Heaven Is to Your Left Read online

  Marty’s mellow baritone filled the room while a few couples danced on the shiny dance floor surrounding the stage. I decided I should go over and try to settle Max down so he didn’t collapse, but before I got there Lucille was already at his side, pulling him into a chair. She signaled for the bartender to bring him a glass of water. She certainly was efficient. Maybe too efficient. I approached them hesitantly, aware of the swish of my flared crinoline gown.

  “Al!” Lucille exclaimed, jumping up and down. “You’re here, you’re here!” She threw her arms around me, her own flared gown crinkling into mine. We both wore sleeveless dresses so her bare flesh brushed against mine. I half-heartedly hugged her back, wanting to be free of touching flesh that might have cut into mine in the worst possible way. I managed a smile, as one does in those moments, and stepped back from her. But . . . could she be the one who betrayed us? Was she the one working with Schuyler? Did she even know about Juliana and me?

  “Look at you!” Lucille exclaimed. “Paris has certainly been good to you. Your hair.”

  She touched the side of my brushed back short hair with the fingers of her pink gloves.

  “Your hair is so gone, man. Like real gone.”

  It was apparent that while I was away, Lucille had spent entirely too much time with the musicians.

  I walked over to Max, who was slumped in a chair near a center table. He looked exhausted. “Don’t worry, Max,” I said. “She’s gonna love this place.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Of course. I’m the one who made it what it is.”

  “After I trained you. But you did it, kid, you really did. And then, you left me alone with it.”

  “Alone? You’d better not say that in front of Lucille.”

  “She’s been doing a terrific job.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “Oh, you.” He grabbed me and pulled me into his lap. “Do you think I could possibly do any of this without you. Where the hell have you been?”

  I pulled myself off his lap, hoping no one had seen that. “It sounds like you missed me.”

  “Oh? Were you gone? I really love your hair. Have you turned into a Parisian girly girl?”

  I gave him a look.

  “Just checking,” he said.

  “Look, I wrote you that Scott’s ship with the other musicians will be getting in in a few days. You’re going to be at the dock to meet him, aren’t you?”

  “Oh. Uh, sure. Uh, yeah. Give me the time again.”

  “Wednesday, three. He was pretty upset, you know, that you didn’t write to him very often while he was away.”

  “I was busy running two clubs. And, well . . . writing letters, it’s not something well, you know I . . . How many did you get from me?”

  “None.”

  “See?”

  Marty jumped down from the stage and we were quickly in each other’s arms.

  “You in a tux and a bow tie? I’m shocked.”

  Max went back to fixing things that didn’t need fixing.

  “Well, you know,” Marty said. “Have to play the game sometimes.”

  I was used to seeing Marty in his sloppy corduroy pants, his jacket with the patches on the elbow, and his tie poking out of his jacket pocket.

  “And that tan? How’d you find the time?”

  “Hollywood is the land of tans. Not having one is practically a sin. Oh gosh, Al, it’s good to see you.” He brought me back into his arms and squeezed me. “The way we left off . . . Before you went to Paris . . . I was in bad shape, and the ungrateful letters I sent you . . .”

  “Forget it. I just felt bad that the only part I had for you was the Easter Bunny at kids’ backyard parties, but you did meet a couple of producers.”

  “Yes, I did. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I mean, if I ever did anything to hurt you, I’d want to bump myself off.”

  “Please. I already have one friend I have to worry about keeping alive. I don’t want two.”

  “Who?”

  “Scott. Remember me running back and forth to the hospital before Paris because he—”

  “Oh yeah, right. I’d never really do that. It’s just an expression. How is Scott? Where is he?”

  “He’ll be home Wednesday. He’s taking the ship back from Paris so he can keep track of the musical instruments and the musicians.”

  “I don’t know him very well, but he seems like a good guy, and I’d never want to hurt him either. You know that. Don’t you? Never. Really, Al, I wouldn’t want to—”

  “Of course not. I’d never expect you to. Why are you going on like that?”

  “No reason.” He looked down at his shoes like a kid. “It’s just I want you to know . . . Well, I know I owe my success to you, so I’d never want to hurt you or anyone you care about. I mean, if it hadn’t been for you getting me that part in All’s Well that Doesn’t End, I’d still be in East Hampton in a bunny costume.”

  “Tell me. Was that show as bad as it sounds?”

  “A musical Shakespearean western? What do you think?”

  We both laughed.

  “But, it got me noticed by Columbia and it got me that seven-year contract so I’m—"

  Everything stopped. Silence. Everyone turned to stare. Even the diners stopped their dinner conversations to turn and look. Juliana had just entered the room. She wore a royal blue silk gown that caressed her breasts and midriff and opened into layers of cloth bouncing around her hidden legs down to the floor. It was held up with spaghetti straps. She’d covered her naked décolletage with a single silver strand that held a teardrop diamond pointing toward her upraised breasts. A pair of cluster diamond earrings sat on her ear lobes. Her arms were covered with royal blue gloves extending from her fingertips to her elbows. Watching her glide toward us, I could barely catch my breath. Richard, in a tux, walked by her side, his arm linked in hers, but it took a few minutes before I noticed him.

  Lucille threw her arms around Juliana like they were old buddies, when I knew they had only met once. Not being given to public displays of affection, especially superficial ones (probably learned from her father’s side of the family), Juliana gave her a quick squeeze and removed herself from Lucille’s grasp. She moved past me without even a nod—ouch—and extended her gloved hand to Max. He took it and kissed her on the cheek, “You look lovely, my dear. Richard, may I steal your wife for a moment? I want to show her around the place.”

  “Oh, sure,” Richard said, handing his wife over to Max. “Be my guest.”

  “I will,” Max said as he wrapped Juliana’s gloved arm around his. They walked off.

  “Murder!” Lucille exclaimed, slapping her two gloved hands together as she watched Juliana go. “That package is solid.”

  Richard whispered to me, “What’d she say?”

  “Roughly translated, Lucille thinks Juliana is perfection.”

  “Oh. She is, she is,” Richard said. “Thank you, Lucille.”

  Lucille winked at him and patted my shoulder. “You keep cool, hon. I’m taking it tonight. Back in a tick.” She scurried off to her office, her dress swishing loudly as she went.

  A new singer, an attractive young man, stood at the mike singing “Stardust.” It brought back memories of World War II and my first flashes of excitement at just being in the same room with Juliana. Oh, how I wished I could go up on that stage and cut in.

  “That’s my cue to go backstage,” Marty said. “I have to rest the pipes. I’m opening for Vic Damone tonight. Hey! That’s another thing I owe you. Tonight.”

  “Not me. I didn’t set it up.”

  “No, Lucille did.”

  “Lucille?”

  “Yeah. But I’m sure if I weren’t your client and your friend, she never would’ve gone out on that limb for me. You’re good for me, Al. Glad you’re home.”

  He kissed me on the cheek and ran off. Lucille had set up this gig for him? Not Max? Could that be why she betrayed me
? To get my job? I thought back to the time when I first met Lucille. She’d played the accompaniment for that girl who did the striptease for me and could have trapped me into one helluva moral mess. Then later she came begging for a job as a secretary, claiming she had no idea what that girl was going to do. And I fell for that. And I hired her! She was plotting back then to get my job. How could I have been so stupid! It was Lucille. Lucille betrayed us with Schuyler. But how did Lucille know about Juliana and me? She was always hanging around. Working more than she should. Probably snooping. It had to be her.

  More couples stepped onto the dance floor, among them Mr. and Mrs. Al Miniaci, who owned Paramount Automat. We had to buy our coin-ops from them. Both were always elegantly dressed in the finest quality clothes. In ’51, Al’s wife, Rose, got polio, that horrible disease that used to cripple and kill children and adults by the thousands. They finally got a vaccination for it last year. Doctors said Mrs. Miniaci would never walk again. But Mr. Miniaci loved her so much he wouldn’t stop till he found a cure. He finally found it in Hot Springs, Arkansas, so now she only had a little bit of a limp and the two of them looked real good on the dance floor. Mr. Miniaci never brought a girl to the club like the others did. I’d heard he stayed pretty faithful to the missus.

  Jimmy, “the Crusher,” came in with a new side kick, a skinny kid in a suit and tie that was too big for him. His dark hair flopped over his forehead and into his eyes. The two of them moved toward their ringside seats. Neither had brought a date. Jimmy always came alone. Not many girls would want to be seen with a man who had half a melted face, a deep scar across his forehead, and a right hand with no thumb. Jimmy wasn’t easy to look at, but you got used to it. Sort of. A few more tough mob guys with girls on their arms gathered around ringside with Jimmy.

  Frank Costello entered the dining room with a woman on his arm and lit a cigarette.

  Boy, was he in a peck of trouble. Taxes. Not paying them. Or so the government said. They still hadn’t quite proven it yet, but they were getting pretty close.

  “Hey, Al,” he said, coming toward me. “Back from Paris, huh? Good trip?”

  “Yeah, very good, Mr. Costello.”

  “Hey, what’s that mister bit, like ya don’t hardly know me? I’m yer Uncle Frank.”

  “Okay. Uncle Frank.”

  “Datta-goil. Oh, and this here’s the missus. I don’t think yer ever met Missus Costello.”

  “No. I haven’t. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Costello.”

  She nodded without speaking.

  Frank never brought women to the club with him, his wife or otherwise. The other guys, except for Mr. Miniaci, brought their Friday night ladies, even if it was Saturday.

  “Ya know, Lauretta, Al—Alice, she’s just the sort you gotta know. She’s got class. She’s got a college education. Maybe you could show her ‘round town sometime, Al—Alice. My wife’d prob’ly like callin’ ya Alice better. More girlie. So, whacha think about maybe showin’ my wife round town. Introduce her to the celebrity folk you know. None of them sleezeballs. Oh, but you prob’ly don’t know any of them, a nice goil like yerself.” He turned to his wife. “You’d like that, Lauretta, goin’ round town with Alice. Wouldn’t ya?”

  She nodded with that shy smile again.

  So, what ya say, Alice?”

  I really hated him calling me Alice, but how do you tell that to the Prime Minister of the Underworld. “Uh, well, uh, sure. Sometime.”

  “Yer a good egg, Alice. See, hon?” Frank said, turning back to his wife. “Alice knows some real decent folk. That’s who ya oughta be meetin’. Thanks, Alice. Oh, we need a table for just us. I don’t want Lauretta sittin’ with them clowns over there. Ya know what I mean?”

  “Sure, Mr.—”

  “What?”

  “Uncle Frank.”

  “Datta goil.”

  I signaled to the maître ‘d and told him to escort the Costellos to a table for two down front.

  “Thanks, Al,” “Uncle Frank” said as he swatted me on the rear. He guided Lauretta toward the table, following the maître d'. I suppose I should’ve introduced Richard to him. He was standing right next to me, but I wasn’t sure how to introduce Richard to someone like “Uncle Frank.”

  The gangly kid who came in with Jimmy the Crusher hurried toward me, calling, “Hey!” He pushed Richard out of the way.

  “Excuse me?” Richard said, indignant

  “Yeah, yer excused, old man.” Then turning to me. “You Al Huffman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m Sammy and I got somefin’ fer ya.” He reached into his pants pocket and I backed up, my heart thundering. A gun? He drew out a folded paper square and held it out for me. “It’s from my buddy, Jimmy, over dere.” I took it from his sweaty fingers that appeared not to have been washed in some time and started breathing again. I sure must’ve been away a long time if these guys could unglue me on my own turf.

  Sammy ran back to the table with Jimmy and the other boys. Mr. and Mrs. Miniaci were just taking their own seats around the table.

  “My goodness,” Richard said. “Who in the world was that? Certainly an unsavory type. Shouldn’t you take that note to the police?”

