Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Fifty

There was a hum in the audience. JFK was sitting in the mezzanine and everyone was aware of his presence. They had to be because of his bodyguards. They stuck out with their broad shoulders and their scowls.

Kennedy himself was all smiles as he sat with a few men, but no women. As much of a womanizer as the world and I would come to know him to be in coming years, he was discreet in public, back then.

At one point Frank stopped the show to introduce “the next President of the United States, John F. Kennedy.”

I had a front row seat on this night, and from what I could see it looked as if Dean wasn’t as thrilled with JFK’s presence as Frank was. At one point Dean approached the mike and asked Frank, “What did you say his name was again?”

Frank gave Dean a look, but laughed. I wondered if and when politics would come between these two good friends?

The jokes flew after that, all at Kennedy’s expense, and he seemed to love it. When JFK was elected Sammy was to become Ambassador to Israel. Frank would be Ambassador to Italy. Joey Bishop had a much less grandiose request-he just didn’t want to be drafted ever again.

The show was a huge success, as always, but on that night the applausein the room was as much for John F. Kennedy as it was for the Rat Pack. Being Frank Sinatra’s friend was putting Kennedy over with the Everyman big time.

As it turned out, Dean didn’t deal blackjack that night. Frank had everybody up to his suite, including Kennedy. The champagne and booze flowed, and Sammy came in at one point with a bunch of showgirls in tow. Kennedy was in his element, smiling, back-slapping men and flirting with beautiful women.

At one point I saw Sinatra introducing Kennedy to Judith Campbell, a stunning brunette. I remembered how the other night Campbell was not too thrilled to have Bev back stage. She seemed very territorial when it came to Frank. Now Frank was pushing her toward Kennedy, who was only too happy to catch her.

“Look at ’im,” Dean Martin said, coming up alongside me.

“Frank, you mean?”

“He’s gonna help get Kennedy elected, you know,” Dean said. “And then he’s gonna find out the truth.”

“What truth?”

Dean looked at me.

“There’s no room in an Irish Catholic White House for wops, Eddie,” he said. “Frank thinks he’ll be a guest at the White House after the election.”

“And he won’t?”

“Not a chance,” Dean said. “Joe Kennedy will see to that. And you know what else? He’s gonna blame poor Peter.”

“When did Frank become so interested in politics?” I asked.

“He’s been a dedicated Democrat since he met FDR years ago. He was very impressed that a kid from Hoboken could actually end up shaking hands with the President.”

I studied Dean to see if he’d been drinking, but he looked stone sober.

“Look, Eddie,” he said, “I can see where this party’s goin’.”

He pointed to a showgirl who was taking one of the men withKennedy into a bedroom. I wasn’t sure if he was a politician or a bodyguard, but it was a safe bet he was going to get the blowjob of his life tonight. I looked around and saw another pairing being discussed in a dark corner.

“This could go on all night,” he said. “I’m gonna go to my room and catch a Roy Rogers movie on late TV.”

“I’ll come with you-”

“No, no,” he said, “you stay here, have fun. I’ll be fine. I’m not going to leave the hotel.”

“What about Frank?”

“You tell him where I went,” Dean said. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. We’re gonna be shooting at the Riviera and the Sahara.”

“Dean-”

He slapped my back and said, “Have fun, pally. Grab one of those cuties for yourself.”

I watched him walk to the door and let himself out. His suite was just down the hall, so I knew he’d be fine. Besides, Entratter had wanted me to watch Sinatra and Kennedy. I looked around, saw Frank, Kennedy and Judith deep in conversation. Kennedy had his arm around her waist, and she had her breasts pressed against him.

Dean was right. It was going to be a long night.

Everything became sort of a blur after that. More booze, even more showgirls, and at one point I found myself in a corner with Peter Lawford and Sammy Davis Jr.

“You fellas want to see what a million dollars in cash looks like?” Peter asked.

“You gonna pull it out of your pocket, Pete?” Sammy asked.

“It’s in a leather satchel in the closet of one of the bedrooms,” Peter said. “The hotel owners got together and are donating it to Jack’s campaign.”

I lost track of both of them and never knew if they’d gone in to look at the money. I didn’t. I’d been behind the cages and in the counting rooms of the Sands. I’d seen a million dollars in cash and more before.

I felt something warm and smooth press against me and turned into it. Using my hands I discovered that it was a naked ass, and a very nice one, at that. Firm and round, just the way I like ’em.

I opened my eyes and looked around. My own bedroom, and my own bed. The girl had clear, smooth, pale skin and a mass of black hair. That was all I could see. I didn’t remember getting there, and I sure didn’t remember bringing a dame with me. I wondered which of the showgirls had managed to snag me.

I hate forgetting women’s names, but in this case I just couldn’t dredge it up. I had a hangover, so I knew that I had started drinking after Dean left the party. The headache wasn’t that bad, though, and I did have a warm and presumably willing woman in bed with me. Between us my dick had started crawling up the crack in her butt and there’s wasn’t much I could do but go with it.

“Ooh, baby,” she said, reaching behind her to take hold of me. “What a nice way to wake up.”

“Roll over,” I said into her ear, “and I’ll show you a nicer way.”

“Mmm, an invitation I can’t refuse.”

She rolled onto her back and the first thing I saw were her breasts, big and firm, with dark brown nipples. Okay, so I’m a pig. I looked at her face second, and was stunned.

“What are you waiting for, lover?” Judith Campbell asked me with a dazzling smile.