieved with this brief reprieve, she flipped her mic off and motioned for Brody to do the same to which he willingly obliged.
“I had no idea you could dance like this,” she shouted above the music.
He brought her closer to him and rested his lips against her ear.
“There are so many things you don’t know about me, Madelyn, but I definitely plan to fix that.”
He spun her out again and they continued to dance amidst the crowded streets. Midge felt relaxed and peaceful for the first time since she’d joined the show. She couldn’t think of anything more exciting—or dangerous for that matter—than spending time at a street festival dancing with this handsome man. Every look he sent her and every touch and caress of his hands caused tingles of electricity to thrum through her veins. That, combined with the lulling rhythm of the music and the celebratory atmosphere of the people around her, made her feel as if she were in some protective bubble, floating in a dream she hoped to never wake from.
As the music came to a close and the audience applauded and cheered, one of the street musicians announced their intention to slow things down a bit.
“Esta é a música de Djavan,” he shouted.
The crowd let out uproarious cheers of approval.
As the familiar strains of the melody washed over Midge it brought with it a flood of emotions connected to her previous visit here and the time she spent with her father.
“Dad and I used to come to these street festivals all of the time. He loved it when they played music by Djavan,” Midge said.
She noted Brody inching closer to better hear what she had to say.
“What happened between you and your father? There seems to be quite a bit of tension in your relationship.”
Midge bit her lip, trying to understand just how she’d allowed six years to pass without fighting to fix her relationship with Corbin Knightly.
“He loves me. I know he does, but his career has always come first. I was with nannies when I was a baby and then a toddler. My poor mom did the best she could, but her addictions got the best of her early on in their marriage, and he never did get her the help she needed. I used to think it was because he didn’t care, but I almost wonder if he was just as clueless as
everyone else when it came to finding the right rehab facilities and the right words to motivate my mother to clean up her act.”
Midge felt Brody slide a hand around her waist as the sweet sounds of Faltando um Pedaço played across the street. The song was about missing a piece of your heart or maybe even a piece of yourself. It was a song she easily related to since she felt that most of her life had been spent searching for what was missing.
“I was lonely. I don’t think I’ve ever really admitted that to myself, but it was the truth. My father was too busy filming movies all over the world, and my mother was too high to notice me. When I was six, Dad planned a trip to Ireland for one of his projects. It was the last straw for me. I threw the kind of temper tantrum any diva would be proud of.”
Brody let out a husky laugh. “I imagine that got his attention.”
“It did. He hadn’t really had to do much parenting up to that point, and I distinctly remember him saying he would be more than happy to take me if he didn’t think I’d be so bored. For me that was the answer, the key to everything. If I shared his interests, if my world revolved around what was most important to him, then I wouldn’t be alone anymore. So he took me to Ireland, and we were inseparable after that. I was home schooled quite a bit, but I didn’t mind it. Not when I had so many amazing adventures with my father to look forward to. He taught me everything he knew about film and production, budgets and sourcing…everything necessary to prepare me for a partnership in his company once I was old enough to carry that responsibility, but something neither one of us counted on was the fact that I would love writing stories more.”
“He couldn’t see that maybe that would have been an asset for his company? Think of all of the screenplays you could write, or new and inventive ideas for reality TV.” He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.
Midge just stared into the swaying mass of people dancing to the haunting strains of Djavan’s music.
