Sal Gabrini: Burning Love

by Mallory Monroe

  Gemma stared at Sweets. Now was the time to go there. “You and my husband were just getting started doing what?” she asked.

  Sweets inwardly leaped with joy. Now they were getting somewhere! “Just getting started the way we always did it,” she responded. “He was going to fuck me. He had taken off my clothes and was about to take off his when we heard the noise. And because Sal loves me, he always has, he made me leave out of the back door before club security arrived. I have pictures,” she added and reached into her purse.

  Gemma almost asked what pictures she had. Pictures of club security arriving? But she knew better. She asked her nothing.

  Sweets pulled out photographs and handed them to Gemma. “The only reason I have these pictures,” she said, “is because I grabbed the camera when Sal went up front. He always took pictures of us having sex. What I figured, when I heard that noise, was that a private investigator, hired by you, was who was breaking in. I didn’t want him to get those pictures. And that’s how I got them.”

  But Gemma wasn’t listening to her anymore. She was too busy looking at the picture. Most of them was of Sweets naked on the bed, but a series of them was of her naked body in Sal’s arms. A few pictures were of Sal’s obvious erection inside his pants.

  Gemma looked at Sweets. “When was the last time you had sex with my husband?” she asked, point blank.

  “It’s been a while,” Sweets responded. “I’ll admit it’s been a while. But he was married to you at the time. I know that. He was married to you the last time he did me. It was like he had to be respectful of you in bed, and couldn’t do it the way he wanted to do it. Sal always liked it really, really rough. He did me so hard that time that he had me bleeding, as if he was taking all of his frustrations out on me. But I didn’t mind. Men are supposed to use women that way.”

  She nauseated Gemma. But not as much as those photos did. Gemma picked up her cellphone.

  “What are you doing?” Sweets asked her.

  “Calling my husband,” Gemma said. “We’ll going to confront him together.”

  Sweets was inwardly elated. She was buying it. She was buying every inch of it!

  Sal answered his cellphone quickly, which was what he usually did when Gemma was phoning. “Hey, babe,” he said over Gemma’s phone.

  “Could you come over to my office?” Gemma asked.

  “Your office? Why? I thought I told you not to get involved with this, Gem.”

  It took all Gemma had not to lose her cool. Sometimes Sal infuriated her. “Sweets Kerner is here,” she said.

  There was hesitation this time, on Sal’s part. And then an affirmative response. “I’m on my way,” he said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Damn, damn, damn!” Curtis said when Sal’s Bugatti pulled up in front of Gemma’s law office. “Look at that ride! We got us a rich client coming up in here, Barb.”

  Barbara, sitting behind her desk, looked out of the front window too. But she dismissed the gorgeous sports car as soon as she saw it. “Oh, that,” she said. “That’s Sal Gabrini’s new ride. It’s a Bugatti Chiron.”

  Curtis looked sidelong at Barbara. “Say what now? A Bu-what Chi-what?”

  Barbara smiled. “It’s a Bugatti Chiron, Curtis. Don’t you know anything?”

  “I know it’s a Curtis Can’t Afford It, that’s all I know.”

  “You can’t afford it?” Barbara asked as Sal got out of the car. “But I thought you were Curtis Kane, the highest paid secretary in Vegas? Surely you can afford anything!”

  Curtis smiled. “Anywho,” he said.

  Sal buttoned his double-breasted suit coat as he made his way to the front entrance. And Curtis, on seeing him, sat erect. “Here comes the racist,” he said.

  “You’d better stop calling that man that,” Barbara warned. “I told you if you keep doing that I’m going to tell Gem.”

  “I’m only repeating what many, many other people are saying. They’re even planning a march this weekend to protest the killing of that Nigerian. They say that poor man is dead because he’s black. I didn’t say that. Those protestors are saying it.”

  “Oh, please, Curtis. You’ve been saying Sal Gabrini seems a little bit racist to you ever since he married Gemma.”

