Jersey Boys Page #3

- That's because he couldn't.

So your group-J?

- The Varietones.

- Yeah. Just you and Tommy'?

And his brother, Nick...

- ...and this other guy, Nicky.

- So where were they?

They went away for a while.

What for?

They did some things.

With friends like that, maybe you should

just change your name to Sinatra.

I'm gonna be as big as Sinatra.

Only if you stand on a chair.

Hey, why you gotta say that kind of stuff?

Look, first of all, Sinatra wouldn't be

caught dead in that jacket.

Where'd you get it?

- I don't know. Tommy got it off a truck.

- Exactly.

Tommy's a two-bit hustler.

He doesn't see the big picture.

Yeah? So what do I do?

Come here.

You got a nickel?

Yeah.

Call your mother.

You're gonna be home late.

MAN 1;

All right!

Attaboy, Frankie.

You look beautiful, Mary!

Quick and painless. Quick and painless.

Mary had a couple of years on him

and they both wanted out.

Up and out.

Mary saw Frankie as her chance,

and she poured it all into him.

Love?

I'll be honest with you.

I never knew what that was.

Marriage?

Marriage is not love.

Marriage is you take a shave while your

wife sits on the can and clips her toenails.

Anyway, Frankie's married.

We're playing nights,

Frankie's cutting hair in the daytime.

And it's their anniversary,

and he decides to get Mary some jewelry.

So he goes shopping, Jersey style.

I don't understand. Why can't this guy

bring stuff over the house?

He's a little nervous.

Your wife's gonna love this sh*t, Frankie.

Couple of watches. Nice diamonds.

He got it out of some house in Saddle River.

He had to smack the broad around.

- But she'll live.

Would you shut up?

He don't need to know all that.

Frankie's cool. Right, Frankie?

Yeah, no problem.

Wait a minute.

This isn't Bloomfield.

No, it's Fairfield.

Not Fairfield, you f***ing a**hole.

Bloomfield.

You said Fairfield.

Why would I say Fairfield

if it was Bloomfield?

Maybe your brain is f***ed up.

And don't call me an a**hole.

Why? It's what you are.

A piece of sh*t f***ing a**hole.

- Hey, fellas, it's okay.

- You stay out of this!

Hey! Don't get out of line.

No! F*** him! And f*** you! Okay?

I'm not the a**hole! You're the a**hole!

Don't you call me an a**hole, a**hole!

Oh, yeah. And what are you gonna do

about it, a**hole?

What am I gonna do about it?

- A**hole.

- Yeah, yeah.

- How about this?

Holy sh*t!

What are you, crazy?

Now who's the a**hole?

- Jeez, Donnie, my God!

- Get out. Get out!

Get out! I'll call you tomorrow.

Come on. I'll lake care of this. Go!

Go! Go! Frankie, go!

Aw. You should have seen his face.

I almost felt sorry for the kid.

Yeah, well, don't. We gotta lean on him.

And hard.

We need that money, Donnie. Okay?

A**hole.

- Ha-ha-ha.

- Ha-ha-ha. Gel in the front.

What are you, deaf? Open it.

Put the plate down and open it.

Open it!

What if it's your wife?

Don't worry about it.

Just open the f***ing door.

Tommy.

Tommy, something terrible just happened.

Agh. Slow down.

So he shot somebody in your car...

...and they charge you $20,000

to make it go away?

Twenty-five.

Sweetheart, gimme a kiss,

go powder your nose.

So let me ask you something.

If he shot the guy, why should you pay?

What are you, nuts? It's my car.

There's a dead guy in it.

My prints are all over.

The cops are gonna trace it. It's a murder rap.

Frankie, ifs a scam.

What?

They fake a murder in your car,

then charge you to make it go away.

There was blood.

I saw it with my own eyes.

Eh?

- Or fake blood, like in the movies.

- Huh?

- Sh*t.

- Let me explain something to you, all right?

You shoot somebody, you gotta shoot all

the witnesses too.

That's a basic rule.

I bet you $100 your car is sitting in his

driveway right now. Hundred dollars, I bet you.

But Donnie's my friend.

And I'm not your friend? Huh?

- I'm your friend.

- All right.

F*** Donnie.

Now go home. I'll take care of it.

- What are you gonna do, call Gyp?

- Are you stunade? You mention that name?

You don't bother Gyp DeCarlo

with two-bit bullshit.

I said I'll take care of it, all right?

Go home.

Take care of your wife.

Thanks, Tommy. I owe you.

What am I gonna do with you?

Huh?

Stupid.

You said it, Gyp.

Take off your hat.

Okay, I'll say it once,

so get it through your thick skulls.

Frankie is my friend. Capisce?

You don't touch him, you don't speak to him,

you don't even dream about him.

If you see him coming toward you,

you cross the street.

But if he trips,

you better be there to catch him.

Hmm?

And now, get out of here.

You're being watched, friends.

Thank you, Tommy.

God's gift from up above

A real unselfish love

I've found in my

Mother's eyes

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen.

He's good. Yeah. He's very good.

- Have a good night.

- Thank you.

I appreciate you sang that, Frankie.

It was my mother's favorite song.

Oh, please.

My pleasure, Mr. DeCarlo.

By the way, you get your car back?

My car? Yeah.

Those guys, they went away?

Yeah.

You're a good boy, Frankie.

Frankie, here's your claim check.

Anytime you got a problem...

...you reach out to me.

- Mm?

- All right.

- Beautiful tonight.

- Thanks.

You got something to say? Huh?

Hmm?

Good.

For years, I'm humping DeCarlds laundry,

he treats me like a burn.

Frankie sings one song,

he gets a claim check.

I'll tell you, it's good to be lead singer.

Anyway, Nick Massi finally revolves

out of Rahway.

- Hey.

Hey.

Look at you.

Look at this guy. Like you never left.

Tommooch.

Frankie.

So it's me, Nick and Frankie.

And ifs up to me to keep us out of the gutter.

But nobody's hiring trios anymore.

Trios are dead.

The fact is, I'm all out of ideas.

But I could still do math.

Three Lovers equals zero bookings.

Soto generate some walking around money...

...I'm working with this kid

on a project at a local establishment.

- Who wears short shorts?

- We wear shod shorts

They're such shun skvofts

- Hey, you listening?

- Yeah. Tommy, I'm working. Come on.

You being a wiseass?

After the fifth frame

you start spotting the pins like we said. Right?

Yeah, I know, a little off.

So listen.

We got this jazz group, you know.

We're playing up in Bergenfield with this kid.

Tommy, this kid. He plays like a madman.

He writes songs.

I'm thinking this is the guy

you're looking for.

- Yeah, for what?

- "F0r what?"

For the group. The band,

the Lovers, the Romans...

...whatever the hell the name is this week.

Tommy, this is his song.

Who wears short shorts

Boom, boom, boom

We wear short shorts

I told you! I warned you! I swear

I'm gonna come over, you motherf***er!

Lucky you got a split!

I'm gonna split open your head!

Joey. Pay attention, huh?

Can we take care of our business?

We take care of business,

then we talk about you being a scout.

Yeah, sure, Tommy.

Listen. You don't screw this up,

there's a C-note in it for you.

What's his name?

Gaudio. Bob Gaudio. If you want,

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