Donnie Brasco
script without owner found at Weekly Script, where they call the use of it fair use. If the owner of the script has anything against his script posted here, please contact me.
“DONNIE BRASCO”
by
Paul Attanasio
Based on the book, “Donnie Brasco”
by
Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley
REVISED DRAFT
July 27, 1992
EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C.
An AERIAL VIEW of the nation’s capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below:
FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981.
CUT TO:
INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS
A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush carpet — Federal blue.
CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him:
JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters.
PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy’s eyes.
CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch.
LEBOW It’s going down tonight.
JULES Says who? A fucking wire.
LEBOW A reliable wire.
JULES A fiction writer.
Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT’S REPORT.
MARSHALL Is that the 209, sir?
LEBOW There’s going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black — it’s all over the streets.
JULES Clarence, you couldn’t find the streets with an asphalt detector.
MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes.
JULES That’s doesn’t mean it’s tonight.
LEBOW Even if it’s not tonight — and I’m not saying it’s not tonight — it could still be tonight because it could be any night.
JULES Fuck you, Clarence.
LEBOW Hey! I’m a Mormon!
HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other?
MARSHALL It’s just that — one of them’s one of us.
HOGUE An informant?
JULES An agent. Undercover.
HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When’s the last time you spoke to him?
JULES Three weeks.
MARSHALL Three weeks and two days.
HOGUE He checks in every three weeks?
MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir.
JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along —
HOGUE My predecessor started this?
JULES His predecessor.
LEBOW It’s been five years.
MARSHALL Five years and three months.
JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripple the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land —
LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New York attitude —
JULES — thinks there’s gonna be a shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella.
LEBOW You’re going to risk a man’s life just to make cases.
JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life.
HOGUE And how many cases do we have?
MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred…
HOGUE Which one?
JULES The truth is we don’t know.
HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody’s spoken to him. He’s been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight — at a fucking wedding — not because he’s one of us, but because he’s one of them. I’ve been on the job one fucking week. And it’s my fucking decision? How the hell did this happen?
Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around.
MARSHALL What time’s the wedding?
LEBOW Eight o’clock tonight.
THE CLOCK
on the wall reads “9:36.”
HOGUE Who is this fucking guy?
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. NIGHT. BAR WASHINGTON (1975)
CLOSE ON
JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete’s build, body languid with a killer’s confidence. Eyes dead as a shark’s. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit.
WIDER
LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below:
BLACKIE’S. WASHINGTON, D.C.
JULES …And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We’d give you a farewell dinner — but why spend all that money when you’ll just come crawling back to your old desk?
Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses…
LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this.
DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly.
LEBOW We’ve had our best guys on this since, what, Valachi? Twenty years?
MARSHALL Who knows? We never tried anything like this.
LEBOW What does that tell you?
MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting.
JULES Then maybe I should do it. I’m in a mood to be corrupted.
LEBOW You know what these people are like. They’re all married to each other’s cousin.
JULES (shrugs) It’s six months.
MARSHALL I think it’s great. Undercover’s a new area. Get in on the ground floor.
LEBOW It’s a wild goose chase. I’m saying this as a friend.
JOE What do I know? I’m just a dumb guinea.
LEBOW Don’t talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea.
LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn’t know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX.
JULES Here you go, Joe.
Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group.
LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it.
JULES Put it on!
Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group.
CUT TO:
EXT. DAY. SUBURBS
Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby.
Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw…
A PASS
spirals up into the air… where it’s INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere.
SHERRY Daddy, Daddy!
Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls… Then sidesteps…
JOE I’m out of bounds. Stop! This — look — this is out of bounds!
They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap.
MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at the front door. SMILES at the scene. Then FROWNS as she realizes —
CUT TO:
INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM
Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees.
MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning.
Joe embraces her from behind.
JOE What am I supposed to do? Terry tackles like her mother.
He gropes at her. She moves his hands off…
MAGGIE Illegal holding.
His hands go back to groping. She smacks them….
JOE Roughing the passer.
MAGGIE I suppose I should be grateful that it’s not blood stains, or powder burns. Like the old days.
JOE I got some good news today. We’re going back to Jersey.
