Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho (4 page)

Joey wasn’t
going to the back of that bar based on trust.
 
He was going based on mutual need.
 
They needed the cash, and he needed the product.
 
Because he knew, after he diluted the shit,
that he was going to get ten times on the street what he was paying for it in
this backroom.
 
Joey smiled just thinking
about it.
 
He was young, he was only
nineteen, but he had big dreams.
 
He was
going to be a kingpin someday.

As soon as
he opened the door to the room in the back, a big black man they called Crib
was sitting behind a small desk.
 
His
lieutenant was standing beside him.

“Well,
well,” Crib said with a chuckle, “if it ain’t the great little man.”

“Very
funny,” Joey said, not smiling at all.

Crib
smiled.
 
“Alright, hot shot, show me what
you got.”

“Fuck you,”
Joey said.
 
“Show me what you got!
 
I’m here to buy.
 
You show me the product first.”

Crib gave
Joey a hard look.
 
“You’re a tough little
man?
 
You’re supposed to be tough?”

“Show me,”
Joey said again.
 
“Cut the crap and show
me.”

Crib smiled
again.
 
“I would,” he said.
 
“I really want to.
 
But he wouldn’t like it.”

Joey
frowned.
 
“Who wouldn’t like it?
 
Him?” He pointed at Crib’s lieutenant.
 
“What, Crib, you let that retard dictate your
purchases?
 
What are you a pussy,
Crib?
 
Or a crib pussy?”

Crib wasn’t
smiling this time.
 
Any other kid and he
would have iced him on the spot.
 
But he
wasn’t any other kid.
 
He was Mick
Sinatra’s kid.
 
“
He
wouldn’t like it,” Crib said, and motioned toward the corner of
the room.

When Joey
bothered to look where Crib was motioning, he saw a man sitting in a
corner.
 
His legs were crossed, his
tailored suit was pristine, his shoes sparkled against the drab light.
 
Joey’s heart dropped through his own
shoe.
 
“
Dad
?” He couldn’t believe it.

Mick Sinatra
didn’t look at his youngest son.
 
He,
instead, looked at Crib.
 
And Crib and
his lieutenant didn’t hesitate.
 
Mick the
Tick was a powerful ally to have.
 
Crib
stood up and they both left the room, closing the door behind them.

And when
Mick stood up on his muscular frame, and began buttoning his suit coat, Joey’s
chest squeezed in fear.
 
He didn’t fear
many men.
 
Hardly any man alive.
 
But he feared his father.
 
His only recourse, he felt, was to play it
off.
 
“What are you doing here, Dad?” he
asked him.

“You’re
selling drugs,” Mick said as a statement, not a question, and began walking
toward his son.

Joey wanted
to run, but he knew his father’s reach went further than his arm length.
 
“Drugs?
 
Who’s selling drugs?
 
I was just
playing around,” he said.

“My son,”
Mick said, his voice growing in anger as he advanced, “is a drug dealer.
 
My flesh and blood is in this rat hole buying
drugs to sell.”

Before Joey
could respond with more lies, Mick grabbed him and threw him across the
room.
 
Joey’s body slammed against the
side wall with a painful thump, and his briefcase flew out of his hand and
landed broadside against a file cabinet.
 
But before Joey could even stand back up and grab his switchblade, his gun,
his something, his father had hurried across the room and was upon him again,
picking him up and jacking him up against the wall, by the catch of his hip-hop
shirt.
 
His gold chains bounced against
his chest, and caught around his neck.

“What the
fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mick asked him angrily.
 
“How could you fix it in your head to think
that I’m going to allow you to swing drugs?”

Joey was
fighting back tears now.
 
He was as hurt
as he was pissed.
 
“You did it,” he
forgot the lies and said to his father.
 
“When you first started out you sold drugs!
 
Everybody told me so.
 
I’m gonna do it too, but do it better!”

Mick stared
at his son.
 
Didn’t he realize it wasn’t
about being a gangster back then?
 
It was
about surviving the only way he knew how.
 
Joey was a rich kid.
 
What the
fuck he knew about survival?

But Mick
also saw the pain in his son’s eyes.
 
Because it was also about a father not being there for his son.
 
And his son had to figure out manhood for
himself, just as Mick had to do.
 
What
kind of choices did he expect the boy to make?

“I don’t
give a fuck what I used to do,” Mick said.
 
“I’m talking about what you will not do.
 
You will not sell drugs.
 
You will
not use drugs.
 
You will not have
anything more to do with that poisonous shit!”

