Read Hollywood Nocturnes for Free Online Page A

. . your Army rap?"
      "What about it?"
      "You know ... you don't impress me as a frightened type of guy."
      Bud piped in: "As Big Dog Lipscomb will attest to. It's just that
      you know"
      I said, "Say it. It feels like I'm close to something."
      Sid said it. "You know . . . it's like this. Someone says 'Dick Contino', and the first thing you think of is 'Coward' or maybe 'Draft Dodger'. It's like a reflex, when you should be thinking 'Accordion player' or 'Singer' or 'Good repo back-up."
      I said, "Finish the thought."
      Bud: "What Sid's saying is how do you get around that? Bob Yeakel says it's a life sentence, but isn't there something you can do?"
      Closer now--lightbulb hot--so HOT I pushed it away. "I don't know."
      Sid said, "You can always do something, if you've got nothing to lose."
      I changed the subject. "A car was tailing me last night. I think it might be this lezbo cop who's hipped on Chrissy."
      Bud whooped. "Put her on "Rocket to Stardom." Let her sing 'Once I Had a Secret Love."
      "I'm not a 100 percent sure it's her, but I got the last four digits of the license plate. The whole thing spooks me."
      "So it was just a temporary sticker? Permanent plates only have three letters and three digits."
      "Right, 1116. I thought Bob could call the DMV and get a make for me."
      Bud checked his watch, antsy. "Not without all nine digits. But ask Bob anyway, _after_ the show tomorrow It's a Pizza De-Luxe gig, and he always bangs his favorite 'contestant' after the show. Mention it to him then, and maybe he'll call some clerk he knows and tell him to look up all the 1116's."
      A waitress crowded up menu first. "Are you Dick Contino? My daddy doesn't like you 'cause he's a veteran, but my mom thinks you're real cute. Could I have your autograph?"

      *   *   *

              "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Dick Contino welcoming you to 'Rocket to Stardom'--where tomorrow's stellar performers reach for the moon and haul down a few stars! Where all of you in our television audience and here at Yeakel Oldsmobile can seal your fate in a Rocket 88!"
      Canned applause/hoots/yells/whistles--a rocket launch straight for the toilet.
      Somebody spiked the punch--our live audience got bombed pre-showtime.
      Sid Elwell ID'd the crowd: mostly juiceheads AWOL from the County dry-out farm.
      Act #1--a Pizza De-Luxe male hooker. Topical patter de-luxe: Eisenhower meets Sinatra at the "Rat Pack Summit." Ring-a-fucking-ding: Ike, Frank and Dino swap stale one-liners. The crowd booed; the applause meter went on the fritz and leaked steam.
      Act #2--A Pizza De-Luxe prostie/songbird. Tight capris, tight sweater--mauling "Blue Moon" made her bounce in two directions. A pachuco by the stage kept a refrain up: "Baby, are they real?" Bud Brown sucker-punched him silent off-camera; the sound man said his musings came through un-squelched.
      Act #3--"Ramon and Johnny"--two muscle queen acrobats. Dips, flips, cupped-hand tosses--nice, if you dig shit like that.
      Whistles, applause. Bob Yeakel said the guys worked shakedowns: extorting married fags with sodomy pix.
      Some spurned lover out-of-nowhere yelled, "Ramon, you bitch!"
      Ramon blew the audience a pouty kiss.
      Johnny spun in mid-toss; Ramon neglected to catch him. Johnny hit the stage flat on his back.
      The crowd went nuts; the applause meter belched smoke. Kay Van Obst drove Johnny to Central Receiving.
      #4, #5--Pizza De-Luxe torch singers. Slit-legged gowns, cleavage, goosebumps--both sang Bob Yeakel-lyriced ditties set to hit records. "The Man I Love" became "The Car I Love"; "Fly Me to the Moon" got raped thusly: "Fly me to the stars, in my souped-up 88; it's got that V-8 power now, and its traction holds straight! In other words, OLDS IS KING!!!"
      Cleavage out-tractioned lyrics--the drunks cheered. Sid Elwell hustled a new car battery/applause meter on stage for Chris Staples' bit and final bows.
      Chrissy: