"LIFE" Screenplay by Robert Ramsey and Matthew Stone SHOOTING DRAFT 1999 FADE IN: EXT. PRISON CEMETERY -- DAY A handful of people are gathered in an open field under a fierce Mississippi sun. A couple of young inmates, JAKE and LEON, lean on their shovels. They are waiting to bury two identical CASKETS with inmate numbers stenciled on the pinewood lids. A GUARD rests the butt of his rifle on the ground and takes a long, healthy pull from his canteen. He offers it to the PRISON CHAPLAIN, who is much obliged. SUPERINTENDENT BILL BURKE, a 40-year-old black man, glances at his watch and loosens his tie. Sure is hot. MARY HUMPHRIES, an elderly white woman in a nurse's uniform, stands behind WILLIE LONG, an ancient inmate sleeping peacefully in a wheelchair. She readjusts an umbrella to shield the old black man from the blistering sun. Burke dabs his forehead with a handkerchief. He gives the nod to the chaplain, who steps forward and cracks his bible. The men remove their hats. CHAPLAIN In accordance with the regulations of the State of Mississippi, we gather here today to lay to rest the remains of inmates R. Gibson, number 4316, and C. Banks, number 4317. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May God have mercy on their souls. BURKE Go ahead, fellas. The young inmates plunge their shovels into the dirt. One by one, the mourners head back toward a prison van parked on a nearby dirt road. NURSE HUMPHRIES I'll come back for you in a little while, Willie... She leaves Willie alone with Jake and Leon. He rolls his chair up to the edge of the graves and gazes at the pinewood caskets. JAKE These two guys friends of yours, old man? WILLIE We spent some time together. LEON Why do I get the feeling when you say some time, you mean some time. WILLIE I was already here a good many years when they came in in 1932. LEON 1932? That's like, that's like... WILLIE Sixty-five years ago. They always said the farm couldn't hold 'em forever. Looks like you're finally free, boys. Willie pulls a bottle of moonshine from his jacket and takes a swig in their honor. JAKE Hey, the dude's holdin'. LEON Come on, old-timer, hook the brothers up. Willie passes the bottle to Leon, who takes a swig and winces from the unexpected kick. LEON Hell of a way to get out. Heard they burned up in that fire yesterday. JAKE I seen the bodies before they sealed 'em up. Them fellas sizzled up good. Looked like some shit from the X- Files. (taking a swig from the bottle) Damn, that shit's nasty. WILLIE Ray's special recipe. He always had exacting standards where the hooch was concerned. LEON What were they, bootleggers? Willie holds up the bottle, checking the clarity of the liquor. WILLIE Something like that. MATCH CUT TO: EXT. SPANKY'S BACK ALLEY (1932) -- NIGHT RAY GIBSON holds up a similar bottle of liquor to a light over a door. Music comes from within. He takes a swig and stashes the bottle in his belt. He adjusts his tie, polishes his shoes on the back of his pants and raps on the door. INT. SPANKY'S -- NIGHT The speakeasy is jumping, jammed with people. Up on stage a hot JAZZ BAND is playing backup for a seductive CHANTEUSE. Well-heeled PATRONS enter through doors near the stage. In the back, at the end of a long hallway, a BOUNCER cracks open the door and Ray squeezes inside. BOUNCER Oh, no, Ray. Not tonight. Spanky's not happy with you. RAY Is Spanky here? BOUNCER No, but... RAY Then what's the problem? BOUNCER Do yourself a favor and find another place where they let you in the front door. RAY But this is where the action is and I have to be where the action is. Look, when your old lady wanted those alligator shoes, didn't I come through for you? Ain't she stepping in style now? BOUNCER Yeah... RAY Well, alright then. What do you think about this new tie? BOUNCER Sharp. RAY I look good tonight. And I feel lucky, too. Ray heads inside. BOUNCER Anyone asks, it wasn't me who let you in. Ray slides through the crowd, pausing at the bar to nibble on the neck of a COCKTAIL WAITRESS. COCKTAIL WAITRESS Don't even try it. RAY When do you get off? COCKTAIL WAITRESS I get off at two, but you ain't never getting off. She carries a tray of drinks into the crowd. Ray shakes his head in wonderment at her departing form. The BARKEEP steps up as Ray pulls out his bottle. BARKEEP You can't drink that in here, Ray. RAY I sure can't drink that watered-down swill you're serving. Give me a glass of ice. BARKEEP I can't give you a glass of ice. I can't give you anything until you pay your damn tab. Disregarding the warning, Ray tilts the bottle back. Shaking his head, the barkeep moves on to a paying customer. Ray's eyes follow a bottle of French Champagne as it is delivered to a nearby table. Here sits the straight-laced CLAUDE BANKS with his girlfriend, DAISY. She's enjoying the show. He's polishing the silverware. The WAITER pours two glasses of champagne and leaves the bottle on ice. Claude regards his glass skeptically. CLAUDE For the kind of money they charge here, you'd think they could hire somebody to actually wash the dishes. DAISY Claude. Here's to your new job down at the bank. I always knew you'd make something of yourself. CLAUDE Know what I'm going to buy with my first pay check? Daisy thinks she does. She leans in, eyes twinkling. CLAUDE Season tickets to the Yankees. Right there on the first base line. (off her disappointment) What's wrong, baby? DAISY I was hoping you were gonna say an engagement ring, Claude. French Champagne shoots out of Claude's nose. CLAUDE Engagement ring! DAISY That's what respectable folks do. Get a job, get married, start having babies. That's what you want, isn't it? CLAUDE Sure it is. I just don't see any reason to rush into things. Damn, look at this shirt. I'll be right back. Claude leans in to kiss Daisy on the lips. She offers her cheek. He departs. OVER BY THE BAR Ray watches Claude make a beeline for the men's room. INT. MEN'S ROOM -- NIGHT Claude steps into the bathroom and approaches the sink. A big hand falls on his shoulder and yanks him backwards into a stall... INT. STALL -- NIGHT Claude is shoved down on the toilet by two BAG MEN in suits. Suddenly, it's crowded in here. BAG MAN #1 Congratulations, Claude. We understand you finally got yourself a job. BAG MAN #2 Guess that means you can pay Mr. Riley the fifty bucks you owe him. They rifle through Claude's jacket and quickly find his wallet. CLAUDE Now wait a second, guys. I've got a bill to pay out there. BAG MAN #1 Twenty-two dollars. Not bad for a start. They toss back his empty wallet. CLAUDE Come on, fellas, that's two weeks pay. I'm here with my girl. You gotta leave me something. BAG MAN #2 How about your legs? CLAUDE My legs? Those are good, I'll keep the legs... The stall door swings shut as the bag men depart. INT. SPANKY'S -- NIGHT On his way into the Men's Room, Ray squeezes past the bag men on their way out. INT. MEN'S ROOM -- NIGHT Glancing around, Ray spots Claude's feet under the stall door. He steps up to the sink, washes his hands and takes a towel from the ATTENDANT. Scanning the assortment of grooming products, he selects a bottle of cologne and takes a sniff. RAY (displeased) You have any of that French stuff? As the attendent bends down to retrieve a bottle of the good stuff, Ray palms a coin from the tip basket. ATTENDENT Here you go. Ray offers the quarter, a gesture of uncommon generosity. RAY Keep the change. ATTENDENT Why, thank you, sir! Ray pats the cologne on his face. A toilet flushes and Claude steps over to the sink. Ray catches his eye in the mirror. RAY Don't I know you? CLAUDE I don't think so. RAY Sure I do. What's your name again? CLAUDE Claude Banks. RAY Claude Banks. How could I forget that? You've got to remember me. Ray Gibson. We went to high school together. CLAUDE You went to Monroe? RAY (beaming) That's right! Good old Monroe... Ray throws his arms around Claude, deftly snatching his wallet. Claude extracts himself from Ray's embrace. CLAUDE Well, I went to Jefferson, so you must have a different Claude Banks in mind. Claude straightens his jacket and heads for the door. Ray stashes the stolen wallet in his jacket. RAY Sorry, man. My mistake. INT. SPANKY'S -- NIGHT On the stage, the chanteuse has downshifted into a sultry number about back-door lovers and broken dreams. Ray steps out of the men's room and is instantly collared by BULLETHEAD, a man who makes his living being large and threatening. RAY Watch the threads, Bullethead. If