Tommy Gabrini: A Family Man

by Mallory Monroe

  “Right,” said Branson. “That’s what the evidence seems to show.”

  “Not necessarily so,” said Sal as he placed his hands in his pants pockets.

  Tommy looked at his brother. He knew very few people who had the contacts Sal had. “What do you mean?” he asked him.

  “That other thing I mentioned Mr. Stanley Mayflower did for a living?” Sal plopped down in the chair in front of Tommy’s desk.

  “Yeah, what is it?” Tommy asked.

  “He ran contracts for the mob.”

  “Contracts?” asked Grace.

  “Damn,” said Branson, staring at Sal. Where did he get his info? His research didn’t uncover anything like that!

  But Tommy never questioned Sal’s intel. He knew, if Sal was buying it, it was accurate. “All I need,” Tommy said, leaning back. “He’s connected to the mob. Just great. Mob shit again.” He looked at Sal. “For which boss?”

  “It’s not clear yet,” Sal responded. “First, I’m hearing he shops himself around. Like what you call a freelancer. Then I’m hearing he doesn’t shop himself around at all. That he works for this boss, or that boss, or that other boss. But everybody’s giving me the name of a different boss. It’s not clear yet.”

  “But what are you saying then, Sal?” Grace asked her brother-in-law. “That he wasn’t grieving his sister’s death after all?”

  “More like he put his sister up to it,” Sal said.

  Now Tommy and Branson both were confused.

  And Branson was surprised. It didn’t bother him to be upstaged by Sal Gabrini when it came to Mayflower’s mob affiliations. Sal was a major boss in that world and should have inside knowledge of it. But now he was talking like Branson and his men hadn’t even done a thorough basic background on Mayflower, when he knew they had. “Where did you get that intel from?” he asked Sal. “Why would you think he’d put his own sister up to something that could easily get her killed and, by the way, did get her killed? That makes no sense.”

  Sal pulled out a file and tossed it onto Tommy’s desk. Branson took the file and opened it.

  “What’s that?” Tommy asked.

  “I still got my share of contacts in the Seattle PD,” said Sal. “For a little walking around money, a little you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours shit, they give me intel. They give me what I need.”

  Tommy, an ex-captain with the Seattle Police Department back in the day, was Sal’s boss, and Sal and his crew of misfits used to give him fits. “Your ass hasn’t changed one bit,” he said.

  “Hasn’t changed?” Sal asked as if he was some innocent bystander. “What are you talking?”

  “You and all those crooked cops that love feeding at your filthy trough,” Tommy said. “That’s what I’m talking!”

  “So, what are you saying, Tommy?” Sal asked. “You don’t want the intel? That’s what you’re telling me? Because if that’s the case, it’s your ass that hasn’t changed one bit!”

  But Branson was nodding his head, and still reading that file. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “We want this.”

  Tommy and Grace looked at him. “What it says?” Grace asked.

  “They tested what remained of Joanne Mayflower’s automobile after that crash.”

  “And?” Tommy asked.

  “And it might not have been an accident,” Branson said and looked at his boss.

  Grace was floored. Tommy frowned. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident?”

  “It seems the cops discovered that somebody bothered with her brakes.”

  “What?” Grace could hardly believe it.

  “And they didn’t just bother with them,” said Branson, “but according to this file somebody fixed it so that they could operate those brakes by remote control, and that those same brakes would ignite on impact.”

  Tommy and Grace looked at each other. Then Tommy looked at Branson. “They tied her braking system to a device off site?” he asked.

  “That’s exactly what they did,” Sal said. “So they could press the button at their place and choosing, and the driver of that car was out of fucking luck.”

  Branson nodded. “They apparently knew that Mrs. Gabrini was going to be at her doctor’s office that day, and they were probably betting that she was going back to her office afterwards.”

  “Which was exactly where I was headed,” Grace said.

  “And he did what?” Tommy asked. “He positioned his sister to wait and then to fly through that intersection, running that red light, at that exact moment?”

