Page 55 of Sal Gabrini: Man on Fire

Gemma sat back down, and soon the tears returned. Trina and Marie sat on either side of her, consoling her.

“His condition?” Mick asked.

“Bad,” said Reno.

But Gemma looked up, feeling a need to defend her husband even though she could barely speak. “Sal got me out of that car, and he got Lucky out too. He gave him a fighting chance. And Lucky’s like his father. He’s a fighter. He’ll fight like hell,” she said. but then she broke down again.

Sal, devastated that Gemma had to defend his indefensible ass, went to her. Trina stood up, and he sat down beside his wife and pulled her into his arms for the first time since it all happened. And she cried like a baby in his arms.

Reno and Trina both were thrown when they saw Gemma fall so completely apart. Even Mick was surprised too. You rarely saw her in that state. But given the circumstances, it was completely understandable. But what wasn’t understandable to Mick was Reno’s actions.

He looked at him. “What the fuck’s your problem?” he asked him.

Reno looked at Mick. “What did I do?”

“Trying to give a beatdown to a beaten man the way you handle business now? His son is in trouble, and he and his wife nearly died, and your ass fighting him?”

“He was talking shit, Uncle Mick.”

“So were you, Reno. And me too,” admitted Trina, who always kept it real. It was one of the main reasons why Mick, a long time ago, had wanted to fuck her.

But then they all settled back down. And waited.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

By late that night, more people had arrived. Jimmy and his daughter Madison and girlfriend Oprah were there. Tommy and Grace, along with their son TJ, had flown in from Seattle. Mick’s wife Roz and their twins wanted to be there, too, but Mick told them no. He wanted them to shelter in place until they found out who was responsible, and until they made certain he wasn’t a target too. He ordered Teddy, Nikki, and Teddy’s son to remain in Philly protecting his home front, while Dommi took Teddy’s plane, picked up Mick’s big brother Big Daddy Sinatra and his wife Jenay in Maine, and they all flew into Vegas together. Sal’s plane picked up Gemma’s parents, and had them flown in from Indiana. Mick and Big Daddy’s half-sister Amelia Sinatra boarded Hammer Reese’s plane, picked up Sal’s father and Trina’s parents in Florida, and flew them in too. Those in the family that couldn’t make it, or were ordered to shelter-in-place, were constantly on the phone asking for updates. Even Lucky’s baseball team, along with their coach, were waiting downstairs, in the public waiting room, for Lucky to get out of surgery. He was their leader, and every kid on that team loved him.

All of them were there. But it was pin-drop quiet in both waiting rooms.

Until after midnight, when the chief surgeon and his team finally entered the VIP waiting room that housed the family. They all looked shocked by the condition of the room, with holes in the walls and broken tables. But they remained professional.

Every family member rose to their feet cautiously when the doctors arrived. Sal was already standing.

“He’s out of surgery,” said the lead surgeon. “We were able to stabilize him, but he’s still in critical condition.”

“Is our child going to live?” Gemma asked. She had to know the answer to that question first. And everybody looked at the surgeon in charge.

He nodded his head. “Barring any unexpected setbacks, we believe so, yes,” he said to great relief in the room. “But make no mistake: his journey to full recovery will be a long and arduous one. He will need a lot of medical care to get back to normal. And I have to warn you, there will be scars.”

“Where?” asked Marie.

Carmine frowned. He loved Lucky too. “What a vain question to ask, Marie. Who the fuck cares where?!”

The surgery team was shocked by the kid’s language. Nobody else in that room was shocked, however, because he was Reno and Trina’s kid! So the plastic surgeon, who was also a member of the surgery team, stepped forward to answer. “There will be scars, but not on his face. If that is what you’re asking.”

“His face was completely spared?” Marie didn’t care how vain it sounded. She knew her little brother. He took pride in his appearance.

“In that quick moment when his father picked him up out of that seatbelt and when that backdraft occurred, his face was buried in his father’s chest,” said the plastic surgeon. “That shielded his face from any harm. Thank God he was in the midst of that fire for only a moment, or it could have been catastrophic. But it’s his back that suffered the most damage.”

“But that don’t make no sense, Doc,” said Sal. “I was in that car fire longer than my son. How could he get it worse?”

“Yeah,” agreed Reno. “Sal even fainted in that car.”

“What faint?” Sal asked angrily. “I didn’t fucking faint. I passed out. There’s a difference.”

“You didn’t get the worst of it, Mr. Gabrini, because your son’s back shielded you. And apparently the area where your body faint, I meanpassed out, was in an air pocket that shielded you too. God was with you, is the best I can describe it.”

Sal frowned. “God was with my son too, whatta you talking? God was with my son too!”

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