Robert Randisi - Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

After we’d landed in Vegas we dropped Sammy at the Sands so he could change, and then we went to my house so we could do the same. When we left the house I asked Jerry if he still had the gun on him. I was nervous about him getting caught carrying it. When he told me he didn’t I was even more worried about it being found in my house.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “somebody would have to find it in more than one place. I broke it down in pieces and sort of … spread it around.”

“Where did you put … You know what? I don’t want to know.”

Frank listened patiently. He knew he wasn’t getting all of it, but in the end he just told me, “Keep tryin’ to help him, Eddie. Sam’s already been through a lot. You know, it ain’t easy bein’ black and Jewish. He takes a lot of crap.”

“Don’t worry, Frank,” I assured him, “I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, Eddie,” Frank said. “Listen, one other thing. Give big Jerry a pass tonight. I don’t think he’s real comfortable, but I also don’t think he’d say so.”

“I was having the same thought. I’ll go out and talk to him now while you wait for Dean.”

Frank nodded and I left. The Copa Room was empty and men were stacking chairs on top of the tables, so I went outside the front doors and found the guys waiting there. Joey and Buddy were arguing, or pretending to; Sammy’s head rocked left and right, like he was watching a tennis tournament. Jerry was standing off to the side with no expression on his face. I walked over to him.

“Hey, Mr. G.”

“Hey, Jerry,” I said, “you look a little tired.”

“Huh? Oh, I am, sorta-”

“Why don’t you go up and use your room to get some rest?” I asked. “Or go back to the house.”

“I’d hafta take the Caddy-”

“I’ll get a ride,” I assured him. “You don’t have to come out with these bozos if you don’t want to.”

“I was kinda thinkin’ about skippin’ it….”

“Sure, why not?” I said. “I’ll see you later at the house.”

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“These guys’ll be around me all night, and like I said, I’ll get a ride home.”

“Well, okay,” Jerry said, “but you be careful.”

“Go ahead,” I said, slapping him on one big shoulder. “Go home and get some rest.”

“Thanks, Mr. G.,” he said. “You’ll, uh, explain to everybody-”

“Sure, sure,” I said, “just go.”

He looked very pleased at having been given his release-or else he was just looking forward to driving the Caddy again.

I turned and went to see what Joey and Buddy were beefing to each other about.

While I was out boozing and carousing with the boys, Jerry drove my Caddy back to my house. He said when he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine he could feel something was wrong. He didn’t know how to explain it. It was some kind of extra sense-Jerry knew nothing about a “sixth sense” at that time-that had served him well over the years and kept him alive.

It was dark. He had pulled into the driveway with the lights on, and then cut them.

I didn’t have a garage. At the time I bought the house I had managed to wrangle the price down because of that.

Jerry got out of the car, closed the door behind him, and stared at the house. The blinds on the front bay window were open, the way we had left them. He stared at the window, and then saw it. He must have spotted it out of the corner of his eye when he pulled in. A small pinpoint of light, like the glowing end of a cigarette when somebody draws on it.

Jerry had three choices: front door, back door, or get back in the car and leave. He had to decide fast, before whoever was inside decided to come out after him.

He moved around the car lazily, in no hurry, and when he was out of sight of the window he drew his gun and hurried around to the back. He didn’t know what they’d do inside when he was out of sight. Maybe they’d come out to have a look. Or maybe they’d expect him to try the back.

He stopped at a side window, which he knew led to my bedroom. Jerry knew everything there was to know about my house. He made sure of that each of the other times he was there.

He hoped whoever was inside was watching the front and back doors, because he was going in through the bedroom. The locks on my window were for shit, which Jerry knew.

He jimmied the window open as quickly and quietly as he could, then climbed inside as silently as his bulk would allow him. At one point he feared his rear end had gotten wedged in the window, but then he slid through and was in the house.

Forty-five in hand he moved to the bedroom door. As he got closer to it and reached to pull it open, it suddenly slammed into him. He staggered back, kept hold of his gun, but there was a bright light in his face, blinding him.

“We’re not that stupid, friend,” a voice said. “Just drop the gun and let’s talk.”

We hit a few clubs, had some drinks and laughs, turned away many pretty ladies because it was “guy’s night out.” Eventually, we ended up at Frank’s booth in the Congo Room at the Sahara. It was late, but they put out a spread for Frank and his guests. I was sorry I had sent Jerry home. He would have loved it.

“Time for me to call it a night,” Dean announced.

“It’s still early,” Frank argued.

“I have to be on stage tomorrow night and do it all over again,” Dean said, “and this time without you bums. I need my rest.”

“Me, too, Frank,” Sammy said. “I need to get back to Tahoe early tomorrow to get ready for tomorrow night’s show.”

“You guys are workaholics,” Frank complained.

“Look at the pot callin’ the kettle black,” Dean said.

“What’d you say about black?” Sammy demanded.

“Oh no,” Dean said, “I’m not starting a routine with you.”

He stood up and put his hands on Frank’s shoulders from behind.

“Thanks for coming to the show, Frank.”

“You were great, Dino, as usual.”

“Anybody want to share a limo?” he asked.

“Yeah, me,” I said.

“Eddie!” Frank said, as if insulted.

“Sorry, Frank,” I said, “but I’ve got things to do in the morning.”

“I’ll come along,” Sammy said. He looked at Joey and Buddy. “I’ll see you cats. If you get a chance come to Harrah’s and catch my show.”

“A capital idea, Sam,” Buddy Hackett said.

“Capital,” Joey agreed, and the two nodded at each other.

“Let’s get another round of drinks, Frank,” Buddy said.

“See?” Frank said to those of us who were leaving. “These are my real friends!”

Dean laughed, because he knew who Frank considered his real friends, and Sammy and I followed him outside.

“Goin’ back to the Sands, Sammy?” Dean asked.

“I think I want to get some air,” Sammy said. “Eddie, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna get a ride to my house.”

“I’ve never seen your pad,” he said. “Mind if I tag along?”

“Sure, why not?”

We had been using two limos all night, so we all piled in one and left the other for Frank, Joey and Buddy. We dropped Dean off at the Sands first, and then had the driver take us to my house.

“Nice little neighborhood,” Sammy said as we drove down my block.

“Right here,” I said to the driver, and then suddenly I said, “no, keep goin’.”

“What’s the matter?” Sammy asked.

“Go to the corner,” I said to the driver. To Sammy I said, “I’m not sure. Jerry’s supposed to be there. My car’s in the driveway, but there’s no light in the house.”

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Sammy said. “It’s late.”