this is about my tab, I've got it covered. Pressed up against the wall, Ray reaches into his jacket and produces Claude's wallet. Bullethead snatches it, inspects it and is not impressed. BULLETHEAD This ain't about your tab, Ray. You've got bigger problems than that. He stuffs the wallet back into Ray's jacket and hustles Ray out the back door past the bouncer who let him in. BOUNCER Is that Ray Gibson? Who the hell let him in here? BACK AT CLAUDE'S TABLE Claude returns to the table where Daisy is sipping champagne. He takes the glass out of her hand. CLAUDE Come on, honey, let's get out of here. DAISY But I'm having a good time... WAITER Excuse me, sir, I believe you forgot this. The waiter presents Claude with the bill. CLAUDE The bill. Of course, the bill. We couldn't leave without paying the bill. Especially such an incredibly large bill. INT. VAN -- NIGHT Claude is shoved into the back of the van and the doors are slammed behind him. He bangs and shouts, but it's no use. RAY Save your energy, Claude. You're gonna need it. Ray is stretched out against the back wall. Claude is knocked to the floor as the van lurches into motion. RAY Here, this belongs to you. (tossing Claude his wallet) It was empty when I found it. CLAUDE Good old Monroe. Ray swigs from his bottle and offers it to Claude, who isn't interested. RAY What I want to know is what happened to your cush between the time that you got up from the table and when I caught up with you in the Johnny? CLAUDE I don't see where that's any of your business. RAY Did those two muscle heads shake you down? Swear I've seen them down at the track with Sure-shot Riley. That's it, ain't it? A gambling debt. Busted, Claude snatches the bottle and carefully wipes off the neck before tilting it high. Ray gets a good chuckle out of this straight cat in the bow tie. CLAUDE Where they taking us, anyway? RAY Probably to Spanky's headquarters down at the pier. CLAUDE Good, I'm looking forward to meeting this Spanky. Give me a chance to straighten out this whole mess. RAY I can't wait to see that. You slay me, man. EXT. PIER -- NIGHT The van pulls into a the loading bay of a warehouse at the end of a short pier on the Harlem River. INT. WAREHOUSE -- NIGHT Bullethead and a HENCHMAN pull Ray and Claude from the back of the van. They find themselves in a dark warehouse filled with crates of contraband. CLAUDE (sotto) What are they gonna do to us? RAY You? Dine and ditch, right? (Claude nods) Over ten bucks? (he nods again) You're probably looking at a thumb. CLAUDE A thumb? What do you mean, like cut it off? For ten bucks? (Ray nods) That include the tip? Claude shoves his hands under his armpits at the sound of approaching FOOTSTEPS echoing across the vast space. Claude and Ray peer into the darkness. SPANKY (from the darkness) You picked the wrong night to fuck with me, Ray. I just lost three men and a truck full of Canadian whiskey. You know what that kind of thing does to my business? It makes me want to lash out and hurt somebody. SPANKY JOHNSON emerges into the light. He uses a small silver spoon to take an ample snort of cocaine into each nostril. He glances at Claude. SPANKY Who's he? Friend of yours, Ray? CLAUDE I never saw this man before tonight. He's a lowlife degenerate who lurks in bathrooms. I'm a professional man, an upstanding citizen. I go to church on Sunday. SPANKY Then what are you doing here? BULLETHEAD Failure to pay. CLAUDE (rattled) Look, Mr. Johnson, you seem like a reasonable man. I got a good job starts Monday. I'll pay you back with my first pay check. With interest. I don't want to tell you how to conduct your business, but if you cut off my finger you won't get jack. Working an adding machine, I gotta be whole. (his fingers dancing over imaginary keys) I need my thumbs and all my fingers for praying and doing good... Spanky holds up a hand, silencing Claude. SPANKY The choirboy wants to keep his fingers. Who am I to argue? Drop him. CLAUDE Drop him? What does drop him mean? Claude protests loudly as Bullethead and the henchman bind his hands and feet. Spanky turns to Ray. SPANKY You gotta lotta balls showing your face around my club. If a man's gonna run numbers on my side of Broadway, you think he'd have the common sense to keep a low profile. But not Ray Gibson. The goons hoist Claude up on another pulley and dangle him head first over a hole in the floor. Several feet down, the Harlem River laps against the wooden pylons. CLAUDE No, not down there! That water's filthy! Help me out here, man! Shrugging, Ray pinches his nose and puffs out his cheeks. The goons release the rope and Claude plunges into the water. Spanky turns back to Ray. RAY You don't have to drown that fella, Spanky. You already scared him half to death. He didn't know who he was fucking with. SPANKY But you do. What does that say about you, Ray? What does that say about me? I've given you a lot of leeway over the years on account of your father. But he didn't last long enough to teach you the meaning of the word respect so I guess I'm gonna have to school you myself. RAY Come on, Spank, I'm just trying to get by here. You remember how it was when you were starting out. The henchman yanks on the rope. Claude emerges from the hole, gasping for breath. CLAUDE I was supposed to wear this suit on Monday! The henchman releases the rope, sending Claude back into the water. Ray reaches into his jacket. Bullethead pulls a gun and presses it into Ray's temple. Ray gives him a look and cautiously pulls out his bottle. SPANKY What's that, some of your bathtub brew? RAY Puerto Rican rum. See for yourself. Ray tosses him the bottle. Spanky uncorks, sniffs, samples the goods. He's impressed. SPANKY Where'd you get this? RAY Comes up the Mississippi. I can get more. A lot more. I was thinking about going into business for myself, but under the circumstances, I'd be willing to take on a partner. Once again, the henchman yanks on the rope and Claude comes up sucking air desperately. He releases the rope, submerging Claude for a third time. SPANKY I'm interested. Keep talking. RAY All I need is the front money and a truck. I could be back in two, three days tops if I had somebody to share the driving. Spanky considers the terms. Can he afford to trust Ray? Can he afford not to? SPANKY If you fuck me on this one, I'll spare no expense. RAY Understood. SPANKY Alright, Ray, you've got a deal. Pick your man and get going. Ray glances around. The pulley rope is still twitching in the water. RAY I'll take the little choirboy, if you don't mind. SPANKY If I was you, I'd want somebody who can handle himself in a tight spot. RAY I just want somebody who won't put a bullet in my back once the truck is full. Spanky sees Ray's point. He nods to the henchman, who hoists Claude's limp body out of the water and onto the cement. Spanky plants a foot on Claude's chest and applies pressure. A geyser of Harlem River water shoots from Claude's mouth as he sputters back to life. SPANKY For your sake, I hope you can drive. Somebody give him some dry clothes. CUT TO: THE SPINNING WHEEL OF A TRUCK The CAMERA MOVES UP the side of the old Ford truck to find Claude sitting pensively in the passenger seat. INT. TRUCK (MOVING) -- NIGHT Ray palms the wheel. RAY Tell me about that hot sketch you were hypin' last night. She was a choice bit of calico. You two been seeing each other a long time? Gonna slap the handcuffs on her and stroll down the aisle one of these days? Tight-lipped, Claude shifts in his seat. RAY Sometimes I wish I could find me a sheba to settle down with. Suppose I'm just a tomcat by nature. (trying to fill the silence) This little rum run is gonna seriously improve my relationship with Spanky. He's a good man to have on your side. He's got the capital and the connections. That's what you got to have in that business. Spanky's place is pretty plush, but one of these days I'm gonna open up my own establishment. Ray's Boom-Boom Room. You like that? Ray's Boom-Boom Room. That's in the groove, don't you think? If Claude does like it, he's not letting on. RAY Come on, daddy-o. You haven't said a word since we started. Least you could do is make some friendly conversation. CLAUDE Look, man, I don't want friendly conversation. I don't want to be your friend. I've seen your friends and I don't like them. I just want to do this thing and get back to New York in time to start my job. RAY Start your job? What kind of job? CLAUDE Well, if you must