Tears were
in Joey’s eyes, but Mick saw so much more.
 
And his heart went out to his defiant son.
 
He wanted to tell him he was sorry.
 
He wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t want
to do what he once did, because he did it all wrong.
 
But Mick knew, like young Mick knew back in
the day, that all of that talking wasn’t going to mean shit to a kid in love
with the streets.
 
A kid who knew his
father was a bad man and wanted to be bad too.
 
Mick’s father was an asshole that Mick hated with a passion, and ultimately
killed one day.
 
And he was visiting the
same kind of hate upon his son.

When Mick
got the call from Crib about Joey asking to buy a stash, he had every intention
of coming to this backroom and beating that boy into submission.
 
But now, as he looked into his son’s painful
dark eyes, he knew a beating was the last thing Joey needed.
 
He needed his father.
 
Not his father’s wrath.
 
And Mick, still holding his son by the catch
of his shirt, still angry with him but understanding his part in that boy’s
pain, pulled him into his big arms.

Joey was, at
first, startled when his father embraced him.
 
But when he felt his father squeeze him, as if he was sorry that it had
come to this, Joey melted.
 
He didn’t
sob.
 
He knew his father would hate him if
he showed that kind of weakness.
 
But he
wanted to.

When they
stopped embracing, Mick stood him up.
 
They were toe to toe now.
 
Man to
man.
 
Although all Mick saw was a scared
child.
 
“Where did you get the money?” he
asked Joey.

“It’s mine,”
Joey responded.
 
“You don’t have to worry
about that.”

“Where did
you get the money?” Mick asked again.

Joey
exhaled.
 
“I borrowed it.”

“Give it
back,” Mick ordered.
 
“Every dime.”

Joey
nodded.
 
He knew better than to dispute
his father at this point.
 
“I will.”

Mick
continued to study his son.
 
He would
have thought Adrian would be the first son he invited in.
 
But oddly enough, it wasn’t his oldest, but
his youngest.
 
“You want to work for me?”
he asked him.

Joey was
floored.
 
Work for Mick Sinatra?
 
Was he kidding?
 
“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly.
 
He wasn’t trying to hide his excitement
either.
 
“Very much so, sir.”

“Give that
money back.
 
Every dollar.
 
And come to my office in the morning.”

Joey smiled
greatly.
 
He wanted to hug his father,
but he wasn’t sure if he would like it.
 
“Yes, sir,” he said.
 
“First
thing.”

Mick
continued to stare at his son.
 
He loved
that boy, he really did.
 
But he was
nowhere near ready to say so.
 
“Get out
of here,” he ordered, and Joey didn’t hesitate.
 
He picked up his briefcase, and fled the room.

Mick left
shortly after.
 
But instead of feeling as
if a load had been lifted, he felt burdened down.

“He’s not
going to like it.”

Rosalind Graham
grabbed the small box out of the trunk of the Bentley and headed toward the
front door of her new home.

“You heard
me?” Carolyn Brimmer grabbed a second box out of the trunk, and followed behind
her.
  
It was late in the evening.
 
Roz had asked Carolyn to drop by when she
knocked off from work.
 
“Mr. Sinatra is
not going to like this.”

“Since it’s
my new home,” Roz said as she entered the home, “I think I’m the one who will
need to like it.
 
Did those movers bring
the boxes I had in the garage?”
 
She
began to head upstairs.

“They were
on the truck,” Carolyn said as she followed Roz upstairs.
 
“I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”
 
She looked around.
 
“Are you going to keep all of this
furniture?”

“For now,
yeah,” Roz said.
 
They walked across the
landing and headed toward the master bedroom.
 
“It’s a furnished rental with the option to buy.
 
If I exercise my option, I’ll get my own
furniture then.”

“What will
determine if you exercise that option?” Carolyn knew she wasn’t going to get an
answer, but it never hurt to try.
 
They
walked into the master bedroom.

Roz plopped
the box down on the floor at the foot of the bed.
 
“There they are,” Roz said with a smile when
she saw the four boxes in the bedroom.
 
They were stacked beside her lingerie chest of drawers.
 
“They brought them.”

“I told you
they did,” Carolyn said.
 
“But what about
this option again?
 
What would make you
decide to buy this place?”

That was
none of Carolyn’s business, so Roz ignored her.
 
She went over to her lingerie chest, pulled out a box cutter, and began
slicing open each of the four boxes.

“I know I
may be overstepping my bounds,” Carolyn said, “but you said I can be honest
with you.”

“And you
can,” Roz said as she glanced over at Carolyn.
 
