Simpatico Page 8

  ROSIE: Fun, fun, fun!

  VINNIE: You could’ve called me or something.

  ROSIE: What about you? Where have you been all this time?

  VINNIE: I had no idea where you went.

  ROSIE: Come on. You knew where the checks were coming from. You knew the phone number well enough.

  VINNIE: I didn’t want to—interrupt your life.

  ROSIE: Get outa here.

  VINNIE: I thought you and Carter were—

  ROSIE: What.

  VINNIE: Getting along. I mean—

  ROSIE: You’re the one who disappeared, Vinnie. You’re the one who vanished.

  VINNIE: I’m here, now.

  ROSIE: Well, isn’t that great! Isn’t that dandy! Fifteen years later you sneak through my back door with a dumb box and a hang-dog look on your face.

  VINNIE: I wasn’t sneaking.

  ROSIE: What’d you come here for?

  Pause.

  VINNIE: I thought maybe I could set things straight.

  ROSIE: What things?

  VINNIE: I uh—found Simms. I went and talked to him.

  ROSIE: Who?

  VINNIE: Simms. “Ames”, as he’s called now.

  ROSIE: I don’t know who you’re talking about.

  VINNIE: He seems to have reconciled something with himself. No malice. He lives in his own little world. Studies bloodlines and stays out of trouble.

  ROSIE: What’re we talking about here?

  VINNIE: He’s the kind of man who was able to rebound from terrible shock and pull himself back together. He had no interest whatsoever in what I had to offer.

  ROSIE: And what was that?

  VINNIE: These.

  VINNIE holds out the shoebox to her. She doesn’t take it from him.

  ROSIE: What’s in there? Dead puppies?

  VINNIE: Take it.

  ROSIE slowly takes the box and puts her hand on the lid but doesn’t open it.

  ROSIE: Is a snake going to jump out at me or something? A tiny nightmare?

  VINNIE: Open it.

  Pause.

  ROSIE: I just love surprises.

  She slowly lifts the lid and stares at the contents, then suddenly drops the box, spilling photos, letters etc. and starts yelling for the nanny. She moves nervously around the room.

  ROSIE (yelling to off stage): KELLY! KELLY, ARE YOU STILL THERE! KELLY GET BACK HERE! KELLY!!

  VINNIE drops to his hands and knees and starts quickly collecting the fallen articles and putting them back in the box.

  VINNIE (on hands and knees collecting photos): Now don’t get excited. I was going to give them to you. I was going to give them all to you. Simms doesn’t want them so I was going to just hand them over to you.

  ROSIE: Who is Simms! I don’t know this man! I have never heard of this man! (To off-stage.) KELLY!

  VINNIE: Not on a long-term basis maybe.

  ROSIE: Not on any kinda basis! Now get outa here!

  VINNIE: Just a fling. Just a one-night stand in a Motel 6 on the edge of Azusa!

  Long pause.

  ROSIE: Now who is going to believe that? Who in the world is going to believe something like that? After all this time.

  VINNIE: It’s all right here. Pictures don’t lie.

  ROSIE: Take a look. Take a long hard look at that face. (Referring to photo.) Does that even remotely resemble someone we know?

  VINNIE (looking at photo): It was a long time ago.

  ROSIE: Pick all this shit up and get outa here. Now!

  VINNIE slowly rises with shoebox and contents.

  VINNIE: I was going to give it all back to you. You can burn it if you want to. I was gonna trade you straight across.

  ROSIE: Trade me? Trade me for what?

  VINNIE: I had this idea in my head. I had it all cooked up. I was gonna get another Buick. Just like the one I had. You remember that Buick?

  ROSIE: No.

  VINNIE: You remember me driving with one hand on the wheel and the other one on your knee?

  ROSIE: No, I don’t.

  VINNIE: I was thinking maybe we could still run off together.

  ROSIE: Run off? I’m a married woman, Vinnie! Where’re we gonna run off to now?

  VINNIE: I don’t know. Mexico maybe.

  ROSIE: Oh Jesus, Vinnie. Give it up! Everything has already happened! It’s already taken place. This is it. There’s no “running off” anymore. It’s a done deal. You’re in your little hell and I’m in mine.

  VINNIE: It’s not done!

