Out of Sight Page #2

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FOLEY:

You excited?

CHINO:

I told you, man, Super Bowl Sunday.

FOLEY:

Yeah, but I see you moved it up.

CHINO:

(beat)

Why you think is today?

FOLEY:

You were out running this morning,

sticking to your routine, anybody

happened to notice. But you only did

a couple of miles instead of your usual

five. Saving yourself for the main

event. Then I see you inside eating

ten pounds of macaroni. Carbohydrates

for endurance.

Chino and Lulu exchange looks.

CHINO:

You want, I tole you you can come.

You all right, Foley. I like you.

FOLEY:

You told me I can come 'cause I caught

you digging the f***in' tunnel, saw you

and Lulu coming out of the bushes,

thought maybe you two were making out.

Foley smiles at Lulu, who glares back at him.

FOLEY (CONT'D)

So what, you finish ahead of schedule?

Chino looks towards the fence along the front of the yard.

CHINO:

You see what they doing, those posts

out there? Putting up another fence,

five metres on the other side of the

one that's there. We wait until Super

Bowl Sunday, they could have the second

fence built and we have to dig another

nine, ten days. So we going soon as

it's dark. You want -- I mean it --

you can still come.

FOLEY:

I appreciate the offer. And it's

tempting.

Foley looks off towards the visitors' parking area, the fence

not twenty yards away.

FOLEY (CONT'D)

But, man, it's a long run to

civilization. A hundred miles to Miami?

I'm too old to start acting crazy, try

a stunt like that. You make it out,

send me a postcard.

CUT TO:
A NOTEPAD

where we see someone has written "IT'S MAGIC!" then crossed out

the "IT'S" and replaced it with the word "LIKE". We hear THE

PHONE RING AND...

REVEAL:
INT. ADELE'S APARTMENT - DAY

Miami Beach Moderne. ADELE -- mid-thirties, pretty, Foley's ex --

sits at her kitchen table writing on a pad. She grabs the phone.

ADELE:

Hello?

(then, sighs)

Yeah, I accept.

INT. PRISON HALLWAY - DAY

Foley on the phone...

FOLEY'S VOICE

Hey, Adele, how you doing?

INTERCUTTING FOLEY & ADELE:

ADELE:

Hey, Bank Robber, want some advice?

Next time, leave the engine running.

FOLEY:

That's funny, Adele. How many more

times you gonna gimme that one?

ADELE:

Till it's not funny any more. What do

you want, Jack?

FOLEY:

You know that Super Bowl party? They

changed the date. It's on tonight,

eight-thirty.

ADELE:

Didn't you tell me one-time calls aren't

monitored?

FOLEY:

I said not as a rule.

ADELE:

So why don't you come right out and

tell me what you're talking about?

FOLEY:

Listen to Miss Smarty Mouth. Out there

in the free world.

ADELE:

What's free about it? I'm looking for

work.

FOLEY:

What happened to Mandrake the Magician?

ADELE:

Emil the Amazing. The bastard fired

me and hired another girl, a redhead.

I'm working on a new business card,

pass out to the cafes. How's this

sound--

FOLEY:

(cuts her off)

Listen, Adele, the reason I called,

that party is today instead of Sunday.

About eight-thirty, like only a few

hours from now. So you'll have to get

hold of Buddy, whatever he might be

doing...

ADELE:

And the one driving the other car?

FOLEY:

What're you talking about?

ADELE:

Well, seeing as you have so much luck

with cars, Buddy thought it might be

better to bring two. He got this guy

he says you know from Lompoc, Glenn

something.

FOLEY:

Glenn Michaels.

ADELE:

Yeah, that's him. Buddy says Glenn

thinks you guys are real cool.

FOLEY:

He did, huh. Well, tell Buddy I see

Glenn wearing his sunglasses I'll step

on 'em. I might not even take 'em off

first.

INT. RESTAURANT - DAY

As MARSHALL SISCO -- fifty -- slides a small wrapped box across

a table...

MARSHALL:

Happy birthday.

...to where KAREN SISCO -- twenty-eight, black suit, long hair,

a knockout -- sits. She picks up the box and shakes it.

KAREN:

You fit another Chanel suit in here?

MARSHALL:

Something better. Open it.

Karen starts to carefully unwrap the present. Marshall watches,

takes a sip of his drink, looks around the bar, sees how

everyone's looking at the two of them...

KAREN:

(opens the box)

Oh my God...

She pulls a gleaming automatic pistol from the box...

KAREN (CONT'D)

It's beautiful.

MARSHALL:

It's a --

KAREN:

--Sig-Sauer .38. I love it.

She leans across the table and kisses him.

KAREN (CONT'D)

Thanks, Dad.

MARSHALL:

Happy birthday, kid.

(then)

You want another Coke?

KAREN:

(checks her watch)

Can't. I gotta drive out to Glades,

then I'm meeting Ray Nicolet at ten.

MARSHALL:

Which one is that? The ATF guy?

KAREN:

He was. Ray's with the F.B.I. now,

he switched over.

MARSHALL:

He's still married though, huh?

KAREN:

Technically. They're separated.

MARSHALL:

Oh, he's moved out?

KAREN:

He's about to.

MARSHALL:

Then they're not separated, are they?

KAREN:

Can we change the subject?

MARSHALL:

What're you doing at Glades?

KAREN:

Serving process, a Summons and

Complaint. Some con doing mandatory

life doesn't like macaroni and cheese.

He files suit, says he has no choice

in what they serve and it violates his

civil rights.

MARSHALL:

You know you can always step in, work

with me full-time as one of my

investigators.

KAREN:

No thanks.

MARSHALL:

You used to like it.

KAREN:

Dad...

MARSHALL:

You'd meet doctors, lawyers -- nothing

wrong with them necessarily if they're

divorced. Why settle for some cowboy

cop who drinks too much and cheats on

his wife? That's the way those hotshots

are, all of 'em.

KAREN:

I really gotta go.

MARSHALL:

We don't get to talk much any more.

KAREN:

How 'bout I come next Sunday and watch

the Super Bowl with you?

MARSHALL:

I'd like that.

She gets up, kisses him again.

KAREN:

Thanks for the gun, Dad.

INT. FOLEY'S CELL - BELLE GLADE - DAY

Foley comes in, lies down on the bunk. He looks about the

cell. All he's got to show for himself. It's now quiet on

the cellblock. Foley closes his eyes and we...

CUT TO:
EXT. PRISON AUDITORIUM

A few hundred cons scream encouragement/insults as MAURICE

"SNOOPY" MILLER, a lanky, scary, mean-looking black man in boxing

trunks, hits a white guy with a ferocious hook.

Title reads:
LOMPOC FEDERAL PENITENTIARY. LOMPOC, CALIFORNIA.

And then... TWO YEARS AGO.

AT THE BACK OF THE AUDITORIUM

Foley leans in a doorway watching with BUDDY BRAGG -- black,

Foley's age, shaved head.

The BELL SOUNDS and the white guy staggers to his corner, as

does Maurice. GLENN MICHAELS -- surfer look, dark shades --

counts cash in Maurice's corner, whispers something into the

fighter's ear.

BUDDY:

Ref don't call it pretty soon, Snoopy's

gonna send this guy out in a body bag.

Foley watches a MAN -- fifties, out of place, not as hard-looking

as those around him. The guy looks nervous, can feel the other

cons' eyes on him as he tries to find a seat.

The BELL SOUNDS and the white boxer staggers to his feet.

Maurice steps in and resumes the bloody pummelling. Foley turns

and watches the fight now...

FOLEY:

Anyone ever tell you why they call him

Snoopy?

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