Until the hate is all there is.
Some nights, I don’t sleep much.
And then there is Marco. Dear brother. Still my agent, but now an agent to five other players here in Portugal. Always moving forward, always driven to succeed. The more famous I get, the more famous he gets. But at the same time, the more demands he gets. The more he has to look at me and think of the things he has to do for me. An agent’s job is to always get the best for their client, and to want the best.
Shit gets complicated when the agent starts to resent you.
Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe it was never a good idea to have family working for you. I always thought I could trust Marco, but now I’m wondering if I can. Because he’s gotten closer to his father than ever and I would hate to think they’re sabotaging me from the inside.
That’s fucking paranoia. I know. I know I shouldn’t even think it.
But I do.
“Come on, let’s get shit-faced,” Benedito says to me, grabbing my arms and pulling me up from the turf. The roar from the crowd in here is deafening, and I glance up at the sea of green and white, taking it all in, pushing all my fears aside.
“As your captain, I have to advise you that getting shit-faced isn’t a great solution,” I tell him with a grin.
“We have a week before our next match, we will be fine,” he assures me. “At least let me buy you a drink.”
“Get in line,” Fito says, slapping me on the back and jumping up and down. “We’re all buying Luciano a beer.”
“Fine, Fine,” I tell them. “Just point me in the right direction.”
We walk off the pitch and into the dressing room, giving short soundbites to the media as we go, smiling triumphantly. Once inside the room, I give the team a congratulatory pep talk, telling them what went right, what went wrong, hopefully instilling them with confidence to win the next time.
Then, after a few more interviews, the boys and I head out on the town.
First stop is a low-key bar around the corner from the stadium, where the owner basically kicks everyone out so that we can come in undisturbed. Fans have been great to us lately, but that’s only because we’re winning, and you never know if someone is harboring resentment for last year.
Then, when I’ve had a few beers in me, they decide to bring the party down to the river, to Lux Frágil, which is owned by John Malkovich. It’s a ridiculously exclusive four-story club, which gives us a lot of privacy when we’re there, even if it’s a bit pretentious at times and the music melts my ears. I’m only almost thirty, and yet I feel like an old man sometimes.
“I know this isn’t your scene,” Benedito yells in my ear, as his wife Teresa walks off to get us some champagne. “So I’m impressed that you’re here.”
“Well, you keep twisting my arm,” I tell him loudly, wincing at the lights shooting across the dark room, the crowd dancing to a DJ at the back.
Even though we have our own VIP area, so far the crowd seems to be mostly young tourists or socialite locals who pretend they’re too cool for footballers. Either that, or they’re all Benfica or Belenenses fans, so they’re leaving us alone.
This is definitely a place where I’d see Marco. For a moment I think about texting him, inviting him out. He wasn’t at the game. Didn’t wish me good luck either.
I decide against it. I’ve been drinking and that’s not usually a good combination. He used to make fun of me for not partying and drinking, though I’ve come around, certainly as I gain more confidence in my career, I don’t think he’d find it amusing to be here with me.
Teresa comes back and hands me a glass of a champagne and we slowly wind our way through the crowd back to the VIP area, when something on the dance floor catches my eye.
Or should I say, someone.
I swallow hard, staring at her dance.
It can’t be.
“Luciano?” Benedito asks.
I wave him away, unable to take my eyes off of her.
In the middle of the dance floor is a woman that looks so much like a ghost from my past, like Ruby Turner, that I can hardly believe it.
But I have no choice but to believe it.
She’s dancing alone, her eyes closed, moving her body to the music, on a different beat and a slower, more sensual tempo than everyone else around her. Her hair is a little shorter, a little straighter, and she’s maybe lost a few pounds. Not in her breasts though. Those look the same.
As does the red lipstick, now a shade of burgundy, like her lips have been dipped in wine.
She’s wearing jeans and a black top, both fit her like a glove, hugging all her curves, the dip of her waist, the wave of her hips. My hands tingle as if they remember what it was like to touch her.
I can’t fucking believe it.
I slowly start walking toward her, like I’m in a daze, paying no attention to the people dancing into me, the scent of sweat and alcohol. All I see is her.
Dancing alone.
I don’t know what to say.
I stop right in front of her and just stare, trying to think of words, blinking.
It’s really her.
I lick my lips. “Ruby?”
My voice comes out hoarse and too low to be heard above the music.
But her eyes flash open anyway.
Doe eyes.
Blue. So beautifully blue.
Ruby girl.
She stares at me for a beat, her eyes slowly widening as she takes me in.
Then she bursts into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, eclipsing all the neon lights around us.
“Luciano?!”
She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me.
I’m stunned, drowning in her familiar honeysuckle scent, the world seeming to still as memories flood through me.
And then I put my arms around her, light at first, unsure. To be honest, I’m not sure any of this is real.
“Are you real?” I murmur into the top of her head, holding her tighter.
