Tommy Gabrini: Every Which Way But Loose

by Mallory Monroe

  “He’s not here because of GCI,” Sal said as they began heading down the steps. “That outfit is like combat fatigues for him. He’s dressed to fight. He’s here because of what happened to Grace and Des.”

  “He doesn’t know what happened to Grace and Des,” Tommy said. “At least I don’t think he does,” he added as he began making his way down the steps. The others followed. “Uncle Mick,” Tommy said jovially, extending his hand as he walked. “Welcome to Gabrini-land!”

  “Small-ass land,” Mick said with a smile as they shook hands. “How are you, Tommy?”

  “I’m good, sir,” Tommy said. “How are you?”

  “Good, good.” Above all else, Tommy was a man Mick loved and respected. He would never tell him, but he admired his business acumen, too, and his remarkable sense of decency. He also admired him for choosing Grace. Most great looking guys like Tommy almost inevitably pick the wrong girl. They weigh looks and body too much, and heart and moral core too little. By choosing Grace, Tommy seemed to have balanced it just right. Mick saw him as a man with his priorities straight.

  He also found something very endearing about Grace. “Hello, sweet lady,” he said as she approached. “What are you doing with these messy-ass Gabrinis?”

  Grace laughed. “Hi, Uncle Mick.”

  Grace was a hugger, and wanted to hug him, but he didn’t give off that kind of vibe. She extended her hand instead.

  “I’m glad to know you and Destiny are okay,” Mick said, as they shook hands.

  “Thank you,” Grace responded. “We didn’t know you were coming. We didn’t know you even knew about that ordeal.”

  “I know about everything,” Mick said.

  Reno laughed. “Mister Modesty himself,” he said as he made it up to the group. “I thought your ass was improving.” Reno gave a wide, sweeping hand shake, where both of their hands slapped together. “How are you, buddy?”

  “Buddy? Who says I’m your buddy?” Reno laughed, although Mick didn’t. But Reno was a man Mick felt, although he would never admit it, was his equal. “I’m surprised they let you in,” he added.

  “It was a close call, believe me,” Tommy said with a smile. “But he begged so we took pity on him.”

  “I got your pity, Thomas,” Reno responded as all the others laughed. “But how the hell are you, Mick?” Reno asked. “And I’m with Grace. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Then he hesitated, looking Mick dead in the eyes. “But you saw the necessity apparently.”

  Mick nodded. “That’s a fact,” he said. “Most definitely.”

  And then Sal moved up and he and Mick were face to face. They’d had their issues in the past, but they landed in a good place. And although Mick respected Tommy, Reno, and Grace tremendously, and loved them all, his love for Sal was unrivaled. For some reason even he couldn’t explain, he felt deeply for him. “Hello, Sal Luca,” he said.

  “How are you, Uncle Mick?” And although all of them wanted to give Mick this big bear hug, which was their way when they greeted one another, Sal not only wanted it, he did it. He reached out and hugged Mick. Although it was an awkward hug for Mick, and they all could see the awkwardness on Mick’s face, it was a hug nonetheless. He returned Sal’s affection. He even patted Sal on the back as they separated.

  Grace, to avoid any further awkwardness, placed her arm in Mick’s. “Come on inside,” she said as she began escorting him up the steps. “I’m just finishing breakfast.”

  And Tommy, Sal, and Reno followed her lead.

  After breakfast, Tommy called the men into his home office. Sal and Reno smiled when they saw that Tommy had a big chart board out that outlined what they were up against. Sal and Reno elbowed each other.

  “A flipchart, Tommy?” Reno asked. Then he looked at Sal. “Get a load of this guy!”

  But Mick was impressed. Because organized thought was the only way to fight organized crime. And this shit was organized. He knew it as soon as he heard about what happened to Grace.

  “It all seemed random at first,” Tommy said as he stood at the flipchart. “A guy from our past shows up in my office with a postcard supposedly originating from Nigeria.”

  “What was that about?” Mick asked.

  “Sal supervised a group of vice cops back in our former life. They went to the wrong house and accidentally killed an elderly Nigerian couple. The couple had a son.”

