I couldn’t get away from that name it seemed. Keely described how she met Louis at the age of sixteen, how she adored him and became his fourth wife, and finally how he turned into the cheating, gambling, alcoholic she finally left. Cut to Louis Prima and the Witnesses on Ed Sullivan, Keely singing clear and strong, Sam Butera blasting the audience with his sax. Cut to the A&E montage and a voice-over announcing, “We will return to The Wildest: The Story of Louis Prima in a moment.” I had thought the wildest was Annie West’s appraisal not Prima’s usual qualifier. As the documentary went on, I kept hoping my mother would materialize. She didn’t. But by the end, when Sam Butera’s eyes teared up over Prima’s death in 1978, my own tears drizzled down. It wasn’t sadness exactly. Closing my eyes, I fell sideways and lay still on the couch a few minutes. Why couldn’t it be easier? Why couldn’t Annie have just told me the whole story and put me out of my misery. I felt like a kid asking how to spell a word: “But how can I find it in the dictionary if I don’t know how to spell it?”
Grabbing the books from my bag, I lay them around me on the couch. I opened Pack of Rats to the photograph of Sinatra and his buddies standing in front of the Sands in Las Vegas. I riffled through the beginning of Mob Wife. Snatching the writing tablet Marcella kept beside her phone, I wrote: Audrey? Born 1943? Fake ID. Cecilia D’arelli. Carnival 1959? Did striptease, attacked by marines in Virginia, steals car from Okie Joe. Back to Little Italy? Teddy the Ghost? Travelling with Teddy. Avuncular. Vegas with Teddy. 1960. Annie and Sinatra. Yells at Sinatra. Did Sinatra like Celia, hate her? Okie Joe comes to Vegas. Argument? Johnny Rosselli and Sinatra tell him to take a hike. John Kennedy in Vegas 1960, gets a million-dollar campaign contribution from mob. Showgirls and hookers sent to his room. Celia? Cecilia?
I stared at the page for I don’t know how long trying to paint her picture: My mother in a suite at the Sands Hotel. Morning light coming through the open curtains. I put Annie back in her room, stinging from Sinatra’s tantrum, full of guilt for sending a teenager to dance in a cooch show. My mother is so young. Platinum-blonde hair with those late fifties pushed-back curls, dewy skin. She’s a ballerina and a tap dancer and her legs are long and pale and thin. She is pissed off that Annie West is in Vegas. But she’s angrier at Teddy who leaves her alone while he goes off and does business. Cecilia feels like an idiot standing up for a jealous twat like Annie now. Flipping the page, I wrote:
Adrenaline still surges when she gets back to the suite. Drapes open, morning sunlight cuts the room. Going on ten now and Teddy the Ghost still isn’t back. He’s been gone since last night. Had a meet, he said, but maybe they could hit a late show if he was back in time. It occurs to Cecilia he might’ve meant right here in the Copa Room—the Summit at the Sands.
Can you get kicked out of a joint for telling off Frank Sinatra? His name is slapped all over the marquee out front, on top of Dean Martin’s, on Sammy Davis Jr.’s, on Peter Lawford’s, on Joey Bishop’s. Seeing their names, it didn’t hit her that they could all be sleeping right over her damn head. He’s making a movie in town too with all his cronies. Angie Dickinson even.
Served him right though. But Annie probably deserved what she got too. Bitch. When Cecilia heard the banging on the door, she lay there hoping Teddy would answer. Hoping he’d be in the living room on the sofa. He could’ve come in without her noticing. That’s what made him Teddy the Ghost. Teddy Boo. Teddy Spook. She knew damn well though she had to get up and answer it herself.
At least she can hang around all day if she wants. Better than back in New York.
A couple months ago, when she showed up in Little Italy again, she got herself a room in some flea bag. Just needed time to figure out what to do with herself and that car. She parked it two blocks away and kept her mouth shut.
First night in town, she took herself out to a late-night diner for a bite. A couple of tables over was a uniformed cop making eyes. He piped up with jovial comments like single eaters sometimes do. Eventually he introduced himself, asked if he might join her. He wasn’t much to look at but he seemed sweet, sort of dopey and bashful. When they got to the bottom of their coffees, he asked if he could take her to the pictures sometime.
