Moby frown. “Bullshit!” he says.
“You and your boys decided to take out a rival gang. We weren’t invited to that party because you knew we wouldn’t participate in that stupid shit. That’s what sent your asses up the river.”
“And what happened with Tyrell,” he has the nerve to say. “Rod wasn’t there, but you were at that party.”
“I didn’t know Dance was gonna ice Tyrell, and you didn’t either. And I’m the one who stopped Dance from shooting that woman too. Remember that? I stopped that shit, so don’t even go there, Moby.”
Now I’m looking around. I’m not talking too loud. I know nobody can hear us. But I want to make sure nobody’s interested in hearing us, either. But the diner is practically empty. Just a couple of truckers are still there. The breakfast crowd is long gone.
I look at Moby again. “Dance had no reason to come for me,” I tell him.
“Think so?”
“I know so.”
“That’s where you don’t know shit, Bobby. You got away while the rest of us got prison time. That’s all Dance and Max saw. The white boy got away.”
“That’s bullshit. Gerard got away too.”
“That’s only because he’s your bitch.”
“Watch it, Moby.”
“You know what I mean! He’s your boy.”
“He’s not my boy, and he’s not my bitch. He and I have been best friends for a long time. I pulled him into that Boston shit because I needed somebody I could trust. Somebody who had my back. When it was time for me to go, I pulled him out of it, too.”
“Okay, okay. But think about how Dance saw it. You got out. That’s all he saw.” Then Moby lean forward. “You know why we didn’t snitch on you, don’t you?”
“Because you aren’t snitches?”
“You know better than that,” he says, leaning back. “I would have snitched on my mama if it would have got me less prison time.”
I smile. That’s Moby too. “Then why?” I ask him.
He smiles this time. “Your uncle, why else? Mick Sinatra himself sent word to each and every one of us. If we so much as mentioned your name or Gerard’s name to anybody anywhere, he told us, he was gonna kill us all. Now, any other man come at me like that and I would have said fuck that! I want them to try it. But Mick the Tick, gotdamn! I can’t fight a man with that kind of crazy and that kind of power. We knew he was gonna kill our asses and every member of our families, too, if we implicated you or Gerard. So we didn’t say a word. And you got to become mayor of this white-bread, hole in the wall town. Gerard got to become your chief of staff. And we got prison. All those years rotting away in prison. That’s how Dance saw it. He was a man who couldn’t forgive and forget.”
“Are you a man who can’t forgive and forget, either, Mobe?” I ask him.
“You know me, Bobby. I don’t know the meaning of either one of those words.” Then he smiles again.
“Why are you here?” I ask him. “Cut the bullshit and just tell me why you’re here.”
“I hear your uncle’s people been asking around about me. To find out if I had anything to do with that shit Dance and Max pulled.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I didn’t have shit to do with it, Bobby. You know I’m not that stupid. I don’t get out of prison after a decade, keeping my mouth shut about having anything to do with you, then decide to have you iced. Fools play that kind of game. I’m nobody’s fool.”
I know that to be true too. “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want any trouble,” he says, “and I don’t want any heat directed my way. Tell Mick Sinatra to back off. I can’t have him up my ass. Sal and Tommy Gabrini either. None of those Gabrinis. I didn’t have anything to do with that shit. You know me.”
“If you weren’t involved,” I tell him, “you have nothing to worry about.”
“I wasn’t involved!”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“But you’ll tell’em that, right? People staying away from me, because they think I’m an enemy of Mick the Tick. I can’t get my businesses going right. You need to tell your uncle to back the fuck up, Bobby.”
We used to be real tight, Moby and me. It’s hard to overlook that fact. I nod my head. “I can’t tell him what to do,” I make that clear, “but I’ll let him know what you’re saying. I’ll let him know.”
He smiles. Reaches out his hand to me. “A truce?” he asks.
I stare in his eyes. I would have took a bullet for this man once upon a time. In my crazy, stupid youth, I would have taken a bullet for his ass. I shake his hands. “A truce,” I say.
