A few minutes after 7:00 in the evening, the maitre d' at Floria's saw Michael Corleone walk into the restaurant. "Buonasera, sir. You have a reservation this evening?"
"It's under Coral," Michael said.
Looking at the reservation register, the maitre d' said, "Funny. There's a woman who made a reservation for about the same time, meeting a man with a last name not unlike yours."
"Masterson?" Michael asked.
After glancing at the podium for a few seconds, the maitre d' replied, "Someone by that name came here just a few minutes ago." He looked back up at Michael, nodding once and smiling. Leaning towards Michael, he added sotto voce, "Discretion is among the utmost of our special services, Mr... Coral. Especially mine."
Annoyed at the maitre d's obsequious mauvemail, Michael said, "It isn't that kind of meeting."
"Of course," the maitre d' repeated, this time as a sentence. Grabbing a menu and motioning for Michael to follow him, he added, "At least, that's what I hear from men meeting attractive, well-put-together blondes."
"It's a business meeting," Michael said.
"I rest my case."
God, I'm glad I didn't get Sonny's temper, Michael thought as they progressed towards the table.
"Right here, sir," the maitre d' said when they arrived at Jill's table, motioning for Michael to sit in the other chair.
Jill looked up from her menu. "Michael! I was wondering if you'd gotten my note."
Taking his seat as the maitre d' set the menu in front of him, Michael replied, "Al handed it to me." After Michael settled into his chair, he asked, "Now that we're both here, Miss Masterson, what is it that you wanted to discuss with me?"
"And they say we British are the uptight ones, Mr. Corleone," Jill replied, teasingly chiding him. After a brief pause, she quickly added, "Not to imply that you're a snob, of course."
"No, of course not," Michael said, already studying the menu. "As your boss has probably told you already, my father was an immigrant from Sicily."
"He did not, actually."
"Well, in any case, I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth."
"Maybe it's a growth."
Michael set down his menu, to see Jill smiling at him. "A growth?"
Noticing Michael's stony expression, Jill stopped smiling and looked back at her menu. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to break to ice."
"I hope you aren't trying to break something else."
"Oh, now you're trying to be funny?"
"I just want to know why you want to meet with me, Miss Masterson."
"I wanted to talk with you."
Michael nodded. "Good. Then you can tell Mr. Goldfinger that I'm not interested in his offer. Whatever it is."
"What are you talking about?"
"Miss Masterson. I know that he still wants to bring me in on his deal, and I'm not interested."
"Are you questioning my motives for wanting to meet you?" Jill asked. "You think I'm trying to lure you into a trap?"
"You said it, not me."
A skinny man in black pants, white shirt, and black suspenders and bowtie materialized near the table. Wielding a pitcher of ice water, he started pouring it into the stemmed water glasses to the right of Michael and Jill. "Good evening. My name is Gianni, and I will be your waiter for the evening. Can I interest sir and madam in some wine?"
"No thank you," Michael said.
"I'm still deciding what to eat," Jill replied.
Gianni nodded. "Of course. Our specials this evening include a Spring primavera dish, as well as shrimp scampi with linguini and cream sauce."
"Thank you," Michael said.
"I will return in a few minutes."
Jill watched as Gianni walked away, then turned to Micheal. "Now, about this 'trap.' If I wanted to do that, I wouldn't have suggested it. When I gave Al the note, I didn't know what was going on in your office." After a short hesitation, Jill added, "I just wanted to talk with you."
"About what?"
"I don't know. I just like to get out on my own sometimes. Mr. Goldfinger keeps me on a tight leash, so to speak, so I never get to see anyone."
"I thought he was your boyfriend."
"He likes to be seen with me. He's rich, but he doesn't have much else. You know? I'm just eye candy, which I guess is a good thing for him since he... He can't."
"Can't what?" Michael asked, puzzled.
"I guess you don't have the same problem."
Michael understood what Jill was implying about her boss. "Look. I don't know what kind of man you think I am..."
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Michael. But, I'm just saying that chubby, fair-complexioned men aren't really my type." Resting an elbow on the table, Jill leaned forward and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "I prefer men of darker complexion."
Michael noticed that Jill's eyelids had lowered. Beneath them, her pale blue eyes seemed to smile at him. Almost like the slightly upturned curves of the bright scarlet band Jill had painted on her lips.
"I know you're trying to figure out what to do, Michael," Jill continued. "I've seen that look before. In Mr. Goldfinger's eyes. Only in your case, I don't think you're plotting to acquire more gold."
Trying to maintain the measured tones he had cultivated for business meetings, Michael said, "Jill. I don't know what to tell you. I'm flattered by what you say, but I don't know..."
"Don't know what?"
