JEAN: Whoa, Jesus—
(She takes an off-balance step, sways. He catches her, holds her.)
STEVE: Careful, now—
JEAN: Oh, man, what a head rush.
STEVE: You okay? You’re not passing out on me, are you?
JEAN: No, I’m cool. Oh God . . .
(Coughs deeply)
I really feel that in my chest.
(He reaches for her breasts.)
STEVE: Here, let me feel.
(Unperturbed, she pushes him away.)
JEAN: You’re just an old perv.
STEVE: No shit. Christ, you got a great set.
How
old are you?
JEAN: I’m fifteen, perv.
STEVE: Show ’em to me.
JEAN: No, perv.
STEVE: Shhh. Yeah, show ’em to me. I won’t look.
JEAN: If you won’t look, there’s no point in showing them to you.
STEVE: Okay, okay, I’ll look then.
JEAN
(Dumb guy voice)
: “Lemme look at your tits, little girl—”
STEVE: C’mon, we’re partners!
JEAN: No!
STEVE: Aren’t we amazing card partners?
JEAN: Forget it!
STEVE: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.
JEAN: I don’t want to see yours.
STEVE: You ever seen one?
JEAN: Yes.
STEVE: No, you haven’t.
JEAN: Yes, I have. I’m not a virgin.
STEVE: You’re not?
JEAN: Not technically. Well, no
technically
, I am. I mean not theoretically.
STEVE: That changes everything.
(He moves in close to her.)
JEAN: What are you doing?
STEVE: Nothing.
JEAN: You’re gonna get us both in trouble.
STEVE: I’m white and over thirty. I don’t get in trouble.
(He turns off the light. Total darkness.)
JEAN: Hey . . .
STEVE: Shhh . . .
(Moaning, heavy breathing from Steve, in the dark. The overhead light clicks on. Johnna stands in the dining-room entryway, brandishing a cast-iron skillet. Jean and Steve, clothes in disarray, separate.)
JEAN: Oh my God . . .
STEVE: Ho, fuck!
(Johnna approaches Steve.)
Hold up there, lady, you don’t know what you’re—
(Johnna swings the skillet, barely missing Steve’s nose.)
Hey, goddamn it, careful—
(He reaches for the skillet. She swings again and smacks his knuckles.)
Ow, goddamn—!
(He grimaces, holds his hand in pain. She wades in with a strong swing and connects squarely with his forehead. Steve goes down. Johnna stands above him, arm cocked, watching for a recovery, but he does not attempt it.
Elsewhere in the house: Bill, Barbara and Karen wake in their different locations, head to the dining room.
Karen sees Steve on the floor and screams:)
KAREN: What happened?!
(Johnna and Jean share a look. Karen goes to Steve, props him up.)
Steve, what happened?!
(He groans.)
Tell me what happened.
JOHNNA: He was messing with Jean—
KAREN: Honey, you’re bleeding, are you okay?
(He groans again, tries to stand.
Now Bill and Barbara enter the dining room, both in their night clothes.)
BARBARA: Jean, what are you doing up? What’s going on—?
JEAN: We were, I don’t know—
BARBARA: Who was? Talk to me, are you all right?
| BILL: What happened to him? Do I need to call a doctor?
|
JEAN: Yeah, I’m fine.
| KAREN: I don’t know.
|
BARBARA: Johnna, what’s going on?
JOHNNA: He was messing with Jean. So I tuned him up.
BARBARA: “Messing with,” what do you mean, “messing with”?
| BILL: What . . . what’s that mean?
|
JOHNNA: He was kissing her and grabbing her.
(This information settles in . . .
Then Barbara attacks Steve, who has by now gotten to his feet. Ad-libs. Karen gets between them. Bill grabs Barbara from behind, tries to pull her away. Ad-libs.)
BARBARA: I’ll murder you, you prick!
BILL
(To Karen)
: Get him out of here!
STEVE: I didn’t do anything!—
JEAN: Mom, stop it!
