DOREEN FISHER, 50, glitters in
diamond earrings and an
unseasonable white mink fur. She
sits alone at the bar and nurses a
drink, studies herself in the mirror
on the wall.
ERNIE fills her glass. She stops
Thank you, Ernie.
He nods, tries not to notice her
Might I just say, Mrs. Fisher, that
you look especially lovely this
So lovely, in fact, that Mr. Fisher is
standing me up ... once again.
She raises her glass and takes a
I often wonder what the little
tramp's name is.
Jack storms in and stomps up to
the bar. He pounds his fist on the
marbled counter to get the
She taps a long cigarette from her
case and places it between his
lips. He nods his thanks. She
lights his cigarette with a fancy
lighter. He studies the encrusted
diamonds on the lighter, the lines
around her red lips, the crinkled
skin around her eyes.
What are you? A movie star or
Do I look like one?
He downs his second drink.
You look better'n one -- if you
don't mind me saying so.
What, you got a room
here, too? Jesus, lady, how
rich are you?