know, bank teller at First Federal of Manhattan. I'm responsible for keeping track of hundreds, occasionally thousands of dollars. RAY That's some long green. CLAUDE Damn straight, it is. I got my own set of keys because I'm supposed to open up. So if I ain't there 8 a.m. Monday morning, there's gonna be hell to pay. Beat of silence. Ray laughs to himself. CLAUDE What? RAY Nothing. CLAUDE No, tell me what's so funny. RAY I don't know. Bank teller. Sounds like ladies work to me. CLAUDE Well, maybe I should dig around in other people's clothes for money. It's obviously been highly successful for you. RAY Hey, you'd be surprised what you find in other people's pockets. Just gotta avoid them deadbeat bank tellers. Get you every time. CLAUDE I didn't start out to be a bank teller. I was gonna be a ballplayer. Even had an offer to play short for the Newark Eagles. RAY Why didn't you take it? CLAUDE The Negro League don't pay so good. And you're always on the road. That don't wash with Daisy. RAY You gave up baseball to be a bank teller? I can't latch on to that. CLAUDE At some point a man's got to get serious about his future. I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about. RAY You're talking about giving up baseball to be a bank teller. CLAUDE Bank teller's just a start. I got plans. Real plans. Not opening some Zoom-Boom Room. This time next year I'll be a loan officer. RAY A loan officer? CLAUDE That's right, a loan officer. RAY So you mean, if I needed some jack to get my nightclub up and running, I'd have to hype some square like you? CLAUDE Uh-huh. Ray pulls out his pocket watch. A mechanical tune plays as he checks the time. RAY How would I get a loan, anyway? CLAUDE You need collateral. RAY (re: watch) Like this? CLAUDE That thing? Who'd you steal it from? RAY My daddy gave me this watch. CLAUDE Yeah? Who'd he steal it from? RAY My daddy is dead so watch your mouth. You can say what you want about me, but don't be dragging my daddy into it. This watch means the world to me. Solid gold. Keeps perfect time. CLAUDE Looks like a fake to me. Loan denied! Ray stuffs his daddy's watch back in his pocket. RAY Ah, go chase yourself. I'll take my business elsewhere. And for future reference, you are no longer welcome at Ray's Boom-Boom Room. CLAUDE There is no Boom-Boom Room. RAY When there is, you can forget about it. And I swear to God, you ever talk about my daddy again I'm gonna kick your bank-telling, loan-denying ass, you got me? CLAUDE Oooh... RAY I think I liked you better when you kept your trap shut. EXT. ROADSIDE DINER -- DAY The truck veers off the highway and jerks to a halt in front of the rundown establishment. INT. ROADSIDE DINER -- DAY A dozen WHITE FOLKS look up as Ray and Claude push through the door. RAY Man, something smells good in here. How's everybody doing? Nothing but sullen stares from all corners of the room. CLAUDE (sotto) Maybe we oughta find another place. RAY Are you kidding? Tell me you don't want a slice of that pie right over there. CLAUDE I must have left my appetite outside, which is where I think we ought to be right now. Claude tugs Ray towards the door but Ray won't be dissuaded. He boldly addresses a YOUNG MAN in an apron behind the counter. RAY Good evening, Billy. We'd like some coffee and a couple of slices of that homemade pie you've got advertised. BILLY How you know my name's Billy? RAY It says so right there on your shirt. BILLY (glancing down) That what that says? Billy's MAMA sets a piping hot pie on the back counter and steps up next to her son. She casts a disparaging glance at Claude's suit. MAMA If you boys can read so good, how come you missed that sign in the window? Claude considers the sign she's pointing to. CLAUDE You mean this sign? The one that says "No Coloreds Allowed." That's a good question. Ray, how come we missed the sign? RAY Look, ma'am, we've been driving all day. We'd just like to purchase one of those pies and we'll be on our way. MAMA Those are whites-only pies. RAY Got any nigger pies? Claude jabs him. CLAUDE Any fool could see those are whites- only, not-for-blacks, come-on-let's- get-the-fuck-outta-here pies. Thank you very much. Claude starts tugging Ray toward the door. RAY (sotto) Thanks for backing me up here, Uncle Claude. CLAUDE (sotto) Don't Uncle Claude me. You get a load of those crackers? Couldn't be a mouthful of teeth among the bunch of 'em. Why you want to pick a fight with people like that for? RAY You're soft. CLAUDE What'd you say? Diner patrons stare. RAY I said you're soft. CLAUDE Hey, man, don't ever call me that. RAY I call it like I see it, and what I see is definitely soft. Claude narrows his eyes. CLAUDE Alright. You want some pie? RAY Yeah, I want some pie. CLAUDE Okay then, I'm gonna walk over to that counter and get us some fucking pie. Resolved, Claude stomps over to the counter. CLAUDE Excuse me, ma'am, I bet a brick will turn that one right there into a colored pie. Claude lays down a dollar bill. Mama casually pulls a shotgun from under the counter. MAMA And I bet this right here will turn you into a colored pie. CLAUDE Okay, Ray, I think we can go now. Much obliged... Ray gives the whole place a cool once-over as Claude pulls him out the door. Mama turns to Billy, still studying the stitching on his shirt. MAMA Don't be concentrating so hard, baby. You're liable to seize yourself again. EXT. DOCKS -- NIGHT The truck rolls up to the waters edge. Ray kills the engine and flashes the lights twice. In the passenger seat, Claude is fast asleep. After a few moments, a FAT MAN appears, shining a flashlight into the cab. RAY How you doing? We're looking for Slim. SLIM You found him. Ray cocks an eyebrow. EXT. DOCKS -- NIGHT Under cover of darkness, a couple of MEN finish loading crates into the bed of the truck. Ray and Claude keep their eyes peeled for the law. Down by the river, they can see lights and hear music from a district of rowdy juke joints. SLIM steps up, wiping his hands. SLIM That's it, fellas. Thirty six cases of Puerto Rico's finest. At five bucks a case, that's $180. Ray pulls out a wad and slaps it in Slim's sweaty palm. The fat man starts counting it out. RAY Man, that music is hot. What goes on down there, Slim? SLIM That's Natchez-under-the-Hill. RAY Blacks welcome there? SLIM Green's the only color that matters under the hill. They got gambling, girls. You oughta check it out. RAY Maybe we will. Nice meeting you. Slim slips into the shadows. CLAUDE Nice meeting you? You've been here before, haven't you? RAY What gave you that idea? CLAUDE Oh, I don't know, maybe because our lives depend on it, I just sort of thought you knew what you were doing! RAY Don't get all agitated on me. I bought a bottle of rum from a couple of dudes, I heard 'em talking... CLAUDE Let me get this straight. We drove all the way down to Klan country 'cause you heard a couple of guys talking? RAY What are you complaining about? It worked out. Everything's cool. Now, come on, let's head down there and see what's shaking. We deserve a little reward. CLAUDE (dubious) Reward? RAY There are people down there having fun. I want to be one of them. I want you to be one of them. On Monday you can be a bank teller if you want, but tonight you're a bootlegger with a truck full of Puerto Rican rum and a fistful of cash. A look of excitement crosses Claude's face, but he quickly shakes it off. CLAUDE That's gas money. Exasperated, Ray stuffs a few bills into Claude's pocket. RAY There's your gas money. You stay here and watch the truck. And don't worry, I've got the keys. Left alone, Claude mutters and kicks at the dirt. He leans against the truck. UP AHEAD/EXT. JUKE JOINT -- NIGHT Ray emerges from the woods and heads down the hill toward the juke joint. Claude hustles up next to him. CLAUDE I'm just gonna keep an eye on you, make sure you don't do nothing stupid. INT. JUKE JOINT -- NIGHT A ramshackle den of iniquity on the banks of the Mississippi. The band is laying down some serious Delta blues, creating an inviting atmosphere for sin and moral corruption. On a far side of the room, Ray is playing poker with some LOCALS. He seems to be having a bad night. WINSTON HANCOCK, a formidable black man, sweeps in another big pot and puffs happily on his cigar. OVER AT THE BAR Perched on a stool, Claude shoots a dark look at Ray and motions for the door. Ray waves him off and returns to his game. Claude becomes aware of a soft, young female hand on his shoulder. SYLVIA