Gabriel D'Angelo had the urge to grab at the chips that were being slowly taken away from him. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead, as he became aware of the voices at the blackjack table, and he could once again see the garish colored lights of the casino. A familiar feeling washed over him now, leaving him pale and dull-eyed, as he looked around, dazed. It was a feeling of complete worthlessness, and at that moment Gabriel wished he were dead. Loser! Loser! A voice in his head--which he recognized as his own--tormented him.
He brushed a hand through his close-cropped dark hair and stood up. Picking up his glass, he downed the last of his watery drink and made his way through the neon reds and blues of the casino Royale. The slot machines were chiming away merrily when he walked past them as cigarette smoke wafted into his nostrils. He hurried now, unable to spend one more minute in this place, and soon found himself standing on the pavement outside. Shading his eyes against the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, he made his way down the street.
Two weeks pay gone in less than six hours! Gabriel's mind reeled with the knowledge that he'd lost it all, again. His mind reeled with knowledge that he wasn't going to be able to pay his rent this month, that on top of having his car reposessed! He smiled bitterly as he wondered how much worse his luck could get.
He nervously shifted from foot to foot as he stood outside of a payphone and fished around in his suede jacket for some change, so he could call his friend Sam.
He didn't really expect to find any change though. He knew he'd spent every cent gambling, and besides, he knew Sam would be really angry when he found out.
He sat down heavily on the curb and put his chin in his hands, his sagging posture reeking of defeat.
His mind was racing now. He'd double-downed on that last hand. Why had he done that!? He cursed himself for his stupidity. If he had been more careful, maybe he would still be at the table on the way to at least breaking even!
He shook his head tiredly. It had been only an hour since he'd had a small winning streak, and he tried to piece together the events that had led to his downfall. Recrimination after recrimination echoed through his brain, as he tried to understand how he could've been so foolish. But there had been a moment there when he'd had supreme confidence in his ability, and then later he had to keep playing to win back what he'd lost.
Gabriel sat on the curb for an hour, completely motionless, as he tormented himself with what could have been. Finally he straightened his stiff limbs and stood up wearily. He'd have to tell Sam, there was no way around it. He watched as people passed by and seeing someone who looked friendly, he approached the older man, and asked if he could borrow a dollar.
"So what happened?" Sam asked, his husky voice sounding patient.
Gabriel looked over at his friend, climbed into the passenger seat, and then slammed the car door closed. As he buckled his seatbelt with shaking hands, he darted a look over at Sam. "Sorry, you had to come pick me up," he said quietly.
"That's not a problem," Sam replied. "What bothers me is WHERE I had to pick you up. Gabe, you promised me that you weren't going to gamble anymore."
Gabriel looked down at his jeans and sighed when he heard the disappointment in Sam's voice. The lie slipped out before he could stop it. "I wasn't gambling," he said quickly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"So, why were you on the Strip then?" Sam asked as he pulled the car out into the light, afternoon traffic.
Gabriel turned his Mocha-colored eyes to Sam, and watched him flip on the turn signal. As he watched Sam driving, with his cigarette dangling from his lips and his face lined with worry, he realized he couldn't lie to him. Not after Sam had proved his friendship time after time.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he murmered, bowing his head in shame.
When he felt Sam's large hand on his shoulder he looked up. The look on the older man's face was one of affection mixed with genuine concern, and it made Gabriel feel even worse. He rubbed his cheek against the hand resting on his shoulder, and felt the burning of tears behind his eyes. "I won't ever do it again," he promised. "I mean it Sam, that was the last time."
He felt a soft squeeze on his shoulder, and then heard Sam's reply. "How many times have you said that, Gabe?"
Gabriel felt his face getting hot. "Look Sam," he retorted impatiently as his mood shifted quickly from contrite to defensive, "I feel bad enough. I said it won't happen again, and I meant it!"
"I know you feel bad, kid, you always do. But it doesn't seem to change anything," Sam answered as he pulled open the ash tray and flipped his ash into it.
Gabriel gritted his teeth as he forced himself to remain silent. He knew Sam was right, and that only made him feel more hopeless.
This gambling problem was a shameful thing to Gabriel. So shameful, that he wouldn't tell anyone about it. He knew he was weak, and he knew he should be able to control himself. He felt like his whole world was spinning out of control, and he knew it was his fault. He just couldn't make himself stop doing it.
