Илья Франк - Английский язык с Крестным Отцом Страница 4

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They got into Johnny's car and drove to the airport. Hagen was thinking that Johnny

was a better guy than he figured. He'd already learned something, just his driving him

personally to the airport proved that. The personal courtesy, something the Don himself

always believed in. And the apology. That had been sincere. He had known Johnny a

long time and he knew the apology would never be made out of fear. Johnny had

always had guts. That's why he had always been in trouble, with his movie bosses and

with his women. He was also one of the few people who was not afraid of the Don.

Fontane and Michael were maybe the only two men Hagen knew of whom this could be

said. So the apology was sincere, he would accept it as such. He and Johnny would

have to see a lot of each other in the next few years. And Johnny would have to pass

the next test, which would prove how smart he was. He would have to do something for

the Don that the Don would never ask him to do or insist that he do as part of the

agreement. Hagen wondered if Johnny Fontane was smart enough to figure out that

part of the bargain.

After Johnny dropped Hagen off at the airport (Hagen insisted that Johnny not hang

around for his plane with him) he drove back to Ginny's house. She was surprised to

see him. But he wanted to stay at her place so that he would have time to think things

out, to make his plans. He knew that what Hagen had told him was extremely important,

that his whole life was being changed. He had once been a big star but now at the

young age of thirty-five he was washed up. He didn't kid himself about that. Even if he

won the Award as best actor, what the hell could it mean at the most? Nothing, if his

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voice didn't come back. He'd be just second-rate, with no real power, no real juice. Even

that girl turning him down, she had been nice and smart and acting sort of hip (также

hep – знающий толк в чем-то, секущий; классный, стильный /сленг/), but would she

have been so cool if he had really been at the top? Now with the Don backing him with

dough he could be as big as anybody in Hollywood. He could be a king. Johnny smiled.

Hell. He could even be a Don.

It would be nice living with Ginny again for a few weeks, maybe longer. He'd take the

kids out every day, maybe have a few friends over. He'd stop drinking and smoking,

really take care of himself. Maybe his voice would get strong again. If that happened

and with the Don's money, he'd be unbeatable. He'd really be as close to an oldtime

king or emperor as it was possible to be in America. And it wouldn't depend on his voice

holding up or how long the public cared about him as an actor. It would be an empire

rooted in money and the most special, the most coveted kind of power.

Ginny had the guest bedroom made up for him. It was understood that he would not

share her room, that they would not live as man and wife. They could never have that

relationship again. And though the outside world of gossip columnists (корреспондент,

обозреватель /ведущий постоянную рубрику/) and movie fans gave the blame for the

failure of their marriage solely to him, yet in a curious way, between the two of them,

they both knew that she was even more to blame for their divorce.

When Johnny Fontane became the most popular singer and movie musical comedy

star in motion pictures, it had never occurred to him to desert his wife and children. He

was too Italian, still too old-style. Naturally he had been unfaithful. That had been

impossible to avoid in his business and the temptations to which he was continually

exposed. And despite being a skinny, delicate-looking guy, he had the wiry horniness

(horny – сексуально возбужденный, сексульно озабоченный) of many small-boned

Latin types. And women delighted him in their surprises. He loved going out with a

demure (спокойный, сдержанный, трезвый, рассудительный, притворно

застенчивый [dı'mju∂]) sweet-faced virginal-looking girl and then uncapping her breasts

to find them so unexpectedly slopingly (sloping – косой, покатый) full and rich, lewdly

(lewd – похотливый; распутный) heavy in contrast to the cameo face. He loved to find

sexual shyness and timidity in the sexy-looking girls who were all fake (поддельный,

фальшивый) motion like a shifty basketball player, vamping (to vamp – завлекать,

соблазнять) as if they had slept with a hundred guys, and then when he got them alone

having to battle for hours to get in and do the job and finding out they were virgins.

