Mobsters Page #16

SIEGEL:

Yeah. And no more Tommy Reina.

CUT TO:

EXT:
STATEN ISLAND STREET - DAY

A row of substantial homes overlook New York Harbor. A crew

of painters work on one of the houses. A car pulls into the

driveway of the house next door. A middle-aged woman and her

teenage daughter climb out, with packages from a shopping

trip.

ON THE BALCONY OF THE FIRST HOUSE

A YOUNG PAINTER closely watches the two women as they move

toward their house.

INSIDE A BEDROOM OFF THE BALCONY

Frank Costello watches out a window, as he talks on the phone.

FRANK:

I'm startin' ta think Profaci's losin'

it. Been here three weeks and he

ain't given us a look.

CUT TO:

INT:
LUCIANO'S APARTMENT - DAY

Charlie lays in bed, propped up on pillows, out of his casts.

LUCIANO:

Masseria's tryin' ta find a way around

ya. But his patience won't hold out

much longer.

FRANK:

(ON PHONE)

How's Bugsy doin'?

LUCIANO:

Tommy Reina's hauntin' his dreams.

But he'll do his job.

Gay enters the bedroom carrying a hot water bottle. As she

slips it under Charlie's back, he pulls her down onto the

bed.

LUCIANO:

Bye, Frank.

Gay tries to squirm away from Charlie, but he grabs her hand.

LUCIANO:

A lot of sh*t came out of me in the

hospital. I'm sorry you got hit by

it.

GAY ORLOVA:

(cool)

You must be feeling better, if you're

looking for sex again.

Charlie twists her arm, and Gay yelps in pain.

LUCIANO:

I meant just what I said.

Charlie tosses her arm away from him in disgust. Gay softens.

GAY ORLOVA:

You're not the only one who has to

be hard for the world.

Charlie and Gay stare at each other from across the bed.

GAY ORLOVA:

That's why I understand you.

She moves close to Charlie, rubbing a hand across his chest.

GAY ORLOVA:

Would it be painful for you?

LUCIANO:

It always is.

CUT TO:

CLOSE - ON CHARLIE'S FACE

As he lays on top of Gay, clenching his teeth in pain as he

thrusts himself inside her again and again. As they near

their climax, Charlie desperately kisses Gay about the face.

He stifles a cry, but tears pour down his cheeks. No longer

able to hold back, Charlie buries his face in Gay's hair and

sobs.

CUT TO:

INT:
PROFACI HOUSE - DAY

JOE PROFACI'S DAUGHTER preens in front of a mirror in a new

dress, the price tag still hanging from the front.

IN THE LIVING ROOM

JOE PROFACI sits with one leg thrown over the arm of his

easy chair, reading the newspaper. His daughter pulls the

paper aside and models her dress. Joe smiles his approval,

but gestures for her to come closer. As he tries to read the

price tag, she laughs and pulls away.

OUTSIDE THE HOUSE

A panel truck parks and a uniformed DELIVERYMAN jumps out

with package in hand and heads up the walk.

THE PAINTER ON THE BALCONY NEXT DOOR

watches the Deliveryman. Moves to the window and taps on it.

Inside the bedroom, Costello starts awake in the chair where

he's dozed off. He hurries to the window as the Deliveryman

disappears under the roof of the Profaci porch.

COSTELLO:

hurtles out the front door and races toward the street.

AT PROFACI'S FRONT DOOR

His daughter opens the door for the Deliveryman. He hands

her a clipboard to sign.

AT THE TRUCK:

Costello flings open the rear doors. The back is empty.

ON THE PORCH:

The Deliveryman takes the clipboard and hands the Daughter

the package. He turns to see Costello, racing up the walk,

his pistol drawn. Costello shouts to the girl.

FRANK:

Drop the package!

The Deliveryman looks for an escape route. The Profaci's

Daughter clutches the package like a life preserver.

