Brent Sinatra: All of Me

by Mallory Monroe

  “How did you know these people?” Brent asked. “How did you know Neal Grassley, and Clem Michaels, and Denise?”

  Shane smiled. “You are so dense. I told you how. I hired an investigator who did, guess what? An investigation. He found your vulnerable points. And when he found out you had a child, then that became the focus. It was Marcus all along. But I wanted you to suffer first. I wanted you to find out you had this son, this little boy, and then see him in all kinds of trouble. Then it was going to happen. Because I know all about the Sinatra machine in Jericho. It destroyed my father. I knew it wouldn’t allow Marcus to pay.”

  “Why would it?” Brent asked. “He didn’t commit any crime.”

  As officers piled out of their patrol cars, Eddie motioned for them to stay back.

  “He didn’t kill Mark Stravinsky, that’s true,” Shane said. “But that’s not the point, is it? He confessed, and you still shielded him. That’s the Sinatra machine. That’s the same machine that destroyed my father.”

  Shane wanted to talk about his father, but Brent wanted to talk about Shane’s crimes. “Who killed Stravinsky?” Brent asked him, even though Marcus had already told him. “You?”

  “Denise killed her husband. Gladly. Walter Pierce found out just how abusive the man was to Denise, and it was an easy sell after that. She came up with the plan to kill him. I came up with the plan to put the blame on little Marcus.”

  “Why try to kill little Marcus,” Brent said, “if your plan was working like a gem? Denise leaked to that Boston reporter the fact that Marcus had confessed. She recorded the confession. Why would you try to kill Marcus when everything was finally going according to plan?”

  “Because that was never the plan. I wanted you to sweat a little, think this thing is going in one direction, then I wanted to change directions. But I had to get rid of Denise, and I had to get rid of Marcus. They both could expose me. That was one reason. But for a man to find out he has a son, and then for that son to be murdered right before his very eyes would have been the punishment I ultimately sought for you. That was the main reason. Then I would feel as if I properly avenged my father’s death. Then I would feel vindicated.”

  Brent exhaled. “Chief Joffee was a lazy, drunk, corrupt son of a bitch who got what he deserved. The only person responsible for what happened to your father, was your father,” Brent said. “And you better be glad that bullet missed, or you would have been joining your old man today.”

  “Kill me then!” Shane felt emboldened. “I don’t care! It’ll be the easy way out for me. You have my permission to shoot me down like an animal. Do it! My father’s dead. I don’t care!”

  But Brent looked at Eddie. “Get him out of my face,” he said.

  “My pleasure,” Eddie said, and began taking him away. “Come on, you animal,” he said. “Like that?”

  “And notify the Feds of Neal Grassley’s involvement in all of this,” Brent said.

  Eddie nodded. “Will do,” he said, as he led Shane Joffee away.

  By the time Brent drove back to the station, and walked in, his entire family had arrived: Donald, Ashley, and even Bobby. He had already been told, by an officer who eventually arrived on the scene, how Denise and Ira Stockton had both been killed. And that was yet another bitter pill to swallow. Yet another curveball. But when he looked over, and saw Makayla holding Marcus on her lap, and Marcus was asleep in her arms, he relaxed. And leaned against the wall. Because he knew, despite all of the bitter pills they had to swallow, despite all of the curveballs, they, his family, were going to be just fine.

  EPILOGUE

  It was a convoy of three cars, and all three cars were racing to the airport. The Jaguar, driven by Charles, was in front. Jenay was on the passenger seat and Marcus and Bonita were on the backseat. Only Marcus was now, officially, Brenton Sinatra, Junior. A name he preferred. But everybody called him June.

  The bright-red Corvette, driven by Bobby, was right on the tail of the Jaguar, and figured it could easily overtake it, but Bobby was just getting back into his father’s good graces. He wasn’t going to do anything to ruin it again. His adopted sister Carly Sinatra, who had flown in from California, was on the passenger seat.

  And bringing up the rear was Tony and his big old Eldorado. It was smoking from the exhaust pipe, but it was keeping up with the fast boys all the same. Donald and Ashley were riding with him, and they coughing and complaining the entire time. They could have walked and got there faster, Ashley insisted. But they all got there in one piece.

  They all arrived at the Portland airport around nine p.m., just as Brent had parked his car and was helping Makayla out on the passenger side. As she stepped out, the family convoy drove up and blocked them in. Just Married was still on the back window of Brent’s Maserati, and the decorations June and Bonita created were still flying from the bumper. It was nighttime, but the car had been easy to spot in the already sparse airport parking lot.

  But Brent and Makayla were shocked when the cars stopped, and Brent’s entire family got out.

  “What are you guys doing here?” Makayla asked with a smile. “Don’t tell me we forgot something.”

  June ran to Brent and Brent lifted him into his arms. “What’s the matter?” Brent asked him. “You missed us already?”

  “No, sir,” June said. “I’m having the time of my life. I don’t miss you at all.”

  Brent and Makayla laughed. “Well good,” Brent said. “Glad to know you’re having fun.”

