I'm a fool to kill you

FORTY-SEVEN

Dean and I got back to Vegas late. After drinking all night with Frank, Dean had to get me from the airport to the Sands. He pushed me into the limo and sat back.

‘You did it, kid,’ he said.

‘Me? You did it. All you hadda do was say “hear him out Frank,” in that cool way you talk, and that was it. How do you do that? Get him to listen to you?’

‘Oh, he doesn’t always listen to me, but Frank knows I have his best interest at heart.’

‘When don’t he listen to you?’

‘Like when I advised him to dump his holdings in the Cal-Neva,’ he said. ‘I still think it’s gonna come back and bite his ass. Also, the whole JFK thing. I knew he was gonna end up gettin’ hurt. There’s more. You wanna hear it?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m too drunk and I’ll forget it all by mornin’. But I getcha, Dean. I getcha.’

‘You’re gonna have to keep a tight rein on Frank yourself from now on. I gotta get back home. I got some meetings, and dates to play. And I wanna spend some time with my family.’

‘I’ll take care of ’im,’ I slurred. ‘’s’no problem, Pally.’

At least I wasn’t drunk enough to try calling him ‘Dag.’

It was almost midnight when we got back to the Sands. Way past Dean’s bedtime, so he went right to his suite after I thanked him for his help.

‘Don’t mention it, Pally. You gonna be all right?’

‘Oh sure,’ I said. ‘The fresh air helped me, and I’m gonna go and have some coffee in the Garden Room.’

‘I’m headin’ home in the mornin’,’ he said. ‘You’ve got my number.’

‘Yup. I’ve got it. Thanks.’

Sometimes I still had to pinch myself that I had Dean Martin’s home phone number.

I went to the Garden Room, sat in a booth and had several cups of coffee. I knew Entratter wasn’t in his office now, and I could have called his suite, but I decided to wait until the next day.

I was almost done with my coffee when I saw Tony LaBella walk into the room. Tony was an old time crooner, an early influence of Frank’s, as a matter of fact, who had fallen on hard times of late. Jack Entratter booked him into the Silver Queen lounge whenever Tony needed work. I thought the guy could still sing, myself, but I was surprised to see him up this late. He was approaching sixty, and usually asleep at this time. I waved to him and he came over.

‘What’s doin’, Tony?’ I asked. ‘Kinda late for you, ain’t it?’

‘Couldn’t sleep, Eddie,’ he said. ‘Mind if I sit?’

‘Sure, go ahead. You want some coffee?’

The waitress came over when she saw Tony join me. He looked at her and said, ‘Tea, please, with honey.’ He looked at me. ‘Good for the throat.’

‘You feelin’ OK?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, ‘just a little insomnia.’

‘I didn’t know you suffered from that.’

He rubbed his hands over his face. His hair was thinning, once brown, now mostly grey, his face a map of well-earned lines.

‘Only when unwanted memories come flooding back in the dark,’ he said. ‘Then I need some tea, some light. .’

‘And somebody to talk with?’

He smiled and said, ‘That wouldn’t hurt.’

‘What the hell,’ I said. ‘I could use a little more coffee.’

I stayed with Tony for about half an hour, letting him talk about whatever he wanted. He talked about a hideaway he had in Lake Mead, went on about past hit songs for a while, then started to talk about the future.

‘I’d really like to get myself a hit, and I think I’ve got the song,’ he said.

‘Oh? Which one?’

‘Frank’s song, the one he wrote for Ava after they broke up,’ he said. ‘I’m A Fool To Want You.’

‘That’s a great song.’

‘Yeah, it is. I’m gonna ask him, but I’m building up the nerve.’

‘Hey, Tony,’ I said, ‘you know Frank looks up to you, right?’

‘Well. .’

‘He always says he based his early style on you and Bing.’

‘That’s nice to hear. .’

‘No bullshit, Tony,’ I said. ‘I really think you should ask him.’

‘Hey, thanks Eddie,’ he said. ‘I’m gonna do it.’

I checked my watch.

‘I gotta go,’ I said. ‘It was great talking to you.’

‘Thanks again, Eddie.’

We shook hands and I walked out, hoping he would call Frank in the morning and ask him.