Lady Blue Eyes by Barbara Sinatra

Author:Barbara Sinatra [Sinatra, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-44994-8
Publisher: Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

If we were invited out somewhere Frank didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t, and there was no changing his mind. I’d learned early on that when he said go, we’d go. That was the routine, and I had to be ready and on time. The only occasion I might decide not to go was if I found Frank at the bar drinking gin instead of his usual Jack Daniel’s. There was something about gin that turned him mean. The minute I spotted the gin bottle, I’d turn around, go to my room, and lock myself in. No amount of cajoling could persuade me to go with him, so he’d have to go out and be mean on his own.

Some of the best times were when we’d stay in, just the two of us, and Frank would prepare me a romantic meal. He’d spend an entire afternoon in the kitchen he’d designed himself, cooking up a series of delicious Italian dishes. He’d light the candles, arrange the flowers, and woo me all over again. When he was like that, he was the best. His voice was soft and sexy, and so was his demeanor. He was in the mood for love, and I was only too happy to love him in return.

Other nights, we’d host a party at home so that we wouldn’t have to go out. Then Vine and I would run around and call our friends until I had an interesting group of thirty or forty people lined up, plus all the food and booze they’d need. Sometimes for fun, I’d divide our guests up into groups so that we’d have separate tables for actors, singers, industrialists, or moguls. The guest list would depend on who was in town but would include all the usual suspects, plus friends like Tim Conway, Roger and Luisa Moore, Dick and Dolly Martin, Chuck Connors, Louis and “Quique” Jourdan, or the singer Jerry Vale and his wife, Rita. Just like his father before him, Frank would cook at least one special dish to add to the menu. After dinner, we might show a first-run movie in the projection room complete with popcorn and candy, or Frank might go to his train room to oil the engines or change the cars with some of his buddies.

The Compound was very masculine in style when I first knew it, what I called “early Italian.” There were plastic flowers in vases and a great deal of orange paint on everything from the walls to the oversize refrigerators. Soon after I moved in, I asked if I could do something about the décor. Frank couldn’t have cared less what I did with the place; he just didn’t want to get involved. He told me, “Do it exactly the way you want and then show me.” With the help of Bee Korshak, whose judgment as an interior designer I valued, I opened up some of the rooms and created new bathrooms and dressing rooms. I also turned one of the spare bedrooms into an art studio for Frank so that he could pursue his interest in painting.

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