Who's Laughing Now?

By Attilio Napoli

When Freddy wins Lotto, he leaves family and friends behind to discover his roots in Italy. He meets Carmen, a Spanish beauty, and they live a luxurious life in a rented villa until her ex-boyfriend intrudes. He forces Freddy to undertake a dubious delivery, which Freddy later learns is a fake drug transaction. Robbers steal the package from him and Ricardo threatens him harm unless he pays for the loss. Freddy escapes and two backpackers hide him from Ricardo. He spends the night in a backpacker hostel. The younger crowd makes him uncomfortable because he is out of his comfort zone and he regrets not using his wealth to find better accommodation.
When he leaves, he discovers a marina. A millionaire boat owner invites him to go sailing, and Freddy ends up overboard when he does not reciprocate the man’s advances. While drowning his sorrows, he befriends three men in a bar. They invite him to a party where two young women offer their services. Freddy does not participate in the orgy and regrets his abstinence in the morning. He travels to the next town and meets Marta. However, her jealous son scuttles the promise of a relationship by taking Freddy to a brothel. While he broods over his loss, Freddy falls into the hands of the law when he consorts with a questionable young woman. She invites him to stay with friends on a farm. He escapes from the commune when a ritual baptism points to cult activity.
Two men save him from rampaging football fans and befriend him, before they drug and kidnap him. They are working for Freddy’s wife. Under the threat of torture, he transfers the money as designated. After he concludes the transaction, his wife confronts him. She tells him she is setting up a new life with his best friend. Freddy returns home, but life is not the same after his experiences. He hibernates until, after a visit to the pub, he passes the lucky news agency and spots the sign for a major jackpot. He buys a ticket and thinks, you never know, do you?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Attilio Napoli
• Release date: Sep 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005658885

Attilio Napoli

After putting himself through the grind of attaining an Associate Diploma in Social Sciences, it is not surprising that Attilio (known as ‘Till’ to friends and family) writes about intriguing people and the life issues that affect them. He has also worked in people related jobs for most of his career and has witnessed first-hand the traits that make up individuals’ interesting characteristics.Attilio’s drug of choice is music. 'It’s true,' he says, music soothes the savage beast. He will listen to anything, depending on his mood. Along the way, he discovered the joys of travel, and he can’t get enough of it. His love for travel and music show in his breakout book ‘Tramps Like Us’ and he always finds a way to introduce an aspect of both in his works.Attilio commenced writing in the style he learned at school, and through his life experiences. But he realized he had more to learn. He is a self-starter and a hands-on learner, so he subscribed to several online writers’ sites and accessed writing tutorials. Learning the craft of creative writing whetted his imagination. His obsession now is turning out strong stories that show how troubled characters overcome turmoil in their lives. This is a theme that encompasses his work. When reading his stories, he hopes readers will identify a little of themselves in his characters.

Book preview

Chapter 1

What a fabulous arse. Freddy licked his lips, and his grin widened into a leer the longer he stared at its rounded symmetry. His eyes grew ravenous, and while he drooled, he pondered on how a narrow strip of material could separate two perfect cheeks so precisely. The woman he gawked at floated on her stomach, arms splayed out, and jet-black hair fanned across the water. With a simple manoeuvre, she rotated to float on her back as smoothly as a dolphin rolling in the sea. As if that wasn’t enough, she beguiled him further when her arms lethargically drifted against her body and she paddled her toenail-painted feet.

Carmen kept her eyes closed, but she smiled and her dazzling white teeth almost blinded him as the sun lit her face. He knew the sensual smirk was a sign she sensed him ogling the fullness of the firm breasts he man-handled and suckled with great joy the night before. How could he avoid staring? Was it his fault they stood out as prominently as they did? No, blame the water that overcame the constraints of a flimsy bikini top to make them weightless so that they floated like lifebuoys in a placid sea.

She told him she came from Spain, from somewhere in Andalucía, and his mind drifted to the mysticism that implied. His imagination transported him to a faraway land, and he gulped several times as he continued to admire her. Carmen was an undeniable tribute to her region. She displayed the sculpted beauty of the Moors, and he blessed her ancestors for leaving their legacy in that area all those centuries ago. He thanked them for the genes that endowed her with the mulatto skin; the black hair that reached down to her shoulder blades; the deep hazel eyes; and the long slender neck that cradled a stunning face.

