Sal Gabrini: Just The Way You Are (10 page)

“That’s my
baby,” Sal said, and kissed her.
 
But when
he kissed her, something changed, and he kissed her harder.
 
She returned his affection as her arms moved
from around his waist, to around his neck.
 
They kissed long and hard.
 
And
then he began lifting her skirt.

He pulled
down her panties below her knees, just enough for him to unzip and pull out his
already enlarged penis.
 
And as he
suspected, when he entered her, she was wet and ready for him too.

And he
fucked her.
 
Right there in their
foyer.
 
He stroked her and gyrated her
and fucked her hard.

She was
breathing heavily, and so was he, and they looked into each other’s eyes as
they fucked.
 
And when he kissed her, it
seared her with as much force as his dick had impaled her.
 
This was that hard, irascible man she
loved.
 
He knew how to love her.
 
He knew how to protect her.
 
He knew how to calm and to anger her.
 
And he knew how to fuck her.
 
Nobody else could ever come close.
 
And his know-how was on full display that
morning.

And when he
ejaculated into her, shooting a wad so full it caused her to tremble, she came
too.
 
They were moving in rhythm, and
moving faster and faster.
 
Her orgasm was
as fiery as his cum shot.
 
They both felt
the passion, and the heat, and the fire, as they came.

Afterwards,
when they walked out of their house again, all of their workers, from the
yardmen to Big Joe to house security, were taking peeps at them.
 
They could feel their staring eyes.
 
And each of them had the same question: did
he beat her ass, or fuck it?
 
They knew
Sal Gabrini did one or the other.
 
But
when Sal walked Gemma to her car and kissed her goodbye so tenderly, the
workers looked at each other with a smile and a nod.
 
Fucked it, was their collective
conclusion.
 
And they were happy.
 
If all was right with Sal and Gemma, all
would remain right with their paychecks.
 

Gemma got
into the backseat of her car, and Big Joe drove her away.
 
Sal went back into the house to grab his
briefcase.
 
And the workers, satisfied,
gladly went back to work.

Once inside,
Sal went into the powder room to pee, and then washed up and headed for his
briefcase.
 
But before he could reach for
it, the intercom buzzed.
 
He pressed the
button quickly.
 
“Yeah, Jay?”

“A young
lady wishes to see you, sir.”

“A young
lady?
 
Who?”

“Frieda.”

“Not Freida,
you jerk!” a woman could be heard saying.
 
“Rita.
 
It’s Rita Jaleppi, Sal.”

Sal’s
forehead lifted directly proportionate to his anger rising.
 
What the fuck?

“Should I
let her through, boss?” Jay asked.

Hell no
, Sal was about to say.
 
“I’m coming out,” he said instead, and
hurried out of his big, beautiful home.

But Sal was
not in a beautiful mood, and his men at the gate saw it immediately.

“He’s coming
now,” the youngest of the guards said to Jay, his boss.
 
And Jay, who was standing at the guard booth
beside their visitor, looked too.
 
Sal
was walking fast, and his face had that hard edge they knew so well.
 
Whatever this Rita Jaleppi was to him, she
had apparently touched a raw nerve with their boss.

“Is he
coming?” Rita asked as she rubbed down the back of her short, blonde wig.

“He’s on his
way,” Jay said. “But brace yourself.”

“What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“What I
said.
 
Brace yourself.”

“Me and Sal
go way back,” Rita said.
 
“I don’t have
to brace myself for shit.
 
I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”

“Okay.
 
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Warn me
about what?” Rita asked frowningly, but then the tall electronic gate opened
and Sal was upon them.

“Sal!” Rita
said, hurrying to him.

“What do you
think you’re doing?” Sal asked angrily as he walked out of his gate, his hands
palm up and spread out.

“I’m in
trouble, Sal.”

“I don’t
give a fuck what you’re in!
 
You don’t
come to my house.
 
Not ever!
 
