StripHer by Marc Lapadula

Copyright, 2011

CAST: DANCER: a woman in her early 20s HAEBER: male, mid-30s SYNEAN: a British woman, 30s VERDEN: mixed-race male, late 30s BARTENDER: a man in his early 50s BEARDED MAN: 40s LOCATION: A Strip Bar In Washington, D.C. TIME: Late Night... The Present SCENE:

[Lights up dimly. Blue hue. Artificial fog rises, masking a DANCER, naked from the waist up, performing in silhouette on a raised platform at the back of the stage. Music (no lyrics) stalks her every movement. Several tables, with lit votive candles, close in on her.... Far right, a BARTENDER, arms crossed, observes her routine from the bar. On the extreme left wall, red glare from a neon sign in the outside window filters through closed wooden shutters....

2. The door from the street opens and HAEBER enters. He walks only a few feet before he freezes, his gaze arrested by the surprisingly young and comely DANCER. He studies her every movement until the song ends.... Amid scattered applause, the DANCER steps off the platform, covering her breasts with her forearm.... SYNEAN, wearing a black cocktail dress, sits alone at a table down center, her back to the audience. Her head turns, following the DANCER as she disappears behind a curtain stage left. SYNEAN claps only briefly, returning to her drink, sipping it through a straw.... VERDEN sits a few empty tables away down stage on the extreme right, his back to the DANCER’s entire performance. He stares blankly out at the audience.... HAEBER scans the room. He looks towards VERDEN, then SYNEAN, as if trying to choose between which person to go to. He then crosses in front of SYNEAN, flashing her a lubricious smile (which she ignores) and heads to VERDEN’s table where he sits in a chair opposite him.... The music fades.] HAEBER (grinning) Hey. [Silence. HAEBER clears his throat.] HAEBER (leaning in) What, nobody home? [VERDEN doesn’t turn. His stare remains aimed at the audience.]

3. VERDEN What are you doing here? HAEBER Thought you might be lonely. VERDEN Get back outside. [Behind HAEBER, several feet away, SYNEAN sits virtually motionless. Keeping her back to the audience and profile to the men, her eyes will remain fixed on the empty platform throughout HAEBER’s and VERDEN’s conversation.] HAEBER What shit you drinkin’? [HAEBER reaches for VERDEN’s glass. VERDEN’s hand comes to life, grabbing his wrist.] HAEBER Easy, boy, easy. Just checkin’ your poison. I’ve no idea where your lips have been. Not in a dive shit-hole like this. [HAEBER launches a peculiar chuckle, finding himself far more amusing than VERDEN or anyone else ever will.... VERDEN’s hand relaxes. HAEBER takes the glass, raises it to his nose and sniffs. With a frown, he sets it back down.] HAEBER Wicked stuff. VERDEN You mind?

4. HAEBER Yeah, I do. You’re in here with all the magnificent pussy and I’m left out in the parkin’ lot with nothin’ but my dick in my hand. Gets old sittin’ the car. VERDEN Must... for your hand. HAEBER Yeah, fuck you, too. [HAEBER turns and looks at the performance platform, smirking.] HAEBER The young bitch wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. Nothin’ like the over-the-hill, skank hoes you normally see jigglin’ their cellulite up there. Think she gives decent lap dances between sets? Where’d she run off to? Hittin’ the can? Hell, she can piss on my--VERDEN What did I say? HAEBER If I wander behind the curtain like I’m lost... introduce her to my ol’ pal, Ben Franklin... think I’d offend her? (performing jumping jacks with his eyebrows) Hope so. [HAEBER pulls out his wallet. VERDEN’s eyes rise to the ceiling.] HAEBER She’s more than welcome to mouth off on me... (with a smirking laugh) Hell, for a hundred bucks she should be flattered to cough up a memorable-enough blow-job. Any woman would be. VERDEN Feeling generous tonight, eh? [HAEBER laughs.]

5. HAEBER Only if she is. (counting his cash) Spot me sixty, will ya? VERDEN No problem. [HAEBER extends his hand. VERDEN makes no move for his wallet.] HAEBER Come on, I’m runnin’ a little short. Small price to pay to put a smile on your man’s face. VERDEN You got someplace to be. It ain’t here. [HAEBER keeps turning to check the platform as if expecting the DANCER to reappear any moment.] HAEBER Talk about shitty timing. I missed her entire fuckin’ set. [HAEBER shrugs his shoulders, rapping his knuckles on the table.] HAEBER Think quality pussy like that keeps a boyfriend tucked away somewhere? (nodding to himself) I do. Definitely. Idiot prob’ly has no idea what’s she got going on the side neither. Thinks she’s a librarian or something. All a bitch like that has to do is vacuum his dick once or twice a month and her rent’s paid in full. Pokes a finger up his ass doin’ it, he throws in the utilities. (laughing) Easy come, easy... come. Am I right or am I right? [HAEBER raps his knuckles again on the table to VERDEN’s annoyance.] VERDEN You actually think you’re funny.

6. HAEBER I am funny. Funnier than you. [Silence. HAEBER coughs.] VERDEN You still here? HAEBER (nodding) Yeah, I know all about women like her. (smiling) The nights she tells lover-boy she’s out with her “friends,” she’s busy squirrelin’ away a fortune... seducing every man she sees into thinkin’ he’s “The One.” (picking at his nose) Every stud’s “The One” to a woman like that ‘til his debit card runs dry.... Then he’s out with the trash Monday mornin’. VERDEN Speaking from experience. HAEBER Hey, not me. [HAEBER looks closely at VERDEN.] HAEBER What’s with you tonight? Whose funeral we at anyway? VERDEN Yours... when you screw this up. HAEBER Like that will ever happen. [VERDEN turns and makes direct eye contact with HAEBER.] VERDEN It’s happened. More than once. I don’t feel like joining you. HAEBER It’s still early... stop worryin’.

7. VERDEN He ain’t known to be late. HAEBER (checking his watch) Fuck him. What can go wrong? [VERDEN turns and makes direct eye contact with HAEBER who sighs and looks away.] HAEBER Don’t look at me. VERDEN Just get back outside. HAEBER You have to learn to relax. Count to infinity or some shit. They put you in with a fine piece of ass. Enjoy it. I’m the poor bastard stranded outside like some shithead doorman. Appreciate your position. There are many more than willin’ to take it from you. VERDEN They can have it. [VERDEN pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He lights one up.] HAEBER (eyeing the cigarettes) Hey, charity begins at home. [HAEBER snaps his fingers.] VERDEN Second-hand smoke ain’t healthy. [HAEBER reaches over and snatches the pack of cigarettes in front of VERDEN. He removes two, putting one behind his ear and the other between his lips as he flips the pack back onto the table.]

8. HAEBER Toss me your lighter. [VERDEN ignores him.] HAEBER Fuck you. [HAEBER picks up the votive candle and lights up. He takes a deep drag, expelling smoke.] HAEBER Total waste puttin’ you inside. [VERDEN rubs his eyes.] VERDEN You going to heckle me all night? Let’s get this done so I can get outta here. [HAEBER chuckles, blowing smoke.] HAEBER Rush, rush, rush. It all hinges on him. Until he arrives, no one’s goin’ anyplace. Out of our hands. We’ve got time to kill. [VERDEN shoots a menacing glance at HAEBER whose eyes are busy scanning the room. Silence.] HAEBER Fuckin’ car radio’s broke.... I can’t even listen to the Nats lose. Strasburg’s on the hill. Late game out west. He’ll strike out fifteen, hold the Dodgers to one run and still get an “L” in his column. I came in for an update. VERDEN This place look like it’s into baseball? HAEBER Oh, it’s “into baseball.” When it comes to pitchin’ chicks lame-ass come-ons, the loser clientele in this dump knows all about striking out. Why do you think they’re here in the first place? (MORE)

9. HAEBER (cont'd) (gesturing towards the platform) When’s she doin’ her next set? VERDEN Doesn’t matter... you won’t be here. HAEBER Where’d they recruit such a fine specimen anyway? She new? Bitch puts her heart and soul into it, I’ll give her that. She’s up there prancin’ around in all her glory, struttin’ her slammin’ body to Kingdom Come... and you’re lookin’ the other way, starin’ at--- what? (motioning the audience) Nothin’! Forget your Viagra? I can write you a new prescription. Got hold a doctor’s script pad on my last assignment. You should see the--VERDEN Get. Out. Now. I’m not going to tell you again. [HAEBER scrunches his face, blowing smoke.] HAEBER Come on, man, we used to be bros, bro. ‘Member how we used to hang back in the day? We was tight. Was all fun and laughs back then. VERDEN Yeah, I remember. That was never. [Jaw going rigid, HAEBER leans in, suddenly serious.] HAEBER (voice low) Look, when our boy makes his grand entrance, it’s over, you’re done. Right after the drop. You gotta be patient. We’re babysittin’ the children tonight. Shit’ll go down like a cold beer in July. In. Out. Flushed to the Potomac. Easiest gig we’ve had in weeks. VERDEN You leaving or am I?

10. [HAEBER sighs, stubs out his cigarette and stands.] HAEBER Yeah, yeah... try givin’ your sorry ass some quality company... look where it lands me. [HAEBER grabs VERDEN’s drink off the table, raising it in a mock toast.] HAEBER Sittin’ the car all night, your man gets thirsty. To you, asshole. [HAEBER downs it like a shot. Grimacing, he slides the empty glass towards VERDEN. VERDEN catches it just before it runs off the table.] HAEBER Nice hands. (chuckling) Ain’t that what she said? (shaking off the unpleasant after-taste) Wicked shit! I’ll have to let you buy me a real fuckin’ cocktail some evenin’. Make up for that putrid piss in a glass I just swallowed. I’ll puke the second I walk out the door. VERDEN I’m going to puke right now. HAEBER Fuck you and all your future deformed offspring. You can kiss my dimpled, heat-rashed ass. [HAEBER turns and heads out. Strutting past SYNEAN, he stops.] HAEBER (looking down) Stand up, miss.

11. [Beat.] HAEBER Did you hear me? [SYNEAN seems to come out of a trance. She turns and raises her head, looking at him.] HAEBER Stand up, honey. SYNEAN (with a British accent) Pardon? HAEBER Pardon? SYNEAN I’m not sure I understand what--HAEBER (poorly mimicking her British accent, smiling) I just need you to stand up. I’m conductin’ a survey. [Confused, SYNEAN slowly stands. HAEBER’s vulture eyes give her a salacious once-over.] SYNEAN Survey? What kind of---? HAEBER (continuing with the lame British accent) The Follow-Me-Out-To-My-Car-For-A-Shaggin’-You’ll-NeverForget survey. All you have to do is check the right box. [Beat.] HAEBER Care to participate, luv? [SYNEAN blinks. Beat.]

12. SYNEAN Mmmm... no... thank you. HAEBER Pass up this golden opportunity, you may hate yourself in the mornin’. SYNEAN Something I’ll be forced to live with. [HAEBER laughs as SYNEAN sits back down, crossing her legs and looking away.] HAEBER (reverting back to his own voice) Your loss. Offer has no expiration. Take that as a warning. SYNEAN I wouldn’t interpret it any other way. [SYNEAN stares at him. The two lock eyes for a prolonged moment until HAEBER chuckles, winks and walks out via the door he entered. SYNEAN’s gaze wanders back to the empty performance platform and stays there.... Long pause. VERDEN stubs out his cigarette down stage right behind her.... SYNEAN swivels around in her chair, propping her arms on the table as she fully faces the audience for the first time. She stirs her drink with a straw. She’s a very attractive woman with long, slightly tousled hair. She takes a generous sip from her glass. Pause. Picking up her purse, she sorts carefully through its inner contents and pulls out a compact. Opening it, she examines her face in the small hand-held mirror. Running her fingers through her hair, she becomes momentarily captivated by her own reflection.

13. Lowering her hand, her lips form a mysterious smile before she clicks the compact closed, exhaling deeply. Long silence.] SYNEAN (as if to no one in particular, with her distinctive British accent) I’m curious about something... [Pause.] SYNEAN I’m always curious... about something... (with a self-amused laugh) Do you ever find yourself in a bit of a quandary? You encounter something rather puzzling and can’t quite put your finger on the logical answer. Drives you nearly mad. (running her finger around the rim of her glass) Excuse me?.... Hello...? [Looking away from the audience, she turns directly to VERDEN, staring at him for a prolonged moment.] SYNEAN I’m actually addressing you... [Beat. VERDEN slowly looks up and over.] SYNEAN Yes... you, sir. VERDEN You’re “addressing” me? SYNEAN (pointing) You, dear boy.

14. [Lobbing her compact into her purse, she closes it and slides it to the center of the table, patting it twice with her palm before folding her hands on her lap.] SYNEAN How come you didn’t... watch? [VERDEN motions the BARTENDER for another round but the BARTENDER, busy counting receipts at the cash register far up stage right, fails to notice.] SYNEAN You weren’t interested... as she danced. You weren’t even--[VERDEN pivots slightly away in his chair.] SYNEAN Don’t ignore me. [VERDEN looks like he’s going to get up and move to another table.] SYNEAN (more firmly) I said, don’t ignore me. Please. It’s rude. VERDEN Look, lady... SYNEAN (regaining calm) It’s impolite. [SYNEAN’s face readjusts itself into a smile.] VERDEN I’m avoiding, not ignoring. So if you don’t mind---

15. SYNEAN I do mind... though, I’m also rather... intrigued. Didn’t you find her... engaging? [Silence.] SYNEAN Well? (looking back towards the stage) I did. Couldn’t take my eyes off her. [VERDEN shakes his head with a look of “what next?” before glancing again at his watch.] SYNEAN You’re impatient, too. Despite your crass friend’s assurances. VERDEN He’s no friend. SYNEAN Whatever he is. Did come across as a bit of a... primitive, didn’t he? Very much a throwback to the Neanderthals. That pre-enlightenment epoch before the human brain expanded to the point where it taught itself to think. I found all the strange noises he made difficult to tune out. VERDEN Seems contagious tonight. [Pause.] SYNEAN Whomever you’re waiting for is obviously late in your book... aren’t they? [Pause.] VERDEN No one’s ever early. [SYNEAN’s head tilts to the side.]

16. SYNEAN (smiling) My husband. [VERDEN’s eyebrows rise.] SYNEAN My husband’s always... early. In everything. He’s just like that. To a fault. Overly punctual. Like clockwork. [Beat. SYNEAN stirs her drink.] SYNEAN He comes in here on Tuesday nights. VERDEN (raising an eyebrow) Does he? SYNEAN Most Tuesdays he comes in here. I thought I might venture in myself one evening... see what all the fuss is about. Tonight’s the lucky night. VERDEN Lucky me. SYNEAN Lucky both of us. [SYNEAN pulls her hair away from her face and ties it up in a knot on top of her head.] SYNEAN Quite dead, though, isn’t it?.... Bloody Tuesdays. I reckon it’s infested with clients on the weekends. The peculiar upside to a slow night like tonight is that it’s more... well... intimate. Especially for those of us who traveled quite a long distance to get here. [She laughs.] SYNEAN Not in miles, no. This place is so far removed from any of my normal day-to-day destinations. (MORE)

17. SYNEAN (cont'd) That’s what makes it so out-of-the-way. Difficult to find. It actually took me years to get here. I had no idea I was headed in this direction... not until fairly recently. [Beat. She smiles.] SYNEAN With no map, I got lost trying to find it. It’s my maiden voyage to this particular establishment... or to one even remotely like it for that matter. Not exactly my kind of hangout. (looking around) It does grow on one, though. [Pause.] SYNEAN (gesturing with her glass) Aside from our dancer friend... I can’t help but notice that not too many individuals of the female persuasion have put in an appearance this evening. Rather a shame. If it weren’t for me, our young danseuse would be flying solo. You a regular here? [VERDEN tries to ignore her. SYNEAN lets out an odd laugh.] SYNEAN (motioning towards the performance platform) Those blokes up front, ringing the stage, are all husbands of one form or another, aren’t they? Only married men... however they rate on the “happily-ever-after” scale... come to these types of... places. [Beat. She laughs.] SYNEAN Not that I’m being judgmental, mind you. Though, I suppose, to an extent I am. Certainly wasn’t my intention at the getgo. I came here with a completely open mind. [VERDEN grins.]

18. VERDEN A husband who meets his wife in a dump like this... that’s a first for me. SYNEAN (getting more animated) Is it? Really?! Shows you how limited one’s experience can be.... My experiences have no limits... lately. [VERDEN smirks. SYNEAN extracts the straw from her drink, running its length sensuously between her full lips before setting it down beside her glass. With a wry smile and glass in hand, she rises from her chair, leaving her purse unattended on the center of the table. With only her drink as company, she walks over towards the DANCER’s platform. Upon her arrival, she stops and looks it over, as if studying its dimensions. She then reaches up and rests her palm on its wooden surface. Beat.] SYNEAN Solid. [SYNEAN’s eyes wander over to the DANCER’s exit curtain and hold there. Turning, she drifts back towards her seat but veers at the last moment towards VERDEN. Arriving at his table, she stops, gazing down at him. Pause.] SYNEAN So where’s your wife tonight? [SYNEAN pulls out a chair and joins him. VERDEN, annoyed, looks over at a nearby empty table.] VERDEN If I moved, you’d follow me, wouldn’t you?

19. SYNEAN Only to the ends of the earth. [SYNEAN smiles. VERDEN takes a deep breath. Pause.] SYNEAN I had asked you a question about your wife... pertaining to her whereabouts. VERDEN Who said I had one? SYNEAN I suppose I did. [VERDEN takes another deep breath. Pause.] SYNEAN It becomes polite conversation between two people when innocuous queries receive civil answers. So... if I may be so bold as to try again... where... is she? [Pause.] VERDEN Long gone. Care to join her? [SYNEAN laughs.] SYNEAN No. Though I’m sure, no matter where she is, she’s far better off not being... (motioning with her arm) here. [VERDEN nods, raising his empty glass in a mock toast.] VERDEN I’ll drink to that. [Pause.]

20. SYNEAN So... in a sense... we’re both... waiting. VERDEN Waiting. Not really looking. (his eyes meeting hers) No offense. You’re welcome to go back to your seat. SYNEAN Oh, I’m not trying to chat you up. Or “pick-you-up” as you Americans love to say. (with an exaggerated sigh) I haven’t the strength. (leaning forward, with a loud whisper) This is my seat now. Don’t worry... you’re perfectly safe with me. (returning to normal volume) I’d never dare harm a man of your integrity. In fact, I’ll keep an eye out. Just in case... by chance... others... lurking about the shadows... harbor dark designs on you. [SYNEAN winks, letting out another strange giggle as she leans back in her chair, staring whimsically out at the audience.] SYNEAN You have nothing to fear. I don’t bite. (with a slightly intoxicated chuckle) Well, rarely ever. [VERDEN exhales deeply. The BARTENDER appears. VERDEN slides aside his glass. The BARTENDER places a fresh drink before him.] VERDEN I was about to give up on you, my man. [The BARTENDER frowns, removing the used glass and replacing the dirty ashtray with a clean one. He then strides away.

21. SYNEAN watches him go. Beat. She turns back to VERDEN.] SYNEAN I’m only trying to talk to you... you seem like a normalenough fellow... (leaning in) You are, aren’t you? [Beat.] SYNEAN Normal. A “normal fellow.” I hope its application in this instance doesn’t turn out to be another oxymoron. You never know until you really know someone... how bloody normal they are. VERDEN Or borderline crazy. [SYNEAN laughs, raising her glass and pointing her index finger at him.] SYNEAN Good one. (setting her glass down) I’m just... well, curious.... You weren’t... looking... at her. You weren’t watching... not even purloining the occasional, surreptitious glance. [Beat.] SYNEAN Why not? [Beat.] SYNEAN She not your type? Far too... or not enough... what? She didn’t seem to interest you... but why? [Pause. VERDEN closes his eyes, shaking his head. SYNEAN leans back.]

22. SYNEAN Men are so picky. So... discriminating... when it comes to women... and their... voluptuary. You’re downright cruel to women’s bodies. It’s a form of mental and physical abuse. Your vile behavior inspires women to become ten times as critical of their own bodies. More than men ever conspire to be. See the vicious cycle you put in motion?.... Take our girl. I would think it’d be difficult to take my eyes off her if I were a man. I found her captivating to watch as a--well, not as a dancer... no... but as a--[SYNEAN cuts herself off, knitting her brows, thinking. VERDEN takes a swig of his drink, glancing again at his watch.] SYNEAN (nodding) She’s some package. No denying that. Quite a figure on display for all to see. Nicely assembled from end to end. And the sheer panache with which she reveals herself... well, it becomes nearly an art form, doesn’t it?! [Pause.] SYNEAN Helps when you’re not shy in the least. Devoid of any silly hang-ups or inhibitions. She certainly exhibits no detectable fear of standing in front of people. Not that I could discern. A definite advantage in her line of work, I surmise. Many women, I should imagine, even if they harbored the desire to perform a little classical burlesque, don’t have the nerve to get up there and do what she does. Even in the privacy of their own bedrooms... with only their partner serving as audience... and critic. Crikey, just the thought of saying a few words in public before a room full of strangers, fully clothed, gives a lot of people an acute sense of the ol’ ultra high anxiety. Can be totally paralyzing. Utter panic takes hold. My old forensics instructor at university taught all his students to... (mimicking his voice) “Imagine the audience naked before you...” (looking out at the theatre audience) It was meant to calm us down. Quell the onset of any sudden panic attack. (MORE)

23. SYNEAN (cont'd) But I have to confess, the notion of an audience I’m addressing... sitting there naked before me as I’m trying to speak to them... rather repulses me. Makes me ill. (cringing) Should make anyone nauseous. Our dancer goes one better... she gets naked before her audience and has nothing to say. Lets her body do all the talking for her. Quite audacious to go up against a room full of people leaving nothing left to their... imaginations. No matter how limited or primordial those imaginations may be. Our girl definitely commands everyone’s rapt attention. Well... not everyone’s. [Beat.] SYNEAN Not yours. [Pause.] SYNEAN It’s truly perplexing. Why is that? Like your friend’s survey... I suppose I’m conducting my own study this evening. Of men... like you... who are so alien to me. [SYNEAN smiles whimsically, shaking her head.] SYNEAN Our dancer’s very young. Young body. Tight... and long... and lean. [SYNEAN takes another sip of her drink. Beat.] SYNEAN Titanic Tits! (turning to him) No doubt implanted, wouldn’t you say? (running her finger around the rim of her glass again) You ever with a woman who had a boob job? VERDEN Lady, what the hell’s with you?

