Mick Sinatra: Breaking My Heart Read online

  And then they heard the gunshot. Every officer pulled out his or her gun, and ducked in a defensive posture. But gunshots didn’t affect Mick the same way. He stood there, his gun already drawn although nobody saw it, as he sized up the situation. The shot was from inside the building, from the basement area. Which meant the studio. Which meant the gunman might have shot a hostage. The gunman might have shot his wife! His heart pounded.

  Then the side door of the basement flew open, and the student, her left leg dragging, ran out.

  “She’s a student!” many of Roz’s staff began yelling to police. “Don’t shoot! She’s a student!”

  But it was Mick who didn’t hesitate. It was Mick who jumped the barricade, and ran to her.

  “Hold your fire!” the chief ordered, when his men, confused, wondered if Mick was the enemy. “Hold your fire!”

  Mick grabbed the young girl, lifted her into his arms, and ran back toward the barricade. But not before getting as much information as he could off of her. “Where’s your teacher?” he asked.

  “Inside,” the young lady said, crying in agony from her gunshot wound.

  “How many gunmen?”

  “One. Just one man.”

  “Is your teacher alright?”

  “Yes, sir. But he came there to kill her. That’s why he’s there. He plans to kill her. He’s desperate, sir. He’s going to kill Miss Graham,” she said just as an officer ran up to them, and took her out of Mick’s arms.

  But Mick knew what desperation led to. He knew that if he didn’t get his wife out now, he would not get another chance. And he did it. He pulled a second gun out of his back pocket and hurried toward the very side door the young lady had just exited. The police chief was ordering him back, police officers were waving him back, but he wasn’t listening or looking. His entire focus was getting inside of that studio while the gunman was still spooked by the young lady’s escape, and put a bullet in his brains. Waiting for the cops to set up perimeters and establish contact and get fucking blueprints was going to get his wife killed.

  Not today, Mick thought, as he hurried into the still open side door with both guns pointed. The gunman quickly turned toward him, and was ready to fire, but he was no match for Mick the Tick. He was down, and dead, with one bullet. But Mick fired several more shots in rapid succession. Just in case. And just because he put his wife, and those young people, through all of this hell.

  The students were screaming even after the shooting stopped, and once they realized the big man with the two guns was the same man who had been there earlier, and was Roz’s man, they ran out of the side door without thanking him. That would have to come later. It was each man for himself right now.

  But Mick wasn’t concerned about any of them anyway. He was a man others depended on. He couldn’t risk his life for strangers. He risked his life for Rosalind.

  When the smoke cleared, she was still sitting against the side wall, her legs drawn up and her elbows resting on her legs, looking at the downed gunman.

  As Police came in to take control of the gunman, cuffing and frisking him and reading the Miranda warning to him as if he was still alive, Mick went over to Rosalind and knelt in front of her, his smoking guns still in his hands. He could see the heartbreak all over her pretty face. He could feel her anguish. He took his finger, and lifted her chin up. He needed to look into her devastated eyes. It was only when she looked into his big, green eyes did she blink.

  “I know you’re upset right now,” he said, “but I need to ask you a question. A very important question.”

  Roz was focused again. She waited for the question.

  “Who was he?” Mick asked. “Was he somebody related to your agency, or somebody related to me?”

  Roz understood why he asked it. “This agency,” she said, and she could see the relief wash all over Mick. It was one thing to have a disgruntled former employee, or former client in a hostage situation. It was something altogether different to have an enemy of Mick’s holding hostages.

  Mick nodded. “Finally, I wasn’t the issue,” he said with a half-smile, attempting to ease her discomfort, but also to tell what he was truly feeling.

  Roz loved Mick when he smiled, not because he was some goody two-shoes who never did shit to anybody. He was the very opposite who did a lot of shit to a lot of bodies. But because he didn’t bullshit. He didn’t ask her if she was okay (she wasn’t), and he didn’t tell her everything was going to be alright. With him by her side, she already knew it was.