I've never seen you in here before. CLAUDE (staring at the hand) That's because I've never been here before. SYLVIA I'm Sylvia. What's your name? Against his better judgement, Claude's gaze follows the long, slender arm up past a bare shoulder and settles on SYLVIA'S angelic face. He is struck dumb. SYLVIA Can't you remember your own name? CLAUDE I know it begins with a "C"... SYLVIA Well, Mr. "C", how about buying a girl a drink? (to the bartender) Two bourbons. CLAUDE I really shouldn't. I gotta keep an eye on my friend. SYLVIA He looks like he can take care of himself. The drinks arrive. She places a shot glass in Claude's reluctant hand. She winks provocatively and slowly pours the whiskey down her throat. Instinctively, Claude tosses back his shot. CLAUDE Claude. That's my name. Claude. That's never happened before. SYLVIA You're cute. You have any money, Claude? CLAUDE Ten dollars. But I need it to get home. SYLVIA Why would you want to go home? It's so early. The bartender refills their glasses. BACK AT THE POKER TABLE Winston considers his cards, hardly looking up as a WAITRESS lays down a cocktail napkin and sets a drink down on top of it. He glances at Ray, who casually considers his cards. RAY I'll take two. The dealer tosses Ray a couple of cards. INSERT -- Ray fans his cards to reveal a full house. After considering the other players at the table, Ray pushes what's left of his money into the center of the table. The three other PLAYERS fold with disgust. Winston squints long and hard at Ray, then pushes everything he has into the center of the table. WINSTON I'll see that... Winston reaches into his jacket and throws down some more money on the pile. WINSTON And while we're at it, let's sweeten the pot. RAY Looks like my sugar bowl's empty, Mr. Hancock. WINSTON (reaching for the pot) That's just too damn bad, ain't it? RAY Now, hang on, slick. I ain't through with you yet. Ray checks his cards again. He looks at the pot, it's a lot of money. With this hand, there's no way he can lose. He places his daddy's pocket watch on top of the pile. Winston checks the time piece. WINSTON That'll cover it. Ray lays down his hand. RAY Full boat, ladies doing the paddling. WINSTON Four threes. Ray sits back, stunned. Winston rakes in his winnings. The game is over for the night. The three other players head to the bar. WINSTON Don't take it too hard, New York. Have a round on me. Winston tosses a silver dollar to Ray, who snatches it out of the air. Winston drops his hat on his head and moves through the crowd and out the door. WAITRESS Can I get you something? Ray shakes his head. Carefully, she begins to clear the table. Suddenly, he grabs her wrist. Winston's glass tips over. Ray flips over the cocktail napkin to reveal an extra pile of cards. RAY Looks like he had a whole lot of nothing in his hand until you came along. WAITRESS (wrenching free) You're hurting my arm. EXT. JUKE JOINT -- NIGHT Ray dashes into the street, glancing both ways. No sign of Winston. Damn. EXT. BACK ALLEY -- NIGHT Winston produces Ray's pocket watch and pops it open. A smile crosses his face as the mechanical tune plays. A sheriff's sedan rounds a corner, illuminating Winston in its headlights. The car pulls up and SHERIFF WARREN PIKE steps out. Distinguished by a casual cruelness, he's a young white man who loves his uniform. PIKE If it isn't Winston Hancock. Winston tries to move past Pike, but the sheriff blocks his path with a night stick. As Winston backs off, another squad car pulls up behind him. TWO DEPUTIES step from the car, guns drawn. PIKE I thought we agreed that you were gonna leave town. WINSTON I tried to leave, Sheriff Pike. But your wife begged me to stay. Pike slams Winston with his club, sending the black man to his knees. As Winston struggles back to his feet, a stiletto flashes and he lunges for the sheriff, slashing his cheek. The deputies grab Winston from behind, holding him by both arms. The long knife clatters to ground. Pike touches his face, examining the blood on his fingers. PIKE You just committed suicide, boy. INT. BORDELLO HALLWAY -- NIGHT Ray walks slowly down the hallway to Room 13. He is about to knock when he hears the sound of lovemaking from within. INT. SYLVIA'S BEDROOM -- NIGHT Ray opens the door and peeks in. Sylvia's on top and in charge. Claude is concentrating real hard. Ray smiles to himself and closes the door. INT. JUKE JOINT -- NIGHT Claude hitches up his suspenders as he comes down the stairs. He finds Ray having a drink at the now-empty bar. CLAUDE Hey, Ray. I've been looking for you. RAY Here I am. CLAUDE Guess we better get going, huh? RAY Still got that ten dollars? CLAUDE Well, not exactly. See, I met this girl. Real nice girl. God-fearing girl. Her name's Sylvia. RAY That jelly you were talking to right here? CLAUDE She's in a tight spot. Her mama needs this operation, and they ain't got the money for it. Their church took up a collection but they were still short... RAY So you made a generous contribution. CLAUDE What can I say? When the spirit moves me. RAY That was mighty charitable of you, Claude. Looks like we both got fucked tonight. CLAUDE What are you talking about? RAY While you were upstairs doing God's work, I was getting jack-legged by a fool with four threes. CLAUDE You lost all our money in a card game? RAY He even got my daddy's watch. CLAUDE Fuck that cheap-ass watch -- (off Ray's glare) I mean, how the hell are we gonna get home without any money? RAY We've still got 36 cases of rum. That's better than money. EXT. BACK ALLEY -- NIGHT Ray and Claude head down the alley. CLAUDE You sure the truck's this way? (looking over his shoulder) I swear it was back that way. Suddenly, the bloodied figure of Winston Hancock lurches from the shadows and grabs Claude by the lapels. Claude is too scared to scream, staggering backward. But the man's grip loosens and he slips to the ground. CLAUDE (croaking) Ray... Yo, Ray...! Ray turns back to find Claude trembling with fear and covered in blood. He just points down. Ray eyes widen. He kneels down and turns Winston's body over. CLAUDE I think he's hurt pretty bad. RAY He's dead. CLAUDE Oh, man, I've never seen a dead body before! Much to Claude's horror, Ray starts rifling through Winston's pockets. CLAUDE What do you think you're doing?! The man's been dead for two seconds! Don't you have any respect? RAY It ain't here. CLAUDE What ain't there? RAY My daddy's watch. This is the dude I was telling you about -- Suddenly, the glare of two bright headlights from a pickup truck freeze Ray and Claude in a guilty tableau. FIVE WHITE MEN appear at the end of the alley. MAN WITH LANTERN What's going on here? Ray gingerly releases Winston's lifeless body. MAN WITH LANTERN What's wrong with that one? RAY Him? He's just drunk. CLAUDE Yeah, nobody puts 'em away like old what's-his-name. RAY Winston. His name's Winston. CLAUDE Come on, Ray, better get Winston back to the truck. Claude and Ray hoist Winston's body to its feet. The man raises his lantern, takes a closer look at Winston's face. MAN WITH LANTERN This fella looks dead. Ray and Claude check for themselves. CLAUDE Would you look at that, Ray. Winston up and died on us. RAY Hell with him then. If he can't share the driving, he can't ride in the truck. MAN WITH LANTERN He can ride with us. Suddenly, the men all have guns. And they're pointed at Ray and Claude. MAN WITH LANTERN So can you. INT. NATCHEZ JAIL -- NIGHT In a holding cell, Ray tests the window bars. Solid. Meanwhile, Claude sits on a cot brooding darkly. Through the bars, we see the rednecks laughing and passing around a bottle of bootleg rum with the DEPUTY on duty. RAY Man, this is gonna delay everything. Spanky's gonna be pissed. CLAUDE Spanky's gonna be pissed? Poor Spanky. Fuck Spanky! What the hell kind of a name is Spanky, anyway? You're responsible for this situation. I blame you for everything. If it wasn't for you, I'd be home having a hot meal right now. RAY If it wasn't for me, you'd be washing up on the beach at Coney Island right now. (mocking Claude) "I need all my thumbs and fingers for praying and doing good." The jailhouse door opens and Sheriff Pike walks in. He pauses to give the prisoners the once-over. There's a fresh bandage over the cut on his cheek. PIKE What do we have here? DEPUTY Billy Bob and the boys found them down down under the hill with Winston Hancock. He was dead. Looks like murder. PIKE You don't say. DEPUTY Looks