Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho (17 page)

Big
Daddy?
 
Roz was blown away by that
name.
 
Was this woman Charles Sinatra’s
child?
 
Was Mick talking to his very own
niece?

But if he
was, he didn’t acknowledge it.
 
He,
instead, became Mick again. “It’s none of your business what I want with
him.
 
Do you know where I can find him?”

“They must
be some kin,” the younger woman said.
 
“The same nasty attitude.”

Mick almost
told that girl to go fuck herself, but Roz touched his arm before he could
react.
 
“Just get the information and
let’s go,” she whispered to him.

Since Mick
knew there would be no better place to ask, he settled back down.
 
“Do you know where I might be able to find
him?”

“You can
find him where you can always find him,” the older of the two women said.
 
“At his office.”

Roz wanted
to roll her eyes herself.
 
“Where might
that be?” she asked the foolish lady.

The woman
gave her a hard, dismissive look, then she looked back at Mick.
 
And told him the location.
 
Mick didn’t thank her, she didn’t deserve
thanks, but he did turn to leave.
 
But
Mick, being Mick, turned back.
 
“Next
time you look at my lady that way,” he warned, “I’ll take those big-ass eyes of
yours and shove them down your big-ass throat.”

The woman
was stunned.
 
She held her hand to her
heart, seemingly disgusted by such language.
 
But Roz smiled.
 
It was what her
rude ass deserved.
 
And they left the
diner.

“And you ask
me why I left this backward shithole,” he said as they got back into the car.

“I’ll never
ask again,” Roz said, and Mick actually managed to smile.

But his
smile was completely gone by the time they drove the few blocks to a storefront
office and saw
Sinatra, Inc.
written
across the plate-glass window in semi-circled letterings.

“This is his
office?” Roz asked as the Maserati stopped at the curb near the front of the
building.

“Apparently,”
Mick responded.

“I was
expecting . . .”

“Something
grand and bodacious?”

Roz
smiled.
 
“Yeah.
 
Like you.”

Mick shook
his head.
 
“He’s nothing like me, so
don’t think you’re going to find a clone of me.
 
He doesn’t do grand.
 
He keeps it
simple and practical.
 
But make no
mistake about it: he’s a wealthy man.
 
That much I do know.
 
I haven’t
kept up, but he has some reach.”

“Is he in
your category?”

“No,” Mick
responded.
 
“Nowhere near it.
 
But I’ll bet the farm he’s the richest man in
this town.”

“That girl
back there called him Big Daddy.
 
Is that
his nickname, or is she his daughter or something?”

Mick smiled.
“Nickname.
 
They started calling him that
years ago.
 
I only found out about it
when I ran into some guy who used to live here too.
 
But don’t get it twisted.
 
It’s not any term of endearment by any
means.
 
He own half the town and they
resent it, and he doesn’t put up with their bullshit.
 
So they can’t stand his guts.”

Roz smiled.
“He sounds a lot like you to me.”

Mick
playfully reached over and pinched her inner thigh.

“Ouch!” she
cried as he laughed and killed the engine.
 
But within seconds his smile faded, and he had to take a moment, before
he could manage to get out of the car.

Inside
Sinatra, Inc., Faye McKinley, the clerk, worked quietly at her desk.
 
It wasn’t until another clerk, Patsy Parner,
came out of Charles’s office looking flustered, did they even notice the car
outside.

“What did he
say?” Faye asked her.

“He said
no.
 
He said it wasn’t fleshed out
enough.
 
I busted my ass to get this
right, and he says it’s not fleshed out?”

Faye knew
how much “ass busting” Patsy did on her so-called project, and it was next to
nothing.
 
“It needs work,” Faye
said.
 
“I told you that already.
 
And you know he’s not going to just accept it
because you threw it together.”

“I didn’t
throw it together.”

“Yes, you
did.
 
You had a good idea about a daycare
solution for the working mothers who rent his properties, but you didn’t
consider everything there is to consider.
 
Like who’s going to run this daycare, and who’s going to pay the people
who run it.
 
Those are major issues,
Pats.
 
I know what he likes, and he’s not
going for that.”

“You sound
like you’re his woman or something.
 
I
bet Miss Jenay wouldn’t like that.”

“Please.
 
I’m not interested in that man like
that.
 
He’s just my boss.
 
Nothing else.”

“Yeah,
right,” Patsy said, and was about to plop down in the chair behind her desk
when she looked out of the big window.
 
“Dang,” she said.
 
“Where did that
come from?”

Faye looked
at Patsy, wondering what in the world was she talking about, and then she
looked where Patsy was looking.
 
And she
saw it too.
 
“Wow.
 
Nice car.”

Then Mick
stepped out of the nice car.
 
Patsy and
Faye both smiled.

“You can
have Big Daddy,” Patsy said.
 
“I’ll take
him!”

“He’s gorg,
that’s for sure,” Faye agreed.

But when
Mick walked around to the passenger side of the nice car, and opened the door
for Roz, and Roz stepped out, Patsy frowned.
 
“Who is
that
?”
  

“Could be
his assistant or something,” Faye said.
 