“Sure.”
“How ’bout tomorrow night? Seen Psycho yet?”
“Sure.”
After the movie, Cecilia announced that she was definitely off showers. From now on, it would be bubble baths all the way. Officer Ronald laughed and took her hand as they walked.
Over pie and coffee, he offered to sleep on her floor that night if it would make her feel safer. Cecilia raised an eyebrow. She could take Anthony Perkins, she quipped. No guy in a dress was gonna take her down. Ronald told her he’d come to her rescue any time and began to razzle-dazzle her with how exciting police work was in Little Italy. The next night, for instance, there was going to be a big raid right here in the neighbourhood. Could be dangerous. But the law was the law and gambling was illegal.
Cecilia glanced at her watch then looked back at Ronald, suddenly struck with that scrap of information. “Right in the neighbourhood? Where?”
“Couple blocks from here. I’ve already said too much.” He cleared his throat, looked casually away from the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
“Imagine that.”
Seconds after he saw her to her door, she slipped back out, ran up the street and jumped in Okie Joe’s car. She found a spot right out front of The 92 and as she rushed up to the door, the bouncer spread his arms wide. “Audrey! What a sight for sore eyes. Gimme that face!” He kissed both of her cheeks.
“Uh-uh—Cecilia now.”
“I forgot.” He grinned. “You go on in. The Boys’ll wanna see you—-Jimmy and Micky D …” In a whisper he added, “Teddy the Ghost just got back.”
Inside, it was as if Cecilia had risen from the ashes, a winged thing. Arms opened and encircled her, there were laughter and hugs. Teddy the Ghost looked up from his table. “Madonn’!” She blushed as he took her face in his thick hands. “Look at this beautiful Audrey.”
“Cecilia. Remember?”
“That’s right!” He pointed across the table at Micky D in mock warning. “We made you Italian, didn’t we? D’arelli, uh! You thought I forgot, I bet. Cecilia D’arelli.”
Micky D bapped the table with his palm a couple times. “That’s right. She’s family now! Hey, get this girl a drink. Jimmy! Bring some kinda fruity somethin’ for Cecilia here.”
She grinned and felt her cheeks heat up. Micky D was always friendly but Teddy she recalled as quiet. And fierce.
“Sit down here next to your uncle Teddy and tell me about your travels. What the helluv you been doin’ the last coupla months? You didn’t show at the restaurant job we got you—I went in there lookin’ for you—so this better be good.”
She tucked her chin. “I’m sorry. It was just—you’d already done too much. I decided maybe I should see the world and so I got an, um, an acting job working for the carnival.” She didn’t want him to imagine her nearly naked. Or dirty. Or stinking.
Teddy frowned. “The carnival. Pthu. Those carnies are no-good degenerates and bums. The whole bunch of ’em. No honour. No family. They steal from their own.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I got a boyfriend who wasn’t very nice and—” They steal from their own. “I guess I ran away.”
“He hurt you? Huh? Look at me—this guy lay a finger on you? ’Cause I swear—” Teddy kissed his fingertips and eye-balled heaven. “Holy Mother of God, I swear, I’ll hunt the sonuvabitch down and break anything on him that moves.”
“He just wasn’t nice. He—”
Jimmy arrived with her fruity rum drink. “Here you go. I even found you a cherry—Jesus wept! This Cecilia. My girl. Look at you! Sweetheart—you look tired.”
She smiled weakly, looked across at Micky D and down into her hands. Teddy jerked an eyebrow sideways. Micky and Jimmy excused themselves and made for the bar.
Draping an arm across the back of the
red leather bench, he turned himself to her. “You in trouble, sweetheart?”
“In trouble?”
“That carny-bastard get you in trouble?”
“No! Oh no. He tried, but I wouldn’t let him. And he got mad and threatened me.” She scrunched her eyes shut and opened them again. “I sort of, I took his car. So, I guess I might be in trouble. For stealing.” A tear popped from her left eye.
Teddy pounded the table so hard, her right eye spat another. A braying laugh erupted from his belly. She wiped her face, bewildered.
