Authors: Andrew Vachss
Just as soon as he walked into the alley where the door to the club was, I stepped out from behind a dumpster and stuck the pistol in his face. "Give it up!" I told him.
He was real calm, real professional—just like I thought he'd be. "Do you know who I am'' he asked.
"Give me the money!" I said, cocking the pistol like I was gonna shoot him.
He took a shiny wallet out from under his coat. Real, real slow, so I wouldn't think he was reaching for a gun. He opened the wallet and took out a thick wad of bills—I could see they was all hundreds. "I'm sure you don't want my credit cards, right?" he said, a thin smile on his face.
I snatched the money out of his hand and backed away. He just stood there. "Don't try to come after me," I said. I turned around and ran. I heard footsteps behind me and I whipped around. It was the guy, holding something in his hand, some black thing, near his mouth. I turned around again and started to run. Three more corners and I'd get to where the car was waiting. Three more corners and…then I saw them across the street. Two of them. Cops. They were standing with their feet wide apart, guns in their hands.
"Freeze!" one of them yelled, and I knew I was never going to hand the money to Penny. I pulled out the pistol and I pointed it right at the cops.
I never heard the shots, but I felt them rip into me. One, two, three of them. In my chest and in my gut. I closed my eyes and went to Plan B.
A Play in Three Acts
Bordertown, Illinois-Indiana: Summer, 1992
The scene opens on the front room of a large office. There are no windows–the sense is that it's underground or just below first-floor level. There is a long couch against one wall, a desk and swivel chair just to the right side of a doorway. It has a large, multi-line telephone console as well as several other, free-standing phones, a rectangular digital timer with a row of buttons along the top–it reads:
0:00.00.
A small computer screen sits over a keyboard. Over the desk is a bulletin board with various pieces of paper tacked up. The walls are covered with color posters of motorcycles, surf scenes–resembling the room of a teenage boy, but no pin-ups. There is a small refrigerator in another corner, a hot plate next to it. Over the couch (set so it is in view of the audience) is a huge cross-hatched chart. Across the top are various girls' names: Monique, Barbie, Jennifer, Candy, Kitty…down the left-hand margin are code letter combinations: B&D, S&M, H/S, F-D, S-R, and at the bottom, SCREENER. The cross-hatching is marked with an
X
in various squares…so that Barbie is matched with H/S, Kitty with S-R, and so on. A big clock stands over the charts: it reads
7:50. [NOTE TO DIRECTOR: THIS CLOCK RUNS IN "REAL TIME" THROUGHOUT, BUT IS RESET BETWEEN ACTS.]
A tall well-muscled man is seated at the desk chair, legs up on the desk. He's wearing a tank top over baggies and running shoes. He's in his thirties, with long hair…an aging surfer, a good-time boy, not a bodybuilder. This is
BOLO.
He's got a bottle of beer in one hand, reading a motorcycle magazine with something less than intense concentration.
A bell sounds. He pushes a button on an intercom.
BOLO: AYW Enterprises. Can I help you?
LYZA: I'm here about the job interview. I called earlier?
BOLO: Oh yeah. Okay, come on through.
(He hits a switch. A buzzer sounds…sound of a heavy lock releasing. A girl walks into the room through the doorway. She's small: long, dark hair, with a slim, curvy build. She's wearing a red leather miniskirt over fishnet stockings and black spike heels, topped off by a black silk blouse. Heavy makeup, like Central Casting for "hooker."
[NOTE TO DIRECTOR: THIS MAKEUP GRADUALLY DECREASES AS THE PLAY PROGRESSES, SO THAT SHE IS FRESH-SCRUBBED BY THE END OF ACT I.]
She looks like she's in her mid-twenties, but it's hard to tell. She's carrying a small suitcase, about the size of a hatbox.)
LYZA: Hi! You must be Mr. Monroe, the man I spoke with on the phone. You said to come in anytime after eight.
BOLO: No, I'm Bolo. You musta spoken to Johnny earlier on, right? It don't matter: any of us coordinators can do the interview.
LYZA: Bolo?
BOLO:
(Laughs)
Yeah. Where I come from, it stands for Be On the Lookout. What the cops broadcast over the radio when they're lookin' for somebody. When I was younger, I liked to play pretty hard, you know?
