Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Five

I had the driver take me back to the Cal Neva.

“I need to get the key for cabin four from Mr. Sinatra,” I told him.

“Here you go, sir.” He reached back and handed me the key. “Mr. Sinatra says you should keep it.”

“Frank knew I’d stay?” I asked.

“He hoped.”

I took the key. When it came to these guys-Frank, Sammy, Dino-I guess I was pretty predictable.

Last year, in August, when they came to town to the premier of Ocean’s 11, I had been feeling pretty foolish for thinking that they were my friends. After all, they were the Rat Pack and I was just a pit boss at the Sands. But since August they’d come to town-together and separately-and had always had time for a drink, or even dinner, and never failed to leave me show tickets. But this was really my first extended contact with Sammy. It remained to be seen if he and I would become friends.

On the way to the Cal Neva I asked Henry, “Is there someplace I can pick up a change of clothes?”

“There are clothes in the cabin, sir.”

“He thought of that, too?”

Henry laughed.

“There are always clothes in the cabin, sir,” he said. “All sizes. I’m sure you’ll find something.”

He dropped me off so I could walk to the cabin, but I decided to stop by cabin five, first. I knocked on the door and Frank answered. This time there was no book in his hand, just a drink.

“You back already? You get things straight with Smokey?”

“Pretty much,” I said. “There’s not much I can do until he hears something.”

“You stayin’ over or goin’ back?”

I dangled the key from my finger and said, “Stayin’-big surprise to you.”

He smiled, “I just took a chance, pally.”

“Look, Sammy’s leavin’ tickets for us at the box office tonight for his show,” I said. “Have you been to see him yet?”

“No,” Frank said, “I’ve only been here a day or two myself. Sure, sure, let’s go see him. He puts on a helluva show. I’ll have Henry drive us, and then we can get some dinner with Charley.”

Frank had nicknames for all his friends, but always called me Eddie, or Eddie G, or “pally.” I wondered how he referred to me when I wasn’t around?

“Catch a nap and a shower, or whatever,” Frank said. “Swing by here around six and we’ll go see Sam swing.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

There was no reason for me to go inside. As I turned to go down the stairs Frank closed the door.

I walked to my cabin and let myself in. The place was spotless. I knew that Frank had definite plans for the Cal Neva. I also knew that Dean was looking to get out, if he hadn’t already. MoMo Giancana was not the owner of record, but he was the actual owner of the place. He had asked Frank, Dean and Skinny D’Amato to front for him and gave them all a percentage. Dean bought in on Frank’s say-so, but when he found out that Giancana was at the top he decided to get out. I admired Dean because he never gave in to the mob boys. They didn’t impress him, and they didn’t scare him. He sang in their clubs-which they loved-but that was all he did, and he was paid well for it.

I checked the bar and found that Frank kept it fully stocked. I didn’t flatter myself and think he’d done it for me. Not since Frank had told me this was the cabin all “the guys” used when they were in Tahoe. But I appreciated it, anyway.

I made myself a drink and carried it into the bedroom. I checked the dresser drawers and closets, found some things in my size, carried the drink into the bathroom with me, where I took a shower. By the time I had gotten dressed in the fresh clothes-all of which fit perfectly, down to the black loafers-I’d finished the drink. I went back to the bar and built another small one.

Refreshed, with nothing to do but wait to be picked up, I phoned Jack Entratter to let him know what was going on. Again, as in the past, I did not immediately tell him what Sammy’s problem was. If it became necessary later, I would.

“So you’re stayin’ over?” he asked.

“Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to come back now,” I said. “Frank and me are goin’ to Sammy’s show, and then we’re gonna have dinner.”

“Life of leisure, huh?” he grunted.

“Hey, Jack, I’ll forget all about it and come back if you want-”

“Naw, naw,” Jack said, “settle down. Stay and come back tomorrow, or whenever Frank’s done with you.”

“It’s Sammy I have to be concerned with-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jack said, “but it’s Frank who flew you up there.”

When it came to the Rat Pack Jack would go out of his way for Dino or Sammy, but he’d walk on broken glass for Frank.

“Just keep me informed so I know if I have to replace you for any length of time.”

“You got it, Jack.”

“And, uh, tell Frank hello for me.”

“I will.”

I hung up and took the second drink to the window and looked out. It was quiet, nothing and no one moving. I thought back to last year, when I’d agreed to do two favors-one for Frank and one for Dean. On the surface neither had sounded dangerous, but both had heated up quickly. I’d been threatened, beaten, blown up, shot at-and after all of that, I was prepared to do it again. Why? Well, this didn’t seem to have the same potential, but what did I know? I’d never dealt with blackmailers before.

No, I think it came down to how I felt about Frank and Dino. In the beginning I had liked the idea of being their friend. Okay, so I was a little starstruck. And between the filming of Ocean’s 11 and the release of it I came to think that they had used me. But since then, they had both kept in touch. I may have been deluding myself that these Hollywood big shots thought of me as a friend, but I thought of them as my friends, and I guess that was what counted.

I saw Henry walking up to my door. I set the glass down and went to the door to meet him.