I reached up and put my hand on it so she could let go.
“I better call the police,” she said.
“No-wait!”
She turned away from the phone and frowned at me. Dori was tall and statuesque, the way the casinos preferred their showgirls to be, and when she was all made up to go on stage she became beautiful. Freshly scrubbed the way she was now, though, she was simply achingly pretty.
“Why?”
“I need a minute to think.”
I was still feeling disoriented from being attacked. Did I want the police called in? What could I tell them? I couldn’t even describe the men.
“Would you be able to identify those two if you saw them again?” I asked.
“What? No, I don’t think so. They went by me so fast, and shoved me out of the way …”
“Then I don’t think it would do any good to call the police,” I said. I was starting to think more clearly. What of this was connected to the threats on Dean Martin? After all, that was the only thing happening in my life that was out of the ordinary.
“Are you sleeping with somebody’s wife, Eddie? Is that what this is about?”
Lately, we’d been having some problems and I’d started to think about ending our little arrangement-or what she had begun calling our “relationship.”
“No, I haven’t slept with anyone’s wife, lately.” Danny had askedme the same thing. When did I get that fuckin’ reputation? “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what this was all about, but they really seemed intent on hurting me.”
“Maybe I should take you to the hospital?”
I leaned forward and reached behind me to rub my back. The blow had not landed on either of my kidneys, so I doubted I’d be pissing blood like a fighter after a bout. I probed my ribs, which didn’t seem to be cracked. I’d had cracked ribs once before, so I knew from experience that it hurt like a bitch just to breathe. The worst problem seemed to be my knee, which had swelled up to about twice its size.
“I think some ice on my knee would be the best thing,” I said. “How does my head look?”
I removed the towel so she could take a look. She took hold of my face and leaned me toward the light.
“One of the girls fell one night and hit her head. The doctor said scalp wounds bleed a lot, but aren’t that serious. It doesn’t look like you’re going to need stitches.”
“Okay, then,” I said, “no cops and no doctors.”
“But Eddie-”
She was wearing jeans and a man’s shirt knotted below her large breasts. There was a considerable expanse of tummy showing, and I put my hand on her warm skin.
“I just think I need some tender loving care,” I said.
“From me?” she asked, with a smile.
“You’re the one who’s here,” I said, and then realized that may have been the wrong way to put it. “After all, you probably saved my life tonight. In some countries that makes you responsible for me.”
“Eddie,” she said, leaning forward so that her head came in contact with mine.
“Ow!” I said, and started bleeding again.
Thirteen
I woke the next morning stiff and sore-but I was grateful to wake up, at all. If Dori hadn’t come to the door, I might have been dead.
Dori stayed the night. She checked my eyes to make sure my pupils contracted in the light-she’d seen a doctor do this to the girl that had fallen onstage-and pronounced me concussion free.
We went to bed but didn’t have sex. Not that I didn’t want to. Dori’s all woman, and having her next to me gave me a raging hard-on all night, but my aches and pains just wouldn’t allow it. Believe me, we tried. The second time she whacked my sore knee with one of hers and we gave it up.
However, when we woke the next morning I was still hard, and she had pity on me.
Then she sprang a surprise on me while she was getting dressed.
“I think you should consider that a goodbye blowjob, Eddie.”
“What?” I’d been distracted watching her move about the room naked, enjoying the play of her dancer’s muscles beneath her smooth, pale skin.
“You’ve gotten yourself into something funny,” she said, “and I don’t mean ‘ha ha’ funny.”
“Well,” I said, “you’re right about that.” I watched as she fit her showgirl tits into her bra, then pulled on her top.
“Those men scared the shit out of me last night,” she said, pulling on her panties and hip-huggers at the same time, “so now that I know you’re all right I don’t think I want to be around if and when they come back.”
I couldn’t blame her for that. They’d pretty much scared the shit out of me, too-which, according to one of them, had been their job. Hurting me, that just seemed to be something the first guy wanted to do because he liked it.
She put on her shoes, grabbed her purse and came over to the bed to kiss me goodbye.
“Give me a call when you’ve got it all sorted out,” she said, then added, “then we’ll see.”
After she was gone I realized she’d been feeling the same thing I had, that maybe we’d run our course. We’d probably bump into each other around town-I’d even go to see her show-but we both knew that anything more than that was no longer an option.
In other words, we were done.
Being from Brooklyn I had seen a lot of street fights in my life. Hell, I had even done my time as a kid in a street gang, but had outgrown that stage very quickly. My point is I’m not really all that brave, but getting beat up didn’t send me running right to the cops, either. In the light of day I decided not to bring them into it-at least, not until I talked to Dean, again.
I took a shower when I got up and then checked myself out in the mirror. None of my injuries were visible except for a bruised knee-and no one would see that once I got dressed. The wound on my scalp was covered by my hairline, at first glance no one could tell I’d been attacked. Probably the only explaining I’d have to do was about the slight limp. Good thing Dori and I had iced the knee the night before, or it would have been much worse come morning. It was still somewhat swollen, but not so bad I couldn’t get my pants on. As far as thelimp went, I was hoping that it would get stronger and start to handle all my weight as the day progressed.
I made myself some coffee and tried not to rub my knee while I drank it. There was nothing else going on in my life that would cause two men to break into my house, wait for me, and then try to hurt me. And “break” was not even the right word. There was no damage to my door, or to any of my windows. Those guys had gotten in slick as you please, which meant they were pros-and that meant they had probably been paid to do what they did-only they hadn’t gotten the job done. Did that mean they’d be back? And wasn’t that a good enough reason to call the police?
I was still going over the one hand and the other hand when the phone rang.
“Is this Eddie Gianelli?” a man’s harsh voice asked. I didn’t recognize it, but got a chill down my spine anyway. I had a feeling I knew why he was calling.
“That’s right. What can I do for you?”
“Stay healthy, Eddie,” the man said. “I can always send my friends back around.’
“Who is this?”
“That don’t matter.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
“Stick to what you know best,” he said. “Don’t be tryin’ to branch out.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talkin’ about stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong,” the man said. “I’m talkin’ about doin’ favors for people and gettin’ hurt.”
“You’re talking about vague threats,” I said, starting to get angry. “How am I supposed to know what you’re warning me off of if you don’t tell me?”
“Names don’t matter,” he said. “You got a job, do it. Just don’t be freelancing, Eddie. It ain’t healthy.”
“For Chrissake,” I yelled, “this isn’t a Bogart movie, you stupid sonofa-”
But he was gone. I hung up, feeling totally frustrated. He had tobe talking about me helping Frank and Dean, but why wouldn’t he say it?