Malcolm X Page #9

SAMMY:

Man live by his rep.

ARCHIE:

That's a fact. What you do, boy?

MALCOLM:

I'm working trains. Selling.

ARCHIE:

Bet you like that sh*t.

MALCOLM:

Keeps me out of the army.

ARCHIE:

When they want your ass, won't nothing

keep you out.

MALCOLM:

Not this boy... I ain't fighting

their war. I got my own. Right chere.

Heard tell you're a good man to know.

ARCHIE:

Heard where?

MALCOLM:

Where I come from. Boston.

Sammy and Cadillac are watching a little skeptically. Archie

is flattered.

ARCHIE:

Sombitch and I ain't never been to

Beantown.

MALCOLM:

Man's rep travels.

ARCHIE:

How 'bout that?

Then seeing Sammy and Cadillac's dubious visages, Archie

adds:

ARCHIE:

You ain't bullshitting me, is you,

boy?

MALCOLM:

My papa taught me one thing: don't

never bullshit a West Indian bullshit

artist.

Archie laughs. Even Sammy smiles. Cadillac still holds his

judgment.

ARCHIE:

Is your papa West Indian?

MALCOLM:

No, my mama. She's from Grenada.

ARCHIE:

I like you, country.

SAMMY:

Only where'd you get them goddam

vines.

CADILLAC:

And them shoes. Oh, my.

ARCHIE:

Yeah, got to do something about you.

SAMMY:

You putting a hurtin' on my vision.

Sammy covers his eyes. Malcolm plays off the insults.

MALCOLM:

Where can I get a hold of you?

ARCHIE:

YOU can't. I'll get a hold of you.

MALCOLM:

Lemme write it down for you.

Malcolm reaches for a pencil.

ARCHIE:

Don't never write nothing down. File

it up here, like I do.

(touching his head)

'Cause if they can't find no paper

they ain't got no proof. Ya dig?

MALCOLM:

Yes, sir.

Archie looks at him sharply.

ARCHIE:

Boy, look me in the face.

Malcolm does so.

ARCHIE:

Did you just now con me?

MALCOLM:

Yes, sir.

ARCHIE:

Why?

MALCOLM:

'Cause I want in. And it don't take

a lot to know you there, daddy.

Archie and Sammy laugh at his directness. Cadillac smiles.

Archie pushes back his chair, about to get up.

ARCHIE:

I got me a little run to make.

Malcolm has suddenly been excluded and he wants desperately

back in.

MALCOLM:

Can I run with you, Mr. Archie?

Archie eyes him, weighing him seriously.

ARCHIE:

I like your heart and I like your

style. You might just do, Little.

Lessen you got to git back to that

train job.

MALCOLM:

I done told the man what he could do

with his train.

ARCHIE:

When?

MALCOLM:

Just now.

The three established hustlers smile at the newcomer in their

midst.

ARCHIE:

Come on, baby. We going shopping...

INT. ARCHIE'S ROOM - NIGHT

Malcolm is looking at himself in a mirror in Archie's room.

He has on the full outfit now, together with a new white on

white shirt and a Sulka tie. Looks great.

ARCHIE:

Just the middle button, baby. Just

the middle one.

Malcolm buttons the jacket and turns around, demonstrating

for Archie's inspection.

ARCHIE:

You looking good, Little. Real clean.

Clean as the Board of Health. But

you missing something.

MALCOLM:

What?

ARCHIE:

Frisk me, baby. Give me a real pat

down.

Malcolm doesn't understand, but he senses something -- and

becomes excited. Archie has walked over to him.

ARCHIE:

Go ahead. Do me.

Malcolm frisks him carefully: pats his sides, his pockets,

under his arms, his legs. Archie is clean to the touch.

ARCHIE:

(triumphantly)

And I'm still carrying.

He smacks the small of his back. Then, reaching under his

coat, he takes a revolver out from the middle of his back.

And hands it to Malcolm.

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