The Limey Page #21

SUSAN:

What are you doing here?

VALENTINE:

Exercising my visitation rights.

SUSAN:

Since when?

VALENTINE:

I miss my kids.

SUSAN:

They're at college. Or doesn't your

accountant even tell you where the money

goes anymore.

Valentine goes inside.

INT. HOUSE.

He looks around. She doesn't shut the door.

VALENTINE:

You've made it... brighter.

SUSAN:

I don't want you here, Terry.

VALENTINE:

Sure you do.

He turns to look at her. Smiles. Somehow it doesn't work on

her. One of the reasons she divorced him. Just one. She

sighs. Resigned to his presence. Starts to close the door.

VALENTINE (cont'd)

Don't shut the door -- I have people with

me.

Now she gets it.

SUSAN:

What kind of trouble are you in?

VALENTINE:

No trouble.

Susan SEES Adhara get out of the sporty car parked in the

drive and stand against it in a posture of younger chick

defiance.

SUSAN:

Surely you can think of somewhere else to

take one of your chippies for a quick

getaway.

VALENTINE:

Susan.

He actually puts his hands on her arms. To hold her firm

while he locks onto her eyes. And doesn't smile.

VALENTINE (cont'd)

I just need... somewhere remote. Away

from L.A. For a couple of days.

(now the kicker)

I pay for this house too.

Susan reads him. He's not claiming ownership rights. He's

telling her this house, because of the connection to him, is

a target of some kind.

SUSAN:

What have you done?

The Land Cruiser pulls up outside. Avery emerges, comes

over, comes in. Susan notes the bodyguards out there as well.

AVERY:

(to Valentine)

We weren't followed.

(to Susan)

Susan.

Valentine lets Susan go. Knowing she's now speechless at

what's turned into, as far as she's concerned, a home

invasion.

VALENTINE:

(moving, looking around)

Where's... what's-his-name -- Fred --

SUSAN:

-- You know his name is Frank.

VALENTINE:

Is he here?

SUSAN:

You know I don't live with him.

VALENTINE:

Go to him. Go to his studio, or writers

workshop or artists colony, Esselin

retreat, nudist camp --

SUSAN:

Are you finished?

VALENTINE:

In a couple of days this whole thing --

SUSAN:

Who's looking for you?

VALENTINE:

Go now.

Encouraging, if not in fact ushering, her towards a bedroom.

SUSAN:

It's been five minutes and I'm packing to

leave again. I can't believe this.

VALENTINE:

That's right, your life is Sh*t, and I'm

to blame. It's that simple.

That does it. Susan turns on him.

SUSAN:

It is that simple. I blame you for

everything. Losing inhibitions and

chicks without bras didn't have to lead

to hardcore porno in every American

household:
that was you. The first on

your block to turn on a camera in a hot

tub and peddle it to your friends. A

little recreational pot didn't inevitably

have to lead to the eventual devastation

of the inner cities: you made that

happen, the first time you bought a

bigger stash than you yourself meant to

smoke. It happened when you made your

first buck hyping some so-called "event"

that was over before it began or marketed

some "product" whose only value was its

instant disposability. You were the

first person to see there was a lot of

money to be made selling Navajo rugs --

you've even stolen from the f***ing

Indians! You looked at Charlie Manson

when all he had to show for himself was a

guitar instead of a knife and saw another

merry prankster, the freedom of the

frontier. Your pal here --

(Avery)

-- He saw gated communities. Rich people

coming to him with their money, terrified

of what people like you had left of this

society. Why invest in a marriage and

children when you had him? He's your

oracle. But you couldn't even trust in

friendship, could you? Still he's the

dog you call for its dinner. Because

everything that might once have been fun

or nice or sweet you had to turn mean and

cold and sour. That was your "genius,"

Terry. Haven't you read your own press?

CUT.

EXT. MOTEL. EVENING.

Wilson and his friends pull in. Get out of the car.

Stretch.

ELAINE:

(finding herself at another

shithole)

What is it, you just like the reassuring

smell of disinfectant?

Wilson just heads for the motel office. Elaine and Ed follow

a little distance behind.

ED:

Hey, Elaine. You even know what he's

saying half the time?

ELAINE:

No, but I know what he means.

CUT.

EXT. DECK. BIG SUR HOUSE. NIGHT.

Adhara sways in a hammock. Staring at Valentine. Wanting to

know what the hell is going on.

Valentine stands smoking at the rail, looking out over the

dark sea. Ignoring Adhara. Avery sits at a table.

Bodyguards visible inside the house.

VALENTINE:

(finally, to Avery)

Do any of these guys cook?

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