Mick Sinatra: Now Will You Weep

by Mallory Monroe

  But Mick knew them all. He did his homework. They didn’t know him, but he knew them. And he was among them.

  The first man to notice him was the eldest uncle. He didn’t know who Mick was, but he found his presence odd. Too well dressed, too polished to be in that park. And he wore all black under a long, white, open front coat. Something wasn’t right.

  As soon as Mick could tell the old man was smelling a rat, which was what he had hoped one of them would smell, he rose to his feet.

  “Something’s wrong,” the old man said to the others, rising too. “Get the fuck out of here. Something’s not right!”

  The men tried to pull their guns as they rose to their feet, and they tried to run away even as they aimlessly fired their weapons, but Mick had two guns, two sawed off shotguns, and he fired with aim. He mowed them down like animals as he hurried toward them. The few other people in the park started screaming and running, but Mick only had eyes for his targets.

  And he was on target that morning. One Parrushi after another one fell. Some were faster, and were able to get some distance between them and the gunman. But Mick ran even faster still and ran them down, and mowed them down too, as he caught up with them.

  Five of the six men were Scar Parrushi’s uncles. They were the brothers of the man who tried to kill Mick twice. The sixth man, their chess partner and nothing more, was unharmed.

  But as Mick walked swiftly back, and got into his Maserati and sped away, the carnage was undeniable. If Mick the Tick’s intentions weren’t clear enough with the killing of Jake the Snake’s bodyguards, they were crystal clear now.

  Scar Parrushi, in the back of his dark, dingy bar, stuffed his face with Ravioli as he read the daily bet sheet. He ran three dogs in the daily double, and none of them were able to win, place, or show. He was ready to kill their dog asses when his lieutenant, Elly, hurried in with news on a different level.

  “Sinatra hit your uncles!” he cried.

  Scar couldn’t believe it. How would Mick even know about his uncles? They weren’t in the limelight! They stayed undercover. “When?”

  “This morning. The blood he shed, Boss. You should see the blood that man shed!”

  “How many did he get?” Scar was rising to his feet, putting on his coat, his heart hammering. “Did any of those fuckers hit him back?”

  “Nobody hit him, Boss. Mooley was with them. He said they tried, but nobody stood a chance.”

  “So who went down? Who did that bastard hit?”

  Elly hated to say it. “All five of them,” he said.

  Scar stopped in place. He looked at Elly. “All five?”

  Elly nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “All five,” he said.

  And Scar Parrushi, overwhelmed with grief, with disbelief, with rage, stumbled back, and then sat back down.

  Teegan Salley was buzzing again when Roz had just told her she didn’t want to be disturbed. It apparently was important, or Teegan wouldn’t disobey a direct order. But was it that important, Roz wondered.

  “Can it wait, Tee?” Roz asked as soon as she pressed the button.

  “You have a visitor, ma’am,” Teegan said.

  That wasn’t reason enough for her to disturb Roz. Unless the visitor was the important part. “Who?” she asked.

  “Henry Zigston, ma’am,” Teegan said with excitement in her voice.

  Roz was shocked. THE Hank Zigston? What in the world would he be doing at her office? “Send him in, Tee,” Roz responded.

  And when the door opened, and the Tony award-winning director entered her office, Roz was beyond shocked. She rose to her feet with a smile on her face. “What an honor this is,” she said, hurrying from around her desk. “Please, come on in!”

  Henry closed the door behind him and began walking swiftly toward Roz. Both of them held out their arms as they approached each other. “Hello, Roz! How long has it been?”

  “Not since Hello, Dolly,” Roz said, as they embraced. “How are you, Hank?”

  “I’m great, darling! Always great.” They stopped embracing. “But I hear about you, and it’s not so great.”

  Roz knew what he meant. Bad news traveled faster than the speed of sound on Broadway. “It’s a momentary hiccup,” Roz said. “I’ll rebound.”

