Sal Gabrini: Just The Way You Are (11 page)

“I knew her
from back in the day.
 
We go way back.”

Gemma hated
to ask it, but when it came to females and Sal, she always had to.
 
“Was she a former lover?”
 
Was that why he was so torn up?
 
Did he love this woman?

Sal raked
his hand through his hair.
 
“Back in the day
we did our thing, but she married somebody else.”

“You wanted
her for yourself?”

“I didn’t
know what I wanted back then.”
 
Then he
exhaled.
 
“Yeah,” he admitted.
 
“But that was then.”

“Apparently
not,” Gemma said, “because you’re very upset, Sal.
 
You’re more upset than I’ve seen you in a
long time.”

“Hell yeah
I’m upset!” Sal blared.
 
“She brought
this shit to my front door!
 
She knows
better than that.
 
And some fucker killed
her at my front door.
 
He knows better
than that!”
 
There was more, like the
fact that the person who hired the fucker to kill her at his front door was one
of Sal’s most trusted underbosses, and he was never told about the
decision.
 
He had some serious problems
that he wasn’t about to allow Gemma to worry about.

But when he
looked at her, and saw the strain, he hurried to her.
 
“Oh, babe!” he said, and pulled her into his
arms.

Gemma
relaxed at the feel of Sal’s big arms around her.
 
The idea of this kind of violence at her
front gate had thrown her greatly.
 
She
knew Sal was deeply involved in mob activities.
 
She knew that he was, in fact, a mob boss, and all of those trips out of
town he used to take weren’t about the Gabrini Corporation.
 
His brother Tommy handled those trips.
 
But to have it so close to home, where Sal
could have easily been killed right along with that Rita woman, unsettled
her.
 
They were pregnant now.

Sal pulled
back from her, his hands on her arms.
 
“It’s going to be alright, babe,” he said.

Gemma
nodded.
 
“I know.
 
It’s just that it was pretty close this time.”

“And we’re
about to bring a baby into this shit,” Sal said.
 
“I know you were thinking that too.”

Gemma looked
into his eyes.

“It’s not
exactly the idea situation,” Sal said, and then looked hard at Gemma.
 
“Is it?”

Gemma was
not a liar.
 
“No,” she said.
 
“It is not.”

A look of
anguish appeared on Sal’s face.
 
“Maybe
you should go to your parents, go to Indiana, and stay there until after the
baby comes.”

Gemma looked
at him.
 
“Leave you?
 
You’re telling me to leave you?”

“It’ll give
you some normalcy during your pregnancy.
 
It’ll keep you away from the stress.”

Gemma shook
her head and put her hands on either side of Sal’s handsome, but worrisome,
face.
 
“No way,” she said.
 
“Where you go, I go.
 
If you go down, I go down.
 
If you go up, I go up.
 
We’re a team, Sal.
 
No bomb, no chick name Rita, nobody’s
breaking up our team.”

Sal’s heart
soared.
 
It was exactly what he needed to
hear.
 
He smiled and pulled her
closer.
 
“And when the baby comes?” he
asked.

“She or he
will be on the team too.”
 
Gemma frowned.
 
“Being a Gabrini is a great thing.
 
But it comes at a great price.
 
Our child will have to pay that price too.”

They leaned
forehead to forehead against each other.
 
Both were teary-eyed at the thought of their child involved in the
matters they sometimes were involved in.
 
“But we’re prepare our child, Sal,” Gemma said.
 
“She’ll be ready.”

“Or he,” Sal
said, and Gemma smiled.

“Or he,” she
said, and Sal smiled.

And they
just stood there, holding each other and leaned against each other.
 
The world outside was still chaotic.
 
A wrecker was taking away Rita’s rental car,
and Jay was just returning to the front gate after discovering that Gemma had
already left her office.
 
But Sal and
Gemma were one.
 
And were completely in
tune, not with the world outside, but with each other.

But Sal had
to confess. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go to Chicago, babe,” he said.

Gemma looked
at him.
 
“Because of what happened
today?”

“Among other
problems,” he said.
 
“Yeah.”

Gemma didn’t
like it.
 
But she knew it came with the
territory.
 
“Okay,” she said.
 
“Just be safe.”

“And I know
you will.
 
I’m going to triple the men
keeping an eye on you.
 
You’re be just
fine.
 
It’s too much going on.
 
It might all be unrelated, but I don’t
believe in coincidences.”

Gemma didn’t
like all of the extra security she would have to endure, but she trusted Sal’s
instincts.
 
“Neither do I,” she said, and
they hugged each other again.

 
The limousine stopped in the back of the
Chicago restaurant.
 
A wall of men, all
heavily armed, made their way to the limo as one of the men opened the back
passenger door.
 
Sal Gabrini, their boss,
stepped out.
 
He buttoned his double-breasted
suit coat and took his time, even as the men closed in on him, blanketing him,
and began to escort him inside the building.
 
