“Oh, yeah. Very much so. But I’ve been out of the grind for more than a minute now. I’m not sure if I want to go back in.”
“I get how you feel,” Jace said, “but it’s the chance of a lifetime. What’s the hesitation?”
“I’ll probably do it,” Roz said. “If my husband agrees.”
“And if he doesn’t agree?”
Roz didn’t hesitate. “Then I won’t do it.”
Jace laughed. “I never thought there was a man alive who could tame Rebel Roz. But I guess that gangster could.”
Roz continued to dry off and did not respond. Her lack of response made Jace quickly realize his error. “I didn’t mean to refer to your husband that way,” he said. “People talk that foolishness and I should have never repeated it. Forgive me?”
Roz wanted to roll her eyes. They throw their rocks and hide their hands. “No problem,” she said. “But I do have to get off of this phone.”
“Okay. But I hope I didn’t offend you. I didn’t mean too.”
Again, Roz didn’t respond.
“Anyway,” Jace said, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out with your students. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
She said goodbye, and ended the call. She stood there longer, shaking her head at how her students not only let her down, but themselves too. Especially themselves! And then headed into her bedroom.
Her husband, Mick Sinatra, was still in bed. He was lying asleep on his back, with the covers down around his waist. Roz was surprised. “Mick? You aren’t up yet?”
She wrapped the towel around her naked body as she walked over to him. “Mick?” she asked again, shaking him. “Mick, wake up. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
“Given that it is my plane I will be catching,” Mick said, very much awake although his eyes remained closed, “I think I will be okay.”
Roz smiled. This man! She was about to move away, to go to her lingerie drawer so that she wouldn’t be late too, but Mick took her arm and pulled her back.
“Boy, quit,” she said playfully as she ended up on top of him.
He wrapped his big arms around her and finally opened his big, green eyes. And he was staring into hers.
“Whether it’s your plane or not,” she said, “you’re still going to be late.”
Mick continued staring at her pretty brown face as if he loved the look of her. “Yes,” he said, as if he was responding to something she had not said.
“Yes, what?” she asked, confused. But when she looked into his big, green eyes, she realized what. Even his droopy eye was getting that hooded look. Mick was sexy as hell to Roz in any event, but when he was filled with lust for her, he was impossible.
Her heart began to race as Mick moved his face closer to her face, and his mouth closer to her mouth. And he kissed her. He held her on top of him, wrapped in his arms, and kissed her with that long, searing kiss that always took her mind and body to a place of Mick’s own choosing.
Mick chose to take her to a slow-paced place. He wasn’t trying to rush this. He kissed Roz in her mouth, and then on her face, her neck, and in her mouth again. He unfurled her towel, and tossed it aside, as he kissed her. And then he lifted her body until her breasts were at his mouth, and he kissed and sucked her there.
Roz grabbed his penis, and began jerking it, but it needed no assistance. It was already hard. It was already big. It was already poised for entry.
But Mick wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t rushing this. He had to fly to Rome this morning, to handle shit he shouldn’t have to deal with, and he knew how badly he was going to miss his wife. More and more, leaving was becoming a problem for him. When they first married, being away from Rosalind was natural to him. He didn’t give a shit. He’d been a loner all his life and that was the way he preferred to be. But now, being away from Rosalind, even for a night, was a difficulty.
It was a difficulty for Roz too, but on a different level than Mick’s concerns. Whenever Mick was around, there was a normalcy to her life. There was a sense of safety, of calmness, of pulling together with somebody who knew how to handle his business. No other man treated Roz the way Mick did. Her previous boyfriends were always telling her how much they loved her, but their actions were telling her otherwise. They always wanted something from her. Like rent money. Car note money. Money to help them pay their child support. Crazy shit like that. But Mick gave. He never took.
And he gave her good love this morning. He turned her onto her back, and kissed her down her body until he was kissing her hips, the outside of her vagina, and the inside.