  As tears began to wet her already bright eyes, she leaned to him, and fell into his big arms. Mick pulled her closer and held her so tightly that he thought he was going to squeeze her to death. But that was how he felt. She wasn’t clinging to him. He was clinging to her.

  And she rested her head onto his strong, broad shoulders.

  Beyond the police tape, far across the street, the Town car was parked. When Mick walked out, with Rosalind in his arms, Bulldog Valtone exhaled. Another failure. Another loser who couldn’t even avenge his girlfriend’s suicide right. But it was just a matter of time. There was still Paris. There were still other ways to end Sinatra’s reign. It was just a matter of time.

  He pointed his finger, and his driver drove him away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Security was tight, with more than the usual armed men outside of the gate at the Sinatra compound, when Mick’s Maserati drove up. Roz’s new Bentley, driven by one of Mick’s men, drove in behind them. And the guards, with a nod from Mick, entered the code for the gate to lift open. And they drove on through.

  As soon as the front door opened at the Sinatra home, and Roz and Mick walked inside, Gloria and her half-brother Joey hurried to them.

  “You alright, Ma?” Gloria asked her.

  “I’m alright,” Roz said. “I’m okay. Where are the twins?”

  “In the Nursery. I’ll get them,” Gloria said and left to do just that.

  But Joey was smiling. “We saw Dad on TV. It was like he was saying, ‘forget this shit, I’m going in myself!’ And he went in and got you without any police assistance. That was boss, Dad. That was superhero shit!”

  Mick was always uncomfortable with Joey’s hero-worshipping of him. It was uncalled for on every level. But that was Joey. With his baggy clothes and gold chains and tats, he looked more like a rapper than one of Mick’s crew. But he was a decent strong man. Not the best. He was no Teddy. But decent. But just thinking about it, reminded Mick. “You heard from your brother?” he asked Joey.

  “No, sir. We called him a couple of times, text him too, but he hasn’t returned our messages.”

  Roz looked at Mick. “Call him. He’ll answer you. Make sure he’s okay.”

  Mick pulled out his cellphone as they made their way to the sofa and he and Roz sat down. Joey, sitting beside Mick, sat down too.

  As Roz predicted, Teddy answered Mick’s call almost immediately. “Hey, Pop,” he said over the phone.

  “Why didn’t you return your brother’s phone call?”

  “I was going to, just didn’t get around to it yet. What’s up?”

  “Everything okay where you are?”

  “Everything’s good. Why? What’s up?”

  “Rosalind was involved in a hostage situation, but it’s been resolved.”

  “Hostage? Geez. Is she alright?”

  “She’s fine. It’s been resolved.”

  “Was it related to you, or?”

  “Not me, no.”

  Mick could hear Teddy sigh relief. “Then what?”

  “Some client’s boyfriend nonsense. But listen to me: return phone calls when you get them from your siblings too. It might be urgent.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When are you due back?”

  “In a couple days. But I can move some things around and leave now if you need me to.”

  Teddy was Mick’s enforcer, in addition to being his second-in-command. “No. Enjoy your vacation. We’ll see you when you get
back.”

  “Can I speak to Roz?”

  Mick looked at Roz. She was leaned back with her eyes closed. “Call her later,” he said. Teddy said okay, and the call was ended.

  Roz looked at him. “He’s okay?” she asked.

  “He’s okay.”

  “What happened, Ma?” Joey asked. “Who was that guy? They interviewed some of your staffers, but they said he never worked there.”

  “He didn’t,” Roz said.

  “Then who was?”

  “Remember when a group of my clients rebelled and left my agency all at once?”

  Joey nodded. “Because they thought Dad was Mafia and they didn’t want to have anything to do with you because of that.”

  Roz nodded. “His girlfriend was one of those clients. I wouldn’t allow her to return to the Graham Agency when her career stalled.”

  “You didn’t let any of them come back,” Joey said. “You told them you wouldn’t before they left.”

  “That’s right. But she apparently blamed me for her lack of work in the business, became distraught, and apparently committed suicide.”

