Sal Gabrini: Love And War

by Mallory Monroe

  “Yes, I do,” Tyler said. “But do you understand my concern? I just want you to win.”

  “I want to win as well,” Gemma said. “But not at the expense of my integrity.”

  Sal looked at her. Her integrity was always one of the things he most loved about her. Her integrity was always one of the things he felt her association with him could damage.

  “We aren’t going to play games with the voters,” Gemma continued to say. “That’s what Jasper Lowe has been doing ever since he became D.A. If I become more of the same, what’s the point? We may as well go home now.”

  Tyler smiled and nodded his head. “Point taken,” he said. “I’ll just take my poster, and my wounded pride, and get out of your hair.”

  Gemma smiled. “Just make sure it’s changed,” Sal said. “She’s a Gabrini and is running as a Gabrini. She doesn’t want to be anything else.”

  “Amen to that,” Gemma said, which warmed Sal’s heart.

  It warmed Robby’s heart too. He’d give a right arm to have a relationship like Sal and Gemma’s.

  “Consider it done,” Tyler said. “You will not see that omission ever again.”

  Gemma patted Tyler on his back. But as Tyler left the room, Curtis Kane walked in. “Hello, hello, hello!” he said jovially as he walked in.

  Gemma smiled. Sal just stared at him. Curtis was one of those cats he could never figure out. And Robby’s jaw tightened. He knew he had to avoid all eye contact with Curtis, or he just knew the very perceptive Sal Gabrini would pick up on their vibe.

  Curtis, in truth, was surprised to see Sal at Gemma’s campaign headquarters. He figured Robby would be there. He told Curtis last night that he was going to be shadowing Sal’s wife. But now that he realized Sal was, in fact, there, Curtis did everything he could to ignore Robby too.

  “Did you find it?” Gemma asked. She phoned Curtis earlier that morning and asked him to drop off a file she needed for court later today.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, handing her the folder. “I’m not the highest paid secretary in Vegas for nothing.”

  Gemma laughed. “Highest paid, hun? That’s news to me!”

  Curtis smiled. “Just joking.”

  But when Sal continued to look askance at him, he stopped smiling. “I was just joking, Mrs. Gabrini. For real.”

  “Boy, don’t you know I know that,” Gemma said. “You are entitled to joke around me.”

  “You, yes,” Curtis said, “but your husband? Perhaps not so much.”

  Enough of this, Sal thought, and turned toward Gemma. “I’ve got to run,” he said.

  Gemma looked deep into his baby blues. “Be careful,” she said.

  Sal understood what she meant. She knew the gravity of the meeting he was heading to. He kissed her on the lips again, and wanted more again but knew he had to wait. And then he began to leave. “Take care of her,” he said to Robby in no uncertain terms.

  “Yes, sir,” Robby responded, with equal certainty, and Sal left.

  Curtis wiped his forehead as if he had just dodged a bullet.

  Gemma caught the gesture. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked him.

  “That’s your husband,” Curtis said, “and I know you love him dearly. But I am not one of his favorite people.”

  “I wonder why,” Robby said in a dismissive tone.

  Curtis gave him a hard look that bordered on sadness. He looked back at Gemma. “Anyway,” he said, “I’d better get back to the law firm. Unless there’s something else you need?”

  “No, I’m good. And Curtis?”

  Curtis, who had turned to leave, turned back. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “He’s not like you think.”

  “You mean he’s not a racist, sexist, homophobe?”

  Robby’s eyes stretched. He couldn’t believe Curtis would go there, and go there with his boss, and Robby’s boss’s wife, of all people!

  But Gemma wasn’t about to dignify such a comment with a response. “He’s not like you think,” was all she cared to say about it. “I’ll see you later.”

  Curtis knew that was a dismissal, and he nodded his head, glanced at Robby, and left.

  Robby felt a twinge of sadness as the only human being he had ever loved couldn’t even be acknowledged as the man he loved. He waited until he thought he was not being observed, and watched Curtis as he left the headquarters.

