Big Ticket

THE CHARACTERS

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Dave. . . Tow truck operator
Annie . . . Realtor
Billy. . . Biker
The Mayor
Gretchen. . . Mayor’s assistant



ACT ONE

Early evening. A grimy auto-pound office-in a trailer. Ambient light through barred windows. Traffic noise from expressway overhead. City sounds, not very far off.

Dave, a big roughneck tow truck operator in biker gear, in his early thirties, is negotiating with annie, stylishly dressed, about the same age. They appear to be strangers.

Annie claims she wants to pay Dave to abduct and terrify her husband. Dave proposes to bring the husband to the auto pound and lock him up in a chain-link cage used for safe storage.

Annie explores the interior of the cage. Dave watches. She’s trying to be seductive.

Annie: So what’s all this going to cost me?

Dave: If I don’t have to break nothin’, five hundred bucks.

Annie: That’s pretty reasonable.

Dave: This kind of thing’s just a sideline for me. Helps me relax. Besides, a pretty woman like you shouldn’t have to put up with assholes.

Annie: That’s very sweet of you to say, Dave. Lock the door.

Dave: What for?

Annie: Lock me in. Just for a minute. I want to know what it feels like to be incarcerated.

Dave: You’re the customer.

He locks her inside.

Annie: Hmmn. This is pretty exciting.

Dave: How so?

Annie: It’s scary really. You hear the lock click and you feel so helpless. You ever bring women here?

Dave: I brought you, didn’t I?

Annie: I mean for pleasure. You ever lock any women up in here?

Dave: We had a woman one time left her kid in her car at rush hour in a tow-away zone with the engine running. Cops took the kid. We took the car. She came down here and bit my dispatcher on the elbow. We locked her up pretty good.

Annie: You ever bring any women in here, after hours? Women that don’t really want to be here? You know, like with you and the cops? After hours? Any cozy stuff like that?

Dave: You ask a lot of questions. What are you—a detective?

Annie laughs. So does Dave.

Annie: Although there’s not a lot of room in here. For stuff.

The atmosphere thickens a little.

Annie: Of course, it doesn’t have to take a lot of room.

Dave: Is that an invitation?

Annie: Depends on how I’m feeling.

Dave: How are you feeling?

Annie: I’m feeling like I’m here with an outlaw, Dave, a real tough customer. He’s got me at his mercy. He could do anything to me.

Dave: I’m probably not as tough as I look.

Annie: I bet. C’mon in, why don’t you?

He hesitates.

Annie (as if to a dog): C’mon. C’mon. Be a good boy.

He unlocks the gate and goes in. It’s awkward for him. There’s not much room inside.

Annie: Let me help you out of those dirty, dirty clothes.

Dave: You don’t waste any time, do you?

She removes his leather jacket, unbuttons his shirt, pulls off his boots, takes off his pants. This takes a while.

She steps outside the cage and piles his clothing on a chair. She pushes the door of the cage shut and locks it, removes Dave’s keys, leaving him locked inside in his underwear. She opens a plastic bottle of water.

Annie: How you feeling now? Kinda creepy don’t you think?

Dave: I don’t really go for this kind of shit.

Annie: How you feeling though? Kinda sexy?

Dave: I’ll feel a whole lot sexier when you unlock that door and get your pretty little ass back in here.

Annie: You’re so pathetic.

Dave: I’m what?

Annie: Pathetic. Look at you. Big tough guy in his underwear. I wonder what your cop buddies are going to think about that.

Dave: Okay, so I’m pathetic. I’m at your mercy. I get it. Now let me out of here.

Annie: That’ll be the frosty Friday.

Dave: Look. This isn’t all that funny.

Annie: Get used to it. You’re gonna be in there for quite a long time.

Dave: Don’t be stupid. What about your husband?

Annie: I don’t have a husband.

Dave: Then what’s this all about? What did I do?

Annie: You towed my fucking car away, Dave. That’s the problem.

She throws the rest of her water in his face. Dave is shocked into silence. It takes him a moment to respond.

Dave: You...lying...little...pig.

Like a gorilla, he shakes the cage violently. He gives up and presses his face hard against the fencing.

Dave (roaring): You do all this because you think I towed your fucking car away?

Annie: I know you did. I know it was you. I saw you. It wasn’t the first time.

Dave: If you value your life–at all–you better let me out of this cage right now.

Annie: I’ve had about a thousand parking tickets, Dave. Almost none of them made any sense to me. Five times I had my car towed away. Three of those times this disgusting place is where I had to come to get it back.

Dave: Look. This is sick. Give me my clothes back and let me out of this fucking cage.

Annie: Last time I was towed it was you. I was parked outside a hospital–getting a biopsy for Christ’s sake! I was five minutes late getting back and you had me hooked up already. You and your wormy little prick partner parking cop were standing there waiting for the meter to expire. I begged you, I begged you both, to please let me have my car back. No, you said; it was too late.

Dave: Unlock the door, bitch, or die.

Annie: You’re a vampire. You, the cops, the parking cops, the politicians–all the people in this racket–you’re all vampires.

Dave shakes the fence violently. Annie holds back a sob.

Annie: My little boy’s birthday cake was in that car! I missed his party! My little boy had his birthday party with no cake. Do you know what that means? Weren’t you ever a little boy? What in hell happened to you?

Dave: This is forcible confinement, lady. It’s the same as kidnapping. You’ll go to jail.

Annie: You were both so rude. You laughed and drove away and left me standing on the sidewalk.

Dave: You’ll go to jail!

