Nighthawks by Douglas Steinberg
ACT ONE
(Darkness. Silence. Music or radio comedy and/or commercials from the
era fades in, then out.)
SCENE ONE
(MAE sits at the counter and stares at a book of matches. SAM,
smoking, sits next to her and stares at QUIG. Quig, washing dishes
behind the counter, stares at THE CUSTOMER. The customer, his back to
us, sits at one end of the counter and stares at no one. A beat. Mae
glances at the Customer, grows a bit exasperated, looks away. Another
beat. Mae speaks to Sam, out of the side of her mouth, not wanting to
be overheard by the Customer and yet not wanting him to think she is
intimidated, either.)
MAE
Still doin' it?
SAM
Yah.
MAE
On the napkin?
SAM
Yah.
MAE
Can you see what?
SAM
No.
MAE
Sheesh, I can't believe this guy. Every night the same thing.
(Half-beat)
What's he doin' now?
SAM
Drinkin' his coffee.
MAE
I mean on the napkin.
SAM
I can't see.
MAE
Well, take a look.
SAM
No. He'll see me.
MAE
Go on, Sam, take a look, would'ja?
SAM
No, I said. You're so interested, you take a look.
MAE
Me? Ha. Not me, brother. I wouldn't be caught dead.
(Pause. Mae can't stand the suspense, elbows Sam.)
MAE
Go on, Sam, take a look, would'ja, be a man.
SAM
I said no, Mae. Don't take no man to take a look. You wanna look,
you take a look.
MAE
Shuh, in a pig's eye I would. Like hell I would. I ain't no peep.
SAM
Fine, suit yourself.
MAE
Fine. I will.
(Pause. Sam and Mae simultaneously glance in the Customer's
direction…stretch their necks to view his napkin…then Quig,
curious, also stretches for a look-see…until the Customer looks
up.)
QUIG
(Flustered, pulling out his pad)
So…you're, uh, drawin', huh? I was, uh, just getting up your
check here. Well now, let's check out the damages: Got
QUIG (Cont.)
a nickel for the java, thirty-five for the egg sal san (Like it two
days old like that, don't you?), a quarter for the Boston
Crème…So! That brings it to…the grand total is: Owe me sixty-five
cents. Not countin' the tip, which I'm not hintin' or nuthin',
if you so got.
(Quig places the check before Customer and waits. The Customer stares
at the check, then at Quig. Quig grows self-conscious.)
QUIG
'Course I'm not tryin' to rush you or nuthin. No no no no. I
just thought, I mean…Hey, take all the time you want. I mean, it's
a free country, in'it? Sure sure, take your time, take your time,
why not. Here, lemme freshen that for ya.
(Quig pours fresh coffee into the Customer's cup, returns to washing
dishes behind the counter. Sam stares straight ahead, smokes. Pause.
Then Mae, staring at her matchbook, haltingly sings…)
MAE
"What'll I do…when you…are far…away…and I…am
blue…What'll I do?"
(Looks at customer)
Huh, mister? What'll I do? Huh? You tell me.
(The Customer does not respond, simply sips his coffee. Mae, Quig and
Sam exchange a glance, look away, then simultaneously break out
laughing. They try to squelch it but can't. Quig may even spray some
of the water he's been sipping. They snort and wheeze and nod. The
Customer does not react in any way. Their laughter subsides. A few
coughs, a sigh, a throat is cleared. An uncomfortable silence. Mae
darts a look at the Customer, looks away, stares at her matchbook. A
beat. Blackout.)
SCENE TWO
(Mae sits at the counter and stares at a book of matches. Sam,
smoking, sits next to her and stares at Quig. Quig, washing dishes
behind the counter, stares out across the street. Then…)
QUIG
He comin'?
(No response)
Think he's comin', Mae? Huh?
(No response)
Sam, you think he's gonna come?
(No response)
I think he's comin'.
(A beat. Mae sighs.)
