them, Tito.” I peeled Carla from my side and pushed her gently toward him. “Tito, this is Carla. Carla, this is Tito. Have you two met?”
Tito shook his head. He may not have met her, but I was pretty sure the entire staff knew the score. “Carla is Sal’s friend, Tito. Her drinks are on the house. Her dinner too. But I don’t want her getting anywhere near the stage when I’m playing again. Okay? Tell the Tonys or whoever is bouncing tonight. Keep her away from me and the stage.”
Tito’s eyes grew wide, and Carla frowned at me. I was being rude, but I was also being clear.
When I approached the table where the Mine family was sitting, Esther’s eyes weren’t on me, but on Carla, who had been seated at a table near the floor, her wineglass refilled and a menu placed in front of her.
The fifth chair at their table was empty, and I pulled it out and sat down, my back to the rest of the room.
“We weren’t sure they served Negros in here,” Money grumbled. “We had to tell them we were your friends.”
“I sure hope they don’t serve Negro in here,” Alvin quipped. “I’m not big on eating Negro. Come to think of it, I’ve never eaten White Guy either. I’ve heard it tastes like chicken, though.”
Lee Otis snickered, but immediately turned to me. “Can I have a Coke, Benny?”
“Absolutely. Whatever you want. La Vita’s known for the sfinciuni. We’ll order some of that too.” Copacabana, the club owned by mob boss Frank Costello, served Chinese food. La Vita decided to embrace her Sicilian roots and served sfinciuni, pizza siciliana, all day, every day. You could order steak, seafood, or pasta too, but sfinciuni was the main attraction. That and alcohol. Always plenty of booze. I snagged a waitress and made the order, but Money, Alvin, and Esther shook their heads when I asked them what they were drinking.
Lee Otis said, “I don’t think we’re gonna be eating. We just lost our gig.”
Alvin’s smile slipped, and Money and Esther stared at me, sullen. I waved the waitress away.
“What is he talking about?” I asked.
“We lost the gig at Shimmy’s,” Esther said.
“Ed Shimley fired us,” Money added.
The dread in my gut raised its burly head.
“Why?” I asked.
“He said it was time for a change, though he doesn’t have anything booked. Ralph says it’ll be jukebox only for the time being,” Money said.
“We haven’t missed a show in a year. Not one. We sang last Thursday even though it was Thanksgiving,” Esther said.
“So we came here, looking for you, hoping you had a little good news from Atlantic,” Alvin explained. “What kind of time frame are we looking at on those singles we recorded?”
“Ahmet’s out. Atlantic’s a no go,” I said, ripping off the bandage nice and quick. It stung like hell, and it was just going to get worse.
Alvin, Money, and Esther stared at me in horror. Lee Otis took a long pull from the Coke the waitress sat down in front of him. For a moment no one spoke.
“So now what?” Alvin broke the stunned silence. “You got any Benny Magic up your sleeve?”
“Any gangster magic?” Money asked.
“What did Ahmet say?” Esther asked softly, and the other questions fell away in the face of that one. They all stared at me, waiting.
I didn’t want to lie, and I didn’t want to tell the truth. I didn’t know the truth, not for sure. I decided to shoulder the blame. It was easier that way.
“It’s my fault. Turns out the gangster thing isn’t always a plus.”
“I knew it!” Money threw his napkin on the table. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Can’t you scare ’em, Benny?” Alvin pleaded.
“Scare Ahmet?” I shook my head. “He let me have the songs we recorded. Ahmet’s a good guy. I’m having some 45s pressed as we speak. Two songs, A and B side. I’m going to make a visit to every station in the city and send a disc to the radio deejays in the biggest markets—I know quite a few—and I’m going to get us some airtime.”
“Us?” Money hissed.
I was suddenly very tired of Money. “Yeah, Money. Us. I’m here too.”
“You’re here, but you ain’t here. We’re out of work. You aren’t.”
“It’s not his fault we’re out of work, Money,” Esther said, but she looked defeated. Her back was still straight, but her expression was grim, and I had no idea if it was my fault or not. Sal told