KAREN: Settle down!—
BILL: Get back in the living room!—
BARBARA: You know how old that girl is?!
STEVE
(To Jean)
: Tell them I didn’t do anything!—
BARBARA: She’s fourteen years old!—
JEAN: Mom!
STEVE: She said she was fifteen!
BARBARA: Are you out of your goddamn mind?
KAREN: Barbara, just back off!
(Karen manages to push Steve out of the dining room, into the living room. During the following, they get dressed and pack their bags.
Barbara, Bill, Jean and Johnna remain in the dining room.)
BARBARA: Oh my God! Do you fucking believe that crazy prick?!
BILL: I know, I know, settle down.
BARBARA: “Settle down,” the son-of-a-bitch is a goddamn sociopath! What the fuck is going on?
BILL
(To Jean)
: Are you okay?
JEAN: Yes, I’m okay, what is the
matter
with you?
BARBARA: With
us
?
JEAN: Will you please stop freaking out?
BILL: Why don’t you start at the beginning?
BARBARA: What are you doing out of bed?
BILL: Please, sweetheart, we need to know what went on here.
JEAN: Nothing “went on.” Can we just not make a federal case out of everything? I couldn’t sleep, I came to the kitchen for a drink, he came in . . . end of story.
BARBARA: That’s not the end of the story.
| BILL: That’s not the end of the story.
|
JEAN: We smoked pot, all right? We smoked a little pot, and we were goofing around, and then everything just went hay-wire.
BARBARA: What have I told you about smoking that shit?! What did I say?
| BILL: Then Johnna just chose to attack him with a frying pan? I don’t think so.
|
JEAN: Look at you two, you’re both so ridiculous. It’s no big deal, nothing happened.
BILL: We’re concerned about you.
JEAN: No, you’re not. You just want to know who to punish. BARBARA: Stop it—
JEAN: You can’t tell the difference between the good guys and the bad guys, so you want me to sort it all out for you—
BARBARA: You know what, skip the lecture. Just tell me what he did!
JEAN: He didn’t do anything! Even if he did, what’s the big deal?
BILL: The big deal, Jean, is that you’re fourteen years old.
JEAN: Which is only a few years younger than you like ’em.
(Barbara slaps Jean; Jean bursts into tears.)
I hate you!
BARBARA: Yeah, I hate you too, you little freak!
(Jean tries to exit. Bill grabs her.)
BILL: Jean—
JEAN: Let me go!
(Jean pulls free, runs off.)
BILL
(To Barbara)
: What’s the matter with you?
(Bill exits, pursuing Jean.)
JOHNNA: Excuse me.
(Johnna exits, returns to her attic room. Barbara regains some composure, moves into the living room. Steve has by now dressed and exited, carrying suitcases. Karen is pulling on a sweatshirt, grabbing a few leftover items, restoring the hide-a-bed.)
KAREN: I can do without a speech.
BARBARA: I beg your pardon?
KAREN: I’m leaving.
We’re
leaving. Back to Florida, tonight,
now
. Me and Steve, together. You want to give me some grief about that?
BARBARA: Now wait just a goddamn—
KAREN: You better find out from Jean just exactly what went on in there before you start pointing fingers, that’s all I’m saying. ’Cause I doubt Jean’s exactly blameless in all this. And I’m not
blaming
her. Just because I said she’s not blameless, that doesn’t mean I’ve
blamed
her. I’m saying she might share in the responsibility. You understand me?
I know Steve should know better than Jean, that she’s only fourteen. My point is, it’s not cut and dried, black and white, good and bad. It lives where everything lives: somewhere in the middle. Where everything lives, where all the rest of us live,
everyone but you
.
BARBARA: Karen—
KAREN: I’m not defending him. He’s not perfect. Just like all the rest of us, down here in the muck. I’m no angel myself. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. Things you’ll never know about. Know what? I may even have to do some things I’m not proud of
again
. ’Cause sometimes life puts you in a corner that way. And I am a human being, after all.