Big Daddy Sinatra 3: The Best of My Love (The Sinatras of Jericho County) (20 page)

Ashley
stared at her adopted father.
 
She never
had a good relationship with her deceased biological mother, so she never
missed her.
 
But she missed her
biological father so much that sometimes she felt guilty loving Charles and
Jenay and her newfound siblings as much as she did.
 
It felt almost like a betrayal to her.
 
Quince Franklin, her biological father, was a
good man, she felt, who turned to crime only because he had to take care of her
and Carly.
 
She sometimes felt guilty
that maybe Quince’s need for fast money had everything to do with her desire to
live the good life and therefore might have caused him to turn to crime.
 
And his crime spree caused him to get into
that shootout with police that ended in his death.
 
Jenay made Ashley and Carly both go to
therapy years ago to deal with their troubled childhood, and Ashley remained in
therapy today, but it didn’t change how she felt.

And that
was why she was not about to do anything to ever make another man feel as if
she was not worth it.
 
She decided that
if she didn’t do anything else right, she was going to please men right.
 
She therefore smiled.
 
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she said.
 
“I’m not easy in any way.
 
I may laugh and talk with guys, but that’s as
far as it goes.
 
Trust me on that.
 
And I have the grades to prove it.
 
I’m going to do better than Carly this term,”
she said.
 
“Mark my words.”

Brent
drove up the long driveway that led to his front door and got out of his truck
exhausted.
 
He wore spandex shorts and a
sweatshirt, and felt the need for sleep growing stronger by the second.
 
Because he worked so late he was not able to
get to the gym until after eleven tonight.
 
Since the gym closed at midnight, he barely had time for half the
workout he usually preferred to do.
 
But
he worked up a sweat nonetheless.
 

He
grabbed his gym bag and towel out of his cab and headed for his front
door.
 
Tony’s car was there, which was
not unusual.
 
Tony spent almost as much
time at Brent’s house as he did at his own home.
 
But Donald’s Jeep was there too.
 
That was unusual.

Donald,
in fact, opened Brent’s front door before he could.
 
“Hey, Brent,” he said jovially as Brent
walked in.
 
“How was your workout?”
 
He looked down at Brent’s shorts and
sweatshirt.
 
“You look jock-ish.”

Tony
was inside Brent’s large great room sitting at the piano.
 
“He looks jock-ish?” Tony asked as he played
around with a tune.
 
“What is that?
 
Is jock-ish the opposite of what you look
like?
 
Such as punkish?”

“I
was not talking to you,” Donald said.

“Ah,”
Tony replied, “but I was talking to you.”

“Knock
it off you two,” Brent said as he dropped his gym bag and towel near the
entrance and headed for the kitchen.
 
“Don’t bring that shit in my house.”
 

Brent
realized Ashley was also there, sitting on the sofa.
 
“I thought Dad said you and Donald were on
the outs.”

“We
were,” Donald said, sitting down beside Ash.
 
“She was angry at me for calling Dad on her.”

“I’m
still angry with you,” Ashley said.
 
“You
need to grow up.”

“You
need to stop going to dangerous parties,” Tony said.

“You
need to stay out of my business,” Ashley shot back, “that’s what you need to
do!”

“Amen!”
Donald said.
  
“She’s still mad at me,”
he said to Brent, “but she knows I have her back.”

“And
I have yours,” Ashley said.
 
“Which
brings us to the reason we’re here.”

“You
mean you guys aren’t here just to get on Brent’s nerves?” Tony asked.
 
“That’s a switch.”

Brent
grabbed a bottled water out of his frig and took a long swig, and then he
walked over to a flanking chair and sat down.
 
“Don’t you have classes to attend in the morning?” he asked Ashley.

“I’ll
be to class on time.
 
Don’s going to take
me back early in the morning.”

“I
don’t know how,” Tony said. “You’re in Jericho every time I turn around.
 
Either you’re here, or Donald’s on his way to
Boston to bring you here.
 
Or to party
with you there.
 
