Voracious [V∂’reı∫∂s] – прожорливый; жадный, ненасытный; plummet – свинцовый
отвес, гирька отвеса; to plummet – нырять, погружаться) on his sexual organ without
even a courteous and friendly word of preparation. He kept sipping his drink and
watching the movie, but not tasting, not seeing. He was excited in a way he had never
been before but part of it was because this woman servicing him in the dark had been
the object of his adolescent dreams.
Yet in a way his masculinity was insulted. So when the world-famous Deanna Dunn
was sated (насыщена, пресыщена) and had tidied him up, he very coolly fixed her a
fresh drink in the darkness and lit her a fresh cigarette and said in the most relaxed
Voice imaginable, "This looks like a pretty good movie."
He felt her stiffen beside him on the couch. Could it be she was waiting for some sort
of compliment? Nino poured his glass full from the nearest bottle his hand touched in
the darkness. The hell with that. She'd treated him like a god damn male whore. For
some reason now he felt a cold anger at all these women. They watched the picture for
another fifteen minutes. He leaned away from her so their bodies did not touch.
Finally she said in a low harsh whisper, "Don't be such a snotty (сопливый) punk, you
liked it. You were as big as a house."
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Nino sipped his drink and said in his natural off-hand manner (бесцеремонная,
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развязная манера), "That's the way it always is. You should see it when I get excited."
She laughed a little and kept quiet for the rest of the picture. Finally it was over and
the lights went on. Nino took a look around. He could see there had been a ball here in
the darkness though oddly enough he hadn't heard a thing. But some of the dames had
that hard, shiny, bright-eyed look of women who had just been worked over real good.
They sauntered out of the projection room. Deanna Dunn left him immediately to go
over and talk to an older man Nino recognized as a famous featured player, only now,
seeing the guy in person, he realized that he was a fag. He sipped his drink thoughtfully.
Johnny Fontane came up beside him and said, "Hi, old buddy, having a good time?"
Nino grinned. "I don't know. It's different. Now when I go back to the old neighborhood
I can say Deanna Dunn had me."
Johnny laughed. "She can be better than that if she invites you home with her. Did
she?"
Nino shook his head. "I got too interested in the movie," he said. But this time Johnny
didn't laugh.
"Get serious, kid," he said. "A dame like that can do you a lot of good. And you used
to boff anything. Man, sometimes I still get nightmares when I remember those ugly
broads you used to bang (трахал; to bang – стукнуть, хлопнуть)."
Nino waved his glass drunkenly and said very loud, "Yeah, they were ugly but they
were women." Deanna Dunn, in the corner, turned her head to look at them. Nino
waved his glass at her in greeting.
Johnny Fontane sighed. "OK, you're just a guinea peasant."
"And I ain't gonna change," Nino said with his charmingly drunken smile.
Johnny understood him perfectly. He knew Nino was not as drunk as he pretended.
He knew that Nino was only pretending so that he could say things which he felt were
too rude to say to his new Hollywood padrone when sober. He put his arm around
Nino's neck and said affectionately, "You wise guy bum (задница; лодырь), you know
you got an ironclad (покрытый броней; жесткий, твердый) contract for a year and you
can say and do anything you want and I can't fire you."
"You can't fire me?" Nino said with drunken cunning.
"No," Johnny said.
"Then fuck you," Nino said.
For a moment Johnny was surprised into anger. He saw the careless grin on Nino's
face. But in the past few years he must have gotten smarter, or his own descent from
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stardom had made him more sensitive. In that moment he understood Nino, why his
boyhood singing partner had never become successful, why he was trying to destroy
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any chance of success now. That Nino was reacting away from all the prices of success,
that in some way he felt insulted by everything that was being done for him.
Johnny took Nino by the arm and led him out of the house. Nino could barely walk
now. Johnny was talking to him soothingly. "OK, kid, you just sing for me, I wanta make
dough on you. I won't try to run your life. You do whatever you wanta do. OK, paisan?
All you gotta do is sing for me and earn me money now that I can't sing anymore. You
got that, old buddy?"
Nino straightened up. "I'll sing for you, Johnny," he said, his voice slurring (to slur –
произносить невнятно; slur – /расплывшееся/ пятно) so that he could barely be
understood. "I'm a better singer than you now. I was always a better singer than you,
You know that?"
Johnny stood there thinking; so that was it. He knew that when his voice was healthy
Nino simply wasn't in the same league with him, never had been in those years they
had sung together as kids. He saw Nino was waiting for an answer, weaving drunkenly