Gloria suddenly realized how shortsighted she had been. She hadn’t done anything remarkable since her demotion! She was too busy killing enough time to ask for her old position back.
“I moved you up the ranks lightning fast,” Mick continued, “because you were my daughter and I know what you’re capable of. I got you that job. But it was your job to keep it.”
Gloria understood. So did Teddy. She was relying on privileges that had been revoked when she messed up, and now she realized that fact.
But Joey, perhaps the most unrealistic of Mick’s children, wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. “Glo deserves a promotion, Dad,” he said. “For real, though. You just don’t know.”
Gloria touched him on the arm, to stop his sales pitch, but Joey, being Joey, kept on talking. “She works so hard,” he said. “She doesn’t even have a personal life anymore she’s been working so hard. She’s almost becoming as bad as Teddy. I’m almost becoming as bad as Teddy. All we do is work, Dad. We’re hardworking people and Gloria works the hardest because she’s stuck behind a desk here at S.I. all day long. She deserves better.”
Mick looked at Joey. “If you were in my position, you’d give her a promotion?” he asked his son.
“Damn right, I would!” Joey responded.
“Then get in position and give her one. But I’m done with this conversation.”
They all knew what that meant. They were being dismissed. But then Mick’s desk intercom buzzed. And he answered. “Yes?”
“Mr. Savarino is here to see you, sir.”
Teddy stood erect. Gio Savarino? What was he doing there? Gio was one of his father’s most senior lieutenants, but he still worked under Teddy.
Mick appeared a little surprised too, since he worked diligently to keep his two businesses, the legit and the illicit, separate. “Send him in,” he said.
Before Teddy could ask any questions, Giovanni Savarino walked in. He was nearly a decade older than Teddy, but he acknowledged him, and Gloria and Joey, before standing in front of Mick’s desk.
“What is it?” Mick asked.
“Can I speak freely, sir?”
Teddy frowned. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Gio? Your ass work under me and you’re asking if you can speak freely in front of me?”
“I’m talking about Miss Gloria,” Gio pointed out. It was no secret in the organization that Gio had a crush on Gloria. It was also no secret that Mick would kill his ass if he even thought about realizing that crush. His daughter, he’d already warned every one of his men, was off limits. “She’s not into this,” Gio added.
But that was a distinction without a difference as far as Mick was concerned. Gloria was not into the illicit end of his businesses, but she was no outsider either. She knew what was going on. “What is it?” he asked Gio again.
Although Gio had an idealistic view of the beautiful daughter and didn’t like the idea of her knowing anything about anything when it came to the syndicate, Gio knew he couldn’t overrule Mick. “Natalie needs to see you,” he said.
Teddy had never heard that name before, and therefore studied his father’s face to see how big it was. Based on the look that came on Mick’s face, it was big.
“You found her?” he asked Gio.
Gio nodded. “We found her, yes, sir.”
Mick immediately rose to his feet and began removing the suit coat flapped over the back of his chair.
“Who’s Natalie, Pop?” Although all three were curious, Teddy was the only one with the nerve to ask the question. Especially since he didn’t even know any of their men were looking for this Natalie person.
And they all could see the hesitation in their father as he put on his suit coat. He, in fact, didn’t answer until after he had put on his coat and was pulling down his shirt sleeve. “A friend,” he responded, and began heading from around his desk. All three children had their suspicions about their father. The late nights. The sometimes never coming home nights. The rumors.
And because of all of that, Teddy decided to go bold. “A friend Roz knows about?” he asked their father.
Mick stopped in his tracks and gave Teddy a stare that could curl water. And his look made a statement. A keep your ass out of my business statement. Since Teddy understood that look, he didn’t make another comment.
Mick left the office. Gio glanced at Gloria, and followed Mick out.
Joey and Gloria looked at each other. They, like Teddy, was very fond of their stepmother, too, and didn’t want her to go through the heartbreaks and headaches their mothers went through when they were in relationships with Mick.
But for Teddy it was more than that. He ran a large chunk of his father’s operations, and was the man in charge on most matters syndicate-related. If this Natalie woman was related to his father’s business, and she had to be for Gio Savarino to be involved, why was he, Gio’s direct boss, being left in the dark? Why didn’t Mick ask him to find this woman if it was as innocent as all that?
Gloria looked at Teddy. “You okay?” she asked him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded defensively. Then he realized it was Gloria, and settled back down. “I’m okay,” he lied.
CHAPTER SIX
The Cadillac Escalade SUV, owned by Mick, pulled into the parking lot of the busy Philadelphia mall in the late evening dusk, and parked alongside a Ford Explorer. Natalie Vichy got out of the Ford and got into the backseat of the Escalade. Mick Sinatra, a man she’d known for a very long time, was seated on that backseat as if he owned the world. There was a lot of respect she had for him and what he’d accomplished since his days of terrorizing the streets of Philly with Santo. But there was a lot of envy there, too. Mick made it out of the minor league. She and Santo never did.
But she wasn’t there to reminisce, or even air her grievances she had with the man she now needed. As soon as she closed the door of the SUV, she got to the point. “They killed Santo,” she said.
