Tony Sinatra: If Loving You Is Wrong, page 7
Tony shook his head. The last thing on his mind was finding somebody to love, only to get hurt again. Was he serious?
He pressed his intercom button. “Send in my first client, Shelby,” he said.
“I surely will, but there’s a young lady here insisting she’s a friend of yours who must see you at once. I told her you were booked solid, but she insists it’s of an urgency that can’t wait, sir.”
Tony frowned. He had several friends. Which one would have that kind of emergency? And why didn’t she just call him on his cell phone? “Who is it?” he asked.
“A Samantha Carmichael, sir,” Shelby said.
When she said it, Tony didn’t have to ask who. But for her to call herself his friend was quite a stretch. And he didn’t like lies. But a part of him was actually excited to see her again. To see that she was alright.
But then he frowned again. Why would seeing her excite him, and why did he care about her welfare beyond normal concern? It made no sense whatsoever to him. But Tony was a firm believer that all things should be done decently and in order. He had clients who had taken the time to schedule an appointment to see him. She was out of order. “Tell her she’s welcomed to wait. I’ll try to fit her in after I’ve seen my scheduled appointments. But make it clear to her it’s going to be after five by that time.”
“I’ll make it loud and clear to her, Boss,” said Shelby. “I don’t like people barging in without appointments like they’re more important than everybody else.”
That wasn’t Samantha Carmichael, Tony thought, just from the little time he’d been around her. But he wasn’t going into that with Shelby. “Send in Mrs. Barling,” he said and ended the conversation. Then he pulled out Sarah Barling’s file. She was a longtime client who loved to lay on his sofa and criticize her husband. Tony always had to remind her that he was not a marriage counselor, but that never stopped her. She would always continue her tirade. Tony let her. Better she blew off steam in his office than in her home where she had two small children. But then he frowned again. He couldn’t get Samantha Carmichael off his mind.
He was correct to get on with seeing his appointments. She had no right to skip the line, he didn’t care what her problem could be. But why did he feel as if he was hurting her? Why did he feel of everybody in that waiting room, she was the one he wanted to see the most? He was doing it right. He was doing it decently and he was doing it in order. But why did he feel so out of order?
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was well after five pm by the time Sam walked into his office. He felt his pulse race again the moment she walked in. But he also felt an odd sense of anger too. And he knew why. It was her appearance. She wore a super-short, black leather dress not unlike the dress she wore Friday night, with her big breasts on the verge of spilling out and her toned arms sleeveless, revealing, in his opinion, too much skin. And the way that leather hugged her body so tightly he wondered if she could breathe in that thing. She looked like what she apparently was: a hooker. A bottom of the barrel street corner hooker. And it angered him. She was better than that. What was she doing?
Then he caught himself. He didn’t know a darn thing about that woman truly. What was he doing?
“Don’t be mad,” she said as soon as she walked in. “It’s the only way that lady would let you know I was here to see you.”
“There’s always a better way than lying,” Tony said. “You could have scheduled an appointment.”
“But this can’t wait. I wasn’t lying about that.”
Tony looked at her. He didn’t have time for this! But what could he do? “Sit down,” he said as he motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.
Sam sat down. She didn’t show it, but her heart was hammering. She was just that nervous.
“What is it that can’t wait?” Tony asked her.
“They took my son away from me and won’t give him back or even let me see him or know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s alright.”
“You have a son?” Tony asked. For some reason that surprised him.
But Sam was nodding her head. “Yes, sir. I have a little boy. Myles. Myles Carmichael. He’s eight.”
“Why was he removed from your custody? Because of your arrest?”
It would have been easy for Sam to lie and say yes, that was the reason. But she knew that wouldn’t be true. “No,” she said. “They kept him longer because I was in jail, yeah they did that. But they took him before then.”
That surprised Tony too. “Why did they take him?” he asked.
“When he saw the shooting on the TV, he decided to come look for me.”
Tony was confused. “What shooting?” he asked.
“At Thatcher’s. I was working as a bartender when it happened.”
Tony remembered that shooting. It was the deadliest in Jericho history. “You were there that night?”
Was she. “Yes.”
But Tony saw more than that. “What is it?”
Sam decided if she was going to get his help, she needed to come clean with him. “The guy that did the shooting did so because he thought I promised to go on vacation with him.”
“Oh. And had you promised?”
“No! I was just kidding around with him like I did all my bar customers. But he didn’t think I was joking. He thought I was calling him a joke. And he started shooting.” She said it matter-of-factly, but Tony saw the terror of that night still in her eyes.
“His reaction certainly wasn’t your fault,” Tony felt a need to say.
Sam looked at him as if he was the only human being on earth who had ever said that to her. Everybody else found it easier to just blame her. But he didn’t? “I shouldn’t have joked around with him,” she said.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Tony agreed. “But how on earth were you to know he couldn’t take a joke?”
Sam nodded. That was true. That was true! But it still didn’t alleviate the pain of that night.
“Your son saw what happened on TV,” Tony said, “and did what exactly?”
