mp.godfather-第34章

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　Now　Johnny　called　the　author　at　his　New　York　home　to　thank　him　for　the　great　part　he　had　written　in　his　book　for　him。　He　flattered　the　shit　out　of　the　guy。　Then　casually　he　asked　him　how　he　was　doing　on　his　next　novel　and　what　it　was　all　about。　He　lit　a　cigar　while　the　author　told　him　about　a　specially　interesting　chapter　and　then　finally　said；　〃Gee；　I'd　like　to　read　it　when　you're　finished。　How　about　sending　me　a　copy？　Maybe　I　can　get　you　a　good　deal　for　it；　better　than　you　got　with　Woltz。〃
　
　The　eagerness　in　the　author's　voice　told　him　that　he　had　guessed　right。　Woltz　had　chiseled　the　guy；　given　him　peanuts　for　the　book。　Johnny　mentioned　that　he　might　be　in　New　York　right　after　the　holidays　and　would　the　author　want　to　e　and　have　dinner　with　some　of　his　friends。　〃I　know　a　few　good…looking　broads；〃　Johnny　said　jokingly。　The　author　laughed　and　said　OK。
　
　Next　Johnny　called　up　the　director　and　cameraman　on　the　film　he　had　just　finished　to　thank　them　for　having　helped　him　in　the　film。　He　told　them　confidentially　that　he　knew　Woltz　had　been　against　him　and　he　doubly　appreciated　their　help　and　that　if　there　was　ever　anything　he　could　do　for　them　they　should　just　call。
　
　Then　he　made　the　hardest　call　of　all；　the　one　to　Jack　Woltz。　He　thanked　him　for　the　part　in　the　picture　and　told　him　how　happy　he　would　be　to　work　for　him　anytime。　He　did　this　merely　to　throw　Woltz　off　the　track。　He　had　always　been　very　square；　very　straight。　In　a　few　days　Woltz　would　find　out　about　his　maneuvering　and　be　astounded　by　the　treachery　of　this　call；　which　was　exactly　what　Johnny　Fontane　wanted　him　to　feel。
　
　After　that　he　sat　at　the　desk　and　puffed　at　his　cigar。　There　was　whiskey　on　a　side　table　but　he　had　made　some　sort　of　promise　to　himself　and　Hagen　that　he　wouldn't　drink。　He　shouldn't　even　be　smoking。　It　was　foolish；　whatever　was　wrong　with　his　voice　probably　wouldn't　be　helped　by　knocking　off　drinking　and　smoking。　Not　too　much；　but　what　the　hell；　it　might　help　and　he　wanted　all　the　percentages　with　him；　now　that　he　had　a　fighting　chance。
　
　Now　with　the　house　quiet；　his　divorced　wife　sleeping；　his　beloved　daughters　sleeping；　he　could　think　back　to　that　terrible　time　in　his　life　when　he　had　deserted　them。　Deserted　them　for　a　whore　tramp　of　a　bitch　who　was　his　second　wife。　But　even　now　he　smiled　at　the　thought　of　her；　she　was　such　a　lovely　broad　in　so　many　ways　and；　besides；　the　only　thing　that　saved　his　life　was　the　day　that　he　had　made　up　his　mind　never　to　hate　a　woman　or；　more　specifically；　the　day　he　had　decided　he　could　not　afford　to　hate　his　first　wife　and　his　daughters；　his　girl　friends；　his　second　wife；　and　the　girl　friends　after　that；　right　up　to　Sharon　Moore　brushing　him　off　so　that　she　could　brag　about　refusing　to　screw　for　the　great　Johnny　Fontane。
　
　**********
　
　He　had　traveled　with　the　band　singing　and　then　he　had　bee　a　radio　star　and　a　star　of　the　movie　stage　shows　and　then　he　had　finally　made　it　in　the　movies。　And　in　all　that　time　he　had　lived　the　way　he　wanted　to；　screwed　the　women　he　wanted　to；　but　he　had　never　let　it　affect　his　personal　life。　Then　he　had　fallen　for　his　soon　to　be　second　wife；　Margot　Ashton；　he　had　gone　absolutely　crazy　for　her。　His　career　had　gone　to　hell；　his　voice　had　gone　to　hell；　his　family　life　had　gone　to　hell。　And　there　had　e　the　day　when　he　was　left　without　anything。
　
　The　thing　was；　he　had　always　been　generous　and　fair。　He　had　given　his　first　wife　everything　he　owned　when　he　divorced　her。　He　had　made　sure　his　two　daughters　would　get　a　piece　of　everything　he　made；　every　record；　every　movie；　every　club　date。　And　when　he　had　been　rich　and　famous　he　had　refused　his　first　wife　nothing。　He　had　helped　out　all　her　brothers　and　sisters；　her　father　and　mother；　the　girl　friends　she　had　gone　to　school　with　and　their　families。　He　had　never　been　a　stuck…up　celebrity。　He　had　sung　at　the　weddings　of　his　wife's　two　younger　sisters；　something　he　hated　to　do。　He　had　never　refused　her　anything　except　the　plete　surrender　of　his　own　personality。
