“But it’s . . .” Giona didn’t continue.
“It’s what, Giona?” Mick asked.
“It’s private information. That’s what it is. Between her and me.”
“Let me see the results,” Roz said.
But Giona was hesitant now. She appeared terrified of Mick. “I . . . don’t have it here,” she said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Roz said. “Why did you want to meet with me if you weren’t going to have the DNA results? Teddy said that’s why you wanted to meet with me.”
Giona began rubbing her forehead. “There must have been some mistake,” she said.
“A mistake? What mistake?” Roz asked.
“Tell her the truth,” Mick said.
“We had a relationship,” Giona said to Mick. “And you impregnated me. That’s the truth!”
Roz waited for Mick to deny it. Her heart was sinking with every second Mick didn’t deny it.
Then he finally spoke. “When did we have a relationship?” he asked Giona. “When did I impregnate you?”
She hesitated.
“TELL HER!” Mick roared, causing even Roz to wince. “Tell her,” he said again, more calmly.
Giona continued to hesitate.
“Tell me,” Roz insisted.
“Years ago,” Giona finally said.
“How many years ago?” Mick asked.
She stared at him.
“HOW MANY YEARS AGO?” Mick roared again, scaring Giona.
“Fifteen,” she said. “Okay? Are you satisfied? I told her. But I got pregnant, and you were the father. That’s why you took the test.”
But Roz couldn’t believe it. What did that witch think, that she was going to tell Roz that Mick fathered a two-year-old and Roz wasn’t going to investigate that shit? Did she think her and Mick’s marriage was that kind of mistrustful, loveless marriage? But then Roz realized all of Mick’s ex’s thought the same way. That Mick couldn’t possibly be faithful. That Mick had married her, but he really didn’t mean it.
Mick was staring at Giona too. He couldn’t believe it either. “Tell her what happened to the child,” he said.
Roz looked at Mick. Then she looked at Giona. And Giona hated to go there. Roz could tell she hated to so much as discuss it. But they sure as hell weren’t the ones to bring it up.
“She died,” Giona finally said.
Roz stared at her.
“She died a few days after she was born. Mick took the DNA test the day after her birth.”
“But you showed Teddy a DNA test that was dated two years ago,” Roz said.
“I got somebody skilled enough to change the date,” said Giona.
“Why?” asked Roz. “Why would you suddenly do something like that?”
She hesitated again, but before Mick could demand that she speak, she spoke. “You were all the rave on Broadway. Everybody was talking about your performance, and how you would definitely receive a Tony nomination for it. I was once an actress myself. I worked my ass off, and I was a better actress than you ever was! But you made it. Why do you get to make it, and I don’t? Why wasn’t I an overnight success? It’s not fair!”
Roz couldn’t believe it. Jealousy? That was what this was about? “An overnight success?” Roz asked, her voice dripping with incredulity. “Do you think I woke up one day, decided to become an actress, and became a star? Do you realize how many years I had to work my butt off just to get a tiny part in a tiny play and everybody was turning me down even for that? I nearly starved to death as an actress, and you think I was an overnight success? Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Roz was hot now, too. But before she really lost it and told Giona how she really felt about her unfair characterization of Roz’s struggles, she knew she had to leave. “Let’s just go,” she said to Mick, and turned to leave.
But Mick touched her arm. Roz looked at him. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he said.
Roz stared into his eyes. She knew why he wanted to hang back. Most women would want to hang back, too, just in case there was more to that story. But Roz wasn’t that kind of female. If Mick and Giona were in cahoots, and Giona hadn’t told the full story because of her fear of Mick or for whatever reason, Roz wasn’t sweating that. Mick wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t get in cahoots with anybody. That much she knew for sure.
She left and headed back downstairs.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Mick moved closer to Giona.
Giona, fearful, moved back. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
Mick grabbed her by her blouse and pulled her all the way against his hard form. They were face to face. “Don’t you EVER,” he said, “involve my wife in your bullshit again. Not EVER!”