“You took the sonuvabitch’s wheels?” He laughed so loud she thought his heart might go on him. “Bellissima! That’s my girl! She stole his fuckin’ wheels, y’hear that, Jimmy? Got what he deserved, the cocksucker—pardon my language. Oh that’s rich. You made my goddamn night, sweetheart.”
Her chest gushed with swampy gratitude. She rocked sideways and pecked a kiss at Teddy’s cheek.
Dropping his arm down onto her shoulders, he bear-hugged her to his side. “He tried to screw you—in whatever fashion—and boom! she cuts him off at the knees. Atta girl.”
She plucked the maraschino cherry floating on the ice and popped it into her mouth, letting the strong liqueur spread across her tongue. “There’s another thing I came to talk to you about. I don’t know if this is even—I went out on a date tonight.”
“Sonuvabitch better behave himself or he’ll be walkin’ to work tomorrow, won’t he?” Teddy slapped the table again.
“Well, he’s a cop.”
“Jesus, out of the frypan into the fire. What’s his name?”
“Ronald Nizzi.”
Teddy frowned. “Don’t know ’im. Must be new.”
“He said they’re going to raid a card game in the neighbourhood tomorrow night. I thought—in case you knew anyone …”
Teddy rubbed at the hook of his nose, pushed his lips out. “In the neighbourhood?” Cracked his neck, then shook his head. “No. Could be a little game somewheres but no way cops could know that thing. Prob’ly tryin’ to impress you. Seein’ what you know. Good girl though for coming to me. Where you stayin’? You need money?”
“I’m okay.”
“Lemme give you somethin’ here. This town’ll chew you up, you got no dough. You got an apartment?”
“Hotel. Maybe I’ll take a drive tomorrow and look for an apartment.”
“Take a drive! You still got that sonuvabitch’s car? Oh sweetheart.” He brayed at the ceiling again. “Leave it here with me. I’ll take care of it.”
“There’s still some stuff in it. I’ll just keep it till tomorrow and I’ll bring it round.”
“Mudonn’ … Lose the plates at least.” He yelled over his shoulder. “Micky!”
The next night, Cecilia came round after midnight and walked in to Micky D sitting at Teddy’s table again, the two of them shaking their heads. Teddy waved her over. He took his cigar out. “Guess who got raided tonight? We had our own mole here and we didn’t listen. Sonuvabitch. Micky’s been bailin’ guys outta the joint half the night all ‘cause I thought some bull was just tryin’ to make time with you.” He stuffed his cigar back in his mouth, got no smoke. Micky flipped a lighter for him.
By the time she left, Teddy had insisted on paying Cecilia’s rent to the end of the month.
She went out with Officer Ronald half a dozen more times, flashing her eyes wide with wonder at his every word. After each date, she headed for The 92.
Eventually Teddy made her a new proposition: an apartment where she could stay rent free, the stipulation being that she could only spend evenings there. Her job was to be out all day so fellas could play poker. Teddy would pay for dance classes to keep her out of trouble.
Determined to get herself flush with cash, though, Cecilia took another job working at the Starfish beer parlour. Teddy showed up to talk her out of it. “What do you wanna work in a dive like this for? You should go back to school and learn a trade. You talk good—you could do anything. You could be a stewardess. You quit here and I’ll send you to stewardess school.”
“What’s the difference between this kind of waitress and that kind of waitress?”
“What’s the—?” Teddy stared. “If you don’t know—You could be anything, a model even. How ’bout modelling school?”
It was when Micky D started coming around the Starfish that Teddy got good and hot under the collar. Micky asked her out for dinner and dancing and soon after, the two of them were at the Copacabana. A lot of faces from The 92 were there that night and Cecilia was treated like royalty. Rosemary Clooney took the stage.
Micky was ecstatic. “See, now this broad still knows how to perform, play some real music. I seen Old Blue Eyes in here before. Yeah, Sinatra! Real music. Not like that rock ‘n’ roll crappola kids are listening too. I’d like to see that ‘Jailhouse Rock’ bastard sing ‘Night and Day.’”
To Cecilia’s shock, Micky D could really dance. When Clooney called “Mambo Italiano,” Micky’s feet cut and chopped the floor, his eyes bugging at the lightning flash of his date’s legs, her rubber body bending wherever his lead instructed.
