My mother laughs, though I can tell it’s one of her fake laughs to be polite. Despite her rather poor upbringing, she fully integrated into the wealthy lifestyle when she met Tomás. My birth father didn’t even have to be gone that long before she jumped on that chance.
My mother places a hand on my shoulder and gives me a quick smile. “Tomás is over by the judges. He would love to see you.”
What she really means is that my stepfather would love the cameras to see me. Dutiful famous stepson making his yearly appearance. Then he can go back to pretending I’m a stranger in his life.
My mother turns and walks over to some ladies gathered by a horse.
“Marco didn’t tell her about me, did he?” Ruby asks after she’s gone. “Don’t lie to me Luciano. I don’t expect that from you.”
I sigh. “Don’t get worked up about it. Marco doesn’t talk about any of his girlfriends. You’re the only one that I’ve met more than once.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
She’s staring at me, one hand on her hip, her eyes squinting in the sunlight as she stares at me. I know I’m about to overstep my boundaries here, and I really don’t care. “For what it’s worth,” I say, “I would have told my mother about you a long time ago.”
She’s not impressed. “But you didn’t.”
“Too bad for you, you’re not my girlfriend. Now come on.”
I walk toward the ring, Ruby behind me, and it’s then that some people start to notice who I am. They smile at me, or nod, some of them glancing curiously at Ruby. I know she doesn’t fit in here, but I don’t really care.
“These are society people,” she comments as we walk, her eyes darting over the crowd. “This ain’t like any horse show I’ve been to.”
“They’re here to show off,” I tell her. “It’s not about the horses. It’s all about them.” I swallow, my throat feeling dry. “These are not my people.”
“They’re looking at you as if you are.”
I glance at her. “Because that’s what they want to see.”
My stepfather is busy at the moment, talking to a couple of politicians from Lisbon, so I head toward the outdoor bar set up to the side.
“Champagne?” I ask Ruby, handing her a flute.
“Yes please,” she says enthusiastically. “So fancy.”
I cheers, clinking my glass against her.
“How do you say cheers in Portuguese?” she asks, resting those lips of hers against the rim.
God, I need to stop staring at them.
“Saúde,” I tell her.
“Saúde,” she says. “Do you also have that thing where you have to look each other in the eye or else you’ll have seven years of bad sex?”
Good thing I’m looking you in the eye, I think.
“We have a lot of sayings in Portuguese,” I say.
“Tell me something,” she says.
“Engolir sapos,” I say.
“Which is what?”
“To swallow frogs.” She makes a face and I laugh. “It means to do something you don’t want to do. As in, I don’t want to be here right now. I’m swallowing frogs.”
“But you are here.”
“And you are partir a loiça toda.”
Her nose wrinkles comically. “Please don’t tell me I’m some other sort of slimy thing.”
“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
