BIG DADDY SINATRA 2: IF I CAN'T HAVE YOU, Book 2 (9 page)

“Well
what did he say?” Charles asked.

“He
didn’t say anything.
 
He was crying and
all scared.
 
But he didn’t say anything.”

Charles
hesitated.
 
“You turned him in?” he
ultimately asked.

Brent
shook his head.
 
“I should have.
 
I was supposed to, you know I was.
 
But I couldn’t.
 
He’s my brother.
 
He’s my flesh and blood.
 
I couldn’t do it.
 
But I knew I had to tell you.
 
Somebody’s got to hold him to account.
 
He’s no knucklehead like Donnie.
 
I didn’t want to see him rot in jail.”

 
Charles nodded.
 
But he committed to nothing.
 
Because it felt too uncharted.
 
It felt as if the world as he knew it, was
trying to fall apart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He
saw Robert before Robert saw him.
 
He was
in a part of town they called the Brook, where single-wide trailers lined the
dirt roads and stray dogs and little children ran up and down the lane as if it
were a playground.
 
Charles had to avoid
a few kids as he drove his Jaguar toward the broken down truck in front of a
broken down trailer.
 

Robert
was lying across the hood of the truck in his t-shirt
 
and gold chain, and with a beer can in his
hand.
 
A group of guys were hanging
around him, listening to Twisted Sister on their boom box and lounging around.
 
Robert looked, not like the rich kid he was,
but as if he fit right in.
 
Charles
didn’t quite know what to make of it.
 
His son was immature, but he wasn’t reckless.
 
This behavior, running around with drug
dealers, hanging out in this trailer park, was beyond reckless.

When
Robert looked up and saw the Jaguar coming, he sat up on his elbows.
 
When he realized, as it came closer, that the
Jaguar was his father’s, he sat up completely.

Charles
parked the Jaguar in front of the truck and stepped out on the front driver
side.
 
“Let’s go,” he said to
Robert.
 

“Who
is that?” one of Robert’s friends asked him.

“That’s
Big Daddy,” another one of Robert’s friends said.
 
“That’s his old man.”

“Let’s
go,” Charles said to Robert again.

Robert
got off of the truck, went to the Jaguar and got in.
 
He knew his father.
 
He wasn’t about to try him.

Charles
backed up, swerved around, and drove the Jaguar out of the Brook.
 
He was so beside himself with anger he didn’t
know quite what to do.
 
And when they
were out of the park, he asked his son the question without hesitation.
 
“Were you at that drug bust earlier today?”
he asked.

Robert
knew Brent had already told him.
 
He
suspected Brent would anyway, but it still was upsetting to him.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he
said.

 
Charles looked at him.
 
He expected more from his sons, but too often
they fell short.
 
“I’m not playing with
you, Robert.
 
Now you answer my
question.
 
Were you at that drug bust
this afternoon?”

Robert
knew his goose was cooked, but he also knew it would be worse if he didn’t deny
it.
 
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” he said again.

Charles
immediately swerved the Jaguar onto the side of the road, got out of his car,
hurried around to the passenger side, and opened the door.
 
“Get out,” he said to his son.

As
soon as Robert stepped out, Charles yanked him by the catch of his collar and
flung him against the car.
 
“I’m going to
ask you one more time, and if you lie to me I declare I’ll beat the shit out of
you.
 
Were you at that drug bust
today?
 
Did Brent see you there?”

Robert
saw the chilling look in his father’s big green eyes.
 
He knew he could no longer deny it.
 
“Yes,” he said.
 
“I was there.”

“Why
were you there?”

Why do you think
, Robert wanted to say.
 
“I was there the same reason everybody else
was there,” he said instead.
 

“And
what reason was that, smart aleck?
 
What
reason was that?”

“Drugs,”
Robert said.

“Drugs?
 
What do you mean drugs?”

“We
were selling drugs, Pop.
 
We were selling
drugs.”

“Selling
them?”
 
Charles asked.
 
“What kind of drugs?
 
Weed?”

“No,
Dad.
 
No weed.
 
Meth, Heroin, crack, whatever.”

Charles
was beside himself.
 
He really couldn’t
believe it.
 
His son was a drug
dealer?
 
He stared at Robert as if he was
seeing him for the first time.
 
“Are you
telling me you’re in this community selling drugs?
 
You’re a part of this drug problem?”

Robert
looked down.
 
He was ashamed of
himself.
 

But
Charles slung his head back up and took his fist and rammed it against his
son’s face.
 
He hit him again and he hit
him again.
 
Body blows, and more hits to
the face.
 
He could not believe for the
life of him that a son of his would do something like this.
 
He kept hitting him and punching him across
the face.
 
And when he knew he had to
stop before he really hurt this boy, he flung him away from him.
 
Robert lost his balance and fell onto the
ground.

Charles
stood there, looking at his son, and then he slammed the passenger side door.
He walked to the driver side door, got in, and sped off.
 

But
he didn’t stay long. He made a U-turn further down the street, drove back, and
U-turned his car until he was once again on the side of the road with his
son.
 
He rolled down the passenger
window.
 
“Get in,” he ordered.

Robert
didn’t hesitate.
 
He knew his father
meant business.
 
He got into the Jaguar.

Brent
looked up from his desk when his brother and his father entered the police
station.
 
Brent was surprised.
 
He didn’t expect his father to turn Robert
in, not Robert, but that was exactly what it appeared to have been
happening.
 
And from the look of the
bruises on Robert’s face, his father had made sure he already paid part of the
price.

Robert
looked at his older brother, not with anger in his eyes, but fear.
 
He was sore afraid, Brent could tell.
 
But Charles asked the secretary to see the
chief, and was then, shortly thereafter, led into the chief’s office.

Chief
Joffee stood to his feet when Charles and Robert entered in.

“Mr.
Sinatra, good to see you again,” Joffee said gaily.

But
Charles was not in a backslapping mood.
 
He was still stunned by this turn of events.
 
He walked up to Joffee’s desk, with Robert by
his side, and then he looked at Robert. “Tell him,” he said.

“Tell
me what?” Joffee asked.

“Tell
him,” Charles said again.

Robert
was super-reluctant, but he knew he had to do it.
 
“Malcolm Brighton,” Robert said.

“And
who’s Malcolm Brighton?” Chief Joffee asked.

“The
supplier.
 
The boss. The leader of the
drug ring,” Robert said.

“Oh,
you mean the drug bust today?” Joffee asked.

“Yeah,
that one.”

“And
how would you know about that?” Joffee asked.

Robert
rolled his eyes.
 
He knew he was putting
himself in a spot.
 
“I was there,” Robert
said.
 

Joffee
looked from Robert to Charles, and then back to Robert.
 
“Are you telling me that you were a part of
that drug ring?” Joffee asked.

Robert
hesitated again.
 
But then he nodded his
head.
 
“Yes, sir,” he said.

Joffee
exhaled.
 
“And what’s this about?
 
You want immunity for giving us this
information?”

Robert
nodded his head. “Yes, sir,” he said.

But
Joffee knew Big Daddy.
 
He knew how
displeased he had to be.
 
“It’s not up to
me, but what if the DA decides against it and don’t grant you any
immunity?
 
Will you still tell us what we
need to know?”

Robert
looked at his father.
 
Charles looked at
Joffee.
 
“He’ll tell you,” he said.
 
“Immunity or not, he’ll tell you.”

Joffee
liked that.
 
“Well then,” he said
cheerfully.
 
“Sit down and tell us.”

Robert
and Charles sat down, as Robert told his side of the story.

Later
that evening, Charles parked his Jaguar in front of his office, walked across
the sidewalk, and then walked in.
 
He was
surprised to see a group of men sitting in his waiting room.
 
He knew every one of them.
 
From Matt to Joe to Billy to Aaron.
 
They were all members of the Jericho Yacht
and Country Club’s governing board.
 
They
were all supposed to be his friends.

But when
he saw them sitting there, looking so smug that it was bordered on indecency,
he knew it was going to be bullshit.
 
Had
they heard about Robert’s involvement with some drug dealer and wanted to voice
their displeasure?
 
Or was it more base
than that?
 
He looked at his
secretary.
 
Mary, already looking
flustered, shook her head.
 

Charles
exhaled.
 
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he
said.

They
all rose to their feet.
 
Aaron, the
chairman of the governing board, walked up to him.
 
“We need to talk, Charles,” he said.

Without
another word, Charles escorted the gentlemen into his office.
 
He walked behind his desk and asked each of
them to have a seat.
 
When they all sat
down, he unbuttoned his suit coat, sat down too, and leaned back.
 
And braced himself.
 
“What is this about?” he asked them.
 

Aaron,
again, spoke up.
 
“As you know, we’re a
collection of people who try to do the right thing for our town.
 
We don’t want to create any problems for
anybody.
 
All we want to do is have a
nice, safe club that our members can visit, relax with their families, and
enjoy their time away from home.
 
Be it
golfing, or playing some tennis, or racquetball, or just enjoying a good meal,
we try to make our environment as pure to our purpose, to who we are, as we
possibly can.”

Charles
stared at Aaron.

“The
thing is,” Aaron went on, “we allowed you to let Jenay in.”

Charles
had to speak to that.
 
“You
allowed
me to let her in?
 
What is that supposed to mean?
 
I’m a founding member of the club.
 
I’m a member of the governing board. She’s my
wife.
 
Of course she was let in.”

“We
understand that, Charles,” Matt interjected.
 
“But the thing is, she’s not. . . how do I put this?
 
She’s not somebody who was born and raised
right here in Jericho.
 
She’s not a
Jerichodian.
 
She’s not one of us.”

Charles
just sat there and stared at the men in front of him.
 
He knew where they were going with this, and
they did too.
 
But he wasn’t going to
help them along.

They
didn’t need help.
 
“Truth be told,” Joe
stepped in, “it’s an uncomfortable situation we find ourselves in.
 
That’s the bottom line.”

Charles
found the word odious.
 
“Uncomfortable?”
he asked.

“Yes,”
Aaron said.
 
“Uncomfortable.
 
Joe is right.
 
We are uncomfortable with this situation.
 
And we feel, as members of the governing
board, that we should come ourselves like the men that we are and address this
here with you.
 
We didn’t want to ask our
wives to do it.
  
We didn’t want to ask
any other members to do it.
 
We felt, as
leaders, that we should come to you and explain this here situation so that we
could get it resolved.
 
So that we can
get this here squared away.”

“What
exactly is the situation?” Charles asked.
 
“Make yourself plain, Aaron.”

Aaron
looked at his comrades, and then he looked at Charles.
 
“It’s about Jenay,” he said.
 
“When you’re not at the club, we don’t see
why she has to be there.”