  “I’m sure you will. That’s why I am here. Henry to the rescue! To help with the rebound. May I?” He was motioning toward one of the two chairs in front of Roz’s desk.

  “Yes, please,” Roz said, and she and Henry both took a seat. If there was ever a stereotype of a Broadway director, Henry fit the role perfectly. He was an average height Jewish guy, super thin, in skinny jeans with a cloth belt, and with an ascot around his thin neck. But he was also one of the best directors around. Roz crossed her legs.

  “You still look gorgeous, Roz,” Henry said, admiring the view. “And I’ll bet you’ve still got that talent too.”

  “If I ever had it,” Roz said with a smile. “But thanks.”

  “You had it and you’ve still got it, don’t worry. I’m paid good money to know these things.”

  Roz wondered, if he thought she had so much talent, why he never selected her for any of his big Broadway production. He hired her off-Broadway a time or two. But never after he hit it big. “If you say so,” she said.

  “Trust me, I know,” he said. “They used to give me Tonys like they were leaves on trees once upon a time. I should know who has it and who doesn’t, and you’ve still got it. But you aren’t acting any longer?”

  “No time,” Roz said. She had struggled as an actress for over a decade. After she met Mick, and decided to move to Philly to be with him, she gave up that dream entirely. “I have an agency to run now. I’m trying to find work for my clients, not for myself.”

  “I see.”

  “But enough about me. What brings you this way? Variety reported that you were hard at work on a revival of Carousel.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Henry said. “I heard about that nonsense where directors are blackballing actors from your agency. That can’t be right, I said.”

  “It’s not right,” Roz said bitterly. “But it’s happening.”

  “All because your husband supposedly has some kind of questionable associates or some such thing?”

  “That’s the allegation, yes.” It was an ironclad rule in the family that they never, not ever admitted any involvement with any illegal activity of any kind. Even Mick would never cop to any. “But it’s okay,” she continued, changing the subject. “The clients who stayed with me are receiving around-the-clock attention from me, and I’m getting new clients every day. I’ll build back up.”

  “Life will go on.”

  “Life will go on,” Roz said, nodding her head.

  “But until it does,” Henry said, “I have a proposition for you. I need your help. That’s why I’m here.”

  “What kind of help?” Roz asked.

  “Come,” Henry said, rising to his feet. “Let’s talk about it over lunch. I am starved. I saw a neat looking rib joint just across the street. We’ll discuss the details there.”

  Roz was so intrigued she would have hopped a plane across the country to discuss the details. She stood up too. Despite Mick’s constant and ominous warnings about not going anywhere with anyone but him, she didn’t hesitate to go across the street with Henry Zigston. She knew him from way back. He just might be able to give her agency the break it now so desperately needed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I denied their application,” Gloria said to her father as she, Mick, and Mick’s COO Will Flannigan, sat at the conference table. “But the CEO is requesting a reconsideration hearing with you. Will signed off on my decision, and I stand by my decision, but he still wants to make his case to you.”

  They were in Mick’s office at Sinatra Industries, and Mick was reviewing the paperwork. “What was your reason for the denial?” he asked her.

  “They have three contractual obligations right now,” Gloria expla
ined. “Three major projects. All three have cost overruns in the millions, overruns that we will be obligated to meet should we purchase the company. Their board still feels, even with the shortfalls, that S.I. will profit in the end. And we will. But just barely. I don’t like the profit margin.”

  “Neither do I,” Mick said, tossing the folder onto the table. His cellphone began to ring. “There will be no reconsideration from me. Tell their CEO your decision is final.”

  Gloria smiled. She couldn’t believe it. It was the first time her father had ever accepted her decision without any modifications or reconsiderations.

  “Good job,” Mick added, as he answered his phone. Gloria and Will exchanged a relieved smile.

  “Sinatra,” Mick said into the phone. “What’s up, Deuce?”

  “Your wife just left her office.”

  “My wife? Where did she go?” Mick was surprised.

  Gloria and Will looked at Mick.

