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It is night in Prohibition-era, pre-Depression Chicago, circa late 1920’s. CHARLIE DEEGAN stands in the doorway of an all-night coffee shop, nameless and generic. Other than CHARLIE and the WAITER, the cafe is empty. It’s a spartan place, with incandescent lights that crackle and a wide, horse-shoe shaped counter that takes up most of the café’s space. The coffee machines on the back wall click and wheeze from time to time.
WAITER: Hey pal, are you staying or going?
CHARLIE: I know you?
WAITER: What?
CHARLIE: Are we pals?
WAITER: Listen, buddy, we don’t take bums here. If you’re
soused you’re gonna have to go someplace else.
CHARLIE: I ain’t a bum. [He moves inside and lets the door
slam behind him.] I only wish I was soused. I
could use a drink.
WAITER: Well, best I can do you for you is some coffee,
mister. You look like maybe you could use some.
You wanna sit awhile and warm up?
CHARLIE: Just a minute ago you didn’t like my looks.
WAITER: I guess you’re okay. You’re right, at any
rate, you’re definitely dry. Anyway, nobody else
has been in here all night.
CHARLIE: Gets lonely working graveyard, don’t it?
WAITER: Sure does. I read my girl’s letters to pass the
time, but you can’t do that all night.
[CHARLIE takes a seat at the far end of the bar, stage right, draping his coat over the stool beside him. He suit, slightly too small, pinches visibly against his back. He sits hunched over, all angles.]
CHARLIE: Got a girl, do you?
WAITER: Sure. Back in Greenville. We’re saving to get
married.
CHARLIE: Married? Well, good for you, kid. Guess you’ve
got it hit on all sixes. [A pause.] Think I’ll take a cup of coffee after all. And pie. You got any pie, kid?
WAITER: There’s some apple left.
CHARLIE: I’ll take that. Nothing like apple pie for a
midnight snack.
WAITER: Nothing like a midnight snack at three a.m. [Heads
to the kitchen.]
CHARLIE: Yeah, I guess.
[CHARLIE takes his hat off and lays it on the counter
beside him. He runs a hand down his face, exhausted, then stares around the cafe. After a few moments he pulls a single sheet of pink stationary from his breast pocket.]
[The WAITER emerges from the kitchen carrying a slice of pie on a plate. He takes a coffeepot from one of the urns on the wall and brings both over to CHARLIE.]
WAITER: Coffee’s not fresh, so I warmed up your pie for
you.
[CHARLIE nods, not really hearing him.]
WAITER: What’s that?
[CHARLIE folds the paper and puts it away.]
CHARLIE: Laundry list, kid.
[As CHARLIE sips his coffee, a man, JAKE, and a woman, NESSA, enter the café, laughing loudly. Both are richly dressed, although NESSA’s dress is risqué for the time. JAKE is very obviously drunk.]
JAKE: Hey, two coffees here. Have a seat, baby.
Evening.
CHARLIE: More like morning.
JAKE: No, no, no. My daddy always said it’s not morning
till you wake up. We’re a long way off from that,
right baby?
NESSA: Sure thing, Jake.
JAKE: We’ve been taking the edge off all night, down at
the Dill Pickle. Nessa here thought maybe we should put a little back on.
CHARLIE: Beats shaking apart, I guess.
[The WAITER brings two coffees.]
CHARLIE: That’s not fresh.
JAKE: Hey, this time of night, I’m just happy it’s
there. Besides, I’ve got ways. [He produces a five
dollar bill and waves it at the WAITER.] Kid,
here’s a tip. Why don’t you go spend a little time
in the back?
WAITER: Sure. Wow, thanks! You want any more pie,
mister?
CHARLIE: No thanks. Go write your girl.
[WAITER exits. JAKE produces a shiny flask.]
JAKE: You’re not a cop, right?
CHARLIE: I’m a painter. Spare a drop?
[JAKE hands over the flask, and Charlie takes a long swig directly from it. Reluctantly, he passes it back.]
CHARLIE: Yeah, that’s the real McCoy. Sorry. I haven’t
had any in about a week.
JAKE: You have a connection?