24. SYNEAN It’s something. Must be. Women going from an “A” to a “D” cup overnight. No ignoring it. That’s quite a radical shift of emphasis. Not to mention all the scarring. Course nowadays they send them through a woman’s navel. Contemplate that for a moment. Surgeons... embracing incessant technical innovation... have devised an elaborate flight-path, dragging them through the woman’s abdomen to her chest. A rather circuitous detour, barn-storming several vital organs along the way, but in the end... when the implants arrive at their targeted destination... there’s less overall evidence of any surgery. Aside, of course, from the obvious... tectonic shift... overnight the magical eruption of twin volcanic peaks... where only a barren plain previously existed. It’s all... quite... seismic. VERDEN I had no idea. Thanks for filling me in. SYNEAN It’s true. [Beat.] SYNEAN But a small-chested woman who’s been made to feel insecure about it. So insecure that she’s willing to go under the knife... remains that way no matter how much she’s augmented. Deep down, she’s just a flat-chested little thing desperate for male acceptance... or so I’ve observed from friends and acquaintances who’ve undergone... the procedure. [Pause.] SYNEAN Did I mention the scarring? VERDEN I believe you did. SYNEAN And the expense? Which shouldn’t only be measured monetarily... it has to be evaluated on an emotional/ psychological level as well.

25. VERDEN You sound like an authority on the subject. You could be a shrink. SYNEAN Oh, I’m not much of an authority on anything. VERDEN Then maybe you should start seeing one. Either way--SYNEAN I just know they often go hard. Rock hard. Ever touch a fake breast that’s gone that route? VERDEN I wouldn’t know the difference. SYNEAN Of course you would. If you had the... privilege. It’s the fundamental, yet crucial, distinction between the real and the fake. [Beat.] SYNEAN Real versus Fake. What everything in life boils down to... ultimately. Strange how so many poor souls feverishly pursue... phony perfection. [Pause. She takes a sip from her glass.] SYNEAN It’s the trips to the dentist that usually does them in. All that scraping and scaling. Cavities drilled. Painful. Sends infection from the mouth directly into the bloodstream... eventually winding up you-know-where... causing the saline or silicone... to solidify. So much disease is spread through the mouth. (shivering) Scary to think. [SYNEAN takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. Beat.]

26. SYNEAN (with a shrug) Anyway... that’s what makes implants go hard. Stretched nipples and brick-hard breasts. From a distance it all looks quite believable and, I’d venture to hypothesize, highly appealing. There’s certainly something magnetic going on.... But up close and personal, you may be in for the surprise of your life if one of those brick babies goes off course amidst the throes of passion and clocks you in the head. May just be all she wrote. [Beat.] VERDEN I’ll be sure to wear a helmet. SYNEAN (pointing at him, smiling) Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Unless you’re blessed with an inordinately thick skull. VERDEN That’s been pointed out to me in the past. SYNEAN No worries, then. You’re good to go. [SYNEAN brings her glass to her lips but this time she stops before taking a sip and sets it back down. Her brow furrows.] SYNEAN Men obsess over that kind of figure, though. Don’t they? They find it extremely sexy. A rail-thin dancer’s body with huge melon breasts. Fulfills the quintessential male fantasy. A true freak show of nature when it occurs naturally. The majority of women out there have no choice but to go under the knife if they desire to achieve it. Or if they desire to become that obscure object of their man’s desire. It falls under the rubric of elective surgery. I doubt many of those same men fret much about the added stress foisted on her knees... eh? [Beat. VERDEN rubs his forehead.]

27. VERDEN I had it for the night, I wouldn’t be inclined to complain. SYNEAN No? (turning and looking over at him) No... you wouldn’t... [She looks away.] SYNEAN Would you? [Silence. SYNEAN peers out at the audience.] SYNEAN People are always saying how a person they met reminds them of someone else they know.... Well, you... don’t remind me... of anyone. VERDEN That’s a compliment from you, isn’t it? SYNEAN Tis. [Pause.] SYNEAN (distantly) He’d definitely check her out if he were sitting here. That’s just the type of man he is... the man I married. You’re not like him at all. [She takes a small sip of her cocktail.] SYNEAN It is a little strange, though... going to whatever trouble it was to get here... and then not... looking... not watching... not even casually observing. [Beat.]

28. VERDEN Don’t lose sleep over it. SYNEAN I’m not implying you’re queer or anything... [VERDEN raises an eyebrow.] VERDEN Thank you. SYNEAN It’d be fine if you were. It just seems so... out of the ordinary scheme of things. This is a strip club. Men come to look at he dancers. You know, the homosexual men I know would most definitely watch her. Just out of sheer... curiosity. Gay men love a good show. She puts on a very decent... indecent show... doesn’t she? [She lets out a silly giggle.] SYNEAN I don’t blame you if you don’t get my unique sense of humor. I rarely get it myself half the time. But you... you truly are... a bit of a... mystery. Mystery Man. VERDEN And you’re Something Else, lady. (lifting his glass) Salud. [Extending hers, their glasses clink. SYNEAN takes a swallow. Pause.] SYNEAN Ahhhh... that went down smoothly. (setting down her glass) I can feel the alcohol spreading through my body when I drink. (looking at the backs of her hands, fingers extended) It flows to my fingertips first. Then my toes. The peripheries. It influences the content of my speech long before my words begin to slur. (MORE)

29. SYNEAN (cont'd) But I have to drink quite a lot before I give even the slightest indication I’ve been drinking at all. VERDEN (nodding) Yeah... you hide it well. SYNEAN It’s a special tolerance threshold. (suddenly more animated) You know I took ballet! VERDEN No, I didn’t know. SYNEAN Years ago. As a young... girl. [Pause.] SYNEAN I took it very seriously, too. Had a God-given talent. It’s what everyone said the moment they saw me perform. “That girl has a God-given talent.” Professional scouts spotted me on stage one night at my school. I forget what piece it was. Something by Balanchine most likely. One of my acrobatic, yet perpetually graceful, pirouettes must have wowed them. I soon found myself recruited by none other than The Royal Ballet of London. [Silence. SYNEAN pivots in her chair and looks at VERDEN’s blank expression. Raising her eyebrows, she blinks, then clears her throat.] SYNEAN You’re supposed to be impressed. VERDEN Am I? SYNEAN You don’t follow professional ballet, do you?

30. VERDEN Not as closely as I used to. [Beat. SYNEAN laughs.] SYNEAN Well, maybe it’s time you got back into it, then. The ballet is the most wondrous of all art forms. And so fluid. It’s never static like painting or sculpture. It possesses an animated, temporal, ephemeral grace you can’t come across anywhere else on earth. All in real time and then it’s over. Each piece of choreography meticulously accompanied by such beautiful, plangent music. Maybe it’s because it’s so supremely spiritual, requiring the optimum... devotion and fidelity... to technique... if, as an aspiring principal dancer, you’re ever going to achieve the highest level of performance. [Pause.] SYNEAN Ballet... is the most seductive and mesmerizing dance... of all. (motioning to the stage, sarcastically) Apart from what we’ve witnessed tonight, it’s certainly the most physically grueling and demanding. And The Royal Ballet remains the premier classical dance troupe the world over. From 1931, right up until... whatever performance they put on this very evening at the Royal Opera House in London, their one and only home, they’re still the greatest organized dance company the world’s ever known. [Beat. Sitting up straight in her chair, SYNEAN squares her shoulders.] SYNEAN When they took me under their wing, I had yet to turn thirteen. I wasn’t like the other girls. My family was financially destitute. I couldn’t afford my own toe-shoes. Not even the bus fare to rehearsals. So I walked everywhere. A very kind music teacher, Miss Bradbury, secretly purchased all the essentials for me. Dozens of pairs of exorbitantlyexpensive ballet slippers and toe shoes over the years. (MORE)

31. SYNEAN (cont'd) She gathered a collection at her church to help pay for my costumes as well. Some she even sewed herself. I could never have afforded any of these things on my own. My parents didn’t help, you see. My father wouldn’t. And my mother couldn’t. Because he forbade her. And mum was very obedient. She did what she was told. She was trained, you see. Trained to roll over... like a dog... as far back as I can remember. It was Miss Bradbury who secretly became like a second mum to me. The only way I could ever begin to thank her was to dance my heart out whenever the opportunity presented itself. And so I did. Every time. And, lo and behold, The Royal Ballet came knocking. [Pause.] SYNEAN The first thing The Royal does is line up all the girls in a row. A ballet instructor, though her true calling could have been army drill sergeant-major, inspects the line with a grim, funereal scowl before she dispatches each and every one to a room with all these torture-chamber-esque measuring devices. They then proceed to weigh and gauge every aspect of your body to the nth ounce and degree. [Beat.] SYNEAN I was all arms and legs in those days. Outrageously svelte for my age. Weighed in at next to nothing. Flat as a chalkboard, too. But I was lissome... so very lissome and limber. One instructor commented that when I performed... it was as if I became possessed by an alien force. Like I wasn’t human. [SYNEAN extends her hand and regards it.] SYNEAN Even your fingers were set beside a ruler. There was a definite look they were after.... They called it “classical.” The World Health Organization would have classified it as “Biafran Slim.” [Pause.]