“He left our apartment to come and see about me,” said Sam. “A policeman picked him up and the cop and a social worker later found out I left him home alone so I could go to work. And he’s young, I know that. But he’s a really smart kid. I knew he could handle it.”
“You didn’t know it,” Tony said. “You hoped he could.”
Sam nodded. “Right.”
“They won’t let you see him?”
“No, sir. Nothing! They won’t even let me know where he is. Or anything like that.”
Tony stared at her. “What do you want from me, Miss Carmichael?”
“Sam. Call me Sam. Everybody calls me Sam.” Then her face took on an anguished look. “I’m here because I need you to help me get him back.”
She needed him, he thought. He didn’t know why that thrilled and alarmed him at the same time. “Now?”
“Yes now! You don’t understand. I haven’t seen my son in over a month, sir.”
“But you have a case pending right now,” said Tony.
“I didn’t take no money and Kenny knows that. He’s just angry with me because Tiffany died. But I never stole a dime from that bar or from anybody, and I’m not just saying that either.”
Tony nodded. “I know you aren’t,” he found himself saying.
Sam looked at him. “You know?”
“I know.”
“How can you be so sure I’m not lying?”
“It’s an instinct,” said Tony looking Her dead in the eyes. “You aren’t lying.”
“I lied about being your friend.”
Tony stared at her. “Not necessarily,” he found himself saying for a reason he couldn’t fathom himself. They weren’t friends! They didn’t even know each other.
“Then you’ll help me get Myles back?” Sam asked.
He liked her razor-sharp focus. He liked that about her. “Even if your case is thrown out of court,” said Tony, “which isn’t a sure thing at all. But let’s say it’s tossed. Let me ask you this: were you able to keep your residence? Do you have a place to stay should you get your son back?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m staying with a friend right now.”
“Where?”
Sam hated to admit it. “Different places,” she said.
“And a job?”
“Yes. I mean . . .”
“Other than that job,” said Tony, glancing at her breasts.
In some ways Sam felt as if he wasn’t judgmental of her at all. But in other ways, she felt as if he was extremely judgmental. Like the clothes she wore. Maybe even her makeup. He didn’t like her style one bit and it showed all over his handsome face. But she didn’t care about any of that. She just wanted her son back. “I’m not in the best situation right now,” she admitted. “But I’ll get it together.”
“Don’t you think you should get it together first,” said Tony, “and then try to seek out your son?”
But Sam was shaking her head. “He’s worried about me. He needs to know that I’m okay. That’s the least they can do. Let me talk to him on the phone or something.”
“They aren’t going to want to disrupt him and his routine until after they get the disposition on your case. Then they’ll probably let you see him before they cart you off to . . .” Tony couldn’t pull himself to finish that sentence. Because he knew the deal. If found guilty, she was looking at some serious time behind bars.
“But couldn’t you do something?” she asked him. “I know my child. He’s so worried about me.”
Tony leaned forward. She could smell his fresh cologne scent as soon as he leaned forward. It was that same cologne smell he had the night he decked that guy on her behalf. And she even found herself looking at how his big, muscular biceps strained the fabric of his suit coat. He still was unlike any doctor she’d ever seen. “I can understand your grief,” he said to her, “but you mustn’t forget: the children come first.”
Sam was offended. “Children come first? What are you saying? I always put my son ahead of me! I’ve never been selfish when it came to my son.”
“Okay.”
“Never!”
She was so adamant that it touched Tony. “Alright, Miss Carmichael. Sam. I hear you.”
“If you don’t help me,” said Sam, “nobody else will. I have nobody.” She didn’t mean to expose that much. And she could see he heard her loud and clear. He was staring at her with such sympathetic eyes.
But she didn’t want his sympathy. She wanted his help. “I can’t go another day without seeing him or at least hearing from him, Doctor. I need to know he’s alright. I have to know for myself he’s alright. If I don’t hear from him, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Tony had enough on his plate. Too much! But . . . “I’ll see what I can do,” he said.
Sam actually perked up, which was Tony’s first time seeing her in any way other that stressed out. “You will?” she asked him.
“I’ll call over there sometime tomorrow and see what I can find out.”
“You can’t do it right now?” Sam asked.
Tony understood her plight, but he also understood his schedule. “No, I can’t. I have to try to get some of my charting done. And it’s already after five. They’re probably gone for the day.”
But Tony could see her big, brown eyes become flooded with that look of pain again, as if she was well-accustomed to being put on everybody’s back burner. Her wants, her needs, her desperations always had to take a backseat to everybody else’s wants and needs and desperations. And for some strange reason, Tony couldn’t do that to her.
He exhaled, and then he pressed his desk intercom. “Shelby,” he said, “get the program administrator over at DCF on the line for me, please.”
“Now, sir? It’s after five.”
“See if he’s still there.”
“Yes, sir,” Shelby said, and Tony released the intercom button.
Sam became excited. Finally, she was getting somewhere! “Thank you so much,” she said heartfelt.
“Don’t expect any miracles,” Tony said. “If the P.A. is still there, we’ll see what he has to say.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam. She never got her hopes up too high.
But when that program administrator got on the line, and talked as if Sam was a criminal from way back, she had no respect for him or the system he served.