  But Gemma observed him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was a backroom at a poolhall. Except for Robby Yale and Cab Coleman, who were on special assignment, everybody who was anybody in the Gabrini crime family were present. From the underbosses, Fat Frank Fechetti and Vinnie Vazzano, to the caporegimes, the three conference-sized tables were filled with loud conversation and comradery. Outside were the foot soldiers, with all standing guard as if they were guarding royalty. Although, to a passerby, they were just thugs hanging around a poolhall.

  But when Sal Gabrini, who had ditched his too-easily identified Bugatti and was being driven in a fully-tinted black SUV, drove up to the poolhall, those same “thugs” were on their highest alert. They were checking out everything: from buildings across the street, to any passerby, to the homeless man in the alleyway. By the time they gave the nod, and Sal’s driver was allowed to open the back-passenger door, the coast was completely clear. Sal stepped out, buttoned his Armani suit coat, and walked across the sidewalk and into the building.

  But when he entered the backroom, all of the loud conversation and comradery immediately ceased. And everybody rose to their feet. All of them knew Sal Gabrini, and none of them knew him. It was that kind of relationship.

  All that could be heard, as Sal walked up the aisle to the front of the room, was the sound of the leather soles of his Cucinelli shoes hitting against the hardwood floor. They all knew there were problems in their organization that desperately needed to be worked out, and they knew Horseface Hines bit the dust because of his part in their dysfunction. But only the two underbosses knew the real reason for this unusual meeting.

  When Sal made it up to the front of the room, and sat at the head of the main table, all of his men sat back down too. Fat Frank and Vinnie Vazzano were the closest to him, and sat across from each other. But Sal didn’t need their support. He needed answers.

  Vinnie Vazzano, the most articulate of the two underbosses, leaned forward. “We run several territories, as you know,” he told the group, “but three we run outright: Chicago. Jersey. Baltimore.”

  They all looked at each other. Tell us something we don’t know, their faces seemed to say. But the boss didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t even looking at Vinnie. He was staring at his capos, at his lieutenants. They were the real leaders of his organization. Without them doing their jobs and doing them well, they would have serious complications. They were having serious complications. The problem was staring him smack in the face.

  “Those three outright territories form our triumvirate,” Vinnie continued. “They are our power centers. Sal is king in those three territories. He doesn’t share power with anybody there. Nobody fucks with Sal Gabrini and his people in those three areas. We have our footprints in many other cities and states, as you well know, but those three are our backyard. Our bread and butter.”

  They all braced themselves. They knew more was coming, and it would be an indictment of them.

  “Boss is here today because he needs somebody to tell him how in the hell did we allow the enemy to steal from us in our own backyard. Just take it like it was theirs all along! Somebody needs to tell Boss something!”

  Sal, Vinnie, and Fat Frank looked at the men and waited for one of them to step up. Sal’s money was on Benny Benarge, one of his lieutenants out of Jersey. One of his main capos. Sal was right.

  “They don’t respect us no more,” Benny said.

  Sal and the underbosses looked at him.

  “I hate to say it,” Benny went on, “but the respect is no longer there.”

  “You were ta
rgeted for a hit twice this week,” Monni Ripley, another lieutenant, said. “But they aren’t just coming for you, Boss. They’re coming for all of us in the Gabrini organization. And it’s because of what Benny’s talking about. That respect factor.”

  “They don’t respect us no more,” Benny said again, this time looking directly at Sal. “Your name still carries a lot of weight. Major weight. But if shit goes down, they don’t believe you’ll do anything about it. They don’t believe you’re still walking the walk like you used to.”

  Sal’s jaw tightened. Motherfuckers. But he held his peace.

  But Fat Frank didn’t. Even he, who had originally sounded the alarm bells to Sal, didn’t think it was that bad. “Sal Gabrini a patsy? Are you out of your mind? Why the fuck would they think something like that, Ben?”

  Benny hesitated, but knew Sal was a fair man. He would want to know the truth. So, Benny shelled it out. Man to man. “They figure you’ve got too many other irons in the fire,” he said to Sal. “They figure our organization is secondary to what you’re all about. They figure GCI, and your family, comes first.”

