“I’m sorry that woman came to your office today.”
“I’m not,” Gemma responded bluntly. “If she can convince the cops that you shot that man in defense of your property, which is absolutely what happened, then they will have no choice but to close their investigation. No Grand Jury will need to be empaneled. No charges will need to be filed.”
“Now that’ll be a nice little gift,” Sal said. “If they’ll believe her.”
“They’ll believe her,” Gemma said. “They already had a thin case to begin with, and they know it.”
“But if their case was so thin, why were you so certain they would charge me?”
“Because you’re a Gabrini,” Gemma said. “Because they could. But if there’s a contradictory witness who was there and who says it was just a random shooting and you didn’t know that guy from Adam, they can’t ignore that.”
“But maybe the D.A. will want to ignore it. Especially since you’re running against his ass.”
Gemma shook her head. “Just the opposite,” she said. “If he tries to drag you down now when the average voter will see that you had a right to defend your property, they don’t care what the mix up was on the manager’s end, he could really hand me a campaign issue. But he still would have wanted to indict you, and then get the Grand Jury to conclude that the homicide was justified. He’d look magnanimous, even to his opponent’s husband, but he’ll also remind the public about his opponent’s husband.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Sal said. “Scandalize my name, and then clear it.”
Gemma nodded. “Right,” she said. “But what I’m hoping is that Sweets eyewitness account will scare Jasper just enough that he won’t take the risk of a backlash. I’m praying he’ll tell the cops to finish up their investigation with no charges filed, and no need for a Grand Jury.”
But Sal continued to stare at Gemma. Gemma could feel his anguish. “I’m okay, Sal,” she said. “We’re okay. I know you didn’t have sex with that woman. I know you didn’t even want to.” Then her beautiful eyes took on that searching look Sal knew so well. “But I do wish you would have told me about that lodge.” Gemma said this and looked at Sal.
Sal knew he blew it. “I should have, yeah,” he agreed.
“What I don’t understand is why, Sal? Why do you keep things from me? I thought we were beyond that.”
“We are beyond it. We are, babe. But there are certain things, regarding my other life, you don’t need to know about. I don’t tell you about my safe houses, do I? No. Because you don’t need to know about that ugly shit. I guess I thought of the lodge as a safe house. It’s where I meet with mobsters and people like them. It’s got that country club fancy-pansy name and all of that, but it’s not a good place.”
Gemma stared at Sal. And she decided to go there. “I don’t see why you still need to have that other life,” she said. “It certainly can’t be about the money.”
“It’s not about the money,” Sal said. “That’s what got me in the game, that love of money. But what’s keeps me in now is survival. Too many enemies over too many years, Gemma. You don’t get out of the mob. It’s a beast that will keep dragging you in until you defeat that motherfucker. And you have to stay in the game to have the muscle to defeat him, and to protect your family from him. And after you win, it’s not over.”
Sal paused, as regret filled his tired, blue eyes. “After you win,” he continued, “another beast, over some beef you didn’t have nothing to do with and didn’t know shit about, drags you right back in again.”
A sad, depressing look appeared in Sal’s eyes. “I wish I would have met you before I went down that road,” he said, “but I didn’t. My old man was as crooked a cop as a crooked cop could be. Tommy was trying to do right, but he had his issues too. My uncle Mick was a mob boss. Reno’s old man was a mob boss. Reno was shady as hell. Everybody I knew did it wrong. But I was supposed to magically do it, right? All I knew was wrong. So, I went down that road. People says it’s a dead-end road, but they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. It’s an endless road. That’s what it is. Endless. I only wish . . .”
He didn’t continue. And he didn’t have to. Gemma understood. She put down her brief, leaned over, and kissed him on the lips. Then she smiled. “Remember that movie, On Golden Pond?”
Sal smiled too. Gemma had a way of lifting him out of his deepest, darkest mood. “Not that line again,” he said with a chuckle in his voice.
“Yes, that line again,” Gemma said with a chuckle in her own voice. “Because you’re my knight in shining armor too, Sal,” she said. Then her look turned serious. “And don’t you forget it.”
