Made Page #14

RICKY:

But let me tell you, man, I don't

like your attitude already.

BOBBY:

Oh really. Why's that?

RICKY:

We just got moved up in the world.

You gotta let go of that blue collar

mentality that was drummed into your

head. You gotta start owning it man,

or they'll smell you a mile away

like a cheap suit.

BOBBY:

Who's gonna smell me a mile away?

RICKY:

Don't play dumb. You know what I'm

talking about.

He picks up the phone and pulls out Jimmy's card. Bobby hangs

up.

BOBBY:

What are you doing?

RICKY:

What are you doing?

BOBBY:

I know you're not calling Jimmy.

RICKY:

As a matter of fact I was. You got a

problem with that?

BOBBY:

We're here representing Max. You're

acting like a Puerto Rican on the

fifteenth of the month.

RICKY:

You think Maxie doesn't want us to

roll hard? Why do you think he gave

us all this bread? Or the number on

the pager? We gotta represent him by

showing some class. The man's got an

operation. How does it reflect on

him if we nickel and dime it?

He dials. Bobby hangs up.

BOBBY:

It's on West Broadway. We can walk.

RICKY:

Well, I don't want to walk.

Ricky starts to dial. Bobby takes the CARD and RIPS IT UP.

RICKY:

Motherf***er!

Ricky DIVES on Bobby, and a huge ugly BRAWL begins.

CUT TO:

EXT. FORUM - SOHO - MANHATTAN - NIGHT

Ricky and Bobby stand side by side at the front of the line

as Ricky tries to talk his way past the velvet rope. They

look horrible. All their cuts have reopened, their faces are

swollen, and their only set of clothes are now disheveled

and torn. Ricky talks a steady stream of bullshit, but the

DOORMAN will have none of it.

RICKY:

...How 'bout Jimmy? You know Jimmy

the driver? Cardiff Giant? You ever

deal with them? Cardiff Giant?

CUT TO:

INT. THE CUPPING ROOM - SOHO - NIGHT

Ricky and Bobby are poured tea by a frilly SERVER. A LONG

BEAT of SILENCE.

RICKY:

Horseshit. 'Try the China Club. 'F***

you, a**hole. I think it was a fag

bar. Didn't it look like a fag bar.

BEEBEEBEEBEEP:

...They look at each other. BOTH of their PAGERS are going

off simultaneously...

MATCH CUT TO:

EXT. STREET PAYPHONE - ACROSS THE STREET - NIGHT -

CONTINUOUS:

They run up to a phone stand. An HISPANIC KID is on it.

They wait and listen as he talks baby-talk with his woman.

BOBBY:

Hello? Sh*t...

Taptaptap... No dial tone. He lifts the receiver higher.

The wires have been RIPPED OUT of the base. They look at the

next phone. An HISPANIC KID is on it. They wait and listen

as he talks baby-talk with his woman.

HISPANIC KID:

Yeah... Mmmm, that sounds good...

Uhu...

BOBBY:

Excuse me, we need to make a call.

HISPANIC KID:

I'm on the phone.

BOBBY:

It's important.

HISPANIC KID:

So's this.

(in phone)

Hey baby... Oh, nothing. What were

you saying?

BOBBY:

Listen, man, we really gotta...

HISPANIC KID:

I be off in a minute.

(phone)

Say again...?

Ricky GRABS THE RECEIVER and BEATS HIM across the head with

it. The poor kid falls out of frame, and Ricky yells into

the phone...

RICKY:

He'll call back!

He hangs up and they both fumble with their pagers and

pockets. Bobby puts in a quarter...

BOBBY:

Sh*t. It's thirty-five cents. You

got a dime?

RICKY:

F***...

He looks down to the kid out of frame.

RICKY:

You got a dime, bro?

INT. LIMOUSINE - MANHATTAN - NIGHT

The two banged-up Angelenos clean themselves up in the fold-

down vanity mirrors. Jimmy is their driver.

BOBBY:

So, Jimmy, you know where this address

is?

JIMMY:

Yeah. I'll find it. It's in Harlem.

BOBBY:

Harlem? What is it, a restaurant?

JIMMY:

You don't know where you're going?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes