Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho (27 page)

The battle
had moved to the opposite side of the basement, and Mick was now huddled behind
an old dresser reloading his weapon.
 
But
his enemies were advancing.
 
And when he
reloaded and turned to aim and fire, he shot and killed the fourth gunman.
 
But the expert marksman was still alive.
 
He turned in the opposite direction, in
search of that gunman, but as soon as he turned he found himself staring down
the muzzle of a magnum 357.

Most men
would throw up their hands and admit defeat.
 
Mick, instead, shoved the muzzle away with the barrel of his own gun,
rolled from around the dresser, and made a run for it.
 
He was almost near the stairwell, but a
bullet hit him in the leg.
 
And he went
down one way, and his gun, his only protection, went down another way.
 
And then the man kicked his gun further away,
and walked up to him.
 
When Mick looked
up, he realized it was Tex D’Amato.

“It’s over,”
D’Amato said, his gun pointing directly at Mick’s face.
 
“My ex son-in-law didn’t take your son out
the way I instructed him to, and that was a pity.
 
That was why I didn’t care that you took him
out.
 
It was reasonable to me.
 
He was a failure anyway, he couldn’t even
stay faithful to a wonderful woman like my daughter.
 
He got what he deserved.
 
It was reasonable to me.
 
But it wasn’t reasonable to my grandchildren,
whom I adore.
 
They actually wanted to
have their father around a little longer.
 
So for their sake, I have to handle my business.
 
I have to kill the man that killed their
father.”

Then D’Amato
smiled.
 
“I’m going to enjoy this.
 
You act like you’re king of the mountain
around here anyway.
 
Everybody treats you
like you’re the king.
 
But we both know
who the king is now.
 
The fact that I’m
up here looking down at you, the great Mick Sinatra, should settle that
question once and for all.”

Mick was ready
to grab D’Amato’s legs from underneath him.
 
He wasn’t going down without a fight.
 
But D’Amato was no fool.
 
As soon
as Mick was about to reach, D’Amato beat him to the punch.
 
He aimed his weapon, and Mick heard the
gunshot.

Mick tried
to roll away, but he couldn’t move.
 
D’Amato, he realized, had fallen right on top of him.

The weight
of the man took Mick’s breath away.
 
He
didn’t understand what happened.
 
Why
was he still alive and D’Amato
was lying on top of him
dead?
 
Mick didn’t have a lot of strength,
his leg was bleeding badly, but he had enough strength to knock D’Amato off of
him.
 
And when he did, he looked up at
the top of the stairs.
 
Joey was up
there, and Roz was standing behind him, and his smoking gun was still smoking.

Roz began
running down the stairs to aid Mick.
 
Mick, so relieved he could hardly believe it, fell back onto his back.

“Are you
okay?” Roz asked when she arrived, and then she saw the blood coming out of his
leg.
 
“God, no!”
 
She quickly took off her jacket and began to
apply solid pressure to his wound.
 
Mick
applied pressure too.
  
“We already
called Danny and Archie,” Joey said as he started hurrying down.

“And 911,”
Roz added.

“I thought I
told you two to get out of here,” Mick said.
 
He was barely able to speak.

“We got
out,” Joey said, as he knelt down beside his father and applied pressure
too.
 
“But Miss Roz had a better idea.”

Mick
smiled.
 
“Miss Roz?” he asked Joey.
 
“A little more respect, is it?”

“Nall,” Joey
said.
 
“Not a little more.
 
A lot more!
 
She really loves you, Dad.”

Mick looked
at Roz.
 
With his free hand, he squeezed
her arm.

“And you
know what?” Joey asked.

“What?” Mick
looked at his youngest child.

“I love you
too, Dad,” Joey said for the very first time in his life.

Mick was not
a sentimental man.
 
He didn’t like this
kind of talk not even with Roz.
 
But he
could have heard those words all day long.
 
“I love you more,” he admitted to his son, for the first time too.

Mick stood inside
the dressing room and stared back at the man in the mirror.
 
His four children stood behind him, and his
big brother stood beside him.
 
But he was
still a ball of nerves.

