MOB BOSS 4: ROMANCING TRINA GABRINI Read online

  “Vinnie, my man, what’s up?” he asked as the strong man was upon him.

  “Why aren’t you at the wedding?”

  Dirty bristled. “Tommy “high-rolling” Gabrini wouldn’t invite the likes of me to any wedding of his and you know it. What’s up?”

  “You know what’s up,” replied Vinnie. “The Drag wants to see you outside.”

  “What you mean see me? I’m working here. I can’t just leave.”

  Vinnie shook his head. “You’re pitiful, you know that? You’re Reno’s brother-in-law. Married to his sister. And a pit boss of a nothing job is the best you can do?”

  “Fuck you, Vinnie! You don’t, as usual, know what you’re talking about. This is temporary. This ain’t no permanent arrangement, that’s what you don’t know.”

  “Yeah, right, Dirty, right.”

  “It’s temporary!” Dirty insisted. “Reno’s gonna look out for me. He always does. He’s just still pissed about what happened with his Ma and Fran.”

  There was a break-in at Reno and Trina’s penthouse apartment inside the PaLargio at a time when Reno was out of town and Dirty was in charge. Reno’s mother was killed and his sister Fran, Dirty’s wife, was badly injured. Dirty was downstairs gambling when it happened.

  Vinnie, however, didn’t get the connection. “What’s he so pissed about? That hit wasn’t your fault.”

  “But I was in charge when it all went down. So he figures I bear the responsibility.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “That’s Reno. You know how Reno is. If you’re in charge, you’re responsible. Period.”

  “Yeah, that’s Reno all right,” Vinnie agreed.

  “It’s Reno,” Dirty reaffirmed, happy to stay off-subject.

  “But you still have to come with me,” Vinnie said, putting them back on-subject.

  Dirty exhaled. “I told you I’m working here.”

  “Let’s go, Dirty. Now. He’s waiting outside. You gotta come now.”

  Dirty hated the fix he was in, but avoiding it wasn’t going to work, either. He went with Vinnie.

  The car was parked along the circular driveway in front of the majestic PaLargio. Vinnie opened the door, Dirty stepped inside, and Vinnie closed the door back. It was no surprise to Dirty when he saw Luigi Johnny Drago, better known as the Drag, on the backseat.

  “How you doing, Johnny?” Dirty asked him.

  Drago was looking out of the window, and kept looking out of the window. “Why aren’t you at the wedding?”

  “Wasn’t invited.”

  “That’s Tommy, all right. Thinks he’s better than us regular Italians. Asshole.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Where’s my product?” Drago asked.

  Dirty should have known he wasn’t going to be distracted for long. “Whadda ya’ mean where is it? It’s sold, like it’s supposed to be.”

  “Okay,” Drago said, looking at Dirty. “Where’s my money then?”

  Dirty hesitated. “I’m getting it together.”

  “Getting it together? What, I look like a therapist to you? I’m supposed to wait until you get it together? I want my money, Richie. No bullshit.”

  “I said I was pulling it together. You’ll have your money.”

  “When?”

  “In a . . . in a couple, two-three weeks.”

  Drago shook his head. “That’s a problem, Richie.”

  “What’s problematic about it? You know I’m good for it.”

  “I need my money now. Either I get my money now, or you get two broke legs and one broke hand.”

  “Come on Drag.”

  “I’ll spare you one of your hands because you’ll need it to call Reno to come to your rescue. I’m not playing with you, Richie. No money, no product, no legs.”

  Dirty looked at Drago. The rat bastard, he thought. Who did he think he was talking to? This was Reno’s brother-in-law he was trying to sweat! Dirty had Reno on his side. Reno would squash Johnny Drago like a roach and think nothing of it if Drag even thought about harming one of Reno’s own. And the Drag knew it.

  That was why Dirty spent Drago’s money as fast as he received it and didn’t give a fuck while he was spending it. He wasn’t worried about what the Drag could do to him. What worried Dirty was what Reno would do to him if he ever found out that he was selling drugs on the side. That kind of worry was what kept Dirty up nights. But the Drag? He wasn’t losing any sleep over that cock sucker.