Annie: I don’t care.

Dave: I will kill you. I’m not kidding.

Annie: So you keep saying, Dave, but I...don’t...care. The only thing I do care about is making you suffer. Not just for me, but for all the other thousands of people you leech off. I’m going to make you an example. So all the other bottom-feeders in your business get to see what happens when good people get pushed too far.

Dave: Look. Annie. You’re upset. I can see that. Maybe I made a mistake. But I do think you’re overreacting a bit. I was just doing my job. It’s against the law to park in prohibited areas. You’re not being reasonable.

She comes closer.

Annie: How about I park something in one of your prohibited areas?

Dave: What makes you so sure you’ve got the right guy?

Annie: I saw you with my own eyes. Plus.?.?.

She yanks a notebook from her purse.

Annie (reading): “David Mason Markus.” Is that not you? “Proprietor, Dave’s Towing and Auto Pound.” Is that not you? “acsm 833.” Is that not the licence number on your truck? “Cindy.” Is that not the name you’ve got painted right underneath your hood ornament? “Moose.” Is that not what your friends and former fellow inmates call you? “Six feet, two inches. Two hundred and ten pounds, brown hair, brown eyes. Birthmark, left elbow. Fire-breathing dragon tattoo, right bicep.” Is that not you? “Three months less a day in the Brampton Correctional Facility for assaulting your high school teacher.” Do you not recognize that person...Moose?

He slumps down, head in hands.

Dave: Okay, it was me. I apologize. Now why don’t you just forget about all that shit and get back in here so I can take you some places you’ve never been before.

Annie: What kind of places? What do you mean by that? What kind of places have I never been before?

Dave: I think you know.

Annie: No, I don’t know. What kind of places would you take me to where I’ve never been before–exactly? Are we talking tongue here?

Dave: I’m thinking about forgetting about all this bullshit and you and me just get it on. You’ll like it. It’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s what this is really all about?

Annie: I honestly can’t believe what kind of pathetic weasel you are.

Dave: You’re getting off on this.

Annie: In what way are you defective? How is it that you can’t even begin to understand the nature of the evil you inflict on the world? You’re an ape. You’re less than an ape. I don’t want to live in a world with people like you in it.

Dave: Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not that kind of chick.

Annie: None of us is that kind of chick, Dave.

Dave: You think I’m a bad person.

Annie: Of course I do! You descend on people at random. Like Robin Hood in reverse. You take from the innocent and give to the government. Do you have any idea how much harm the government can do with that much money?

Pause.

Dave: You’re not being very fair. You don’t know me. I breathe. I eat. I sleep. Just like you. I have a kid. I have a dog. I like to watch TV. I go for walks in the woods. Where in fuck do you get off calling me stupid, criticizing my life? You don’t even know who I am.

Annie: Do all your trucks have names?

Dave: Most of them.

Annie: Who’s Cindy? Anybody?

Dave: I knew her in high school.

Annie: Was she your first?

Dave: I never got into her pants, if that’s what you mean. She was kind of like a Salvation Army chick–hot, like, but not hot for me. I liked her but I don’t think she really knew that. I was pretty shy back then.

Annie: Do you think about her?

Dave: I do sometimes.

Annie: And you named a truck after her?

Dave: Yeah.

Annie: Do you have any idea how idiotic that seems to me?

She goes out. Dogs bark. Truck door slams shut. She returns, lugging a can of gas.

Annie: This is gasoline. Right? She holds up a lighter. This is a lighter. Right? Lights it. You’re locked up. You can’t get out. And you deserve to die. Right?

Dave: Look, Annie, I don’t deserve to die. There are all kinds of people worse than me out there.

Annie: Hah!

Dave: Really. Really, I don’t. I don’t go looking for trouble. I’ve got troubles of my own. You ask me to do a job for you; I agree to help you out. And this is how you thank me. But that’s okay. Probably we’re never going to see eye-to-eye on this, Annie. I mean maybe in your case we made a mistake. Christ, nobody’s perfect. Why don’t we just agree to disagree? Why don’t I just write you a nice little cheque to cover your expenses and we’ll let it go at that, no hard feelings.

Annie: It took me two hours the first time to track down my car. Apparently it’s nobody’s job to tell people where their cars have gone. Then I had to make my way down to this wasteland, where there aren’t even any sidewalks, let alone any public transportation. I mean, what kind of sadistic bastard makes these arrangements? Pay you. Pay the cops. Get leered at by louts. Get grunted at by some greasy, fat, unpleasant excuse for a woman you pay to stand behind that counter and treat people like shit. That’s your real business, isn’t it Dave? You get rich humiliating people at their own expense. Well, we’ll just see about that.

She splashes a little gasoline on the floor around the cage. Dave is agitated.

Dave: Now look, let’s not get too carried away here. You’re putting our lives at risk here. You don’t really want to do that.

Annie: Oh, but I do.

Pause. Annie fiddles with the office phone, switching on the speaker phone. Brief, loud dial tone. She activates the yard intercom. Her voice booms outside in the yard.

Annie: Moooooooooooose! Mooooose Markus is an asshole. Moose Markus is a total asshole. (She laughs and switches off the intercom.) This is fun. You want to call somebody? On the phone?

Dave: Like who?

Annie: Anybody you want. Maybe get a buddy to come down and help you out. Call the police if you feel like it.

Dave: You serious?

Annie: Sure I am.

Dave: I can’t reach the phone.

Annie activates the speaker phone again. Loud dial tone.

