Page 120 of Fake Love

“You called a fucking dealer tonight. If he wasn’t one of my men and I hadn’t told him not to sell to you, you would probably be high as a fucking kite in an alley somewhere. Is that your way of handling those thoughts?”

I look at the man talking to me.

My connection to him started before I was even born. According to my mom, the sperm donor that walked out on us was part of the Falcone mafia family. The same family Dante took over a decade ago.

From what I know, Dante knew the would be father, even though he was younger than him. Throughout the years, checked in on Ma and me.

I didn’t remember meeting Dante until I was drafted by Chicago and even then our meetings were just friendly encounters.

Friendly enough that he would help me get into one of the best rehab facilities in the country.

I take another swig from the bottle before speaking. “Why do you care so much?”

Ever since Dante offered a helping hand to get me to rehab, I wondered if there was a why behind it.

Sure he knew my mom from before I was born and checked up on her, but I never understood why he would offer his help to me.

I was just another professional athlete to enter his club.

Why help me at all?

Dante is quiet for a few seconds, as if he’s thinking of the right words to say.

After a minute or two, he takes the bottle that I have in my hand and takes a drink.

“Your mom ever tell you how we met?” he says, handing the bottle back to me.

“Never.” I answer honestly.

Dante nods before continuing. “She used to be my babysitter. Every weekend from when she was fourteen to about nineteen, she was at my house. I remember playing games with her and watching movies we shouldn’t have. She always treated me as if I was her little brother or something. That’s how she met your father. He was at the house one weakened she was there and I guess they connected. Nora stopped babysitting after she had you. Being a kid, I thought that she was out living life with her new family, you know? I didn’t find out until years later that wasn’t the case. Once I was old enough, I kept tabs on her. Nora treated me like a little brother and I saw her as an older sister. I vowed to help her whenever I could and because your her son, you benefit from that.”

I always knew this man had a sweet spot for my mother, I just didn’t know how deep it went.

“Me getting you into that rehab facility in Utah and telling my men not to sell drugs to you has a lot to do with who your mother is. That’s why I fucking care.”

I can see a small bit of anger on his facial expression, but given the amount of alcohol that is flowing through my body at the moment, I could be wrong.

Dante waits for me to say something, but nothing comes to mind.

Eventually he starts speaking again.. “Look you started this because of her illness. You got clean because of her, so how about you stay clean for her. Just because you went to rehab and haven’t touched a speck of coke doesn’t mean that the recovery is over. Recovery is never over, but you can do the work to make it easier. So do the fucking work.”

Still no answer from me, I just take another drink, trying to take in every single word.

Dante is right. Of course he’s right.

I was selfish enough to think that just by going to rehab, that would be the end of everything, but its not.

Sure I was able to get my career back and show everyone in the baseball world that I’m still a worthy player.

But there is more to all of this.

If I overdose and die, the baseball community would be affected by it for a few days, maybe a few weeks, but they will move on.

My mother and Jen on the other hand, if something were to happen to me, it would be with them forever.

I walked out on the two most important women in my life earlier today, all to go searching for something that has a death sentence attached to it.

I need to do better. Be better.

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