When he closed his eyes, he imagined how a skilled artist might have looked up from his work and picked her out in a crowd. Choosing her as his model, he proceeded with extra care as he fashioned her magnificent characteristics. Freddy pictured the illusory artisan as he stood back to scrutinise his achievement. Then, after careful consideration, he perfected his masterpiece by applying the final flawless touches. He moulded the pointed chin and broad forehead and gave her face a heart-shaped appearance. The dream may not have been true, but, to Freddy, she represented an artist’s perfect creation. From the moment he set eyes on her, her exquisite features transfixed themselves into his brain. It might have been an immature reaction, but his mouth fell open as her beauty bewitched him.

That was not surprising because her face flaunted many attributes for him to love. It featured high rounded cheekbones, long eyelashes that framed almond-shaped eyes, and the sculpted eyebrows she tailored to follow the contours of her brow. All topped off by a nose that started out thin between the eyes and widened slightly at its tip. Just thinking about it caused him to reflect on how she looked gorgeous when the nostrils flared, either in anger, or in excitement. Below the nose, a bow-shaped mouth with plump brown lips she seldom covered with lipstick completed her allure.

Freddy sighed. He did not consider himself a dummy, so he realised Carmen’s overwhelming beauty contradicted his drab appearance. For a forty-six-year-old who used every excuse in the book not to exercise, his body was not fat. He attributed the blame for his compact figure in equal parts to the short tree-trunk legs, and his one hundred and sixty-seven centimetre height. Hence, the nickname his mates hung on him in high school - Chunky.

Never in his wildest dreams would he consider himself a good-looking rooster. His roundish face wore the scars of a war with teenage acne, and that was the reason he avoided shaving. So it became usual for him to sport a few days’ growth of facial hair to conceal the damage below. To make his features even less palatable, in childhood, his round brown eyes developed the habit of slitting to peer at whatever he observed. His eyesight was not great but, because of his vanity, he refused to wear spectacles at any cost.

Some things he could not hide, though, even if he wanted. One feature that stood out was the thin lips that planted a constant look of distaste on his face. Their appearance did not bother him, though. When he gazed in the mirror, he saw a smugness that he equated with mystery. Of more concern to him was the broad nose with wide nostrils. It appeared as if someone had gone to an inordinate amount of trouble to squash it on his dial. The notion wasn’t far from the truth because a brute once smashed it with a stiff-arm tackle in a schoolyard football game. He consoled himself with the fact that it gave his features a certain ruggedness. It became something that, in time, he accepted with a great deal of pride; a badge of honour that proved his masculinity.

In his youth, wavy jet-black hair crowned his head. He remembered how he constantly combed his fingers through it, and he ran a hand over his scalp to reassure himself that the full complement was still there. However, a growing line of grey had attached itself to its perimeter, and the offending hue was advancing on the rest, which had already lost its sheen. Many times, he considered dyeing the lot, but he never got around to it. Freddy winced because the comparisons flashed through his mind to remind him of their differences as his eyes absorbed the perfect specimen that was Carmen. He pursed his lips as he acknowledged how it pained him that the only feature he shared with her was his complexion. That was thanks to his southern Italian heritage.

His eyes fixed into a stare because Carmen’s athleticism as she climbed up the pool ladder in two smooth motions captivated him. She strode to the deckchair on long, lithe legs, leaving wet footprints in her wake. As she stooped to pick up a towel, she shook her head from side to side. Droplets of cool water sprayed him, while others fed the puddle that formed at her feet.

Ha, that was nice. You should have joined me.

Freddy smiled and raised the glass in his hand to show her he was busy drinking. In truth, he was an awkward swimmer and didn’t want to advertise the fact. Her statement came across as rhetorical, anyway. Carmen had already devoted herself to a thorough rub-down. As she spread the towel on the deckchair, Maria the housekeeper appeared with three cocktail glasses on a tray. Carmen took one for her and handed another to him before she sat and removed her bikini top. His gut clenched as her nipples stood out like mountain peaks. Oh, her nipples. They were the darkest he’d ever seen. They reminded him of the colour of over-ripe cherries, and he loved the way they hardened to stone at his touch.

