I shrug, looking away. Leonardo, our coach, is barking at a few players, and I know we’re about to head into the locker room.
“It’s that girl,” he says after a beat.
I give him a sharp look. “What girl?”
“The girl from the nightclub. The one with the breasts.”
I press my lips together. I’m not saying anything.
Benedito gives me a shit-eating grin and slaps me on the back. “Look at you. Just look at you. My man, you have it bad.”
“I didn’t say a word!” I start running off to the showers, to escape his astute powers of deduction, and get ready for my date.
Benedito yells after me. “You deserve to get laid, my man!”
Of course, everyone is looking at me now.
I raise my palm as if to say, yes, hi, that’s me, and then I jog off the pitch.
Thankfully, I shower and get ready with only a little ribbing from my teammates, and then I’m driving off toward the city, eager to pick up Ruby.
I have to admit, I don’t remember the last time I’ve been this anxious before. Definitely not over a woman. The game, yes, I’m a tangle of nerves before each one, and it’s remarkable that everyone says I’m so collected on the pitch, because I feel anything but, even when I’m confident in our skills.
But over someone else?
No.
And it’s not because I haven’t dated. I’ve had my fun, but there’s never been anyone that I wanted to get to know, and even if there was someone that came close, it was nothing compared to how I feel about Ruby.
Frankly, I think I’m fucking screwed.
I was the moment I saw her.
Again.
This time the dilemma is a little more real. She doesn’t have a time limit. She gave that Schengen Visa the finger, broke the rules, decided to stay in Europe indefinitely. She’s living with her friend in Helsinki, she’s off her (illegal) work right now. She can stay in Lisbon, if she wants to.
Of course, that doesn’t make things less complicated. I have a feeling we’re always going to be complicated. The only time that things seem easy and straightforward is when I’m coming inside her, making her eyes roll back, using our bodies to do all the planning.
For one, there’s the fact that we’ve literally just been on one date and I’m already trying to make room for her in my life, without knowing how she feels about me. Ruby says things that make me think she wants to be with me, but then again Ruby is like a leaf in the wind, lost and searching, and I don’t know if I’m what she’s looking for.
For two, there’s Marco.
I never told him what happened with Ruby before—that she came by my place after he dumped her, that she spent her last moments with me. That I’m sure I made her come harder than he ever did, that I cared for her more than he ever could.
I kept that to myself.
Marco probably wouldn’t care too much anyway. He certainly never mentioned Ruby after he sent her on her way. Sure, if he knew that I was with his ex-girlfriend, his pride would be ruined and he would hate me, resent me, more than he already does. But his heart wouldn’t be broken. He never cared for her.
And still, it’s a secret.
A secret that would come to light if Ruby and I were ever to make a go of things.
A secret that would make fire rain down upon us.
If his stepfather knew…I would hate to think what he would do. There’s only so much he can do to hurt me. He can sling his insults, his underhanded comments, and if he tried to hurt me physically, I’d have no problems fighting back. I know he’s a tough guy, but so am I. I’m not that little kid anymore. I’m built as fuck and I’ve had twenty-five years of rage built up toward him. I would win. No contest. And probably be arrested for assault.
But Ruby?
He could hurt her.
And I don’t mean physically, least I don’t think.
It wouldn’t take much to find out she’s here illegally. He could get her deported with a simple phone call. I know that sounds like a villainous move, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He knows that she was Marco’s girlfriend, that after the night at the sports gala when they appeared on the red carpet together, the world saw they were together.
If he knew that me, his hated stepson, took Ruby from the apple of his eye, there would be hell to pay. That’s how fragile he really is. Brittle and bitter and ready to bring me down any way he can. He hasn’t been able to lately, that’s why he hates me so much more. If he saw weakness in me, he would exploit it with everything he’s got.
And Ruby is my weakness.
I exhale loudly, my hands gripping the wheel in frustration. It’s going to be an uphill battle no matter how we look at it. But I still believe that we can make it work.
Somehow.
I manage to put all that to the side when I pull up outside of Ruby’s hotel. She’s already waiting by the entrance, dressed in boots, jeans, a leather jacket, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. She sees me and her smile breaks my heart. I’m so fucking lucky that she smiles that way at me.
She opens the passenger side door and slides in.
“I’ve missed this car,” she says, running her hands along the dash. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t get an upgrade when you became captain.”
“I’m counting on getting an Audi when I get traded to Real Madrid.”
“Ugh, you’re still on that?”
“It’s my career,” I remind her, trying to navigate the tram tracks. “I forgot to tell you about another dream of mine. Becoming the captain of the Portuguese national team. I believe proving myself as captain of Real Madrid will get me one step closer to that.”
“You’re going to take over Ronaldo’s role?”
I shrug. “Stranger things have happened. I believe you can do anything you put your mind to, if you really want it that badly. Manifestation is real.”
Perhaps it’s why you’re here.
“I believe it,” she says. “You know, I hate to sound presumptuous, but I would love it if I could see y’all practice. Or at least go to a game.”
“Of course,” I tell her. “You can do both.”