You must be a genius to
keep up that kind of social life, and graduate too.”

“But
guess what?” Ashley said.
 
“I may party,
but I’m still graduating and graduating on time.
 
So I must be a genius then.”

Tony
almost choked on his own spit.
 
They all
waited for him to have some zinger of a comeback, but he could only shake his
head.
 
“It’s too tempting,” he said.

“So
what are all of you people doing in my house this time of night?” Brent asked.

“You
people?” Donald asked.
 
“We’re your
family.
 
We have a right to be here.”

“Tony
has a right to be here,” Brent made clear.
 
“He has a key.
 
You and Ash are
trespassing.”

“Very
funny,” Ash said.
 
“Just tell him what
you want,” she said to Donald.

Donald
leaned forward.
 
He and Ash, Brent
thought, were like two peas in a pod although they had such different
personalities.
 
“As you know,” Donald
said to his oldest brother, “Dad made Bobby manager over all of his rental
properties.”

Brent
didn’t respond.
 
It was a fact that
needed no clarification.

Donald
continued.
 
“And if you and Tony and even
Carly wanted to work for Dad, he’d put all three of you in charge of something
major too.
 
Like right away.
 
He’ll give every one of his children a major
position.
 
Except me.”

“Don’t
forget Ash,” Tony said.
 
“He wouldn’t
give her a major position either.
 
And
for good reason.”

Ashley
and Donald both looked at Tony.
 
“What
good reason?” Ashley asked him.

“You
and Donnie are . . . what’s the word?
 
How do I say it, Brent?”

“Screw
ups,” Brent said as his home phone began to ring.

“That’s
the word!” Tony said.
 
“Neither one of
you are reliable people.
 
I’m sorry to
break it to you, kids.
 
You just aren’t.”

Brent
answered his phone.
 
“Sinatra,” he said.

“Brent
it’s me.”
 
It was Eddie Rivers.
  
“Just wanted to let you know that I finally
convinced Ira Stockton, our venerable D.A., to accept the case.
 
He finally thinks the arrest is justified and
he will be prosecuting.”

“Thank
God for that,” Brent said.
 
“That punk
has gotten away with too many burglaries in this town for far too long.
 
I’m tired of hearing Ira claim we don’t have
enough evidence.”

“I’m
with you on that,” Eddie said.
 
“Now he’s
onboard with us.
 
It took hours upon
hours of arm twisting, but he’s onboard.
 
But guess what else I heard while I was over there twisting his arm?”

“What?”
Brent asked.

“I
heard that your girl, that our Miss Special Prosecutor Makayla Ross, has
decided to recommend Release for your grandfather at that hearing in the
morning.”

Brent
couldn’t believe it.
  
“Release?”

“That’s
what I heard.
 
The state isn’t even going
to request a new trial.”

“Are
you sure?”

“I’m
positive,” Eddie said.
 
“At least that’s
what Ira’s claiming she told him.
 
Isn’t
that a damn thing?”

But
Brent was too stunned to respond.
 
He
hung up the phone and then began heading for the exit.

Donald
jumped up too.
 
“Where are you going?”

“I’ll
be back,” Brent said.
 

“But
I need you to talk to Dad, Brent.
 
That’s
why I’m here.
 
Brent?
 
Brent!”

But
Brent was not responding.
 
He hurried out
of the door.

Donald
looked at Ash.
 
She shook her head.
 
“I told you we were wasting our time,” she
said.
 

The
banging on the door stunned Makayla.
 
She
was in bed, and had been for some time, although she was sitting up in bed
reviewing notes.
 
But the idea that
somebody would knock on her door this time of night, and banging like some
madman, concerned her.

She
closed her folder, sat it on the nightstand, and got out of bed.
 
She was dressed in her usual sleep attire: a
sheer nightgown that barely covered her ass but was slightly more comfortable
to her than sleeping outright nude.
 
She
slipped into her slippers and grabbed the matching robe, which was just as
sheer as her gown, but at least she was sufficiently covered.
 