A surge of emotion rose in Sal’s heart, and he leaned his forehead against her forehead.
“You’re a rogue,” Gemma continued, and Sal smiled again. “But my rogue. And I don’t care what the world says about you. I know you. I know your heart. I’ll take you, flaws and all, over any man alive. And don’t you ever forget that, either.”
Sal’s heart swelled with warmth and emotion. And he kissed her too. Only his kiss was no peck. He kissed her long and lovingly.
After the kiss, and after Gemma went back to reading her briefs and Sal went back to holding their sleeping child, The Jack and Joe Show finally got around to discussing the segment they called Crime Time, and the shooting death of the Nigerian led the segment. And they were brutal.
“What about this shooting over at Granville?” Jack asked Joe. Both were two middle-aged white guys with straggly hair and lines of wrinkles all over their narrow faces; lines that bespoke too much wine, women, and song in their pasts.
Joe, the youngest of the two, shook his head. “I think it’s a terrible, terrible turn of events. Where is a black man safe in America? Here this guy was, walking through the door of a home he thought was his, and he’s gunned down with no questions asked.”
“And gunned down by a Gabrini. And we all know what that name stands for.”
“What are you saying, Jack? You’re saying it was a mob hit? You believe the Nigerian was involved with the mob?”
“I’m not saying any such thing,” Jack corrected him. “But it’s suspicious, that’s all. Remember we’re talking about reputed mob boss Sal Gabrini here. Not just anybody.”
“Yeah, but Gabrini’s the president of the Gabrini Corporation. That place is as legit as it comes.”
“Under Tommy Gabrini’s tutelage, it’s legit. Under Sal’s? Maybe not so much. And the fact of his questionable past when it comes to matters of race doesn’t help anything either.”
“Oh, come on, Jack. His wife is black.”
“So what? She can be his enabler. Some say there were Jewish guards at Auschwitz too.”
“That’s nonsense!”
“I’m just telling you what some people say.”
“Nonsense,” Joe said again. “But let’s move on. What did you think about the news that broke today?”
This interested Sal and Gemma greatly. They expected it to be about Sweets visit to certain news media. She was just surprised that she had visited Jack and Joe’s show. But after they continued talking, they realized she hadn’t.
“What do you think about the fact that the wife, Gemma Jones-Gabrini, a respected attorney in town, has decided to throw her hat into the District Attorney’s race?”
Jack shook his head. “I think it’s going to be a disaster! Can you imagine people voting for Sal Gabrini’s wife to be the top lawyer in this county? That’ll be like voting for the bank robber to guard the bank.”
They laughed. Gemma glanced at Sal. She could tell he was inwardly fuming.
“If I were Jasper Lowe,” Jack said, “anytime Mrs. Gabrini mentioned the problems in the D.A.’s office, and let’s face it: there are serious problems in that office, I’d have a ready answer for her.”
“What answer could Jasper Lowe have? He can’t claim there are no issues in his office.”
“He doesn’t even have
to go there,” Jack said. “Anytime his opponent brings up those problems, all he has to say is Sal Gabrini. Just those two words. Sal Gabrini. And that’ll be enough said.”
They laughed. Gemma turned off the TV.
For a moment, there was total silence. And then Sal rose with Lucky in his arms. “I’ll put the baby to bed,” he said. Gemma kissed Lucky good night, and then Sal headed out of the bedroom.
When he closed the door, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes. It was out in the open now. There was no doubt about it. Despite everything Gemma said, he knew he was a great liability to her. She was better off without him. For a man like Sal, despite his own best efforts, that was a tough truth to swallow. He held his baby tighter, and took him to his nanny in the Nursery.
By the time he returned to their bedroom, Gemma had put her legal briefs away and was now lying, on her back, and watching the eleven o’clock news. Sal glanced over at the TV as he headed toward the bed. “Any word on Sweets yet?” he asked.
“A small one,” Gemma said. “They mentioned that a witness has come forward, somebody who claims to have seen the shooting, and the police is investigating. But that’s a good sign. At least the cops aren’t trying to dismiss her account.”
