“The Godfather” By Mario Puzo 222
looked at him hungrily. He tried to laugh. “You gonna give me something to eat at
least?”
That mollified her, his calling on her duties, one of them at least. She was a good cook,
she had learned that from her mother. She sauteed veal and peppers, preparing a
mixed salad while the pan simmered. Meanwhile Carlo stretched out on his bed to read
the next day’s racing form. He had a water glass full of whiskey beside him which he
kept sipping at.
Connie came into the bedroom. She stood in the doorway as if she could not come
close to the bed without being invited. “The food is on the table,” she said.
“I’m not hungry yet,” he said, still reading the racing form.
“It’s on the table,” Connie said stubbornly.
“Stick it up your ass,” Carlo said. He drank off the rest of the whiskey in the water glass,
tilted the bottle to fill it again. He paid no more attention to her.
Connie went into the kitchen, picked up the plates filled with food and smashed them
against the sink. The loud crashes brought Carlo in from the bedroom. He looked at the
greasy veal and peppers splattered all over the kitchen walls and his finicky neatness
was outraged. “You filthy guinea spoiled brat,” he said venomously. “Clean that up right
now or I’ll kick the shit out of you.”
“Like hell I will,” Connie said. She held her hands like claws ready to scratch his bare
chest to ribbons.
Carlo went back into the bedroom and when he came out he was holding his belt
doubled in his hand. “Clean it up,” he said and there was no mistaking the menace in his
voice. She stood there not moving and he swung the belt against her heavily padded
hips, the leather stinging but not really hurting. Connie retreated to the kitchen cabinets
and her hand went into one of the drawers to haul out the long bread knife. She held it
ready.
Carlo laughed. “Even the female Corleones are murderers,” he said. He put the belt
down on the kitchen table and advanced toward her. She tried a sudden lunge but her
pregnant heavy body made her slow and he eluded the thrust she aimed at his groin in
such deadly earnest. He disarmed her easily and then he started to slap her face with a
slow medium-heavy stroke so as not to break the skin. He hit her again and again as
she retreated around the kitchen table trying to escape him and he pursued her into the