When he got inside, Roz lifted higher because she knew the pleasure that was about to go down. And it went down. Mick squeezed her ass and licked her, sucked her, and made love to her without the aid of his valued member whatsoever. Roz was enraptured by his mastery. He knew how to lick her clit until it was burning, and then suck her walls until they were on fire too.
And then, when his valued member could no longer wait, and Roz’s body could no longer tolerate its absence, Mick leaned up, placed his hand on his penis, and entered her.
Roz lifted her hands onto the top of their headboard as the feelings made her feel as if she was going to climax on first contact.
Mick felt the same way too, and had to lean down, and push through that initial surge of pre-cum. And then he was in his groove. He was moving deeper inside of her, he was expanding as he moved, until her tightness created the kind of friction he loved.
He laid down on top of Roz, and began kissing her as he did her. He couldn’t believe his good luck. Rosalind Graham said yes to a man like him when he was certain this marriage was destined to end up like every relationship he’d ever had ended up: into the dustbin too. But they were still holding on. They were still making this work. And Mick was still fucking Roz so long and so hard that she came, and came again with orgasms that wouldn’t quit.
When Mick came, he felt his body tense to a breaking point. And then the dam burst and his white juice shot out. He loved filling her up. And he filled her and filled her. He fucked her and filled her. He loved taking her to a place that no other man was allowed to take her. He took her there with strokes that wouldn’t quit. And she was taking him. Until both of them, weakened by their incredible output, gave in.
Mick moved off of Roz, and laid on his back beside her. He was breathing so hard, and she was breathing so hard, that neither one of them could say how they truly felt. They just looked at each other as if they had this incredible secret, and smiled.
CHAPTER TWO
The plane landed nearly an hour later than scheduled, and nobody was happy. Not the three men who stood outside of the limousine in their overcoats and gloves, their breath visible as they talked, their feet heavy as they shuffled in place against the cold evening air. Not the two men inside the limo, their bosses, who smoked cigars and bitched and moaned about having to do this at all. And certainly not Mick Sinatra, who suddenly stepped out of his big, private jet and began his descent down.
The three men who stood outside the limo were shocked when they saw who had un-boarded the plane. In his black trousers and black turtleneck, with his ankle length white coat whipping around him in the wind as if it wasn’t protection against the elements but held a different purpose, he was climbing down from those steps as if he owned the world. He didn’t, but he damn sure owned them. And they knew it.
One of the men quickly opened the back-passenger door of the limousine. “It’s not Theodore,” he said. “It’s not Teddy.”
The two Dons in the limo, Pax Ludano and Benedetto Jacone, looked at him with frowns on their faces. “What do you mean it’s not Theodore?” Pax asked. “We’re waiting on him here. His ass already late.”
“It’s Mick, Boss. Mick himself came. It’s Mick the Tick.”
Pax nearly dropped his cigar when he heard that pronouncement. Jacone too, stunned, did drop ash onto his thigh. Both men turned around and looked out of the back window. Whe
n they saw Mick, their boss, walking across the tarmac, they both panicked, and scrambled to get out of the car.
But by the time they stepped out, another car, an SUV, drove past them and stopped further up. And instead of coming to their limo to make the journey with them, Mick got in the back of the SUV.
“What’s he doing?” Jacone asked. “Doesn’t he see us here? We’re waiting here!”
Another man, a man they recognized as Mick’s man in Rome, got out of the SUV and made his way over to the limo.
“What’s going on, Fredo?” Pax asked as the man approached. “What’s his problem?”
“Boss is going to the Docks first. He said he’ll see you at the restaurant.” Mick owned a restaurant in Rome that was always their meeting place. A restaurant he ordered to be shut down for their meeting.
“But what about us?”
“He said to go about your business,” Fredo said. “He’s doing inventory so it’ll take several hours. I’ll call when he’s heading to the meeting place.”
“We’re respected bosses, Fredo, and you know it,” Pax said. “We don’t appreciate this treatment. He could have told us that shit before we came all this way to this fucking airport.”
