Monk Paletti: Taming Ashley Sinatra Read online

  “What girl?”

  “What girl? The girl we nearly lost our lives over.”

  Monk smiled. “I’m just fuckin’ with you. But no. I haven’t found her yet.”

  “Found out why she’s so important to your old man?” Teddy asked.

  “I’m about to find out now,” Monk said.

  “Let me know,” Teddy said.

  “I will.”

  “Cool. Talk to you later then.”

  “Teddy, wait up,” Monk said over the phone.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  Monk hesitated. “How’s your family?”

  “My family?”

  “Yeah. Your parents. Your siblings. Your cousins, like that girl.”

  “Like what girl?”

  “The girl at your uncle’s house. What’s her name? Ashley? How’s she doing?”

  “Wild as usual,” Teddy said. “I talked to her yesterday,” he said, “when she was at Bobby’s house.”

  “She’s okay then?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. She’s okay by Ashley standards. The entire time I was talking to her, all she could talk about was some party she was going to tomorrow night. The guy throwing the party invited her personally. Now that’s Ash. All she’s good for is a good time. She’ll never change.”

  Monk exhaled.

  “But I didn’t know you even knew her like that?”

  “I don’t know her like that. I was just wondering about her. And your family of course.”

  “Of course,” Teddy said as if he just knew better than that.

  “Anyway, I’ll let you know if something turns up on that girl.”

  “Who Ashley?” Then Teddy laughed. “I’m just messing with you.”

  Monk had to smile too, and then they ended the call.

  But Monk was still thinking about what Teddy said. Some local yahoo invited her to his party tomorrow night. Some local yahoo might just be trying to get his claws in her. And for some strange reason, that wasn’t sitting well with Monk at all. He was actually pissed.

  But duty called and when it did, he always went. That was why he got out of the car. That was why he smiled and waved at the old Italians hanging out front of the pawn shop, and joked with them before going into the diner. To meet with his old man. To find out, once and for all, just what was really going on.

  “Hey, Frankie, what’s up?”

  It was Noodles, a fat, middle-aged guy who ran the diner for his father. He wasn’t just any old worker though. He was a made man in the Bonaducci crime family and was one of their most trusted capos. Monk trusted him too. And liked him, because he never called him Monk. “Why aren’t you back there cooking up the food?” Monk joked.

  “Ah, you don’t want me cooking,” said Noodles. He was standing behind the counter cleaning beer mugs. “I don’t cook so good. We’ll lose customers left and right on my cooking.”

  Monk smiled, and sat at the counter beside his old man. Since his old man was doing his daily crossword puzzle, he didn’t disturb him. He looked around. Only a handful of people were even in the joint, and all of them were mob.

  “Frankie?”

  Monk looked at Raymond Paletti, his father, a man who called him all kinds of nicknames depending on the mood he was in. “Yeah?”

  “What’s a five-letter word for being happy?” Raymond asked, still looking down at his puzzle.

  Monk thought about it.

  Noodles smiled. “Delirium,” he said happily.

  Raymond frowned. “Get the fuck out of here!” he said. “Delirium seven-eight words, you moron! And it don’t even mean happy.”

  Noodles was surprised. “It don’t?”

  “No!”

  “Then what it mean?” Noodles asked.

  “How the fuck should I know?” Raymond asked. “But it don’t even sound like it mean happy.”

  “Well how was I supposed to know, Boss?” Noodles asked.

  “What do you mean how was you supposed to know? You count the fucking words, that’s how you know!”

  “Cheer, Pop,” Monk said.

  Raymond looked at him. “What?”

  “Cheer is a five-letter word for happy.”

  Raymond looked at his crossword, saw that it would work, and smiled. “Thanks, son. I knew you’d figure it out. A smart kid. You always was a smart kid.” Then he glanced at Noodles. “At least you got a brain, unlike some I know!”

  “Who’s the girl, Pop?” Monk asked him.

