Won't You Love Me?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1949

Ages: 32 and 23

"Gee, that looks awful, Jer! Did I do that to you?!" Dean comes up from behind Jerry, who is just changing his shirt to get ready for them going out to dinner, and gapes at the massive bruise down the one side of Jerry's back and ribs.

Jerry jerks away from Dean and sheepishly pulls his shirt on. "Oh that? It's nothing, really! I'm just a little sore, that's all."

"Just a little sore?! Jer, your back's practically purple! Was that from when I pushed you on the ground?" Jerry can't see his face, but from the strain in Dean's voice, he can just imagine those eyes filled with worry and lips pressed together.

"Maybe, I'm not sure-but really, Dean, let's just go! It doesn't hurt, honest!" Jerry exclaims, but it's only half-hearted, because if he's being truthful with himself, his back is killing him.

"Oh, really? So if I do this . . . " Pain shoots through Jerry's back and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. He spins around to face Dean with watery eyes.

"What the hell, Dean?! A bruise is a bruise! If you punch it, it's gonna hurt!"

"I barely touched you, Germ." Dean's grin is short lived, though, as worry once again crosses his face while watching Jerry struggle to shrug on his shirt.

"You should really tell me if I hurt you. I told you this was going to happen sometime if you make me horse around with you!" Dean's voice suddenly rises in anger, and he glares at a shocked Jerry.

"This isn't your fault, and it certainly isn't mine! It was an accident, so what are you yelling at me for?" Dean sighs and takes out a cigarette. Jerry's right, of course, but Dean just can't bear the thought of him hurting Jerry.

"Sorry for yellin', kid. I'm not mad at you." He says softly. He's just mad at himself. All things considered, Dean's a little surprised at himself. This isn't the first time either one of them have woken up and discovered bruises they don't remember getting. But Dean also knows he's the kind of guy who only needs one moment for anger to take him over, or for him to just get caught up in the excitement of it all. But he's seen the way the Kid looks at him after he gets in a fight with some fat-head: a little admiration, a little fear. He would never let himself hurt the kid. Never.

###

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1949

Ages: 32 and 23

If someone was gonna plug you, would they call you to their office? Eh, they'd probably do it while you're asleep. Jerry shrugs to himself and straightens his suit, trying to stop the corner of his mouth from twitching nervously.

Finally he plucks up the courage to swing the door of the office open and walk right up to Moe, who's sitting at his desk smoking a cigar.

"Siddown." Moe motions towards the chair at the opposite side of the desk, beady eyes narrowed. Not a good sign. "You realize you owe this hotel $137,000." Moe states, half-asking, half-telling Jerry.

"And you realize that you're running this hotel, and you're giving that kind of credit to someone that's getting $7,500 a week. Doesn't that make you an idiot?" Jerry can't help himself, and for a frightening moment as Moe just stares at him with smoke slowly coming from the corner of his mouth, he thinks this is it. But finally Moe says, "Well, yeah. I guess so."

"You guess so? I'm just a kid, and you let me run up a $137,000 marker? Where in the hell do you think I'm gonna get that kind of money from?" Damn it! Once he starts, he just can't stop himself.

"Well, that's just it. How do you propose to pay it?" The very first thought that pops into Jerry's mind of running away is a ludicrous one, and he ignores it as soon as it appears. That would be a good way to get himself killed. His second idea has to do with Fischetti and those other guys back in New York, who would probably give him way more leeway.

"Call New York and ask how I should pay it. I'll follow those instructions."

"Alright, then, Kid. I'll find you when they tell me what they want you to do." With that, Jerry is ushered out of Moe's office, both relieved and panicked at the same time. Well, there goes all that money he was thrilled about making.