Red Eye Page #3

for takeoff. Please enjoy your flight.

- We're not gonna make it.

- Shut up.

We're not gonna make it.

Shut up. I'll punch

you in your face. Shut up.

Just kidding. Come on.

Are we there yet?

So was Henrietta your

mom's mom or your dad's mom?

My mom's. My dad's...

My dad's died a long time ago.

Are your folks still together?

They divorced three years ago,

married for 32.

That's a shame.

So your mom...

Mom moved back to Texas

and Dad stayed in Miami.

I see. And does Dad still work?

Yeah. No! He's recently retired.

He's got a lot of time on his hands

so he makes phone calls.

OK. He's filling

all his work time with...

Worry time.

Does he have reason

to worry about you?

Well, even if he does, I mean,

he's just gotta get used

to the fact that life changes

and sometimes things happen.

I know what you mean.

Usually when things are going perfectly,

you're back on track,

everything's going to plan,

and then one day, outta nowhere,

somebody forgets to bolt

the engine to the wing.

Yeah.

This is your captain. We're through

the worst of it, so you can relax.

Keep your seat belt

fastened while seated,

as we may hit more turbulence.

Thank you.

- Thanks for distracting me.

- Well, it's not really what I'm doing.

What are you doing?

Just keeping the focus

on you and your father.

Why?

Part of my job.

Are you a shrink?

No. Manager.

- Better not say of a hotel.

- No.

- That would...

- Cause you to buy a self-help book.

So, what do you do?

Government overthrows, flashy

high-profile assassinations. The usual.

- You're a spy. I should've known.

- No, I'm not a spy.

- A hit man.

- I'm a lousy shot.

Right. You work for the CIA.

Well, if I did,

I couldn't say, could I?

- But, no.

- The Mafia?

The money's sh*t.

OK, well, that's kinda weird.

- Why don't you tell me what you do?

- I did.

OK. OK, I'm sorry, I...

It's... Whatever you do,

that's your own business.

Just as long as you're not...

What?

Hijacking the plane.

No. No, I'm not suicidal.

That's good.

You're right.

Most days it is my own business.

But right now, as fate would have it,

my business is all about you.

- I'm sorry, about me?

- That's right.

OK, I'm not sure

where you're going with this.

Charles Keefe. One of your

regular VIPs. Ring a bell?

- No, should it?

- Yes, it should.

He's on his way to your hotel

and that's why you need to listen.

No, I don't think...

I don't have to do that.

Yes, you do,

if you want your dad to live.

- What did you say?

- You heard me.

Yeah.

Suit yourself, but you might wanna

take a look at this first.

JR. Joe Reisert.

Your father? Yes?

- Where did you get that?

- I didn't get it.

My associate grabbed it

off your dad's desk.

Apparently next to

your graduation picture.

JR. Definitely Dad's wallet.

His initials. But gee, mine too.

Jack Rippner. Credit card, license.

"For some reason, Stewardess,

this emotionally unstable,

inebriated girl,

I've never met before tonight,

suddenly went crazy

when I took it out of my pocket."

You tell the flight attendant

and your dad dies.

Sit down.

You might wanna buckle up.

- Any luck?

- Our pensions go, then our coffee pots.

18-G's flashing.

Do you want me to...?

I'll take care of it. She

probably just wants another drink.

Maybe I'll join her.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- What can I do for ya?

- Leese,

did you need another

pillow or anything?

No, I don't need anything.

She's just had a really rough day.

A death in the family.

- I'm so sorry.

- Yeah.

- I'll get you water and some tissues.

- Thanks.

- Be right back.

- Thank you.

That was great, Leese.

Keep doing the right thing.

Just bottle the emotions

a little more, OK?

Have you done something to my father?

No. And it'll stay that way

as long as you keep playing along.

What do you want from me?

Now, I wanna wait

for your Kleenex and water.

And once we have our privacy,

we can get back to business.

- Here you go.

- Thank you so much.

- Sure. Feel better, hon.

- Thank you.

I need you to call your hotel.

It's very simple.

Just use your managerial pull

to move Keefe

from 3825 to suite 4080.

I'll leave the details to you.

You just sell it.

You've got the wrong person.

I don't have the authority to do that.

I happen to know that you do.

You're the only voice

that can get this done

by the time I need it done.

- You need me to write it down?

- No.

Well, then what's the delay?

So by changing Keefe's room,

does that make it easier?

Lisa, whatever female-driven,

emotion-based dilemma

you're dealing with right now,

you have my sympathy.

But for the sake

of time and sanity,

let's break this down into a little

male-driven, fact-based logic.

One simple phone call

saves your dad's life.

And it has to be made soon.

You're gonna kill Keefe,

aren't you?

You really need to start worrying

more about your dad, Leese.

How am I supposed to know he's OK?

How do I know you haven't hurt him?

- He's fine.

- Why am I supposed to believe?

The last call I got said he was sitting

in the TV room eating leftover lasagne

and watching the comedy marathon.

Relax, Leese. By now my guy is

probably back in his silver Beemer,

parked outside

9321 Blossom Palms Lane.

He's sitting in the dark,

listening to a little smooth jazz,

while he sharpens

his 12-inch KA-BAR.

That's a knife, Leese.

- I wanna talk to my dad.

- Sure. After you make the call.

No. I wanna know he's OK right now

or I don't call anybody.

Your dime.

Credit card?

Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has

turned off the fasten seat belt sign.

You're free to move about the cabin.

Stay tuned for more of the comedy

marathon following these messages.

I'm comin', I'm comin'!

God.

- Hello?

- Dad?

Leese? Are you already home?

No, I'm on the air phone on the plane.

We were late taking off and...

Honey, I know you don't like it

when I ask, but are you all right?

You sound upset.

Leese?

Leese? Are you still there?

Did he sound healthy to you?

I hope that's a yes,

because that's the best I can do.

Now let's get this over with.

Excuse me. I'm sorry.

Can you help me again?

Last time, I promise.

Sure.

Don't get cute.

- You're so sweet.

- Hello, again.

You know, I didn't think that

this book would be so much work.

There's all these surveys about yourself

before you can go on to the rest...

Could you wait one second?

- Sure.

- My nails.

Know what? Don't worry

about the surveys. I'll just...

- I'll just highlight my favourite part.

- Wonderful.

- Got it.

- Great.

- You are a lifesaver.

- Yep.

Would you gimme your address too?

I wanna return the favour.

I'm always breaking

my nails on these things.

I'm gonna need you

to help me put it back up.

- Clear the aisle.

- We're on a collision course.

- I'll come back for that later.

- No. Here you go.

- Last time?

- Thank you.

OK.

- Sorry I'm... I'm blocking your seat.

- Not at all.

- Excuse us, ma'am.

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