  Raymond wrote in the name cheer, and then sat his pen down. “I told you who.”

  “Who’s the girl, Pop?”

  “I told you who! A friend of a friend’s daughter. She went missing, so he came to the family for help. We’re helping.”

  “You don’t send me out to help a friend of a friend. Noodles maybe, but not me. Who’s the girl, Pop?”

  Raymond frowned. “What difference does it make?”

  “My ass almost became roadkill. Teddy’s too.” Then he pointed his finger at his old man. “That’s what difference it makes! Now tell me who’s the girl.”

  Raymond was looking at his son. “They came at you?” he asked them.

  Monk exhaled. “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “One spotter, and two hit men at first. Then a third one showed up.”

  Raymond was surprised by that. “Where?”

  “Canada.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Couple weeks ago.”

  Raymond frowned. “A couple weeks ago? And I’m just finding out?”

  “I needed to run down the lead I had. I didn’t want to ask or answer any questions until I did what I had to do.”

  “What lead you got?”

  “Vinny Blanks may have some involvement.”

  Raymond was surprised. “What his ass look like snatching somebody?”

  “I didn’t say he snatched her. I said he may be involved. His kid brother was the third shooter.”

  “You took his ass out I know.”

  “Me and Teddy took him out, yes.”

  “Did you find Vinny yet?”

  Monk shook his head. “No. That’s why I want answers. Who’s the girl?”

  Raymond exhaled. “First of all,” he said, “she’s not a girl. She’s a woman. She’s somebody I used to know, okay? Just leave it at that.”

  Monk couldn’t believe it. “One of your whores? You got me risking my life, not to mention my best friend’s life, to find one of your whores? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

  “Watch your mouth,” Raymond said. “She’s not a whore.”

  “Then who is she?”

  “I told you who. Why you keep asking me that?!” Then he settled down. “What else you found out?”

  “Whatta you mean what else? Nothing else. They tracked her to Canada like you said. She was holed up in Quebec for a while, but had been taken by some guys just before we got there.”

  “Damn!” Raymond said. “Vinny’s guys?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, yeah.”

  “Fucking Vinny Blanks! Wait till I get my hands on him. What’s he doing involved, though?”

  “I don’t know that yet. How would I know that yet? I got heat out on him. Just have to wait until something breaks.”

  “It better break soon,” his father said.

  Monk stared as his father continued complaining up and down about how he should have solved the old man’s problem by now. “If it was the old Frankie, he would have found that girl days ago!”

  And Monk just sat there and took it. All he did for that man! All the sacrifices he made for that man. Now his life was a bucket of shit, and the old man was still complaining. He hated this shit!

  But Monk also knew why his life seemed bearable two weeks ago, then he met Ashley and suddenly . . . Suddenly what? It was unbearable? He wouldn’t go that far. But it was lacking. That was how he felt about his life as he listened to his father. His life was hanging in the balance, and falling short. He
thought about the old mobsters out front. And Noodles.

  And he made up his mind! Just like that. He stood on his feet while his father was still complaining.

  And Raymond had the nerve to look up at Monk surprised. “Where you going? You just got here!”

  “I got a plane to catch,” Monk said.

  “Your plane?”

  “No. Your plane. Yes, my plane, Pop! Whatta you asking me something like that for?”

  “Where you going?” Raymond asked him again.

  “Just like that whore, excuse me, girl, woman, or whatever the fuck she is, is your business? Where I’m going is mine.” Monk began leaving. “Later, Noodles!”

  “See ya’, Frankie!” Noodles yelled back.

  “Be back by tomorrow,” Raymond said. “We have a family meetin’ tomorrow.”

  Monk was making no promises, especially considering the trip he was about to make. He left without comment.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Food and Gas was the name in lights over the front door of Donald and Ashley’s two-pump convenience store, and Donald was inside with a biker chick he was trying to get to know better.

