Reno Gabrini: For His Lover (The Mob Boss Series Book 14) Page 3

  “Are you done with the complaints?” Andre asked with a smile.

  “Boy, I ain’t playing with you,” Jazz said as she pulled a cigarette out of her bag. “What you got?”

  Andre didn’t like her tone. In fact, he liked nothing about Jazz Hannity. Except her proximity to the Gabrinis. Except for the fact that she could get them in the door. “I told you I was going to make it happen,” he said. “Didn’t I tell you that?”

  “It just better be worth it,” Jazz responded, lighting up. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  Andre handed her his cellphone. She began swiping through a serious of pictures. “Are those worth it?” he asked.

  Jazz was smiling. The more she swiped, the more she liked what she saw. “When did you take these?”

  “Tonight. They left before you could get here. But they were right here, Jazz.”

  Jazz was stunned. She looked at him. “They were here? In Shady’s?”

  “In Shady’s, girl. I was shocked myself. Big wigs like them think we’re too stupid to know who they are. That’s why they run to places like this to have their little affairs. But I know Reno Gabrini. I’d know that fucker anywhere.”

  Jazz puffed on her cigarette and looked at more pictures. She felt as if she had just won the lottery and, if she played her cards right, would collect handsomely. “This could be our ticket, Dre.”

  “Ticket my ass,” Dre said. “This could be our passport out of this bitch forever. We do this right, we can make a fortune, Jazz. A gotdamn fortune! But that’s only if your calculations are right.”

  “They’re right. That’s why I asked you to follow him. I knew sooner or later his ass would mess up. I knew sooner or later the real Reno Gabrini would stand up and prove me right.”

  “And that’s what I call standing up,” Andre said. “All hugged up with her like that? All intimate like that with a woman that ain’t his wife? But will it be enough?”

  “No,” Jazz said bluntly. And handed him back his phone. “Not for Trina. She thinks Reno can walk on water. We’ll have to damn near catch him in the act before she’ll believe it.”

  “But these pictures are some damning shit,” Dre said. “You saw how close they were. That ain’t no friendship kind of close. That’s fuck buddy close. This Trina will have to be a fool in love to think it’s anything but what it is.”

  “I know that and you know that. But you don’t know Tree. She’s stupid loyal to his ass. She wasn’t loyal to me, and I was her friend before she knew Reno existed, but she’s loyal like a crazy woman to him.”

  “What we need,” Andre said, “is for the woman in these pictures, his lover, to cooperate with us. If what you’re saying is true, we’ve got to catch him in the act.”

  “We’ve got to catch him in the act,” Jazz said again, nodding her head. She had lost considerable weight from her younger days, but was still voluptuous. “That’s the only way Tree will believe it. But why in the world would that woman cooperate with us, Dre? What’s in it for her when she’s got the prize in her bed already?”

  “We’ve got to hope she’s no fool,” Andre said. “We’ve got to hope she understands that she might have Gabrini in her bed for a minute, but his wife has him in her heart forever. If she understands she’s just another one of his hoes to be exposed and dumped, she might just play ball.”

  Jazz still seemed unconvinced.

  “Just let me check her out,” Andre said. “I’ll see just how badly she can use a big payday too. Because if we can get her on our side?” he shook his head. “Gotdamn, Jazz. The sky would be the limit for us.”

  “It’s a win-win for me, Dre, you just don’t know. Me and Tree used to be closer than sisters. We were tighter than tight when we worked at Boyzie’s. Now I’m some gotdamn hairdresser on my feet all day long, barely able to pay my bills, and she’s Mrs. Las Vegas. Even got her own clothing store. She kicked me to the curb, Dre. She did me wrong.”

  Even Andre could hear the bitterness in her voice.

  “She kicked me to the curb like I was a piece of garbage,” Jazz continued. “But now that shit is turning. Now she’s going to be the one feeling the pain. She’ll finally see what I’ve been telling her all along. She’ll see for herself that her man ain’t shit, never was shit, and never will be shit. He love her and fifty other women beside. That’s what I used to tell her. But she wouldn’t listen.”

