Gangster No. 1 Page #4

Beautiful watch.

Wafer thin. Solid gold.

Hardly know you've got it on.

Bond Street.

Two and a half grand.

You like this tiepin, don't you?

Here.

Have it.

Hi.

Sorry I'm late, it's pissing down.

F*** it. Don't worry about it.

- Mel went on for you.

- I bet she's pissed off with me.

Livid. Called you everything:

"F***ing new girl comes in late...

...the second day. Bleeding tart.

I'm earning her f***ing money for her."

I'm joking. I'm not serious.

I'm making it up.

She don't care.

What's your name again?

Karen.

We drinking wine?

- Yeah, why?

- It's a bit suspect, isn't it?

Good for the blood.

- Freddie Mays is in.

- On his own?

No, with a mate.

Who's Freddie Mays?

- Table two, but he's mine.

- Only he don't know that yet.

Right, let's see.

Chateaubriand. Rare.

- Asparagus. Potatoes gratin.

- Bollocks.

No dessert, black coffee.

Espresso. It's called espresso.

Might even order a cigar after.

Cuban. See what you make of that.

- Blow your f***ing mind.

- You reckon?

Yeah. And I've

organized some company.

What do you mean?

You know, couple of blokes

on our own, drinking wine...

Bit suspect, isn't it?

Mel and you. What's your name?

- Karen.

- Right.

I want the two of you to go and

keep Freddie and his goon company.

The ad didn't mention that.

Don't suck him off or anything,

just keep him company.

He's clean, he's well-mannered

and he's rich.

If you like him, be my guest.

Marry the c*nt.

Count yourself lucky, girl.

He's nice.

Not like most of them in here.

How many times have I told you?

Don't bad-mouth the club.

This is a class emporium.

- Where're you going?

- To the bog.

Table two, Karen.

I'll be over in a minute.

Mind if I sit down?

Suit yourself.

I was told you were well-mannered,

Mr. Freddie Mays.

What makes you think

I'm Freddie Mays?

Woman's intuition.

I also heard you're a gentleman.

Did you, now?

Yep.

And that you're rich.

F***ing gold digger, then?

No, I'm not a f***ing gold digger.

I'm a normal working girl.

So you're a hooker.

Well, Freddie Mays don't pay for it.

And I don't sit around in clubs

taking sh*t from gangsters.

So much for the gentleman crap.

I guess they have to talk you up,

you're important.

Karen, I want you to meet

Freddie Mays.

Hello.

Hello, Mr. Mays.

And you are?

Mel, why don't you treat

my friend to a dance?

You're having a laugh, ain't you?

Sorry about the table manners.

Come on.

Come on, he don't bite!

Please, sit down.

Sorry about that.

Who is he?

Just a business associate.

Here, let me do that.

Thank you.

- Sorry, do you want one?

- No, thank you.

I have to look after my voice.

- What's that, then? You an actress?

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