Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

"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 (приглушенный,

смягченный), 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.

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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 accompaniment 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 (расписание, график [‘edju:l]) 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 (горб; предчувствие) 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 (земляк –сицилийск.)," 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 (the goods – требуемые

качества; именно то, что нужно)."

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 (смесь; попурри). Johnny

Fontane listened intently. Eddie Neils would play all the songs through in their special

arrangements. Then would come the first take (выручка) for the record. As Johnny

listened he made mental notes on exactly how he would handle each phrase, how he

would come into each song. He knew his voice wouldn't last long, but Nino would be

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doing most of the singing, Johnny would be singing under him. Except of course in the

duet-duel song. He would have to save himself for that.

He pulled Nino to his feet and they both stood by their microphones. Nino flubbed (to

flub – сделать неудачно, совершить промах) the opening, flubbed it again. His face

was beginning to get red with embarrassment. Johnny kidded him, "Hey, you stalling (to

stall – ставить в стойло; застревать; останавливать, задерживать) for overtime?"

"I don't feel natural without my mandolin," Nino said.

Johnny thought that over for a moment. "Hold that glass of booze in your hand," he

said. It seemed to do the trick. Nino kept drinking from the glass as he sang but he was

doing fine. Johnny sang easily, not straining, his voice merely dancing around Nino's

main melody. There was no emotional satisfaction in this kind of singing but he was

amazed at his own technical skill. Ten years of vocalizing had taught him something.

When they came to the duet-duel song that ended the record, Johnny let his voice go

and when they finished his vocal chords ached. The musicians had been carried away

by the last song, a rare thing for these calloused (callous ['kжls] – огрубелый:

«мозолистый») veterans. They hammered down their instruments and stamped their

feet in approval as applause. The drummer gave them a ruffle (дробь барабана) of

drums.