Sal Gabrini: Just The Way You Are (8 page)

The man
laughed.
 
“I like those odds.”

Mark
continued to watch Gemma, and especially the way her big breasts bounced as she
ran.
 
“So do I,” he said.
 
“So do I.”

It was a
tittie bar on the sleazy side of Vegas, and seeing a well-known big shot in a
dive like that was the kind of gossip nobody would believe.
 
And even when some of the girls saw him walk
in for themselves, they still didn’t believe it either.

One of the
girls hurried over to the bartender.
 
“That’s Sal Gabrini,” she said.

When the
bartender saw Sal heading his way, his eyes widened.
 
“Geez,” he said.
 
“Go get Rudy.”

The girl was
puzzled.
 
“Rudy?” she asked.
 
“Why?”

“Just do it,
Cheryl.”

Cheryl
didn’t understand why, but she did as he was told.
 
She headed for the backroom.

Sal sat at
the bar and ordered a beer.
 
“Yes, sir,
Mr. Gabrini,” the bartender said.
 
“Coming right up!”

Sal was
still taken aback when strangers automatically knew his name.
 
It made him all parts uncomfortable and no
parts gratified.
 
Because it was a stark
reminder.
 
Because it reminded him of how
difficult it was going to be to raise a child in anonymity with a father of his
repute.
 
Damn near impossible, he was
beginning to believe, unless he moved his family to Georgia or some hideaway
like Reno once tried.
 
But that didn’t
work out either.
 
Reno’s enemies followed
him there.

When the
bartender sat the glass of beer in front of Sal, he smiled.
 
“Rudy’s in back,” he said.
 
“He’s on his way.”

Sal didn’t
like that presumption either.
 
He didn’t
go around telling the world that Rudy Balotti was his son.
 
But that didn’t stop Rudy from going around
telling it.
 
But that truth only made Sal
better understand why he dropped by this hellhole.
 
Rudy was a son he only recently found out
that he had, and their relationship was rocky at best.
 
Most of it was Rudy’s fault, especially that
time he tried to two-time Sal and Mick Sinatra, but some of it was Sal’s fault
too.
 
He never took to Rudy.
 
He never tried hard enough to bond with
him.
  
And Sal knew he could and should
do better.
 
That was why he came.

Rudy came
from the backroom walking fast.
 
He was
thrilled to see his father and wasn’t trying to hide his joy.
 
Even that display made Sal uneasy.
 
Even that simple gesture of happiness made
Sal feel even more guilty.

“Hey, Pop,
how are you?” Rudy said jovially as if they were father and son from way back.

“Hey,” Sal
said, staring at his handsome son.
 
He
saw more and more of himself in Rudy every time he saw him.
 
“How are you?”

“I’m doing
great now that I get a visit from you,” Rudy said, sitting on the stool beside
his father.
 
“How did you know I was
here?”

“I know
everything,” Sal said.

Rudy
laughed.
 
“That’s right, I forgot.”

Sal took a
swig of his beer.
 
Pretending to be all
affectionate with a son that not only once saved his life, but also once tried
to end it, wasn’t comfortable for him.
 
He had an aversion to fake.

“So,” Rudy
said, “what brings you on this side of town?”

“I’ve been
hearing things.”

Rudy
hesitated. “Yeah?
 
What sort of things?”

“I’ve been
hearing you’ve been making trouble out in L.A.”

“What kind
of trouble?” Rudy asked.

Sal looked
at his son.
 
“Drug trouble,” he said.

Rudy
hesitated again.
 
“And who would tell you
a thing like that?”

“Don’t worry
about who.
 
I told you to keep your ass
out of the drug trade.”

“I am
keeping my ass out of it,” Rudy said.
 
“I
can’t help the lies people tell.
 
I
haven’t been slinging drugs in I don’t know how long.”

Sal stared
at him.
 
He was a liar too.
 
“How much do you owe?” he asked him.
 
He already knew the answer.
 
He wanted to see if Rudy was smart enough to
understand that he knew.

“Who says I
owe anything?” Rudy asked.

Sal
frowned.
 
“Cut the bullshit,
alright?
 
I don’t ask questions I don’t
already know the answer to.
 
How much do
you owe?”

A look of
disdain appeared in Rudy’s big blue eyes.
 
“I can handle it,” he said.

Sal gave his
son a hard look.
 
He could tell Rudy
wasn’t just slinging drugs, he was using too.
 
He could tell he was going down fast.
 
But what could he do?
 
He decided
to try an olive branch.
 
“How can I
help?” he asked.

But Rudy had
his own agenda.
 
“You can open up some
markets for me.”

“Forget it.”

“I’m not
talking drugs, okay?
 
I’m talking
everything else.
 
Like you do.
 
Your name carries weight, Pop.
 
If you’ll only put me in charge of some of
your operations I wouldn’t have to hang out in dives like this or sling dope
for a living.
 
I’m your son.
 
Why can’t you give me a leg up?”

“You aren’t
running any operation of mine.”

“Why not,
Pop?”

“Why do you
think?”

Rudy
frowned.
 
“Because of that one
thing?
 
That’s old, Pop.
 
That’s over!
 
I was only trying to prove a point anyway.”

“And what
point was that?” Sal asked.

“That I
could outsmart you.
 
Only you and Mick
the Tick outsmarted me.
 
