The Man Who Wasn't There Page #6

A track forward reveals Doris sitting at a vanity, doing her

hair. Her dress is half zipped at the back.

DORIS:

...Gimme a zip.

Ed walks over behind her.

ED:

Where you going?

DORIS:

Me? Us! The party at Nirdlinger's--I

told you last week, for the Christmas

Push.

ED:

Yeah, right.

We are close on the zipper as Ed's hand takes the tab, pauses,

the lowers it slightly. Her back blooms through the dark

fabric of the dress.

He slides the zipper up, and Doris reaches for a perfume

atomizer.

DORIS:

Come on, get ready. It's important.

ED:

Nah, go ahead. I'm not big on parties.

DORIS:

Oh, don't be a grump.

SALES FLOOR:

It is festooned with streamers.

Ed leans against a wall, one hand dug into a pocket, the

other bringing a cigarette to his lips.

Band music plays and Nirdlinger's employees whirl on the

dance floor. Bobby-soxed teenagers Lindy-hop and pass palms

over their knees.

A thin young man in a sports coat stands next to Ed, watching,

his Adam's apple bobbing.

YOUNG MAN:

Wild, man!

He goes out onto the dance floor. Ed, left by himself, gazes

across the floor.

His view, broken by dancers' crosses, shows Big Dave worriedly

talking to Doris.

Doris reacts angrily.

Big Dave morosely absorbs the angry words from Doris. He

glances up toward Ed and notices his gaze with consternation.

He gives Doris a jerk of the head, and she too looks over.

VOICE:

You in ladies' wear?

The young man with the Adam's apple is back, looking out at

the floor, snapping his fingers.

ED:

...Huh?

YOUNG MAN:

Haven't I seen you up in ladies'

wear?

ED:

I don't work here. My wife does.

YOUNG MAN:

Uh-huh. Some beat, huh?

ED:

Yeah.

YOUNG MAN:

Check out the rack on that broad in

the angora.

ED:

Uh-huh.

A hand is laid on Ed's shoulder. It is Big Dave; he leans in

to murmur:

DAVE:

Ed. Can I talk to you?

BIG DAVE'S OFFICE

Music from the party drifts in only faintly. The office is

built into a corner of the sales floor. It is dominated by a

large desk. A large window on the far side affords a partial

view of the floor.

DAVE:

Siddown. Siddown...

Ed sits in a leather chair in front of the desk. Dave fumbles

nervously on top of the desk for a cigar. He trims the end

of the cigar with a short double-bladed knife with a steel

grip.

DAVE:

...Souveniered it off a Jap in New

Guinea.

He hands one cigar to Ed, takes one for himself, then drags

up a chair to face Ed's.

DAVE:

...I guess you're wondering what

Doris was so hot about.

The office is dark, the only illumination coming from the

window onto the bright sales floor behind Big Dave. Ed leans

forward for Dave to light his cigar.

DAVE:

...These're Havanas. Romeo and

Juliets. Private stock.

Dave, having lit Ed's cigar, draws nervously on his own.

DAVE:

...Ed, I...

ED:

What is it, Dave?

Dave breaks down, weeping. He buries his face in his hands,

the burning cigar in his right hand perilously close to his

hair.

DAVE:

Ed, I've been weak...

His shoulders heave.

DAVE:

...I've, uh... I've, uh... thanks.

Ed has taken Dave's cigar so that he won't burn himself.

DAVE:

...I've, uh... Oh, Jesus. I've been

carrying on with a married woman.

Uh, no one you know. And now the, uh--

what is it they say?--the--the--the

chickens are coming home to roost.

Ed awkwardly holds the two burning cigars.

ED:

Uh-huh.

DAVE:

Hell, I, I'm not proud of it. But,

uh, that's not the worst of it. I

got a note. A blackmail note. You

know, come across or everybody knows.

ED:

Uh-huh.

DAVE:

Well, you know what that would do to

me.

ED:

I guess it would be pretty awkward.

DAVE:

Awkward?! Ann'd throw me out on my

keister! Hell, it's her family's

store--*her* store. I serve at the

indulgence of the goddamn ownership,

Ed.

ED:

Uh-huh.

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