"NELLE! D'ya hear me? We're ON!"
What I didn't expect to happen was the single strap fall down from Lena's knockout jet black gown. One note too high, one arm too flung and there her left breast barely hung. Jostling fellers in the front row to rich rubes three rows back rose to the unappreciation of their dates for much better ogling. Kate lost no bum's rush in elbowing the push to step me up to the open mike. You had to do these things in my line of undercover work. Tight spots come even under shining spots. Shows must go on. That's just how the biz is.
Trixie, my silver derringer, was still pressed tight to my derriere. Amazing what a glitzy swathe of garland can do to protect a hip gal around her holidays. I nodded to Joey the jazzy bandleader, found the next note, carried on the tune. It was clearly comin' on midnight high and I wasn't yet sure how this scene was going to shake down, or who I'd have to take down. Best to keep my peepers peeled. Something would be revealed. Somethings usually are.
THERE! His chair squeaked motion to sudden commotion right on our "dear saviour's" cue: "Long lay the world in sin and error pining". Yeah, it was Lansky's guy and I glared him in the eye, clutching the best weapon I already had in the clutch. The open mike's reverb revved as I screeched, "WATCH OUT BAD GUY! SANTA DON'T LIKE NO POLITICIANS BUMPED OFF IN MY ACT!"
The shooter turned to the stage. God I could see his rage. So I turned up the volume and vamped, "YOU BETTER WATCH OUT ~ YOU BETTER NOT POUT ~ ~ " Joey caught my drift, winked and brought in the band with a whole new rift. Sammy backstage reangled his audience spot. What a mess. This was gonna be no clean getaway.
In the center of the white damask round tables there arose such a clatter when Chief Gus Donovan knocked over Mrs D's chicken divan platter, standing up, the to better see what was the matter. Without hesitation, he signaled his boys in blue in back. My big brother meanwhile, shunned the courage he'd always lacked. He tabled his decision to stand tall and dove under his damask.
Jake was cut off for a hundred number of reasons I won't go into to keep the Christ in Christmas when the hand on my back turned me firmly around. And I remember Patrick, standing there -- tall, lean, but quaking much too much in his hotsy totsy white wingtips to appear any more, threatening or mean. "Uh, Sis, I owe you one."
"No Paddie, we're square. That one was to remember Pop. You have yourself a merry little Christmas. Hear?"
And I heard him exclaim, as I sashayed outta sight, "You haven't heard the last of me Nelle -- No, no, not tonight!"