The Godfather 4 страница

Gable had taken advantage of her, then left her for a sexpot (сексуально

привлекательная женщина, «секс-бомба»). (Deanna Dunn never played sexpots in

the movies.) He had seen her flushed with requited (to requite – отплачивать,

вознаграждать) love, writhing in the embrace of the man she adored and he had seen

her die beautifully at least a half dozen times. He had seen her and heard her and

dreamed about her and yet he was not prepared for the first thing she said to him alone.

"Johnny is one of the few men with balls in this town," she said. "The rest are all fags

(fag – младший ученик, оказывающий услуги старшим товращам /в английских

школах/) and sick morons (moron [‘mo:ron] – слабоумный, идиот) who couldn't get it

up with a broad if you pumped a truckload of Spanish fly into their scrotums (scrotum

[‘skr∂ut∂m] – мошонка)." She took Nino by the hand and led him into a corner of the

room, out of traffic and out of competition.

Then still coolly charming, she asked him about himself. He saw through her. He saw

that she was playing the role of the rich society girl who is being kind to the stableboy or

the chauffeur, but who in the movie would either discourage his amatory interest (if the

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part were played by Spencer Tracy), or throw up everything in her mad desire for him (if

the part were played by Clark Gable). But it didn't matter. He found himself telling her

about how he and Johnny had grown up together in New York, about how he and

Johnny had sung together on little club dates. He found her marvelously sympathetic

and interested. Once she asked casually, "Do you know how Johnny made that bastard

Jack Woltz give him the part?" Nino froze and shook his head. She didn't pursue it.

The time had come to see the preview of a new Woltz movie. Deanna Dunn led Nino,

her warm hand imprisoning his, to an interior room of the mansion that had no windows

but was furnished with about fifty small two-person couches scattered around in such a

way as to give each one a little island of semiprivacy.

Nino saw there was a small table beside the couch and on the table were an ice bowl,

glasses and bottles of liquor plus a tray of cigarettes. He gave Deanna Dunn a cigarette,

lit it and then mixed them both drinks. They didn't speak to each other. After a few

minutes the lights went out.

He had been expecting something outrageous (возмутительный). After all, he had

heard the legends of Hollywood depravity (развращенность). But he was not quite

prepared for Deanna Dunn's voracious plummet (жадный натиск, «ныряние»;

voracious [v∂’reı∫∂s] – прожорливый; жадный, ненасытный; plummet – свинцовый

отвес, гирька отвеса; to plummet – нырять, погружаться) on his sexual organ without

even a courteous and friendly word of preparation. He kept sipping his drink and

watching the movie, but not tasting, not seeing. He was excited in a way he had never

been before but part of it was because this woman servicing him in the dark had been

the object of his adolescent dreams.

Yet in a way his masculinity was insulted. So when the world-famous Deanna Dunn

was sated (насыщена, пресыщена) and had tidied him up, he very coolly fixed her a

fresh drink in the darkness and lit her a fresh cigarette and said in the most relaxed

voice imaginable, "This looks like a pretty good movie."

He felt her stiffen beside him on the couch. Could it be she was waiting for some sort

of compliment? Nino poured his glass full from the nearest bottle his hand touched in

the darkness. The hell with that. She'd treated him like a god damn male whore. For

some reason now he felt a cold anger at all these women. They watched the picture for

another fifteen minutes. He leaned away from her so their bodies did not touch.

Finally she said in a low harsh whisper, "Don't be such a snotty (сопливый) punk, you

liked it. You were as big as a house."

Nino sipped his drink and said in his natural off-hand manner (бесцеремонная,

развязная манера), "That's the way it always is. You should see it when I get excited."

She laughed a little and kept quiet for the rest of the picture. Finally it was over and

the lights went on. Nino took a look around. He could see there had been a ball here in

the darkness though oddly enough he hadn't heard a thing. But some of the dames had

that hard, shiny, bright-eyed look of women who had just been worked over real good.

They sauntered out of the projection room. Deanna Dunn left him immediately to go

over and talk to an older man Nino recognized as a famous featured player, only now,

seeing the guy in person, he realized that he was a fag. He sipped his drink thoughtfully.

