Playback Page #4

MITCHELL:

(staring at her)

Margo, darling. You washed me up.

Remember? We're just friends. You

wanted it that way.

MARGO:

(ignoring this)

She's very beautiful. She's much

younger than I am. And she's rich,

I hope.

MITCHELL:

Rich? I haven't the faintest idea.

Why?

MARGO:

You ought to know why.

MITCHELL:

I don't. My hunch is she's just

torn up an unhappy marriage. I was

able to do her a small favor.

MARGO:

Splendid. Now she can return the

compliment.

She crosses the desk, gets bag, gets keys out, unlocks the

desk drawer and jerks it open, takes something out and

turns, holding it in her hand. Two checks.

MARGO:

She can give you enough money to

cover these... and the other bad

checks you've given me.

Mitchell comes up to her slowly, looks down at the checks.

MITCHELL:

I hoped to get enough to cover

them before they cleared. I wasn't

lucky.

MARGO:

You know what would happen to you

if I turned these over to the

police?

MITCHELL:

(quietly)

I have a rough idea.

MARGO:

You'd go to jail. For a long term.

MITCHELL:

Correct. I couldn't even afford to

pay a lawyer to defend me.

A beat. They stare at each other.

MITCHELL:

What'll we do about it, Margo?

MARGO:

She is much younger than I am.

That's something I'm going to have

to get used to. Isn't it, Larry?

They'll all be much younger than I

am. Here.

(she holds out the

checks)

Tear them up.

He takes them, puts them in his pocket and stands there

looking at her. A sob catches in her throat.

MARGO:

I guess I'm still in love with

you, Larry. What an idiot!

He reaches to take her in his arms. First she pushes him

off, then yields. He pulls her close and kisses her. Then,

as they come out of the kiss,

MITCHELL:

I've always been a heel. I guess I

always will be.

MARGO:

You don't have to make a pose of

it.

MITCHELL:

It's the only pose I have left.

I'm sunk. Broke. I don't even have

my hotel bill.

MARGO:

(a little sharply)

I seem to recognize this routine.

First the kiss then the touch.

(she makes a hopeless

gesture.)

Oh, what's the use. You're you.

She turns and moves towards the desk.

MARGO:

I only have a couple of hundred.

She picks her bag up, holds it out. He comes up beside

her.

MARGO:

I seem to remember that you like

to help yourself.

MITCHELL:

(taking the bag)

That's not very kind.

MARGO:

Kind or not kind. What's the

difference? It always ends up the

same way.

He gives her a twisted smile, opens the bag, rummages

through it, opens the zipper pocket inside and comes out

with some currency and looks over, puts it in his pocket.

Puts the bag down on the desk, glances into the open drawer.

His look becomes fixed.

MITCHELL'S POV (what he sees), SHOOTING DOWN INTO THE

DRAWER, is a small, pearl-handled automatic, lying in the

corner. Mitchell's hand goes down into it, takes the gun.

TWO-SHOT of Margo and Mitchell as his hand comes up with

the gun.

MITCHELL:

(almost amused)

What's this?

MARGO:

What does it look like?

MITCHELL:

How long have you had it?

MARGO:

Years, why?

MITCHELL:

It's against the law to cross the

border with a gun. The Canadian

police might like to know about

this.

MARGO:

(very quietly)

You already have the checks,

darling.

MITCHELL:

I didn't mean it that way

(he puts the gun

back in the drawer,

pushes the drawer

shut.)

I'm sorry.

MARGO:

Oh, forget it. Clark Brandon's

throwing a party up in his penthouse

this evening. Take me?

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes