Reno Gabrini: For His Lover (The Mob Boss Series Book 14) (4 page)

“It’s all or nothing, Jazz,” Andre said.
 
“Those are our margins. All or nothing.”

“Ha!” Jazz said with a one-syllable laugh.
 
“That’s how I roll, are you kidding me?
 
That’s how I’ve been rolling all my
life.
 
And Reno?
 
Damn, I can’t wait!
 
I can’t stand him!
 
He’ll think the
got
damn Mafia put us up to this before he could ever believe that I
plotted and schemed it up all by my lonesome.
 
That’s how he thinks.
 
Big like
that.
 
He never would figure little
people like us could ever have the balls to come for him.
 
Oh, we’re going to play this smart, Dre.
 
We’re going to get this right.
 
I won’t get another chance, even I know
that.
 
This is all or nothing for me too.”
 
And with sadness in her voice, she added: “It
always is.”

Andre stared at Jazz.
 
Her agenda was not his agenda, but what difference did that make?
 
They were going for Reno Gabrini.
 
They were in this together now.

Trina Gabrini stepped out of her Mercedes and handed the keys
to the valet.
 
Gemma Jones-Gabrini,
sitting at a window booth inside the Vegas restaurant, sipped soup with her
spoon. “She’s here,” Gemma said.

Pierre
Durand
looked out of the window at the African-American
woman heading toward the entrance, and then back at the African-American woman
across from him.
 
“She looks, how do I
say?
 
Maximum serious?”
 
He spoke in a heavy French accent.

Gemma laughed.
 
“I
never heard her described that way, as
maximum
serious, but yeah.
 
She’s a very serious
person.”

“But that is not good.
 
Serious people are often risk adverse.
 
Do you think she will agree?”

Gemma sipped another spoonful of soup.
 
Pierre knew Gemma would not respond until she
had completely swallowed her food.
 
He
saw her as that kind of classy lady.

“I’m certain she will,” Gemma responded after
swallowing.
 
They were in a restaurant in
southwest Vegas.
 
It was eight in the
evening, after work, and Gemma wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up
in her bed.
 
Her husband, Sal, was out of
town on business and she was under the weather.
 
But this was one invite she and Trina could not turn down.
 
“She’ll be happy to get onboard,” she
said.
 
“I’m sure of that.
 
But she’ll need some assurances first.”

“Funny you should say that,” Pierre said.
 
“Monsieur Cousteau will need assurances as
well.
 
Specifically, regarding her
husband.
 
Yours too, by the way.”

Gemma knew exactly what he meant.
 
She and Trina both were married to Gabrinis,
and all of the Gabrinis, dating back to Reno’s father Paulo, had deep mob
ties.
 
But Champagne’s was Gemma and
Trina’s baby.
 
Their husbands had nothing
to do with the day-to-day operations of the high-end clothing boutique.
 
“It seems to me,” Gemma said, “that it’s our
reputations, mine and Trina’s, that he should concern himself with.
 
Which means he has nothing to be concerned
about.”

“I’m sure he will see it that way too,” Pierre said
cheerfully.
 
“But, you know, he is who he
is.
 
I am a mere
émissaire
.
 
He is reclusive.
 
His brand is exclusive.
 
He is at the height of his reputation, and
does not want any missteps.
 
You
understand,
madam
?”

Gemma did, but she didn’t respond.
 
She knew Jean Paul Cousteau would be a
difficult get. But she nor Trina would ever be willing to denounce their family
name for that get.
 
She, instead, sipped
another spoonful of soup.

When Trina finally entered the restaurant, spotted them, and
began heading their way, Pierre rose to his feet.
 
She wasn’t as exotic-looking as the
darker-skinned Gemma, but she was a looker too.
 
“Mrs. Gabrini, hello.”

They shook hands.
 
“You
must be Mr.
Durand?”

“I am.
  
But Pierre,
please.”

Trina, however, did not return the informality.

Pierre smiled.
 
“A
woman who understands,” he said.
 
“I like
already.
 
Women in business must not
allow men to get too familiar with them or they will not be taken seriously.”

Trina smiled too.
 
“Exactly so.”

“Then formal we shall be,” Pierre said, as Trina sat beside
Gemma.
 
He sat back down across from them
both.

Trina looked at Gemma’s bowl of soup and frowned.
 
“What the heck are you eating?” she asked
her.

“Some Gnocchi soup or something,” Gemma said.
 
“I don’t even know the name.
 
It was the only kind they had on the
menu.
 
I’m trying to stave off a cold.”

“Oh my,” Trina said.
 
