Torrid Zone Page #3

There's plenty of time.

The boat doesn't leave for hours.

- I'll be seeing you later.

- Going all the way?

Right to the end of the line.

I don't think the trip

will seem so long now.

- Have a drink with me?

- Sure, right now.

- No, no, no.

- No, no, no.

I tried.

I'll see you after the boat sails.

It's a date.

Hey, there he is.

And there ain't no dame with him.

It's a mirage.

Hi, Nicky!

- Well, Wally.

- Gee, it's good to see you.

Certainly is, fellow.

Still on your diet, huh, kid?

- Nick, you're looking swell.

- Captain of the all-American rat team.

I ought to belt you right in the puss

for sending me down that swamp.

How can you talk like that?

I did it for the company.

Don't give me that. You sent me down

that death trap hoping I'd kick off.

Oh, how can you say that?

I'll admit I was a little sore

about the former Mrs. Case.

But that's all over with.

Let's go to the office and have a drink, huh?

- Sure, why not?

- You know the rules about drinking.

- But just this once...

- Stay onboard and watch the men.

That fruit will rot before

it gets into the hold.

- Come on, Nick.

- I'll see you before I go, Wally.

You dirty bilge-driver.

Man overboard!

- How's my successor in number seven?

- Who, Anderson?

Oh, he turned out great.

A real scientific fruit-grower.

Scientific, huh?

I suppose by now, he's growing bananas

with zippers on them.

The same old Nick,

always gagging, huh?

Nick, what are you gonna do

back there in the States?

Got a job with the Coast to Coast stores.

Assistant to the superintendent.

Plenty of dough too.

Are you kidding?

An inside job with a grocery chain?

Inside, yes. So what?

Lots of people work inside and love it.

You'll never go for it, Nick. Never.

Imagine you, cooped up in a room,

no sun, no air.

Punching a clock, half an hour for lunch.

Sounds great to me.

No siestas in the afternoon.

Married to a buzzer on a desk, no freedom.

Nick Butler, choked to death

by a white collar and a tangle of red tape.

Nope, never figured you

for a setup like that.

You don't know it,

but you've been describing paradise to me.

But, Nick, you're not up

to the States physically.

It's gonna be cold there

in another month.

- Where is this lace-panty job of yours?

- Chicago.

- Chicago?

- I didn't say Guatemala.

Chicago. Imagine those icy winter winds

from the lake blasting you in the kisser.

The snow oozing down your collar,

the slush packing in your shoes...

...running up your pants' leg.

I am imagining it.

Sweetheart, to me, it sounds like heaven.

Now, look, Nick. Nick, why kid yourself?

The fruit company needs you

and you need the company.

And, Nick, I need you.

Oh, no kidding, I really do.

Oh, sure, I got sore at you...

...but you're not gonna let a thing like

a wife stand between our friendship?

What's this valentine leading up to?

Well, I'll level with you

and tell you the truth.

Anderson hasn't worked out.

No.

No, he's been ruining things

up at the plantation.

Nick, he just hasn't got your understanding,

your diplomacy, your tact.

He hasn't got your knowledge.

And, Nick, that wife of his,

oh, she's turned out to be a beautiful girl.

I guess maybe the tropics

thawed her out.

She's been thinking

of divorcing Anderson.

You sure get them, don't you?

I see her, she wants to know

where you are, what you're doing...

...and when you're coming back.

- Is that so?

Well, now, Nick, would I lie to you?

Can you figure a beautiful girl like her

staying married to a dope like that?

She's only living for the day

when she sees you again.

What's the matter?

Oh, Jocko,

save that bait for the college boys.

Mrs. Anderson's a very lovely lady,

but she has a husband.

The boat goes at midnight

and Nicky goes with it.

There's a number onboard

keeping me from getting lonesome.

Oh, yeah? Donley, huh?

I might have known you wouldn't miss that.

- Wouldn't throw rocks at her.

- I hope you get her. Serve you both right.

Look out!

Nice work.

Somebody must know you as well as I do.

I was afraid of this. Your pal, Rosario.

Thought he'd be parked under

a hunk of granite.

Should have been,

but he escaped this afternoon. Look.

"I kill you, Case.

Maybe perhaps that Butler too. Rosario."

- Same sweet kid, huh?

- No, Nick, I'm worried.

That butcher's gonna cause trouble.

Anderson up at number seven.

Nick, I got an idea.

- When do you start on this job of yours?

- Four weeks.

That'd give you two weeks to spare.

I got a man coming from New Orleans...

Grab yourself an aspirin and go lie down.

I'm offering you a thousand-dollar bonus

to get that fruit moving off of number 7.

- It's only until the new man comes.

- Save your breath. It's not for me.

Nick, Nick, when you get back to the States,

you're gonna wanna have a good time.

I know you haven't got a quarter.

This is a cinch.

Can go north with a hat full of dough.

What do you say?

I could use the money

and it wouldn't take long.

- When do I get it?

- Tomorrow on the line.

- Cash?

- Cash, American dollars. How about it?

I know I'm letting myself in

for a 14-carat massage.

- But all right, it's a deal.

- Now you're talking.

Well, remember, sweetheart. Two weeks.

I'll put you on the ship personally.

I have to get my junk off the boat.

- You won't have to.

- What?

It's already here.

- Work fast, don't you?

- In this case, I had to.

See that you get that dough as quickly.

Send them to the hotel.

Okay, sweetheart.

What are you trying to do,

carve me up?

I'm sorry, but that note you had me

stick on the blade sort of spoiled my aim.

- Be careful next time. Take a radiogram.

- Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

R.J. Baldwin, Baldwin Fruit Company.

New Orleans.

Never mind sending that new man

for number 7.

Nick Butler back on the job to stay.

Sign, Case.

Lovely, eh, seor? Very much home-like.

You've been in the wrong homes.

- lf I owned this, know what I'd do with it?

- What, Seor Butler? I'm anxious to serve.

- Burn it to the ground.

- Oh, yes, indeed, seor. That's what l...

Suppose if you cleaned the mosquito can,

your guests would move out?

Such carelessness

on the part of my help.

Seor, I will see that this room

is cleaned totally next Wednesday.

Look, maybe I should let the mosquitoes

use the bed and I'll sleep on the floor, huh?

Oh, no, seor, we don't allow our guests

to sleep on the floor.

I shall have it fixed next Wednesday.

I want new netting

and I don't want it next Wednesday.

I gotta sleep and I don't wanna

shadow-box mosquitoes.

But it's very late.

The mosquito department is closed.

Open it. I want new netting.

Don't care if you rip out of the bridal suite.

But, seor, what about the bride?

Tell her to use her veil.

Search every building.

Look in the alleys. Look in the alleys.

Catch her or everyone

is gonna be discharged.

Rodriguez, what are you selling?

That girl. She escaped from the boat.

This is a bad day, Mr. Butler, bad day.

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