“When I had just turned sixteen, my father sent me to one of his clubs to collect the money the manager owed him,” Antonio began. “I hated going to those clubs. The scent of alcohol and perfume made my eyes water and it was suffocating.”
Valerie listened to him with wide eyes and not interrupting. She realized how hard it was for him to tell her the story just by looking into his eyes.
“My eyes scanned the room, searching for the man I was looking for,” he said. “I found him then, the manager, laughing at the bar with a glass in hand, carefree. He hadn’t seen me yet. I approached him, ready to remind him of his debts.”
Antonio paused and wrinkled his forehead as if to recall the event scene by scene.
“The man asked me how old I was and who I was so I told him who my father was,” Antoni
