Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho (18 page)

When the
door opened, and they walked in, Roz noticed how unpretentious the office
was.
 
Almost barren and singularly
unimpressive.
 
But Mick noticed the man
in the office.
 
His brother Charles.
 
The years had been kind to him.
 
He still had that rugged handsomeness that
Mick remembered.
 
And he still had that
big, muscular, youthful frame.
 
It was
laughable to Mick to think that Charles’s nickname was Big Daddy.
 
But now, as he stood behind his desk, as Mick
remembered the parent role Charles had to assume for Mick and their sister when
he was only thirteen years old, that name fit him like a glove.

And Mick
decided to go with that.
 
He smiled
grandly as he and Roz headed toward the desk, his hand outstretched as he
walked.
 
“Hello there, Big Daddy!
 
How the hell are you, man?”

Charles
moved from around his desk to greet his younger brother, but he wasn’t quite
sure how to react to all of this jovialness.
 
His brother was a virtual stranger to him now, but Mick was never this
upbeat.
 
“How are you?” Charles
asked.
  
He knew it was his brother, just
by those hard-edged eyes alone, but it was still a jolt.

And when
they shook hands, instead of hugging, even Roz knew this was all wrong.
 
They were both in denial and both were
suppressing the hell out of their emotions.
 
She wanted to say something, but she knew it would only make it worse.
 
Some things spoke for themselves.
 
She had to let it play itself out.

And within
moments it did.
 
Because as soon as Mick
was about to remove his hand from his brother’s hand, Charles pulled him closer
and gave him a big bear hug.
 
Mick
quickly embraced Charles too.
 
And it
wasn’t a simple embrace.
 
They were
moving closer and closer and holding each other tighter and tighter.
 
Even their eyes were tightly shut.

When they
stopped embracing, Roz noticed how they avoided each other’s eyes.
 
She couldn’t tell what was going on with
Charles, but she could tell Mick was misty-eyed.
 
He even turned slightly away from his
brother, and wiped one time.

Charles
noticed it too.
 
That was why he
immediately turned his attention to Roz.
 
“Are you with this guy?” he asked with a very charming smile.

Mick could
have kicked himself for not introducing her right away.
 
What was he thinking?
 
He felt so unlike himself that he didn’t know
how to behave.
 
He placed his hand around
Roz’s waist and pulled her up alongside him.
 
She was content to be in the background, but Mick wasn’t about to allow
it.
 
“I want you to meet my fiancée,
Rosalind Graham,” he said.

“Hello,
Rosalind,” Charles said, shaking her hand.

Roz
smiled.
 
“Or Roz,” she said.
 
“Mick is about the only person who
consistently calls me Rosalind.”

“Well it’s
certainly a pleasure to meet you, Roz.
 
And she’s your fiancée?” Charles asked.

“She is,”
Mick said.

Charles
nodded his head.
 
“Very good.
 
Now I’m impressed.”

“My better
half to be sure.”

“I know what
you mean,” Charles agreed.
 
“I have one
too.”

Mick
frowned.
 
“You have what too?”

“A better
half.
 
A wife.”

“Oh.” Mick
smiled.
 
He waited to hear more about his
wife, about his family, but Charles didn’t volunteer anything.

Roz had
expected more too.
 
It was a very awkward
pause.
 
Then she began to wonder if maybe
what Mick said was true.
 
Maybe this man
did think of Mick as nothing more than a street corner thug who didn’t want him
to have anything to do with his family.

“Have a
seat,” Charles said as he motioned toward the chairs in front of his desk.
 
“Both of you, please.”

“We aren’t
interrupting anything?” Roz asked.

“Nothing at
all,” Charles insisted.
 
“But thank you
for asking.”

Mick placed
his hand in the small of Roz’s back and escorted her to one of the chairs.
 
After she sat down and crossed her legs, Mick
unzipped his bomber jacket and sat down too.

Charles sat
on the front edge of his desk, with his long legs outstretched and his muscular
arms folded.
 
“You aren’t my little
brother anymore,” he said as he stared at Mick.
 
“You’re big as I am.”

“Almost,”
Mick replied.

“You’ve been
taking good care of yourself, I see.”

“I do what I
can.”

Charles
continued to stare at Mick with eyes that had such sadness in them to Roz.

“What about
you?” Mick asked.
 
“I hear you
practically own this entire town.”

“That’s what
some people in this town would have you believe.
 
But I own a portion.
 
A sizeable portion.
 
But not
all
by any means.”

“Hasn’t
changed much around here, has it?”

“Not much.”

“I always
thought of this town as a gossipy, uninvitingly cold place, and it still feels
that way.”

“It has that
element.
 
But it can be warm and
welcoming too if you give it a chance.”

Mick grinned
and nodded his head.
 
“I gave it a
chance.
 
Then got the hell out.”

“And never
came back.”

“I came back
once,” Mick said, and he and Charles exchanged a glance.

They both
remembered the time Mick returned to town for the sole purpose of insuring that
their father’s release from prison and newfound freedom was short-lived.
 
