Years Later

Present Day

 

It was a cold and damp night at the docks as the speeding GTC4Lusso Ferrari drove into the parking lot.  Teddy Sinatra, Mick’s oldest living child and the second-in-command of his syndicate, was standing in the lot waiting for him.  In stark contrast to the blue-collar harshness of the entire waterfront area, Teddy was dressed in a John Ford suit and tie, looking like a square in a circle.  But when his father got out of his Ferrari, in his Armani suit and tie, in his Ferragamo dress shoes, he took contrast to an entirely different level.  He looked like a corporate CEO who wouldn’t be caught dead in such a dark, dank, and grime-filled place.  But everybody who knew Mick knew better.  He’d been caught in far worse places than this.

“Where is he?” Mick asked as soon as he closed his car door.

“On the ship,” Teddy said.

“And the cops?”

“On there, too.”

“Can they be bought?”

Teddy had to think about this.  “Hard to say,” he said.  “They aren’t our usual guys.  But I told them you wanted to talk to them first, so they didn’t call it in yet.  So that’s a good sign, I guess.  But you know like I know, Pop: you can never tell with cops.”

Mick knew that was the truth, too.  Some had morals that were rock solid: men Mick respected, because an officer of the law should have those kinds of morals.  But there were those other cops, the ones Mick was more familiar with, whose morals were of the putty variety: flexible, in other words.  But you could never tell to look at them.  Mick made that mistake, a time or two, in his younger days.

He buttoned his suit coat, and then, with Teddy on his heels, made his way toward his ship.  He owned several at the docks.  Big, transport ships.  He was, after all, a giant in the import/export business that on the surface was legit, but was really just a front for his illegal gun-running operation.  Cops anywhere near his ships were a problem.  Cops on his ships were a serious situation.  He walked down into the ship’s hull, understanding the difference.

When he and Teddy stepped into a side room, Mick saw his younger son, regular hot-head Joey Sinatra, whom he had placed in charge of the docks, handcuffed in the middle of the room.  Unlike Teddy, who was a well-dressed man with silky brown hair and large, green eyes like his father, Joey was the polar opposite.  He was shorter than his brother and father, slimmer, and had black hair dyed blond, and dark eyes.  And his clothing was more along the hip-hop, Wiz Khalifa style, complete with gold chains around his neck and tats over his body, than upscale chic.  But the dead body lying on the floor in the room, with what looked like his skull crushed in, was what made all of them look out of place.

The two uniformed officers were interviewing witnesses, all of whom were Mick’s guys.  None of whom saw or heard anything.  When Mick walked in, all eyes turned to him.

Mick didn’t so much as glance at his son when all eyes turned his way, although everybody knew Joey’s predicament was why he came.  But Mick, instead, kept his eyes on the cops.  He was sizing them up and making a decision before they had a chance to put on a front.  “Who’s in charge?” he asked.

Both men looked at each other, as if neither one of them wanted to step out in front.  But one did.  The younger one.  “I am,” he said.

“Clear the room,” Mick ordered.

Cops were not accustomed to a civilian telling them what to do so bluntly, but they didn’t live under a rock.  They knew who Mick Sinatra was.  They knew he ran the venture capital giant Sinatra Industries, and was a well-respected businessman around Philly.  But they also knew he was dirty.  They didn’t know how, or what dirtied him up.  But they knew he was dirty as mud.

The officer in charge told the witnesses they could leave.

When the witnesses were gone and all that was left was Mick, his two sons, the two cops and the dead body, Mick got down to business.  “You cannot arrest my son,” he said.

The officer in charge found that to be an odd statement, especially since there was a dead body in the room.  “I don’t think you understand, sir,” he had the balls to say.

But Teddy had balls, too.  “Watch your tongue, motherfucker,” he said.  “You don’t’ talk to Mick Sinatra that way!”

The officer was thrown.  On the one hand, he was supposed to be in charge.  But on the other hand, he felt as if he was anything but.  He cleared his throat.  “What I mean to say, sir,” he said, “is that your son got into an altercation with the victim, and unfortunately the victim is dead.”

“He was no victim, Dad!” Joey shouted out.  “He came at me!  What the fuck they expect me to do?”

Mick gave Joey a look that could melt steel.  Joey knew that look well, because it could also melt him.  He knew he was about to sail through that wall if he didn’t shut the fuck up.  He shut up.