“You should have done your jobs or he wouldn’t have to fly all this way to fucking Rome.” Fredo pointed at them. “Don’t fuck with him,” he added, and headed back to the SUV.
When the SUV drove away, Jacone looked at Pax. “What are you nuts? He could have ordered your death right here and now. Get a hold of yourself.”
“So, what are we going to do?” Pax asked.
“What we planned all along. This shit goes south, we handle it.” Then Jacone looked at the fleeing SUV. “We handle him. Just like Bulldog said. One day he’s going to be bigger than Sinatra. One day Sinatra will be bowing to us.”
Pax looked at Jacone. It was kill or be killed time, and he knew it. But he’d never known a man to live to tell about it who tried to take out Mick the Tick.
They got into the limo, and went about their business.
Four hours later, Mick sat in the empty restaurant less than a mile beyond the Piazza at Via Veneto and watched the two Dons walk in. Their bodyguards, five men strong this time, walked in behind them. The streets outside were crowded: a festival was taking place. But Mick, part-owner of the restaurant, had shut it down for the meeting in such a way that presented a startling contrast to the loud profaneness of costumes and mirth outside, to total silence inside. Then the Dons walked in and bought, with the opening of the door, the sounds of the streets indoors. Until the bodyguards closed the door behind them, and the silence returned.
Mick knew why the bodyguards were there. They came, not for any show of force by Dons who, in essence, worked for Mick, but because of the change in plans. They were told that someone would be coming, but they assumed it would be Mick’s oldest son Teddy. When word came that Mick himself had gotten off of that plane; that Mick himself was waiting for them at his restaurant on the Via Veneto, they immediately knew they were going to need backup. Mick Sinatra wouldn’t journey all this way to Rome to congratulate somebody. Mick the Tick would only come to Rome because somebody fucked up.
After both men gave him a European double kiss on his cheeks, and their men sat at tables nearby, the two Dons sat across from the boss and unfurled their scarfs. It was cold in Rome. But nothing like the chill Mick generated.
“How was your journey, Don Michello?” asked Pax Ludano, to break the ice. “We expected Theodore at the airport. We were thrilled when we found out that you had come.”
Mick stared at the two men. They were thrilled alright. As thrilled as getting a root canal.
“Have you had a chance to take in the sites?” Jacone asked. “Have you had a chance to see our beautiful city all over again?”
If they thought Mick was going to even pretend to go along to get along, they had read him wrong. “What happened to my guns?” he asked.
Jacone, the older Don, knew how to smile off his concern. Pax, although no spring chicken himself, didn’t. He was the big boss in Rome. He knew Mick outranked him, but he still didn’t take guff from anybody. “We were just asking you about our city. We were just trying to be neighborly here. We’re all on the same page, Don Michello.”
“You two are on the same fucking page,” Mick said bluntly. “I’m not even in the same book. Where’s my guns? What happened to my shipment?”
Jacone looked at Pax. They knew Mick would be pissed, but they didn’t expect this. Jacone leaned forward. “We don’t know what happened,” Pax said. “That’s the truth of it, Michello. We tracked from buildup to boatlift, and we couldn’t come up with a thing. We shipped full load.”
“Bullshit,” Mick said. “That’s bullshit! Those shipments came into the port half-filled. The drop off occurred here, not in Philly.”
“We shipped them, Michello,” Pax said. “What more can we say? I oversaw that shipment myself because of your last complaint that cargo was missing. I oversaw it from beginning to ship out. It was all there.”
“Bullshit, Pax. Bullshit! It came into my territory below weight again. This is the second time. I allowed your error the first time. Maybe you just didn’t inventory right. I took that hit. But nobody’s shitting me twice. Where is my cargo? Who’s pulling this shit, and why?”
The two Dons looked at each other. “It was all there,” Jacone said. “I swear this to you, Don Michello. We wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You did it before,” Mick said. “Why not try it again?”
Jacone looked at Pax.