She brings her head back and stares at me with those incredible eyes of hers and suddenly my mind is bombarded with the images of her naked in my bed, my cock deep inside, the way she looked then as she came over and over again.
“I think I’m real,” she says. God it feels good to hear that distinctive throaty voice again. “How about you?”
“Ruby,” a girl’s voice comes from behind her, and Ruby pulls away and turns around to smile at a girl with long wheat-blonde hair sidling through the crowd.
“Elena,” Ruby says, raising her voice over the music. “This is Luciano.”
The blonde girl’s mouth drops open for a moment. “Really?”
They both stare at me. I give the girl a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”
And then my attention is brought right back to Ruby.
She’s here.
In Lisbon.
Right in front of me.
So do something. Stop standing there and staring at her.
I clear my throat and gesture to the bar.
“Would you like a drink?”
Ruby gives me a close-mouthed smile and plucks the champagne from my hand. “Thank you. Now we have to get you a drink.”
“And me too?” Elena asks.
Ruby rolls her eyes. “Of course. Luciano is ever the gentleman, aren’t you?”
I can only nod. To be honest, I’m pretty much speechless, which is probably for the best since it’s so loud in here.
I start walking over to the bar, but notice Benedito waving at me from the VIP lounge, holding up the world’s largest bottle of Grey Goose. I guess they settled for bottle service.
I glance back at the girls. Elena is whispering something in Ruby’s ear and Ruby is giggling, giving her girlfriend a salacious look.
“Did you girls want to come into the VIP area?” I ask. God I sound like a douche. “It’s still pretty loud and there’s a bunch of my drunk teammates that might hit on you, but apparently we have bottle service.”
“Absolutel
y,” Ruby says, hooking her arm around Elena’s. I catch Ruby’s eyes for a moment and I feel like a million unsaid words are being passed between us—I just don’t know what those words are saying.
She’s here.
After two long years, after everything that’s changed, she’s here.
And she seems…happy.
There’s too much to catch up on, but for now, I’ll make the best of this now surreal night.
We walk over to the area, a bouncer lifting up a rope, and the gang all looks up at her. Most of them in surprise, since I’m not the type to meet a girl in a club, let alone two.
There are quick introductions, a lot of yelling over the music, and Benedito is giving me a look like, you dawg you.
I ignore it.
We sit down, Ruby and Elena across from me. It’s probably for the best. Having Ruby close short circuits something in my brain, even still.
There’s so much I want to ask her, so much I want to talk to her about.
But Fito is in their faces, falling over himself to talk to them. He seems a little more interested in Elena, which is a relief, but he’s a loud guy that takes up a lot of energy in the room.
It doesn’t matter though. I’m happy to just steal glances at her.
It still doesn’t feel real.
My mind rolls back to two years ago when she stood in my apartment and said goodbye. I knew then that it was for the best. I knew our lives would have become a mess had she stayed for me.
And now? What’s different?
Maybe everything. Maybe nothing at all.
I thought I had moved on past Ruby.
Now that she’s here though, I feel that same fucking pull to her as before.
She catches my eye, gives me a soft smile.
This is fate that she’s here right now.
I won’t waste fate.
I get to my feet and hold out my hand to her. Taking a wild leap here in front of my teammates, all of them looking at me like they can’t believe Luciano is being so bold and I’m scared shitless she’s not going to put her hand in mine.
But she does.
I lift her up to her feet and lean in. “Want to go where it’s quieter? I can get us on the roof.”
“I’d like that,” she says.
I let go of her hand, even though I don’t want to, and she bends down to whisper in Elena’s ear.
Elena glances up at me, eyes narrowed, like she doesn’t quite trust me. I’m not sure why that is. But then she gives Ruby a nod and goes back to talking to Fito.
I don’t bother looking at anyone else. I know what they’re thinking, that I’m going to go fuck her in the restroom or something.
I feel my cock start to harden in my pants. Fuck. I don’t need those thoughts right now. I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend or not. I don’t know if we’re back at the beginning or back where we left off.
I put my hand at the small of her back and lead her out of the area, over toward where bouncers are guarding the stairwell that leads to the rooftop terrace that is closed this time of year. For me, though, they let me pass and Ruby gives me an amused smirk as we head up the stairs.
“It’s like Moses parting the Red Sea,” she says. “Have you seen how everyone is looking at you?”
I shrug, opening the door to the terrace. “I don’t really notice.”
“Yeah right. You’re a hero now. You’re their saviour. Their captain.”
I’m surprised she’s been following my games.
“Wow, this is quite the view,” she says, walking past tables that are stacked on top of each other, all the way to the glass railing. The dark river slinks past us, lights from the other side reflecting off the water. The occasional boat plies past in the night.
“Are you still a Sporting fan?” I ask, as I stand beside her, elbows on the railing.
“I never stopped being one.”
She stares off into the distance, the cold breeze blowing back her hair.
“Are you not cold?”
She shakes her head. “It’s fucking hot in there. This is nice. It’s refreshing.”
December in Lisbon can get fairly cold, but at least it’s not raining like it’s been lately.
“So…” I tell her, splaying my palms, trying to figure things out. “I mean, where do we start?”
She laughs and turns to face me. “I don’t know. I guess there’s a lot of catching up to do. But I’ve been keeping my eye on you. In a non-stalkerish way, don’t worry.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you were my stalker.”
“Oh good,” she says, pressing her hands together. “Then I can tell you that I’ve watched nearly every game you’ve played over the last two years.”
My heart swells. I’m unable to keep the stupid grin off my face.
“You have?”
She nods, licking her lips briefly. “Yup.”
My eyes are still on her mouth and I have to force them up to meet her eyes.
How is it that everything feels like it did before? Like I could just reach out and bring her mouth to mine and we would twist and turn through space and find ourselves in my bedroom again.
Why do I feel so screwed?
A knowing smile curves her lips, like she can read my mind. I’m just not sure she likes what I’m thinking.
I swallow. “I guess that makes this pretty one-sided.”
“Well I don’t know everything about you,” she says. “Just the good things. That you’re the captain now. That you’re amazing at it. That you got through the worst year ever and came out stronger.” She wags her brows at me. “And maybe I’ve been watching your names in the gossip columns but, lo and behold, no one is ever talking about you.”
“I’m a pretty boring guy.”
“Except I know that’s not true. You’re not seeing anyone?”
“No.” I mean, I’ve had a few flings and one-night stands since I was with her, but they’re not worth mentioning, or even remembering. “You?”
“I was,” she says, looking away. “It didn’t work out.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Are you?” She eyes me expectantly.
Okay. I guess we’re jumping right into where we left off, just like that.
I wiggle my jaw, taking a moment to weigh the scene. “I don’t even know where you’ve been these last two years.”
She watches me for a moment, her eyes searching mine, then fixing on my mouth. The tension between us is back to what it used to be, this crackling livewire, taut and ready to snap. The difference is, I know what happens when we give in.
“I’ve been around.”
“Did you go back to Houston?”
She shakes her head, a bitter look in her eyes. “No. You know, you should have stayed in touch.”
I was going to.
I had written her emails.
Emails I never sent.
I figured it was just best to let her go.
Let it be what it was, let what we had stay in the past.
“You could have too.”
She exhales sharply and turns back to the river, hands clasped. “Yeah. I could have. I should have. I missed you.”
It’s like a punch to my heart.
“I missed you too,” I manage to say, my words coming out quiet and raw. Far more raw than I’d like. I clear my throat. “How long are you here for? In Lisbon?”
“Probably another week. Maybe more, maybe less,” she says. “I’m here with Elena. We’re going down to her aunt’s house in Lago after this. Get some sunshine, you know? I’ve been in Finland and it’s fucking cold.”
“Is that where Elena is from?”
“Yeah. We’re roommates in Helsinki. She helped me get a job there. You know, under the table. I actually haven’t left Europe yet.”
I blink at her. “You’re still here?”
“Until they check my passport, yeah.” She looks only a little guilty, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I figure, might
as well stay here until I can’t anymore. I’ve just always managed to find a way.”
“Yes, but overstaying your visa by a few days or even months is one thing, but two years? If they find out, you could get in serious trouble. You could get fined, deported. Banned.”
“You’re worried about little old me?” she asks, nudging my shoulder playfully.
“Should I be?”
“No,” she says. “Come on, I’ve made it work. And it’s not all bullshit jobs either. In Helsinki I’ve been coaching Elena’s nephew’s football team.”
Now that’s impressive. “Really?”
“Assistant coach. But hey. It’s a job and I’m good at. I’ve got some money saved now and I hope in the Spring I’ll be working again.”
“What about journalism? You know I was following your blog. You stopped posting after you left Lisbon.”
Her eyes take me in, her pupils growing large. “You checked up on me?”
“I tried to.”
“I’m hard to forget, aren’t I?” she says brightly.
“I never forgot you.”
My words hang in the space between us.
She frowns briefly, then looks away.
Shit. I said too much.
She straightens up and smiles sweetly. “I better go back and check on Elena. I feel bad about leaving her alone.”
I want to point out that she’s not alone and she looked like she was enjoying Fito’s company, but I get the message.
We walk back to the doors.
She pauses before we head down the stairs and into the noise and sweat of the club.
“Would you like to go for a drink?” she asks me. “I know you’re really busy with practice and the game…”
“I don’t have another game until next week,” I tell her quickly. “I would love to. Do you still have my number?”
“I do.”
“Then it’s a date.”
She gives me a teasing smile before she heads down the stairs. “Maybe.”
Maybe.
That’s good enough for me.
Thirteen
Ruby
“Nervous?” Elena asks me, sipping on a bottle of cider.
I’m standing in front of the full-length mirror in our hotel room, trying to figure out what to wear tonight. Luciano is meeting me at a restaurant and I’m already running a little late.
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 16