When she showed up at the Starfish next evening though, she didn’t have a job. By way of explanation, she was told, “We’re overstaffed right now.”
“Will you call me when it gets busier?”
“Honey, there’s people that think you would be better off doin’ somethin’ else.”
In tears, she headed down to The 92 and waited for Teddy to show up.
“It’s good they fired you. That place is a bad influence. What about your family? I wasn’t gonna tell you this, but your father came in here again while you were—”
“My stepfather?”
“Stepfather. Whatever the hell. What happened to your real one?”
“My mother kicked him out when I was a kid.”
“What—he hit her?”
“Came in here when?”
“When you was runnin’ around the country with those carny-whores.”
“What’d he say?”
“I toldja, he asked after ya. You should call—”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s not my father.”
“What about your mother? Family’s important. ’Specially for a young girl.”
“You’re my family.”
“Ahh, sweetheart … but you know, fam—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Family is—”
“I don’t.”
Teddy looked away, addressing the air. “She doesn’t want to talk about it. Whaddya gonna do?” He faced her. “Okay. I got another proposal for you. Another job. I got business and no wife. A widower travelling by himself … don’t look good. Know what I mean?”
“You want to pay me to travel with you?”
“Go home. Sleep good and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Businessmen travel alone all the time,” Cecilia said the next evening. Teddy was still in the apartment, the room thick with smoke. He emptied ashtrays, put glasses in the sink, scotch back on the shelf as she opened a window and flopped on the sofa.
He didn’t face her. “Well, this one gets a hard time when he’s alone.”
“Why?”
He looked at the ceiling. “Listen to her with the questions.”
She watched his back and waited.
“Because I did foolish things when I was young. So, I got a reputation. When men travel alone, people get suspicious. When they find out one’s me, they get extra bent outta shape. Cdpice?” She nodded. “You wanna know what’s the smartest thing a girl can do for herself? Don’t ask questions.” He stubbed out his cigar in an empty ashtray. “Tomorrow I’m takin’ you shoppin’. Gonna be winter soon. Girl like you needs fur so she don’t catch cold.”
All next month, she spent warm in Miami. She loved Miami. She had a black-diamond mink coat hanging in her closet but winter was passing her by. Teddy’d got them a glittering gorgeous suite at the Fontainebleau Hotel and she spe
nt her days reading and lounging around the pool, or getting gussied up at the beauty parlour with Tina and Glenda while Teddy slept the day away. Tina and Glenda weren’t much older than Cecilia and they happened to be in town doing the same thing: pretend dates with men in Miami to talk business.
It was Tina and Glenda who talked her into bleaching her hair. “Man, them blue eyes of yours! You’d look like Kim Novak if you did your hair blonde. But better! Classier. Or you could style it kind of old-fashioned like Lana Turner. That’s comin’ back y’know. I seen it in Harper’s Bazaar.”
Both were bottle blondes themselves and they’d taken to Cecilia—they shortened her name to Celia and she liked the sound of it—treated her like a musketeer, a sister, showed her the ropes, winked to her at dinner when the Boys’ conversation came to a point when it was time to take a powder. It amused her the way waiters scraped and bowed for him, the way they tripped over themselves. Because of Teddy’s money, she figured. One day she’d get rich herself or famous enough to make a waiter scrape.
For Tina and Glenda, there were different dates all the time; a phone call in the afternoon told them what time they would be dining that evening. The girls were to pick out a club or restaurant where they could all go and have a good time. Usually they picked the Eden Roc or the Boom Boom Room at the Fontainebleau. Later that night they would receive a call from the hotel lobby from Steve or Al or Joey. If the men didn’t know each other well and needed less Boom Boom and more privacy for their negotiations they’d all check into a motel. The girls never let on to outsiders that when the group took an entire floor of rooms, they would be on one side of the hallway while the Boys were on the other, talking business through the night.
For Tina and Glenda, the rule was no sex with the dates. Sex is problems. This shit was too important for problems, Teddy said. If these guys wanted sex, they could get themselves a whore. Keep your mouth shut and look good was all you had to know. One girl had been sent home to Chicago for sleeping with a date.
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