“And it’s not just that, I’m also lonely. I mean, until I saw Antonio I’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel wanted by a man.”
“Joan,” Lissa said sympathetically. “I thought you had a fling with Julio’s friend, what was his name?”
“Fernando, and no we never did anything other than make out a few times. He just didn’t do anything for me, so I never let it go any further.”
“You?” Lissa said, with disbelief.
“Yeah, me. I know, the slutty one... I said no to a meaningless romance.”
They both laughed.
“But, Antonio... man, I thought he was the real deal. I still don’t know why he left me.”
“He came to the house looking for you, you heard that, right? So, maybe it isn’t what you think.”
“I know, and I saw him again just a few hours ago.”
“Oh, really? How did that go? Did he explain himself?”
“I didn’t actually talk to him.”
“What?”
“I just saw him, but we didn’t speak.”
“Joan, what’s going on? Where did you see him?”
“I can’t tell you,” Joan said.
Lissa pulled herself out of the tub, and the thick mud dripped down her breasts. “Joan, if you can’t be honest with me then I’m not sure I can have you back, even for a few weeks.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you what I can.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Anthony was in a meeting for Gamblers Anonymous. But you can’t tell anyone, not even Julio. Do you swear?”
“Why not?”
“Because, think about it. Antonio is a sports figure. If the press got wind that he’s also a problem gambler it could play havoc with his career – it could ruin him.”
“I still think I should be able to tell Julio. He’d never tell the press, family is everything to him. He’s the one that has been lobbying me to give his godson a break.”
“Okay, you can tell Julio if you feel you must. But you have to make him promise that it goes no further.”
“I will.”
After the day at the spa, Joan was ready to resume her duties as the nanny and stay on for as long as it took to find a suitable replacement.
Lissa called Julio while Joan was still getting her hair done, and told her that Julio would be joining them for dinner away from the Torres house, where they could talk privately about how to help Antonio.
“You didn’t tell him anything specific yet, did you?”
“No, I was vague. To tell you the truth he seemed distracted by something, so he probably wouldn’t have heard me even if I had let something slip. But, I didn’t. Don’t worry. Anyhow, tell your hairdresser to wrap this up, we need to go. Julio’s sending his driver out to fetch us, and we need to be out on the curb in thirty minutes.”
The driver was a little late, which was good, because it gave Joan time to call the room and leave a message for her mother.
’Mom, thanks again for the wonderful spa day, Lissa and I enjoyed it very much. I hope your date with the policeman went well. I’ll be going out for dinner with Lissa and Julio, but I’ll be back before midnight to make sure you’re ready for your nanny duties starting at eight sharp tomorrow morning.’
Things were going to be all right, she hoped.
Chapter Twelve
ANTONIO WOKE UP SUDDENLY, gasping. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t. Was he blindfolded?
He winced as his fingertips touched his bruised and battered face. His eyes weren’t covered with a blindfold – they were swollen shut.
He stopped trying to force his eyes opened as his heart raced in his chest.
Where am I? What’s happened to me?
He tried to relax, taking a deep breath. He felt around with both hands. He was on his back on a hard surface, a road or street, not dirt. He reached out from his body on both sides and flinched as first one hand and then another bumped against something hard. A wall? A cold wall? Metal? His heart skidded.
Am I trapped in a metal box? A coffin? Have I been buried alive?
He reached up with both hands cautiously, not wanting to bang his hands on the ceiling, but even as he stretched his arms out fully he felt nothing but air and a slowly falling mist.
Mist?
Antonio forced his least swollen eye open, and let out a cry of relief as he saw the beam of a searchlight sweep through the sky. He hadn’t been locked in some container or buried alive. He was outside, at night, in a quiet, and secluded part of the city.
He needed to get a better look. He bit back a scream of pain as he forced himself to roll over, but he eventually managed to get on his hands and knees. He made an effort to stand, but it was too much. He could see better already. He was between two dumpsters in what looked like an alley behind a large building.
To his left, he saw a closed receiving bay and a short flight of stairs to a door. There was a dim light above the door, casting long, sinister shadows onto the wet pavement.
Antonio thought about getting up, going to the door, and seeing if he could get help, but then the door opened and a man stepped onto the stoop, descending the stairs. Antonio drew back, his heart thumping with fear. Was the man coming back to finish the job?
He peered around the corner of the dumpster and got a better look at the man. He was too frail and old looking to be responsible for his current condition. He was carrying an overfilled bag of trash, and coming right for him.
Just a janitor or a maintenance man of some kind.
Even if this man hadn’t been involved in his beating, he probably worked for the men who did.
Antonio drew back as the man came closer, and pressing his body against the dumpster and holding his breath, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. The metal lid squeaked as the man with the trash lifted it up. the bag of trash thudded into the dumpster and the h
eavy metal lid clanged shut.
Footsteps receded without hesitation, climbed up the steps, then the door closed and Antonio knew he needed to go.
Biting down an urge to cry out from the pain he staggered to his feet, holding onto the dumpster for support. He worked his way to the wall and stumbled towards the side of the building. He wanted to get out of the alley, back to civilization where other people might help him if his attackers came back.
The pain was too much. As soon as he rounded the end of the building and turned the corner he had to stop and catch his breath. He could already see a road, people, and cars driving by. He could hear voices and music. Suddenly he knew where he was.
The casino.
It all came back to him – in a dizzying rush—the thugs in his hotel, the missing money, the chase in the stairwell, finding Vince, watching him put all his winnings on red, watching helplessly as the ball landed on black and the casino swept away his money.
Then what? How had he gotten here, beaten up and tossed out like yesterday’s trash?
He remembered the blind rage, leaping towards Vince and the shock of being tazed. Casino security had stopped him. Then what?
Beaten him to a pulp while he was unconscious?
Indignation shot through Antonio.
He should call the police.
He should prosecute.
He should sue them!
He slumped to the ground. The casino had exacted their punishment for his misbehavior, but the Italians weren’t done with him. He hung his head.
He’d done this all to himself. He’d gambled away all his money like a fool. He owed money that he didn’t have, and yet he still gambled. What was wrong with him?
He had to find a way to stop gambling before it killed him, or got him killed.
He tasted salt on his tongue and realized he was crying.
His mouth began to move and he realized he was praying. “Please, God. Get me out of this. Help me, and I swear, I’ll never gamble again...”
A glimmer of hope stirred in his chest, as if God had responded.