THE PRESENT

Eighteen years later.  

At the entrance of the grand Goldenville Hotel, Anthony McCarthy is seen moving the motorized mop to and fro on the golden, glassy, glazed floor of the exquisite hotel.  

He seemed to be drawn deeply away from his work as he was stuck in a spot moving, but in his head it was way off until he heard a bang on his head. "Poor boy—why didn’t you help me at the hall today? You knew we were going to meet, right?"

His eye narrowed and his eyebrows came together in a tight furrow as he gripped the mop in anger as he gazed on Damien Fernandez, his all-time rich bully and classmate, dressed in a basketball jersey and oozing sweat as he was surrounded by his minions that follow him about.

 "What? Will you beat me up at my uncle’s hotel? He’s feeding you, man!"  Damien tossed the ball on his face and hit him on the chest as he kicked the motorized mop off his grip.  

Anthonio snorted as he said, "I am in a bad mood today; don’t try anything stupid, Damien, and Don Richard is not your uncle; he’s just a mere business partner."

 "Last time I checked, you were not to talk back at me. Poor Antonio, that same business partner, is the reason we attend the same university. Want me to pull you out? Throw a fist, weakling!"  Damien gripped him by the neatly ticked white shirt doused with a black pant that fitted his height.  

"Stop! Don’t fight him, Anthony! I’ll call security." A familiar voice shrouded him and held him back from engaging in a brawl with Damien, who was ready to cause a scene that would obviously implicate him.

He was a mere scholarship student graced by luck, as his name consistently found its way into the lucky raffle winners every year. They all attended the best school in Midline, and he was just days away from graduating from business school. One more suspension, and he would be kicked out, regardless.  

"Fun killer, birds of a feather huh, let’s go guys!"  Damien throbbed, masking out as he and his friends soiled the floor, which Anthony had spent hours cleaning diligently.  

"Are you out of your mind? You have survived his bully and that of our other mates since elementary school; we are just a few days away from graduating from university, and you want to throw it all away? Regardless of who is right, we will be the ones to suffer. Why can’t you just endure? "  he asked him, facing him with a hung-in disappointed look.  

Anthonio sighed as he took up the mop to start all over again.  "I couldn’t control my anger; you’re right, I should have ignored him; something happened; it’s grandma; she’s sick again; I don’t know what to do—it’s killing me."

Teardrops found Anthonio’s eyes as he resumed cleaning tiredly.  "We would work things out; as long as Santiago, your best buddy, is here, it’ll be easy, okay? We should go see her when we’re done," he said, smacking him on the shoulder playfully as they both cleaned up the walkaway.  

"I don’t know if you’ll like my idea, but I have a gig; it’s not much, but you’ll definitely take grandma to the hospital with the pay." Santiago paused his cleaning and arched over the wall in front of Anthonio.  

"I’ll do anything to save her; she’s all I have left, as long as I am not committing murder," he laughed, punching Santiago out of his way.  

"We’re not; we’ll be bodyguards to a wealthy family. Look, we have the body and height; we should put them to use." Santiago immersed his grip on Anthonio’s bulging muscle.

"That doesn’t sound risky; what time? It’s almost 8:00 p.m. that bastard wasted my time and soiled my schedule." he frowned vilely.

Santiago leaned closer and whispered, dropping the bombshell. "I heard it’s very risky; they are elites, and we might need a gun; more-so, the age limit is thirty."

"Damn—"  Antonio packed up with a long face. His grandmother has been sick for days, and she is old. Stalling her treatments will only put her in more danger. "We should do it! Do you have any ideas to bypass the age checks?" he asked him lightly as they proceeded to the dressing room for the menial workers.  

"Yes, stolen IDs with the perfect age; it’s me, Santiago; I always get things done," he waltzed happily as he spoke.   

Anthonio took off his shirt, showing his well-built, muscled, deciphered body in the mirror as he changed into his casual wear.  "I hope you don’t get me in trouble someday, Santiago. What time is it?"    

Santiago chuckled weirdly and said, "The bad news is, we have no guns, and this job is in ten minutes."

A necklace fell off Anthonio’s hands as he growled. "What! I don’t think I want to play with guns; it’ll just add to my grandmother’s illness. You know how she gets over such things. I am out."

Santiago blocked him in a bid to convince him, but his phone rang out of the blue.  "Helloo—yes, this is Anthonio McCarthy. How can I help you?"

Anthonio’s hand dropped tiredly on his smartphone as he kneeled on the floor and responded. "Okay—give me a few hours, and I will be there with the money. Thank you."

Streaks of sweat popped out of his face caused by the brawl coupled with the emergency call. He tapped it with a towel and replied soundly. "Guns or not, I am in; let’s go!"  

Santiago jumped up in the air. "Now you’re talking. What happened? Let’s talk on the road," he said, carrying their bags as they checked out of the hotel after collecting their pay for the day.

 "Let’s use your bike; I don’t have fuel in mine," Santiago suggested. They mounted and got out off at the exquisite Rochester mansion. It belonged to the business partner Damien bragged powerfully about.  Their desperate job tonight hung on their future as students at the university if they got caught.

