The next few days on the Fast & Furious 2 set felt like business as usual—until two very familiar faces showed up at the gate.
Lima and Alessandra.
They weren't there to cause a scene. They just strolled onto the lot like they belonged there, both in casual jeans and T-shirts, hair down, looking like they'd flown in from a magazine shoot. The moment the crew spotted them, the whole place went quiet. Then the whispering started.
Paul Walker leaned over to Raphael during a break, smirking.
"Friends of yours?"
Raphael didn't answer right away. He just watched the two Brazilian angels walk straight toward him.
Lima reached him first.
"Hey, bad boy. Missed us?"
She rose up and kissed his cheek—slow, deliberate, right in front of everyone. Alessandra followed a second later, kissing the other cheek with a soft laugh.
The entire crew froze.
Neal Moritz stood behind the monitors, coffee halfway to his mouth, eyes wide. Rob Cohen actually lowered his script. Even the stunt guys stopped what they were doing.
Paul let out a low whistle.
"Well, shit. This is gonna be all over the tabloids by tonight."
---
Later that afternoon, while the crew reset for the next car chase, Raphael's phone rang. Ari.
"You busy?" his agent asked, voice tight.
"On set. What's up?"
"Disney just sent the revised contract for Pirates of the Caribbean." Ari paused. "They accepted your terms."
Raphael raised an eyebrow.
"Both of them?"
"Yep. First, sequel priority. Second, the bet clause."
Ari sounded like he still couldn't believe it.
"If the first movie hits five hundred million worldwide, your pay for the sequel starts at no less than ten million. Written in black and white."
Raphael leaned against a folding chair, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"They agreed that fast?"
"They think it's a joke," Ari said with a laugh. "Depp's whole look—smoky eyeliner, dreadlocks, gold teeth, that weird walk—they're convinced the movie's gonna flop. Five hundred million? They're treating it like a punchline."
Raphael didn't laugh.
He'd seen the finished film in the dream world. He knew exactly what was coming.
"Fine," he said. "Lock it in."
---
The next five days were pure circus.
Lima and Alessandra stayed on set. They didn't cause trouble—they just existed. Sitting in the shade, watching Raphael film, chatting with the crew, grabbing coffee like they were part of the family.
Neal wrote them into a quick cameo at the car wash location. One scene, two shots. They stood in tight tops, wiping down cars, looking like they belonged in a music video. The crew ate it up.
Every time Raphael wrapped a take, one of them would hand him a bottle of water or a towel. Every time he walked past the rest area, they were there—talking, laughing, occasionally glancing his way with those unmistakable looks.
The gossip spread faster than the Miami heat.
By the third day, the tabloids already had photos: the two angels kissing Raphael on the cheeks as they left set. Headlines screamed:
"Fast & Furious Star's Steamy Set Visit — Two Victoria's Secret Angels Show Up for Raphael Lee!"
"Jessica Alba's Boyfriend Caught with Ex-Flings on Miami Set?"
Back in Malibu, Jessica saw the stories. She didn't call. She didn't text. She just sent one message:
Saw the pics. Have fun. Come home when you're done shooting.
No anger. No drama. Just that.
Raphael read it, smiled, and tucked the phone away.
---
The night before Lima and Alessandra flew back to New York, they stood with Raphael outside his trailer.
Lima kissed his cheek again—slower this time.
"Call us when you're back in L.A., bad boy."
Alessandra did the same on the other side.
"Don't make us wait too long."
They walked off into the night, hips swaying, leaving half the crew staring after them.
Paul appeared beside Raphael, shaking his head.
"You're living the dream, man."
Raphael watched the two women disappear toward their waiting car.
"More like the tabloid dream," he muttered.
Paul laughed.
"Same thing in this town."
---
Three days later, the stories were everywhere.
But Raphael's mom, Madeline, didn't call to lecture him. Philip texted instead:
Mom saw the photos. She said the two girls are gorgeous and have excellent taste. Then she went back to work.
Raphael read the message and let out a quiet laugh.
Some things never changed.
He slipped the phone back in his pocket and walked back onto set, the Miami sun beating down, engines rumbling in the distance.
The cameras were ready.
And so was he.