This is the life. Freddy closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath to curb the hard-on that bulged in his shorts. He opened them to see Maria standing beside his deckchair, staring ahead while she waited patiently. While Carmen took her first sip, he drained his glass in a single gulp. He smacked his lips and reached to place the empty tumbler on the tray, his hand coming away with a full one. Earlier that afternoon, he had given up counting how many drinks he’d consumed, but it didn’t matter. Carmen never once objected to his drinking. In fact, she encouraged it. Even now, she peered at him over the rim of her glass with a glint in her eyes, as if to confirm his thoughts.

It was a stroke of luck coming to this place. When he went to Italy, his intention had been to discover his roots. Then he thought better of it. Why bother. He’d never had contact with his family in Italy, anyway. Perhaps it was best to leave things alone. Especially when he remembered he did not want anyone to know his whereabouts.

While the scotch martini left a warm trail down his throat, he congratulated himself on making the right decision. He had stumbled across Carmen at a cafe, and they hit it off immediately. Together, they found the villa on the Adriatic coast to rent. They were still there six days later, enjoying the finer things life might offer.

He had no delusions. Yes, the sex was incredible. However, he understood she would have no trouble finding someone better than him with which to play. It wasn’t his good looks, or his prowess in the cot, that kept her at his side. He snorted as he realised Carmen shared his bed solely because of the luxuries he afforded her. No matter how he looked at it, he could not curb the notion he had hired a high-class hooker to service his needs. He turned his head to gaze at her. The length of her body covered the deckchair, and he sucked in air when she raised a leg to scratch an itch. The movement oozed sensuality, and he developed an irritation of his own in his groin. Oh yes, he had made the right decision.

The sex was mind-blowing. The best he had ever experienced. He and Laura married young and their love-making improved with practise. He smirked at the memory because he reckoned he had refined his skills to reach a high level of accomplishment. But Carmen taught him much more. She gave him something extra that Laura never could, or would. If Carmen considered him inadequate, she did not mention it. Even though he estimated a probable fifteen year age gap between them, their other obvious differences did not seem to matter. Not since she learned he had come into a sizeable sum of money. He could do as he wanted, and she would accept it without question.

Freddy placed the empty glass on the sun-heated tiles. He then lay back with his arms nestled under his head. With a deep, satisfied sigh, he replayed the events that brought him to his present position. What would Laura say if she could see him now?

Chapter 2

Four months earlier, Freddy would not have imagined how that eventful day would end. Having the house to himself had not disappointed him. He was free to fart, scratch his balls and, if he chose to, spit in the sink. All the things that earned him a scowl from Laura, his wife of twenty-four years. He laughed aloud, even though there was no-one around to hear him. Laura had departed that morning on another pilgrimage interstate to pay homage to her mother. Her going left him to bask in the solitude for a couple of peaceful weeks, and he wasted no time taking advantage of her absence.

For two days running, he spent the afternoon at the local pub drinking and solving life’s problems with his mates. Beer did not provide the nourishment he needed, though. So, to satisfy his hunger on the first day, he splurged on a hamburger and hot chips for dinner. However, on the following and fateful night, he treated himself to an Asian microwave creation and a litre tub of ice-cream. Could life get any better than that?

He had been lying on the sofa when he turned his head to acknowledge the ding that told him he could now claim his meal. A sigh escaped him because the sound disturbed his slumber. He grunted as he made a show of rising and pulled a face as he grudgingly admitted the beers he’d drunk that afternoon caused the sluggishness that weighed him down. Before he opened the oven door, he picked up a tea-towel. He smirked in acknowledgement of his wisdom. Especially since he was alcohol-affected. He had burned his hand once before and his eye twinkled because he had learned his lesson.

With the steaming container in hand, he sat in front of the television. Then he remembered. A quick trip to the fridge to retrieve a beer, and he settled down to dig into his food. His addled brain would not let him concentrate on the events playing out on the screen. So, not long after he ate, he fell asleep.