Annie: Gimme a number. I’ll dial it for you.

Dave: 972-9476?

She dials. Several rings. Voice of Billy over the speaker phone.

Billy: Hello.

Dave (shouting across the room): Billy, it’s Dave. I’m in a bit of a jam, down at the yard. I was wondering if you could come down and help me straighten things out.

Billy: What kind of a jam?

Dave: It’s kind of hard to explain. There’s a woman here. She’s not too happy. She’s talking about torching the place.

Billy: Give her a good smack in the head.

Annie fiddles with the surveillance monitor. Turns it on.

Dave: It’s not that simple, Billy. She’s kinda got the jump on me.

Gate and yard outside appear on monitor. Annie switches to the inside camera. She looks at herself and Dave on the monitor. Waves her arms to check that she’s seeing herself live.

Billy: You sound like you’re down a well.

Dave: I’m in the cooler, Billy. She’s got me locked in the cooler. She’s got a can of gasoline.

Annie: He’s not kidding, Billy. Come on down and have a look for yourself. Maybe bring a little barbecue sauce.

Dave: She’s nuts, Billy.

Billy: Has she got a gun?

Dave: I don’t think so. Just a goddamn can of gas. She’s a psycho.

Billy: How’d she get you into the cooler?

Dave: Billy, for fuck’s sake! It’s a long story. Just come on down here with a couple of the guys and talk some sense into this woman. Before it’s too late.

Billy: I don’t know, man, we got the game on.

Annie: He’s pissing his pants, Billy. You better get down here. Bring a couple of the guys. And a camera.

Billy: Hey, lady, be cool okay? Okay, we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Get this all sorted out.

Dial tone. Annie disconnects. Pause.

Annie: You called me a psycho.

Dave: You don’t want to be here when Billy gets here. You think I’m a rough customer. Wait ‘til you meet Billy.

Annie: What’s Billy gonna do? If he’s anything like you he’s probably a pussy too.

Dave: He’s a killer.
Annie: You think he might kill me.

Dave: Maybe worse.

Annie: How’s he gonna get in?

Dave: Sledgehammer would be my guess. You better fuck off out of here before he arrives.

Annie: How’s he going to get past the cops?

Dave: What cops?

Annie: If you weren’t so stupid you could have got yourself out of this with just a spanking.... Excuse
me just a moment. Psycho Girl will...be...right...
back.

She goes outside with the gas can. The guard dogs bark up a storm. After a minute, she returns, with the nearly empty can.

Dave: What?

Annie: Looks like Cindy’s really got the hots for you now. Finally. In fact, she’s burning up, hotter than she’s ever, ever been before, hotter than a firecracker.

Dave: What do you mean?

Annie: Cindy’s on fire for you!

Dave: What do you mean? What’d you do?

Annie: All I did was light the match. You supplied the motivation.

Dave: For what?

Annie: I set fire to your truck.

Dave: I don’t think so. Even you’re not that nuts.

Annie: Just look. Look. See for yourself.

Flicker of flames seen through window. She goes close to him.

Annie: Look me right in the eye. Your...truck...is...on...fire. I...set...fire...to...your...truck.

He listens, cranes his neck to see out the window. The flames flicker brighter. Crackling can be heard.

Dave: You crazy bitch, it’s true! My truck! Christ Almighty Jesus! My truck! (He shakes the fence violently.) Let me out. I got to put the fire out, I got to stop it. Let me out. Jesus!

Annie doesn’t move or speak. Dave starts to cry a little.

Dave: Please, Annie, I got to get out there. I’m sorry for any bad things I may have done to you. Please. Please. I live in that truck. That truck is my life.

Sirens in the distance, approaching.

Annie: Funny, isn’t it, when the shoe is on the other foot?

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ACT TWO (continued from the print version)

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Inside Dave’s office. Early winter morning light comes through the windows. Smell and noise of coffee brewing.

A couple of honks from the horn of a passing car.

Annie comes out of the washroom area, brushing her teeth, naked
under her coat. The floor is strewn with clothing, Dave’s and hers.
She tip-toes across the chilly floor on bare feet and pours two cups of coffee. She finds her socks and puts them on. She moves with the coffee to the couch and sits on the edge, beside Dave, who is asleep, snoring lightly, under a mound of coats, overalls and an old tarpaulin—for warmth. She drinks her coffee and gazes at him. She drifts into thought. Sighs.

Phone rings. Dave stirs. Annie decides to answer.

Annie: Hello, this is Annie. . . . O, really. . . . Well, I don’t know the answer to that, sir, I’ve only just waked up. . . . I don’t know. Soon, I would think. . . . My hostage is fine. He’s safe. He’s sleeping.

Dave, naked but for socks, sits up, listening, barely covering himself with his leather jacket.

Annie: Covers receiver. To Dave. The cops. They’re getting pretty itchy. Into the phone. . . . . Well, why don’t you do that? You’ve got the guns. Why don’t you bust in here right now and haul me off to some dungeon or other for the rest of my life? You can take my hostage to the cemetery while you’re at it.

Dave looks uneasy. Annie gestures to his coffee. Two honks from the horn of another car passing by.

Annie: No he isn’t. He’s alive and well. All I’m saying is if you start storming this place somebody’s liable to get killed. . . . . Say something Dave. She hits speakerphone.

Dave: Shouts. I’m okay. I’m alive.

