Page 50 of Sal Gabrini: Man on Fire

Both Robby and Sal were surprised to hear Mick the Tick praise anybody.

“I’ll check him out,” said Sal. “And thanks again.”

Robby expected his boss to stand up and leave at that point, but Sal lingered.

Mick, who knew Sal all too well, motioned to Robby.

“I’ll be outside, Boss,” Robby said. “Nice seeing you again, Uncle Mick.”

“You too, Robby,” said Mick, and Robby left.

“I’m surprised you let him call you uncle. That ain’t like you.”

“He’s family. Unlike the rest of those fuckers that work for you.”

“They’re no worse than the fuckers that work for you,” said Sal.

“That’s what your ass think. Other than Robby and Guch and a few others, you need to get rid of your brain trust. It’s time you upgrade.”

“I’m aw’ight.”

“You’re too loyal,” said Mick. “That shit can get you killed. Remember Markie? Remember Graft? Your guys have been around you too long. They’re getting too comfortable. Upgrade, Sal Luca, before you start losing a step. That’s an order.”

Sal looked at Mick with a frown on his face. Who was he to order him around? He was an independent operator. Mick Sinatra didn’t run shit of Sal’s. “What you talking, Uncle Mick? You act like it’s something new. It’s not like your crew haven’t turned on you.”

“When some did turn,” Mick said, “I fired the whole crew.”

“Or killed them,” said Sal, and he and Mick looked each other in the eyes.

Sal loved his uncle dearly, but he also knew his uncle was a ruthless sonafabitch unmatched in what he’d do to you if you crossed him.

But then Sal exhaled. “But I agree I need to make some changes. It’s long overdue.” And then he just sat there.

Mick could see the distress all over his face. And he knew that look wasn’t just about his fucked-up organization. “What is it?” he asked him.

Sal shook his head. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just that I’ve been feeling like . . . like I can’t control things anymore. Like everything’s out of control.”

Mick stared at Sal. “When did this start?”

“How should I know when it started? I just know it’s here and it’s something I can’t figure out and it’s driving me bonkers.”

“When did it start?” Mick asked again. “When Gemma started representing Kidd Curry?”

Sal looked at Mick and frowned. “Kidd Curry? What’s he got to do with this? I say I’m feeling out of sorts and you bring up that motherfucker. What’s he got to do with this?”

But Mick only stared at his nephew. Then he asked him again: “When did it start,” he asked him, “when Gemma started representing Kidd Curry?”

“No!” Sal said definitively. Then he softened. “I don’t know. I suppose so.”

Mick nodded. He knew how much that took out of Sal to admit it.

“What is it about Curry that’s bothering you?” Mick asked.

“He’s everything I know Gemma likes in a man. She never wanted to fall for some non-educated, burly Italian like me. She likes smart, dark-skinned black guys with great bodies. Always has. She fell for me because I made her fall for me.”

“Bullshit,” Mick said.

Sal looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

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