American Psycho Page #9

CARRUTHERS:

I want you. I want you...too.

Bateman storms out of the men's room, bumping into a waiter and several customers and cursing. Noticing the maitre d' and another waiter conferring and looking at him strangely, Bateman straightens up and smiles and waves cheerfully at them. Carruthers walks up behind him.

CARRUTHERS:

Patrick?

BATEMAN:

(Hissing) What...is...it?

CARRUTHERS:

Where are you going?

BATEMAN:

(Stumbling away from him) I've gotta return some videotapes.

LUIS:

Patrick! (mouths) I'll call you.

Bateman storms out of the restaurant.

INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY

Bateman enters P&P, walks up the corridor and pauses outside the door to his office. He sees Kimball in conversation with Jean, and Jean looking through her date book. He watches for a moment, frozen with anxiety. He then bursts in, shutting the door behind him.

KIMBALL:

Ok...Monday? the 20th.

JEAN:

Monday? That's, uh...

KIMBALL:

Any Paul Allen?

JEAN:

Reservation...No. No Reservation, But--

BATEMAN:

Kimball-I've been wanting to talk with you, Come into my office. Come into my office. Jean, great jacket. Matsuda?

Jean looks flustered.

Kimball follows Bateman into his office.

KIMBALL:

Do you remember where you were on the night of Paul's disappearance? (He checks his notebook) Which was on the 20th of December?

BATEMAN:

God...I guess...I was probably returning videotapes.

He opens his desk drawer and pretends to search through his diary.

BATEMAN:

I had a date with a girl named Veronica.

KIMBALL:

That's not what I've got.

BATEMAN:

What?

KIMBALL:

That's not the information I've received.

BATEMAN:

Well...I...Wait...What information have you received?

KIMBALL:

Let's see...(He flips through his notebook) You were with-

BATEMAN:

Well, I could he wrong.

KIMBALL:

Well...When was the last time you were with Paul Allen?

BATEMAN:

(Clearly nervous and under pressure) We had...gone to a new musical called...Oh Africa, Brave Africa. It was...a laugh riot...and that's about it. I think we had dinner at Orso's. No, Peta-. No, Orso's. I hope I've been informative. Long day-a bit scattered.

KIMBALL:

I'm a little spent too. But...how about lunch in a week or so? When I've sorted out all this information?

BATEMAN:

Great, yes, I'd like that.

KIMBALL:

And if you could try and pin down where you were the night of Paul Allen's disappearance, it would make my job a lot easier.

BATEMAN:

Absolutely. I'm with you on that one.

Kimball is rifling through his briefcase. He pulls out a new shrink wrapped CD and holds it up.

KIMBALL:

Huey Lewis and the News. Great stuff. I just bought it on my way here. Ya heard it?

Bateman stares at the CD - stunned, terrified.

BATEMAN:

Never. I mean...I don't really like...singers.

KIMBALL:

Not a big music fan, eh?

BATEMAN:

No, I like music. Just-they're-Huey's too...black sounding. For me.

KIMBALL:

Well, to each his own. So-lunch, Next Week?

BATEMAN:

I'll be there.

Kimball exits the room.

INT. COURTNEY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Bateman is lying on top of Courtney in her bed, after sex. Still panting, he rolls off her, onto his back. He feels something lumpy underneath him and pulls out a stuffed toy, a black cat with blue jewel eyes. There is silence.

COURTNEY:

Will you call me before Easter?

BATEMAN:

Maybe.

Courtney sighs and reaches for a bottle of pills on her nightstand, swallowing several. Bateman gets up and begins to dress, admiring himself in the mirror. Courtney watches the TV at low volume.

COURTNEY:

What are you doing tonight?

BATEMAN:

Dinner at, uh...River Cafe. Au Bar afterwards, maybe.

COURTNEY:

That's nice.

BATEMAN:

I never knew you smoked.

COURTNEY:

(Smiling sadly) You never noticed...Listen...Patrick. Can we talk?

BATEMAN:

You look marvelous. There's nothing to say. You're going to marry Luis.

COURTNEY:

(Sarcastically) Isn't that special? (A pause) Patrick?

BATEMAN:

Yes, Courtney?

COURTNEY:

If I don't see you before Easter, have a nice one, okay?

BATEMAN:

(Flatly) You too.

Courtney picks up the black cat and starts petting its head. Bateman heads down the hallway to the front door.

COURTNEY:

Patrick?

BATEMAN:

Yeah?

COURTNEY:

Nothing.

INT. LADIES ROOM, TUNNEL - NIGHT

Brilliant white light, a bemused elderly female attendant in a black-and-white maid's uniform trying to give out paper towels. MUSIC thuds through an open doorway. Trashed-looking girls stare into mirrors repairing their eye make-up or sit on the counter chatting to friends. There are almost as many men as women in the room. Couples stand in line, twitching as they wait to do coke. As soon as one bathroom door opens, a couple lurches out rubbing their noses while another couple rushes past them and slams the door.

McDERMOTT:

There's this theory now, that if you can catch the AIDS virus through having sex with someone, then you can catch anything. Alzheimer's, Muscular Dystrophy, Hemophilia, Leukemia, Diabetes, Dyslexia.

BATEMAN:

I'm not sure, but, I don't think dyslexia is a virus.

McDERMOTT:

Oh, who knows? They don't know that. Prove it.

McDermott and Bateman finally get a stall and rush in. They have coke laid out in lines for them to snort.

McDERMOTT:

There's a f***ing milligram of sweetener. (talking while Bateman is snorting the cocaine) I wanna get high off this. Not sprinkle it on my f***ing oatmeal.

BATEMAN:

It's definitely weak but I have a feeling if we do enough of it, we'll be okay.

The GUY IN STALL next door yells at them in an effeminate voice:

GUY IN STALL:

Could you keep it down, I'm trying to do drugs!

McDermott peers over the stall.

McDERMOTT:

(screaming) F*** YOU!

BATEMAN:

Calm down. Let's do it anyway

McDERMOTT:

I guess you're right...(Raising his voice) THAT IS, IF THE F*GGOT IN THE NEXT STALL THINKS IT'S OKAY!

GUY IN STALL:

F*** you!

McDERMOTT:

(Trying to climb up against the aluminum divider) No, F*** YOU!! (He collapses, panting against the stall door) Sorry, dude. Steroids...Hunh!...Okay, let's do it.

Bateman sticks his fingers in to catch the residue and rubs it on his gums.

INT. NIGHTCLUB - NIGHT

A big eighties nightclub with a mixed crowd: hip-hop kids, visitors from Jersey, downtown art people, yuppies.

LIBBY:

Where did Craig go?

BRYCE:

Well, Gorbachev is downstairs. McDermott went to sign a peace treaty between the United States and Russia. He's the one behind glasnost, you know?

LIBBY:

He said he was in mergers and acquisitions.

BRYCE:

You're not confused, are you?

LIBBY:

No, not really.

CARON:

Gorbachev is not downstairs.

BRYCE:

Caron's right. Gorbachev's not downstairs. He's at Tunnel.

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