American Psycho Page #7

BATEMAN:

I hope I'm not being cross-examined here.

KIMBALL:

Do you feel like that?

BATEMAN:

No, not really.

KIMBALL:

(As he writes without looking up) Where did Paul hang out?

BATEMAN:

Hang...out?

KIMBALL:

Yeah. You know...hang out.

BATEMAN:

Let me think. The Newport. Harry's. Fluties. Endochine. Nell's. The Cornell Club. The New York Yacht Club.

KIMBALL:

He had a yacht?

BATEMAN:

No, he just hung out there.

KIMBALL:

And where did he go to school?

A slight pause.

BATEMAN:

Don't you know this?

KIMBALL:

I just wanted to know if you know.

BATEMAN:

Before Yale? If I remember correctly, Saint Paul's...Listen, I just...I just want to help.

KIMBALL:

I understand.

He makes another note.

BATEMAN:

Do you have any witnesses or fingerprints?

KIMBALL:

Well, there's a message on his answering machine saying he went to London.

BATEMAN:

Well, maybe he did, huh?

KIMBALL:

His girlfriend doesn't think so.

BATEMAN:

But...has anyone seen him in London?

KIMBALL:

Actually, yes.

BATEMAN:

Hmmm.

KIMBALL:

But, I've had a hard time getting an actual verification. A Stephen Hughes says he saw him at a restaurant there, but I checked it out and what happened is, he mistook a Hubert Ainsworth for Paul, so...

BATEMAN:

Had his apartment been burglarized?

KIMBALL:

No, actually it hadn't. Toiletries were missing. A suit was gone. So was some luggage. That's it.

BATEMAN:

I mean no one's dealing with the homicide squad yet or anything, right?

KIMBALL:

No, not yet. As I said, we're not sure. But...basically no one has seen or heard anything.

BATEMAN:

That's so typical, isn't it?

KIMBALL:

It's just strange. (He stares out the window, lost in thought) One day someone's walking around, going to work, alive, and then...

BATEMAN:

Nothing.

KIMBALL:

People just...disappear.

BATEMAN:

The earth just opens up and swallows them.

KIMBALL:

Eerie. Really eerie.

Silence.

BATEMAN:

(Standing up) Listen, you'll have to excuse me. I have a lunch meeting with Cliff Huxtable at Four Seasons in 20 minutes.

KIMBALL:

The Four Seasons? Isn't the Four Seasons a little far uptown? I mean aren't you going to be late?

BATEMAN:

No, there's one down here.

KIMBALL:

Oh really? I didn't know that.

Bateman leads him to the door.

BATEMAN:

Yes. It's very good.

Kimball turns to face him.

KIMBALL:

Listen, if anything else occurs to you, any information at all...

BATEMAN:

Absolutely, I'm 100% with you.

KIMBALL:

Great, and thanks for your, time, Mr. Bateman.

Bateman closes the door firmly on Kimball. He closes his eyes and leans against the door, sweating.

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON

A perfectly lit kitchen still-life - a glass of sparkling water, a white porcelain plate on which sits a sliced kiwi, some perfect green grapes, a few berries.

OFFSCREEN, the SOUND OF SCREAMS AND A CHAINSAW can be heard from the living room.

The living room:
Bateman is maniacally doing abdominal crunches as the television plays a video of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. There is a pile of horror videos on his coffee table, next to a copy of GQ.

He then moves onto doing jumprope exercises.

EXT. STREET/INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT

Bateman cruises around in the limo. It pulls up alongside CHRISTIE, a pretty blonde hooker in shorts and leather jacket. Bateman opens his window to speak to her.

BATEMAN:

I haven't seen you around here.

CHRISTIE:

You just haven't been looking.

BATEMAN:

Would you like to see my apartment?

Bateman flips on the light inside the limo. He's wearing a tuxedo.

CHRISTIE:

(looking away to some dark corner) I'm not supposed to.

Bateman is holding out a $100 bill, which Christie now notices, then takes.

BATEMAN:

Do you want to come to my apartment or not?

CHRISTIE:

I'm not supposed to. (She pockets the bill) but, I can make an exception.

BATEMAN:

Do you take a credit card?

Christie looks at him like he's crazy.

BATEMAN:

I'm joking. Come on, get in.

As they drive uptown, Bateman is on the phone with a prostitute company.

BATEMAN:

I'd like a girl, early twenties, blonde, who does couples. Couples. And I really can't stress blonde enough. Blonde.

He hangs up.

BATEMAN:

I'm Paul. My name is Paul Allen, have you got that? You're Christie. You are to respond only to Christie. Is that clear?

INT. BATEMAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Christie is in the bathtub, Bateman is pouring in white milky bath oil.

BATEMAN:

That's a very fine Chardonnay you're drinking.

Long pause, in which Christie is luxuriating in the tub and Bateman is casually touching her breast.

BATEMAN:

I want you to clean your vagina.

Christie reaches for a washcloth.

BATEMAN:

No. From behind. Get on your knees.

Christie shrugs.

BATEMAN:

You have a very nice body.

The doorman RINGS. Bateman answers.

BATEMAN:

Hmm? Thank you. Send her up. Christie, get out and dry off, choose a robe-not the Bijan and uh, come and meet me and our guest in the living room for drinks.

Bateman answers the door.

BATEMAN:

You've arrived! How lovely, let me take your coat. I'm Paul. How good of you to come.

The escort girl looks somewhat bewildered. Bateman takes her coat and inspects her body and face.

BATEMAN:

Not quite blonde, are you? More dirty blonde. I'm going to call you Sabrina. I'm Paul Allen.

Bateman escorts her into the living room and brings her a glass of wine. Christie enters, sitting next to Sabrina on the couch, and Bateman sits across from them. There is a long silence.

BATEMAN:

So, don't you want to know what I do?

The two girls look at each other with uncomfortable smiles. Christie shrugs.

CHRISTIE:

No.

SABRINA:

(Smiling) No, not really.

Bateman is visibly irritated.

BATEMAN:

Well, I work on Wall Street. At Pierce & Pierce. (Long pause) Have you heard of it?

Another long pause. They shake their heads.

CHRISTIE:

You have a really nice place here...Paul. How much did you pay for it?

BATEMAN:

Well, actually, that's none of your business, Christie, but I can assure you it certainly wasn't cheap.

Sabrina takes a pack of cigarettes out of her purse. Bateman returns, carrying a tray of chocolates.

BATEMAN:

No, no smoking. Not in here.

He walks over to Christie.

BATEMAN:

Varda truffle?

Christie stares at the plate and shakes her head. Sabrina takes one.

BATEMAN:

I don't want you to get drunk, but that's a very fine Chardonnay you're not drinking.

Bateman goes over to his CDs and scans his vast collection. He takes one out and examines it. And starts to play Phil Collins.

BATEMAN:

Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that I really didn't understand any of their work. It was too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think "Invisible Touch" is the group's undisputed masterpiece.

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