She left her father-in-law’s casino, without searching out the man she had entered it with, without going up to the penthouse where she knew her estranged husband and her baby would be, and hailed a cab for home. When she got inside the cab, alone on the backseat, she cried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“My money’s on the Cardinals.”
“Arizona? Give me a break!”
“Larry Fitzgerald. Carson Palmer. Great defensive ends. I’ll give you a break alright. I’ll bet you any amount of money they go all the way.”
“All the way my ass.”
“Then who?”
“The Seahawks. Who else? You want to toss names around? How about Russell Wilson? How about Marshawn Lynch?”
“Marshawn Lynch? Don’t you know anything? He’s retired!”
“Bullshit!”
“I’m telling you the truth!” He laughed. “Lynch has retired, and your dumb butt around here thinking he’s going to take the Seahawks all the way! No wonder you always lose every bet!”
The elevator doors opened and Trina lifted her straw bag onto her shoulder, repositioned her bottled water and cell phone, and stepped on. The three conventioneers, who had been arguing about the best football team in America, made room for the new rider.
“Which floor, Miss?” one of the men asked.
“First floor, thank you,” Trina said as the doors slid shut behind her.
The man pressed the first-floor button, as they were getting off on the fourth floor twelve floors down, and the second man elbowed the third man to check out the new arrival.
Trina wore a bikini, with a see-through sarong around her narrow waist, and a big, straw hat covering her head. They were in Miami Beach; she had been working nonstop for the past two days. She was going to relax in the sun before the wrap party, which undoubtedly was going to mean more meet and greet work for her, later tonight.
The final meeting of the first fifteen franchisees broke up around three, but she wasn’t able to leave the hotel’s ballroom until well after five. Everybody had questions for her, mainly about how Champagne’s national office planned to coordinate marketing strategies with their individual franchises, and she patiently answered every one. But by the time she made her way from the front of the room to the back, stopping by table after table, she was exhausted. She needed a drink, and was determined to change, hit the beach, and get one.
“Attending the Association of East Coast Chiropractors convention too?” one of the men asked as she looked at the numbers above the door rather than her fellow riders.
“No, actually I’m not,” Trina said politely.
“You’re fortunate,” another man said. “It’s not exactly the most thrilling convention one can hope to attend.”
Trina smiled politely and continued to stare at the numbers.
The third man elbowed the first one. “Ask,” he silently mouthed.
The first one took the plunge. “What are you doing later?” he asked Trina. “We were thinking about getting a card game up later, in our suite. Care to join us?”
Trina looked at the three men. All white, all middle-aged, all undoubtedly married with children. Why did they always seem to think that going to a convention automatically meant leave your morals behind? “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”
“Bad luck,” the first man said. “But just in case, we’re in room 1629.”
The bell sounded, the doors slid open onto the fourth floor, and the three men stepped off. All three made it their business to give her that assessing look as they stepped off. Trina ignored them, pressed the close button as soon as they left, and the elevator, with her alone, headed down to the first floor.
The Bryant Hotel exploded in fire two days ago, the day she left for Florida, and it was still on Trina’s mind. Reno downplayed it. She heard about it from Dommi of all people, who made it his business to text her about anything and everything, when it happened. She phoned Reno immediately, but he only confirmed that it true. Since he wasn’t about to tell her if he was responsible, she left it alone. He already had her under tight security in Florida. There was nothing more to be done.
When the elevator stopped on the first floor, and the doors opened, she didn’t hesitate. She hurried out of a side door that led to the beach, walked over to the outside bar, and ordered her a stiff one. “Gin, please,” she said to the bartender when he made it to her end of the crowded counter.
“And tonic?” he asked her.
“Just gin.”
The bartender smiled. “Yes, ma’am. A neat one coming up!”
As Trina waited for her drink to arrive, she pulled out her iPhone and checked her messages. She had plenty, but none from Reno. Which was his way of showing his displeasure with her. He wasn’t onboard with what she was doing, and he wasn’t the kind of man who bit his tongue. He made his displeasure crystal clear. It bothered her. It bothered her mightily. But she knew her husband. He would come around.
“One straight, no chaser,” the bartender said as he slid the glass in front of her. Trina pulled a fifty out of her straw bag and paid him, telling him to keep the change, and headed for the beach.
After renting a lounger, she laid back, sat her shoulder bag at her side, and sipped her gin as she watched college kids surf and tramp around the beach as if they were having the time of their lives. Trina never went to college. Neither did Reno. They never had that Spring Break experience. But she was determined to make sure Dommi and Sophia had that experience, whether they wanted it or not.
When watching kids behaving badly felt like a waste of time, which was a quick realization for Trina, she grabbed her cell phone and returned her numerous text messages.
She wasn’t in Vegas, but was at the Sheldon Hotel in Miami Beach, and was already feeling homesick. Especially when she realized that Dommi had texted her three times already complaining about his father’s heavy hand. “Last night Daddy made me go to bed early,” he wrote in one of his texts. “He said I needed eight hours of sleep. But I don’t! Tell Daddy I can get by on four hours’ sleep tonight. Tell Daddy I don’t need all that beauty sleep like Sophie does.”