“I
hope you keep it
staved
off of
me.
 
That’s the last thing I need.”

“Right, yeah?” Gemma agreed.
 
“I’m in court all week.
 
The last
thing I need too.”
 
In addition to
co-owning Champagne’s, Gemma was a practicing attorney.

The waitress arrived and took Trina’s drink order.
 
When she left, Trina looked at Pierre.
 
“Now to you,” she said.
 
“I have one very important question before we
begin this meeting.”

“Please,” Pierre said, sitting even more erect.
 
“By all means ask your question.”

“Is this a real possibility?” Trina asked.
 
“Or is this just some bullshit?”

Pierre was at first taken aback.
 
Talk about the polar opposite to sweet
Gemma!
 
But then he smiled.
 
He’d heard Reno Gabrini’s wife was a tough
cookie.
 
He laughed.
 
“No bullshit,” he said as if it was one
syllable, the way only a Frenchman could speak it.
 
“I assure you he is very interested.”

“But why us?” Trina wanted to know.
 
“Why Champagne’s?
 
We’re just breaking out after many years of
just breaking even.”

“That is the reason,” Pierre said.
 
“You have answered your own question.
 
Cousteau wish to launch his new line with a
virgin enterprise, if you will.
 
One that
is not tainted with so much success that the brand gets lost in the name of its
host.
 
It is his first venture into the
women’s clothing line, and he wants his new line to be separate in every way
from his current line.”

But Trina was still unconvinced.
 
“Cousteau in Macy’s will still be
distinctive,” she said.
 
“As will
Cousteau in Saks, Neiman Marcus, or any other major chain.”

“Yes, you are right,” Pierre admitted.
 
“But there is a further catch.”

Trina looked at Gemma as if she told her so.
 
Then the waitress arrived, sat down Trina’s
drink, and left again.
 
Trina looked at
Pierre.
 
“What’s the catch?” she asked him.

“Two requests,” Pierre said.
 
“Monsieur Cousteau will be in America in a couple months.
 
During New York Fashion Week?”

“He’s showing?” Gemma asked.

“Of course,” Pierre responded.
 
“He always shows.
 
But it is his wish to meet with the two of
you ladies before any final decision can be reached.”

“That’s doable for me,” Trina said, although she knew Reno
wasn’t going to like it.
 
He hated when
she went out of town regardless of the reason.
 
And then she looked at Gemma.

“Not doable for me,” Gemma responded.
 
“I have three major cases, back to back to
back, coming up.”

“More murder cases, Gem?” Trina asked.

“One is an extortion case,” Gemma said.
 
“One is an embezzlement case.
 
And one’s a murder case, yes.
 
But it involves the head of a textile
union.
 
It’s big.
 
I’ll be tied up for months.”

“Not good,” Pierre said.
 
Then he smiled.
 
“But one of you
will do,” he added.

“And the second request?” Trina asked.
   

“He will want a piece of the action,” Pierre responded.
 
“If he does a signature line with Champagne’s,
it will take off.
 
That we all can
agree.
 
That means new stores across the
country will most likely be added.
 
You
may even go worldwide.
 
You can keep your
ownership of the Las Vegas stores outright.
 
He does not want to impede on what you built alone.
 
But all future stores?
 
Yes.
 
He will want a percentage.
 
He
will want a piece of the action.”

Gemma looked at Trina.
 
Neither one of them had expected to have to share ownership.
 
“We can’t give him an answer now,” Trina
said.
 
“I will have to meet with him, and
then discuss my conclusions with Gem and our investors.”
 
Their husbands were their only
investors.
 
“Then we’ll have an answer
for you.”

Pierre smiled.
 
“Fair
enough,” he said, and lifted his glass.
 
“A toast to things to come,” he added cheerfully.

And Trina and Gemma, hopeful but with that guarded optimism
their years of experience had taught them, raised their glasses too.

“It’ll just be another sec,” the floor manager said as he left
their side and twisted his way through table after table inside the rowdy
casino.

The elderly couple looked at each other doubtfully, but
continued to smile.
 
This was their
vacation of a lifetime, their last honeymoon as they called it, and they were
standing in the middle of their favorite gambling spot in their favorite
vacation town marveling at the attention.
 
But the idea that the owner of the PaLargio would take time out of his
hectic schedule to come and congratulate them too, was probably expecting too
much.
 
But the young floor manager had
insisted.
 
“Mr. Gabrini’s not like that,”
he had said.
 
“He’ll be happy to wish you
well!”

But this was his third time saying it.
 
They had been all over the casino.
 
They had played more slot machines and won
more chump change than most visitors could hope for.
 