And the thing was, Sam had been so understanding most of the time. As Gabriel looked over at Sam, he felt nothing but grateful to the older man. Sam had taken Gabriel under his wing after Gabriel's father died last Winter. He'd pulled some strings at the post office and had gotten Gabriel a job there as a carrier. The money was good, way better than any job Gabe had ever had. And yet, because of his gambling, Gabriel had lost most of his posessions, and was now in danger of losing his apartment too. For the last three months he had pissed away his paycheck at the tables, hoping he could make up his losses. He realized he was digging himself into a hole that he might never get out of, but he always went back to the casino. There was always that chance, no matter how slim, that he could make all the money back.
They drove in silence for a while, and Gabriel leaned his head back, and tried to clear his mind of all thought.
"Gabe, I've been thinking."
At Sam's words Gabriel lifted his head and looked over at his friend.
"Sam took a last draw on his cigarette and stamped it out in the ashtray. He kept his eyes on the road as he spoke. "You know how much I care about you, kid. You're like a son to me, and I've been trying to figure out how to help you out."
"Sam, you've done so much for me already. Please don't worry about me anymore," Gabriel replied, feeling lower than he had all day.
"You know you're still pretty much of a kid, and you could really mess up your life if you continue down the path you're on," Sam continued in his smoke-husky voice, as if Gabriel hadn't even spoken.
"I'll stop betting, Sam. I swear." Gabriel's eyes were swimming with frustrated tears now, and he brushed the back of his hand across them impatiently, feeling like more of a weakling than he already did.
Again Sam seemed like he hadn't heard Gabriel's words. Almost like he was working things out in his own mind. "Since your dad died I feel responsible for you and I can't just sit by and watch you-"
"You aren't responsible for me Sam!" Gabriel cried out, mortified at how his choices were affecting the one person he really cared about. "I'm just a screw-up, and I don't want you to worry about it anymore. I never should have told you about all of this, Sam, because I don't want to hurt you or make you worry."
He looked over and the sad look in Sam's grey eyes made him look away.
"Don't say that, kid. You aren't a screw-up, and I'm glad you told me about it. That's what friends are for, you know."
There was a long pause as Gabriel looked down at his shoes, and Sam concentrated on the road. Then Gabriel heard Sam softly clearing his throat, and looked over to see Sam's hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel.
So Gabriel repeated the only words he could. Knowing how worthless they must sound, he repeated them anyway. "I won't bet anymore."
He wasn't prepared for the anger he heard in Sam's voice, and he jumped at the vehemence in his tone. "Stop saying that!" Sam practically roared him. "You have a problem! Lying to yourself and to me isn't going to fix that!"
Gabriel's face grew flushed with outrage. He sat up stiffly and stared at Sam's profile. "What do you want me to do, Sam? Just tell me, and I'll do it. Don't you think I feel bad about it? Don't you think I hate myself? Tell me what you want me to do!"
They had pulled up to a red-light, and Sam turned his gaze to Gabriel. "OK, you asked me to tell you what to do," he said evenly, though a slight quiver of his lips belied the easy-going tone. "I want you to go to Gambler's Anonymous."
Gabriel nearly gasped at the words. "Oh Sam, you know I can't do that!"
"Why?" The one word was spoken gently.
"I can't stand up in front of people and admit-"
"You asked me, and I told you Gabriel," Sam interrupted tersely. "It's up to you."
Gabriel felt his lips begin to tingle as he thought about admitting to being so out of control, in front of people he didn't know or trust. He chewed at his lower lip, feeling like a vice was closing on him. "Sam, that's too hard. Don't ask me to do that, because I just can't."
Sam shook his head slowly. "I'll tell you what I'd do if you were my kid," he said in a low growl. "I'd give you a good whipping to make you decide to go."
A hot flush started in Gabriel's neck and crept upward, diffusing his pale cheeks with splotchy color. "What!?" He asked in disbelief.
"I've never believed in spanking, and I never thought I'd be saying this, Gabe, but I think you need one."
Gabriel gasped. "You don't believe in it, but you think I need it? Is that what you're saying, Sam? Are you just trying to hurt me, because you are," Gabe replied, still not fully comprehending why Sam was talking like this.
