Robert Randisi - You're nobody 'til somebody kills you

“Hey, I forgot,” he said, getting up quickly. He came back with a pitcher of orange juice he’d obviously prepared earlier.

“Well,” I said, as he poured two glasses, “now it’s perfect. Thanks, Jerry.”

“Sure, Mr. G.”

“I guess I’m kind of surprised you didn’t make pancakes.”

“Pancakes is my thing,” he said. “You’re my guest.”

“You, uh, entertain often?”

“Naw,” he said, “never.”

He was a pretty good host for somebody who never had company.

After breakfast Jerry cleaned his kitchen while I went into the living room to watch some TV. When he was done he came in and sat with me.

“You goin’ to the wake today, Mr. G.?”

“I don’t know, Jerry,” I said. “I haven’t decided.”

“Whataya wanna do today, then?”

I had been thinking about that while I was watching television.

“I’ll tell you what I wanna do,” I said. “I wanna walk down to the bay, take a look at the boats, walk past Lundy’s and some of the other old hangouts, and end up at Randazzo’s for some clams for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Didja bring a coat from Vegas?” Jerry asked. “It’s gonna be cold today.”

“I did remember that it was winter in New York, Jerry,” I said.

I hadn’t really packed a coat, but I did bring some thermal underwear to go under the jacket I had brought, as well as a heavy sweatshirt. When I was properly layered I was ready to go. Jerry donned a long overcoat, and we left his place to walk the two blocks down to the bay.

The layering just barely worked, but I wasn’t about to complain to Jerry that I was cold. It was too early for Lundy’s to be open, but walking by the building did make me feel kind of nostalgic for my misspent youth.

We walked down by the water. Most of the boats had gone out already, and wouldn’t be back until dinnertime. My brother and I had worked on some of the boats for a few years. That was back when we were still kind of friendly, before he became a crazy clone of my father.

By lunchtime I was almost frozen, so the inside of Randazzo’s Clam Bar was a welcome relief. We split a huge order a clams and washed it down with beer. Jerry asked me what was going on in Vegas.

“Seen much of Mr. S., or Dino lately? Or any of those guys?”

“As a matter of fact,” I said, “Frank, Dean and Sammy are in Vegas now, playin’ the Sands.” I told him about having dinner with them, and meeting Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.

“She was in Prince Valiant , right?”

“That’s right.”

“She’s a real babe,” he said. “Ya know, them pointy tits.”

“I know, Jerry.”

“Any trouble with them guys?”

“No, but …”

“But what?”

I figured, what the hell? I was in Brooklyn and Marilyn was in L.A.

“Dean did ask me to see if I could help out a friend of his.”

“Who?”

“Marilyn Monroe.”

His jaw dropped-which wasn’t pretty, because he had a mouthful of clams.

“Yer shittin’ me!”

“No.”

“You met her?”

“I went to Tahoe-remember the Cal Neva Lodge in Tahoe? Well, she was stayin’ in one of those cabins.”

“You was in a cabin alone with her? Is she a nympho like they say? Did she jump ya?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Jerry,” I said, “but she didn’t jump me. She’s more of a scared kid than a nympho.”

“What’s got her scared?”

“Well, for one thing, folks are sayin’ she caused the death of Clark Gable while they were makin’ The Misfits.”

“That’s crazy,” he said. “Gable was an old guy doin’ his own stunts. I read about all that stuff. Sure, she kept ‘em waitin’ a lot in the desert-but how could that kill him? Don’t they have fancy, air-conditioned dressing rooms?”

“That’s just what I told her, Jerry.”

“Jeez, folks are mean, ya know?”

“Yeah, I do know.”

“So, whataya gonna do for her?”

“I don’t know, really. I’ve already spent time on the phone, kinda talkin’ her down. Right now I got Danny keepin’ an eye on her. She seems to think she was bein’ followed.”

“Lucky dog,” Jerry said. “I mean, followin’ behind Marilyn Monroe. Ya know, because of that ass-”

“I get it, Jerry,” I said. “I get it.”

We finished our clams and I paid the tab, then we walked back to Jerry’s place. I took off my jacket, but he left his coat on.

“Mr. G., I gotta go down the street and pick up my laundry, and then I gotta make another stop. Ya wanna come along?”

“No, Jerry, that’s okay,” I said. “I told you, I don’t wanna mess with your routine. Just go and do what you gotta do. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, Mr. G.” He headed for the door, then stopped. “I’ll be walkin’, so the car keys’ll be here in case ya wanna, you know, go somewheres.”

“Thanks, Jerry.”

He nodded and left. I turned the TV on and sat down to watch, but I wasn’t concentrating. I looked at my watch. If I drove over to the funeral home now I’d find everybody there. There’d be crying, and some laughing, funny stories to tell. Only when I walked in, it would all stop. They’d stare at me as I walked up to the coffin and looked down at my mother. Then there’d be some snide remarks, mostly behind my back, some to my face. My father probably wouldn’t even talk to me.

When the phone rang I jumped, then felt silly. I picked it up after the second ring. Probably for Jerry, anyway.

“Hello?”

“Eddie, is that you?”

“Penny? Yeah, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe nothing, but …”

“Go ahead.”

“I haven’t heard from Danny,” she said. “I–I can’t get ahold of him.”

“Is he still in L.A.?”

“Supposed to be.”

“Was he stayin’ at a hotel?”

“He got a cheap motel room near where Marilyn lives,” she said. “I’ve been calling, but there’s no answer. I’ve left several messages.”

“All of this yesterday and today?”

“Yes. Eddie, I’m sorry to call you at a time like this. I mean, with your mother and all, but-”

“It’s okay, Penny,” I said. “Look, the funeral’s tomorrow. I’ll head back right after that. Don’t worry, I’ll find out what’s goin’ on.”

“I was probably silly to call you,” she said. “I could’ve just called a local PI out there, have them check-”

“Okay, do that,” I said, “but I’m still comin’ back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Eddie.”

She started to hang up and I said, “Penny, wait a minute?”

“I’m here.”

“Let me have the phone number of Danny’s motel,” I said. “I’ll keep tryin’ him there.”

“Good idea,” she said, and read it off to me.

“Thanks, Eddie,” she said. “I–I feel better after talking to you.”

I hung up, not knowing why she felt better. I really hadn’t told her anything that would make her less fearful. I knew Danny could take care of himself, but he usually checked in with Penny when he was away. If anything had happened to him it would be my fault-only what could have happened? All he did was follow Marilyn home.

Unless … unless Marilyn was being followed, as she suspected, and Danny had run into whoever it was.

Jerry came back a couple of hours later during a commercial for Chunky Chocolate Bars. I turned off the TV and told him about the phone call. I had to talk to somebody about it, and anyway, it was better than trying to make inane conversation in order to avoid talking about the funeral.

Jerry listened, nodding the whole time, not interrupting.