  “And I still say it,” Curtis admitted. “But those protestors aren’t saying he’s a little bit racist. They’re saying he’s flat-out racist. There’s a big difference there,” he added as Sal entered the office.

  “Hello, Mr. Gabrini,” Barbara said gaily. “She’s in the conference room, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Sal responded and headed in that direction.

  Curtis looked at Barbara. “See? Didn’t even speak. I’d bet cha if we were two white people he would have at least acknowledged our existence by speaking. At least that, Barbara.”

  “That man has allegations of murder hanging over his head. He ain’t thinking about us or anybody else but himself right about now. At least that’s what I’d be thinking about if I was in his shoes.”

  “Yeah, un-hun,” Curtis responded with a smack of his lips. “A little bit racist just like I said.”

  Barbara was only partly right. Sal did have that murder allegation on his mind, but he also had Gemma’s well being too. And the idea that Sweets had come to his wife, with bullshit no doubt, disturbed him mightily. He would not have noticed the President of the United States had he been right in front of him, let alone Curtis Kane.

  Sal knocked once and then entered the conference room. Sweets felt nervous and excited as soon as she saw him. Sal was still the man she judged all others by. He was always so handsome and well put together in his expensive suits and his always pristine haircut. And that thick rod of his, she thought deliciously as she glanced down at his midsection; that rod that used to fuck her senseless; still excited her on nights when she allowed herself to remember.

  But when Sal entered the room, his eyes didn’t even notice Sweets. His eyes immediately flew to Gemma. Did she buy the bullshit, he wondered?

  If her demeanor was any judge, she had. She was intense as intense could be. Sal leaned down and kissed her. Although she allowed the kiss, it was hardly any return affection. Her eyes stayed on Sweets.

  Sal sat down beside his wife. He hated, more than anything, that a dignified woman like Gemma had to be subjected to his gutter behavior, and especially with a trick like Sweets. And when he looked at her and her smugness, his anger spiked. “What lies have you been telling her?” he asked.

  Gemma could see a twinge of hurt appear in Sweets eyes. “I’ve been telling her the truth,” she said. “And you know it.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Don’t believe me then. But your wife believes those pictures.”

  Sal frowned. “What pictures?”

  Gemma handed the photos over to Sal. Sal thumbed through them.

  “Those pictures don’t lie,” Sweets said. “Do they, Mrs. Gabrini?”

  Sal looked at Sweets. “This is a bunch of bullshit,” he said, tossing those pictures across the table. “You must be out of your mind coming at my wife with that bullshit!”

  “Pictures don’t lie,” Sweets said again. “Do they, Mrs. Gabrini?”

  “No,” Gemma said. “Pictures do not lie. But you do.”

  Sweets looked at Gemma, her smugness gone. If she lost Gemma, she was lost. “I do?”

  Gemma looked at Sal. “She’s working with whomever set you up,” she said.

  Sal didn’t put anything past anybody, but he had, at least for now, put any involvement on that level past his former lover. “Who, Sweets?” he asked.

  “That’s why I called you here,” Gemma continued. “As soon as I realized she was going to play the he slept with me card, I knew she was full of it. When she claimed you continued to sleep with her even after you married me, and showed me the photos, I knew she was full of shit. I knew she was lying then.”

  Sal’s heart relaxed. Gemma wasn’t fooled after all. “She’s certainly lyin
g.”

  “And why would she have photographs if it wasn’t to set you up? You didn’t see it because she made it her business to make her sudden appearance look as if it was business as usual. You visited the lodge. She came over. You guys had sex. That’s how it was done back in the day. But she overplayed her hand when she threw in that nonsense about you still sleeping with her even after you married me. She’s working with whomever set you up. I can feel it in my gut.”

  Sal smiled. Gut reactions were the stock and trade of being a Gabrini. Gemma was a Gabrini through and through now.

  He looked at Sweets. “Who paid you?” he asked.

  Sweets knew she had to improvise and improvise convincingly. She had to take it back to that irrational but emotional place. “Why did you leave me, Sal?” she asked him. “You said you loved me. But you never saw me as marriage material. Just your piece on the side. When you knew I loved you.”