MAE
Ahhh, if only pi'tures could talk, ya know, Sam?
SAM
Yeah.
MAE
Like this matchbook, for instance…?
SAM
Yeah?
MAE
It's got a pi'ture on it…?
SAM
Yeah?
MAE
"The Dutch Masters," they call 'em.
SAM
Ah.
(A short beat, then)
MAE
They're all just sorta sittin' there, ya know, Sam?
SAM
Yeah?
MAE
They're all sort of just bunched together.
SAM
How come?
QUIG
(Proudly piping in)
On accounta they're a musical group.
MAE
Get outta here.
QUIG
They are. They're a musical group.
MAE
Says who?
QUIG
I heard 'em. On "The Fred Allen Show."
MAE
Go on.
QUIG
I'm serious here. On the radio. I mean, they're in costumes,
right? The "Dutch look," they call it. Ya know, half-drag,
half-man. Yeah, I heard 'em once. Sung good, too.
MAE
Whatever.
QUIG
For cigars and stuff.
MAE
Whatever.
SAM
(Overlapping, to Quig)
Dutch Masters.
MAE
(Snapping sternly)
I said whatever.
QUIG
(Fading as he meets Mae's glare)
I'm just sayin'...
SAM
So what about the picture, Mae?
MAE
Well, it's what you call a a a still life, no, a a a -
SAM
A portrait painting.
MAE
(Moving toward the window, staring out)
Exactly. That. A portrait painting. And one of 'em, Sam? One of
'em seems like he's whisperin' to the other…
SAM
Whisperin' what?
MAE
I dunno. I don't put words in people's mouths. Maybe "it's
cold in here," maybe "Why don't he stop paintin' already?"
maybe "I got an itch." Stuff like that.
QUIG
(Dumbly piping in)
Must be the tenor.
MAE
(An irritated take to Quig)
I was talkin' theoretical.
QUIG
Oh.
MAE
I was talkin' how it looks. It's like there's something missing
in there, ya know, Sam?
SAM
Like what, for instance?
MAE
Like, I dunno, another Dutchman or something. It ain't what you
call… complete.
(Looks out window, a bit anxious)
Where is he, anyway, Sam? You think he's comin'? Huh? You think
he's gonna come?
QUIG
Oh, he'll come alright.
MAE
I mean, it's past time.
QUIG
He'll come, I said.
MAE
Aaa, painters. They make me sick.
SAM
Come on, Mae.
MAE
I'm serious. I don't like this guy.
QUIG
Mae, look'it this way: he leaves good tips.
MAE
Shuh, go on with your tips. You and your tips.
QUIG
He does.
MAE
Go on with your tips, I said!
(Then)
So help me, he come in here every night this week, this painter. Not a
word, not a hello, nuthin. Every night like clockwork. Sits on the
same stool. Right there in the center. Not this one, not that one, oh
no, that stool right there. And then you know what he does?
SAM
What's that?
MAE
Taps his knuckles on the counter. No eye contact, don't say a word
he taps his knuckles on the counter. Like a squirrel crackin'
nuts, for crisesake. Me, I try to strike up a conversation. I say,
"So what'll it be tonight, mister?" Know what he does?
QUIG
He points to the stuff on the menu.
MAE
He points to the stuff on the menu. Not a hello, not a goodbye,
nuthin. But I seen him, ya know. Nuh-uh, he don't get past me. I
seen what the son of a bitch been doin'.
QUIG
Watch your language.
MAE
I seen. He don't fool me none.
SAM
No, Mae? What's he been doing?
MAE
(Confidentially)
He's been drawing's what he's been doin'.
SAM
(Gasps mockingly)
Oh my goodness.
MAE
And on my napkins yet.
SAM
Oh gracious.
MAE
And you know what he's been drawing, Sam?
SAM
What's that?
MAE
He's been drawing me's what he's been drawing.
SAM
HolyMaryMotherofGod.
