Writer’s Bone’s ongoing fiction series The Newspapermen follows the tireless reporters of a major metropolitan newspaper in the late 1930s. If you need to catch up, order a stiff drink and read Chapter 1: Ink and Drink Club.
Chapter Eight: Midtown Suds
By Sean Tuohy
EXT. CLUB 21-MIDTOWN-NIGHT
Post rain shower. Slick pavement. A line of New York City’s high society walk into a fashionable nightclub. Well-groomed women in dresses to kill for. Men suited up.
Hal walks past the club and turns right toward a back alley.
INT. CLUB 21-KITCHEN
Hal slips into the chaos of the kitchen. Sidesteps rushing waiters and bus boys. A heavyset CHEF barks orders to his overworked crew. Hal taps him on the shoulder.
CHEF
What the hell are you doin’ here Finton?
HAL
No hello?
CHEF
Hello. What do you want?
HAL
Seein’ my girl. Plan on taking her for a dance.
CHEF
Dance her with into the poor house. Only place your going.
HAL
I remember why I come here now. Your charm.
Hal breaks away and moves toward—
INT. CLUB 21
A band PLAYS from a stage in the dimly lit club. Booths line the walls. Tables ring around a dance floor. The floor is a sea of moving bodies.
Hal enters from the kitchen. Out of place in this refined establishment. Hal scans the crowd.
Finds SARAH, 20s, too much make up, dress too tight. She is charming an older gent.
WITH HAL
As he slices through the crowd towards Sarah.
AT THE TABLE WITH
Sarah, smoking on a long cigarette, as she chats up the OLD MAN.
SARAH
London? Never been myself.
OLD MAN
Lovely place. The food is far from—
Hal swoops in quickly. Picks Sarah from the chair.
HAL
Thanks, pal, but I got it from here.
A slack-jawed Old Man watches Hall takes Sarah to—
HALLWAY
Hal pins Sarah to a wall. Kisses her hard, full passion. Sarah returns it with less enthusiasm.
SARAH
I was working, Hal, I could’ve gotten something from that guy. See the way he looked at me?
HAL
Not the same way I look at you.
SARAH
I could have gotten some moolah from him. If I go back now maybe I can still win him over.
Sarah pushes past but Hal stops her.
HAL
I don’t have a boss anymore.
SARAH
What are you talking about?
HAL
I’m saying I’ve got some lettuce in my pocket.
SARAH
Yeah right.
HAL
I got something going on, something big.
SARAH
When I see it I’ll believe it. Right now I see an out-of-work newspaper man.
HAL
Look at this.
Hal slips out a fresh wad of bills. Sarah goes wide eye.
SARAH
Holy...
HAL
I got more suds coming for just the two of us.
Sarah takes the bills. Counts them.
SARAH
Hal, you’ve got over a grand here.
HAL
Enough for you and me to leave.
SARAH
What?
HAL
Get out of here, leave this city like we talked about. Starting up somewhere else.
Sarah looks at Hal and the cash.
SARAH
Scram, huh? How much is a lot?
HAL
Enough.
SARAH
Hal, where is it coming from?
Off Hal’s raised eyebrows—
INT. CLUB 21-FOYER
SHIRLEY AND HENRY check their coats and move to the dance floor. Shirley searches the crowd for faces. Henry sniffs the air.
SHIRLEY
You sure we can find him here?
HENRY
I smell steak.
SHIRLEY
You should smell the story, not the food.
HENRY
For your information, Red, they don’t serve the best grub in this joint.
Shirley rolls her eyes.
SHIRLEY
Use your head right now, not your stomach.
Henry searches the crowd. Stops on HAL.
HENRY
Hey there. I know that fella.
SHIRLEY
Who?
HENRY’S POV—
Across the room, Hal and Sarah rush back in, stuck in a heated argument.
BACK TO HENRY AND SHIRLEY
HENRY
Hal Finton. Crime beat report for the Post. Old school tough guy.
SHIRLEY
Why do I know that name?
HENRY
He’s public scumbag number one in this city.
SHIRLEY
What’s he doing here?
HENRY
Who’s the looker with him?
SHIRLEY
A lotta of questions. Why don’t we get some answers?
WITH HAL AND SARAH
Standing in the corner.
SARAH
Are you crazy? Do you know what they will do to you?
HAL
Nothing. They got nothing on me.
SARAH
They can kill you!
HAL
Than the pictures goes out to the public. Got them locked up nice and safe. No one can get to them.
SARAH
Where?
Shirley and Henry slide up. All smiles. Fake warmth.
HENRY
How’s it hanging, Hal? (Off Hal’s Puzzled Look) Henry, from the—
HAL
City Scribe, right! I read you piece on the captain out of the 17th Precinct last year. Good stuff. (To Shirley) And’s who this?
SHIRLEY
(Frosty) Shirley.
Hal is taken with her.
HAL
Does the lady have a last name?
SHIRLEY
Not for you, bub.
Hal smiles. Sarah frowns. Not pleased.
HAL
This is my girl Sarah.
SARAH
(Flat) Hello...
HENRY
What are you guys doing here?
HAL
Sarah works here.
SARAH
Sort of.
HENRY
Want to join us for a drink?
HAL
Maybe next time. I’ve got to see a man about a horse.
HENRY
Next time.
HAL
Yeah. (To Shirley) Next time maybe I can get a last name. See ya, all.
Shirley gives him an ice cold glare. Hal kisses Sarah and peels away. Sarah walks off.
HENRY watches Hal walk toward the kitchen.
SHIRLEY
Scum.
HENRY
He’s some kind of trouble.
SHIRLEY
Let’s get back to the chief and find out how much.
Off Henry’s concerned, yet determined look—
TO BE CONTINUED...
To download a PDF of Sean Tuohy's script, click here