  VINNIE suddenly grabs her and pulls her violently to him. He tries to kiss her but she pushes him away. They stand apart. Pause.

  ROSIE (low, menacing): You touch me—You so much as touch me again and I’ll have you killed. This is my house. I’m the wife of someone. Someone of tremendous power and influence. He could have you done in from a distance and you wouldn’t even know what hit you. I don’t care who he’s sleeping with—all it would take is a call from me. One little phone call and you’d be history, Vincent T. Webb. He’d do anything for me, Vinnie. Anything at all. And do you know why that is? Do you have any kind of clue, Vinnie? Because he owes me. He’s deeply in debt to me. All from that one little brainstorm of mine, way back then. That one little night on the edge of Azusa.

  VINNIE: Oh, so now you’re suddenly gonna take all the credit.

  ROSIE: Yeah, sure. Why not? It was a brilliant little notion. It paid off in spades too, didn’t it? I probably shoulda just gone professional.

  VINNIE: I took the pictures!

  ROSIE: You certainly did. But I turned the trick. It was me who caused the heads to roll and don’t you ever forget it.

  VINNIE: I won’t. I won’t ever forget it.

  Pause.

  ROSIE: Did you actually think—You didn’t actually think that—

  VINNIE: What?

  ROSIE: That’s unbelievable—after all this time. Mexico?

  VINNIE: It was just an idea.

  ROSIE: Mexico?

  VINNIE hands her the shoebox as the lights fade.

  SCENE TWO

  Midway, Ky. Split-stage left. SIMMS’ office again. SIMMS habitually hovering over his desk, pouring through papers and drinking. He’s already had several drinks and is much more well-oiled than the first time he was seen. CECILIA stands nervously across the desk from him, dressed in her crisp new “Derby” outfit—brightly flowered dress, straw hat, white high heels, white gloves and a large purse stuffed with cash. Pause, as she watches simms at work, mumbling, scratching notes with his pen and seemingly oblivious to her presence.

  CECILIA: I can come back, if you like. I didn’t realize you were going to be so busy.

  SIMMS (staying with his work, not looking up at her): No, no, no. Why come back when you’re already here. Don’t you worry. Everything’s an interruption when you’re working on bloodlines. It’s an endless chain. Never get to the bottom of it. Just when you think you’ve discovered the key to the most mysterious breeding nick in the history of racing, the glaring truth of it all reaches up and slaps you right in the face.

  CECILIA: I see.

  SIMMS: No you don’t.

  CECILIA: Well, I was just wondering if—

  SIMMS (not looking up at her): The glaring truth is that every single solitary thoroughbred horse in the world—living or dead—and all those foals yet to be born are, in one way or another, related by blood. From the glue factory to the winner’s circle—each and every one of them carries some common factor, miniscule as it may be. So it’s somewhat futile, don’t you think, to try and factor out this elusive element of speed in the midst of such a vast genetic ocean. Even worse folly to attempt to identify what gives a thoroughbred heart.

  CECILIA: Heart?

  SIMMS: Yes. The guts to run. The guts to win. Courage—to put it plain.

  CECILIA: That’s amazing.

  SIMMS: It is.

  CECILIA: I never realized it was so—complex.

  SIMMS (finally looks up at her): It’s not. It’s ou
r vain efforts that make it that way.

  SIMMS stares at her. Pause.

  CECILIA: I—

  Pause. SIMMS keeps staring.

  CECILIA: I—don’t know exactly how to put this but—

  SIMMS: You’re stunning.

  CECILIA: What?

  SIMMS: You’re absolutely stunning.

  CECILIA (blushing): Well, thank you. That’s very kind.

  SIMMS: Where did you come from?

  CECILIA: I’m—You know—

  SIMMS: Have you been standing there long? I’m very sorry. I tend to get absorbed. I didn’t mean to be rude.

  CECILIA: No, no—That’s quite all right. It’s fascinating stuff. I don’t know anything about horses, myself.

  SIMMS: Do you uh—Would you like a drink or—

  CECILIA: No, thank you. I don’t drink.

  SIMMS gets up and stumbles slightly, heading for his liquor cabinet.

  SIMMS: Oh. Well—You won’t mind if I—

  He fixes himself a fresh bourbon on ice.

