Mick Sinatra 3: His Lady, His Children, and Sal by Mallory Monroe Page B

your
things.   You’re coming with me.   This luncheon,” he said, looking directly at
Hamilton, “is officially over.”
    Hamilton was scared now.   Did Roz allow this man to exert that kind of
control over her?   He couldn’t believe
it!
    But it was true.   Roz stood up.   Hamilton stood
too.   “I don’t understand, Roz,” he said,
playing up innocence as hard as he could.   “What did I do?”
    “Nothing,” Roz said.   “I’ll call you.”
    “But he said you aren’t going to represent me.”
    “I’ll call you,” Roz said again, and she and Mick
left the restaurant.
    But outside, as they waited for the valets to bring
them their cars, was a different story.   She looked at Mick with pure anger in her eyes.   “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked
him.   “You don’t decide who I
represent.   I make that decision.   That is my decision alone!”
    “You aren’t representing him,” Mick said without
backing down.   “That’s my decision, and my
decision is final.”
    “Like hell it is, Mick!” Roz spoke angrily enough
that the other valets waiting for work, who were too far away to hear the words
they were saying, did understand that a voice had been raised.   “You don’t run my business any more than I
run yours!”
    “You are not representing that guy,” Mick said
again.
    “And why not?” Roz asked, genuinely confused.
    “Because he’s not interested in representation.   He’s not in search of an agent.   He’s in search of a sugar mama.   Which, I assure you, will not be you.”
    Roz shook her head.   This was too crazy to her.   “His
career means everything to him, Mick.   You don’t understand the actor’s creed.   That man isn’t looking for somebody to take care of him.   He wants to take care of himself!   He wants, he needs to be on that stage.”
    “He is on stage,” Mick said, “and he’s definitely
acting.   He’s in the play of his
life.   And it’s all about convincing you
to bankroll him.”
    “And how does he intend to convince me, Mick?   Tell me that?”
    “Sex,” Mick said irritably.   “What the fuck else?”
    Roz stared at him.   How could he possibly have concluded all of that?   “What if your guess is wrong, Mick?   What if you’re falsely accusing Hamp of
something he’s not even considering?”
    “I’m not guessing,” Mick said.   “I didn’t just hop in the car and ride over
here. I ran a background on Mr. Sturgess.   He didn’t just sleep with that director’s wife.   It was, in fact, the director’s ex-wife.   And it wasn’t just that he was sleeping with
the old hag.   He was accused of draining
her bank account to the tune of half a million dollars.   He was accused of living lavishly on that
lady.   And not just her.   But there were a string of women, all less
prominent than the director’s ex-wife, but he was taking them all to the
cleaners.   And his career wasn’t over
just recently.   He’s a doper, Rosalind.”
    Roz was stunned.   “Drugs?”
    “His addiction had him on the decline for
years.   Nobody would hire him, not
because he slept around, but because his ass was an unreliable thief.   His agent dumped him because he missed too
many performances.   When that old hag
killed herself because of all he took from her, it was the last straw for all
of Broadway.   He’s broke and disgusted
because of what he did, not because of what others did to him.   He needs a mark.   He’s not marking you.”
    Mick’s Maserati arrived first.   Mick had to go.   He had a lot to do.   But he couldn’t just leave her this way.   She looked floored.   So despite the audience, he moved closer to
Roz, and pulled her into his arms.
    Roz appreciated the hug.   Because she had no idea.   Because she, unlike Mick, had not done her
due diligence.   She had believed every
word Hamp had said!
    “I’m okay,” she said to Mick when they stopped
embracing.
    “You sure?” he