  Was this about getting paid, Andre wondered as he listened to Jazz, or about revenge? Then he realized everything was.

  Jazz puffed on her cigarette as if she was reliving old scenes in her head. “But I’ll give it to Reno,” she said. “He’s a cheating dog, with all kinds of women. But he loves Trina the most. She’s his number one, that’s why he married her. And Trina loves him to death. Against anybody’s better judgment, she loves that cheating dog. I can’t wait when that love shatters in her blind-ass face and she realize I was right all along.”

  But Andre had his doubts. Jazz could see the trepidation in his eyes. “Why are you looking like that?” she asked him. “It’ll work.”

  “We’re playing with fire, Jazz. We’re playing in the big leagues now. Reno Gabrini? Damn. If this shit ignites the wrong way, we’re burned.”

  Jazz began dousing out her cigarette. “I know. But what you don’t understand is that this is the first break I’ve had in years. Years! And you’ve said so yourself. I was Trina’s best friend though. I should be living like a queen, not like this. But I first have to get Reno out of the way. If she can turn on him, and I can be the person who showed her the light, then I’m back in her good graces. I’m back in, Dre. And now we have proof. We’ll need more, because I know Trina, but at least I know my gut wasn’t wrong.”

  “And we’ll get more proof, don’t worry about that,” Andre assured her. “I’ll get the woman in these pictures to turn. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Because once I’m back in,” Jazz said, “the money will flow like a river. Trina’s always been generous that way. She’ll give me my heart’s desire, and you’ll be right by my side, once Reno and his longtime bullshit is finally exposed. That what I said to Trina time and time again is right.”

  “You were right about another thing too,” Andre said.

  Jazz looked at him. “What’s that?”

  “When Gabrini goes to do his dirt, he goes alone. I didn’t spy any of his Security following him.”

  “Yet he has them following around Trina like she’s the one messing up,” Jazz said. “I used to tell her it’s his ass that needs GPS. But she wouldn’t listen.”

  “It’s all or nothing, Jazz,” Andre said. “Those are our margins. All or nothing.”

  “Ha!” Jazz said with a one-syllable laugh. “That’s how I roll, are you kidding me? That’s how I’ve been rolling all my life. And Reno? Damn, I can’t wait! I can’t stand him! He’ll think the gotdamn Mafia put us up to this before he could ever believe that I plotted and schemed it up all by my lonesome. That’s how he thinks. Big like that. He never would figure little people like us could ever have the balls to come for him. Oh, we’re going to play this smart, Dre. We’re going to get this right. I won’t get another chance, even I know that. This is all or nothing for me too.” And with sadness in her voice, she added: “It always is.”

  Andre stared at Jazz. Her agenda was not his agenda, but what difference did that make? They were going for Reno Gabrini. They were in this together now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trina Gabrini stepped out of her Mercedes and handed the keys to the valet. Gemma Jones-Gabrini, sitting at a window booth inside the Vegas restaurant, sipped soup with her spoon. “She’s here,” Gemma said.

  Pierre Durand looked out of the window at the African-American woman heading toward the entrance, and then back at the African-American woman across from him. “She looks, how do I say? Maximum serious?” He spoke in a heavy French accent.

  Gemma laughed. “I never heard her described that way, as maximum serious, but
yeah. She’s a very serious person.”

  “But that is not good. Serious people are often risk adverse. Do you think she will agree?”

  Gemma sipped another spoonful of soup. Pierre knew Gemma would not respond until she had completely swallowed her food. He saw her as that kind of classy lady.

  “I’m certain she will,” Gemma responded after swallowing. They were in a restaurant in southwest Vegas. It was eight in the evening, after work, and Gemma wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in her bed. Her husband, Sal, was out of town on business and she was under the weather. But this was one invite she and Trina could not turn down. “She’ll be happy to get onboard,” she said. “I’m sure of that. But she’ll need some assurances first.”

  “Funny you should say that,” Pierre said. “Monsieur Cousteau will need assurances as well. Specifically, regarding her husband. Yours too, by the way.”