MAGGIE You’re kidding! You got transferred?
JOE The kids can see their grandparents. Plus it’s GS-13. That’s two thousand more.
MAGGIE My God! When did this all happen?
JOE Just today.
MAGGIE What aren’t you telling me?
JOE Nothing.
MAGGIE I know enough about the Bureau that nothing happens this quickly, Joe. Especially if it involves a raise.
JOE Remember that guy I met at Quantico, that supervisor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe and Hijackings, in New York.
MAGGIE But this is a desk job, right? (beat) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again.
JOE This is different. It’s undercover.
MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover?
JOE Undercover. You know, undercover.
MAGGIE Will you come home at night?
JOE It’s a good opportunity.
MAGGIE Undercover in what?
JOE An FBI wife doesn’t ask, Maggie.
MAGGIE Will you be home on the weekends?
JOE It’s just six months.
MAGGIE You waited till this was all decided. You never asked me — you knew what I was going to say. What do you want from me, Joe?
JOE I want you to say, ‘It’s okay’. ‘It’s great’.
MAGGIE You finally got to headquarters and now you’re going back on the street.
JOE Don’t you understand? I buy a Brooks Brothers suit but there’s always a button that comes off or a stain that won’t come out — it’s like the suit knows I don’t belong in it. I sit in a room with Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something’s funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it’s just (gestures) This much off.
MAGGIE You’re as smart as they are.
JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Harvard and it wouldn’t matter — I cannot win. To do something that’s never been done, that they say can’t be done, that they can’t do — don’t you see? That’s the only way I’m ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms.
She looks at him. Smiles. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, kisses him.
MAGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Remember? ‘Maggie, if you marry me…
JOE (unison) …you’re in for a big adventure.’
They kiss again. And kiss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him.
CUT TO:
MONTAGE
— Present day. The CLOCK at FBI headquarters: 10:07. Hogue RIPS through the case file. A LETTER addressed to the Director of the FBI:
BERADA (V.O.) ‘To Director: Surveillance and informant contacts to date have been negative…’
— Joe is ushered through the fluorescent-lit warren that is the BULLPEN of the New York FBI office. Shakes hands with GUY BERADA, 50s, a Bronx bull with an unlit cigar.
BERADA (V.O.) ‘…regarding being able to penetrate the conveyance of stolen property by La Cosa Nostra…’
— Joe lines up at the DMV. FLASH! — his photo for a driver’s license.
Now he’s DONNIE BRASCO. The name types out:
D-0-N-A-L-D B-R-A-S-C-O
BERADA (V.O.) …UCA Joseph D. Piston utilizing the name ‘Donnie Brasco’…
— An FBI COMPUTER prints out a “yellow sheet” of his prior arrests for burglary — “a.k.a. DON THE JEWELER”…
— In the jewelry district, a HASIDIC JEW tutors Donnie, who looks at a diamond through a loupe… Donnie surveys a small APARTMENT with a REALTOR… Donnie opens a BANK ACCOUNT…
BACK TO PRESENT DAY
— Hogue reads down the BUDGET for the operation… Apartment… $491.60 Furniture… $ 90.30 Utilities… $ 35.00 Rental car… $220.00 Spending money $800.00
BERADA (V.O.) ‘…This would be accomplished by UCA frequenting locations listed below and attempting to engage in conversation and do business with said fences…’
FLASH BACK
— Donnie sits in Carmelo’s drinking club soda and watching basketball. At the other end of the bar, two TOUGH GUYS play BACKGAMMON…
DISSOLVE to another night, another game, another barstool —
CLOSER to the Tough Guys… On the backgammon board, as the pieces move closer to the goal…
DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer to the
game… On the board again, as the pieces move closer…
DISSOLVE to another night, as Donnie moves closer… And
another… On the board, as the pieces move closer, and the hand moving them… belongs to Donnie.
— Donnie enters his apartment, sparsely furnished with a bed, TV, weight bench and weights… Gets on the phone…
STEVE BURSEY, 30s, Donnie’s wiry and wild-eyed CONTACT AGENT, on the “hello phone” at the FBI office in New York.
BURSEY (to phone) Hello?
CROSSCUTTING
Donnie at a PAY PHONE.
