Make Believe

“So the Pannis brothers told me.”

“Those foolish guys.”

“I made the mistake of stopping at the Paradise for a glass of wine. You know, Ava, they seem more interested in Tony’s job loss than grieving for Max.”

She tapped her finger on the table. “It’s because of Alice. They didn’t care one way or the other about Max-it was a business arrangement, rarely social-but when Alice married Max…”

“Tell me about the Pannis brothers.”

“I don’t care for them.”

“I know that. Your likes and dislikes are apparent.”

“My mama once told me I was not born to lie.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Oddly, my mother told me it was one of the things that I was especially good at-and would make me rich and famous.”

“And so it did.”

“Yes, indeed.”

She sighed. “Actually I used to like Tony-before he became Tiny, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Tony was the…softer of the two. A deliberate buffoon, capable of making us all laugh. City-slicker boyish humor. But after Lenny died and Ethan went to the police and called it murder, Tony…shifted. He got sullen, angry, started those sad drinking binges. He never was like that before. I liked him. Now he gets on my nerves.”

“So sad,” I commented. “So Lenny…”

“Lenny is the only important Pannis brother. The dead one. Lenny. There’s a photo that Francis keeps in his Palm Springs home of him and Lenny and Lucky Luciano dining together in Havana. The exiled Mafia don. The three men in flowered shirts smoking Cuban cigars.”

“So the rumors are true-he was a gangster?”

“Francis has a liking for thugs.” The waitress placed the food on the table. Ava sipped her coffee but grimaced. “Dreadful stuff, really.” She pushed the coffee cup away. “When the Estes Kefauver committee in Washington started investigating organized crime, Lenny Pannis got…squirrelly, abusive. The FBI was moving in. He began to hit Alice. Edna, I’m good friends with Alice. I like her. She’s a sweet girl.”

“I like her, too. A lot.”

“And she was the best girl for Max. She married Lenny back in New Jersey, right out of high school, a simple girl. Lenny was the dashing, flashy boy who wooed the quiet, bookish girl. Then they came here, Lenny spreading his poison, getting into deals with seedy characters. Alice finally wised up. The fights. The beatings. Alice always had bruises on her arms and neck. Francis closed his eyes to it all because he’s a skinny little boy who likes to play with the big shots. He likes guns, he likes to hear stories of people getting beat up. He likes playing the tough guy. That’s my Francis. Thugs…but from a distance.”

“Lenny still has a lot of power over Frank, it seems.”

“That’s true. Unfortunately.” Her eyes got wide, a glint of fear in them. “Francis wants to be in a James Cagney shoot-‘em-up crime movie. He loves that scene in White Heat, Cagney on top of the oil tanks, yelling, ‘Made it, Ma. Top of the world.’ The hoodlum and his mommy.”

“Everyone out here sees the world through a movie lens.”

She shook her head. “I’m drifting. That last night Alice and Lenny had fought. He was drunk. He went to hit her. She ran off the balcony into their house. He stumbled, toppled over the railing. Dead on the pavement. Alice, the widow. Ethan cried murder. He hounded the police. He got Tony all crazy.”

“And somehow Max got in the middle of this.”

“Well, Max was Tony’s agent-back when Tony actually could do a funny stand-up show. So Alice knew…liked Max. Edna, they were meant for each other. Max had been slowing down these last few years, settling, and he needed a decent companion, someone to go to the movies with, someone to make grilled cheese sandwiches with. And Alice, fresh from bruised arms and legs, from shouting matches, from a loveless marriage, needed someone like Max Jeffries. Kind and decent and funny…and, well, by her side.” She closed her eyes for a second. “My favorite Gershwin tune, Edna, is ‘Someone to Watch Over Me.’” Her eyes got moist.

“And Alice got all the money.”

“That’s the funny thing. Ethan and Tony, latecomers out here, believed Lenny’s stories of colossal wealth. Well, yeah, he flashed a bunch of cash, had that big house in Beverly Hills. A kidney-shaped pool and spiral staircases. He used to point out the spiral staircase like it was the golden path to Mafia heaven. But after the dust settled and debts were paid, and the IRS stepped in with a wink from the FBI, it was not the fortune-the pot at the end of the rainbow-that the brothers believed in.”

“They don’t accept that fact, do they?”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Edna. Ethan knew there was no money. He’s a moneyman. Lord, he handled lots of Lenny’s money-so Francis told me. But I don’t think he told Tony that. Let the simple brother think he’s poor because of Alice. Ethan knows better.”

“Ava, I don’t understand Frank’s friendship with Ethan and Tony. They’re hangers-on.”

“True, and Francis knows it. He insists I like them. He’s always dragging them to my house. Yet he gets annoyed with them. It’s dumb loyalty to the dead, revered gangster brother.”

“It has to be more than that. Why?”

“Lenny.”

“Everyone tells me that. It makes no sense.”

She leaned in. “Another secret, Edna. Francis will kill me if he knows I told you. But back East, Francis was trying to elbow his way into some deal, so he got involved with some local hoods. Money borrowed, fights, even threats against his life. He promised things he shouldn’t have-whatever that means. Well, Francis suddenly renewed his old-buddy friendship with Lenny, and Lenny, a real power thug, called off the low-level creeps, paid off Francis’ debts, and the two became joined at the blood-brother hip, so to speak.”

“So what? Years later…”

“Well, suddenly everyone is out here in happy land, and Francis loses his audience, his record contract. Friends disappear out here faster than loose change in a hole in your pants pocket. Look at poor Max. Loyalty is not a virtue out here. Who stuck with Francis? Lenny way back when-and the brothers. Lenny’s long gone and Francis has lonely evenings with me-or, when it’s time for fun and games, the boys.”

“But it must wear on Frank.”

She nodded. “I got to hear all about it. He liked them-still does, I suppose. But Tony is on the path to drunkenness.”

“And Ethan?”

“He’s still waiting for some of the gold dust of Hollywood to land on his shoulders.”

I finished my sandwich and tapped my cup. The waitress walked over with a coffee pot. “Ethan struck me as intelligent.”

“He is, and sometimes real funny. We find it amazing that he still is on speaking terms with his ex-wife.” She arched her back. “Not very Hollywood, that attitude. Lorena’s a funny lady, bright. She divorced Ethan but likes him. It’s like she’s afraid to let go of something important. I don’t get it, but who am I to talk? We end up with men we never plan to, right, Edna? I first thought Francis was arrogant and ego-mad, but one night in Palm Springs the bells and whistles went off in my head. In my case, all it took was a heady dose of his charisma and flattery. I mean, Ethan’s too rigid, intolerant of any weakness. All the pencils sharpened, all the sentries lined up.” She laughed. “Lorena told me he demanded his socks be ironed.”

“And then there’s Tony. Or…Tiny.”

“Imagine that. Tiny. Both came out here to be rich. Ethan had a feeble scriptwriting course back East and produced Gone with the Wind Two, some costume drama he tried to sell to Vivian Leigh. Max scoffed at him, so he fell back on his accounting background. Lenny demanded that of him. One thing you’ll discover about Ethan is his favorite word. Failure. He despises failure, though it’s all around him. That’s why he can’t stand his brother, the current reigning example of failure. His main job these days is stopping Tony from drinking himself to death. Poor Tony-he’s such a pitiful drunk.” She smiled. “Unlike the rest of us. He keeps asking Francis to use his connections to get him headlined in a good place.