Английский язык с Крестным Отцом

shimmering dark blue by the light of the desert stars. On the horizon were the sand and

stone mountains that ringed Las Vegas nestling in its neon valley. Johnny Fontane let

the heavy, richly embroidered gray drape fall and turned back to the room.

A special detail of four men, a pit boss, a dealer, extra relief man, and a cocktail

waitress in her scanty nightclub costume were getting things ready for private action.

Nino Valenti was lying on the sofa in the living room part of the suite, a water glass of

whiskey in his hand. He watched the people from the casino setting up the blackjack

table with the proper six padded chairs around its horseshoe outer rim. "That's great,

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that's great," he said in a slurred voice that was not quite drunken. "Johnny, come on

and gamble with me against these bastards. I got the luck. We'll beat their crullers in."

Johnny sat on a footstool opposite the couch: "You know I don't gamble," he said.

"How you feeling, Nino?"

Nino Valenti grinned at him. "Great. I got broads coming up at midnight, then some

supper, then back to the blackjack table. You know I got the house beat for almost fifty

grand and they've been grinding me for a week?"

"Yeah," Johnny Fontane said. "Who do you want to leave it to when you croak?"

Nino drained his glass empty. "Johnny, where the hell did you get your rep as a

swinger? You're a deadhead, Johnny. Christ, the tourists in this town have more fun

than you do."

Johnny said, "Yeah. You want a lift to that blackjack table?"

Nino struggled erect on the sofa and planted his feet firmly on the rug. "I can make it,"

he said. He let the glass slip to the floor and got up and walked quite steadily to where

the blackjack table had been set up. The dealer was ready. The pit boss stood behind

the dealer watching. The relief dealer sat on a chair away from the table. The cocktail

waitress sat on another chair in a line of vision so that she could see any of Nino

Valenti's gestures.

Nino rapped on the green baize with his knuckles. "Chips," he said.

The pit boss took a pad from his pocket and filled out a slip and put it in front of Nino

with a small fountain pen. "Here you are, Mr. Valenti," he said. "The usual five thousand

to start." Nino scrawled his signature on the bottom of the slip and the pit boss put it in

his pocket. He nodded to the dealer.

The dealer with incredibly deft fingers took stacks of black and gold one-hundred-

dollar chips from the built-in racks before him. In not more than five seconds Nino had

five even stacks of one-hundred-dollar chips before him, each stack had ten chips.

There were six squares a little larger than playing card, shapes etched in white on the

green baize, each square placed to correspond to where a player would sit. Now Nino

was placing bets on three of these squares, single chips, and so playing three hands

each for a hundred dollars. He refused to take a hit on all three hands because the

dealer had a six up, a bust card, and the dealer did bust. Nino raked in his chips and

turned to Johnny Fontane. "That's how to start the night, huh, Johnny?"

Johnny smiled. It was unusual for a gambler like Nino to have to sign a chit while

gambling. A word was usually good enough for the high rollers. Maybe they were afraid

Nino wouldn't remember his take-out because of his drinking. They didn't know that

Nino remembered everything.

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Nino kept winning and after the third round lifted a finger at the cocktail waitress. She

went to the bar at the end of the room and brought him his usual rye in a water glass.

Nino took the drink, switched it to his other hand so he could put an arm around the

waitress. "Sit with me, honey, play a few hands; bring me luck."

The cocktail waitress was a very beautiful girl, but Johnny could see she was all cold

hustle, no real personality, though she worked at it. She was giving Nino a big smile but

her tongue was hanging out for one of those black and gold chips. What the hell,

Johnny thought, why shouldn't she get some of it? He just regretted that Nino wasn't

getting something better for his money.

Nino let the waitress play his hands for a few rounds and then gave her one of the

chips and a pat on the behind to send her away from the table. Johnny motioned to her

to bring him a drink. She did so but she did it as if she were playing the most dramatic

moment in the most dramatic movie ever made. She turned all her charm on the great

Johnny Fontane. She made her eyes sparkle with invitation, her walk was the sexiest

walk ever walked, her mouth was very slightly parted as if she were ready to bite the

nearest object of her obvious passion. She resembled nothing so much as a female

animal in heat, but it was a deliberate act. Johnny Fontane thought, oh, Christ, one of

them. It was the most popular approach of women who wanted to take him to bed. It

only worked when he was very drunk and he wasn't drunk now. He gave the girl one of

his famous grins and said, "Thank you, honey." The girl looked at him and parted her