COSTELLO DROPS TO ONE KNEE AND SHOOTS

The light fixture over the girl's head EXPLODES. She drops

the package and races inside, slamming the door as she goes.

INSIDE THE HOUSE

Profaci herds his Daughter and Wife down into the basement.

ON THE PORCH:

The Deliveryman crawls toward the package laying exposed in

front of the door. As he grabs the package, another shot

explodes into the door.

COSTELLO KNEELS ON THE LAWN

waiting for the Deliveryman to reappear.

INSIDE THE HOUSE

Joe Profaci, a pistol raised next to his head, peers down

the hallway toward the front door.

ON THE FRONT PORCH

the Deliveryman leaps up, ready to heave the package at

Costello. Three shots tear into his chest. He drops the

package and falls across it.

THE FRONT PORCH EXPLODES IN A BALL OF FIRE

Costello ducks as a volley of flaming debris showers over

him. He looks up at the huge hole torn in the front of the

house. Joe Profaci emerges through the smoke, gun drawn.

Costello raises his weapon in response. Profaci, puzzled to

see him, lowers his gun.

JOE PROFACI:

Frankie? Is that you? What the hell's

goin' on?

Costello shrugs.

FRANK:

Deliveryman had the wrong address.

CUT TO:

INT:
SIEGEL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Bugsy sits at a kitchen table littered with shotgun shells.

He tips gunpowder from a tin onto a scales, then pours the

measure into an empty shell with a jeweler's precision. He

twists a cap onto the shell, and adds it to a pile. The wall

phone rings.

SIEGEL:

Yeah... ya sure Profaci's okay?...

Tommy's havin' dinner with his Aunt

in Brooklyn like he does every Monday.

Siegel looks at his watch.

SIEGEL:

Yeah. I got time.

CUT TO:

EXT:
A BROOKLYN STREET - NIGHT

Siegel sits in a car on a street of neatly kept brownstones.

THE FRONT DOOR TO ONE OF THE BROWNSTONES

swings open. Tommy Reina gives his Aunt a kiss on the cheek.

AS REINA MOVES DOWN THE SIDEWALK

Bugsy steps from behind a tree. Reina pulls up short.

REINA:

Jeez, Bugsy. Ya like ta scared the

crap outta me.

SIEGEL:

Just wanted ta say hello.

As they shake hands, Siegel seems reluctant to let go.

SIEGEL:

Know something Tommy? You're a mensch.

REINA:

That a Jew compliment?

SIEGEL:

Best we got.

REINA:

Awww ... deep down I'm a bastard, but

when ya got eight kids ya can't make

enemies.

SIEGEL:

Guess so. Ya got a minute? I got

somethin' for ya.

CLOSE - ON THE TRUNK OF SIEGEL'S CAR

As it pops open, revealing a cache of weapons. Bugsy gestures

to the pile.

SIEGEL:

Take any one ya like.

REINA:

Kinda early for Christmas, Bugs.

SIEGEL:

A Jew's gotta let his heart tell him

when ta give his presents.

A little uncertain, but not wanting to offend, Reina pulls

out a sawed-off shotgun with a gleaming silver barrel and a

perfectly waxed rosewood stock. He inspects it admiringly.

SIEGEL:

Ya got a eye for a tool.

Siegel tilts the barrel toward his own temple.

SIEGEL:

Blow a fella's brains clean out.

Reina laughs uneasily as Siegel pulls the gun from his head.

REINA:

You're f***in' crazy.

SIEGEL:

But only on purpose, Tommy.

REINA:

This is nice. I mean it.

Siegel taps his chest over his heart.

SIEGEL:

From here, Paisan.

A shy smile flickers across Tommy's face.

REINA:

See ya around.

Reina slips the shotgun under his coat, and turns to go.

SIEGEL:

Oh, Tommy.

Reina turns around and stares up the barrel of a pistol Siegel

has leveled at him.

SIEGEL:

It's a bad world.

The gun EXPLODES in Reina's face.

CUT TO BLACK:

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