by Eve Langlais
The room itself was a bright, sunshiny mess with yellow-and-white-striped walls and a white-stained wooden table pockmarked and scratched to look aged. Yet Carla remembered enough of her KM Design lessons to know that it was fabricated. People paid lots of money to buy things that looked old.
Matching chairs with flowered-fabric cushions ringed the table, only six this time, two of which were occupied. Nico sat grinning in front of a mostly empty plate. The giant waffle had been demolished until just a quarter remained. Moore sat across from him, his plate also containing a waffle but covered by banana slices and drenched in syrup.
“Mami!” Nico squealed. “Coach Philip has the best jokes.” He turned a bright smile on Moore. “Tell her the one with the tissue.”
Moore smirked. “How do you get a tissue to dance?”
Nico, jiggling in his chair, couldn’t contain himself. “You put a little boogie into it,” he chortled. “Mami, guess why the picture went to jail?”
“I believe it was framed,” Oliveira replied.
Clapping his hands, Nico beamed. “Yes. Do you know jokes, too?”
“A few,” said the old man.
Philip stood, placing his napkin on the table to make introductions. “Nico, I’d like you to meet our host, Mr. Oliveira.”
“Hi!” Nico waved.
Oliveira inclined his head. “Good morning, young man. I trust you found the breakfast to your satisfaction.”
“It was delicious.” Nico rubbed his belly. “Have some, Mami.”
“Yes, please, help yourself.” Their host indicated the sideboard manned by a servant in white and gray livery.
Snaring a plate, Carla stood by the vast buffet and couldn’t believe the amount of food on display. Bacon, fruit, a waffle maker standing by, juice, coffee. So much waste, she thought with lips pressed into a disapproving line. Having grown up poor, her belly often tight with hunger, it bothered her. Imagine how many kids could go to school on a full stomach with the food on display here?
For a moment, she entertained the idea of tossing it all into the trunk of Philip’s car and driving to the nearest public school to hand it out. It probably wouldn’t go over well.
“Is there nothing to your liking?” asked Oliveira when Carla stood staring so long.
“More like too much to choose from.” A subtle dig. She placed bacon and roasted potatoes on her plate along with some watermelon and then filled a mug with coffee, extra sugar, and lots of cream. She sat down between Nico and Moore and, a moment later, Oliveira joined them.
He seemed rather happy, considering he was sitting down to breakfast with strangers. Then again, not everyone was an antisocial bitch like Carla.
She studied him as he spent a few moments talking to Nico. He seemed genuinely interested in everything her son had to say.
It didn’t ease her mind. Nor was she happy to find Moore staring at her.
“I’ll be moving us to a hotel as soon as I find a room,” she said to forestall any conversation that might lead to another kiss. Not that she thought Moore would do anything in front of Nico or Oliveira. Simple logic, and yet her heart fluttered as if he might. And she sat in anticipation, almost as if hoping he’d try.
“Nonsense,” Oliveira exclaimed, apparently paying attention. “You’ll stay here.”
“I don’t know if that’s appropriate. It might seem like favoritism to have Nico under your roof. Right, Coach Moore?” She gave him a pointed look.
“It’s only favoritism if Nico sucks, which he doesn’t?” Moore didn’t help at all by winking at her son.
“We really shouldn’t impose,” she said.
“It’s not imposing, given my home is huge. It’s nice to see a young person within its confines.” Oliveira cast a glance at Nico, one with an emotion she didn’t trust.
What was his game? If he were a perv, he’d be sucking the barrel of her gun if he tried anything.
“Mijito, you have cream all over your face. Why don’t you go wash up?”
Nico’s lips turned down. “But—”
Moore interjected. “Meet me in the front hall when you’re done, and I’ll show you the stable. There’s a pony in there you might like.”
Before she could say a word, Nico shot off.
“A pony?” she said dryly.
“A gentle one. He won’t fall off.”
She held in an urge to sigh. If she said no, she’d come off as the mean bitch. “If he gets hurt…”
“I know. You’ll hurt me.” Moore winked as he stood. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. I need him in good shape for the practice this afternoon.”
As he left, silence descended, and Carla concentrated on her plate. Fighting the urge to run after her son.
Must act normal.
Normal for her, wasn’t being a meek sheep. She raised her gaze to find Oliveira watching her. “I want it to be clear now…if you touch my son in any way I deem inappropriate, I will kill you.”
“I would never harm a child,” he sputtered. “The very idea is ridiculous.”
“Says you. Just making it clear so there’s no misunderstanding. Nico is my life, and I will protect him.”
“I would never cause you or your son any harm. Merely offering him a chance to develop his mind and skills.”
“The chance is appreciated, but I don’t think it will happen.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Cost, for one. I don’t make enough money to afford your tuition.”
“What if I said the foundation will offer him sponsorship.”
“I’d say what’s the catch?” She distrusted the offer on principle.
“No catch. We have programs in place for gifted students like your son.”
A proud mama, the flattery caused her warmth, but it didn’t belay her suspicion. “I’d still have to move.”
