Life Page #4

SPANKY JOHNSON emerges into the light. He uses a small silver

spoon to take an ample snort of cocaine into each nostril.

He glances at Claude.

SPANKY:

Who's he? Friend of yours, Ray?

CLAUDE:

I never saw this man before tonight.

He's a lowlife degenerate who lurks

in bathrooms. I'm a professional

man, an upstanding citizen. I go to

church on Sunday.

SPANKY:

Then what are you doing here?

BULLETHEAD:

Failure to pay.

CLAUDE:

(rattled)

Look, Mr. Johnson, you seem like a

reasonable man. I got a good job

starts Monday. I'll pay you back

with my first pay check. With

interest. I don't want to tell you

how to conduct your business, but if

you cut off my finger you won't get

jack. Working an adding machine, I

gotta be whole.

(his fingers dancing

over imaginary keys)

I need my thumbs and all my fingers

for praying and doing good...

Spanky holds up a hand, silencing Claude.

SPANKY:

The choirboy wants to keep his

fingers. Who am I to argue? Drop

him.

CLAUDE:

Drop him? What does drop him mean?

Claude protests loudly as Bullethead and the henchman bind

his hands and feet. Spanky turns to Ray.

SPANKY:

You gotta lotta balls showing your

face around my club. If a man's gonna

run numbers on my side of Broadway,

you think he'd have the common sense

to keep a low profile. But not Ray

Gibson.

The goons hoist Claude up on another pulley and dangle him

head first over a hole in the floor. Several feet down, the

Harlem River laps against the wooden pylons.

CLAUDE:

No, not down there! That water's

filthy! Help me out here, man!

Shrugging, Ray pinches his nose and puffs out his cheeks.

The goons release the rope and Claude plunges into the water.

Spanky turns back to Ray.

RAY:

You don't have to drown that fella,

Spanky. You already scared him half

to death. He didn't know who he was

f***ing with.

SPANKY:

But you do. What does that say about

you, Ray? What does that say about

me? I've given you a lot of leeway

over the years on account of your

father. But he didn't last long enough

to teach you the meaning of the word

respect so I guess I'm gonna have to

school you myself.

RAY:

Come on, Spank, I'm just trying to

get by here. You remember how it was

when you were starting out.

The henchman yanks on the rope. Claude emerges from the hole,

gasping for breath.

CLAUDE:

I was supposed to wear this suit on

Monday!

The henchman releases the rope, sending Claude back into the

water. Ray reaches into his jacket. Bullethead pulls a gun

and presses it into Ray's temple. Ray gives him a look and

cautiously pulls out his bottle.

SPANKY:

What's that, some of your bathtub

brew?

RAY:

Puerto Rican rum. See for yourself.

Ray tosses him the bottle. Spanky uncorks, sniffs, samples

the goods. He's impressed.

SPANKY:

Where'd you get this?

RAY:

Comes up the Mississippi. I can get

more. A lot more. I was thinking

about going into business for myself,

but under the circumstances, I'd be

willing to take on a partner.

Once again, the henchman yanks on the rope and Claude comes

up sucking air desperately. He releases the rope, submerging

Claude for a third time.

SPANKY:

I'm interested. Keep talking.

RAY:

All I need is the front money and a

truck. I could be back in two, three

days tops if I had somebody to share

the driving.

Spanky considers the terms. Can he afford to trust Ray? Can

he afford not to?

SPANKY:

If you f*** me on this one, I'll

spare no expense.

RAY:

Understood.

SPANKY:

Alright, Ray, you've got a deal.

Pick your man and get going.

Ray glances around. The pulley rope is still twitching in

the water.

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