The Hustler Page #8

DISSOLVE TO:

43INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - TIME LAPSE

Sarah, still hopelessly drunk, is sprawled out on her bed, futilely

attempting to dial a telephone. Eddie, in a clean shirt and pants,

watches her. He sets the bottle down near the typewriter and notices

the sheet of paper stuck in the typewriter's carriage. He bends down to

read it.

EDDIE:

What are you writing?

SARAH:

(looks up from the phone)

Oh, it's a story. A story I'm making up.

She falls back on the bed. Eddie pulls the paper out of the carriage

and reads it.

SARAH:

Give it to me.

EDDIE:

What's this supposed to mean?

SARAH:

Give it back to me.

EDDIE:

What's this supposed to mean: "We have a

contract of depravity. All we have to do is

pull the blinds down."

She doesn't answer. He thinks for a moment, then angrily crumples the

paper in his hands and throws it at her.

EDDIE:

Write yourself another story.

Eddie walks off.

SARAH:

(with a sardonic laugh)

Well, what else have we got? We never talk

about anything. We stay here in this room, and

we drink, and we make love.

(sits up in bed)

We're strangers. What happens when the liquor

and the money run out, Eddie?

Eddie gives her a look, then lowers his eyes.

SARAH:

You told Charlie to lay down and die. Will you

say that to me too?

(rises and stumbles over to him)

What happens, Eddie?

EDDIE:

You'll find yourself another rich old lover.

SARAH:

That's right! And I'm sure you'll help me.

Eddie turns and slaps her on the cheek.

SARAH:

You waiting for me to cry?

(stares at him coldly)

You bum ... You poolroom bum.

He reaches for his jacket.

CUT TO:

44INT. JOHNNY'S BAR - NIGHT

As Eddie pushes through the glass doors to the front room of Johnny's

bar. He looks around at the unused pool tables, then goes to the bar.

EDDIE:

Give me a bottle of beer.

BARTENDER:

Right.

A man in a business suit comes out of the back room and joins him at

the bar.

BARTENDER:

How did you make out?

MAN:

I made a couple of bucks.

EDDIE:

Poker game?

MAN:

Yeah.

EDDIE:

Is it open?

The man looks to the bartender for his answer.

EDDIE:

(to the bartender)

Huh?

BARTENDER:

It's open ...

(to the man)

What'll you have?

MAN:

Gimme a beer.

Eddie takes his beer to the back room.

CUT TO:

45INT. JOHNNY'S BACK ROOM - NIGHT

The poker game is in progress. Four men are playing. One of them is

Bert Gordon. His glass of milk is beside him on the table. He takes

note of Eddie's presence with a quick dart of his eyes.

EDDIE:

Okay?

BERT:

Sit down.

He takes a seat next to Bert.

EDDIE:

What's the limit?

PLAYER:

Half and a dollar.

EDDIE:

Gimme ten bucks.

PLAYER:

Ten dollars.

He takes the chips, then throws out another bill.

EDDIE:

Make it twenty.

BERT:

(to Eddie)

Cut.

EDDIE:

Deal.

As the cards are dealt Eddie steals a glance at the man he has come to

see.

DISSOLVE TO:

46 INT. JOHNNY'S FRONT ROOM - TIME LAPSE

The game is over. Bert is already in the front room. He sits at a table

with a drink, and watches Eddie pass him by on the way to the bar.

EDDIE:

Bourbon. J. T. S. Brown.

BERT:

(to the bartender)

Two.

Eddie looks at Bert.

BERT:

(pleasantly, to Eddie)

I'm buyin'.

EDDIE:

Thought you only drank milk.

BERT:

Only when I work.

EDDIE:

Yeah? Why?

BERT:

I like it. It's good for you. Besides, you

start drinking whisky gambling and it gives you

an excuse for losing. That's something you

don't need -- an excuse for losing. How did

you make out in the poker game?

EDDIE:

I lost twenty bucks.

BERT:

Poker's not your game.

EDDIE:

What is?

BERT:

Pool.

EDDIE:

You being cute?

BERT:

I don't think there's a pool player alive

shoots better pool than I saw you shoot the

other night at Ames. You got talent.

EDDIE:

So I got talent. So what beat me?

BERT:

Character.

EDDIE:

(laughs)

Yeah. Sure, sure.

BERT:

You're damned right I'm sure. Everybody's got

talent. I got talent. You think you can play

big-money straight pool, or poker, for forty

straight hours on nothing but talent? You think

they call Minnesota Fats the best in the

country just 'cause he's got talent? Nah.

Minnesota Fats's got more character in one finger

than you got in your whole skinny body.

EDDIE:

I got drunk.

BERT:

He drank as much whisky as you did.

EDDIE:

Maybe he knows how to drink.

BERT:

You bet he knows how.

(sips his drink)

You think that's a talent too, huh? Knowin' how

to drink whisky? You think Minnesota Fats was

born knowin' how to drink?

EDDIE:

Okay, okay ... What do I do now, lie down on

the floor and, uh, bow from the ankles? What

do I do, go home?

BERT:

That's your problem.

EDDIE:

So I stay. Stay until I hustle up enough to play

Fats again. Maybe by that time I'll develop

myself some character.

Amused, Bert gets up and joins Eddie at the bar.

BERT:

Maybe by that time you'll die of old age. How

much do you think you'll, uh, need?

EDDIE:

A thousand.

BERT:

No, three thousand at least. He'll start you

off at five hundred a game -- he'll beat the

pants off you. That's the way he plays when he

comes up against a man who knows the way the

game is. He'll beat you flat four or five

games -- maybe more, depending on how, uh ...

steady your nerves are. But he might -- he just

might be a little scared of you, and that could

change things. But I wouldn't count on it.

EDDIE:

How do you know? Huh? When nobody knows that

much?

BERT:

See that big car parked out by the fireplug on

the way in? Well, that's mine. I like that car.

But I get a new one every year because I make

it my business to know what guys like you and

Minnesota Fats are gonna do. I made enough off

of you the other night to pay for it twice over.

EDDIE:

In that case, you owe me another drink.

Bert laughs and signals the bartender for another round.

BERT:

Eddie, is it all right if I get personal?

EDDIE:

Whaddya been so far?

BERT:

Eddie, you're a born loser.

EDDIE:

What's that supposed to mean?

BERT:

First time in ten years I ever saw Minnesota

Fats hooked, really hooked. But you let him

off.

EDDIE:

I told you. I got drunk.

BERT:

Sure, you got drunk. That's the best excuse in

the world for losing. No trouble losing when

you got a good excuse. And winning! That can be

heavy on your back too. Like a monkey. You

drop that load too when you got an excuse. All

you gotta do is learn to feel sorry for

yourself. It's one of the best indoor sports:

feeling sorry for yourself -- a sport enjoyed

by all, especially the born losers.

EDDIE:

(slaps down his glass and rises)

Thanks for the drink.

BERT:

Wait a minute. Maybe I can help you.

EDDIE:

To do what?

BERT:

Get the three thousand. Play Minnesota Fats

again.

EDDIE:

Why?

BERT:

Ten reasons. Maybe fifteen. And also there's

something in it for me.

EDDIE:

Oh yeah, I figured that. How much?

BERT:

Seventy-five per cent.

EDDIE:

For who?

BERT:

For me.

EDDIE:

That's a -- that's a pretty big slice. Who do

you think you are, General Motors?

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