  Tommy expected Mick to ask about the son, and if they checked him out, which they did. But Mick, being Mick, didn’t go there. “Who shot the couple?” he asked.

  Tommy looked at Sal. To this day he had not revealed who. And wasn’t about to now. “We did,” he said. “Me and my team did. We went to the wrong house.”

  Mick nodded. He didn’t like snitches either. “But you checked out the shooter too?” he asked Sal.

  “We checked him out. He’s shady, but he’s clean.”

  Reno looked at him. “How can you be shady and clean?”

  “He didn’t have shit to do with that postcard,” Sal said. “At least he said he didn’t, and we had no reason to believe otherwise. That’s what I mean.”

  Tommy discussed Shelby’s murder, the man he was told was her murderer, and his subsequent suicide. He discussed Ellen Matanzas pressing charges on Grace and her confession that Grace’s ex-brother-in-law blackmailed her into doing so. And then the ex-brother-in-law’s subsequent suicide.

  “Two suicides,” Reno said. “That’s no coincidence.”

  “That’s when I decided this shit wasn’t random,” Tommy said. “We tried to track down Shelby’s roommate after that, but she had gone.”

  “She’s of no consequence,” Mick said. “Somebody probably threatened her to do what she did. She probably couldn’t even tell you who that person was.”

  “Agreed,” Tommy said. “Same with Lisa McBride.”

  “And she is?” Mick asked.

  “Some up-and-comer,” Sal said, “who tried to distract Grace while the kidnappers attempted to snatch Dessie.”

  “Like Annie Kirkland, Shelby’s friend, we’ll find McBride if we can. But they aren’t our focus.”

  “Good,” Mick said.

  “Then the takeover occurred,” Tommy said. “And they attempted to pin it on my brother. That’s when it went sideways for me.”

  “Yeah,” Mick said. “A different line of attack.” Then he looked at Tommy. “What do you think that means?”

  “That whomever is behind this craziness knows what they’re doing,” Tommy said.

  All three men agreed.

  “You recently changed your company’s name,” Reno said, “from the Gabrini Corporation to Gabrini Capital, Incorporated. GCI. You think that had something to do with the takeover?”

  Tommy shook his head. “I thought about that. But no, I don’t see where that would matter.”

  “You’ve outlined what happened,” Sal said. “You got the puzzle pieces alright. Have you found out anything to make them fit?”

  “Yes,” Tommy said, and flipped another page of his detailed flipchart. “The only connection that I could come up with that had movement to it was the fact that Rondo Jefferson, Grace’s ex-brother-in-law, was in deep debt to a loan shark named Milo. The loan shark once dated Shelby James. And get this: the loan shark works for an elusive mobster they call the Tank. He apparently got his name because he used to work on oil tankers, and later became an oilman.”

  “Oil?” Reno asked. “Nigerian oil?” If this mobster had a Nigerian connection, it could be the connection they were looking for.

  But it wasn’t to be. “Texas oil,” Tommy said, and burst that bubble.

  “So who is The Tank?” Reno asked. “Anybody know him?”

  “I know of him,” Sal admitted. “He’s a high roller alright. But you’re talking under the underworld shit when you’re talking the Tank. You’re talking some deep down shit now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Reno asked.

  “He’s into the sex slave trade,
the porn industry, shit like that,” Sal said. “Deep down shit like that.”

  “But we need to find him,” Tommy said. “Not the loan shark. He’s probably just the connection that placed the players on the board. This Tank person is the man who’s moving those pieces around. He may be the mastermind who made it all happen. We need to find the Tank.”

  “I know where to find him,” Mick volunteered, and everybody looked at him.

  Reno was shocked. “You know him?”

  Mick hesitated. Back in the day, he’d been under the underworld too. “Yes,” he said.

  “Can you take us to him?” Tommy asked.

  Mick hesitated again. He was trying to clean up his act, not get back in that gutter. But he knew he had to. “Yes,” he said.