Trina smiled and shook her head. That boy! But her response to his text was uncompromising. “I will tell your daddy no such thing,” she wrote back. “Behave, Dommi, or I’ll tell Daddy to beat your butt. And when I get home, so will I.” And then she added, just to rub it in a little to her contrarian son: “Love, Mom.”
“Katrina?”
Trina knew the voice. She knew it well. And when she looked up from her phone, and saw Garry Marshall standing at her side, looking bigger than she remembered in a pair of trunks and no shirt, she smiled. “Laverne!”
He laughed. “And Shirley. Don’t forget Shirley.”
Trina laughed too.
“How are you?” he asked her.
“I’m good,” Trina said as she looked up at him over the top rim of her sunglasses. “How long has it been?” she added sarcastically.
“Days,” Garry said as they laughed again. “Far too many days. Let me take a look at you. You haven’t changed, girl, you realize that? You haven’t changed one bit since I saw you last month.”
They both laughed.
“May I join you?” he asked, motioning toward the empty lounger beside her.
“You may,” Trina said. “I haven’t seen you in a month, remember? We have so much to catch up on!”
He laughed again, taking a hard look at Trina’s big breasts and shapely brown body as he sat on the edge of the lounger beside her. She was a beautiful woman. And she had gravitas with her beauty. He liked that. “So how did the first conference work out for you?” he asked her.
“Very well,” Trina said. “We have the wrap party tonight, and tomorrow I welcome the other fifteen franchisees for their two-day seminar. But I am surprised to see you here. I didn’t hear from you, so I assumed you couldn’t make it. Am I right to say you plan to attend the second conference tomorrow?’
/> “I’m thinking about it. But I have to be honest: that’s not why I’m in town.”
“Oh, yeah? So why are you here?”
“I wish I could say strictly pleasure, but I can’t. Strictly Business. Always business in my line of work.”
“Here, here,” Trina agreed with a raise of her glass.
“I’m here in South Florida to check out a potential land grab,” Garry said. “It’s a buyers’ market, especially in South Florida, and I like deals. Well my advance guys told me this was to be the deal of a lifetime, but so far, from what I’ve seen thus far, it’s turning into a dud.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Since I know you were looking to license several franchises in this neck of the woods, I thought I’d drop by.”
“We hope to crack this market, sure,” Trina responded. “One of our biggest stores will be here in South Beach. That’s why I decided to have our first annual meeting here.”
“So what’s the plan, Katrina? You’re trying to become the McDonald’s of the high-end boutique industry?”
Trina laughed. “Something like that,” she said and sipped her drink.
“I’m stunned, quite frankly,” Garry said.
Trina was puzzled. “Why would you be stunned?”
“Because I did some research. I heard that husband of yours keep tight reins on you,” Garry responded. “I’m stunned he let you out of Vegas, to be honest. I’m stunned he’s letting you do your own thing.”
Reno wasn’t exactly welcoming this venture with open arms, but that wasn’t Garry’s business. “I like to move forward. I hope to go global someday.”
Garry shook his head. “Black folks going global. Isn’t it nice? We have come a long way.”
Trina agreed. “A mighty long way. Sometimes I still pinch myself.”
Garry smiled. “Why don’t you and I go have a little fun tonight? And pinch ourselves together? It’s rare we get to be free like this. Let’s go dancing tonight.”
Trina didn’t mince words. “No,” she said.
Garry was surprised by her quick, and cold response. “At least consider it, Katrina, damn,” he said.
But Trina didn’t see where there was anything to consider. She didn’t bother to respond.
“Why not go out with me?” Garry asked. “I’m not such a bad guy and it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other. Days, in fact,” he joked. “Why can’t we go out on the town together?”
Trina looked at him. She was never a game player, and wasn’t going to start now. “You know why,” she said.
“Why? Tell me.”
“Come on, Garry! You did your research, remember? You know good-and-well my husband is not going to approve of me going out anywhere with you or any other man.”
“But why? I didn’t know your old man was that insecure.”
“He’s not insecure. He just doesn’t play that, alright? And neither do I.”
“Play what? I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. Just a night out. And we’ll let it go where it goes.”
Trina smiled. “Yeah, right, Garry. Just like that.”
“And what does your old man have to do with this anyway? I may not be an ace when it comes to Geography, but I know there’s many miles between Vegas and Miami. Your husband is in Vegas. We’re in Miami.”
Trina shook her head. “I don’t care if he was in Africa, and I was in Canada. I’m not going against my husband like that. We may battle about business, but not about men.”
Garry smiled, although Trina could see the disappointment in his eyes. “And here I was thinking I was talking to a liberated woman who did whatever the hell she wanted to do.”
“Oh, I’m liberated alright,” Trina said with a smile, gathering up her phone and paperwork. Time to go! “I’m liberated enough to know no smooth joe like you is about to mess up my good thing.” She began to rise.
Garry rose too. “You don’t have to leave.”
“Yeah, I do. I’m tired. And I’ve got the end-of-conference wrap party to attend later tonight.”
“Okay,” Garry said. “Before you go, I have a confession to make.”
