“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
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forehead of the band leader and assuring him with the utmost seriousness that either his
signature or his brains would rest on that document in exactly one minute. Les Halley
signed. Don Corleone pocketed his pistol and handed over the certified check.
The rest was history. Johnny Fontane went on to become the greatest singing sensation
in the country. He made Hollywood musicals that earned a fortune for his studio. His
records made millions of dollars. Then he divorced his childhood-sweetheart wife and
left his two children, to marry the most glamorous blond star in motion pictures. He soon
learned that she was a “whore.” He drank, he gambled, he chased other women. He lost
his singing voice. His records stopped selling. The studio did not renew his contract.
And so now he had come back to his Godfather.
Kay said thoughtfully, “Are you sure you’re not jealous of your father? Everything you’ve
told me about him shows him doing something for other people. He must be
goodhearted.” She smiled wryly. “Of course his methods are not exactly constitutional.”
Michael sighed. “I guess that’s the way it sounds, but let me tell you this. You know
those Arctic explorers who leave caches of food scattered on the route to the North
Pole? Just in case they may need them someday? That’s my father’s favors. Someday
he’ll be at each one of those people’s houses and they had better come across.”
* * *
It was nearly twilight before the wedding cake was shown, exclaimed over and eaten.
Specially baked by Nazorine, it was cleverly decorated with shells of cream so
dizzyingly delicious that the bride greedily plucked them from the corpse of the cake
before she whizzed away on her honeymoon with her blond groom. The Don politely
sped his guests’ departure, noting meanwhile that the black sedan with its FBI men was
no longer visible.
Finally the only car left in the driveway was the long black Cadillac with Freddie at the
wheel. The Don got into the front seat, moving with quick coordination for his age and
bulk. Sonny, Michael and Johnny Fontane got into the back seat. Don Corleone said to
his son Michael, “Your girl friend, she’ll get back to the city by herself all right?”
Michael nodded. “Tom said he’d take care of it.” Don Corleone nodded with satisfaction
at Hagen’s efficiency.
Because of the gas rationing still in effect, there was little traffic on the Belt Parkway to
Manhattan. In less than an hour the Cadillac rolled into the street of French Hospital.
During the ride Don Corleone asked his youngest son if he was doing well in school.
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