Annie: (Switches speakerphone off. Listens. . . .) Believe me, I am pondering that. . . . . All I can say at this point is I’ve learned a valuable lesson: it doesn’t pay to make a fuss, even in a free country . . . . Well, I’m sorry! I wish none of us was in this predicament, but we are. I wish I hadn’t inconvenienced all you nice people, but I have. I’m just going to have to ask you to hold your bloody horses for a little while. Hangs up. Wraps her arms around Dave. O my, David, what a lovely man you are! That was so very, very nice; that was one good thing. Pause. You know what?

Dave: What?

Annie: I think you took me some places I’ve never been before.

Dave: Does that mean I won’t have to go to the cemetery?

Annie: It could mean that. Not right away anyway.

Phone rings.

Annie: Shit! Shit! Shit! Why won’t they leave us alone for a little while? What’s their hurry? I’m having my last supper for Christ’s sake!

Phone continues to ring. She answers it. More car honks.

Annie: Yes, what is it? What is it now? You want my head on a stake? Can’t wait to get back to your own private happiness? Leave me alone. Listens. Her face contorts. O honey, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I had no idea it was you. O honey, I wasn’t talking to you, I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t talk to you like that. I thought it was someone else, somebody completely different, somebody I really don’t want to talk to right now. . . . . Good. I’m glad. Thank you. You’re such a good boy. . . . O yeah, did you? I’m sorry about that, I saw it too, I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you . . . . I know that I have, darling, you’re just being sweet. Mommy’s gone and made a terrible fool of herself. . . . Oh! Did you really think so? Really? I’m so glad if you really think so. . . . You’re kidding! Was I? . . . . Is that what they said? No kidding around? . . . . Well, I’m glad somebody likes me! How’d you get this number? . . . . You’re so smart. I’m so proud of you.

Bullhorn: 2nd Cop.

2nd Cop Bullhorn: Mrs. Polito, this is the police. You have fifteen minutes to release your hostage and step outside the building. Do you read me? If you do not release your hostage and surrender to me in the next fifteen minutes, we’re coming in. Do you read me, Mrs. Polito? . . . . Please acknowledge, Mrs. Polito, or we will come in now.

Annie: Into phone. Mommy’s got to go, honey. Mommy’s in a lot of trouble but she loves you. I’ll call you back. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. . . Yes, I know what you mean, honey; it is like being in a movie, but it’s a pretty scary one.

2nd Cop Bullhorn: Last chance, Mrs. Polito.

Annie: Into phone. I’ve got to go. Love grandma. I’ll call back. Fumbles with intercom, speaks into it. Okay, okay, okay, I hear you. I “read” you. Stay back. I’m thinking about it. “Fifteen minutes.” I’ll let you know in fifteen minutes. I’m thinking about maybe giving myself up. Without a struggle. Don’t call me, though, I’ll call you. Switches off.

Another car horn or two.

Annie: I guess this is the end of the line.

Dave: Was that your kid on the phone?

Annie: Yeah, that was him. So sweet. Too bad his mother is a moron. Too bad she didn’t think as much about him as she did about herself. I’m a bad mother.

Dave: That’s what people do—think of themselves. It’s only natural.

Annie: I wish you could meet him.

Dave: If you were my mom, I’d be proud of you too.

Annie: If I were your mom, you’d have to poke your eyes out.

Dave doesn’t get her little joke.

Annie: Simon says there were people saying nice things about me on teevee this morning.

Dave: Smart people.

Annie: His grandma spoils him. I never let him watch teevee before he goes to school. Sobs, weeps.

Dave’s not good at giving comfort.

Annie: I guess we better get a move on.

Dave: We got a few minutes. Let’s finish our coffee first.

Annie sniffles. They sip coffee.

Dave: It might not be so bad.

Annie: How come?

Dave: It’s not like I’m going to press charges.

Annie: The cops’ll have plenty of charges of their own. They’ll throw the book at me.

They sip coffee.

Annie: Simon says I’m a movie star.

Dave: That’s what I say too. You sure look like a movie star.

Annie: I wish this was a movie. God, wouldn’t that be better! We could just go home after and lie by the pool in the hot sun—you could come over to my villa—or I could go over to yours. I’d quit complaining. I’d be happy.

Dave: What about me?

Annie: What about you?

Dave: I want to be happy too.

She gathers up the rest of her clothes, dresses, brushes her hair, looks at herself as best she can in a mirror.

Annie: Find your daughter. That’ll make you happy. And get a nice girlfriend. Get one who likes you at least half as much as I do.

Gathers up his clothes, heads into the washroom area.

Dave: Off. Calls. I want you to be my girlfriend.

Annie: Calls. How much fun will it be to have your girlfriend in jail?

Dave: Off.I know lots of guys visit chicks in jail—on a regular basis.

Annie: Calls. You should be in rehab.

Dave: Off. I don’t understand.

Annie: Sits, calls. What I don’t understand is how I could have loathed you so much for so long and like you as much as I do right now?

Dave: Off. Ummm, you’re making me wet. You really gonna give yourself up?

Annie: Calls. You think I’m giving up too easy?

Dave: Off. You’ve gone about as far as you can go.

Annie: Calls. What about my “principles”?

Dave: Off. My brother had principles. “Don’t take it lying down,” is what my brother used to say. “Only girls and homos take it lying down.” He’d get on my case and I’d curl up in a little ball. He’d kick my ass pretty good—teach me a lesson. If I stood up to him, tried to land a few, he’d go a bit easy on me. My brother was big and he was mean, but he was fair-minded.

Annie: Calls. Where is he now?

Dave: Off. Ran into somebody bigger and meaner. Got all the shit kicked right out of him.