like they was running rum. Got thirty six cases of evidence out back. You want I should call in the federal prosecutor? PIKE Let's not drag the feds into this. I can think of better uses for that rum than letting it collect dust in some government warehouse up in Nashville. Pike winks at his deputy, then turns to regard the prisoners. PIKE Besides, why bother with bootlegging when we got us a clear cut case of murder? RAY Excuse me, sheriff. As we explained to your associate here, there's been a mistake. We didn't kill anybody. Now, as for the bootlegging, we happen to work for a very important man in New York. CLAUDE That's right. Does the name Spanky Johnson mean anything to you? PIKE Afraid not. RAY Mr. Johnson is very well connected. If you were to let us go, I guarantee he would show you his appreciation, if you know what I mean. PIKE Are you offering me a bribe? RAY I'm just trying to pay the toll on the road to justice. PIKE You may be able to buy your way out of trouble up in New York City, but down here we take murder seriously. CLAUDE Look, man, how many times we gotta tell you people, we didn't kill that guy! PIKE Well, if that's the case, then you don't have anything to worry about, do you? Pike turns his back on the prisoners and checks the time on a gold pocket watch -- Ray's pocket watch. But from his cell, Ray can't hear the mechanical tune. PIKE Time to get home to the missus. See y'all in the morning. In the cell, Claude turns to Ray. CLAUDE The man's gotta point. We're innocent, after all. I just gotta get a good night's sleep on this filthy mattress. Keep our heads on straight, stay cool, what's the worst thing that could happen to us? SMASH CUT TO: INT. COURTROOM -- DAY The CAMERA Scorseses in on the JUDGE'S face... JUDGE Life! The gavel comes down with a thundering crash. Stunned, Ray and Claude resist the BAILIFFS' efforts to remove them from the courtroom. RAY Life?! How long is life? We were just walking back to the truck. We didn't do nothing! Fuck life! CLAUDE Life?! What's life mean? There's no way I can do life. I got a job starts Monday morning! They continue to protest loudly as they are dragged bodily through the door. EXT. COUNTRYSIDE -- DAY Blues music kicks in as a prison transport bus rolls down a dirt road cutting through the bleak Mississippi Delta. INT. BUS (MOVING) -- DAY LONG-CHAIN CHARLIE, a white prison sergeant, sits behind the wheel. A shot gun hangs within easy reach. The CAMERA MOVES BACK past grim-faced PRISONERS with their hands and feet shackled. We arrive at Ray and Claude sitting in grim silence as the bus lurches along. EXT. PRISON -- DAY The bus veers off the country road and passes under a sign: MISSISSIPPI STATE PENITENTIARY. Sgt. Dillard's voice PLAYS OVER. DILLARD (V.O.) Welcome to the farm. Here you will be provided with ample opportunity to repay your debt to society through the rigors of hard labor... Ray and Claude stare out the window, getting their first look at the harsh reality that awaits them. Cotton fields stretch to the horizon in every direction. HOE-GANGS till the earth under the watchful gaze of TRUSTY SHOOTERS... DILLARD (V.O.) In between harvest and planting season we got fields need clearing, roads need building and ditches need digging. You will eat only what you can grow. Your crop don't come in, you'll go hungry. If you die, don't worry 'bout us none. We'll find somebody to replace you... Along the road, CONVICTS cast hard looks at the new men as the cart passes. A WHITE SERGEANT on horseback shifts his rifle and casually spits tobacco juice in the dirt... EXT. CAMP 8 -- DAY A low-slung, single-story bunkhouse surrounded by a dirt yard. Two shooter shacks sit at diagonal corners of the yard. In each shack, two trusties with rifles keep vigilant watch over the camp. SGT. FRED DILLARD paces down the line of new men as HOPPIN' BOB, an uncommonly ugly trusty, unlocks their leg irons. DILLARD This here is Camp 8. Camp 8 is for incorrigibles, so whatever you've done to get here, believe me, we're not impressed. You new men are probably noticing that we have no fences here at Camp 8. We don't need no fences, we have the gun line. It runs from shack to shack clear around the yard. You are now inside the gun line. If you step outside the gun line without my permission, you will be shot. If you trip and fall over the gun line, you will be shot. If you spit, if you pee, if you stick your ass out and take a dump over the gun line, you will be shot. Dillard plucks a hat off one of the new prisoners and tosses it over the gun line. SHOTS ring out from the nearest shack. The hat is torn to shreds. DILLARD One of my trusties puts a bullet in you when you're trying to run, I'm liable to give him a pardon for saving me the trouble of tracking you down, so you can bet their aim is true. Dillard puts a cigarette in his mouth. Hoppin' Bob is right there with the flame. DILLARD My name is Sgt. Dillard. In the unlikely event that you need to address me, you call me boss. You already met this handsome fella right here. Hoppin' Bob's my ace boon coon. You run afoul of Hoppin' Bob, you run afoul of me. Nodding to Bob, Dillard saunters off. HOPPIN' BOB New men, strip down! Ray and Claude share a look. Self-consciously, the men begin to undress. INT. BUNKHOUSE -- DAY Double bunks line the walls, with a footlocker for each inmate. As usual, there's a poker game going on. HOPPIN' BOB Okay, ladies, got some fresh meat for ya! All activity comes to a halt as the new men shuffle into the cage wearing their prison-issue "ring-arounds." Hoppin' Bob slams the metal doors shut behind them. HOPPIN' BOB We ain't got no wallflowers at Camp 8. Everybody gotta dance eventually. But don't worry, they won't try nothing tonight. That would take all of the fun outta the courtship. The INCORRIGIBLES hungrily eye the new men in total silence. Claude sticks close to Ray as they shuffle toward their assigned bunks. The CAMERA SETTLES on a much younger WILLIE LONG. EXT. COUNTRY ROAD -- MORNING The inmates jump down from the mule cart and grab hoes and shovels. Because he can't count, Hoppin' Bob keeps track of the men using a system all his own -- a PEBBLE in his pocket for each man. Dillard stands by with his shotgun. DILLARD Got three miles of ditch to clear today. Let's keep it moving! EXT. DITCH -- DAY The men of Camp 8 labor under the brutal mid-day sun. JANGLE LEG, a handsome, muscular man, sings a verse to set the work tempo. Up and down the line, a mighty chorus responds. The CAMERA FINDS Ray and Claude swinging pick axes, sweating profusely. CLAUDE I don't believe this before Abe jive. I didn't go to night school to sing in no Mississippi Boys Choir! Claude stops to catch his breath and take off his shirt. RAY I wouldn't do that if I was you. CLAUDE Shut up. It's too damn hot. What do you know, anyway? A SHOT rings out. Claude hits the ground as a bullet kicks up some dust nearby. RAY Told ya. Claude looks up to see Dillard cracking pistachio nuts as Hoppin' Bob puts another round in the chamber of his rifle. DILLARD Why ain't his pick swinging? HOPPIN' BOB (echoing) Why ain't that pick swinging? CLAUDE It's too hot, boss. I'm tired. HOPPIN' BOB He says it's too hot, boss. DILLARD Too hot, huh? Well, you tell that lazy jiggaboo the state of Mississippi ain't interested in his meteorological assessments. HOPPIN' BOB Listen up, jiggaboo! State of Mississippi ain't interested in your... in your... (off Dillard's look) metropolitan assets! DILLARD Tell him the state of Mississippi is only interested in getting this ditch cleared by sundown. HOPPIN' BOB State of Mississippi wants this ditch cleared by sundown. You got that?! CLAUDE I got it... boss. DILLARD He don't sound like he's from 'round here. HOPPIN' BOB He's from New York City. That one, too. DILLARD New York. That's up north, ain't it? They'll find we do things different down here. RAY We noticed. Annoyed, Dillard jabs the butt of his rifle into Ray's solar plexus. Ray sinks to his knees in the dirt. DILLARD Looks like we got a couple of live ones. How long these boys in for? HOPPIN' BOB Judge gave 'em the long ride. DILLARD Life, huh? They step outta line again, we'll shorten up that sentence real fast. Dillard swaggers off, dogged at the heels by the ever faithful Hoppin' Bob. Resigned, Ray and Claude return to their labor. EXT. DITCH -- DAY The men rest in the ditch as BISCUIT, a slight inmate with a red bandanna tied around his head, dispenses