Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом Страница 2

yet. Everybody could say it about his second wife though, he thought wryly. He picked

up the phone.

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He recognized her voice immediately and that was not surprising. He had heard it the

first time when he was ten years old and they had been in 4B together. "Hi, Ginny," he

said, "you busy tonight? Can I come over for a little while?"

"All right," she said. "The kids are sleeping though; I don't want to wake them up."

"That's OK," he said. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Her voice hesitated slightly, then carefully controlled not to show any concern, she

asked, "Is it anything serious, anything important?"

"No," Johnny said. "I finished the picture today and I thought maybe I could just see

you and talk to you. Maybe I could take a look at the kids if you're sure they won't wake

up."

"OK," she said. "I'm glad you got that part you wanted."

"Thanks," he said. "I'll see you in about a half hour."

When he got to what had been his home in Beverly Hills, Johnny Fontane sat in the

car for a moment staring at the house. He remembered what his Godfather had said,

that he could make his own life what he wanted. Great chance if you knew what you

wanted. But what did he want?

His first wife was waiting for him at the door. She was pretty, petite (маленького

роста, изящная [p∂'ti:t]) and brunette, a nice Italian girl, the girl next door who would

never fool around with another man and that had been important to him. Did he still

want her, he asked himself, and the answer was no. For one thing, he could no longer

make love to her, their affection had grown too old. And there were some things,

nothing to do with sex, she could never forgive him. But they were no longer enemies.

She made him coffee and served him homemade cookies in the living room. "Stretch

out on the sofa," she said, "you look tired." He took off his jacket and his shoes and

loosened his tie while she sat in the chair opposite him with a grave little smile on her

face. "It's funny," she said.

"What's funny?" he asked her, sipping coffee and spilling some of it on his shirt.

"The great Johnny Fontane stuck (to stick – завязнуть, застрять) without a date," she

said.

"The great Johnny Fontane is lucky if he can even get it up anymore," he said.

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It was unusual for him to be so direct. Ginny asked, "Is there something really the

matter?"

Johnny grinned at her. "I had a date with a girl in my apartment and she brushed me

off. And you know, I was relieved."

To his surprise he saw a look of anger pass over Ginny's face. "Don't worry about

those little tramps," she said. "She must have thought that was the way to get you

interested in her," And Johnny realized with amusement that Ginny was actually angry

with the girl who had turned him down.

"Ah, what the hell," he said. "I'm tired of that stuff. I have to grow up sometime. And

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now that I can't sing anymore I guess I'll have a tough time with dames. I never got in on

my looks, you know."

She said loyally, "You were always better looking than you photographed."

Johnny shook his head. "I'm getting fat and I'm getting bald. Hell, if this picture doesn't

make me big again I better learn how to bake pizzas. Or maybe we'll put you in the

movies, you look great."

She looked thirty-five, A good thirty-five, but thirty-five. And out here in Hollywood that

might as well be a hundred. The young beautiful girls thronged through the city like

lemmings (лемминг, пеструшка /зоол./), lasting one year, some two, Some of them so

beautiful they could make a man's heart almost stop beating until they opened their

mouths, until the greedy hopes for success clouded the loveliness of their eyes.

Ordinary women could never hope to compete with them on a physical level. And you

could talk all you wanted to about charm, about intelligence, about chic, about poise, the

raw beauty of these girls overpowered everything else. Perhaps if there were not so

many of them there might be a chance for an ordinary, nice-looking woman. And since

Johnny Fontane could have all of them, or nearly all of them, Ginny knew that he was

saying all this just to flatter her. He had always been nice that way. He had always been

polite to women even at the height of his fame, paying them compliments, holding lights

for their cigarettes, opening doors. And since all this was usually done for him, it made it

even more impressive to the girls he went out with. And he did it with all girls, even the

one-night stands, I-don't-know-your-name girls.

She smiled at him, a friendly smile. "You already made me, Johnny, remember? For

twelve years. You don't have to give me your line."

He sighed and stretched out on the sofa. "No kidding, Ginny, you look good. I wish I

looked that good."

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She didn't answer him. She could see he was depressed. "Do you think the picture is

OK? Will it do you some good?" she asked.

Johnny nodded. "Yeah. It could bring me all the way back. If I get the Academy thing

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and play my cards right, I can make it big again even without the singing. Then maybe I

can give you and the kids more dough (тесто; деньги /сленг/ [d∂u])."

"We have more than enough," Ginny said.

"I wanta see more of the kids too," Johnny said. "I want to settle down a little bit. Why

can't I come every Friday night for dinner here? I swear I'll never miss one Friday, I don't

care how far away I am or how busy I am. And then whenever I can I'll spend weekends

or maybe the kids can spend some part of their vacations with me."

Ginny put an ashtray on his chest. "It's OK with me," she said. "I never got married

because I wanted you to keep being their father." She said this without any kind of

emotion, but Johnny Fontane, staring up at the ceiling, knew she said it as an

atonement (компенсация, возмещение) for those other things, the cruel things she had

once said to him when their marriage had broken up, when his career had started going

down the drain (дренажная канава, водосток, канализация).

"By the way, guess who called me," she said.

Johnny wouldn't play that game, he never did. "Who?" he asked.

Ginny said, "You could take at least one lousy guess." Johnny didn't answer. "Your

Godfather," she said.

Johnny was really surprised. "He never talks to anybody on the phone. What did he

say to you?"

"He told me to help you," Ginny said. "He said you could be as big as you ever were,

that you were on your way back, but that you needed people to believe in you. I asked

him why should I? And he said because you're the father of my children. He's such a

sweet old guy and they tell such horrible stories about him."