Johnny Fontane came up beside him and said, "Hi, old buddy, having a good time?"

Nino grinned. "I don't know. It's different. Now when I go back to the old neighborhood

I can say Deanna Dunn had me."

Johnny laughed. "She can be better than that if she invites you home with her. Did

she?"

Nino shook his head. "I got too interested in the movie," he said. But this time Johnny

didn't laugh.

"Get serious, kid," he said. "A dame like that can do you a lot of good. And you used

to boff anything. Man, sometimes I still get nightmares when I remember those ugly

broads you used to bang (трахал; to bang – стукнуть, хлопнуть)."

Nino waved his glass drunkenly and said very loud, "Yeah, they were ugly but they

were women. " Deanna Dunn, in the corner, turned her head to look at them. Nino

waved his glass at her in greeting.

Johnny Fontane sighed. "OK, you're just a guinea peasant."

"And I ain't gonna change," Nino said with his charmingly drunken smile.

Johnny understood him perfectly. He knew Nino was not as drunk as he pretended.

He knew that Nino was only pretending so that he could say things which he felt were

too rude to say to his new Hollywood padrone when sober. He put his arm around

Nino's neck and said affectionately, "You wise guy bum (задница; лодырь), you know

you got an ironclad (покрытый броней; жесткий, твердый) contract for a year and you

can say and do anything you want and I can't fire you."

"You can't fire me?" Nino said with drunken cunning.

"No," Johnny said.

"Then fuck you," Nino said.

For a moment Johnny was surprised into anger. He saw the careless grin on Nino's

face. But in the past few years he must have gotten smarter, or his own descent from

stardom had made him more sensitive. In that moment he understood Nino, why his

boyhood singing partner had never become successful, why he was trying to destroy

any chance of success now. That Nino was reacting away from all the prices of success,

that in some way he felt insulted by everything that was being done for him.

Johnny took Nino by the arm and led him out of the house. Nino could barely walk

now. Johnny was talking to him soothingly. "OK, kid, you just sing for me, I wanta make

dough on you. I won't try to run your life. You do whatever you wanta do. OK, paisan?

All you gotta do is sing for me and earn me money now that I can't sing anymore. You

got that, old buddy?"

Nino straightened up. "I'll sing for you, Johnny," he said, his voice slurring (to slur –

произносить невнятно; slur – /расплывшееся/ пятно) so that he could barely be

understood. "I'm a better singer than you now. I was always a better singer than you,

You know that?"

Johnny stood there thinking; so that was it. He knew that when his voice was healthy

Nino simply wasn't in the same league with him, never had been in those years they

had sung together as kids. He saw Nino was waiting for an answer, weaving drunkenly

in the California moonlight. "Fuck you," he said gently, and they both laughed together

like the old days when they had both been equally young.

When Johnny Fontane got word about the shooting of Don Corleone he not only

worried about his Godfather, but also wondered whether the financing for his movie was

still alive. He had wanted to go to New York to pay his respects to his Godfather in the

hospital but he had been told not to get any bad publicity, that was the last thing Don

Corleone would want. So he waited. A week later a messenger came from Tom Hagen.

The financing was still on but for only one picture at a time.

Meanwhile Johnny let Nino go his own way in Hollywood and California, and Nino was

doing all right with the young starlets. Sometimes Johnny called him up for a night out

together but never leaned on him (to lean on – опираться, полагаться; to lean –

наклоняться; прислоняться). When they talked about the Don getting shot, Nino said

to Johnny, "You know, once I asked the Don for a job in his organization and he

wouldn't give it to me. I was tired of driving a truck and I wanted to make a lot of dough.

You know what he told me? He says every man has only one destiny and that my

destiny was to be an artist. Meaning that I couldn't be a racket guy."

Johnny thought that one over. The Godfather must be just about the smartest guy in

the world. He'd known immediately that Nino could never make a racket guy, would only

get himself in trouble or get killed. Get killed with just one of his wisecracks (удачная

острота, саркастическое замечание). But how did the Don know that he would be an

artist? Because, goddamn it, he figured that someday I'd help Nino. And how did he

figure that? Because he would drop the word to me and I would try to show my gratitude.

