“It means to break all the dishes. In other words, you’re better than anyone expected.”
She blinks at me for a moment, perhaps surprised at the compliment.
“Luciano,” Tomás’ booming voice sounds from behind me.
I hold eye contact with Ruby for a moment, steadying myself before I turn around.
My stepfather is a formidable man. He’s about as tall as I am, six feet, but underneath the slick suit, he’s built like a bull. There are unfounded rumors that he was involved with some sort of local mafia before he met my mother. I have no idea if those stories are true—he’s the type of person who would make something like that up in order to seem more macho.
Then again, one look at him and you’d believe it. His face is scarred, his eyes are intense, and no matter how expensive the suit, or how much hair polish he puts on his grey hair, he oozes the kind of unchecked violence you’d find on Lisbon’s grittiest streets.
I should know. I’ve felt his violence firsthand.
“Tomás,” I say to him, giving him a polite nod.
“Glad you could finally show yourself,” he says, glancing at his Rolex. “I thought with you not playing, you’d have nothing but time.”
I give him a stiff smile. “I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrow as he stares at me. He knows my apology is meaningless.
“By the way, this is Marco’s girlfriend, Ruby,’’ I say in English, gesturing to her.
She does this curtesy with her champagne glass held high, which somehow comes across as endearing. I bite back a smile.
“Pleasure to meet you,” she says, obviously forgetting any of her Portuguese from earlier. I wouldn’t be surprised if she found my stepfather intimidating.
Of course, he’s always been a charmer with the ladies. It’s where Marco gets it from.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he says, a little too warmly as he grasps her hand and pulls her in to kiss her on both cheeks.
I look away, in case he sees the look on my face.
“You’re a very beautiful girl,” he says to her, pulling back and appraising her at arm’s length. I know Tomás well, and I know when he doesn’t mean what he says. There’s no denying that Ruby is beautiful, but his voice is dripping with resentment. He does not approve.
He brings his eyes to me. “A bit strange that she’s here with you, no?”
“It was Marco’s idea,” Ruby speaks up, even though it’s a bold lie. “He thought I should come with Luciano.”
What is she even doing? Does she not realize how close Marco and his father are?
“I see,” Tomás says, and then slaps me on the shoulder, hard. “I guess you are playing your role of the dutiful brother, aren’t you? Marco should be back soon, though. That boy deserves a break. You work him too hard, Luciano, all that picking up after you he has to do.”
I breathe in sharply and paste a smile on my face. I will not say anything.
His hand then slides around my shoulder as he turns me away from Ruby.
“Marco never mentioned a girlfriend. Are you sure this is the right one?” he says to me, leaning in close, and I wish his voice was lower because he’s still speaking English and Ruby might hear him. Maybe that’s the point.
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“She’s wearing yoga pants.”
That’s his issue? “So?”
“You shouldn’t have brought her here.” He sighs, giving me a tepid look. “I guess I should be grateful that Marco didn’t. I can’t imagine what people would say if she was here on his arm.” He glances at Ruby over his shoulder, and she’s looking around, either blissfully unaware or pretending not to listen. “That red lipstick makes her look like a whore.”
“She’s not a whore!” I snap at him in Portuguese. For fuck’s sake. I glance at Ruby again and her face is still blank, looking elsewhere. God, I hope she didn’t hear that.
He pulls back and eyes me discerningly. “I see. Perhaps it was no accident then that she’s with you today.”
I don’t know what my stepfather is insinuating, but before I can question it, he’s straightening up and waving someone over from the crowd, his smile wide and cunning.
I look to see a cameraman with a camera on his shoulder, a reporter beside him.
This is the only reason why I’m ever wanted around my family these days—I’m good for business. I have no doubt Ribeiro Stables would have remained a powerful force on the horse circuit without me, but because I’m Luciano Ribeiro, I give the stables extra flair. It’s like a celebrity endorsement, except I don’t get paid. I just get tolerated.
I glance over at Ruby to signal that I’m going to be awhile, but she’s already at the bar and laughing at something the bartender said. It’s just as well.
So I go and do the things I’m expected to do. I do an interview, I give a tour of the stables, I provide some commentary on the dressage show that’s happening, I smile for photographs and pose with people, all while my mother and Tomás look on. Sometimes I see the pride in my mother’s face, but it can be hard to tell if she’s proud that she’s my mother or she’s just proud to be herself, living this life. But Tomás, well, the smile is fake but the contempt for me in his eyes is very real.
It’s late afternoon when I’m finally done, and I’ve been worried about Ruby this whole time. When I asked her to come with me, I didn’t really think it through, that she’d be on her own for a lot of it. Actually, I don’t even know what I was thinking at all when I asked her to come here.
It was selfish of me.
I was the one who wanted her company, I was the one who didn’t want to be alone.
She would have been better off if she stayed behind.
With that in mind, I walk around the stables, searching the crowds for her. When I don’t see her, I start to get worried.
I go to the bartender and ask him if he’d seen her recently.