(Making fun of himself)
Held the South Florida Bar Fighting Championship two years in a row.
LYZA:
(Walking over, sitting on the desk, crossing her legs, mildly flirtatious)
And now?
BOLO: Now I just want to hang out. Do some waves, ride my bike. Take it as it comes.
LYZA: And you work here?
BOLO: Yeah. It's perfect for me. Eight at night to four in the morning, five times a week. Like the night manager, I guess. This way, I'm off the streets when it gets dark, see? I mean, this ain't no career, okay? I'm just saving my money. I get enough saved up, I'm off. To Australia. Soon as I get there, I'm buying a touring bike–a monster Kawasaki. I heard there's some great waves over there and I figure on seeing most of them,
(Pause.)
LYZA: Well, I'm here for the interview.
BOLO: Okay, here's how it works. It's real simple. Guys call, they want to talk to a girl. They want…different stuff…depending on the guy, you understand? It's all a game, like acting. Fantasy stuff. You get to be one of the
regular
girls…See the chart over there?
(Indicating the wall chart)
Each girl does a different thing. We get some regulars, they always ask for the same girl, once they find one they like. That's why we keep the chart–so we can know who played what girl every day. Most of the time, they don't much care. I do this little spiel, find out kinda what they want. Sometimes, they don't want to tell me…then it'd be
your
job to find out, see?
LYZA: The ad said twenty-five dollars an hour…?
BOLO: Yeah, right. That's one way. Or you can work on straight commission. We bill them by the minute–they give me their credit card, I run it on the computer over there
(Indicating)
and if the card's good, they're off to the races. The longer you keep them on the phone, the more money you make.
LYZA: How much do you charge them?
BOLO: We tell 'em it's a buck ninety-five a minute, but this timer we got, it comes out to more than two and a quarter.
LYZA: A
minute?
BOLO:
(Laughs)
Yeah! You work on commission, you can figure about sixty bucks an hour just for your end.
LYZA: Wow!
BOLO: And we pay in cash, too. End of each shift, you get your money. I keep track of it on this timer here…It's not for the other calls, just for the ones coming in here, understand?
LYZA: Don't all the calls come in here?
BOLO: No way! Some nights, I'm the only one here. Most of the time, we just use this call-forwarding deal–I switch them right into the girls' homes. You work tonight, you'll be the only one.
LYZA: I just talk to them on the phone?
BOLO: Well…yeah. But…look, I don't mean to get in your business or anything, but…I mean, you look like an actress made up for a part or something, okay? I mean, some of these callers, they're not looking for romance, you understand what I'm saying. Hard core is what we sell here. Even over the phone, it can get kind of ugly. Have you ever…?
LYZA: Look, I
am
an actress.
BOLO: Oh, yeah, we get a lot of actresses working here….
LYZA: Okay, never mind the sarcasm. It's not that you would have seen me in the movies or anything, but I'm an actress. That's what I do. I sing, I dance…light comedy, Shakespeare…everything. I had lessons from the time I was just a baby. My Daddy paid for them…I was an only child and I guess he kind of spoiled me. I used to put on concerts for him, do little plays, dress up like a fairy princess. He's a doctor, over in Winnetka. I came to Chicago to work. And it's hard. I mean, if you were in the business, you'd
know
that. It's real hard to get a break, get a chance to show people what you can do. The thing is, I'm short of money. Daddy wanted me to stay in a nice place, and I promised him I would. What with the rent and clothes and going to auditions all the time, it adds up. I could just pick up the phone and ask Daddy for money and he'd send it right down to me. In fact, I was just thinking about it when I saw your ad. The phone, see? Kind of like Kismet. So I thought I'd come down here and audition for you instead.
BOLO: You mean like for a play or something? That's why you're dressed like this'
LYZA: Well, it
is
that, isn't it? Come on, give me a chance. Everything I told you was the truth. This is just a job. An acting job.
BOLO: Yeah, I know, but…
LYZA: Come on. Go sit over on the couch. Drink your beer, pretend you're an audience, okay?
(BOLO
makes a rueful face, shrugs, and walks over to the couch.