  Reno and Sal didn’t expect to get recruited for battle this quickly, but Tommy opened up his arsenal of weapons in a room inside his house, and they suited up. As they suited up, Reno smiled. “You know what Dominic asked me? He wanted to know why gangsters never wore bulletproof vests. I told him gangsters don’t fuck around, that’s why. They shoot to kill. They go for the head area.”

  Sal smiled. “What did he say?”

  “Put on a helmet then,” Reno said. Sal laughed.

  But it wasn’t funny to Grace. It was too real as Tommy gave her a long kiss, and an even longer hug, and then he and the men left the house. Grace stood on the porch and waved goodbye, with Branson Nash and an army of security around her. But her heart was heavy. Ninety-nine percent of the time she loved being a Gabrini. Absolutely felt privileged monumentally to be a Gabrini. But this one percent time, when her man was going off to battle? Not so much, she thought sadly, as she went inside of their home, and shut the door.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “When you said we were going into some deep down shit,” Reno said as the convoy of SUVs drove through thickets and thickets of woods, “I didn’t realize you meant literally.”

  But Mick nor Sal smiled. They were too busy looking around. They knew the kind of man they were about to encounter. They knew the lowdown dirty dog nature of his business. And although Mick asked for and received this meeting, they nonetheless put nothing past him. If he was the mastermind behind everything, as some evidence might suggest, this could also be a trap.

  “Under no circumstances,” Mick said to the others, “do you get out of this SUV.” All of the SUVs were armored. “No windows down. No conversations with his security force. Nothing. Stay on highest alert.”

  “Damn, Uncle Mick,” Sal said, looking at him. “We’ve done this shit before. You aren’t talking to a bunch of fucking newbies.”

  “Stay on highest alert,” Mick said again.

  And when they arrived at another convoy of SUVs in those woods, they all pulled out extra firepower and did as Mick had said. Their SUVs formed a circular force, like a circular firing squad, as they stopped in front of the Tank’s own squad.

  But, to Sal’s surprise, the Tank himself got out of one of the SUVs and made his way to theirs. “He’s coming to you?” Sal asked his uncle. He was impressed.

  But Mick remained on highest alert. He watched the Tank as if he was watching an approaching enemy. To Tommy and Reno’s surprise, the Tank wasn’t this towering figure, but a small, pale, gentle-looking man. Almost unhealthily thin and gaunt. Mick opened the door of the SUV, as the Tank got inside.

  “Well, well,” Tank said. “I’m in the company of Mick the Tick once again.” Then he looked around. Saw Tommy, Reno, and Sal. He recognized all of them. “Lots of money men in this SUV. Lots of power. Tommy Gabrini. Reno Gabrini. Sal.” He smiled. “How are you Sal? I heard a lot about you. Sal Gabrini. The mob boss pretending to be a legitimate businessman. You too Reno,” he added. “But that’s a joke, right? All you Vegas casino owners are crooks and thieves to begin with. You’re too crooked out the gate to be fooling anybody.”

  “Kiss my crooked ass,” Reno said.

  Tank smiled. “Yeah, I heard about that ass of yours too. Spilling it all over Vegas I heard. To the constant consternation of your beautiful black wife.”

  “You know what?” Reno said, his temper rising, “you know too much shit about nothing. How about you tell us something worth dragging our asses out in these boonies to find out?”

  Tank laughed. “You’re funny. Real funny.” Then he looked at Mick. “How can I help you, Micky? We used to help each other back in the day. Remember those days? You got too big to be bothered.”

  “Somebody took over GCI,” Mick said. “Was it you?”

  “Me? Come on. Why would I want to take over that trash of a company? I’m an oilman. What do I know about venture capitalism?” Then he looked at Tommy. “That’s for pretty boys. That’s for sissies.”

  Tommy dismissed him, but Sal didn’t. “Fuck you, you little runt!” he shot back.

  But Tommy needed no defense. This little man wasn’t worth the effort. He leaned forward. “Ever hear of Shelby James?”

  Tank actually thought about it. “Nope.”

  “What about Harry Edelson or Rondo Jefferson?”

  “Nope.”

  “What about a postcard from Nigeria?” Sal asked.

  Tank was about to say no, but then he hesitated.

  “What?” Mick asked.