Of course he remembers her. Everyone does.
He says she was pretty drunk and last he saw, she was heading toward the road. He looks a bit embarrassed as he says it, probably because he was the one who helped her get drunk.
I exhale loudly, taking a moment to run my hand over my face.
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby.
I stride over to the driveway, checking my car, but I don’t see her around.
Then I glance over at the barn closest to me. Head over there.
That’s where I find her.
Sitting on a bench across from a stall, slumped against the wall, a bottle of champagne in her hand. A shaft of light comes through the barn doors, hitting her just right, illuminating the dust motes that dance around her like fairies.
“Ruby?” I call out gently, walking over to her.
I stand in front of her and to my surprise, she’s not passed out. Her eyes are open and she glares up at me, her eyes glazed.
“You’re in the way,” she says.
I stare at her for a moment, then I turn around to look at a horse with its head poking out of the stall. It’s one of my mother’s favorite broodmares, Venus, a dun with the brightest golden coat and black as coal mane, tail, and muzzle. She’s incredibly sweet, ears pricked forward toward Ruby.
I quickly step out of the way and their staring contest continues. Venus seems completely taken with Ruby, her dark liquid eyes fixed on her with interest.
“Did you want to go inside the stall?” I ask, hoping that perhaps being around Venus would be good therapy for her after her accident. “Get up close?”
Ruby shakes her head. Her lipstick is smudged and I see a red swatch of it on her hand, like she was trying to rub it off. It breaks my heart a little. “I’m fine here.”
“I’m really sorry,” I tell her.
“For what?” she asks lightly, still staring at the horse.
“For leaving you. I didn’t think I would be that long.”
“You did what you had to do. I didn’t expect you to babysit me this entire time. I can take
care of myself.”
“I know but you don’t know anyone else here.”
“Nor do I want to,” she says, finally looking at me. She obviously drunk and there’s a glint in her eyes that I don’t recognize. “I heard what your father said.”
My heart sinks. “He’s my stepfather.”
“I heard what he said.”
“He’s…”
“He said the lipstick makes me look like a whore.”
Anger starts to swell up inside me, anger I know I have to put a lid on. There have been many fights between my stepfather and I, but they are fights that I can’t win.
I try to swallow. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I know what you mean now,” she says, looking down at her hands, at the lipstick smudge. “Why you didn’t want me to meet him.”
“He’s an asshole,” I say bluntly. I don’t even care that someone could be around the corner, hearing this. “Plain and simple. Always has been, always will be.”
He’s actually more than an asshole. I know firsthand he can be dangerous. But Ruby doesn’t need to know that.
“Yeah, well…” She closes her eyes and sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. “Luciano…”
“Yes?”
“I think I’m drunk.”
“Are you now?” I humor her.
“I’ve been having a staring contest with a horse for an hour. I’m drunk.”
“But it’s a good step, isn’t it?”
“I’m not trying to face my fears here,” she says, her eyes opening and fixing on me with such clarity I feel it in my bones. “I didn’t come to Europe to face my fears. I came here to run away from them. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Run away from your fears?”
She nods. “Yes. Run and run and leave them behind me for good.” She reaches over and pats the spot next to her on the bench. “Luciano. Come here.”
I sit next to her, my shoulder rubbing against hers.
She reaches out and grabs my hand, holding it.
I stare down at her soft white skin against my tanned, rough hand.
“I consider you my friend,” she says.
Not exactly what I want to hear, but I’m not disregarding it either.
“Same to you,” I manage to say.
“I mean it. My only friend.”
“Marco is your friend,” I say after a moment.
“You know he isn’t. You know he doesn’t really care.” She squeezes my hand and rests her head on my shoulder. Her hair smells like honeysuckle. I have to close my eyes and breathe in deep, though it does nothing to calm me.
What are you doing?
You shouldn’t be doing this.
“He cares about you,” I tell her, my voice coming out in a murmur.
“You care about me,” she says. “Why is that? Why is it that you care?”
Jesus.
“Anyone that knows you would care about you.”
She lifts her cheek off my shoulder and stares up at me with those big blue eyes.
“So how come you know me? How come I let you know me?”
I blink at her, licking my lips. “I-I don’t know.”
“Because we’re the same,” she says. She lets go of my hand and straightens up, twisting her body to face me, her hands going up behind my neck and linking together, her forehead resting against mine as she stares deeply into my eyes.
Fucking hell.
I suck in my breath, watching her like everything I know in my life might go tumbling over the edge, defying gravity.
“Luciano,” she says, drawing out my name. “We’re the same. That’s why I know you and you know me. You may be a famous footballer here and I may be nothing at all, but we are the same.”
I’m staring at her lips as she speaks, wishing that I wasn’t getting hard, wishing that this was happening under other circumstances.
“You’re not nothing,” I whisper.
“Don’t you believe me?” she asks, looking pouty and hurt, and dear lord that’s one hell of a combination.
