Croupier Page #16

TCHAI looks at JACK.

MR TCHAI:

Pretty woman.

INT. JACK'S BEDROOM/SITTING ROOM - NIGHT

JACK is sitting on the bed fully clothed. He is carefully

sewing a button on his croupier's jacket. Through the open

bedroom door MARION can be seen sitting on the sofa, legs

tucked under her, reading the new typescript.

The phone rings. In the bedroom JACK picks up.

JACK:

Hello...

EXT. SOUTH AFRICA CASINO - NIGHT

JACK SR. is in a public phone. Coloured lanterns hang round

in the night. Distant laughter.

JACK SR:

How's it going, Jacko?

INTERCUT between JACK and JACK SR.

JACK:

Fine. I took the job.

JACKSR:

Good for you. I was wondering what

happened.

JACK:

I tried to call you, dad, but they

said your line was disconnected.

JACK SR:

(jovially)

Ah yes, I moved house. Needed a

bigger place. How's that book of

yours coming along?

In the sitting room MARION looks towards JACK in the

bedroom.

JACK:

I'm getting there.

JACK SR:

It's good to have the job to fall

back on, isn't it?

(pause)

There goes my other phone.

JACK:

Goodbye dad.

He hangs up. MARION turns the last page of the typescript.

She's finished.

INT. SITTING ROOM - NIGHT

JACK comes in from the bedroom. MARION says nothing. She

puts the typescript down. JACK waits.

MARION gets off the sofa.

MARION:

I don't like it.

JACK:

Why not?

MARION:

I don't like it at all. You had a

wonderful character before, the

Gambler. He was so romantic.

JACK:

He was a loser. This guy's a

croupier. He can't lose. People

have shat on him all his life. Now

he's in control. He's a winner.

MARION:

Is that your idea of a winner? He

doesn't give a sh*t about anyone.

He uses people and --

JACK:

(interrupting)

-- It's because of the sex, isn't

it? You don't like the sex in it.

MARION:

I don't give a f*** about the sex.

Most men'll f*** a lamppost. He's

just a miserable zombie. Is that

the way you feel now? Is that what's

happened to you?

JACK:

Marion. It's a book.

MARION:

Oh really. Then why is he called

Jake. Why don't you come clean and

call him Jack.

(softens)

There's no hope in it.

JACK:

It's the truth.

MARION:

Without hope there's no point to

anything.

JACK:

Now wait a minute. What's so hopeful

about your job? Spending the day

catching poor people stealing. You

said yourself the organised gangs

get away with it. At least in the

casino everybody gets caught. Rich

or poor, the odds are the same.

It's all relative.

MARION:

Crap. It's not relative. It's

unfair. Like your casino. It's

designed unfair. And your croupier's

a little sh*t because he goes along

with it.

JACK sees MARION is getting really angry. He crosses the

room, Pointedly takes MARION'S handbag, opens it, takes

out a National Lottery card and receipt. The doorbell rings.

JACK:

(coldly)

You're just like all those other

dummies out there. Fourteen and a

half million to one! Is that your

idea of hope?

The doorbell rings again.

MARION:

The door, Jack.

JACK:

Leave it.

MARION:

No. Answer it!

JACK hands her the lottery card and goes to the door, opens

it. BELLA stands there.

BELLA:

You f***ing little sh*t! You shopped

me.

JACK:

What are you talking about?

MARION watches, numb.

BELLA:

Reynolds got a doctor in. They

forced me to take a dope test. It

was positive. As you knew.

JACK:

I don't know anything about it.

BELLA looks over to MARION.

BELLA:

Your boyfriend f***ed me, smoked

my dope, then shopped me. What do

you think of that? I can't get a

job now.

(to Jack)

You bastard. You're no different

from Matt. A pair of vicious little

shits, that's what you are.

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