Who can do the bare minimum when stories are a resting place for the image? Billyl's blog had transformed a failed writer into a master of commercial and public style, and a software developer who had refused to apply his talents, choosing instead to dedicate himself to photography and filming, without even studying for it. He was somewhat obsessed with angles, yet his skill was enough to surpass anyone else.
-Then I can say it without the slightest resentment,- remarked Nicola Brow, using the camera to frame a good shot. Recife was a coastal capital where people came to pull off a good trick at the renowned Leite Restaurant, one of the city's gems, with a popularity dating back to 1882. For over a hundred years, it had been in operation. Billy arrived with Adriana Lima, and their group rented out a VIP section reserved solely for them, allowing for a leisurely indulgence in the exquisite dishes. At the moment, the house recommendation was Carlota Pernambucana, a famous dish and a cultural heritage of Pernambuco. This dessert, made of bananas, butter cheese, sugar, and cinnamon, was perfect before diving into fine seafood and cod specialties, each with that special, flavor-rich touch.
-Just take several photos; we have to order our dishes, eat, take more photos, and when Billy arrives, capture some great shots and his video of recommendations,- said Octavio Brow, ever calm, always the one to stay behind and perform the hands-on work of perfecting photographic techniques.
Meanwhile, Nicola worked on the website, undoubtedly a massive domain of blog-style information that followed Billy's whims in its design. For example, it featured a world map at its center that zoomed in on the places he had visited, so viewers could see the food as a kind of added luxury, already sorted by country. It was typical for his tours to avoid common destinations.
-These desserts are insanely good,- commented Octavio, as they ordered three to four desserts and three to four main courses per person. They invited Victoria Lehman, who, well accustomed to such indulgence, took her time picking at the food.
-Can you two stop bickering like a couple of women over this and that? You're exhausting me with every stretch of conversation about how much you've been wronged, when Billy was a good guy and hired you only because you had professional degrees and did well in the interview. For anyone at least 25 years old, this is a dream job,- Victoria said, lifting her head, fully aware—and unashamed—that it was indeed a good job.
-Who could resist this nonsense?- Nicola said, childishly.
Who could be a stressful twin? Each of them was simply irritating and exasperating in their own way, though one couldn't deny their antics had a certain charm.
-Brother, you're an idiot,- Nicola remarked.
-I'm the handsome brother; your calling is to be the nuisance,- Octavio replied.
They spent some time trying to navigate the claustrophobic dynamic between them, each driven by their own stubborn will in the way they approached their work.
-I think I'll have to go on a diet if this tour lasts much longer,- Victoria said, finishing a Dulce de Leche dessert, a luscious treat that was simply fabulous, each bite bringing her a fresh wave of indescribable pleasure.
…
The restaurant had a beautiful, homey façade—perhaps it could be called an ''80s-style architecture—well maintained. The wood was oak, maybe guayacan, rich and gleaming, with its own irreplaceable charm. Painted a bright yet slightly pale yellow, decorated with paintings, potted plants, and ceramics—possibly 50 years old, or at least made with traditional techniques—and some woven fabrics. Canvas paintings hung side by side, wrapping the space in warmth.
-I don't know it,- said Adriana Lima, stepping in wearing a brilliant blue dress, heeled sandals, and a white shirt underneath that covered her torso. She was stunning in the charming and effortless way she carried herself.
-Well, I have reviews for another place we'll visit for dinner,- said Billy, moving in a bit too close. Luckily, the VIP section offered privacy from wandering eyes.
-I want to see your home, to sail along the beaches of Salvador de Bahia,- Billy said.
-It's just that I don't like it—it feels a little uncomfortable. We're far too famous to enjoy the beauty freely. Maybe when we're old and you retire from film, or retire from music, we can enjoy that kind of privacy,- Adriana said.
-I get what you mean,- Billy replied, slightly unsettled by her words. From that moment, he decided he would dedicate himself solely to art films, none of that commercial cinema nonsense. But then he thought better of it—there were few beautiful women in the art cinema, only some beginners. Still, perhaps he could speak to Jerry; he was the real boss.
-Movies are interesting, but what can you do when films have their own demands?- Billy said, tasting some seafood in squid sauce, with a touch of spice and a hint of cream, all cooked to perfection.
-It's always intriguing. In the coming days, I might join your tour, and we could make a good impression, without letting people think we're dating. That pretty little girl might get desperate if she hears you're surrounded by Brazilian beauties. The party almost sounds like a trap,- Adriana said.
-She's always seemed like a very strong woman. She's filming now, but she'll be here for the American festival. We'll do a mid-year tour, and she'll join me to sing in some places,- Billy said.
Her eyes followed him—it was a funny detail, one that seemed unforgettable, or maybe indifferent to logical or emotional circumstances. But each of them ate in their own world while the band sampled the food and chatted amongst themselves.
-I don't like seafood,- Spencer said.
-Well, I do, but in recent days, fish with so many spices hasn't been sitting well with me,- Spencer added.
Billy lifted his head.
-Try the dessert, Spens—it's savory,- Jack Sauce suggested, now in better spirits since finding time with that long-legged brunette who had slipped away the night before.
-I'm afraid my wife's cooking is better. I like rice, though it's a bit dry,- said Sugar Egg, who had grown quite heavy. His wife had put him on a diet, so he mostly ate home-cooked meals. Still, the truth was that Brazilian ingredients were everything American cuisine couldn't be—bursting with the flavors and spices of Portugal, filling his mouth like a refuge of taste.
-You're a fool,- Billy replied, knowing he was lying, while Adriana stole a bit of Billy's dessert.
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