They were satisfied.
 
But as soon as the young man had discovered
why they were there, he kept insisting for them to wait.

They decided to play one more slot machine, and then that
would be it, owner or no owner.
 
They
were going to go back upstairs to their hotel room and go to bed.
 
It was already three in the morning
anyway.
 
Although they took a long nap in
the afternoon to be able to hang this late, it was still long past their
bedtime.

But just as they finished playing, and unluckily losing a few
bucks for a change, the husband, Maury, saw the floor manager heading their
way.
 
Only this time he wasn’t
alone.
 
“Could that be him?” Maury asked.

The wife, Edna, looked too.
 
She saw a good looking man with dark blue eyes and a thick head of
hair.
 
He was a muscular fellow in a fine
silk suit, only his suit looked as well-worn as his eyes.
 
And he was walking fast as thunder, like a
big shot.
 
“Could be,” she said.

When it was obvious that the floor manager was bringing the
gentleman their way, they stood to their feet, with Maury taking Edna’s elbow
and helping her up.

“Mr. and Mrs. Holcomb,” the manager said, “I would like you
to meet Reno Gabrini.”

Reno extended his hand.
 
“This must be the happy couple,” he said with a smile, as he shook
Maury’s hand.

“Yes, sir.
 
Nice to
meet you, sir.
 
I’m Maury, and this is my
wife, Edna.”

“Your wife of fifty years, I hear,” Reno said as he shook
Edna’s hand too.

“That’s right,” Edna said.
 
“Fifty years and counting.”

“That’s saying something there.
 
Fifty years?
 
Got
damn.
 
Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Maury said with a grand smile.
 
“I know you’re a busy man, so we really
appreciate the gesture.”

“The gals in Altoona will never believe me if I told them,”
Edna said.
 
“I met the owner of the
PaLargio.”
 
Then she looked at Reno
suspiciously.
 
“If you are the owner.”

The floor manager laughed.
 
“He’s the owner, ma’am. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“And I take it Altoona is your hometown?” Reno asked them as
he eyed one of his security staff, Albright, heading his way.

“Altoona, P.A., that’s right,” Edna responded.
 
“We were married there, we raised our family
there.
 
You should visit us
sometime.
 
It’s a great place to visit.”

“Maybe I will,” Reno said as Albright, on reaching his side,
whispered in his ear.

Reno listened and then looked at his guests.
 
“Congratulations again,” he said, shaking
their hands again.
 
“Enjoy yourselves on
your fiftieth wedding anniversary, and I wish you fifty more.”

 
“Thank you,” the couple
responded in unison, and Reno and Albright hurried away.

“Where?” Reno asked.

“Zone six,” Albright said, and escorted Reno across the
casino floor and to a locked security room.
 
Albright swiped his keycard and escorted Reno inside, closing the door
behind them.
 
It was a security control
room, one of many throughout the casino, where close-circuit monitors abound
and a staff of twenty viewed their selected zones.

One of Reno’s blackjack dealers, Kolby, was sitting in the
room with a guard standing over him.
 
But
Reno looked away from him, and at Albright.
 
“Show me first,” he said.

Albright nodded at his man at one of the monitoring
stations.
 
The man pressed buttons on the
console and pulled up the scene in question.
 
Reno and Albright looked at the big screen as it showed Kolby deftly
pulling a deck of cards from beneath the table, and using them instead of the
house deck.

“Is it a racket?” Reno asked.

“We believe so, yes, sir,” Albright said.
 
“It was three groups of people that came in
and, in each group, one guy won big.
 
We
missed it the first two times.
 
We caught
it the third time and went back and caught the other two times.
 
We figure he gives his friends this windfall
on you, and then gets his cut of the winnings after work.
 
The good news is the con just started
tonight.
 
We caught it before he got good
at it.”

“How much did they take me for?” Reno asked.

“Twenty thousand,” Albright said.

“Geez.”
 
Reno looked at
Kolby.
 
“So you’re the mastermind?”

“No, sir.
 
I don’t know
what they’re talking about, sir.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?
 
They have your stupid ass on videotape!
 
You think you can steal from me?”

“I wasn’t stealing!
 
They won fair and square.”

Reno backhanded Kolby so hard he fell out of his chair.
 
“Get up!” he ordered.

Kolby quickly got back up.
 
The guard slammed him back down in the chair.
 
“I’m sorry,” Kolby said.
 
Tears began to appear in his small eyes.
 
“I wasn’t trying to steal from you.
 
I was just using a different deck.
 
But it wasn’t marked.
 
I swear!”