  Mick looked at Roz. “Ouch,” Joey said. “For real?”

  That sad look reemerged in Roz’s eyes. “That’s what he said. And he blamed me for her suicide. That’s why he was there.”

  “Damn,” Joey said. “That’s tough, Ma. Sorry about that.”

  Roz took Joey’s hand and squeezed it. “Thanks, Joey.”

  Then Gloria and one of the nannies arrived with the twins in their arms. Mick noticed that it was the first time Roz smiled since the event, and she reached for them. The twins smiled too, and began kicking their feet as Gloria put Jacqueline in her arms, and the nanny handed over Jacqueline. Mick took control of Mick, Junior, whom everybody called Duke, and positioned him on Roz’s lap too. Then he placed his arm around Roz.

  Joey smiled too when he saw his half-siblings, but a sadness came over him when he saw Rosalind with her children. He thought about his deceased mother, and how she died at Roz’s own hands. The wound was still healing, but it wasn’t healed yet. He stood up. “I’d better get back to work,” he said. “Dad’s got me and my crew protecting shipments. A big one is due in tonight.”

  He leaned down and kissed Roz on the cheek.

  “Be careful,” she said and looked into his eyes. She saw the sadness there too.

  “I will,” Joey said, and smiled at the twins. He wanted to hug his father too. He always felt a well of emotion whenever his father came around. But he knew his father. Hugging wasn’t an option. “Bye, Dad,” he said.

  “Goodbye,” Mick responded, and Joey left.

  And later that night, after dinner, after Gloria had left, and after the twins were long since asleep, Mick finally crawled into bed with his exhausted wife. But instead of making love to her, as he always did every night they were together, he pulled her into his arms. He kissed her forehead. He held her all night.

  By morning, when Roz woke up, Mick was lying there staring at her. Roz smiled and turned toward him. “Good morning.”

  Mick traced his thumb across her lips. “How did you sleep?”

  “Good. I didn’t think I would. Falling asleep in your arms helped.” She looked at Mick. “Thanks.”

  Mick frowned. “Don’t thank me.” He pulled her into his arms again. “It was the least I could do.”

  And then they were eyeball to eyeball. Mick’s heart began to feel that ache again when he thought about how close to death she came. And how devastated the twins would have been if they didn’t have their mother’s nose to pinch or her wonderful scent they were accustomed to. And how devastated his grown children would have been. Especially his oldest son Teddy, who was closest to Roz. And Mick. He would have been most devastated of all.

  He lifted her chin up to his mouth, and kissed her. “The threat is over,” he said. “You hear me?”

  “This threat,” Roz responded, a look of resigned pain still in her eyes. “Yes, it’s over. I know.”

  And she laid her head back on his shoulder. But Mick’s heart was hammering. Because he knew, by virtue of who he was and what his family automatically had to endure, she was absolutely right. This threat was over. But what about all those other threats, with men far more deadly that some grieved boyfriend, yet even to be revealed?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Later, after showering together, Mick and Roz were back in their bedroom, dressing together. Roz, still naked except for the bathrobe she wore, was in their room-sized closet trying to decide what she was going to wear. Mick was at the center aisle, in the same closet, ripping open a package of new t-shirts. He hadn’t bothered to put on a robe. His thoughts were on Rosalind, and what that piss-ass punk forced her to endure. And how she was doing everything in her power to ignore that horror. He looked at her as he continued to rip open the package. “Don’t you think you should take the day off?” he asked.

  Roz nodded. “I should,” she said, “but I can’t. The students will be back. The teachers will be back. My clients will be back. They expect me to lead by example and be back as well.” She pulled out a pencil skirt and examined it. “We’ve got to get back to normal sooner or later. It may as well be now.”

  Mick loved her mental toughness, but he also knew she had a tendency to repress. “Want me to go to work with you?” he asked.

