Croupier Page #2

JACK nods, extends his hand. A firm handshake.

JACK'S VOICE

Jack had three words for, Giles.

Go f*** yourself.

Meeting over. GILES smiles goodbye, pockets his slot machine

winnings.

INT. JACK'S BASEMENT FLAT - SITTING ROOM - DAY

The untidy evidence. To the accompaniment of the music, a

discordant version, three dog-eared copies of 'The Invention

Of The Wheel', A Novel by JACK MANFRED. Worn furniture. A

pile of literary magazines. Two elegantly arranged vases

of flowers. Women's fashion magazines. Books everywhere,

including 'Scarne on Gambling', 'The Education of A Poker

Player', 'Delta of Venus' and other books by Anais Nin. A

woman's dress, back from the cleaners. A framed etching of

Cape Town, South Africa, in the eighteenth century.

Finally...

Beneath the iron barred window, with a view of the iron

steps down from the street, JACK sits at the dining table.

In front of him is a word processor. He toys with a glass

of vodka, smoking a Gitane, and leafing through a soccer

fan magazine. He starts to touch-type, looking at the

screen, not the keyboard. Words appear, letter by letter...

THE BALL... A NOVEL... BY JACK MANFRED. He pauses to drink.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

A MAN, face unseen, steps into a phone booth. CLOSE ON:

his hands. It is impossible to tell where he is.

He opens his pocket book, addresses, diary etc., and

searches through for something.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

He finds what he's looking for: a small photograph, among

others of girls, of a ten year-old boy in school uniform.

On the back are three phone numbers, two of them crossed

out. The MAN lifts the receiver, inserts coins. He starts

to press the numbers. There are CLOSE-UPS of his finger

pressing the sequence of digits, each one CLOSER, longer

than the one before, until...

INT. JACK'S SITTING ROOM - DAY

The phone rings. JACK looks to the answering machine, waits

for the voice.

MAN'S VOICE

Jacko, if you're there, pick up. I

want to talk to you. It's important.

JACK hesitates, then picks up.

JACK:

Dad, I'm here.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

The MAN is handsome, tanned, 50ish, white shirt, dark tie.

He is JACK'S father.

JACK SR.

How's it going?

The subsequent conversation is INTERCUT between SITTING

ROOM and PHONE BOOTH.

JACK:

Great.

JACK SR.

Found a job?

JACK:

No.

JACK SR.

Well I've got something for you.

In London, I mean. I've been

chatting to some friends. Do you

know the Golden Lion casino? It's

in Bayswater, I believe... They're

looking for a dealer, a croupier.

JACK SR pulls out a cigarette - a Gitanes.

JACK:

That's not what I want to do, dad.

JACK stubs his cigarette out.

JACK SR.

(lighting his

cigarette)

Don't be stubborn. The pay won't

be grand, but it's regular. That's

what you need, isn't it? I know

you don't like taking my advice...

JACK:

(drinks)

It's not that.

JACK SR.

I've set this up for you. Call the

Golden Lion and ask for Mr Reynolds,

he's the Manager. I don't know him

personally, but I've spoken to his

boss. Don't say no, Jacko. Give

yourself a break.

JACK reaches for a cigarette.

JACK:

All right, I'll think about it.

I won't. Goodbye, dad.

JACK SR.

Just do it. You've got the knack,

you've got the personality, you

got that from me.

JACK lights up.

JACK SR.

You understand the punters. Think

about it, you can write during the

day and sleep knowing the bills

are paid.

As he speaks, he watches passing WOMEN.

JACK SR.

For Christ's sake, Jacko, don't

look a gift horse in the mouth.

Have you written that name down?

Reynolds, at the Golden Lion.

(exhales)

JACK:

(exhales)

All right, dad. Yes, I'll call

him.

JACK is not enthusiastic, but he scribbles the name down

on a pad.

JACK:

So how are you doing, dad?

JACK SR.

Great. I've just started a new

company. Solid financing. It's

good.

(pause)

I love you Jacko, you know that

JACK:

Yes, I know that.

JACK SR.

Don't let yourself down.

JACK:

I won't. Goodbye, dad.

JACK hangs up.

INT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

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