Now get the fuck back in your car and get the
fuck away from here!”
 
All Sal could think
about was Gemma coming back home and finding this fool at their entrance gate.

But Rita
didn’t know Gemma, and didn’t care if she was making trouble for Sal.
 
All she cared about was the trouble she had
made for herself.
 
“You’ve got to help
me, Sal, you’ve got to!
 
There’s nobody
else.
 
They’re trying to kill me, Sal!”

“Didn’t I
tell you to get lost?” Sal asked angrily as he grabbed her beneath her upper
arm and all but dragged her back to her car.
 
“You don’t come to my home!
 
You
know that, Rita!”

“But if you
tell them to leave me alone, they’ll do it.
 
You promised Frankie you’d look out for me, Sal!”

“When you
get the fuck away from my home you can call me,” Sal said as he slung her
against her car door.
 
“Then we’ll talk
and I’ll see what I can do.
 
But you
never bring your ass around my house again!
 
I don’t do that shit here!”

“But I may
be dead before I can call you, Sal,” Rita deplored.
 
“Don’t you understand that?
 
You know how Nicky is!”

Sal stared
at her.
 
“Nicky?
 
What Nicky?”

“Your
Nicky!
 
Nicky Cass.
 
Nicky Castellano’s got a contract out on
me!”
 
Rita was surprised by Sal’s obvious
ignorance.
 
“He’s your underboss.
 
Didn’t he tell you?”

Nicky hadn’t
told Sal shit.
 
“What did you do?” Sal
asked.
 
“And don’t you bullshit me!”

“I messed up
a little, I ain’t gonna lie.
 
But Nicky
wrong for putting me in jeopardy like this.
 
He knows I’m under your protection.
 
He knew it when Frankie went to prison.
 
He’s wrong for putting out the contract.”

Sal wasn’t
trying to hear her excuses.
 
“What did
you do, Rita?” he asked her again.

Rita
exhaled.
 
“I put away a few dollars.
 
Just for me and my kids, Sal.
 
Just for a rainy day.”

“How much?”
Sal asked.

“What does
he expect?
 
I’m around all that
money.
 
It’s coming in by the
boatload.
 
And Nicky Cass, he
don’t
pay us right.
 
You tell him to skim us ten percent off the top, but he
don’t
do that, Sal.
 
We move his merchandise faithfully.
 
But he
don’t
treat us right.”

“How much
did you steal?” Sal asked her again, his patience thin.

Rita was out
of excuses.
 
“A hundred,” she said.

Sal
frowned.
 
“A hundred thousand
dollars?
 
Are you out of your fucking
mind!”

“I was gonna
give most of it back, honest I was.
 
But
Nicky, he’s crazy, Sal.
 
He wants all of
it or none of it, when he knows I already spent a big chunk.
 
Now he wants to kill me and leave my children
motherless.
 
And they’re your children
too, Sal, because you promised Frankie.”

Sal knew a
contract on her ass was the least they should be doing to her.
 
But nobody issued death orders but Sal, and
Nicky Cass knew it.
 
“Get out of
Vegas.
 
Go to the safe house on Ford
Street.”

“In Spring
Valley?”

“Go
there.
 
It’s manned, so you’ll have
protection.
 
Wait there until you hear
from me.”

Relief
washed over Rita.
 
“Thanks, Sal.
 
I knew I could count on you.”

“You can’t
count on shit!” Sal shot back.
 
“You
stole from my organization and your ass is going to pay for that.”

Rita nodded
her head.
 
She knew Sal’s brand of
punishment would be harsh, but it wouldn’t be unto death.
 
“I understand.
 
I know I gotta give account.”

“You’ve got
to give account for what you did.”
 
Sal’s
big blue eyes were sincere.
 
“And if it
wasn’t for my promise to Frankie, it wouldn’t even be a discussion.
 
Your ass would already be dead!”
 
Then he exhaled.
 
“But Nicky’s got to give account first.
 
