ruffles Luna’s dark curly hair.
‘Luna, coração, you run on now. Yes?’ A little touch on the shoulder, turning her. As she slides away she hears him say to the waiter, ‘My son is not to be served any more alcohol. Understand? I’ll not have him drunk and ridiculous in front of everyone. He can do what he likes in private, but I won’t have him disgrace the family. If a single drop goes near him for the rest of the day, I will have every one of you back in Bairro Alto begging for second-hand oxygen and drinking each other’s piss. Nothing personal. Please convey this to your management.’
Luna loves her Uncle Lucas, the way he gets down to her level, his little games, his tricks and jokes that are just between them, but there are times when he is tall and far away, in another world that’s hard and cold and unkind. Luna sees the look of pale fear on the immigrant woman’s face and feels horrible for her.
Arms sweep her up, lift her high, throw her up into the air.
‘Hey hey anzinho!’
And catch her as she falls soft as a feather, her peony dress up around her face. Rafa. Luna presses close to her father.
‘Hey hey, guess who’s just arrived. Tia Ariel. Shall we go and find her?’ Rafa squeezes Luna’s hand and she nods her head vigorously.
In her killing dress Ariel Corta steps out of the station into Boa Vista’s great garden. The layers of her 1958 Balenciaga float in lunar gravity like petals. A murmur passes through the throng of guests. Ariel Corta. Everyone has heard of Alayoum vs Filmus. Luna bounds up to her tia. Ariel snatches her niece up in mid-bound, swirls her around while Luna shrieks in delight. Now her madrinha, Mônica, arrives. Warm embraces, kisses. Amanda Sun, Lucas’s wife. Lousika Asamoah, Luna’s mother. Rafa himself, snatching his sister up into the air so that she begs him to mind the dress. His other oko, Rachel Mackenzie, is in Queen of the South with their son Robson. She never sets foot in Boa Vista. Ariel is glad Rachel is not here. There is legal between them, and Mackenzies hold grudges. Next: moon-run boy himself. He’s awkward, gawky with his tia in a way he never is with his friends. Her finger rests a moment on his Dona Luna emblem, drawing his eye to the matching token on her corsage: imagine me naked, frosted, running across the bare moon.
Next the family retainers: Helen de Braga, head of finance – she has aged since Ariel last came to Boa Vista – and old, upright Heitor Pereira, head of security. Last of all, Lucas arrives. He kisses his sister warmly. She is the only sibling Lucas considers his equal. A whisper: he wants private words. Ariel’s gloved hand effortlessly snares a Blue Moon from a passing tray.
‘And how is Meridian this season?’ Lucas says. ‘I just can’t get the time to make it up there.’
Ariel knows that her brother thinks her disloyal for choosing the law over Corta Hélio.
‘Apparently I’m famous. Briefly.’
‘I heard something like that. Gossip and rumours.’
‘More rumours than oxygen, more gossip than water.’
‘I’ve also heard that a delegation from the China Power Investment Corporation is coming in on the Saints Peter and Paul . The rumour is a five-year output deal with Mackenzie Metals.’
‘I’ve heard similar myself.’
‘I also heard that the Eagle of the Moon is throwing a welcome jamboree for them.’
‘He is. And, yes, I am invited.’ Ariel knows her brother’s information network is powerful enough to have found about her counsel chamber chat with Judge Nagai.
‘You always had a skill for social politics. I envy that.’
‘Whatever it is Lucas, no.’
Lucas throws up his hands in mea culpa.
‘I merely repeated a few rumours.’
Ariel laughs like silver but Lucas is tenacious, Lucas is steel, Lucas has her trapped. Then, in a gust of peppery moon dust, a saviour arrives.
Maybe more meat. Maybe juice to drink. Lucas has cornered Tia Ariel. Uncle Lucas is boring when he talks
‘Luna, coração, you run on now. Yes?’ A little touch on the shoulder, turning her. As she slides away she hears him say to the waiter, ‘My son is not to be served any more alcohol. Understand? I’ll not have him drunk and ridiculous in front of everyone. He can do what he likes in private, but I won’t have him disgrace the family. If a single drop goes near him for the rest of the day, I will have every one of you back in Bairro Alto begging for second-hand oxygen and drinking each other’s piss. Nothing personal. Please convey this to your management.’
Luna loves her Uncle Lucas, the way he gets down to her level, his little games, his tricks and jokes that are just between them, but there are times when he is tall and far away, in another world that’s hard and cold and unkind. Luna sees the look of pale fear on the immigrant woman’s face and feels horrible for her.
Arms sweep her up, lift her high, throw her up into the air.
‘Hey hey anzinho!’
And catch her as she falls soft as a feather, her peony dress up around her face. Rafa. Luna presses close to her father.
‘Hey hey, guess who’s just arrived. Tia Ariel. Shall we go and find her?’ Rafa squeezes Luna’s hand and she nods her head vigorously.
In her killing dress Ariel Corta steps out of the station into Boa Vista’s great garden. The layers of her 1958 Balenciaga float in lunar gravity like petals. A murmur passes through the throng of guests. Ariel Corta. Everyone has heard of Alayoum vs Filmus. Luna bounds up to her tia. Ariel snatches her niece up in mid-bound, swirls her around while Luna shrieks in delight. Now her madrinha, Mônica, arrives. Warm embraces, kisses. Amanda Sun, Lucas’s wife. Lousika Asamoah, Luna’s mother. Rafa himself, snatching his sister up into the air so that she begs him to mind the dress. His other oko, Rachel Mackenzie, is in Queen of the South with their son Robson. She never sets foot in Boa Vista. Ariel is glad Rachel is not here. There is legal between them, and Mackenzies hold grudges. Next: moon-run boy himself. He’s awkward, gawky with his tia in a way he never is with his friends. Her finger rests a moment on his Dona Luna emblem, drawing his eye to the matching token on her corsage: imagine me naked, frosted, running across the bare moon.
Next the family retainers: Helen de Braga, head of finance – she has aged since Ariel last came to Boa Vista – and old, upright Heitor Pereira, head of security. Last of all, Lucas arrives. He kisses his sister warmly. She is the only sibling Lucas considers his equal. A whisper: he wants private words. Ariel’s gloved hand effortlessly snares a Blue Moon from a passing tray.
‘And how is Meridian this season?’ Lucas says. ‘I just can’t get the time to make it up there.’
Ariel knows that her brother thinks her disloyal for choosing the law over Corta Hélio.
‘Apparently I’m famous. Briefly.’
‘I heard something like that. Gossip and rumours.’
‘More rumours than oxygen, more gossip than water.’
‘I’ve also heard that a delegation from the China Power Investment Corporation is coming in on the Saints Peter and Paul . The rumour is a five-year output deal with Mackenzie Metals.’
‘I’ve heard similar myself.’
‘I also heard that the Eagle of the Moon is throwing a welcome jamboree for them.’
‘He is. And, yes, I am invited.’ Ariel knows her brother’s information network is powerful enough to have found about her counsel chamber chat with Judge Nagai.
‘You always had a skill for social politics. I envy that.’
‘Whatever it is Lucas, no.’
Lucas throws up his hands in mea culpa.
‘I merely repeated a few rumours.’
Ariel laughs like silver but Lucas is tenacious, Lucas is steel, Lucas has her trapped. Then, in a gust of peppery moon dust, a saviour arrives.
Maybe more meat. Maybe juice to drink. Lucas has cornered Tia Ariel. Uncle Lucas is boring when he talks
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