CHARLIE: A guy with a friend of a friend who brings it
from Canada through Detroit a few times a month,
but lately he hasn’t shown. My stomach ain’t
settled in days. I can’t sit still. See? [He
holds up his hands, which tremble.] Days. Can I
have a little more of that?
JAKE: Hold on to it for a while, pal. Looks like you
need it more than we do.
CHARLIE: Good man.
NESSA: That all it takes to keep those hands steady?
CHARLIE: You got something to say to me, honey?
[NESSA lights a cigarette.]
NESSA: Nope. It’s none of my business if that’s why she
walked out on you.
CHARLIE: Who the hell is this?
JAKE: This lovely creature is Miss Vanessa Chambers.
She runs her mouth more than is healthy, but she
makes up for it in other ways.
NESSA: Yeah, I’m all kinds of talented.
CHARLIE: You look it.
JAKE: Hey.
CHARLIE: Sorry. I didn’t mean anything.
NESSA: It’s all right, Jake. Hey, where are we?
CHARLIE: Chicago.
NESSA: Funny man. I meant, what neighborhood?
CHARLIE: Just south of Towertown.
NESSA: Jake, don’t you have to collect from Donny this
week?
JAKE: Aw, baby, I don’t want to work tonight. This is
your night.
NESSA: You know the old man will definitely be there,
though. It’ll take you two
minutes once you get
there, you oughta go and get it over with.
JAKE: Come on, no.
NESSA: Hey, collect from him tonight, and tomorrow you
can take me
someplace really swanky.
JAKE: You didn’t have a good time tonight?
NESSA: At one point I was drinking watered-down gin out
of a tin cup in some
dank basement.
JAKE: And?
NESSA: I’m saying, I’ve had better times.
JAKE: Fine. This guy even looks at you the wrong way,
you scream.
NESSA: I’ll throw scalding coffee on him.
JAKE: Right.
[JAKE collects his hat and coat and leaves. For a short time, there is silence.]
NESSA: So you know my name, what’s yours?
CHARLIE: Charlie Deegan. Who’s the suit?
NESSA: That’s Jake Malfalda. Know him?
CHARLIE: Not as I recall.
NESSA: He’s been in the papers.
CHARLIE: Big shot, huh?
NESSA: I guess that depends on how you look at it. He’s
with Capone.
CHARLIE: Explains the booze. [Clears his throat.] Ah,
this place ain’t Capone’s, is it?
NESSA: No, not over here on the North Side. We only
stopped in for a break. Jake doesn’t normally do
business on the weekend.
CHARLIE: It’s Thursday. [She shrugs.] How’s he treat you?
Being a gangster and all.
NESSA: He treats me fine. He’s kind of a flat tire, but
he likes to throw his money around. He likes to
show me off.
CHARLIE: I’m asking because your powder’s a little thin
there on your cheek.
[She produces a mirror and inspects her face.]
NESSA: It’s just this light, it’s awful. It’s unnatural
for this time of night. There’s nothing there.
CHARLIE: Whatever you say.
NESSA: That’s right. [She softens a little.] Look, he’s
a meal ticket. There’s always some kind of price
for that. Anyway, the others would step in if
he ever went too far.
CHARLIE: So, what, you only date Capone fellas?
NESSA: It’s a living.
CHARLIE: I guess it would be.
NESSA: What’s that supposed to mean?
CHARLIE: Nothing. Don’t listen to me, honey, what do I
know? I’m broke and bitter. You look like you
get by.
NESSA: I do. So, no kidding, why’d she leave you?
CHARLIE: How do you know about that?
NESSA: Your shirt’s dirty and your tie doesn’t go.
Why’d she leave?
CHARLIE: Well, it wasn’t ‘cause I beat her.
NESSA: Listen pal, you’re here alone practically crying
into your coffee at three in the morning just
because you can’t find a bottle. I’m not putting
any bets on you being a better man than he is.
CHARLIE: All right, all right. Sorry.
[Pause.]
NESSA: So, was it the booze that drove her away?
CHARLIE: No, she didn’t mind the booze. I paint different
with it. Better. It’s got to the point where I
need it in me to manage anything good. We always
had money around, and she liked that. No, she
left me for a job singin’ in New York.
NESSA: You didn’t want to go to New York?