  Sal nodded. “Right.”

  “But why would his sister do that?” Grace asked. “She’d be risking her own life. Fast as she was driving, she had to know that.”

  “Remember what I said he did for a living,” Sal said. “That salesman shit was a front. His ass was a hit man. He probably threatened to kill her ass!”

  “His own sister?”

  “Half-sister. They had the same father, different mothers. They weren’t raised together. And yeah, he was that kind of man. A nasty piece of work, is what I’m hearing.”

  “Had to be,” Grace said.

  “But she did whatever he told her to do,” Sal said. “She waited and then was supposed to speed toward your vehicle as the red light turned green. She probably figured she would sideswipe you gently, just to send a message maybe. I’m sure he told her something to that effect. But as she approached the light, he probably hit the button and her brakes failed. And she kept going. She couldn’t stop even if she wanted too. And it was timed right. But it was no gentle sideswipe, that’s for damn sure.”

  Grace looked over at Tommy. She could only imagine the chilling evil it took to do something like that to his own flesh and blood. “But I still don’t see why she would agree to even sideswipe my car. Did she fear him like that? Or love him like that?”

  “On her part, it could have been love,” Tommy said. “Or like Sal said, he could have threatened to kill her or her kids or whomever else if she didn’t comply. It happens.”

  Grace shook her head. The evil that some people were capable of!

  Tommy could see this was all getting to Grace. It was getting to him! He walked around to the front of his desk and placed his hands on her shoulder. Then he sat her down on the edge of the desk, and he sat beside her, his arm around her.

  “He had to have been following me,” Grace said, “longer than we thought, Tommy.”

  “Had to be,” said Branson Nash. “It couldn’t have just started after that car accident. He was probably following you, getting your routine down, long before that accident.”

  Tommy exhaled. Grace was stunned too. “He tried to take me out, but took his own sister out instead,” Grace said.

  “That’s what his ass did,” said Sal. “Stupid motherfucker. But I don’t think he cared. I think he probably planned to take both your asses out.”

  “So, when he came to that dealership, he was grieving, alright,” Grace said. “He was grieving the fact that I didn’t die too.”

  A sad look appeared in Tommy’s eyes. “Unfortunately,” he said, “that’s probably right.”

  Grace looked at Tommy. She didn’t know what to say to that. But Tommy was still worried about what had already been said. Mayflower had targeted Grace after all. He was after Grace!

  “Sal?” Tommy asked, his face pensive and solemn.

  “Yep?”

  “You said Mayflower might have been a free agent, or he might have worked for a boss.”

  “That’s right,” Sal said. “But I’ve been hearing different names. That’s why I say it ain’t clear yet.”

  “Was one of those names you were hearing Joe DeLuca?”

  Branson looked at his boss. Sal looked too. “Yeah, he was on that list,” Sal said. “Why you ask about DeLuca?”

  “You know much about him?”

  Sal exhaled. “I know him, yeah. But I don’t know him like that. He’s a big talker. Loves the ladies. Got more baby mamas than you got ex
-girlfriends.”

  “But he’s a mafia boss?” Branson asked.

  “Oh, yeah. And I know he’s big.”

  “Bigger than you?” Tommy asked him.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Sal said before he realized what he was saying. “But since I’m not a boss, I wouldn’t know about that.”

  Branson smiled. He’d never met a mob boss who would admit to anybody’s face that he was even in the mob.

  “But the point is,” said Sal, “he’s big. Why you ask about him, Tommy?”

  “I don’t know if there’s a connection,” Tommy said, “but he’s the fucker been buying up every piece of property GCI is in the running for. I knew you were coming to town. I was going to discuss him with you when you got here. But that was before I had to handle this Mayflower shit.”

  But Sal was surprised. “Joe DeLuca’s been fucking with you?”

  “DeLuca Construction anyway, yeah,” Tommy said. “Why do you sound surprised?”

  “DeLuca’s southern all the way. His foothold is in Mississippi and Alabama and places like that. What the fuck he’s buying up properties in Seattle for?”

  “Hell if I know. But that’s what he’s doing. Outbidding us on every turn.”

  “That’s not like him,” Sal said. “Buying up properties so far away from his territory? That’s strange.”

  “Think you can arrange a meeting?” Tommy asked Sal. “Maybe he’ll tell us to our face what’s going on.”

  Sal nodded. “I can do that, sure. But damn, Tommy. You think a guy like that could be behind that attempt by Mayflower?”

  “Could be.”

  “Then we’re fucked.”

  Everybody looked at Sal. “Why would you say that?” Grace asked him.

  “Because if it don’t make sense,” Sal said, “it’s complicated. And when it’s complicated--”

  “It’s trouble,” Grace finished for Sal.

  “Bingo,” Sal said.

  Grace looked at Tommy. “You already heightened security around me and the kids,” she said. “There’s nothing more we can do but wait and see, right?”

  Tommy nodded. “Right,” he said. Then he looked at Branson. “Add more guys to both details,” he said.

  “And Tommy’s too,” Grace said to Branson.

  “My wife and kids,” Tommy said to Branson. “I’m okay.”

  “Tommy too,” Grace said, as if she could overrule her husband.

  “Will do, ma’am,” Branson said and began leaving the room, overruling Tommy, in that case, too.

  After Branson left the office, Grace folded her arms. “It feels like a lot of moving parts,” she said.

  “Right,” said Sal. “It’s complicated. But don’t worry, Grace. Tommy’s not going to let anything happen to his precious wife and his precious children. And guess what? Neither am I.”

  Grace smiled and she and Sal squeezed hands.

  But Tommy was leaned back still. And still silent and contemplative.

  “What’s going on in your head, old man?” Sal asked him.

  “Do you remember if we own any property in the south?” Tommy asked him.

  “None,” Sal said. “At least nothing I can recall. We did a long time ago, but we sold all that shit.”

  “Right.”

  “So what are you thinking?” Grace asked.

  “I’m thinking Sal’s right. It’s complicated just when I’d prefer not to have complications.”

  Henry knocked once on the open door, and then entered the room.

  “What’s up, Hank?” Sal asked.

  “Hello, Mr. Gabrini,” Henry said formally. Sal, with his brash personality, was not one of his favorite people.

  “What is it?” Tommy asked Henry.

  “I was wondering if I could have the rest of the evening off, sir, madam.” He was also addressing Grace. He looked upon her, like he looked upon Tommy, very favorably.

  Grace smiled. “Another date with your young lady, Henry?” she asked him.

  Henry smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then by all means, yes. You may have the rest of the evening off.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Gabrini. Mr. Gabrini,” he added, and then he left the room.

  “He don’t like my ass,” Sal said with a grin. “I wonder why.”

  “Let me see,” Tommy said. “You used to call him a lush. Insisted that he was my boyfriend. And always thought some sort of ridiculous ill about him. I wonder why he dislikes you.”

  “That was the old me,” Sal said. “What have I done to him lately?”

  “Let me count the ways,” Tommy said, and Sal and Grace laughed.

  But for Tommy, it was bittersweet. Had he been the target, he could carry on easier. But to target his wife? That shit never set right with him. And it bothered him. He should have asked more questions when he had Mayflower in his sights. He should have assumed more was at play!

  But it was all water under the bridge now.

  He rose to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” Sal asked him.

  “To the office,” Tommy said. “To see if I can find a technical way to recoup some of our contract losses.”

  Sal rose too. “I guess I’ll be going with you,” he said.

  Tommy looked at Grace. “What are you planning on doing?” he asked her.

  “Loads of things,” Grace said, rising to her feet.

  “Like what?”

  “Like catching up on my sleep while the house is empty,” she said, kissed him goodbye and kissed Sal on his cheek, and then headed out of Tommy’s home office.

