“How you holdin’ up, boss?” Brownie asked. “You take any bites outta the Big Apple last night?”

“I’ve often gone to bed at seven a.m. here,” Sinatra said. “This is the first time I’ve gotten up at seven a.m.”

Brownie smiled, then jumped onto the sidewalk after a garbage truck honked at a taxicab.

The actor took a long drag from his pipe. “The acting in this one is a challenge, Charlie,” Sinatra said. “What with Marco having been brainwashed. I’m not a trained actor, so it takes a lot of doing. I hope it comes out all right.”

Charlie nodded. “I’m sure it will be great,” he said.

“You saw that the White House announced the California trip,” Sinatra said. “It was in the papers.”

“I saw,” said Charlie.

“Secret Service came to Rancho Mirage the other day to do an inspection,” he said, then added wistfully, “but they said they were looking at several properties, including something else in the neighborhood and even High-Anus Port.”

Manny Fontaine emerged from the nearby arena door with urgency, looking out of place on the gray New York street with his deep tan and bright blue sport coat. “Mr. Sinatra, I come bearing wonderful news,” he said, beaming, as he approached. “The Oscar noms are out and you’re up for best song!”

“That’s fantastic, Frank!” Charlie said, slapping him on the back.

“Who else?” Sinatra asked.

Fontaine pulled a list from his inner pocket. “Best Picture: West Side Story, Guns of Navarone, The Hustler—”

“No, no, no, Manny, who am I up against for Best Song?” Sinatra asked.

“Um, um…here it is: ‘Moon River,’ ‘Town Without Pity,’ ‘Pocketful of Miracles,’ and ‘Bachelor in Paradise.’”

“You can beat them,” said Charlie.

“‘Moon River’ will be tough,” said Sinatra. “Let me see that list, Manny.”

“Judgment at Nuremberg and West Side Story are nominated for eleven Oscars each,” Fontaine said. “Nine for Hustler.” He passed the list to Sinatra and shivered. “Jesus, you two, it’s colder than a witch’s tit—how does anybody live in this place?”

“Oh, good, Monty is up for Best Supporting,” Sinatra said. “And so is Judy!” Charlie assumed he was referring to his From Here to Eternity costar Montgomery Clift and one of Sinatra’s many former paramours, Judy Garland. While Sinatra perused the list, Fontaine blew warm air into his fists and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. He turned to Charlie.

“Congressman,” he said in low voice, “I just want you to know, at the behest of Les Wolff, I spoke with the proper folks at the LAPD about the, uh, incident the other night at Forest Lawn. And we’re on top of it. The studio is cooperating with the investigation, and we will do everything we can to keep your name out of it.”

Charlie looked at Fontaine. Shit. He hadn’t known word had spread. “Thank you,” he finally said.