Some Like It Hot Page #23

OSGOOD:

(continuing; to

elevator operator)

All right, driver. Once around the

park. Slowly. And keep your eyes on

the road.

The door closes. CAMERA PANS UP to the floor indicator. The

arrow moves smoothly past the second floor, then stops

abruptly, jiggles violently, starts down again. CAMERA PANS

DOWN. The elevator door opens.

JERRY:

(outraged womanhood)

What kind of girl do you think I am,

Mr. Fielding?

He slaps Osgood's face, takes the instruments from him.

OSGOOD:

Please. It won't happen again.

JERRY:

No, thank you. I'll walk.

He stalks out of the elevator with the instruments, starts

indignantly up the stairs. Osgood stands holding his cheek,

looking after him enraptured.

OSGOOD:

Zowie!

INT. FOURTH FLOOR CORRIDOR - DAY

This is the floor on which the girls are billeted. Sugar,

Joe and the other Society Syncopators are gathered around

Bienstock and Sue, while bellhops are bringing up the luggage.

BIENSTOCK:

(holding up a list)

All right, girls -- here are your

room assignments.

(tapping his pockets)

My glasses -- where are my glasses?

As he continues to search, Sue takes the list from him, starts

to read it off.

SUE:

Olga and Mary Lou in 412 -- and Mary

Lou, keep your kimono buttoned when

you ring for room service -- Josephine

and Daphne in 413 -- Dolores and

Sugar in 414 --

DOLORES:

Me and Sugar?

SUE:

What did you expect -- a one-legged

jockey?

Joe and Sugar are moving on toward their rooms.

SUGAR:

I wish they'd put us in the same

room.

JOE:

So do I. But don't worry -- we'll be

seeing a lot of each other.

They reach the door of 414, and Sugar opens it.

SUGAR:

(ruefully)

414 -- that's the same room number I

had in Cincinnati -- my last time

around with a male band. What a heel

he was.

JOE:

Saxophone player?

SUGAR:

What else? And was I ever crazy about

him. Two in the morning, he sent me

down for knackwurst and potato salad --

they were out of potato salad, so I

brought coleslaw -- so he threw it

right in my face.

JOE:

Forget it, Sugar, will you? Forget

about saxophone players. You're going

to meet a millionaire -- a young

one.

SUGAR:

What makes you so sure?

JOE:

Just my feminine intuition.

She smiles gratefully at him as she enters 414. Joe crosses

to the open door of 413, goes in.

INT. ROOM 413 - DAY

It's a small room, twin-beds, more wicker, adjoining bathroom.

Outside the French windows is a balcony, giving on the ocean.

As Joe comes in, a BELLHOP is just setting down some suitcases --

two of them are Joe's and Jerry's, the third is a somewhat

more elegant model in brown cloth with a white stripe down

the middle and the initials B.B. The Bellhop, a fresh punk

of seventeen, turns to Joe.

BELLHOP:

Are these your bags?

JOE:

Yes. And that one, too.

BELLHOP:

Okay, doll.

JOE:

I suppose you want a tip?

BELLHOP:

Forget it, doll. After all, you work

here -- I work here -- and believe

you me, it's nice to have you with

the organization.

JOE:

Bye.

BELLHOP:

(the young Clark Gable)

Listen, doll -- what time do you get

off tonight?

JOE:

Why?

BELLHOP:

Because I'm working the night shift --

and I got a bottle of gin stashed

away -- and as soon as there's a

lull --

JOE:

Aren't you a little too young for

that, sonny?

BELLHOP:

Wanna see my driver's license?

JOE:

Get lost, will you?

BELLHOP:

That's the way I like 'em -- big and

sassy.

(at the door)

And get rid of your roommate.

He pulls out his bow tie, which is on an elastic, lets in

snap back like an exclamation point. Joe looks after him

grimly, then his eyes fall on the suitcase with the stripe,

and he shoves it quickly under the bed. The door opens again,

and Joe whirls around. Jerry comes staggering in breathlessly

with the instruments, kicks the door shut with his foot.

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