Of course he never asked me to do it. He just let me know it would make him happy if I

did it. Johnny Fontane sighed. Now the Godfather was hurt, in trouble, and he could

kiss the Academy Award good-bye with Woltz working against him and no help on his

side. Only the Don had the personal contacts that could apply pressure and the

Corleone Family had other things to think about. Johnny had offered to help, Hagen had

given him a curt no.

Johnny was busy getting his own picture going. The author of the book he had starred

in had finished his new novel and came west on Johnny's invitation, to talk it over

without agents or studios getting into the act. The second book was perfect for what

Johnny wanted. He wouldn't have to sing, it had a good gutsy (отважный; сочный,

полнокровный, сильный) story with plenty of dames and sex and it had a part that

Johnny instantly recognized as tailor-made for Nino. The character talked like Nino,

acted like him, even looked like him. It was uncanny. All Nino would have to do would

be to get up on the screen and be himself.

Johnny worked fast. He found that he knew a lot more about production than he thought

he did, but he hired an executive producer, a man who knew his stuff but had trouble

finding work because of the blacklist. Johnny didn't take advantage but gave the man a

fair contract. "I expect you to save me more dough this way," he told the man frankly.

So he was surprised when the executive producer came to him and told him the union

rep (= representative – представитель) had to be taken care of to the tune (за сумму;

tune – мелодия) of fifty thousand dollars. There were a lot of problems dealing with

overtime and hiring and the fifty thousand dollars would be well spent. Johnny debated

whether the executive producer was hustling him and then said, "Send the union guy to

me."

The union guy was Billy Goff. Johnny said to him, "I thought the union stuff was fixed

by my friends. I was told not to worry about it. At all."

Goff said, "Who told you that?"

Johnny said, "You know goddamn well who told me. I won't say his name but if he

tells me something that's it."

Goff said, "Things have changed. Your friend is in trouble and his word don't go this

far west anymore."

Johnny shrugged. "See me in a couple of days. OK?"

Goff smiled. "Sure, Johnny," he said. "But calling in New York ain't going to help you."

But calling New York did help. Johnny spoke to Hagen at his office. Hagen told him

bluntly not to pay. "Your Godfather will be sore as hell if you pay that bastard a dime

(монета в 10 центов)," he told Johnny. "It will make the Don lose respect and right now

he can't afford that."

"Can I talk to the Don?" Johnny asked. "Will you talk to him? I gotta get the picture

rolling."

"Nobody can talk to the Don right now," Hagen said. "He's too sick. I'll talk to Sonny

about fixing things up. But I'll make the decision on this. Don't pay that smart bastard a

dime. If anything changes, I'll let you know."

Annoyed, Johnny hung up. Union trouble could add a fortune to making the film and

screw up the works generally. For a moment he debated slipping Goff the fifty grand on

the quiet. After all, the Don telling him something and Hagen telling him something and

giving him orders were two different things. But he decided to wait for a few days.

By waiting he saved fifty thousand dollars. Two nights later, Goff was found shot to

death in his home in Glendale. There was no more talk of union trouble. Johnny was a

little shaken by the killing. It was the first time the long arm of the Don had struck such a

lethal blow so close to him.

As the weeks went by and he became busier and busier with getting the script

(сценарий) ready, casting the movie and working out production details, Johnny

Fontane forgot about his voice, his not being able to sing. Yet when the Academy

Award nominations came out and he found himself one of the candidates, he was

depressed because he was not asked to sing one of the songs nominated for the Oscar

at the ceremony that would be televised nationally. But he shrugged it off and kept

working. He had no hope of winning the Academy Award now that his Godfather was no

longer able to put pressure on, but getting the nomination had some value.

The record he and Nino had cut, the one of Italian songs, was selling much better

than anything he had cut lately, but he knew that it was Nino's success more than his.

He resigned himself to never being able to again sing professionally.