　
　And　then　when　he　had　touched　bottom；　when　he　could　no　longer　get　movie　work；　when　he　could　no　longer　sing；　when　his　second　wife　had　betrayed　him；　he　had　gone　to　spend　a　few　days　with　Ginny　and　his　daughters。　He　had　more　or　less　flung　himself　on　her　mercy　one　night　because　he　felt　so　lousy。　That　day　he　had　heard　one　of　his　recordings　and　he　had　sounded　so　terrible　that　he　accused　the　song　technicians　of　sabotaging　the　record。　Until　finally　he　had　bee　convinced　that　that　was　what　his　voice　really　sounded　like。　He　had　smashed　the　master　record　and　refused　to　sing　anymore。　He　was　so　ashamed　that　he　had　not　sung　a　note　except　with　Nino　at　Connie　Corleone's　wedding。
　
　He　had　never　forgotten　the　look　on　Ginny's　face　when　she　found　out　about　all　his　misfortunes。　It　had　passed　over　her　face　only　for　a　second　but　that　was　enough　for　him　never　to　forget　it。　It　was　a　look　of　savage　and　joyful　satisfaction。　It　was　a　look　that　could　only　make　him　believe　that　she　had　contemptuously　hated　him　all　these　years。　She　quickly　recovered　and　offered　him　cool　but　polite　sympathy。　He　had　pretended　to　accept　it。　During　the　next　few　days　he　had　gone　to　see　three　of　the　girls　he　had　liked　the　most　over　the　years；　girls　he　had　remained　friends　with　and　sometimes　still　slept　with　in　a　radely　way；　girls　that　he　had　done　everything　in　his　power　to　help；　girls　to　whom　he　had　given　the　equivalent　of　hundreds　of　thousands　of　dollars　in　gifts　or　job　opportunities。　On　their　faces　he　had　caught　that　same　fleeting　look　of　savage　satisfaction。
　
　It　was　during　that　time　that　he　knew　he　had　to　make　a　decision。　He　could　bee　like　a　great　many　other　men　in　Hollywood；　successful　producers；　writers；　directors；　actors；　who　preyed　on　beautiful　women　with　lustful　hatred。　He　could　use　power　and　monetary　favors　grudgingly；　always　alert　for　treason；　always　believing　that　women　would　betray　and　desert　him；　adversaries　to　be　bested。　Or　he　could　refuse　to　hate　women　and　continue　to　believe　in　them。
　
　He　knew　he　could　not　afford　not　to　love　them；　that　something　of　his　spirit　would　die　if　he　did　not　continue　to　love　women　no　matter　how　treacherous　and　unfaithful　they　were。　It　didn't　matter　that　the　women　he　loved　most　in　the　world　were　secretly　glad　to　see　him　crushed；　humiliated；　by　a　wayward　fortune；　it　did　not　matter　that　in　the　most　awful　way；　not　sexually；　they　had　been　unfaithful　to　him。　He　had　no　choice。　He　had　to　accept　them。　And　so　he　made　love　to　all　of　them；　gave　them　presents；　hid　the　hurt　their　enjoyment　of　his　misfortunes　gave　him。　He　forgave　them　knowing　he　was　being　paid　back　for　having　lived　in　the　utmost　freedom　from　women　and　in　the　fullest　flush　of　their　favor。　But　now　he　never　felt　guilty　about　being　untrue　to　them。　He　never　felt　guilty　about　how　he　treated　Ginny；　insisting　on　remaining　the　sole　father　of　his　children；　yet　never　even　considering　remarrying　her；　and　letting　her　know　that　too。　That　was　one　thing　he　had　salvaged　out　of　his　fall　from　the　top。　He　had　grown　a　thick　skin　about　the　hurts　he　gave　women。
　
　He　was　tired　and　ready　for　bed　but　one　note　of　memory　stuck　with　him：　singing　with　Nino　Valenti。　And　suddenly　he　knew　what　would　please　Don　Corleone　more　than　anything　else。　He　picked　up　the　phone　and　told　the　operator　to　get　him　New　York。　He　called　Sonny　Corleone　and　asked　him　for　Nino　Valenti's　number。　Then　he　called　Nino。　Nino　sounded　a　little　drunk　as　usual。
　