Mick looked at the officers once again.  He had already sized them up.  They hadn’t called in the fact that they had a dead body on their hands, which already revealed their hand like Teddy said.  But it was still a risk.  A risk he could beat Joey’s ass for forcing him to take.  But a risk he had to take nonetheless.  No child of his was going to be arrested.  “How much?” he asked.

The officer, again, was thrown.  “Excuse me?”

But Mick refused to say more.  If the cops wanted the money, they were going to have to ask for it.  It was Mick’s way of minimizing his risk, and maximizing theirs.

When the two cops glanced at each other, and the older partner nodded at the younger partner as if it was a no-brainer, he knew he had them.  “What about the body?” the officer in charge asked.

“What body?” Mick responded.

Both officers smiled.  Their morals were putty just like Mick thought.  Then the officer in charge got to the point.  “Fifty thousand,” he said boldly.  “If you give us fifty grand, we’ll call it in as an altercation that was resolved without any injuries.  No arrest necessary.”

Mick stared at the younger cop.  Fifty grand meant twenty-five grand apiece.  That would buy their silence for a little while, but not forever.  Mick needed forever.  “I’ll give you one hundred thousand a piece,” he said.

Both cops were stunned.  “A hundred grand apiece?” the younger cop asked, as if he knew he had misheard.

“A hundred grand apiece,” Mick said.  “All cash.  No footprints.”

Both cops looked at each other as if they had just won the lottery.  But they both tried to keep their emotions in check.  The cop in charge looked at Mick.  “That sounds . . . that sounds wonderful, sir.  I mean, you have a deal!”  He extended his hand.

Mick ignored the hand.  “There was a fight,” Mick instructed them, “between my two sons: Ted Sinatra and Joey Sinatra.  Nobody was hurt.  No damage was done.  No arrest was necessary.  You submit that report; I have ways of knowing what you submit, so get it right.  Then you will be paid.  You’ll be notified when and where.”

The cop nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“But if you make any attempt to cross me,” Mick warned, “then your family will be notified when and where of their execution.”

Both officers stopped smiling.  The shit just got real for them.  They understood Mick Sinatra didn’t bluff.  “Yes, sir,” the younger cop said sincerely.

“Then I’ll execute you,” Mick added.

“Yes, sir,” they both said in unison.

“Uncuff my son,” Mick ordered, “and then get off of my property.”

The older cop quickly uncuffed Joey.  Joey, being Joey, wanted to yell that it was about time, but he glanced at his father.  If he wanted to live, he knew he had better keep his trap shut.

The two cops left the ship.  They left so excited about their potential payday that they could hardly contain their glee.

But Joey had a question for his father.  “Why would you give them more money than they asked for, Dad?  That don’t make no sense.  Why would you do that?”

But Teddy frowned.  “Why do you think?” he asked his younger brother.  “Haven’t you listened to anything Pop taught us?  The more you give them, Joey Dumbass, the deeper in debt they are to you.  The deeper in debt they are to you, the easier you can use them again.  The easier you can use them again, and they can get paid again, the less likely they are to cross you.”

Joey, who never wanted to be wrong, nodded his head.  “I knew all of that already.  And call me dumbass one more time!”

“Who called the cops?” Mick asked, ignoring both of his handsome, and headstrong sons.

Joey looked at his father.  “Charley did.”

Mick was surprised.  “Your lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

Teddy shook his head.  “Your lieutenant called the cops?”

“Yeah, so?” Joey asked.  “What’s the big damn deal?”  He didn’t seem to get it.

“What did you do about it?” Mick asked.

“Do about it?” Joey asked.  “What do you mean?”

Mick knew Joey was a work in progress.  But damn if he was a slow piece of work.  “Where is he?”

“Who, Charley?”

“No,” Teddy said.  “Tom Cruise.”

“Fuck you, Teddy!” Joey said.

“Go get him,” Mick ordered Joey.

Joey gave Teddy the side eye as he went to do as he was told.  Teddy looked at his father when Joey left.  “I don’t understand him, Pop.  I know we have different mothers, but we both came from you.  How is it that he can run these docks, and he does a good job running them, I’ll give him that.  But his common sense is like non-existent.  It ain’t there!  What went wrong?”

Mick didn’t respond at all.  He, instead, walked over to the body and looked at the young man.  “Who is he?” he asked.

Teddy walked over to him.  “His name is Ferris.  He and Joey got into it over some girl.  From what I understand, Ferris was giving Joey a lot of lip about it, saying the girl was his first or some such boasting.  Joey wasn’t going for that, as you can imagine.  He wants what he wants and civility be damned!  And they commenced to duke it out.  Ferris fell and hit his head.  It was over almost before it began.  It was an accident.”

