Sal Gabrini: His House of Cards (11 page)

“I’ve got to
go,” she said to him.

“Are you
going to hang around the courthouse?” Sal asked her.

“The jury’s
in deliberations.
 
I’ll probably leave
here and go to my office for the remainder of the day, or until the jurors
return with a verdict.
 
They may not
return with a verdict today.”

“You don’t
think it’ll be today?” Sal asked.

“It might,”
Gemma responded.
 
“But I don’t think so,
no.”

“I’ll call
you,” Sal said, and they kissed on the lips.

And then
Gemma was ushered away from him.

When Gemma
looked back at him, as if to reassure him, Sal gave her a smile.
 
But he was deeply concerned.
 
Shit like this didn’t just happen to people
like them.
 
And he had to find out why
did it happen this time.
 
He walked back
to his Porsche, got in, and sped off.
 
He
had a good idea where to begin his search.

“You can’t
go in there, sir,” Marty Guggenheim’s secretary announced nervously, but Sal
kept walking past her desk.

“Sir,” she
said anxiously as she rose to her feet, as if she could stop Sal Gabrini.
 
She realized she couldn’t when he walked up
to Marty’s office door, and kicked it in with his big foot.
 
The splinters on the door flew like
projectiles.
 
The secretary hurried back
to her desk to call for Security, but Marty, inside his now wide open office,
waved her off.

“It’s okay,”
he said to her.
 
“Don’t call.”

She heeded
what he told her to do, but not without her own level of anxiousness.
 
But it didn’t matter.
 
Sal was singularly focused.

“I heard
about the shooting,” Marty quickly said to Sal.
 
“But I had nothing to do with that.
 
I swear to you I didn’t.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t
know!
 
You keep hinting about these other
people.
 
But I’m telling you there’s
nobody else!
 
It was all about money.
 
You know it was.
 
We dropped the lawsuit.
 
We did what you wanted us to do.
 
Why do you keep trying to make it about
something else?”

Because Sal
had a feeling and his feelings never lied.
 
He stared at Marty.
 
He was slick
as grease and wasn’t about to tell anything.
 
He had been the lawyer for Sal’s accusers, so he knew he couldn’t do him
any physical harm while the story was still in the newspapers.
 
Too much heat would follow any move like
that.
 
He had to wait until the story was
completely gone and replaced with bigger news.

But Sal
didn’t tip his hand.
 
He just left.

Marty,
terrified, quickly picked up his desk phone and made a phone call.
 
“He just left,” he said into the phone.

“Did he
suspect anything?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yes!
 
That’s why he came!
 
He broke my door down.
 
He knows something’s up but he can’t put his
finger on it.”

“Good,” the
voice said.
 
“That’s exactly the way I
want his ass to squirm.”

“Who are
you?
 
And why won’t you reveal yourself?”

“Don’t you
worry about any of that.
 
You got your
money, didn’t you?
 
Your clients got
theirs too.
 
He just outsmarted us on
that lawsuit, that’s all.
 
It ended too
fast.”

“What do you
mean too fast?
 
His stock took a tumble.”

“For a
couple days.
 
That’s not good
enough.
 
But that’s alright.
 
I’ve got far more tricks up my sleeve.
 
You just continue to practice your little law
and be available should I need you again.
 
And stop asking who I am or why I’m doing what I’m doing, or I’ll make
good on my promise to you.
 
I’ll deal
with you and your family too.
 
So shut it
and mind your own business.
 
He won’t be
bothering you again.
 
He’ll have bigger
fish to fry than you ever was,” the voice added, and then hung up the phone.

Marty looked
at the phone, and hung up too.

Three days
later and Sal parked at the curb outside of Gemma’s law office. He was talking
on his cell phone as he waited for her to come out.
 
He had phoned and told her he was taking her
to lunch, and she was thrilled to hear it.
 
She told him that she was with a client, but that she should be done by
the time he arrived.

And she was
right.
 
Within a few minutes of his
arrival, she was coming out.
 
Only she
wasn’t alone.
 
Sal nearly dropped his
phone when he saw Blanche Delilah, his former girlfriend and the woman who used
to live in his house in Chicago, coming out with her.

“I’ll call
you back,” Sal said to his VP, and ended the call.

He watched
as Blanche and Gemma exchanged some niceties.
 
Gemma looked radiant and her usual professional self in the bright
afternoon sun, and Blanche looked up to no good.
 
She, in fact, kept glancing at him with a
smirk on her face, as if she knew he was watching her ass.
 
And then she headed around the corner to
wherever she was parked.
 
Gemma headed to
Sal’s car.