  But as Tommy watched her leave, and his eyes moved down to her tight ass, and his penis began to throb, he sighed. The house was quiet, like she said, with the kids gone and Henry about to leave and the nannies and cleaning staff already off for the weekend. What was he thinking, he thought. He could be alone with his wife for hours with no interruptions, and he was going to the office?

  That research could wait, surely for a few more hours, as he spent time with his wife.

  He looked at Sal. But Sal was already heading out. “I know, I know,” he said. “I saw how you looked at her ass. I’ll set up the meeting and call you later.”

  “Thanks,” Tommy said as Sal left.

  Then he locked up the house, and headed upstairs.

  To his delight, Grace had already removed her clothes and was naked in bed. He removed his, too, and got in bed beside her. “How did you know?” he asked when he pulled her against him.

  “Because I know you,” Grace said, smiling too.

  And Tommy loved that about her. He traced his finger around her lovely face. And then he pulled her on top of him.

  For a long time, he just held her. Her stomach on top of his stomach as he held her as long as he could with both of them in a kind of grateful peace.

  But the feel of her naked body on top of his became too much. He rested his dick between her legs, and began kissing her lips, and then sucking her breasts.

  But he didn’t make love to her. Because she moved down, put his dick in her mouth, and made sweet love to him.

  Tommy closed his eyes and enjoyed her attention. He realized it was exactly what he needed. Grace gave him exactly what he needed.

  Nobody did him better.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The parents waited outside, talking amongst themselves, as the children were whisked off inside the private school’s auditorium dressing rooms to prepare for their performances. It was the school’s first recital/talent show of the season, and every parent was hoping their child would come out on top.

  Grace was there, too, holding a restless TJ, and had to keep moving to keep him moving, but also to avoid those loud-talking men who boasted and bragged too much. It was like a manhood thing for them. But Grace didn’t want in on the conversation.

  “Not used to men like that, are you?” It was one of the parents she had seen at previous school events.

  “Not really, no,” Grac
e admitted with a smile.

  “I’m used to guys like them,” said the parent. “Because I’m married. My husband’s just like that, too. Love to brag.”

  “Mine, too,” said another parent as she joined Grace and the first parent. “They love to tell the world about their accomplishments. I think it’s cute.”

  Cute wasn’t the word Grace would have used, but she didn’t say anything. “I wonder what time they’ll open the doors?”

  “I think they’re running a little late,” said the first parent. “You know how it goes.” She ruffled TJ’s curly hair. “He’s so cute. Are you babysitting tonight?”

  Grace got that a lot. Unlike Destiny, who looked more black than white, TJ looked more white than black. It didn’t offend Grace, but in this day and age of so many interracial couplings, she would have thought they’d know better. “No,” she said. “I’m not babysitting. This is my son. Say hello Thomas.”

  TJ waved at the ladies, but he definitely showed no excitement about it. He laid his head back on Grace’s shoulder. He just wanted to go home.

  “How much longer, Mommy?” he asked her.

  “Not long, baby,” Grace responded to him.

  “He’s so cute,” the first parent said again with an obvious fake smile, and then glanced at the second parent and rolled her eyes. Interracial coupling might have been the rave in America, but it wasn’t the rave in that lady’s eyes.

  “You’re always on time, aren’t you?” the second parent asked Grace. “It’s amazing you are, being a single parent and all. I don’t know how you do it!”

  Wait, what? What did she just say? Grace stared at the woman. “I’m not a single parent,” she said.

  Both parents were surprised. “You aren’t?” asked the first parent.

  “No,” responded Grace. “Why would you have thought so?”

  “Why?” the second parent responded. “Why do you think? I’ve seen you attend at least fifteen events the last year-and-a-half and I have never seen you with any man, boyfriend, husband, or whatever. That’s why!”

  Grace wasn’t sure if that unmarried angry black woman stereotype had something to do with her perception also because Grace had seen many other women in attendance at those same events without a man present, but she never assumed them to be single, married, or otherwise. She didn’t assume anything about them because she didn’t know them. “I’m married,” she said.