Turning away, Michael looked towards the stage located at the back of the restaurant. A microphone stood by itself, awaiting the singers who would come up to it later. "You're an attractive lady. I don't think anyone can disagree with that. But, I still don't understand why you wanted to meet me here..."
"Michael," she interrupted, lowering her forearm and hand to the table.
Ignoring the hurt tone in Jill's voice, Michael continued speaking. "And even if it isn't some deal you want to discuss, I'm not interested in anything with you."
Still looking at Michael, Jill said, "All right. That's fine. That hurts much less than you thinking that I'm trying to deceive you."
"So, what's your point?"
In a more determined tone of voice, Jill asked."What kind of woman do you want?"
Michael stared blankly at Jill for a few seconds. "I'm not interested in that anymore, Jill. I was married for ten years, and it... It didn't work. That's all I can say."
"You loved her, didn't you?"
"Why are you asking me all these questions?"
"Why are you still talking to me?"
Michael sighed. "I'm not telling you much. I'm telling you more than I've told anyone else, though."
Jill nodded. "I know you're rather reserved. The opposite of Mr. Goldfinger, even if you're both cunning. He's the showman. You seem to prefer being behind the scenes."
"So, you do want me to make a deal with him."
Jill started shaking her head. "That's not what I meant at all...."
"You think I'd make a good complement to Goldfinger. To aid in executing his scheme, whatever it is."
"No, Michael," she protested. "What I'm trying to tell you is, I also prefer the more quiet type. If you're not interested in reciprocating, I understand. But you shouldn't give up on being with someone, whether it's me or someone else, just because your marriage didn't work. Believe me." She paused. "I know it's presumptuous of me to say that, especially with you being quite a few years older than me. Not that you're old or anything. You're still younger than Mr. Goldfinger. I've been with men who were bad for me. But my sister was already working for him, and she suggested that I meet Mr. Goldfinger. How could I resist, especially with his money? He didn't even expect me to do much of anything with him."
"Much of anything?"
Leaning towards Michael, Jill added in a quieter voice, "Well, actually, there is one queer thing about him. He likes to have women dance nude for him. But, the thing is, they are painted gold. Sometimes when he has special guests. Sometimes when he is alone. For that, he has me around so he can keep his hands free. You know."
"Sounds pretty sick to me," Michael said.
"But what I'm trying to tell you, Michael, is that I hold out hope for someone better. Someone who can at least treat me kindly. And maybe you can find someone, too."
"I'm not sure I deserve that chance," Michael said. "I didn't always treat Kay as well as I should have."
"Who?"
"She... Kay. My wife." Quickly, he corrected himself. "Former wife. There were good times when we were dating. But my father had gotten seriously hurt in an accident, and the family business started taking over my life."
"Were you married, then?" Jill asked, leaning back in her chair.
"No. But I had to go to Sicily for over a year. Kay had no idea what had happened, and I didn't see her again until months after I came back. I surprised her one day outside the school where she was teaching, and I told her that I wanted to get back together with her. There isn't much else to say beyond that. We got married, and then we were divorced within a decade."
"Any children?"
"Two. A boy and a girl."
"What are their names?"
"Why do you care?"
"Because you've been talking to me for quite a while, even though you could have easily left. And you're a man with enough power that someone like Mr. Goldfinger is interested in making a deal with you. "
"What has Goldfinger told you about me?"
"Not much. Just that you're a very smart business man. That's his words, not mine." Jill paused. "Not to say that you're not smart..."
"I understand what you mean, Jill."
Michael felt surprise at what he said. Not at its content, but at how he felt when he said it. Almost like the way he spoke with Kay when he started courting her.
"Mr. Goldfinger told me you went to Dartmouth, and fought with honor during the War. Where was that?"
"Pacific Theater."
"I was just a little girl during the War," Jill said. "I'm afraid I didn't do anything terribly brave."
"We didn't have the Germans knocking on our door, though," Michael said. "That and getting through post-War privations had to have taken courage."
"I'm afraid I don't remember very much, at least until later in the War."
"I remember too much," Michael said. "I got the Silver Star for bravery."
"How?"
"Just doing what I had to do in order to survive." Michael paused. "I'd rather not talk about it, actually."
Jill nodded. "I'm sure you looked good in uniform, though."
"It was about the service, not about the uniform."
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to..."
"No need to apologize."
"What about your children? Their names?"
"A boy, Anthony, and a girl, Mary."
"Beautiful names. They sound typically Italian."
"Pardon?"
"I didn't mean any disrespect, Michael. I love Italy and its culture."
"I'm Sicilian," Michael said. "I'm not so sure about you liking Italy."
"Oh." Jill said.
"I'm kidding, Jill. Is that why you wanted to meet here?"
"What?"
"You probably figured I'd like Italian food."
"It's just a very lovely restaurant. Mr. Goldfinger took me here last night, and I wanted to come back since we're only in town for a few days."