  CECILIA: No, please. Go right ahead.

  SIMMS: Helps to keep the wheels churning. A little lubrication.

  CECILIA: Yes.

  SIMMS: You uh—You’re in the horse business, I take it?

  CECILIA: No, I’m not. I’m—an associate of Mr Carter’s. I thought he talked to you about me. He was going to call and—

  SIMMS: An associate?

  CECILIA: Yes. We tried to call you but your phone was off the hook or something and he said he was going to let you know I was coming.

  SIMMS: I despise the phone. Don’t you?

  CECILIA: Well—

  SIMMS: The cloning of the phone. Another disease, don’t you think?

  CECILIA: I don’t really—

  SIMMS: Another desperate measure.

  CECILIA: Didn’t Mr Carter tell you I was coming?

  SIMMS: Carter? Carter. That’s funny. Another acquaintance of his popped in just the other morning.

  CECILIA: Vinnie?

  SIMMS: Oh, you know him then? Very disturbed individual, I thought. Very agitated. Lying through his teeth.

  CECILIA: He’s high strung.

  SIMMS: Is that what it is?

  CECILIA: He’s had a string of bad luck.

  SIMMS: Oh—well, that’ll do it all right.

  Pause. SIMMS stares at her again. CECILIA squirms, nervously.

  SIMMS: You’re absolutely gorgeous. I can’t get over it.

  CECILIA: Well, thank you very much.

  SIMMS: You don’t understand what kind of a storm you’ve begun to arouse inside me. I mean—I must be visibly shaking. Am I shaking? Can you see me shaking?

  CECILIA: No, I—

  SIMMS: You’re just being polite.

  CECILIA: I really, just want to—

  SIMMS: If you knew—if you had the slightest clue as to the pounding that’s going on in my cardiovascular system, you’d be able to manipulate me to your heart’s content.

  CECILIA: I don’t—

  SIMMS: That must’ve been Carter’s intention, right?

  CECILIA: No! He just—

  SIMMS: You’d be able to have me groveling at your feet. Is that what he wants?

  CECILIA: No!

  SIMMS: Would you like to see me grovel?

  SIMMS goes down on one knee, holding his drink.

  CECILIA: No, please! Please don’t do that!

  SIMMS: Beg? Lick your boots? Kiss the ground you walk on?

  SIMMS crawls toward her with his tongue lapping out. CECILIA backs up fast.

  CECILIA (backing up): DON’T DO THAT! STAY AWAY!

  SIMMS stops, then slowly rises to his feet and returns to his desk with his drink.

  SIMMS: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s been a long day.

  CECILIA: I’m very flattered that you think I’m—attractive. But it’s got nothing to do with why I came.

  SIMMS (suddenly curious): This isn’t Sunday, is it?

  He turns and looks out the window, then looks back at CECILIA.

  CECILIA: Sunday? No, I don’t—I don’t think so. Why?

  SIMMS: Your outfit smacks of Sunday. Church. Spanking clean. Very Protestant.

  CECILIA: Oh. It’s my new Derby dress.

  SIMMS: Derby?

  CECILIA: Yes. My Kentucky Derby dress. I—I just bought it.

  SIMMS: This is October, isn’t it? Aren’t we in October now?

  CECILIA: We are?

  SIMMS: Yes. I’m sure of it. (Turns to window again.) Look—the trees are turning gold. There’s a chill in the air. Jack o’ lanterns in every window. They wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t October.

  CECILIA: Who?

  SIMMS: Citizens. Those who play the game.

  CECILIA: Oh, that’s right.

  SIMMS: The Derby’s in May. First Saturday in May, to be exact.

  CECILIA: I know but—

  SIMMS: You’re early. Or late, as the case may be.

  CECILIA: I know. I was just trying it out.

  SIMMS: Trying it out on me?

  CECILIA: Mr Carter bought it for me and I thought I’d—

  SIMMS: Carter.

  CECILIA: It was his money.

  SIMMS: He’s a generous man.

  CECILIA: He is.

  Pause. SIMMS stares at her.

  SIMMS: Have a seat, Miss—

  CECILIA: Pontz. Cecilia Pontz. From Missouri.

  CECILIA remains tensely standing. SIMMS sits in his chair.

  SIMMS: A prairie flower!

