Bender (Vegas Venom Book 4)
Bender: Chapter 22

I cannot imagine what the Lamborghini commercial will look like when it is done. It was fun to film, but how will it sell cars?

I guess I am going to find out because, to my surprise, Lamborghini arranges a viewing party for the commercial. When I find out that it will be held in the Mona Lisa, my heart begins to race. Why did Dante agree to host a party like this in his hotel if he is not going to take me back? Why does he take such pleasure in toying with people?

Despite the valiant efforts of many people, I only have fifteen days left on my visa. Time is almost up, and I have nowhere else to turn. I would beg Dante on my knees if it would mean a second chance, but maybe it will not come to that. I feel much too calm for the blow that my boss delivered to me a few short weeks ago. Perhaps I am resigned since I am a man who has always surrendered to the truth.

The night of the party, I go back to the house I share with Cash. All of the things I use every day are at Madison’s place, but many things are still in my room: my nice clothes, my hockey equipment, all of my team gear… it is waiting for me in the house when I return. Seeing it all there, hung on racks and organized in the dresser drawers, is like being slammed into the boards by an opposing team member. When I came to America, I brought almost nothing with me. What will I take back? I don’t want to leave it, but what is the point in saving it? I will not be a player anymore, just another fan, and I do not know if I can bring myself to watch the games.

Or maybe I will, if only so that I can watch my friends succeed without me. I must support them now just as they have supported me.

“Hey, there, Rossi.” I did not hear Cash come in, but when I turn to the door, he is leaning against the jamb. “Is everything okay?”

“I came for one of my suits. Will you be at the party tonight?” I close the drawer and reach for the garment bag that holds my nicest Armani. “To celebrate my commercial?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He watches me for a minute, taking my measure. He has never been too friendly with me, or with the rest of the guys, either. It is not like he is mean, he is just reserved and unhurried. The way he talked to me when I lived here, I would have assumed that he would be glad to be rid of me and have the place to himself again, but he seems almost disappointed.

“How are you, mio amico?” I ask.

He squashes one side of his face with the palm of his hand. “It’s been quiet.”

I tilt my head, heartened he has not denied the state of our friendship for once. “I think this is a good thing?”

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe too quiet,” he admits. “We miss you.”

In spite of everything, I feel the smile overtaking my face. “Cash Denaro, I did not know that you cared.”

“I said we,” he grunts. “All of us. Latham, Noah, Anders… probably even Oliver.” He takes a deep breath, as though I am forcing him to do something very painful. “And me, too. You happy now?”

“I am happy to know that you do not hate me.” I sink down onto the edge of the bed, trying to imagine who will replace me. Will the new member of the Venom move in here, too? Or will Cash finally live all alone in this huge place?

“You’re not hateable,” he complains. “I tried. I definitely failed. You’re good people, Rossi. And I’ve never known a player who worked as hard as you did to make it. No matter what happens in the end, don’t ever forget that. Whether you stay, whether you go, you have the right to be proud of what you accomplished here.”

I pick at the zipper of my garment bag. “You know, Cash Denaro, we do this same thing in Italy, too. We call it machismo, to pretend that you are so strong and tough that you do not need anyone. We tell ourselves that this is a good thing, but it makes things very lonely.”

Cash glowers at me. “Your skis, Rossi. Remember?”

“How could I forget?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes and backs away from the door. “See you tonight.”

With one last longing glance at a place where I felt safe with a man I consider my friend, I take my nicest suit and my favorite dress shoes, and I go.

* * *

When I arrive at her apartment to pick her up, Madison, as always, looks incredible. She wears a black dress with a short skirt, deep cleavage, and three-quarter-length sleeves. Her hair falls in soft curls around her face and down her back. Along with her pristine makeup, she presents quite the picture. It is so stunning, I cannot look away from her.

“Maybe we should stay home tonight,” I suggest as I sidle up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist so I can pull her close and inhale her sweet scent.

“We’re not skipping your own party, sweetie. Now help me with the zipper and let me get my shoes.”

We walk back out to the taxi I hired and slip inside, remaining silent through the short ride. Once we get dropped off at the front door, I take her hand in mine. The Mona Lisa is stunning, of course, but Dante’s hotel is a little over the top just like the man himself. I like the rich aquatic blues of the Armónico’s lobby better than all the fake gilding and opulent off-whites of this one. Still, I cannot help hoping that the venue signals a change of heart, and I only become more optimistic as we step into the ballroom and I spot Dante sitting in the corner, tapping away on his phone, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, every element of his body language telegraphing his boredom. Julie sits beside him, and she offers me a tense smile in greeting.

I think she is rooting for me. I think everybody is rooting for me but Dante, and he is the man who pulls the strings and signs the checks.

I introduce Madison to Yolanda, who of course, takes to her instantly. I think it is impossible not to fall in love with Madison, although I may be biased in this assessment. We sip cocktails, nibble on appetizers, and make chit-chat until someone flashes the lights. Then everyone shuffles over to the chairs, arranged to face the projector screen. There are more people here than I thought there would be, including members of the press and some people I know by sight but not by name. Presumably, these are skybox members. What does it mean that they are here tonight?

I think Madison can sense how excited I am because she sticks close to my side as we take our seats in the front row. Yolanda gets up to say a few words about the new direction of Lamborghini’s advertising, and then they play the ad.

I thought it would be short, the kind of thirty-second spot that gets played on television, but the ad is a little over two minutes long. It is also very funny—much funnier than I would have imagined when we were filming. It is almost like a little movie which, according to Yolanda’s explanation, is part of the new strategy. When drivers can see themselves inside the car, they become more serious about buying it.