  Sal took out his gun, and placed it on the table in front of him. Gemma saw the gun in her periphery, and her heart began to hammer, but she knew she had to keep her cool. Sal wouldn’t kill the woman just like that? Or would he?

  Gemma could also see a similar reaction in Sweets. She sat up straight when she saw that gun.

  “Who paid you?” Sal asked her again.

  “Nobody paid me!”

  Sal reached into another pocket, pulled out a silencer, and screwed it onto his gun’s barrel.

  Even Gemma sat erect. And Sweets eyes stretched. “Robby Yale,” she said quickly.

  But Sal continued to screw on the silencer. Gemma looked at him. Had he heard her? She just outed one of Sal’s most trusted lieutenants.

  But Sal knew she was lying. “Who paid you, Sweets?” he asked yet again.

  Gemma expected Sweets to repeat her claim, but she didn’t. She knew Sal wasn’t bullshitting with her anymore. “I’m dead if I tell.”

  “You’re dead if you don’t,” Sal responded and looked at her.

  She raked her hands through her long, blonde hair and then leaned forward. “Will you protect me if I tell?” she asked. “I’ll need protection, Sal.”

  “Protection?” Sal asked with a frown on his face. “You’ll need protection? You better be begging me to spare your life, motherfucker, and you’re asking for protection? A person who would lie on me to my wife. A person who would manipulate photographs to make it seem I was hugging on her naked body when she knows I pushed her ass away from me. A person who was part of the set up? Maybe I’ll let you live. But your ass will rot in hell before you get any protection from me.”

  It was clear now. Sweets was on her own.

  “Who paid you?” It was Gemma who asked her this time.

  And she caved. “Tito,” she said.

  Sal was already waiting for his people to run that bastard down. But at least she cut the lies and told the truth. Tito was already his next target.

  “Gemma,” Sal said calmly, “will you go and get me a drink of water, please?” he asked.

  But Sweets jumped up with terror in her eyes, knocking her chair over as she stood. “Don’t you do it, Gemma,” she begged. “He’s going to kill me if you walk out of this room. He just doesn’t want to do it in front of you. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave!”

  Gemma felt Sweets pain. She truly did. But she felt Sal’s pain more. She was tired of these people fucking with her husband, all for the mighty dollar. Who did they think they were? But straight up murder? She couldn’t condone that. “I have a better idea,” she said.

  Sal didn’t look at her. He hadn’t admitted that his goal, once Gemma left the room, was as Sweets said it was. Although it was. “What idea?” he asked her.

  “Sit down,” Gemma said to Sweets.

  Sweets, hopeful that Gemma’s idea didn’t involve her death, picked up her chair and sat back down.

  Gemma leaned forward. Both Sweets and Sal had her undivided attention. “This is what you’re going to do,” Gemma told her. “You’re going to contact Detective Morales at the LVPD and tell him that you were the female in the lodge at the time of the shooting. You tell him that you saw the victim enter the lodge, and you saw the victim reach in his pocket as if he was reaching for a weapon. You screamed when you saw him reaching for his weapon, and Sal reacted by shooting to kill the suspect. Both of you were in mortal fear of your lives. You convince Detective Morales that you’re that good wealthy socialite you said Granville Golf and Country Club believe that you are. You convince Detective Morales, even if you have to convince him with your body, that Sal had no other choice but to kill that man. If there is no indictment nor charges filed against my husband, then you have nothing to worry about. If an indictment does come down, and charges are filed, you have everything to worry about. Police protection will not save you.”

  Sweets heart was pounding. Her palms were sweaty. But she knew, deep down, this was the best deal she was ever going to get.

  “But before you go to Morales,” Gemma said, “you will contact the press and give your story to them first.”

  “The press?”

  “The press. Just in case,” Gemma said, “the cops decide to bury your story, or disbelieve you. We need to have that alternative version out there.”