"It’s so great; I really wish I came out of such a house." Santiago marveled at the great beauty the Rochester mansion beheld. It had diamond-themed chandeliers that lit the whole building ranched in different sectors.  

"Whatever, I don’t really care; I am doing this for grandma; someone already took her to the hospital; she collapsed at the market," Anthonio geared, as his eyes dropped unhappily, not interested in whatever glamour the Rochester mansion displayed that got Santiago stuck.

"Get ready! The boss is almost here!"  A husky, masked man yelled at them.  He probably guessed right that they were here for the job. The voice came just as Anthonio was beginning to have second thoughts.  They got inside the mansion and were arrayed at the gate side.  Two black limousines strode out of the building, and they were assigned to follow them.

Santiago walked a few steps closer to Anthonio and peered over his shoulder.  "Chill out, it’s easy, just a walk with the limousine; these rich people waste money a lot!"  

The limousines stopped outside the gate, and two men dressed richly sensed the estimation of their attire and accessories they had on them. "That watch is a Richard Mille; it would pay off all your grandmother’s hospital bill and give you the life you want, just a watch," Santiago nudged jovially, and Anthonio struck him. "Stop it; we can talk after."

The two men shook hands and walked towards Anthonio and the other guards beside him. Their talk seemed very important and discreet for it to be going on at night. Anthonio was getting anxious.  His heart was with his grandmother, and he couldn't wait for the whole thing to end.  

"Go get my daughter in the car!" One of the men pointed at Anthonio. His legs were frozen and heavier than usual as he walked to the limousine and opened the door. He set his eyes on one of the prettiest women his golden eyeballs had ever beheld.  

"Hi—i—am—" He stuttered, jaws dropping, as his eyes gazed at her bob-cut blonde wig that beautified her long, pretty face graced with her emerald eyes.  

"Whatever, get me out of here," she responded rudely, giving him her hand. He walked her back to the men, who were discussing seriously.  A bike from nowhere double-crossed her and Anthonio, and he gripped her protectively by his side, drawing himself closer to the danger as he protected her.  

"Shoot them!" The lead guard thundered, and it began raining bullets on the men on bikes. It was a dreadful sight for Anthonio, but he still held on to the girl. Her pretty face appeared traumatized, and he lifted her weightlessly in his hands and brought her closer to the mansion in safety.  

"Who are you, young man?" The lead guard asked, as he wasn't allowed near the girl’s father. Still grasping his strength, he breathed, "Anth—"

"His name is Briggs-Sanders." Santiago cut in to save them from him, blowing off their cover as they made use of fake IDs.

"Come with me; the president wants to meet with you!" he cored angrily. Jealousy was written on his face. "No—please, I just want my pay for the night and get out of here," Antohnio pleaded, holding his hands in a brace.  

Santiago slapped him on the shoulders.  "Sorry, sir, he’s coming,"  he said, pushing him inside the mansion.  "Don’t be stupid; this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The boss wants to thank you for saving his daughter. We could get killed if you do anything foolish, okay?"

Santiago warned him and pushed him forward as he scrambled in front of the boss.  He recognized him immediately as Damien's father. He heaved a fatigued sigh: "I don't want to get involved with this family. We faked our IDs, and they're reeking of trouble."

"Thank you, young man; you look so familiar; regardless, I love what you did, and I have a proposal for you; meet me tomorrow morning." He flung his business card at his face rudely instead of gluing it to his already stiff, forward hand. Anthonio clenched his fists and swallowed his pride as he bent down to pick up the card. He set his eyes on the pretty girl once more and let out a mild smile through his lips, but she wasn't looking at him.

"500 dollars for just one night! Damn!—" Santiago floored happily as they departed for their house on Anthonios’ motorcycle. He was silent all through the ride back home. The incident at Rochester’s mansion kept replaying in his head.  

"I know you, buddy; tell me what’s wrong? What did the rich man say? How much did he give you? Give me a cut!" Santiago bombarded him with questions. "Hey say something, and why did you take that route? Ain't we going home?" He growled loudly, smacking Anthonio on the back.  

"I am going to the hospital," Anthonio voiced sadly as he increased the speed. He arrived very late, and his grandma was already fast asleep. He went to see the nurses in charge of the emergency ward that night.  

"Good day, please. I am here for Bridget McCarthy; she was wheeled in a few hours ago," he uttered courteously with a tinge of anxiety in his tone. The nurse rolled her eyes and peered at him debasingly with disdain.

"Do you have the money ready for her surgery? Bet you don't," she scoffed as she flipped the pages of the book before her. Anthonio’s eyes were gazed at with anger, ready to be poured out, until Santiago cut in again. "No—" he whispered.  

"What surgery? She only needs a few meds, and she’ll go home with me here!" He tossed the 500 dollars at the nurse. She held back with a dark stare and looked at him again.

"Okay—seems you didn’t get the update; this will only cover the few expenses that you’ve incurred overtime; her heart is weak; you should have known because you paid the consultancy fee to see a doctor; I’ll help you; she needs a heart surgery, so get your ass working," the nurse voiced with sarcasm in her words.  

Antonio’s world came crashing down at the brutal announcement of his grandmother's health. He shattered with an overwhelming sorrow. "Heart surgery? No—it can’t be; I don’t have such money!"