St. Vincent Page #7

OLIVER:

I’m small, if you haven’t noticed.

VINCENT:

So was Hitler.

OLIVER:

That’s not a great comparison.

VINCENT:

Making a point, fella. Small means

nothing. It’s what you got in

here.

Vin points to his head.

OLIVER:

Or here, sir.

41.

Oliver points to his heart. Vin looks at the little

fella. This kid’s got something.

EXT. SUNNYSIDE RESIDENCE FOR THE ELDERLY - DAY

An expensive, well-kept convalescent center. Vin’s car

pulls in and parks in a handicapped spot.

INT. SUNNYSIDE RESIDENCE FOR THE ELDERLY - CONTINUOUS

Vin and Oliver are walking down the hallway. Oliver’s

carrying the laundry basket. Vin’s putting on a lab

coat, carrying an old-school, leather doctor’s bag.

OLIVER:

This is like a mansion.

VINCENT:

Don’t talk when we get in there.

OLIVER:

Where are we going?

VINCENT:

Practice not talking now.

Vin turns a corner.

PATIENT ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

A WOMAN lies in a bed, watching TV. This is Vin’s wife.

SANDY.

enter.

She has advanced Alzheimer's. Vin and Oliver

SANDY:

There you are, doctor.

VINCENT:

Good to see you, Sandy.

Vin puts his doctor’s bag on the foot of her bed, digs in

it.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

How’re we feeling?

SANDY:

Today’s my birthday.

It’s not. Vin pulls out an old stethoscope.

VINCENT:

Okay. Well, happy birthday.

(to Oliver)

Put that stuff in the drawers over

there.

42.

Oliver complies.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

Let’s see what the old ticker

sounds like.

Vin moves bedside, puts the stethoscope to Sandy’s chest.

SANDY:

Can you tell them I don’t like the

green beans, when they put the

bacon bits chopped up in there with

them. It’s too greasy for me.

Vin moves some hair off Sandy’s face. Lightly touches

her cheek.

VINCENT:

You bet, Sandy.

EXT. SUNNYSIDE GROUNDS - LATER

“Doctor” Vin and Oliver are sitting on a bench next to

Sandy (in a wheelchair,) in front of a gorgeous pond,

cluttered with ducks.

SANDY:

They say I’m going home next week.

They don’t.

VINCENT:

That’s the plan.

It’s not.

SANDY:

Is that your grandson?

VINCENT:

Nope.

Sandy looks Oliver over.

SANDY:

Is he a doctor?

VINCENT:

Sure.

SANDY:

What’s his specialty?

Vin looks him over too.

VINCENT:

I don’t know.

43.

NURSE’S STATION - LATER

Vin’s talking with Sandy’s nurse, ANA, a kind-eyed

Filipino lady in her forties. She hands him a bundle of

dirty laundry.

ANA:

You know, we can do the laundry

here, Mr. Vincent. We have the

service.

VINCENT:

Gives me something to do.

Vin hands the laundry off to Oliver.

ANA:

Who’s your helper?

VINCENT:

He’s twelve bucks an hour.

OLIVER:

It’s Oliver actually.

ANA:

Nice to meet you, Oliver. I’m Ana.

Vin heads off. Stops.

VINCENT:

She doesn’t like the green beans.

ANA:

I’ll make a note, Mr. Vincent.

Ana writes in a pad.

VINCENT:

Broccoli's good. She always liked

broccoli.

Vin walks off. Oliver catches up.

INT. VINCENT’S GARAGE - LATER

Oliver’s standing in a fight stance across from Vin,

who’s wearing a bandana, holding a Maker’s Mark in one

hand while leaning against a hanging body bag.

Oliver punches the bag. It’s like a butterfly kiss.

VINCENT:

That’s just going to get you beat

up real bad.

OLIVER:

I don’t want to fight anyway.

44.

VINCENT:

No one wants to fight, kid. You

think I wanted to go to war? You

think an eighteen year old wants to

sit in a rice paddy while bullets

are screaming past his ears on both

sides?