Virginia hated phones and she had had all the extensions (удлинение, расширение;

удлинитель, добавочный телефон) taken out except for the one in her bedroom and

one in the kitchen. Now they could hear the kitchen phone ringing. She went to answer

it. When she came back into the living room there was a look of surprise on her face.

"It's for you, Johnny," she said. "It's Tom Hagen. He says it's important."

Johnny went into the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Yeah, Tom," he said.

Tom Hagen's voice was cool. "Johnny, the Godfather wants me to come out and see

you and set some things up that can help you out now that the picture is finished. He

wants me to catch the morning plane. Can you meet it in Los Angeles? I have to fly

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back to New York the same night so you won't have to worry about keeping your night

free for me."

"Sure, Tom," Johnny said. "And don't worry about me losing a night. Stay over and

relax a bit. I'll throw a party and you can meet some movie people." He always made

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that offer, he didn't want the folks from his old neighborhood to think he was ashamed of

them.

"Thanks," Hagen said, "but I really have to catch the early morning plane back. OK,

you'll meet the eleven-thirty A.M. out of New York?"

"Sure," Johnny said.

"Stay in your car," Hagen said. "Send one of your people to meet me when I get off

the plane and bring me to you."

"Right," Johnny said.

He went back to the living room and Ginny looked at him inquiringly. "My Godfather

has some plan for me, to help me out," Johnny said. "He got me the part in the movie, I

don't know how. But I wish he'd stay out of the rest of it."

He went back onto the sofa. He felt very tired. Ginny said, "Why don't you sleep in the

guest bedroom tonight instead of going home? You can have breakfast with the kids

and you won't have to drive home so late. I hate to think of you all alone in that house of

yours anyway. Don't you get lonely?"

"I don't stay home much," Johnny said.

She laughed and said, "Then you haven't changed much." She paused and then said,

"Shall I fix up the other bedroom?"

Johnny said, "Why can't I sleep in your bedroom?"

She flushed. "No," she said. She smiled at him and he smiled back. They were still

friends.

When Johnny woke up the next morning it was late, he could tell by the sun coming in

through the drawn blinds. It never came in that way unless it was in the afternoon. He

yelled, "Hey, Ginny, do I still rate (заслуживать, удоставиваться) breakfast?" And far

away he heard her voice call, "Just a second."

And it was just a second. She must have had everything ready, hot in the oven, the tray

waiting to be loaded, because as Johnny lit his first cigarette of the day, the door of the

bedroom opened and his two small daughters came in wheeling the breakfast cart

(тележка, тачка; здесь: поднос на колесиках).

They were so beautiful it broke his heart. Their faces were shining and clear, their

eyes alive with curiosity and the eager desire to run to him. They wore their hair braided

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old-fashioned in long pigtails and they wore old-fashioned frocks and white patent-

leather (лакированный) shoes. They stood by the breakfast cart watching him as he

stubbed out his cigarette and waited for him to call and hold his arms wide. Then they

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came running to him. He pressed his face between their two fresh fragrant cheeks and

scraped them with his beard so that they shrieked. Ginny appeared in the bedroom door

and wheeled the breakfast cart the rest of the way so that he could eat in bed. She sat

beside him on the edge of the bed, pouring his coffee, buttering his toast. The two

young daughters sat on the bedroom couch watching him. They were too old now for

pillow fights or to be tossed (to toss – бросать, кидать, подбрасывать) around. They

were already smoothing their mussed (to muss – приводить в беспорядок, путать)

hair. Oh, Christ, he thought, pretty soon they'll be all grown up, Hollywood punks will be

out after them.

He shared his toast and bacon with them as he ate, gave them sips of coffee. It was a

habit left over from when he had been singing with the band and rarely ate with them so

they liked to share his food when he had his odd-hour meals like afternoon breakfasts

or morning suppers. The change-around in food delighted them – to eat steak and

french fries (картофель фри, чипсы) at seven in the morning, bacon and eggs in the

afternoon.

Only Ginny and a few of his close friends knew how much he idolized his daughters.

That had been the worst thing about the divorce and leaving home. The one thing he

had fought about, and for, was his position as a father to them. In a very sly way he had

made Ginny understand he would not be pleased by her remarrying, not because he

was jealous of her, but because he was jealous of his position as a father. He had

arranged the money to be paid to her so it would be enormously to her advantage

financially not to remarry. It was understood that she could have lovers as long as they

were not introduced into her home life. But on this score he had absolute faith in her.

She had always been amazingly shy and old-fashioned in sex. The Hollywood gigolos

had batted zero (выбивали ноль = ничего не могли добиться; bat – бита /в

бейсболе/) when they started swarming around her, sniffing for the financial settlement

and the favors they could get from her famous husband.

He had no fear that she expected a reconciliation because he had wanted to sleep

with her the night before. Neither one of them wanted to renew their old marriage. She

understood his hunger for beauty, his irresistible impulse toward young women far more

beautiful than she. It was known that he always slept with his movie co-stars at least

once. His boyish charm was irresistible to them, as their beauty was to him.

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"You'll have to start getting dressed pretty soon," Ginny said. "Tom's plane will be

getting in." She shooed the daughters out of the room.

"Yeah," Johnny said. "By the way, Ginny, you know I'm getting divorced? I'm gonna

be a free man again."

She watched him getting dressed. He always kept fresh clothes at her house ever

since they had come to their new arrangement after the wedding of Don Corleone's

daughter. "Christmas is only two weeks away," she said. "Shall I plan on you being

here?"

It was the first time he had even thought about the holidays. When his voice was in

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shape, holidays were lucrative singing dates but even then Christmas was sacred. If he

missed this one, it would be the second one. Last year he had been courting his second

wife in Spain, trying to get her to marry him.