The Fabulous Baker Boys Page #5

EXT. STREET

A taxi lets Jack off on a street of shabby tract houses.

In his rumpled city suit, Jack looks like a cheap

gangster amid the weedy lawns and overgrown junipers.

He walks up to the door of a small white house and

presses the doorbell.

When there is no response, he goes around to the back.

EXT. BACKYARD

The backyard is small, with a short chainlink fence

surrounding it. Two kids, a girl and a boy,

are splashing around in a build-it-yourself

above-ground pool.

When they see Jack, they stop splashing.

Only their heads are visible above the water.

JACK:

Hey, kids. Dad home?

The two heads say nothing.

JACK:

(continuing)

What d'ya say? Wanna run and get

him for me?

Still nothing. Jack frowns, takes out a cigarette,

and pats his pocket for a match.

JACK:

(continuing)

Sh*t.

The kids' eyes widen at his profanity.

Jack, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lip,

ponders things for a moment,

then flicks the'cigarette away and steps over the fence.

At which point,

the tinier of the two heads in the pool begins to scream.

JACK:

(continuing)

Hey, kid. Take it easy.

No use. The kid's a world-class screamer.

Frank, wearing baggy shorts and looking alarmed,

comes racing out of the house.

FRANK:

Cindy! What is it?

Cindy points. At Jack.

FRANK:

(continuing)

Jack.

JACK:

Your doorbell doesn't work.

FRANK:

Honey, it's only Uncle Jack. You

remember Uncle Jack.

DONNA, Frank's wife, appears.

DONNA:

What's the matter? Jack?

Jack waves.

FRANK:

(lifting Cindy out of the pool)

Nothing's the matter. Is it, sweetheart?

DONNA:

I'll take her inside. You too,

little Frank. Out of the pool.

Donna shepherds the kids toward the house.

FRANK:

Feet!

The kids wipe their dripping feet on the outside mat

and disappear into the house. Frank turns to Jack.

FRANK:

(continuing)

It's probably the excitement of

seeing you again.

EXT. BACKYARD (LATER)

Donna comes out of the house with a tray of lemonade.

The men are sitting by the pool in a pair of webbed

aluminum chairs.

FRANK:

Well, look at this.

DONNA:

You bring trunks, Jack?

JACK:

Trunks?

DONNA:

Swimming trunks.

JACK:

Oh. No. Strictly dryland.

DONNA:

Too bad. You could use some sun.

Really.

JACK:

Maybe next time.

DONNA:

We have some lotion.

JACK:

Just the same.

DONNA:

Suit yourself.

Donna returns to the house.

Frank takes a sip of his lemonade and scans his

surroundings complacently.

FRANK:

Nice, huh?

JACK:

What?

FRANK:

The trees. The flowers. Nice.

JACK:

Terrific.

FRANK:

(expansively)

Yeah ... we're gonna paint in the spring.

After the rains. Look good as new.

JACK:

You ask me out here to sell me

your house, Frank?

Frank shakes the ice in his glass.

JACK:

(continuing)

Charlie paid you off last night,

didn't he?

FRANK:

I don't know what you mean.

JACK:

The hell you don't.

FRANK:

I told you. Something came up.

Some political dinner or something.

JACK:

Bullshit. Fifteen years, Frank.

No one paid us off.

FRANK:

It wasn't like that.

JACK:

No?

FRANK:

No.

JACK:

What was it like?

FRANK:

Hey pal, I got a mortgage, all right?

I got two kids. I got a wife.

Besides, he made the deal.

There's no shame in it.

JACK:

That how you see it?

FRANK:

Yeah, that's how I see it.

Jack shakes his head in disgust.

FRANK:

(continuing)

And don't go shaking your head, little brother.

I'm not the one who walks in every night smelling

like he's got a day job in a piss factory.

(pause)

It killed him, you know.

Jack glances up. Dangerous territory.

JACK:

A gust of wind killed him.

