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

“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.

I went to my room, thinking about the guy who’d been trying to find me. A gambler, maybe a regular who needed something from me? Or another man involved in the Sammy Davis Jr. fiasco.

That’s what it had turned into, a fiasco. Four men dead, and I didn’t know exactly what was going on. If Sammy was holding something back I was going to get it out of him tomorrow.

I undressed and got into bed. I found myself wondering what the cops had been doing on my block the night before and, if they were at my house, why they hadn’t come to the Sands looking for me. My old friend-and I use the term very loosely-Detective Hargrove would love to get something on me. Maybe he was trying to make his case before coming for me.

I made a mental note to stop in and see Jack Entratter before heading to Tahoe the next morning. Which meant I was going to have to get up early so I could see Entratter and still meet Jerry in the lobby at nine. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Front desk.”

“Caitlin?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Eddie Gianelli.”

“Oh, hello, Eddie.” Was there was a warm tone in her voice or was I imagining it?

“What can I do for you?”

“I’d like an early wake-up call,” I said. “Like … six.”

“That doesn’t give you much time to sleep,” she said. “It’s almost one.”

“Five hours should be plenty,” I said.

“Okay, then,” she said. “A six A.M. wake-up call for Mr. Eddie G.”

“Thank you, Caitlin.”

“Don’t mention it, Eddie.”

I hung up, turned off the light, pulled the sheet up over me, and wondered again if I was messed up enough that I had met this girl and didn’t remember?

I woke when there was a knock on the door. In a fog, I got to my feet, clad only in boxers, and went to the door. When I reached it I suddenly came awake and wondered if there were cops outside.

I looked out the peephole and, instead of a cop, I saw a girl.

Caitlin.

I opened the door a crack. “Caitlin.”

“Good morning, Eddie,” she said. A sweet smell came off her, as if she’d just recently put on some perfume. “I thought I’d personally deliver your wake-up call.”

“Is it six already?”

“Yes, it is,” she said. “Time to get up. Or …”

“Or what?” I asked.

She smiled enigmatically, making me wait, then said, “Or time to let me in.”

“Wha-”

She pushed on the door abruptly, catching me by surprise, and I was forced back far enough for her to come in.

“Caitlin, I’m in my underwear….”

“I know, Eddie,” she said, “so I guess it’s only fair that I get down to mine.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes as she unbuttoned the white blouse all the front desk girls were supposed to wear.

“Caitlin, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie?” she asked, removing her blouse to reveal firm, peach-sized breasts in a lacy white bra. “I’m waking you up.”

We both looked down at the same time and saw that she certainly was.

When I woke up for the second time, Caitlin was gone. I got into the shower but even when I made it cold the memory of her firm young breasts, smooth strong thighs and agile mouth made me hard again. Even feeling like a dirty old man-she was apparently almost twenty years younger than I was-couldn’t make it go away.

“Damn,” I said. I tried thinking about Jerry waiting for me in the lobby. Yup, that did it. I was able to get dressed after that.