If the phone had not been close to his ear, he would have slept through the melodic tone. Still, his mind was in a haze, as if a dense fog filled his head, and although the implement was near his hand, he scrambled blindly to find it. What the hell was Laura doing phoning him at that time? He blinked and stole a glance at the clock on the far wall. The hands showed it was only a little after nine, so he guessed he could forgive her.

He answered with a growled, Yep, but there was no reply.

After a prolonged pause, a female voice uttered, Mister Rizzo? The way she emphasised his name sounded as if she might have rung the wrong number.

Freddy baulked at her wary tone. He sat up as he said, Hmm, yes it is.

The voice at the other end brightened. Mr Rizzo, I have splendid news for you.

His face screwed into a mask that signified curiosity, and he glanced around as if others were there to witness his bemusement. He did not have to wait long to find out the importance of what she had to say.

It was almost impossible, but her excitement ratcheted up a few notches. She trilled, I hope you are sitting down because I’m from the Lotto office and I am pleased to inform you your numbers have come up.

Freddy’s jaw dropped and, as if in a swoon, he fell back on the lounge. He tried to make sense of what was happening, but the static that filled his head interfered with whatever else the woman said. It took him a moment to process the news and, in that state of dismay, he vaguely remembered buying a Lotto quick-pick ticket on his way home from the pub that afternoon.

How much have I won? He realised his stuttered question made him sound greedy, but it was the only sensible thing to ask.

The woman’s demeanour changed. She was all business now. Well, it appears you are the sole winner and the first prize is eleven million dollars. But, because you bought a systems ticket, there will be a bunch of minor prizes added to that amount.

He ran his hand back and forth over his scalp as he exhaled. Phew. How do I collect the money? I mean, what do I do now?

The giggle that came over the phone told him she probably experienced that bemused behaviour from winners all the time. You do not have to do a thing. The Lotto office will deposit your winnings into the account you supplied when you registered your ticket. This usually takes about two weeks. In the meantime, we ask that you come into our office so that one of our financial advisers can provide you with all the information you need regarding tax and privacy implications.

Freddy’s mind careened all over the place, but he found the means to jot down the details she gave him and arranged to meet with her the next day. When the call ended, he zombie-walked to the fridge and grabbed a beer. His walk back to the lounge had a bounce in it, as if he bounded on a trampoline, but as soon as he collapsed into the soft cushions, his brain jolted into action. He had important decisions to make.

His first instinct had been to telephone Laura or his friends, but he stopped himself. Did he really want them to know? Then he figured; no, not yet. Unbeknown to anyone, he had dreamed of a moment like this on many occasions when nothing seemed to go right and his mood plummeted. That is why he set up a bank account in his name months ago. He had toyed with the idea of fleeing from his dreary existence and taking off for a while. Give Laura a taste of what she put him through when she took off to her mother’s. He also wanted to remain anonymous. What he did with his money was up to him. He certainly did not need people hanging around him for handouts.

Stories of big winners saying winning a large sum of money would not change their lives flickered through his mind. But of course, that was crazy. He had always scoffed at the notion. How could he even imagine his life would remain the same? No, what he had now was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he would let no-one, or anything, stop him from taking it. No matter what others might think, it was time for him to indulge himself. He would go out into the world and make the most of his good fortune.

That decision should have been the end of his deliberations, yet he wriggled on the lounge like a sprung coil while he agonised over whether he was doing the right thing. The uncertainty messed with his head and he gnashed his teeth in frustration. Am I, or am I not, going to take this chance fate has delivered me? In his agitation, he jumped up with a start and strode to the fridge for another beer. On his way back to the lounge, he switched on the radio as he reckoned that would help ease his mind. It did the trick. Whether it was the music or the alcohol that infused his brain, his languid state now allowed him to put his thoughts in order.

For ages, he had fantasised about running away. He hungered to experience the finer things in life. The way movies and television depicted them. Wine, women, and song. Why shouldn’t he have the lot? The longer the notion crossed his mind, the more he embellished the possibilities. Piece by piece, he constructed a plan that might work and, as each step fell into place, his confidence grew that he had the balls to carry it out.

