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MARIA

Ibreathe in the salty breeze as I handle a sharp set of curves on Highway 1 just to be rewarded with the breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean to my right. Despite my brand-new pixie haircut, the wind beats my forehead with the longer locks of blonde hair from my bangs. They bypass the protection of the sunglasses and prick my eyes. I laugh as I fight the stubborn hair, trying to tuck it behind my ears. All I manage to do is knocking the damn sunglasses off. I slide them up my nose, shift gears, and grin as the Ferrari roars down a rare straight portion of the road. Any trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles puts me in a good mood. This one carries even more reasons to do so as I’m meeting with dear friends I haven’t seen in ages.

Thirty minutes later, I park in Ana Oliveira’s driveway. I kill the engine and push a button to close the hard-top. It glides from its compartment and settles in place over my head before I step out of the car. When I do, I take in a deep breath and glance about to admire the privileged spot. My friend’s house perches atop a cliff that allows an unobstructed view of Point Dume, a little slice of heaven in Malibu, California. Down below, the navy-blue waters of the Pacific shimmer under the late afternoon sun.

When I get close to the front door, Ana swings it open and dashes out. Her white sundress sets off her tanned skin, but I don’t have a chance to see much of the dress as she throws her arms around me and hugs me tight. “It’s so great to see you again, hon. It’s been too long.”

Thankful she’s bent her tall frame, so I don’t have my face pressed against her double D breasts, I return the embrace. “I missed you guys so fucking much.”

Moira Romano joins us, encircling our tiny group with her arms. Her long blonde hair bounces off her shoulders as we fill the air with laughter and joy.

When we take a step back, I stare into her amber eyes and whisper, “You look stunning.” The leather miniskirt and silk top she’s wearing favor her short frame to perfection.

I met the two women a couple of years ago when I attended an event promoting their foundation. We hit it off, then became good friends because of our common origins and interests. I support their work every chance I have like today. All that despite the fact they’re both married to rock stars, which is their biggest flaw, in my opinion.

Ana turns to a member of her staff I recognize as the butler. The sturdy man, no older than fifty, is standing a few feet away from us. “Peter, please see that Maria’s luggage be taken to the guest room.”

He nods. “Right away, ma’am.” He turns my way, offering me a wide smile. His green eyes sparkle as he addresses me, “Welcome back, Ms. Augusto. Always a pleasure to have you here. May I have the key to that beauty of a car you drive?”

I return his wink with one of my own and hand him the key fob. “Absolutely. You know, you’re one of the few lucky people I trust to sit behind her wheel. I suppose if you’ve taken care of Noah’s car collection all these years without a hitch, you know what you’re doing, right?”

Peter beckons to a young man standing at the front door who joins him as they deal with my suitcase and backpack.

“Come on in. We’ve got tons to do,” Ana invites us, her red curls reach the middle of her back, swaying as she leads the way.

Moira laces her arm through mine, and we follow Ana inside. “This short hair suits you perfectly. It highlights your high cheeks and heart-shaped face. I love it!”

“Thank you.”

As we cross the threshold, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the much cooler air the blasting AC provides. The blazing July sun has heated the temperature today to unbearable hundred degrees.

“Have you eaten? Would you like some lunch before we sit down to discuss the fundraiser?” Ana offers when we reach the sunporch overlooking the bay.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I smile as I lower myself to one of the wicker chairs at the end of the room.

The beautiful white set, consisting of two couches and four chairs, contrasts with the brick floor, which articulates a sense of rustic elegance between the seating area and the dining table on the opposite end.

“Did you have time to study that?” Moira gestures to a brochure on the coffee table in front of me.

I reach to grab the copy identical to the one they sent me last week.

I pull it onto my lap, keeping my stare on my friend. “I did.” I pat the glossy cover. I’ve worked with Natalia Todeschini and Steve Clark from Stiletto-C&P Event Management on multiple events to provide funds for my foundation, Welcoming Hills. I knew what to expect from their team, yet they wowed me with this presentation. “They included all the necessary information and then some. Natalia outdid herself.”

“Speaking of the devil.” A throaty voice sounds behind me as Nat joins us, her sky-high stilettos click on the floor as she goes around kissing us on the cheek and greeting us in our native language, “Olá, meninas.”

“Hello to you as well,” I return the salutation with a wide grin. “Brushing up your Portuguese?”

She takes the spot on the couch beside Moira, smooths her khaki pants, and nods. “I’ve got to stay sharp. You three lucky ladies hail from such a gorgeous country. I love working on Knight’s Edge tours because I always get to go to Brazil.”

We laugh as we accept the glasses of orange juice a maid brings us. I welcome the icy sensation under the pads of my fingers as I take a swig. Settling the glass on a coaster on the coffee table, my gaze follows a bead of condensation as it trickles down the chilled goblet.

On a chair beside me, Ana rubs her hands together, a gleeful spark in her eyes. “Please tell me you’ve secured the venue, Nat.”

“Sala São Paulo is magnificent and the perfect place for our fundraiser,” Moira interjects.

“Absolutely and it’s ours,” Natalie informs us.

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