He had no call putting out a death order
without my permission.
 
His ass gets on
the grill first.”
 

“I’m
thankful to you, Sal.
 
Because you’re a
fair man.
 
You’ve always been fair.
 
But Nicky Cass, he
don’t
treat us right.”

Sal didn’t
want to hear her playing both ends bullshit.
 
“Just get to Ford Street and wait for my call.”

“I will,
Sal.
 
And thanks.
 
I will.”
 
Rita began hurrying into her car.

Sal began
heading back toward his gate entrance, with Jay waiting for further
instruction.
 
“Call Nicky Cass,” Sal
said.
 
“Tell him to get his ass to Vegas
now.”

“Will do,
boss,” Jay said.
 
“And what about the
contract?
 
Tell him to call it off?”

Sal was
about to say yes, but before the word could come out, an explosion ripped
through the car that Rita was driving.

The
explosion was so massive that it rocked Sal and Jay against the gate. It was so
loud that Sal’s security men from all corners of the estate immediately began
running toward the scene.
 
But when Sal
stood erect, and saw the wreckage, he knew there was nothing left to see.
 
A pipe bomb.
 
Remote-control style.
 
Which
stunned Sal.
 
Who the fuck, he thought,
would kill somebody who came to him for protection?
 
Who the fuck would press that button while
that person was just outside his gate?

Jay and Sal
looked at each other.
 
“What the fuck
boss?” Jay asked.

But Sal had
no answers either.

Mark Price
smiled when Gemma walked into his office at her law firm.
 
“Hey, Gem, what’s up?”

“I need a favor,
Mark,” Gemma said as she stood in front of his desk.

“Have a
seat.”

She sat
down.

“What’s the
favor?” Mark asked.

“I need you
to handle the Shaun Merriment case.”

“The kid
accused of murder?”

“That’s the
one.
 
They had his bail hearing this
morning.”

“Let me
guess: no bail?”

“No, they
granted it.
 
They know these are bullshit
charges.”

“For how
much?”

“A hundred
thousand.
 
He had to come up with ten.”

“Did he?”

“His mother
is going to mortgage her house.
 
So yeah,
he’ll get out.”

“That’s good
work, Gemma.
 
But you want me to take it
over?
 
A very winnable case
apparently.
 
Why?
 
You just don’t want to deal with it?”

“My husband
doesn’t want me to deal with it.
 
At
least not until after the baby comes.”

Mark
nodded.
 
“I can understand that.
 
If you were my wife, I would feel the exact
same way.”

“Think you
can add Shaun to your load?” Gemma asked.
 
“I’ll take some of your non-murder cases.”

“I can take
him.
 
But you don’t have to burden
yourself with my easy ones.
 
I can handle
them too.”

Gemma smiled
and stood up.
 
Her phone buzzed.
 
“Thanks, Mark.
 
I’ll go over to the jail later today and let
Shaun know.
 
I’ll notify the court as
well.”

Then Gemma
pulled out her phone.
 
She had a
text.
 
It was from Big Joe, who had
driven her to work and was waiting outside to take her to the courthouse.
 
“Boss wants you home,” was all it read.

But before
she could respond, or say her goodbyes to Mark, Big Joe appeared in the office
and grabbed her by the hand.
 
“Time to
go,” he said and whisked her way.

Mark stood
up.
 
Curtis came into his office too,
looking back as Gemma and Big Joe hurried away.
 
“What’s that about?” Curtis asked.

Mark was
floored too.
 
“Hell if I know,” he
said.
 
But he would sure love to find
out.

As soon as the
Aston-Martin turned the corner, Gemma could see the police tape cordoning off
the area around her estate and the burned out car in front of her house.
 
Neighbors were standing on the side of the
road, wondering what in the world had happened, and one of the police officers
guarding the cordoned area held up his hand and stopped her car at the
tape.
   
Big Joe had Gemma’s convertible
top down, so the officer was able to talk with her immediately.

