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Go where?
A little country club we run for retired bootleggers. I'm gonna put your name up for membership.
I never join nothin'.
You'll like it there. I'll have the prison tailor fit you with a pair of special spats striped!
Big joke. Who's the rap this time?
Embalming people with coffee eightysix proof.
Me? I'm just a customer here.
Come on, Spats we know you own this joint. Mozarella is just fronting for you.
Mozarella? Never heard of him.
We got different information.
From who? Toothpick Charlie, maybe?
Toothpick Charlie? Never heard of him.
You're wasting the taxpayers' money.
If you want to, you can call your lawyer.
These are my lawyers all Harvard men.
Well, Spats Colombo if I were saw one.
Hello, copper. What brings you down to Florida?
I heard you operalovers were having a little rally so I thought I better be around in case anybody decides to sing.
Big joke!
Say, Maestro where were you at three o'clock on St. Valentine's Day?
Me? I was at Rigoletto.
What's his first name? And where does he live?
That's an opera, you ignoramus.
Where did they play it in a garage on Clark Street?
Clark Street? Never heard of it.
Ever hear of the DeLuxe French Cleaners on Wabash Avenue?
Why?
Because the day after the shooting you sent in a pair of spats they had blood on them.
I cut myself shaving.
You shave with your spats on?
I sleep with my spats on.
Quit kidding. You did that vulcanizing job on Toothpick Charlie and we know it.
You and who else?
Me and those two witnesses whom your lawyers have been looking for all over Chicago.
You boys know anything about any garage or any witnesses?
What'll it be, sir?
Booze.
Sorry, sir, we only serve coffee.
Coffee?
Scotch coffee, Canadian coffee, sourmash coffee...
Make is Scotch. A demitasse. With a little soda on the side.
Haven't you got another pew not so close to the band? How about that one?
Sorry, sir. That's reserved for members of the immediate family.
Better bring the check now in case the joint gets raided.
Who's going to raid a funeral?
Some people got no respect for the dead.
Good evening, sir.
I come to the old lady's funeral.
I don't believe I've seen you at any of our services before.
That's because I've been on the wagon.
PLEASE!
Where are they holding the wake? I'm supposed to be one of the pallbearers.
Show the gentleman to the chapel pew number three.
Tell what?
If they catch me once more, they'll boot me out of the band. You the replacement for the bass and the sax?
Yes. I come from a very musical family. My mother is a piano teacher and my father was a conductor.
Where did he conduct?
On the Baltimore and Ohio.
Oh.
I play the ukulele. And I sing too.
Running away? From what?
Don't get me started on that. Want a drink? It's bourbon.
We understand.
All the girls drink but I'm the one that gets caught. That's the story of my life. I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop.
Put it here.
Sugar, you're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble.
Better keep a lookout.
If Bienstock catches you again What's the matter with you, anyway?
I'm not very bright, I guess.
I wouldn't say that. Careless, maybe.
No, just dumb. If I had any brains, I wouldn't be on this crummy train with this crummy girls' band.
Then why did you take this job?
I used to sing with male bands. But I can't afford it any more.
Afford it?
Have you ever been with a male band?
Me?
That's what I'm running away from. I worked with six different ones in the last two years. Oh, brother!
Rough?
I'll say.
You can't trust those guys.
I can't trust myself. The moment I'd start with a new band bingo!
Bingo?
You see, I have this thing about saxophone players.
Really?
Especially tenor sax. I don't know what it is, but they just curdle me. All they have to do is play eight bars of "Come to Me My Melancholy Baby" and my spine turns to custard, and I get goosepimply all over and I come to them.
That so?
Every time!
You know I play tenor sax.
But you're a girl, thank goodness.
Yeah.
That's why I joined this band. Safety first. Anything to get away from those bums.
Yeah.
You don't know what they're like. You fall for them and you love 'em you think it's going to be the biggest thing since the Graf Zeppelin and the next thing you know they're borrowing money from you and spending it on other dames and betting on the horses
You don't say?
Then one morning you wake up and the saxophone is gone and the guy is gone, and all that's left behind is a pair of old socks and a tube of toothpaste, all squeezed out.
Men!
So you pull yourself together and you go on to the next job, and the next saxophone player, and it's the same thing all over again. See what I mean? not very bright.
Brains aren't everything.
I can tell you one thing it's not going to happen to me again. Ever. I'm tired of getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop.
You know I'm going to be twentyfive in June?