Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho

by Mallory Monroe

  Mick continued to smile, but Roz could see in his eyes that he was a little pissed by the reference. “Rosalind told you about that, did she?” he asked.

  “You know Roz better than that,” Cecil responded. “She told me she had a man and you treated her right and that was all she would tell me about you. But Google told me more.”

  “He runs Sinatra Industries, Pop,” Roz said. “He’s legit now.”

  “No, he’s not,” Cecil responded. He was still smiling, but Mick could see his seriousness. “None of those big company CEOs are completely legit. And a big company CEO with a background like this guy? Come on. You can’t con a con man.”

  Mick had instant respect for Cecil Graham. He nodded his head. “I wouldn’t even try,” he said.

  Cecil smiled. “I knew we’d speak the same language,” he said as he sat back down on the two-seat swing. “I knew it when you got out of that car. I said this man right here don’t bullshit. We speak the same language.”

  “And what language am I speaking?” Roz asked with a smile as she sat down beside her father.

  “Girl speak,” Cecil quickly said. “All that he’s so wonderful talk.”

  “He is wonderful!” Roz said happily. She had her two favorite men in her orbit. She was straight. “It’s not just talk. He’s a great guy.”

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t,” Cecil explained. “A man who has the balls to drive around in a Lambo like that has to have some redeeming qualities. He chose you. He chose that car. He’s got taste.”

  Mick laughed. “There ya’ go,” he said.

  Cecil and Roz laughed too, but soon the laughter dissolved into a thoughtful silence. And Cecil, all smiles gone, looked at Mick and spoke again. “So you want to marry my little girl?”

  Mick felt unworthy to even admit it. He glanced at Roz. This kind of real talk was not his lane. But it was true. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

  “And she, apparently, wants to marry you.”

  “I do, Pop,” Roz admitted.

  Cecil leaned back and shook his head. “Amazing. Simply amazing.” He looked at Mick. “You have managed to do something I didn’t think was humanly possible,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Mick asked.

  “You managed to take my baby girl away from me.”

  Roz looked at her father. Mick looked too. “Is that a problem?” he asked.

  “Hell no!” Cecil said, and Roz laughed. “I say it’s about time! She’s been under me for far too long. It’s high time another man take charge of her. No other man has ever come close to handling my daughter.”

  “Handling me?” Roz asked. “Why does he have to handle me?”

  “He’s handling you,” Cecil said. Mick smiled. “I’m not taking it back. You’ve been I am woman hear me roar for far too long. I’ve been looking out for you all your life. Now it’s his turn. I was afraid no man alive would ever be strong enough to take over. I think he may be the one.”

  “He’s going to be my husband, Pop. Not my daddy.”

  Cecil laughed a one-syllable laugh. “That’s what you think,” he said, and Cecil laughed too.

  “Oh, both of you can kiss my grits!” Roz smiled and stood up.

  “I’m sure he’ll be doing that too,” Cecil said, and Mick laughed grandly.

  “Two of a kind,” Roz said, shaking her head. Then she looked at her father. “Mom inside?” she asked.

  Cecil’s smile left. Just the thought of his ex-wife made him ill. “She’s in there,” he said.

  “Is that why you’re out here?”

  “Exactly why,” he said. “I tried to talk civil with her, but you know how she is. So I bought my sorry black ass, as she calls me, out on this porch to wait on my little girl. And this is where I will remain.” He looked at Mick. “If you have half the brain I think you have,” he said, “you’ll remain out here too.”

  “Thanks,” Mick said, “but I’m here for Rosalind. Not for myself.”

  Cecil liked that answer. “Yup,” he said, “you have what it takes to take over. Roz is in good hands.”

  “Even though I’m not as legit as you would like?” Mick asked.

  “Even though,” Cecil said. “Roz like those bad boys you know. That’s why she loves me so much.”

  Mick smiled.

  Cecil pointed at his eyes and then at Mick’s eyes. “We understand each other,” he said playfully.

  “We do,” Mick agreed.

  “Anyway,” Roz said, “I need to interrupt this pissing contest to go see Mom. We’ll be back, Pop,” she said.

