featured part, was making tons of money. Everything had worked. Everybody had done
their job. The picture was brought in under budget. Everybody was going to make a
fortune out of it and Jack Woltz was losing ten years of his life. Now Johnny had two
more pictures in production, one starring himself, one starring Nino. Nino was great on
the screen as one of those charming, dopey lover-boys that women loved to shove
between their tits. Little boy lost. Everything he touched made money, it was rolling in.
The Godfather was getting his percentage through the bank, and that made Johnny feel
really good. He had justified his Godfather's faith. But today that wasn't helping much.
And now that he was a successful independent movie producer he had as much
power, maybe more, than he had ever had as a singer. Beautiful broads fell all over him
just like before, though for a more commercial reason. He had his own plane, he lived
more lavishly even, with the special tax benefits a businessman had that artists didn't
get. Then what the hell was bothering him?
He knew what it was. The front of his head hurt, his nasal passages hurt, his throat
itched. The only way he could scratch and relieve that itch was by singing and he was
afraid to even try. He had called Jules Segal about it, when it would be safe to try to
sing and Jules had said anytime he felt like it. So he'd tried and sounded so hoarse and
lousy he'd given up. And his throat would hurt like hell the next day, hurt in a different
way than before the warts had been taken off. Hurt worse, burning. He was afraid to
keep singing, afraid that he'd lose his voice forever, or ruin it.
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And if he couldn't sing, what the hell was the use of everything else? Everything else
was just bullshit. Singing was the only thing he really knew. Maybe he knew more about
singing and his kind of music than anybody else in the world. He was that good, he
realized now. All those years had made him a real pro. Nobody could tell him the right
and the wrong, he didn't have to ask anybody. He knew. What a waste, what a damn
waste.
It was Friday and he decided to spend the weekend with Virginia and the kids. He
called her up as he always did to tell her he was coming. Really to give her a chance to
say no. She never said no. Not in all the years they had been divorced. Because she
would never say no to a meeting of her daughters and their father. What a broad,
Johnny thought. He'd been lucky with Virginia. And though he knew he cared more
about her than any other woman he knew it was impossible for them to live together
sexually. Maybe when they were sixty-five, like when you retire, they'd retire together,
retire from everything.
But reality shattered these thoughts when he arrived there and found Virginia was
feeling a little grouchy herself and the two girls not that crazy to see him because they
had been promised a weekend visit with some girl friends on a California ranch where
they could ride horses.
He told Virginia to send the girls off to the ranch and kissed them good-bye with an
amused smile. He understood them so well. What kid wouldn't rather go riding horses
on a ranch than hang around with a grouchy father who picked his own spots as a
father. He said to Virginia, "I'll have a few drinks and then I'll shove off too."
"All right," she said. She was having one of her bad days, rare, but recognizable. It
wasn't too easy for her leading this kind of life.
She saw him taking an extra large drink. "What are you cheering yourself up for?"
Virginia asked. "Everything is going so beautifully for you. I never dreamed you had it in
you to be such a good businessman."
Johnny smiled at her. "It's not so hard," he said. At the same time he was thinking, so
that's what was wrong. He understood women and he understood now that Virginia was
down because she thought he was having everything his own way. Women really hated
seeing their men doing too well. It irritated them. It made them less sure of the hold they
exerted over them through affection, sexual custom or marriage ties. So more to cheer
her up than voice his own complaints, Johnny said, "What the hell difference does it
make if I can't sing."
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Virginia's voice was annoyed. "Oh, Johnny, you're not a kid anymore. You're over
thirty-five. Why do you keep worrying about that silly singing stuff? You make more
money as a producer anyhow."
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Johnny looked at her curiously and said, "I'm a singer. I love to sing. What's being old
got to do with that?"
Virginia was impatient. "I never liked your singing anyway. Now that you've shown you
can make movies, I'm glad you can't sing anymore."
They were both surprised when Johnny said with fury, "That's a fucking lousy thing to
say." He was shaken. How could Virginia feel like that, how could she dislike him so
much?
Virginia smiled at his being hurt and because it was so outrageous that he should be
angry at her she said, "How do you think I felt when all those girls came running after
you because of the way you sang? How would you feel if I went ass-naked down the
street to get men running after me? That's what your singing was and I used to wish
you'd lose your voice and could never sing again. But that was before we got divorced."
Johnny finished his drink. "You don't understand a thing. Not a damn thing." He went
into the kitchen and dialed Nino's number. He quickly arranged for them both to go
down to Palm Springs for the weekend and gave Nino the number of a girl to call, a real
fresh young beauty he'd been meaning to get around to. "She'll have a friend for you,"
Johnny said. "I'll be at your place in an hour."
Virginia gave him a cool good-bye when he left. He didn't give a damn, it was one of
the few times he was angry with her. The hell with it, he'd just tear loose for the
weekend and get all the poison out of his system.
Sure enough, everything was fine down in Palm Springs. Johnny used his own house
down there, it was always kept open and staffed this time of year. The two girls were
young enough to be great fun and not too rapacious for some kind of favor. Some
people came over to keep them company at the pool until suppertime. Nino went to his
room with his girl to get ready for supper and a quick bang while he was still warm from
the sun. Johnny wasn't in the mood, so he sent his girl, a short bandbox blonde named
Tina, up to shower by herself. He never could make love to another woman after he'd
had a fight with Virginia.
He went into the glass-walled patio living room that held a piano. When singing with
the band he had fooled around with the piano just for laughs, so he could pick out a
song in a fake moonlight-soft ballad style. He sat down now and hummed along a bit
with the piano, very softly, muttering a few words but not really singing. Before he knew
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it Tina was in the living room making him a drink and sitting beside him at the piano. He
played a few tunes and she hummed with him. He left her at the piano and went up to
take his shower. In the shower he sang short phrases, more like speaking. He got
dressed and went back down. Tina was still alone; Nino was really working his girl over
or getting drunk.
Johnny sat down at the piano again while Tina wandered off outside to watch the pool.
He started singing one of his old songs. There was no burning in his throat. The tones
were coming out muted but with proper body. He looked at the patio. Tina was still out
there, the glass door was closed, she wouldn't hear him. For some reason he didn't
want anybody to hear him. He started off fresh on an old ballad that was his favorite. He
sang full out as if he were singing in public, letting himself go, waiting for the familiar
burning rasp in his throat but there was none. He listened to his voice, it was different
somehow, but he liked it. It was darker, it was a man's voice, not a kid's, rich he thought,
dark rich. He finished the song easing up and sat there at the piano thinking about it.
Behind him Nino said, "Not bad, old buddy, not bad at all."
Johnny swiveled his body around. Nino was standing in the doorway, alone. His girl
wasn't with him. Johnny was relieved. He didn't mind Nino hearing him.
"Yeah," Johnny said. "Let's get rid of those two broads. Send them home."
Nino said, "You send them home. They're nice kids, I'm not gonna hurt their feelings.
Besides I just banged mine twice. How would it look if I sent her away without even
giving her dinner?"
The hell with it, Johnny thought. Let the girls listen even if he sounded lousy. He
called up a band leader he knew in Palm Springs and asked him to send over a
mandolin for Nino. The band leader protested, "Hell, nobody plays a mandolin in
California." Johnny yelled, "Just get one."
The house was loaded with recording equipment and Johnny had the two girls work
the turn-off and volumes. After they had dinner, Johnny went to work. He had Nino
playing the mandolin as accompaniment and sang all his old songs. He sang them all