"Michael?" What is it?" Jill asked.
"They dimmed the lights," he whispered in response.
"Of course they have. That means the show is about to start."
"Show?" Michael asked. "What show?"
"The one I was telling you about. Where they perform opera."
His panic beginning to subside, Michael muttered, "Oh."
Jill remained confused. "What did you think it was?"
Michael hesitated. "Just… just a joke. You know, like in the movies? The lights go down, something bad is about to happen."
Nodding, Jill said, "I see. You had me worried for a minute."
I know the feeling, Michael thought.
On the stage at the back of the dining area, a middle-aged man stepped into the spotlight that had appeared during the panic Michael tried hiding from Jill. "Ladies and gentlemen," the man boomed into the microphone, "many of you are transients here, for a few days of good clean fun."
As silverware respectfully clattered on plates, some guffaws obliged the man onstage.
"Maybe you don't know who I am. I'm Joey Giulini, owner of Floria's, and I think this is the finest Italian eating establishment in all of Reno. Don't you agree?"
A few claps, accompanied by a few exaggerated boos.
Turning in the direction of the jeerers, Joey said, "That's my cooking staff."
A few more laughs.
"All I can says to them, is they can go cook themselves."
Even more laughter, enabling Joey to build up the mood he tried establishing. Although Jill seemed amused, Michael did not join in. Mr. Giulini's monologue seemed like little more than a "Goomba act," providing a cold simulacrum of the genuine warmth he witnessed within his own family... back when he had one.
"Anyways," Joey continued, "in keeping with the fine food and atmosphere at Floria's, we thought we'd give you some fine entertainment, too. Made possible by the stingy wages paid to the wait staff, which you should tip generously."
"They go in your pocket!" someone shouted.
"Yeah? So does your wife."
More laughter.
"But seriously," Joey continued, "tonight's entertainment is gonna give you some genuine excitement. Highlights from Giacomo Puccini's Tosca, the main character of which is the namesake for this fine establishment." Indicating the two pianos flanking the stage, he added, "Normally we have one piano, but we'll need two tonight. You know why?"
"Two pianos are better than one?" a seemingly disembodied voice hollered from elsewhere in the restaurant.
"That's what your wife says," Joey replied, prompting the audience to laugh its loudest.
Michael remained aloof, adding Joey's borderline blue material to his mental list of reasons to dislike the monologue.
"But seriously, we need them tonight because we're doing the Te Deum. Which, for those of you who've never had your knuckles rapped, more or less means, 'Praise God.' And, if John XXIII has his way, everyone will just be saying that."
A smaller number of people laughed.
"Jeez. Must be thesis-nailer night," Joey commented.
"The two pianos," yet another person shouted.
"Yeah. Like I was saying, the two pianos are to simulate the orchestra and chorus of the Te Deum. We don't do this very often, so it's a treat just for you."
"About once a week," the same heckler pointed out loudly.
"Just like your wife," Joey replied.
How many plants and 'your wife' lines does this guy have? Michael wondered to himself.
"Anyway, you paid for a classy atmosphere, and that's just what you're getting. We thought we'd start with the exciting part first, being the Te Deum, just so you can stay awake. This is where Scarpia, the corrupt chief of police, which we don't have here (sotto voce), plots to get Tosca all to himself. "
When Joey began introducing the pianists, as well as the young music students portraying Scarpia and (briefly) his minion Spoletta, Jill noticed Michael's poker-faced reception of the proceedings. "Michael?" Jill asked, looking concerned, "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he replied. "Just taking everything in."
"Aren't you having a good time?"
Still staring at the stage, Michael said, "It's good to get out every so often. Whether I'm 'having a good time' doesn't matter."
Jill inched her chair closer to Michael. "Is there anything I can do? Anything? Maybe after we leave. Go back to your house?"
Michael finally turned towards Jill. "Look. Jill. I'm not Mr. Goldfinger. You don't have to do anything to make me happy. Besides which, you have chosen to be with him."
The introduction of the performers over, one of the pianos had begun simulating the opening of the Te Deum.
Jill looked at Michael, surprised by his rebuff.
Tre sbirri, una carrozza…, began Scarpia.
Jill finally said, "It turned out not to have been an easy choice, which has become more apparent by the day. Mr. Goldfinger gives me money, and that's all."
"And what do you think I can give? More money?"
Sta bene. Il convegno? Spoletta asked his boss.
Palazzo Farnese, Scarpia replied, prompting Spoletta's departure.
One piano mimicked the ethereally tense orchestra, while the other softly imitated the bells of the Church of Sant'Andrea della Valle.
"Mr. Goldfinger has that already. I'm thinking of other things. Love. A family."
Michael stared skeptically at Jill.
Va', Tosca! Nel tuo cor s'annida Scarpia!
"You think it's that easy? That love and family will solve everything?" Michael asked.
"It's got to be better than this life I've been living."
Va', Tosca!
"Love and family are illusions, Jill. Illusions of a past that can't be recaptured."
"Don't you think we'd be happy together?"
Michael turned away. "I don't know."
"Then why not try letting me into your heart?"
