Although Rodney’s reaction seemed to Tommy to be less definable, as if it was a kind of happiness mixed with anger, Cassie’s reaction was pure happiness. She left her husband’s side and hurried out of the kitchen. Rodney hurried behind her, but with less enthusiasm. Sal clasped Gemma’s hand and they followed the parents.
Tommy, however, finished drinking Gemma’s glass of wine and then began to follow the crowd. Marvin moved next to him as they headed out of the kitchen together.
“Met Chelsey before?” Marvin asked him.
“She’s Gemma’s sister, right? The one that never shows up?”
“That’s Chelse.”
Tommy nodded. “I haven’t met her, but Gem mentioned her a few times.”
Marvin touched his arm just as they were about to head out of the kitchen. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Tommy looked at Marvin’s hand on his arm, and then he looked into Marvin’s big eyes. He remembered what Sal said was his childhood nickname: Marvin Gaye. But without the E.
“Ask away,” Tommy said.
Marvin moved closer to him, exemplifying just how personal he was about to get. “Are you on the down?” he asked.
Memories of childhood, and his father’s abusiveness, flashed through Tommy’s head like sudden scenes from a war zone. For most of his teen years, Tommy was often approached by gay guys who felt he was too pretty to be straight. He wasn’t gay, not by any stretch, and for most of his teen years he resented them for thinking he was. He blamed them all, as if they conspired with his father somehow to destroy his manhood. But now, after years of therapy, after years of quiet reflection and spiritual soul-searching and no longer giving a damn what others thought, he blamed no one but his father. And even that blame no longer stung.
“Are you down, as in on the down-low?” Marvin asked again, as if Tommy didn’t quite understand him.
But Tommy understood him perfectly. He smiled and squeezed the younger man’s arm. A young man who was, like Gemma, nearly a decade his junior. “No, son,” he said, “I’m not down like that.”
Marvin smiled and hunched his shoulders. “Oh well. Can’t fault a boy for trying.”
Then Tommy had a thought. “Word of advice, however,” he warned. “If you value all of your body parts, do not, I repeat, do not ask my brother such a question.”
Marvin grinned mischievously. “You mean that sweet, adorable, mild-mannered Sal Gabrini isn’t down for whatever?”
Tommy laughed. “You’re a naughty boy,” he said with a finger wave as he headed out of the kitchen, prompting Marvin to laugh and head out too. Sal often came across as a bit of a narrow-minded, homophobic racist to Marv, although he knew, in truth, Sal wasn’t really that way. But he never had those kind of lingering doubts about Tommy.
When they arrived in the living room area, the crowd was still preoccupied with their own laughter and mirth, but a smaller group, one that included Sal and Gemma, had surrounded the new face in the crowd.
Cassie was still hugging her daughter with tears in her eyes, and it was clear that she was without question the happiest person in the entire house to see Chelsey.
Tommy remained outside of the circle, near Sal and Gemma, just as Sal was whispering in Gemma’s ear. “How long has it been?” he asked her.
Gemma exhaled. “Four years,” she said.
Sal couldn’t believe it. “Four years?” Then he shook his head. “Now that’s a crying shame.”
But Gemma didn’t seem to agree. “Not for nothing,” she said.
Sal looked at her, and asked what did she mean, but Gemma was still too stunned that Chelsey was there at all to respond to anybody.
Rodney was stunned that she was there.
Even Cassie, who was thrilled beyond measure to see their oldest daughter again, was stunned that she was there.
Tommy was just stunned. Not by Chelsey’s presence, but by the woman standing beside her.
His look lingered when he saw the woman standing beside her.
Cassie stopped hugging her daughter and pulled back, taking a good look at her. Although Cassie was talking nonstop to the daughter, Tommy didn’t hear a word she said. He was too busy staring at Chelsey’s friend.
What a sight to behold, he thought. Tall, dark, and remarkably gorgeous. And although she was slender, there was nothing skinny about her. This woman had curves. This woman had the kind of body he craved.
Marvin was about to go and welcome Chelsey home too, but Tommy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Who is that?” he asked, motioning toward the object of his infatuation.