When she got
inside, they leaned toward each other and kissed on the lips.

“Glad you
could make it,” Gemma said with a smile.

“Who was
that?” Sal asked as cavalierly as he could.
 
He knew who she was.
 
But did
Gemma?

“She’s a new
client,” Gemma said.
 
He was dressed down
in a crew-neck pullover shirt, and a pair of jeans, and a sports jacket.
 
He looked scrumptious, she thought.
 
Then she looked into his eyes.
 
“The verdict came back this morning.”

“What
verdict?”

“Sal!
 
I told you the jurors were in deliberations
three days ago.
 
I was on verdict watch
when that shooting took place, remember?”

“Oh yeah,
right.
 
They just reached a verdict?
 
It took them three days?”

“That’s not
excessively long,” Gemma reminded.
 
“They
worked Saturday, but were off Sunday.”

“So what’s
the verdict?” Sal asked.
 
“Did you win?”

“I
lost.
 
The verdict was guilty.”

“Ah, I’m
sorry, babe.
 
Was your client guilty?”
Sal asked.

“Probably.”

Sal was
pleased to at least hear that.
 
“Then
justice was served, right?”

Gemma
nodded.
 
“Hopefully.”

But Sal had
Blanche on his mind.
 
He cranked up.
 
“So what was her beef?”

“It was a
he,” Gemma said, “and he was on trial for murder.”

“No, I mean
your new client,” Sal said, trying not to sound too concerned.
 
“What’s her deal?
 
What did she want?”

Gemma found
it odd that he would be that interested, but ever since that shooting he’d been
overly-protective and interested in everything she was up to.
 
He even followed her home from the office
Friday night and sat at the center island while she cooked their dinner.
 
“She wants to sue her child’s father for
child support.”

Sal didn’t
expect to hear that.
 
“A paternity case?”

Gemma looked
at him.
 
“Yeah.
 
Why?”

“Nothing.
 
She just seemed too old for that.”

Gemma
laughed.
 
“She’s not that old, Sal, now
come on.”
 
Then she looked beyond
him.
 
“Wait before you pull off,” she
said when she saw Barbara Jiles, her paralegal, hurry out of the building and
up to Sal’s Porsche.

“What does
she want?” Sal asked.

“Something
important,” Gemma said, “or she wouldn’t bother.”

Barbara
arrived virtually out of breath.
 
“You forgot
to show me SARS, boss,” Barbara said as Gemma pressed down the window.

“Oh,
right.”
 
Gemma looked at Sal.
 
“It’ll only take a couple minutes.
 
SARS is this new computer program we got
installed, but I need to show her how to get into it.”

“I won’t have
a thing to do if she doesn’t show me, Mr. Gabrini,” Barbara said with a smile.

“We wouldn’t
want that,” Sal responded dryly.

Barbara
wanted to roll her eyes.
 
Even though
that lawsuit was dropped, she believed everything those workers said about
him.
 
He always came across as a little
racist to her.

But she
didn’t go there with Gemma.
 
Not
ever.
 
She never mixed it up with women
about their men.
 
She, instead, followed
her boss back into the building so that Gemma could give her a quick tutorial.

Sal took the
opportunity to phone Angelo Romano, his main man, about something far removed
from computer programs.
 
“Check on
Blanche for me,” he ordered Angelo.

“Blanche?”
Angelo asked.
 
“Blanche Delilah?”

“Who else?”

“Why,
boss?
 
What’s going on with her?”

“I just saw
her leaving my wife’s office.”

“Damn.
 
Out of the blue like that?”

“Just like
that,” Sal said.
 
“I need to know what
that bitch is up to.”

“Knowing
Blanche it’s probably nothing good.”

“Get on it,”
Sal ordered.
 
“There’s too many moving
parts.
 
There’s too many things happening
and I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
 
Now Blanche shows up.
 
Find out
what she’s up to, and find out now.”

“I’m on it,
boss,” Angelo said.
 
“I’m on it.”

That
evening, when Gem and Trina were in Champagne’s, their high end boutique,
hanging their new shipment of dresses on the racks, Blanche walked in and told
what she was up to.
 
She walked over to
Gemma, and asked if she could talk with her.

“Here?”
Gemma asked, as she continued to hang up dresses.
 
Blanche was a client.
 
She didn’t mix one business with the other
one.

“I know you
want me to schedule another appointment at your office, but I don’t think you
want me to discuss what I have to tell you at your office.”

Trina looked
at Gemma.
 
What in the world was this
about?
 
“Why wouldn’t I want you to
discuss it at my office?” Gemma asked her client.

“Because it
concerns your husband,” Blanche said bluntly.

