Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Thirty-two

After a few hours of running around the strip and downtown, Jerry and I went into the Silver Queen Lounge for a couple of cold ones. The bartender-a new guy named Richard-put a new bowl of peanuts on the bar in front of us.

“Whatever happened to that red-haired gal you were tappin’ for a while?” Jerry asked.

“Beverly. She got a better offer. She left to get married.”

“That’s too bad.”

“No, that’s good for her,” I said. “She had a kid who needed a father and I’m not the type to get married.”

“I getcha.” He popped a handful of nuts into his mouth. “We doin’ anythin’ else tonight?”

“No,” I said, “I think I’ve had it. But we’re gonna fly back up to Tahoe again tomorrow to see Sammy.”

“Early start?”

“Yup.”

He got off his stool.

“I think I’ll go have a sandwich in my room and then turn in.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you in the lobby in the morning … let’s make it around nine A.M.?”

“Okay, Mr. G.,” he said. “Good night.”

I watched Jerry leave the lounge, then I turned back to the bar and signaled the new guy to bring me another beer.

“There ya go, Mr. Gianelli,” Richard said, setting a frosty mug in front of me.

“Thanks.”

“Um, there was somebody in here earlier, looking for you, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir’ Richard,” I said. “I’m not your boss.”

“Yes, si-I mean, sure, okay.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know, just some guy,” he said. “He came in, asked if you were around. When I told him I didn’t know, he left.”

I took a better look at Richard. He was a handsome guy in his early thirties who, I had heard, was drawing some extra female clientele into the lounge when he was on duty. He had blond hair, with a shock of it falling down over his forehead. I wondered if that was part of the appeal to women. My own hairline had begun to recede lately.

But I wasn’t watching him to see how good looking he was. I wanted to study his eyes, decide if he had any smarts to him.

“What did he look like? This guy who came to inquire about my whereabouts?”

He smiled, almost shyly.

“I do really good describing women because I notice them more,” he admitted. “This was just … a guy. Not tall, dark-haired …”

“Thin or fat?”

“Thin, but not skinny.”

“When you say dark are we talkin’ hair or skin? Or both?”

“Black hair, I mean,” Richard said. “His skin was pale, I think.”

“Have you ever seen him in here before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you see where he went when he left?”

“Um, there was a blonde and a brunette at the bar tryin’ to get my attention,” he said. “I didn’t see which way he went.”

“Okay, Richard, thanks,” I said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Gianelli.”

“Eddie,” I said, “it’s just Eddie.”

“I hear folks call you Eddie G,” he commented.

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Okay, Eddie G,” he said, “let me know if you need anything else.”

“This’ll do it,” I said, indicating the beer. “Just let me have a check.”

“Do you usually pay for drinks?”

“Kid,” I answered, “I always pay for drinks. It’s a rule.”

“Your rule?”

I shook my head.

“House rule.” It was a Jack Entratter rule. There was no reason any employee should drink for nothing, he always said.

He gave me my check, I paid it, leaving most of it on the bar, and I sipped some more beer.

I went out to the hotel lobby, to the desk. There were a guy and girl on duty. The girl was pretty, but I didn’t know her. I knew the guy. His name was Anthony something. Early twenties, he had just come out of training for his job. Which was probably why he’d caught this late shift.

“Hey, Anthony.”

“Hey, Mr. Gianelli.”

“You got any messages for me?”

“Not that I know of,” he said. “Caitlin, we got any messages for Mr. Gianelli?”

Caitlin turned her dark gaze on me, brushed a lock of auburn hair from her eyes and said, “Nope, I don’t have anything. Sorry, Eddie.”

Crap, she knew my name and I hadn’t known hers. When had we met, I wondered? And why didn’t I remember meeting a doll like her?

“Well, was anybody askin’ for me? Maybe a guy, dark hair, pale skin?”

“Gee, I don’t remember anybody like that,” Anthony said.

“Me, neither,” Caitlin said, coming closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” I said, “don’t be sorry. I just heard a guy was lookin’ for me in the lounge. I guess he didn’t want to find me bad enough to ask out here. Thanks, both of you.”

“Sure,” Anthony said.

“ ’Bye, Eddie.”

I stopped in mid-turn, looked at her and said, “Good-night, Caitlin.”

I wouldn’t forget her name again.