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BOBBY (can hardly talk)

I ... can't ... argue ...

They arrive at a JEEP SAHARA.

GRACE:

This is it.

Bobby practically drops the package. He is covered with sweat.

GRACE:

Thank you, Bobby.

BOBBY:

You're welcome, Grace.

GRACE:

You're not from around here, are you?

BOBBY:

Why you say that? Just because I help a

lady with her package?

GRACE:

You don't have that dead look in your eyes

like the only thing you live for is to get

through the day.

BOBBY:

I just drove in this morning.

GRACE:

Drove into Superior? What for?

BOBBY:

Didn't have a choice. My car overheated up

the road.

GRACE:

You're lucky you didn't break down in the

desert. Day like today, you'd be dead in no

time. When you leaving?

BOBBY:

Not until my car's fixed. I don't know how

long that's going to take.

GRACE:

And here I've made you all hot and sweaty.

Grace steps to Bobby and places her hand against his chest. She

rubs away some of the sweat. They look at each other a beat. A

POLICE CAR, seen earlier, pulls up beside them from behind and

idles. SHERIFF VIRGIL POTTER is a weathered, handsome,

middle-aged man with suspicious eyes, black haired in contrast

to Bobby's sandiness.

SHERIFF:

Morning Grace.

GRACE:

Morning Sheriff. Got my drapes.

SHERIFF:

Well it's about time. Looks like you found

yourself a helper too.

Bobby wants to shrink behind the drapes.

GRACE:

Well, he offered, and I just couldn't

refuse. His car overheated.

SHERIFF:

Oh?

Bobby turns to the Sheriff and forces a smile.

BOBBY:

Morning, officer.

SHERIFF:

Son.

(beat, to Grace)

Little excitement out at the reservation

this morning. Wayne and Dale Elkhart were

up drinking all night and then Wayne starts

chasing Dale around the desert with his

shotgun. BIA handled it. I went by for

backup.

GRACE:

Anybody hurt?

SHERIFF:

Hell, no. That Wayne can't shoot when he's

sober, much less drunk. He's lucky he

didn't kill his own danged self.

(beat)

Well, anyhow, you stay cool. Nice meeting

you, son.

BOBBY:

Same here, officer.

The Sheriff drives on. Pause. They look at each other.

GRACE:

Well, I guess I could use some help

getting this box into the house. Not far.

You could shower, get something cool to

drink.

Bobby considers the offer, but there's not much considering to

do.

BOBBY:

Well, I could use something cool.

EXT. DESERT ROAD - DAY

BOBBY rides along with GRACE in her JEEP.

GRACE:

Where you coming from?

BOBBY:

All over. Chicago, Houston, Detroit. Just

lately Dallas.

GRACE:

You've been around.

BOBBY:

I guess I've got wander in my blood.

GRACE:

Where you headed?

BOBBY:

I don't know. I have to make a stop in

Vegas. Business to finish. Then maybe

I'll head to Santa Barbara. I might be

able to pick up some action there.

GRACE:

So, what is it you do, Mister...?

BOBBY:

Cooper. Bobby Cooper. Oh you know, whatever

pays best. Little bartending, used to teach

tennis, played a little competition ...

(drops it).

GRACE:

I never played tennis. You just travel

around Bobby-- no direction, no steady

work. You must like taking chances.

BOBBY:

If you're going to gamble, might as well

play for high stakes.

GRACE:

What happens when you lose?

BOBBY:

I pack up and go somewhere else.

GRACE (wistfully)

Somewhere else. I've never been anywhere

else. Just once. Years ago. Went to the

State Fair. It was nice, but it wasn't

nothing.

BOBBY:

I couldn't stay in this place. I wouldn't.

I'd just pick up, do whatever I had to do,

and get out.

Grace looks to Bobby and smiles.

GRACE:

Sometimes I feel the exact same way.

INT. GRACE'S BEDROOM/BATHROOM - LATER - DAY

BOBBY, naked, steps into the shower and turns on the water. It

shoots from the shower head and cascades over his body. As the

water falls over him we hear a Russian accented voice:

VOICE(V.O.)

I want my money.

Bobby press his left hand against the white tile to steady

himself. His hand is curled in such a way we cannot see his

pinky or ring finger. Bobby leans back in the shower. Just as

he does:

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT

It is raining hard. Matching the backwards motion of the last

scene BOBBY is thrown violently against a brick wall, facing

out.

VOICE(V.O.)

I want my money.

BOBBY:

Look, I'll get the money! You don't want to

do this!

VOICE (V.O.)

Take two for now. One a week, punk...

Bobby is being pressed against the wall by two muscular GOONS.

Another MAN stands partially hidden behind the goon's frame.

With one hand one goon flattens Bobby's hand against the brick,

with his other he clips two fingers off with a GARDEN SHEAR. We

see Bobby's face in agonizing pain, then he slides screaming to

the ground until he is framed between the legs of the men.

As Bobby clutches his left hand the rainwater runs in streaks

down his ashen, blank face.

INT. GRACE'S BEDROOM/BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER

We see BOBBY's face reliving the experience as once again we

hear the voice.

VOICE (V.O.)

Two weeks, a**hole. Get the money or you

gonna lose your nose and ears.

Bobby has slumped to the floor of the shower, looking to his

left hand, almost crying, unable to tolerate it. As a streak of

blood snakes down the white tile we see that the pinky and ring

FINGERS have been cut off at the joints.

INT. GRACE'S BEDROOM/BATHROOM - DAY

BOBBY, his hand rebandaged, is putting on his clothes.

BOBBY (to himself)

You're still lucky.

As he does he looks at himself in the mirror. He bends to pick

up his shirt which is draped over the gym bag. As he lifts it we

can see, perhaps more closely than at the garage, that the bag is

3/4 filled with money. He closes the bag and stands. In the

MIRROR, hidden in the doorway, he sees GRACE watching him. Bobby

slows perceptibly, but does not try to hide himself. After a

moment Grace walks into the room carrying a glass of lemonade.

GRACE:

Thought you might like a refill on your lemonade.

Bobby takes the lemonade and drinks it down. He rubs the glass

against his forehead.

BOBBY:

That's good. Cools you right off.

(tentatively) I saw you watching me.

GRACE:

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.

BOBBY:

I didn't say it bothered me.

GRACE:

Did you like it; me watching you?

BOBBY:

I guess. I've got an ego same as any man.

GRACE:

Good, 'cause I liked what I saw.

Bobby gives a smile as devilish as it is pleasant. Grace slides

an ice cube from the glass between her lips. He notices a framed

picture of GRACE and an OLDER MAN.

BOBBY:

Nice place.

GRACE:

Thank you.

Grace sits on the edge of the bed. Bobby indicates the picture,

ironic.

BOBBY:

Who's that, your father?

GRACE (without much thought)

Stepfather...

BOBBY (coy)

Got a boyfriend?

GRACE:

No. Not really.

Bobby senses she's lying but plays along.

BOBBY:

Must get kind of lonely for a woman living

by herself in a big house.

GRACE:

I guess it must.

BOBBY:

What do you do anyway?

GRACE:

A little of this, a little of that. Mostly

I tell fortunes.

BOBBY:

Where'd you learn to do that?

GRACE:

From my father. He was the tribe's shaman.

BOBBY:

A medicine man?

GRACE:

Those are white words, not ours.

BOBBY:

Nice house for a shaman's daughter. You

must be good.

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