FERVENT GRACE II
There was Luca Toni and then there Vigo Rush, we never talk about Vigo Rush, he was too slippery to know him, too quick to be seen for too long, he had swagger about him, the kind that fit the perhaps not so true profile given to men of color. Some say he was last seen in Sardinia, somewhere close to Cagliari, it was said that he had been seen courting with Augusto Calleri whose family ran the streets in the Island. No one knew for sure where the maned man came from and those who asked too many questions usually disappeared. Others say he is a voodoo man from Ethiopia, you know the greater Ethiopia, the one with fair skinned people that made brew to civilization and contributed to the raising and making of the apian way, all those unforgettable years back.
Today, the man walked the streets of Italian cities and towns like he had the pope to the end of a barrel. He whispered and pointed and looked sincerely at the pair at the center of the circle. "Go on." Urged Helena again, "roll the dice." "Yeah, roll the dice you little shit, we don't have all day, now come on." Bawled someone in the rushing crowd. The dice were as suspected, drilled at five and at two on the other, Ace Vicente could tell just by holding it. Whoever brought he dice either wanted him to lose or had bet a lot of money too short on the wrong side, he thought to himself. Ace Vicente had lost the first two rolls, usually it was a game of three, but for this event it, they had it made for four so the players would get a chance to win theirs and the bookies' monies back. He had weighed his chances from the start by flipping the dice at his initial rolls. There was a fair amount of wind that day, but very little got into the circle, he looked around to spot Luca Toni's eyes on him, they both acknowledge their presence and worked on well with corresponding nods. He closed his palm with the dice in it then flattened his palm for all to see and in an instant roll the dice saying eight, the dice rolled long near the crowd as they all scattered well. when the dice reached it final stop, they turned open to the numbers five and three. A good eight and the crowd went wild for their favored son (those who bet on him of course). "Nice going," she said, her hand gently caressing his as she retrieved the dice from him, her eyes set on his seductively as she circled him. He thought exactly what everybody thought about her, that she was beautiful and strange, he liked beauty that was strange. It worked for him, but he could not afford it. He expected it though, the distraction that could come, he was familiar with the street tactics of subtle manipulation, and he expected more. He bent down to meet her as she shook the dice for a roll, "what is your name?" he asked again, "Helena" she replied, "do they know you rigged the dice, Helena?" "Do they know you roll placements?" she responding as she waved at her cheering fans. "Placements are not illegal." "Placements are not known." "So how can something that does not exists be a crime?" he said shifted to give her space for her roll, walking in front of the sun that interrupted her view slightly, she looked up in confusion then continued. As she tried to roll, he walked away revealing the light and letting it bounce into her view, as her sight fell short so was her roll that screamed four instead of seven (she was supposed to make a seven). The round was his and his supporters bled his name out of their mouths. It gave you the Italian feeling you know, it was like in the old days again, men and women stuck in shoulder to shoulder over a brand-new wager in the colosseum, watching gladiators and slaves fight themselves or beasts. They cheered, they danced, they chanted, and they waited for the next round to commence. It seemed more than likely now that there was going to be a fifth round since Helena had failed again and Ace Vicente had won the next round. "Come on hungry, let's do this." She said, as she circled him again, then she got closer, "what is your name?" she asked as she bent down with him, "call me Ace," "Ace, what is that your name?" she said laughing, "Vicente, Ace Vicente," he joined in the laugh, "well, saint Vicente," she whispered as she held on to his hand his hand and planted a kiss, like she would the pope, only he had no ring one. "Roll the dice." "Hey, get a fucking room you moron." Yelled out a man in the crowd. She stepped up to his front where he was to aim the dice, he folded his and spread his hands for the roll, "seven!" he bellowed and tossed the dice to his left side. The referee, Helena, and a good number of the crowed rushed towards the flipping dice. A great silence followed as the two got down to look, the crowed leaned in to look, some crashing over each other, steamy geared to break "wait!" yelled the referee, the fight was paused for a moment to build tempo, the frozen men and sweaty women held on to their breath and Ace Vicente stood nearly afar with the other half of the crowd, waiting amidst the careless worried whispers that came from the crowd and at the back, were Luca Toni and the maned man. "Seven!" howled the referee, and the crowd went wild. The steamy conflict that was brewed moments ago became a reality and both men and women alike carried themselves so into bashing, breaking, and biting when the need came to fore. The other half ran towards Ace Vicente singing the 'la canzone viola' (purple song) with reference to his Florence roots and as known on the streets, he was a Fiorentina fan.