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

It was 2 A.M.

“This is Vegas, Sammy,” I said, “it’s not that late.”

“Okay, so what do you wanna do?” Sammy asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Call the police?”

“No,” I said, “no cops.”

“What’s your name, driver?” Sammy asked.

“Thomas, Mr. Davis.”

“Thomas, you got anything in the car we could use as a weapon?” Thomas leaned forward, opened the glove compartment, and took out a wicked-looking automatic.

“Will this do?”

“Whoa,” Sammy said, reaching for the gun. “A German Luger? This is groovy.”

“I brought it back with me from Germany,” Thomas said. I hadn’t realized earlier that he was in his sixties.

“Do you have a permit for that?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Can I borrow it?” Sammy asked.

“Sam,” I said, “if you shoot somebody with that, not only are you gonna be in trouble, but so will Thomas.”

“Oh, yeah,” Sammy said, handing the gun back to the driver.

“You got a tire iron, or something?” I asked.

“If you gents are having a problem,” Thomas said, “maybe me and my Luger can help?”

Thomas turned out to be ex-Army Ranger Sergeant Thomas Thorpe. Out of the fifteen million men and women who served in the armed forces during World War II, only three thousand were Rangers. They were trained for surprise attacks, many of which took place at night-like this.

“What would you like me to do, sir?” Thomas asked as we approached the house.

“I think I’ll go in the front, Thomas, pretend there’s nothing wrong. Why don’t you go in the back-just in case something is wrong.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

“And me?” Sammy asked.

“I still think you should’ve stayed in the car, Sam.”

“No way,” Sammy said. “Whatever’s goin’ down is because of me. I want in.”

I was holding a tire iron. As we reached my car I decided to put it down in the grass.

“What are you doin’?” Sammy asked.

“Well, if I’m gonna walk in like nothing’s wrong I can’t very well be carrying a tire iron, can I?”

“I suggest you put it down your pants leg,” Thomas said. “You might need it.”

I thought that over, then decided an Army Ranger knew what he was talking about. I picked the iron up and put it down my left pants leg. It didn’t reach my knee, so I’d have no trouble walking.

“I would’ve offered to carry it,” Sammy said with a grin, “but I’ve got short legs.”

Thomas laughed, then started around the house.

“So we just walk in?” Sammy asked.

“If somebody’s in there and they kill us they won’t get any money out of you, will they?” I asked.

“Then why would they be in there?” Sam asked.

“Probably to deliver a message.”

“For the next meeting?”

“Maybe.”

“Well then let’s go on in,” Sammy said. “That’s a message I’d like to get.”

I took my keys out of my pocket and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

We walked up to the door. I put the key in, turned it, and twisted the knob. Just inside on the wall was a light switch. I hit it and the living room lit up.

Jerry was sitting in my armchair-or, rather, he was duct-taped to it. There was so much silver tape around him he looked like the tin man from The Wizard of Oz . His eyes appeared very calm, though.

There were two other men in the room: one standing, one seated on the sofa. They both held guns in their hands, sort of casually, not really pointed at us. That was all they had in common that I could see. The standing one was fat, with smooth, sweaty cheeks even though it wasn’t that hot in the house. He looked young, like a big baby. The seated one was slender, with hollowed-out cheeks. He could’ve been anywhere from forty to fifty.

“Well, about time you came home,” the seated one said. “And you brought a distinguished guest.”

“That’s Sammy Davis Jr.,” the other man said. “Wow!”

“Thanks, man,” Sammy said. “I’m flattered by the review.”

I hoped neither of them noticed I was holding my left hand tight to my side so the tire iron wouldn’t slide down.

“You okay Jerry?”

The big guy did his best to nod.

“Oh, he’s fine,” the seated man said. “We didn’t hurt him none. We caught him comin’ in the window of your bedroom. We thought maybe he was plannin’ on stealin’ somethin’ so we decided to hold him for you. Maybe you wanna talk to him after we finish our business.”

“And what business do we have?” I asked.

“I think you know,” the man with the hollow cheeks said.

I looked at Sammy, who shrugged, playing it cool.

“I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for us, pal,” I said, “but first, why don’t you two gents put the guns away?”

“These,” Hollow Cheeks said, “are just a precaution. We didn’t want you overreacting when you found us here.”

“I’m a goddamned pit boss,” I said. “How could I overreact? Ban you from the tables?”

Hollow Cheeks laughed, and the Big Baby took that as his cue to laugh as well. I looked beyond them through the kitchen door, wondering if Thomas was moving around in the dark.

“Hey, cats,” Sammy said, “ain’t your business with me?”

Big Baby slapped Hollow Cheeks on the shoulder and, grinning broadly, said, “Sammy Davis Jr.! Geez.”

“Relax,” said Hollow Cheeks, “don’t get so excited over a little nigger.”

I didn’t know how that made Sammy feel, but it sure as hell pissed me off.

“Why don’t you two bums get the hell out of my house?”

“Aw, did I say something to offend you?” Hollow Cheeks asked. “Or your little friend?”

“Just get to it,” I said. “I want to cut my friend outta that tape.”

“Oh, he’s a friend of yours? Then he must’ve been coming through the window to do us some harm.” He pointed the gun at Jerry. “Maybe I should take care of him.”

“And maybe you should put the gun down, sir,” Thomas said from the kitchen doorway.

“Benny?” Hollow Cheeks said.

Benny, the big baby, said, “Guy with a gun, Lee.”

“Pointed at me?” He was looking at us, not the doorway.

“Yep.”

Lee looked at me, keeping his gun pointed at Jerry.

“Looks like we got a Mexican standoff.”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” I said. “You speak Spanish, Sammy?”

“Nada.”

“Thomas?” I asked.

“A little German, but no Spanish, sir.”

“Wise guy,” Lee said.

“Put the gun down, state your business, and get out,” I said.

“We only came to deliver a message,” Lee said. “There’s no reason for all this.”

I knew if this turned into a shoot-out it would be a bloodbath I’d have to explain to the cops. If I came out of it alive.

“Then let’s all put down the guns,” I said.

“Your man first.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “My house, my rules. You and your buddy Benny first.”

Lee seemed to be thinking it over.

“My friend Thomas is an ex-Army Ranger,” I said. “He’ll hardly miss from the doorway.”

“You don’t say,” Lee said.

I looked over at the trussed-up Jerry and noticed that his eyes were just about popping out of their sockets. He was either having a seizure, or trying to tell me something.

“You may have a point,” Lee said, then.

Jerry’s eyes were jerking to the right, toward the front window. I looked over and saw a ripple in the drapes.

“Benny, let’s put our guns down like the man said,” Lee went on.

I drew the tire iron out of my pants-never thought I’d hear myself say or think that-and threw it with all my might at the drapes. It hit the man behind the drapes hard and he fell forward, face down on the floor, an ugly black revolver falling from his hand.