Old Brown Eyes

Put Your Dreams Away

Even though we had broken the ice, so to speak, I couldn't deny I was extremely nervous in Rich's presence. By the time our friendly server had returned with our steak and lobster and was taking away the now empty bowl of spicy hummus we had enjoyed as an appetizer, I was already on my third bourbon on the rocks. Surprisingly, I didn't even feel the slightest bit buzz, just a little more relaxed.

Rich didn't drink, sticking instead to his ice water with lemon in deference to the new restrictions the doctor had placed on him. But he was quite generous about suggesting drinks for myself. He ordered me a dry gin martini simply because I told him I had never had one. It arrived just as I was polishing off the third Jack Daniels.

Rich never failed to continue smiling adoringly at me from across the table and I returned his smiles, bashfully, feeling the heat and color in my cheeks rise. I simply wasn't used to this much male attention.

He told me the amusing story of when he first met Sinatra. "It was at the Uris Theater in New York. I was there with Skinny's son, Angelo, and he called in a few favors for us, and we actually got backstage to meet the man himself."

"Tell me more," I said eagerly leaving forward and taking the first sip of my martini. It was cold and dry and very good.

"Sinatra was in amazing voice that night. Of course, he always was throughout the 1970s. That might very well have been his best decade ever. Anyway, we were invited back to his dressing room after the show...he made me a Jack on the rocks. I hated bourbon, but when the Chairman makes you a drink, you drink it." 

We both laughed and I sipped my martini absently, hanging on to his every word.

"Angelo introduced me as Richard Abrams. Frank was the only person that ever got away with calling me "Dick". I was too tongue-tied to explain to him that folks called me Rich. He was newly married to Barbara Marx, an absolute jewel of a lady and she was there too. Very kind and gracious, both of them. Don't ever believe anything Nancy says about Barbara. She was an amazing wife to Frank, always supporting him and all his endeavors. Between the two of them, they supported a ton of cherries, most of them benefiting children." Rich shook his head. "Barbara always had Frank's back."

I nodded, my entire attention on him even though I had to admit the alcohol was starting to go to my head a little. I picked up my knife and fork, thinking that probably what I needed at this point was a little food in my stomach. I cut into the excellently grilled rare steak and lifted the first bite to my lips.

"Mmmm," I moaned in contentment as the first tender bite seem to melt in my mouth like butter. "That's amazing."

It was only at that moment that I realized Rich was studying me very keenly from across the table and, once again, I looked down at my plate blushing. He seemed to be enjoying watching me enjoy my food. I chewed slowly, then delicately dabbed at the corner of my mouth with a napkin. And then it struck me horrifyingly as Rich finally took his eyes from me and dug into his own dinner: I had consumed way too much alcohol and there was no way I was going to be able to do this dinner justice the way my stomach was feeling.

I reached for a roll and slowly nibbled on it, but it didn't help. I tried to hide the way I was feeling from Rich, smiling and nodding and every little thing he told me. When he showed me a wallet snapshot of himself with Deborah Kerr backstage at one of her shows, my eyes widened. She had always been one of my favorite actresses and when I was growing up, I practically worshiped her alongside Grace Kelly and Bette Davis. In the photo, neither Rich nor Deborah were looking at the camera, but smiling into each other's eyes. It was truly a beautiful moment caught in time.

"She was very gracious. She invited me into her dressing room for the interview, made us tea, a real lady," Rich told me.

"Wow. She's practically Hollywood royalty!" I gushed.