The Butler Page #7

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FREDDIE:

Good, we have no tolerance for

politics at the White House.

Slight beat.

CECIL:

How did you find me?

FREDDIE:

(Icy)

I didn’t. You served RD Warner at

the Excelsior Hotel. He oversees

operations for the entire White

House. You made quite an

impression.

CECIL:

I don’t recall.

FREDDIE:

Mr. Warner and myself make note of

potential staff around town.

Butler positions rarely open as

most stay on for 30 years or more.

CECIL:

(Laughing)

I know I was quite surprised when I

got the call.

FREDDIE:

It was a surprise for me as well.

As the White House Maitre D’, I

normally hire the butlers.

Cecil knows Freddie doesn’t want him.

CECIL:

Forgive me for saying this, Mr.

Fallows, I certainly wouldn’t want

to be hired under circumstances

that would make you feel

uncomfortable.

Freddie eyes him suspiciously.

FREDDIE:

Oh, really.

CECIL:

17.

You need butlers that you’ve hand

picked, men to your liking that

will fulfill your vision of a

proper White House staff.

Freddie just stares at him. Cecil glances at a Louis Trace

decanter on a nearby table.

CECIL (CONT’D)

Is that... Louis Trace? These

decanters are replicas of metal

flasks that were found on the

battlefield in Jarnac. Correct?

Freddie studies him. Oh, he’s REALLY good.

CECIL (CONT’D)

The Italians, they know their wine,

and the Irish certainly know how to

make a great whiskey, but I believe

the French have a distinct

advantage when it comes to cognac.

Freddie stares at Cecil for a beat. Then:

FREDDIE:

Oh yeah, you’ll make a good house

nigga.

(in his best English

dialect)

Would you care for a demitasse?

INT. GAINES’ LIVING ROOM - NIGHT - 1957

A home packed with LAUGHING NEIGHBORS, all African American,

all in a festive mood. Couples dance to the scratchy VOICE of

Faye Adams. Gloria SINGS along.

GLORIA:

(Singing along)

“I wish I knew some other way...”

Sometimes it be just me and Faye up

in here. Me, Faye, and a little

scotch.

A rather loud but fun neighbor, HOWARD, 40’s, gregarious,

drunkenly dances with one of his neighbors’ wives, to the

irritation of his wife, GINA, 30, accepting and resigned.

GINA:

What did you do to this potato

salad?

18.

GLORIA:

I’ll tell you what I did. I put

some dill in it because I read in

Women’s Day, where pickles drown

out the flavor and dill bring up

the flavor. That’s what you tasting

right there.

GINA:

Oh okay... yeah... I like it.

Louis reads a comic book in the dining room, looks a little

annoyed at all the noise.

GINA (CONT’D)

You must be so proud of Cecil.

GLORIA:

You know he got that job by

himself. The White House called

him, he didn’t call the White

House.

GINA:

He’s a good man. You got a good

man.

Howard finishes dancing and sits down.

HOWARD:

(Laughing)

She fun man!

Howard grabs his bitter wife.

HOWARD (CONT’D)

Not like this one right here.

Little sourpuss still mad at me.

GINA:

I got reason.

HOWARD:

No you don’t. I told you I done

went down to the number spot.

Played me some numbers. Got me some

barbecue and went down... I didn’t

even get nothing to drink!

GINA:

I’m so sick of these number spot

stories Howard. How you expect me

to believe you was down at the

number spot...

19.

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