I've Got Mine

I’ve Got Mine

It was Saturday night and the joint was jumping. Of course, in Las Vegas, the joint was always jumping.

The four of us sat around the table dressed to the nines. We were cool, the nicotine-free rat pack. We were looking for love and this was the right place.

Michael Buble had the place swinging as he belted out the last few notes to “Fever.” As the waitress brought another round of cocktails to the table, “The Bubble Man,” looked over at us and gave the thumbs up sign.

“This one worked last night for you, Bill. Let’s see if it works again.” Wild Bill gave “The Bubble Man” a big smile and returned the thumbs up. The band started to play and Bubbles launched into a very seductive version of “You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine.”

“Time to get busy, boys,” Bill said. With that, he spotted a sweet young blond at the bar, and gave her the old thumb and finger “pistol” point. The woman smiled coyly at Bill as she sipped her drink through the straw.

”Watch and learn,” Bill said as he sealed the deal with a sly wink. The woman put her drink on the bar, waved her room key in Bill’s direction, and headed out of the bar.

“I’ve got mine,” Bill announced and got up from the table to follow after the young blond.

“That was impressive,” Keith said.

“Damn impressive,” I said.

We both looked over at Ken to see that he had set up some sort of table with what looked like handle bars on it. “The doctor’s breaking out the heavy equipment tonight,” Keith said.

Mikey Bubbles was rocking once again to a swinging version of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”

“Freddie Mercury must be rolling over in his grave,” Keith said.

“He did that a lot when he was alive, too,” I said. Keith laughed and raised his glass in a mock salute.

Just then the waitress brought over a couple of drinks. “These drinks are from the two lovely ladies up at the bar.” We turned to see two women, a brunette and a redhead, waving to us from the bar.

“I’ll take the redhead,” I said.

“I’ve got the brunette.”

The two women walked over to our table and we offered them each a chair. “Please, sit down,” Keith said. The woman each accepted a chair. “My name is Tom and this is Harold,” Keith said pointing to me.

I hated it when he called me Harold. Why couldn't he call me Max or Ricardo or Hans Solo? Anything but Harold.

“I’m Holly,” the brunette said.

“And I’m Sheila, the redhead said. Her bright blue eyes were in stark contrast to her long, curly red hair.

“What is your friend doing over there?” Sheila asked pointing at Ken. He had put on a white smock over his tux, and on his head he was wearing one of those mirrors with a hole in the middle.

“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s a doctor.”

Is he a gynecologist?” Sheila asked.

“No, he actually makes his living as a pediatrician. Doing gynecological check-ups is just a hobby he does on evenings and weekends.”

Bubbles slowed things down with “The Way You Look Tonight.”

“I love this song,” Holly said.

“Would you like to dance?” Keith asked standing up and offering his hand to Holly.

“Sure”

“What about you, Harold? Are you a dancer?”

It took me a moment to remember that I was Harold. “Absolutely.”

As we danced, Sheila snuggled up close to me and whispered in my ear. “Are you looking for a little love tonight?”

I looked down at her shining bright eyes. “Every night,” I said.

Sheila laughed. “For five hundred bucks, I’m yours, at least for tonight.”

“You mean you didn’t send over that drink just because I’m irresistible?

“Of course that’s why I sent it over,” Sheila said. “But a girl’s got to make a living.”

When the song was over, Bubbles announced that he was taking a break and would be right back. As we made our way back to the table, Sheila said, “Holly and I need to freshen up. Wait for us?”

Before I could say anything, Keith said, “We’ll be right here.” The two women walked away seductively. Although Holly was limping a bit, it seemed to me that there was a purpose in the way they walked.

“Why’s Holly limping? Did you step on her foot while you were dancing?” I asked.

“Actually, I did step on her foot, but that’s not why she’s limping,” Keith said. She’s limping because she has an artificial leg.” Keith had a big smile on his face.

“Does she have a glass eye too,” I asked.

“No, but you can’t have everything.”

“You know, they’re both pros.”

“Yeah, I know. Five hundred bucks.”

“Should we send them packing,” I asked.

“No way. Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Keith leaned in to make sure I didn’t miss a word he said. “She has a prosthetic leg.” Keith annunciated each syllable of prosthetic. “And she has agreed to call me Chico. She’s just one glass eye away from a jackpot.”

“I guess two out of three isn’t bad.”

“You’ve got that right,” Keith said and knocked back the last of his drink.