  Vinnie couldn’t believe Benny would go there about Sal’s family. But Sal was of a different view. It needed, he felt, to be said.

  Sal let out a harsh exhale. “So, they figure I’m distracted?” he asked.

  The others seemed pleased that he was at least allowing them to be honest with him. “Yes, sir,” Benny said. “That’s how I figure it. They’re taking territory. They’re trying us on every hand. And we strike back, but we don’t have the force they have. You come, you give us our walking papers, and we do what you say. But they know it’s not you doing it, Boss. They know Fat Frank and Vinnie are your underbosses, but they also know Fat Frank and Vinnie aren’t you. So they keep hitting us. They keep trying us on every hand. They don’t think we have a leader like the old days.”

  Sal knew they were speaking the truth. Fat Frank had all but told him the same thing. He leaned forward. “Who’s our biggest rival?” he asked.

  There was no hesitation on anybody’s part. “That would be Billy Minoche,” Monni said. “Hands down.”

  Sal frowned. “Who the fuck is afraid of Minoche? What’s so big about him?”

  “He’s got backing,” Vinnie said.

  Sal looked at Vinnie. “Who?”

  “That we don’t know,” Fat Frank said.

  “Have any of you geniuses thought to bring Billy Minoche in to find out who’s backing him?”

  Fat Frank and Vinnie looked at each other. “Well no,” Vinnie said.

  “Why the fuck not?” Sal asked.

  “Yeah,” Benny agreed.

  “It’s not that easy,” Fat Frank said.

  “What does easy have to do with it?” Sal asked. “Somebody tried to off me twice. Somebody’s stealing our territory left and right. You know Minoche’s involved. Yet you don’t think to bring his ass in for a fright night?”

  They all were ashamed. “We just thought we’d get with you first,” Vinnie said.

  Sal was livid. “Get with me about what?” he yelled.

  “To discuss our options.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss! What the fuck is there to discuss? You have a suspect, you bring that suspect in and put the fear of the Gabrini organization in his ass! End of discussion!”

  “Yes, sir,” Vinnie said. “We’ll get right on it.”

  Sal leaned back. This shit was checkers, and they were acting as if it was brain surgery. No wonder they were losing their shirts. “Tell me about the lost territory. Who suffered the most damage?”

  “Baltimore,” Fat Frank said. “By far.”

  Sal looked at Phil Ace, his Baltimore man. “How much?”

  “Some fucker took over a third of our enterprises,” Phil said.

  Sal was stunned. “A motherfucking third?” he asked. “What the fuck were you doing?”

  Phil was offended. “What do you mean what was I doing?”

  “I meant what I said. You lost a third of my territory and you wanna know what I meant? You’re no longer in charge of Baltimore. That’s what I meant!”

  Phil was the stunned one now. He rose to his feet. “Not in charge?” he asked. “What are you talking? I’ve been running Baltimore for you, Sal, since before you hit it big! I made that sector what it is today. And you think you’re gonna just take that away from me? You ain’t taking shit away from me!”

  Sal’s temper flared at just the thought of some joker disrespecting him that way and he jumped over the table, grabbed Phil, and then dragged his disrespectful ass onto the floor. And they were on the floor fighting. The men got out of Sal’s way, because they knew what he was capable of.

  And at first it was a fight. Phil was giving as good as he was getting. But that quickly deteriorated and Sal was beating Phil down. His fist wouldn’t relent, as he held Phil by the catch of his collar and punched him and punched him and beat him down.

  “I can’t take it away from you?” Sal was saying with every lick. “I can’t motherfucking take it away from you? My own territory? My own fucking territory?!”

  “You can,” Phil started saying as Sal’s hard hits began adding up. “You can take it. You can take it, Sal. You can have it!”

  And it was only then did Sal stop pounding. And stood up. He was breathing so hard he could hardly speak. But he spoke. “Fat, you will be in charge of Baltimore until further notice.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You round up Minoche. That’s your job too. You let me know when you find his ass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about Phil?” Vinnie asked.