Trina rolled
her eyes.
 
“Here we go again,” she
said.
 
“Some trick trying to lie on one
of our men again.
 
So what has he done
this time?
 
No, let me guess.
 
He’s sleeping with you, right?”

Blanche
hadn’t expected this kind of opposition.
 
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“You lying
little heifer,” Trina said.
 
“Sal
wouldn’t cheat on Gemma Jones I don’t care what you say.
 
You’re a liar.
 
You just want Sal because he’s good looking
and rich and got the kind of plumbing you dream about.
 
They pull that same shit on my husband.
 
We’re old to the game, sister.
 
You can’t come at us with that.”

“You don’t
have to believe me,” Blanche said defensively.
 
“I don’t care either way.”
 
She
looked at Gemma.
 
“You don’t have to
believe me either.
 
But I’m just giving
you fair warning.
 
Earlier, when I came
to your office and I wouldn’t reveal who the father was because I said he was a
powerful man in town, I called myself protecting you from the truth.”

“Oh, girl,
please,” Trina said.

Gemma was
equally doubtful, but took a different tone.
 
“You don’t know me,” she said to Blanche.
 
“So I’m sure that wasn’t your motivation.”

“But I know
your husband,” Blanche fired back.
 
“I
know him very well.
  
I know how violent
he can be if you say something he doesn’t like.
 
I wouldn’t tell him if I were you.”

Gemma
frowned.
 
“You wouldn’t tell him what?”

“That I’m
exposing the secret,” Blanche said with inward delight.

Trina shook
her head.
 
“Girl, you better get your
life,” she said dismissively.
 
“Exposing
the secret.
 
Yeah, right.”

“You need to
leave, Miss Delilah,” Gemma said.

“Don’t you
want to know the secret?
 
Don’t you want
to know that I’ve been your husband’s mistress living in your husband’s mansion
in Chicago for many years?
 
Even after he
married you?”

Gemma and
Trina both stopped cold.
 
Because they
both knew about that mansion.
 
And
suddenly Trina wasn’t dismissing everything Blanche was saying either.
 
Because she remembered either seeing a blonde
there the one time she was at that mansion, or Reno mentioning something about
a blonde being there.
 
But a pretty
blonde, she remembered, was involved.

Gemma
continued to stare at Blanche.
 
The fact
that she mentioned that house in Chicago, a house Sal never discussed with
Gemma but one Gemma knew existed, gave her some credence.
 
Gemma still didn’t believe her little tale of
woe, however.
 
It was going to take much
more than what she was saying for Gemma to believe some woman off the
street.
 
But Gemma was no blindly in love
fool who thought her husband wasn’t capable of shit.
 
Her husband was capable of a lot of shit, and
she knew it.
 
But still.
 
“What do you want?” Gemma decided to ask
Blanche.
 

Blanche
realized that she had both ladies when she mentioned that mansion.
 
Now she had to play it up.
 
“I want representation,” she said.
 
“Sal won’t cooperate.
 
He set me up in that house in Chicago and
took really good care of me there.
 
For
years.
 
But then he kicked me out when I
told him about our son, and he’s fighting me tooth and nail about it.”

Trina looked
at Gemma.
 
Gemma’s heart began to
pound.
 
“Your son?”

“Yeah.
 
He didn’t tell you?
 
I’m not surprised.
 
He refuses to admit he’s the father, even
though he knows he’s the one.
 
Like I’m a
slut all of a sudden.
 
But I wasn’t a
slut when he was doing me.
 
No matter
what I say, he refuses to face the truth.
 
And I’m struggling out here.
 
My
child is struggling.
 
It’s not fair!”

Gemma stared
at Blanche.
 
She was a liar, Gemma
thought, because Sal wouldn’t keep something that major from her.
 
He knew it would break her heart in two if
she found out any of what that woman said was true.
 
“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I want you
to realize what kind of snake your husband really is and represent me in my
paternity case against him.
 
That’s what
I want!”

“You must be
out of your
got
damn mind,” Trina
said.
 
“Why would she want to represent
her husband’s side chick?
 
If you are his
side chick, because that’s still a big IF.”

Even Gemma
was amazed by Blanche’s gall.
 
“No,” she
said.
 
“I will not be representing you.”

“He doesn’t
want you,” Blanche said, this time with what Gemma detected was a tad of
desperation in her voice.
 
“He told me so
himself.
 
Remember when they kidnapped
you in the parking lot of that courthouse?
 
Guess what Sal was doing?
 
He was
in bed, I was in bed with him, and I was giving him head.
 
That’s right.
 
I was mouth fucking your husband while you were fighting for your life.”