Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

girl next week, a very nice girl, they seem to be the ones who always get in trouble. That

will make us all square (так мы сочтемся) for this job today."

Jules shook his hand. "Thanks, Doctor. Come out yourself sometime and I'll see that

you get all the courtesies of the house."

Kellner gave him a wry smile. "I gamble every day, I don't need your roulette wheels

and crap tables. I knock heads with fate too often as it is. You're going to waste out

there, Jules. Another couple of years and you can forget about serious surgery. You

won't be up to it." He turned away.

Jules knew it was not meant as a reproach but as a warning. Yet it took the heart out

of him anyway. Since Lucy wouldn't be out of the recovery room for at least twelve

hours, he went out on the town and got drunk. Part of getting drunk was his feeling of

relief that everything had worked out so well with Lucy.

The next morning when he went to the hospital to visit her he was surprised to find

two men at her bedside and flowers all over the room. Lucy was propped up on pillows,

her face radiant. Jules was surprised because Lucy had broken with her family and had

told him not to notify them unless something went wrong. Of course Freddie Corleone

knew she was in the hospital for a minor operation; that had been necessary so that

they both could get time off, and Freddie had told Jules that the hotel would pick up all

the bills for Lucy.

Lucy was introducing them and one of the men Jules recognized instantly. The

famous Johnny Fontane. The other was a big, muscular, snotty-looking Italian guy

whose name was Nino Valenti. They both shook hands with Jules and then paid no

further attention to him. They were kidding Lucy, talking about the old neighborhood in

New York, about people and events Jules had no way of sharing. So he said to Lucy,

"I'll drop by later, I have to see Dr. Kellner anyway."

But Johnny Fontane was turning the charm on him. "Hey, buddy, we have to leave

ourselves, you keep Lucy company. Take good care of her, Doc." Jules noticed a

peculiar hoarseness in Johnny Fontane's voice and remembered suddenly that the man

hadn't sung in public for over a year now, that he had won the Academy Award for his

acting. Could the man's voice have changed so late in life and the papers keeping it a

secret, everybody keeping it a secret? Jules loved inside gossip and kept listening to

Fontane's voice in an attempt to diagnose the trouble. It could be simple strain

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(растяжение), or too much booze and cigarettes or even too much women. The voice

had an ugly timbre to it, he could never be called the sweet crooner (эстрадный певец;

croon – тихое проникновенное пение; to croon – напевать вполголоса) anymore.

"You sound like you have a cold," Jules said to Johnny Fontane.

Fontane said politely, "Just strain, I tried to sing last night. I guess I just can't accept the

fact that my voice changed, getting old you know." He gave Jules a what-the-hell grin

(усмешка, как бы говорящая: «Какого черта?»).

Jules said casually, "Didn't you get a doctor to look at it? Maybe it's something that

can be fixed."

Fontane was not so charming now. He gave Jules a long cool look. "That's the first

thing I did nearly two years ago. Best specialists. My own doctor who's supposed to be

the top guy out here in California. They told me to get a lot of rest. Nothing wrong, just

getting older. A man's voice changes when he gets older."

Fontane ignored him after that, paying attention to Lucy, charming her as he charmed

all women. Jules kept listening to the voice. There had to be a growth on those vocal

cords. But then why the hell hadn't the specialists spotted it? Was it malignant and

inoperable? Then there was other stuff.

He interrupted Fontane to ask, "When was the last time you got examined by a

specialist?"

Fontane was obviously irritated but trying to be polite for Lucy's sake. "About eighteen

months ago," he said.

"Does your own doctor take a look once in a while?" Jules asked.

"Sure he does," Johnny Fontane said irritably. "He gives me a codeine spray and

checks me out. He told me it's just my voice aging, that all the drinking and smoking and

other stuff. Maybe you know more than he does?"

Jules asked, "What's his name?"

Fontane said with just a faint flicker of pride, "Tucker, Dr. James Tucker. What do you

think of him?"

The name was familiar, linked to famous movie stars, female, and to an expensive

health farm.

"He's a sharp dresser," Jules said with a grin.

Fontane was angry now. "You think you're a better doctor than he is?"

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Jules laughed. "Are you a better singer than Carmen Lombardo?" He was surprised to

see Nino Valenti break up in laughter, banging his head on his chair. The job hadn't

been that good. Then on the wings of those guffaws (guffaw [g'fo:] – грубый хохот,

гогот) he caught the smell of bourbon (сорт виски ['bubn]) and knew that even this

early in the morning Mr. Valenti, whoever the hell he was, was at least half drunk.

Fontane was grinning at his friend. "Hey, you're supposed to be laughing at my jokes,

not his." Meanwhile Lucy stretched out her hand to Jules and drew him to her bedside.

"He looks like a bum (задница /груб./; бездельник, лодырь; плохой, низкого

качества) but he's a brilliant (блестящий) surgeon," Lucy told them. "If he says he's