Mick Sinatra: Breaking My Heart Read online

  “What do you want from me?” Wyatt asked. “You want her in the lead role? Is that what you want?”

  “I wouldn’t allow her to be in any play of yours if it was the last play on earth,” Mick spat out, “and her life depended on it to boot. No. I don’t want her in your play.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to kick your ass,” Mick said, and proceeded to do just that.

  Wyatt balled up and covered up, like the coward he was, but Mick didn’t care. He kept on kicking. And then he got down and began punching him. “You say she’s not good enough,” he said. “I say she’s too good to be associated with scum like you.”

  “If you say she’s too good, and I say she’s not good enough,” Wyatt cried, as he laid on the floor and took Mick’s beating like a punk, “why are you beating on me?”

  “For saying it,” Mick said, and continued to beat him. Then he got up and began kicking Wyatt Grien again like the dog he took him for.

  The ride back home was quiet and painful. So quiet and so painful that Mick wondered if he had made the right decision. He could have forced the issue. He could have made Wyatt Grien put her in his play and give her top billing. But he didn’t think she would want that.

  He looked at her as he drove. Was he right? “I can make it happen,” he said.

  Roz, at first, didn’t respond. Then she turned her head toward him. “What do you mean?”

  Mick knew she understood. But he also knew she needed this exercise. She needed him to understand how deeply this hurt her. As if he didn’t already understand it. “If you want to be in that play,” he said, “I can make it happen.”

  Roz exhaled and looked back out of the window. “No,” she said. “I have to get it because I earned it, not because you, quote unquote, ‘made it happen.’ I couldn’t live with myself if the only way my dreams came true was through intimidation.”

  Mick respected her integrity. But did she understand those producers and directors had none? “It was your role to lose,” he said. “Why do you think you lost it?”

  “Ethan said they decided to go in a different direction.”

  Mick glanced at her. “And you say?”

  “I say they wanted a white girl,” Roz said bluntly.

  Mick was impressed. Roz was nobody’s fool. “Why would you think that?” he asked.

  “Because I know that’s how it goes in my profession. I’ve gotten roles because I was black. I’ve lost roles because I was black. Same for white girls. They gain, they lose. It’s the way it works in show business. I wouldn’t have shown up at all if Ethan hadn’t said I was who he wanted to cast.” Roz frowned. “I would have never put myself through this.”

  Mick’s heart dropped through his shoe. He placed her hand in his. “I can make it happen,” he said firmly.

  Roz looked at him. Tears stained her eyes. But she managed, somehow, to smile. “No,” she said. “No more chasing waterfalls, right? No more chasing waterfalls for me. I’m too damn old.”

  Mick smiled too. It took a lot for her to give up her dream. Again.

  But he had an idea. An idea he had been thinking about as he stood in that hall and listened to those two cowards. Roz was never going to get a fair shake. Not if clowns like those were in charge. “Find a play you would like to star in,” he said.

  Roz looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Find a play you feel will bring out the best of your talents. You will star in it and be the casting director. And I’ll produce it, and bring it to Broadway.”

  Roz couldn’t believe it. She sat up straight. She stared at him.

  Mick wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, or offensive to her. “What?” he asked. “Is it that bad an idea?”

  Tears dropped this time. And Roz let them drop freely. She shook her head.

  “Rosalind, what is it? What’s wrong? Is it a bad idea?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s a wonderful idea, Mick. We’d be in charge of everything.”

  “Everything,” Mick said. “From start to finish. And when you finish hiring the right people, and putting it together the way a production is supposed to go together, then I think you will be the toast of Broadway. Unlike those jerks you’ve had to rely on your entire career, I’ll do right by you, Rosalind. You’ll be in charge.”

  Roz was so overcome with emotion that she unbuckled her seatbelt and went to Mick. She hugged him with a hug filled with so much love and gratitude that Mick had to lift his head to see where he was driving. He smiled, and then laughed, as she showered kisses and I love yous all over his gorgeous face.

