Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Ten

I wasn’t used to being a free man, with time on my hands. Not having to go to work that day left me feeling curiously empty. I loved my job, loved the feel of a busy casino, especially one as large and bustling as the Sands.

But there were other casinos that basically offered the same things. If I stepped out onto the strip I could turn left and walk to Bugsy Siegel’s place, the Flamingo, or to the right to the Desert Inn or, beyond that, the Thunderbird.

My personal favorite-other than the Sands-was the Flamingo. I think it was because of the history. It was, after all, the casino that had started it all.

But I didn’t have time to go casino-hopping. I decided to go to the bar to do some thinking over a drink. It was early in the day to start, but then I didn’t have to be at work anytime soon. When I got there I saw that Bev was working. I grabbed a barstool rather than sit at a table.

“A little early for you, ain’t it, Eddie?” the bartender asked.

“No harm getting an early start once in a while, is there, Harry?”

“Hell, no. What’ll be?”

“Bourbon, rocks.”

“Comin’ up.”

When he had me set up, Beverly came sidling up next to me.

“Well, what happened to you, last night?”

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“After you abandoned me,” she said, “Frank and Henry asked me to go out with them.”

“And Miss Campbell?”

Bev made a face. “She didn’t want me to go.”

“She was jealous of you.”

“I didn’t take that as a compliment,” she said. “She’d be jealous of any woman.”

“You could have gone with them as Henry Silva’s date, though.”

She laughed. “He already had three women. I think that was enough for him to handle.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went home. I waited a while for you to come back, and then I went home.”

“Alone?”

“What do you mea-”

“I just meant,” I said, hurriedly, “that nobody put you in a cab, or anything?”

“Actually,” she said, “Nick Conte walked me to the door and saw me into a cab-and he was a complete gentleman.”

I felt foolish for thinking she’d gone out on the town with the Rat Pack.

“I’m sorry, Bev,” I said. “I had to go up and see Dean Martin.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re friends with Dean Martin?”

“Well not exactly,” I said. “I had some business with him.”

“What kind of business?”

“The kind I can’t talk about,” I said.

“I’m impressed,” she said. “At least you abandoned me for a good reason.”

“I didn’t abandon-”

“I’m kidding, Eddie.”

“I came down and looked for you, but you’d gone by that time. I guess it wasn’t much of a date, was it?”

“Is that what it was?” she said. “A date?”

“Well … wasn’t it?”

She thought a moment, then said, “I suppose it was-and as first dates go, it was a doozy.”

“I know,” I said, “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she said, “I meant that in a good way. I had a good time, I really did. The show was hysterical. I think I’d rather hear Frank and Dean sing-and Sammy Davis, too-but it was fun.”

“It was?”

“You know how to show a girl a good time, Eddie,” she said. “I mean, taking me backstage to meet all those famous people? It was a great date, believe me.”

“Uh, well, I’m glad,” I said. “I’m real glad you enjoyed it, Bev.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Ask me out again, some time?”

“Well … of course. I mean, for this to have been a first date there’d have to be a second, right?”

“And next time I’ll let you see me home,” she promised.

“It’s a deal. Thanks, Bev.”

“No,” she said, “thank you, Eddie.”

She turned and flounced away, knowing I was watching. Her walk was something to behold.