Once a week he had dinner with Ginny and the kids. No matter how hectic

(лихорадочный, возбужденный: «чахоточный»; здесь: суетливый, оживленный)

things got he never skipped that duty. But he didn't sleep with Ginny. Meanwhile his

second wife had finagled a Mexican divorce and so he was a bachelor (холостяк

['bжt∫∂l∂]) again. Oddly enough he was not that frantic to bang starlets who would have

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been easy meat. He was too snobbish really. He was hurt that none of the young stars,

the actresses who were still on top, ever gave him a tumble (не проявляли к нему

интереса; to tumble – валиться вниз; понять что-либо /сленг/). But it was good to

work hard. Most nights he would go home alone, put his old records on the player, have

a drink and hum along with them for a few bars (несколько тактов). He had been good,

damn good. He hadn't realized how good he was. Even aside from the special voice,

which could have happened to anybody, he was good. He had been a real artist and

never knew it, and never knew how much he loved it. He'd ruined his voice with booze

and tobacco and broads just when he really knew what it was all about.

Sometimes Nino came over for a drink and listened with him and Johnny would say to

him scornfully, "You guinea bastard, you never sang like that in your life." And Nino

would give him that curiously charming smile and shake his head and say, "No, and I

never will," in a sympathetic voice, as if he knew what Johnny was thinking.

Finally, a week before shooting the new picture, the Academy Award night rolled

around. Johnny invited Nino to come along but Nino refused. Johnny said, "Buddy, I

never asked you a favor, right? Do me a favor tonight and come with me. You're the

only guy who'll really feel sorry for me if I don't win."

For one moment Nino looked startled. Then he said, "Sure, old buddy, I can make it."

He paused for a moment and said, "If you don't win, forget it. Just get as drunk as you

can get and I'll take care of you. Hell, I won't even drink myself tonight. How about that

for being a buddy (ну как, разве я не настоящий друг)?"

"Man," Johnny Fontane said, "that's some buddy."

The Academy Award night came and Nino kept his promise. He came to Johnny's

house dead sober and they left for the presentation theater together. Nino wondered

why Johnny hadn't invited any of his girls or his ex-wives to the Award dinner.

Especially Ginny. Didn't he think Ginny would root for (поддерживать, ободрять) him?

Nino wished he could have just one drink, it looked like a long bad night.

Nino Valenti found the whole Academy Award affair a bore until the winner of the best

male actor was announced. When he heard the words "Johnny Fontane," he found

himself jumping into the air and applauding. Johnny reached out a hand for him to

shake and Nino shook it. He knew his buddy needed human contact with someone he

trusted and Nino felt an enormous sadness that Johnny didn't have anyone better than

himself to touch in his moment of glory.

What followed was an absolute nightmare. Jack Woltz's picture had swept all the

major awards and so the studio's party was swamped (to swamp [swomp] – заливать,

затоплять; swamp – болото, топь) with newspaper people and all the on-the-make

(старающийся улучшить свое положение /обычно за счет других/; ищущий

любовного приключения) hustlers, male and female. Nino kept his promise to remain

sober, and he tried to watch over Johnny. But the women of the party kept pulling

Johnny Fontane into bedrooms for a little chat and Johnny kept getting drunker and

drunker.

Meanwhile the woman who had won the award for the best actress was suffering the

same fate but loving it more and handling it better. Nino turned her down (отверг), the

only man at the party to do so.

Finally somebody had a great idea. The public mating (совокупление; to mate –

сочетаться /браком/; спариваться /о птицах/) of the two winners, everybody else at

the party to be spectators in the stands. The actress was stripped down and the other

women started to undress Johnny Fontane. It was then that Nino, the only sober person

there, grabbed the half-clothed Johnny and slung (to sling – швырять; вешать через

плечо) him over his shoulder and fought his way out of the house and to their car. As

he drove Johnny home, Nino thought that if that was success, he didn't want it.