Annie: Calls. Is he . . . .?

Dave: Off. Dead? Yeah, he’s pretty dead.

Annie: Considers, calls. I’m sorry.

Toilet flushes.

Dave: Off. You won’t hardly recognize me with clothes on.

He comes out, dressed. Horns are beeping more frequently now.

Annie: You’re right. I hardly know you.

Dave: I know you though. I know you pretty good.

Annie: That was easy.

He stands behind her, puts his hand on her shoulder.

Annie: If it was just me I might keep going. Puts her hand on his. I’m sorry about your brother.

Dave: He was born to die young. He was a pretty wild guy.

Annie: Like you?

Dave: Way wilder than me.

Car horns.

Annie: People sure do like to blow their horns a lot around here

Another couple of honks.

Dave: Rush hour.

Annie: We better hurry then.

Dave: One more for the road? Kiss. I’ll go first is probably safest. I’ll tell them not to shoot.

Annie: Are you disappointed in me?

Dave: For what?

Annie: Quitting.

Dave: You got on teevee for Christ’s sake. You got their attention. You stood up to them. You didn’t take it lying down. You think I want you to commit suicide?

Annie: I hope you will come and visit sometime.

Dave: You can count on that.

Annie: Rises. Alright, then.

They gather themselves. About ready to go out. Reluctant. More horns.

Annie: Okay, time to face the music. Switches on intercom. I’ll let them know we’re coming out. Amplified voice. This is Annie Polito here. Just wondering how you’d like us to handle this? So nobody gets hurt. Phone rings. Hang on, I think my son is calling me. I’ll just be a minute. Answers. Quickly. Simon, honey, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to give myself up to the police right now. Mr. Markus and I are just going out the door. Mommy loves you. I want you to be a very good boy . . . . Oh! I’m sorry. I thought it was my son. Who is this? . . . . Oh. It’s too bad you didn’t call sooner. I just announced I’m giving myself up, just this minute; it’s over. . . . . Really? . . . . Why would you want to do that? . . . Oh. ....Well, okay, in that case I guess I could wait if that’s what he wants, but you better talk to the police right away, they’re pushing real hard or me to come out right now. . . . Okay, then. I’ll wait. Hangs up. To Dave. Some woman from the Mayor’s office; says the Mayor’s on his way down here. Wants to talk to me before I surrender. Remembers intercom. Speaks into it. Amplified voice. I’m not coming out just yet. The Mayor’s coming. He’ll be here in a minute. He wants to talk to me. They’re going to call you. Hold on. Switches off. Well. Imagine that!

More horns. Dave is at the window, looking out. Annie is thinking.

Dave: There’s getting to be quite a crowd out there.

Annie: I wonder what he wants.

Dave: Who?

Annie: The Mayor.

Dave: You said you wanted to talk to him.

Annie: Well, yeah, but he said he wouldn’t.

They look out the window together. More horns.

Annie: Sounds like a wedding. At 7.30 in the morning.

Dave: Everybody’s in a hurry.

Annie: How come you’re not? You could be out there by now, safe and sound.

Dave: Sometimes you just got to sit back and face facts.

Annie: What kind of facts?

Dave: There’s about two-hundred-and fifty-thousand people on their way to work out there—for example. And there’s about two-hundred and fifty cars standing in no-standing zones and stopped in no-stopping zones and parked in no-parking zones—all waiting for Dave’s Towing to come hook them up at seventy-five dollars a crack. My trucks are sitting on one side of that gate and my drivers are waiting on the other. Sun’s shining but I’m not making any fucking hay. I accept that. The trade-off is I’m here with you. I buy that. For me, it’s a real good deal. That’s a fact.

Annie: Sometimes you say the nicest things.

Dave: You being sarcastic?

Annie: I am. But also I’m not.

Dave: Why don’t you make up your mind?

Annie: Can’t I have more than one thought at a time?

Dave: Yeah, sure, but you’re contradicting yourself.

Annie: I’m a girl. I’m a mass of contradictions.

Dave: I think I like you better in the dark.

Annie: Are you being sarcastic?

Dave: Yes and no.

Annie: Smart ass. Looking out. Shit, is that him? Getting out of the limo?

Dave: Looks pretty official.

Annie: He’s talking to Paula Dodd. She’s got a microphone shoved in his face.

Dave: Maybe we should turn on the teevee.

Annie: I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction—that bitch. It is—it’s him. He wants in. Christ I didn’t know he was so short. Open the gate. Dave does. Do you feel edgy?

Dave: I’m pretty smoothed out right now. Hungry, though. I could eat a fucking horse.

Annie: I feel edgy—very nervous. Shit, what am I going to say to him?

Dave: Tell him what you told me.

Annie: That was a long time ago.

Annie: Tell him what a racket it all is.

Annie: Do you think it’s a racket?

Dave: Sure it is. We look after the cops and they look after us. People pay up or they lose their licenses. It’s not worth their time to fight it. It’s extortion.

Annie: What’s he doing here?

Dave: There’s somebody with him.

Annie: Mayors never go anywhere by themselves.

Dave: Don’t take any shit, okay? He’s just a guy. All you did was break some laws. You didn’t do anything wrong.

Horns. Knock on the door. Dave opens it. MAYOR and GRETCHEN KLEIN enter. Dave bolts the door.

Mayor: Mrs. Polito? You had something you wanted to say to me?

Annie: I did but it’s too late now.

Mayor: You accused me of corruption—publicly. You demanded I come here. As a condition of ending this siege. I’m here. And now you say it’s too late?