“There’s truly nothing we can do, Tony, pending the outcome of her court case,” was the final answer.
“But I can’t wait that long to see my child,” Sam insisted because Tony had the call on Speaker.
“You should have thought about your child when you were leaving him home alone,” the administrator fired back.
“I didn’t just leave him like that,” Sam said as if it was obvious why she left her child alone. She knew she was being defensive. She knew she should not have left him alone. “I had to work to provide for us.”
“Did you also have to steal money to provide too?” asked the administrator.
“I didn’t steal any money,” Sam said so hopelessly that it seemed as if she was tired of hearing it herself. Tony was staring at her.
“Are you selling your body to provide too?” asked the administrator.
Tony continued to stare at Sam. She seemed upset that the administrator would go there, and she seemed embarrassed that he had. She glanced at Tony.
“Jericho is growing by leaps and bounds,” said the administrator, “but we will always be a small town. People will always talk. People will always shine the light on bad behavior.”
“Can I just talk to him on the phone?” Sam asked the administrator. “Just a one-minute conversation will make all the difference in the world.”
But the administrator was unsympathetic. “No,” he said emphatically. “That will be too disruptive. After your court date, we will revisit custody and visitation arrangements,” he said. “But until then? No. I’m sorry, but no. Have a nice day, Tony,” he added. “Hope to see you on the links someday soon.”
“Thanks, Milt.” And then Tony ended the call. And looked at Sam. Defeat was all over her pretty, anguished face.
She stood up. Tony stood up too. “Thank you,” she said to him. “I know you have work to do, and I’m just in your way.” And before he could say another word, she made her way out of his office.
But as Tony sat back down, he felt a heavy sense of dissatisfaction. He felt antsy. He felt as if a part of him had walked out of that door right along with her. He felt as if he had failed her too.
But why did he feel that way, he wondered? What was it about her that had him all twisted in knots like that?
But then his intercom buzzed. It was Shelby, no doubt, reminding him that she was going to be leaving soon, did he need her to do anything else? But he couldn’t even think about what else he might have needed her to do. All he could think about was Sam. She wasn’t asking for much. How was asking to just hear her child’s voice too much to ask? How would he feel had it been his child? Wouldn’t he be fighting too?
Because he knew the answers to those questions, he jumped up and hurried out of his office.
“You’re gone for the day, sir?” Shelby asked, but Tony didn’t even hear her. He hurried out of her office, too, and made his way through the lobby and out of his storefront building.
When he got outside, he saw Sam walking out of the parking lot and toward the main road. “Miss Carmichael!” he yelled, but she was too far away.
And then he felt foolish. Why was he running that woman down anyway? He could do no more than he’d already done for her. Even the program’s administrator said there was nothing more that could be done. What was his problem? Why didn’t he just let her go on with her life and figure it out for herself? Why didn’t he leave her alone?
But just as he was about to turn back around and carry his odd-acting butt back into his office, he noticed a car on the other end of the street Sam was heading toward. What caught his attention was how the car pulled out as if it were leaving, but as soon as Sam stopped on the sidewalk to apparently kick excess dirt off the bottom of one of her high heels, the car pulled back over to the side of the road. But as soon as Sam started walking again and was in the street, that car pulled back out again and began speeding up that street, straight toward Sam.
Tony was a Sinatra. He could recognize a hit a mile away. And that had all the earmarks of one. Even down to the heavily tinted, non-descript car! And Tony’s heart began to race. Was it possible, or was it just his odd-acting butt acting odd again? But he saw Sam, and he saw that car. And if he was right, they were going to meet. And it could be a deadly meeting!
His heart was hammering as he pulled out the loaded Glock he always kept on his person and began running toward the street. And he was waving that gun and calling her name as he ran. “Sam! Sam! Sam Carmichael!”
But what Sam heard wasn’t Tony’s voice, but tires suddenly screeching, and what she saw wasn’t Tony, either, but that car speeding straight toward her. And she was in the middle of the road. She began running, to get to the other side, to avoid being hit, but there was no way she was going to make it. That car was coming full speed ahead. And it was swerving as it came. It was not slowing down!
But Sam didn’t delay. She couldn’t. As Tony was running across that parking lot toward her, and as that car was coming straight for her, she jumped up as high as she could and landed on the hood of the car rather than allowing it to hit her full force.
The car slammed on brakes, causing Sam to roll off of the hood and onto the ground, rolling even more. And then the car backed up ready to run her over and be done with her once and for all.
But not if Tony had any say in the matter. He was the son of Big Daddy Charles Sinatra, a man known in many circles as the original gangster. He was the nephew of vicious Mick “the Tick” Sinatra, the notorious boss of all mob bosses. The Gabrinis, with their gangster selves, were his cousins. He’d been around violence most of his life. And he knew how to handle himself.
And that was why he was aiming his Glock at that car as he ran, to make his intentions clear. And he started firing. He didn’t spare a bullet as he fired and fired and ran toward that car. He had to get that car away from Sam. With every fiber of his being, he had to get that car away from her before it finished the job!
