Wayne falls back, laughing, into the thick cushions. He makes himself more comfortable on the couch.
SCOUT
I don’t know what you’re talking about, honey, but you keep your dirty boots off that couch and be careful of all that blood on your pants. This is a nice house and I’ll bet the people who own it are real nice people and we don’t want to get no blood on their couch.
WAYNE
The blood is dry, pussycat. Blood dries real quick on account of it congeals. You know what, honey? If your blood didn’t congeal you could die from just one little pinprick.
SCOUT
I know that, Wayne.
WAYNE
And you would be what is known as a homophobic.
SCOUT
Honey, a homophobic is a person who does not approve of carnal knowledge between a man and a person of the same sex. I believe you’re thinking of a haemophiliac.
Sharp zoom in to closeup on Wayne. His change of expression is as fast as the camera movement. His face has turned from happy to sullen and sinister. Scout knows the signs.
Closeup on Scout, she attempts a casual smile.
Closeup on her hand, which is shaking.
Two shot.
WAYNE
(With illconcealed menace)
Is that so?
SCOUT
(A pitiable attempt to be casual)
Yes, honey, it is.
WAYNE
Is that so?
SCOUT
(Shaking now)
I believe it is, honey.
In a sudden lunge Wayne grabs Scout by the neck with one hand and, dropping the gun, pulls back his other hand, clenched into a fist and ready to strike.
WAYNE
And what d’you call a woman whose mouth is too damn smart, huh? A woman with a busted fucking lip, that’s what.
Wayne pushes Scout off the couch and on to the floor. She screams.
SCOUT
No! Please, Wayne, don’t!
Wayne drops off the couch on to Scout, straddling her on his knees. Again he grabs her neck, ready to strike. Closeup on his fingers digging into her neck.
Pan up from Wayne ’s fingers on Scout’s neck to closeup on her face, mouth gasping for air, eyes making a terrified mute appeal.
Scout’s POV of Wayne’s face directly above her, staring down, face contorted with fury.
WAYNE
You think I’m dumb, sugar? Is that it? Maybe we’d better see if your blood congeals!
Scout screams in terror.
Two shot. Wayne sits across Scout It seems that he will beat her. Instead he kisses her passionately. After a moment Scout returns the kiss and embraces him.
SCOUT
Oh honey, you scared me.
WAYNE
I know that, cotton candy. I love to scare you, because you’re just like a little bird when you’re scared.
Now it becomes sexual. Wayne stretches out on top of Scout and begins to kiss his way down her body.
WAYNE
(Through his kisses)
You like to live in a house like this, cotton candy?
SCOUT
Oh yeah, sure. Like I’m ever going to get the chance.
WAYNE
We’re living in it now, ain’t we honey? I’ll bet they’ve got a real big old bed up them stairs. Stairway to heaven.
Wayne is beginning to undo Scout’s dress.
WAYNE
How about it, cherry pie? How about we go upstairs and make some noise?
Scout pulls herself away and sits up.
SCOUT
I ain’t doing no stuff in no stranger’s bed, Wayne… Could be we’d catch Aids or something.
WAYNE
You can’t catch Aids offa no sheets.
SCOUT
If they’re dirty sheets, if they’re stained.
WAYNE
Honey plum, these people are millionaires, billionaires even. They ain’t going to have no stained sheets. Besides which, even if they did you couldn’t catch no Aids offa them ‘less you put them in the liquidizer and injected them directly into your body! Now I bet these people have satin and silk, and I do not often get the chance to fuck my little girl on satin and silk.
SCOUT
We do not…
(She spells it out)
… FUCK, we make love, and I don’t care if you’re coming at me from behind in the restroom of a greasy spoon, it’s still making love and if it ain’t making love we ain’t doing it no more because I do not fuck.
Wayne nuzzles up to Scout. Close two shot.
WAYNE
You’re right, honey, I stand corrected. And right now I’m just about bustin’ to make love your brains out. So come on, honey.
Wayne draws Scout to him. Her resistance is weakening. His lips are now at her ear. Close two shot.
WAYNE
Let’s have us a party. I’ll bet they’ve got a water bed and a mirror on the ceiling and everything… You know something, baby girl? When I get a hold of your ass, I guess I wouldn’t let go of it to pick up a hundreddollar bill and a case of cold beer.
SCOUT
Oh Wayne, you know I can’t resist your sweet-talking.
WAYNE
Well, you don’t have to, honey.
Wide shot.Wayne gets up and slings the various weapons over his shoulder. Then he gathers Scout up in his arms. We linger briefly on the tension in his impressive muscles. He carries her out of the room.
Chapter Fourteen
The first thing that struck Brooke as Bruce ushered her into the lounge of his fabulous Hollywood home was how designed it looked. It was beautiful but completely impersonal with its vast white couches, glass and steel tables and shelves sparsely decorated with extremely costly objets d’art. Like an enormous and incredibly expensive hotel. Brooke loved it.
The truth was that in the previous three or four years Bruce’s workload had been so high and his ascendance so meteoric that he had had no time at all to arrange his personal life. He still owned his old apartment off Melrose Avenue, and in it were all his old framed movie posters and stuff like his Star Wars space gun. But it was just gathering dust. Perhaps one day he would move it all and repersonalize his world, but for the time being he was happy simply to decide upon a price and purchase a lifestyle appropriate to his rising status. Farrah, his nearly exwife, who had previously provided Bruce with the semblance of a private life, had long since tired of being married to a workaholic movie nut. She had retreated from his world, taking most of their stuff (which was hers anyway) and their daughter with him.
Bruce had never been very interested in personal lifestyle. Even as a student he had been famous for owning only one pair of jeans and one saucepan. He had always put all his huge creative energies into his work. There was none to spare for picking out cushion covers or visiting kitchenware shops. All Bruce required from a home was somewhere to wash and sleep. Of course, the more luxurious it was the better, and with his current abode he had pretty much reached the pinnacle of luxury. As far as he was concerned, he would be happy to stay exactly where he was for ever.
He was not going to get the chance.
The first thing he should have noticed as he followed Brooke into the room was a pair of pink Doc Martens boots lying on the carpet, boots that had not been there when he had left the house that morning. He should have spotted them instantly; there should have been a fast zoom to a closeup on the boots, and a sinister musical sting to inform him that things were terribly and dangerously amiss. But there was no sting and no closeup. Bruce scarcely registered the boots and remained oblivious of the fact that their presence indicated he was in very big trouble.