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And all these Hollywood guys laughed at his fondness for virgins. They called it an old

guinea taste, square, and look how long it took to make a virgin give you a blow job

(феллация) with all the aggravation and then they usually turned out to be a lousy

piece of ass. But Johnny knew that it was how you handled a young girl. You had to

come on to her the right way and then what could be greater than a girl who was tasting

her first dick and loving it? Ab, it was so great breaking them in. It was so great having

them wrap their legs around you. Their thighs were all different shapes, their asses

were different, their skins were all different colors and shades of white and brown and

tan and when he had slept with that young colored girl in Detroit, a good girl, not a

hustler, the young daughter of a jazz singer on the same nightclub bill with him, she had

been one of the sweetest things he had ever had. Her lips had really tasted like warm

honey with pepper mixed in it, her dark brown skin was rich, creamy, and she had been

as sweet as God had ever made any woman and she had been a virgin.

And the other guys were always talking about blow jobs, this and other variations, and

he really didn't enjoy that stuff so much. He never liked a girl that much after they tried it

that way, it just didn't satisfy him right. He and his second wife had finally not got along,

because she preferred the old sixty-nine too much to a point where she didn't want

anything else and he had to fight to stick it in. She began making fun of him and calling

him a square and the word got around that he made love like a kid. Maybe that was why

that girl last night had turned him down. Well, the hell with it, she wouldn't be too great

in the sack (гамак; койка) anyway. You could tell (можно различить, распознать) a girl

who really liked to fuck and they were always the best. Especially the ones who hadn't

been at it too long. What he really hated were the ones who had started screwing at

twelve and were all fucked out by the time they were twenty and just going through the

motions and some of them were the prettiest of all and could fake you out.

Ginny brought coffee and cake into his bedroom and put it on the long table in the

sitting room part. He told her simply that Hagen was helping him put together the money

credit for a producing package and she was excited about that. He would be important

again. But she had no idea of how powerful Don Corleone really was so she didn't

understand the significance of Hagen coming from New York. He told her Hagen was

also helping with legal details.

When they had finished the coffee he told her he was going to work that night, and

make phone calls and plans for the future. "Half of all this will be in the kids' names," he

told her. She gave him a grateful smile and kissed him good night before she left his

room.

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There was a glass dish full of his favorite monogrammed cigarettes, a humidor

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(коробка для хранения сигар с увлажнителем) with pencil-thin black Cuban cigars on

his writing desk. Johnny tilted back (откинулся) and started making calls. His brain was

really whirring (to whirr – жужжать, шуметь) along. He called the author of the book,

the best-selling novel, on which his new film was based. The author was a guy his own

age who had come up the hard way and was now a celebrity in the literary world. He

had come out to Hollywood expecting to be treated like a wheel (что с ним будут

обращаться как с королем) and, like most authors, had been treated like shit. Johnny

had seen the humiliation of the author one night at the Brown Derby. The writer had

been fixed up with a well-known bosomy starlet for a date on the town and a sure

shack-up later. But while they were at dinner the starlet had deserted the famous author

because a ratty-looking movie comic had waggled (to waggle – помахивать,

покачивать) his finger at her. That had given the writer the right slant (наклон, склон;

быстрый взгляд; точка зрения, подход, мнение) on just who was who in the

Hollywood pecking (to peck – клевать /клювом/) order. It didn't matter that his book

had made him world famous. A starlet would prefer the crummiest (crummy –

крошащийся, рыхлый; никудышный, несчастный; to crum – раскрошить), the rattiest,

the phoniest movie wheel.

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 (надул: «обработал зубилом»: chisel [t∫ızl]) the guy, given him peanuts

(бесценок, «смешные деньги»; peanut – арахис, земляной орех) for the book.

Johnny mentioned that he might be in New York right after the holidays and would the

author want to come 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.

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Then he made the hardest call of all, the one to Jack Woltz. He thanked him for the

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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 become 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 come 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 (высокомерный,

заносчивый, самодовольный) celebrity. He had sung at the weddings of his wife's two

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younger sisters, something he hated to do. He had never refused her anything except

the complete surrender of his own personality.

And then when he had touched bottom, when he could no longer get movie work,

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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