  “I’ll pray for your safe return,” Cecil said.

  Roz and Mick smiled, but then they headed for the front door.

  After ringing the bell, the door was opened by a tall, bosomy woman who had never seen Roz before. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I’m Rosalind Graham. Is Judge Graham in?”

  “Oh. Yes, ma’am. She’s expecting you, ma’am.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Please.”

  Roz glanced over at her father, and then she and Mick entered the home. The woman closed the door behind them.

  “This way, please,” she said, and escorted them down a narrow hall that led to a parlor across from the formal living room. She knocked once, opened the door, and then motioned for them to go inside. Then she closed the door behind them.

  And there she was. Judge Bernadette Graham. In red head to toe. Sitting in a wingback chair as if she was sitting on a throne. What amazed Mick was the size of her. Not big, but very tall, very bosomy, and very leggy. Roz was a little thing. This woman was Amazonian compared to Roz. But one thing she had in common with Roz, Mick thought, was her beauty. There was no denying her beauty.

  She sipped from her teacup as Roz and Mick walked in, but her eyes remained focused, not on her daughter, but her daughter’s man. Roz noticed it too, and thought it was a disgusting, lustful assessment. But Mick knew better. This woman wasn’t lusting after him. She was targeting him.

  “Hello, mother,” Roz said as they made their way toward the woman in red.

  “Hello, Rosalind.”

  Roz leaned down to give her mother a hug. Mick didn’t see any recoiling on the part of the mother, but he did see tightness, uncomfortableness, on the judge’s narrow face.

  Roz was accustomed to her mother’s stiffness, so it didn’t affect her nearly as much as simply being there again. “Mother, I want you to meet,” she began, but her mother cut her off.

  “Sit down, Rosalind,” she ordered.

  Mick thought cutting Roz off like that was wholly unnecessary, but Roz didn’t seem to object. She sat down on the sofa in front of the chair. So Mick didn’t object either, and sat down too. But he placed his arm around Roz.

  “Now,” the mother said, “you want to what?”

  “I want you to meet Mick Sinatra,” Roz said. “My fiancé. Mick, this is my mother, Judge Bernadette Graham.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Mick said with a nod of his head.

  “Likewise,” Bernadette responded, still staring at Mick. “I see. Your fiancé.” She glanced at Roz’s finger. Roz held it up. Mick had purchased her a ring the day after his proposal. A very expensive, huge, diamond ring.

  “We’re officially engaged,” Roz said, waiting for the objection.

  Bernadette stared at the ring longer, and then sat her teacup on the tray beside her chair. “I’ll be blunt with you,” she said. And then she looked at her daughter. “I do not approve of the match.”

  Roz was floored. “You just met him. How can you not approve? You don’t even know him!”

  “I know enough. I know no daughter of mine will ever be dumb enough to marry a gangster.”

  “He’s not a gangster,” Roz said.

  “To his core,” Bernadette replied. “When I got the call last week, I had him investigated. I was, quite simply, shocked by the findings. And you expect me to give my blessings to a match like this? You must be mad!”

  Roz kne
w she would face stiff opposition. Her mother was always combative even when it wasn’t called for. But she didn’t expect this. She didn’t expect her mother to not even give Mick a chance. Mick, on the other hand, simply stared at Bernadette.

  “He had his issues in the past,” Roz admitted, “but that’s not him anymore.”

  Bernadette finally looked at her daughter. “You are so naïve,” she said. Then she looked at Mick. “I do not approve of this match,” she said. “No daughter of mine will be marrying a hoodlum like you. I do not approve of this marriage.”

  “Since I’m not marrying you,” Mick responded, “who gives a fuck what you approve?”

  Roz was stunned that Mick would speak to her mother that way. He knew how difficult it was without the hyperbole!

  But her mother was now cowered. “My daughter gives a fuck,” she said. “That’s who gives a fuck. And one thing that is certain about my children: if their mother does not approve, they will not engage in the matter. I do not approve. There will be no marriage I assure you.”

  Mick stared at Bernadette. He waited for Roz to speak up and let her mother have it. That was the Roz he knew. But not a word came out of her mouth.

  Then her mother had the nerve to smile. “Now that that’s settled,” she said, “how have you been, dear?”

  “It’s not settled, Mother,” Roz finally said. “You cannot dictate who I marry, and you know it.”

  Mick continued to stare at Bernadette. Bernadette smiled again. “That’s what you think,” she said to her daughter.

  “Rosalind,” Mick suddenly said, “go outside with your father. I need to speak privately with your mother.”

  Roz looked at Mick. “I think I can hear what you have to say.”

  Mick looked at her hard. “Go outside.”

  Roz was suddenly fearful for her mother’s sake. She was going to go, she was going to let him have his conversation, but he had to understand something. He could not mistreat her mother. “I honor my parents, Mick,” she said. “Right or wrong. I just need you to understand that.”

  “Given the amount of b.s. you’ve been willing to take in this lady’s presence,” Mick said, “I’ve already reached that conclusion.”

  Roz stared at him. He understood. So she stood up and went outside.

  “So what is this?” Bernadette asked. “Time for the gangster to come out and for you to threaten me? To threaten a sitting judge?”

  “You don’t like me,” Mick said. “You don’t know me, but you don’t like me. And that’s fine. I don’t give a damn about you either.”

  Then Mick exhaled. “But I do care about Rosalind. More than you can imagine. And she cares about you.”

  Bernadette stopped sipping her tea and looked at him. “What are you attempting to say?”

  “I’m marrying your daughter. You can approve, you can disapprove, that’s up to you. But what you will not do is attempt to sabotage this relationship.”

  “My daughter is not marrying a hoodlum,” Bernadette made clear. “She can do far better than you. And she will.” Then Bernadette let him have it. “You claim to love her. You claim to love her more than I will ever know, you say. But yet you’re willing to put her in a world like yours, where getting even and backstabbing and illegality runs rampant.” She shook her head. “I hate to tell you this, but that’s not love, Mr. Sinatra. That’s selfishness. That’s wanting somebody because they’re good for you, but not the other way around. You aren’t good for my daughter.”

  “I know that,” Mick admitted, to Bernadette’s surprise. “You don’t have to tell me that. And you’re right. Loving Rosalind is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. It’s also the toughest thing I’ve ever done. And I’ve done plenty. Your investigator has no idea the things I’ve done.”

  Then he released a harsh exhale. “But living without Rosalind, after having her in my life this past year, is more than I can bear, Mrs. Graham. That will be even tougher. But if she leaves me, for her sake, I won’t run after her. I’ll let her go. Thing is, she’s miraculously fallen for me too. And she doesn’t want to go.”

  Bernadette did not expect this level of candor. She remembered what her investigator had said. “He used to be a straight-up thug,” the P.I. had said to her, “and now he’s one of the most respected and revered businessmen in the country. A leader of industry. A man with a sterling reputation as a fair and ethical man. He’s a study in contrasts, Judge Graham.” Now she saw it on full display.

  Or, she thought, he was conning her too. “I told you my position,” she said. “That position is final.”

  Mick knew he was fighting an uphill battle. Roz told him that it was going to be hard. She told him that her mother was an “aggressive” woman. Somehow, however, he didn’t expect this.

  But before he could delve any deeper into a malaise even Roz stopped trying to delve into, his cell phone rang. It was a call he had to answer. It was his son Teddy.

  “You’ve got to come home, Dad,” Teddy said when Mick saw the Caller ID, excused himself, and answered.

  “And why is that?”

  “It’s Joey,” Teddy responded. “Somebody tried to kill Joey. Joey’s been shot.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The hospital doors slid opened and Mick, with Roz by his side, hurried in. All Mick knew was that Joey was out of surgery and his mother and siblings were at his bedside. But his prognosis, from the latest update he received, was still unknown.

  They stepped onto the elevator and headed upstairs. Although Mick had a heavy security presence at the hospital, they were not visible at all to the untrained eye. Mick did not believe in a visible presence. If some asshole wanted to strike, they were going to be watched without knowing they were being watched. That was the Sinatra way.

  Mick was also in a state of panic and couldn’t calm his inner strife. He was so worried about Joey that he could hardly think straight. Roz was there. She was his rock. That was why he held her hand so tightly. His son was in trouble. He needed her.

  When they arrived at his hospital room, Roz allowed Mick to walk in ahead of her. Mick walked into the room and found his normally vibrant eighteen year old son lifeless in a hospital bed. And it shocked Mick even more than he thought it would. Roz could see the stress on his face, and his sudden hesitation. A beautiful woman was knelt down beside the bed, crying and holding Joey’s hand, and Teddy, Gloria and Adrian were also there. When the woman heard the door open, and looked up and saw that it was Mick, she stood up and hurried to him. She ignored Roz completely as she slammed her slender body against Mick’s rock hard form, and threw her arms around him.

  “Oh, Mick,” she cried as she held him. “They say he may not make it!”

  Mick placed his hands on her waist, and then he embraced her. Her name was Cathleen Thomas, and she was Joey’s mother and Mick’s former lover. She sobbed in his arms.

  Roz stayed back. She had already worked out that the woman was undoubtedly Joey’s mother, and she couldn’t begin to know the pain that woman was feeling. Even Adrian looked distraught. It was bad enough. She wasn’t about to make a scene.

  Mick moved away from the woman and made his way over to Joey and his other children. It was only then did the woman look at Roz.

  “Who are you?” Cathleen asked.

  “My name is Rosalind.”

  “I didn’t ask your name. Who are you?”

  Any other time and Roz would have told this woman a thing or two. But this was not that time. “I’m Mick’s fiancée,” she said.

  The woman seemed almost as disgusted about Roz’s elevated position in Mick’s life as she was about her son’s condition. She gave Roz a sneering look. But Roz looked away from her. Mick was her concern.

  Mick’s heart was pounding as he looked at his youngest son. Joey was asleep. He looked so young and angelic to Mick. He was tough on him. He was tough on all of them. All the good it did.

  He looked at Teddy. “What happened?”

  “I d
on’t know. Somebody shot him, that’s all we know. Somebody . . . tried to kill him.”

  Mick looked at Gloria, and Adrian, and then back at Teddy. “What’s the prognosis?” Mick asked.

  “We don’t know,” Cathleen said, hurrying back beside Mick, and back at her son’s bedside. “They won’t tell us anything.”

  Mick looked at Teddy. “Go get the doctor,” he ordered.

  Teddy hurried out of the hospital room, giving Roz a hug as he hurried past her, and did his father’s bidding.

  Roz took a seat near the door as they all gathered around Joey’s bed. She was there for Mick, but he seemed to have it all in control right now. Until Teddy returned with word that the doctor would not come.

  Mick couldn’t believe it. “What do you mean he won’t come?”

  “He won’t come,” Teddy said again. “He said he’s a busy man and he’ll get here when he gets here, or some such flippancy. He’s not coming right now.”

  Mick’s blood began to boil. His child could be dying and the doctor wasn’t available to tell him the prognosis? He tore out of that hospital room. Roz didn’t try to stop him because, if it was her son, she would have had the exact same response. But she didn’t have the same temper Mick had. She hurried out behind him, not because she objected to his anger, but because she knew how angry he could get. Doctor beware, was all she had to say.

  Mick glanced back at her as he hurried toward the Nurse’s station, with his suit coat flapping wildly because of his fast walking. When he saw that concerned look in her expressive eyes, he slowed down and waited for her to catch up. He held out his hand for her. As soon as her hand clasped his, he did manage to calm down. He was still at a ten, but it was a more manageable ten.

  And when they arrived at the Nurse’s Station at the end of the corridor, Mick even sounded like a reasonable man.

  “May I help you, sir?” one of the nurse’s asked.

  “My son is Joey Sinatra,” Mick said. “I’m looking for his doctor.”

  The nurse turned toward the doctor inside the station. The doctor was sitting at a computer, leaned back and laughing and talking on his cell phone. He shook his head at the nurse when she turned his way, and then she looked back at Mick. Roz could see the regret in the nurse’s eyes. She was only the nurse, her look seemed to say. The arrogant doctors ran this show.