  “Let me see it,” he said to her. They were behind the counter, sitting on stools.

  “I told you I don’t have one,” said the biker, a tall white woman with big breasts.

  “Come on, now,” Donald said playfully. “Who do you think you’re fooling? Everybody’s got that special, secret tattoo. Show me.”

  When she grinned, Donald knew he had her exactly where he wanted her. “Come on, now. You can show ol’ Donny. I won’t ever mention it to you or tell anybody anything about it. Just show me this one time.”

  “Why you need to see that?”

  “Because I do. Boy, do I!” And he wasn’t joking. It was Friday night and there hadn’t been a customer for nearly an hour. He was bored out of his mind. “Just show it to me,” he said to the biker, “and that’ll be that! We can move on to other topics.”

  The woman hesitated again, as if she knew she was going against her better judgment, but she decided to do it anyway. She lifted her shirt, and then her bra.

  Donald smiled when her boobs popped out. He forgot to even look at that ridiculous tattoo. “What is it?” he asked her, when he finally looked at it. It looked like an indistinguishable blob on her left breast.

  “It’s what it appears to be,” the woman said.

  “Which is?” Donald asked.

  Before the woman could answer, the bell clanged outside, notifying Donald that he had a customer, and Donald looked outside. When he saw a big, black SUV drive up, not to the pump, but to the front door, he looked back at the biker. He wanted to know just what kind of tattoo she had before the customer got out of his SUV and came into the store. But she had already pulled back down her bra and shirt.

  “So what was it?” he asked her again.

  “It’s a bald eagle, dummy,” she said.

  Donald wanted to laugh in her face. That blob of paint on her breast was no eagle at all, let alone a bald one! But he only smiled. “Clever,” he said, and stood up when the door to his store opened, creating a different bell clang. He was shocked when he saw who it was.

  “You’re back in town already?” Donald asked him. “I haven’t seen you in Jericho twice in two weeks since never.”

  Monk felt so exposed walking into that little store that he almost wanted to walk back out. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he even there? Even Donald could see he had no business being there. But it was done now. He was there. He was back in Jericho.

  “What are you doing here?” Donald asked him. “And please don’t tell me you needed gas.”

  No, motherfucker, I needed a bag of chips, he started to say. But he caught himself. That would have been just nasty. Donny was a good kid. “Where’s Ashley?” he asked him instead. “I figured she’d be here tonight. At work.”

  “Ashley at work on a Friday night? Really? In your dreams!”

  Monk found that a curious way to put it, since Ashley had been front and center in his dreams since the night he met her. “Where is she?” he asked Donald.

  Donald started to ask why he wanted to know that, but he didn’t. Monk would rip his head off if he got smart with him, was the main reason. “Where she always is on a Friday night: partying.”

  Monk looked around. Teddy had already told him that was where she’d be. A part of him was hopeful that he’d been front and center in her dreams since they met, and she decided against going out. He realized how insane that sounded just looking at Donny’s curious face.

  Donald was so curious, in fact, that he risked a head rip and asked him. “Why you want to know where Ashley’s at?” he asked. He knew why intellectually. Monk was apparently smitten with his sister. But it still seemed so odd to him! Boyish kind of men, the kind who hadn’t grown up yet, were attracted to Ash. Not a man’s man like Monk Paletti. He was going to be head of a mob family someday for crying out loud. He even owned his own plane while Ashley could barely pay her car note!

  But then again, Donald thought, they say opposites attract.

  Monk knew he should have quit while he was ahead. This wrongheaded idea of coming back to Jericho was crazy on its face, and now even more so. He should have just gotten back in the SUV, got back on his plane, and took his ass back home.

  But he couldn’t. For some unearthly reason he just had to see her again. “Do you have any idea where she might be partying?” Monk asked.

  “Sure. She’s over at Flint’s house.”