While he ruminated on the prospects of having it all, James Reyne’s tortured voice came over the radio. It continuously told him not to be so reckless. Fuck off, he thought. This is exactly the time for me to throw a little bit of caution to the wind. He would never get an opportunity like that again. What would Laura do? He knew the answer before he asked himself. She would divorce me and take off to enjoy a carefree existence. So why should he be any different?

He winced as he recalled how Laura often sneered at his lack of self-assuredness. She saw it as a weakness; a shortfall of his maturity. So he continuously lived his life on edge, as he feared her lashings of scorn. This time, he would change all that. He frowned because, once he arrived at the decision that would benefit him, it weighed heavily on his mind. But thinking things out helped him hatch a concrete plan.

The next morning, he telephoned Laura and told her he might go away with the boys for a few days. True to form, she agreed he should. Freddy scoffed because he knew she was glad to have him out of her hair a while longer. The knowledge of her devious tactic to gain time for herself strengthened his resolve. He puffed out his chest and headed for the Lotto office.

The information he received was useful, but nothing that changed his mind about what he would do. All he cared about was that an enormous amount of money would land in his bank account in two weeks, and that no-one had a clue about his change of fortune. He packed his bag with few clothes because he figured he would buy new, more stylish stuff, and he headed for the Gold Coast. Laura had not asked him where he and the boys were going, and he reasoned that was an excellent spot for him to hide.

Whilst there, he made all the arrangements and left for Italy four days after the money hit his bank account.

Chapter 3

Ah, the old country. Freddy sucked in a lungful of the heady atmosphere as he sipped a glass of expensive red wine. The café he chose on that occasion was like many that studded the lanes and streets he’d explored with gawking eyes. After three weeks, he strutted about town as if he had lived there all his life. Proprietors of the local bars and cafes even greeted him by name. He puffed out his chest when they did because he had purposely spread himself around the establishments in his quest to blend in with their culture.

However, his mind raced as he visualised other adventures that awaited him. Restlessness kept him constantly exploring tourist guides for other places of interest, and he realised it was time to move on. Rome had been a convenient stop, but there was more to see. Without making concrete plans, he decided Florence should be his next destination. Then he would head south to check out his roots.

Florence took longer to get out of his system than he imagined. He had based himself there and used it to explore the satellite tourist spots like Pisa and Siena. At length, he meandered through smaller centres of Tivoli and Assisi on his way down the countryside. He had been in Italy over three months before he arrived in the much larger metropolis of Naples. The city teemed with activity, and everything seemed too overwhelming for his liking. Added to which, he always looked over his shoulder because he had a habit of wandering into seedy lanes and alleys. The environment suffocated him and he became claustrophobic, so he travelled further south and Sorrento captured his heart.

That was where he met her. The blistering sun was beating off the pavement, so he had sought shelter under a large umbrella at a café. As he sipped his espresso, he noticed a gorgeous creature scanning the premises for a place to sit. He lifted the cup from his lips and caught her attention as he pointed to the vacant chair at his table.

She hesitated as she regarded him with a wary eye, but then she sashayed around tables and chairs to accept his invitation. With a touch of drama, she said, Grazie. You have saved my life. I needed to escape this suffocating heat. She fanned herself with the menu she picked up, but she did not order from it. When the waiter stood beside her, she ordered an aranciata with plenty of ice. Her beauty must have inspired the man, because he delivered her drink in the blink of an eye.

As soon as he placed the glass on the table, she grabbed it and held it against her throat. She let out an exaggerated, Ahh, and it was the sexiest exclamation Freddy could imagine. He then watched as her grateful smile melted the young man’s legs. Or at least it looked that way, because Freddy was sure he saw the besotted lad wobble as he walked away.

He allowed her to drink in silence. Held spellbound by the sensual manner in which she poised the glass on her lips as she swallowed the contents. He dared not speak in case he broke the trance and, by the time she uttered her next words, his infatuation with her was complete.

Are you a local?

The way she cast glances at the other patrons as she asked told him she was only making polite conversation. He didn’t know why he said it, but perhaps it was to gain her attention. No. I came into an unexpected amount of money recently and am enjoying the high life for a while.