Why be nice anyways? He really faked a heart attack.
You know, sir, I'm really loath to disagree, but I wonder.
The sparkling husband primitive, of Italian derivation, is 6'3" tall, or nearly so, and right now, he's 66 years old, or only a few months away from that. Circa 220 pounds, unless he's gained more since mentioning that.
His physician wants him to drop twenty pounds. Actually, the sparkling husband primitive's physician wants him to drop 40+ pounds, but physicians know enough to not "demand" "too much" from patients; losing twenty pounds is better than losing no pounds at all.
And being a
caporegime for the d'Alessandro crime family of Baltimore/San Francisco is not exactly a stress-free job.
And there's a chemical element involved here; the sparkling husband primitive has a large life-insurance policy, and the sparkling husband primitive's wife has the hots for the horsey Mrs. Tutweiler down the street.
If I were the sparkling husband primitive, I'd be, uh, kind of leery about what the wife puts into my cocktails.
So I suspect it's reasonable he had a heart-attack, probably a minor one, but a heart-attack nonetheless.