CHARLIE: I might’ve gone. She never gave me the chance.
NESSA: Can I see her note?
CHARLIE: What note?
NESSA: The pink one hanging out of your shirt, honey.
[He hands it over.]
NESSA: This is pretty harsh. ‘Outside interests,’ it
says. What, were you fooling around?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
NESSA: Well, you shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t
have gotten caught,
anyway.
[CHARLIE takes a long swig from the flask.]
CHARLIE: Lots of things out there you shouldn’t
get caught doing.
NESSA: Like what?
CHARLIE: Nothing.
NESSA: No, come on, tell me. Who am I gonna tell?
‘Outside interests.’ What’s that mean?
CHARLIE: Who said it’s any of your business?
NESSA: I’m trying to decide if I’m on her side or yours.
CHARLIE: What the hell for?
NESSA: I’m bored. It’s a slow night. No...I don’t
know, maybe I’m interested.
CHARLIE: You really want to know?
NESSA: I really do.
CHARLIE: Fine. About four months ago, I hired a model.
First time I use a model in my life, and
I fall in love.
NESSA: How predictable.
CHARLIE: It is, right? So one night when Lily was
supposed to be doing a show, she walks in on us. She stayed a couple weeks after that, but it was over pretty fast. That’s all there was to it.
NESSA: Hm. Look, you’re right, it’s none of my business,
but she sounds like a high-maintenance lady.
CHARLIE: Really?
NESSA: You’re an artist with a model. She’s a singer
with a manager. Odds on you were both screwing
around. And even if she wasn’t...I don’t know.
I wouldn’t leave a guy for that. Not the first time, anyway.
CHARLIE: You’re the forgiving type?
NESSA: Ha. No. I just think people oughta get a second
chance, if only ‘cause it hardly ever happens.
Obviously, she wouldn’t agree.
CHARLIE: It wasn’t that simple.
NESSA: Why not?
CHARLIE: I ruined everything. I let her down. I...I
wasn’t what she needed, in a man.
NESSA: Couldn’t raise the flag?
CHARLIE: No. I mean yes, I could, and no, that wasn’t it.
NESSA: Then what do you... Hm. Honey, what was your
model’s name?
CHARLIE: What does that matter?
[Pause.]
NESSA: I’m curious.
CHARLIE: You know, in your line of work, you really should
know by now which questions not to ask.
NESSA: That’s true. And I do know which ones not to
ask, but in my line of work I also know there’s
nothing out there I haven’t come across before.
And sweetheart, it’s worth mentioning to you,
considering my line of work, I’m in no position
to sit here and judge anybody.
CHARLIE: You’re a sweet girl.
NESSA: You just don’t know me very well.
CHARLIE: His...my model...his name was Jonathan.
NESSA: Yeah?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
NESSA: Caught her by surprise, did it?
CHARLIE: I’ll say. Anyway, we had a hell of a fight. She
said some things, and
then I said some things.
I guess she’d thought it was the real thing for
us. She stuck around for a while, trying to
change things, but this job came along and she
ran right off. Maybe you’re right, maybe there
was someone else.
NESSA: So why are you so broken up about it? If you
went off and fell for this guy—
CHARLIE: Not so damn loud, okay?
NESSA: There’s almost nobody here.
CHARLIE: [Darkly.] Almost nobody’s more than enough.
NESSA: Okay.
CHARLIE: She wasn’t just a smokescreen. She was a nice
girl. It got to be
good, having her around, just
not...just not good enough. And now I can’t do
what I want, because without her living with me
people start asking a whole lot of questions they
didn’t before.
NESSA: And Jonathan?
CHARLIE: Ran for it, right after she found out. Haven’t
seen him since.
NESSA: Aw, jeez. You shouldn’t try to drown that in a
bottle, honey. You’ll die long before it does.
Can’t you find him?
CHARLIE: It’s a big town. There’s lots of easy places to
hide out. He thought, we both thought, she’d
give us away. To tell the truth, I’ve been holed
up in my room most days since then, going through
a lot of paint.
NESSA: Anything good?
CHARLIE: Not a damn thing. Whoever said the best art
comes from suffering got it all wrong.