Surely her honesty wasn’t going to be about whether or not she would
exercise the option to buy this house.

“You know
Mick,” Carolyn continued, “but you don’t know him like that, if you get what
I’m saying.
 
You haven’t known him for a
good year yet.”

Roz sliced
open yet another box top and looked at Carolyn.
 
She was getting at something, Roz sensed, and she also sensed that what
she was getting at had nothing to do with what she was talking about.

“I’ve known
Mick for many years,” Carolyn continued.
 
“I’m talking many, many years.
 
And I’m telling you he is not going to like the fact that you’re renting
this average, cookie-cutter home in this average suburbs.
 
He’s not going to like it.”

Roz opened
the box top flaps and began unpacking her extra lingerie, putting each article
of clothing in the various drawers.

Carolyn felt
as if she wasn’t making herself clear enough, or Roz would have asked more
questions.
 
She was anxious for her to
know.
 
She’d been hoping to tell it from
the first moment she met Roz’s uppity ass.
 
But the opportunity never came up.
 
It wasn’t until this evening, when Roz phoned and asked her to stop by
when she got off work, did she feel as if that lost opportunity was staring her
in the face.
 
But Roz still wasn’t
curious enough to ask questions!
 
It was
frustrating the hell out of Carolyn.

“I mean,
think about it,” Carolyn said.
 
“Why
would he want you to live in a house like this? What kind of sense would that
make?
 
His baby mamas, and he never
claimed any of them as his woman, lives in homes better than this.
 
And he paid for each one of those houses, and
they’re all better than this house.”
 
And
then she dropped the gem: “Hell, the house Mick bought for me is better than
this house!”

Carolyn
inwardly smiled.
 
There.
 
She said it.
 
Let the fireworks begin!

They began
without Roz, however, because Roz didn’t hesitate in her unpacking.
 
But she heard her.

Carolyn was
shocked by Roz’s lack of reaction.
 
What
woman would just be told that their man bought another woman, another
beautiful
woman, a house of her own and
would turn around and say nothing?
 
Carolyn was stumped.

She decided
to drop more bombs.
 
“He always want the
best for his women,” she said, not sure where she was going with it.
 
“Look at his baby mamas.
 
He’s got four of them, right?
 
And all four of them live in fabulous
houses.
 
I’m talking big, gorgeous
homes.
 
You think he’s going to let his
girlfriend live in
this
?”

Roz stopped
unpacking and looked at Carolyn.
 
Finally
the bitch got it, Carolyn thought.
 
“Who’s
responsible for cleaning the guest houses?” Roz asked.

Carolyn was
thrown again.
 
Guest houses?
 
What was with this chick?
 
“Excuse me?”

“That’s why
I asked you to drop by,” Roz said.
 
“I
need to know which maids are responsible for cleaning the guest houses on
Mick’s property.”

Carolyn
frowned.
 
“Well, eh, it’s not exactly one
particular maid.
 
They all have the
responsibility.
 
I don’t get your point.”

“You’re
Mick’s house manager.
 
He expects you to
manage his house.
 
That includes making sure
his entire household staff are doing what they are supposed to do.”

Carolyn was
offended.
 
Who was she to tell her what
her job duties were?
 
“And that’s exactly
what I do on a daily basis.”

“Mick had a
businessman and his wife stay in one of the guest houses last night.”

Carolyn
nodded.
 
“I know that.
 
John Rawsoner.
 
He’s spent the night before.”

“Mick and I
walked John and his wife to the guest house after dinner last night, and while
they were talking, I looked around the place.
 
And what I saw astonished me.”

This
intrigued Carolyn.
 
“What could possibly
astonish you about a guest house?”

Roz batted
her eyes.
 
This woman.
 
“I was astonished,” Roz said, “by the lack of
cleanliness in that house.
 
Spots on the
sofa.
 
Spots on the bedspread.
 
Dirty dishes were in the sink.”

“Oh
that!”
 
Carolyn was dismissive.
 
“It was probably because they showed up late
at night and the maid crew were already gone.
 
I
was already gone.
 
It’s not our fault. Nobody told us guests
were going to stay overnight.”
 

   
Roz couldn’t believe what she was
hearing.
 
“What difference does it make
when they plan to stay? Those guest houses are supposed to be cleaned no matter
what.
 
Every day they are supposed to be
cleaned.”

“I’m sure
John and his wife had no complaints,” Carolyn said, not at all getting why such
a minor matter would be such a big deal.

But it was a
big deal to Roz.
 
She was very protective
of Mick.
 