  Gemma knew exactly what he meant. She and Trina both were married to Gabrinis, and all of the Gabrinis, dating back to Reno’s father Paulo, had deep mob ties. But Champagne’s was Gemma and Trina’s baby. Their husbands had nothing to do with the day-to-day operations of the high-end clothing boutique. “It seems to me,” Gemma said, “that it’s our reputations, mine and Trina’s, that he should concern himself with. Which means he has nothing to be concerned about.”

  “I’m sure he will see it that way too,” Pierre said cheerfully. “But, you know, he is who he is. I am a mere émissaire. He is reclusive. His brand is exclusive. He is at the height of his reputation, and does not want any missteps. You understand, madam?”

  Gemma did, but she didn’t respond. She knew Jean Paul Cousteau would be a difficult get. But she nor Trina would ever be willing to denounce their family name for that get. She, instead, sipped another spoonful of soup.

  When Trina finally entered the restaurant, spotted them, and began heading their way, Pierre rose to his feet. She wasn’t as exotic-looking as the darker-skinned Gemma, but she was a looker too. “Mrs. Gabrini, hello.”

  They shook hands. “You must be Mr. Durand?”

  “I am. But Pierre, please.”

  Trina, however, did not return the informality.

  Pierre smiled. “A woman who understands,” he said. “I like already. Women in business must not allow men to get too familiar with them or they will not be taken seriously.”

  Trina smiled too. “Exactly so.”

  “Then formal we shall be,” Pierre said, as Trina sat beside Gemma. He sat back down across from them both.

  Trina looked at Gemma’s bowl of soup and frowned. “What the heck are you eating?” she asked her.

  “Some Gnocchi soup or something,” Gemma said. “I don’t even know the name. It was the only kind they had on the menu. I’m trying to stave off a cold.”

  “Oh my,” Trina said. “I hope you keep it staved off of me. That’s the last thing I need.”

  “Right, yeah?” Gemma agreed. “I’m in court all week. The last thing I need too.” In addition to co-owning Champagne’s, Gemma was a practicing attorney.

  The waitress arrived and took Trina’s drink order. When she left, Trina looked at Pierre. “Now to you,” she said. “I have one very important question before we begin this meeting.”

  “Please,” Pierre said, sitting even more erect. “By all means ask your question.”

  “Is this a real possibility?” Trina asked. “Or is this just some bullshit?”

  Pierre was at first taken aback. Talk about the polar opposite to sweet Gemma! But then he smiled. He’d heard Reno Gabrini’s wife was a tough cookie. He laughed. “No bullshit,” he said as if it was one syllable, the way only a Frenchman could speak it. “I assure you he is very interested.”

  “But why us?” Trina wanted to know. “Why Champagne’s? We’re just breaking out after many years of just breaking even.”

  “That is the reason,” Pierre said. “You have answered your own question. Cousteau wish to launch his new line with a virgin enterprise, if you will. One that is not tainted with so much success that the brand gets lost in the name of its host. It is his first venture into the women’s clothing line, and he wants his new line to be separate in every way from his current line.”

  But Trina was still unconvinced. “Cousteau in Macy’s will still be distinctive,” she said. “As will Cousteau in Saks, Neiman Marcus, or any other major chain.”

  “Yes, you are right,” Pierre admitted. “But there is a further catch.”

  Trina looked at Gemma as if she told her so. Then the waitress arrived, sat down Trina’s drink, and left again. Trina looked at Pierre. “What’s the catch?” she asked him.

  “Two requests,” Pierre said. “Monsieur Cousteau will be in America in a couple months. During New York Fashion Week?”

  “He’s showing?” Gemma asked.

  “Of course,” Pierre responded. “He always shows. But it is his wish to meet with the two of you ladies before any final decision can be reached.”

  “That’s doable for me,” Trina said, although she knew Reno wasn’t going to like it. He hated when she went out of town regardless of the reason. And then she looked at Gemma.

  “Not doable for me,” Gemma responded. “I have three major cases, back to back to back, coming up.”