Mick looked at her. She and Santo had been missing. That was why he had Gio and a few of his other senior men on the case. But to hear that his one-time lieutenant, a man he used to trust with his life, was dead, was unnerving. “You know this for sure?”
Natalie nodded. “I know this for sure.”
“Who killed him?” Mick asked.
“His own men, Micky.”
Mick was surprised. “His own men?”
“His own men! His own men killed my husband!” Tears appeared in her eyes. “They backstabbed him and killed him as if he was beneath them. Santo loved those men. He loved every one of them. And they killed him, Micky. You have to avenge his death.”
“I don’t have to do a motherfucking thing,” Mick said with irritation in his voice. He hated with a passion when somebody told him what he had to do.
But then he calmed back down. Natalie was a bitch, but she loved Santo. “What is your evidence that it was his own men?” he asked her.
Natalie shook her head. “You question my motives?” she asked bitterly. “You, a man who left Santo all alone in this world and never reached back to offer him an ounce of compassion and help, would question my motives? I stood by him! When nobody else would, when he served all those years in prison for you, I stood by him!”
Mick had nothing to do with Santo’s incarceration all those years ago, and he knew Natalie knew that. But blaming others was what she did. Mick ignored her. Santo was once his ride-or-die friend before their big falling out. If what she said was true, and his own men turned on him, she got it right: Mick would be the only man who can avenge his death. “How do you know it was his own crew?” he asked a different way.
“Because I know. Because that’s what the Don wants.”
Mick stared at her. “He worked under somebody? Santo had a Don? I thought Santo worked alone?”
“He used to. When he could. But it’s hard out here. He needed cover. You wouldn’t give him any, but he needed it.”
“Who?” Mick asked. “Who’s his Don?
”
Natalie paused.
“Who gotdammit?” For some reason Mick’s hackles were going up. “Who?” he asked again.
When Natalie said, “Teddy Stefani,” Mick understood why he was so unsettled.
He stared at her. In shock. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he asked. “What the fuck are you saying?”
But before Natalie could answer, the sound of a gunshot could be heard. Mick wasn’t sure where the shot came from, but he pushed Natalie down as he ducked himself, and pulled out his piece. When the back window of the Escalade suddenly shattered, as more gunshots could be heard, he knew exactly where the bullets were flying now. “Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled to his driver. His driver hit the gas, reversed the powerful SUV, and took off.
But the bullets kept coming as Mick glanced up, between shots, and saw an Infiniti following them. When he saw that there were two men in the car, and one of them was shooting at the SUV, he began lifting up, shooting back, and then ducking back down. When Natalie tried to lift up, to see who was doing the shooting, Mick shoved her back down. “Keep your ass down, Nat, what’s your fucking problem?” She stayed down after that.
But the shootout continued as the SUV swerved around corner after corner as fast as it could, getting away from the mall and making it out into the city streets. And as their firepower seemed to increase, Mick changed his focus from the men in the car, to the car itself. Instead of shooting from the back shattered glass as he had been doing, he rolled down the side window, reached out, and aimed for the tires. He hit one with his first shot, and then the second one with his second shot. And his theory worked. The Infiniti suddenly lost traction, went on two wheels and then went airborne, and smashed down in the middle of the road.
“Keep going,” Mick ordered his driver, as the Infiniti burst into flames.
Mick then sat back down in the SUV, and leaned his head back. Talk about a close call. That was a fucking close call!
Natalie got back on the seat, too, and looked at him. But she was perplexed. “What are you doing?” she asked him. “We need to know who they were. We need to know who was trying to kill us.”
But Mick was well ahead of her. “I already know,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fully dressed in a Donatella Versace business suit and ready for what was expected to be a busy day at the office, Roz Sinatra took another sip of her coffee just as her toddler thought she wasn’t looking, and snatched his sister’s Eggo. Just as he put it to his tiny mouth and was about to bite, his instincts told him to look at his mother. Roz was certainly looking at him. “I dare you,” she said between clenched teeth.
Even a little boy like Michello, Junior, better known as Duke Sinatra, knew a real threat when he heard one. He gave Jacqueline, his twin sister, her Eggo back. The nannies, who were standing in the kitchen with Roz, laughed. “He’s got plenty sense,” said one. “I’ll give him that.”
Roz smiled too. “With his slick ass,” she added.
Outside, Mick’s high-powered Ferrari could be heard before the security gate opened, and he sped inside. Deuce McCurry, his longest-serving employee, came out of the home and made his way downstairs to meet the boss. He was a tall African-American man in his sixties, a man most would regard as over-the-hill to be anybody’s driver and bodyguard. But Mick trusted Deuce with his life and, many times, the life of his wife and children. Deuce was still his number one employee, as far as Mick was concerned.
It was early morning, and the onsite staff had not come out of the servant quarters on the property yet, and the offsite staff had not yet arrived. But somebody had to open the door for the boss. It wasn’t Deuce’s job, but he did it anyway.
“Hello, sir,” Deuce said as Mick stepped out of the car.
“Good morning.” Mick buttoned his suitcoat. “She left yet?”
