He wiped the fresh blood from his split lip as he took stock, patting his pockets. He still had his wallet. He opened it, relieved to feel the cash still inside. He felt a few other things, the folded invitation, the newcomer’s envelope from the GA meeting, but he couldn’t find his cell phone.
“Damn it!”
He was about to go back and look around the dumpsters for his cell phone when he heard men’s voices in the alley way.
He decided not to risk walking back to the dark and isolated place and headed instead towards the front of the casino. He saw people coming and going, a greeter, and a line of cabs waiting to take people away. Staying low, he hurried to the first cab and let himself into the back, startling the driver.
“Airport,” he said, keeping his head down. The engine started and the cab drove off. Antonio allowed himself to breathe.
He sat back and stretched his legs onto the seat, his head propped against the window.
The driver peered at him through his rear-view mirror and gasped as they drove under a street light, illuminating Antonio’s face.
“Holy mother, you should go to a hospital, not the airport.”
“No. No, hospital. I had a little fright, that’s all. I’m fine.”
He didn’t want to go to the airport, but the strategy had worked before so he’d said it without thinking. As the cabby drove, Antonio tried to think of where he wanted to go.
The hotel was out. The Italians would be looking for him there.
A hospital would be nice, but the doctors would call the police and then he’d have to explain what had happened. What would he do then? Rat on the Italians? Not if he wanted to stay alive.
He thought about asking the driver take him to the Torres house.
Then he thought about Joan Edwards.
She would look after him. She’d tend to his wounds.
His heart ached with a need to be with her, to feel her loving touch, to be taken care of by her. But, no. He didn’t deserve her help after driving her to drink.
If he cared for her at all, he’d leave her alone for her own good.
Even if he could promise never to hurt her again and she forgave him, what about her older sister? Lissa was furious with him, which made asking his godfather for help another unlikely choice.
He needed someone to help him.
Maybe, if he could talk to Julio...
But, how?
He didn’t have a phone, and if he went to the front door in the state he was in Lissa might just call the police on him.
Antonio went through his pockets again, hoping to find his cell phone. Instead, he pulled out the unopened GA packet and the wedding invitation. That was it!
“Driver, I’ve changed my mind. How much would it cost to take me here?” he asked.
The driver pulled over and looked at the invitation, then back at Antonio.
Antonio had never been to his godfather’s new country house, but he knew that the village was at least an hour out of the city. He opened his wallet and took out all the money. “Is this enough?”
The driver took the money, counted it, and nodded.
Antonio blew out his breath, sitting back as the driver turned the car around and headed towards the country.
“Can I help you sir?”
He must have fallen asleep because he’d arrived at the destination.
The door to his cab was open and a man was leaning in, giving Antonio a curious look. His jacket fell open, revealing a sidearm.
“Sir, this is private property. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“I have an invitation,” Antonio said, fumbling for it and presenting it to the man.
The man stepped away from the car.
“You are Antonio Ferraro?” he asked dubiously.
“Yes.”
“Do you have identification?”
“Si,” Antonio said and he handed over his passport.
“The guests aren’t supposed to stay here and the wedding isn’t until tomorrow. I’m sorry.”
“Please, call Julio Torres, he knows me. Tell him I got mugged. I need to stay here. I have no more money.”
“Please wait.”
Antonio sat back, and closed his eyes, praying godfather hadn’t decided to cut their ties and end his commitment to look out for him.
“Did he say you’re Antonio Ferraro? The soccer star?” Asked the driver.
Before he could answer, the security man reappeared. “Do I need to pay the driver?” he asked.
“No,” Antonio said. At the same time the driver responded with a resounding “Yes.”
“Which is it?” asked the security man.
“He was mugged, as you know. Since he’s a famous soccer player, I was willing to wait until later to get paid, but I’d rather have it now.”
“Excuse me, give me a minute,” Antonio whispered to the security man, who had helped him out of the car. He walked with determination to the driver’s side of the cab, leaning down as he spoke in a low but angry voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I paid you already.”
“Smile,” said the driver, clicking two quick pictures with his cell phone camera that flashed in Antonio’s face. “This will do,” he said gleefully.
Before Antonio could reach inside and take his phone away the cab driver gunned the engine and drove away, taking the incriminating pictures perfect for tabloids with him.
Antonio shook his head. Fanculo!
“Follow me,” said the security man, giving him a curious look.
Antonio followed him to an electric utility cart. “Get in.” He climbed into the passenger seat and held on to his sore ribs as the man drove him towards the side of the big house, then off through the vineyards.
He stopped in front of a cottage next to a building that looked like the winery, took out a ring of keys and opened the front door. He turned on the lights, then ushered Antonio inside.
“My name is Ruiz,” he said, handing Antonio a card that read ‘Armando Ruiz, Security’. There was a telephone number under his name. He took the card back, took a pen out a pocket and wrote down a second number. “This number is for the kitchen. If you want anything just call them and order it up. I’ll make sure the cook stays around another few hours.”
Antonio accepted the card again and felt his throat thicken with gratitude.
Ruiz continued. “Mr. Torres wanted me to tell you that a doctor will be arriving soon. Is there anything I can get you until then?”
“No, thank you This is more than I deserve.”
After Ruiz left, Antonio called the number on the back of the card and ordered food - soup and a sandwich. He also asked for beer and hoped that the doctor would bring pain pills. He sat gingerly down in a stuffed chair near the window and looked out into the night sky.
“Thank you,” he whispered to his God in the sky.
He’d prayed for help and, so far, God was coming through. But would he be able to stick to his part of the deal? How many times before had he sworn he would quit gambling? Would this time be any different?
Yes.
He wouldn’t try this time to stop on his own. He’d get help.
He took out the GA newcomers package and opened it up, finding the phone list.
He wanted to talk to Elbow Patches, and wished he could remember his name. He scanned the other names on the list and smiled when he saw Pablo R’s name. He remembered Pablo, the one who’d shared about his addiction to Vince’s vice, Roulette.
He called.
“Halo?”
“Hey, Pablo, it’s Antonio-I mean, Tony. From GA?” he said in English, hoping that would immediately place him in Pablo’s mind.
“Hi ya Tony, what’s shakin?’” Pablo said, trying out his best American English.
Antonio tried to laugh but his throat was too dry. His voice cracked with emotion as he tried to speak. He wasn’t used to asking people for help.
“I just wanted to talk...” he began, “To talk
to someone about how to stop gambling, and I couldn’t remember the name of the guy that ran the meeting. You know, the guy with the elbow patches on his jacket?”
Pablo was there for him, encouraging him to talk. He told him that the man he was referring to was named Ernesto and he conferenced him into the call.
The two men listened, encouraging him to tell them what was on his mind.
For the first time in a long time, Antonio didn’t make up lies or sugar coat the truth. He laid out in detail the sad facts of his recent days.
The three men spoke for over an hour, listening to Antonio tell his entire sad saga and giving him examples of their own exploits prior to getting a clue and putting an end to the self-destructive rat race of compulsive gambling.
A knock on his door made Antonio end his call, but he promised to call them both back.
He expected to see Ruiz and a doctor, but to his surprise, Julio Torres stood there.