Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Thirteen

When we got back to the Sands I told Jerry I was going to have dinner with Dean.

“So you’re on your own … unless you want to come with us?”

“Nope,” he said, “three’s a crowd. Don’t worry, I can occupy myself. Ain’t too hard in this town.”

“Okay, but stay out of trouble?”

“I always stay out of trouble, Mr. G.,” he said. “Fact is, whenever I do get in trouble in Vegas it seems to be your fault.”

He turned and walked away before I could respond.

I could have gone home to change my clothes, but decided I didn’t want to make the extra drive. Instead I went into the employees’ locker room, took a shower and changed into a suit I kept in my locker for these types of occasions.

Before leaving the locker room I called Jack’s girl and asked her where I was supposed to meet Dean.

“He said he’d meet you out front, in the car, in twenty minutes,” she said. “We didn’t think he should stand in the lobby. He’d be too conspicuous and people would bother him.”

“You both thought that, huh?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, and hung up.

I checked my watch. I had ten minutes to get to the waiting car. Maybe I’d beat Dean there.

When I went out the front door there was a black sedan parked in front. The driver got out and opened the door for me. I recognized him, but didn’t remember his name. He was apparently one of the drivers the Sands used for their guests.

As I slid into the back seat Dean smiled and said, “Hiya, pally.”

We went to the Sahara, where I’d eaten with Joey and Buddy, in their Congo Room. As usual Frank’s table was empty because he wasn’t there, but the waiter recognized both Dean and me and gave the table to us.

“I hear Frank’s in Tahoe,” Dean said, as we sat. “Sammy, too.”

“We’re all going to be at your show on Friday night,” I told him.

“That’s great,” Dino said. “I can drag those bums up on stage and make them do some of the work. But what do I do with you?”

“Just lay off me,” I said. “I’m nobody, and there won’t be anybody there who wants to hear about me.”

Dean laughed and we gave our order to the waiter, who had seen it all and was not impressed.

Dean talked about his series of TV specials and said that some people wanted him to do it regularly.

“A weekly show would keep me from making my films and doing my act,” he complained. “I’m not ready to settle into that grind.”

“You’d be a huge hit on TV.”

“You think so? It didn’t work for Nat Cole, and Frank tried it twice. And they’re great singers.”

“You’re a great singer, too, but they don’t have what you have.”

“And what’s that?”

“Likability.”

“Like a what?”

“People like you, Dean,” I said.

“People like Frank,” he argued. “And Nat.”

“And Joey,” I said. “And Sammy, too. But not the way they like you. It’s just something that you have.”

“And you think this … something … would come across on television?”

“I’m sure of it. Look what television did for Edd Byrnes.”

“Kookie!” he said.

“Exactly. Television made him popular, because people liked him.”

“Girls liked him.”

“Women love you,” I said, “and they’ll love you more in their living rooms.”

“You know,” Dean said, leaning back and regarding me with interest, “you should come to work for me.”

I laughed, then saw that he was serious.

“As what?”

“An advisor.”

“What do I know about show business?”

“Look at what you just told me.”

“That was common sense,” I said. “An observation.”

“Then I’ll hire you to be my common sense.”

“Dean-”

“Think about it, Eddie,” Dean said, as the waiter arrived with our dinner. “That’s all I ask. Give it some thought. It’d be nice to have someone with me who has no agenda.”

“What about Mack?” I asked, referring to his man, Mack Gray, a majordomo type who had been passed on to him by George Raft.

“Okay,” he said, “other than Mack.”

Of course, there was a secret about Mack Gray I knew that I’d promised never to tell Dean, or he might have felt differently. Foolishly, Mack had sent Dean those threats early last year, hoping to make Dean more dependent on him. He’d seen the error of his ways, though, and I decided the best thing to do was keep Dean in the dark. I knew Mack loved Dean and would do anything for him, but I doubted he had much wisdom or common sense to pass on.

As the waiter set our plates down in front of us I said, “I’ll think about it, Dean. Thanks.”

“Then let’s eat,” he said. “I have a rehearsal tonight-although, if Frank and Sammy are gonna be there opening night, there’s not much chance anything will go as rehearsed.”

We dug in, my mind reeling with the offer Dean had made me. I was flattered, to say the least, but I didn’t think I was ready to leave Vegas just yet.