“She’s your mother, Gabe. That’s not weird. But carrying the torch for a woman who ran off with another man? That’s a little weird.”
“Who can explain love?”
“Is it love or just a desire for revenge?”
“Maybe both.” Gabe became lost in thought. Then he said, “Chris has this gigantic office where he works—more like a living room. With leather sofas and chairs with a desk and an office for his secretary.”
“Talia.”
“Yeah, Talia. That’s where he meets rich clients and people from the casinos and from the banks. He has a stocked bar. He’s always entertaining people there—parties for the rich and famous with his sex workers milling around.”
“You’ve been to them?”
“I attended a few when I turned twenty-one. Chris does everything by the book now. He kept me well hidden until I was of age. Then, all of sudden he wanted me to meet some people—impress them that he has a classically trained pianist as a son. You know, cart me out as a prop. Actually, I didn’t mind. The women . . .” He blew out air. “Unreal. Chris thought I was an idiot for not taking advantage of his generosity, but I’d never do that to Yasmine. Never.”
“You’ve got a good moral compass.”
“Yeah, it’s amazing considering where I come from.” His eyes were far away. “You know, my dad actually pays them for sex whenever the mood hits him. I guess it’s like paying himself. But they do get their percentage and a tip. He drills it into them. You’re a sex worker, emphasis on the worker part. Never ever give it away for free. Not even to the boss. To him, even sex is a business.”
“He’s done very well for himself.”
“That’s an understatement.” Gabe returned to earth. “Anyway, the party office is Dad’s public space. He has an equally gigantic private office that’s only accessible from a private elevator that has fingerprint and pupil recognition as well as a punch code. His own personal Fort Knox. He has a vault in there. A big one. My dad always has a lot of cash on hand.”
“I’m thinking that brothels might be cash business.”
“For sure, but the private office is more than a big safe. It’s all done in black and white. Not an ounce of color. He has his gym area with equipment that looks like a torture chamber: weights and straps and God knows what else. He also has a regular desk there. But mostly he spends his nights with this Captain America set of video monitors that shuffle through all the rooms in his brothels. You’d think it would be lurid, him staring at people having sex for six hours, but it’s not. It’s his way of keeping tabs on everyone, making sure that his girls and boys are okay, making sure the clients are not trying to bargain or cut deals behind his back, making sure no one gets too rough, making sure the rooms are properly cleaned afterward, making sure that the workers are tipped properly. It’s all business. Like I said, Chris is all business. Despite the parties and the sex and all the fun and games, Chris is eagle-eyed. Nothing escapes him.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“His private suite is basically a bunker with a view of the mountains. No one goes into that office except him. He posts a guard outside to make sure that he gets privacy. I’ve got my own private suite one flight up when I visit. I confine myself up there. The one thing I don’t want to do is get in Chris Donatti’s way. I keep quiet until he’s ready to talk or to go to dinner or whatever. When he’s ready, he focuses on me. Laser eyes. He has the capacity to listen when he wants to. Until then, I stay in my suite. It’s fine. He bought me a Steinway. I’m happy.”
“You know how to handle him.”
“Absolutely. Over the years, I’ve come to like my dad. But in the back of my mind, I know what he is. The point of all this rambling is I’ve been to his private office twice. Once I was there because I cut my leg on a rusty nail that was poking from my bed frame. I was bleeding pretty badly. I called him up and told him what happened. He came up and got me and brought me to his suite until the doctor could see me in my suite. The other time was when I got terrible food poisoning and I thought I was going to pass out. Finally, I called him and he took me to his private space, just to keep an eye on me.
“When I cut myself, I was sitting on this big black leather couch waiting for the doctor, watching him as he did his monitoring. But when I had food poisoning, I was actually in his bedroom, lying on his ginormous bed. The walls were bare except for this beautiful, detailed pen-and-ink drawing. Only drawing there, only drawing in his private space period.”
He looked at Rina.
“It was Mom. I think he drew it from a photograph right after she left him. You don’t keep that in your private space unless you love the subject of the drawing.”
Rina thought a moment. “Then maybe he does see this as a chance to get her back. And maybe that’s good, Gabe. No one could protect your mom and your siblings better than Chris.”
“Yes, he could protect her—if he didn’t kill her first.” Gabe was the picture of dejection. “Why didn’t she call just to say good-bye?”
Rina said, “I don’t know, but I do know that she will contact you when she’s ready. In her own way, she loves you very much.”
“Yeah, in her own way. It’s got to be her way.”
“No sense getting mad.”
“You’re right.” Gabe threw up his arms. “I’ve got a great fiancée. I’ve got a foster family that has accepted me as one of its own. I’ve got a great life without her. Why do I care?”
“She’s your mother.”
“She’s whacko.”
Rina patted his hand. “Gabe, you made yourself a good life—you were blessed with great genetics and a superior talent, and you’ve made the best of it. Your career has taken off. Enjoy your success.”
“And yet I’m still sulking. What is wrong with me?” He paused. “She’s okay, right? I mean, my mother is a ridiculous person, but I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her—or to my sibs.”
“Terry is a survivor,” Rina said. “She’ll do whatever she needs to get by.”
“Do you think Chris was lying when he said that he doesn’t know where she is?”
“I have no idea.”
Gabe stared at her. “Why was it his first instinct to call you and not me?”
“He said he did try to call you.”
“I didn’t see any missed calls from him. He didn’t call me until way later in the day.”
“I don’t know, Gabe. Your dad uses me as a sounding board in much the same way you do. Please don’t kill the messenger.”
“Sorry.” Gabe took a bite of his croissant. “I guess I’m still resentful of both of them.”
Rina said, “You know that your mom had a really hard upbringing. She practically raised her half sister single, and her parents used her like household help. When she got pregnant, they kicked her out. She lived with her grandparents for a few years, but then they moved to a retirement home in Florida and again she was left on her own. Even when she didn’t have anything, she always made sure you had a roof over your head and food in your stomach.”