  CECILIA: I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, Mr Ames.

  SIMMS: Neither did the other man. But he did.

  CECILIA: Excuse me?

  SIMMS: Webb. He consumed a good half hour trying to convince me that vengeance was the best row to hoe. How do you feel about it, Miss Ponds? An eye for an eye?

  CECILIA: Pontz. With a “z”.

  SIMMS: Pontz, with a “z”. How do you feel about it?

  CECILIA: What?

  SIMMS: Vengeance.

  CECILIA: I don’t—I haven’t thought about it much.

  SIMMS: No. And why should you? You’re in the Spring of life.

  CARTER: Well, thank you.

  SIMMS: Not your fault. It’s genetics. All in the genes. We’ve got nothing to do with it. It was all decided generations ago. Faceless ancestors. The curvature of your hips. You can’t possibily take credit for that now, can you?

  CECILIA: Um—

  SIMMS: The turn of your lips. Who first sculpted that in your far-away past?

  CECILIA: I really—

  SIMMS: Please, have a seat. You’re looking flustered.

  CECILIA: Oh. Thank you. Thank you very much.

  She sits nervously in chair across from desk, clutching her bag. SIMMS reaches across desk to relieve her of the bag.

  SIMMS (reaching): Would you like me to take your bag?

  CECILIA: No!

  She whips the bag away from him and protects it.

  CECILIA: No, thank you. I’ve got some private things in there.

  SIMMS (standing, stretched across desk): Underpants?

  CECILIA: Excuse me?

  SIMMS (sitting back in his chair): Never mind. Sure you won’t have a little tipple? Might loosen you up some.

  CECILIA: No, I’m fine.

  SIMMS: You certainly are, Miss Pontz. You certainly are that.

  CECILIA: Um—Mr Webb—the other man—The man who paid you a visit—

  SIMMS: The idiot. Yes?

  CECILIA: Did he—Did he sell you something?

  SIMMS: He sold me a bill of goods, if that’s what you mean.

  CECILIA: No, I mean—

  SIMMS: Yes. That’s what you’re here for. Isn’t it?

  CECILIA: Well—

  SIMMS: How did you get mixed up with those two knot-heads, Miss Ponds? A bright-eyed gal from Missouri.

  CECILIA: Well, Mr Carter’s an old friend of Vinnie’s and I’d known Vinnie from before.

  SIMMS: I see.

&
nbsp; CECILIA: They’ve known each other since childhood.

  SIMMS: Thick as flies.

  CECILIA: But—they’ve gone separate ways. Something happened, I guess. Some—schism.

  SIMMS: Separate ways?

  CECILIA: Yes. They’re like opposites now.

  SIMMS: The right and left hand.

  CECILIA: Excuse me?

  SIMMS: Nothing. Your innocence is almost as shocking as your beauty.

  CECILIA: I’ve—I’m sorry—I’ve never heard anyone talk like that. I just don’t know what to say. I’m—

  SIMMS: Speechless.

  CECILIA: I’m trying to present something to you but you’re making it very, very difficult! I came as a messenger from Mr Carter. He wants you to know—He wants to give you an alternative to the deal you’ve struck with Mr Webb. A better deal.

  SIMMS: Have you laid down with him, Miss Ponds?

  CECILIA: What!

  SIMMS: Your Mr Carter—Have you done the down and dirty deed with him? Spread your magnificent thighs?

  CECILIA stands abruptly, drops her bag and fumbles to retrieve it.

  CECILIA: No! Of course not. I’ve only recently met him. Now listen, you have no right to—

  SIMMS: You’re not a high-paid chippie then? A Class Act? Something found in the Yellow Pages under “Executive Escorts”?

  CECILIA: I don’t need to be insulted, Mr Ames!

  SIMMS: Nobody does, but you evidently, haven’t got the full picture, Miss Cecilia from Missouri. Either that or you’re dumber than a fence post.

  CECILIA: Mr Carter simply wanted me to ask if you’d consider selling the negatives—the material—for a slightly higher price than you paid for them. That’s all. Now I’d appreciate it if you were as straightforward with me as I’m attempting to be with you. He’s offering a good deal of money. I’ve got it right here. (She pats her bag.) Cash. It’s all present and accounted for.