Sam stared at the road silently, his jaw muscles twitching slightly.
"Sam..." Gabriel started speaking and then broke off. He sighed wearily and stared out the windshield at the passing scenery. When Sam made the turn-off that led to Gabriel's apartment, Gabriel turned slightly toward Sam and spoke, his voice dull and listless. "You've done a lot for me Sam. If you want to whip me, then go ahead, I won't try to stop you."
Sam parked in front Of Gabe's apartment, then reached over and placed his hand on Gabriel's shoulder. "I want you to get help. Tell me that you'll at least call Gambler's Anonymous, and talk to someone about it."
Gabriel squirmed in his seat. He didn't want to let Sam down, but the thought of admitting his weakness and lack of self-control to anyone was out of the question. "Sam, I just can't do that. Anything but that." Gabriel's eyes looked pleadingly into Sam's and he saw the look of steely determination replace the former look of concern, in his friend's eyes.
"All right then, You said you wouldn't try to stop me, so let's go inside and I'll give you the spanking I think you need."
His heart pounding with fear, Gabriel got out of Sam's car and made his way to his apartment. His keys jangled noisily as he tried to steady his hands enough to get his door unlocked. As he opened the door, he felt Sam's hand on the back of his neck, and was not comforted by the contact. There was an authority in that gesture, that didn't have anything to do with comfort, and Gabriel shuddered, then let himself be guided--by the back of his neck--inside.
He turned on a a table lamp and watched as Sam unclasped his belt and swished it quickly through the loops. His eyes were fixated on that black piece of leather, and he watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as Sam doubled his belt and then snapped it lightly on his broad palm.
Sam sat on the sofa and looked up at him. "Come here, Gabriel," he said in a commanding tone.
Gabriel walked slowly over to Sam and then the fear of the belt overcame him. "All right! I'll call Gambler's Anonymous. you don't have to do this, I'll call!" he yelled out, his voice cracking slightly.
Sam pointed to the phone on the coffee table. "OK, call them now," he said steadily.
Gabriel's eyes darted from the phone to Sam's belt and then back again. The uncertainty he felt, nearly unbearable. "I need a little time to work myself up to it, but I'll call. I really will."
Sam shook his head. "No, either you do it now--while I'm here--or you get over my knee."
Gabriel looked at the phone once more, and sighed with defeat. "OK Sam, I'll get over your knee."
Sam reached out a hand and captured Gabriel's wrist. He guided the younger man to his side, and then pulled him across his broad thighs.
Gabriel felt himself being upturned over Sam's lap, and a sensation of falling from a great height invaded his body. Even though his upper body was resting on the couch, he still felt this way. It was the same sensation he always felt when he'd lost everything at the tables on the Strip. He clasped a throw pillow and pushed the toes of his trainers into the thick carpet, steeling himself for the pain ahead. "Go ahead," he ground out between clenched teeth.
He felt Sam's muscular arm encircle his waist and pull him close. He felt totally trapped, and was on the verge of calling it off, when he remembered how Sam had insisted that he stay with him for awhile after his dad had died. He remembered the way Sam had tried to cheer him up during this time, and also how he'd cried on Sam's shoulder many times. Sam was always there for him, and he trusted him. If Sam thought he needed this, then he was going to have to trust that his friend knew what he was doing. And even though he didn't understand what this was going to accomplish, he decided to let it happen.
"I'm trying to help you, Gabe. I can't just stand by and watch you desintegrate. I have to try something."
"OK Sam, go ahead," Gabriel answered shakily.
CRACK!
The first slash of the doubled-up belt hurt more than Gabriel expected, even through the heavy material of his Levi's, and he gasped and held tightly to the pillow.
Three quick licks and he was squirming and he was frantically trying to move his butt out of the way.
"Be still, Gabe," Sam ordered as he brought the belt down again.
Gabriel moaned as the fire spread across both denim-covered cheeks. He hadn't realized till this moment just how strong Sam really was, or how adept he was at causing hurt.
Sam began belting Gabriel's backside in a steady, hard rhythym, and Gabriel kicked out with the mounting pain. With each crack of the belt his now tender skin got sorer and sorer until he thought he couldn't stand another smack. "That's enough!" he yelled out between swats, as the pain bacame his whole world.
