Under The Cherry Moon

1

Once upon a time in France,

there lived a bad boy

named Christopher Tracy.

Only one thing mattered

to Christopher. Money.

The women he knew

came in all sizes, shapes, and colors,

and they were all rich. Very rich.

Private concertos, kind words, and fun

is what he had to offer them.

Yes, Christopher lived for all women,

but he died for one.

Somewhere along the way,

he learned the true meaning of love.

- The more you drink, the better I sound.

- Psst!

Monsieur.

With the compliments of the lady in white.

When are y'all going to get a job?

Here. I got a job.

Why don't you all get a job?

It's dishonest work, but it's a living.

- Undecided?

- Oui.

- Un, un, un.

- Okay.

- What's up?

- Bonjour, Christopher.

Monsieur.

Mirror, mirror, 17-fold...

Who's the sexiest dressed in gold?

You must be talking about me, cousin.

Smile, Katy, you're naked.

I'll smile when you pay me

the two months' rent you owe me. Hmm?

Okay, you two, don't try anything funny.

Not this time, Christopher.

I want the money or I'll throw you both

out onto the street.

Please, madam,

look at these poor, innocent faces.

These mean streets are no place

for a couple of fine, decent...

Hoodlums like us.

Please, Katy, search in your heart

for some kindness.

Why don't you try searching

in your wallet for some money?

That's right, cousin.

Give her that Bela Lugosi look.

Throw me onto the street, hmm?

Yeah, there.

Perhaps madame would like to

conduct a search.

Hmm.

I wonder where that came from.

Fascist.

How much is lady in white worth?

$3 million.

Got it in her divorce settlement.

I'll settle for that.

We going to marry her?

Ain't it about time

we go for the big macaroni?

Mmm, I like her, but I'm looking

for a bigger brand of macaroni.

Take a look at this

and see if it whets your appetite.

Mary Sharon.

Her father owns half the ships

on the Mediterranean.

He's got to be worth a billion, easy.

He kicked a billion asses to get it, too.

And that says what?

That says she gets a $50 million

trust fund when she turns 21.

- Which is today.

- No.

- Let's go.

- You going to marry her?

Mmm. For $50 million

I would seriously consider it.

But guess what. I take 30% commission.

Yes?

Mary Sharon.

I wonder what tune she'd dance to.

Just one moment. I'll see.

- Mrs. Wellington.

- The lady in white.

Mrs. Wellington, he'll be right with you.

By the way, my name is Tricky.

Tricky, put the phone down.

I never dance before midnight.

But if you insist...

What? Right now?

I mean, here on the phone?

All right. As you wish. Hold on.

Uh-oh. Here we go.

I am nothing without your touch, my love

I am nothing without your kiss

To spend each night

in your arms, my flower

Is this man's idea of bliss

To not hear your voice each day

Is to die seven times by God's wrath

If I was anything other than human

I'd want to be the water in your bath

Till then, my love, ciao.

Who's your agent, man?

Can you believe Isaac Sharon threw

a party long-distance for his daughter?

And didn't even bother to come.

Quel scandale.

He's probably too busy

bribing another government official.

Johnny, you can be so catty sometimes.

And I wasn't even trying.

- Shall we follow the animals?

- Yes.

I need an old man with money.

Who needs money when you've got youth?

Muriel, where is your daughter?

Oh, she'll be down in a second, hopefully.

- Atta girl, Mary.

- Go, Mary, go.

How do you like my birthday suit?

I designed it myself.

Mary!

Madame.

Mrs. Cartwright.

Mary! Mary!

Hello.

How lovely to see you.

I'm so sorry.

All right. Let's get this party rocking!

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