The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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having to live up to his screened, godlike image. Not having to listen to the girl trying to 
react as if he really had lived up to that image, making more out of a very simple, routine 
piece of ass than it really was. 
They had another drink, shared a few more cool kisses and then she decided to go. 
Johnny said politely, “Can I call you for dinner some night?” 
She played it frank and honest to the end. “I know you don’t want to waste your time and 
then get disappointed,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful evening. Someday I’ll tell my 
children I had supper with the great Johnny Fontane all alone in his apartment.” 
He smiled at her. “And that you didn’t give in,” he said. They both laughed. “They’ll 
never believe that,” she said. And then Johnny, being a little phony in his turn, said, “I’ll 
give it to you in writing, want me to?” She shook her head. He continued on. “Anybody 
doubts you, give me a buzz on the phone, I’ll straighten them right out. I’ll tell them how I 
chased you all around the apartment but you kept your honor. OK?” 
He had, finally, been a little too cruel and he felt stricken at the hurt on her young face. 
She understood that he was telling her that he hadn’t tried too hard. He had taken the 
sweetness of her victory away from her. Now she would feel that it had been her lack of 
charm or attractiveness that had made her the victor this night. And being the girl she 
was, when she told the story of how she resisted the great Johnny Fontane, she would 
always have to add with a wry little smile, “Of course, he didn’t try very hard.” So now 
taking pity on her, he said, “If you ever feel real down, give me a ring. OK? I don’t have 
to shack up every girl I know.” 
“I will,” she said. She went out the door. 
He was left with a long evening before him. He could have used what Jack Woltz called 
the “meat factory,” the stable of willing starlets, but he wanted human companionship. 
He wanted to talk like a human being. He thought of his first wife, Virginia. Now that the 
work on the picture was finished he would have more time for the kids. He wanted to 
become part of their life again. And he worried about Virginia too. She wasn’t equipped 
to handle the Hollywood sharpies who might come after her just so that they could brag 
about having screwed Johnny Fontane’s first wife. As far as he knew, nobody could say 
that yet. Everybody could say it about his second wife though, he thought wryly. He 
picked up the phone. 
He recognized her voice immediately and that was not surprising. He had heard it the 
first time when he was ten years old and they had been in 4B together. “Hi, Ginny,” he 

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