Mick Sinatra 2: Love, Lies, and Jericho (12 page)

But inside
the surf and turf was a different story.
 
Inside, the buzz had already begun.
 
It was three-twenty in the afternoon, too early for the dinner crowd and
the lunch crowd had long since dissipated, so the diner was practically
empty.
 
But the cashier and the waitress
stood behind the counter looking out at the parking lot through the
floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the counter.
 
They couldn’t see who was inside the car,
because whoever it was weren’t getting out, but they could clearly see the car.

“What is
it?” the waitress asked.
 
“Some kind of
Corvette or something?”

“That ain’t
no Corvette,” the cashier said.
 
“That’s
like a Camaro.”

“You don’t
know what you’re talking about.
 
My
cousin has a Camaro and it don’t look nothing like that car out there.”

“What are
you two retards musing about?”
 
Darren,
the cook, was coming out of the kitchen.

“Forget you,
Darren,” the waitress said.
 
“You need to
mind your own business.”

“I work here
too.
 
This is my business.”

“That car
out there,” the cashier said to Darren.
 
“What kind of car you think it is?”

Darren
smiled.
  
“Damn!
 
Now that’s alright there.”

“But what is
it?” the waitress asked.

“I thought
you said it was none of my business?”

“Darren!”
the cashier said.

“It ain’t
everyday a Lamb come driving through this town, though,” Darren opined.
 
“That’s nice.”

“A Lamb?”
the cashier asked.
 
“What’s a Lamb?”

“A
Lamborghini,” Darren explained.
 
“That’s
a Lamborghini y’all.
 
Don’t y’all know
nothing?”

The cashier
and waitress looked at the car again.
 
Both
had heard of a Lamborghini before, but neither had ever saw one.
 
“So that’s what it looks like,” the cashier
said.

“Like a race
car,” the waitress said.

The cashier
smiled.
 
“Wonder who’s behind the
wheel?
 
Wonder if he’s single?”

“Yeah,
right,” Darren said.
 
“A man who can
afford a Lamb is coming to Belt to fall in love with a cashier.
 
Yeah, dreams do come true.
 
Just not in Belt Buckle,” Darren added with a
grin, “but they come true.”

 
When the door finally lifted up and Mick
stepped out, the cashier’s big eyes grew bigger, and she grabbed hold of the
waitress’s arm.
 
“Looka there, looka
there!”

Darren
laughed and shook his head.
 
“You’re so
country,” he said.

But the
waitress wasn’t as impressed as the cashier.
 
She watched Mick carefully as he walked around to the passenger side of
his car.
 
“I don’t know, girl,” she
said.
 
“He looks mean to me.”

“He probably
is mean,” Darren said, playing it up.
 
“What white man ain’t these days?
 
He’s probably going to the passenger side of his car right now to pull
out his arsenal of rifles, you know how those scary-ass white boys love their
guns.
 
And then he’ll probably march in
here and shoot and kill every black face in sight!”

The waitress
was terrified.
 
“For real, Dare?”

“Unless his
arsenal of weapons includes a beautiful black lady,” the cashier said, “I doubt
it.”

The
waitress, confused, looked at the cashier.
 
“Look,” the cashier said, her eyes still looking outside.

The waitress
and Darren looked outside too.
 
And that
was when they saw Roz get out of the car with Mick taking her hand to assist
her.

“She’s
beautiful,” the waitress said.

But the
cashier frowned.
 
“Wait a minute.
 
She looks familiar.”

Darren was
already walking from behind the counter and toward the window.
 
“I’ll be damn.”

“You know
her, Dare?” the waitress asked.

Darren
turned around to the cashier.
 
“That’s
Roz,” he said.
 
“That’s Roz Graham.”

“You’re
right!” the cashier said. “That’s Tyson’s sister.”

 
“What’s she doing with that white man?
 
I know better than that.
 
I know my fantasy girl didn’t leave Belt
Buckle just to hook up with some cracker.”

“That’s
enough, Darren,” a firm voice said, and everybody looked toward the back
hall.
 
Tyson Graham, Roz’s brother, was
walking toward the front.

“I’m just
playing, boss,” Darren said with a smile even he knew was fake.

“Get back to
work.”

“Yes,
sir.”
 
Darren began to head back toward
the kitchen.

“All three
of you,” Tyson added, and the waitress and cashier got back to work too.
 
Only it wasn’t much to do, so they started
with wiping down the counter and pickup station.

And Tyson
waited for his sister to step into his place of business for the first time in
her life, and bring a stranger with her.
 
She told him she was coming, and that she wanted him to meet her man.
 
She failed to mention the race of that
man.
 
Not that it mattered to Tyson.
 
It actually didn’t.
 
But he knew it was going to matter mightily
to their mother.

“Tyson!” Roz
tore away from Mick and ran into her brother’s arms.

Mick was pleased
to see her so pleased, as she and her brother hugged and laughed and then just
looked at each other.
 
They looked
nothing alike, in Mick’s estimation.
 