“Really?” she practically squeals, bouncing her legs up and down.
I grin at her. “Yes, really. We have another practice in two days. You can come to that. Bring your Finnish friend if you want.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s no problem.”
“I won’t psyche you out?”
I glance at her. Her brows are raised and she looks especially innocent. “Well, now I’m thinking you might.”
“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour.”
“Your best behaviour is still a little devious.”
She gives me a cheeky smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Anyway, where are we going? What’s the surprise?”
“It’s not a surprise if I tell you. Just sit back and relax.”
Of course, telling Ruby what to do never works.
The first surprise is Palácio da Pena, on the hill above the town of Sintra. Usually the place is absolutely packed with tourists, and the lines can last hours. But since it’s the off-season and the afternoon, close to closing, and half the palace is shrouded in cool fog, it’s easy to find parking.
We head up to the castle-like palace, Ruby going into full-on tourist mode, oohing and aahing over the sights. There’s a lot to see here. Personally, I think the palace is a bit garish and tacky, but that’s part of the charm I suppose. It’s huge and sprawling, a bunch of different buildings smashed together, built over the years for King Ferdinand.
I play tour guide, showing her the different rooms inside, the tile work and gargoyles, pointing out the Neo-Gothic, Islamic, and Renaissance architecture and the mix of colors—red, yellow, lilac—that make it look cartoonish.
“I feel like I’m in a Portuguese Disneyland,” Ruby says, handing me her phone. “Can you take a photo for me? It takes shitty photos, but I think I need
to pretend to be a princess.”
She poses under an arch that normally has a stunning view behind it, but today is ghostly with fog. With her leather jacket and her black hair whipping around her, she looks more like a heroine from a gothic novel. Or a ghost.
My ghost from my past.
I take her picture and hand the phone back to her, but she grabs me by the arm and pulls me to her side.
“I don’t have any pictures of you,” she says, holding the phone high. “We’re taking a selfie.”
We both give matching smiles to the lens, close-lipped and somewhat smirking.
“It’s scary how good we look together,” she says, staring at the photo, pointing at our similar expressions, our black hair. “I mean look, we’re like the same person.”
“I am you and you are me.”
She gives me a small smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“You’re going to have to send that to me,” I tell her. I don’t have any pictures of her either. Sometimes I’ve looked at the pictures of her taken at the gala, when she was with Marco, as if that was the only proof I had of her.
After that, we get back in the car and we drive to the coast to surprise number two.
“A lighthouse?” she asks, staring at the aforementioned lighthouse next to the parking lot we just pulled into.
“It’s not just the lighthouse,” I tell her. “It’s the piece of land beyond it. This is the most western part of the European continent. Cabo da Roca.”
The piece of land in question is a promontory that sticks out hundreds of meters above the sea. The wind here is usually fierce, especially in winter, but today it seems manageable. I grab her hand and we walk along the path past the lighthouse, skirting the edge of the rocky cliffs dotted with wind-hardy succulents. The cliffs are a sheer drop to the raging ocean over a hundred metres below.
“It’s so beautiful,” she says, face to the wind. “We’re on the edge of the world.”
“Sure feels like it, doesn’t it?”
I pull her along and we wind along the cliff, past the few tourists taking photos. There’s a short wooden fence that warns people to stay off the cliff face, but people ignore it anyway.
So does Ruby.
She lets go of my hand steps over the fence.
“Ruby,” I warn her, reaching for her.
“I’m not going far,” she says, stepping forward until she’s near the edge of the cliff. I know how steep it drops off, almost five hundred feet, and my heart is already lurching in my chest.
She faces the Atlantic and throws her arms out to the wind, head back, grinning. “Made it Ma! Top of the world!”
I’m not sure she realizes that quote is from James Cagney’s White Heat, in which he proceeds to die right after.
I step over the fence and carefully walk over to her, holding out my hand.
“Ruby,” I say gently, afraid to panic her. “Please turn around slowly and give me your hand.”
“I’m fine,” she says, not moving. “I feel so free here.”
Then she takes another step closer to the edge.
“Ruby, please.”
She glances at me over her shoulder, giving me a sly smile.
Then a gust of wind swoops up from below the cliffs and buffets us back, knocking Ruby off balance. She yelps in surprise and throws herself backward onto the ground.
I lunge toward her, hoping that any vertigo stays in check, and grab her by the arms, hauling her up to her feet and pulling her back until we’re at the fence.
She turns around and throws her arms around me, holding me tight.
“Holy shit,” she gasps into my chest. “I thought I was going to go over.”
I hold her back, kissing the top of her head. I want to get angry and lecture her about thinking she was invincible and doing stupid shit, but I manage to keep it inside.
“You’re fine now,” I tell her. “I’ve got you.”
“I felt myself falling,” she cries out softly. “Like, I felt it as if it was happening. I was falling and falling and I knew I was going to die. It was so horrible.”
“You didn’t fall. But that was stupid.”
Okay, I guess I’m a little too shaken not to say anything.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to see how close I could get.”