DONNIE (O.S.) Is this Bursey?
Bursey cradles the phone on his shoulder, TYPES…
BURSEY (V.O.) To the file: Contact with UCA on July 7, 1976…
BACK TO PRESENT DAY
— Hogue reviews SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Donnie in Carmelo’s… In the Rainbow Room.
BURSEY (V.O.) …UCA reported no significant contacts…
FLASH BACK
— Donnie in Separate Tables, a restaurant on Third Avenue…
BURSEY (V.O.) …no significant contacts…
— Donnie wanders the aisles at a drug store, searching for a GREETING CARD. Selects one. MATCH CUT to Maggie opening the same card.
Inside it reads, “MISS YOU, LOVE,” and NO SIGNATURE.
— A TRUCK HIJACKING takes place on an access road to Kennedy Airport.
In a choreographed ballet, the DRIVER gives up the keys to a crew of TOUGH GUYS… Then Donnie and VINNIE THE FENCE help unload cartons of PERFUME from the truck…
BURSEY (V.O.) …UCA purchased two dozen cartons Yves St. Laurent ‘Eau My Sin’ perfume…
— Donnie plays backgammon at Carmello’s… On the board, as the pieces move CLOSER… Vinnie introduces him to JILLY GRECA, a tough-looking WISEGUY in his late 40s.
BURSEY (V.O.) …UCA was introduced to Giuliano Greca, a.k.a. Jilly…
— Donnie opens a carton of WATCHES…
DONNIE These go for 80 apiece. My end’s 20.
BURSEY (V.O.) …UCA sold 50 Pateau Mitsu Boshi Boeki digital watches…
He hands them to… Jilly. Who inspects them. Takes the carton.
Peels off bills to Donnie.
BACK TO PRESENT
— Hogue, with headphones on, stubs out a cigarette…
FLASH BACK
— Donnie sits in Hippopotamus… Casa Bella… An after hours joint… The pieces on the backgammon board as they move CLOSER… Donnie collapses heavily on his bed, amidst the spare furnishings of his apartment…
BURSEY (V.O.) …UCA reported no significant contacts…
BACK TO PRESENT
— Hogue opens a BUDGET FOLDER…
BERADA (V.O.) New York office requests an extension of six months due to…
FLASH BACK
— Donnie and Berada at a booth in the Cockeyed Clam, a manila FILE between them.
BERADA I got you another six months. I told them it takes time.
DONNIE Same budget?
BERADA Same budget. Look, Joe, not that I don’t see any movement, but — do you see any movement? I got my neck out on this.
DONNIE Whatever it takes, I’m gonna get these bastards.
BERADA Do me a favor. Just get one bastard.
Donnie READS from the file.
DONNIE (frustrated) ‘…no significant contacts…’
BERADA One other thing. You know how it is with the ‘B’. They saw some of the surveillance pictures…
DONNIE What?
BERADA They want you to shave the moustache.
DONNIE I’m undercover!
BERADA You’re still in the FBI. That’s the rules.
CUT TO:
INT. DAY. CASA BELLA
WINTER — fog on the windows. DISCO plays on the jukebox. Drinking DEMITASSE in the late afternoon:
BENJAMIN “LEFTY” RUGGIERO, early 50s, gaunt and raspy-voiced, SWITCHED-ON with nerves, testy and restless. He lights up an English Oval. Sitting around him:
DOMINIC “SONNY BLACK* NAPOLITANO, middle 40s. Fireplug muscles, dyed black hair. Sleepy as a lion after a big meal. Don’t fuck with the lion.
NICHOLAS “NICKY” SANTORA, late 30s, teddy bear paunch. Plays the fool.
JOHN “BOOBIE” CERASANI, early 40s, gun-metal hard. All business. Nobody’s Fool.
SUPERED BELOW:
CASA BELLA RESTAURANT. LITTLE ITALY. 1976.
LEFTY You can’t say to me a Lincoln is better than a Cadillac.
NICKY It’s the better automobile, no question. Head and shoulders.
LEFTY Geddadaheah. Geddadaheah before you make me mad.
SONNY Lefty, how you gonna be mad at Nicky?