MAE
I seen him. He's been drawing me, which I ain't as yet given
permission for. He's been drawing me. I seen him. I seen him a lot.
Sometimes he's down the corner? Sketching. Sketching's what he
does. You know Old Clancy's across the street? -
QUIG
The one what ain't been rented? What about it?
MAE
(As if privileged info)
He got an easel there.
SAM
So?
MAE
He got an easel there don't that say something to you?
SAM
Yeah, says he got an easel there so what?
MAE
He got an easel there which is somewhat directly across from here
which is where he's got it.
QUIG
I thought it ain't been rented…?
MAE
You're really thick, you know that?
QUIG
But how can -
MAE
He got an easel there! Don't mean it been rented that he got an
easel there, dummy! He just got one there!
(Quig makes a threatening move. Mae shoots him a look that could
kill. Sam intercedes by rising, then limping downstage for the sugar
dispenser - we see he wears a metal brace - and returns to his
seat.)
SAM
Look, Mae, he's a painter. This we know. He draws on napkins. This
too we know. So what's all the paloy about some lousy easel?
MAE
Not some lousy easel, Sam - that guy's easel. That guy's easel
which he come in here every night this week, chuggin' Quig's
shitty coffee, scribblin' on our paper napkins a likeness of which I
happen to know from discreet-like surveillancin' and twenny-twenny
vision happens to be ME!
QUIG
What do you mean, "Quig's shitty coffee?"
MAE
Shut up!
SAM
Mae -
MAE
And don't you start, neither!
(They stare at Mae)
Well, don't you see? Don't any of you see? He's gonna do us!
QUIG
What's that mean, do us?
MAE
Paint us, braincell, paint us!
QUIG
(Beams, looks out)
No kiddin'?
MAE
You mean that don't bother you? Don't bother you he's studying
us like we was insects or something? Guy comes in here, don't say no
hellos, no goodbyes -
QUIG
Leaves too bigga tips -
MAE
Will you shut it with the tips already!
SAM
Mae, look (Mae, believe me), what's the difference? Huh? I mean,
it ain't like Clark Gable's come in for a chat and an apple pie.
He's painting us, so he's painting us.
MAE
Yeah? Well, I don't want it.
SAM
Mae, it's a free country.
MAE
Not with my life it ain't. He paints me, who knows where it's
gonna end up. I don't need no high society makin' fun of me.
QUIG
Mae, Sammy-boy here says it's a free country. Ain't nuthin you can
do.
MAE
Stop serving him.
QUIG
What? Come again, my darling, my true love? Stop what?
MAE
Stop serving him.
QUIG
Sam, you got a Bromo-Selzer? Huh? Give her a Bromo-Selzer. Because
this dame has most definitely LOST HER NUT! This is the night, woman!
Stumblebum time! We get five, maybe six Joes crawl in here outta the
dark, and now you want me to stop serving a
coffee-sandwich-pie-payin' customer 'cause he's a…'cause
he's a painter??
MAE
Not just a painter, Quig - our painter, which I ain't as yet
condoned.
QUIG
Condoned? What's that mean, condoned?
MAE
(A take)
Ya know, I had you all wrong, Quig: you're not only stupid, you're
dumb as well.
QUIG
(Moving face-to-face with Mae)
I said I don't got to take that, Mae.
MAE
Then you stop serving him.
QUIG
No.
(They are nose-to-nose. Quig raises a hand as if he might hit her.
Quick, controlled:)
MAE
You gonna hit me? -
QUIG
I'm thinkin' about it -
MAE
Don't do it, Quig -
QUIG
I'm thinkin' about it -
MAE
You do it, you'll be sorry, Quig! -
(A beat. Quig relents, lowers his arm.)
QUIG
...I said I was thinkin' about it.
SAM
(Clears his throat, then)
May I interrupt you two lovebirds?
MAE
So who's stopping you?
SAM
Why don't you just talk to the guy?
MAE &QUIG
What?
[end of extract]