“No, sir.”
Then Mick hesitated. Looked at his employee and friend. “Is she upset?”
Deuce nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.
Mick exhaled. “Have the valet bring her car around.”
“Yes, sir,” Deuce said. “Will you be needing yours again, sir?”
“Don’t know yet,” Mick said, and headed inside.
As soon as he entered his home and made his way into the kitchen area, a big smile appeared on the faces of both twins. “Daddy!” Duke yelled, startling his sister as he usually did, as her already unstable head leaned back and looked at her wild brother. But when she saw him, not just yelling, but making a move, she didn’t hesitate, either. Both toddlers turned backwards and slid their small bodies out of their chairs. Then they ran, or waddled, toward their father.
Roz’s heart was hammering when she saw that Mick had arrived. And her anger began to rise. Why did he always pull this shit? She couldn’t understand why he kept doing it when he knew she hated it. But that was Mick. One day he was the best husband ever. The next day he was a louse.
Mick had Roz on his mind, too, when he entered the kitchen area and saw her standing there, but quickly turned his attention to his two youngest children when they began running to him. He would have preferred not to have those two nannies gawking nearby as his children ran to him, but that couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t making the same emotionally-distant mistakes with the twins that he made with his grown children, he didn’t care who was watching.
That was why, as soon as the toddlers arrived at his side, Mick scooped both up into his muscular arms and held them tightly. Duke was so happy to see his father that he was kicking him with his feet. Jackie was happy, too, but instead of kicking, she laid her head on Mick’s shoulder. Mick loved the twins equally, but Jacqueline, like Gloria, had a way of melting his heart.
“You’re home forever?” Duke asked as he affectionately kept kicking his feet, and therefore kicking Mick. “I want you to be home forever.”
“I’m home,” was all Mick could commit to. “Have you been a good boy?”
Duke continued to kick. And then he glanced back at his mother. When he saw that Roz had looked away to apparently wipe something out of her eyes, he turned back toward his father and nodded his head yes.
Jackie wanted to say that Duke hadn’t been a good boy at all, and had tried to steal her Eggo, but she couldn’t figure out how to say it so she didn’t bother trying. But she didn’t have to say a word. Mick knew Duke was lying.
“Tell me the truth,” Mick said, staring sternly at his son. “Have you been a good boy?”
Duke looked down, at his father’s cleft chin. He placed his tiny finger in that cleft, and then his big eyes looked up at him. And shook his head no.
Mick let out an exasperated exhale. “What did you do?” he asked.
Tears began to appear in Duke’s eyes, which was his routine whenever he was cornered. Mick’s heart went out to his young son, but he knew he couldn’t let him get away with bad behavior. He looked at the head nanny.
“He tried to take Jacqueline’s Eggo,” she said.
Mick looked at Duke. “You took it?”
Duke quickly shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Don’t do it again,” Mick said firmly. “You understand?”
Duke nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Mick exhaled again. He knew he needed to spend more time with the twins. But then he turned his attention to Roz. She was the one he most needed to spend time with at this moment in time. But he could tell, just from looking at her, that she was major-league pissed with him.
After talking a little more with the twins, and kissing them, he walked over to the breakfast table and deposited them back in their chairs. He ordered them to finish eating, and then moved over to the center aisle, where Roz and the nannies were standing. The nannies, knowing their roles well, immediately went over to attend to the children.
Mick opened his suit coat and placed his hands on his hips. He looked his wife up and down. He couldn’t help it. She was wonderfully dressed, as usual, he thought, in a beautifully form-f
itting business suit. The bright fabric against her dark skin made her look stunning to him. And it begged what was becoming that age-old question to him: why her? He had so many women in his life; more women than he could ever count even if his life depended on it. But why was it that none of them, not one of them, ever did those funny things to his heart the way Rosalind constantly did? What was it about this particular woman?
He didn’t know the answer to that great question, but he knew this much was true: Rosalind Graham had too much power over him, and he didn’t like it. Because Rosalind, unheard of to everybody who knew Mick the Tick, held his heart in her hands. She could break it if she wanted to. And that alarming truth, to a man like Mick, gave her far more power over him than an arsenal of machine guns pointed at his head.
That might be, he also realized, why he sometimes sabotaged their relationship without thinking, at the time, that that was what he was doing. That might be why he sometimes felt a need to separate himself from her power.
“Good morning,” he said to her.
Roz poured the last of her coffee down the sink drain, gave Mick one of those chilling looks her exasperation with him had perfected. Then she walked past him, with their clothes brushing, and over to the children. His heart pounded with major regret when she swept past him. He could kick his own ass for being such an asshole!
“Be good,” Roz said sweetly as she kissed Jackie. “Behave,” she said sternly as she kissed Duke. “And I mean it, Duke,” she felt a need to add to her son. “Nobody’s going to be chasing your ass around this house just because you know they can. Do what Nanny tells you to do. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Duke responded as sweetly as he could.
“I don’t want any phone calls from them today.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Duke responded again.
Mick Sinatra: No Love. No Peace. (The Mick Sinatra Series Book 9) Page 6