"Just a little while longer," Sam's voice rumbled above him causing a rush of panic to zing through his body.
Then the belt came whistling down again making him jump from the sting of it. Ten, twenty...Gabriel lost track as the whipping went on and on. He could no longer think coherently--could only hold on and wait it out. He felt tears slipping from his squinched up eyes as he heard himself wail.
The steady rhythym continued. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
After a minute or so, he realized it had finally stopped, and after another minute his mind bagan to clear, and he regained awareness. His butt was throbbing with the pain, and it was as hot as fire. He lay still, over Sam's lap and panted, trying to get his breath back.
Then he felt himself being lifted and was standing up before Sam. His legs wobbled and he swayed a little. He watched as Sam put his belt back on and then stood up before him. Sam reached out and pulled Gabriel close then, and the hug he delivered to the younger man, was strong and warm.
"Now," Sam growled softly, "get the phone and call."
Gabriel rand his hand across his eyes. "I just can't Sam. Don't you think I would if I could?"
He watched as Sam took a step back from him and began to unclasp his belt again, and he felt light-headed with fear. "You wouldn't do that!" he roared out.
"You want to make a wager on that, mister?" Sam asked with eyebrows raised. "Because the odds are really not in your favor."
Gabriel studied Sam's face and couldn't detect a trace of teasing in the stern expression.
"But Sam, I don't think-"
"You don't have a choice, Gabe," the older man interrupted, "because I swear I'll whip you again if you don't. I don't want to do it, but I will."
Gabriel thought of his options as he gnawed nervously at his lower lip. The shame of making the call weighed against the pain of the belt hitting his butt. He knew he also had another option. he could refuse another strapping, and could order Sam to leave. He also knew he would never do that, not after everything Sam had done for him.
With a quivering sigh, he reached for the phone. "I don't think I can," he said, his voice pleading with Sam to help him.
The look of compassion on Sam's face was obvious to Gabriel, as Sam picked up the phone and called information for the number. He pushed the disconnect button and quickly dialed again. Sam's heart thudded as he listened to Sam's deep voice rumbling to someone on the other end.
"Hi, I have friend here who has a gambling problem. He doesn't know if he can talk about it though, and so I called. Do you think you could talk to him a little bit?"
There was a pause and then Sam handed the phone out to Gabriel. "You don't have to talk. Just listen to what she has to say, OK?"
Gabriel felt his butt throb, reminding him of what had happened a few minutes before, and what was left of his pride crumbled. With a shaky hand he took the phone and put it to his ear. "Hi," he said quietly.
As he stood, head bowed, listening, he felt Sam's hand resting on his shoulder, and then a reassuring squeeze. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper. "Yes, maybe I have a problem," he admitted.
He swallowed hard as he said the words, and then he heard Sam's husky voice behind him. "I'm proud of you, kid."
Gabriel nodded in response, as he listened to the woman on the phone telling him where the meetings were held. He didn't know if he'd ever attend a meeting, didn't know what the future held at all. He could see a choice though, and that was something. After months of feeling out of control, seeing that he had choices made all the difference.
After he hung up, he turned to Sam. "OK Sam, I did what you wanted," he said feeling unsure of himself. "I don't know how things are going to turn out, but I guess I'm lucky that you care."
"Even after that strapping? You still think you're lucky I care?" Sam said with a laugh and a shake of his head.
Gabriel nodded, feeling embarrassed. "Weird huh?"
"Well, don't feel too lucky, because I may have to do it again if you don't get back on track." The words were spoken lightly, but there was a serious look in Sam's eyes.
Gabriel laughed unsteadily and then turned and walked over to the sofa. He sat down carefully, and hissed a little as his butt made contact with the sofa cushion. "I don't even understand how I got started with the betting," he told Sam, feeling baffled.
"That's OK, you don't have to know how it started, you just need to know that it's going to stop. I'll be around to remind you of that."
Gabriel nodded, knowing it was true. And even though his butt was sore as hell, he felt a fledgling sense of self-control, and also a feeling of containment at hearing Sam's words. And even if nothing else could be counted on, Gabe knew that Sam would be there, to help in whatever way he thought best. The knowledge of that was comforting.