LYZA
leaps lightly from the poor to the desk, seated, her legs dangling over the side, clasps her hands in front of her, takes a deep breath. She plows through her bag, pulls out a small tape recorder, plugs in a cassette. A musical intro flows out. Then she launches into a sweet version of "You Made Me Lose You," switching to a bawdier tone nearer the climax.)
BOLO: All right!
(Claps, not faking it)
Girl, you can
sing.
(LYZA
luxuriates in the applause…the applause she lives for. Bows, does a little curtsy as though she were wearing a full dress, then pulls a natural segue into a dance number, using most of the office as a stage. Ends up back on the desk, blows
BOLO
a kiss.)
BOLO:
(Claps again)
Okay, okay. Anybody asks me, you got what it takes.
(Getting up from the couch and returning to the desk chair)
But listen to me a minute, okay? There's only one way you can do this job, see? You got to tell yourself, you're like an…outlet, you know what I mean? Some of these guys who call, they sound like real freaks, real sickos. But it's all in their head. I mean, let's face it, they're getting off on it–that's why they call, spend their money. But it's not
real,
understand? Some of them, they want…things…if it scares you, it's okay. Just give me the signal…You can see me from where you work, see that window right through there
(Indicating).
..and I'll call it off. It's really funny, you look at it the right way. You see the chart? See the name Kitty? Under
S-R.
That's short for Sexy Romance. Soft stuff. She talks so sweet it sounds like honey on ice cream…got a whole Hock of regulars love to hear her talk dirty to them. Well, her real name's Bertha, and she weighs about three hundred goddamned pounds. Sits there on her fat ass in her house over in Hegwisch, plopped on her sofa, stuffing bonbons into her piggy face. These guys who call, if they could ever see her, they'd have a fit. It's all a game….I know you're an actress and all, but you gotta remember…it's not for real.
LYZA: I understand.
BOLO: Maybe you do, maybe you don't. We'll give it a spin, okay? You want the hourly rate, or take a shot on commission?
LYZA: How would I make more?
BOLO: Look…what's your name, anyway?
LYZA: Lyza. Lyza with a
y,
not an
i.
L-Y-Z-A.
BOLO: That's a pretty name.
LYZA: It's a stage name. I picked it myself. When I was just a little girl. Lyza Langtree. I always knew what I wanted to be. It has a nice ring, doesn't it?
BOLO: Yeah. Lyza. Well, as far as how you'd make more, it's all the luck of the draw, you know? The way it works, if there's a girl working inside, here with me, I try and throw all the business I can her way…unless they ask for one of the regulars. And even if they do, sometimes I tell them that girl's not working tonight, you know? It gets pretty busy sometimes, but, this is a Tuesday and all. Probably our slowest night. Friday's the best. And it's early yet…they really don't get rolling until just before midnight. It's up to you.
LYZA: Well…I think I'll try the commission thing. What do I do, just wait around for the phone to ring?
BOLO: That's about it.
LYZA: Well,
that's
sure as hell like the acting business too!
BOLO: I'll bet. Me, I never worry. There's always something. I just let it happen. Come on, I'll show you where you work.
(BOLO
leads
LYZA
into the second room set up next to the first, equally open to the audience. There's a leather psychiatrist's couch, a straight chair, a recliner, some pillows thrown around, and a single Princess phone, white, with an extra-long cord.
BOLO
demonstrates how you can walk around the entire room still talking into the instrument.)
BOLO: Bathroom's in the back. I keep a few snacks in the refrigerator. You need to take a break, just let me know.
LYZA: What are theses
(Holding up a sheaf of magazines)
BOLO:
(Mildly embarrassed)
Porno stuff. They got pictures and like…letters and stuff. Some of the girls, they read them while they're on the phone…so they know what to say. But we got it better organized than that…see?
(Pointing to a red plastic milk crate full of file folders, He takes one folder out…just a plain manila folder, like you'd find in a law office.)
This is the B&D folder, okay?
LYZA: B&D?
BOLO: Uh, Bondage and Discipline. You know, handcuffs, whips, like that. See, there's a script in each folder, okay? I find out what the guy wants or, like I said, he tells you. Then you pull out the folder and you got sort of…guidelines…you know?