No one’s food was as good as Dad’s, though.
“Never. Still, I like the spices they use.” The toe of that boot nudged his again.
He shifted his feet, not sure if he was in the way or if Balta was just playing. A sharp prod along with a huge grin from Balta answered that question. Silly man. Joa chuckled, then nudged back.
Balta trod on his toes, making him jump a bit. “Do you want dessert?”
“We could. They have anything good?”
“They have, uh,tres lechescake, carrot cake, and some amazing cheesecake thing.” Balta loved American cheesecake.
“Carrot cake for me, I think. Something healthy.” He winked, loving that hearty, healthy laugh.
“Carrots are good for your eyesight. I will have cheesecake, huh? With fruit.”
“Fruit? See, healthy!” They were laughing hard enough that people were beginning to watch.
Coke wandered by, slapping Balta on the back. “Y’all are getting your fun on.”
“Sim, sim, Coke. It is good to be us, huh?”
“You know it, Fox. You so know it.” Coke grinned, and nodded to him then. “Eat some of that cake for me, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I can do that.”
Coke moved on, whistling, drawing some stares of his own. He was a funny man—Joa liked him.
Not as much as Joa liked Balta, though.
No one was Balta.
Balta caught him staring, smiling hugely. “I think he likes you. Coke isn’t everyone’s friend, you know?”
“Sim. He doesn’t have a monkey’s face, eh?” Joa thought the bullfighters were all touched by God, to hurt so badly and keep coming back.
“Nao.” Balta stretched, patting his belly. “Mmm. I will sleep well tonight.”
“I think I will, too, Balta. I think.” He had some beer in the room—it would feel good going down.
They sat silent while they had coffee, and he squirmed, because Balta looked at him like he was more important than cheesecake. Better.
“I…I have somecervejain the room, if you want.” He’d…he’d share his beer with Balta. Not in the room, though. That was too much temptation.
“Do you?” One dark eyebrow winged up, Balta tilting his head. “I would like that.”
“Bom.” Oh,Deus. Temptation, temptation, temptation.
They paid then headed for the door, nodding to the fans who recognized them. There were many, and they were forced to stopjust inside the door for a picture and an autograph for a young boy. From Balta, of course.
No one knew him. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but that didn’t matter. He made money, good money.
Balta clapped him on the back before the fans left, smiling. “And this is Joa. You know, he dances with Dillon when he rides, huh?”
The boy clapped and bounced. “I know you!”
“Yeah? You like to dance?” He bounced and shook it a bit, watching the boy’s pale eyes sparkle.
“I like to ride. You ride good.” Before he knew it, he was signing the little one’s hat, too.