LEFTY I ain’t mad at him. I’m mad at his stupidity.
AT THE BAR
A man sits, unfolds a newspaper. The bartender looks up– it’s Donnie.
DONNIE Coffee.
BACK ON TABLE
LEFTY Ain’t no comparison. Cadillac got more acceleration, more power, more better handling, better looking, more legroom for your legs, more power —
BOOBIE You said that.
LEFTY Said what?
BOOBIE More power.
LEFTY Be got me so fucking aggravated, Boobie, I forgot what I said.
NICKY I’ll tell you one thing — the Lincoln is longer.
LEFTY Longer what?
BOOBIE Whaddaya talkin’ about? Longer wheelbase?
NICKY Longer. Like longer. In inches. It’s a longer car.
LEFTY You know something, Nicky, you don’t make no fucking sense sometimes.
NICKY You got two cars. One’s longer. All things being equal, the longer car is the one gonna get there first.
LEFTY Ain’t the question all things being equal. One’s a Cadillac and one’s a Lincoln.
NICKY The one’s longer gets there first. That’s scientific fact. (to Sonny) What’s better, a Lincoln or a Cadillac?
LEFTY Why’re you asking him?
NICKY I’m asking him.
LEFTY Why don’t you ask me?
NICKY I asked you already.
LEFTY That’s right. And I told you there’s no comparison.
SONNY What the fuck are you arguing about? Mercedes got it all over both of them.
NICKY Fuggedaboudit. Mercedes? That’s a Jewish car. They didn’t get it enough from the Germans in the war — now they gotta be robbed by them.
JUDY approaches — the WAITRESS, early 20s. NEW to the job. Sonny takes her hand, KISSES it.
SONNY Angel, how about some pastries for the table?
LEFTY WATCHES DONNIE
sipping coffee at the bar. Leans over to Nicky.
LEFTY Who’s that?
NICKY Don. Don the Jeweler. Jilly brought him around.
LEFTY Jilly Four Eyes?
NICKY Not Jilly Four Eyes. You know, Jilly. From Queens Jilly.
LEFTY He’s a jewel guy? He knows jewels?
NICKY What — you got a thing to lay off?
LEFTY Ain’t the question, I got a thing. I’m saying, if I had a thing, he could lay it off?
NICKY Whaddayou got to lay off?
SONNY WITH JUDY
as he punctuates his order with KISSES of her hand.
SONNY A little cannoli. (kiss) Svingi. (kiss) Zeppole. (kiss) Sfogliatelli. (kiss)
JUDY We’re out of sfogliatelli.
SONNY Oh. Then you gotta give me that kiss back.
She giggles, kisses Sonny on the cheek.
JUDY Can I ask you guys something? You guys are wiseguys, right?
SONNY What makes you think we’re wiseguys?
JUDY What other grown men would have nothing better to do than sit here all afternoon drinking coffee and nobody says anything?
They all look at each other.
NICKY We could be cops.
LAUGHTER all around. Lefty steals another look at Donnie as he sits placidly drinking his coffee.
CUT TO:
EXT. LATER. LITTLE ITALY
Lefty RUMMAGES in the trunk of his Cadillac. Takes out several DESIGNER DRESSES, on hangers. Two cartons of TUNA FISH. Two large STEREO SPEAKERS. Rummages some more. Finds A JEWEL BOX.
CUT TO:
INT. LATER. CASA BELLA
Donnie sips his coffee at the bar, reads the paper. The restaurant is otherwise DESERTED — Sonny and the other guys have left. Lefty approaches him.
LEFTY You Don the Jeweler?
Donnie looks up to the Bartender. The Bartender nods. Lefty reaches in his pocket, produces
A FIVE-CARAT DIAMOND RING
LEFTY That’s a beauty, eh? That’s some beautiful thing.
Donnie looks it over. Gives it to Lefty.
DONNIE Give it to your wife.
LEFTY How’m I gonna give it to my wife? I ain’t married.
DONNIE You got a girlfriend?
LEFTY Yeah. Louise.
He returns the diamond to Lefty.
DONNIE Marry her.
LEFTY Are you for real? I’m asking if you want to middle a diamond here. All I want for my end’s eight thousand.