“If you are concerned about expenses, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. And before you accuse me of giving you charity, I would expect you to reimburse the cost.”
“Exactly how am I supposed to repay you? I’d be quitting my job.”
Oliveira snorted. “No, you wouldn’t. The insurance company you work for is a large one with many branches. You’d ask for a transfer to an office in the city.”
He knew about her job? Her gaze narrowed. “Have you been spying on me?”
“I prefer to term it informing myself. Before we extend an invitation to a potential student, we do a thorough background check.”
She froze. Her credentials would weather any kind of cursory examination. Mother didn’t set them up with weak identities. Still… “What kind of problems do you expect to find with a twelve-year-old?”
“Actually, it is not the child I worry about. Sometimes, a second chance is all that’s needed to turn their life and attitude around. Parents, though…” He spread his hands. “Not all of them have their children’s best interests at heart.”
Carla chewed on a piece of bacon before replying. “I gotta say, you talk a good game, but I’m not sure I buy it. What’s in it for you?”
For a moment, she expected a line of bullshit. Instead, Oliveira’s expression turned sad, and he seemed to age in that moment. “My only son died before he could have a child of his own, and I never remarried when his mother succumbed to cancer. I have all this wealth, and yet no one to shower it upon. Why not try and do a bit of good?”
“Because no one does things out of the goodness of their heart. Everyone has a motive. Even you.” She stood. “Thank you for breakfast. I should check on Nico.”
First, however, she grabbed her phone and sent a message to Mother.
Find out everything you can about Luiz Oliveira. Because the man was lying about something. She could feel it in her gut.
Chapter Eleven
Philip saw Carla coming down the path from the house and couldn’t help a smile.
To his surprise, she offered one in return. She halted close to him and faced the paddock where Nico was sitting atop
a pony, who was plodding along. Although, given the expression on Nico’s face, he didn’t care about the speed.
“Mami!” he yelled. “Look at me. I’m riding.”
“Eyes in front, mijito,” she replied, gazing at him fondly.
“Boy is a natural. Hasn’t fallen once,” Philip noted.
“Then I guess you live another day.”
“I wouldn’t let him come to harm.”
She sighed. “I know you wouldn’t. Sorry.”
An apology? “You’re his mother. You’re allowed to care.”
“Yeah, but I also need to remember I can’t bubble wrap him.”
“He’s a good boy.”
“Yeah, he is, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry. The world is a shitty place.”
“Sometimes. However, it can also be amazing.” Especially when you met someone special.
She turned and leaned on the rail, eyeing him. “How did you meet Oliveira?”
The truth wasn’t something he could comfortably relay yet. At the same time, it proved hard to resist the soft query in Carla’s eyes. He couldn’t keep lying forever. Might as well rip off the bandage of truth now and get it over with. “Mr. Oliveira hired me years ago for a contract and thought I was competent. Rather than employ me on a case-by-case basis, he made me a generous offer to work for him full-time.”
The expression on her face hardened. “So, you’re telling me you’re not friends. You work for him.”
He nodded.
She slugged him hard enough that the air whooshed from him. “Guess I deserved that.”
“You lied to me.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Did the words come out of your mouth?” was her sarcastic reply.
“Yes, but—”
She sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t bother giving me a bullshit answer. He sent you to my town, didn’t he? Sent you to spy on my kid.”
“The word is scout. As in talent scout. Happens all the time.”
“Scouts don’t pretend to be coaches and then cozy up to a single mother in order to con her into travelling hours from home.”
“He wanted me to check out Nico in person.” Which was admittedly odd. But since it seemed easy enough, Philip agreed.
“And one practice was all it took?” she sneered. “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to. Why not just be honest from the beginning and say that you were there looking for talent?”
“Because you said it yourself. Most parents think their child is special. I don’t need to fend off a dozen parents when I’m only interested in one particular woman.”
Her eyes flashed. “Is that what the kiss was about? Buttering up the lonely single mother so that she’d agree to move.”
“No. The kiss was a mistake.” He could have bitten his tongue the moment the word slipped out. “That’s not what I—”
“You’re right. It was a mistake. Just like coming here was a mistake,” Carla spat. “I don’t know what game you and your boss are playing. But count me and Nico out.”
“Carla—”
“Mami. Did you see?” Nico came running to them. “I did good. Jimmy said so.” Jimmy being the guy leading the pony back to the barn.
“You did wonderful, mijito. But we need to get ready.”
While she didn’t say it aloud, Philip knew she meant: get ready to leave. The tenseness of her posture and the way she refused to look at him said it all.
He regretted not telling her the truth earlier, but at least now, going forward, she would know. Lot of good that would do if she departed, though.
“I thought practice wasn’t until after lunch,” Nico exclaimed, climbing through the rails.
“About the tryout—”
Philip interrupted. “This visit isn’t just about the soccer team, it’s about the school, too. How about I give you and your mother a tour? Show you the classrooms. They have an epic science lab. Machine shops. They even teach home economics.”
“What’s that?” Nico asked.
