The Hustler Page #15

Eddie comes in. He looks at the detectives around Bert's bed.

BERT:

Eddie?

The photographer's bulb flashes as he takes a picture of the bathroom.

Eddie pushes by the photographer, then stops as he sees Sarah's body

laid out on the tiled floor. He drops to his knees beside her.

BERT:

Eddie?

Eddie reaches out to touch her, then pulls back his hand. Bert appears

at the bathroom door behind him.

BERT:

Eddie? She come in here, Eddie. She asked me

for a drink. I give her one. We had a few more.

Eyes closed, he writhes as he listens to Bert.

BERT:

Eddie, she came in here.

Suddenly he uncoils and lunges at Bert, grasping him by the throat and

pushing him back. A policeman untangles them, but Eddie breaks free. We

hear Bert scream as he squirms along the floor trying to avoid Eddie's

fists.

FADE OUT:

87 INT. AMES POOL HALL - LATE AFTERNOON

FADE IN:

Minnesota Fats sits in his chair, engrossed in the afternoon paper. Big

John is at a pool table, trying out a few shots. Bert, in dark glasses,

stands near the cashier's cage, chucking dice into a leather shaker.

The noise of the dice echoes in the slow, late afternoon gloom of Ames.

When Bert sees Eddie push open the glass doors, he draws himself up

fearfully like a turtle, and motions with his eyes to his men for

protection. Eddie, his cue case tucked under his arm, walks straight

toward him. He stops, stares at him for a moment, then turns and walks

over to Minnesota Fats.

EDDIE:

I came to play pool, Fats.

FATS:

(after a glance at Bert)

That's good, Eddie. For how much?

EDDIE:

You name it.

FATS:

Thousand dollars a game.

EDDIE:

Let's make it three thousand dollars a game,

Fats. C'mon, three thousand dollars. That's my

bankroll, my life's savings.

(beat)

What's the matter, Fats? All you gotta do is

beat me the first game and I'm on my way back

to Oakland.

FATS:

Let's go.

Fats rises, ready to play. Eddie starts to screw his cue together.

EDDIE:

Get on me, Bert. I can't lose.

He turns to join Fats at the table. The balls are already racked and

ready.

FATS:

Willie.

Willie collects their stake money and prepares to toss the coin.

Preacher, Big John draw up their chairs around the table. Bert also

takes a seat, but far away, near the coat rack.

WILLIE:

Call it.

EDDIE:

Heads.

Willie taps Fats on the lapel. It's his break. Sausage sends the cue

ball down the table and the game begins at once. Fats makes a good

break, leaving the cue ball teetering over the far corner pocket. He

looks up at Eddie, and steps back. Eddie looks at the lineup of the

balls. Then he sets down his cue and walks over to the washroom. He

glances at Bert as he sprinkles the powder on his hands.

EDDIE:

How shall I play that one, Bert? Play it safe?

That's the way you always told me to play it,

safe, play the percentage. Well, here we

go ... fast and loose.

He turns and snatches up his cue.

EDDIE:

One ball, corner pocket.

(chalks his cue, lines up his shot)

Yeah, percentage players die broke too, don't

they, Bert?

He rams a bank shot into the pack. The one ball rolls in, while others

scatter about the table. The crowd applauds. Eddie moves swiftly to his

next shot. As he plays, he talks to Bert.

EDDIE:

How can I lose? Twelve ball.

(shot goes in)

I mean, how can I lose? Because you were right,

Bert. I mean, it's not enough that you just

have talent. You gotta have character too. Four

ball.

(shot goes in, a pause)

Yeah and I sure got character now. I picked it

up in a hotel room in Louisville.

Bert and Fats exchange glances.

FATS:

(from his seat)

Shoot pool, Fast Eddie.

EDDIE:

I'm shootin' pool, Fats. When I miss you can

shoot.

Eddie returns to his game and Fats waits for his turn, puffing steadily

on his cigarette. Bert shifts uneasily in his chair and we hear the

pool balls knock together, then slowly roll down the track through the

belly of the table.

EDDIE:

Five ball.

(shot goes in)

... Fourteen ball.

(shot goes in)

... Four ball.

The shot goes in. Eddie looks significantly at Fats who lowers his eyes

and puffs on his cigarette.

DISSOLVE TO:

88 INT. THE GAME - TIME LAPSE

A VOICE:

That's game.

The balls are racked. Eddie sinks shots right and left -- some tricky,

some not. Bert and Fats exchange uneasy looks. Eddie circles the table

like a hawk. Then, Fats is up; his jacket is off, his tie is pulled

loose. He makes a shot, chalks his cue.

FATS:

Eight ball.

It's a hard shot and he misses. Eddie moves to take his shot, ignoring

Fats altogether.

EDDIE:

Thirteen ball.

Bert looks on. But Eddie is shooting pool now, making all his shots

quickly and accurately. A depressed Fats watches him shoot.

DISSOLVE TO:

89 INT. THE GAME - TIME LAPSE

The clock over the door reads six o'clock. Fats is still in his seat.

He has a drink in his hand.

FATS:

I quit, Eddie. I can't beat you. Willie, give

him the stakes.

(rises, to Bert)

You got yourself a pool player.

EDDIE:

(softly, as he counts his money)

Preacher, gimme my coat, will ya?

BERT:

Where do you think you're going?

Eddie slips into the jacket, helped by Preacher.

BERT:

Eddie? ...

(loses it)

YOU OWE ME MONEY!

EDDIE:

(calmly)

And just how do you figure that, Bert? What do

you figure I owe you?

BERT:

Half.

EDDIE:

In Louisville it was seventy-five per cent.

BERT:

Well, here it's half.

EDDIE:

What if I don't pay ya, Bert?

BERT:

(chuckling)

You don't pay me? You gonna get your thumbs

broken.

(stands up and paces)

And your fingers. And if I want them to, your

right arm in three or four places.

FATS:

Better pay him, Eddie.

Eddie unscrews his cue, thinking it over. Bert's bodyguards stand

around, waiting for the word.

EDDIE:

So you figure you're still my manager, huh?

BERT:

I'm a businessman, kid.

EDDIE:

Well, you got a lot of games lined up for me?

BERT:

Yeah, we're gonna make a lotta money together,

from now on.

EDDIE:

Fifty per cent?

BERT:

No, it don't have to be fifty. It can be

thirty ... twenty-five.

EDDIE:

We really stuck the knife in her, didn't we,

Bert?

BERT:

(disgustedly)

Aaaahhhh!

EDDIE:

Boy, we really gave it to her good.

BERT:

If it didn't happen in Louisville, it'd

happened someplace else. If it didn't happen

now, it'd happen six months from now. That's

the kinda dame she was.

EDDIE:

And we twisted it, didn't we, Bert? Course,

maybe that doesn't stick in your throat cause

you spit it out just like you spit out

everything else. But it sticks in mine. I loved

her, Bert. I traded her in on a pool game. But

that wouldn't mean anything to you. Because who

did you ever care about? Just win, win, you

said, win, that's the important thing. You don't

know what winnin' is, Bert. You're a loser.

'Cause you're dead inside, and you can't live

unless you make everything else dead around ya.

Fats listens, his head bowed.

EDDIE:

Too high, Bert. Price is too high. Because

if I take it, she never lived, she never died.

And we both know that's not true, Bert, don't

we, huh? She lived, she died. Boy, you better

... You tell your boys they better kill me,

Bert. They better go all the way with me.

Because if they just bust me up, I'll put all

those pieces back together again, and so help

me, so help me God, Bert ... I'm gonna come

back here and I'm gonna kill you.

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