  If his men could see him now, they wouldn’t believe it. Mick the Tick has a heart? they would ask each other. And Mick would gladly tell them no, he didn’t. Because Rosalind had his heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “That’s right, Teddy. That’s right, baby. Do mama right. Do me right, baby. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Oh, hell yeah. That’s how you do me!”

  She was an American and she was a talker. Throughout their entire session, she was running her mouth. But he was accustomed to all kinds. She could sing torch songs for all he cared. Teddy Sinatra just wanted to cum.

  It had been a tough couple weeks in Paris. His crew was in disarray, with the metropolitan police hounding them about shit they had nothing to do with, but knowing they were up to no good and hounding them anyway. His suppliers were scared to make any moves now that the heat was on, and the demand by his customers were off the charts. A demand he couldn’t meet.

  And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, he had to keep all of this shit from his father. If Mick the Tick ever found out that his oldest son, an enforcer for his own crime syndicate, was one of the biggest drug dealers in Europe, there would be hell to pay. His father hated drugs. Felt as if drug dealers were killing weaklings and devastating families and there was no honor in it. But Teddy saw it a different way. He wasn’t selling to kids. He was selling to grown men and women who could make their own decisions. It was business to Teddy. No different than his old man’s numerous, and shady businesses.

  Fucking Mimi, which was what she called herself when he picked her up at the club, was just a way for Teddy to drown out the noise. And he fucked her hard. This was no love match. She wanted it hard. And he pushed into her, over and over, with strokes that wasn’t meant to show caring and caress, but hunger and need. Teddy laid down on top of her, and squeezed his ass even tighter, as he thrust into her with deeper and deeper strokes.

  She was in full blown orgasm within minutes of their union.

  But it would take several more strokes, and several more minutes, before Teddy was there yet. He had to focus his mind. But his mind was all over the place. Not only concerning his business problems, which were monumental, but concerning love itself. He often dreamed of having a woman to love, not just one to fuck. And tonight, like all those other nights in his life, love was the last thing on Mimi’s mind, and had no reason to be on his.

  She laid there, with her blonde hair spread around her, and her violet eyes bright with hope, and it was her beauty alone that got him going. When he reached the realization that love had nothing to do with it, his strokes increased. When he decided to focus on the gorgeous woman beneath him and forgot about any emotional connection, the sensuality of their coupling itself took root. And that was when he let it rip. That was when he fucked her so hard, and with such ever increasing strokes that his big, thick cock caused her to bleed and caused him to fill his condom with such a load that he had to pull out before it fell off.

  And he fell on his back, exhausted. She might have been an old broad, but she gave him a workout.

  When he woke up, later that night, Mimi was gone. Which was a little disappointing for him. Not that he loved the woman or anything like that, or saw any future with her, but he enjoyed her company. He enjoyed having that warm body in bed beside him at night. And after all these years of having so many different warm bodies in his bed at night, he was beginning
to prefer a little bit of sameness. The same body the next night. And the night after that. But what did it matter now? That was already over. She was gone.

  But so was his condom. He didn’t remember removing it afterwards. He remembered holding onto it as he pulled out of her, and then laying on his back and listening to her sad tales about her miserable life. And then she fell asleep with tears in her eyes. He thought to get up, but was bone tired himself. He pulled her in his arms, to comfort her, and fell asleep too.

  He got out of bed. Looked in the waste basket. Looked in the toilet. No sign of his condom. He heard about women stealing a man’s release and freezing it, and he usually removed his condom and flushed it down the toilet for that very reason.

  But Mimi wasn’t interested in having babies. She even told him within minutes of their hook up. Why would she care? More likely, she removed it and attempted to fondle him back awake. He caught many women pulling that trick. And most of the times it worked. But when it didn’t work this time, Mimi probably flushed it down the drain herself. Teddy loved to give women his dick. He was an equal opportunity lover. But he’d yet to meet a woman he would willingly entrust with his heart. He saw how devastated his mother was, and his siblings’ various mothers, when his father dumped them. He didn’t want to ever bear that burden himself, and he didn’t want to put it on anybody else.