  Sweets looked at Sal. “Is that a deal, Sal?” she asked.

  Sal frowned. “If my wife says it’s a deal,” he said, “it’s a deal.”

  Sweets nodded. She guessed she would have to live with that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Robby Yale pumped hard. He was on top of Gemma’s secretary Curtis Kane, as Curtis laid on his stomach and gritted his teeth. Robby was big, and the entire episode was painful, but Curtis bared it. He was in love with Robby. Robby, he knew, wasn’t there yet. But Curtis was there from the moment he first saw him.

  After Robby came with an excruciatingly hard cum, he eased out of Curtis and laid, on his back, on the motel’s bed. Curtis was relieved it was over. His thin brown body was no match for Robby’s big white one.

  “It’s hot in here,” Robby said as he grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the nightstand and lit up. “Turn it down.”

  “It’s already on 69,” Curtis said.

  “Turn it down,” Robby said again.

  “Yes, Mother,” Curtis said in his deadpan way and got up. But before he could remove his naked body out of reach, Robby grabbed him by the arm.

  “What?” Curtis asked irritably. Robby’s controlling ways were going to be a problem. “What did I do?”

  “Your little cute phrases may be okay when we’re by ourselves,” he said, “but you’d better not ever say that shit in public. And especially never around my boss. You feel me?”

  “Yes, Robby, damn,” Curtis said as he snatched his arm away from him. “If Sal Gabrini is so homophobic, why are you working for him?”

  “I didn’t say he was homophobic. You said that.”

  “But he is, right?” Curtis asked.

  “Yeah. No. How should I know? He trusts me and respects me, but I don’t know how he’ll feel if he found out. He’s a cool guy when he’s not vicious, but I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “He’ll kick your fairy ass to the curb,” Curtis said. “What do you think he’ll do? He hates everybody except Gemma Jones and maybe, just maybe, that new baby of theirs.”

  “And his brother.”

  “And his brother,” Curtis said. “And here you are stepping up there as a gay man, and you’re his right-hand man? If you want to keep your job, you’d better stay in that closet.” Curtis went on over to adjust the motel room temperature.

  Robby puffed on his cigarette, and quietly, if not sadly, agreed with Curtis.

  Sal and Gemma were sitting up in bed, later that night, with baby Gabrini on Sal’s lap. Gemma was working on her legal briefs, and Sal was holding their sleeping baby. The television was on, as they were both waiting for the eleven o’clock news. They were waiting for word that Sweets had told the cops what she witnessed.

  But the news
wasn’t on yet. The Jack and Joe Show, a popular show where two print columnists yap on and on about local issues, was.

  Gemma looked at their baby and smiled. “He’s asleep already.”

  “What do you mean already?” Sal asked. “I expected this boy to fall asleep hours ago. If it wasn’t for my expert rocking, he’d still be wide eyed and staring at us like we were alien beings.”

  “Sure, Sal,” Gemma said easily and went back to reading her brief.

  After dinner, both she and Sal had showered and put on their pajamas, something they never wore before the baby was born. But this was the life Sal had promised her, where they both would make an effort to always eat dinner together and be together at night. As a family. As a tight-knit power couple who wasn’t ever going to let their jobs or anybody else keep them apart. Having Sal, Junior seemed to crystallize that need for both of them.

  But Sal continued to look at Gemma. Something was still on his mind. “Tommy came by today,” he said to her.

  She looked at him. “Really? I thought he had to be in Japan. I think that’s what Grace said.”

  “He did. He wanted to eyeball me first. You know how he is.”

  Gemma smiled. “You mean I know how he loves you to death? Yes, I know that. But what did he say after eyeballing you? What was his verdict?”

  The exact same question Sal had asked Tommy. Tommy said Sal was still afraid of losing Gemma. Sal didn’t want to go there. “He’s okay, or he would still be here. You know Tommy.” Then Sal hesitated before continuing. “But he did seem to think I was worried about you.”

  “Me? I’m okay.”