Croupier Page #3

Beneath the iron barred window, with a view of the iron

steps down from the street, JACK sits at the dining table.

In front of him is a word processor. He toys with a glass

of vodka, smoking a Gitane, and leafing through a soccer

fan magazine. He starts to touch-type, looking at the

screen, not the keyboard. Words appear, letter by letter...

THE BALL... A NOVEL... BY JACK MANFRED. He pauses to drink.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

A MAN, face unseen, steps into a phone booth. CLOSE ON:

his hands. It is impossible to tell where he is.

He opens his pocket book, addresses, diary etc., and

searches through for something.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

He finds what he's looking for: a small photograph, among

others of girls, of a ten year-old boy in school uniform.

On the back are three phone numbers, two of them crossed

out. The MAN lifts the receiver, inserts coins. He starts

to press the numbers. There are CLOSE-UPS of his finger

pressing the sequence of digits, each one CLOSER, longer

than the one before, until...

INT. JACK'S SITTING ROOM - DAY

The phone rings. JACK looks to the answering machine, waits

for the voice.

MAN'S VOICE

Jacko, if you're there, pick up. I

want to talk to you. It's important.

JACK hesitates, then picks up.

JACK:

Dad, I'm here.

EXT. PHONE BOOTH - DAY

The MAN is handsome, tanned, 50ish, white shirt, dark tie.

He is JACK'S father.

JACK SR.

How's it going?

The subsequent conversation is INTERCUT between SITTING

ROOM and PHONE BOOTH.

JACK:

Great.

JACK SR.

Found a job?

JACK:

No.

JACK SR.

Well I've got something for you.

In London, I mean. I've been

chatting to some friends. Do you

know the Golden Lion casino? It's

in Bayswater, I believe... They're

looking for a dealer, a croupier.

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