When the ladies returned, Holly said, “Tommy, are you ready to go?”

Keith stood up quickly. “Let’s go.” As he walked away from the table, Keith looked at me and mouthed the words, “I’ve got mine.”

“So what about you, sailor? Should we get out of here?” Sheila asked.

“I hate not to do my part to help grow the economy, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to pass,” I said.

“In that case, thank you for the dance,” Sheila said standing up.

“And thank you for the drink.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again,” she said with a big smile. She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“Maybe you will,” I said as sincerely as I could. As she headed out of the bar, I admired the way she walked. At least looking was free.

“I’ve got mine,” Ken called out from his makeshift clinic against the wall. I’m not sure what he was looking for, but he apparently found it. He helped a tall woman out of the stirrups and off the table. She grabbed her purse and they made their way out of the bar.

I sat by myself at the table and felt lonely. It was just me, my drink, and Michael Buble’ singing “Moondance.” At least Van Morison songs always cheered me up.

“What happened to you and the redhead?” the waitress asked.

“I don’t know,” I said looking up at her. “Just not what I was looking for, I guess.”

“What are you looking for?”

“You know, the usual,” I said. “Romance, marriage, two-and-a-half kids, a mortgage, a mini-van. How about you?”

“I just want to have some hot, sweaty sex and then I want to get a good night’s sleep.”

“You know all that stuff I said before about marriage and kids, and that van thing? It can all wait. I’m all about hot, sweaty sex tonight.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said. “I’m done here in ten minutes. Meet me out in the lobby.”

“I’ll see you there,” I said.

“Oh, and this time, don’t make so much noise when you leave.”

“You don’t mind if I leave when we’re done?” I asked.

“I would prefer it.”

“You really are a dream come true.”

“Sweet talker,” she said as she walked away. I enjoyed the view until she walked around the corner. It looked like it would be me and the waitress again.

“I’ve got mine,” I said to no one in particular.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I walked into the bar almost two hours later, Bill, Ken, and Keith were already sitting at the table. The rat pack was back. Frank, Dean, and Sammy were in the house. I guess that made me Peter Lawford.

Everyone was dressed just as they had been before, except Keith was missing his tie. “What happened to your tie?” I asked.

“A nasty accident with some chocolate sauce, I’m afraid.”

“You lose more ties that way,” I said. “Did everyone have a good night?”

“So far, so good,” Bill said. “But the night isn’t over yet.”

“You’re not planning on a second round, are you?” I asked.

“We’d be fools not to.”

“Okay, count me in,” I said.

Just then, there was a commotion near the entrance to the bar. The bouncers were holding back a crowd. Through the crowd walked a striking young man. As he entered the bar, a woman right in front of him asked, “Who are you?”

“Baudoin,” came the reply. “Paul Baudoin.” The woman feinted.

“Bodie,” I yelled out and he came walking over to the table. Joey Bishop had finally made it.

“Where have you been,” Ken asked.

“I had to work late at the paper.” It was an old joke and we all laughed.

The manager of the hotel came up to our table. “Hello fellas. How are you doing tonight?”

“So far, so good,” Bill said again.

“Glad to hear it. I was wondering, Mr. Baudoin, if you wouldn’t mind singing a song for us. It would mean a lot to me.”

“What about Buble’?

“Mr. Buble’ works for me. If I tell him to get off the stage so you can sing a song, then he’ll get off the stage.”

“I’d by happy to, but just one,” Paul said.

“Yes, sir,” The manager said excitedly. He turned to talk to the man that was standing next to him. “Tell Bubbles to take a break. Mr. Baudoin is going to sing us a song.

In all of the commotion over Bodie, I hadn’t noticed that Keith had disappeared. I looked around the crowded bar but couldn’t find him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the hotel manager said into the microphone. “Please welcome the incomparable, Mr. Paul Baudoin. The crowd cheered and Bodie walked onto the stage.

I looked up at the bar, but Keith wasn’t there either. He may have gone to the bathroom, I thought to myself, but he usually liked to announce it to the group before he left.

“Thank you,” Paul said. “Thank you very much. I’d like to do one of my favorite songs for you. I hope it’s one of your favorites too…

Just then I caught site of Keith. He was across the room talking to an older woman in a wheelchair.

“… This is called, “My Way.”

The lights came down, the band got ready to play, and then a voice from across the room yelled out, “I’ve got mine.”