Sal Gabrini: Just The Way You Are

by Mallory Monroe

  But Dukes had a job to do. There were three thugs left to tame. So he ran to the trunk of their car, grabbed the gas cans, and ran back to the big house out back. Frankie and Carve were already there.

  “Any movement?” Dukes asked Sal when he arrived.

  “They’re still in there,” Sal said. Then he ordered Frankie and Carve to take the gas cans, run through the woods to the side of the house, where there are no windows, and spread the gas up on and around the entire house. Sal and Dukes kept their guns drawn and covered them as they did what they were told.

  “They killed the other two,” Dukes said to Sal as they watched the scene from the alley.

  Sal looked at Dukes. “What did you think they were going to do?” he asked.

  “Beat’em up surely. But to kill’em?”

  “They’re killers. What drug dealer you know who isn’t a killer too?”

  “But they didn’t have to kill’em,” Dukes insisted.

  “If they would have let them live,” Sal asked, “guess what they would do to us?”

  “What?” Dukes asked.

  “They would hunt us down like wounded animals and kill us. What do you think? You leave no stone unturned, boy! My Uncle Paulo taught me that. Revenge has to be a one-way street. Because if you leave any room for a fucker to get out of that jam, you’re leaving room in a coffin for yourself. You’d better remember that.”

  Dukes swallowed hard. He was a crooked cop, he’d be the first to admit it. But he never thought of himself as a murderer. Now, thanks to his association with these fools, he was. “I’ll remember that,” he said.

  When Frankie and Dukes completely circled the house with gas, Frankie and Carve both lit matches and tossed them into the stream. They then ran for cover. The fire erupted immediately. Far more powerfully than any of them had expected.

  And it smoked those thugs out of that house faster than they had expected too. The thugs came running out of that house, screaming and shooting, but it was already too late. They ran right into fierce flames that engulfed them. They didn’t stand a chance.

  “That’ll teach those fuckers!” Frankie yelled.

  “They won’t be snatching any more of our drugs,” Carve added.

  “Let’s get back to that cleaners and round up what we can of their stash, and then get the hell out of here,” Sal ordered, and they all turned to leave.

  But Dukes turned back, just to make sure all three men were down. What he saw stopped him cold. “Sarge, look!” he yelled, pointing at the upstairs window of the burning house.

  Sal and the men turned and looked too. When Sal saw a child, a boy that was no more than five or six, standing at that window, crying, his heart dropped through his shoe.

  “No!” he yelled and began running toward the house. But Frankie, Dukes, and Carve had to pull him back. It took all three. But Sal fought against them. He fought with all he had. But he knew it was a battle already lost.

  The house was already consumed in flames. It was already falling apart. There was no way, no way on earth, to save that child.

  And he gave up trying when the flames shot out of that upstairs window like a backdraft, and the child, that innocent baby, disappeared.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present Day

  “Mr. Gabrini must really love her,” Curtis Kane said as the Aston-Martin turned into the parking lot of the Vegas law firm. He and his co-worker, paralegal Barbara Jiles, were just getting out of their own cars.

  Barbara looked at the Aston, and then looked at Curtis. “What makes you say something like that?” she asked. “Because she looks happy? Because she doesn’t look beat up? I don’t get it.”

  “Because of that car he bought her!” Curtis responded, in his usually excited way, as they grabbed their respective briefcases and walked toward the sidewalk. With its convertible top down, revealing pearl-white leather seats, the Aston-Martin was a sight to behold to Curtis. “When I grow up, I’m going to get me a car just like it.”

  “News flash,” Barbara said, “you’re already grown and can’t afford it now, and won’t be affording it later. That car costs more than your house, child.”

  “A man can still dream,” Curtis said.

  “A man can. You, on the other hand.”