Her
brother was older than Roz, maybe in his mid-thirties, and was big, bulky, and
had darker skin than Roz.
 
But he had
that perfect, bright-white smile just like his baby sister, and that
approachable, friendly demeanor.

“Come on,”
Roz said to her brother as she took his hand and began moving him toward
Mick.
 
“I want you to meet somebody very
special to me.”

“So this is
your fella?” Tyson asked as he moved toward Mick.

“This is my
fella,” Roz said with a smile, remembering how they often used that term when
they were kids.
 
“This is Michello
Sinatra.
 
Or Mick, as he prefers to be
called.
 
Mick, this is my big brother
Tyson.”

Mick smiled
and extended his hand.
 
“It’s an honor to
meet you, Tyson.”

“An honor to
meet you, sir,” he said as they shook.
 
Then he smiled.
 
“Roz has told me
nothing about you.”

Mick
laughed.
 
“She’s embarrassed to know me,
what can I say?”

Tyson and
Roz laughed.
 
“I’m sure that’s not true,”
Tyson said.
 
“Roz isn’t that kind of
girl.
 
But come on, guys, let’s have a
sit down.”

Tyson
escorted them to a window table in the small establishment.
 
Mick placed his hand on Roz’s back and sat
her down next to the window.
 
He sat
beside her.
 
Tyson sat down across from
them.
 
The waitress hurried over, ready
to take their orders.

“Would you
guys care for anything to drink, or eat, or anything?” Tyson asked.

“Beer for
me,” Mick said.
 
“A ginger ale for
Rosalind.”

Tyson was
stunned to see him presume to order for his sister.
 
“You don’t want a beer, sis?” he asked her.

“No, it’s
too early for me,” Roz said.
 
“Mick knows
what I like.”

Tyson had
forgotten how long it had been since he really knew his sister’s likes and
dislikes.
 
He felt sheepish questioning
Mick’s knowledge of her tastes.
 
But it
was done now.
 
He looked at his waitress.
 
“A beer for me as well,” he said, and she
left.

“So,” Roz
said, looking around the place, “this is the famous surf and turf.”

Tyson
laughed.
 
“More like infamous, but
yeah.
 
This is the place you once talked
about retiring to.”

Just the
idea of it sounded ludicrous on its face to Roz now.
 
“Thank God Mick rescued me from myself.”

Tyson
laughed.
 
“Yeah, I think coming back to
live in Belt Buckle would have been a shock to your big city system, sis.
 
I’m glad he rescued you too.”

Roz stared
at her brother.
 
“What about you?
 
Ever thought you’d still be here?
 
Could you use a rescue yourself?”

Tyson continued
to smile, but even Mick could see the regret in his eyes.
 
“It’s done now,” he said.
 
“I make the most of it.”

“You sound
like mom,” Roz said.

“The devil
is a liar,” Tyson said, and Roz laughed.

Then Tyson
looked out of the window.
 
“That some car
you drive, Mick.
 
A Venano Roadster, no?”

Mick
nodded.
 
“That’s it.”

“Sweet.
 
How many miles per hour?”

“220.”

“Geez,
“Tyson said with a grin, “that’s awesome!
 
Maybe I can take a spin in it before you guys leave.
 
That’ll work?”

“No, it
won’t,” Mick said unapologetically.
 
“Nobody drives my vehicles but myself, or Rosalind.
 
I don’t throw around keys.”

Roz looked
at her brother, certain that he would be hurt.
 
But oddly enough, he was smiling.

“Wow,” he
said.
 
“Every man I have ever met who
wanted Roz, always tried to get in good with her family first.
 
But you don’t care about that, do you?”

Mick smiled
and shook his head.
 
“I don’t give a shit
about that.
 
I stay in good with
Rosalind.
 
Then I’m good.”

Tyson
nodded.
 
“I can appreciate that because,
in truth, I don’t throw around my keys either, and I drive a Buick.”

Mick
laughed.
 

“We
understand each other,” Tyson added.

“I’m glad
you two do,” Roz said, “because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Good,” Mick
said, putting his arm around her.
 
“It’s
a man’s thing.”

Tyson
laughed.
 
And he and Mick high-fived.

But if he
thought he was going to reach that happy understanding when they arrived at
Roz’s mother’s house, he was sadly mistaken.
 
Even Tyson had warned him to beware.
  
And as soon as Mick drove his car onto the slanted driveway of the
beautiful Tudor-styled home, Roz attempted to warn him too.

She placed
her hand on his arm.
 
“Don’t take my
mother too seriously,” she said.
 
“She
can be very contentious, but don’t take it personally.”

Mick could
see the change in Roz’s demeanor as soon as they drove up to the house on the
hill.
 
It was as if she was going to a
firing squad, rather than to her mother’s house.
 
“You okay?” he asked her.

She wasn’t,
but she nodded anyway. “I’m okay,” she said.

Then Mick
got out, walked around to the passenger car door, and opened it.
 
Roz got out at her childhood home for the
first time in over a decade, and trembled.