DONNIE I’m saying give it to somebody don’t know any better. It’s a fugazy.
LEFTY How can you say it’s a fugazy? You looked at it two seconds.
DONNIE Go ahead, try and sell it, you wanna be a dunsky.
LEFTY (angry) I’m a dunsky? Let me tell you something, my friend — do you know who you’re talking to?
The Bartender, SCARED — he knows what Lefty’s capable of. Quickly mixes a SPRITZER.
BARTENDER Here, Left, have a spritzer.
LEFTY (sputtering) My family, my children — my mother can hold her head up in any neighborhood in the city when she walks down the block. In all the Five Boroughs I’m known, fuggedaboudit — I’m known all over the world. You ask around — ask anybody about Lefty from Mulberry Street.
DONNIE I’m sorry. It was just a misunderstanding. Okay?
Donnie backs off, EXITS. Lefty takes the diamond out, looks at it — FUMES. The Bartender slides the spritzer over.
BARTENDER On the arm.
LEFTY Fugazy. Fugazy my fucking ass.
CUT TO:
EXT. LATER. CASA BELLA
Donnie exhales out his tension — unwinds from the dicey moment with Lefty. Pulls his collar up against the cold, heads up the block.
Takes a last look back inside at Lefty.
CUT TO:
INT. LATER. JEWELER
A JEWELER, loupe in his eye, examines the diamond.
JEWELER It’s a fake.
LEFTY This’s a fake?
JEWELER Nothing is what it seems.
Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it.
LEFTY Because that’s what I’m thinking. I thought it was a fake. (beat) It’s a good fake, though, ain’t it.
JEWELER It’s a very good fake.
LEFTY That’s what I’m saying. I thought it was a fake. That’s what I thought.
Lefty takes the fugazy back. Pockets it.
CUT TO:
EXT. DAY. NEW JERSEY SUBURBS
Donnie drives the big station wagon, Maggie alongside him. The girls in back.
SHERRY Daddy, will you be home Easter?
MAGGIE Don’t ask Daddy those questions.
SHERRY Mommy, will Daddy be home Easter?
TERRY You still believe in the Easter bunny?
KERRY You’re such a snot, Terry.
MAGGIE (to Terry) He’ll try his best.
TERRY (to Kerry) Don’t look at me. I think it’s great he’s never home.
SHERRY Denise in school asked me today what Daddy’s job is.
MAGGIE What’d you tell her?
SHERRY None of her beeswax.
TERRY Just tell her he’s a salesman on the road a lot. I mean, who cares what he really does?
MAGGIE (stern) You be proud of what your father does. Do you understand me? Your father is an outstanding individual.
TERRY Jesus. Lighten up. That’s not the point.
KERRY Shut up, Terry.
CUT TO:
EXT. LATER. GRANDPARENTS’ HOUSE
The station wagon pulls up. The kids run out into the embrace of Maggie’s PARENTS. Maggie climbs out, turns.
MAGGIE You said it was going to be six months, Joe.
CUT TO:
INT. DAY. ACERG, INC.
A storefront for fenced goods. WISEGUYS play cards, smoke cigarettes. The PAY PHONE rings. Jilly picks it up.
CUT TO:
INT. SAME TIME. FBI SAFEHOUSE
A phone line patched into a reel-to-reel TAPE RECORDER among rows of tape recorders. VOICE-ACTIVATED it clicks on, UNSPOOLS…
JILLY (O.S.) Hello?
CUT TO:
INT. MORNING. CASA BELLA
Lefty talks on a pay phone. Watches a MAN, indistinct in the background, sipping coffee at the bar.
LEFTY He’s okay?
PHONE (O.S.) Don the Jeweler? Stand-up guy. Ain’t a leech, good earner. Keeps to himself.
RACK FOCUS
to Donnie at the bar, sipping coffee. Lefty watches him.
FLASH CUT TO:
INT. THE PRESENT. FBI HEADQUARTERS
Hogue listens on headphones.
LEFTY (O.S.) Where’s he from?
PHONE (O.S.) California. He’s a jewel guy.
LEFTY (O.S.) Where California? L.A.?
PHONE (O.S.) Do you know how fucking big California is? How the fuck should I know? He’s a jewel guy.
