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CORKY:

Are they really?

VIOLET:

Yes, it really causes problems.

Sometimes it's like you're in the

same room. But if it's too much

trouble, I understand ...

CORKY:

No, no trouble. There's other work

to do.

VIOLET:

You're doing everything yourself?

CORKY:

Yeah.

VIOLET:

That is so amazing. I'm in awe of

people who can fix things. My dad

was like that. We never had anything

new. Whenever something broke he

would open it up, tinker with it and

it would work. His hands were magic.

She looks at Corky's hands cupped around the mug.

VIOLET:

Yeah ... I bet your car is twenty

years old.

Corky smiles.

CORKY:

Truck.

VIOLET:

Truck. Of course.

CORKY:

'63 Chevy.

VIOLET:

I knew it.

VIOLET SIPS:

VIOLET:

So, how do you know the owner, Mr.

Bianchinni?

CORKY:

I don't, really. I was referred to

him.

VIOLET:

Oh, really.

Corky suddenly feels she has revealed something.

CORKY:

Do you know him?

VIOLET:

No, but Caesar does. He likes him.

Says he's a good Italian.

CORKY:

Caesar is your husband?

VIOLET:

Oh no, no. I'm not the marrying

kind.

Smiling, she says nothing else.

VIOLET:

I should be going. You can drop the

cup off anytime.

CORKY:

Thanks.

VIOLET:

My pleasure.

CORKY watches her leave.

EXT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT

A dirty bar hidden away on a dark street, its cracked, moon-

white sign the only evidence it exists.

Corky's truck swings into a space in front of a couple of

large motorcycles. She flips her collar and heads for the

door.

INT. THE WATERING HOLE - NIGHT

The smell of leather and cigarette smoke fills Corky's nose

as she crosses to the bar.

BARTENDER:

Well, well ...

Corky sits as the fat bartender waddles over.

BARTENDER:

Been awhile, Cork.

CORKY:

Five years, two months, sixteen days.

How you doing, Sue?

Corky puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it.

SUE:

Like sh*t. Now that we're all caught

up, how about a drink?

Sue opens the refrigerator and pulls out two Old Styles.

CORKY:

Thanks.

They click the bottles together and drink.

SUE:

You got a job yet?

CORKY:

Yeah. Some plumbing, painting and

sh*t.

Sue laughs.

SUE:

I mean a J-O-B. A real job.

CORKY:

Not for me, Sue. I'm straight and

narrow. I'm just here to get laid

or drunk and hopefully both.

Corky gets off the stool.

CORKY:

Thanks for the beer.

Looking around, she sees a woman alone at one of the back

tables. Through the smoky din, she bears a slight resemblance

to Violet.

The woman is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket.

Smiling, Corky slides into the chair beside her. There is

no one smoother.

CORKY:

Hi.

WOMAN:

Hello.

CORKY:

You know ... that outfit would look

great on my bedroom floor.

The woman smiles just as someone taps Corky on the shoulder.

She turns and is face-to-face with a large bull of a woman

in a heavy leather Chicago Police jacket. She is more wide

than fat.

WOMAN COP:

Hey, Jesse. What's happening here?

CORKY:

Nothing ... yet.

WOMAN COP:

Who's this?

Her coat opens as she puts her hands on her hips. A service

revolver is clipped to her belt.

She squints at Corky, her head nodding in recognition.

WOMAN COP:

Wait, I know you.

CORKY:

I don't think so.

WOMAN COP:

I didn't know you were out.

Corky smiles at the woman in black.

CORKY:

When you get tired of Cagney and

Lacey, come find me.

She heads for the exit.

EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT

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