you want?’
‘I want your story. I want you to tell me how you met your guy in Rio and fell in love.’
‘Okay . . . Do you want some coffee before I start?’
‘No, I’m feeling real sick just now. Tell me about you and Floriano – that’s a helluva cute name by the way – and take my mind off my own shit.’ I patted the bed next to me and Maia climbed back on. I nestled my head against her breast, unable to close my eyes because when I did, my head spun, but it was soothing as she began to stroke my hair.
‘Well, I actually met him when I first went up to see Christ the Redeemer, which, by the way, you should try to do too before you leave, because it is so amazing. He was the tour guide, you see, and . . .’
I listened to the story and it was just as romantic as any fairy tale.
‘And then you lived happily ever after.’
‘Yes, or at least, I hope we will. I mean, he isn’t a prince and we have very little money, but we’re happy.’
‘And what about the relative Floriano helped you find? Did you meet her?’
‘Yes, I did, but she was very ill and sadly she died not long after we met. At least I feel lucky that I got to spend some time with her.’
‘Tell me some more of the story, Maia,’ I urged her, desperate to take my mind off the coke that sat so close to me in the bedside drawer. I’d never sleep if I took any more and I desperately needed to – I’d been so good at sleeping when I was with Mitch.
So Maia told me the tale of the man who designed Christ the Redeemer and the young sculptor whom her great-grandmother had fallen so deeply in love with and . . .
The next thing I knew, Maia was kissing me on the forehead and turning out the light.
‘Where are you going?’ I grabbed her arm in the dark.
‘Home, Electra. You need to sleep.’
‘Maia, please don’t leave me. Stay for a bit longer, please. And put the light back on – I’m scared of the dark.’
‘You never used to be,’ she said, but she did as I’d asked.
‘Well, I am now. I wanna find love like you and Floriano and Izabela and Laurent,’ I smiled up at her.
‘Chérie, you’re only twenty-six years old. Remember I’m almost thirty-four – eight years older than you. You have plenty of time to find love, I promise.’
‘Well, I hope I don’t have to wait another eight years for it,’ I shrugged. ‘I feel so old, Maia.’
‘I promise you that you’re not.’ She put a hand to my forehead and I liked the sensation of her cool palm on my skin. ‘You’ve had to grow up so very fast, haven’t you?’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re so brave and strong, Electra.’
‘No, I’m not.’ I shook my head. ‘Do you wanna know a secret?’
‘I think so,’ she said with a grin.
‘You know why I think I used to scream a lot when I was younger?’
‘No, why?’
‘Because I hated being by myself, and I still do.’
‘Maybe you should get a flatmate.’
‘Who’d want to live with me?’
‘Electra, don’t be so down on yourself. You’re an icon to millions of women around the world. I’d love to take you out into the hills behind Rio and show you the fazenda – that’s a farm in Portuguese – which I inherited from my grandmother. I’ve developed it as a centre for disadvantaged children from the favelas. If you turned up with me, I think they would believe they were dreaming. Don’t you see that you inspire them?’
‘Yeah, but they don’t know me, do they? Look at you, turning your inheritance into something that does good for others. I do nothing for anyone except myself.’
I heard Maia give a small sigh but the down was so down, I couldn’t climb up, so I closed my eyes and begged for sleep to come.
I woke up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers, grabbed some Tylenol and Advil and threw the tablets down me with a bottle of water. I checked the clock and saw it was just past six. I ordered coffee and a basket of the cheesy cakes that I’d discovered came hot from the oven and were the best thing ever. As I waited for room service to arrive, my mind played over what had happened yesterday, and my heart