  But Drago was no fool, either. He knew there were limits to what he could do to Dirty. He knew Dirty was under Reno’s protection. But he also knew Reno. And Reno hated drugs, that was true. But Reno loved money. Which was why Drago made the trip to Vegas in the first place.

  “Speaking of Reno,” he said. “Wonder how he’d feel if somebody mentioned it to him.”

  Dirty looked at Drago. “Mentioned what to him?”

  “Mentioned you. And your other job. And the fact that your other job involves selling drugs right here in his beautiful PaLargio. Wonder how Reno would react to that kind of news?”

  Dirty stared at Drago. This wasn’t about him at all. This was all about Reno. “Okay, give,” he said. “What’s the deal? Whatta you want?”

  Drago smiled. “Oh, so you wanna deal now?”

  “What is it, Johnny? You didn’t come all this way to nickel and dime me over no dough. What is it?”

  Drago exhaled. Might as well get on with it, he seemed to conclude. “I hear Reno decided to step down as CEO of PaLargio, Inc.”

  “Yeah, so? Ain’t no secret about that.”

  “Yeah, but why?” Drago asked. “What’s happened? I haven’t heard about no heat coming down on Reno. So why all of a sudden he’s laying low? Why all of a sudden he’s leaving Vegas? This is his town. Why he gonna give this up? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. He just wants a change for his old lady after what happened to his Ma and Marbeth. It ain’t got nothing to do with nothing.”

  Drago looked at Dirty. “Does it look like I was born yesterday? Do I look that stupid to you? Reno Gabrini wouldn’t move next door to satisfy some female, let alone pack up his life and move across the country! He would never uproot his life like that for some broad. Never. You know it and I know it. So cut the bull, Richie. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  These wise guys thought they knew all about Reno. They just knew that Reno was one of them. But Dirty knew better. Reno would do more than move across the country for Tree. He would move across the entire planet for her. But he wasn’t about to tell Drago that.

  “Just tell me what you want,” Dirty said, “because unlike some people I know, who happens to be in this car, thank-you, I have to work for a living.”

  “Find out why.”

  Dirty frowned. “Why what?”

  “Why Beyoncé don’t like Kim Kardashian no more. What the fuck you think? Find out why Reno’s laying low. Why he’s leaving Vegas. What heat’s on him.”

  “Maybe the cops are still asking questions after what Marbeth did, and how she had to be taken out. She did kill Vito Giancarlo’s son. She killed a mob boss son. That’s always gonna generate heat, and maybe the heat’s still on.”

  But Drago shook his muscle head. “That ain’t it. That’s over. I own enough cops to know that that’s over. This is some new shit, and I need to know what it is.”

  Dirty stared at Drago. This need to know of his could at least buy him some time until he could gamble up some more money. But what if this need to know meant more to Drago than even his money did? Dirty decided to gamble now.

  “And if I find out what you need to know,” Dirty asked, “will you cancel my debt?”

  Drago paused. Then nodded his head. “Yes,” he said.

  Dirty was astounded. The Drag never cancelled debts, he just didn’t. And Dirty owed him thousands. “You mean to tell me,” Dirty said, to be clear, “that if I find out why Reno decided to give up day to day operations of the PaLargio and mov
e out of town you’ll one hundred percent cancel my debt to you?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.” Then he looked at Dirty. “But it better not be bullshit, Dirty. It better not be about any of that he’s so in love with his wifey bullshit. I want to know what would drive him to leave his beloved Vegas.”

  “But I still don’t get it. What’s it to you what heat is on Reno?”

  Drago’s stomach began to hurt at just the thought of that asshole Reno. “That’s above your pay grade, pal. Don’t you get your panties in a bunch about that. You just find out what that heat is, and who’s putting it on him. That’s all you gotta do. And you’ll owe me nothing.”