But Sal stood there. He had a different thought. “You aren’t worried about how it’s going to look that a woman was at that lodge with me?”
“Oh, please,” Gemma said with a wave of the hand. “Not in the least, Sal. People will believe what they want to believe. Would I rather it be this way? No. I wish that man would have never walked through that door. But it is this way. We have to deal with it. As long as you and I know nothing happened. As long as we know the truth? I’m good.”
The world was right for once, Sal thought as he stared at his wife. He didn’t deserve Gemma. And he was about to show her just how much he knew it, and just how much he appreciated having her in his life.
He lifted off his pajama top, and stepped out of his pajama pants, revealing his muscular, toned and tanned body, and his muscular, big and juicy penis. When Gemma looked at him, especially down the length of him, her vagina began to tingle.
Sal became aroused too, when he saw her beautiful naked form. But when he got in bed with her, and wrapped her into his arms, and their naked bodies touched, he didn’t demonstrate his sexual prowess. He didn’t even kiss her passionately or whisper sweet nothings in her ear. All he did was hold her. All night long. And that, for Gemma, who needed to feel his love more than his affection that night, was everything.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What’s he doing?” Tito Zecatta asked as the SUV drove onto the circular driveway of his Pittsburgh home.
“Nothing,” his security chief, who was discreetly looking out of the downstairs window, said.
Tito frowned. “Nothing?” he asked. “What do you mean nothing?”
“Nothing. He’s doing nothing. The SUV stopped on the driveway and then nothing. Nobody’s getting out. nobody’s rolling down any windows. Nothing.”
Tito jumped up from behind his desk and went over to the window himself. He pushed his chief out of the way. When he saw the SUV sitting there, and his guards waiting at the door to open the SUV, he knew what that meant. Somebody talked and Sal wasn’t fucking around anymore. He was in trouble.
“He knows,” Tito said.
“How do you know that?” the chief asked.
“Because I know Sal Gabrini. That bastard didn’t come all this way on a hunch. Somebody snitched. He knows.”
The chief began to gain a sense of urgency too. “What are we gonna do?”
“I’ve got to go out there. He isn’t making any moves until I show my face and explain my side of the story.”
“And if he doesn’t believe you?” the chief asked.
“He won’t have to. You’re gonna blow his head off before he has a chance to.”
The chief was floored. “Blow his head . . . But Boss! That’s Sal Gabrini out there!”
Tito became angry. “What are you telling me that for? You think I don’t know who it is? What do you want me to do? What other choices do we have?”
But his chief was angry now. “I knew this shit wouldn’t work,” he said. “I knew it! I told you it wouldn’t work. You don’t pull this shit on a man like Sal Gabrini. I told you that!”
“You think I give a fuck what you told me? My ass on the firing line and you want me to worry about what you told me? Just do what I said! When I give the signal, you take his ass out, you hear me?”
The chief was still angry, but he knew Tito was right: what other choices did they have? He therefore grabbed the two Magnums on the table, putting one on either side of his belt, and then closing his coat, as he and Tito headed out of the front door.
Inside the SUV, Sal sat quietly on the back-passenger side with Robby Yale up front, as his driver. No other men were in his SUV. But an entire army of men were waiting at the front entrance gate, yapping it up with Tito’s men as if this was just a friendly visit, mob boss to mob boss. They all knew each other.
“There he is, Boss,” Robby said as Tito and his Security Chief came out of the front door. Tito was smiling, as if there could not possibly be any problem between them. Sal pressed down his back window.
“Sal Luca, my friend!” Tito laid it on thick, as he skinned and grinned as if all was well. His two guards were standing at the SUV, waiting to open the door for Sal, and he made a point of moving them slightly over so that his Chief could have a good shot when that time came. Because Tito knew Sal too well. He would hear him out. He would give him a fair hearing. And then kill his ass. But Tito had other plans. His man was going to take that shot before Sal had a chance to hear him out. He walked up to the vehicle.