  “She went across the street,” Deuce said into the phone, “to some barbeque joint I’ve never seen her visit. She’s in there now having lunch. Some good looking older man is with her.”

  Mick was furious. He had instructed her never to go anywhere with anybody without an escort from him. Her ass knew the situation. “I’m on my way,” he said, and ended the call, and rose to his feet.

  “But we have five more to review, sir,” Will said, surprised.

  “I’ll be back,” Mick said without looking back, and left.

  Will looked at Gloria, dumbstruck. “Just because his wife went to lunch?” he asked.

  Gloria hunched her shoulders. She knew her father was even more overprotective of Roz since the ambush than he already was, and even had heightened security on Gloria and her brothers. But that was none of Will’s business.

  Roz and Henry spent the better part of their lunch catching up on old times. They were never close friends, but they were always friendly even after he made it big.

  “The last time we met was at a dinner party in Chelsea,” Roz said. “You had just won your third Tony award I believe.”

  “Oh, my goodness, you’re right,” Henry said. “That was ages ago. I haven’t won one since. But this play, I think, could be just the shot in the arm my career needs. And your agency too.”

  Roz was eager to hear what he had to say. “You said you needed my help. What kind of help?” she asked him.

  “Casting Director help,” he said. “I need you to cast my play.”

  Roz was inwardly elated. “Cast your entire play?”

  “Yes!”

  “But why would you choose me? I’ve never cast an entire play in my life, Hank.”

  “But you train new faces. You sign fresh talent. And that is what I want. All new faces in my play. No name actors or actresses at all. But you are correct. I could have gone to many other talent agencies, or casting directors. But what tipped the scale in your favor was when I heard about that blacklist. My grandfather was a screenwriter in Hollywood during the McCarthy witch-hunt. He was blacklisted. I know what that is like.”

  Roz thought about his proposition. “And if I’m able to find roles for my clients, for all of them, would that be problematic for you?”

  “Not in the least!” Henry insisted. “If they are right for the role, then they should have first dibs on the role.”

  It was music to Roz’s ears. But she needed to know more. She was about to dig deeper, but she glanced over and saw what she should not have seen.

  “What’s wrong?” Henry asked. He looked toward the entrance too, where Roz was looking. A tall, well-dressed man was walking toward them. “You know him?”

  “Yes,” Roz said. “That’s my husband.”

  “Ah!” Henry said. “So that is the man who’s at the center of your little controversy?”

  “That’s him.” But Roz could tell he wasn’t thrilled to be there.

  “He’s most attractive,” Henry said with a smile. “In a bad boy sort of way.”

  Roz wanted to smile too. What would Henry know about bad boys? But Mick was upon them. “Hey,” she said.

  Mick stood there. “Hey.”

  Henry stood up. “Hello,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Henry Zigston, although I insist my friends call me Hank.”

  Mick shook his hand. “Hello.”

  “He’s a director, Mick,” Roz said. “One of the best.”

  Mick didn’t respond. Roz knew he was pissed. “Why don’t you join us,” she said.

  “Yes, please,” Henry said.

  Mick had every intention of going into that restaurant, slinging Roz out of it, and giving her a piece of his mind or his hand, whichever he felt appropriate. But when he saw her sitting there, and she looked those big, brown eyes up at him, he knew he couldn’t embarrass her like that. He sat down beside her instead.

  “What is this about?” he asked as he placed his arm across the back of her seat.

  “Great news actually,” Roz said with a smile. She could smell Mick’s cologne and feel his nearness. She didn’t realize it, but she had snuggled against him. “Hank wants me to cast his latest play. He wants me to be his casting director.”

  Mick looked at his wife. “You’re not a casting director,” he said.

  “I know. I’ve never cast an entire play in my life. But he has another reason.”

  Mick looked at Henry. “What’s that?” he asked.