　〃Hey；　Nino；　how'd　you　like　to　e　out　here　and　work　for　me；〃　Johnny　said。　〃I　need　a　guy　I　can　trust。〃
　
　Nino；　kidding　around；　said；　〃Gee；　I　don't　know；　Johnny；　I　got　a　good　job　on　the　truck；　boffing　housewives　along　my　route；　picking　up　a　clear　hundred…fifty　every　week。　What　you　got　to　offer？〃
　
　〃I　can　start　you　at　five　hundred　and　get　you　blind　dates　with　movie　stars；　how's　that？〃　Johnny　said。　〃And　maybe　I'll　let　you　sing　at　my　parties。〃
　
　〃Yeah；　OK；　let　me　think　about　it。〃　Nino　said。　〃Let　me　talk　it　over　with　my　lawyer　and　my　accountant　and　my　helper　on　the　truck。〃
　
　〃Hey；　no　kidding　around；　Nino；〃　Johnny　said。　〃I　need　you　out　here。　I　want　you　to　fly　out　tomorrow　morning　and　sign　a　personal　contract　for　five　hundred　a　week　for　a　year。　Then　if　you　steal　one　of　my　broads　and　I　fire　you；　you　pick　up　at　least　a　year's　salary。　OK？〃
　
　There　was　a　long　pause。　Nino's　voice　was　sober。　〃Hey；　Johnny；　you　kidding？〃
　
　Johnny　said；　〃I'm　serious；　kid。　Go　to　my　agent's　office　in　New　York。　They'll　have　your　plane　ticket　and　some　cash。　I'm　gonna　call　them　first　thing　in　the　morning。　So　you　go　up　there　in　the　afternoon。　OK？　Then　I'll　have　somebody　meet　you　at　the　plane　and　bring　you　out　to　the　house。〃
　
　Again　there　was　a　long　pause　and　then　Nino's　voice；　very　subdued；　uncertain；　said；　〃OK；　Johnny。〃　He　didn't　sound　drunk　anymore。
　
　Johnny　hung　up　the　phone　and　got　ready　for　bed。　He　felt　better　than　any　time　since　he　had　smashed　that　master　record。
　
　Chapter　13
　
　Johnny　Fontane　sat　in　the　huge　recording　studio　and　figured　costs　on　a　yellow　pad。　Musicians　were　filing　in；　all　of　them　friends　he　had　known　since　he　was　a　kid　singer　with　the　bands。　The　conductor；　top　man　in　the　business　of　pop　acpaniment　and　a　man　who　had　been　kind　to　him　when　things　went　sour；　was　giving　each　musician　bundles　of　music　and　verbal　instructions。　His　name　was　Eddie　Neils。　He　had　taken　on　this　recording　as　a　favor　to　Johnny；　though　his　schedule　was　crowded。
　
　Nino　Valenti　was　sitting　at　a　piano　fooling　around　nervously　with　the　keys。　He　was　also　sipping　from　a　huge　glass　of　rye。　Johnny　didn't　mind　that。　He　knew　Nino　sang　just　as　well　drunk　as　sober　and　what　they　were　doing　today　wouldn't　require　any　real　musicianship　on　Nino's　part。
　
　Eddie　Neils　had　made　special　arrangements　of　some　old　Italian　and　Sicilian　songs；　and　a　special　job　on　the　duel…duet　song　that　Nino　and　Johnny　had　sung　at　Connie　Corleone's　wedding。　Johnny　was　making　the　record　primarily　because　he　knew　that　the　Don　loved　such　songs　and　it　would　be　a　perfect　Christmas　gift　for　him。　He　also　had　a　hunch　that　the　record　would　sell　in　the　high　numbers；　not　a　million；　of　course。　And　he　had　figured　out　that　helping　Nino　was　how　the　Don　wanted　his　payoff。　Nino　was；　after　all；　another　one　of　the　Don's　godchildren。
　
　Johnny　put　his　clipboard　and　yellow　pad　on　the　folding　chair　beside　him　and　got　up　to　stand　beside　the　piano。　He　said；　〃Hey；　paisan；〃　and　Nino　glanced　up　and　tried　to　smile。　He　looked　a　little　sick。　Johnny　leaned　over　and　rubbed　his　shoulder　blades。　〃Relax；　kid；〃　he　said。　〃Do　a　good　job　today　and　I'll　fix　you　up　with　the　best　and　most　famous　piece　of　ass　in　Hollywood。〃
　
　Nino　took　a　gulp　of　whiskey。〃Who's　that；　Lassie？〃
　
　Johnny　laughed。　〃No；　Deanna　Dunn。　I　guarantee　the　goods。〃
　
　Nino　was　impressed　but　couldn't　help　saying　with　pseudo…hopefulness；　〃You　can't　get　me　Lassie？〃
　
　The　orchestra　swung　into　the　opening　song　of　the　medley。　Johnny　Fontane　listened　intently。　Eddie　Neils　would　play　all　the　songs　through　in　their　special　arrangements。　Then　would　e　the　first　take　for　the　record。　As　Johnny　listened　he　made　mental　notes　on　exactly　how　he　would　handle　each　phrase；　how　he　would　e　into　each　song。　He　knew　his　voice　wouldn't　last　long；　but　Nino　would　be　doing　most　of　the　singing；　Johnny　would