Annie: I was just really, really angry before.

Horns.

Mayor: You’ve put me in a very difficult position.

Annie: Oh. I’m sorry. How did I do that?

Mayor: You’re either going to get shot or go to jail.

Annie: Well, yeah, I’m prepared for that.

Gretchen: That’s easy for you to say, but what about us?

Horns. Phone rings. Dave answers.

Dave: Dave’s Towing. . . . She can’t come to the phone right now, she’s talking to the Mayor . . . . Let me get your number, I’ll get her to call you back. . . . . Okay, okay, don’t piss your pants. Hangs up. Paula Dodd.

Gretchen: Please, please, please, Ms. Polito, do not say anything more to the press.

Dave: She can say whatever she wants. Who the fuck are you?

Annie: What do you mean, “What about us?”? I’m the one who’s in trouble.

Mayor: That’s my problem. Precisely.

Annie: How is me going to jail a problem for you?

Gretchen: Unless you’ve been living on Mars, Ms. Polito, you must know we are in the middle of a difficult election campaign. You are engaged in criminal acts. The Mayor is well known for his tough stance on crime.

Annie: So we heard. To Mayor. We saw you on teevee. Oh, I’m sorry, this is Dave Markus, my friend and hostage. Dave’s the owner of this place.

Gretchen and the Mayor exchange looks. Gretchen’s phone rings. She answers, discreetly, murmuring in the background.

Horns.

Annie: I voted for you in the last election.

Mayor: Shakes her hand. I’m very happy to hear that. I trust I can count on your support this time around?

Annie: I don’t think they let you vote in jail.

Dave: I know people that vote in jail. They do it for smokes.

Gretchen: Off phone now. Ms. Polito, we don’t have a lot of time. The Mayor is here to bring this incident to a safe and satisfactory conclusion. You told me on the telephone, you were about to release your hostage and give yourself up. Is that true?

Dave: Depends.

Gretchen: Depends on what? This is really none of your business.

Dave: Who the fuck are you to say that? You don’t know fuck about what’s my business.

Gretchen: Crimes have been committed here—in an election year! You are the victim, Mr. Markus, not the agent. We’re not here to discuss the situation with you.

Dave: You’re awful fucking pushy.

Mayor: No need to antagonize, Gretchen. We’re all in this together.

Dave: Annie hasn’t done anything wrong.

Gretchen: Arson, kidnapping, forcible confinement, public mischief, uttering death threats—for starters. We’re getting a hundred calls an hour insisting the Mayor denounce these crimes and press for the stiffest possible penalties.

Annie: How stiff? Do you think?

Gretchen: A long hard stretch in federal penitentiary would be my guess.

Annie: Sucks in a big breath and sobs it out. It’s my own fault. I deserve it. But what about my little boy? He needs a mother. He deserves a mother. He doesn’t deserve this.

Dave: What about me? Don’t I deserve something? Phone rings. Dave answers, listens. What? . . . .We’re closed. Call back tomorrow. . . . . How should I know? Take a taxi. Hangs up. Okay then, what about me?

Horns.

Gretchen: What about you? What kind of hostage are you anyway? Why don’t you just walk out that door? It doesn’t look like anybody’s planning to stop you.

Dave: I could. Nobody’s confining me here by force. You can see that. I could walk out that door anytime I want. That was my truck that got burnt and I have no idea how the fire got started. Nobody was kidnapped; I came here of my own free will. This woman is my girlfriend and we’re just having a very bad quarrel.

Mayor and Gretchen exchange looks.

Gretchen: Is this true?

Annie: He’s lying. All this is entirely my responsibility.

Dave: We had sex last night right there on that couch. I’ve seen her naked. I know what she feels like inside.

Annie: Dave, shut up. You’re being disgusting.

Dave: See what I mean. She loves to fight.

Annie: I can’t believe you’re saying this.

Horns.

Mayor: Hold on, hold on a minute, there might be something in this.

Annie: I’m not his girlfriend. He’s my hostage, my prisoner. I never even met him before yesterday. I’m the one who did this. I did this all by myself.

Gretchen: Yes, Ms. Polito, that may well be, but that’s not what Mr. Markus is saying. And it may not be what the world wants to hear.

Annie: I did this all by myself.

Mayor: You heard Gretchen say we’re getting a hundred calls an hour wanting us to throw the book at you. We’re also getting five hundred calls an hour supporting you in your action.

Gretchen: Don’t you hear them out there? “Honk if you love Annie Polito. Honk if you want free parking.” People all over the city are blowing their horns for you—like you were all of a sudden some kind of Joan of Arc.

Mayor: The math is simple. If I’m going to win this election I can’t afford to alienate your supporters. I need your help. Perhaps there’s some way I could help you in return.

Annie: I did this. I did something. I did it by myself. I’m not going to deny it.

Gretchen: We don’t want you to deny it. You’ve got very high approval ratings. We just need to find some way to buy into them.

Mayor: It’s quite true that bureaucrats and by-law enforcement officers can be overzealous. You’ve drawn our attention to that fact. If I’m re-elected I plan to do something about it—make them more “user-friendly” maybe.

Annie: Shrieks at Dave. You embarrassed me—in front of the Mayor—and Gretchen. I’m very, very disappointed in you. You have no discretion. You’re not a gentleman. Gentlemen do not kiss and tell. I don’t want to be portrayed as that man’s girlfriend.

Gretchen: Think of your son, Ms. Polito—Annie. May I call you Annie?