Marvin smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d get around to noticing her.”
“You know her?”
“Oh yeah. Everybody does. That’s Liz Logan. She and Chelse have been best friends since childhood. She came with Chelse for moral support, or at least that’s why I think she came.”
“I know Gem said Chelse was a foreign correspondent. Is she one too?”
“Ha!” Marvin said. “Not hardly. That heifer owns the magazine Chelsey works for. And she’s a badass, don’t get it twisted. Don’t let her smiles and her sweet demeanor fool you. She’s something else.”
“Is she married?” Tommy asked.
Another ha from Marvin. “No man in this world will ever please that battle ax to the point of her wanting to marry one. Men are intimidated by her. I know I am, that’s why I steer clear of her. She may be a lesbo for all I know.”
Tommy smiled. “I doubt that!”
Marvin looked at him. “You don’t know!” Then he smiled. “You don’t care, do you? You’re going to try it anyway, aren’t you?”
“You would advise against it?”
“Strongly,” Marvin said. “Take any interest you have in her, and squash it now. Your odds are a million to one, even with your looks. That lady is the gold standard my friend. You will have to climb a mountain of men to get in her pants.”
Tommy continued to stare at Liz Logan as he released Marvin, and let him go. The gold standard? A badass? Instead of Marvin’s words scaring Tommy off, they intrigued him even more.
He liked everything about her, even down to the way she carried herself. She wore a pair of green, skintight, slim-fit pants that made her look long and sleek, like a hungry panther. Her high-collar, sleeveless, tucked-in blouse displayed her big breasts, her flat stomach, and her perfectly narrow waist. If fine was wine, Tommy thought as he looked down the length of her, she was champagne.
And the way she stood there, commanding the room just by being in it, so straight-back and elegant and poised, did something to him. She knew what she was doing. She was a sophisticated lady in every sense of the word. And that face. Tommy was captivated by her small, round face. From her big, brown, almond-shaped eyes that had a tendency to flutter when she spoke, to her strong nose, full lips, and high cheekbones, she came across, not only gorgeous, but as a woman completely confident and self-aware. Before his marriage to Grace, it was women like her who turned him on unlike any other woman could. And her smile, so white and wide and the perfect contrast to her dark skin, shut it down for him.
But when Cassie urged her daughter to say hello to her father, and Rodney just stood there like a stump on a log, Tommy stopped focusing on Chelsey’s friend, and looked at Chelsey’s father, at the man he respected. What the hell, he thought. The prodigal daughter was home. She was undoubtedly many days late and many dollars short, but she was home. What was wrong with Rodney?
Whatever it was, Tommy realized, it was deep. Rodney stood there looking at his daughter as if he was looking at a stranger. And when she said, “Hi, Dad,”, and she reached over and hugged him, there was almost a disgust in Rodney’s eyes. He hugged her back, but even that was done reluctantly. Something was wrong with this picture of family bliss. Tommy saw it clearly now.
Gemma moved forward as if she saw the awkwardness too. Sal, who was super-protective of his wife whenever they were on terrain he didn’t control, moved with her.
; “Hey Gem,” Chelsey said gaily.
“Long time, no see,” Gemma said as she and her sister hugged. Even Gemma didn’t seem thrilled to see her either. “How are you?”
“I’m wonderful,” Chelsey said. “And you?”
“I’m . . . good,” Gemma replied.
“And this must be Salvatore. The husband.” Chelsey extended her small, chubby hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Sal said, shaking her hand. “Long time, no show,” he added. Gemma elbowed him.
“Well, brother-in-law,” Chelsey said, pulling Liz forward, “I want you to meet Liz Logan.”
“How are you?” Sal asked as he shook her hand. “So Chelsey, is she your, what do you call it? Your wife?”
Liz, Chelsey and Gemma laughed. “No, Sal,” Chelsey said, “she’s just my boss and my best friend. Nothing deeper than that.”
Sal felt embarrassed. But Gemma, as usual, saved him from himself by pulling Tommy forward. “Chelse, I don’t think you’ve met Tommy yet. Tommy Gabrini. He’s Sal’s brother.”