  Sal looked at him. “He’s out. What do you think?” Then he looked at his entire crew. “From here on out, I’m full-time. I’m back. And I’ve got zero tolerance for bullshit. I’m full time now. This is what I do. No more excuses.”

  The men nodded. Finally, they were going to have that muscle of old behind their talk!

  “Get me a rundown on every territory we lost,” Sal ordered Vinnie.

  “And then what, Boss?” Vinnie asked.

  “And then we take it back,” Sal said. “And half of theirs while we’re at it,” he added.

  The men smiled. They liked that option.

  But Sal still had unfinished business. “Who said Horseface killed that Bonaduce kid?” he asked.

  That stopped everybody cold. Where did that come from? Horse was dead and gone. The Bonaduces had been dealt with. Why was he bringing that back up?

  “What do you mean, Boss?” Vinnie asked.

  “I meant what I said,” Sal responded. “You and Frank told me Horse killed that kid.”

  Frank was puzzled. “He did kill him,” he said firmly.

  “Says who?” Sal responded.

  Vinnie looked at Frank. He couldn’t remember who. Then Frank did. “Says Baltimore,” Frank said. They often referred to crew chiefs by the territory they manned. “Yeah, that’s right. Baltimore told me. And I told Vinnie. Baltimore told us.”

  Everybody looked at Phil Ace: at Baltimore. When Phil saw that the writing was on the wall, his face betrayed his guilt. He jumped up from the floor Sal had knocked him to, and tried to make a run for it.

  “You stupid fuck!” Fat Frank yelled as some of the crew chiefs easily captured Phil. “Trying to make a getaway in a room filled with capos is like trying to buy drugs in a monastery, you idiot!”

  Sal walked over to Phil, who was being held by two of his lieutenants. He stood toe-to-toe with him. “Who took over a third of my territory?” he asked him. He was willing to bet the farm that Phil knew who was behind the power grab.

  But Phil wasn’t about to cooperate. He spat in Sal’s face.

  Even before his shocked men could react at all, Sal angrily revealed a switchblade he held in his hand and slashed Phil across the face. Phil cried in agony as his skin immediately separated, and the blood gushed out. Everybody in the room stood up. This was the Sal of old. This was the man th
ey needed back at the helm.

  “Who took over a third of my territory?” Sal asked him again.

  But this time, Phil was more cooperative. “Robby,” he blurted out. “Robby Yale.”

  Robby was the only man in Sal’s organization who had Sal’s unmitigated trust, and everybody knew it. Everybody, therefore, were shocked.

  But Sal wasn’t. His enemies, especially his turncoats, were always trying to pit him against his main number two as if the unbelievability of it would make it seem, in an odd twist, more plausible.

  But Sal wasn’t falling for that shit. Not one ounce of it. He slashed the other side of Phil’s face, causing Phil to fall to his knees. “Who took over a third of my Baltimore territory?” he asked for the third time.

  Phil was outright crying at this point. And then he uttered something remarkable. “I’m dead if I tell,” he said.

  Sal’s men looked at each other. Was this fucker for real, they wondered? He two-timed Sal Gabrini. He had to know he was dead already.

  “Who stole my territory?” Sal asked for the final time.

  Phil seemed to know it was the last time too. For everything. What was the use, he decided, in lying? “Fran’s son,” he said.

  Sal, and everybody else, frowned. “Who?” he asked Phil.

  Phil was still in unbelievable pain, but he managed to string together words. “Fran. Reno’s sister Fran. Her son took over.”

  Sal was floored. Francine Gabrini was a woman, now deceased, who everybody knew as Reno’s sister. But before she died, the Gabrinis found out the truth. Reno’s fucked-up father, Paulo Gabrini, raped Sal’s fucked-up mother, Jacqueline “Sprig” Gabrini, and Fran was born. Fran was actually Sal’s sister too. And she had a son? And that son was gunning for Sal? He expected to hear Phil say that Fast Eddie Bronson took over his territory. He expected to hear about a connection to the hit Fast ordered on Sal’s family and that land grab. He never in a million years expected to hear this.

  Sal recovered from his shock to keep going. But only just. “Whose Fran’s son?” he asked Phil.