Backgammon Page #2

---

Hmm?

I didn't realize

we were playing for anything.

[Miranda]

Of course you are.

But I warn you,

all Gerald will play is poker.

He doesn't do anything

unless he can make money at it.

What about his art'?

Well, his reason for painting me

is that it turns him on.

You see, it also turns

other people on

and they pay him

large amounts of money

for the erotica that I pose for.

Look at her.

She's posing now.

[Miranda laughs]

- [Laughs]

- It's quite

a convenient arrangement,

really.

So, you always paint Miranda?

Well, I am the only inspiration

for his art.

It annoys him, though,

because he hates not being given

complete credit for his work.

- That's not true.

- Of course it is!

- No, it's not...

- You're wandering around

with your head

in self-generated clouds

of hot air,

until someone says to you,

"well, if it wasn't for Miranda,

would you be

as good a painter?"

Whatever makes you happy,

my dear.

Why don't you just try

painting someone else?

Or something other than nudes?

Well, he has.

But as I said...

I'm the only inspiration

for his art.

Anything else he tries to paint

just comes out worth less.

Deal the cards.

[Miranda]

Treat him nicely.

I will treat him

however the hell I want.

He comes here, eats our food,

drinks our wine,

enjoys our company.

He ask impertinent questions

about my art.

He's like

your so-called brother,

Miranda.

A parasite.

But then again,

aren't you like him?

For aren't all the lovers

of great men

but parasites?

[Gerald laughs]

She's nice, isn't she?

[Bottle shatters]

[Laughs]

[Laughing]

Should I leave?

This damn pen doesn't work.

Ah.

Use matches.

Thank you.

All right.

Each one of these

will be worth $5.

All right?

Fine, but I can only play

a couple hands,

and then I have to go to bed.

I thought Elizabeth

was coming down.

[Stutters]

Let's do this.

Hmm?

Check.

- Okay.

- Okay.

Call.

Three of a kind.

How many did you say?

[Gerald]

Two you and two for me.

One... two.

[Chuckles]

Call.

[Gerald]

All right then. Call.

Sorry about that.

No, you're not.

Yes he is, but he shouldn't be.

Double or quits, underhand.

- Sorry.

- [Scoffs] Bastard!

Again!

Deal and drink.

Ooh.

- He's a gambling man.

- [Chuckles]

[Gerald whispers]

One, two, three, four, five.

What are you gonna do?

One, two, three...

- I win! -I mean, why

don't we just quit now?

We're not gonna quit,

I need a drink.

You've drunk too much.

What do you know?

Beloved Brandy.

[Laughs]

Now, let's see

if Brandy changes my luck.

We'll see, won't we, dear?

Won't we see?

Yes.

- Won't we, dear?

- Yes.

Won't we see?

[Laughs]

- Give that back, you bastard.

- Not until you stop swearing.

- A**hole.

- [Laughs]

Well, now, you're definitely not

- gonna get it back.

- Give it back to me!

Will you'? No, you won't!

- Give it!

- Okay!

"Peter Walsh got up

and crossed the win-"

- give it here!

- Go fetch it!

Go fetch it!

[Laughs]

You started that game of cards,

you f***ing finish it!

Okay, okay, Miranda.

[Laughs]

[Whispers]

A**hole.

[Gerald]

Let's go again.

Now, deal the cards.

They're dealt.

Well...

Well, Brandy's done the trick,

hasn't it?

[Laughs]

Hasn't it, Miranda?

Huh?

This time it'll be

all that money.

[Laughs]

Against all of my canvases.

They're not all yours

to give away, are they?

All the paintings in the house

are of Miranda.

But she doesn't own them.

Do you?

Well...

That's everything then.

[Door slams]

He can have it all back,

I don't want it.

We've obviously all had

too much to drink and-

oh, bullshit.

No, we haven't had

nearly enough.

And no, you won

everything fairly.

It's all rightfully yours.

[Door shuts]

[Faint shouting]

[Gerald]

F***ing Ivy league bullshit!

Elizabeth?

Beth.

It's me.

Open the door.

[Rain pouring]

[Thunder rumbles]

[Door clan ks]

[Footsteps tapping]

You're not in bed yet?

No, I'd fallen asleep.

Where have you been?

I've thrown him out.

Really?

[Panting]

Oh, the best thing

I ever did, of course.

I don't know why I ever took up

with the bastard.

- So, why did you?

- What?

Take him off.

Oh, do you want some?

[Lucian]

No.

- [Miranda gags] - What's wrong?

Are you okay?

[Miranda]

Sick, nauseous.

[Gasping]

[Spits]

Give a woman a bit of privacy.

Sorry.

I just wanted to make sure

that you were okay.

[Giggles]

It's yours now.

What do you mean?

You won everything.

The paintings, at cards.

Well that's gonna

be pretty awkward tomorrow

when I have to give it

all back to Gerald...

Gerald's not coming back.

God, I told you that.

It's yours now.

Where could he

have possibly gone

at this time of night?

Who knows?

I don't know.

He may be half-way

to Boston by now.

Maybe Canada.

Somewhere far away.

Maybe Bermuda.

[Chuckles]

Quoting Baudelaire to himself.

You're wrong to call it erotica.

It's not designed to...

To titillate.

You mean you're not titillated?

You don't like them.

No, they're...

They're good, but...

They just don't seem quite...

Complete.

I know what you mean.

Yeah.

His earlier work

might be more understandable.

Or something.

More like me.

Do you have any of those here?

There's one upstairs in my room.

Your room?

[Chuckles]

Come on.

I'll show it to you.

[Giggles]

Come on.

[Lucian]

It's very nice.

I was pretty young then.

I suppose that picture

is yours as well.

[Scoffs]

I suppose so.

I'm going to have

a great big bonfire

with all of Gerald's stuff.

Why not just box it all up

and put it in storage?

[Sighs]

There's too much.

God, it'll take me weeks

to burn all this stuff.

You've never seen

such a hoarder.

I don't know,

my mother was-

no, I promise.

You've never seen anyone

like him.

It's all bullshit.

He only had mediocre talent.

When he moved in here,

he brought all of this sh*t

with him.

Guess we're all hoarders.

Sit down.

You don't understand.

It wasn't unreasonable

that he might wanna keep

his old sketchbooks

and canvases but...

His old clothes, his old shoes.

Magazines and crap.

Most people th row stuff away

eventually, but not Gerald.

He kept everything.

And he made collections

of all kinds of things.

It only made it worse.

Like what?

Birds eggs,

butterflies, stamps...

Match box tops,

cigarette packets.

Never anything of value.

[Sighs]

The day he moved in here...

I expected him

to bring a suitcase.

But he brought

a whole goddamn truck.

Everything's gonna be fine.

Ugh. Ignore me,

I'm so stupid.

[Birds chirping]

I can't believe

how beautiful this place is.

Why don't you guys

have chairs out here?

Gerald preferred the patio.

With the trees, the ferns.

- The moist...

- Green shadows...

I think that Gerald is dead.

Why do you say that?

A quiet feeling of liberation

has come over me.

What happened out there?

I mean...

Nothing. I fell.

Let's go swimming.

[Laughs]

Come on.

Come on, let's go.

Let's go into the water.

- Are you... you wet-Kent momma.

Rate this script:4.0 / 1 vote