But when he’s ready to let go of my hand, I hold his tighter, and then pull his whole body toward mine, as I lean toward him. “You break this truce,” I say to him, “and I’ll break every bone in your motherfucking body. And then my uncles will take it from there.”
He stares at me. I see real fear in those eyes. But then he smiles again and snatches his hand away. And then he leaves.
I look around again. Nobody gives a shit. Which allows me to exhale.
And then, just like that, I’m thinking about Rain again. And how much fun we had last night. And how wonderful she felt in my arms.
But just as I’m thinking about that kiss, a kiss that almost had me going down on her right then and there, I get another interruption. Gerard and my aides have arrived. We’ve got campaign appearances to get to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“The thing is,” Donald Sinatra, the GM, says to me, “you have to smile. And I mean a lot. People come in from their travels, the last thing they want to see is somebody with problems when they’re up to here with their own. Smile. Make their day. That’s the J.I. way.”
J.I., I now know, means Jericho Inn, this beautiful hotel that’s giving me a chance. It’s my third day at work, the morning after my night with Bobby, and I’m still on cloud nine. But I’m also wondering why the General Manager, of all people, is the one teaching me the ropes again today. He’s Bobby’s brother. Is it because he knows I went out last night with Bobby and he’s giving me this extra attention? Did Bobby ask him too? I doubt that seriously, but it would be great if it’s true.
It’s not. Because the GM answers the question I haven’t asked, as if he figured I’d be wondering. “I used to be the desk clerk supervisor,” he says to me. “That’s why I’m giving you these pointers.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, and smile. And then he’s back to teaching. Margo’s working first shift with me, and she’s been here for years, and even a desk clerk supervisor somewhere on the grounds, but he’s the one teaching me the ropes. It’s still odd, but I take it. Maine is already cracking up to be an odd place. They pay for your food. Their mayor pay for your accidents, helps you get a job, takes you out and kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. And all night you’re dreaming about him, and about that kiss, and hoping and praying there’s more to come.
But, right now, I’m listening to everything Donald Sinatra is teaching me. My job comes first. I’m taking advantage of this opportunity.
And he’s very good at it, too. He’s giving me his undivided attention. At least, that is, until the boss, who also happens to be his stepmother, walks in.
Jenay Sinatra I like. She’s a feisty black woman with her shit together. When she hired me, and gave me first shift because I have a kid and was new to this town, she made clear she will not be taking my bullshit. “You’re black and I’m black,” she said to me right in front of Donald, “and we’re both in a town that is overwhelmingly white. Don’t you dare make us look bad.”
I knew exactly what she meant. It’s a shame, but every time I’m around white folks I feel as if I can’t just represent myself, but I have to represent my whole race. I have to disprove stereotypes that aren’t fair anyway, and that anybody with half a brain would know can’t possibly be true for an entire race of people ever. But that’s how I feel. That’s how a lot of black
people feel, including the boss. She feels, and I feel, that we can’t be the one to hurt our brand.
When Mrs. Sinatra walks into the lobby and head our way, Donald drops me like a hot potato and head toward her. He’s so not like Bobby in every way. He’s a butt kisser. Bobby is the one whose butt gets kissed. He’s so thin that even his expensive suit just hangs off of him. Bobby’ suits are so tight around his muscular bulk that they fit him like they’re his skin. Bobby is gorgeous. Donald is plain. But even Donald has that Sinatra charm too.
Donald takes Jenay’s briefcase when they meet up, leaving her with just a cup of coffee in her hand, and kisses her on the cheek.
“Why are you here so early?” I hear her asking him as he kisses her.
“A toilet backed up, and stunk up the whole second floor. I wanted to make sure Maintenance was on it before you got here.”
“Are they?”
“They are. Now I’ve got housekeeping perfuming the whole area.”
“Any guest complaints?”
“No, thank God. Most of them up there are here for that teachers’ convention. They’re an understanding group.”
