Because that’s what Sicilians do.
When something happens, they come to Don Corleone first.
That means they respect him.
They call him Godfather.
They visit during holidays and bring pastries, treating him like a real friend.
Today, Nazorine even helps make Connie’s wedding cake.
Respect him.
Call him Godfather.
Trust him enough to come to him first.
Stay in touch and treat him like family.
That’s all it takes to ask the Godfather for a favor.
The price is simple: you owe him one favor in return.
Someday, if the Godfather needs help and it’s within your power, you pay the debt back.
And Don Corleone never forces people to do the impossible.
After Nazorine leaves, Tom closes the door and asks, “Who should handle it?”
Don Corleone glances out the window before turning back to Tom.
“Don’t use anyone from our district.
Have a Jewish congressman from another district take care of it.
Who’s next on the list?”
As he speaks, his eyes drift back toward the wedding outside.
Tom replies, “Luca Brasi isn’t on the list, but he wants to see you.”
Hearing that, Don Corleone rubs his ear and asks, “…Is that really necessary?”
Tom answers honestly.
“He never expected to be invited to the wedding.
He wants to thank you personally.”
Don Corleone thinks it over for a second.
Luca Brasi is still the Corleone Family’s top enforcer, after all.
“Fine.
Send him in.”
“Understood.”
Just as Tom reaches the door, Don Corleone spots his youngest son outside through the window.
“Tom, tell Mike I want to see him later.”
Back in the office, Fredo Corleone stands quietly in the corner like background furniture nobody notices.
At that moment, Don Corleone seems to realize he’s been ignoring his second son and suddenly asks, “What do you think about all this?”
Fredo takes a sip of whiskey and fires back with a question of his own.
“Dad, is this what you deal with every day?”
Don Corleone thinks for a moment.
“More or less.
Usually people come all at once, so I handle everything together.
Sometimes it’s family business, sometimes company business.
Honestly, it’s not that different.”
Fredo immediately pulls a disgusted face.
“Dad, this looks boring as hell.
Thank God the heirs are Sonny or could be Mike.
I’m perfectly happy eating, drinking, and coasting through life.”
Don Corleone chuckles.
“You little punk…”
Before the father-son conversation goes any further, footsteps and noisy voices echo from outside.
Tom walks in with Luca Brasi.
Behind him trail three little troublemakers—Sonny’s two sons and daughter.
Kids that age are basically tiny terrorists with good PR.
Only after Fredo promises to take them for a drive later do they finally behave and leave the room.
By the time Fredo closes the door, Luca Brasi is already stumbling through his prepared speech.
“On the day of your daughter’s wedding…
I hope the newlyweds are blessed with many children.
Please accept this small gift from me, and my wishes for a long and happy marriage.”
Don Corleone sees both the nervousness and sincerity in the giant man standing before him.
“Thank you, Luca.
My most valued friend.”
Luca hurriedly responds, “Don Corleone, I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up more of your time.”
“Thank you.”
The guy is so nervous he practically forgets how breathing works, and Fredo can only sigh internally at the sight.
As Luca turns to leave after bowing, Fredo pats him on the shoulder.
“See?
You did great.
Tomorrow or the day after, let’s spar for a bit.”
“Of course, Fredo.”
‘Picked up [Bull-Like Strength] Fragment ×4 (4/5).
Fragment incomplete, cannot activate.’
‘Picked up [Bull-Like Strength] Fragment ×5 (5/5).
Fragments complete.
Skill ready for activation.’
Fredo’s mood instantly improves.
Walking Luca to the door, he says, “Eat well, drink well today.
I’ll come find you in the next couple days.”
Outside, music and singing flood the estate grounds.
Carmela Corleone’s voice rings through the wedding celebration.
“The moon hangs low above the sea,
Mama, I want to marry…
Who do you wish to marry, my sweet girl?
Mama, you choose for me…”
…
Luca has no choice but to lean in and whisper his address into Fredo’s ear before thanking him again and leaving.
After shutting the door, Fredo returns to the office just in time to see Don Corleone and Tom discussing political connections.
Tom reports, “Congressman Corle sends his apologies for missing the wedding.
He says you’ll understand.
A few other officials couldn’t make it either, but they all sent gifts.”
“Ahhh—!”
“Johnny!
It’s Johnny!”
Shrill screams suddenly erupt from outside.
Don Corleone looks toward the window.
“What’s going on out there?”
Tom shakes his head.
Fredo shrugs too.
The Godfather walks to the window and smiles the second he sees the source of the commotion.
“So it’s Johnny.
He came all the way from California for the wedding.
I told you he’d come.”
He probably has another problem.”
“I’m thinking the exact same thing,” Fredo cuts in.
Don Corleone pats Tom’s hand dismissively with a smile.
“He’s a good godson.”
A moment later, the sound of singing drifts into Fredo’s ears.
(Song: “I Have But One Heart”)
“I have but one heart,
This heart I bring you…”
…
Fredo already knows what’s happening outside.
Mikey is probably telling Kay the story about how the Godfather once helped Johnny Fontaine out of trouble by making a Hollywood producer “an offer he couldn’t refuse.”
Fredo follows Don Corleone and Tom out of the office.
Outside, the Godfather immediately embraces his godson who has rushed all the way back from Hollywood.
He’s about to introduce Johnny to everyone when Johnny suddenly whispers in his ear:
“Godfather… I’m in trouble.”
Well, there it is.
Tom called it perfectly.
Don Corleone calmly reassures him.
“I’ll handle it.”
Then the Godfather’s expression changes instantly as he turns around.
“Tom.”
Tom steps forward.
“Yes?”
Don Corleone notices Sonny is nowhere to be seen, and irritation flashes across his face.
Honestly, he already knows exactly where Sonny is and what he’s doing.
“I want you to find Santino and bring him to my office.”
Santino “Sonny” Corleone.
Same guy.
Different name.
Tom naturally knows what Sonny’s been up to.
He glances toward the second floor and rubs his forehead.
What else can he do?
Go drag him downstairs, obviously.
Tom forces out a bitter smile.
Sonny, for fuck’s sake.
Today is Connie’s wedding.
Even Fredo—who normally acts like a walking disaster—has been behaving himself all day.
And you?
The second nobody looks your way, you drag some girl upstairs.
Fredo instantly protests internally:
Hey, hey, not me.
Don’t slander me.
…Wait.
Damn it.
I really am Fredo now.
Alright then.
Carry on.
Fredo gives Johnny a quick hug before following Don Corleone into the office.
He grabs his old whiskey glass, pours himself another drink, and settles into his seat to watch the show unfold.