“Try telling that to a judge,” Mick said.  “Sinatras can’t be involved in accidents.  He’s my son.  They’ll throw the book at his ass.  Fighting over some fucking girl.  He should know that by now.”

“I agree,” Teddy said.

Mick exhaled.  “Call in a cleaning crew,” he said, still looking at the body.  He wished to God his children didn’t have to be involved in this part of his life.  But they were.  They wouldn’t stay away.  Teddy was already involved in the illegal side of life, even while Mick was a nonfactor in his life, and Joey was itching to join him.  Mick either brought them in, or left them to their own devices.  He figured they would have far more protection and guidance under him, than on their own.

But it was the order that Mick just gave that concerned Teddy.  “A cleaning crew?” he asked.  “I figured Joey would just get some of the guys on the dock to dispose of the body.”

“No,” Mick said.  “Keep them out of this.  Bring in a separate crew.”

Teddy didn’t understand why, but he knew his father did, and he respected his father above any human being alive.  “Yes, sir,” he said.  Then he thought about something else.  “How’s Roz?”

Roz was Mick’s wife, and Teddy’s stepmother, although Teddy and Roz were close in age.  “She’s fine,” Mick said.

“Still in New York?”

Mick hesitated.  He didn’t like talking about his personal life, not even to his children.  “Yes.”

Teddy stared at his father.  “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

“She’s been gone for two days.  She should be back by the end of the week.”

Teddy couldn’t believe it.  “Pop!  You haven’t spoken to her since she left?”

Mick looked at him with that don’t push it look Teddy knew so well.  Anybody else would have backed down.  But Teddy, even Mick knew, was made of tougher stuff.

“I’m just sayin’!” Teddy continued.  “If I had a wife like Roz?  Shit, Pop.  I’d be calling her ten times a day!”  Then Teddy, who still hadn’t found a woman of his own, paused.  “I just don’t want you to end up neglecting her the way you ended up neglecting my mom.  Real talk,” he added.  “Roz deserves better.”

Mick didn’t want to hear that shit.  His relationship with Roz couldn’t be compared to his relationship with any of his children’s mothers, or any other woman he’d had in his life.  And it for damn sure wasn’t Teddy’s business.  Although, Mick inwardly conceded, Teddy cared about his stepmother, and that was a good thing.  “Deuce is with her,” he said.  “She’s alright.”

Which meant, Teddy knew, that Deuce was giving his father daily, if not hourly, reports.

A few minutes later, and Joey returned with Charley behind him.  Teddy could tell that Charley, being called into the principal’s office as it were, wanted to shit in his pants.

“Here he is, Pop,” Joey said.

“You called the police?” Mick asked Joey’s second-in-command.

“Yes, sir.”

Mick waited for more.

“They were going at it pretty bad,” Charley nervously continued.  “They needed somebody to cool them off.”

“You couldn’t cool them off?  You’re my son’s number two.”

“Yes, sir, I realize that.”

“You needed cops to do your job?”

“No, sir, it wasn’t like that.  I just thought if I called the police, they’d cut it out.  I didn’t give any names when I called.  I just told 911 that two guys were fighting at the docks and it was getting out of hand.  I thought that was the best call I could make.”

Mick couldn’t believe it.  “You thought bringing the fucking police to one of my operation centers was a good call?”

Charley was less sure now.  “Yes, sir.”

Mick leaned back and punched Charley so hard that he knocked him out cold.  “Dumb, motherfucker!”

Joey was often shocked by the pure power in his father’s punch.

“Demote his ass,” Mick ordered.

“Yes, sir,’ Joey said.

“And get your shit together, Joey,” Mick warned. “I’m not telling you again.  Get it together or you’re out.  And this time for good.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mick stared at Joey.  He was always quick to agree, and slow as hell to implement.  He’d been that way since he was a kid.  In a lot of ways, Mick knew, he still was.

But Mick, who was a man even when he was a kid, didn’t understand man-babies.  Which meant, he couldn’t figure out Joey if his life depended on it.  He left.

After he left, Teddy slapped Joey upside his head.  “You heard, Pop,” he said.  “Get your shit together, Joey!  I’m your supervisor.  You report to me.  You’re making my ass look bad.”

“Ah, fuck you,” Joey said half-heartedly, with a frown on his face.

And then Teddy, who many of Mick’s men felt was obsessed with being just like his father, managed to smile as he left too.