Giona was terrified, and was nodding her head. “I won’t,” she declared. “I promise you, Mick, I won’t ever do it again. I thought she would just believe me, and she’d pay me to cover it up. I thought she would be too worried about her reputation in town. I never dreamed she’d bring you with her. I’ll never tell that lie ever again, Mick.”
“Stay away from my wife,” Mick ordered, and then he pushed her away from him so hard that she fell on her ass.
And he left.
But as soon as he walked out of her apartment, she spat. “Asshole!” she yelled. But Mick was already gone.
But then two people appeared from the back of her apartment: Gregor Govanoff and Jamila, his girlfriend. They had been surprised, too, that Mick himself had shown up with his wife.
“I cannot believe he was in this apartment,” said Jamila, “and we did nothing.”
“What were we going to do?” Gregor asked. “Ambush him? One gunshot in a building like this, a building filled with nosy people, and the cops would be called. We wouldn’t stand a chance of escape. No. You do not take down a legend like Mick the Tick that easily. Especially unexpectedly as it were.”
Then he looked at Giona. “Get off of the floor,” he said.
She dutifully got up. She appeared terrified of him, too, although a lot less so than of Mick. “I did all you asked me to do,” she said.
“Yes, you did,” said Gregor. “But none of what you did went well. Otherwise, his wife would not have brought Michello along.”
“How was I to know she’d bring him?” Giona asked. “How was I to know they had that kind of marriage? You said they didn’t. You said it was a loveless marriage. I did everything you ordered me to do. Now I just want to go on and live my life.”
Gregor smiled. As did Jamila. “She wants to live her life,” he said to his lady.
“Yes, I heard,” said Jamila.
Gregor pulled out a knife and immediately slit Giona’s throat. Giona dropped to her knees, holding her neck. “You served your purpose for us,” Gregor said. “Why on earth would we let you live?” he added.
And as Giona twisted on the floor, gasping and fighting for her life, Gregor pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his blade. “You see, my love,” he said to Jamila, “your plan did not work. Mick is too swift and that foolish wife apparently believes everything he tells her. Especially when he’s telling her the truth,” he added, with a smile.
“What are we to do now?” Jamila asked.
“As I told you before, you go big with Mick the Tick,” Gregor said, “or you go home.”
“I’ll never go home until he’s sleeping in his grave,” said Jamila.
“Then we go big,” said Gregor. “There is no other answer for it.”
“But how, Gregor?” Jamila asked. “How?”
“I rope him into my territory acquisition scheme. I tell the east coast dons that they either get him to fight with them against me, or I’ll kill them all.”
“But what if he agrees to go in with them?” Jamila asked.
“He would never do that,” said Gregor. “He hates them as much as I do. He will not go along, and then they will be forced to take him out for us. For their own survival.”
Jamila smiled. “That’
s a good plan.”
“That’s why I hatched it,” Gregor said. “For you.”
Jamila looked at him. “You’ll do that for me, Gregor?” she asked.
“I’ll do anything for you, my sweet,” Gregor said. And they began kissing, and kissing passionately, even as Giona was taking her last breath.
Outside, Mick finally made it back to the limo and got in beside Roz. Teddy, Glo, and Joey were staring at Mick. What had he done to that woman, they wondered?
But Roz wasn’t wondering that. Because as soon as he sat down, Roz took her open hand and slapped the shit out of Mick!
His children were astonished, and afraid for Roz. Was she out of her mind hitting him like that? He was going to kill her, they felt. Especially when he felt the sting of that slap and immediately grabbed her wrist and violently pulled her toward him.
“What the fuck was that for?” Mick angrily asked.
“For putting me through this shit in the first place!” Roz said. “You could have phoned me and told me the age of that child, and what happened to her.”
“And you would have believed me, even in the face of Giona’s lies to Teddy? Even in the face of that DNA test he said he reviewed?”