  It was undoubtedly more inside the mob, score-settling bullshit, and Dirty knew it. But he wasn’t about to let the chance to get out of Drago’s debt pass him by. Especially with Drago threatening to tell Reno all about his side job.

  Dirty was a lot of things, but he was no fool.

  “You got yourself a deal,” he said, extending his hand. Drago looked at that hand as if it were diseased. Dirty pulled it back.

  “When do you need this information?” he asked Drago.

  “Immediately. Like yesterday. You find a way to get to Reno, find out what you need to find out, and get in touch with me.” He handed Dirty a card. “You can reach me at that number. Day or night. As soon as you find out something interesting, you call me.”

  “I’ll call you,” Dirty said, moving to get out of the suffocating car.

  “And Dirty,” Drago said, catching Dirty by the elbow. Dirty looked at him. “If you don’t deliver exactly what I need to know,” Drago made clear, “not only will you lose those specific arms I aforementioned to you, but Reno will be told all about your little drug selling operation in his establishment. Which, if I know Reno, and I do, that little news will be sure to cost you the other limbs I didn’t aforementioned. So don’t fuck this up, Richie,” he added. “That’s the moral of this story.”

  Dirty stared at Drago. Trying to figure him out was like trying to figure out Calculus as far as Dirty was concerned. But he knew something was up. Something major. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that much out.

  “Don’t worry,” he said to Drago. “I’ll deliver. And I’ll deliver no matter how I have to get it done.” He smiled that charming smile that always caused Reno’s sister Fran to forgive him anything. “Why do you think they call me Dirty?”

  Drago laughed. “Get the fuck outta here,” he ordered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Reno is gonna kill me, Tree,” Dirty said as he drove Reno’s Bentley into the parking lot at Boyzie’s. It was one week later, and Trina had just returned from Detroit.

  “Stop saying that, Dirty, goodness,” Trina replied. “He won’t mind if I take two minutes to say goodbye to Jazz.”

  “But he told me to bring you straight home. To meet his plane, pick you up, and bring you straight home. He was clear to me, Tree. ‘No detours, Dirty,’ he said to me. ‘Bring my wife straight here.’ And here I am taking you to a strip joint!”

  “It’s not even that serious,” Trina said with a shake of her head. “Reno won’t mind.”

  Dirty looked through his rearview mirror at his passenger on the backseat. It often amazed him how Trina was always so trusting of Reno. Didn’t she know the man she had on her hands? Didn’t she know how brutal Reno could be?

  He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, and began walking around to the back passenger side door. Trina could dismiss his concerns all she wanted, but Dirty knew Reno. And as soon as Reno jumped down his throat for not obeying his orders, he wasn’t going to hesitate and tell him the truth: Trina made him do it. And that would be the end of Reno’s rage because he could never be angry at his precious Trina. Although lately, Dirty also was beginning to notice, there’d been some trouble in paradise.

  “I’ll be back,” Trina said as she stepped out of the car.

  “Be quick about it, Tree.”

  Trina wanted to shake her head. If Reno was that concerned he would have been there to pick her up himself. But, as usual, he was too busy. Some emergency meeting this time. And to send Dirty of all people. That kind of pissed her off. She just returned from her uncle’s funeral in Detroit, hadn’t seen her husband in a week, and he couldn’t take a few minutes away from some meeting to come and pick her up? She absolutely had expected to step off of his plane and see him waiting for her. She’d missed him terribly, and assumed he’d missed her. But he wasn’t there.

  His neglect of her in the name of getting his business affairs in order was beginning to become a problem. But she wasn’t going to let it worry her. She and Reno would have more time on their hands after they left Vegas. At least that was Reno’s plan.

  She entered Boyzie’s thinking about Reno and feeling like it was déjà vu. All of the old faces recognized her and ran up for hugs, and many of the new ones knew her by reputation.

  “She used to strip here, too, y’all,” one of the newbies could be overheard saying. “Now she’s married to the owner of the PaLargio!”

  “Whaat?” another one said in a dragged-out way. “She’s married to the owner of the Pa-Lar-gi-o? Her? Goes to show it ain’t where you start, but where you finish.”

