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By chris Date: 2005 Apr 28 Comment on this Work [[2005.04.28.22.09.10916]] |
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Scene V Later that same night. Dim smoky interior of Tosca, a North Beach bar. Benny is sitting at the counter with Gus, a rugged-looking man with an eye-patch. He looks to be in his late 30s but is in fact only 29. Benny: I need you to take care of something. I'm in trouble. Gus: What the hell am I supposed to do about it? I'm the one who needs help. I mean...shit...you're the one buyin' the beers. Benny: Well...yeah, but you know people who can get things done...take care of someone for me. Gus: How much you in the hole for? Benny: A lot. More than I'll be able to get with a straight job in twenty fucking years. Gus: I sense Jorge lurking somewhere in this picture. Benny: Yeah... Gus: Jesus! I told you to stay away from that lowlife. Benny: No, no...listen...I had it perfectly worked out: a perfect mark, a scam made in fucking scam-heaven...but now it's all mixed up. I'm in love with her, Gus. I mean, if this isn't love, the emotion doesn't exist. Gus: Too deep for me. Ask me after another beer. Benny: That a hint? OK...[motions to bartender] another St. Pauli over here... Gus: Listen, Benno, I'm not messing with Jorge, You ain't either. Get outta here. Simple as that. All you can do. Benny: God...I don't know...Inky...she'll probably... Gus: Inky? That her name? [shakes his head, smiles] Benny: Hey! She's a trust-fund brat from Berkeley. She's gorgeous. She has charisma. She's my universe. Deal. Gus: Well, something's definitely happened. I don't believe I ever heard you use the word "universe" in a sentence before... Benny: Yeah, yeah... What should I do? Gus: Told you, Benno. Head for the mountains. Then the desert. Then leave the country. Benny: That's gonna suck. Gus: We'll hook up some New Year's Eve down the road and laugh our asses off about all this shit. Benny: [smiles] Yeah... Gus: I'll blow my whole Social Security check on booze... Benny: That's not funny. Scene VI San Francsico's Union Square, later that same night. It's getting colder. The ding-ding-ding of cable car bells can be heard in the background. Benny walks up to Andy, a thin, grungy-looking man wearing a torn army jacket. Benny: Hey...where's Pedro at? I'm looking for him. Andy: How the fuck should I know? I got some hydro that'll lobotomize ya real good, though... Benny: No, no... No! You know where he is. I know you do. Andy: What makes you think I know - and, if I did know, that I would tell your sorry ass? Benny: Look, I'm in trouble. For real. Andy: So's everyone else. World's a mess. Benny: Listen, smartass - Andy: He can't be bothered. Benny: [looking around, then moving closer] How's about I bother you, huh? [he presses a gun against Andy's chest from inside of his flannel shirt] Andy: Last I heard he was living out near Stinson Beach. By the old bathhouses. [Benny looks around again, then runs off. The fog is beginning to roll in] Scene VII In front of Pedro's apartment, a spacious four-bedroom place overlooking the ruins of the bathhouses along the Pacific Ocean. Benny: (speaking into a box by the massive steel entrance gate) Yo! Man! Pedro my MAN! Benno here. You there? Pedro: (coldly) Come in. Benny: (taken aback by his friend's non-greeting) Cool. (under his breath) I think... Extravagant isn't the word for Pedro's apartment. Egyptian art is everywhere. Fine art prints--maybe even originals--adorn all the walls. There is a vague hemp smell in the air. Faint sounds of Brazilian jazz can be heard emanating from some inner room. Benny enters. They exchange pleasantries. He sinks into the white leather couch. Pedro triple-locks the door, re-sets an alarm near the doorframe. Pedro: So what can I do for you, my friend? You tell me first, then I tell you what you can do for me. Benny: (confused) Uh, sure... The bottom line is I'm in trouble. Fucked. Nearly finished. You're the only person I know who can help me. It's money. I owe a lot of it to someone, and he's through waitin' for it. While I pay it back I need-- Pedro: Protection? Benny: Protection. Pedro: (bemused) From who? Me? Benny: Huh? Pedro: Did you think I would forget so easily, amigo? Benny: Forget what? Remind me, 'cause I've forgotten. Pedro: You owe, shall we say, another person sitting in this room at least as much as you owe that prick. It dawns on Pedro now. He remembers an old debt, since obscured and buried in his consciousness by mountains of blow and many vials of crack. He stiffens. Pedro: Don't get up. Benny: Fuck you! He lunges at Pedro, hitting him full force at exactly the right moment to dislodge the Glock from inside of his waistband. The gun falls to the floor. Both men stare at it for what seems an eternity... Knowing he can't reach it before Pedro, Benny kicks it as hard as he can and the gun slides across the hardwood floor. They wrestle. Pedro outweighs Benny by at least 75 pounds, but Benny knows karate. He lands a kick to Pedro's head. The big man goes down. Benny runs to the door, wrenches it open. The alarm--set on perimeter delay--begins to count down. 30, 29, 28, 27... Benny: I didn't want no trouble! Pedro: Run, you deadbeat bastard...(holding his head)...and explain...to the cops why you're running away. They'll show less mercy on you...than I would've... Benny bolts out the door, takes the steps in threes and fours, and finds himself in the street. He can hear sirens off in the distance. He looks around, and to his complete and utter surprise a midnight black Viper screeches to a halt in front of the complex. Inky is at the wheel. She has a crazed smile on her face. Benny: But...how..? Inky: Get in you little fuckup and explain all this to me later. Benny: I knew I loved you... They speed off down Highway One, out of the city and into the blessed Pacific Coast blackness... Scene VIII Later that same day, somewhere along the Central California coast. Inky and Benny have pulled off to the side of the ride. The ocean is on one side of them, the brown oak-dotted hillsides on the other. Benny is smoking a cigarette. The Manic Street Preacher's "Kevin Carter" is playing on the radio. The sun is now up. Benny: (looking down the road) I see possibilities, baby. Possibilities upon possibilities upon a future pregnant with more....possibilities Inky: I see a lot of trees. And water. And a road that you me and have NO idea where it really goes. Benny: Thought you had a map in this car? Inky: I find my way by the sun and moon and stars. Benny: (looking up). Heh...we have the sun at least. One out of three ain't bad. Inky: Are you ready to talk yet? Benny: No. The time'll come for it. The important thing is that you're alright. The bullshit of my life hasn't touched you yet. And it won't. Inky: Somehow I doubt that. We have no future. I'd say we're doomed. Benny: Doom is for suckers. Inky: I'm hungry. Benny: I saw a little store back there a ways. Inky: Are we far enough away yet...from whatever we were running from that you won't tell me about? Benny: Yeah. For now. (They turn toward each other, eyes meeting, and kiss deeply.) Inky: You need to quit smoking (she laughs then gets serious). I can feel your heart beating, baby. What are you nervous about? Benny: You do that to me. What can I say. Inky: Aw... Benny: Hey, if we head east from here we can be in the desert by night. Inky: Sounds scary. Benny: It's where we need to be. Safest, trust me. This ain't our home anymore. Inky: Never knew we had a home. Benny: We didn't. A red Mustang speeds past. The song on the radio ends. Another starts. Benny, in the driver's seat now, turns the key in the ignition. His hands are shaking. He breathes in deeply. They drive away. |