| General Fiction posted August 9, 2015 | Chapters: |
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Anthony reflects on his life
A chapter in the book Anthony
The Life Of A Millionaire
by alexisleech
Anthony leant on the railing of his yacht, cigar in one hand, a glass of Prosecco in the other. It never failed to amuse him how they, the guests of tonight’s party, would jump at the chance to come on board, mix with the rich and famous, and claim to be one of his close friends. He had no illusions with regard to their sincerity. It was all part of the game people played when they believed their worth was confirmed by rubbing shoulders with the right people.
He looked over at the shore where the waterside properties boasted varying degrees of opulence. Some maintained a respectable sense of good taste, the manicured lawns dark, only the odd light gleaming from a window to prove someone was at home. Others, mostly those of the nouveau riche, boasted a more obvious extravagance, their money spent in the need to impress. Even at one in the morning, their swimming pools were illuminated and confirmed that the owners had no concern regarding the cost of electricity. It almost gave the impression that their bank balances were as endless as the cascading water that lapped over the edge of their pools.
Anthony took a final draw from his half-smoked cigar before flicking it into the dark water below him. He really should think of giving up, but the fact he still smoked when many around him disapproved, appealed to his sense of individuality. He had never conformed to social dictates whether they made sense or not. When people set foot into his world, they did so on his terms. If they had a problem with someone who smoked, they never voiced it—yet another sign of the times when smoking marijuana was acceptable but a cigarette or cigar wasn’t. He didn’t doubt a couple of them would indulge in that experience before the night was over.
The twenty plus guests were a fairly interesting mix this evening. He always invited a wild card, someone who had little money but aspired to this way of life. They invariably made the evening more exciting, and tonight was no exception. Charlotte, the curvaceous, blonde hooker who'd introduced herself at the casino the week before, was chatting to Hugh, one of the single guests. As her full breasts strained against the confines of her basque-style top, Anthony could see Hugh, and most of the other nearby male guests, almost dribbling with excitement.
Yes, life, if having copious amounts of money was all you aspired to, was good. His humble beginnings had not only indoctrinated a need to survive, but a need to survive with all the accoutrements of wealth. The various properties he owned meant that not only could he live well, but so could his ex-wife and two children. His payoff was being able to visit them whenever he wanted, lavish some gifts, and then return to his bachelor life guilt-free. He loved his children, but not in the way a father who shared their daily lives did. Their mother did the only thing he asked of them in return for a comfortable life. She encouraged their children to show him love and respect in a way that made Anthony content. Should that change in the future, he didn’t doubt money would return the equilibrium, but so far so good. That problem hadn’t arisen yet.
‘Anthony, how are you doing?’ his friend, Stephano, asked when he came over to join him.
Anthony did his usual and, after gripping his hand, embraced Stephano with the camaraderie he reserved for an old friend.
‘I’m good. How about you?’
Stephano hesitated for a moment, his embarrassment obvious. ‘I’m in trouble, Anthony, and I need your help. Marco is threatening to cut my balls off if I don’t pay him the twenty grand I owe him by the end of next week. I can sort it out at the end of the month, but I'm potless until then.’
Anthony let out a slow breath before looking back at Stephano. 'How come you owe him so much?’
Stephano hung his head. ‘You of all people know how it goes, Anthony. I made the mistake of going to one of his private rooms at the club. I was winning, hands down, and then I not only lost the thirty grand I was playing with but another twenty on top. He covered me, but it was downhill after that. It was as though I was cursed.’
Anthony hesitated before he answered. He knew how crooked Marco’s private gambling rooms were, God knows, he had been there himself. The only difference was, he had sussed it out a long time ago. The good news was, Marco owed him a favour.
‘I’ll speak to him, but I'm disappointed in you, Stephano. If you can’t afford to play, then don’t. The only way you can take on the big boys is if you have the money to back it up.’
Stephano looked suitably chastised and grabbed Anthony’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I promise to change, Anthony. I just made an error of judgement. It won’t happen again.’
Anthony didn’t doubt that it would. The main difference between him and Stephano was the fact he had gambled with the best, and luck didn’t come into it. It needed a cool head and an understanding of the odds to amass the fortune he had by playing poker. Without that knowledge, it was a mug's game.
‘Consider it sorted,’ he assured Stephano. ‘I’ll speak to Marco tomorrow.’
Anthony put an arm around Stephano’s shoulder and guided him back to the body of guests who were indulging in all that was on offer on the deck of his yacht. His few moments of private reverie were over, his need to mingle necessary.
He rubbed shoulders as a good host does, but then he stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Without doubt one of the most beautiful women to have set foot on his yacht, Alisha, a long haired brunette with a face and figure to die for, locked eyes with him whilst making polite conversation with the group surrounding her and her husband.