“What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Tito asked.
“I have a name for you,” Sal said.
Tito was thrown. “A name?” Could he have been wrong about Sal’s unexpected visit? “You’ve tracked down that motherfucker responsible for taking our territory already?”
Sal stared into Tito’s eyes. He despised betrayal. “Why else would I be here?” he asked.
Tito smiled. “Status report. Just wanted to say hello. How the fuck should I know? Who is he? What’s his name?”
Sal looked at Robby. That was the signal. Robby, looking at Sal through the rearview, pressed the button on his Walkie. That was the signal to their men at the gate. And then Sal grabbed his rifle off of the seat beside him, a rifle Tito didn’t even see until now, aimed it out of the window just as Tito’s chief was attempting to pull out his own weapon, and shot first one guard, then the second guard, and then the Security Chief through the head. All three men dropped without hesitation. Tito, mortified, crouched down with his hands held up. He knew he was next as the sound of gunfire could be heard at the gate. A full-fledged gunfight had erupted.
But Sal didn’t take Tito out the way Tito was certain would be his fate. But he did point his rifle directly into Tito’s face. “Get in,” he said to him.
Tito was still crouched as he looked at Sal.
“Get in!” Sal yelled and that change in tone woke Tito back up. He was still alive, but barely. Sal slid over, and Tito got into the SUV beside him.
“Get us out of here,” Sal said to Robby, “before the cops arrive.”
And Robby did as he was ordered, and sped off.
Sal’s men, out front, jumped into their SUVs also, as body after body of Tito’s men laid sprawled around the once secure security gate. Sal’s men had the element of surprise and planning. Tito’s men had the element of being on their own turf, and therefore too relaxed. From what Sal could see, as his SUV sped out of the gate and back onto the highway, it was an easy hit.
“Anybody down?” he asked Robby.
Robby lifted his Walkie to his mouth and pressed the button. “Anybody down?” he asked the crew as they sped off behind Robby’s SUV.
“A couple of our guys took some shrapnel,” a man
responded, “and were grazed. But nothing life threatening. They can make the trip back.”
Robby looked at Sal through the rearview. “Everybody’s okay,” he said.
Sal, pleased whenever his men got out safe too, turned his attention to Tito. His rifle was already pointed at the guy. “You know the drill, T,” he said. “Tell me the who and the why.”
Tito was already defeated. He looked at Sal. “Who talked?”
Sal frowned. “Everybody,” he said.
Tito laid his head back and then shook it. Losers, he thought.
“Tell me the who and the why,” Sal said.
Tito shook his head again, as if he still couldn’t believe that the plan had unraveled so easily.
“You hear me talking to you,” Sal said. “Tell me who and tell me why.”
Tito looked at Sal. They’d accepted each other, and each other’s space, for years. Now the rubber just met the road. And just like his men that stood beside him, and all of his men that he saw dead at his gate, time was up. He knew Sal. “You know the drill, too,” he said. “I’m not telling you shit.”
Sal angry grabbed the butt of his rifle and shoved it, with all the force he had, into Tito’s gut. “Tell me, motherfucker!” he yelled.
Tito folded over in agony from the blow, but he held his ground. “Make me, motherfucker,” he said, his breath nearly gone.
This time Sal took his rifle and knocked Tito in the mouth, loosening many teeth with blood spewing out.
Tito looked at Sal, leaned his head back, and shot a wad of blood and spit directly in Sal’s face. It was the most disrespectful thing one mobster could do to another mobster. Not even a gunshot had the same reverberation.
And Sal took it in the same spirit it was given. He tossed his rifle aside, went over to Tito’s side of the vehicle, and beat the shit out of him. He held Tito by the catch of his collar and, with a balled fist, punched him in his face, in that same mouth that had spit on Sal, repeatedly. Robby kept looking through the rearview as he drove. He kept looking with a twisted pleasure as more and more blood flew from Tito’s person. The asshole deserved it, in Robby’s opinion, for disrespecting Sal like that.
Sal Gabrini: Burning Love Page 8
