43. INT. POLO LOUNGE RESTAURANT - WINE STORAGE ROOM – NIGHT
STEVE MARKS is making entries on a clipboard. FRANKIE enters through a door marked “Private.” Steve notices him, but is not surprised.
STEVE
(laughs)
You’re gonna have the soul of a ribbon clerk. Inventory.
FRANKIE
Now, Marks, I can’t promise a big part--I don’t have that much to say about casting--but a small part, something with a little juice in it.
STEVE
No, no thanks, I don’t want any part. You’ve got to understand something. I made the money, I blew it. My time passed. New kids are coming in on every bus, so I died. I got used to it. I don’t want to be dug up like some corpse. I don’t want to have to die all over again. No thanks.
FRANKIE
How did it happen so fast?
STEVE
Fast? It’s being stung by a hammer. Am I bitter? Sure I am.
FRANKIE
(getting some money from his pocket)
I don’t want you to think this is charity . . .
STEVE
(extends his hand to accept the money)
There is nothing wrong with charity, I’m not Charlie Noble, I can use the money. I paid my dues in this town.
Frankie, awkwardly, starts to leave, but stops when Steve starts to speak.
STEVE (CONT’D)
Hey, don’t fool yourself. You didn’t give me this out of friendship or charity or even pity. It’s fear, Frankie. It’s going to help bury your fear.
Frankie, with obvious terror on his face, leaves.