  Curtis dismissed Barb’s putdown with a wave of the hand as the two assistants watched their boss, Gemma Jones-Gabrini, get out of the Aston-Martin. Like them, she was African-American too. But the similarities ended there. Gemma was tall and sleek, with long legs and plenty of curves on a very slender frame. Her ass was the biggest thing on her body, and she wore it well, Curtis thought. She was rocking a blue suit with a pencil skirt that hugged that ass. If he wasn’t gay and she wasn’t married to a mean-ass mobster like Sal Gabrini, he’d be all over her. But given the limitations, he was more than happy to admire her, and her bad ride, from afar.

  He was also curious, along with Barbara, about her presence. It was early morning, and Curtis and Barb had just arrived at work. They were supposed to be there. What they didn’t understand was why their boss was there.

  “It’s almost nine o’clock,” Barbara said to Gemma. “Shouldn’t you be in court giving your closing arguments?”

  Gemma stepped onto the sidewalk beside them. “Judge Rileo had to preside over an emergency hearing on a different case,” she said. “We’ve been pushed back until tomorrow.”

  “That’s not good, is it?”

  “Not for our client, not at all. He’s pissed.”

  “Hey, boss,” Curtis said with a smile.

  “Good morning, Curtis. How are you?”

  “Not good,” Curtis admitted. “We’re highly upset with you.”

  Gemma, surprised by the nature of the subject change, looked at him. “Upset about what?”

  “About you,” Barbara said, “and what you did.”

  Gemma didn’t have to think about it. She knew she hadn’t done a thing to either one of them. “I’m sure I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Is it true?” Barbara asked.

  Gemma frowned. “Is what true?”

  “We heard, through a little birdie that shall remain nameless, that you and Mr. Gabrini are expecting your first child together. Is it true, Gemma?”

  Gemma relaxed, and then smiled. “Oh, that,” she said.

  They couldn’t believe it. “It’s true?” Curtis asked, ready to do his happy dance.

  Gemma nodded. “Yes, it’s true. I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, Gem!” Barbara said, and she and Curtis both hugged her vigorously. It would be her first child and they were elated for her. Gemma was grinning because they hugged so hard.

  “How far along are you?” Barbara asked, as they released her.

  “Almost four weeks,” Gemma said.

  “Mr. Gabrini must be beside himself with joy!” Barbara said.

  But Curtis disagreed. “I don’t know now. He just found out that Crazy Rudy Balotti is his son. He might not want another kid.”

  “He may not want another kid like Rudy,” Barbara said, “but he wants Gemma’s kid. What man wouldn’t want Gemma Jones to have his baby?”

  “I can name plenty men, Barb,” Gemma said with a smile. She was often amazed at how much they believed men wanted her when, to Gemma, there was absolutely no basis in reality for such beliefs.

  “How’s he treating you now that you’re pregnant?” Barbara asked. She liked Sal Gabrini, but didn’t like the way he neglected Gemma sometimes. “Like a queen, I hope.”

  Sal had changed a lot, beginning with his decision to stay in town more often, but Gemma never went that deep with her staff when it came to her marriage. What they knew was what they overheard somewhere else. It never came from Gemma. “He’s been treating me just fine.”

  “I hope you plan to treat me just fine,” Curtis said, “on my birthday. You aren’t the only one going to have a big day this year. My birthday is coming up.”

  Gemma smiled. Leave it to Curt
is to find a way to make her pregnancy about him. “That’s good,” she said. “I think.”

  “And you know what?” Curtis asked. “The best present in the world would be for you to give me the day off, and the keys to that superfine car of yours. Just for that day, mind you, but you don’t know how happy that will make me feel.”

  Gemma smiled and began heading for the office door. They began heading that way too.

  “I know you think I’m kidding,” Curtis said as they walked. “But I’m not. The keys for a day, that’s all I’m asking. For my birthday, not just any day. I’m sure Mr. Gabrini wouldn’t mind.”

  “Then you don’t know men,” Barbara said.

  “Since I am a man,” Curtis said, “albeit a gay one, but a man nonetheless, that’s an odd thing to say.”

  But Barbara meant what she said. “What man you know would spend that kind of money on a woman and then turn around and let another man enjoy it?”