FRANK:

Yeah, and what put him up there?

JACK:

Hey, you weren't there. Right?

Jack's look ends this. Frank sighs.

FRANK:

Look, can we forget last night?

We gotta talk.

JACK:

Talk.

FRANK:

I been thinking maybe we should

make some changes.

(pause)

I been thinking maybe we should

take on a singer.

Silence.

JACK:

Sure, why not.

FRANK:

It's just an idea. I want your opinion.

I mean, we go halfway on everything, right?

JACK:

It's more like 40-60, wouldn't

you say?

FRANK:

We agreed that if I took care of the business;

I'd be entitled to the extra.

Isn't that what we agreed?

JACK:

That's what we agreed.

FRANK:

If you're unhappy with the

arrangement --

JACK:

I'm not unhappy.

FRANK:

If you'd like to assume more of the financial

responsibilities, I'd be glad --

JACK:

Frank. F*** it. Okay?

FRANK:

I've tried to do well by you, Jack.

By both of us.

JACK:

I'm grateful, Frank. How much?

For the singer.

FRANK:

I thought maybe twenty percent.

Look, with the additional bookings we'll

come out ahead. The big hotels,

they want a pretty girl with a big voice.

We have to stay competitive, Jack.

Jack laughs coldly.

FRANK:

What's that?

JACK:

You, Frank. All these years you been telling me

we're different. We got novelty, Jack.

No one can touch us.

FRANK:

Two pianos isn't enough anymore,

Jack.

JACK:

It never was.

YOUNG WOMAN:

in pink sweater and a short black skirt stands in the

center of a tiny room in the back of Willie's piano

showroom, holding some sheet music. Sammy Davis Jr.'s

face is on the sheet music. Frank is sitting against

the opposite wall, a notepad in his hand.

Jack is at the piano.

FRANK:

Good morning, Miss...?

YOUNG WOMAN:

Moran. Monica Moran.

FRANK:

All right, Miss Moran

MONICA (YOUNG WOMAN)

Actually, that's my stage name.

FRANK:

I'm sorry?

MONICA:

Moran. Monica. The whole thing.

It's my stage name. My real name's Blanche.

FRANK:

Blanche.

MONICA:

No romance, right? That's why I came up with

Monica. It's what I prefer.

FRANK:

Well, that's fine --

MONICA:

But if you call my house and my mother answers,

ask for Blanche. If you ask for Monica, she'll

think you have the wrong number and hang up.

FRANK:

Right.

MONICA:

And if she asks what it's about, don't tell her.

She's opposed to my career.

FRANK:

Uh-huh. Well, Miss Moran, what

is it you'd like to do for us?

MONICA:

Candy Man.'

(worried)

Is that all right?

FRANK:

It's one of Jack's favorites.

Monica turns and, seeing Jack at the piano,

gives a little start.

MONICA:

Oops. I almost forgot you were

there. Here's the music.

Monica begins to hand Jack the sheet music.

FRANK:

Uh... he knows it.

MONICA:

Really? Isn't that a coincidence.

JACK:

Small world.

Monica smiles. She likes Jack.

FRANK:

Well, shall we?

Probably not, but Jack begins to play anyway,

laconically picking out the cheery tune while Monica

swings her arms and taps her foot. Despite all this,

Monica still manages to come in between beats and Jack

has to scramble over a chord to catch her,

sort of like a fireman with a net.

MONICA:

Who can take a sunrise

Sprinkle it with dew

Toss it in the air and

Make a groovy lemon pie

The Candy Man can

The Candy Man can...,

There would appear to be ample evidence as to why the

mother of Monica nee Blanche opposes her

daughter's career.

FRANK:

Thank you, Miss Moran, that's enough.

Monicals eyes are closed now and she is fully caught up.

Frank looks over at Jack.

Jack shrugs and continues to play.

FRANK:

(continuing)

Miss Moran ... Miss Moran ...

Blanche!

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