Won't You Love Me?

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1954

Ages: 37 and 28

It's a wonder Jerry's watch isn't broken. He must have pulled it out a hundred times in the last hour. But it didn't make time move any slower. It certainly didn't make Dean show up to the set.

Finally Jerry spots the glint of the sun against greased, black curls, and that familiar . . . frown. What's Dean thinking, coming an hour late? He knows how Wallis gets when there are delays in production.

He keeps striding towards Jerry; the epitome of casual indifference to his being late. Jerry just stands there, rooted to the ground, waiting to see what Dean is going to say to him. A crew member passes by Dean, and he gets a joke and a wide smile that Jerry himself hasn't received in weeks. Maybe more. Jerry is hopeful, biting his lip anxiously as Dean comes toward him as if in slow motion. Finally Dean's eyes flit to Jerry's, and recognition darkens them. Dean's face shifts into a mask of distaste that makes Jerry's blood run cold, and he stops.

"Anytime you wanna call it quits, let me know." Such malice. Jerry tries to push away the panic and fear, choosing the joking route: "But, Paul, what would I do without you?"

"Screw yourself, for starters." Another withering look, and Dean's gone.

Jerry's throat constricts, and for a moment he thinks he might be sick. He can't articulate the whys or hows; doesn't want to, but he knows what he feels. He'd be able to smell it a mile away: fear. Fear that courses through his veins like acid and seeps into his very bones.

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Names: Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis

Year: 1954

Ages: 37 and 28

Why can't Jerry just leave things be? Why does he have to try to be like Charlie freakin' Chaplain? He doesn't have to be better than everyone else.

Dean exhales loudly and presses the palm of his hands against his closed eyes until he can see sparkles. Three knocks on the door elicits a groan, but Dean drops his hands and strides across the room to answer it.

When the door swings open, for the fraction of a second Dean considers shutting it in Jerry's face. But he decides not to. He doesn't have to stay and talk; he forgot that he was getting ready to go out golfing. Forcing his mouth to move, Dean says in a polite tone, "Look, Jer, I'm headed out to the country club."

The corner of Jerry's mouth twitches, and he squints in concentration before mumbling, "We really have to talk, Paul." Although just half a minute ago Dean was ready to rip Jerry's head off, now he's just . . . deflated.

"Why don't you ride out with me."

"I know there's less in this role than you deserve. I believe in you, Paul. I believe you could carry a movie all by yourself if you wanted." Jerry sounds sincere over the soft rumbling of the car engine, and Dean hates him for it. He's glad they're in the car, because it gives him an excuse to not have to look Jerry in the eye.

Sure, Dean's heard that a million times before, but where does flattery stop and truth begin? He can sing. But for a whole movie? Even singing on stage for a whole hour has got to get tiresome for an audience. As for Sinatra? He's a whole 'nother kind of cat.

"Well—" Dean pauses. If Jerry really thinks that, why is he always trying to take over the movie? Because he could carry a movie by himself, too. "I don't know 'bout that."

"Well, I do." Jerry responds without hesitation, "I'm absolutely sure of it. And I want to tell you something else. I know you're not a hundred percent with the direction we've been going in lately." That's one way to put it. "I understand that, and I understand why. It's a tricky place we're in now—I'm growing, you're growing. Who knows where it'll all end up. But I think we can still have some fun, Paul. I want you to try and remember how good it can be when we're enjoying ourselves. Just give me this one movie, and I'll try like hell to get back to the good times."

Dean blinks, surprised at the memories that flood his mind, like they were just lying in wait for the perfect moment to appear. Clouds that look like they're on fire as the sun peeks above the ocean horizon after a long night of shows. The warm California sun on his cheeks and cool wind through his hair as they drive down Sunset. The look of joy—more joy than he had thought possible— on the Kid's face when he complimented him.

The anger gone, for now, Dean sticks out a big hand, and Jerry takes it.