  “Nigeria?”

  “That’s what I said,” Sal said. “You know something?”

  “My son-in-law used to be a cop,” Tank said. “Like you two.” He was looking at Tommy and Sal. And both were staring at him, intrigued. Could this be the connection?

  “What does the fact that he was a cop have to do with Nigeria?” Tommy asked.

  “That’s why he’s no longer a cop. He was kicked off the force because of some Nigerian shit. But that was a long time ago.”

  “What Nigerian shit?” Tommy asked, completely intrigued.

  “I don’t know the details, but he said something about how he and his crew accidentally shot and killed some old Nigerians and the Nigerian government raised such a stink that he ended up getting kicked off the force. On trumped up charges, he said, but I don’t know about all that. He’s a crook too, like most cops. He hasn’t been married to my daughter that long. I’m still getting to know his ass.”

  Sal was nearly on the edge of his seat. This next answer was going to be crucial. “What’s his name?” he asked the Tank.

  “Freddie Dryars,” Tank answered.

  Sal’s heart pounded. Tommy didn’t recognize the name. “Freddie who?” he asked.

  “Fred Dryars,” Sal said. “I know him. We used to call him Rookie. He was new on the force when he worked under me.” He looked at his brother. And now it didn’t matter to Sal. His loyalty ended when somebody else’s betrayal began. Now he was ready to spill the beans. “He was the motherfucker who pulled that trigger,” he said. “He was the motherfucker who killed those old people.”

  Tommy was excited now. So were Reno, Sal, and Mick. They felt as if they were getting somewhere. “Where’s Mr. Dryars?” Tommy asked.

  “Working,” Tank said. “Where else? He’s one of my enforcers. He collects from my, shall we say, delinquent accounts? He’s not the best, but he’s a former cop. He’s better than most. You can find him over on Hershel. He’s stationed at a pool hall over there.”

  Reno stared at him. “You seem mighty eager to give up your own son-in-law.”

  “He’s a gold digging prick,” Tank said. “But so is my daughter. They deserve each other. There’s no love lost on my part for either one of them, believe me.” But then he looked at Tommy. “So you think that wuss had something to do with the sale of GCI?”

  “Maybe,” Tommy said.

  Tank began getting out of the SUV. “I doubt if that’s true, but suit yourself. He’s a good enforcer. But brains r us, he is not.” Then he hesitated, and looked at the men. “If you have to kill that bastard,” he said, “spare my daughter. I don’t care all that much for her, and she drives me crazier than her mother does, but she’s sti
ll my daughter.”

  Nobody committed to it, but Mick nodded. Tank trusted Mick. And got out of the SUV.

  Fred “Rookie” Dryars stood in front of the pool hall on Hershel tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it with a motion that made it appear as if he was snatching the ball out of midair. His two assistants had a man standing before him. A punk businessman they called Twitch.

  “Stop being so fucking nervous,” Rookie said as the man stood before him. “You weren’t too nervous to borrow all of that dough.”

  “I’ll pay it back. Every penny. You know me, Freddie. I’m good for it.”

  “If it was my dough, cool. I can let you slide. But it’s not mine. And the man I work for don’t let nobody slide.” He looked at the businessman. “You have until Friday, Twitch. You don’t pay up by Friday, you will have no legs to run away. No arms to dial for help. And no life to live.”

  The businessman looked faint.

  “Hit the road,” Rookie said.

  “Get lost,” his assistant said. And the businessman, all too thrilled to get away from them, hurried across the street in his fine suit, and then ran away.

  Rookie and his assistants laughed. “Follow him,” Rookie said through the laughter. “Rob his ass, and then take him out.”

  “What if he’s broke?” one of the assistants asked.

  “What are you asking me that for? Take him out anyway,” Rookie added.

  And the assistants, all too happy to go on a kill mission, took off too.

  By the time Rookie returned to tossing his ball in the air and snatch-catching it, he looked again and saw two familiar faces coming his way: his old captain, and his old sergeant. And he knew they weren’t coming for the hell of it.

  He took off this time.

  “He’s on the run!” Sal yelled as he and Tommy took off after him.