The fact that she had nothing more
substantial sleepwear, however, was a testament to how certain she was that
nobody would just drop in on her uninvited while she was in this town.
 
Nobody, at least not in Jericho, knew her
like that.
 

She
made her way down the hall, across the living room, and up to the front door,
she peeped through the peephole.
 
When
she saw that it was Brent, she was surprised, but also a little thrilled.
  
She hadn’t seen him since he took her to see
his father on Monday, and even before then they rarely saw each other.
 
She was constantly at the D.A.’s office or
the police station when she was in town, but Brent was rarely around.
 
He kept his distance from her after the night
she turned him down sexually, and that was fine by her.
 
And, if she were to admit it, a little
disappointing too.
 
But what did she
expect?
 
The man had his pride.
 
And besides, a man who looked like Brent
Sinatra, and undoubtedly had some serious manly attributes, was not going to
beg anybody.

But
when Makayla opened that door, it was a different Brent standing there.
 
No suit, no hat, no gentlemanly manners.
 
He burst in without invitation, in shorts and
a sweatshirt, and closed the door behind him.
 
“Is it true?” he asked her.

She
stared at him.
 
“Is what true?”

“Are
you going to recommend that my grandfather be released rather than be granted a
new trial?
 
Is it true?”

 
Makayla considered him.
 
She’d already told him it could turn out that
way.
 
Why was he so stunned?
 
“Who told you that?” she asked.

“What
difference does that make?” he asked her.
 
“Are you going to recommend that the judge release my grandfather at
that hearing in the morning?”

“It’s
already morning.”

“Yeah,
that’s the answer I’m after.
 
Don’t fuck
around with me, Makayla!”

“Don’t
talk to me like that, Brent!”

Brent
exhaled.
 
“So I’m not Chief Sinatra
anymore?
 
That’s progress.
 
Now will you please tell me if it’s true?”

Makayla
didn’t have a clean answer. “I haven’t decided,” she said truthfully.

“But
what’s there to decide?” Brent wanted to know.
 
“How can it be a debate?”

 
“The man served 36 years in prison,” Makayla
said.

“That
man killed two people!” Brent said.
 
“And
one of those people was his wife.
 
He
killed his wife in front of her children!”

“His
wife, in case you’ve forgotten, was having sex with another man under her
husband’s roof.”

“I
don’t care if she was having sex with ten men in the middle of the street,”
Brent fired back.
 
“Wrong is wrong I
don’t care how it’s perpetrated!
 
She
didn’t deserve to die.”

Makayla
gave in.
 
“I know,” she said.
 
“I know.
 
That’s why I haven’t decided.”

Brent
walked around.
 
He had so much built in
stress he could barely contain it.
 
All
he could think about was his father tomorrow, having to come face-to-face with
Luke Sinatra for the first time in so many years after that horrific
night.
 
And then to think that he could
be released, on the streets of Jericho again.
 
Brent couldn’t even fathom it.

But
when he stopped walking and looked at Makayla, and saw the stress that was in
her eyes as well, he knew it was not her fault.
 
She was only doing her job.
 
It
was a damnable job, but it was her job.
 
And the way she looked standing there, so vulnerable yet so tough; so
beautiful yet so frail.
 
And suddenly he
realized what he didn’t realize when he first entered her home: he could see
the outline of her gorgeous naked body through the sheerness of her gown and
robe.
 
His dick, just like that, began to
throb.

Makayla
saw that changed look in his eyes as soon as the change occurred.
 
She also saw, further down, that he was
getting an erection.
 
It was especially
obvious through his spandex. And she found herself thinking about it too.
 
Just like that.
 
How would it feel, she thought, to have Brent
Sinatra’s dick inside of her?
 
His
sizeable dick, if his growing erection was any indication. It was going to be
humungous.
 
If she were to be honest, she
wanted a taste from the moment she laid eyes on him.
 
She wanted to go there.
 
Which meant, she also decided, she was
heading for the danger zone.