Won't You Love Me?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1948

Ages: 31 and 22

Learning lines. Waiting three hours. Shooting a scene for thirty minutes. Learning more lines and waiting around another few hours. Although it's only been like this for two months, Dean can't remember what it was like before this.

As soon as he's inside the house, Dean slumps into his favorite armchair and tosses his keys onto the coffee table. Shutting his eyes that are beginning to hurt from being open too long, he folds his arms across his chest and sighs. He's just going to rest for a little while here and then go to bed . . .

"Daddy?" He hears Craig's whisper, which really isn't much quieter than his normal voice, and feels small hands tugging at his trousers as Craig pulls himself onto Dean's lap. Dean wants to keep his eyes closed, wants so desperately to sleep, but when Craig says, "Daddy, I'm hungry," Dean sits up and opens his eyes in dismay.

Craig is sitting precariously on his lap, big dark eyes wide and staring up at Dean expectantly.

"Craig...did momma not get you and your sisters dinner?" Dean cups Craig's small chin in his palm and searches his eyes real closely—although seeming unwilling, Craig nods and whispers, "Or lunch."

Damn it, Betty. This is the third time this week. Now wide awake, Dean lets out a loud breath and cracks a smile—if kids see you smile, then nothing's wrong.

Scooping Craig off his lap and setting him back onto the ground, Dean runs a hand through Craig's dark locks and sends him to tell his sisters daddy's going to make fried-egg sandwiches.

Calm, still, peaceful sleep would just have to wait...

###

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1948

Ages: 31 and 22

A blond curl shimmering in the sun. Two eyes, blue as can be, all but disappearing as the face breaks into a smile. Two girls stepping out of a limo in mink stoles and dresses that make it impossible for Jerry and Dean not to notice their perfect hourglass figures.

As they stop in the lobby, Dean and Jerry finally approach them, amazed all over again at how beautiful they are—and how small they are—the two girls lift their heads practically all the way just to look them in the eyes.

"Hi, June. Are you two staying here, darling?" Dean wastes no time in greeting June Allyson, the girl with blond locks and a wide, innocent smile. Ma che bell'! Jerry notes with a pang of jealousy that she blushes as soon as she recognizes Dean—they always do—before turning to her friend Gloria, whose thickly lashed sky blue eyes and full, pouty lips aren't exactly those of the girl-next-door.

Dean and Jerry exchange a knowing glance when they find out the actresses are sharing a suite on the 25th floor—Dean's is on the 23rd, and Jerry's is on the 24th. The next four days are history.

###

No, not yet. Jerry slits his eyes open just enough to see the faint, pinkish light of dawn that streams through the blinds of the suite, and he can make out the figure of Dean sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands.

The phone sounds like a jackhammer in the middle of Jerry's brain, and he slams it back on its base with fingers still weak from sleep just so it would stop ringing.

"Hey, Jer, this is important." Somehow Jerry notices that Dean sounds serious—a little shaken, perhaps.

"What time is it?" The words come out hoarsely from Jerry.

"It's four A.M., and I just had a great hour on the phone with Betty!" Oh boy. Jerry knows he won't be able to get out of this one, and he begrudgingly rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"Maybe we better cut back a little. There are more eyes on us than I ever could've imagined." Dean mutters, bringing the cigarette to his lips again and again in a state of nervousness Jerry doesn't remember seeing on him more than once. Jerry's too nervous for himself to think about the full implication of what Dean just said.

Two hours later, Jerry slams the phone back onto its base, mind reeling. At the end of the day, Patti hadn't been angry at the fact that he had gone out with Gloria, she told him she expected it from a man in his business, but she was just not going to tolerate him humiliating her. Jerry knew she was right, and did his best to appease her on the phone .

He ignores the lurking thought that he's broken Patti's trust. That he might hurt Gary. Dean doesn't seem to worry about that. And Dean would know.

He and Dean, however, had not heard the last of their gallivanting. The very same day they find themselves cornered by their public-relation agents, George Evans and Jack Keller. As soon as George begins to speak, Jerry is hit once again with what Dean realized early that morning.

"Do you guys realize that your anonymity is gone? That you are now public property?" George says, and Jerry winces at that last word—he doesn't see it, but so does Dean. "That you cannot do whatever you want anymore? Don't you realize that you, you Italian idiot, are married with three children, and you're Catholic? Which is just a tad more serious than it is for the Jew with the one kid? Your people still go to confession!" Jerry half-expects Dean to lunge across the table and punch George square in the mouth. But Dean just looks at the floor, chewing his upper lip. When Jerry finally manages to catch Dean's eye, he knows what they're both thinking: this is their life now. Like it or not, this is their life—this is the life they asked for, and this is the life they've got now.