Then they’re at the desk. And I take Donald’s advice to heart and smile my ass off. Only I mean it with Mrs. Sinatra. “Good morning, ma’am,” I say to her.
She smiles a warm smile back at me, although she doesn’t break her stride. “Good morning. You have everything you need?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. And thanks for giving me first shift.”
“You’re welcome,” she says, but her eyes says more. Don’t blow it, they say, or I’ll bust your ass down to second or even third shift real fast. And then she and Donald disappear in her office.
Margo comes up to me grinning. “She’s an asshole, isn’t she?” she says to me.
I’m looking at this white chick downing the black chick. An asshole? Really? I want to defend the sister right away. But I just got here. Margo’s been here for years. She knows her way better than I do. I decide to remain neutral, but I don’t jump on her bandwagon either. “She’s been nice to me,” I say because it’s true.
“That’ll change,” Margo says, with an all-knowing smile.
When I don’t ask for details, Margo gives me a hard look. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“There’s nothing to believe. I don’t know the woman.”
“And?” Margo asks.
“And I just got this job. I’m not about to stand up here and bash the woman who’s signing my paycheck. I can’t do that.”
“First of all,” Margo says like she’s a black girl, “she doesn’t sign a gotdamn thing. Big Daddy owns this. Big Daddy signs all the paychecks. She just be here.”
“Now your ass lying,” I say with a smile, although inside I’m not smiling at all. “I know sisters like her. She doesn’t just be anywhere. Wherever she is, she’s running the show. Bet that.”
Margo smiles back at me, but I can tell she ain’t feeling it inside either. She just figure I’m defending my tribe. And I guess I am, which isn’t right, either, so we both just drop it.
“It was nice of the GM to take time out of his day and give me pointers,” I say.
“You mean Donnie? Child please! He’s like all those Sinatra boys. Just trying to get in your pants. That’s all that little tutorial was about.”
“I see,” I say, although it’s not about Donald being a flirt that bothers me the most. It’s the fact that she says all the Sinatra boys are flirts. Yesterday at work I heard there were four grown Sinatra boys. But I hadn’t heard about this all of them are flirts thing.
But then Margo’s whole look changes. “Uh-oh,” she says.
And I’m looking at her now. “What?” I ask her.
She nods toward the front entrance. “Over there. Talk about assholes. Big Daddy just walked in.”
And as soon as I look and see the man walking into the lobby, I know this Big Daddy person is Bobby’s father. I know because, now that I’ve spent some time with Bobby, including some intimate time, I realize just how much they favor. I also know it because he was the one at that car crash the other day who called Bobby son, and told him what to do. Which also means that Big Daddy Sinatra is Jenay Sinatra’s husband.
But as he walks up to the desk, I’m getting nervous. Why I’m so nervous I can’t even say. But I am. Because the man is so imposing! Stern. Hard. Not a smile on his face. And just as great looking as Bobby.
It’s Margo who greets him with a big fake smile, even before I can. “Good morning, Mr. Sinatra,” she says to him. “How are you this fine day, sir?”
“Good, and you?” He says it, but there’s no warmth there at all. And no interest in the answer, either, because he quickly asks another question. “My wife in her office?”
“Yes, sir,” Margo says. “But before you go,” she says as the man is about to head for his wife’s office, “I want to introduce you to our newest clerk.”
My heart’s pounding now. It’s obvious that man doesn’t want to be introduced to me! But I smile and nod just the same. “Nice to meet you, sir,” I say.
I think it’s the first time he looks at me, because he’s staring at me now. “Nice to meet you, too,” he says with about as much warmth as ice cream. He probably remembers me from the wreck. He probably remembers how shocked he was when Bobby said he’d pay that big repair bill. “So you’re working here now?”
He does remember me. “Yes, sir.”
“Friend of Bobby’s, right?”
When he says this, Margo gives me a hard look, like no way a nobody like me, somebody lower on the totem pole than even she is, could be a friend of his son, the mayor. But I’m caught off guard too. A friend of Bobby’s is a stretch. We aren’t friends yet, and may never become friends. But we did go out on a date last night, and who kisses a stranger the way Bobby kissed me?