32. SYNEAN It’s always been that way with those in power. They’re always after a certain rigid something or other that they ruthlessly prescribe to those beneath them... the onus falling on us daft, fool, easily-intimidated creatures to contort our bodies and pinch our minds to fit the sadistic mold they design for us. A mold they could never fit into themselves. Not in a million years... nor after a thousand crash diets... or elective surgeries. [Pause.] SYNEAN I once had it. Naturally. To them, it was all about hip-towaist ratios, length of wrist to the elbow, contour of one’s jawline--- with how it had to form a perfect right angle to a swan-like neck. You’re going to perform “Swan Lake” you need a swan neck. [SYNEAN nods her head, her eyes glazing over with memories.] SYNEAN They even investigated the slight arc of my shoulder in relation to my collar-bone. So many sophisticated calculations... it’d make your head spin like “The Exorcist.” You have to admire the 360 degree head-turn performed in that film. Talk about being limber. [Pause.] SYNEAN You can’t... you can’t fully imagine how petty these worldrenowned ballet coaches can be. You had to measure up in every single, solitary category... or you were out. They’d send you packing with nothing but your tears for company on the long train ride home. And I’m only alluding to the physical end of the spectrum. [SYNEAN shakes her head, smiling.] SYNEAN On the performance side, there were the torturous technical drills they put you through day after day. Those were beyond punishing. Beyond exhausting. (MORE)

33. SYNEAN (cont'd) You worked overtime to enable yourself to attain an alternate threshold of performance anxiety, stamina and pain... simultaneously. And everything was always so, so, so repetitive. You did set drills again and again and again and again... and again. And again. And again. Over and over and over... and over and over until you mastered the complex choreography... perfectly. Without the slightest mistake or split second moment of uncertainty as to what your next movement would be. They programmed you until you no longer had to think about what you were doing, you just did it. As if by reflex. And it had to be done spectacularly each and every time... just like a well-oiled, finely-tuned machine. Because thinking is dangerous for a dancer. They drilled this into you nonstop. Never be caught dead thinking.... Or you’re done... finished... before you even start. [Silence.] SYNEAN I wonder if it’s really changed all that much in the modern era. Must have done. What with all the child abuse laws now on the books. Tonight I’m conducting my own internal investigation. Do you think our dancer makes the mistake of being a “thinking dancer?” Or do you think she does what she does without really thinking much about it at all? Because, in the end, the price is right. [Beat. She smiles coyly.] SYNEAN I passed every last test they put in front of me. Each and every one. Day after day... for weeks on end... all with flying colors. All this time away from home. Miss Bradbury passed away soon after I got there. And my real mum... well, she could never scrape together enough quid to come visit me. Not even for my birthday. You have to become proficient at being able to miss the few people you love as well. This was yet another edict on the long list of training orders. [Pause. She stares distantly into the past.] SYNEAN I missed my mum. Not that I was homesick. I just missed her. Only in my dreams did she make it to the West End of London to see me perform amongst so many world-class dancers. (MORE)

34. SYNEAN (cont'd) And these pretty girls hailed from everywhere.... Me? I came from nowhere. [She looks at VERDEN. His eyes meet hers.] SYNEAN Flying colors? Can you kindly explain to me what that cryptic phrase means? VERDEN You did good. [SYNEAN nods, her voice distant.] SYNEAN Yes... I did. Very. I was very... good. (smiling) They segregated us the whole time, too. Throughout the entire audition process. Even at meals. [Beat.] SYNEAN Not by race... [Beat.] SYNEAN By sex. [Beat.] SYNEAN Gender. Girls from boys. (with a Cockney accent) By gender, I think she’s got it! (normal voice) They didn’t separate us from the men, though. Most of our coaches and trainers were male in those days. The way they eyed us up and down, stormed into our dressing rooms oozing testosterone as our lithe, prepubescent bodies were changing into fresh underwear after class.

35. [SYNEAN wipes away an odd smile with her hand, letting her hand fall.] SYNEAN I won the most awards among the new recruits my year. And after several months, when tryouts finally wound down and came to their much-anticipated climax... after they’d finished putting us through all the paces--- the strictly limited diets and hyper-stepped-up regimens, increasing our flexibility like you wouldn’t believe, tearing down and rebuilding our fragile female psyches leaving no room for any residual self-esteem to assert itself--- the mostly all-male panel of judges were ready to deliver their final verdicts. Who would make it and who would not. But before their announcement, they ordered us all to report back to the measuring room. Unbeknownst to me, by the end of our trial, I’d undergone a slight metamorphosis. The machines... didn’t lie. How could they? [Beat. She looks out towards the audience.] SYNEAN They weren’t human. [Pause. She shakes her head.] SYNEAN If machines are about anything, they’re about truth, aren’t they? A cold, absolute truth that’s irrefutable. Impossible to escape... that gets implanted, you might say, into your very being... once they deem it... real. (shaking her head) You see, imperceptibly to me, my body changed. I hit a growth spurt, adding several inches in height that I wasn’t even aware of.... The spurt was just enough for them to have no choice but to disqualify me, to take me out of the running. I was rejected for being too tall.... No longer did I measure up. Not perfectly. Not anymore. Not in the way they had deceived me into believing I was destined to. And if The Royal Ballet was about anything, it was solely about... perfection. (showing a small space between her thumb and index finger) Missed the final bloody cut by that much. (MORE)

36. SYNEAN (cont'd) Some of my instructors and trainers broke down in tears when my elimination was officially announced. They actually wept. Not necessarily for me. For... themselves. What they were banking on. What they were so anxiously poised to take credit for. [Pause.] SYNEAN The strange thing? I didn’t cry. Not a single tear. [Beat.] SYNEAN Put out to pasture at the ripe old age of... thirteen. It had been my birthday just a week before. This was my belated present. [She looks at him. VERDEN’s eyes meet hers.] VERDEN That’s a drag. [SYNEAN snorts.] SYNEAN It’s become my lucky number ever since, thirteen. Followed me like a stalker my entire life. So much comes up thirteen. I was married on the thirteenth of the month, when the clock in the church tower struck thirteen. 1 p.m. [SYNEAN ponders this, then lifts her glass, taking a drink.] SYNEAN My disqualification was a drag. A real drag. All that time lost training. Three-quarters of an inch changed the direction of my life... forever. Three quarters of a flipping inch... ultimately... led me here tonight... deposited me in this very chair... where I’ve met... of all people in this vast, reeling ocean of humanity... you. [Beat. She smiles, shaking her head.]

37. SYNEAN If you believe my checkered story... from the annals of my... checkered past. [She laughs. VERDEN raises an eyebrow. SYNEAN grows more serious.] SYNEAN That’s the problem with God-given talents... fucking people are so quick to strip them from you. In the end, you’d have been better off with nothing at the start. Because once something truly special is taken away... you feel like you’re left with... less than nothing. You’re forever naked. And the sense of violation is total. It’s... complete. [Pause.] SYNEAN I haven’t danced since. Not even at my own wedding. No need to hire a band. I walked down the aisle in silence. Escorted by no one... accompanied by not a single chord of music. I didn’t need it. I gave myself away willingly. No music could complement the happiness of that moment. It was more than enough to have the smiling handsome man in the black tuxedo waiting at the altar... surrounded by so many freshly-cut flowers... vowing to everyone there that he would love me... forever and ever. [SYNEAN nods. Pause.] VERDEN Lady? [SYNEAN turns and looks at him, blinking him into focus.] VERDEN You find it impossible to shut up, don’t you? [Beat. SYNEAN laughs.] SYNEAN You know, in the old days... a boorish remark like that would have hurt my feelings.

38. [Beat. She juts out her chin.] SYNEAN But tonight... that kind of insensitivity just rolls off my back... like so much water. [Beat.] SYNEAN My original intention was to give you some insight into my background... that would help corroborate my claim that I have the necessary qualifications and hands-on experience to determine when an individual has had professional training to be a dancer. VERDEN I’m sure you do. [SYNEAN laughs.] SYNEAN I detect your sarcasm. (looking at him, teasing) It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me. I know it when I see it. The person doesn’t have to be dancing either. From the way she walks, I can tell. Across a room, down a sidewalk, bending to pick something up off the floor.... Our dancer’s definitely had it. Of course she was actually dancing so she made it easy for me. But I could tell if she took professional instruction even if I never saw her up on stage and merely singled her out at random... off the street. [Beat.] SYNEAN That kind of thing... it shows... because it stays with you... your whole life. [VERDEN sighs, surrendering to her eccentric nature.] VERDEN Does it?

39. SYNEAN (nodding) Professional training... yes. [SYNEAN extends an arm, her fingers unfurling quite elegantly.] SYNEAN Fluid... movements... [SYNEAN stares at her outstretched arm for several seconds before curling her fingers into a limp fist, lowering her hand to her side. Beat. She turns, gazing at VERDEN.] SYNEAN Your friend must be late. Really late by now. What will his excuse be, you think? VERDEN It better be good. SYNEAN Unless you’re too early... but we’ve both been waiting too long to be too early... haven’t we? VERDEN Hubby’s late, too, huh? [Drifting into a blank look, SYNEAN seems to nod in agreement.] VERDEN Always a first time for everything. [He takes a drink.] SYNEAN (softly) And last... [SYNEAN raises a finger to her lips, outlining them in a circle.]

40. SYNEAN There’s no way you and I could be waiting for the same person. [SYNEAN gives him a sly glance, shaking her head as he shakes his.] SYNEAN Has the thought not flitted across your mind, though? Us chatting... like long-lost friends when in actuality... we’re perfect strangers who then discover we have something horribly familiar in common. Ironic, too. [Beat.] SYNEAN But that kind of coincidence never happens... not in real life. It’d be too... pat. VERDEN I know who I’m waiting for. SYNEAN Really? [SYNEAN turns and peers over her shoulder at the empty performance platform. She then turns back to face the audience.] SYNEAN Let’s just say we were waiting for the same person. We’d have a real cosmic coincidence on our hands, wouldn’t we? I take it neither one of us is in the mood for a cosmic coincidence this evening. [Beat. She smiles.] SYNEAN You don’t know my husband. VERDEN I’m positive.

41. SYNEAN That wasn’t a question. But don’t feel bad... nor do I, really. How well does one know anyone? Strange we lay claim to such an absurd thing. A true beast of burden. You’re bound to wind up looking like a buffoon at some point if you think you really know anyone. (with a laugh) You’re not missing out... in not knowing him. Believe me. Nothing crucial anyway. He’s rather dull. Not exactly the life of the party. Though may I ask... what gave you the impression I was waiting for him? Did I say something that led you to believe---? I don’t remember. You’ve assumed... but my husband may well be the last person I’m waiting for. I could be sitting here waiting for all kinds of people to waltz through that door from the world outside. I could even be waiting for--- you. But you’re already here. So that wait’s over. Till now... seems I’ve been waiting my whole life to have this intriguing conversation... with you. [SYNEAN raises her glass as VERDEN lights another cigarette.] VERDEN Cheers. [SYNEAN takes a sip and stares out at the audience.] SYNEAN I think it’s nice passing time with a stranger. Refreshing. I find that in talking to you, I’m rather... uninhibited. I can talk openly. I’m very comfortable. VERDEN Why do you suppose that is? SYNEAN That was going to be my next question. Why am I so comfortable with you? VERDEN (exhaling smoke) My luck.

