Miller's Crossing Page #7

All react to Tom's entrance with surprise mixed with

various degrees of outrage, and they hurry to gather their

things and leave. The one exception is Verna, who looks at

Tom with unperturbed distaste.

As he crosses to her seashell chair:

Tom

Who's the warpaint for?

Verna

Go home and dry out.

Tom

You don't need it for Leo, believe me. He

already thinks you're the original Miss Jesus.

She glances hurriedly around the lounge, but the last of

the women are already leaving.

Verna

. . . What the hell's the matter with you?

Tom

What's the matter with you? Afraid people might

get the right idea?

Verna studies him for a beat.

Verna

Leo's got the right idea. I like him, he's

honest and he's got a heart.

Tom weaves a couple of steps closer to her.

Tom

Then its true what they say. Opposites attract.

Verna

Do me a favor and mind your own business.

She turns back to the mirror and starts applying her

lipstick. Tom drops down to face her in the mirror.

Tom

This is my business. Intimidating helpless women is

part of what I do.

Verna

Then find one and intimidate her.

Tom swallows the rest of his drink in one gulp.

Tom

Leo's upstairs getting ready to shoot himself in

the foot on your account.

Verna

I don't know what you're talking about.

Tom

He's gonna go to the mat for your brother. And

it's gonna hurt him.

Verna

I don't know Leo's business, but he's a big boy.

Tom

He used to be.

Verna causes with the lipstick. She looks at Tom intently

but her tone softens.

Verna

Look. What do you want, Tom? You want me to

pretend I don't care what happens to Bernie?

Well I do. He's my brother and I don't want him

to get hurt. If Leo wants to help him out I'll

step out with him, show him a good time in

return. There's no harm in that.

Tom

There's a name for that kind of business arrange-

ment.

Verna

I'll do what I have to for Bernie and there's no

reason for you to try and queer that. Regardless

of what you think of me, Bernie's a decent guy.

Tom

A straight shooter, huh? A square gee?

Verna

Yeah, sneer at him like everyone else. Just

because he's different. People think he's a

degenerate. People think he's scum. Well he's

not.

Tom

Poor misunderstood Bernie.

Verna swivels around to stare quizzically at Tom.

Verna

. . . What is this about? You want me to stop

seeing Leo . . . Why don't you just say so?

Tom

I want you to quit spinning Leo in circles and

pointing him where to go.

Verna

I forgot--that's your job, isn't it?

Tom

I'll do what I have to to protect Leo. I'm

asking you--politely, for me--to leave him alone.

I don't have to ask. If I told him about our

little dance last night, your pull would dry up

pretty fast.

Now Verna is irritated:

Verna

So would yours. I don't like being threatened.

Tom

I don't like being played for a sucker. That

game might work with Leo but it won't work with

me.

Verna

You think last night was just more campaigning

for my brother?

Tom

I can see the angles. . .

He grabs her by the arm and drags her roughly to her feet.

. . . And I know if there was a market for little

old ladies, you'd have Grandma Bernheim first on

line.

Verna

(struggling to get out of his grasp)

You're a pathetic rumhead.

Tom

And I love you, Angel.

Tom takes her hat off, tosses it onto the chair, and kisses

her roughly on the lips.

Verna breaks away and socks him on the jaw. Tom staggers

back, upsetting a table of toiletries and landing against a

banquette.

He throws his empty whiskey glass at Verna.

She ducks and it smashes into the mirror.

They stand staring at each other for a beat, breathing

hard. Tom has a smear of lipstick near one side of his

mouth.

Finally:

Verna.

. . . I suppose you think you've raised hell.

She picks up her stole and heads for the door.

Tom stands staring at her back, swaying, ever so slightly.

Tom

Sister, when T've raised hell you'll know it.

16. CUT TO:

INT TOM'S APARTMENT

A wide shot, facing the semi-circular windows, the door of

the apartment behind us. A large easy chair in the middle

foreground faces away from us: a smaller chair is at the

window end of the room, facing us.

At the cut we hear the ringing of the telephone.

Offscreen we can hear the unhurried scrape of a key in the

lock, then the door opening, then the door closing.

Tom's back enters frame as he strolls into the room and

then disappears briefly through an open doorway to the

right. We hear an icebox door opening and closing, and

then Tom reenters again, still not reacting to the insis-

tently ringing phone. He is now holding a balled-up towel.

He walks over to the facing chair at the window end of the

room, shrugs off his overcoat, drapes it on the chair,

sits, crosses his legs, takes off his hat, tosses it onto

the upraised toes of his crossed leg, tilts his head back,

and presses the towel against his forehead--apparently it

is an icepack.

We are beginning to track slowly towards him.

After a beat he takes out a cigarette, lights it, and

reaches back for the phone that refuses to stop ringing.

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