25.

Saturday September 21, 8:45 a.m.

I found myself sitting at Tim Hortons, drinking a jumbo coffee. Across from me sat Nascar Valentini. He’d taken a break from the Canadian Tire pit stop. His coveralls were greasier than usual.

“Okay,” Tony muttered, embarrassed, staring down at his coffee. “Sweet Jesus, it was stupid.” He looked up. “That camera took hold of me,” he said, clenching and unclenching his fist. “I guess,” he mumbled, “I guess I just wanted people to think that I’m more than just a mechanic, that I did something special with my life, you know...” He shook his head, avoiding my gaze.

“I completely understand, Tony. I get it. I mean, look who you’re talking to—the number one Attention Seeker in the world.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he said, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“I’m the one who’s the real fuck-up here.”

“Aw, you’re not as bad as you think, Donny. You’ve done some really stupid things lately. But you’re still a good guy. You love your wife. You’re gonna love your baby, and you’re not going to risk it all for this crazy scheme.”

Oh my God, I have to tell him.

“Tony, I just spent fifty-thousand-dollars that I don’t have to finance Steven’s show at Irondale. Allison doesn’t know, and she can’t know, because she’s going to leave me once and for all if she finds out.”

Tony stared at me, his eyes expressionless. He worked his mouth as if he were chewing a tire tread. I dreaded the words that were going to come out of his mouth.

“You know, man, Angela is no supermodel, and God knows we’ve had our share of knock-down, drag-out arguments, but there’s no fucking way I would ever risk losing her. My marriage and my kids are the centre of my existence and they should be yours, too.” He sighed heavily, never taking his eyes off me. “I think you need someone to teach you how to grow up. I’m going to help you. We’re going to finish what you started. And then you are going to be the best goddam husband and father the world has ever seen. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’m gonna kill you.”