  He showered quickly, put on clothes, and made his way to the bar in the front of his chateau. He went behind the full-sized counter to pour himself a drink. But in the midst of putting the glass to his mouth, he saw her. She was sitting on his sofa, slouched down, in her fur coat.

  “I thought you were gone,” he said to her.

  But he could tell something wasn’t right. He sat down his glass, and was about to walk around the bar and check on her, when he saw the blood. It was coming from her neck. And then, to his shock, he saw the deep slash on her neck. He wondered how in the world he could have missed it when he first laid eyes on her. And then, before he could process what was really going on, he heard the first kick on his front door.

  His heart raced as he ran back behind his bar and grabbed the gun beneath the counter, one of the many weapons he kept around his chateau. He cocked it, and began firing as soon as the door kicked open.

  But the fire power that came back at him was far more intense, because there were far more weapons firing at him than anything he could have ever assuaged. His father always taught him to never fight a losing battle. Get the hell out and live to fight another day.

  He ducked down beneath the bar as the gunfire blazed. He knew he had to get the hell out. He knew this fight was for another day. He had to make a run for it. And he did. He ran from behind the bar, staying parallel with the bar, and then dived toward the back room. A hail of bullets met his dive and barely missed him.

  But Teddy was determined. This was a fight he couldn’t win, but he was determined to live to fight another day. And then he’d get these fuckers. Then he’d get his revenge.

  He ran down the hall. He could hear the footsteps and bullets following him with what sounded like even faster progression than he was making. But he didn’t give up. He ran into the bedroom, slinging the door shut as he did.

  But the gunmen kicked that door open too, and ran in behind him. He lifted the bedroom window. The bullets sailed just as he jumped out. He landed on his feet and began running. But he was around the corner, to get lost in gay Paree, before any of the gunmen could regroup and jump out behind him.

  By the time they left, there was no sign of the swift of feet Teddy Sinatra.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Mick leaned back in his executive chair and listened to both sides. Ari Blunt, his senior VP, was having his say, while Gloria Sinatra, his Director of Marketing, was standing beside his desk chomping at the bit to have her say. It all felt petty to Mick and unworthy of his valuable time, but he remained silent.

  “I felt it was my duty,” Ari said, “to make that executive decision, and I don’t feel I should have to answer to some DM who just got the job and barely knows what she’s doing.”

  “I may have just gotten the job,” Gloria said, “but I know exactly what I’m doing.” She looked at her father. Her big, hazel eyes were bright with concern, and her forcefulness reminded him constantly of her mother, an African-American beauty with whom he once had a torrent affair. Although he had two twin babies with his current black wife, that had not been his norm. Of his four grown children (one deceased), Gloria was the only biracial one. And of his three grown children still living, Gloria was the only one who took to his legitimate business, to Sinatra Industries, with the kind of raw talent and ambition he had hoped to see in the other two. Teddy had talent and ambition, but the wrong kind, and Joey, the youngest of his three grown children, just wanted to be a thug.

  “What Ari fails to realize,” Gloria continued, “is that I’m the Director of Marketing, not him. The PR department falls under my purview, not his. I interviewed and was about to hire the PR Director I felt best fit the needs of SI, but he overruled my selection and put his own hire in the position. That was uncalled for, sir. If I’m going to be allowed to do my job, I have to be allowed to do my job.”

  “I have to be allowed to do mine as well,” Ari said. “And last I looked, the DM department was under my jurisdiction. And that includes the Public Relations Directorship.”

  Gloria would have none of it. “But I will be his direct supervisor, Ari,” she said forcefully, “not you. You can’t arbitrarily decide how to run my department. That’s for me to decide.”

  “With final approval from me,” Ari pointed out.

  “Says who?” Gloria asked.