42. SYNEAN Mmmmm... luck. We’re all bloody lucky, aren’t we? I am anyway. But luck, whether good or bad, implies a certain randomness and this... our “Brief Encounter” --- my Celia Johnson to your Trevor Howard--- isn’t random. I truly believe it all has a purpose. As all of life’s moments do. If we pay proper attention. The people we meet. Places we go. How it all plays out at the end of each day. It isn’t ever random. There’s some Divine Plan going on. Divine or... diabolical. [SYNEAN takes a deep breath.] SYNEAN Don’t you occasionally enjoy passing time with a stranger? VERDEN Depends. SYNEAN On? [VERDEN places his cigarette on the lip of the ashtray.] SYNEAN Who the stranger is or how you’re passing it? VERDEN Both. [SYNEAN bursts out laughing.] SYNEAN You’re such a man. Such a typical man... [VERDEN frowns, checking his watch.] SYNEAN Oh, I haven’t offended you, have I? I don’t necessarily mean typical in a bad sense. VERDEN (looking up) Sure you do.

43. [Beat. SYNEAN thinks a moment, unable to suppress a giggle.] SYNEAN Yes. I guess I do. But I’m able to be open, right? I’m comfortable with you. VERDEN (raising his glass) Uninhibited. [She nods, her smile dimming. Long pause.] SYNEAN I’m normally quite inhibited... [SYNEAN picks up his cigarette and takes a puff. Cocking her head back, she expels a jet-stream of smoke.] SYNEAN I’m giving myself the night off. [She offers his cigarette back to him. He takes it, setting it down on the edge of the ashtray.] SYNEAN It all comes down to how you pass the time... how you spend it. There are right and wrong ways. Worthwhile... unworthwhile. Fruitful--[She stops, taking a sip of her drink.] SYNEAN Time with a stranger is such... is such a delicate thing. Precious, really. Shame we rarely risk the opportunity to let it happen. But we get frozen into certain... routines... commitments... don’t we? (as if unsure) Don’t we? Personal dungeons. Often missing what could have been ours... if only we hadn’t locked ourselves away... swallowing the key. If only we’d set ourselves free instead. (MORE)

44. SYNEAN (cont'd) Seizing every valuable moment. But so much prevents us. It becomes annoyingly inconvenient, doesn’t it? And so bloody complicated. All these intricate moments whirling around... slipping away... flitting by. In an instant, they accumulate in years... calibrated by lifetimes squandered foolishly. One day you wake up to discover yourself standing there... stranded amid the ruins of so many lost opportunities... with droves of other hapless, pathetic blokes. All of them your cubist mirrors. Quite a horror circus we’ve staged for ourselves... of ourselves. Blessed with choice... only to play it safe as if it were a curse. Something to fear. [She suddenly giggles, shattering her somber mood.] SYNEAN (switching channels, energized) Can I buy you a drink?! [Beat. He taps his half-full glass.] VERDEN I’ve hit my limit. SYNEAN Oh, let me! I’ve never bought a man a drink before. Funny... come to think of it, I can’t--- I can’t recall ever buying myself a drink before tonight. [VERDEN gives her a look.] SYNEAN No, really, I can’t. I’m not trying to sound full of myself. They’ve always either been bought for me... or... or I’ve just gone thirsty. [SYNEAN laughs, draining her glass.] SYNEAN I’ve been thirsty all this time. (calling) Bartender? I’d like to buy this gentleman a drink!

45. [SYNEAN waves her arm drunkenly back and forth to get the BARTENDER’s attention. He looks up, not too pleased.] SYNEAN Yoo-hoo! Over here, kind sir! [The BARTENDER puts down a newspaper and heads over.] SYNEAN I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. I’m Synean. (extending her hand to shake) And you’re---? [The BARTENDER arrives.] BARTENDER What’ll it be? [She continues to hold out her hand but VERDEN doesn’t take it. Beat.] SYNEAN Do you not wish to shake my hand? I haven’t any germs. [She stares at VERDEN as the BARTENDER, hovering there, finally takes a deep breath.] BARTENDER Mind placing your order sometime tonight? [SYNEAN drops her hand, looking away from VERDEN and focusing on the BARTENDER.] SYNEAN We’ll both have the same. (proudly) And they’re on me. You must be sure to put it on my tab. VERDEN I told you I’ve hit my limit.

46. SYNEAN Oh, no--- are you sure?! I wanted to treat you. VERDEN I’m good. SYNEAN Damn! [Pause.] SYNEAN I’ll have the same. BARTENDER The same what? SYNEAN (slightly hurt) Don’t you remember what I was having? (with a laugh) Someone has to keep track of these things. BARTENDER I’ve got an ice-pick headache, dear. You mind not dicking with me? [SYNEAN’s smile evaporates.] SYNEAN Screw-driver. [The BARTENDER snorts and walks away.] VERDEN I think the ice-pick’s up his ass. [The BARTENDER stops, turning around.] BARTENDER What was that?

47. [Eyes narrowing, the BARTENDER takes a few threatening steps towards their table.] BARTENDER What’d you say? VERDEN (over his shoulder) I’ll be happy to repeat it. [The BARTENDER squares his jaw, turns and stomps off.] SYNEAN (leaning in) Why didn’t you allow me to buy you a drink? VERDEN (raising his glass) I have a drink. SYNEAN Just for the experience of it. Besides... you never know... you may find yourself thirsty on-down-the-road as they say. VERDEN Thanks anyway. SYNEAN Do me a favor and watch this time. So you can compare. VERDEN Compare? SYNEAN Our dancer. VERDEN To what? [VERDEN knits his brow. SYNEAN leans back in her chair, beginning to show more of the effects of the alcohol.]

48. SYNEAN You’re really not a regular here? VERDEN Lady, you’re killing me. SYNEAN That was never my intention... to get violent with you. [Beat. She laughs.] SYNEAN Did I mention my husband comes in here on Tuesdays? He’s a regular. VERDEN Yeah. But today ain’t Tuesday. SYNEAN (slumping towards the table) It’s not?! Bloody hell. What day’s it, then? VERDEN Try Wednesday. (looking at his watch) And it’s almost midnight. SYNEAN Wednesday?! You mean I’ve lost a day? VERDEN In six minutes it’ll be... SYNEAN Now here’s a real coincidence for you... not cosmic... but authentic... my husband comes in here on Wednesdays as well... in fact, most any night of the week he can slip away, he comes in here. Literally. In his trousers. [SYNEAN points her index finger towards the platform.] SYNEAN Watching that very stage. He finds himself highly aroused. It’s true. He revealed this to me not long ago. Don’t know why. Came totally out of the blue. (MORE)

49. SYNEAN (cont'd) I was sheltering no suspicions at the time. It wasn’t like I suspected he was up to anything untoward. It didn’t take the form of a confession either. No... no... it was... (squinting) More in the spirit of one of those disembodied public service announcements that one hears over the telly. [She crosses and uncrosses her long legs.] SYNEAN Needles to say... it was highly informative... late one night... just before bed... right before I was to lie beside him... when he found himself compelled to broadcast it to me. Telling everything, sparing nothing. It was as if the levees burst open and his words gushed forth. Imagine my shock that he even frequented a place like this. I had no way to respond. Not at first. I just sat there... listening to his narration... speechless. I had totally lost my voice. Wasn’t till much later that I regained it. When I did, it was as if I spoke a foreign language. The few words I did utter seemed unintelligible to anyone within earshot. They were especially incomprehensible to him. [Beat. She turns to VERDEN, leaning toward him.] SYNEAN I know you may find that hard to believe. Me losing my voice. But it’s true. [VERDEN nods slightly as he looks out at the audience with a crooked smile.] SYNEAN Without the threat of interruption, he casually explained it all... in graphic detail. Into the wee hours... a full dissertation... with explicit footnotes. When he was through, he said he felt like he bared his soul to me. A great weight had been lifted. He felt, for the first time in years, unburdened. Meanwhile... I was the one who felt naked and drowning beneath the weight of his words... like some pathetic stripper... in my own bedroom.

50. [Pause. She wipes her face with her hand, stifling a drunken giggle.] SYNEAN (nodding) I came to understand... it dawning on me... very clearly... some nights... you just have to go out and forget... forget you’re married. Didn’t you find that? In your marriage? Going and forgetting... is vital... on occasion. VERDEN Came easy for me. SYNEAN (shaking her head and waving a finger) Nooooo. Forgetting is hard. Poses a herculean challenge... [Beat. SYNEAN points her index finger at VERDEN.] SYNEAN I grant you... some moments are easier than others. Depends on the individual. So relative. Like everything else. Some people live their whole lives, coming home to an address... unlocking the door... and that person inside... that individual across the dinner table each and every night is--oh, right! My Darling Husband... or... My Very Own Adoring Wife... My Significant... Other. [Beat.] SYNEAN You get the picture. (shrugging her shoulders) Fortunately, I did... before it was too late. Like one of those instant photographs... it all materialized... in living color... right before my eyes... late one night... just before bed. I’d photo-shop the picture in my mind later. [The BARTENDER walks past, dropping off a fresh drink to SYNEAN. She stares at it before reaching for it and raising it to toast.]

51. SYNEAN To your mission... that it turns out to be--(hiccupping) Sorry! (catching her breath) More merciful than mine. [SYNEAN flashes VERDEN a shy smile as he just looks at her. Raising his drink, they clink glasses.] SYNEAN (frowning) He forgot to give me a fresh straw. (raising her hand, then lowering it) No matter. Don’t want to set him off again. I’ll just make do. [Beat.] SYNEAN I hate high-maintenance women, don’t you? VERDEN You see yourself as low-maintenance, do you? SYNEAN I do... VERDEN Everything’s relative. [He nods as SYNEAN takes a gulp of her drink.] SYNEAN Definitely after tonight, I do. Keep in mind... this is all virgin territory for me. [VERDEN nods again.] VERDEN Right.