water, one ladle per man. BISCUIT Drink it up! Willie exchanges two cigarettes for a second ladle. POKER FACE pulls a crumpled envelope from his shirt. His expression never changes, hence the name. POKER FACE Either of you new fellas know how to read? I've had this letter four months now. CLAUDE You can't read? None of these guys can read? WILLIE Last fella who could read made parole 'round Christmas. POKER FACE I don't even know who this is from. RAY Here, gimme that. Ray unfolds the letter and scans it. RAY It's from your mama's neighbor, Mrs. Tidwell. She thought you oughta know that your second cousin Bo died. The prisoners express their condolences. "Sorry, man." "That's some bad news." "I know you loved Bo like a brother..." RAY And your other cousin, Sally, on your daddy's side, she died. More sympathy from the men. "Ooh. Twice in one letter." "Rough break, Poker Face..." RAY Apparently, your sister died. POKER FACE Jenny? RAY No, it says Marleen here. Relief all around. "Thank goodness." RAY Oh, wait, looks like Jenny died, too. "Bad luck, man." "That's harsh..." RAY Then it goes on for a while about how the crop didn't come in on accounta the frost. (flips over the page) She finishes up with something about a tornado and how your mama and your daddy died in that. But don't worry none. She'll take care of the dog. That is, if it gets over the worms. The prisoners share dark looks. Ray folds up the letter and hands it back to Poker Face. POKER FACE Appreciate it. RAY Anybody else need anything read? "No, man, we're good." The men shake their heads and return letters and cards to their pockets. Jangle Leg nods and switches places with one of the convicts, parking next to Claude. JANGLE LEG How you doin'? CLAUDE I'm all right. JANGLE LEG You ever done time before? CLAUDE You kidding? I've been in and out of prison my entire life. Mostly in. I'm hard-core. JANGLE LEG Then you won't have no problem making the adjustment. You need anything, help of any kind, gimme a holler. Name's Jangle Leg. CLAUDE 'Preciate it. Claude. As they shake, Jangle Leg inspects Claude's hand thoroughly. JANGLE LEG Soft and supple. Like a lady's. CLAUDE (eyes narrowing) I try to moisturize regularly. HOPPIN' BOB (over his shoulder) Hey, Jangle Leg, what'd I tell you about pitching woo on the job? JANGLE LEG Sorry, Cap'n. Claude snatches back his hand and gives Jangle Leg a hard look. HOPPIN' BOB Break's over! Back to work! As the men grab their tools and return to work, Claude leans over to Ray. CLAUDE Why do you think they call him Jangle Leg? RAY Somebody just told me he wins the three-legged race every year. CLAUDE So? RAY He does it all by himself. INT. MESS HALL -- DUSK Wincing with each movement and covered in grime from the day's labors, the new men bring up the back of the chow line. COOKIE, the grub-slinger, slaps a large dollop of an unidentifiable substance onto Ray's tray. RAY What is that? COOKIE Creamed chip beef on toast. Except we're outta beef, so I had to improvise. RAY Can't I get one of those steaks you got grilling back there? COOKIE Those are for trusties, unless you got thirty cents or two packs of cigs. Another prisoner lays down some tobacco and gets a juicy steak. Ray grabs a hunk of corn bread and makes his way to the back of the room. Claude steps up, holds out his tray for Cookie. CLAUDE Excuse me, I don't like it when the food touches each other, so if you could just -- (SPLAT!) -- keep everything separate. Disappointed, Claude turns to discover that the only seat left is next to Ray. Scowling, he limps toward it. Jangle Leg's eyes follow Claude as he approaches the table. Biscuit smacks him. BISCUIT Eyes front, mister! Claude sits down and promptly goes to work scraping his burnt toast with his knife. The irritating sound slowly brings the entire room to dead silence. All eyes fall on Claude. Scratch, scratch, scratch... COOKIE (stepping up) Problem with the toast? CLAUDE It's fine now. Cookie glowers and takes a seat. RAY Stop aggravating people. Just eat your food. As the room returns to normal, Claude starts polishing his fork with his shirttail. Irritated, Ray shoots him a look. CLAUDE This fork is filthy. RAY The fork is the least of your worries, Claude. Undeterred, Claude breathes on his fork and polishes it some more. Disgusted, Ray pushes aside his plate. RAY What's your name? WILLIE Me? Willie Long. RAY What are you in for, Willie? WILLIE That's a long story... RADIO When he was 13 years old he killed a son-of-a-bitch with a claw hammer. WILLIE They never proved that. CLAUDE What a second, you've been in here since you were thirteen? RAY What about you, Radio? RADIO Armed robbery. JANGLE LEG Damn liar. Bitch killed his sister with an axe. RADIO She was my half-sister. Shit, I ain't the son-of-a-bitch who poisoned my own parents. BISCUIT (protective) They deserved it. Very strict. POKER FACE What about you, Biscuit? You nearly skinned your poor old landlady alive. COOKIE At least he didn't kill Santa Claus with his bare hands. RAY You killed Santa Claus? BISCUIT (scolding) On Christmas Eve. POKER FACE He wasn't the Santa Claus, he was just wearing the suit and ringing a bell. WILLIE What did you guys do? The whole table waits expectantly for their reply. RAY I kinda lost track of how many people we killed that night. Must have been 15 or twenty -- not counting women and children. It was a real bloodbath. All that screaming... CLAUDE Pack of lies. Don't listen to him. We didn't kill nobody. We were railroaded. And we gonna prove that. RAY He just blocked it out. Nigger's crazy. He's the one who did all the stabbing. He's capable of some heinous shit. (thumbing down the table) How 'bout him down there? At the end of the table, GOLDMOUTH, a hulking specimen, snarls menacingly, flashing a glittering set of teeth. WILLIE Goldmouth? They say he was born out back behind the shithouse. That's what they say. RAY You all been here a long time. Doesn't anybody ever escape from this place? WILLIE They run but they never get too far. RADIO Couple years back, Cookie made it clear to Greenville. RAY Greenville, that the nearest town? WILLIE (nodding) It's a two-day walk if you don't get lost. Take a mighty cagey country boy to navigate the woods and bayous between here and there. BISCUIT Those dogs they got can sniff a skid mark in your underpants from a half- mile off. RAY Alright, well, let's say you make it to Greenville. What's there, anyway? COOKIE Grandma Dodi's Pork Rib Joint. POKER FACE That's where they nabbed him. COOKIE Didn't even get to have my peach cobbler. WILLIE The most important thing they got in Greenville is a train that heads up north. Just then, Goldmouth stands up, casting a shadow over Claude. GOLDMOUTH Hey, girl, you gonna eat your corn bread? Claude looks up, considering his options. CLAUDE No, man. I want you to have it. RAY Wait up there, Claude. You give that guy your corn bread and the next thing you know you'll be ironing his shirts and clipping his toenails. GOLDMOUTH Maybe I oughta eat your corn bread. RAY My corn bread? Oh no, my friend. I love corn bread. Ray picks up his corn bread and takes a huge bite out of it, rolling his eyes with enthusiasm. RAY I thought my mama made good corn bread but this is really something special. Ray looks at the faces around the room, smiles broadly. Goldmouth is getting embarrassed. RAY Who knew I'd have to come all the way down to this here prison, deep in the asshole of the great state of Mississippi, to find such a tasty piece of corn bread? The prisoners begin to laugh. Ray's got them now. RAY And who knew that in this great corn bread-making institution I'd come face to face with the biggest, ugliest, stinkiest, ugliest gold- mouthed negro in the entire world. Now get out of my face before I lose my appetite! EXT. CAMP 8 YARD -- DUSK A punch sends Ray sprawling in the dust. Goldmouth looms over him. The incorrigibles form a circle around the combatants. Poker Face, the camp bookie, is taking all bets. GOLDMOUTH How you like your corn bread now, New York? Goldmouth and Ray square off. Goldmouth swings, Ray ducks and counters with a swift jab to the gut. Goldmouth just flashes a shiny grin and clobbers Ray with a fist the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. Ray sinks to the dust. Radio drops down near him. RADIO Come on, New York, you can do better than that! Get up and show him how they do it in Harlem! Ray shakes his head and staggers back to his feet. He