NESSA: Yeah, but your lady got the short end of the
stick too, didn’t she? No girl would want to sit
around pretending to play house forever.
CHARLIE: No. I guess we both had our troubles.
NESSA: Not that I don’t feel bad for you.
CHARLIE: Yeah. I mean, thanks. So whose side are you on?
NESSA: Oh, yours, definitely. Your girl sounds like she
knows how to land on her feet.
CHARLIE: But not me?
NESSA: You’re a hard luck case. They’ve always been my
weakness.
CHARLIE: Lucky me.
[The WAITER sticks his head back inside, then comes out of the kitchen with a coffeepot. Charlie hurriedly hides the flask.]
WAITER: You folks want refills?
NESSA: Sure thing.
CHARLIE: Sure.
NESSA: What time do you start selling breakfast?
WAITER: Whenever the cook shows up. Usually around
seven.
NESSA: Well, let’s hope I’m long gone by then.
WAITER: Need anything else?
CHARLIE: No thanks, kid.
[WAITER exits.]
CHARLIE: I hate this time of night.
NESSA: Really? I thought you artists were supposed
to be night owls.
CHARLIE: We don’t all have a secret handshake, you know.
All you’re
‘supposed’ to be is able to paint, and
these days that’s not me. I used to love this,
being up at three, four in the morning. Everybody who’s going to bed is already there, and nobody’s gotten up to go to work yet. Four a.m. is really the dead hour, you know? I used to think it was something special. If something was happening at four in the morning, you knew it was gonna be something interesting just ‘cause it was going on.
NESSA: But not now?
CHARLIE: No. Now I know it’s just dead, and that’s how
cities work. Only people who have nothing going
for them are awake now.
NESSA: Speak for yourself.
CHARLIE: No. You and I are nothing like the people at home
in bed right now. You’ve gotta admit that.
They’re sleeping sound through the night right now, and they’re gonna get up ready for work tomorrow without ever thinking about what they mighta missed. To them, we’re just stories in the papers waiting to happen, stories about...I don’t know, arrests made, bodies found.
NESSA: Planning a bad night?
CHARLIE: When isn’t it a bad night?
NESSA: I guess that whiskey’s kickin’ in.
CHARLIE: About damn time, too. Too bad I’m not home, my
hands are almost steady enough to paint. [Pause.] So, I told you a secret. It’s your turn.
NESSA: To tell you a secret?
CHARLIE: Sure.
NESSA: I don’t have any.
CHARLIE: Come on. Everybody has secrets. Especially...
NESSA: ‘Especially’ what? The kind of girl out with a
guy like him at four a.m.? The kind of girl in
my line of work?
CHARLIE: Well, yeah.
NESSA: You don’t have to have anything over me. Who am
I gonna rat you to?
CHARLIE: Doesn’t matter. Come on. We’re just two people
having coffee. Give me something.
NESSA: Okay. All right, you really wanna know something
nobody knows?
CHARLIE: Yeah
NESSA: All right. Here it is: I’ve got the pox. Syphilis. You’re the only one I’ve
ever told.
CHARLIE: Oh, God. Nessa.
NESSA: I know. Listen, it’s all right. You don’t have
to try to come up with anything to say.
CHARLIE: How do you know?
NESSA: I thought I was pregnant. The mission doctor
said I wasn’t, but then he found this.
CHARLIE: You went to a mission doctor?
NESSA: I couldn’t go any place respectable. Jake
might’ve found out. The Outfit’s got eyes
everywhere.
CHARLIE: What are you going to do?
NESSA: What do you mean?
CHARLIE: Well, do you have any money? Can you go
someplace, some
hospital?
NESSA: Oh. Yeah, I have a little holed away. I’ll die
someplace decent. Not that
there’ll be enough left upstairs for me to realize.
CHARLIE: Oh, God. That’s so awful.
NESSA: Yeah, well, I was never exactly planning on a
happy retirement.
CHARLIE: What about Jake?
NESSA: What about him?
CHARLIE: Couldn’t you give it to him?
NESSA: Of course. I probably already have.
CHARLIE: Well, shouldn’t you tell him?
NESSA: That’s sweet. I told you you just didn’t know me
well enough. He wouldn’t do it for me. For all
I know I got it from him. Why should I tell him
and lose everything? [She hesitates.