Dave: Don’t go off the deep end—I’m on your side. I never said I was a gentleman.

Gretchen: Comforting Annie, touching her. Maybe he’s the criminal, Annie. If he’s interfered with you in any way he may be the one who belongs in jail.

Mayor: That won’t play well, Gretchen. Ms. Polito’s instincts are right. Nobody loves a hapless victim. This has got to be about parking. Parking is what’s driving this.

Gretchen: You’re right. We need to come out strong on parking. Parking is the hot-button issue here The Mayor is right.

Honks.

Annie: People are saying nice things about me?

Gretchen: You’ve touched a chord. But you’re in a tight spot. We’ve got to find a way to get you out of it. In plenty of time for the six o’clock news.

Mayor: It’s about parking, yes, but it’s also about justice. That’s what Annie says she wants and we’re going to help her get it.

Gretchen: Annie, listen to me. Is there a husband in the picture?

Annie: I don’t know where he is. I haven’t heard from him in seven years.

Gretchen makes a note in her electronic notebook. The Mayor ruminates. Honks.

Mayor: Consider this. If you and your ‘boyfriend’ did all this together—as a publicity stunt, say—to call attention to some ‘worthy cause’, maybe we could get your charge reduced to public mischief.

Gretchen: You wouldn’t go to prison. Maybe just a few months in a detention centre. Your son could visit. You’d be out in no time. You’d be together again with your son. You’d get bail.

Mayor: We’ll sell your cause as parking regulation reform—in the public interest—long overdue. That’s what you want isn’t it? That’s what you’re after? I can identify with that. Apparently a lot of people can identify with that.

Horns.

Dave: You mean I should say I burnt my own fucking truck. Who’s gonna believe that?

Gretchen: You did it for love, Dave. Love is a very powerful incentive.

Mayor: I’ll put together a task force on parking reform and put Annie on it. She can chair the goddamn thing.

Annie: I never said I wanted free parking.

Gretchen: That’s good. You’ve got an open mind. You need that on a task force.

Mayor: A law-abiding, hard-working, loving, single-mother and her loyal, selfless companion risk all rather than submit to arbitrary measures.

Dave: Who’s going to pay for my truck?

Gretchen: We’ll help with that, give you a contract. There are ways.

Mayor: So there’s the story. Legitimate citizen’s protest that went a a bit too far. I believe it. You saw something wrong and spoke up. Your Mayor was listening and intervened to bring this standoff to an end. I’ll help you, Annie. I’ll help you both. We’ll all work together to make our city better. We’ll get justice. Okay with you?

Annie: I won’t have to go to prison?

Mayor: Not if you’re careful what you say and do—listen to Gretchen. Let her manage the message, she’s very good at it. Okay?

Annie hesitates.

Gretchen: It’s not like you’ve got a whole lot of choices.

Annie: Considers, looks at Dave. What do you think?

Dave: Sounds like a good deal. It’s pretty much what you wanted.

Annie: They’ll arrest you too.

Dave: To Mayor. We do short time. I get a new truck. You listen to what Annie has to say. That’s the deal?

Gretchen: It can’t be a ‘deal’ exactly. But you can count on us to do the right thing whenever it’s in the public interest, as this obviously is. Trust us.

Dave: You know what happens to people who lie to people like me?

Gretchen: You’ve got to stop talking like that. This is a love story. Annie Polito’s love interest can’t be a brute.

Annie: To Dave. I hope you heard that.

Dave: To Mayor. You’re not just making promises to get elected?

Mayor: I’m simply not that kind of politician.

Dave: But aren’t you abandoning your own principles here? I mean whatever happened to “tough on crime”?

Mayor: The man who places principle above power betrays his principles.

Gretchen: Dave? Are you with us on this?

Dave: Uh . . . if Annie’s okay with it, it’s okay with me.

Annie: Promise me though, if you’re going to be my boyfriend, you’ll start behaving a little more like a human being.

Dave: If that’s what you really want, I’ll do my best. But you’ll have to explain to me what is so fucking terrific about human beings.

Annie: My little boy is a human being. And I want you to be nice to him.

Gretchen: Okay, good story. All you have to do is stick to it. The Mayor will go out and speak with the press. Then he’ll call on you to surrender yourselves and you’ll come out—together. The press will want to talk to both of you, but whatever you do, don’t say anything. Just thank the Mayor for his intervention and we’ll call a media conference just as soon as we can get you out of jail.

Mayor: Don’t make any statement to the police. We’ll get you a lawyer and Gretchen will work on getting bail.

Gretchen: I’ll put some words together for you—for the media. We’ll go over them. We’ll all be on the same page.

Mayor: Partners then?

Annie: Hesitates. Okay.

Handshakes all round.

Dave: I really do love this girl.

Gretchen: Good. That’s the idea. You’re on the right track.

Horns.

Mayor: I think this town’s about to get a brand-new favourite couple.

Gretchen: We’re going out now. You guys stay put ‘til you hear the Mayor on the bullhorn. Then come out together—holding hands might be nice. And just remember—both of you—next to the Mayor, your best friend right now is, “No comment”.

Mayor: Shaking hands again. Smile. Be happy. You’re doing a great thing for our city. I feel very good about this.

Annie: I just want to say . . . .

Gretchen: Save your thanks for outside. Give the Mayor a hug. He’ll like that. So will the cameras.

Annie: Oh!

Gretchen: What?

Annie: No exclusive for Paula Dodd, okay?

Gretchen: Don’t you like her?

Annie: No.

Gretchen: Neither do I.