circles the big man and gets in a couple of good shots, much to the crowd's approval. Goldmouth shakes his head and wipes the blood from his nose. Now he's mad. He grabs Ray by the shirt and delivers a crushing blow. Ray reels backward into Cookie's arms. COOKIE I appreciate you going to all this trouble over my corn bread. I don't get a lot of compliments in my line of work. Cookie shoves Ray back into the ring for more punishment. Claude emerges from the mess hall, munching on a piece of corn bread. He squeezes in between Poker Face and Willie. WILLIE Your pal's getting the tar whipped out of him on your account. CLAUDE How many times I got to tell you? He ain't my pal. Besides, he looks like he knows what he's doing. Just then Claude winces as Goldmouth delivers a jaw-crushing uppercut that knocks Ray on his back. Claude bristles under the incriminating looks coming at him from all directions. CLAUDE Alright, alright... Claude crouches down as Ray rolls over on his stomach and pushes himself up onto all fours. His eyes are swollen shut, his face covered with blood. CLAUDE Hey, Ray, I think you made your point, whatever that is. Maybe now's a good time to throw in the towel. You know what I'm saying? Ray manages a smile and staggers to his feet. RAY (slurring) Shit, Goldmouth. Back in New York, I know bitches who hit harder than you. Goldmouth pulls back his fist and lets it fly. Ray hurtles through the crowd, collapsing in the dust. Willie steps in. WILLIE The man's taken enough of a beating. Let's get him inside. Cookie, Radio and Poker Face raise Ray to his feet. Goldmouth slings him over his shoulder and carries him toward the bunkhouse. Dazed, Ray catches Claude's eye. RAY Got him good, huh, Claude? He won't be bothering us anytime soon. A quick elbow jab from Goldmouth and Ray is out for good. Disgusted with himself, Claude tosses what's left of the corn bread to the mangy dog, who makes short work of it. BISCUIT (wagging a finger) Shame, shame, that's your name. FADE TO BLACK: INT. MESS HALL -- DAY On Sundays, the mess hall also serves as a chapel. From a makeshift pulpit, the blind REVEREND CLAY and his DAUGHTER lead the congregation of convicts in a rousing chorus of "Down by the Riverside." EXT. CAMP 8 YARD -- DAY The gospel music filters into the yard, where the prisoners mingle with kinfolk. EXT. SGT. DILLARD'S HOUSE -- DAY MRS. DILLARD hums along with the gospel music as she places a couple of freshly-baked pies on the window sill to cool. EXT. CAMP 8 YARD -- DAY The CAMERA FINDS Claude and Daisy walking hand in hand toward a simple shack just beyond the gun line. This is the TONK HOUSE and Dillard is the gate keeper. CLAUDE Request permission to go to the tonk, boss. Dillard considers Daisy. DILLARD I don't see no wedding ring, Banks. Conjugal visits are for married prisoners only. CLAUDE You think you could make an exception just this once, boss? She came all the way down from New York. DILLARD I don't need the Baptists on my back, but I suppose I could issue a temporary marriage license for a nominal fee. Daisy gets the picture. She reaches into her purse and hands Dillard a couple of dollars. DILLARD I now pronounce you man and wife. (calling to the shooter shack) Claude Banks going to the tonk! Claude takes Daisy's hand and leads her over the gun line. ACROSS THE YARD Ray watches Claude and Daisy step into the tonk house. Then he returns to a game of horseshoes, tossing a ringer. Nearby, Biscuit gives Jangle Leg a haircut. RAY Biscuit, when you're done with Jangle Leg, you think you could squeeze me in? BISCUIT Thought you'd never ask. Biscuit needs some gravy. RAY I'm talking about a haircut. BISCUIT Cost you a pair of nylons. POKER FACE Hey, Ray, Goldmouth don't believe me. Ain't it so they got trains up in New York City that run under the streets? RAY They're called subways. A nickel will take you from one end of Manhattan to the other. Helluva ride, too. Radio looks up from a vacuum tube receiver he's busy repairing. RADIO Hey, Ray, you ever been to the Cotton Club? RAY Sure I've been to the Cotton Club. It's pretty sweet. But it don't hold a candle to the Boom Boom Room. That's where the real action is. WILLIE What's the Boom Boom Room? RAY That's my joint. The swinginest nightclub in town. COOKIE You got your own nightclub? RAY Well, not yet. It's still in the planning stages. GOLDMOUTH So it don't exist. RAY Just because it's in my mind, Goldmouth, don't mean it ain't real. Everything worth anything starts with a dream. Hoppin' Bob calls to Ray from the gun line. HOPPIN' BOB Gibson! Got yourself a visitor! Ray turns to find his MOTHER, a handsome woman in a floral dress, coming toward him. RAY Mama? MAMA GIBSON Rayford! The incorrigibles elbow each other and repeat the name "Rayford" as Mama Gibson envelops her son in a fleshy embrace, smothering him with kisses. RAY What are you doing here, mama? MAMA GIBSON I heard some things so I went to see Spanky Johnson. He told me what happened and gave me some money to get down here. What happened to your face? RAY Don't worry about that. Hey, fellas, this here is my mama. These are some of my friends. That's Willie, there's Poker Face, Radio, Cookie, Goldmouth, Biscuit, Jangle Leg. The motley crew gathers around, nodding politely. Goldmouth flashes a golden grin. Willie gallantly doffs his cap. WILLIE Mrs. Gibson. Shame on Rayford here for failing to mention that he had such a beautiful mama. Mama manages a half-hearted smile, clutching her bag. MAMA GIBSON Nice to meet you all. GOLDMOUTH How was your train ride? MAMA GIBSON Quite comfortable, thank you. COOKIE Them cookies in there? MAMA GIBSON Yes, oatmeal. RADIO 'Scuse me, you got any batteries on you? MAMA GIBSON No. No I don't. Biscuit sides up, fingering her dress. BISCUIT That's a lovely dress. Make it yourself? MAMA GIBSON (vaguely unsettled) Yeah... EXT. PORCH -- DAY Ray and his mama sit in the shade. RAY This is a big surprise, mama. I sure didn't expect to see you down here. A long, uncomfortable beat. Mama's lip starts to tremble. MAMA GIBSON Rayford, I wanted so much more for you than this. RAY Don't cry, mama. This place ain't so bad as it looks. Sure, we work hard, but there's plenty fresh air and sunshine... And you know something else, I've taken to going to church regular. They got services every Sunday right there in the mess hall. MAMA GIBSON Don't you lie to me, Rayford. (composing herself) You still have your daddy's watch? (Ray shakes his head) Well, this is all I can give you. I wish it was more. She puts some money in his hand. RAY I can't take that, mama. MAMA GIBSON Don't argue with me. You need it more than I do. I know how a little money can help in a place like this. Reluctantly, Ray stashes the money in his pocket. RAY I can't believe this. I always said I'd never end up like this. I thought I'd make something of myself, do something with my life. You know, be successful. Have a big house, a family. Now I'm gonna end up just like daddy. MAMA GIBSON Don't say that, Rayford. Don't ever say that. He gave up hope. That's where you gotta be different. RAY They gave me life, mama. MAMA GIBSON I gave you life. And they can't take it away from you. Remember that. You'll get outta here someday. I believe that. You gotta believe it, too. INT. TONK HOUSE -- DAY Reclining on a straw mattress, Claude watches intently as Daisy gets dressed. The rickety door reverberates with a loud pounding. HOPPIN' BOB (off) Time's up, Banks! We got a crowd gathering out here! Claude leaps from the bed and slams his fist against the door. CLAUDE Woman came all the way from New York, goddamnit! We'll come out when we're good and ready! Daisy quickly buttons up her dress. CLAUDE Did you go see my cousin Maynard like I asked you in my letter? DAISY Of course I did. He said he'd file an appeal right away. You didn't tell me he was so good looking. CLAUDE Yeah, that side of the family has all the looks and none of the brains. I hope he don't mess things up. DAISY He seemed like a pretty good lawyer to me. His offices take up an entire floor of that big, new building on 125th Street, and he was using all these words I never heard before. He even offered me a job. CLAUDE A job, huh? Well, that's nice, real nice. You won't have to work long. I'll be back soon enough. After I start work at First Federal Bank of Manhattan, I'll be keeping you in style. Everything will get back to normal again. That's a promise. Daisy smiles weakly