Intoxicated by telling him what she already has,
she reveals more.] Wanna hear a bigger secret?
CHARLIE: Bigger than that?
NESSA: Mm-hm. This time you really can’t tell anybody.
We could both get hurt.
CHARLIE: What is it?
NESSA: I’m working my way up the organization. I’m
going to get out of the game soon, but not before
I get Capone.
CHARLIE: What the hell are you talking about?
NESSA: Nobody else is ever gonna get him. Look at the
Purple Gang. Moran’s goons are dropping right
and left. Eliot Ness is a joke in the papers.
Capone owns everyone and everything. No one ever
gets in, no one ever gets close.
CHARLIE: Except girls.
NESSA: Right. And I’m going to be the girl who gets
Capone, and nobody’s ever gonna know.
CHARLIE: I mean, you’re right, he carries the whole town
around in his vest pocket, but so what? He sends milk to half the schools in the city. He’s not all bad. What’d he do to you?
NESSA: We’ve never met.
CHARLIE: Than why?
[She seems to think it over.]
NESSA: No. It’s too big a secret.
CHARLIE: Who could I tell?
NESSA: Lots of people. I have reasons, good ones, but if I told you I’d be putting other people at risk, not just you and me.
CHARLIE: Okay.
NESSA: I can tell you this much, because I feel sure
you’ll understand this part. You’re right, you
and I are a lot alike. The difference is, you
can hide what you are and I never can. If you
had the cash, you could leave town anytime you
wanted. You can walk down a street and choose
who gets to see what side of you. I can never do
that. I can’t go anywhere alone. I can’t wear
what I want or say anything without watching what
it is and who I’m saying it to.
CHARLIE: Except me.
NESSA: Well, this is different. You’re different. And
it’s not that I didn’t go into all this with my
eyes open. I did. And I have a little money.
I’ve got dresses and coats and I eat better than
half the city. I know everybody. I live a good
life in a town where most girls don’t, and the
way I do that, that’s my job. [Pause.] I just
didn’t know how trapped I’d get.
CHARLIE: Trapped?
NESSA: It’s a job, but it’s become my whole life. It’s
all I’m ever going to be to anyone.
CHARLIE: And you blame Scarface?
NESSA: No, not particularly. If it wasn’t his
organization it’d be somebody else’s. It’s just
his bad luck to be the one at the top now, when
that’s what I’m aiming for.
CHARLIE: I don’t understand you. If he never did
anything to hurt you…
NESSA: I didn’t say that. I just said we hadn’t met.
CHARLIE: What did he-
NESSA: No. I told you, I’m not gonna talk about that.
CHARLIE: Okay, fine. But how can you be so...you’re not
saying ‘if’ I get Capone, you’re saying ‘when’.
NESSA: What’s your point?
CHARLIE: You’re sure about this.
NESSA: Yes, I am.
CHARLIE: But how can you be?
NESSA: You really don’t see it?
CHARLIE: No.
NESSA: [with difficulty] This is the only choice I have
left. I can slink off quietly to die, and not be
a bother to anybody, and when they talk about me afterwards they’ll all say what a good sport I was. I’m tired of being a good sport. It’s all I’ve ever done, it’s how I’ve gotten as far up as I have. I’m tired of going by their rules and playing to their expectations. I have a chance to actually do something with my life, and it might be the very last one I get. [She hesitates again.] I trust you not to say anything to Jake. He’d kill me in a second.
[CHARLIE studies his coffee.]
CHARLIE: Well, I guess that’s why I asked for a secret.
Now neither of us can talk about the other.
Besides, I have a feeling I’d get about the same
from Jake if he knew. How can you be so sure
you’ll get to Capone?
NESSA: Honey, I’ve been doing this a while. I know what
I’m doing, and I’ve done my homework. I’ve heard
what he likes. I’ll get there, and I’ll stay
till I’m sure.
[JAKE returns, but doesn’t sit down.]
JAKE: Sure about what?
[NESSA is frightened, unsure of how long he’s been standing there, but she covers well.]
NESSA: Hey. I’m telling him about my system at the
track.