It is such a small thing, especially considering how much money they paid me, but it makes me smile. I find myself looking around the room to see what other people think. Only Dante does not smile. He stares at the screen with a blank expression as it plays, his lips in a thin straight line as if he’s angry about something.

When the ad ends, people give me a standing ovation, especially my Venom teammates. Cash stomps his feet on the floor, and Latham puts two fingers in his mouth to whistle so loud my ears ring.

Yolanda nods to me, which is my cue. It is my turn to say something, so I get out of my chair and stand in front of the mic. Everybody’s smiling faces give me so much hope. This is not the end. I refuse to give up.

I belong here.

With my team who have become my brothers. With my amore.

I clear my throat and lean close to the mic, which screeches when I start to speak. I rock back on my heels and try again. “Is this better?”

“Yes!” Anders calls from the audience.

I grip the edge of the little podium. “Ah, very good. Some of you know, I did not grow up with family. When I was five, my parents were killed in an accident and my nono and nonna were already under the stones. The authorities could find no other relatives. With no one left to care for me, I was placed in an orphanage. And there… let me say… it is not so gentile. While there, I learned hockey and that made me strong. It made it possible for me to survive. I left as soon as I could. And I made money however I was able. Then I got to play hockey in the IHL, and I loved it very much, but something was still missing. Oh, and did I tell you about the time I milked a bull?”

In the front row, Madison’s eyebrows approach her hairline, and she slices across her throat in a gesture that even I understand. One of the reporters raises a hand, but the person next to her pushes it back down and shakes his head frantically.

“I will tell this story some other time, maybe. The point I make is that for the first time, I feel like I have a family. It is my team, the Venom, that have been here for me. You tease me. You teach me. You help me. I love all of you as if we share the same blood. Thank you for trying to save me. The person I was before I met you could not have made this commercial, and not just because my English was so very bad at first.” As emotion washes over me in waves, my voice quavers. “The biggest difference between Italia and America for me is not in the food or the streets or the cars. It is that my heart is here. And so, grazie.” I bow my head and back away from the podium.

A scattering of polite, confused applause follows my departure, although my team hoots and hollers again, and Madison swipes at the corners of her eyes. I do not want to make her cry again. Her smile brings me strength, and we have been crying too much lately as the time for me to leave draws near.

Yolanda starts to move toward the podium again, but before she can, Dante gets to his feet and strides over to the mic. Judging by Yolanda’s expression, this was not part of the plan, but Dante ignores her confusion as he takes the mic first. There is no squealing for him, of course. He would never make such a simple mistake.

“That was a very beautiful speech.” He manages to look bored even now, as his eyes roam over the crowd. “Of course, we have already made our official statements through the appropriate channels, but I wish to say this here: Marco Rossi, you have been a valuable player on the Vegas Venom. You are family to us, just as we are family to you.”

I squirm in my seat, gripping Madison’s hand. Here it comes, here it comes. At last, he will relent and take me back. Even if he sends me down the minors, that will buy me the time I need. Surely, he cannot be so heartless as to just put me on a plane…

“And we’re going to miss you,” he continues. “We wish you all the best in your career back in our homeland, and we look forward to seeing you play in the IHL again, where I’m sure you will excel just like you did before.” His eyes find mine, and they are cold and flat as a snake’s. “It is so good to see you branching out. I’m glad that we were able to part on good terms, and I look forward to seeing where else your talents lie.” He presses one hand to his chest, acknowledges the audience with a superior gaze, and withdraws.

Yolanda seems more than a little confused about what just happened, and it takes her a moment to figure out how to circle back to the topic of Lamborghini after two speeches about the hockey team. I do not hear a word of what she says as she closes out the presentation to a round of applause. Soon enough, the crowd starts talking among themselves and begins to migrate to the food and drinks provided by the hotel, but I just sit in my chair staring straight ahead, numb with disbelief.

“What a major dickhead,” Latham growls. “I bet this party wasn’t Lamborghini’s idea in the first place. I bet Dante just wanted a public opportunity to make it look like he’s being supportive of Marco when the reality couldn’t be further from the truth. What the fuck is wrong with that man?”

Noah nods. “I heard that people are boycotting the Mona Lisa as part of the whole #SaveMarco movement, so he coerced Lamborghini into having this viewing party here. Apparently, he asked Julie to plaster it all over the Venom socials, so he could try to save face. Dude is pissed.”

Cash hooks a thumb in my direction. “Change your mind,” he glares at Dante and lowers his voice to a near-whisper, “you human stain.”

Anders looks as if smoke will start pouring out of his ears at any moment. “Nope. That’s not how he rolls. When the man has a bone to pick, he’ll stop at nothing. If he hires Marco back now, it’ll send a message that he can be pushed around. He’s the kind of idiot who would bite off his nose to spite his face.”

I am not sure what those words mean, but Madison strokes my arm as she addresses the guys. “So all of our pressuring maybe made things worse?”

“I don’t think it made things worse, per se,” Noah says with a sigh. “I think that once Dante made up his mind, that was it.”

Cash punches my shoulder lightly. “Refuse to fold.”

“Maybe your agent will figure something out,” Madison suggests. “If the other teams see how beloved you are, maybe someone will scoop you up. Even as a backup for someone on the injured reserve. It would at least buy us some time.”

I pretend not to notice the glances between my friends. They know what I have known for a long time, even if none of them will say it. No other team will sign me, not if they have seen the films. I am not competitive here. Not worthy of the NHL. I am deadweight, and nobody wants to carry me.

No matter where I go or what else becomes of me, my career in hockey is over.

The reality of the life I want with my amore and my brothers—of the future I never thought I deserved—descends upon me like a curtain at the end of my final act.

And then it closes.

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