Gretchen hugs Annie.

Mayor: Off we go. To Dave and Annie. See you outside.

Buoyed up, Gretchen and the Mayor go out.

Annie ponders. Dave paces. Honking continues, growing more frequent. Some crowd noise.
———————————

Dave: Breaking the silence. One thing is, this way I won’t look so stupid. I’ll be able to show my face. Punches the air. Hot fucking dog! Dials a phone number. Listens. Annie watches him. Billy, you’re not going to believe this. . . . Naw, it’s all cool. Things are sort of back to normal. . . . . You know who was just here? . . . . The fucking Mayor was just here—talking to me—for half a fucking hour. Negotiating . . . . With me, dickhead! No shit. Turn on the teevee. I’m gonna be on in about five minutes. . . . . Naw, naw, look, turn on your teevee. I’ll tell you all about it later. . . . I don’t know. I may have to go to jail for a couple of days. I’ll tell you all about it later. Go watch me on teevee, go on. Hangs up.

Dave spruces up. Annie watches him.

Dave: Maybe I’ll sell the business—or half of it. Should be worth a whole whack more now, with all this free publicity. Maybe you and I go for a trip out west on the bike—look for Veronica.

Annie: I’m not sure we’re out of the woods just yet.

Dave: Sure we are. They need us. Look how fast they grabbed on to my idea. They’ll deliver. They’re desperate.

Annie: What about Simon?

Dave: What about him?

Annie: Would we take him with us? If we went out west?

Dave: I thought his gramma looked after him.

Annie: Dave, I don’t want to be your ‘old lady’.

Dave: What? What do you mean? We all agreed.

Annie: I don’t think so.

Dave: I’m confused.

Annie: Yes you are.

Dave: What?

Annie: This isn’t about you.

Dave: I don’t get it.

Annie: It’s about me too. It’s about both of us. That’s the deal. Do you even care what I think?

Dave: Well, hey, yeah, that’s what I thought too—both of us. I was just talking shorthand is all.

Annie: Well you can shove your shorthand up your ass; that’s not the way it’s going to work. If you and I are going to be together, I want to mean something to you.

Dave: You mean lots to me. Like I’m nuts about you, for Christ’s sake. I don’t understand what you’re saying.

Annie: Well you better start.

Dave puzzles.

Dave: We could get a sidecar for the kid.

Annie: Ask me if I’d like to go out west with you and Simon to look for your little girl.

Dave: I did already.

Annie: No you didn’t.

Dave: Look, if you’re going to get pushy with me, forget it. I hate pushy women. Shit, Annie, I’m going to jail for you. Cut me a little slack, why don’t ya? .

Annie (Suddenly): Shit!

Dave: What?

Annie: Dials a phone number. Listens. Shit!

Dave: What?

Annie: Nobody home. Into phone. Mom, listen, tell Simon I called. I promised. Tell him I’ll call next time I’m near a phone. Tell him I think I’m going to see him soon. Love you. Hangs up. Thinks. To Dave. You’re right. I’m sorry. I was only thinking of myself.

Dave: You been pushing me around pretty good you know. You don’t want me pushing back. I’m a lot bigger than you are.

Annie: Laughs. Are you threatening me?

Dave: No.

Annie: Good. Then I won’t threaten you.

Dave: With what?

Annie: Gasoline. . . . mental cruelty.

Honks. He studies her.

Dave: You think very complicated thoughts.

Annie: Sometimes I wish I did; sometimes I wish I didn’t. It’s hard to be happy.

Dave: Would you like for us to go out west together to look for Veronica, and take your son with us—have him go with us—like all go together sort of thing?

Annie: I would like that very much.

Dave: Phew! This is hard. You want to smoke a joint?

Annie: Not right now.

Dave: Hesitates. Did we just have a fight?

She starts to get ready to go.

Annie: I feel like a cork. I feel like a smoker in a doorway. I feel like I laid an egg, but somebody else is sitting on it. What happened? One minute I was doing something; the next minute things were only being done to me again. . . . Sorry.

Dave: About what?

Annie: “Pissing and moaning.”

Dave: This is way too fucking deep for me. What should I do? What do you want me to do?

Annie: Wraps her arms around him. You could kiss me some more?

Dave: It’s hard in the daylight.

He holds her close and kisses the top of her head. Tableau.

Mayor: Bullhorn. Annie. Dave. This is the Mayor speaking. Come out now. Let’s bring this chapter to a close. You’ve made your point. It’s time to for you both to come out, just as you promised me you would. I hear you, Annie and Dave, I hear what you’re saying. Come out now. Everything’s going to be alright.

Horns. Crowd noise. Dave and Annie start out. She goes back for her purse.

Annie: Shouts, over the din. Just be nice to me. I’ll never complain about anything again—not as long as I live.

Dave: Shouts. Just tell me what you want. You got it.

Annie: Shouts. It doesn’t work that way. You have to figure it out.

Dave: Shouts. Why?

Annie: Shouts. I never seem to know what I want. Not ‘til I get it.

Dave: Shouts. Give me a hint. Tell me one thing you want.

Annie: Shouts. I’d like to walk to the west coast. I’d like us to be pedestrians.

Dave: Shouts. What, no vehicle? Why don’t you just cut my nuts off?

Annie: Shouts. No, no, no, no, no, no. That I do not want. You’re not getting off that easy.

She takes his hand and they go out. The din of car horns grows louder and louder. The crowd chants, “Annie. Annie. . . .”

Phone rings and continues to ring.

END