  “And there’s hope for us all,” the first newbie said.

  “I didn’t know the owner of the PaLargio was black,” said a third stripper, causing the other two to look at her.

  “Why he got to be black?” the second one asked. “You never heard of interracial marriage, dummy? The point is, she was a stripper in a dump like this who’s now married to the owner of one of the biggest hotels and casinos in Vegas. She got up out of here. That’s the point.”

  Trina smiled and kept walking toward the back, where she was told her old friend Jazz would be. Although those newbies had the first part wrong - Trina used to wait tables at Boyzie’s, but was never a stripper there - she didn’t bother to correct them. Like the newbie said: she made it out. That was the point.

  “Hey, girl,” Trina said when Jazz finally looked up from that smartphone she was pecking away on.

  At first Jazz was surprised to see Trina’s face again. They didn’t exactly part on great terms the last time she saw her. But she smiled anyway. “Look who the wind blew up in here!”

  Trina slid onto the booth seat across from Jazz. Jazz was always surprised at how easily Trina now fit into that high class world they both used to dream about. Now Trina was the personification of class, as she sat down in her bright red Versace pantsuit, with the short jacket that highlighted every curve of her fine body.

  And although Jazz was smiling, that feeling of being left behind began to reemerge. She and Tree used to wait tables together right here in Boyzie’s for crying out loud. Now Trina was married to that hunk of hunks Reno Gabrini, and Jazz was once again stuck at Boyzie’s.

  “How you doing, Miss Thang?” Trina asked as she sat her Dior handbag on the tabletop and slid the bangs of her long hair out of her face.

  “I work in this beautiful palace,” Jazz said. “How you think I’m doing?”

  Trina smiled and started looking around. “It hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “And with Boyzie in charge, it never will.”

  “I hear that.”

  “So what brings you down this way? Boring at the top?”

  Trina looked at her friend. “I wanted to see you before I head for the hills.”

  Jazz put on that smell a skunk face of hers that always made Trina smile. “Before you head for what hills?”

  “We’re moving,” Trina said with some trepidation. She wasn’t quite used to the idea herself. “We’re leaving Vegas tomorrow.”

  “Leaving it?”

  “Yup.”

  “You and Reno both?”

  “Of course me and Reno both! Why would I consider leaving without my husband?”

  “Well,” Jazz said in that way Trina knew meant gossip was coming. “Word on the street is
that it ain’t all hugs and kisses in Reno-and-Trina-land.”

  “For real, girl?” Trina asked as if she was surprised by the rumors, although she wasn’t.

  “For real,” Jazz said and looked her large eyes up at her friend.

  The thing about Jazz wasn’t so much her beauty as her uniqueness. She was a full-figured gal with smooth dark skin and big eyes who knew how to draw you in. When she and Trina first met, they hit it off right away. Now Trina wondered how two people who were so different could have been friends at all.

  “I hear everything up in here,” Jazz went on. “And what I’ve been hearing has concerned me.”

  “Really?”

  “Big time,” Jazz said. “I mean you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff these girls be saying.”

  When Trina didn’t take the bait by asking for details, Jazz gave them anyway. “Some of the girls know people who work at the PaLargio, and they declare Reno’s been straying.”

  Still, Trina said nothing. Jazz continued. “They say he’s got his eye on some tall blonde who works over at Caesar’s Palace, and she ain’t the only one he’s been eyeing, either.”

  “He’s been eyeing her,” Trina felt a need to explain, “because he’s been looking to bump her up to general manager at the PaLargio. He’s going to bump Lee Jones up to CEO.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m just telling you what I heard. I heard he’s been bumping her all right.”

  Trina felt defensive, and she hated feeling that way. Because defensiveness often meant insecurity, and Trina was never that girl. And never planned to allow anybody, not even Reno, to turn her into that girl.

  “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

  Jazz knew Trina would never believe anything negative about that asshole Reno, so she went along with the change. “So it’s official then? You’re leaving Vegas for good?”