  Henry seemed less sure of himself answering Mick, Roz thought, but he answered nonetheless. “I heard that Roz had been blacklisted. I thought it was wrong. My grandfather, you see, was blacklisted in Hollywood once before. I know how devastating that can be to a career and to a person. So I wanted to give Roz this chance to redeem herself.”

  Mick stared at him. It was too good to be true. Which meant it wasn’t. “No thank you,” he said. “She’s not interested.”

  Roz was shocked that Mick would make such a monumental business decision for her like that, without consulting her at all. Henry was shocked too. “Well,” he said. “I mean; I’m not going to beg.”

  “Then don’t,” Mick said.

  Henry looked at Roz. “Is this your decision too?” he asked.

  Every bone in Roz’s body wanted to defy Mick at that moment. She wanted to correct the record right then and there. But Mick didn’t play games. If he said no, she knew he had a very good reason for saying so. “Yes,” she said. “It’s my decision too.”

  “Well. Okay,” Henry said. “I thought I’d do you the favor of a lifetime, but if you don’t want the favor, fine. I’ll give the honor to someone else. Excuse me for thinking you wanted your agency to get back on track.”

  He rose, and left.

  Roz looked at Mick. “Do you realize who that is?” she asked him.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” he responded. “He’s not interested in helping you. Or, even worst, he’s too interested in helping you. Either way, I don’t want you to have anything to do with his help.”

  Roz stared at Mick. He could be a jealous man when it came to her. She’d seen him unreasonably jealous many times. But this wasn’t about that. This went deeper. “What are you saying, Mick?” she asked him. “Are you implying that Hank Zigston has something to do with what happened to us? That he had something to do with that ambush?”

  “I’m saying I don’t know. But my gut is telling me something is up.”

  “Then why don’t you go after him, and talk to him?”

  “Because I don’t want to tip my hand. Not yet,” Mick said. “If he is working for my enemies, I want them to think it isn’t that I suspect anything, but that I’m just a jealous husband. I want them to think that, until I get more intel.”

  Roz was a little thrown. She would not have thought, not in a million years, that Hank Zigston would have been involved in anything nefarious at all. “It never once crossed my mind that he wasn’t being genuine,” she said to Mick. “Not once.” Then she looked at Mick. “But it should have.”

  Mick nodd
ed. He loved the fact that Roz accepted his word without question. He loved that she had such faith in him. That was why he could be honest with her. “Yes,” he said. “It should have. Anything out of the ordinary, Rosalind, becomes a red flag. You hear me? You take nothing for granted. A big time director suddenly shows up at your door? That’s a red flag I don’t care what he says. He never showed up before. Pay attention to that.”

  Roz nodded her head. She felt upset with herself for not realizing it too. “I will,” she said.

  “And if you disobey my order again, when I told you to call me if you needed to go anywhere, even across the street, I won’t be sitting here talking to you like this. I will be beating your ass.”

  Roz wanted to smile and play it off, but that look on Mick’s face, a look so serious it gave her chills, made her understand just how serious he was. He was not an abusive man. She wouldn’t tolerate that, and he knew it. But he was a stern man. He was a man who expected her to understand that he wore the pants in their family, and he didn’t need any help putting them on.

  “I was out of line,” she admitted. “Won’t happen again.”

  And instead of Mick taking her somewhere to show his displeasure, he put his arm around her and pulled her closer against him. Her security detail, men even she didn’t know were following her every move, saw him make such a public display of affection for his wife. But he didn’t care. This woman saved his life. This woman helped him to reestablish ties with his grown children. This woman gave him two beautiful newborn babies he could be a true daddy to. She remained the most precious human being in the world to him, and he was at a point in his life where he wanted the world to know.

  He kissed her on the forehead, defying that world.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next morning, Roz was in the Nursery.

  “That’s right, little man,” she said with a smile, “you’re the prince of the world!” Little Mick Sinatra, Junior, nicknamed Duke by his father, grinned as his mother tickled him.

  “And you,” Roz said, tickling Duke’s twin sister and Roz’s baby girl, Jacqueline, “are our little princess.”