The Grifters Page #11

ROY:

Stretch my legs. Come along?

She's not ready to relent and enjoy herself.

MYRA:

No.

ROY:

(unruffled)

See you soon.

He walks down the aisle behind Myra, who sighs and looks out

the window again.

INT. BAR CAR - DAY

Four young SOLDIERS sit at a table in a rudimentary bar car.

They're drinking bloody Marys out of plastic glasses and

having a good time together. In b.g., several customers are

clustered at the small service bar, waiting for drinks.

AN ANGLE on Roy, at the service bar, looking back past other

people at the soldiers. He gets his mixed drink, in a plastic

glass, and turns away.

AN ANGLE on the soldiers as Roy starts by. The train lurches,

and Roy falls heavily against their table, slopping their

drinks and spilling some of his own on the table.

ROY:

Oh! Ow, I'm sorry! Oh, look, I

spilled your drinks!

SOLDIER:

That's okay, don't worry about it.

SOLDIER 2

You okay, pal?

ROY:

Let me buy you a new round.

SOLDIER:

Hey, no, no problem.

SOLDIER 3

You didn't like spill much at all.

Roy firmly places his own glass on their table.

ROY:

What are those, bloody Marys? Watch

this, I'll be back.

He leaves, while the soldiers are still PROTESTING.

INT. TRAIN - DAY

Myra applies makeup, watching herself in her compact mirror.

She becomes aware of eyes, and looks around.

TWO SHOT, Myra and a BUSINESSMAN, sitting across the way,

grinning at her. Myra registers him.

CU, Myra, considering the possibilities. Then she shrugs,

shakes her head at the businessman almost reluctantly, and

goes back to applying makeup.

INT. BAR CAR - DAY

Roy now sits with the soldiers, eagerly listening to them

talk. There are plastic glasses enough on the table for three

rounds of drinks.

SOLDIER 3

(to Soldier 2)

Yeah, but it was you like told the

sergeant your grandmother was dead.

SOLDIER:

(laughing)

Again!

SOLDIER 2

(to Soldier 3)

And you jumped right in.

(broad imitation)

I'll drive him, Sarge, he's too

distraught.

SOLDIER 4

(astonished)

Distraught? You said distraught?

They all laugh, Roy laughing with them.

ROY:

Boy! You guys could've got in a lot

of trouble.

SOLDIER 3

Nah. Old Sarge, he's slowing down.

ROY:

I don't know. I wouldn't take a

chance like that.

(looks at floor)

What's that?

They watch as he bends, picks up one die from the floor,

holds it where they can all see it, his manner open,

guileless.

ROY (CONT'D)

One of you fellows drop this?

INT. TRAIN - DAY

Myra walks down the aisle, demurely looking at no one.

INT. BAR CAR - DAY

Roy's getting to his feet, the soldiers protesting.

SOLDIER 2

You can't buy every round!

SOLDIER 3

Like our turn!

ROY:

Tell you what. We'll roll for it.

Low number buys.

He hands the die to Soldier 2.

ROY:

Go ahead. You roll for the four of

you.

The soldiers are confused but agreeable, seeing this as some

kind of fun.

SOLDIER 2

Here goes.

He tosses the die on the table.

SOLDIER 3

That's a four!

Roy picks up the die.

AN ANGLE close on Roy, his eyes glittering, his fist with the

die shaking beside his head.

WIDE SHOT. Roy throws. They all look at the die. Roy spreads

his hands; the good sport.

ROY:

Told you I'd buy.

SOLDIER:

It just doesn't seem fair, Tom.

ROY:

Tell you what. Give me a chance to

get even when I come back.

INT. TRAIN - DAY

Myra reaches the end of one car, starts through.

INT. BAR CAR - DAY

AN ANGLE on Myra about to enter. She stops, looking through

the glass in the door.

Myra's POV:
Roy and the soldiers rolling the die for money.

ECU, Myra, absorbed, watching.

Myra's POV:
MOS through the glass. ECU, Roy's hand with the

die. ECU, Roy's profile, his smile, his innocent distress

when he wins. ECU, Roy's hand scoops money.

ECU, Myra, smiling, pleased.

INT. DINER - NIGHT

A brightly lit Hopperish place. Lilly sits alone in a booth

eating a bowl of chili and reading a newspaper folded beside

the bowl. A DRUNK with a great deal of faith in his own charm

sits with a male FRIEND at the counter, drinking coffee. The

drunk keeps looking toward Lilly, grinning, COMMENTING

playfully to his friend, who's bored by it all. Lilly doesn't

seem to be aware of him.

The drunk rises from his stool, turning toward Lilly,

staggering slightly. His friend makes a small move to stop

him, then shrugs and lets him go. The drunk makes his way to

Lilly's table, leans on it.

DRUNK:

Pretty woman like you shouldn't eat

alone. Whadaya wanna eat alone for?

Lilly gives him a flat look.

LILLY:

Go away.

She looks past him toward the WAITRESS behind the counter.

LILLY (CONT'D)

(calling)

Could I have some coffee, please?

WAITRESS:

Right away.

DRUNK:

We could have coffee together. My

name's Kenny.

Lilly looks over at the drunk's friend, who pointedly ignores

the situation.

LILLY:

Your pal wants you.

The drunk could turn mean; his gesture brushing away the idea

of his friend is stronger than necessary.

DRUNK:

Let him find his own pretty woman.

The waitress arrives, with the coffee pot and a mug. She puts

the mug on the table, pours coffee.

WAITRESS:

This fellow bothering you, Ma'am?

LILLY:

Yes.

WAITRESS:

(to the drunk)

Why don't you go sit down?

DRUNK:

I'll sit here. Move over.

The drunk wants to sit beside Lilly, who looks to the

waitress to solve the problem, but the waitress stands there

with the coffee pot, looking helpless. The drunk bends to

slide onto the seat. Lilly, exasperated, rabbit punches him

in the throat.

The drunk, astounded and in pain (and not breathing),

staggers back, flailing, hitting the waitress's arm so that

she slops coffee on him as his feet tangle and he falls

heavily onto the floor.

Lilly, suddenly concerned, slides out of the booth.

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