She pursed her lips and glanced down, as if she could see through the Formica table. “Why, Mr. D’Angelo, is that a hard-on in your pants or are you just glad to see me?”
“Yes and yes,” I said with a grin. “Let’s just say that if I try to walk out of her now I’m afraid I’d make a spectacle of myself.”
“Well, it is a hot dog place,” she said. “Your foot-long would be right at home. She grinned and pulled her foot away. It just made me want her more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Katrina
I was starting to freak out a little. It was nearly six o’clock and I hadn’t heard from my father, who had been gone for nearly six hours. And because I hadn’t heard from my father, I had not texted or called Nicky to set up a date for later tonight. The old feelings of dread, the ones that used to hang over my head like a dark cloud, returned as I paced the floor and stole occasional glances out the window. Was my father ever coming home? And if so, what shape would he be in when he arrived?
I got the sinking feeling that something had gone terribly wrong when he went to pay off his gambling debt. These people he was dealing with, they were not nice people who operated within the bounds of the law. They were thugs and criminals, not above hurting or even killing someone to make a point or get what they wanted. My father was in grave danger. I could just feel it in my bones.
I tried calling his cellphone again and it went right to voicemail. I had been calling him every ten minutes for several hours. I had left a dozen messages pleading with him to call to let me know he was okay. The dark feeling was so strong that I had not opened the bar. I kept the closed sign on the door and the lights off. Patrons came by and knocked, but I ignored them and didn’t let them in.
I was about to call dad’s cell again when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I burst through the door to find him on his hands and knees just inside the back door. Thank God, he was alive, trying to push himself up off the floor. I rushed over and helped him sit up with his back against the wall. My heart stopped when I looked at his face. He had been beaten to a pulp.
“Oh my god, dad, what happened?” I screamed, my hands on his shoulders. I swept my eyes over him. His eyes were nearly swollen shut. His nose was broken and bloody. His lips were split and puffy. His face, shirt, and jacket were covered in dried blood.
“I’m okay…” he whispered, holding out his hands to blindly reach for me. “I just need… to lie down.”
“Christ, daddy, you’re not okay,” I said, taking his hands and squeezing them tight. “You need a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance and the police.”
“No, no, don’t do that,” he said desperately, clutching at my hands. “That will only make things worse.” He leaned his head back against the wall and peered at me through the slit of his right eye. “Please, just let me rest for a minute. I’ll be okay.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I ran to the sink and wet a cold rag and brought it back to him. He took the rag and held it to his split lips. “Thank you… I’m okay… just need a minute.”
“Daddy, tell me what happened.”
“He said it wasn’t enough.”
“Who said it wasn’t enough?” I asked. “What does that mean.”
He struggled to breathe through his swollen lips. His nose was completely broken and blocked. “He said there was more money. He said the seventy-five grand wasn’t going to be enough now. He wants it all. The son of a bitch. He wants it all.”
I felt a cold chill creeping up my spine. “Daddy, tell me exactly what he said. Word for word.”
He licked his lips and tried to swallow. “He said you had two hundred thousand dollars. He wants it all or he will kill us both.”
The breath caught in my throat. “How did he know I had that much money? Daddy, how did he know? Did you tell him?”
He let his head roll from side to side. “No, I had no idea how much you had. He said you had two hundred thousand dollars in a briefcase and he wants every cent or he will kill us both.”
I swallowed the lump that had lodged in my throat. “Daddy, tell me the man’s name.”
“No, Katrina, you can’t fight these people and you can’t call the cops,” he said. He coughed and put the towel over his lips. It came down covered in bright red blood. “You have to leave, Katrina. You have to get out of town.”
“Daddy, goddammit, tell me the name of the man who did this to you!”
When my father said the name of the man who had threatened our lives, I had to fight back my tears. I knew my change in fortune was too good to be true and too good to last.
People like me aren’t meant to be happy.
I’d had one glorious weekend and was rich for a short time.
Now, it was all going away.
* * *
I helped my father to bed, then cleaned his wounds as best I could. It looked worse than it was, but it was bad enough. Ice packs would take the swelling down around his bruised eyes and split lips, but his nose was broken and needed to be set, and his right cheekbone stuck out more than it should. He promised to let me take him to the hospital the next day and I reluctantly agreed.