Mick Sinatra 3: His Lady, His Children, and Sal (16 page)

Rudy, on the other hand, was more than happy to let
them battle it out while he quietly slipped away.
 
But he wasn’t dealing with flunkies. He was
dealing with bosses.
 
Real bosses.
 
Mick and Sal both pulled their weapons on
Rudy and forced him to walk backwards fast, until his ass slammed against the
wall.
 
Sal was sorely disappointed in his
new found son.
 
Mick saw it as par for
the course; as another day in a dog’s life.

“Looks like your double cross, Rudy Balotti,” Mick
said, “just got double crossed.”

Tears began to appear in big bad Rudy’s eyes.

And by the time the shooting stopped, every one of
the men who turned on Mick, and every one of the men who turned on Sal, were
down.
 
Some made it as close to inches
from the exit doors.
 
Others didn’t stand
a chance.
 
But not one of those traitors
got out of that warehouse alive.
 
The
only reason Rudy was still alive was because he was Sal’s son, and because Mick
and Sal were smart enough to know that intrigue always had layers.
 
They needed Rudy to peel that onion.

While Reno, Tommy, and Charles stayed back to
supervise the pickup of the pile of bodies they suddenly had on their hands,
Mick and Sal escorted Rudy out of the warehouse and into Mick’s waiting
limousine.
 
Deuce McCurry closed the
passenger door behind them, got in on the driver side behind the wheel, and
drove away.
 
Rudy sat on one side.
 
Mick and Sal sat side by side across from
him.

Rudy was still teary-eyed, and was shaking his
head.
 
“But how did you know?” he kept
asking.
 
“It was all planned out.
 
I purposely didn’t loop Danny in until after
those cargo intercepts.
 
Until after the
Cleveland snatch.
 
So he’d know I meant
business.
 
When did he tell?
 
And why would you just take his word for
it?
 
How did you know that I was . . . ?”

“How did we know you were full of shit?” Sal
asked.
 
“Is that your question?
 
We knew because that’s what separates the
boss from the flunky.
 
That’s what
separates the man who acts with his brain, not the man who acts with his
balls.”

“You’re stupid, in other words,” Mick said to
Rudy.
 
“You’re a minor leaguer trying to
play in the big leagues.
 
You’re a
fucking snitch to begin with, bringing a bone to take one.
 
That’s how we knew.”

Rudy shook his head again.
 
He was overwhelmed with grief.
 
Not because he was caught.
 
But because he had been outsmarted,
outmaneuvered, and outclassed.
 
And now
even Sal wasn’t in his corner anymore.
 
He was in trouble.
 
He was in deep
shit.

When the limo arrived on the outside of Mick’s
estate, Mick was about to get out, but he looked back at Sal.
 
“We’ll get together again and deal with what
we need to deal with,” he said.
 
“You
clean this shit up first.”
 
He said this,
looking at Sal’s son.

Sal agreed, as he pulled out his gun.

Rudy’s eyes stretched in horror.
 
“You can’t kill me,” he said.
 
“I’m your son!”

Sal wasn’t going to kill him.
 
But he was going to beat the shit out of
him.
  
He was going to put the fear of
Sal deep down within him.
 
And Sal knew
it was a double standard.
 
He knew, if
any other man had pulled what Rudy pulled, he would be dead no questions
asked.
 
But he was his son.
 
A son he despised right now.
 
But he was his son.

But as Mick was getting out of the car, Rudy felt he
had no choice.
 
He called in his trump
card.
 
“What about the A-train?” he said.

Mick stopped in his tracks.
 
He knew A-train was the nickname of his
oldest son, the one he was actively searching for right now.
 
He turned toward Rudy.
 
“What did you say?”

“What about Adrian?” Rudy asked.

Sal frowned.
 
“Who the fuck is Adrian?”

Mick got back into the limo.
 
“What about him?” he asked.

“He’s the one who came to me,” Rudy said.
 
“He’s the one who bankrolled everything.
 
He’s the one who wants your head on that
platter.
 
I just wanted to destroy your
power.
 
He wants to destroy you.”

Mick stared at Rudy.
  
“Where is he?” he asked.

Rudy frowned.
 
“How should I know?
 
I’m not his
keeper.”

“Watch it, asshole,” Sal warned.

“Where was he when you last saw him?” Mick
asked.
 
He was doing all he could to
contain his rage.

“He was holed up in some bitch’s trailer.
 
But that was before he put that gun to your
head and took off.
 
I haven’t seen him
since.
 
But he’s another one of my
partners.
 
And you best believe he’s no
Danny Padrone.
 
He’s not going to tell
you shit.
 
He hates your guts.”

Mick stared at Rudy.
 
He was an accomplished liar, and he could be lying about this.
 
But Mick’s instincts told him this was no
lie.
 
Adrian was caught up in this too.

Mick looked at Sal.
 
“Get a few licks in for me,” he said, and got out of the limousine.