"What do you recommend?" Michael asked.
"A man of Sicilian blood, asking an English girl?"
Michael smiled slightly. "We're in an Italian restaurant, so we're even." He added, "I knew a guy who made the best spaghetti sauce. He threw in anything you could think of. He showed me how to do it one time, but I don't remember it."
"You didn't pay attention?"
"Half of what he did was show. He was a gregarious guy."
"Maybe you could ask him again."
"He passed away several years ago. Heart attack."
"That's too bad."
"Yes. He was one of father's friends many years ago in New York. But, back to dinner. I still want to know what you recommend."
"How about spaghetti and meatballs? As a tribute to your friend. What was his name?"
"Peter."
"Yes. Spaghetti and meatballs. As a tribute to Peter."
Michael examined the menu. "I'm a little surprised they have it on here. I'd heard that practically everything is at least ten dollars."
"That's good. It's one of the few things on this menu I can pronounce."
"If you go to Italy, you'll need to learn a lot more."
"Maybe you could teach me some Italian?" Jill asked hopefully. "It might help me understand the singing here at least."
"I saw that they had a stage here," Michael observed "Did they do anything last night?"
"It was opera. I couldn't understand what they were singing, but it was very beautiful."
Michael shook his head. "If you believe what they say about Italians, or Sicilians for that matter, I'm one of the few who doesn't care much for opera."
"Whenever I hear it, I always feel... I don't know. Moved, I guess. What they were singing last night was by a... a Putanelli?"
"Probably Puccini." Michael replied. "I don't listen to opera, but I've heard enough people talk about him."
"I asked Mr. Goldfinger if he would take me sometime, but he said that he was too busy to even think about going to an opera. I would enjoy it more than watching his dancing girls, though. But, that's more for him, and he's the boss."
"Maybe he'd enjoy an opera with dancing girls painted gold."
Jill smiled. "That's true. I wish I knew more about opera so I could trick him into taking me to one."
"Goldfinger sounds like an opera character himself," Michael added.
"I'm afraid I don't know much about male singers. Except for Caruso, and he's dead." Giggling slightly, Jill added, "If he was a woman, Goldfinger would probably be like that singer Callas. She's supposed to be quite dramatic from what I read in the glossies." She leaned towards Michael. "She's dating Aristotle Onassis, you know."
"Really? It's a shame. Knowing him, he's probably using her as decoration."
"Michael. That's cruel."
"What?" Michael looked at Jill, when the realization hit him. "Oh. I didn't mean... Jill. I..."
"What did you mean by that then?"
"These guys that like to throw their wealth around, collecting women like trophies. Treating them like pieces of meat, rather than putting them on a pedestal. Like they deserve."
"Look. I know that Goldfinger doesn't love me, Michael. I'm well aware that I need to find someone else." Jill paused. "Maybe Tilly has the right idea."
"Who's Tilly?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just... Look, Jill. I'm sorry for what I said. All right? I just haven't had a conversation like this in a while. It's always been about business." Michael paused. "Kay and I used to talk like this before we started drifting apart."
"You miss it?"
Michael looked towards the entrance. "I don't know."
"I think you do. What did you used to do with her?"
"After I came back from the war, we'd go to the movies a lot. I don't do that so much anymore." Michael turned away. "This Tilly you were talking about. Who's she?"
"My sister. Do you have a sister?"
"Constanza. We just call her Connie. She was born after me. You said you have one?"
Jill smiled flirtatiously. "Yes, but she's taken."
"I see," Michael said. "I hope her boyfriend or husband treats her well."
Jill turned slightly away from Michael.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Actually... How do I put it? Tilly doesn't like men."
"What do you mean?"
Jill looked around the restaurant in a conspiratorial manner, leaned towards Michael, and whispered, "She's a lesbian."
"Oh. Then I really wouldn't have a chance with her."
Jill smiled. "I think you're warming up to me, Mr. Corleone."
Michael nodded. "I'm lucky to have a sister, especially since I lost two brothers."
"Two?" Jill asked with some surprise. "I know about your brother who drowned. What happened to the other one?"
"He was gunned down."
"Oh, dear. Was it during the War?"
Michael hesitated. "Yes," he finally replied. "It was an ambush. His name was Santino, but we all called him Sonny. He was only 32. Freddie had just turned 40 when he drowned. I'm the only one of the brothers left, so I have to carry on the family legacy." Michael stared towards an undefined point beyond the confines of the restaurant. "There are times I wish things were like they used to be. Before everything that happened with the family. Before I lost friends, family. I want the past, but with Anthony and Mary as a part of it. Lots of things aren't the same now. I can't even go to the movies without thinking about Kay."
"That might not be such a bad thing, the way movies have been getting," Jill said. "Did you ever see Psycho?"
"No. I heard that movie was pretty sick."