Anthony leant on the railing of his yacht, cigar in one hand, a glass of Prosecco in the other. It never failed to amuse him how they, the guests of tonight’s party, would jump at the chance to come on board, mix with the rich and famous, and claim to be one of his close friends. He had no illusions with regard to their sincerity. It was all part of the game people played when they believed their worth was confirmed by rubbing shoulders with the right people.
He looked over at the shore where the waterside properties boasted varying degrees of opulence. Some maintained a respectable sense of good taste, the manicured lawns dark, only the odd light gleaming from a window to prove someone was at home. Others, mostly those of the nouveau riche, boasted a more obvious extravagance, their money spent in the need to impress. Even at one in the morning, their swimming pools were illuminated and confirmed that the owners had no concern regarding the cost of electricity. It almost gave the impression that their bank balances were as endless as the cascading water that lapped over the edge of their pools.
Anthony took a final draw from his half-smoked cigar before flicking it into the dark water below him. He really should think of giving up, but the fact he still smoked when many around him disapproved, appealed to his sense of individuality. He had never conformed to social dictates whether they made sense or not. When people set foot into his world, they did so on his terms. If they had a problem with someone who smoked, they never voiced it—yet another sign of the times when smoking marijuana was acceptable but a cigarette or cigar wasn’t. He didn’t doubt a couple of them would indulge in that experience before the night was over.
The twenty plus guests were a fairly interesting mix this evening. He always invited a wild card, someone who had little money but aspired to this way of life. They invariably made the evening more exciting, and tonight was no exception. Charlotte, the curvaceous, blonde hooker who'd introduced herself at the casino the week before, was chatting to Hugh, one of the single guests. As her full breasts strained against the confines of her basque-style top, Anthony could see Hugh, and most of the other nearby male guests, almost dribbling with excitement.
Yes, life, if having copious amounts of money was all you aspired to, was good. His humble beginnings had not only indoctrinated a need to survive, but a need to survive with all the accoutrements of wealth. The various properties he owned meant that not only could he live well, but so could his ex-wife and two children. His payoff was being able to visit them whenever he wanted, lavish some gifts, and then return to his bachelor life guilt-free. He loved his children, but not in the way a father who shared their daily lives did. Their mother did the only thing he asked of them in return for a comfortable life. She encouraged their children to show him love and respect in a way that made Anthony content. Should that change in the future, he didn’t doubt money would return the equilibrium, but so far so good. That problem hadn’t arisen yet.
‘Anthony, how are you doing?’ his friend, Stephano, asked when he came over to join him.
Anthony did his usual and, after gripping his hand, embraced Stephano with the camaraderie he reserved for an old friend.
‘I’m good. How about you?’
Stephano hesitated for a moment, his embarrassment obvious. ‘I’m in trouble, Anthony, and I need your help. Marco is threatening to cut my balls off if I don’t pay him the twenty grand I owe him by the end of next week. I can sort it out at the end of the month, but I'm potless until then.’
Anthony let out a slow breath before looking back at Stephano. 'How come you owe him so much?’
Stephano hung his head. ‘You of all people know how it goes, Anthony. I made the mistake of going to one of his private rooms at the club. I was winning, hands down, and then I not only lost the thirty grand I was playing with but another twenty on top. He covered me, but it was downhill after that. It was as though I was cursed.’
Anthony hesitated before he answered. He knew how crooked Marco’s private gambling rooms were, God knows, he had been there himself. The only difference was, he had sussed it out a long time ago. The good news was, Marco owed him a favour.
‘I’ll speak to him, but I'm disappointed in you, Stephano. If you can’t afford to play, then don’t. The only way you can take on the big boys is if you have the money to back it up.’
Stephano looked suitably chastised and grabbed Anthony’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘I promise to change, Anthony. I just made an error of judgement. It won’t happen again.’
Anthony didn’t doubt that it would. The main difference between him and Stephano was the fact he had gambled with the best, and luck didn’t come into it. It needed a cool head and an understanding of the odds to amass the fortune he had by playing poker. Without that knowledge, it was a mug's game.
‘Consider it sorted,’ he assured Stephano. ‘I’ll speak to Marco tomorrow.’
Anthony put an arm around Stephano’s shoulder and guided him back to the body of guests who were indulging in all that was on offer on the deck of his yacht. His few moments of private reverie were over, his need to mingle necessary.
He rubbed shoulders as a good host does, but then he stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Without doubt one of the most beautiful women to have set foot on his yacht, Alisha, a long haired brunette with a face and figure to die for, locked eyes with him whilst making polite conversation with the group surrounding her and her husband.
 Recognized |
Apologies to those following 'A new beginning,' but it is on hold for the moment. Be assured Samantha, Igor and the three girls will be back soon!
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