This time Albright hit him upside his head.
 
“Quit lying, Kolb,” he said angrily.
 
“Boss caught you fair and square.
 
Quit lying to the man!”

Reno stared at Kolby as the realization that he wasn’t going
to bullshit his way out of this hit him hard.
 
He was just a kid, twenty if he was that, and Reno could see his own boy
Jimmy pulling some stupid shit like this when he was that age.
 
But nobody was going to steal from him and
get away with it.

“What you got to say for yourself, Kolb?” Albright asked
him.
 
“Don’t just sit up there.
 
Talk!”

“I’m sorry,” Kolby said.
 
“I wasn’t trying to, I mean, I was, but didn’t mean to steal from
you.
 
Not like that.
 
I just needed a little cash, that’s all.
 
To get myself out of a hole.
 
I’ll pay it back, I promise.”

Reno stood there, staring at him.

He looked up at Reno.
 
“Could you please give me a second chance?”

Albright and Reno’s men in the control room smiled and shook
their heads.
 
What an idiot, they
thought.
 
Who did this kid think he was
dealing with?

But Reno wasn’t as dismissive as they were.
 
He never looked at it one way.

“Please, sir,” Kolby begged.
 
“I have a family.
 
A mom depending
on me.
 
I need this job.
 
I’ve never done anything like that
before.
 
I’m just asking for another
chance.
 
Will you give me a second
chance?
 
Please?”

“Will you tell me who those people were who also participated
in the con?” Reno asked.

Kolby quickly nodded.
 
“Yes, sir.
 
They’re the ones who
approached me.
 
They’re small time hoods
in town.
 
I’ll tell you who they are.”

“We already know who they are,” Albright said.
 
“What the fuck kind of operation do you think
we’re running here?
 
You steal from Reno
Gabrini and you’re on blast, you twisted motherfucker!
 
We immediately identify your ass.”

“We don’t need you to tell us shit,” Reno said.
 
“I just wanted to see how willing you were to
tell.
 
You know why?
 
Because I don’t like snitches any more than I
like thieves.
 
In fact, I’ll take a
thief, and I hate thieves.”
 
Then Reno
exhaled.
 
“But I’ll give you a second
chance.”

His men at the monitors wanted to look at him to make sure
this was their boss talking this way, but they didn’t have the nerve.
 
But they listened with rapt attention.

Reno pulled out a lighter.
 
“I’ll give you a second chance,” he said, and flicked the lighter.
 
A small fire came out of its orbit.
 
Kolby stared at the flames.
 
“But just like you burned me,” Reno said,
“I’m going to have to burn you.”

Kolby begged him, but Reno wasn’t listening.
 
He nodded at Albright.
 
Albright grabbed the young man’s hand, fighting
him as he did, opened it at the palm, and Reno lit it up.

Kolby screamed out in pain inside the soundproof room, and
all of Reno’s men took glances at the act.
 
They were shocked too.
 
But Reno
kept the flame against Kolby’s skin until Kolby had squirmed his way out of the
chair and onto the floor, despite Albright holding him down.

Kolby kept fighting hard to get away from the burn, as his
skin burned through, but Reno wasn’t allowing any escape.
 
He put his considerable weight on him, and
held him down.
 
“Stealing from me?” he
said.
 
“And then snitching?”
 
He didn’t stop until the palm of Kolby’s hand
was as raw as minced meat.
 
Then he let
go.

Kolby grabbed the wrist of his hand and flapped it, begging
for water, for relief, for anything to stop the stinging pain!
 
But he was in a different world now.
 
Reno’s world.
 
No relief came.
 

Reno put his lighter back in his pocket.
 
“Stealing from me?” Reno asked again
angrily.
 
“Who the fuck do you think you
are?”

“I’m sorry,” Kolby was crying.
 
“I’m so sorry!”

But Reno didn’t want to hear it.
 
The deed was done, and he had to pay.
 
Then he looked at Albright.
 
“Put him back on the floor,” Reno ordered.
 
“Even in pain put his ass back on the
floor.
 
Make sure every last one of those
dealers understand that his hand will be their hands if they fuck with me.”

Albright nodded.
 
He’d
never met a man so caring and compassionate, and ruthless and vicious, as Reno
Gabrini.
 
“Yes, sir,” he said.
 
“They’ll get the message.”

And Reno left.
 
He felt
sorry for the young man, but sorry didn’t do it.
 
He did it.
 
And he had to pay.

Reno looked at his Rolex as he left the control room.
 
It was past three in the morning.
 
It was time, he knew, to take his overworked
ass home.
 
So he did.
 
Reno went home.