Page 21 of Sal Gabrini: Man on Fire

Mason was eventually transported back to California to face the charges, and Sal juggled his responsibilities for nearly six straight months. Whenever Gemma had to go to California to file pretrial motions or to meet with Mason because he could not leave the state per his bail restrictions, Sal was right by her side. Especially after Gemma was able to get Sal’s capo off of that murder rap in Vegas. She was now free to work full-time on Mason’s case. Which meant she was going even more frequently to California. But even then, Mason could not get so much as a sidebar alone with Gemma because Sal was always around.

But as his syndicate continued to have crisis after crisis, and as the mob families in his unity coalition continued to rely heavily on him, Sal couldn’t keep doing both. Something had to give. And it wasn’t going to be his syndicate.

Gemma was in her office at her law firm. Curtis --, her longtime secretary, had just come downstairs to the file room when one of the brand-new paralegals asked who was that cute guy in that cute car.

Curtis walked over to the window she was looking out of. Although he was in a long-term relationship with Robby Yale, whenever Curtis heard the wordscute guy, he still liked to look. But when he saw Sal standing at his Bugatti putting on his suit coat, he looked at the paralegal instead. “You call that cute?” he asked her.

“Yes! He’s a hottie. And that car. I’ve never seen one like that before. What’s it called, Curtis?”

“A Bugatti.”

“A boo what?”

Curtis rolled his eyes. Where did this firm find these dumb-as-rocks paralegals, he’d never know. “Forget the car. That’s the boss’s husband. That’s Salvatore Gabrini.”

The paralegal, a young girl in her early twenties, was shocked. “She marriedhim? Wow. He looks much older than Miss Gemma.”

Curtis laughed. “He would love to hear you say that!” he said. Then his look turned serious. “Just get the file we need,” he ordered her, although he wasn’t her supervisor. Then he hurried up front to greet Sal.

“Welcome, Mr. Gabrini,” he said as cheerfully as he could when Sal walked into the self-contained building that he had purchased for Gemma a long time ago.

“Yeah,” Sal responded in his normal,get out of my faceway.

Still gruff as ever, Curtis thought. He wondered how in the world could Robby work around a guy like him all day long. “She’s in her office,” he added, although Sal didn’t bother to ask and was already heading up the stairs.

“Why is he always so mean?” asked the receptionist.

Curtis, who behaved as if he ran the entire office, looked at her. “And you know him so well that you can judge him so decisively? Have dinner with him often? Go to the Hamptons with him for summer vacations?”

“Hun?” asked the confused receptionist.

“He’s the boss’s husband.”

“I know who he is, Curtis.”

“Then show some respect,” Curtis said authoritatively and then walked out of the room.

The receptionist shook her head. “Asshole,” she said beneath her breath.

But Sal heard none of it. He just needed to see Gemma. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say, but he had to put his foot down.

Gemma was in her office in the chair behind her desk still reviewing notes she had her staff prepare for her opening arguments. Sal knocked once, she said come in, and then Sal, with his hands in his pockets, walked on in.

She smiled when she saw him. “Hey there. You’re early.”

“We gotta talk,” Sal said as he walked up to her desk.

Gemma knew that tone. It was hisI’m putting my foot downtone. And whenever Sal put his foot down, there was no lifting it back up. It was final.What now, she wondered as she closed her legal pad and sat up straight in her chair. “Okay,” she said.

Sal sat in the arch-top chair in front of her desk. For a long few seconds, he said nothing and Gemma wasn’t about to speak. This was his deal. This wasn’t going to be good for her she could tell. She wasn’t helping out.

Sal opened his legs wide and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. If he didn’t look like the stereotype of a ruthless mob boss, Gemma didn’t know who could.

“Here’s the thing,” Sal said, his hands resting under his chin. “This running to California all the time isn’t going to work.”

Gemma frowned. “What?”

“It’s not gonna work anymore. You gotta give that shit up. Let one of those other attorneys on that case take it over.”

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