Antonio shook his head. He couldn’t sit in that car all day, reminiscing, he needed to do something with his time.
He realized he’d been hanging out in the Torres neighborhood on the off chance that he might go back for another shot at talking to Joan. Considering what he’d just recalled about Joan it was entirely possible that she’d made up some story.
Maybe the reason her sister thought that he’d gotten her drunk was because that’s what Joan had said.
What if she’d gone further said something that could get him into more trouble – possibly with the police?
Given that Annabel Edwards was back in town, that kind of behavior would be entirely likely.
He started his engine and drove out of the neighborhood, heading back to the hotel.
He’d catch up on sleep, and then maybe hit the casino and work on his poker skills so he could take another shot at the private poker game later that night. Clearly, the date he’d envisioned with Joan was off the table, so why not? He had a bag full of money and time to kill before the wedding, so why not double or even triple his winnings?
“Yeah,” he said out loud as he drove back into the parking garage at the hotel. “Why the fuck not?”
Chapter Eleven
JOAN WISHED SHE HAD her sunglasses as she walked to the cathedral for the noon AA meeting, her headache intensified as soon as she stepped out into the hot Mediterranean sun. Despite the continuing tightness in her head and the way it slowed down her usual speed-walking pace, she still arrived at the church with plenty of time before the meeting was due to start. The man who’d annoyed her so much the previous day was at the meeting, but thankfully he didn’t make her feel ill at ease. While she was pouring herself some coffee he stepped nearby, said hello in a pleasant and non-threatening way and offered her creamer to put in her coffee.
“No, thanks,” Joan said politely.
They ended up sitting next to each other in the front row, but he sat quietly and minded his own business. When the meeting started a few of the participants who’d been at the meeting the day before recognized her. A few even shared in English, citing the American in the room.
The man, who’s name was Raul, didn’t press her to speak, or press others to share in English, or generally act like a controlling dork. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. He’d been the leader before, so it was his job to help move things along in the meeting. She settled into her seat and listened as the other members shared. She’d already decided not to mention her relapse – she didn’t want all the after-meeting comments and the outpourings of concern.
One of the members who chose to share in English for her benefit spoke about how her drinking had ruined her family’s trust, but the commitment to the steps and time spent working on her own faults had improved her relationships.
“Today I can honestly say I’m much closer to my two older brothers than I ever was, thanks to this program.”
The woman, probably not more than five or six years older than Joan, sat down to polite applause while Joan reflected. Would she be able to get back her sister’s trust? Was all she had to do take her recovery program seriously this time?
Raul didn’t share either, but after the meeting, he stuck close to Joan as she chatted with a few other members. When she started to leave, Raul continued to stay close. “Oh, Joan, there was something I was dying to tell you back in the meeting, but I didn’t want to be rude and talk while others were sharing.”
Curious, Joan indicated for him to continue.
Raul puffed up his sunken chest, rubbed at his scraggly excuse for a beard and smiled wickedly as if he was about to share some juicy gossip.
“Remember the drunk bum from yesterday, the dude at the back that fell out of his chair?”
Joan stiffened, immediately recalling some of her feelings of dislike for this man. To refer to a fellow sufferer with such strong words seemed inappropriate at best and down right inexcusable at worst.
Or, maybe she particularly sensitive because she knew he was talking about Antonio.
She gave Raul a tight-lipped smile, “Yes, I remember our fellow member. Why do you ask?”
“Because I don’t think he’s a drunk. I think he’s a fraud.”
“What? Why?” Joan said.
“Because today he’s in another meeting down the hall.”
“What other meeting?”
“The Gambler’s Anonymous meeting – they meet down around at the other end of the hall, by the bathrooms. While the others were sharing, I went to the restrooms. That’s when I saw him. Don’t believe me, come see for yourself.”
Joan didn’t like the idea of spying on someone in a different 12-step program, but if it was Antonio she could confront him about the missing money and not have to make the potentially futile trip to his hotel.
She followed Raul as he chattered on about something she wasn’t paying attention to, and thought instead of Antonio.
She’d realized that after hooking up the previous night, the topic of the AA meeting and why he was there had not come up. Nor had they discussed their difficult past, and all the baggage and heartache that came with those memories.
She tried to recall how he’d looked in the meeting the day before. His clothing had ragged, but that didn’t mean he was drunk.
“That’s it, over there,” Raul whispered in a low hiss. He was pointing down the hallway to a room on the far left.
“I don’t want to interfere,” she said.
“You don’t have to, you and I are just walking to the restrooms.”
He was right. The men’s and women’s restrooms were at the end of the hall, just past the room where a door was ajar and a meeting was underway.
She walked by, darting her eyes into the room and scanning the bodies, but from her angle, she couldn’t see anyone that looked like Antonio.
“I don’t see him,” she whispered, after they’d gotten out of range of the door.
“Well, maybe he’s in the kitchen. You can’t see people when they’re in there.”
Joan stared at Raul, wondering if this was some ploy to get her to hang out with him.
He picked up on her doubt.
“Look, I’m not making it up. I swear, it was him.”
Joan wanted to go. “Well, thanks for sharing, Raul. I’ll see you later.” She indicated that she was going to use the restroom.
“I know you will, I’ll be right here when you get out.”
Joan sighed. She wished Raul would get the hint and take off, but clearly he wanted to hang out with her some more. What she wanted to do was wait around for Antonio’s meeting to end so she could confront him, but she didn’t want Raul to be a part of it.
It was none of his business.
She stayed in the bathroom longer than necessary, adding mascara to her lashes and an extra coat of gloss to her lips, hoping that Raul would get the hint and leave.
While she delayed she thought about what it meant if Antonio was in the Gamblers’ Anonymous meeting. Why would he be there, if not to deal with a gambling problem?
It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps he’d been the mastermind to the theft of her cash. Maybe he’d set up the friend showing up in the middle of the night to cover his part in the crime.
The thought made her feel sick and angry.
She went back out into the hallway, irritated to see Raul still hanging about.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
Shit. She needed to get rid of him.
“Raul, I don’t feel so good. I’m going home,” she lied.
She’d ditch him and double back to wait for Antonio to get out of the meeting, but first, she had to verify that he was even in there.
“Did you drive?” he asked.
“No,” she said, automatically.
“Then let me give you a ride home,” he said.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“No, I think the walk will do me good. Fresh air, and all that.”
“Le
t me walk you home, then,” he persisted.
“No, please. I’ll be fine.”
“Can, I at least walk you out of the church?”
Joan sighed. This dude was nothing, but persistent. “Sure,” she said.