“No-one
beyond this point, ma’am,” the officer said.

But Gemma,
her heart hammering, had already unbuckled her seatbelt and was getting out of
her car.

“Stay in
your vehicle, ma’am, didn’t you hear me?”

“I live
here,” Gemma responded to the cop.
 
“Where’s my husband?
 
I need to
see my husband!”

Three beefy
security guards ran out of the gate just as Gemma was speaking those words, and
ran toward her.
 
They lifted the tape to
let her in as if they were the real authority on scene.
 
When the officer began to object, a sergeant
on scene came out too and ordered the cop to let her through.

Two of the
guards blanketed Gemma, placing their arms around her waist as they ran with
her toward the home.
 
The third guard ran
to her car and drove it toward a back street that led to the backside of the
Gabrini compound.
 
The neighbors were
stirring, murmuring about gangsters and how they get away with murder, and some
even began to verbalize their disgust.
 
They can’t get to their homes further down the street, but Mrs. Gabrini
get to go inside of hers.
 
Where’s the
justice in that, they began asking.

But Gemma
wasn’t trying to hear the complaints of nosy neighbors.
 
All she could think about was Sal.

“Is he
alright?” she was asking his bodyguards as they hurried her toward the
entrance.
 
“Is Sal alright?”

“He’s
alright, Mrs. G.
 
He’s alright.”

“What
happened?” she also asked, but Sal’s men knew not to discuss anything that went
down with her or anybody else.
 
If the
story was going to be told, it was going to be told by Sal.

Gemma knew
it too, she knew Sal better than they ever would, so she didn’t press it.
 
Besides, she cared more about seeing Sal
alive and well than the details.

As soon as
the double doors of their front door flew open, and Gemma hurried inside, she
got what she wanted.
 
Sal, who had been
sitting on the sofa talking with detectives, stood up quickly.
 
“Gem!” he said and hurried to her.

“Sal!” she
said and hurried to him.
 
He wanted to
embrace her, she wanted to see that he was okay.
 
She won.
 
She ran her hands through his hair while she inspected his eyes.
 
Sal’s eyes always told his story.
 
“Are you alright?
 
Did you get hurt?”

“I’m fine,
babe.
 
I’m alright.
 
Big Joe brought you straight home?”

“Yes.
 
He didn’t hesitate.”
 
She wanted to ask what happened, but she
didn’t want to force Sal to give her the story he may have had to give to the
cops.

Sal nodded
for his men to leave.
 
They left.

“You must be
Mrs. Gabrini,” one of the detectives said, extending his hand.
 
“I’m Captain Marris of the Las Vegas Police
Department.
 
This is Detective Bladdy,”
he added, noting the detective standing behind his chair.
 
“How are you, ma’am?”

“Not exactly
thrilled to see all of this activity in front of my home,” Gemma responded,
shaking his hand.

“Hopefully
we’ll be out of your hair very soon,” Marris said.
 
“Have a seat, please.”

Gemma looked
at Sal.
 
Maybe he didn’t want her to hear
this.
 
Maybe he would have preferred for
her to stay out of this altogether and that was why he wanted her home.
 
To keep her away from cops with too many
questions.
 
But when Sal motioned for her
to sit down, she did.
 
And he sat beside
her.
 
He sat so close they were hip to
hip.

Marris sat
on the edge of the chair that angled the sofa.
 
The second detective continued to stand behind the chair taking notes.

“Now, Mr.
Gabrini,” Marris said.
 
“I know how
traumatic this has been for you.
  
But
you’ve got to tell me more than what you’re telling me.”

“What do you
mean more?
 
There’s nothing more to
tell.
 
She was leaving and the car
blew.
 
End of discussion.”

She?
 
Gemma looked at Sal.
 
A woman was in that car?
 
Who was this woman?

“You may
think it’s the end of the discussion,” Marris said to Sal, “but we don’t.
 
What’s her name?”

