CHAPTER TWELVE

"It's not up to me, Roz."

"You said that already."

"And I'm going to say it again and again. I'd give her a shot if I thought she could carry an entire Broadway production, because that's what that part calls for. But she can't."

"Oh Patrick, give me a break! How many times have you been on Broadway? How many times have you had to carry a show? Well I've been there too many times to count. And I'm telling you she's perfect for the role."

"You're a great talent agent, Roz. And you know I love you dearly. But even you can't convince me that she's ready for primetime."

"Give her an audition, Pat. That's all I'm asking for."

"It's not up to me, Roz, how many times do I have to tell you that? I say let'em all audition and fall on their faces. Because she surely will. But it's not up to me. It's up to Darryl, and you know how he is." Then he smiled, looked her up and down. "But if you give me a chance, maybe I can get Darryl to give her a chance."

"If you don't get out of my face with that nonsense."

"I'm serious, Roz!" He looked down at his midsection. "You don't know what you're missing baby girl."

"Baby girl? How old are you?"

"What does age have to do with it?"

"How old are you, Patrick?"

"I'm black. Nobody can deny that. I'm gorgeous. Nobody can deny that. I'm young. Nobody sure as hell can deny that. In sum, I'm everything that so-called husband of yours is not."

"How old?" Roz asked him again.

"I'm twenty-eight . So what?"

"Boy bye! I have shoes older than you."

"Now I know you're lying. Sinatra wouldn't let you walk out his front door with a pair of twenty-eight-year-old shoes on your beautiful feet to save his life."

Even Roz had to grin at that as her cellphone began ringing.

"But for real, Roz, why not? I'm in town for a couple more days. My hotel is just a few blocks from here. I'm in town for the Eagles game, and to meet some Broadway investors who are getting skittish about the failure of Darryl's last production. The Eagles aren't good this season and those damn investors are already working my nerves. I need some down time for real. Let's kick it. See where it goes." He looked at his midsection again, and licked his lips. "You won't regret it. No woman does."

Roz was looking at her phone's Caller ID. "I regret it already. That's why I'm not doing it." When she saw that it was the twins' private school, she answered immediately. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Sinatra?"

"Yes, this is she."

"This is Principal Jaworski. I'm phoning about Michello."

Roz frowned. " Mick ?" As soon as she said it, she realized her error. They never ever called him by his legal name! "You mean Duke?"

"I'm phoning about Michello Sinatra, Junior. Your son? Now perhaps you call him by another name."

Roz wanted to cuss him out right then and there. He knew everybody called Junior Duke. But she also knew it wouldn't help her son's situation if she lashed out at his principal. "What did he do?" she asked him instead.

"He was in a fight this afternoon."

"A fight? About what?"

"He won't tell me."

"Did anybody die?"

Even Patrick looked at her when she asked that odd question. The principal's voice inflection changed to indicate he found it odd too. "Did anybody die ? No. Of course not! Why would somebody have died?"

Roz was getting seriously ticked. He had to know what kind of family they were. It wasn't like it was completely out of the realm of possibility. "Is my son alright? Just answer that."

"Yes. He won the fight. If you want to call it a fight. I don't. But there are severe ramifications."

Roz leaned her head back, which caught Patrick's attention. Her neck was long and elegant.

But Roz wasn't thinking about Patrick. She just knew that principal was going to expel Duke from the best school in town, she just knew it. But over her dead body! Which brought her right back to Mick. She wasn't above invoking his name in situations that called for it. "Why y'all always calling me? Did you phone his father? Did you phone Mr. Mick Sinatra?" She knew he didn't. They never do. But she needed to remind him whose son he was messing with.

"No ma'am, we're phoning you."

The principal gave no explanation as to why only her, but it was obvious why. And Roz exhaled.The namedrop didn't seem to work. At least not yet. "I'm on my way," she said, and ended the call.

She began standing up. "Gotta go," she said to Patrick.

"Let's have dinner tonight." His voice sounded desperate. "At the restaurant at my hotel. And I promise you I'll give you a full hearing on behalf of your client."

Roz knew he thought it would lead to more. But if Sandra could get that role, it would launch her career into the stratosphere, Roz was convinced of it. That role was perfect for her. "I'll see," was the most she was willing to say.

"I'll be waiting. Say eight o' clock sharp?"

Roz heard the time, but she didn't wait around to respond to it. She was gone.

And Patrick was smiling. He pulled out his own phone and made the call. "We're in," he said.

"She bit?"

"All but."

"What do you mean all but ? Did she say yes?"

"Ish."

"Patrick! Did she or did she not say yes?"

"I know the ladies. She's interested, but she can't just come out and say it yet. But she'll show up."

"What time?"

"Eight tonight. My hotel."

"I'm not feeling this," the caller on the other end of the phone said. "That sounds too easy for a woman like her."

"We know each other. We like each other. Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

But there were only sighs on the other end of the phone. Then resignation. "You'd better know. Any false move and we're out."

"Stop worrying so much. We're in just like I said. You lived up to your end of the bargain. I'll live up to mind. With pleasure."

For the others, it was a whole lot more than just getting in. But for Patrick, it was bed action all the way. Because the way he saw it was simple: If a cat like Mick Sinatra figured she had gold between those legs, he wanted some of it too. Point blank period. This was the easiest assignment he'd ever had!