Some Like It Hot Page #22

Joe and Sugar come up the steps. Joe nudges her, directing

her attention to the old crooks.

JOE:

Well, there they are -- more

millionaires than you can shake a

stick at.

SUGAR:

I'll bet there isn't one of them

under seventy-five.

JOE:

Seventy-five. That's three-quarters

of a century. Makes a girl think.

SUGAR:

Yeah, I hope they brought their

grandsons along.

As they pass Osgood Fielding III and start into the lobby,

he tips his Panama jauntily. Then he turns to inspect the

next girl.

The next girl is Jerry, struggling up the steps, loaded with

bass fiddle, saxophone and ukulele. He trips on the top steps,

loses one of his shoes. Osgood jumps up gallantly.

OSGOOD:

Just a moment, miss --

(picks up shoe)

May I?

JERRY:

(extending his foot

regally)

Help yourself.

OSGOOD:

(slipping shoe on)

I am Osgood Fielding the Third.

JERRY:

I am Cinderella the Second.

He starts to pull away, but Osgood holds on to his ankle.

OSGOOD:

If there is one thing I admire, it's

a girl with a shapely ankle.

JERRY:

Me too. Bye now.

OSGOOD:

Let me carry one of the instruments.

JERRY:

Thank you.

(loading him up with

all the instruments)

Aren't you a sweetheart?

He starts into the lobby, Osgood struggling after him with

the instruments.

INT. LOBBY OF THE SEMINOLE-RITZ - DAY

The lobby is very resort-y -- potted palms, overhead fans,

and a heavy undergrowth of wicker furniture. Osgood, balancing

the instruments, follows Jerry in.

OSGOOD:

It certainly is delightful to have

some young blood around here.

JERRY:

Personally, I'm Type O.

OSGOOD:

You know, I've always been fascinated

by show business.

JERRY:

You don't say.

OSGOOD:

Yes, indeed. It's cost my family

quite a bit of money.

JERRY:

You invest in shows?

OSGOOD:

No -- it's showgirls. I've been

married seven or eight times.

JERRY:

You're not sure?

OSGOOD:

Mama is keeping score. Frankly, she's

getting rather annoyed with me

JERRY:

I'm not surprised.

OSGOOD:

So this year, when George White's

Scandals opened, she packed me off

to Florida. Right now she thinks I'm

out there on my yacht -- deep-sea

fishing.

JERRY:

Well, pull in your reel, Mr. Fielding.

You're barking up the wrong fish.

They come up to the elevator. The doors are just closing on

a load of girl musicians going up.

OSGOOD:

If I promise not to be a naughty boy --

how about dinner tonight?

JERRY:

Sorry. I'll be on the bandstand.

OSGOOD:

Oh, of course. Which of these

instruments do you play?

JERRY:

Bull fiddle.

OSGOOD:

Fascinating. Do you use a bow or do

you just pluck it?

JERRY:

Most of the time I slap it.

OSGOOD:

You must be quite a girl.

JERRY:

Wanna bet?

OSGOOD:

My last wife was an acrobatic dancer --

you know, sort of a contortionist --

she could smoke a cigarette while

holding it between her toes -- Zowie! --

but Mama broke it up.

JERRY:

Why?

OSGOOD:

She doesn't approve of girls who

smoke.

The elevator has come down again, and the doors open.

JERRY:

(reaching for the

instruments)

Goodbye, Mr. Fielding.

OSGOOD:

Goodbye?

JERRY:

This is where I get off.

OSGOOD:

(the naughty boy)

Oh, you don't get off that easy.

He eases her into the elevator, follows with the instruments.

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