  “He doesn’t have to turn around at all,” Curtis said. “Who says he has to even know?”

  “So you want her to go behind her husband’s back?” Barbara asked.

  “If it’ll get me those keys for a day,” Curtis responded, “that’s exactly what I want her to do!”

  “Are you two finished discussing me as if I’m not here?” Gemma asked. “Or would it be more appropriate to change the subject?” Gemma was smiling, but they knew she wasn’t kidding.

  “I vote for a subject change,” Barbara said.

  Curtis, however, never went down without a fight. As Gemma’s secretary, he prided himself on his dogged loyalty to his boss, and his dogged advocacy for himself. “So I won’t be getting anything for my birthday? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Asked the grown-ass man who still thinks he’s a kid,” said Barbara.

  “The day off is doable,” Gemma said as they made it up to the office door.

  “And the car?” Curtis asked excitedly.

  “Not so doable,” responded Gemma.

  Curtis was deflated as he unlocked their office door. “Well at least I’ll get a day off with pay,” he said. “That’s better than nothing.”

  “With pay?” Gemma asked, half-jokingly. “Who said it would be with pay? I said a day off.”

  Barbara laughed as Curtis looked sidelong at their boss.

  “Didn’t I say a day off, Barb?” Gemma asked, playing along.

  “That’s exactly what you said. A day off. A plain cake, in other words. It’s Curtis who added the icing like he always does.”

  Gemma laughed.

  “Y’all wrong for that,” Curtis said, not smiling at all, as he opened the door and let the ladies in. But their smiles dissolved too when they saw the wreckage.

  “What in the world?” Barbara asked as they entered the lobby of the firm. Chairs were overturned. Papers from the file cabinets had been tossed around the entire room, and the file cabinets were overturned. And the once pristine walls had been spray-painted with the words The Law Office of Bitch Jones-Gabrini prominently displayed. Gemma was floored.

  “How did they get in here?” Curtis asked confusingly as they all looked around nervously.

  “How should we know?” Barbara asked. “We just got here too.”

  “But is it safe to be in here?” Curtis asked, looking around and suddenly jumping as if somebody was behind him.

  Barbara looked at Gemma. “It’s safe,” Gemma said. “But stay downstairs just in case.”

  “I’ll call 911,” Curtis said, heading for the office phone.

  “No,” Gemma said, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ve got it.”

  Curtis and Barbara began walking around, checking out the areas downstairs. “Who would do something like this?” Barbara asked. “Kids maybe?”

  “And look,” Curtis said, pointing to a position on the wall. “They snatched out the cameras.”

  Barbara hurried behind the desk. The entire computer controls were gone too. Which mean the hard drive cloud was gone. “They took it all,” she said. “These were no kids. They knew what they were doing.”

  Gemma walked away from her assistants as she pressed a button on her cell phone and listened to the rings. What was obvious to Barbara and Curtis: she wasn’t calling 911.

  She was calling her husband, Sal Gabrini. And because he was taking a longer-than-usual time to answer, she knew there was undoubtedly some situation at his office that had him tied up. But he almost never let her phone calls go to voice mail. And he didn’t this time either.

  “If you’re okay,” Sal’s voice came onto the line, “I’ll have to call you back.”

  But Gemma looked around her office, and especially at the writing on the wall. She was not a nervous, needy person. But this had unnerved her. “I’m not okay,” she said.

  Sal’s voice changed from slight irritation at being bothered during an apparently stressful time, to grave concern. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “Somebody vandalized my law office. At least the entire downstairs. I haven’t gone upstairs yet.”

  “And don’t go up there,” Sal said. “Get outside and stay outside until I get there. I’m on my way now.”

  “Thanks, Sal.”

  “You’re packing like I told you to?”

  Gemma hated guns, but Sal made her carry one in her glove compartment anyway. “I’m covered, yeah,” she said.

  “Good. I’m on my way.”

  Gemma, pleased to know that Sal was coming, ended the call. When she looked up, her assistants were staring at her.

  “I guess this is going to require Gabrini Justice,” Barbara said, “rather than 911?”

  Gemma exhaled, and remembered what Sal said. “Let’s wait outside,” she said.

  As Sal drove up to his wife’s law firm, he saw Gemma and her assistants standing outside, with their briefcases and purses sitting against the wall. His heart squeezed every time he saw Gemma no matter what, and now that she was carrying his child that feeling he felt was tenfold. She was his girl, and the idea that somebody was trying to get under her skin with this bullshit she’d just called him about angered him to the point of rage. She didn’t need this shit. Especially not now.

  Curtis was the first to see Sal when his Porsche drove up, and he exhaled because he never quite knew what to make of Sal Gabrini. He admired his good looks and muscular physique, and the wealth and power that cloaked him. But the man had such a rough and tough exterior, and such an unrelentingly hard-charging style that often came across as rude in the main or even a bit racist, that it was tough for Curtis to say outright that he liked Sal Gabrini. He respected him. He admired his success. And although he would never think of Sal Gabrini as a nice guy at all, he did seem to treat Gemma right. But there was nothing more Curtis could say about him.

  Gemma had no such ambivalence. As soon as she saw Sal, she hurried to him. He got out of the car and hurried to her. When they met, he held her by her upper arms, staring into her face. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little off balance, I guess.”

  Sal pulled her into his arms, and closed his eyes tightly. The idea that his wife, his pregnant wife, had to deal with this bullshit angered him. But he knew he had to keep his cool. He didn’t want her any more upset than she already was.

  “Look at how tight his eyes are shut,” Barbara whispered to Curtis. “He really loves her.”

  “That car he bought her already proved that,” Curtis said.

  “A car?” Barbara asked. “Please! That’s just money. Love is on an entirely different level.”

  “Only to lapsed-romantics like you, Barb,” Curtis said, and Barbara laughed.

  When Sal and Gemma stopped hugging, Sal could still see the concern in Gemma’s large, brown eyes. “Sorry this had to happen,” he said.

  “I don’t understand why it happened,” Gemma said.

  “You said they vandalized the place?”

  “The downstairs for sure,” Gemma said
. “They even took the cameras.”

  Sal took her hand and began walking with her toward the entrance, and toward Barb and Curtis.

  “He’s always fly,” Curtis whispered to Barb as he watched Sal approach in his Italian silk, double-breasted suit. “He might be mean as nails, but he can dress. I want to have a wardrobe just like his when I grow up.”

  “There you go again with that when I grow up talk. I’m afraid it’s as good as it’s going to get for you, buddy.” Curtis laughed. “Hey, Sal,” Barb said when Sal and Gemma were in earshot.

  “How are you, Barbara?” Sal responded.

  “I’m blessed and highly favored, thank you very much.”

  “Hello, Mr. Gabrini,” Curtis said.

  “How are you?” Sal responded.

  “Upset,” Curtis said honestly. “Scared as hell. Who would do something like this?”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Sal said. “Bet that.”

  An SUV drove up just as Sal finished his statement, causing all of them to turn. Several men, Sal’s men, got out.

  “Who are those guys?” Curtis asked smilingly, admiring all of their physiques.

  “Gemma’s 911,” Barbara responded.

  Sal squeezed Gemma’s arm. “Wait here,” he said. Then he looked at his men. “You two,” he motioned, “blanket my wife.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of the two men said as both hurried over and stood on either side of Gemma. Sal and the rest of his men began heading inside.

  Barbara and Curtis, feeling left out, looked at each other. “So what are we?” Barbara could be heard asking as Sal and his men headed inside. “Chopped liver?”

  “No, girl,” Curtis said. “Beets.”

  Sal would have smiled, but couldn’t when he entered that office and saw the destruction, and then the writing on the wall. The Law Office of Bitch Jones-Gabrini, it read. His jaw tightened.

  “Damn, boss,” one of his men said. “This looks like kids gone wild for real.”

  “They’re gonna grow up real fast like,” another one of his men said, “when boss gets through with them.”