Robert Randisi - I'm a fool to kill you

‘Who?’ the clerk asked.

‘Lucy Johnson,’ I repeated. ‘Do you have a Lucy Johnson registered?’

The man looked confused.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s not that hard a question to answer.’

‘Um, I’ll check, sir.’

‘You do that.’

He checked his registration records, even though I knew he didn’t have to.

‘Look,’ I said, as he started to sweat, ‘call your manager. I’ll talk to him.’

Relieved, he said, ‘Yes, sir.’

He picked up his phone, dialed three numbers and said, ‘Mr Gentry, I need you out here. Yes, sir, it’s very important.’

He hung up and looked at me.

‘He’s comin’ right out.’

‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ I asked.

‘No, sir,’ he said, ‘but I’m just tryin’ to do my job, sir.’

‘Ain’t we all?’ I asked.

I saw three more celebrities walk through the lobby while we waited for the manager. I knew them by sight, they didn’t know me, at all. One of them was that guy who played in the TV. western Sugarfoot . Will Hutchins, that was it. Another one was the guy with the mustache from Hawaiian Eye . Used to be all you saw in the Beverly Hills Hotel lobby was movie stars. At least, that’s what I heard.

When the Manager appeared he was older and, if possible, more dapper than the desk clerk. It was easy to see this was in the desk clerk’s future.

‘What is it, Leon?’ he asked the clerk.

‘Um, this gent wants to know what room Lucy Johnson is in.’

‘Lucy Johnson?’ The Manager looked at me.

‘That’s right,’ I said.

‘Do you have business with Miss Johnson?’ the Manager asked. ‘You see, we guarantee our guests’ privacy-’

‘I understand that,’ I said, ‘but it’s important I speak with Miss Gardner — I mean, Miss Johnson.’

It wasn’t a slip of the tongue. I just wanted to make sure we all knew who we were really talking about.

‘Are you, uh, from the studio?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘my business is much more personal than that, if you know what I mean.’

Suddenly, as if a light had been turned on in his head, the Manager smiled.

‘Oh, I understand,’ he said. I could tell by the look on his face that he thought he understood, but I knew he really didn’t. Now I had to decide if I wanted him to keep thinking what I thought he was thinking.

‘Please,’ he said, ‘come with me. I will escort you to her bungalow.’

OK, well, this was what I’d wanted, and it looked like I’d succeeded, so why try to talk him out of it now?

‘Lead on.’

I followed him out to the bungalows, and down a path toward one of them.

‘I was a little confused,’ he said, as we walked, ‘because Miss Johnson usually prefers the company of much younger, um. .’

‘Men?’ I asked.

‘Well, yes,’ he said. ‘I mean, uh, no offense.’

‘None taken,’ I said. ‘I guess everyone needs a little more seasoning once in a while, huh?’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, indeed.’

We approached one of the bungalows and he turned to give me a smile that was meant to convey some sort of bond we were sharing.

‘Will you knock,’ he said, ‘or shall I?’

I stepped forward and knocked on the door. We waited, and I realized I was holding my breath. I had never seen Ava Gardner in person.

When the door opened she squinted her eyes against the light, held her hand up for shade. Ava Gardner was sex in a bottle — a wine bottle, still corked. Sexy and beautiful on the outside, but once the cork was popped. .

Frank said she didn’t like what she saw when she looked in a mirror these days, but when I looked at her it was like a punch in the stomach. She was Venus, Maria Vargas from The Barefoot Contessa , but to me she’d always be Honey Bear Kelly from Mogambo . Her black hair was cut Honey Bear short, her skin pale and smooth. And the green eyes, oh the green eyes, even squinted and shaded they were amazing. .

‘Mr Gentry,’ she said, ‘I thought I made it clear I did not want to be disturbed.’

‘Uh, this gentleman asked for you by name, Madam,’ he stammered. ‘I mean, uh, he asked for Lucy Johnson.’

She looked at me for the first time, and I saw Ava, the sexual predator. She looked me up and down and asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’ve come on behalf of Frank’

She stared at me for a few minutes, then looked at the Manager and said, ‘It’s all right, Mr Gentry.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

She showed him her index finger and added, ‘But no one else, understand?’

‘I understand.’ He actually bowed to her, and backed away.

As he scurried back down the path she looked at me and said, ‘Come on in, you must be Eddie G.’

I stepped into the bungalow and closed the door.

Ava Gardner was wearing jeans with the cuffs rolled up and a man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her feet were bare. Just my luck she’d have to be wearing the “Mogambo” look. My chest felt tight. She looked and smelled like sex. Somehow, the cigarette she was holding just added to the look.

I was as nervous as a school boy on prom night.

‘Drink?’ she asked.

‘Yes, thanks,’ I said.

She went to a sidebar and poured out two glasses of something. She walked across the room and handed me a highball glass. It smelled like bourbon. Good bourbon.

‘You know who I am?’ I asked.

‘Eddie G.?’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ve heard Frank talk about you. He likes you.’

‘I’m here because of Frank, Miss Gardner.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said, with a lazy smile, ‘just call me Ava, Eddie.’

I realized then that this wasn’t the first glass of bourbon she’d had that day. Though I couldn’t figure how she’d had time to have too many drinks. She’d flown into Vegas, stopped at the Sands, then flown out of Vegas to L.A., and taken a cab here to the hotel. She’d probably beaten me by a couple of hours. OK, yeah, that was time enough to down quite a few drinks.

‘Frank sent you?’ she asked. ‘How did he know I was here?’

‘He didn’t,’ I said. ‘Word got around that you were at the Sands this morning, and left just as abruptly as you arrived.’

She drank some bourbon, swirled the rest in her glass, watching as it went round and round.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I saw Frank with Nancy and Tina in the lobby, and. . I ran.’ She shrugged and looked at me. ‘I panicked and ran. All the way back here.’

‘Ava, Frank figures it must’ve been somethin’ very important to bring you there without calling him first.’

‘Important?’ she asked. ‘I guess that depends on which side you’re on, Eddie.’

‘Frank’s on your side, Ava,’ I said. ‘So am I.’

She ran one hand through her short black hair, pulling at it, then shook her head.

‘I don’t know, Eddie,’ she said. ‘I don’t know. Things have been. . happening.’

‘What things?’

‘My life, it’s unraveling,’ she said. She looked down at her drink again, then drained it and walked back to the sidebar. She poured herself another glass, spilling a little bit from the decanter, then missing when she went to put the top back in.

‘Ava,’ I said, ‘maybe we should have some coffee-’

‘I don’t want any coffee, Eddie,’ she said, turning to face me. ‘Coffee doesn’t help. This is the only thing that helps.’ She drank from her glass.

‘Well then, maybe we can sit and talk about it.’

‘I know who you are, Eddie,’ she said, walking around the room slowly. ‘But that doesn’t mean we’re friends. Why would I talk to you?’