“All right, all right, already, I was just trying to be polite. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful lady? Or is she a lady of the night – I mean, the kind that doesn’t use her real name?”
Antonio shouted, “How dare you speak about her like that.” He moved quickly behind the little man, then picked him up under his arms and carried him towards the bathroom.
“Sorry, dude, let me down. I didn’t mean anything. Sheesh!,” Vince said as he shook his legs and feet.
“Just shut your trap,” Antonio said, as his dropped Vince in front of the bathroom then shoved him inside.
“I’m so sorry about that,” Antonio said to Joan, who was trying not to laugh, at Antonio’s loss of temper.
They both turned to wait for Vince to come out of the bathroom. They heard the sounds of a toilet flushing, followed by running water. When the door finally came open, Vince came out, and wiped his wet hands on his pants.
Antonio shoved him to the front door.
“Nice to meet you, whoever you are,” Vince called over his shoulder. Then to Antonio, he said, “Look, man I have to talk to you.”
Antonio shoved his friend roughly into the hallway. He turned back to Joan. “I’ll talk to him downstairs. I’ll be back soon.”
“What’s taking you so long. I don’t have all night,” came Vince’s squeaky voice out in the hall. Antonio rolled his eyes, then went out, shutting the door behind him.
Joan realized that she was laughing at the absurdity of that bizarre and unexpected midnight visit and kept laughing until she felt her throat dry up. She needed more fluids.
When she got into the bathroom she took a few sips of water from the sink, then reached for her purse to find some lip balm. She paused and stared at her purse. It wasn’t where she’d remembered leaving it. It was on the center of the shelf below the counter, instead of on the right. Her breath quickened. Had that weasely friend of Antonio’s been in her purse?
She placed her purse on the counter and looked inside, letting out a breath of relief at the sight of her wallet inside. When she opened it, just to be sure, her heart sank.
Lissa had given her the family debit card with specific instructions to pick up a thousand in cash. Lissa wanted plenty of cash on hand to pay and tip all the drivers, caterers, and other helpers working on the wedding, and Joan had been making these daily maximum cash ATM withdrawal runs for the last week. She’d picked up the cash on her way to the AA meeting, and she’d intended to hand it over to her sister, so Lissa could put it into Julio’s safe.
But, then she’d found out about her mother, and had run into Antonio again, and she’d totally forgotten about the cash in her purse.
Antonio’s friend Vince must have dug through her purse while he was in the bathroom, and taken the money. There was no other explanation.
Joan’s first thought was how she could possibly explain the loss to her sister. Her second thought was that the bastard was still in the hotel talking to Antonio. He’d make him give it back.
She dug through her purse for her cell phone, then stopped when it occurred to her that she didn’t have Antonio’s number. She’d just had sex with Antonio all night, but they’d never exchanged phone numbers. How ironic was that?
Joan put on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and bolted out of the hotel room. If she was fast, she’d confront the little weasel before Antonio finished whatever business they had to discuss. Antonio wouldn’t let him get away with stealing from her. She knew he’d make the rat give back what he’d taken from her.
When the elevator door opened to the downstairs, Joan ran towards the lobby, looking high and low for her lover and his dirty rat friend. But, the lobby was quiet and empty. The two men she was seeking weren’t anywhere to be found. The only other person in sight was the night auditor standing behind the counter, doing some paperwork with his head down.
“Excuse me, Señor,” Joan said. “Did you see a large man and a little man talking in the lobby a few minutes ago? Did you see where they went?”
“Yeah, they left a while ago.”
“They left? Both of them?”
“Yep, drove off in a kick ass Maserati. I could hear the growl all the way in here.”
Joan felt her heart breaking, and her world colliding around her. Had Antonio been in on it? Had he had his way with her until she could barely see straight, taken her to places she’d forgotten existed, just so he could steal her money? No. That didn’t make sense – Antonio had to be a millionaire with all the money he earned playing soccer for AC Milan. No, there had to be another explanation. He just liked screwing people over. He was just a bastard. Damn it. She’d let him get to her again!
“Can I help you with something else?”
“Yes, can you call me a cab please?”
“Wait a minute, you wouldn’t be Señorita Joan, by any chance? No?”
“Yes, that’s me,” Joan said, her heart daring to hope that it had just been some terrible mix-up, an innocent mistake. It had felt like more than just sex, it had felt like he’d cared about her.
“Oh, good. The big guy, as you call him, he asked me to write you a note. I was just getting ready to bring it to your room.”
The desk clerk held out a sealed envelope of hotel stationary.
“I can tell you what it says, if you’d prefer,” he offered.
Joan could feel the heat of anger and humiliation rising in her cheeks, and up her neck.
“No,” She said, sharply, stopping the desk clerk who seemed overly eager to spill the contents of the Antonio’s note. She plucked the sealed envelope out of his hand and stuffed it into her purse, determined not to read it.
Whatever Antonio had come up with for an excuse this time wasn’t going to cut it.
She’d allowed it to happen again. She’d fallen for his attentions, the way he made her feel like she was not only wanted, but the only woman in the world and the only important thing in his life. Well, clearly that wasn’t the case. He’d done it to her again, tricked her into a state of complacency, made her feel safe and desired, only to dump her at the first shiny new object that came along. She’d just been robbed by his friend and Antonio had to run off with him for some reason? And he thought he could explain that behavior away in some fricken’ note?
That wasn’t going to happen.
“Don’t bother, just call me a cab.”
ANTONIO DROVE HIS CAR, following Vince’s directions, and tried not to think about what he’d just done. He’d walked out on Joan, left her alone in his hotel room after having her every way he could think of all night long, and all so he could gamble. What was wrong with him?
“Like I said, these people don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground, but they’ve got lots of money. I know with your mad skills you’ll be able to take them to the cleaners. That’s why I hunted you down, cause I heard you needed the money, buddy.”
That alarmed Antonio. Who was talking? The mob. His landlord? The owners of the clubs where he hadn’t been paying his tab? Maybe the dick that was beaten up before he could lend him money at hard, hard rates. It was hard to keep the tongues from wagging when a super-star soccer player bled through all his millions in one glorious gambling binge. The word was out. He was ruined. When the tabloids got hold of this, they’d be all over him.
But he couldn’t worry about that. He had bigger fish to fry. On Monday, he either came up with his next ten thousand dollar payment or they’d break his leg or worse. Even if they only twisted his ankle he’d be out of the next several games, and if word got back that his injuries were self-inflicted because he’d gotten messed up by the wrong people, people he’d allowed into his own damn life – they’d probably suspend him, launch an investigation, fine him up the yin yang. He’d not be able to get a job coaching soccer to the children of drug dealers in fricking Peru. He’d be blackballed from life. For sure, Joan wouldn’t want anything to do with him.
Thinking about Joan hit him hard.
“Watch it,” Vince said, “Slow down, you’re going to get us killed.”