  Roz smiled, looked at Mick, and they both laughed. “Yes, Daddy, you can come to work with me today.” Then she exhaled. She really appreciated his concern. “I’m good, Mick. For real.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes for a brief moment, and then they both went back to what they were doing. She wasn’t there yet, and he knew it. But he also knew she wasn’t going to admit it in a million years. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked her.

  Roz pulled out a flare dress, with a big belt, and examined it. “Talk to you about?” she asked absently.

  “Yesterday, before that gun nut showed up, you said you wanted to talk to me about something.”

  Roz had to think about it. Then she remembered. “Oh, that,” she said. Given all that had gone after, she had forgotten. “It’s about a job,” she said. “I’ve been offered a chance to play the role of a lifetime, Mick.”

  Mick didn’t expect that answer. She helped her clients get gigs, and her students. He thought she was long since out of that aspect of the business. Why would she want to go back into that hell? “A role?” he asked her.

  Roz knew it would take some convincing Mick. He knew the pain she endured, before they hooked up, when she was a struggling actress in New York. But she also knew dreams never died, and her dream, though she tried to supplant it, was as alive as air. “A friend of mine is casting for a revival of A Streetcar Named Desire, and wants me to play the female lead. To play Blanche Dubois.”

  Mick remembered the movie. It starred Marlon Brando. He began putting on his t-shirt. “But wouldn’t that be an all-white cast?”

  “It was originally,” Roz said with a nod, “but this is a revival and they purposely want it multi-ethnic. The cast will be diverse. It’s a trend on Broadway now.”

  Mick liked the sound of that. He liked that trend. But he also knew how brutal show business could be. Roz still had the scars to prove it. He didn’t want her to get hurt again. “Do you actually have the role?”

  Roz knew what he meant. “All but,” she said.

  Mick stopped and looked at her. “Rosalind, don’t get cute with me. What does that mean?”

  Roz exhaled. Here goes. “It’s mine to lose,” she said. “That’s the best he can promise me. I have to audition, and if I don’t fall apart the way my students did on their auditions, then I’ll get the role.”

  “But nothing’s guaranteed?” Mick asked.

  Roz hated it too. But that was how it was when you weren’t an A-lister. “Nothing’s guaranteed,” she said. “But I really want to do this, Mick. If I get that part, it could reinvigorate my career. A career, as yo
u recalled, that I gave almost all of my adult life to before I met you. I think it’s worth a shot.”

  Mick hesitated. Roz’s heart was pounding. If he didn’t allow it, she would have to call and cancel. Nothing was getting in between her and her man, not even her dream. But she really wanted this.

  “When is the audition?” he asked her.

  “Three days from now. I haven’t even begun reviewing my lines, but I’ll have it together by then.”

  Mick hesitated again. Roz just knew he wasn’t going to go along. But then he shocked her. “If it’s what you want,” he said, “then I’ll stand by you one hundred percent.”

  Roz’s heart leaped with joy and she ran to Mick. She fell into his arms. “Thank you, baby,” she said as she held him.

  But he held up a finger, and pulled her back. “No chasing waterfalls,” he said. “You hear me, Rosalind? If that audition doesn’t pan out, you will not chase down the next rejection. I won’t allow it. You will go back to being the brilliant agent and acting coach that you are, and tell that waterfall to kiss your ass.”

  Roz smiled. And then a serious look appeared on her face, and she nodded. “I can live with that,” she said, and kissed him.

  But when Mick looked into her eyes, and saw that look of love that always turned him on, he wasn’t about to let her get away with just one kiss. He did last night. But last night was different. When her lips moved away from his, as if that was all it was going to take, he turned her chin back to his face. He looked down at that mouth he craved, and kissed her vigorously.

  They both held each other tighter, and immersed themselves in the kiss. He moved his hand between her legs and began fingering her vagina as they kissed, and she could feel his growing erection against her thigh. She touched it, and it grew. But the kiss was so good, they couldn’t stop. They kept kissing, long and lovingly.

  But when Mick’s erection became unbearable, he lifted her into his muscular arms, she wrapped her legs around his muscular body, and then he entered her with a hard, possessive thrust.