and looks away. She doesn't have much faith in this promise. DAISY Listen, Claude, Maynard wanted to know if he should file the appeal on behalf of your friend, too. CLAUDE Ray Gibson? (thinks about it) No, no. He's the reason I'm in here, Daisy. For all I know, he's got a record a mile long. I got a better shot of getting out of here on my own. You tell Maynard to think about me, concentrate on me. Understand? DAISY Sure, Claude, whatever you say. EXT. COUNTRY ROAD -- DAY The prisoners jump down from the cart and grab hammers and pick axes as Hoppin' Bob keeps count with pebbles. DILLARD We lost yesterday on accounta the rain. That means we gotta make up for it today, so put your backs to it. HOPPIN' BOB You heard the boss! Let's move! Ray and Claude jump down after Willie. WILLIE (squinting at the sun) Looks like a scorcher. RADIO I bet the son of a bitch goes over a hundred and ten. POKER FACE I'll take that action. EXT. FIELD -- DAY The long line levels a road to a work tune being sung by Jangle Leg. Dillard checks the thermometer on the truck -- 90 degrees and rising. Mopping his brow, he starts down the line. The sun arcs overhead, a blazing inferno... Heat rises off the road... The men sweat profusely... "Taking it off here, boss!" echoes up and down the line. Biscuit has his work cut out for him, lugging a water bucket from man to man, offering the ladle. The sun... the hammer... the ladle... the axe... the sun... the hammer... the ladle... the axe... The mercury hits 110 degrees... A NEW GUY lets his hammer slip from his fingers, collapses in the dirt. Radio nods to Poker Face, who hands him a pack of cigs. WILLIE Man down, boss! Dillard uses his foot to roll the stricken man over. He's still alive. Barely. DILLARD You two, put him on the truck! Ray and Claude drop their tools, grab the man by his arms and legs and lug him up to the road. Once out of earshot, Ray whispers to Claude. RAY Cookie drew me a map to Greenville. CLAUDE So? RAY You know what I'm saying. CLAUDE Yeah, I know what your saying. And I'm saying if you made it that far, they'd be watching every train that pulls out of that station. RAY That's why we won't take the train. Cookie showed me where there's a farm house. They got a boat there. CLAUDE What do you know about boats? I bet you can't even swim. They reach the truck. With effort, they swing the man back and forth and launch him into the back of the truck. RAY What I know about boats is they take you to freedom. Come on, man. I think we can do this. CLAUDE Why are you always talking about we? There is no we. There is a me, there is a you. But there is no we between us. HARD CUT TO: INT. BUNKHOUSE WASHROOM -- DAY Ray and Claude continue their conversation as they lather up for a shave. RAY You want out of this place, don't you? Don't tell me you're starting to like it here. CLAUDE No, I don't like it here. Look around. There's nothing but ass. Male ass! Balls and ass! Believe you me, I'm getting out of here. RAY What does that mean? CLAUDE Forget it. RAY I'm not gonna forget it. What does that mean? If you've got a plan, I think I have a right to know about it. I told you my plan. CLAUDE Getting a map from a chubby chef named Cookie? Dragging our asses through the swamps in search of some worm-eaten boat? That ain't a plan, that's a vacation for two in the hole. When you've got a map to New York City, you get back to me. Claude splits. Scowling, Ray finishes up his shave. INT. BUNKHOUSE -- NIGHT Moonlight streams through the barred windows of the cage. Exhausted from the day's work, each man stretches out painfully in his bunk. JANGLE LEG Sure was hot out there today. COOKIE Still too hot to sleep. RADIO Every bone in my body feel like a big son-of-a-bitch dog got hold of it. GOLDMOUTH I can't wait 'til Sunday. CLAUDE What's so great about Sunday? Monday's right after it. Restless, Radio rolls over. RADIO Hey, Ray, what's the name of that nightclub of yours? RAY You mean the Boom-Boom Room? RADIO That's it. The Boom-Boom Room. Sure would like to see that place when you get it up and running. RAY You should have come by last night, Radio. You woulda had yourself some fun. WILLIE Last night? What are you talking about, Ray? RAY I'm talking about old Satchmo nearly blew the roof off the joint. POKER FACE Who? RAY Satchmo. GOLDMOUTH You mean Louis Armstrong? RAY He's a good friend of mine. Drops by the club whenever he's in town. CLAUDE Hey, do we have to listen to this bullshit? I'm trying to get some sleep around here. "Shut up, Claude!" echoes around the room. Irritated, Claude thumps his pillow and turns his back on the room. RAY Yeah, things were hot last night, but you'll never guess who's playing tonight. BLAM! A high horn note sounds. SMASH CUT: CLOSE-UP -- Biscuit, all dolled up and flashing a million- dollar smile. She begins to sing. BISCUIT A tisket a tasket... Biscuit is up on a makeshift platform in the bunkhouse, lipsyncing to Ella Fitzgerald. But its not the depressing bunkhouse anymore, it has transformed into Ray's Boom-Boom Room. PULL OUT SLOWLY as Ray, decked out in a sleek tuxedo steps in front of the CAMERA. He speaks into the CAMERA as he walks... RAY That's right, fellas. Catch any cab heading uptown. All the drivers know Ray's Boom-Boom Room. GOLDMOUTH (O.S.) Hey, Ray... Ray looks to his left, sees Goldmouth in the old bunkhouse. GOLDMOUTH Where am I at, man? RAY (in nightclub) C'mon, Goldmouth, somebody's gotta watch the front door. The CAMERA PANS off Ray to Goldmouth, in a tuxedo, at the front door of the nightclub with two lovely ladies. He waves to himself, sitting on his bunk. Himself waves back, smiling like a kid in a candy store. Willie is behind the bar, serving drinks to three gorgeous SKIMMIES. WILLIE Hey, Ray, I could get used to this! CLOSE ON Cookie sitting a table eating a huge porterhouse. The CAMERA DOLLIES around to find Ray eating with him. COOKIE Ray, my man, this steak is like butter! RAY Made just for you, Cookie. COOKIE How about some steak sauce? RAY No problem. Oh, boy! Ray motions to a busboy clearing a table. It's Claude. RAY How about some Worchestershire sauce! And clean that damn table. Claude grimaces. CUT TO: Willie laughing, Goldmouth laughing, Poker Face in the bunk laughing. POKER FACE Hey, Ray, I know you got some gambling! CUT TO: Ray at a craps table holding a pair of dice. He looks at Poker Face on his bunk. RAY C'mon, Poker Face, what's a club without some dice? The CAMERA PULLS BACK as Ray throws the dice. A perfect seven. The CAMERA PANS UP to Poker Face in a tux clutching a fistful of cash. POKER FACE Lucky seven! My nigger! Let it ride! Across the room, Jangle Leg, in a tux, sits at the piano. Radio, also in a tux, beats on the drums. JANGLE LEG Sing, girlfriend! Biscuit sings the song, smiling lovingly at her man. Everyone is having a great time in Ray's Boom-Boom Room, until... Whistles blow. At the front door, Hoppin' Bob appears with FIVE TRUSTIES dressed in police outfits. The incorrigibles scatter. RADIO Hey, Ray, looks like trouble! A hard white light from Hoppin' Bob's flashlight shines directly into the CAMERA. CLOSE ON Ray, in his bed, back in the old bunkhouse. The music stops abruptly. He shields his eyes from the harsh light. Hoppin' Bob is looming over him. It's back to reality. HOPPIN' BOB You don't shut up, you're gonna spend the rest of the night in the hole, Gibson! That goes for the rest of you girls, too. I don't want to hear another peep about no Boom-Boom fucking Room! A loud burst of flatulence cuts through the darkness. Hoppin' Bob turns his flashlight on Cookie. COOKIE Sorry, Cap'n. Scowling, Hoppin' Bob steps out of the cage and locks the door behind him. The men slowly settle back in. RADIO (whispering) Pretty good story, Ray. Didn't much care for the ending though. Lights out at Camp 8. EXT. CAMP 8 -- YARD -- DAY Claude's playing pepper with Radio, Jangle Leg and Poker Face. DILLARD Mail call! The incorrigibles quickly gather around as he calls off names, passing cards and letters through the crowd. DILLARD Craddock!... Williams... Henshaw!... Banks! CLAUDE Here! Dillard hands the letter to Ray, who glances at it before passing it back to Claude. RAY (reading) Maynard Banks, Esquire. Attorney at law. CLAUDE Gimme that. That doesn't concern you. RAY I'm sure it don't. INT. CAMP 8 BUNKHOUSE -- DAY Claude rips open the letter. A profound disappointment settles over him as he reads the news from cousin Maynard. Bitterly,