“A trip with an old friend—”

“An old girlfriend,” she interrupted.

“Would not provoke too many questions.”

“Not those sort of questions,” she said. “But others.”

“Sounds silly, I know,” he said. “But I’m in a jam. It’s asking a lot, but can you give me a few days?”

“It’s connected to the … ?” she asked.

“Not really,” he replied.

“Does it have something to do with the race? Is it true what the papers are saying, that Margaret’s going to—”

“I can’t get into it. Not now. If you have to know, then let’s forget about it.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I did offer. I just don’t want you to think that …”

“To think what?” he asked. But he knew what she meant.

Do you think I’m trying to use this tragedy? Damnit, am I looking to find something, someone, to fix myself to?

“Maybe I should tell you—”

“You’re seeing someone.” He had heard: a lobbyist for an environmental group. She nodded.

“It’s serious,” she said.

You had to throw that in, didn’t you?

“Would it be a problem,” he asked, “for you—and him—if you …”

“He’s in Rio for a conference this week,” Rudd said.

“If we travel together, you know what people will say, what will happen?”

“I remember: the news photographers, the gossip columns. Is this really the only way—”

“All I can come up with.”

“You’re really pushing it, Nick.”

“I know. One last push for old times?”

“One last push?” She smiled for a moment. “But I can only be gone two days.”

“Thanks, I just need a friend to help.”

He wondered if this were true.

How do you know when you’re pulling off a really good job of self-deception?

He had booked a suite with two rooms, he told her. She would only have to accompany him to a few meals, perhaps a show.

“Maybe Jeff will see something in the Rio paper,” she said.

“We can tell everyone, ‘just friends.’ Can he read Portuguese?”

“No. But he can read a picture.”

“I can call him, if you like.”

She laughed in reply.

“No, I’ll deal with it. It will be fine. He’s too damn secure, anyway.”

Why is she agreeing? Does she want there to be a problem with Jeff? Shit, stop thinking this way. It’s just a pity-fuck.

“Besides,” she added. “Maybe we’ll have—”

“Here you go,” said the waiter, who had arrived with their food. He looked at Addis with sad eyes. “I just want to say that I feel—”

The waiter was embarrassed; he did not know how to finish the sentence.

“I know,” Addis said with sympathy. “I know.”

“Yes, yes.” The waiter placed the plates in front of them and backed away.

“Must be hard to be consoling everyone else,” Rudd said.

“Comes with the territory.”

But what were you going to say?