But these weren’t confident men to Sal.
 
These men behaved as if they’d been spooked.
 
They were looking around with the kind of
nervous hypervigilance that forced Sal to come to town in the first place.
 
Crew chiefs were being killed.
 
Nobody knew the enemy.
 
Chicago was on edge.
 
Sal had to calm nerves or risk full blown
panic.

As Sal
entered the closed restaurant, the assembled underbosses all stood up.
 
Nicky Castellano was there too, and as Sal’s
number one, chaired the meeting.
 
Sal sat
at the head of the table and they all sat down.

Angelo
Scorsese spoke first.
 
As the oldest
underboss, he commanded one of Sal’s largest crews.
 
Sal called him The Barometer.
 
If he was in panic mode, they were in trouble.

“We don’t
mind healthy competition, boss,” he said to Sal.
 
His voice was gravelly, almost hoarse, as if
he was one cigarette away from emphysema.
 
But he was a respected voice.
 
“We’ll fight to the death to keep our territories, but we don’t mind that
fight.
 
But this fight here, boss?
 
This shadow company trying to spook us like
this?
 
We don’t know what this is!
 
And then they ice Deacon.
 
He was in line to take over for me.
 
He was a powerful sonafabitch and they had to
know that.
 
But they ice him anyway?
 
Who the fuck are these people?”

“We don’t
know who we’re dealing with,” Nicky said.
 
“That’s the problem, boss.
 
And
our crews are getting scared.
 
They’re
wondering if we’re paying attention.”

“They’re
wondering if
you’re
paying
attention,” Angelo said bluntly to Sal.

“They need
to know what’s the game plan,” Nicky continued.
 
“They need marching orders.
 
They
need to know that Sal Luca Gabrini and the Gabrini machine has their backs.
 
We’re their front line bosses, but we aren’t
enough.
 
They want to hear it directly
from you.”

“Where are
they?” Sal asked.

“We
assembled them in the dining hall, but we thought we’d give you some background
first.”

But Sal
wasn’t interested in them giving him shit.
 
He stood up, causing them to quickly stand too, and made his way into
the dining hall.
 
His underbosses didn’t
hesitate to follow.
 
Angelo looked at
Nicky with a flustered look as they walked.
 
But Nicky just nodded his head.
 
He might have been a mover and shaker compared to Angelo’s position in
the organization, but compared to Sal’s position, he was powerless.

When Sal
entered the dining hall, nearly a hundred men were present.
 
They all rose to their feet on his arrival,
and he told them to sit back down.
 
Sal
and his underbosses remained standing.

“I’m going
to make this as plain as I know how,” Sal said.
 
“We’ve had three deaths.
 
All
three were crew chiefs.
 
Deacon was in
the line of succession.
 
Which means
whoever these fuckers are, they will not stop until we cede territory to them,
which will not be happening.
 
We aren’t
ceding shit to anybody.
 
Your blood,
sweat and tears turned Chicago our way.
 
All of the businesses you’re running now are legit, and those that
aren’t just aren’t, but that’s beside the point.”

The men
laughed.

Sal
continued.
 
“I’m working overtime to keep
our grip on power as sound as I know how,” he said.
 
“I’m working my ass off.
 
I don’t know who’s pulling this shit.
 
I wish I did, but I don’t know yet.
 
I’ve heard some west coast mafia outfit was
behind it, I’ve heard some east coast brotherhood was behind it.
 
Whoever the fuck it is, we’re going to find
them.
 
I’ve got my men from here to L.A.
working their sources like they’ve never worked them before.
 
I’ve made this my priority.
 
But I’m not here to give your asses a report
card.
 
I’m here because I’m disappointed
in you.”

The men, and
their bosses, were stunned.
 
Disappointed in us
? their faces seemed
to say.

“Why would
you be disappointed in us?” one of the men asked outright.

“Because
you’re complaining about process,” Sal said.
 
“You’re complaining about what you don’t know.
 
And your complaints feed the beast.
 
Your complaints make our enemies stronger.
 
Because they know they’re doing damage.
 
They know they’ve got you by the balls and
all they have to do is yank.”

“What should
we be doing?” another man asked.

“Daring them
to come for you,” Sal said.
 
“Dare their
asses!
 
You’re a member of my fucking
crew.
 
What are they going to do to you?
 
We run this town.
 
We’re the baddest fuckers in this town.
 
You roam in packs.
 
You watch your backs.
 
You see anything wrong, and I don’t care if
it’s your own men displaying that shit, you kill it.
 
You don’t wait for it to kill you.
 
You take it down!
 
You let our enemies know we will not go down
without a bloodbath.
 
Their
blood,” Sal added.

And then he
let out a harsh exhale.
 
“There’s a war
going on for the soul of this town.
 
Either we defend it, or they take it.
 
What I want you to do, to a man, is stop worrying about who the fuckers
are and start realizing who you are!
 