Michael turned back to Jill. "All those movies you've watched and romance novels you've read. Is that where you get these ideas? Your conversation is sounding more and more like a cliché."
Stunned, Jill stared at Michael. Her voice quaking slightly, she said, "Just because you have completely turned your heart to stone doesn't mean you have to be nasty towards me."
"It's how I survive, Jill. In my business, and with all that has happened with my family, I can't let anyone into my life that closely anymore. You're asking more of me than I can offer."
In the dim light of the restaurant, Michael noticed a thin glistening stream descend from Jill's right eye. Another appeared soon in her left.
"Look, I didn't mean…"
"Yes you did," Jill replied, her voice continuing to quiver with a mixture of anger and sadness. "You meant to be cruel. I suppose that's the only way you men know how to act."
"Please, Jill. Look, I'm sorry."
"And you didn't want to come here in the first place."
Michael sighed. "If it makes you feel any better, Jill, you can come back to my house. I have plenty of room, and I can set you up in one of my guest suites."
"No. We'll finish our dinner, and I'll go back to Mr. Goldfinger when we're done. Just like a good girl."
"A wise decision, Jill," a deep, patrician female voice purred.
Jill's heart abruptly fluttered at the presence of the unexpected visitor.
The pianos began standing in for the chorus:
Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini
Qui fecit coelum et terram
As Scarpia continued plotting, Michael looked in the same direction. "What?" he asked, turning to see two women and the massive figure of Oddjob. Looking at Jill, he asked, "I recognize Oddjob, but who are these other people?"
Now breathing somewhat irregularly and dabbing at her eyes, Jill said, "My sister, Tilly, and Mr. Goldfinger's pilot."
"I do have a name," said the woman who surprised Jill. "My name is Pussy Galore," she added, "and I'm sure you're already familiar with Oddjob. I'm assuming you're Mr. Corleone."
"Michael Corleone. Yes." His eyes darted back and forth between Pussy and Tilly.
"I know what you're thinking," Pussy said. "Jill must have told you."
"I didn't think you…" Jill started.
Interrupting her sister, Tilly finally spoke. "We were worried sick, Jilly. Mr. Goldfinger thought you were out on your own. Not with another man. What would he think? What would other people think? Knowing that you're with someone else? And someone with whom he had a business deal that fell through?"
"Easy, Tilly," Pussy said.
"Look," Michael said, "if it puts everyone at ease, Jill and I were just having dinner. Nothing more."
"A divorced man? With a big house on Lake Tahoe? With a woman about 15 years his junior?" Tilly asked Michael incredulously. "No one would believe that story. I know I don't." Turning to Jill, she added, "But for your sake, I'll try."
Michael exhaled, rolling his eyes.
Pussy placed a hand on Tilly's shoulder. "Tilly, you know I'm not going to tell. And Mr. Sumo back here can't say a word."
Oddjob maintained the pose he original took upon arrival at the table, looking back and forth among the participants of the conversation.
"So, now what?" Jill asked.
"You're coming with us," Pussy said. "In case someone sees you, and word gets back to Mr. Goldfinger. If it hasn't happened already."
"Wait," Michael said. "We already ordered dinner."
Turning to Michael, Jill sighed. "She's right, Michael. Our dinner has turned out to be unpleasant, and I can't be doing things like this. Besides, I'm all but married to Mr. Goldfinger. Maybe I shouldn't pretend that I can have a life away from him."
"But you can," Michael said.
Her expression turning back to worry, Tilly asked Jill, "What have you been telling Mr. Corleone?"
"Nothing."
"You can tell us," Pussy said.
"Look," Michael said. "Jill. I… "
"What?" Jill asked with resigned frustration.
Michael shook his head. "Just go. I'll get your meal. Don't worry."
Nodding sarcastically, Jill said, "That's easy for you to say."
One of the pianos ended its accompaniment of Scarpia, standing in once again for chorus and church bells as the other piano continued in the role of orchestra:
Te Deum laudamus:
Te Dominum confitemur.
Jill turned away from Michael. Combating the protective instinct that had begun to build within him, Michael could only watch as Pussy, Tilly, and Oddjob turned around as well, escorting her from the restaurant.
Tosca, mi fai dimenticare Iddio!
Michael allowed himself to collapse back into his chair, resigned to whatever fate awaited Jill.
Te aeternum Patrem omnis venerator
The pianos hammered through the rest of the Te Deum, prompting a great deal of applause from the audience upon its conclusion. Still slumped in his chair, Michael could not bring himself to join everyone else in the restaurant. Not even out of politeness.
He watched listlessly as Gianni wheeled a cart towards Michael. "Great performance, wasn't it, sir?"
"They did a good job," Michael replied non-committally.
"To be able to replicate an opera like that?"
Joey Giulini reappeared on the stage to begin another heckled spiel about the next Tosca highlight, which would be peppered with marginally fresh "your wife" comebacks.
"Where's your lady friend?" Gianni asked, setting the shrimp scampi in front of Michael.
"She's gone. But could you box up hers? I'll just take it home."
"Of course, sir."
"Thank you," Michael said, staring blankly at the stage as Gianni wheeled away the cart.
Tre sbirri, una carrozza,
Presto, seguila dovunque vada…