Mick saw her
nervousness and placed his hand in the small of her back.
 
He was sufficiently concerned now.
 
“What’s the matter, babe?” he asked her.
 
“We can leave right now.”

“No, I’m
fine,” Roz said.
 
“I just . . .”

“You just
what?”

“She can be
. . . intimidating.
 
Very
intimidating.
 
I just have to get used to
it again.”

Mick knew it
was far more than that.
 
This mother was
apparently the sole reason Roz had not returned home before now.

“Come on,”
she said, and began heading for the front porch.

Because of
the oversized Hawthorn tree against the porch rail, they didn’t realize a male was
sitting on the porch until they were nearing the steps.
 
Mick saw a tall, lean man dressed in jeans
and a dashiki, with a ring in his ear, start to grin when they realized his
presence.
 
But Roz saw something much
more than a mere description.
 
She saw
her beloved father.

“Daddy!” she
yelled with a sudden burst of joy, and broke away from Mick again.
 
She was up the steps and running across the
porch toward him just as he was standing up.

“There’s
that lady!” her daddy said with equal joy, and pulled her into his arms.

Mick walked
up the steps and onto the porch as father and daughter moved from side to side
with an exuberant embrace.
 
He leaned
against the porch rail, with his legs crossed at the ankle.

When they
stopped embracing, Roz was shaking her head.
 
“I had no idea you would be here.
 
Tyson didn’t say a word!”

“I told him
not to.
 
I wanted to surprise you.”

“But I
thought you had that gig in Missouri tonight.
 
What happened?”

“Nothing
happened.
 
I’ll be heading that way
next.
 
Ty told me you were coming to town
today, and I just wanted to see you.
 
I’ll be heading out soon enough.
 
I’ll get there in time for my set.”

Roz smiled,
she really loved her father.
 
She leaned
back against him.
 
Then they both looked
at Mick.

Mick was all
smiles too.
 
Just seeing Roz happy did it
for him.
 
“You must be Mr. Graham,” Mick
said as he extended his hand.
 
“I’ve
heard a lot about you.”

“Call me
Cecil, and I’ve heard a lot about you as well.”
 
He shook Mick’s hand.
 
He was
staring into Mick’s eyes.
 
“So you’re Roz’s
old man?
 
You’re Mick the Tick?”

Mick
continued to smile, but Roz could see in his eyes that he was a little pissed
by the reference.
 
“Rosalind told you
about that, did she?” he asked.

“You know
Roz better than that,” Cecil responded.
 
“She told me she had a man and you treated her right and that was all
she would tell me about you.
 
But Google
told me more.”

“He runs
Sinatra Industries, Pop,” Roz said.
 
“He’s legit now.”

“No, he’s
not,” Cecil responded.
 
He was still
smiling, but Mick could see his seriousness.
 
“None of those big company CEOs are completely legit.
 
And a big company CEO with a background like
this guy?
 
Come on.
 
You can’t con a con man.”

Mick had
instant respect for Cecil Graham.
 
He
nodded his head.
 
“I wouldn’t even try,”
he said.

Cecil
smiled.
 
“I knew we’d speak the same
language,” he said as he sat back down on the two-seat swing.
 
“I knew it when you got out of that car.
 
I said this man right here don’t
bullshit.
 
We speak the same language.”

“And what
language am I speaking?” Roz asked with a smile as she sat down beside her
father.

“Girl
speak,” Cecil quickly said.
 
“All that
he’s so wonderful
talk.”

“He is
wonderful!” Roz said happily.
 
She had
her two favorite men in her orbit.
 
She
was straight.
 
“It’s not just talk.
 
He’s a great guy.”

“I didn’t
say he wasn’t,” Cecil explained.
 
“A man
who has the balls to drive around in a Lambo like that has to have some
redeeming qualities.
 
He chose you.
 
He chose that car.
 
He’s got taste.”

Mick
laughed.
 
“There ya’ go,” he said.

Cecil and
Roz laughed too, but soon the laughter dissolved into a thoughtful
silence.
 
And Cecil, all smiles gone,
looked at Mick and spoke again.
 
“So you
want to marry my little girl?”

Mick felt
unworthy to even admit it.
 
He glanced at
Roz.
 
This kind of
real
talk was not his lane.
 
But it was true.
 
“Yes,” he
said.
 
“That’s what I want.”

“And she,
apparently, wants to marry you.”

“I do, Pop,”
Roz admitted.

Cecil leaned
back and shook his head.
 
“Amazing.
 
Simply amazing.”
 
He looked at Mick.
 
“You have managed to do something I didn’t
think was humanly possible,” he said.

“What’s
that?” Mick asked.

“You managed
to take my baby girl away from me.”

Roz looked
at her father.
 
Mick looked too.
 
“Is that a problem?” he asked.

“Hell no!”
Cecil said, and Roz laughed.
 
“I say it’s
about time!
 
She’s been under me for far
too long.
 
It’s high time another man
take charge of her.
 
No other man has
ever come close to handling my daughter.”