“I told you
I didn’t know her.
 
None of my men knew
her.
 
She was just some nutcase who
showed up at my gate.”

“At a time when
all of your surveillance cameras weren’t working?” Marris asked doubtfully.

“That’s
right,” Sal responded, sticking to his story.
 
“But what difference does it make?
 
I don’t know the chick.”

“You’re
lying, Mr. Gabrini.
 
You know it’s a
crime to lie to an officer of the law?”

Sal stared
at the detective.
 
Even though he was
lying, he still didn’t like his integrity questioned.
 
“I don’t know her,” he said firmly.

“I think you
do.
 
We ran her plates.
 
A rental car.
 
Rented by Rita Jaleppi.
 
Wife of
former cop and Sal Gabrini henchman Frankie Jaleppi.
 
Remember Frank, Sal?
 
Remember when he went to prison under Ricco
for racketeering?
 
Remember when he
refused to rat on you, but was still murdered in prison anyway?”

“Murdered by
fucking cops,” Sal said bitterly.
 
“No
con took him out.”

“Whatever,”
Marris said.
 
“He died.
 
But his widow and kids became a ward of
Sal.
 
You look out for the widows and
children of your fallen soldiers.
 
Don’t
you, Sal?
 
Don’t they call you Mister
Reliable for that very reason?”

“They call
him
Mister
Gabrini,” Gemma said.
 
“And I would prefer you call him that as
well.
 
And as his attorney, I am ending
this interview.
 
He told you he didn’t
know the woman.
 
He told you he had
nothing to do with what happened to her.
 
This interview is over.”
 
She
stood, prompting Sal and Marris to stand too.
 
Sal was proud of her.

Marris had
heard how Gabrini had married some tough black lawyer, and that she was nothing
to trifle with, but he still had hoped to get more.
 
Much more!
 
But he knew he had to wait it out.

Marris let
out a harsh exhale.
 
“We’re be in touch,
Mr. Gabrini,” he said, and began to leave.
 
Detective Bladdy closed his book and followed behind him, but not before
giving Sal a small smile as he left.

Gemma looked
at Sal when they walked out of the door.
 
“What was that little smile about?”

“He’s on the
payroll,” Sal said.
 
“It’s just a
reminder that he’ll keep me up to date on the progress of the investigation.”

“So what
happened, Sal?” Gemma asked, folding her arms.
 
She was especially interested now that a woman was involved.
 
A woman who had apparently been to their
home.

Sal raked
his fingers across his forehead and let out a harsh exhale.
 
He still couldn’t get that picture out of his
head of Rita in that car.
 
“Nothing for you
to worry about, babe,” he said.

But Gemma
was already shaking her head.
 
“Not good
enough, Sal.
 
What was it about?”

But Sal was
stubborn about it.
 
He had to be.
 
“It was about nothing.
 
Didn’t I tell you it was nothing?”
 
He pulled her into his arms.
 
“I don’t want you to be stressing yourself
over this little shit.”

But Gemma
could see the stress all over him.
 
“You
tell me not to stress, and all I see in your eyes is stress.
 
Who was she, Sal?”

Sal let out
a short exhale.
 
Gemma was right.
 
He was still reeling.
  
“Chick name Rita,” he said.

“And what
business did this chick name Rita have at our home?”

“I’m not
getting into that, Gemma.”

“Sal!”

Sal removed
his hands from Gemma and began to pace the floor.
 
“She says somebody put a hit out on her and
she needed my protection.”

But Gemma
could tell this went deeper than that.
 
This was personal with Sal.
 
“Who
put out a hit on her?” she asked.

“I’m not
going into that,” Sal said.

“Not good
enough, Sal.”

“Then
tough.
 
I’m not going into that.
 
Now I mean it.”

Gemma knew
when to back off.
 
Sal loved her, but he
was still the boss.
 
“So who is this Rita
that she would feel she could just run up here to see you?
 
Even your own men aren’t that bold.”