Neal was about to fire back. He was a respectable playwright after all with just as much success under his belt as Barry had. But then he looked away from Barry when he saw a figure approaching. A very attractive figure. He smiled. “Well now. This is more like it. Look at the fine specimen that just walked into this establishment.”
Barry looked too. When he saw that it was Mick Sinatra coming their way, he smiled grandly. “Micky,” he yelled. “Come on down!”
Neal was surprised. He looked at Barry. “You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him. We go way back.”
“Introduce me.” Neal had excitement in his voice. “I’ll do anything you say if you introduce me.”
Barry looked at his playwright as if he had lost his mind. “Are you nuts?”
“I might be.” Neal was still looking at the approaching figure. Still licking his lips.
“That man only swings one way,” Barry made clear, “and it’s not in your direction.”
Neal was offended. “Well you don’t have to be nasty about it,” he said. But he knew Barry too. He not only had clout on Broadway, he could be vindictive. He left Barry’s side and moved over to the front row, where nearly a dozen men, all producers and crew members, sat reviewing various technical aspects of their upcoming production. They were also waiting for the auditions to begin.
Mick Sinatra, in a pale brown double-breasted suit, walked down the aisle that led to the front of the theater with the swag of a man who could have owned the joint. Barry shook his head. He’d kill to have a look that strong.
“My friend,” Mick said as he arrived, with a grand smile on his own face, and he and Barry gave each other a combination shake/one-arm hug.
“How the hell have you been?” Barry asked him. “I didn’t think you’d show up.”
“How could I not? Your office called to remind me three times.”
Barry laughed. “It’s just that you come to town, you handle your business, you leave town. But you never drop by to see your old friend. When I’m in Philly, I always come see you. Always. But when you’re in New York? Never. I have to track you down.”
He didn’t have to do shit, Mick thought, but he let it slide. Barry was actually a man he liked and respected.
“So how the hell have you been?” Barry asked again. He was genuinely concerned. Their relationship was one-sided, Barry would be the first to admit that. But it was a fact: he loved Mick like a son. “Are you doing good, or not so good?”
“I’m doing better than you,” Mick said with a smile. “This is a fucking hole in the wall. What happened?”
Barry laughed. “Just for auditions, don’t blow a gasket,” he said. “I’m Jewish, I know how to get things done. On opening night we’re going to be in the Shubert for your information. This is just for auditions. So I’m fine. But you, on the other hand.” Then Barry’s look turned serious. And his voice lowered. “I hear the Feds have been asking around. I hear they don’t think you’re as legit as you claim to be and they’re trying to put the squeeze on your people. Is there cause for concern, Michello?”
“No cause whatsoever,” Mick said confidently. “I’m used to the scrutiny. I’ll hold up. Don’t worry about it.”
“But I worry about you. We go back a long way, my friend. Agnes worries about you.”
Mick smiled. Barry and his wife were among his closest friends, but that didn’t mean they were close. That didn’t mean he discussed his business with him. “Tell Aggie I’m fine, alright?”
“I’ll tell her, but she will still worry. But I’ll tell her.” Then he placed his hand on Mick’s shoulder. “Now come, sit down. Let’s talk.”
They headed for the second row, in the center aisle of the theater. “How long will you be in town?” Barry asked as they sat down.
“Not long. A few days. Checking on a few things.”
“Your businesses?”
“My businesses.”
“The Feds are asking around.”
“That you already told me.”
Barry looked at him with genuine concern. He stared at him. “You look tired.”
Mick smiled weakly. He did feel under pressure. Only a good friend could recognize it.
“You don’t fool me, my good friend,” Barry added.
Mick didn’t discuss the matter, because even Barry could be an enemy in friend’s clothing, but he nodded his appreciation anyway.
“Come to dinner tomorrow night,” Barry suggested. “That’ll give you a much deserved break. Agnes will love to see you again, and I’ll love to break bread with you like the old days. And you know how my wife can be. She’ll set you up with a good girl. She knows this very nice girl.”
Mick shook his head. “Stop it.”
“But you need the love of a good woman, Micky, that’s your problem. You’re always alone. I see you with a girl today, then she’s gone tomorrow.”
“My choice.”
“But that does not make it a good choice. Think about it, Michello. The women you date are not keepers. They are, and excuse my French, whores.”
Mick laughed.
“They are!” Barry insisted. “High class whores, yes, but whores. But a good woman is more precious than all the gold you could ever acquire. Like Aggie. She’s a golden lady. All we do is laugh.”