“Hello Sal’s brother,” Chelsey said as they shook hands. “I’m Gemma’s sister.”
Tommy smiled. “Hello, Chelsey.”
“And, in case you missed it,” Chelsey said with a big, slapped-on, nervous smile, “this is my boss and best friend Liz.”
Liz almost mouthed the word wow when Chelse introduced her. Not that good looking men wowed her so easily. They were so common in her profession that they almost never wowed her. But this man, she thought. With his odd, greenish-blue eyes; with his strong, chiseled face that had everything perfectly proportioned; with his thick, gorgeous hair and big, muscular frame, there was no other word for it. Wow, she inwardly said again. “Nice to meet you, Tommy,” she said as they shook.
As attention returned back to Chelsey and her unexpected appearance, Tommy took the opportunity to move next to Liz. He wanted her attention. “So, Liz,” he said, “are you a Rosemont native also?”
“Born and raised,” Liz said. “At least until I was eighteen. Then I got the hell out of here.”
Tommy laughed. “Big city girl, are you?”
“Hell yeah,” Liz is with that smile. “Chicago is my home. People ask me where I’m from, I say Rosemont, Indiana. People ask me where I want to be from, I say Chicago.” Then Liz considered him. “What about you? I know Gem once said her husband was from Seattle. Is that your stomping ground too?”
“It is indeed.”
“What do you do in good old Seattle?” She looked down, at his pristine, designer suit. “You don’t exactly look like you’re between employment.”
Tommy smiled. “No, I work. My brother and I own the Gabrini Corporation based out of Seattle.”
“The Gabrini Corporation. Sounds big.”
Tommy looked her dead in the eye. She was no shrinking violet. She would know what he meant. “It’s big,” he said.
Liz smiled a sideways smile. “You think of everything, don’t you? And here I was trying to get a sneak peep at your shoes.”
Tommy laughed. And as he did, she took that peep anyway.
Tommy felt some kind of way about this woman. He was only looking at her. And he’d only just gotten a good look at her. But he already felt a sizzle. And when their eyes met for that brief moment, and both of them looked downward, assessing the other’s body, he was already sold. Which meant he had to have her. He wanted to talk with her, yes. He wanted to get to know her, sure. But mainly, if he were to be honest, he wanted to fuck her.
“Well Elizabeth,” Cassie said, as she placed her arm around Liz’s small waist, “are you going to stay overnight too?”
“I am, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay!” Cassie responded.
“I have to go over to my bureau in Dubai, so Chelse and I will fly out of here together.”
“She says you’re going to Dubai to audit her. I said no way. Right?”
“Wrong,” Liz said with a smile. She would laugh and joke with the best of them, but Tommy could see already that when it came to business, she didn’t play. “Her bureau will most definitely be audited while I’m there. I’ve got to make sure your generous daughter isn’t letting the inmates run the asylum, as I believe she is.”
“I respect my reporters,” Chelsey said. “I give them wide latitude.”
“And they take it, and take it, and take it. I’m going to remind them that Chelse is their bureau chief, but ultimately they work for me. And I’m not Chelse. I’ll fire a bitch.”
Cassie laughed again. She seemed as enamored with Liz as Tommy was. “You have always been too hard, dear. Even when you were little. You can learn something from Chelse.”
Although Liz respectfully said nothing, her expressive eyes said everything to Tommy. She appeared to be nearing the end of her rope with Chelsey and her laidback style.
“I need to check on the grills,” Rodney said suddenly, and brushed past Cassie and Liz.
“Well damn,” Liz said as he brushed past her. She was the only one, it seemed to Tommy, who was calling him out on his rudeness.
But Cassie continued to smile, although Tommy could see her hurt. “He’s just overtired,” she said, took Chelsey by one arm, and Liz by the other one. “Let’s go out back too. That’s where the real food is. Hungry, dear?” she asked Chelsey as they headed toward the patio.
Gemma placed her arm on Sal’s. “Let’s go, bud,” she said. “I may have to referee.”
But Sal frowned. “What are you talking? Why would you need to referee?”