  Monk waited for more.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know who Flint is, would you? Well, he’s this great looking guy, former high school quarterback that all the girls around here want. He personally invited Ash to his party.” Donald knew he was laying it on thick, but he also knew he didn’t want Monk hurting Ashley. Because he knew that was all a stone cold gangster like him could ever want with Ashley: to use her and then hurt her.

  But Monk was all-in now. He didn’t come all that way to turn around. He was going to see that evening through. “What’s Flint’s address?” he asked.

  Donald was reluctant to give it to him, but he did. Because he respected Monk. Not as somebody’s boyfriend or husband, but because he was in a league with the tough guys in his family. Guys like his brother Bobby and his cousin Teddy. And if the rumors were true and he had all but taken over leadership of the Bonaducci crime family, he might just be in the same league with Donald’s uncles. But that, Donald knew, was a stretch.

  After Monk left, the biker chick was smiling. “Who was that?” she asked Donald.

  “Don’t tell me you think he’s cute too,” Donald decried.

  “Cute?” asked the biker. “He’s not cute!”

  That gave Donald some comfort. “He’s not?”

  “No!” declared the biker. “He’s better than cute.” She smiled again. “He’s dangerous!”

  Donald rolled his eyes. Nice guys like him didn’t stand a chance!

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was a big house at the end of a cul-de-sac and the partygoers were so numerous that they weren’t just inside the house, but were trampling outside on the lawn as well. Monk’s driver and bodyguard, Johnny “Jaws” Macardi, looked at him through the rearview. “Sure this the place, Boss?” he asked him.

  Monk sat in the backseat and was looking at all of the overaged adolescents. It looked like a fucking frat party to Monk too. And a woman he was interested in was attending this? He could only shake his head. Gotdamn insanity, he thought. But he was invested now. He got out of the truck.

  Inside was even wilder as locals were dancing and drinking and having what seemed like the time of their lives. Ashley, one of only three blacks in the whole house, was having a blast too. And Flint, she was happy to know, was paying her lots of attention. Many of the guys were. Her skirt was so short it barely covered her ass, and she was braless beneath a loose blouse that had her melons bouncing every time she jumped, wh
ich was often. They all wanted to get next to Ashley and feel that bounce too.

  But they also knew they had to wait their turn. Flint had first dibs. “I’ll get us something to drink,” Flint whispered in Ashley’s ear as she continued to laugh and dance with whomever was in the vicinity where she stood.

  When Monk entered the house he started looking around, and he saw Ashley just as Flint was whispering in her ear. He also saw that she was braless even from across the room. And her skirt was so short she was one dance move away from revealing all her goods. Which angered him. What was her problem? But his eyes were mainly on his competition: on the good looking guy he assumed was Flint.

  He watched as Flint left Ashley’s side and went over to the drink stand and poured two glasses of beer. He also watched as a guy walked over to Flint. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but they were in a deep one.

  “Is it time yet?” the guy asked Flint.

  “It’s time,” Flint said. “I’ll have her in the room before she passes out. I go first, and then we start the train. Got it?”

  “Got it,” the guy said, grinning. “But you better make certain she doesn’t figure it out afterwards because Big Daddy Sinatra will kill your ass if he finds out.”

  “Not gonna happen,” said Flint. “I’m an old pro. My ladies never find out. Now cover me,” Flint added as he pulled out a roofie from his pants pocket and slipped it into one of the drinks.

  Monk couldn’t make out what Flint was doing after the guy moved behind him, blocking all views, but when Flint emerged with two drinks and headed toward Ashley, Monk had a damn good idea what he’d done.

  And from the opposite side of the room, he began making his way toward Ashley too. Although he stood out like a sore thumb in his suit and hat and given his age compared to the partiers, Ashley was having so much fun that she didn’t even notice he was anywhere near her.

  But when Flint made it to her side far quicker than Monk could work his way through the crowd, while keeping his eyes on Flint the entire time, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Ashley turn down the offer to take one of Flint’s glasses of beer. Monk stopped, and watched.