JAKE: Oh, no. Don’t listen to a word she says, pal. You don’t exactly look
loaded, and she’s got rotten luck.
NESSA: I’ll say.
[A pause as NESSA and CHARLIE share a glance JAKE completely misses.]
JAKE: Baby, let’s get out of here. It’s after four.
Billy’ll be waiting. [He notices her face.]
Hey, look at me. Why don’t you go powder your
nose before we go?
NESSA: Sure, Jake.
[NESSA exits to restroom.]
JAKE: She been keepin’ you awake?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
JAKE: What do you think of her?
CHARLIE: Well, she’s a tough bird, isn’t she? Not exactly
my type.
JAKE: Any girl who can have fun keeping up with my
crowd is gonna have to be
rough around the edges.
CHARLIE: Sure.
JAKE: Listen, if your connection’s dried up, go by the
Bally Hoo Café and tell ‘em Jake Malfalda sent
you. They’ll take care of you.
CHARLIE: Thanks. Oh, here’s your flask.
[NESSA reappears, the bruise on her
cheek totally obscured now in a thick layer of makeup.]
JAKE: Keep it. Maybe you’ll paint something great and
we’ll all say we knew you when.
CHARLIE: Thanks, but I doubt it.
NESSA: You never know. We all have our secret
masterpieces.
[CHARLIE suppresses all he wants to say.]
CHARLIE: You’re a difficult woman to argue with. [In a
not overly dramatic way, CHARLIE takes her hand
and lightly kisses it.] I’m glad I met you, Miss
Vanessa Chambers.
NESSA: [Pleased.] Mr. Charlie Deegan.
CHARLIE: You too, Jake.
JAKE: Yeah, right. Let’s go, baby.
[NESSA calls out to CHARLIE as they walk out the door.]
NESSA: Keep those hands steady!
[The door closes behind them. CHARLIE knows he’ll never see her again; worlds like theirs don’t collide twice. He takes a long drink from the flask, then stares at it.]
CHARLIE: Hey, kid!
[The WAITER enters.]
CHARLIE: What’d you think of that woman who just left?
WAITER: She was nice. She liked you.
CHARLIE: She was a real beauty, wasn’t she?
WAITER: She was all right, I guess. I think she looked
like a fast woman.
CHARLIE: You don’t say.
WAITER: She’s nothing like Bernice.
CHARLIE: Your girl in Greenville?
WAITER: Mm-hm.
CHARLIE: Do you love her?
WAITER: Yes, sir.
CHARLIE: Well, you should tell her that. Every time you
write her a letter, you
should say so. Every time you see her. Tell everybody you can, just because you can. [Pause.] I gotta get out of here.
WAITER: Time to go home?
CHARLIE: No, I feel like taking a long walk.
WAITER: It’s pretty cold out.
CHARLIE: I won’t notice. What’s my tab?
[He brings a slip over to CHARLIE,
who fishes the few dollars he has out of his wallet.]
CHARLIE: Not enough. Ah, listen...
WAITER: Don’t worry about it.
CHARLIE: Kid...
WAITER: No, really. That guy gave me a whole five
earlier. I’ll cover you.
CHARLIE: Hey, thanks. ‘ppreciate that.
[The WAITER heads back toward the
kitchen.]
CHARLIE: Hey, kid, wait.
[The WAITER comes back. CHARLIE hands him the flask.]
CHARLIE: Take this away from me, will you? Keep it if you
want, just put it someplace I can’t see.
WAITER: Okay.
CHARLIE: Good, right. Time to go. Good night,
kid. Ah...I hope everything works out with
your girl.
WAITER: Thanks, mister. Have good night.
[The WAITER goes back into the kitchen. CHARLIE puts his hat and coat on. He turns toward the door as JAKE comes back in. JAKE raises a pistol and shoots CHARLIE who falls over, dead.]
JAKE: Goddamn queer.
[JAKE leaves the café and slams the door behind him.]
FINIS ~Evelyn Duffy is a graduating English and Creative Writing major at GW. She is looking forward to the joys of a post- GW, post-Foggy Bottom, and post language requirement life. Future plans include traveling extensively in Ireland and filling the vital position of Deputy Assistant Bridge Troll, Key Bridge Division.
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