“Dad and Chelse do not get along,” Gemma explained. “They never have, they never will. I need to referee.” Then she looked at Tommy. “Coming too?”
“I’m going to make some phone calls,” he said, “but then I’ll be there.”
“Use Dad’s office,” Gemma insisted, as she and Sal followed the others.
Tommy stood there, staring at the gorgeous back of that gorgeous girl on Cassie’s arm. Liz Logan. She was so fine, with that juicy, tight ass, that his dick was throbbing just looking at her. He had to have her. He was stunned at how badly.
CHAPTER FIVE
Later that evening, after everybody had eaten and Tommy had completed another round of phone calls, he sat out on the patio with drink in hand, crossed his legs, and watched Liz and Chelsey, Sal and Gemma, and a large group of other partiers dancing a dance they called the electric slide. And they were dancing in unison. It was old school all the way, and Tommy found it amusing. He remembered attending parties with lady friends in the nineties where people were doing that very same dance. They would line up, lean forward, lean back, and do the dance. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. The circle of life, he thought, and sipped his wine.
Sal and Gemma, both of whom were natural dancers, were having the time of their lives. Rodney was near the back of the backyard, talking with a group of men his age, but he still seemed to be in a nasty mood, which confounded Tommy. His oldest daughter was home, yet he seemed upset that she had been away so long. She was home. Shouldn’t that be the issue now?
“Too good to dance, are you?”
Tommy looked over and saw Liz plopping down in the chair across from his. She looked exhausted.
“Not too good,” Tommy replied. “Not good enough.”
She smiled and considered him. “White boy can’t dance?”
Tommy nodded. “Not even a little bit.”
“Your brother certainly can. What’s your excuse?”
“Two left feet.”
Liz glanced down at his feet. They were clad in very expensive, very long shoes. Ferragamos if she had to venture a guess. The man definitely had style.
“So what’s the name of your magazine?” Tommy asked her. “Have I heard of it?”
Liz looked back up at him. “It’s called Kutana,” she said. “If you like wars and international affairs, you probably heard of it. If you despise wars and international affairs, y
ou probably don’t know it from jack.”
Tommy looked at her. “Wars and politics hun?”
Liz smiled. “You seem surprised. You thought it was a black power magazine, didn’t you?”
“Not black power. But I must confess I did think it would be geared toward the African-American community specifically.”
“Thank-you for you honesty,” Liz said. “Because that’s the way it is. Most people see a black woman at the helm of a magazine and urban vibe becomes their default position. But no, we do not compete with Ebony and Jet. Our competitors are more like US News and World Report, the Wall Street Journal, and The Times of London, to name a few.”
“Thus your bureau in Dubai?”
“Right. And we have one in London and South Africa too. We cover the globe, not the inner city.”
“More online than not?”
“That’s right.”
Tommy was impressed. He considered her. “It must be disheartening when people try to limit your reach with such assumptions.”
“Disheartening?” Liz asked, astounded he would think such a thing. “More like the best motivator money can’t buy!”
Tommy laughed.
“They try to limit my reach,” Liz went on, “the sky becomes my limit! No, let them continue to underestimate me. It only makes me more determined to reach my goal. ”
Tommy could see her dedication. “Are you there yet?” he asked her.
Liz’s bravado remained, but he could see some weariness in her big, brown eyes. “It’s been tough, I can’t even lie. Many times I have to battle perceptions before I can even get up to bat. And many days, even after I get up to bat, I strike out.” Then she smiled and nodded. “But I have a good team. I’ll get there.”
“I’m sure you will,” Tommy said. He raised his glass. “Enjoy the rise.”
Liz smiled and checked him out as he took a sip from his drink. Yup, she decided. He’s a classy one. Boy got class.
Then a new song blared over the backyard stereo. Cheryl Lynn singing Got To Be Real. “That’s my song!” Liz declared as she jumped up, along with half the partiers, and started singing and dancing to Cheryl Lynn’s beautifully sung, upbeat tune:
Tommy Gabrini 4: Dapper Tom Begin Again Page 5
