One Fine Day Page #7

- Mr Taylor? Lt Bonomo, 18th Precinct.

We found your daughter.

What?

- Excuse me. Have you seen Jack Taylor?

- No, I haven't.

Excuse me. You don't happen

to know Jack Taylor, do you?

- Very well, in fact.

- You're... Celia, aren't you?

Yes. And you must be the one

who lost his little girl.

- Hello! Maggie!

- Daddy!

- Hey! Hi.

- Hello.

Hey, I'm Jack Taylor. That's mine.

Thank you very much for watching her.

- It was my pleasure.

- I'm sure it was.

- Come on.

- I wanna play with the kitties.

I gotta go to a press conference. Hi, kitties.

Come on. Tag - you're it! Chase me. Let's go.

- No. I wanna play with the kitties.

- Come on. Red light, green light.

- Stop it!

- Let's go. Maggie, don't do this right now.

Don't you understand? If I don't get there...

- No, Daddy, no! Stop it!

- Do you want me to lose my job?

- You really love those kittens, right?

- Yeah.

OK. Come on. Come here.

Watch your head. There.

OK.

What are their names?

This one's Bob cos he looks like a bobcat.

And that one's Fred, and that one's...

I forget this one's name.

OK. Listen, Maggie. I know that

this has been a rotten day for you,

and I know all you wanna do

is play with these kittens.

I don't blame you cos they're great.

But if I don't get to this press conference, I'll

lose my job. And I don't wanna lose my job.

So we gotta work somethin' out.

We gotta make some kind of a deal here.

So... what if we talk

to this beautiful young lady

and we ask her if maybe Bob can come

to the press conference with us?

You mean keep him?

- Borrow him.

- But I wanna keep him.

- You'll have to ask your mother about that.

- She's allergic.

Oh, that's right. She gets all...

All right. You know what?

Bob can just stay at my house.

Where would he sleep?

You know that room with all the boxes in it?

We could clear it out. He could sleep there.

- That's a good idea.

- Yeah.

Of course you're gonna have to come over

and visit every once in a while to check up.

Make sure I'm feedin' him and everything.

- I will.

- Yeah?

Come here.

You know, maybe what we oughta do

is put a bed in that room for you too.

Yeah.

- Cos he might get lonely.

- Yeah.

But he's not gonna get lonely with you there.

Let me take a look at this guy.

So this is gonna be our cat, huh?

- Bob.

- Hey, Bob.

Now can we get outta here already?

Mr Mayor! Mr Mayor!

Mr Burroughs?

Do you plan to sue

Jack Taylor and the Daily News

for the apparently false, unsubstantiated

charges they've made against you?

Hey, that's not a bad idea.

- Hey, Dad. That guy's on the bus too.

- Hurry, please.

- His picture's bigger than yours.

- You speak English?

Last question, please.

Excuse me! Excuse me.

Last question, please.

- Mom, you're not a reporter.

- I gotta do something.

- Mr Mayor!

- Mr Mayor!

- What are you gonna say?

- I don't know.

- Mr Mayor!

- Yes?

- You, on the right.

- I...

- What about Elaine...

- Lieberman.

- Lieberman!

- What about her?

She's my sanitation commissioner's wife.

She has nothing to do with this.

What paper are you with, young lady?

I believe Mrs Lieberman has spoken to Jack

Taylor and can back up everything he said.

Jack Taylor is a reckless man

with a gift for manipulating the truth.

I... I know Jack Taylor, sir,

and... and... and... and he is

pretty cocky most of the time

and he does seem to have somewhat of

a cavalier attitude, but at least he's honest.

I don't know what relationship

you have with Mr Taylor,

but you clearly know nothing

about politics or journalism.

That's it. No more questions. Thank you.

Melanie!

Look, Melanie. I got a kitty!

His name's Bob and Dad said I can keep him!

- Mr Mayor?

- Jack, Elaine Lieberman didn't show up.

- I know that. Mr Mayor!

- No, no, no, Mr Taylor.

The press conference is over.

Mr Mayor, you may be able

to strong-arm Manny Feldstein

and to buffalo my paper into printing

a retraction, and they may actually fire me.

- But we both know this garbage thing stinks.

- Pitiful, Mr Taylor.

You and your little friend in the outfit.

Just pitiful!

What is pitiful, Mr Mayor, is that

if I had a few minutes more,

Elaine Lieberman would be here

with a canceled check for $250,000,

from a very well-known Mob front,

made out to your reelection campaign.

That's a blatant fabrication! We both know

that no such canceled check exists!

You know, you're right. I'm confused.

There would be no check.

But there would be a deposit slip.

Wouldn't there, Elaine?

- Come here. Hi. Can I have that, please?

- Hello, Sidney.

All right. This is dated March 15 of this year.

It is a deposit slip for $250,000.

That same day a deposit was made

into your campaign account for $250,000.

But I guess that was just a coincidence.

The press conference is over! I said over!

How'd you discover the account?

- Elaine, what can I say?

- Jack, it was my pleasure.

- Can I see that document?

- In the paper tomorrow, Frank.

You guys wanna go

to the soccer game? Come on.

- All right. My public. Who first?

- Does your husband know you've done this?

My husband. Funny you bring that up.

He's in Barbados. B-A-R-B-A-D...

That was an excellent moment in my life.

- Congratulations.

- Thank you.

- Can we go to the soccer game now?

- Yes, sweetheart.

- Yeah, boy. Come here.

- I really am so sorry about Maggie.

- I don't wanna think what could've happened.

- Me neither.

I can't believe I was issued shellfish

and dander warnings. Sandbox alerts.

You laughed in my face

when I came to your office on time.

- I know.

- And then you lost my daughter.

It was the worst thing I could've done.

- I really am so sorry.

- So someone else is the irresponsible one.

- Yes, they are.

- I'd like to hear you say that for your kind.

- My kind?

- The ones with all the balls in the air.

- It's the least you could do.

- Of course I'll say it, Jack.

I was the irresponsible one. Taxi!

- Now say "I can't do everything on my own."

- Why?

Because with one sentence

you can restore my faith in women again.

- Of course I'll say it for you, Jack.

- OK.

- We'll never get a cab.

- You can't say it.

- Sure I can, but it won't be true.

- I'm waitin'.

- OK. I can't do everything alone.

- There. Great.

Even though my daily activities

year after year contradict that.

Unbelievable!

- You made me grovel for no reason.

- For a great reason.

You are an arrogant ball-juggler, baby.

First of all, don't call me "baby."

If you don't want your balls juggled,

don't throw them in my face.

- I never threw them in your face.

- You thrust your stupid column at me

as a lame excuse for my son

missing his field trip.

Balls in my face.

Big Jack Reporter can't possibly

concentrate on mundane details like

phoning to say "Thanks, but I won't need

you to take my daughter to school today."

And then you have to ask who I assume

is one of your many girlfriends

if she's wearing her panties,

as loud as you can! Balls in my face!

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