“Well you got closer than anyone ever should. Are you okay?”
She pulls back and stares up at me, her eyes wild. She nods. “Yeah. Yeah. I need to sit down.”
She turns and sits down on the fence. I sit next to her, watching her carefully as she takes in deep breaths through her nose, eyes closed.
“Talk to me,” I tell her.
“I’m fine,” she says after a moment. She flashes me a sweet smile. “Sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me.”
I frown at her, give my head a shake. There are times when I wonder about her, worry about her. Not saying I thought that she was going to jump off that cliff, just that I know where she’s coming from. I know her past and I know she’s got issues. Perhaps those issues are coming out in strange ways. I mean, she drinks a bit too much, she’s here in Europe illegally and doesn’t seem to think it’s that big of a deal. She purposely went to that edge.
“Talk to me, Ruby,” I repeat, trying to get to the root of things. I want her to tell me her troubles, her ghosts. I want her to give me her problems so I can try and fix them. So I can protect her. “How is your mother?”
“My mother?” she asks, surprised. “Why?”
“Because I haven’t seen you for two years, because there’s so much more that I don’t know. Because I want to know how you are. How you really are.”
“It’s fine. She’s fine.”
I don’t believe it. “What happened after her overdose?”
“I told you.” She gives me a dark look. “She was okay.”
“It didn’t happen again?”
She bites her lip for a moment, her eyes searching the horizon. “No. It didn’t. They watch her closely.”
“Do you wish you could have gone back to see her in prison?”
“Sometimes. But it never goes well.”
“What happened when you went before?”
“Why the questions, Luciano? I thought this was a date.”
“Because I care about you. Because it’s better to open up and talk about it instead of…”
Her brows raise. “Running away? Jumping off a cliff? Look, it was an accident. I didn’t mean to get too close.”
“I just want you to trust me. We’ve always been open with each other.”
Let me carry your burdens for a change.
“I know. I’m fine.”
I sigh, rubbing my hand over my chin. I need to shave.
“If you keep it all in, you’re going to pass the hardest moments alone while everyone believes you’re fine.” I pause. “Let me in, Ruby.”
She glances at me, and then leans forward with her elbows on thighs.
“How are things with your stepfather?” she asks.
I take in a sharp, instinctive breath. Guess now it’s my turn now.
“That bad, huh?” she says.
I stare down at my hands, knowing that I need to be as honest as I wanted her to be. I wish I could be a hypocrite.
“Well, as you know, we’ve never had a healthy relationship. And actually, it’s gotten worse. Especially this year. When I became captain, that’s when everything started to get, uh, ugly.” I let out a bitter laugh. “When the team was at its worst, that’s the only time he started being nicer to me. Still didn’t give me any respect of course, but he wasn’t so angry and vicious. Now, it’s like he takes pleasure in it.”
“So what does he do?”
I sit back and run my hand through my hair. “Let me see. The other day I had talked about being traded to another team eventually, though I didn’t mention which one, and he said that if I ever did that, Marco would no longer be my agent, because Marco isn’t leaving Lisb
on.”
“I see,” she says.
“Yes. He controls Marco in every which way, and I don’t think Marco likes it so much anymore. But it’s hard to tell. He has such a hold on him.”
“Your stepdad is a scary guy.”
“He can be. And so sometimes he says that my talent was a fluke. And maybe he’ll call me pathetic because I’m too old to be a captain and my career is almost over and I’m just going to embarrass the family by staying in the game.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ruby snarls, her eyes lit up. “You’re not old. I hate how this game is so focused on youth. Age brings so much more to the table.”
“You don’t have to convince me.” I love how protective and worked up she’s getting. I continue. “But mostly they are microaggressions, those tiny little digs that seem innocuous at first but cut you down over time. You can only be punctured so many times before you’re drained of blood. That’s what he does. He drains me. And if I ever have to be in the same room as him and Marco, which I often do, that’s when the cuts happen.”
What I want to tell her is what he said to me before the game the other day.
How he patted me on the back, pulled me in for a fake hug, and said, “I guess winning is everything when a man has nothing.”
That hit deep.
But they all do.
“I wish I didn’t know exactly what you’re talking about,” she says, putting her hand on mine. I wrap my fingers around hers and give her a squeeze. “My father is the same. Tiny little cuts that always go deeper than you think. After a while, you start to believe them too. That you’re a bad apple, useless and hopeless. Like a horse getting put down just because they can’t do what we expect them to do.”
I raise her hand to my mouth, kiss her knuckles, staring into her eyes. “At least you’re here and they’re there. Probably another reason why I’m seriously thinking about being traded. So I can get away.” I lower her hand into my lap and hold it. “And then what does that make me? As pathetic as my stepfather said, the man who runs away.”
“Hey, I ran away from my problems and look at me now,” she says, then her smile falters. “Okay, bad example.”
“Ruby, stop.” I hate how she beats herself up like this.
“I can’t,” she says softly. “I think I can trace my shadows all the way back to birth. They follow me, Luciano. They don’t leave, even when I do.”
The One That Got Away: A Novel Page 19