Book 3

Chapter 14

The Don was a real man at the age of twelve. Short, dark, slender, living in the

strange Moorish-looking (выглядящий по-мавритански, напоминающий что-то

мавританское) village of Corleone in Sicily, he had been born Vito Andolini, but when

strange men came to kill the son of the man they had murdered, his mother sent the

young boy to America to stay with friends. And in the new land he changed his name to

Corleone to preserve some tie with his native village. It was one of the few gestures of

sentiment he was ever to make.

In Sicily at the turn of the century the Mafia was the second government, far more

powerful than the official one in Rome. Vito Corleone's father became involved in a feud

(наследственная вражда, междоусобица; кровная месть [fju:d]) with another villager

who took his case to the Mafia. The father refused to knuckle under (покориться) and in

a public quarrel killed the local Mafia chief. A week later he himself was found dead, his

body torn apart by lupara blasts. A month after the funeral Mafia gunmen came inquiring

after the young boy, Vito. They had decided that he was too close to manhood, that he

might try to avenge the death of his father in the years to come. The twelve-year-old

Vito was hidden by relatives and shipped to America. There he was boarded with the

Abbandandos, whose son Genco was later to become Consigliori to his Don.

Young Vito went to work in the Abbandando grocery store on Ninth Avenue in New

York's Hell's Kitchen. At the age of eighteen Vito married an Italian girl freshly arrived

from Sicily, a girl of only sixteen but a skilled cook, a good housewife. They settled

down in a tenement (многоквартирный дом, сдаваемый в аренду ['tenım∂nt]) on

Tenth Avenue, near 35th Street, only a few blocks from where Vito worked, and two

years later were blessed with their first child, Santino, called by all his friends Sonny

because of his devotion to his father.

In the neighborhood lived a man called Fanucci. He was a heavy-set, fierce-looking

Italian who wore expensive light-colored suits and a cream-colored fedora. This man

was reputed to be of the "Black Hand," an offshoot (ответвление, боковая ветвь) of

the Mafia which extorted money from families and storekeepers by threat of physical

violence. However, since most of the inhabitants of the neighborhood were violent

themselves, Fanucci's threats of bodily harm were effective only with elderly couples

without male children to defend them. Some of the storekeepers paid him trifling sums

as a matter of convenience. However, Fanucci was also a scavenger (уборщик мусора;

животное или птица, питающееся падалью ['skжvındG∂]) on fellow criminals, people

who illegally sold Italian lottery or ran gambling games in their homes. The Abbandando

grocery gave him a small tribute, this despite the protests of young Genco, who told his

father he would settle the Fanucci hash (заставит его замолчать, разделается с ним;

hash – блюдо из мелко нарезанного мяса и овощей; мешанина, путаница). His

father forbade him. Vito Corleone observed all this without feeling in any way involved.

One day Fanucci was set upon by three young men who cut his throat from ear to ear,

not deeply enough to kill him, but enough to frighten him and make him bleed a great

deal. Vito saw Fanucci fleeing from his punishers, the circular slash flowing red. What

he never forgot was Fanucci holding the cream-colored fedora under his chin to catch

the dripping blood as he ran. As if he did not want his suit soiled or did not want to leave

a shameful trail of carmine.

But this attack proved a blessing in disguise for Fanucci. The three young men were not

murderers, merely tough young boys determined to teach him a lesson and stop him

from scavenging. Fanucci proved himself a murderer. A few weeks later the knife-

wielder was shot to death and the families of the other two young men paid an

indemnity (возмещение, компенсация) to Fanucci to make him forswear his

vengeance (отказаться от мести). After that the tributes became higher and Fanucci

became a partner in the neighborhood gambling games. As for Vito Corleone, it was

none of his affair. He forgot about it immediately.

During World War I, when imported olive oil became scarce, Fanucci acquired a part-

interest in the Abbandando grocery store by supplying it not only with oil, but imported

Italian salami, hams and cheeses. He then moved a nephew into the store and Vito

Corleone found himself out of a job.

By this time, the second child, Frederico, had arrived and Vito Corleone had four

mouths to feed. Up to this time he had been a quiet, very contained young man who

kept his thoughts to himself. The son of the grocery store owner, young Genco