“I believe you.” I place my hands over hers and take them off from around my neck. As much as I want to hear her drunken words about how we’re the same, she’s still Marco’s girlfriend, and she’s also drunk as hell. What I need to do is get her out of here and get her home.
“Come on,” I tell her, getting to my feet and pulling her up to hers.
She nearly collapses into me, giggling, and then tries to grab the champagne bottle.
“Leave it,” I tell her. “You’ve had enough.”
“I don’t think so,” she mumbles into me.
I put my hands on her shoulders and try to look her in the eye. “Ruby. I’m going to take you back home now, okay?”
She lets out a caustic laugh, eyes avoiding mine. “Home? I don’t have a home. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I don’t have a home.” She’s still laughing, but there’s pain in her laugh.
“I’m taking you back to your hostel, to your bed.”
“Fine,” she says despondently, and I’m relieved I don’t have to argue with her.
I put my arm around her shoulders, ignoring how comfortable it feels, and lead her down the aisle of the barn and back into the golden sunlight.
We get in my car—there’s no point in letting anyone know we’re leaving—and then we’re heading down the road. Ruby sits in silence beside me, no longer singing to Adele songs or peppering me with questions. She’s not passed out either, she’s awake and watching the world go past outside the window.
By the time I pull up outside her hostel, it’s dark outside and her eyes are starting to flutter with sleep.
I take one look at her, strangely vulnerable as she’s slumped in the seat, then one look at the hostel with the group of young people outside smoking, and I know that’s not an option tonight.
She’s coming home with me.
Seven
Luciano
The next morning after I wake up, I throw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, stepping out into the living room. I’m quiet, mindful of the fact that Ruby is sleeping on the couch.
Sunlight is streaming in through the windows and, as I round the corner, I hear her snoring lightly. After I told her she was going to sleep at my place, she didn’t protest at all. In fact, once I got her up to my apartment, I was trying to bring her to the bedroom, telling her that she could sleep there and I would take the couch, but she wouldn’t have any of it. She flopped down on that couch, proudly claiming it, and then she was asleep in seconds.
Luckily I don’t have any plans today, and I’m not sure she does either.
I walk over to the edge of the couch and stare down at her.
She’s in her same clothes as yesterday, her dark hair spilled around her, the blanket hanging off of her. She seems at peace, which means I should probably get coffee from the café down the street instead of risk waking her up here with the noise of the espresso machine.
I grab my wallet and my phone and head out of the apartment. I’m in the café, deciding to get a coffee for her as well, just in case, when my phone rings.
Marco.
I stare at it for a moment before I answer, my nerves prickling.
“Hello.”
“Hey Luciano,” he says. “Guess what? I’m coming home today.”
Well, fuck. It’s about time.
Nevermind the fact that his girlfriend is asleep in my apartment.
“When?”
“My flight lands at three. I thought you’d sound happy. Now you have someone to keep you in line.”
“Ruby’s been doing a fine job,” I tell him.
“I’m sure she has,” he says slowly. “Look, we have lots to talk about, so I’ll go home and get the smell of the plane off me, then head off to your place. Say around five?”
“Five is fine.”
“Great. See you then.”
He hangs up and I let out a deep breath as I slip my phone in my pocket.
I�
��m glad Marco’s back. It was getting pretty ridiculous with how long he’d been gone. A one-week trip turned into two weeks, and he left his girlfriend in charge of my affairs.
But more than that, I need him to be back for Ruby’s sake. As much as she tries to hide it, I know it’s been hard on her with him gone, only having me to hang around with.
I head back into the apartment, surprised to see Ruby standing in the kitchen holding a carton of eggs in front of the stove. Her hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun, and she’s surprisingly fresh-faced, considering she was snoring before I left.
“Hey,” I say, placing keys on the hook by the door. I walk over to her, holding out the coffee. “I got you a coffee.”
“Thank you,” she says, taking it with a big grin. “You didn’t have to do that.” She sticks her hip out toward the stove. “I was about to make you breakfast.”
“Were you?” I ask, taking a seat at the island. “Don’t let me stop you then.”
She bites on her lip for a moment, as if I just called her bluff. “Fine. I hope you like eggs because that’s all you have in this damn place. It was literally the least boring breakfast food I could find.”
“You weren’t looking for pastries were you?”
“I thought maybe you had a secret stash.”
She turns her back to me and starts fiddling with the knobs on the stove, having a tough time figuring it out.
“It’s gas,” I tell her.
“Right,” she says, then she thickens her Texan drawl. “Propane and propane accessories.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter.
“Hey, you know when you said we should do something bad?”
She pauses and slowly looks at me over her shoulder, brows raised. I can’t tell if that’s trepidation or excitement on her forehead.
I go on. “Why don’t we put your cooking skills on hold and go and get some McDonald’s. There’s one just down the street.”
She turns around, shaking her head in awe. “I don’t think I’m hearing this right. Luciano Ribeiro, the famed centre-back for Sporting Lisbon, would rather go to McDonald’s, than have Ruby Turner cook him some eggs?”
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 8