Roz stared at him, because she knew, in a situation like that, she would have needed more information than just Mick’s word. He knew it too. That was why he angrily tossed her wrist away from him.
And then they sat back, the two of them, and rode back to Philly quietly, with neither one giving an inch. With neither one admitting shit.
They though it was over. They thought Giona’s ridiculous lie was a one-off that had nothing to do with what happened earlier with Uri, and that was that. And even if it was connected, it still wouldn’t have mattered. Uri was dead, Hector Morales had been released from the safe house after a beat down and a stern warning, and Irene was sleeping in her grave. It was all over. It was just a blip in their lives by fools who didn’t realize who they were fucking with.
But it wasn’t over.
They realized it was nowhere near over just two days later, when Teddy casually told Mick that a group of east coast dons wanted to meet with him, and Mick, Joey, and Teddy met with the dons at that boarded-up barbershop in south Philly.
Then the ambush happened.
Then Gloria was badly beaten and thrown from a car as if she was discarded trash.
Then Joey was shot repeatedly.
Then Mick and Teddy were forced to take out all three of those dons who had turned on them.
They realized that night that it wasn’t over at all. It was just the tip of the iceberg.
And a war that Mick Sinatra didn’t want to so much as participate in, went nuclear.
And became Mick’s war.
And any war of Mick’s, was a war of the family. The Sinatras and the Gabrinis.
The entire family.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE NIGHT OF THE AMBUSH
SAL GABRINI
“Don’t worry, babe,” Sal whispered to Gemma Jones-Gabrini, his wife, as they sat side by side, their shoulders touching. “You can’t lose.”
“Don’t jinx it,” said Gemma.
“What jinx?” asked Sal. “You had more winning cases than the rest of these clowns combined. And all of your cases were tougher and more high-profile than theirs. And you kept your nose clean compared to them. They’ve all got blemishes on their evaluations. You’re a cinch.”
They were at an awards banquet inside the Las Vegas Convention Center and Gemma was up for the Defense Attorney of the Year award. Sal was confident because he was looking at her record. And if that was all there was to it, Gemma would agree with him that she was a cinch. But she knew that wasn’t all there was to it. “Just don’t go ballistic if I lose,” she warned him.
“Why you keep being so negative?” Sal asked her with a frown on his face. “You can’t lose. Stop saying you might lose. You’re the total package, babe. You’re the only one in the running with no blemishes.”
“I’m also the only black person in the running,” Gemma reminded him. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
Sal looked at his wife. There was a time when he was one of those Archie Bunker types who thought blacks and their grievances were way overblown. They loved to play the victim, he used to always claim as he drank beer in bars with his racist buddies.
But then he met Gemma, and realized those grievances weren’t just complaints, but were real. And although Gemma never played the victim, she called out racism whenever she saw it. And after a while, so did Sal. He was now her biggest supporter bar none, and, ironically given his background, a major defender of civil rights. “I’ll turn this fucker out if they don’t give that award to you,” he whispered to her.
But that was what worried Gemma even more than losing the award: Sal’s reaction to the loss. “If you show your ass in this convention center tonight, Sal,” she warned him, “I’ll never forgive you.”
He looked at her, shocked.
“There’s a time and a place for everything,” she said to him. “This is not the time nor the place. There are judges here, and prosecutors. For the sake of my clients, I still have to work with these people. If I lose, I lose. It’s just an award,” she added. Although they both knew she’d be heartbroken if she lost.
She lost. The award for Defense Attorney of the Year was announced shortly after their conversation and she didn’t even place. Not third. Not second. And she most definitely was not the winner. It was so blatantly wrong that Sal wanted to stand up and cuss all their asses out. But he remembered what Gemma said, and kept his composure.
Besides, he wasn’t all that sure that the reason she lost was because of her race. It just as easily could have been because of her association to him, a man many of them believed to be a boss in the mob. Although it was true, they didn’t know it was true, and their accusations pissed Sal off. But for Gemma’s sake, he didn’t let them see him sweat. He kept his composure.