52. SYNEAN But this whole... this evening... (waving an arm to include the entire room) isn’t about me. VERDEN No? SYNEAN No. Not at all. It’s about you. Always has been. From the beginning. I’m just a minor player. I mean, between the two of us... (putting on a man’s voice a la Delbert Grady in “THE SHINING”) “You’re The Important One, sir.” (back to her normal voice) You are... the important one. Especially to me. [Beat. She sets down her glass.] SYNEAN I’m merely assisting you... assisting in... passing the time... as you wait... and I wait... the two of us waiting together... bravely facing... the uncertainty of... an uncharted future. [SYNEAN laughs. VERDEN frowns.] SYNEAN I have a knack for it, too. Waiting. I’m dead good at it. I think I may have finally stumbled upon my true calling. Or so it must seem to the... uninitiated... out there. [SYNEAN takes another sip.] SYNEAN Ahhhhh! Not bad. Not bad at all. I like a cold drink. No matter what time of year it is. But especially like tonight when it’s so humid out. We’re experiencing an early spring. Winter transitions straight away to summer nowadays. Scientists attribute it to global climate change and all that rot. The atmosphere seems to be in a perpetual state of confusion... emergency crisis mode. (nodding) (MORE)

53. SYNEAN (cont'd) Washington, D.C. What a city. It was built on a swamp, did you know that? Walking around, you can actually feel the heat spewing from its roiling, inner depths. Humidity belches from its molten sewers, especially when Congress is in session. (giggling) Explains why all those manhole covers keep blowing their lids... exploding fifty feet into the air. (more serious) Sometimes killing innocent people wherever they fortuitously land. It’s absurd. We don’t have this in England. Not even close. Our manholes rarely explode. There’s nothing much coursing through our sewers... beyond the mephitic realm of what one would expect. Here it’s all mixed with something else. Something hard to identify. [Beat.] SYNEAN All foreigners will tell you they find the summers stifling in America. Especially in D.C. The District of Columbia. Like Colombia, South America--- different spelling--- you feel as though you’re near the Equator. Weather-wise, it’s almost the same. You should spell it their way. But you Americans have to be different, don’t you? Have to be original. [SYNEAN laughs.] SYNEAN You can never predict what’s going to happen next beneath the shadows of your grand monuments... to liberty and justice and the host of other great ideals this nation was founded on. Even if the original context of their meaning has been longforgotten. [Beat.] SYNEAN Notice how, until this very moment, I’ve successfully steered clear of bringing up politics. I should be commended. My mother always said to avoid discussing politics and religion in all manner of social and public discourse. Lest you offend people who believe differently than you. When I asked her why that should be a worry, she never had a satisfying answer. She was consistent like that. Said things and didn’t really know why she said them. Part of her programming from her father and then... (MORE)

54. SYNEAN (cont'd) when the torch was passed to that ventriloquist she married, it burned on... ever brighter with every word that was put in her mouth. [Beat.] SYNEAN Far as I’m concerned... whatever the political debates being waged of late, they’ve all been rendered moot. Democrat/ Republican. Matter/ Anti-matter. One pretty much cancels the other out until nothing much matters at all anymore. Certainly it’s hard to make out distinctions. Bit of a joke the business of politics. But don’t worry, I won’t bring it up. No politics. Not this evening. [Silence. She takes a sip of her drink, growing more wistful.] SYNEAN The cherry blossoms will be blooming soon... if they haven’t already. Do you plan to go down to the Tidal Basin to see them? Better hurry. I missed them last year... and the year before... come to think of it. I have no idea where I was but I missed them. I mean, I was here... I just don’t know where I was.... Did a late frost do them in? That can happen when they bud prematurely. So fragile... and such a limited window of opportunity. [SYNEAN takes another sip, leans back and closes her eyes for several seconds.] SYNEAN Too much ice. (opening her eyes) I’m not getting my money’s worth. So deluded... I mean, diluted. [SYNEAN laughs, drunkenly waving a finger at VERDEN.] SYNEAN That was a faux pas. Freud would be proud. (thinking a moment, frowning) No, he wouldn’t. He’d probably roll his eyes I’m so predictable.

55. VERDEN (looking up) You? Predictable? SYNEAN They always make women’s drinks weaker, don’t they? That’s where they increase profits. [She picks up her glass, examining its contours.] SYNEAN A lot of ice in a deceptively-shaped glass... you’re hardly getting what you pay for. Like most things you spend your hard-earned money on... all comes down to deceptive packaging. [Beat.] SYNEAN You really don’t find me... predictable? [Beat. VERDEN takes a drag on his cigarette.] SYNEAN Strange. It’s been pointed out to me, on more than one occasion, that that may well be my number one problem... (nodding) I. Am. Too. Damn. Predictable. [SYNEAN chuckles. She looks all around the bar, rotating in her seat. She then turns back to VERDEN.] SYNEAN I spy with my little eye... something that begins with “E.” [Beat.] SYNEAN Go on, make a guess. VERDEN What are you---?

56. SYNEAN You have to guess what I’m thinking. Come on, then. It’s a fun little game. It’ll pass the time. At least until she starts her next set. Something in this room that begins with “E.” That’s what I’m thinking about right now. Can you identify it? Give it a go. You get three chances. Guess it correctly, you get a point. You don’t, I get a point. Then it’s your turn. We’ll play to ten. VERDEN Lady... SYNEAN Synean. You must win by two. Oh, do play. I loved doing this ever since I was a child with my friends. Anyone can do it. “E.” I’m starting you out with something--- eeeeasy. Ha, ha. May well be right under your nose. Or to the left or right of it. [She laughs.] VERDEN “E?” SYNEAN Yes. [VERDEN looks around. He points to the “exit” sign at the door.] VERDEN Exit. Take my advice and use it. Go home. SYNEAN No. No exit. VERDEN Haven’t you had enough of this dive for one night? I have. SYNEAN “Exit” is incorrect. Have another go. [VERDEN shakes his head.] VERDEN I’m done.

57. [Beat. SYNEAN points to his ear.] SYNEAN Earring. See? You’re wearing an earring. (fingering her own earlobe) I can’t wear earrings. Don’t have free-hanging earlobes. Runs in my family. Come on, this is fun. Now that you know how to play, it’ll be your turn. That one was practice. I won’t take the point. We’re still even at zero. VERDEN I don’t play games. SYNEAN Oh, come on... it’s good fun. You’re consciously making the choice not to be fun. [Long pause.] SYNEAN Was it a gift? [Beat.] SYNEAN The earring? Who gave it to you? Someone special? [Beat.] VERDEN Nobody. SYNEAN Gift to yourself? VERDEN Not exactly. SYNEAN What, find it on the sidewalk, did you? VERDEN Someone didn’t need it anymore. [SYNEAN looks at him, confused.]

58. SYNEAN Oh. VERDEN Go home. SYNEAN I’m waiting for her final set. What’s taking her so long? What could she be doing back there? I mean really. Her fans are waiting. I demand entertainment. What’s she up to? What’s going on? VERDEN Try using your imagination. SYNEAN Oh, right... my imagination! Been ages since it’s been called into active service. A bit cobwebby. [She laughs as the outside door suddenly opens on the far left side of stage. VERDEN’s eyes rise. A BEARDED MAN enters, pausing momentarily at the entrance. VERDEN’s stare tracks him as he goes to an empty table near the raised platform. SYNEAN reaches for VERDEN’s hand. VERDEN moves it out of range, stubbing out his cigarette.] SYNEAN False alarm? [VERDEN exhales. SYNEAN leans back in her chair. She adjusts her dress. Long pause.] SYNEAN Think I could get a job here? VERDEN Talk to the manager. SYNEAN I can do that.

59. VERDEN Good luck. SYNEAN Will I need it? Don’t tell me he’s the bartender’s twin brother or something. VERDEN Might as well be. They’re both assholes. You won’t make much waiting these tables. SYNEAN No. VERDEN No. SYNEAN (shaking her head) No, I mean... as a dancer. VERDEN (pointing to the raised platform) I think they have somebody. SYNEAN They must need a replacement... eventually. [Beat.] SYNEAN For variety’s sake. Mix things up a bit. Think they’d give me a try-out? All I ask is that I get a shot. [The BARTENDER walks near.] SYNEAN I think I’d dazzle them. One shot’s all I need to wow them. Show them what I can do. With my background in ballet, I’d convince them in a second I’m up to the task. BARTENDER (calling out) Last call.

60. SYNEAN (pivoting in her chair, calling to the BARTENDER) Oh, no! She’s not dancing a final set?! BARTENDER LAST CALL. SYNEAN But--BARTENDER (sternly) LAST CALL, LADY! [The BARTENDER moves on, mumbling. Beat. SYNEAN turns back to VERDEN.] SYNEAN He’s a charmer, isn’t he? [Silence.] SYNEAN Wouldn’t you get tired of staring at the same body all the time? Night after night. Talk about a marriage. That’s why I think they need fresh faces up there. Didn’t all those men earlier look bored to you? Each of their wives should come in and take a turn. Dance a set or two. It’d be a welcome change. Revolutionary concept. You’d have husbands lusting after wives... just not their own. Call it--- “Wife Night.” VERDEN They’re paying to look. Propose it to ‘em. [Beat.] SYNEAN (softly) How much to touch? VERDEN Excuse me?

61. SYNEAN (distantly) How much would they be willing to pay... to touch? [Beat. VERDEN shifts in his chair.] VERDEN Depends on how you mean. SYNEAN I’ve always been curious what goes on in places like this. Their neon doors are turning up everywhere these days. No longer confined to the red-light districts and town fringes. They’ve had a real renaissance just in the past few years... despite what feminists say. Even university campuses have them. One in the basement of every Student Union. Professors and students meet for drinks, negotiating grade-point averages as strippers perform in front of them. Some of the strippers are students working their way through... probably earning some form of college credit on the side while... (with an American cheerleader accent) Subsidizing their tuition. [SYNEAN takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.] SYNEAN (normal voice) These places fulfill something... something quite special... for certain humans. [Beat.] SYNEAN Obviously not for you, mmmm? VERDEN I can be unfulfilled anywhere. [SYNEAN looks at him, a tender smile spreading across her face.] SYNEAN You’re funny.

62. [Beat.] SYNEAN Really. You make me smile. [Beat.] SYNEAN That’s because you’re not trying to. [Pause.] SYNEAN You’d be honest with me, wouldn’t you? [Pause.] SYNEAN Won’t you be honest with me? VERDEN It ain’t my speciality. [Beat.] SYNEAN You think I could dance here? [Beat.] VERDEN Not unless What’s-Her-Name quits. SYNEAN You don’t know her name?! Did I tell you mine? I can’t remember. Her name’s Mary. I would’ve thought it’d be Lulu or Lolita or something. The Bartender told me all about her earlier. Before the ice-pick imbedded in his forehead, he was quite conversant. VERDEN You know more than I care to. [Beat.]

63. SYNEAN What’s your name? [Pause.] SYNEAN If I were psychic, I’d try to guess it. [Silence. SYNEAN sits as straight as she can in her chair.] SYNEAN Do you think I have a nice body? [Shaking his head, not looking at her, VERDEN’s lips curl into a smile.] VERDEN Sure, why not. SYNEAN Crikey, how can you say that? You haven’t even looked! Tell me the truth. Come on, then. I won’t mind. Honest evaluation. I can take it. VERDEN You’re fine. [SYNEAN pushes her chair back and raises her long, lean leg. Still quite limber, she extends it straight out above the table.] SYNEAN (putting on a Cockney accent) So... what about me legs? What’s your assessment? VERDEN (taking a deep breath) I’m sure they’re fine. SYNEAN Really?

64. VERDEN Really. SYNEAN (dropping the Cockney accent) But how can you be sure? How can you be certain? [Beat.] SYNEAN Unless you’ve touched them. Examined them firsthand. Feeling the firmness of my calves... and hamstrings... experiencing them wrapping around you, scissoring you... (with a mock dramatic voice) As our passions got the best of us! [Lowering her leg, one strap on her dress slips off her shoulder. She notices but leaves it alone.] SYNEAN (returning to the Cockney accent) What about me breasts? [She cups her breasts in her hands. VERDEN nearly chokes on his drink.] VERDEN (wiping his mouth and nose) Look, lady, you’re really starting to--SYNEAN (normal voice) Synean. It’s an Irish name. VERDEN Synean... SYNEAN (dropping her hands, leaning forward) Yeeeeesss? VERDEN Why don’t you---?