This
shit stops with Deacon’s death,” Sal said forcefully, and every one of his men
applauded loudly.

“Get the
word out,” Sal continued, “that we’re on the battlefield too now.
 
This is no longer a one-sided
confrontation.
 
Triple your
security.
 
Triple your cameras to catch
those fuckers.
 
And triple your
swag.
 
Get the word out.
 
I guarantee you the script will flip.
 
I guarantee you there will be no more sneak
attacks.
 
Complaints and weakness can’t
defeat strength.
 
Only strength can
defeat strength.
 
You’ve got to be strong
and defend your territory.
 
And if you
can’t defend it, they aren’t just going to take it away from you.
 
They’re going to take you out.
 
They are no two ways about it.
 
So man up and do your jobs.
 
I don’t ever want to be called here because
my men are scared like some
got
damn
babies.
 
You fight.
 
You don’t give an inch.
 
Going quietly into that good night are for
ladies of the evening, not for men of war.
 
Stop going quietly while they decimate us.
 
Make some noise.
 
Put out the word.
 
Fight back motherfuckers!
 
Who do you think you are?”

They all
stared at Sal.
 
And then they began to
cheer.
 
And that collective fear and
horror began to change.
  
Now there was
hope.
 
Now there was a battle cry.
 
Now there was a chance.

After Sal’s
speech, he spoke to a lot of them, conversed with a few of them, and then made
his way back into the room he had vacated.
 
He was angry he had to come all this way for a pep talk with men who
shouldn’t need that kind of stoking, but he also had unfinished business too.

All of the
underbosses followed him back into the room.
  
Sal sat back down at the table, and so did they.

“It was a
good thing you came, boss,” Nicky said.
 
“It was just what they needed.”

“Who iced
Rita Jaleppi last night?” Sal asked Nicky.

Nicky didn’t
see what the problem was.
 
“She stole
from us.”

“A hundred
thousand,” Sal said.
 
“She told me.”

“Try three
hundred thousand,” Nicky said.
 
“She
really did a number on us, Sal.”

“So you
bulls-eyed her?”

“I put out
the word that she needed to be taken out, yes, sir.”

“Even if she
came to me for protection?”

“That was
unfortunate,” Nicky said.
 
“The guy who
took her out should have known better than that.”

“No,” Sal
said, “you should have known better.”
 
Sal took a fork off of the table and stabbed it straight through the
palm of Nicky’s hand.
 
He screamed and
tried to jump up.
 
The other underbosses
backed up.
 
But Sal held the fork down.

“What did I
do, Sal?” Nicky cried.
 
“I bulls-eyed a
thief!”

“It’s not
your job to bullseye shit!” Sal yelled.
 
“That’s my lane!
 
You don’t ever
do anything like that without consulting me first.
 
Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Nicky
said anxiously, beads of sweat covering his forehead.
 
“I’ll never do it again, I swear!
 
Never again, boss.
 
Never again!”

Sal stared at
Nicky.
 
Whether Rita stole a hundred
grand or three hundred
grand
didn’t matter to
him.
 
She stole from him, and that was
the point.
 
But Nicky had no call
deciding her fate without consultation.
 
And to hire some prick who didn’t have the judgment to hold up when Rita
was at Sal’s front gate?
 
Nicky fucked
up.
 
He had to pay too.

Sal finally
stopped pressing down on the fork and quickly pulled it out of Nicky’s
hand.
 
Blood and flesh flew out too.
 
Nicky nearly passed out from the pain, as the
underbosses dared not make a move to help him until Sal was out of sight.
 
Sal tossed the bloody fork back onto the
table, and left.
 
Security followed him
out.
 
But as soon as he had gone, the
underbosses came to Nicky’s rescue.

“That
fucker’s crazy!” Nicky yelled.

“No, you’re
the crazy one,” Angelo Scorsese said, “for fucking with him.”

“All rise,”
the bailiff said and Gemma and Mark, along with the prosecutor, rose to their
feet.
 
Judge Connors, the judge hearing
the case, sat behind the bench very briefly.
 
Gemma was there to recuse herself as Shaun’s counsel and notify the
court that Mark Price would handle the case going forward, but the judge had
other ideas.

“I want to
see counsel in my chambers now,” he said firmly, as if he was highly upset, and
then he stood up and headed back out.

Gemma,
puzzled, looked over at the prosecution.
 
He shrugged his shoulders.
 
He was
puzzled too.
 
But they did as they were
told, grabbed their gear from off of their respective tables, and made their
way to chambers.

Once inside,
and the door closed behind them, the Judge motioned for them to sit down.

“What’s
wrong, Judge?” the prosecutor asked.
 
“is
it scheduling again?”

“No,” he
said.
 
“It’s Mrs. Gabrini.”

Gemma was
stunned.
 
“Me?”
 
Did it have something to do with that car
bomb yesterday?
 
Did he get wind of that?

“I received
a very disturbing video,” said the Judge, “that has to be addressed.”