“It’s
normal,” Charles assured him.

“The fuck
you say,” Mick replied.

“I know what
I’m talking about.
 
I’ve done this twice,
alright?
 
You’re about to give up your
freedom.
 
That’s a scary thought.”

“You can
always back out, Dad,” Adrian said with a grin.

“No, he
can’t,” Joey shot back.
 
“That wouldn’t
be fair to Miss Roz.”

Everybody
looked at him.
 
“What are you looking at
me for?
 
It wouldn’t!”

“Since when
did you care?” Teddy wanted to know.

“I didn’t
say I cared.
 
I was just stating a fact.”

They
laughed.
 
Gloria ruffled Joey’s thick,
dark hair.

But when Charles
looked at his brother, Mick still appeared to be unhinged.
 
“Could you guys excuse us for a moment?” he
asked his nephews.

Teddy saw
his father’s uneasiness too.
 
“Sure,
Uncle Charlie,” Teddy said, and ushered himself, and his siblings, out of the room.

“The one
name you never liked us to call you,” Mick said, “is the very name my kids
immediately took to calling you.
 
Charlie.”

“Uncle
Charlie at that,” Charles said with a smile.
 
“But no fear.
 
My wife slips and
call me that name too.”

“Your wife calls
you uncle?” Mick asked half-jokingly.

“Only in
bed, hotshot,” Charles shot back.

Mick
laughed.
 
“You would say that,” he said.

“But you
have wonderful children, Michello,” Charles said.
 
“You should be proud.”

“No thanks
to me,” Mick said.
 
“And I am proud.”

“Especially
with the change in your youngest.
 
He
came through for you in that safe house.”

“Yeah, he
did,” Mick agreed.
 
“He’s growing up, and
I still can influence him.
 
And I intend
to.”
 
He looked at Charles.
 
“What about your youngest boy?
 
What’s up with Donald?
 
He still buying crystal meth on credit for
his girlfriends?”

“He’d better
not,” Charles responded.
 
“But Donald’s
Donald.
 
He hits sometimes.
 
He misses sometimes.
 
But he’ll be okay.
 
He’s still my baby.”

“Not your
youngest, but your baby?”

Charles
laughed.
 
“Right.
 
But yeah, we have good children, Mick.
 
We’re very blessed men.”

Mick
exhaled.
 
“I’m just sorry Sprig couldn’t
. . . didn’t make it out too.”

“Yeah,”
Charles said, understanding what he meant.
 
“Me too.”

Then Mick
exhaled as he checked his tie in the mirror one last time, and then turned to
his brother.
 
He was relying on a cane
after the gunshot wound he suffered, and was now standing with a hand-carved
one by his side.
 
But he was otherwise in
excellent shape.
 
“I guess it’s about
time to get out there,” he said, and then he stood tall.
 
“How do I look?”

Charles
paused at the magnificent picture in front of him.
 
Mick was always a handsome man.
 
But now he was elegant too.
 
“You look like a good man, Mick,” he
said.
 
“You look like the embodiment of a
second chance.”

Mick knew
exactly what Charles meant.
 
“I used to
think happiness was a mirage,” he said, “and joy to me was great sex or closing
some major deal or making big money.
 
Then Rosalind caught my eye.
 
I’ve
never seen a lovelier sight.”
 

“It’s all
about second chances,” Charles said.
 
“It’s all about God’s grace.
 
The
opportunity to make things right.
 
With
your God.
 
With your woman.
 
With your children.
 
And especially with yourself.
 
That’s the real gift you’ve been given.
 
How you handle it is up to you.”

“Your
advice?”

“Don’t blow
it,” Charles said.
 
“You won’t get
another shot like this again.”

Mick looked
at his brother in all sincerity.
 
He
clasped his arm and squeezed.
 
“I’m going
to make the most of it,” he promised.
 
“I
won’t blow it.”

Charles
smiled.
 
“And if you do,” he added, “I’ll
still love you anyway.”

Mick nodded
his head.
 
They were middle-aged men now,
not kids anymore.
 
But this gift, this
second chance, could not have come at a better time.