65. SYNEAN I’ve faithfully kept my figure these past eight years. Long litanies at the gym. Steadfast devotion to tedious spin classes raining perspiration beside Kristin and Sharon on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. [Beat.] VERDEN It paid off. SYNEAN You have to do it. You have to keep up. It becomes your second religion. [Beat. She laughs.] SYNEAN First religions die hard. I’m a firm believer in that. [SYNEAN rises, wobbles a bit on her high heels but, determined, makes her way over to the raised platform. Pause. She climbs up the steps, gliding to the center of the platform. A single spotlight shines down. She steps into it and just stands there for several moments, bathed in the dim blue light as if absorbing its energy. Slowly, her hips begin to move. She then starts dancing in perfect rhythm to the soft, instrumental background music coming over the nearby speakers. Her eyes look across at VERDEN for a long beat.] SYNEAN (calling to VERDEN) Take a better look. [The BARTENDER glances up. Squinting, he rushes forward.] BARTENDER HEY!

66. [VERDEN looks up and over. SYNEAN’s eyes meet his. BEARDED MAN whistles several times. SYNEAN keeps dancing. She reaches up and undoes her knot of hair. It cascades over her shoulders.] BEARDED MAN Keep goin’, baby! BARTENDER (storming up) Hey! Get down from there! [SYNEAN turns around a few times so that VERDEN can get a 360 degree view of her. She slides her dress off both shoulders, revealing her bra straps and the tops of her breasts.] BARTENDER GET THE HELL DOWN! RIGHT NOW! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! [SYNEAN slows.] BARTENDER Did you hear me?! [She nearly stops dancing completely, her hips still swaying.] BARTENDER We’re not licensed for you to be up there. SYNEAN You need a license to dance? BARTENDER Our insurance don’t cover patrons. Break your neck, we’d be liable. And I’d be fucked!

67. BEARDED MAN (whistling) Ah, don’t stop, baby! Come on! Drop those hands. Keep goin’! Unhook the bra! BARTENDER (turning to BEARDED MAN) Stop encouraging her! (back to SYNEAN) The show’s over. You’re 86’ed. [Beat. She continues swaying as they stare at each other.] BARTENDER Do I have to come up there personally and drag you down? [SYNEAN stops dancing. She looks at the BARTENDER, her head lolling slightly to the side as if trying to comprehend what he just said.] BARTENDER GET. THE. HELL. DOWN. NOW! SYNEAN Please don’t scream. I was merely auditioning to be Mary’s replacement when the time comes, thank you very much. (pointing to VERDEN) I was just soliciting that gentleman’s honest opinion. [SYNEAN walks to the edge of the raised platform, pulling her dress straps back up over her shoulders.] BARTENDER Sure you were. Pull shit like that again, you’ll be out on your ass. SYNEAN I’m sorrr-ry. I had no idea my dancing was such a crime against humanity.

68. [BEARDED MAN eyes her lustily. The BARTENDER snorts and heads back towards the bar, leaving SYNEAN just standing there, blinking as she finishes adjusting her dress. She heads to the short flight of stairs and climbs down.] VERDEN (as the BARTENDER walks by) I’d pay to see her. BARTENDER (over his shoulder) Fuck you, you can join her. Finish your drinks, pay your tab and get moving. Both of you. [VERDEN stands. The BARTENDER gets to the bar, reaches under the cash register and brandishes a billy club. SYNEAN quickly crosses over, gets in front of an advancing VERDEN, clutching his arm.] BARTENDER Come on. Make both our evenings, dear. SYNEAN Don’t, please! Please, don’t! Not on my--BARTENDER Let’s liven things up a bit. SYNEAN There’s no need for--- it was all my--- I apologize. Please. VERDEN (muttering) Asshole. [SYNEAN guides VERDEN back to the table. With a sneer, he turns his back on the BARTENDER and reclaims his chair. SYNEAN sits as well. Silence. The BARTENDER shakes his head, steaming. Long pause.]

69. SYNEAN (clearing her throat) So... [Beat.] SYNEAN What’d you think? [Pause. VERDEN raises an eyebrow.] SYNEAN About my future prospects. Be truthful. [Beat. VERDEN isn’t really listening.] SYNEAN My face... (raising a hand to her cheek) Makeup covers... changes a lot... camouflages... or enhances... under the right lighting. [Pause.] SYNEAN What’s attractive to you in a woman? VERDEN Look, it’s been great--SYNEAN (touching her lips again) My lips are full. Years ago, thin lips were in. Hard to know what’s en vogue anymore. Which do you prefer? [Beat.] SYNEAN Can’t you tell me? VERDEN What do you care what I think? SYNEAN But I do. It... matters to me.

70. VERDEN You’re fine. Okay? A guy’s ultimate wet dream. Now relax about it for chrissake! [Beat. She sits back, a satisfied smile forming on her lips.] SYNEAN You watched me when I was up there. For a brief instant... I captivated your attention. [Beat.] SYNEAN Far more than she ever did. Odd. Mary and I are rather similar, aren’t we? Not in age but--- I’m not trying to flatter myself. I just would’ve thought a woman like her would be more my polar opposite... wouldn’t you? VERDEN Where the hell’s your husband? Ain’t he due? [Long pause as SYNEAN thinks.] SYNEAN I woke up one morning... looking at him... it dawning on me. He might as well be a stranger... there... lying beside me... a stranger’s body. It wasn’t like he had ever been anything else. [Beat.] SYNEAN We bank on marriages that lose interest for the parties involved. [Beat. VERDEN smirks.] VERDEN With marriage... the party’s over. SYNEAN (nodding to herself) I’d make a good dancer... after seeing what the competition is. You have to know your competition. You definitely do. (turning to VERDEN) (MORE)

71. SYNEAN (cont'd) Not bad for someone fresh out of retirement, eh? Back from hiatus after nearly... good god... twenty-five years. [VERDEN shakes his wrist, tapping his watch.] SYNEAN Your watch is broken, eh? I’ve had dreams... dreams where--well, nightmares, really... where I’m a clock... a clock high in a tower... that can never keep up with the time. I’m always behind. People look to me... wanting me to hurry up... my hands... hurt... so much. [Beat.] SYNEAN The weight of time... can be unbearable. The weight of... waiting... even more so. Nice when you have company. [She smiles. VERDEN places a cigarette in his mouth. Flicking his lighter, it won’t flame. SYNEAN picks up the votive candle, extending it to him. Their eyes meeting, he leans in and lights up.] SYNEAN I was born in Blackpool, England. But I’ve resided here... in the States... for years.... I’ve lost my accent, haven’t I? I had a strong one, too. Classic Blackpudlian. You should’ve heard it. The sound of my voice was once very... distinctive. (putting on more of an exaggerated voice) When I firs’ came to tha Staites, no one coul’ understan’ a werrrd I’s sayed. (switching back to her more proper British voice, smiling) You knew in a second I was from the West Country. If you were familiar with the West Country... Lancashire County. What a beautiful region it once was. So rural. But that was back in the day when the world was young. [Beat. She smiles.]

72. SYNEAN Ever been to England? [Pause.] VERDEN London. SYNEAN Really... when? VERDEN Years ago. SYNEAN How’d you find it, then? VERDEN Piss-warm beer. Shitty food. SYNEAN (with a laugh) Not much has changed. (raising an eyebrow) Manage to escape the island with any positive memories? VERDEN (rubbing his chin) The music. SYNEAN I hear you. Music, in my humble estimation, is the final frontier where the British Empire still rules the world. VERDEN Oh, really? SYNEAN Oh, absolutely. Take that from the equation, the Empire fell... so long ago now... (taking a deep breath) it’s hard to imagine when, if ever, it was actually up and running. [Beat.]

73. SYNEAN I’ve been listening to The Beatles lately. What fun those lads remain. They invaded every corner of every continent long before I was even born. And what they accomplished... what they created... while still in their early twenties... remains almost too spectacular to fathom... even after all these decades later. The poetry of their lyrics and music became so... influential... and lasting. And none of it was ever intended to be. For their part, they just did it. And it would never be that way again for any one of them... when they disbanded and struck out on their own. But... (singing) Come together, riiight now... (stops singing) They truly seized the moment... and made history. [Pause.] SYNEAN (nodding her head in awe) Amazing how all rock musicians... to this day... are measured against John, George, Ringo and Paul. And no one comes close to scaling their mountain of accomplishment. And they broke up with less than a decade of collaboration behind them. [Beat.] SYNEAN Their union didn’t last. [Beat. She smiles.] SYNEAN Their music... remains. It’s so indelible I can just listen to it in my head. [Beat.] VERDEN This is all your opinion? SYNEAN Oh, no. On this one, I’m stating Fact. True Art Transcends Taste. Every time. Just check out any Picasso painting. (MORE)

74. SYNEAN (cont'd) Whether you’re on board with it or not, it manages to be great without you. Because what true artists create is bigger than you or I can ever aspire to be. VERDEN I don’t agree. SYNEAN Not the artists, no. Just their art. VERDEN I still don’t agree. SYNEAN Everyone’s entitled to his own... wrong opinion. (a gushing smile) Eh? [SYNEAN takes a sip, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.] SYNEAN (giggling) Back to England... you know, if you’re drunk enough, the pub grub is quite palatable. Steak and kidney pie, mmmm, not bad at all. I could go for one. But what I love, perhaps most of all, is the glorious architecture. So old. Nothing really grows anywhere close to a venerable age in America. It’s never given chance to. You all despise history. Or to be more precise... aged things. You absolutely loathe the notion. The lines and cracks that come to places... and people... as they get on in years. I thought age was supposed to give you wisdom and character. Not here. Not in the U.S. of A. You have to tear whatever-it-is down and start fresh. Or simply bulldoze something over... burying it from sight. Americans love fresh-starts. You’re masters of reinvention. Face lifts. You’re virtuosos at it. You want things to be new and pristine. Forever Young. And you’ll do anything... [Beat. She shrugs.] SYNEAN Whether it’s dilapidated buildings or ravaged, sagging visages staring back at you from bathroom mirrors... you demolish them all. The wrecking ball swings at everything... (MORE)

75. SYNEAN (cont'd) and everyone in its path... clearing the way... leaving barely a dim memory of any prior devastation. [She takes a drink.] SYNEAN I loved Blackpool. I never should’ve left. The whole city is like a giant antique shop. Traveling here... staying on... my accent was the first thing to go. I’ve lost so much ever since. They say the mind eventually tosses in the towel as well. [She reaches over and takes a cigarette from VERDEN’s pack as he looks on.] SYNEAN Lot of crumbling to ruin manor houses on the outskirts of Blackpool. Many abandoned. Magnificent places... once upon a time. Truly majestic.... I remember one... Darien Hall on Sulgrave Heath... it really was special... overlooking the sea. All that was left after a devastating fire were the outer stone walls and a few scorched pillars. Corinthian, I believe.... The house once boasted seventy-some rooms. And in one blazing moment... it all just vanished... forever. The flames gutting it from within. [Beat.] SYNEAN Even the ghosts had to pack up and leave. [Beat.] SYNEAN There’s a ghastly chemical plant on the site now. [She picks up the candle and looks into the flame.] SYNEAN Where’s the fire when you really need it?.... The giant beech trees... that once graced that property... were all slain... slain in the name of... chemical progress, I suppose.