And thanks to Mick it was as short as a
matter of minutes.
 
Charles saw him
briefly on that day, as he completed his task and was about to drive away, and
he nodded at him.
 
But Charles felt like
a hypocrite that day.
 
He allowed justice
to be served outside of the judicial system.
 
Street justice.
 
But he did not
regret his support.

“So what’s
the deal?” Charles asked his brother.
 
“You guys were passing through, or what?”

“Yeah, we
were just . . .” Mick wanted to lie.
 
He
wanted to claim it was all a chance encounter and he was ready to move on.
 
It was obvious to him that Charles wasn’t at
all comfortable with this little get together.
 
But lying would defeat the entire purpose.
 
They didn’t come all this way to turn back
around.
 
“Actually, no,” he
admitted.
 
Then he looked his brother
dead in the eye.
 
“I came to see you.”

It was a
tough admission for Mick, and Roz knew it.
 
It took all he had to say something like that.
 
And from the look on his brother’s face, a
look that bordered on alarm, she understood Mick’s hesitancy.

“Me?”
Charles asked.
 
“You came to see me?”

Mick
nodded.
  
“It’s been such a long
time.
 
I thought we were overdue.”

A look came
across Charles’s handsome face that was hard to read.
 
It seemed nostalgia mixed with a lot of guilt
and regret.
 
And some skepticism too.
 
“But why?” he asked.
 
“And why now?”

Mick didn’t
have to think long.
 
“I fell in love,” he
said, taking Roz’s hand.
 
“I’m trying to
do the right thing.”

Charles
stared at him.
 
It was a brief stare, but
years of emotions swept across his face.
 
“So you’re telling me you’re no longer doing any of the bad stuff?”

Mick knew he
couldn’t bullshit Charles.
 
Not when they
were kids.
 
And not now.
 
“I’m not telling you that, no.”

“Worse than
the Mafia,” Charles said.
 
“That’s how
one newspaper described you.”

“Yeah, ten
years ago.
 
I’m not into that shit that
heavily now.”

“But you’re
still into it?”

Mick had
already answered that question.
   
He
wasn’t answering it again.
 
He was no
angel and he wasn’t trying to pretend to be one.

“Where are
you staying?” Charles asked.

In other
words, Mick thought,
you aren’t staying
with me
.
 
“We didn’t reserve
anything.
 
We’ll find a room.
 
No sweat.
 
And look, if this little reunion is making you that uncomfortable, we
can always leave.”

“I’m not
uncomfortable,” Charles said.

“Yeah, you
are,” Mick said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

Charles pounced.
 
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what I
am?
 
If I was uncomfortable, I’d say so.”

Roz waited
for Mick to attack.
 
He didn’t take
backtalk from anybody, not even her.
 
And
when she looked at Mick she could see him poised to strike.
 
But he didn’t strike.
 
He held his fire.
 
It astounded Roz.
 
Mick took a backseat to no man, but he was
taking a backseat to his brother.

Charles
rubbed his forehead.
 
He was obviously
upset by his outburst.
 
“You guys drove
up?” he asked.

Mick
hesitated, but he responded.
 
“Yeah.”

“From
Philadelphia?”

“That’s
right.”

“How long do
you plan to stay?”

As long as it takes
, Mick wanted to say.
 
“I haven’t thought about it,” he said
instead.

Charles
stood up.
 
“Let me get my keys,” he said,
as he began walking behind his desk.
 
“I’ll get you guys settled at the B & B.”

Mick and Roz
stood too.
  
“A Bed and Breakfast?” Roz
asked.

“Yup.”
Charles grabbed his suit coat.
 
“It’s
called The Jericho Inn.”

Mick
smiled.
 
“That place still around?”

“It is.
 
I bought it years ago.
 
It’s the best hotel in town now.”

“If you may
say so yourself,” Mick said.

“If I may
say so myself,” Charles replied with a smile.
 
And the three of them left the office.

But once
outside on the sidewalk, Charles looked at Mick’s expensive car.
 
And all of his good will was thrown out the
window again.
 
What was he doing?
 
His brother was a gangster.
 
He couldn’t condone this!
 
“That yours?” he asked Mick.

“Yeah, it
is.”

“How do you
get to afford a car like that?
 
Running
drugs or running hookers or running both?”

“Hookers and
drugs?” Roz asked.
 
“Mick is the Chairman
and CEO of Sinatra Industries, one of the most respected companies in this
country.
 
What are you talking about?”

“I know what
he runs,” Charles said.
 
“I also know
what else he runs.
 
And if you expect me
to be okay with it, then your expectations far exceed mine, young lady.
 
I am not okay with it.
 
I will never be okay with it.”

Mick walked
up to Charles.
 
They were now toe to toe,
face to face.
 
“You can talk to me
however you choose.
 
You can treat me
however you like.
 
But you will not talk
to Rosalind however you chose.
 
You will
not treat her however you like.
 
Make no
mistake about it.
 
If you disrespect my
lady, I will kick your ass.”