He had a thousand concerns on
his plate every single day.
 
She knew
because she could see it in his eyes every night.
 
Worrying about his household staff and
whether those heifers were doing their jobs were off the table now, as far as
Roz was concerned.
 
“John and his wife
didn’t complain,” she said, “because I insisted they stay at the main house.”

Carolyn was
stunned.
 
Except for Roz, Mick had never
ever allowed anybody to stay overnight inside the main house.
 
“I know Mick didn’t like that,” she said.

“That’s none
of your business what Mick liked,” Roz responded, wiping that smile off of
Carolyn’s face.
 
“Your business is to
make sure the staff does what they are supposed to do, or you’ll be out of a
job.
 
You said you know Mick.
 
So you’d better know it.
 
He will fire your ass.
 
I want to make myself really clear here.”

Mick already
made it clear to Carolyn that she, and everybody else working at his estate,
answered to him
and
to Roz.
 
When Carolyn questioned how he could put a
girlfriend in charge like that, he fired her on the spot.
 
It was Roz who talked him down and asked him
to give Carolyn a second chance.
 
But
Carolyn wasn’t grateful.
 
She still
blamed Roz for causing it to come to that in the first place.

“Have the
staff clean every one of those guest houses every single day.
 
If a guest shows up at midnight, it won’t
matter, because any house Mick puts them up in will be clean.
 
Understand?”

Carolyn
looked at Roz with contempt in her eyes.
 
She hated the fact that Mick had chosen her in the first place.
 
She hated the fact that Roz graduated from an
Ivy League school and walked around so prim and proper all the time.
 
But Carolyn had some trump cards
herself.
 
And she decided to play
them.
 
“I understand,” she said.
 
And then she smiled.
 
“Mick was never concerned about the state of
those houses before.
 
Believe you
me.
 
All those dozens of times he took me
into one, he never once complained about their cleanliness.
 
Cleanliness was the last thing on that man’s
mind when he took me back there.
 
But
things have changed.
 
I get it.”

“Good,” Roz
said, her big brown eyes never wavering in their seriousness.
 
“Message received, that’s what I needed to
hear.”

Carolyn
could never understand Roz Graham if her life depended on it.
 
She just told her that her man not only
brought her a house, but used to fuck her constantly, but Roz didn’t seem to
care.
 
What kind of relationship did she
have with Mick?
 
Maybe it wasn’t as
lovey-dovey as they made it out to be.
 
Which, in an odd twist, gave Carolyn hope.
 
She smiled.
 
“Have a nice day,” she said, and turned to leave.

“And Caro?”
Roz asked.

Carolyn
turned back toward Roz.
 
Fireworks
finally?
 
“Yes?”

“I expect
every guest house on Mick’s property to be spotless by close of business
tomorrow.
 
I will be checking tomorrow
night.”

Carolyn
wanted to object, but when she looked out the window and saw Mick’s black
Lamborghini fly onto the driveway, she suddenly got in a hurry.
 
“Anyway, I’d better run,” she said as she
began leaving.
 
“I have a hot date
tonight.”

And before
Roz could turn around, she was out of the bedroom and heading downstairs.
 
Roz, at first, thought nothing of it.
 
Carolyn could be flighty like that
sometimes.
 
But then she thought
again.
 
Mick was coming over.
 
Roz walked over to the window.

Her
suspicion was right.
 
Mick was sitting in
his car, on his car phone, and she could see him staring up at her new home.
 
She thought about the conversation she and
Carolyn just had, and how convinced she was that Mick was not going to like
this new place.
 
Carolyn was also certain
to throw in her little tea too, about her past relationship with Mick.
 
Although Roz didn’t show it at the time, it
bothered her mightily.

It wasn’t
the fact that he and Carolyn had once been an item that bothered her most.
 
Mick was an extremely virile and attractive
man.
 
Sexually, she knew he was a wanted
man, and Carolyn or any other woman wasn’t blind to that.
 
But the fact that Mick never told her about
that relationship when he knew she would have to work with Carolyn and see that
woman on a daily basis, was the problem Roz had with it.
 
She knew Mick.
 
She knew all she had to do was say the word
and Mick would fire Carolyn on the spot, no questions asked.
 
But Caro had worked as Mick’s house manager
for years.
 
There had to be more than a
few bitchy words to get Roz to exercise that kind of nuclear option.
 
Carolyn deserved a rebuke, maybe even a
written reprimand, but a firing?
 
A loss
of her livelihood over hurtful words?
 
Roz wasn’t there yet.