The music
started and the church went quiet.
 
Mick
stood up front waiting, with so much joy in his heart that he could barely
contain it.
 
But he did.
 
With the help of Charles, his best man.
 
His groomsmen were his four sons and four
nephews, and they were a source of support too.
 
He looked out, into the audience, on his side of the church.
 
Brent’s wife Makayla was sitting there, and
Jenay, Charles’s beloved wife, was there too.
 
On one side of her was their little girl Bonita, leaned against her, and
their grandson, Brent, Junior, leaned and bored too.
 
Their two gorgeous daughters, Ashley and
Carly, were also in attendance.

Mick was
filled with emotion.
 
It was a family he
was only just beginning to know, and they all came.
 
He even felt the presence of his long-time
driver Deuce McCurry.
 
He couldn’t make
it.
 
He was still recovering from his own
gunshot wound.
 
But they had a vacant
seat, with his name on it, in his honor.
 
But just knowing he had support now, he had people now, made a beautiful
day all the more enchanting.

Mick looked
over at the bride’s side of the church too.
 
Rosalind didn’t have much family, but she had tons of friends.
 
Her side was practically filled as well.
 
Her handsome brother Tyson was there, along
with her friends, but her mother, true to her word, was an empty seat.
 
Mick felt it was a shame.
 
Life was too short for grudges.
 
But she was standing on principle.
 
She didn’t want her daughter to marry beneath
herself.
 
Rosalind could do better than Mick,
she said, and Mick would never dispute that.
 
But she stood on principle at the expense of her daughter’s
happiness.
 
Mick would never go along
with that.

But if her
mother’s absence was affecting her, Roz wasn’t showing it at all as she entered
the church and began walking down the aisle.
 
She looked as if this day was the happiest day of her life.
 
Mick looked adoringly as she marched, with
her father at her side, down the long aisle to the front.
 
He kept wiping mist from the corner of his
eye as he stared at his bride-to-be.
 
It
felt as if he was in an open field and was able to watch a sunset so brilliant,
and so beautiful, that it startled his eyes.
 
She wore all white, so gorgeous against her black skin, in a gown that
cost Mick thirty grand.
 
But he would
have gladly paid more, much more, for Rosalind.

Charles
leaned against his brother as he watched Roz too.
 
“You lucky dog,” he said, and Mick smiled.

And then
Cecil Graham arrived with Roz, and handed her over.
 
Only he whispered in Mick’s ear at the
exchange.
 
“Mistreat her,” he whispered,
“and I’ll pull one of your numbers on you.
 
But it’ll be worse with me.
 
Because I’ll put some stank on it.”

Mick had no
idea what the man meant, but he smiled anyway.
 
Cecil backed away, back to the father of the bride’s seat, but not a
muscle in his body was smiling.
 
He meant
every word.

And then
there were two.
 
Mick and Roz.
 
They looked at each other, grinned a knowing
grin, and then looked at the minister.
 
Dearly beloved
, the preacher began.

And that was
it for both of them.
 
Roz finally found
her dearly beloved.
 
She found the man of
her dreams.
 
Mick finally found his
dearly beloved.
 
He found his dream.
 
A woman he never thought existed.
 
A virtuous woman.
 
They both felt ten feet tall, towering above
the crowd, as they stood on lover’s shoulders and repeated their vows.

And
afterwards, at the reception, when it was time for their first dance as Mr. and
Mrs. Michello Sinatra, it was a given.
 
The band stood down, a CD turned on, and they danced to their song.
 
To Stevie Wonder’s
For Once In My Life
.

For once I
can say,

This is mine,
you can’t take it.

Long as I
know I have love I can make it.

For once in
my life,

I have someone who
needs me!

And Mick
dipped Roz low.
 
So low that she thought
he was going to drop her.
 
But he lifted
her back up with ease.
 
Their families
and friends applauded wildly at his coolness and skill.
 
And Roz rejoiced.
 
Because everybody knew, and she knew best,
that Mick Sinatra wasn’t about to let her down.
 
He had her.
 
He had it all in
control.