“What licks?” Rudy asked as the door closed.
 
“What is he talking about?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Sal asked, as he moved
to the edge of his seat.
 
The limo began
driving them away from Mick’s estate.
 
Then Sal added: “But maybe he means this.”

And then Sal commenced to pistol whip Rudy until he
was bleeding.
 
Sal commenced to give his
son a beat down that wouldn’t kill him, not his own son, but would make him
wish he was dead.

His strategy worked.
 
Because before Sal was halfway finished; before he had given him
anything remotely resembling his final blow, Rudy was already begging to die.

Roz poured another cup of coffee and sat in front of
Charles Sinatra.
 
Gloria and Joey sat on
either side of Charles, while Teddy stood on the opposite side of the center
island, beside Roz.
 
They were in Mick’s
kitchen, the morning after that harrowing night.

“Dad does know,” Teddy said, “that I have a job,
right?”
 

“He knows,” Roz said.

“Then why did he order us here?
 
It couldn’t be to meet Uncle Charles.
 
We met him at the wedding.”

“He wants all three of you here,” Roz responded,
“until Adrian is found.”

“But why?” Gloria asked.
 
“He didn’t make us stay here when he told us
what Adrian had done.”

“That’s because,” Charles said, “Adrian has done
more than that.”

They all looked at their uncle.
 
“Yeah?” Teddy asked.
 
“Like what more?”

“Like attempting to take over your father’s
organization more,” Roz said.

“He wants to destroy your father,” Charles
said.
 
“And he will attempt to do it, we
believe, by any means necessary.
 
Mick
fears that could include destroying the three of you.
 
His children.
 
I would put you under wraps too, if you were my kids.”

“When will we get to see your brood again, Uncle
Charles?” Teddy asked.

“They’ll be here Friday.
 
If I feel it’s safe.”

Roz smiled.
 
“That’s what I think I love most about you, Charles,” she said.
 
“You are so protective of your children.”

“I’m all they have, parent-wise.
 
I raised my oldest children pretty much
alone.
 
And I have three girls now
too.
 
I am all my children’s protector.”

“Even Brent, the police chief?” Teddy asked with a
smile.

“Especially Brent, the police chief,” Charles
responded.
 
“He was born when I was only
seventeen.
 
He’s my baby too.”

They all laughed at the idea that Brent Sinatra was
somebody’s
baby
.
 
And wished they had a father like him when
they were young.
 
They understood
immediately why Mick respected Charles so much.

After more talking around the table, Charles drank
the last of his coffee, got up, and made his way upstairs.
 
To check on Mick.
 
He was supposed to still be asleep, but
somehow Charles, knowing his kid brother, doubted it.

He was right.
 
Mick was not only up, but was out on the master bedroom’s balcony.
 
When Charles walked through the French doors,
Mick was pacing with a glass of half-drank wine in his hands.
 
He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt,
which was fine.
 
But not enough for the
weather.

“It’s cold out here,” Charles said, as he made his
way toward the rail.

Mick glanced at his brother.
 
“It’s cold everywhere,” he said, as he
continued to pace.

Charles would have smiled, but he couldn’t. Because
he felt Mick’s burden.
 
Because of all of
the betrayals and carnage last night.
 
All of the pain he knew his brother had to be going through knowing that
his own son wanted him dead.
 
He could
feel the heaviness of Mick’s heart.
 
“You
were supposed to be getting some rest,” he said to him.

“I’m not going to rest,” Mick said, “until I get
that motherfucker.”

Charles stared at Mick.
 
“That’s not the way a father is supposed to
be talking about his son.”

Mick stopped pacing and looked at Charles.
 
“Oh yeah?
 
You mean the son who would have killed me if my instincts had been
off?
 
That same son who thought he was
pumping bullet after bullet after bullet in me?
 
That same son who led a rebellion against me?”
 
Mick angrily pointed his glass toward the
house, with some liquor spilling out.
 
“That same son who might try to kill my wife and my children?
 
That boy?
 
Get the fuck out of my face.
 
He’s
no child of mine.”

Charles couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
 
He’d never met a man harder than his baby
brother.
 
He never met a man more afraid
of being vulnerable.
 
But he knew, deep
down, it was all an act.
 
Mick was more
vulnerable than most, and he wasn’t fooling Charles.
 
“You’re in pain,” Charles said to him.
 
“You’re in a lot of pain.”

Mick stared at his brother, and then released a
sharp exhale.
 
He frowned.
 
“I used to think if I threw money at it,
everything would be alright.
 
I used to
think if I gave my kids what mattered to me the most, my wealth, then they
would understand how I cared about them.
 
And I was right.
 
Giving them my
money, but not giving them myself, showed them how I cared about them.
 
It showed them how little I cared about
them.”

“Don’t say that, Mick.”

“But that’s how they felt,” Mick said.
 
“I was too busy for them.
 
They weren’t a part of my life.
 
And they weren’t.
 
