Gone in Sixty Seconds Page #7

MEMPHIS (cont'd)

So you want to run that part by me

again about things being "all

sweetness and light..."

KIP:

This has nothing to do with any

of that --

MEMPHIS:

Oh. You maybe have more than one

enemy who owns a car-crusher -- ?

KIP:

All my enemies own car crushers.

It's like a pre-requisite ... Owwww...

MEMPHIS:

Easy ... Take it easy ... We're almost

there...

Indeed... Memphis has freed him ... Kip crawls from the wreckage

... His clothes in tatters... Blood seeps from a variety of

contusions ... He limps ... Memphis helps him to the guest house

...

INT. KIP'S GUEST HOUSE - LATER - NIGHT

Small, cluttered... Posters of Kurt Cobain, a skying Kobe Bryant,

Pamela Anderson, two nude girls draped over a glittering

Lamborghini Espada, etc. There's a fish tank... And a big-screen

TV, on which the Lakers are currently defending a high-speed

Boston Celtic fast-break...

Memphis sits on a ratty couch before the TV... Kip comes out of

the bedroom... He's changed clothes ... He wears clunky fur-lined

MOON BOOTS, leopard-skin Speedos and a tshirt ... He looks

slightly ridiculous...

Throughout the scene, Memphis should be studying Kip, as if he's

seeing him for the very first time ... And waiting for the

inevitable crack...

MEMPHIS:

You okay -- ?

KIP:

Totally. I'm fine. You want a beer,

man -- ?

MEMPHIS:

Sure --

And Kip limps toward the refrigerator ... He comes back with two

beers ... Hands one to Memphis ... Glances at the TV --

KIP:

you like Kobe's game? I do. You

think he's heir apparent to MJ? I do.

He speaks fluent Italian, you know? So he's

got that going for him --

And a cut on Kip's forehead starts to bleed ... Kip grabs a towel

... Presses it to his head --

MEMPHIS:

You sure you're okay -- ?

KIP:

Yeah, man. Where is your beer?

Memphis holds it up ... Kip nods ... There are a pile of IGNITIONS

on the table ... Kip picks one up, absently begins trying to strip

it...

KIP:

Cool. So you're living up North?

MEMPHIS:

Yeah -

KIP:

I heard you were pumping gas -

MEMPHIS:

Something like that -

KIP:

You're kind of cultivating a new look.

MEMPHIS:

Yeah --

Beat ... They watch the game ... Kip replaces the soaked towel

with another ...

MEMPHIS (cont'd)

Maybe you need a stitch --

KIP:

Nah. It's a scratch.

MEMPHIS:

Okay --

Beat ...

KIP:

Hey, you want something to eat ?

MEMPHIS:

What do you got ... ?

And Kip hoists himself painfully to his feet ... Limps over to the

'fridge ... Memphis watches him, a slight grin at Kip's attempt at

cool ... Kip peers into the 'fridge ...

KIP:

Not much. I got olives. You like

olives?

Kalamata olives rule, I think. Ma likes

the Calabrese. It's more mellow

And he brings over a bowl of olives.

MEMPHIS:

There's certainly a time and a place

for a mellow olive -

KIP:

Yeah, yeah. That's what I'm thinking --

And they nibble on them. Kip bites into one ... And the juice

stings his cracked lip ... But he disguises his grimace as an

appreciative nod...

And for a moment, they nibble olives and drop pits into an

ashtray... Then:

MEMPHIS:

So what are you gonna do?

KIP:

About what?

MEMPHIS:

"About what?"

KIP:

About Calitri? No worries, man.

I'll call him. He's a reasonable

dude ...

MEMPHIS:

I can see that -

And Memphis glances out the window. To the crushed car. Kip

catches the glance, glances himself, chooses to ignore it.

MEMPHIS (cont'd)

You have everything ... under

control?

KIP:

Yeah. He just wants to know I'm

still on it. He needs reassurance.

All these big swinging d*cks do.

No worries. I won't let him get

into our Kool-Aid...

Kip shrugs ... Picks up another olive... Remembers the pain' of

the last one... Drops it back in the bowl ... Memphis is staring

at him, disgusted... Kip feels it ...

KIP (cont'd)

What -- ?

MEMPHIS:

What happened to you?

KIP:

What?

And now Memphis gets to his feet ... Paces the place...

MEMPHIS:

You just got crushed in a car. You're

bleeding all over your self. And you

sit there - eating olives and talking

basketball, as if, at this very

moment, people weren't plotting

your demise ...

KIP:

C'mon, man... My "demise..."

(chuckles)

Overreaction

MEMPHIS:

"Over--" You know - I can maybe

understand, since I been gone, you

taking up this dumb-ass life of

crime, and for that I can partly

blame myself. But what is baffling

to me, is how, since I been gone,

you've become a complete and total

moron--

KIP:

Hey, now -

MEMPHIS:

He's gonna kill you -- !

KIP:

I can handle it --

MEMPHIS:

You can handle it?

KIP:

I can handle it --

MEMPHIS:

You can handle it?

KIP:

I can handle it --

MEMPHIS:

You?

KIP:

Me.

MEMPHIS:

You?

KIP:

Me...

Beat ... Hold the look ... Kip shifts in his chair ... Even this

hurts... He tries to hide the wince ... Memphis goes to the

window, looks out at the harbor below... Beat ... Then:

KIP (cont'd)

Why? You think you can help me?

And he turns back to Kip ...

KIP (cont'd)

What can you do? You haven't done

anything in six years but pump gas

and go overall shopping. And

the cars, they've changed ...

There's new sh*t. Computer chip

keys and sophisticated alarms and

I don't think, an old guy, could much

bypass 'em...

MEMPHIS:

You don't think so, huh?

KIP:

Not really ... But you know... Maybe

I'm wrong ...

And the brothers look at each other ... In the pale glow of the

TV... For a long beat ... And then we'll CUT TO:

EXT. LONG BEACH HARBOR - CANNERY / FISH AUCTION - DAY

A rack of eel and OCTOPUS hung out to dry in the salty sun ...

Memphis walks with Atley Jackson past the bustling commercial

fishing hubbub:
Portuguese FISHERMEN unloading albacore and

bluefin from their ship's hold; Greek FISHERMEN emptying mackerel

and halibut from their nylon trawl nets; their WOMEN gut, clean

and fillet ...

As they walk, Atley is selecting FISH from the various MARINERS

... Who wrap it up for him... He places it in a leather satchel

... Everyone seems to know him...

ATLEY JACKSON:

Nicolo, how's the yellowtail today?

An old FISHERMAN, who speaks broken English, wraps up several

steaks...

FISHERMAN:

Very nice, Atley. Very nice ...

ATLEY JACKSON:

You can't get it any fresher than this,

Memphis ... From the sea to my

skillet ... Nothing in between...

MEMPHIS:

What's with the fish thing -- ?

ATLEY JACKSON:

We can learn something from our Asian

friends. They smoke a thousand

cigarettes a day; they're completely

stressed and overworked; they drink

like, well ...

MEMPHIS:

Fish.

ATLEY JACKSON:

And they still have the lowest rate of

cancer of anywhere in the world. You

know why? All they eat is seafood.

MEMPHIS:

Also, never underestimate the restorative

powers of "Karaoke."

ATLEY JACKSON:

I do a poaching number. Six-ounce

fillets in a saucepan of brine. In

8 minutes, I could cater a goddamn

wedding. Plain but flavorful. And

it's a good way to show off my

Hollandaise sauce ...

MEMPHIS:

You have a Hollandaise sauce ?

ATLEY JACKSON:

I do ...

(laughs)

Christ, what happened to us ?

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