“Oh, yes,” Mick said. “I had my men investigate that shipment too. You needed guns for some turf war you were waging here in Rome, you needed massive firepower, and you took what you needed. Stop bullshitting me and tell me what happened.”
It was no use, and Jacone knew it. There was nothing that got by Sinatra’s nose. He began to confess. Pax elbowed him, because he knew Mick wouldn’t understand, but he didn’t stop. “We skimmed off the top the first time,” he admitted. “We thought it would go unnoticed. But we knew better this time, Don Michello. Like you said, we knew not to try you twice.”
But Mick was still reeling in disbelief. “You stole from me?” he asked. You’re crazy enough to admit you stole from me, he wanted to ask.
“We couldn’t meet the order and handle our business,” Pax said. “That’s the truth of it, Michello. We had to hold some back. And we’ll make it up to you, we promise. But this time, no. That shipment was full.”
Mick looked at the Dons with a look of pure hate on his face. He’d forced them into admitting what he was only speculating about. And they realized, in a nanosecond, that they’d just boxed themselves in. They’d just boxed themselves into a coffin. And for them, who were Dons in Rome by virtue of surviving everybody else, they knew it was kill or be killed time. They already had a plan. If things turned south, they were not to hesitate.
They did not hesitate. They pulled their guns simultaneously, and attempted to pull their triggers and take Mick out. But Mick already had a gun, a tiny Smith and Wesson J-Frame with .357 magnum load buried in his big hand, and another one in his hand beneath the table, locked and loaded, and he fired first. One shot to Pax’s forehead. Another shot, beneath the table, to Jacone’s stomach. Pax leaned forward. His face hit the table with a deafening thump. Jacone slumped sideways, and his eyes closed.
Their men, five strong, immediately rose to their feet, their hands ready to pull out their own firearms. But Mick stood up, already armed and dared them to try it.
“There’s notoriety to be had,” he said calmly, “if you try it. You will be known the world over, by my enemies and my friends, as the men who snuffed out Mick the Tick Sinatra. There’s notoriety to be had.”
Then Mick’s look changed. From general annoyance, to downright anger. “But you will pay for that notoriety. Because my family, and my friends, will make you pay. There is notoriety too be had, but there is also
a price to pay, namely your deaths and the deaths of your entire families, after you gain this notoriety.” Mick looked at the five hired hands. “Choose,” he said.
And when he looked that chilling look at them, they knew, unlike their now dead Dons, that they were out of their league. All five of them, to a man, sat back down.
But Mick knew something was wrong. Something was off. Where was his backup? Where were Fredo and his men? They were in the backroom of his restaurant, supposedly listening and waiting should shit turn sideways, but nobody showed. Which had to mean one of two things: they bailed on him, or they were killed. Mick was willing to be the latter. While the Dons were walking through the front door of his restaurant, their goons were walking through the backdoor, taking out Fredo and his backup.
Mick knew, at that moment, that these five men before him weren’t cowards. They were backing down only because they knew they would have a greater advantage later by doing so. Mick also knew the window was closing in on him fast and he had to act. His men had undoubtedly already gone down. Not him too.
He backed out of the restaurant, with his weapons still trained on the five hired hands, until he was outside, in the heart of the festivities. His SUV was waiting, and his driver was behind the wheel, just as the limousine that had transported the two Dons, was parked behind the SUV with a driver too. He walked across the sideway with his normal swag, his white coat blowing wildly just from his movement alone. But instead of getting in the backseat of his SUV, which he knew would be a sure set up, he walked around to the front driver side door and opened the door. When his suspicion was confirmed, that the driver was not the same man who had transported him earlier, he didn’t ask questions. He shot the driver, pushed his slumped body over onto the passenger seat, and got in behind the wheel himself.
The limo driver, seeing this, cranked up his car. Just as he did, the five bodyguards from inside the restaurant ran out and began firing at the SUV. Mick floored it, nearly taking out festive goers, as he sped away.
Mick Sinatra: Breaking My Heart Page 2