"You know what happened to Janet Leigh, right?"
Michael nodded. "I'd heard about it. Nothing I'd want to see."
"I don't know how they could top a movie death like that, without the movies going all mad," Jill commented. "It just makes the blood run cold, thinking about her getting chopped up mercilessly in that shower."
"Hey," Michael said, "you're going to make us both lose our appetites."
"Sorry. I still can't over that a Hitchcock movie would have something like that. His movies are usually classy, but this one seemed dead common."
"Sounds right up your boss' alley."
"He jokingly said something about how he could have improved on dumping the car into the swamp."
"Based on my meeting with him, I would expect no less."
"I actually wouldn't put it past him, Michael."
"I thought Mr. Goldfinger was a legitimate business man."
Gianni appeared at the table. His eyes darted apprehensively between Michael and Jill before he asked, "Have sir and madam decided?"
Michael motioned to Jill.
"Yes. I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs," Jill said.
"All right," Gianni replied, scribbling on the billpad. "And for you, sir?"
"The shrimp scampi."
"Any drinks for you and madam?"
"What do you think, Jill?"
"Madam looks as though she would like a Dom Perignon '53," Gianni stammered.
"That sounds delightful," Jill commented. "What do you think, Michael?"
"A bottle?" Gianni strongly suggested in the form of a question.
"That will be fine," Michael said.
"Very good. I will be back shortly with the bottle and your salads."
As Gianni dashed to another part of the restaurant, Jill said, "I hope it wasn't too much of an imposition to order the Dom Perignon. You didn't seem too excited."
"Sorry. It isn't that. I'm just not a wine connoisseur."
"Oh. What were we talking about, anyway?"
"Goldfinger. Legitimate businessman."
"Well, he is, as far as I know," Jill said. "But he never tells me anything. Men's work, he always says. Especially lately. It's like he keeps shutting me out. He's a lot more distant than when I first met him."
"I'm sorry," Michael said.
"It isn't your fault, Michael. Mr. Goldfinger's just been acting different lately. All these meetings..."
"So, why don't you?"
"Some of it is that Tilly works for him. She wants to make sure I don't get hurt. Plus, she's become 'close friends' with Mr. Goldfinger's personal pilot."
Picking up on Jill's close friends emphasis, Michael said, "I thought Tilly preferred women."
"Oh, she does. Mr. Goldfinger's pilot is a woman."
"I understand the value of keeping family close. But, even with Tilly's involvment in Goldfinger's inner circle, why can't you make your own life? Is it the money?"
Looking slightly to the side, Jill said, "It's much more than that. I know he can get quite aggressive in his dealings, and that he always insists on having his own way." She looked at Michael. "Some who displease him end up disappearing mysteriously."
"Do you think he'd do something to you, based on that comment he made about Psycho?"
"I don't know. It's something I worry about all the time. I guess it's one of those situations where, once you get in, it's hard to get out."
Michael nodded, starting to stroke his chin.
"As you might imagine, I am taking a big risk coming here," Jill added. "Mr. Goldfinger lets me out every so often, but he gets incredibly jealous if I even look at another man."
Gianni appeared at the table with the bottle of Dom Perignon and two goblets on a cart. "Here you go, sir and madam," he said, setting a goblet in front of Michael and Jill. After grabbing the bottle, Gianni started turning the corkscrew, "I'll do the first glass, then sir can pour for his lady friend."
"Thank you," Michael said, watching as Gianni filled his goblet.
Gianni placed an ice bucket in the middle of the table afterwards, then placed the bottle inside the rim. "Your salads should be ready shortly."
As Jill offered her glass to Michael, he asked, "What were you saying about Goldfinger's meetings?"
"Just that he has had a lot of them lately, and his clientele seems different from usual. A bunch of hoodlums, if you want the truth. No class. You, being and exception, of course. But I don't like it, really. I wish I could get away."
After filling Jill's glass, Michael withdrew the bottle and set it in the ice bucket. "Maybe you can. I'm close friends with someone who might be able to initiate investigations into Mr. Goldfinger's dealings with these people you're talking about."
"Oh, Michael. Are you sure? I don't want it to get back to Goldfinger that I..."
"Not a problem. No one has to know. And if the proper domestic authorities won't get involved, perhaps others will."
"Like who?"
"Maybe the CIA, especially since Goldfinger is not a U.S. citizen. Something has to be done to stop him and his dealings with these people you mention."
"But who's this person you know?"
Michael cocked his head. "Bobby..."
At that point, the lights in the restaurant suddenly began to dim. Michael's posture stiffened, his eyes widening, nostrils flaring, and mouth clenching into a defensive frown.
And it never stops, Michael thought, hoping that Al would know how to handle whatever situation was developing.
And that Jill would not get hurt.
(Next Chapter... Te Deum)