But afterwards, neither one of them were interested in hobnobbing with the enemy. They left as soon as the awards ceremony was over. In the cool night breeze, Sal took Gemma’s hand. Her black skin looked radiant, he thought, against the white gown she wore.
“Fuck’em,” he said to her. “They’ll be other awards.”
Gemma smiled. “I know.”
“But you wanted to win that one, didn’t you?” he asked her.
Gemma couldn’t lie. “Yeah, I did,” she said. “It reminded me of high school when I put my name in nomination for Honor Queen. I had excellent grades and a lot of extracurricular activities. I thought that was all that was required. But when I went to the board to place my name in contention, they turned me down.”
“Turned you down?” Sal was surprised. “Why?”
“They said I wasn’t pretty enough to be Honor Queen during homecoming week.”
“Not pretty enough? You?”
“Come on, Sal. I know my limitations in the looks department. You even said you thought I had challenges in that department when you first met me too. Remember that?”
“But you’re beautiful, babe,” Sal said, pulling her closer against him. “In my eyes, Miss America got nothing on you!”
Gemma smiled. “Thanks, Sal. But what I’m saying is that the way of the world is the way of the world. We can’t change that. And like you said, they’ll be other awards.”
“But you’ll still be the only black attorney they’ll bother to nominate for those awards,” he said, “and I’ll still be Sal Gabrini, public enemy number one in those fuckers eyes.”
Gemma smiled. “What are we saying then? That we’re just fucked, let’s face it?”
Sal laughed and placed his arm around her waist. “Something like that, hell yeah!”
But as they were about to go down another lane in the parking lot, an SUV sped up to them so fast that Sal was about to pull out his piece. But when Sonny, one of his capos, jumped out, he relaxed.
“We’ve g
ot trouble, Boss,” Sonny said as soon as he jumped out.
“What is it?” Sal asked.
“Somebody just ambushed Mick Sinatra.”
Sal and Gemma both were floored. “What?” Sal asked. “Uncle Mick? Are those fuckers insane? Is he down?”
“He wasn’t hit,” said Sonny, “but his daughter and son were.”
“Dear Lord,” said Gemma.
“Not dead?” Sal asked, his heart now hammering. “Tell me they aren’t dead!”
“We don’t know, Boss,” Sonny said. “But we know they were hit.”
“Let’s go,” Sal said, and began hurrying Gemma into the SUV.
“Where to?” Sonny asked.
“Where the fuck you think?” Sal yelled. “Drop my wife home, and then get me to the airport! Get my pilot and my plane ready!”
“Yes, sir,” Sonny said as he ran back around and got in on the passenger side of the SUV. He was pulling out his cell phone as the SUV sped away.
Sal’s Bugatti was in that parking lot, but after hearing that Uncle Mick’s family had been attacked, of all people, that car was the last thing on his mind.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE NIGHT OF THE AMBUSH
BIG DADDY SINATRA
“I said hot sauce, Charlie.”
“Hot sauce? On popcorn? That’s crazy, Jenay!”
“It’s not crazy. It’s what I want. Now go get it before the movie starts,” she said to him and gave him a shove out of bed.
Charles “Big Daddy” Sinatra, the wealthiest and most feared man in all of Jericho, Maine, got out of bed like the faithful husband he was and headed downstairs again. He couldn’t believe he had to go again. It would be his third trip down. First, he forgot to bring the salt with her bowl of popcorn. Then, she wanted napkins with her popcorn. Now it was hot sauce. Hot sauce on popcorn. He’d never heard of such a thing!
But that was his wife, he thought fondly, as he made his way out of their bedroom. She used hot sauce on EVERYTHING. But popcorn too? He shook his head.
But as he marched down those stairs, his son, Donald Sinatra, who worked with Jenay at Big Daddy’s hotel, had entered his home and was marching up those stairs.
Mick Sinatra: Ice Cold Love Page 10