Trina looked at him. “Go on.”
“I remember your sales pitch to me in Kingman. That’s the main reason why I’m here, not that land grab.”
Trina already had figured that out. Reno taught her a lot. Not to accept coincidences at face value was top of that list. “Go on.”
“I want in.”
Trina studied him. “How do you mean?”
“I want to own a piece of Champagne’s. I’m a venture capitalist. I know a good business model when I see one. I want in.”
“I’m sure you didn’t just hop a plane and come to Florida without thinking about what terms would be most favorable to you.”
Garry smiled. “Of course,” he said.
“Tell me your terms.”
“I want a piece of the license.”
Trina looked at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “Whoa. You want to own Champagne’s?”
“A piece of it, yeah. Ten percent tops. And I’m willing to pay the going rate for that slice of the pie.”
Trina stared at him.
“With the capital I give to you, and my expertise in this realm, your plan for fifty stores will be laughable. Like I said to you last month, I would want to top that easily. I’m talking five hundred stores across the globe. You did say you wanted to go global, right? You didn’t dispute my claim that you wanted to rival McDonald’s, right?”
Trina would be lying if she wasn’t intrigued. She and Gemma wanted to go big, and Garry just gave them the kind of major shot in the arm they were hoping for. But could he handle it? Was he really that financially stable? “Are you really that successful, Garry?” she asked.
Garry smiled. “Even more than you think,” he said. “Yes.” He extended his hand. “If my ability to pay adds up to your satisfaction, and you realize I’m a serious businessman with a renowned reputation, do we have a deal?”
“Not so fast, Laverne,” Trina said with a smile. “Put your proposal in writing, and my partner and I will take a look at it. That’s the best I can do. You want ownership, not just franchises. That will require more scrutiny than a handshake can accomplish.”
Garry felt slighted, but pretended to be elated. “Well alright!” he said as if he were in Texas somewhere and, instead of shaking her hand, he hugged her. Trina laughed at his enthusiasm. But then, as they began to stop embracing, Garry kissed Trina on the cheek. Then he smiled as she pushed him away. “You know me,” he said with a grin. “I always have to push that envelope!”
“Try it again and an envelope isn’t all you’re going to be pushing,” Trina warned with a smile of her own. “Pushing up daisies may be more in your future.” And then she began leaving. “Good evening, Mr. Marshall,” she said, and left the beach.
Garry watched her leave. He watched her sashay that tight ass and walk away from him. “Good evening, babe,” he said, too low for her to hear, with a smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Reno didn’t bother to continue his conversation with Josie Supino. He headed back through the lobby of the PaLargio, back onto his private elevator in the back, and made his way upstairs. He was so exhausted he could barely stand up. And that craziness with Val didn’t help. If she had been a man, or a woman not related to him, she would have been in serious trouble for striking him. She had no idea how serious.
The elevator opened into the penthouse, and Reno stepped off. Jimmy Mack Gabrini, Reno’s oldest son, who was in the kitchen making himself a sandwich, came out front to see who it was. “Oh, Dad, I’m glad you came up,” he said. Then he frowned. “You look like shit.”
“What do you want, Jimmy?” Reno responded halfheartedly.
“I let Dommi sit up later than his usual bedtime, but I wasn’t sure about it.”
“Then why did you do it?” Reno asked.
“Because Dommi claimed Mom sa
id it was okay.”
Reno shook his head. “He’s lying.”
Jimmy looked hopeful. He knew his parents were on bad terms. “You called her?”
Reno didn’t have to. Because he knew Trina wouldn’t dare let that boy stay up late on a school night, and he knew Dommi was full of shit and always willing to push the envelope.
When his father didn’t respond to his question, Jimmy kept going. Reno answered what he wanted to answer to, and Jimmy knew it. “That’s what Dommi said,” he said. “He said she said it was okay, so I cut him some slack. But now he still won’t go to bed. I don’t want to hurt that little hellion son of yours, so I went in the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I told him if he wasn’t in bed when I finished, there would be hell to pay.” Then Jimmy smiled. “Now that you decided to pay us a visit, you can deal with it.”
Reno didn’t feel like dealing with himself right now, let alone Dominic. “Where is he?” he asked.
Jimmy pointed toward the family room and Reno headed in that direction. When he entered, Dom was sitting on the sofa, twirling the arms of a GI-Joe, and watching the Sponge Bob Square Pants movie on Nick-At-Night. In many ways, Dommi behaved exactly the way a prepubescent kid should behave. He loved kiddie shows and kiddie things. But in many other ways, with his mouth, with his slickness and slyness, with his toughness, he was well beyond his years. Well beyond them! It was that other side of him that concerned Reno the most.
It wasn’t until Reno had actually grabbed the remote control and turned off the TV did Dommi realize anybody was in the room at all. And, as usual, he flew off the mouth before he investigated. “Turn it back on, boy, what’s wrong with you?” Dommi asked, thinking, Reno assumed, he was talking to his older brother. But when he looked over, and saw his father leaned against a side table, his heart fell through his shoes, and he quickly sat upright. “Dad?” he asked.
Reno Gabrini: I'm Losing You Page 14