They felt that I didn’t love them enough to
want them in my life.
 
Now each one of
them have their own brand of self-hate.
 
Gloria seek out the worse men for her.
 
Joey try to get my attention any way he can, usually bad ways.
 
Teddy is a
got
damn pimp.”

Charles frowned.
 
“A pimp?”

“He runs whorehouses disguised as nightclubs.
 
What do you think that makes him?”

Charles shook his head.
 
He was surprised.
 
“My goodness,” he said.

“And Adrian has taken that hate to a new level,”
Mick said.
 
“Instead of destroying
himself, he wants to destroy me.
 
He
wants to snuff out the source of all of his problems.”

“But in his quest to destroy you,” Charles said, “he’s
destroying himself.”

Mick nodded.
 
He knew it too.
 
And began pacing
again.

Charles leaned against the rail and folded his
arms.
 
“What about your men?” he
asked.
 
“How deep is the betrayal?”

“It’s not that deep.
 
Just the ones who were at that warehouse from what we could gather.
 
It happens.
 
There are no honor among thieves.
 
What you have to do is keep them out of the loop.
 
What you have to do is make sure your bank
account is fatter than anybody else’s.
 
Rudy Balotti offered them a partnership.
 
But after word gets out what became of that partnership, other workers
won’t be so easily fooled.”

“But there’s always a risk of a betrayal?”

“Always,” Mick admitted.
 
“That’s why you have layers of
protection.
 
One group keeps an eye on
another group, while a third group keeps an eye on both of them, and they keep
an eye on the third group.”

“
Got
damn,”
Charles said.
 
“Your line of work is not
the line of work to aspire to.”

“I agree,” Mick said.
 
“But for every one man I take on, there’s a
thousand more just like him who would love to work for me.
 
They would love to be in this line of work.”

Charles considered him.
 
“But why can’t you get out of it?
 
Why can’t you leave it alone?”

Mick made his way to the rail and leaned against it
too, side by side with his brother.
 
“Because there are layers to me too.
 
Ghosts.
 
Skeletons in the
closet.
 
Whatever the fuck you wanna call
it.”
 
Mick took a sip of his wine.
 
“Even if I walk away today, I’ll still have
fuckers coming after me for fifty more years.”

Charles was stunned to hear that.
 
He stared at Mick.

“I stay in the game to protect myself,” Mick
continued.
 
“If they think I’m still
untouchable, they don’t try to touch me.
 
If they think I’m retired, they go after me all barrels blazing.
 
I’m fucking Jesse James out here.
 
My rep proceeds me.
 
Everybody’s gunning for me.”

Charles shook his head.
 
“I hate to hear that.”

“It is what it is.”

“But you’ve got a wife now,” Charles said with
concern on his face.
 
“And your
children.”

Mick knew it too.
 
“That’s the worst part of it all.
 
But my wife and kids are also why I can’t get out.
 
I have to stay on top, Charles.
 
I have to stop any fucker who tries to take
my place.
 
It’s their only protection.”

Charles ran his hand across his face.
 
He knew Mick was a successful businessman who
lived that gangster life still.
 
But he
thought he was coming out of it.
 
He
never dreamed it would be his forever life.
 
“What about this beef you have with Sal Gabrini?
 
Those Gabrinis are a force to be reckoned
with, Mick.
 
Sprig’s husband Benny
Gabrini was a nasty sonafabitch, and I hear his deceased brother Paulo, Reno’s
father, was even nastier.
 
You don’t want
to tangle with that bunch.”

“I’m not interested in tangling with them,” Mick
said.
 
“But what Sal did to our sister
was wrong.
 
Just like everybody in this
world did her wrong.
 
I’ve got to make
that right.”

Roz walked out onto the balcony just as Mick
finished that sentence.
 
Mick managed to
smile when he saw her, and he walked up to her.
 
“Good morning,” he said, and gave her a hug.

Charles was always taken aback whenever he saw Mick
interact with Roz.
 
He seemed so
compassionate and kind around her, but he wasn’t that way around anybody
else.
 
Charles couldn’t imagine a less
compassionate man than Mick.

Roz pulled back, with their arms still around each
other, and looked at Mick.
 
“At least you
got some sleep,” she said.

“Some,” he said.
 
“Everybody made it?”

“You knew they would when you ordered them
here.
 
They came last night,” Roz
said.
  
“But you had fallen asleep.
 
I showed them to their rooms.
 
I didn’t see the point in waking you.”

 
Mick really
loved this woman.
 
Last night late, when
he got home, he phoned his children and told them to come to his compound.
 
He wanted them under his full protection
until Adrian was caught.
 
They had no
idea what was going on, and Mick was too drained to discuss it with them.
 
He got in bed, pulled Roz into his arms, and
promptly fell asleep.
 
When word came
that the children had arrived, Roz didn’t bother to let Mick know.
 
She let him sleep on.
 
It was obvious he desperately needed it.