  “More murder cases, Gem?” Trina asked.

  “One is an extortion case,” Gemma said. “One is an embezzlement case. And one’s a murder case, yes. But it involves the head of a textile union. It’s big. I’ll be tied up for months.”

  “Not good,” Pierre said. Then he smiled. “But one of you will do,” he added.

  “And the second request?” Trina asked.

  “He will want a piece of the action,” Pierre responded. “If he does a signature line with Champagne’s, it will take off. That we all can agree. That means new stores across the country will most likely be added. You may even go worldwide. You can keep your ownership of the Las Vegas stores outright. He does not want to impede on what you built alone. But all future stores? Yes. He will want a percentage. He will want a piece of the action.”

  Gemma looked at Trina. Neither one of them had expected to have to share ownership. “We can’t give him an answer now,” Trina said. “I will have to meet with him, and then discuss my conclusions with Gem and our investors.” Their husbands were their only investors. “Then we’ll have an answer for you.”

  Pierre smiled. “Fair enough,” he said, and lifted his glass. “A toast to things to come,” he added cheerfully.

  And Trina and Gemma, hopeful but with that guarded optimism their years of experience had taught them, raised their glasses too.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “It’ll just be another sec,” the floor manager said as he left their side and twisted his way through table after table inside the rowdy casino.

  The elderly couple looked at each other doubtfully, but continued to smile. This was their vacation of a lifetime, their last honeymoon as they called it, and they were standing in the middle of their favorite gambling spot in their favorite vacation town marveling at the attention. But the idea that the owner of the PaLargio would take time out of his hectic schedule to come and congratulate them too, was probably expecting too much. But the young floor manager had insisted. “Mr. Gabrini’s not like that,” he had said. “He’ll be happy to wish you well!”

  But this was his third time saying it. They had been all over the casino. They had played more slot machines and won more chump change than most visitors could hope for. They were satisfied. But as soon as the young man had discovered why they were there, he kept insisting for them to wait.

  They decided to play one more slot machine, and then that would be it, owner or no owner. They were going to go back upstairs to their hotel room and go to bed. It was already three in the morning anyway. Although they took a long nap in the afternoon to be able to hang this late, it was still long past their bedtime.

  But just as they finished playing, and unluckily losi
ng a few bucks for a change, the husband, Maury, saw the floor manager heading their way. Only this time he wasn’t alone. “Could that be him?” Maury asked.

  The wife, Edna, looked too. She saw a good looking man with dark blue eyes and a thick head of hair. He was a muscular fellow in a fine silk suit, only his suit looked as well-worn as his eyes. And he was walking fast as thunder, like a big shot. “Could be,” she said.

  When it was obvious that the floor manager was bringing the gentleman their way, they stood to their feet, with Maury taking Edna’s elbow and helping her up.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Holcomb,” the manager said, “I would like you to meet Reno Gabrini.”

  Reno extended his hand. “This must be the happy couple,” he said with a smile, as he shook Maury’s hand.

  “Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Maury, and this is my wife, Edna.”

  “Your wife of fifty years, I hear,” Reno said as he shook Edna’s hand too.

  “That’s right,” Edna said. “Fifty years and counting.”

  “That’s saying something there. Fifty years? Gotdamn. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Maury said with a grand smile. “I know you’re a busy man, so we really appreciate the gesture.”

  “The gals in Altoona will never believe me if I told them,” Edna said. “I met the owner of the PaLargio.” Then she looked at Reno suspiciously. “If you are the owner.”

  The floor manager laughed. “He’s the owner, ma’am. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “And I take it Altoona is your hometown?” Reno asked them as he eyed one of his security staff, Albright, heading his way.

  “Altoona, P.A., that’s right,” Edna responded. “We were married there, we raised our family there. You should visit us sometime. It’s a great place to visit.”

  “Maybe I will,” Reno said as Albright, on reaching his side, whispered in his ear.

  Reno listened and then looked at his guests. “Congratulations again,” he said, shaking their hands again. “Enjoy yourselves on your fiftieth wedding anniversary, and I wish you fifty more.”