You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Kills You Read Online Free PDF

girl?”
    Jesus, did she mean what I thought she meant? Was Marilyn Monroe coming on to me? Was she inviting me over … for sex?
    My first instinct was to rush right over there, but Dean had warned me how fragile she was. I had also seen it for myself, and now I was hearing it. She couldn’t help but fall back on sex.
    “Marilyn, you should get some rest.”
    I could hear the pout in her voice. “You don’t want me, Eddie?”
    “Every man wants you, Marilyn,” I said. “Isn’t that part of the problem?”
    “Eddie, Eddie,” she said. “Are you what I’ve been looking for all my life?”
    “What’s that?”
    “A good man,” she said, “a really good man?”
    “Marilyn, Marilyn,” I said, “I really don’t think so.”
    She laughed and said, “Well, okay, then, you’re an honest man.”
    “That I am,” I said, and we both laughed.
    “Marilyn, give me your phone number at home,” I said. “I’m gonna see what I can find out regardin’ Gable’s death and get back to you.”
    “Okay, Eddie.” She gave me the number that, last week, I wouldn’t have believed I’d ever have.
    “You’re going home tomorrow?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’ll call you there, to make sure you’re all right.”
    “Okay, Eddie,” she said.
    “Dean was really right about you.” She hung up before I could ask the obvious question.

Nine
    I HAD SHOWERED AND just finished dressing when I heard the horn out front. My neighbors had probably heard it, too. A big black limo was hugging the curb. I was sure people were watching as I got in the back. Dean, Frank and Sammy all slapped me on the back.
    “How ya doin’, Charley?” Sammy said.
    “Good, Sam, it’s great to see you guys. Where we goin’?”
    “Where else?” Dean asked.
    The Congo Room at the Sahara was a favorite place of Frank’s. They kept a booth open there just for him.
    “Tony and Janet are in town,” Frank told me. “They’re gonna meet us for dinner.”
    “Sounds good,” I said. So that would be the night I met Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh. They were friends with Frank and Sammy. Dean’s close friends, I knew, were few. He just didn’t need people around him that much. He was happy with his family, or just alone. That was why he usually let Frank call the shots. It mattered to Frank.
    The limo took us to the Sahara.
    “First we’re goin’ into the Casbah Room to give Rickles a hard time,” Frank said.
    Frank liked Rickles, called him “Bullethead.”
    As soon as Rickles came out he targeted Frank, Sammy and Dean. I just happened to be sitting with them.
    “Hey, guys, make yourselves comfortable,” Rickles said. Then he held a make-believe tommy gun in his hands and went, “Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.”
    The guys started laughing, but then Frank stood up and said, “That’s it, I’m gettin’ outta here.”
    “Take it easy, Frank,” Rickles said. “I have to listen to you sing.”
    “Jokes aside, kid,” Frank said, “who’s your favorite singer?”
    Rickles immediately shot back, “Dick Haymes,” and people were on the floor.
    Suddenly Dean was on stage.
    “I’ve got somethin’ to say.”
    “Great,” Rickles said, “the Pope speaks.”
    “Don Rickles is the funniest man in show business—but don’t go by me, I’m drunk!”
    When we got to the Congo Room, Tony and Janet had already been shown to Frank’s booth. I found it hard not to stare at Janet Leigh. She was luminous. I’d had it bad for her ever since I saw her in
The Black Shield of Falworth
in 1954. Of course, Tony had the lead in that movie, and had uttered the famous words “Yonder lies the castle of my father,” only with his Brooklyn accent he’d said “fadduh.” Or so the joke goes. Actually, since I was from Brooklyn I knew he didn’t have a Brooklyn accent. He was from the Bronx.
    Peggy Lee was playing the Congo Room that night but we’d missed her set.
    The introductions were made and when I said “Glad to meetyou,” to them I was, of course,