  “Says me,” Ari responded.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Mick interrupted. “I’ve had enough.” He looked at Gloria. “Ari is Senior Vice President of this corporation. No director of any kind overrules a senior VP. What he says goes. Understood?”

  Gloria could have died where she stood. Her father promoted her to Director of Marketing, and she was grateful for the promotion and worked hard to obtain it, but these darn VPs kept tying her hand. Whenever she wanted to run her department the way she felt it should be run, she had to answer to yet another VP. But trying to get her father to understand that was useless. She could get demoted if she tried. “Yes, sir,” she answered him.

  “That’ll be all,” he said, and both of them knew they were being dismissed.

  Ari left with fire under his feet. That was why he respected Mick Sinatra above any business owner he’d ever worked for. Mick made no allowances, nor excuses, for anybody. Not even his own children. Ari knew, and all the managers knew, they’d get a fair shake with Mick.

  Gloria knew it too, as she left his office suite, but that didn’t stop her from inwardly fuming. A part of her felt she deserved some allowances. She wasn’t just anybody. She was his daughter. A daughter he didn’t bother to raise or spend any quality time with when she was growing up. It was an old song and Gloria was over it. But sometimes, especially on days like this, that old song was new again. She sometimes felt as if he owed her better. She fought against those feelings; she knew her father ran a business and it would be wrong of him to favor her over others. But she couldn’t deny those feelings. Mick had two small children now, two beautiful babies he had with Roz, and he was an excellent father to them. But to his grown children, to Gloria, and Teddy, and Joey, all three of whom had different mothers, it was still a different story.

  “What did he say?”

  Gloria looked over and saw that Will Flannigan, the COO of her father’s company, had approached her. But unlike Ari Blunt, Gloria and Will were secretly in a relationship. “Hey,” she said as they continued to walk along SI’s long corridors of power.

  “He sided with Ari,” Will said. “Didn’t he?”

  Gloria hated to admit it. “Yes.”

  Will shook his head. “I told you it was a waste of time. He always sides with upper management. You�
��re middle management. You’re on your way. But I doubt if you ever get any further than you are right now.”

  Gloria was surprised to hear him say that. She looked at him. He was an older man, as her daddy complex had her preferring older men, and had a charm and attractiveness about him that had her close to falling hard for the guy. He was also Chief Operating Officer for her father. Why, she wondered, would he be so harsh in his assessment? “What makes you think I’ll never go any further than DM?” she asked.

  “You see a lot of women in middle management in this company,” Will said. “But how many do you see in upper management?”

  Gloria thought about it, and then stopped walking. She looked at him. She was shocked by her own conclusion. “None,” she said.

  “And you never will. I’ve worked for your father a long time. That’s why he ordered me to stop seeing you because he knows I know his ass. He knows I’ll tell you the truth. And the truth is, Glo, no woman goes any further in this organization than middle management. And you aren’t going any further either. Unless you listen to me. Unless you trust in me.”

  Gloria smiled. “What are you talking about, Willis?”

  But Will wasn’t smiling. He was dead serious. “If you listen to me,” he said, “then you won’t have to worry about making it to upper management, I promise you that. You will be upper management. If you trust in me, Glo, and do exactly what I tell you to do, you will be running this entire shebang. Sinatra Industries will be yours.”

  Gloria stared at Will. It was a side of him, a uniquely ruthless side of him, she’d never seen before.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The new security chief would never come to SI unless he had to get a word to the boss that a phone call couldn’t fix. And when Mick Sinatra walked out of his office suite just as Carmine DiMaggio was getting off of the elevator, he knew it too.

  Mick walked up to him. Carmine was always thrown aback whenever he saw a straight up gangster like Mick Sinatra in such a fancy suit and tie, with his briefcase at his side, as if he couldn’t possibly have any connections to the thug life, or a thug like Carmine. But he was never too thrown to be blunt with the boss. “I know what you’re thinking. It couldn’t be helped.”