But I wasn’t
going to take it any further than that.”

“Your ass
had no business taking it that far,” Sal said.
 
“If you weren’t my son you’d be dead for taking it that far!”
 
He settled back down.
 
Then he reached into his suit coat, pulled
out a thick envelope, and tossed it to Rudy. “Pay your debts and stay out of
trouble,” he ordered as he stood up.

Rudy smiled
when he saw how thick the envelope was.
 
“Thanks, Pop.”
 
Then he looked at
Sal.
 
“And Pop,” he said, “why don’t you
invite me around?”

“Around
what?”

“Your
family.
 
My
family.
 
Why haven’t you
invited me to any family functions?”

Sal stared
at his son.
 
“When you prove to me that
you can be depended on, then you’ll earn that right.
 
Right now I don’t know if you’re for me or
against me.
 
You aren’t coming anywhere
near my family until I know for sure.”

Rudy
nodded.
 
He understood.
 
And Sal left.

The
bartender walked to Rudy and leaned over the counter.
 
“I wish I had a rich old man like Sal Gabrini
who could throw money at me.”

But a sad,
bitter look appeared in Rudy’s eyes.
 
“No
you don’t,” he said, grabbed the envelope, and headed back into the backroom.

Nicky “Cass”
Castellano didn’t like waiting.
 
As first
underboss in the Gabrini crime family, he was accustomed to everybody waiting on
him.
 
Everybody, that was, except the
boss himself.
 
And since he was in the
boss’s waiting room, at the Gabrini Corporate Headquarters in Vegas, he knew he
had to wait.

But he
didn’t like it.
 
He felt like some
two-bit nobody as he flipped through magazine displays and tried not to display
his anger.
 
But he was highly
pissed.
  
Junior executives were coming
and going out of Sal’s office while he had to wait.
 
And they were so young and full of hope and
promise that Nicky wondered how they would react if they really knew who they
were working for.
 
Sal Luca was about as
legit as Al Capone.
 
But he got away with
it.
 
Year after year after year.
 
He was now a legitimate businessman with a
multimillion dollar corporation.
 
While
the rest of them, while people like Nicky, did all of his dirty work.
 
The ruthless sonafabitch.
 
Then Nicky angrily tossed the magazine aside.

It would be
another half hour before Sal’s office door opened and two men and a woman
hurried out.
 
Then the secretary informed
Nicky that Mr. Gabrini would see him now.
 
Mister
Gabrini, Nicky thought
as he stood and made his way to Sal’s office.
 
If they only knew.

Sal was
seated behind his big desk when Nicky walked into his big office.
 
It was impressive, if Nicky had to say so
himself, but that didn’t help his mood.
 
He and the families were suffering, scared of their own shadows, while
Sal Luca was living it up in Vegas.

“What
couldn’t wait?” Sal asked when Nicky made it up to his desk.

“May I sit
down?” Nicky asked.

“No,” Sal
said.
 
“What couldn’t wait?
 
You know not to bring this shit to my
office.”

“They iced
Deacon last night,” Nicky said.

Sal’s jaw
tightened.
 
As Nicky suspected, he hadn’t
heard.
 
“Where?”

“In
Chicago.
 
Outside his restaurant.
 
Fifteen shots to the body, boss. They executed
him.”

Sal
exhaled.
 
“He was a good man,” he
said.
 
“That’s unfortunate.”

“That’s more
than unfortunate.
 
That’s the third one
of ours to none of theirs, boss.
 
The
third one.
 
The families are upset.
 
They want to convene a meeting.”

Sal
frowned.
 
“To talk about what?
 
We don’t even know who the fuck is behind
this shit, what are we going to talk about?
 
You find out who the fuck is behind this shit and then we’ll talk!”

“So what are
we supposed to do in the meantime?” Nicky asked.
 
“Your Chicago operation is in trouble, Sal, I
don’t think you get how much.
 
Everybody’s on edge.
 
I know your
wife is pregnant and you don’t want to leave her and all of that, but we need
your leadership, Sal Luca.
 
They don’t
trust my word like they trust yours.
 
They need to hear from you.”

Sal let out
a harsh exhale.
 
He knew Nicky spoke the
truth.
 
But he was so worried about this
pregnancy, and being there for Gemma, that he wasn’t being there for his
organization.
 
Gemma came first, but he
still had obligations.
 
“I’ll see what I
can do,” he said.

Nicky
smiled.
 
“Thanks, boss.”

“But in the
meantime,” Sal said, “you do what you can do.
 
You find out who those fuckers are.
 
Pull as many of my East Coast people in as possible.
 
From Miami to Jersey, get them on the case.
 
Whoever is pulling this shit wants to take
over our Chicago territory.
 
The whole
shebang, even if he has to kill every one of you to do it.
 
That’s not happening,” Sal made clear.
 

 
Nicky Cass, feeling better about the
situation, still needed a time.
 
“Can I
tell the families to expect you in Chicago soon?”

“I won’t be
coming today,” Sal said.
 
“But yeah.
 
You can tell them that.”

Nicky
smiled.
 
Finally
they were getting somewhere.
 
“This was
already top priority.”

“Make it the
only priority,” Sal said.
 
“You guys have
got to learn to function without me all the time.
 
I have a business to run.
 
I can’t keep running up there every time something
goes wrong.”
 
Then he exhaled.
 
“But I’ll come.”