“Cooking classes.”
“Why do I need to learn to cook? That’s Mami’s job.”
Carla’s lips quirked. “What if I’m not around to cook for you, mijito? One day, you’ll move out.”
“No, I won’t. I’m gonna live with you forever and ever.” Nico took off running, and she shook her head, a smile on her lips. An expression that faded when she glanced in Philip’s direction.
A hand on her arm stopped Carla before she could follow her son. “He’s a good boy and an excellent player. Don’t let the fact we were a little underhanded in getting you here prevent you from doing what’s best for him.”
“Who says the Yaguara Academy is best?”
“Why don’t you give it a chance and check it out for yourself.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Then what do you have to worry about?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, hard and uncompromising. And yet, despite it, it didn’t take much for Philip to recall the soft yield of them when they kissed.
“Fine.” She huffed a breath. “Show us your precious school. It won’t change a damned thing.”
The academy itself was less than a half-hour drive from the mansion and set on over one hundred acres of land, which meant numerous fields of rolling, green grass. The headmaster gave the tour, with Nico exclaiming through much of it, his excitement uncontained. Nico then showed everyone why he deserved to be at the academy, his skills on the field resulting in the other boys high-fiving him and patting him on the back.
As Nico stood amidst the students, Philip sidled close to Carla and murmured, “He fits right in.”
“He does,” she admitted. “But it’s still a no.”
“Why?”
She didn’t point but turned and looked at the stands where Oliveira stood watching. He’d shown up not long after the warm-up.
“I don’t trust him.”
“He’s a good man.” Philip could state it truthfully.
“He’s being creepy.”
“He likes to watch the boys play.”
“Like I said, creepy.” Carla stared at the man, who caught her looking. Oliveira waved. She turned her back. “Let’s go. I want to grab our things and get to the motel I found online.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Philip’s words were harsher than he’d intended. “You’ve got a free place to stay.”
“I don’t want anything from that man.”
“Now you’re being petty.”
Carla gave Philip a dark look. “You’re awfully bossy.”
“Only seems that way because you argue about everything.”
“You calling me a bitch?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t dare. You might kill me.” He winked before walking away. Let her admire his ass for once.
On the drive back to the mansion, Nico kept the conversation alive, exclaiming about the academy. Carla said little. When they arrived at the house, Owen had a swimsuit and a towel ready for Nico, who yelled, “Last one in is a rotten egg,” before running off to change.
Carla hissed at Philip. “I told you I wanted to leave.”
“Then you go and tell your son.” Philip waved a hand in the direction of the stairs. “Explain to him why he can’t stay here and have some fun.”
“You’re an asshole,” she spat before stomping off.
Philip didn’t see her the rest of that evening. Carla watched Nico in the pool, then declined an invitation to dine with Oliveira. Instead, she opted to order in a pizza so that she and Nico could spend the evening closeted in his borrowed room watching movies.
Her excuse relayed to Owen: “We don’t want to make extra work for the staff.” Which was a polite way of saying, “I don’t want to spend time with you or your boss.”
Philip could understand her reticence. What was Oliveira’s deal with them? His boss had been acting strangely, starting with the fact that he’d sent Philip to bring them back.
A knock on
Oliveira’s office door resulted in a barked, “Come in.”
Philip entered and spotted his boss standing in front of the fireplace, staring at a painting of himself as a younger man, seated next to his wife and his son as a young child. A time when they’d both been alive.
“Evening, sir.”
His boss turned from the painting. “She’s avoiding me, isn’t she?”
No point in lying. “Yes. She doesn’t trust you.”
“I don’t think she trusts many people.”
“You’re right, she doesn’t, and can you blame her? We got her here by subterfuge.”
“You told her?” Oliveira’s gaze narrowed.
“I didn’t have a choice. She was questioning too much. She would have found out eventually.”
“So, she’s angry.”
“Very.”
“I didn’t know of any other way,” his boss mused aloud.
“You could have asked.”
“And said what?” Oliveira turned. “Knowing her, do you really think she would have accepted an invitation from a stranger?”
“No. Especially since I still don’t understand why you wanted her and Nico here.”
“He’s an excellent candidate.”
“One of hundreds. But you wanted him in particular. What makes him so special?”
“Possibly nothing. More than likely, wishful thinking,” his boss replied cryptically. “What is the plan for tomorrow? I was thinking of taking the boy—”
Philip interrupted his boss. “She’s going home tomorrow.”
“What?” Oliveira appeared startled. “But why?”
“Because this isn’t her home.”
“She can’t leave yet. It’s too soon.”
“You can’t force her to stay.”
Oliveira cursed and slammed the glass he held into the fireplace. It hit the metal grate and smashed. “Damn it all. This is more complicated than expected.”
“What’s going on, Luiz?” Philip didn’t often use his boss’s first name, part of making sure he kept a professional distance, but he could see something in Oliveira’s face.
The man appeared torn. Only for a moment, before the business owner’s steely mien reappeared. “Nothing. I just hate seeing talent wasted due to stubbornness.”