Roxanne's Game, the beginning

Original script by Fred Bentivegna and his daughter, Catherine Bentivegna Adami:

FADE IN:

Overhead view of a pool table -- a missed shot.

INT. POOL ROOM

SUPER: GRAND POOLROOM, ST. LOUIS MISSOURI

A bad situation is developing. Some tough-looking SWEATORS
are forming up near the pool table. They begin arguing.

SWEATOR #1
I gave Sonny six hundred on that
cue-stick. That cue is mine!

SWEATOR #2
Yeah, well I loaned Sonny four-fifty
on it. What about me?

SWEATOR #3
That stick is only worth about nine
hundred, and he got seven hundred
from me. If anybody winds up with
it, it's gonna be me!

SWEATOR #4
I don’t care about any of you
motherfuckers, I'm leaving here
with that cue -- Sonny’s ass -- or
somebody’s ass!

ST. LOUIE SONNY is at the table shooting. His eyes blink
rapidly as he listens to the commotion behind him.

CUSTOMER #1
What’s going on, Houseman?

HOUSEMAN
St. Louie Sonny hocked his cue to
four different killers and they’ve
all showed up at the same time.

Sonny is sweating. Keeps stroking and stroking. Then his
face lights up.

He shoots, misses the ball badly, curses profusely, and
smashes the stick to smithereens over the table.

The Sweators all look at each other, stunned, and then they
suddenly start laughing.

SWEATOR #1
That Sonny’s really crazy, ain’t
He?

SWEATOR #2
Ain’t no crazier than we are for
loaning that goofy sumbitch any
Money!

Everybody roars with laughter.

THE BACK OF THE POOL ROOM

A stream of long blonde hair flails back and forth on
ROXANNE; thirty-eight, expensively dressed, bejeweled and
beautiful, even when she is fighting mad.

And she is fighting mad right now.

ROXANNE
(screaming)
That’s just fucking great, Mick!
All your experience -- you still
get the "High Speed Wobbles!"
... Somebody gimme a cigarette!

A large group of spectators surround the pool table. One of
them lifts a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket.

MICK -- bespectacled, sportily dressed, forties, with a
strong resemblance to Clark Kent -- wrings his hands and sips
coffee on a high wooden player’s chair. His legs are crossed
as he lifts and drops his pool cue softly onto the floor.

Roxanne paces back and forth.

ROXANNE
You got a cigarette? Anybody got a
cigarette?
(muttering loudly)
Why do I do this? Why? Why?

Roxanne speed walks up to Mick.

He looks defeated, slumping in the chair. He scratches his
head and looks down and away, staring at the floor.

Roxanne wags her fingers at Mick.

ROXANNE
You’ve lost it, Mick, you’ve
fucking lost it!

A man offers her a cigarette and lights it for her.

ROXANNE
I could have married a doctor...

With that, Mick smirks.

ROXANNE
(to the crowd)
He can’t play anymore. I don’t
know why we bother. He should just
go back home to Pasadena and get a
fuckin’ day job.

Roxanne tries to make eye contact with the various Sweators
in the crowd while she rants.

ROXANNE
Wasted my whole life on this one.
He plays like dog shit.

Mick chalks his cue, laboriously gets out of the chair and
walks over to the pool table to take his shot. Takes a look
at the crowd and leans over the table.

Roxanne shakes her head and tosses her hair. She rolls her
pretty blue eyes like only she can.

ROXANNE (V.O.)
... Wasted my life.

to be continued.....