“I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves; be ye therefore as wise as serpents and harmless as doves”—Matthew 10:16
FADE IN
EXT. SAN FRANCISCO’S TENDERLOIN. NIGHT.
JADE RENO, a neon peacock riding a three-wheeled motorcycle
and sporting the loudest, ugliest sunglasses made by man, cruises down the dark
city street. He parks neatly at the curb and powers his bike down. But just as
he hops off, he freezes.
A COP CAR cruises by. Jade warily watches it as he locks up
the bike. Much as he loves attention, he fears the police. His cool returns as
the cop car disappears around a corner. Then, swinging his skinny arms, Jade struts
into a small, dumpy coffee shop.
INT. COFFEE SHOP. NIGHT.
The café is fly-strewn and nearly empty. Jade slides into a
booth by the window, glances at his wristwatch, looks around as though
expecting someone.
A WAITRESS steps up to take his order.
JADE: Coffee, babe.
She scribbles the order
and leaves. Jade looks over his shoulder, out the window.
Outside, the Cop Car
circles again. The same one? A new one?
Jade sighs nervously,
turns back . . . and jumps three feet in the air.
Across the table sits
THORNTON, as though conjured out of thin air—cold and coiled like a snake, graceful,
hungry and patient as a spider.
JADE: Shit n’ Jesus! Thornton.
(He swallows) They sent you.
Thornton smiles thinly. The
Waitress brings Jade’s coffee, looks fearfully at Thornton. Jade waves her away.
She exits.
THORNTON: We got word you got business, Jade.
JADE (nervous laugh): You betcha.
Thornton nods: keep
talking.
JADE: Snow, big bags it.
The best! Sprinkle it on your corn flakes–
THORNTON: How big?
JADE: Three bags, ten el-beez
each–
THORNTON: Price?
JADE: Two mil.
THORNTON (a nod and a smile): So: We give you the
money, you fetch the goods.
JADE: That’s how it’s done, pops! I ain’t lettin’
you see my main man. You’d cut me out.
He foolishly reaches
over to grip Thornton’s arm.
JADE: Hey man, we’ll all
be poppin’ like popcorn on this deal.
Thornton’s thin smile
vanishes. Not a nice thing to see. Jade pulls away, tries to placate him.
JADE: Hey whoa! Don’t
worry! You can trust me!
THORNTON (very drily): Sure, Jade. I trust any fool
wearin’ sunglasses at night.
JADE: Two mil, dude. You
need it, I can see that fine nose twitchin’.
THORNTON: That’s because
I smell shit. But it’s not my deal. I’m only a consultant. We’re going ahead.
JADE: Great!
THORNTON: But you know what’ll
happen if you screw up?
Jade frowns, waiting for
the answer.
Thornton calmly reaches
over and snaps one of Jade’s fingers like a stick.
Jade leaps up, cries out,
shakes his hand, tucks it into his armpit, collapses back in his seat.
JADE: Man, you a cold
motherfucker . . . .
THORNTON: Cold? (He thinks it over, shakes his head.) Not
really. (His smile returns.) I like my
work. (He leans in with a cruel glare.)
When?
JADE: Monday night. Around
nine. Where I find you?
THORNTON: Cecil Hotel.
Seven o’clock. Ask for . . . Luke Oliver.
Jade nods, removes his
sunglasses, rubs his eyes with exhaustion. When he opens them, Thornton has
vanished. Jade looks around confused, then takes a napkin, pulls out a pen and
painfully writes down the appointment.
EXT. DALY CITY. ADAMS
HOUSE. BACKYARD. AFTERNOON.
A birthday party on a
sunny day in the backyard of a small middle-class house in a hilly and safe
middle-class neighborhood. Adults are soundly in the minority here. It’s the CHILDREN
who rule as they noisily swirl and dance around picnic tables, a swing set, a
sand box. a gym set and a makeshift stage.
At the center of all
this hub-bub stands CHIP ADAMS: late-thirties in body, still a boy in mind and
soul. Sporting the top hat and tails of an old-time magician, he holds up a
pair of sparklers for an audience of KIDS. The sparklers sputter out. Then pink
carnations pop out of both of them. The Children cheer and applaud.
Chip’s FAMILY stands
watching nearby:
RUTH, his lovely and
gentle wife.
BUD, their six-year-old
boy, a little pale and thin.
MARY, their
thirteen-year-old daughter, spunky, athletic, smart.
Alongside them stands
the REVEREND JOSEPH JAMES AKA DR. JOE, charismatic, confident, and more than a little
pompous.
Chip now pulls out a
Magic Money roll, a magic trick resembling a cigarette roller. He holds up a
play ten-dollar bill for everyone to see.
CHIP: Watch this!
He feeds it into the
roller and out comes a real ten-dollar bill.
Again, the Kids laugh
and applaud. Chip hands the ten bucks to a LITTLE BOY.
CHIP: That’s all for
you.
Ruth winces. Mary sighs.
Dr. Joe rolls his eyes at heaven. It seems Chip is not very good with money.
EXT. DALY CITY. ADAMS
HOUSE. BACKYARD. AFTERNOON.
Mary, now dressed in spangly
tights, cartwheels across the lawn. Her cartwheels turn to handsprings, as she springs
up onto a small stage where Chip stands in his top hat and tails. At the back
of the stage stands a small closet.
CHIP: Ladies and
Gentlemen! Boys and girls! Magic Jack, the Magic Master, will cause this lovely
young lady to be transformed before your very eyes!
Mary curtsies, enters
the closet, closes the red curtain behind her. Chip taps the closet with his
wand and chants.
CHIP: Magic Jack who has
no peer, will make this girl dis . . . appear!
He yanks open the
curtain. Mary has vanished. Cheers and applause. Chip bows, closes the curtain
and taps the closet.
CHIP: Hurry! Hurry Magic
Jack! Find that girl and bring her back!
He pulls the curtain
open. Mary reappears now wearing a cheerleader’s outfit. More cheers and applause
as Chip and Mary bow, hand-in-hand, smiling and waving.
EXT. DALY CITY. ADAMS
HOUSE. BACKYARD. DAY.
Chip, wearing a party
hat, stands grinning over a candle-studded birthday cake, with Bud in his arms
and Ruth and Mary either side of him. Everyone sings “Happy Birthday.”
PARTY GUESTS (singing): Happy Birthday, dear
Chiii-ip! Happy Birthday to you!
Chip and Bud take deep
breaths and blow out the candles.
BUD: Happy birthday,
Daddy!
RUTH: Happy birthday,
Chip!
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