THE CLOCK reads “10:25”.
LEFTY (O.S.) Jilly — he’s a stand-up guy, Jilly?
PHONE (O.S.) Look, Left, I said I knew him. I didn’t say I fucked him.
Hogue hits FAST FORWARD… The tape SQUEALS…
MATCH SOUND
FLASH CUT TO:
EXT. THE PAST. CADILLAC
The SCREECH of rubber and THE CADILLAC LOGO as Donnie pulls away from the curb in a screaming-yellow Coupe de Ville. Lefty lights an English Oval.
LEFTY Nice car. (beat) Go to 46th and 1st, I gotta make a collection.
DONNIE What happened with that fugazy?
LEFTY Man oh man, I gotta school you, my friend. Di’n’t Jilly school you?
The smoke is thick now… Donnie powers down his window.
DONNIE School me in what?
LEFTY Donnie, put your window up, Donnie. I’ m gonna catch a draft.
Donnie powers his window back up.
LEFTY A non-wiseguy never asks a wiseguy a question. A non-wiseguy don’t even talk to a wiseguy unless the wiseguy talks to him first. Capeesh?
DONNIE Yeah. I got it.
LEFTY You don’t raise your hands to a wiseguy. You don’t mess with his women — wife or girlfriend or daughter. Just keep your mouth shut — don’t put business on the street.
DONNIE Follow the rules.
A CAB cuts them off. Lefty leans over. HONKS the horn.
LEFTY Cocksucker! Motherfucker cutting you off. (resuming) You gotta have rules. Otherwise, what are we? We’re like animals.
He leans over. VICIOUSLY honks the horn again. RESUMES with one eye on the cab…
LEFTY Wiseguy has a bag, you pick up the bag. Wiseguy runs a tab, you pick up the tab. Wiseguy is always right — even if he’s wrong he’s right. All the way up the line. Connected guy to wiseguy to skipper to boss.
DONNIE Like the Army.
LEFTY What?
DONNIE I said it’s like the Army. Chain of command.
LEFTY Ain’t nothing like the Army. The Army, it’s some guy you don’t know sends you to whack out some other guy you don’t know. The Army’s a jerkoff outfit.
DONNIE I mean the same principle.
LEFTY Ain’t the question, Donnie. You see, that’s why I gotta school you. Because otherwise you get everything upside down. (beat) You got a girl?
DONNIE Yeah. In California.
LEFTY Good. Let her enjoy herself in California.
The cab CUTS OFF Donnie again… And Lefty BLOWS…
LEFTY Donnie, catch up with that cocksucker.
DONNIE Which cocksucker?
LEFTY He cut you off again, (pointing) That fucking — The cab! That one! Donnie —
Donnie SPEEDS up, chases the cab… Lefty opens the GLOVE COMPARTMENT.
Hits a BUTTON and the TRUNK pops OPEN.
A RED LIGHT
The cab stops. Lefty JUMPS out of the Cadillac…
IN THE TRUNK
Lefty pulls out a JACK, hustles up to the cab.
THE CABBIE
A PAKISTANI, 30s, oblivious. Then he sees Lefty approach in his sideview mirror.
LEFTY What’s fucking wrong with you? Hah? There’s no fucking etiquette of the road with you?
The Cabbie flips a “FUCK YOU” signal with his middle finger… Rolls up his window.
LEFTY Fuck who? Fuck me?
DONNIE OUT
of the Cadillac, running toward Lefty… INSIDE the cab, a nervous PASSENGER gathers her shopping bags…
SMASH!
as the Cabbie’s window CAVES IN… Lefty with the JACK… SWINGS down hard on the windshield. From INSIDE, a spider’s web of shattered glass.
DONNIE APPROACHES
Worry on his face. The Passenger FLEES down the block.
THE CABBIE
hangs out the window, grabbing and punching at Lefty. Lefty YANKS him out of the car.
DONNIE Left, c’mon. Enough.
Donnie grabs Lefty, trying to pull him off. A DRIVER heckles from a passing car.
DRIVER Fuck you!
DONNIE Hey, fuck you!