“He looks like a prosperous man.
 
How should I know?”

“He looks
like a big dick man,” Patsy said, “and I want in.”

Faye
laughed.
 
“If Mr. Sinatra hears you
talking like that he’ll fire you on the spot.
 
Besides, I’ve heard tell that Big Daddy’s dick is the biggest dick ever
created, so this guy can forget it.”

Patsy
laughed.
 
“You are so stupid,” she said.

And Mick and
Roz entered their world.

Faye
smiled.
 
“Hi,” she said jovially.
 
“May I help you?”

“I’m looking
for Charles Sinatra,” Mick said.

“Do you have
an appointment?”

Mick looked
around the place.
 
“Do I need one?”

“Oh.
 
Well, no, sir, I was just asking.
 
Who may I say wishes to see him?”

Mick
hesitated.
 
The rubber was about to meet
the road.
 
“Mick Sinatra,” he said.
 
“His brother.”

Faye and
Patsy both were shocked.
 
Neither were
alive when Mick first left Jericho, but Faye had heard that he had an estranged
brother.
 
She stood up.
 
“I’ll let him know that you’re here sir. . .
I’ll be right back.”

Faye tried
to walk unrushed to the office in the back, but she failed miserably.
 
She was practically running.

She knocked
one time and then walked in, closing the door behind her.

Charles “Big
Daddy” Sinatra was leaned back behind his desk, rocking in his swivel chair, as
he read over a contract to acquire the land near Hikeman’s Park.
 
His oak-brown suit coat was haphazardly
thrown over the back of his chair, but there was no doubt about his taste: he
was elegantly clad in a brown dress shirt, brown and blue suspenders, and brown
dress pants.
  
His tie, a lighter brown
and blue, rounded out the package.

Faye walked
up to his desk. “Excuse me, sir, but there’s someone out front to see you.”

Charles had
not looked up.
 
“Did you see Patsy’s
proposal?” he asked her.

“Yes, sir, I
saw it.”

“What did
you think?”

“I thought
it wasn’t ready for prime time, and I told her so.”

Charles
looked at her.
 
“Yet you allowed her to
bring that shit to me.”

Faye
swallowed hard.
 
“Well, yes, sir.”

“Whenever
Ashley isn’t here, you’re in charge.
 
You
know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And since
Ashley is on vacation, and will be for the next two weeks, that means you’re in
charge.
 
I promoted you to number two and
allowed you to run my office staff so I wouldn’t have to worry about that
staff.
 
If they have a presentation, let
them run it by you.
 
If you don’t think
it’s ready, don’t allow them to bring it to me.
 
That’s how it works.
 
Follow me?”

Faye
nodded.
 
“Yes, sir.”

Charles sat
up straight and tossed the contract on his desk.
 
“Who’s here to see me?” he asked.

Faye
exhaled.
 
“Your brother, sir.”

Charles’s
every movement stopped.
 
Even his
heartbeat hesitated.
 
It was as if he was
suspended in time.
 
He looked at Faye.
 
“My
what
?”

“Your
brother, sir.
 
He says his name is Mick
Sinatra and he’s your brother.”

Charles’s
heart dropped.
 
He hadn’t had a
conversation with Michello in decades.
  
And now he was here, in his office?
 
He was here, in Jericho?
 
Charles
was stunned.
 
He was flabbergasted.
 
He was about to stand up, but the blood
rushed to his head and he had to sit back down.
 
His heart was now hammering.

He looked at
Faye.
 
“Give me a minute,” he said.
 
“And then bring him back.”

“Yes, sir,”
Faye responded and hurried back out front.
 
She informed Mick that he would be with him in just a few minutes.
 
“Have a seat, please,” she added.

Mick and Roz
took a seat against the paneled wall of the small space.
 
And Mick’s heart was hammering too.
 
He saw Charles for a brief minute and from a
long distance away, back in 2010, when Mick had to take care of their father
situation.
 
Other than that one
encounter, they had not laid eyes on each other since Mick was a teenager.
 
Now they were both grown men with grown
children, and about to meet again.
 
It
was a tough situation for both of them.

Mick looked
at Roz.
 
She looked as nervous as he
did.
 
And he regretted that he didn’t
wait until they were married before introducing her.
 
She deserved to step out as his wife, not his
fiancée.
 
If this town was anything like
he remembered, they weren’t going to believe they were engaged anyway.
 
It was how they thought around here.
 
They created a scenario with no basis in
fact, and just believed it even in the face of a mountain of contradictions.
 
They believed it anyway.
 
Mick knew he had to do this, but that didn’t
mean he was looking forward to doing it.
 
For some strange reason seeing his big brother again felt like the
hardest thing he ever had to do.

When Mick
looked up again, Faye was hanging up her desk phone.
 
She stood up.
 
“You may come with me, sir,” she said.

Although Roz
would have preferred to wait out front and let the brothers have their moment
alone, Mick didn’t even consider it.
 
He
held her hand as if he was holding on for dear life, as if he was forcing her
along.
 
She squeezed his hand too, and
leaned against him as they walked.