  “The police? Uh . . . no. Everything’s fine.” Richard didn’t know we never called the police. Ever. Not if we wanted to stay in business. They stopped by to pick up their take once a week, but we never called them. There was so much we didn’t tell Richard.

  I opened the square of paper. Inside, in an unsteady hand, was written:

  “Well cum hom

  I mist yu”

  “Well?” Richard said. “I don’t mean to pry, but could you be in danger?”

  “No. It’s nothing.” I refolded the square and placed it in the waistband of my dress. I could feel Jimmy watching me from his ringside seat. I recalled that bracelet he’d given me for my thirtieth birthday/graduation two years ago. I wasn’t sure what . . . I didn’t want to think about what this meant. I gave Jimmy a quick wave, but no smile.

  “Well, Richard. Everyone seems to be off dancing. Shall we sit? Order a drink?”

  “I don’t think you and I have ever danced together,” he said. “How about it?”

  “I don’t know. You’re used to dancing with Juliana.”

  “Not in a long time. She’s always busy dancing with everybody else. Business.” He took my hand. “Let’s go.”

  The singer had begun “The Way You Look Tonight.” Richard put his arm across my back and led me in a very pleasant fox trot. “You know, Richard, it’s kind of funny that after all the years we’ve spent together in clubs waiting for Juliana, we never once thought to dance with each other. Isn’t that strange?”

  “I think we were always so worried about Juliana we couldn’t relax long enough to even have the thought. But I feel like this play is going to be good for her. There isn’t going be much to worry about anymore.”

  My stomach flip-flopped.

  “You dance very well,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you, but I appreciate your kindness. How’s your mother?”

  “Oh, Al,” he sighed. “Mothers. You must have had one too.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I did. A humdinger of a one. Tell me about yours.”

  “I’m sure she’d give your mother a run for her money. My mother’s a very nervous woman. She always has been, since I was a child. She doesn’t much care for my older sister, so when she gets her bouts of frozen anxiety syndrome I have to leave in a moment’s notice.”

  “Frozen anxiety syndrome? What’s that?”

  “It’s anything that makes it impossible for my mother to get out of bed and take care of herself. It can go on for weeks or even months. And she won’t let anyone but me take care of her.”

  “That’s why you have to dash off all the time.”

  “Exactly. But this last time, just before I was to leave for Paris, she actually had a real honest-to-goodness heart attack. That scared the life out of my sister a
nd me. I mean, for Mother to actually have something real and that serious. We never expected it. I was so grateful that you could go to Paris in my stead and be with Juliana. I know what a great imposition that must’ve been on your own life.”

  “Oh, well, it, uh . . . Not very much.”

  “You’re just being kind. You know, Al, I love my mother, but my goodness she’s a lot of work. And she’s not very nice to Juliana. She doesn’t like me being married to a singer. She wishes I married a traditional girl and had children . . .” I thought I detected sadness in his voice when he said children. “But I’m sure that’s what all mothers want for their sons. She doesn’t understand what a special girl Juliana is. Mother calls Juliana a dance hall girl. To her face. But to me she calls her a prostitute. I never expect Julie to visit her. Why should she put up with that? Oh, but you don’t want to hear this. Especially not while we’re dancing.”

  A few more couples had joined us on the dance floor. I glanced at Juliana and Max dancing. They looked perfectly suited to each other. I wondered what they had to say after all the years that had gone by. I thought maybe while they were dancing, Max would tell her his plan for getting her out of Schuyler’s contract. Did he have such a plan? He didn’t when we were in Paris.

  “No. Richard, I like listening to you. Reminds me of my own crazy mother. I wonder if she’s still alive.”

  “What?”

  “I haven’t seen my mother in fourteen years.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh . . .” I felt close to him and I wanted to tell him about that last time I spoke to Mom. We were on the phone and she yelled “queer” at me. It was right after my wedding when my fiancé walked in and caught Juliana and I kissing. Of course, that meant the wedding was off. And of course, I couldn’t share this story with Richard. “No real reason we haven’t seen each other,” I said. “Things that just happen between people. You know.”