  Makayla smiled too. June was in therapy because of the painful life he had endured, and Brent and Makayla were in those sessions with him. The counseling was not only making June better, but was bringing all three of them closer together. “You’re in good hands with grandma and grandpa,” Makayla said to June.

  “And Bonita,” June added. “Don’t forget Bonita.”

  “How can we ever forget Bonita?” Brent asked. “We try, but she won’t let us.”

  Bonita and June laughed. Brent sat June back down. And looked at his father. “What’s going on?” he asked him.

  “The results are in,” Bobby blurted out, “and Porter Keith was reelected mayor.”

  Brent and Makayla both looked at him. The day after the shooting, after Denise and Ira were killed, Bobby turned himself in and told the truth about the hit-and-run accident. Makayla, as acting District Attorney, was able to strike a plea deal where Bobby would get a year’s probation for fleeing the scene of an accident, and Kaci, as the driver of the car, would get five years’ probation. There were no drugs or alcohol in their systems by the time Bobby turned himself in, and it was their first offense. Bobby was thrilled with the deal, but Kaci continued to deny any responsibility, insisting that Bobby was the driver at the time of the accident and Makayla was just covering it up the way they tried to cover up June’s confession. She refused the plea deal and absconded. There were rumors that her father had shipped her off to Europe, but nothing was proven. Kaci Keith remained a fugitive from justice.

  That was why it was odd to Brent and his new bride that the entire family would come to the airport to tell them that Kaci’s father, despite the hit-and-run scandal, was reelected.

  “That’s nice,” Brent said, “but what does that have to do with us?”

  “You get to keep your job,” Ashley said. “Doesn’t that matter to you?”

  “Since I haven’t decided if I even want the job,” Brent said, “no. Not really.” He looked at his father. He could see Ashley and Donald and maybe even Bobby coming to tell him news like that, but his father and stepmother and Tony and Carly were there too. And they were serious people who knew better. “What’s the real reason behind this visit, Dad?” he asked his father.

  Charles smiled. “Makayla won also.”

  Brent and Makayla looked at each other. Then Makayla looked at Charles. “But I wasn’t running for anything.”

  “I know. That’s why it’s so remarkable. You know that, right?”

  Makayla sti
ll didn’t follow him. “I know Sunday was our wedding day,” she said proudly and Brent proudly placed his hand around her waist. “I know we were just about to board a plane to travel to our honeymoon. And I furthermore know that today is Election Day. And I also know that on this Election Day, I wasn’t on anybody’s ballot running for any position.”

  “But that’s the beauty of it, honey,” Jenay said. “Ira Stockton, God rest his soul, was still on the ballot as District Attorney. It was too late to remove his name.”

  “Right,” Makayla said with a nod. She already knew that.

  “Everybody assumed,” Tony interjected, “that Ira’s opponent, Ralph Browne, was going to win by default.”

  “Right.”

  Brent was now intrigued. “Are you telling us that Ira received more votes than Ralph Browne?” he asked.

  “We’re telling you,” Charles said, “that Makayla received more votes than both of them. Write in votes. We’re telling you that Makayla is now the duly elected District Attorney for Jericho County.”

  Makayla couldn’t believe it. Brent couldn’t either. He pulled her into his arms and lifted her. “Congratulations, babe!”

  “Thank you!”

  “People just started writing in her name,” Carly said. “One after the other one after the other one. Ira received more votes than Ralph, and you received more votes than both of them.”

  Brent sat his wife back down. “How’s that for a wedding gift?” he asked her.

  “I’m stunned,” Makayla said, unable to stop smiling. “I’m truly stunned.”

  “The people of Jericho are really taking to you,” Carly said. “They don’t want you as Deputy D.A. They want you in charge.”

  “They understood what you did in that confession-gate, as some people called it,” Tony said. “They understood that you were protecting an innocent child and the man you loved. People can relate to that.”

  “I’m speechless. Really I am.” Then she looked at Brent. “So what’s next?” she asked him.

  “The people will want you to at least give a speech,” Bobby said. “You owe them that.”

  Brent looked at Makayla. “It took us four years to get married,” he said.

  “And it may take us four years to go on our honeymoon,” she responded, “if we don’t go now.”

  Brent smiled. “We’re out of here folks,” he said. “She’ll give a speech when we get back!”

  And they kissed June again, and hurried away. They weren’t about to miss their chance at bliss.

  Charles was especially pleased. “That’s what I’m talking about,” he said as they left. “And let it be a lesson to all of you,” he added, looking at his children and grandson. “Always, and I mean always, put family first.”

  And the entire Sinatra clan, led by Big Daddy Sinatra, left Brent and Makayla to do just that.

  And Brent and Makayla boarded their plane, sat down in first class, and leaned back in their seats and looked at each other. And they finally let out that we made it exhale. They were downright giddy.

  “What’s next?” Makayla asked him, grinning from ear to ear.

  “The beginning,” Brent said with a smile, as he grasped her hand. Then he squeezed her hand and added: “Our beginning,” he said.

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