“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo 151
called Sonny Corleone and asked him for Nino Valenti’s number. Then he called Nino.
Nino sounded a little drunk as usual.
“Hey, Nino, how’d you like to come out here and work for me,” Johnny said. “I need a
guy I can trust.”
Nino, kidding around, said, “Gee, I don’t know, Johnny, I got a good job on the truck,
boffing housewives along my route, picking up a clear hundred-fifty every week. What
you got to offer?”
“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, 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.
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 was crowded.
Nino Valenti was sitting at a piano fooling around nervously with the keys. He was also