76. [She sets down the candle and places the unlit cigarette in the ashtray. Her gaze drops to the floor and focuses there. Long pause.] VERDEN Why don’t you go on home? You’ve had a lot to drink. Your husband ain’t coming. [Pause. SYNEAN looks up at him.] SYNEAN No?... No... I guess... not. We were both waiting for someone who... failed to show. I can’t say I’m disappointed. You? VERDEN Go home. SYNEAN Home? (shaking her head) But I... (distantly) I’ve got so much I have to do. VERDEN Like what? SYNEAN I’m waiting with you, aren’t I? Keeping you company. I can’t just abandon my post... with so much still to accomplish. VERDEN Look... you’ve been entertaining to say the least. But all good things must come to an end. SYNEAN Oh, I... I agree. Even bad things have to come to an end. Just take a little longer. VERDEN I’ve got some important business to look after. Don’t take this the wrong way... but you’re distracting the shit out of me.

77. [SYNEAN gasps.] SYNEAN I’m sorry, I didn’t realize--VERDEN There’s a coffee shop across the street. Why don’t you go over there and wait. Give yourself time to sober up. I’ll be over in a while. We can hook up then. [Beat.] SYNEAN Will we? [Beat. She smiles.] SYNEAN Thank you. VERDEN Careful crossing the street. SYNEAN Look both ways? VERDEN Something like that. SYNEAN (as if she might leave) Thanks. But... no. [Long pause. SYNEAN takes a deep breath.] SYNEAN My dad... gave my mum one hell of a hard time back in Blackpool. Drank, smacked her around... the whole shebang. Never deserted his family. Quite the contrary... he was always there... haunting everyone’s life. And when Mum... tired of his generous abuse, compounded by his attentive emotional neglect... she elected to... pass on. [Beat. SYNEAN frowns.]

78. SYNEAN And that’s when a strange thing happened. He changed... for her. Tried to anyway.... But it was too late. She’d vanished. He’d already cremated her... years before her death. Now... like smoke... she was gone... for... ever. [Pause.] SYNEAN So one night... he set down his Guinness... and started roaming the house.... I watched him as he went down the hall, room to room... and in each room, he stopped every clock... at 8:32... the precise minute she’d died. Easy to remember. It was the same time they held the national lottery drawing on BBC 1.... Such a stupid gambler, he was. [Pause.] SYNEAN Mum had always been frail... but her life had never been hers... not with him around... not until those last few seconds... when she finally reclaimed it... in that shabby house... along that rubbish-strewn cul-de-sac in Blackpool. [SYNEAN looks at her glass.] SYNEAN Growing up with all those dead clocks... never ticking, never chiming... it’s no wonder I can never keep up with it.... I hated her for leaving me. Stealing her life away. Robbing me of her presence. Locking her child behind closed doors... with her real killer. [Beat. She shakes her head, amazed.] SYNEAN I chalk it up to poor judgment on her part. She was simply too confused to think of a proper alternative. [SYNEAN gives VERDEN a sad, winsome smile as the DANCER emerges from behind the curtain wearing a “Georgetown U.” sweatshirt and jeans.

79. BEARDED MAN chats to her in a muffled voice from his table as she rearranges items in her shoulder bag. SYNEAN glances casually over and notices. Astonished, she beams with excitement as she lurches forward in her chair.] SYNEAN (excited whisper) Oh, look, there she is! There’s Mary! She didn’t slip out the back after all. [SYNEAN tries to swallow some of her excitement.] SYNEAN (still whispering) Could you introduce us? VERDEN (glancing over) What? SYNEAN Kindly introduce me to her. VERDEN Why? SYNEAN I’m very keen on finding out more about the business. You know, first-hand from someone who’s hands-on. VERDEN Why would you want to work in this dump? You’re not cut out--SYNEAN (with a casual shrug) I just--- I can’t fully explain it. (feigning exasperation) It’s a consuming passion! [She excitedly raps her knuckles on the table.]

80. SYNEAN Look, you’ll have to hurry. This may be my only chance. She looks like she’s about to leave. VERDEN And your husband will go for this? [SYNEAN’s brow furrows.] SYNEAN (more serious) I’m my own person. He no longer has a say in what I decide to do. VERDEN He’ll have the surprise of his life he ever stumbles in here and you’re up there. SYNEAN (shaking her head) I doubt it. Please. Before she goes. VERDEN You’re crazy. [SYNEAN reaches over, her fingers extending out and touching VERDEN’s hand. He lets her touch him. Beat.] SYNEAN It means a lot to me. [Pause.] VERDEN You’re really serious? SYNEAN I am, yes. [Pause.] VERDEN I think you should go home. [SYNEAN smiles.]

81. SYNEAN Do this for me. If your friend comes in looking for you, I’ll tell him you’ll be right back. [VERDEN stares at SYNEAN, her lips a serious line.] SYNEAN Please. (softly) I’ll owe you one. [Pause. VERDEN exhales, slides his glass away and stands.] SYNEAN Thank you. (smiling) See, you should have let me buy you that drink. VERDEN (walking off) Maybe next time. SYNEAN (more to herself than VERDEN) That’s right... there’s always “next time.” Next time promises... so much. [VERDEN heads towards the DANCER. SYNEAN doesn’t watch, keeping her back to them. A cryptic smile creeps across her face.] SYNEAN (distantly) So... very... much. [VERDEN walks up to the DANCER. She turns away from BEARDED MAN as VERDEN leans in and whispers in her ear. Tired, she glances over in SYNEAN’s direction, taking a deep breath. A song with a more jazzy rhythm begins to play softly.

82. VERDEN whispers into her ear a second time. She rolls her eyes and nods. VERDEN puts a folded twenty dollar bill in her hand. He makes his way back to SYNEAN and sits.] SYNEAN Well? VERDEN I got you one minute before she’s outta here. SYNEAN She’ll really talk to me? [VERDEN nods.] VERDEN (waving his hand) Go knock yourself out. SYNEAN (beaming) Thank you! [Excited, SYNEAN rises from her chair. She takes a few steps towards the back and stops, turns and goes back to her original spot where her abandoned purse waits for her on the table. Winking at VERDEN, she picks it up, drapes it over her shoulder and heads towards the DANCER.] DANCER (as SYNEAN approaches) What’s up? SYNEAN (smiling) Hi, there. I’d like to talk to you, if I may. DANCER Yeah, what about?

83. SYNEAN (gushing) I think you’re utterly amazing. [The DANCER blinks, quickly growing bored.] DANCER Yeah, that’s me, Miss Amazing. [SYNEAN laughs.] DANCER Have we met before? SYNEAN No. DANCER My cab’s waiting. The meter starts running the second he pulls up to the curb. SYNEAN That doesn’t sound fair. DANCER What is? [BEARDED MAN clears his throat.] BEARDED MAN I’ll give you a ride home. Limo’s right outside. My chauffeur services are free. DANCER Go back to crying in your beer. BEARDED MAN (shaking his head, smirking) That’s low. But I’ll take it any way you want to give it to me. [The DANCER shakes her head and turns her back to BEARDED MAN. Once again she faces SYNEAN.]

84. DANCER Can we do this another time? [BEARDED MAN stares lecherously at both women, unblinking, his legs spread open.] SYNEAN (self-conscious) Oh, please. May we continue this... in private? DANCER I’m done for the evening. I want to get out of here. SYNEAN Perhaps I lost count... I thought you had a final set. I was hoping--DANCER I’m not feeling well. Clocking out early. SYNEAN Something’s definitely going around. DANCER Migraine. Good excuse as any. My head’s killing me. Maybe we can postpone this interview. SYNEAN I have something in my purse that might help. DANCER Look, my cab’s outside. SYNEAN But it’ll only take two seconds. I don’t mean to be so persistent. I apologize. All I need is a second. You’re fantastic... what you do... the way you perform. You’ve inspired me in so many--- you have no idea how you’ve changed my life. I must find some way to convey it to you. [Beat. They look at each other.]

85. SYNEAN Please. (glancing uncomfortably at BEARDED MAN) I’d just prefer... not to have an audience. [The DANCER takes a deep breath. She looks rather innocent now in her street clothes, a sad vulnerability overtaking her desire to bolt.] DANCER Promise you’ll make it quick. SYNEAN (smiling) I promise. [The DANCER disappears behind the curtain as the door to the street opens. HAEBER enters. SYNEAN turns and looks at him as he heads over to VERDEN’s table. SYNEAN turns and follows the DANCER behind the curtain. BEARDED MAN goes back to his beer. The music slows.... VERDEN lights another cigarette. He looks up when HAEBER arrives.] VERDEN So what’s going on? [HAEBER pulls out a chair, flips it around and sits on it backwards.] HAEBER I just the text. Our man cancelled. VERDEN Jesus! HAEBER It happens. He was runnin’ late and decided to reschedule. Maybe he smelled somethin’, I don’t know.

86. VERDEN You really are adept at wasting my time. I knew he was blowing us off. Like I have nothing better to do. HAEBER The sonuvabitch’ll pay. Now, later. Long as we collect, who cares? VERDEN There ain’t no later. This is it. [VERDEN gets up from his chair, tossing cash on the table.] HAEBER (keeping his voice low) Shit at this level takes time. Requires patience. You’re too goddamned hot-headed. VERDEN Fuck you. I don’t need--[A loud gun blast echoes from behind the curtain. HAEBER jumps. The room goes quiet. Only the jazz melody plays softly.] HAEBER What the fuck?! [VERDEN looks towards the back. Long pause. SYNEAN emerges from behind the curtain. She walks causally back to her table, a small revolver dangling loosely by her side. The BARTENDER stands frozen at the cash register. SYNEAN stops center stage and stands for a moment looking directly out at the audience. She then returns the gun to her purse. VERDEN, standing off to the side, watches. BEARDED MAN gets up and darts behind the curtain.]

87. BEARDED MAN (O.S.) OH, MY GOD! DEAR JESUS! [Long silence. SYNEAN takes a deep breath.] SYNEAN I’m not one to argue. She wants to be with my husband... she’s welcome to join him... as my guest. [Beat.] SYNEAN A match made in heaven. [SYNEAN sits down in her original chair. She turns and looks at HAEBER, a crooked smile on her lips.] SYNEAN (extending her hand to shake) We haven’t formally met. I’m Synean... Mary’s replacement. [Hold on everyone staring. HAEBER’s hand remains frozen at his side. The jazz melody slowly rises as the lights fade. SYNEAN picks up her table’s votive candle, purses her lips and blows... BLACKOUT.]

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