The Cabbie hangs onto Lefty. Lefty SNAPS off the cab’s ANTENNA, starts to WHIP the Cabbie with it. The Cabbie BITES Lefty. Lefty YELPS, backs off.
ONTHE ACCELERATOR
as the Cabbie SLAMS his foot down. The light turns RED. The cab FISHTAILS through crossing traffic… The Cabbie trembles with fear, looks in his rear-view mirror as he speeds away.
WATCHING HIM
Donnie and Lefty, as DRIVERS in passing cars shoot looks of disapproval their way. Lefty lights a cigarette.
LEFTY These fucking guys. They come to this country, they flaunt the rules of the road. They give the ‘fuck you’ sign to a man in the street…
DONNIE What kind of bullshit is that?
LEFTY Fucking sand nigger. I will never fucking understand it. Why is it always the guy who drives a car for a living is the worst fucking driver there is?
CUT TO:
INT. DAY. RESTAURANT
Donnie sits at a bar with a drink. Lefty listens to the OWNER, toughlooking, 30s, as he WRIGGLES.
LEFTY I just want what’s owed.
OWNER You know, you’re not the only guy’s owed money.
DONNIE You didn’t wanna pay it you shouldn’t’ve borrowed it.
OWNER Who’s this cocksucker?
Like LIGHTNING, Donnie SLAPS the owner hard — forehand, backhand.
GRABS HIS COLLAR
BELTS HIM HARD an uppercut in the solar plexus. The Owner SAGS to his knees.
NAUSEA in waves. Donnie finds the Owner’s WALLET in his jacket pocket. Takes the money from the wallet. Peels off a five, STUFFS it in the Owner’s mouth.
DONNIE That’s for the drink.
CUT TO:
INT. LATER. CADILLAC
CASH as Lefty counts it out. Donnie drives through the Lower East Side WATERFRONT.
LEFTY (scolding) Donnie — why’d you pay for that drink? Wiseguy never pays for a drink.
DONNIE Okay. I didn’t know.
LEFTY Always on the arm. (chuckles) You scared that guy, though, managgia — that cracks me up. I got 26 fucking hits under my belt and you’re the one he’s scared of.
Lefty CATCHES himself — shouldn’t have said that about the hits.
BROODS a beat.
LEFTY Hey, Donnie, pull over.
CUT TO:
INT. LATER. CADILLAC
TOOLS out on the front seat. Lefty UNSCREWS the dashboard. Donnie leans in.
LEFTY Hand me them pliers.
DONNIE The vise grip or the needle nose?
LEFTY Fuggedaboudit. I’ll get it myself.
He leans out. Takes the pliers. Goes back to work dismantling the dashboard.
DONNIE I don’t know, Left. This is the best car I ever had.
LEFTY You didn’t hear that? That rattling?
DONNIE I never had any trouble with this car.
LEFTY Give me a hand with this.
Lefty and Donnie PULL OFF the dashboard. Lefty looks inside. Feels around.
LEFTY (satisfied) It’s clean.
DONNIE (getting it) Hey, you got something to say to me, Left, say it to my face.
LEFTY I ain’t saying nothing, Donnie.
DONNIE You think I got a fucking wire in my car?
LEFTY Did I say that?
DONNIE What do you think — you think I’m a fucking rat stoolpigeon?
LEFTY You can’t be too careful these days. Even the ears have ears. (beat) C’mon. They need some bodies on the street down at Toyland.
CUT TO:
EXT. DAY. TOYLAND LITTLE ITALY
A CAR pulls up and two prosperous-looking SKIPPERS get out — DOMINICK “BIG TRIN” TRINCHERA, fat and fortyish, and PHILIP “PHILLY LUCKY” GIACCONE, 40s, shrewd eyes behind glasses. They disappear into an unimposing SOCIAL CLUB. WISEGUYS stand guard in the cold outside.
Lefty arrives with Donnie in tow.
LEFTY Nicky, this’s Donnie. (they nod) How’d Minx’s Magic do in the fifth?
WISEGUY #1 He lost.
LEFTY How could he lose?
WISEGUY #1 What the fuck does he give a fuck? He’s a horse. You’re the one that’s out ten grand.
LEFTY Fuck! Now I gotta bet another dime Sunday just to get to where I was yesterday.
