The Grifters Page #6

She nods, accepting that, but then responds.

LILLY:

Second time I gave it to you.

Roy gives her a cold smile, then turns to Myra for the ironic

explanation.

ROY:

I was kind of... inconvenient...

for Lilly.

Lilly has nothing but contempt for Myra. To be humiliated in

front of Myra -- and by her son -- is the worst thing that

could happen to her. She makes as dignified an exit as she

can.

LILLY:

Well... You're all right now, I

guess. I have to get down to the

track.

ROY:

(reluctant, but it's

necessary)

Thanks, uh, Lilly.

LILLY:

(awkward laugh)

Don't mention it.

ROY:

I guess I owe you my life.

LILLY:

(faint smile)

You always did.

Lilly exits. Myra looks after her, curious.

MYRA:

"Down to the track?"

Roy will not talk about this, with anyone. His response is

cold, closing the subject.

ROY:

Her job.

MYRA:

(bright smile)

I want to know everything about

you.

ROY:

(easy grin)

You do. And once I'm out of here,

I'll remind you of the best parts.

They smile flirtatiously at one another, both with their

minds on other things.

INT. BATHROOM - DAY

Very messy, small. Myra showers. She finishes, emerges, wraps

herself in a towel, opens the crowded messy medicine cabinet,

removes cosmetics and other items, starts to tweeze her

eyebrows. Doorbell RINGS. She looks irritated, ignores it.

Long doorbell RING. Exasperated, she slaps the tweezers down,

exits.

INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Another furnished apartment, this one with Myra's clothing

and dishes and glasses and other junk all over it.

She crosses to the door, pulls it open. The APARTMENT MANAGER

enters; a sullen, nervous, heavyset man.

MYRA:

(angry, but defensive)

You heard the shower, didn't you?

MANAGER:

I don't care about that. This time,

I gotta have the rent.

Myra forces herself to be more pleasant.

MYRA:

Joe, I thought I was gonna be all

right by now, I just need a little

more --

MANAGER:

It isn't the owner, Myra, it's my

wife. She knows what's going on.

This time, I gotta have the money.

MYRA:

Joe, you know you'll --

In gesturing, Myra "accidentally" loses the towel, then wraps

it around herself again as the manager stares nervously away.

She smiles, knowing she's got him.

MYRA:

Joe, could we talk it over? Do you

want a drink?

MANAGER:

My wife sent me here, Myra. For the

money. She's waiting.

MYRA:

I'll have it tonight. Nine o'clock?

Ten?

MANAGER:

(trying to be determined)

This time...

MYRA:

We'll work something out, Joe.

She strokes his arm, smiling. He flees. She smiles till he's

gone, then looks worried, leans her head against the door.

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY

Roy, very comfortable in pajamas and robe, sits in a

wheelchair beside the bed, with magazines lying handy on the

bed. Myra, irritable, paces beside him.

MYRA:

I don't see why you're still here.

You look healthy to me.

ROY:

I just do what the doctor says,

babe.

MYRA:

You're just comfortable, that's

all. You don't even ask to go home.

You just lie around, let your mama

take care of you.

ROY:

(truly astonished)

Mama!

MYRA:

Who else is paying for all this?

You badmouth the woman all the

time, but you sure do take the

payoffs she gives you.

ROY:

(insulted)

I'll pay Lilly back, don't you

worry about that.

MYRA:

I don't like to come here, Roy.

Every time I do, your mother comes

in and makes remarks.

ROY:

That's just Lilly's way.

MYRA:

And you never defend me. You're

afraid of her.

ROY:

Oh, don't be stupid.

MYRA:

You're a mama's boy, if you want

the truth.

This is so absurd, Roy doesn't know how to respond.

ROY:

Are you kid --? I hadn't even seen

her in seven years!

Lilly enters, smiling in self-confidence. A large ugly burn

is on the back of her right hand.

LILLY:

Should my ears be burning?

MYRA:

(surly)

They might as well.

Lilly gives her a mock-admiring look.

LILLY:

I heard those skirts were coming

back.

Myra's not quite up to direct confrontation with Lilly. She

glowers at Roy instead.

MYRA:

Get well soon.

ROY:

(easy)

Every day in every way.

MYRA:

I'll see you when you get home.

Myra stalks out. Acting as though Myra hadn't existed, Lilly

puts her bag on the bed, takes mail from it.

ROY:

What happened to your hand?

LILLY:

(casually dismissive)

Just a little accident. I went by

your place, picked up your mall.

Just bills, I'll take care of them.

ROY:

I can take care of my own bills,

Lilly.

LILLY:

(indifferent shrug)

Whatever you say. The manager says

your boss called.

(crooked grin)

Really pulled the wool over

everybody's eyes, huh?

ROY:

What are you talking about? So I've

got a job. So what?

LILLY:

Stop kidding me! Four years in a

town like Los Ang-gleez, and a

peanut selling job is the best you

can do? You expect me to believe

that?

ROY:

(spreads hands; it's

obvious)

It's there. The boss called, you

said so yourself.

LILLY:

And that dump you live in! Those

clown pictures on the walls!

This reference alerts and worries Roy, which he tries to

hide.

ROY:

I like those.

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