“Yes,” I decide to say. Why the hell not? It beats trying to explain what our relationship really is: which I don’t know myself yet. But Bobby did say he wants to get to know me better.
Mr. Sinatra kind of looks me up and down, gives a nod, and then heads for Jenay’s office. And now I’m nervous as hell. His wife, the lady who hired me, knows nothing about the fact that I went out on a date with Bobby. At least, I don’t think she knows. What if it’s not allowed? What if I lose my job over something I had no idea would put my job at risk?!
I’m panicking, but Margo’s standing there, still staring at me, so I contain it. As soon as that man disappears behind his wife’s office door, and closes it, she’s all over me. “You know Mayor Sinatra?” she asks me. “Bobby Sinatra is a friend of yours?”
“Something like that,” I say to her. “What do we do with the cancellation lists?” I ask her too.
She gives me a so it’s like that look, and it’s like she’s a little less comfortable with me. Like I may already have the inside track she may have wanted for herself. Not with Bobby. I can’t see her reaching that high. But with Donald, I think. That’s the one she wants. That’s the one she’s already warned me off of. That’s the one she can have.
Not that I have Bobby. I don’t! But I sure dreamed about him last night. And relived every single second of that date like it was the best thing ever. But, apparently, I wasn’t his taste because he didn’t ask me for a second bite. Even Ayden asked if he’d asked me out again. It was the only down side to a perfect evening.
But now, in the light of day, I’m glad he didn’t ask me out again. I need this job like I need air to breathe. I can’t take a chance of losing this good job if my relationship with Bobby goes bad. He may get vindictive. He may tell his mother to fire my ass. Or, worse, he may tell his father to do it! Then where would I be? Right back where I started from when I first hit town. I have a son to feed. I have to keep a roof over our heads. I’m not taking that chance.
But later that same morning, it’s not so black and white. I answer the front desk phone, expecting it to be a guest or a potential guest, but it
’s Bobby instead. And as soon as I hear his strong, raspy voice, I’m happy again.
“Hey, Bobby,” I say happily when I know it’s him.
Margo, who’s signing in an overnight guest and is standing behind the front desk with me, glances at me as soon as I say his name. But I don’t even care. Let her look. Something about this man makes me happy!
But he sounds almost distracted, like he’s doing a lot of things at once. I hear papers shuffling. I hear other people talking in the background. I hear what sounds like maybe he’s in a car being driven somewhere. It almost sounds like giving me a call is no big deal to him at all when I’d been hoping all night and half the morning that he’d call me.
For a girl like me, who almost never get these kinds of morning-after calls, my heart’s excited. But it’s unsettled too. I feel bold and I feel scared. I feel hopeful and I feel foolish. My emotions are all over the place.
“How’s your day going?” he’s asking me.
“It’s going good.”
“Glad to hear it. They’re showing you what to do okay?”
“They are, yep.”
“That’s good too. But listen, I only have a sec. I’m already late for a meeting. Are you free tonight? I thought we’d have dinner.”
I want to say yes immediately. That man made me so happy last night! But I remember how Mrs. Sinatra told me I better not mess this up. And how dating her stepson can’t be a great idea. She may fire me if she finds out. It’s a tough call.
But I have to make it. I have too much to lose if I allow my emotions to overrule my good sense. “Thanks,” I say to him, “but I think I’ll take a rain check.”
When I say it, I’m expecting him to get all pissed and say okay and hang up. That’s the way most guys I’ve known handle rejection.
But not Bobby. When he talks again, he’s not sounding angry at all. He just sounds surprised. “Rain is rain-checking me?” he jokes.
I smile. Boy does he know how to make me feel at ease! “I think so, yep.”
“May I ask why?”
Good question. I’m happy to hear from him. I want to see him again bad. Why the hell not? “I don’t think it’s a smart idea.” That’s why.
Bobby Sinatra: In All the Wrong Places (The Rags to Romance Series Book 1) Page 13