OLIVER:

When was that?

VINCENT:

Vietnam.

OLIVER:

You were there?

VINCENT:

No, I’m imagining it.

Vincent steps back, thinks.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

All right. I’ll teach you one

thing, it’s probably the only hope

you got. If you do it right,

you’ll break his nose with one

shot.

Oliver is rattled.

OLIVER:

Break his nose.

VINCENT:

Don’t worry, you won’t do it right.

EXT. MISSION HILLS HOSPITAL - NIGHT - LATER

Maggie’s walking to her car after work. She’s exhausted.

Just as she puts her key in the door...a MAN walks up.

MAN:

Maggie?

She turns, clutches her purse.

MAGGIE:

I have mace.

MAN:

I have papers.

The man holds up an envelope. Moves closer.

MAN (CONT’D)

LA County Family court.

He hands the papers to Maggie. She hates taking them.

45.

MAN (CONT’D)

As they say, “You’ve been served.”

He turns off, stops.

MAN (CONT’D)

I didn’t mean to scare you. Just a

job.

Maggie nods, leans against the car.

EXT. VIN’S HOUSE - LATER

It’s late. Maggie knocks on Vin’s door.

INT. VIN’S HOUSE - LATER

Vin’s leading Maggie into the den.

VINCENT:

I’m working up an estimate on the

fence. And we’re looking at three

hundred on the tree. Not gonna

negotiate with myself.

MAGGIE:

I get paid at end of next week.

VINCENT:

That’s good for you. Rough out

there.

In the den, we find Oliver asleep on the couch. Felix

the Cat is curled up on top of him.

MAGGIE:

I’ll pay you of course for the

extra time.

VINCENT:

I wasn’t offering a rebate.

Maggie scoops up a sleeping Oliver.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

What you been crying about?

It’s very obvious that Maggie’s been bawling.

MAGGIE:

It’s a long story.

VINCENT:

What’s the punchline?

MAGGIE:

Oliver’s father wants custody.

46.

Vin thinks.

VINCENT:

There goes my job security.

Maggie smiles.

VINCENT (CONT’D)

That could’ve gone either way.

EXT. THE PINK CADILLAC - STRIP CLUB - THE NEXT DAY

Classic dumpy titty-bar in a rundown industrial strip.

Vin’s sitting in his car in the parking lot. Waiting.

Charisse eventually comes rolling out a side door. Spots

Vin. Walks his way.

INT. VIN’S CAR - CONTINUOUS

Charisse hops in, pissed.

VINCENT:

Who pissed in your Cheerios?

CHARISSE:

Can’t dance no more.

VINCENT:

That a surprise?

CHARISSE:

Screw you, Vin. I need the money.

VINCENT:

The self-employed racket is a tough

road, I’ll say that.

CHARISSE:

I should sue ‘em. It’s...what’s

that...discrimination. Against

pregnant women and sh*t.

VINCENT:

I think you have case.

CHARISSE:

This baby’s costing me a lotta

jack.

VINCENT:

Not as much as he’s gonna cost ya.

CHARISSE:

He’s not a he.

VINCENT:

It’s a she?

47.

CHARISSE:

It better be. I don’ want no boy.

VINCENT:

You don’t know?

CHARISSE:

Know what?

VINCENT:

The sex of the baby?

CHARISSE:

How I know that, Vin? I’m some

kinda psychic and sh*t.

VINCENT:

They have technologies-

CHARISSE:

I know what they got. How ‘bout I

just ask my “employer” to fax them

an insurance card.

Vin gets it.

INT. OBGYN’S EXAMINING ROOM - LATER

Charisse has her legs up in stirrups, as an ULTRASOUND

TECH squirts gel on her belly in preparation for an

ultrasound.

CHARISSE:

That thing’s cold.

ULTRASOUND TECH:

Sorry. Forgot to tell you that.

It’s cold. But just for a minute.

The Tech places the wand on Charisse’s belly.

ULTRASOUND TECH (CONT’D)

I’m gonna move this around here and

take some pictures of the baby.

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