Night Games

FADE IN:

1. EXT. OFFICE BUILDING – NIGHT (1940)

WE OPEN looking up on a 1940s New York office building. All is dark save for a single window on the fourteenth floor. Here, yellow light spills from the window half obscured by a roller blind.

CUT TO:

INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

The scene reflects “Office at Night” by Edward Hopper: a small, lozenge-shaped corner office with green carpets and beige walls and minimal furnishings. To the right, a sash window is open with the blind pulled down halfway. The office is lit by a single hanging bulb. Artificial light from outside overpowers the dull incandescent globe, brightening the wall behind. Next to the office door to the left stands a tall green metal filing cabinet.

Seated behind a worn wooden desk is ANDERSON, a man of early middle age. He has blonde hair, Brylcreemed back. He is dressed in a 1940s-style three-piece suit. In front of him is a desk lamp, a blotter and a black Bakelite telephone. 

Anderson is talking into the telephone’s receiver. 

JUSTINE, an attractive younger woman with long dark hair, wearing a smart, 1940s-style form hugging dress is seen obliquely from behind, sitting before the smaller typist’s desk to the left. She is typing on a black mechanical Remington typewriter.

Anderson replaces the telephone receiver in its cradle.

ANDERSON

(looking up)

Justine, can you fetch me the underwriting memo for New Republic?

Justine rises from her typewriter and walks to the filing cabinet beside Anderson’s desk. She opens the second drawer and extracts a manila binder. As Anderson stands to leave, she hands it to him.

JUSTINE

Here it is, Mr. Anderson.

ANDERSON

Thank you.

Anderson slides the binder into his leather satchel and fastens it.

ANDERSON

Now, I must get home. Mary will be worried. Have the proposal written up by morning. It needs to go upstairs for signing.

Anderson walks to the door and turns back to address Justine.

ANDERSON

First thing tomorrow.

Anderson leaves the office, pulling the door closed behind him.

JUSTINE

(addresses closed door)

Of course.

2. INT. OFFICE – THE NEXT DAY

Darkness is falling outside of the window. Anderson and Justine are again at their respective desks in the office.

ANDERSON

The paperwork is back from New Republic Aviation. They have agreed to the terms.

Justine checks the watch on her wrist. A look of annoyance crosses her face.

ANDERSON

Be a sweetheart, Justine. Drop over to Phillies and get me a coffee.

Justine thrums her fingers on the desk. Placing her palms on the table, she rises, picks up her purse and walks to the door. 

As she passes Anderson’s desk she glances down at the green carpet. 

IMAGINATION

Justine sees a pool of dark red blood slowly spread out from the other side of the desk, soaking into the carpet.

BACK TO SCENE

JUSTINE (sarcastic)

Sure, Duncan.

ANDERSON

Now, I’ve told you before. In the office, it’s Mr. Anderson.

Anderson holds his gaze on Justine, not looking her in the face. Justine shudders.

JUSTINE

Of course, Mr. Anderson.

Justine lightly shakes her head and exits through the door.

INT. OFFICE – 20 MINUTES LATER

Justine enters the office and sets a paper dixie cup on Anderson desk. Steam rises from the cup. She shakes her hand as if to cool it.

A haze of cigar smoke hangs in the air. Justine coughs.

ANDERSON

Mr. Banks was here. He said we should go ahead and finalize the schedule. He hinted I was in line for a fat bonus once we put this one to bed.

JUSTINE

(in a flat tone)

That’s great news. 

Justine returns to her desk and sits.

ANDERSON

Can you get started on it? I have to meet with Stevens now.

Justine draws in a breath before feeding a fresh sheet into the machine. With narrowed eyes, she swipes the chrome leaver across. 

The harsh ratchet of the carriage return RINGS OUT as Anderson leaves. 

3. INT. OFFICE – NIGHT

The office window is now closed, with the blinds fully open. Entering, Justine catches at her reflection in the glass, inspects her blue dress. A grim smile briefly washes over her face. She walks to her desk and sits. Opening the drawer, the five inch long blade of a bone-handled Randall knife is visible.

Justine glances up at Anderson, seated at his desk, He runs his hand through his greasy blonde hair.

ANDERSON

Justine, I need the actuarial tables.

Justine slowly walks back over to the filing cabinet and finds the requested document. She tosses it onto his desk.

ANDERSON

Now, after we’ve prepared the final schedule, we can finish for the night.

Justine slowly shakes her head.

JUSTINE

(sotto voce)

We.

Anderson consults the document, scribbles some penciled figures on his notes and hands them to Justine. She takes the pages and returns to her desk. Anderson rises and walks to the door.

ANDERSON

I’m just nipping out for a sec. You have everything you need?

JUSTINE

(glances at desk drawer)

Oh yes. Yes, I do.

After a couple of minutes, GABRIELLI (a woman in her early forties), enters the office, and hands Justine a stack of documents. She looks up at the newcomer.

JUSTINE

Hi Betty. What do you have for me?

Justine sweeps some pencil shavings from the desktop into her hand, depositing them into the wastepaper basket beside her desk.

GABRIELLI

Oh, just the claims reports for Mr. Anderson to sign-off. Is he very busy?

JUSTINE

(triggered)

Is he busy? I’m the only one busy here. 

I landed this new client. 

I chased the loss adjusters, the 

underwriters. 

Justine looks Mrs. Gabrielli in the eye, brow knitted.

GABRIELLI

I’m sure he did his bit, too.

JUSTINE

You think? Those interminable meetings over on Long Island. 

While the men talked baseball, it was us assistants that drafted the proposal, got the deal done. 

Mrs. Gabrielli nods and smiles, impervious to Justine’s rant.

GABRIELLI

Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you will get a big thank you.

JUSTINE

A thank you? All I get is to fetch his damn coffee!

Mrs. Gabrielli leaves and Justine works through the figures on her desk. She slowly opens the desk drawer and peers in. Finally, she selects a pencil. She tests the point against her finger.

She writes out her calculations in the margin, making a few corrections with an eraser. Finally satisfied, she rolls a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter and types up the proposal.

As she pulls the last page from the machine, the RAUCOUS CRY of a bird is heard from outside. Anderson enters the office. Justine rises from her desk and hands him a binder. We see the drawer is open, but the knife is no longer visible.

JUSTINE

The offer is ready.

Anderson takes the binder from her. Justine, biting her lower lip, steps behind him and watches over his shoulder as he flicks through the pages.

ANDERSON

Excellent. Arrange for a messenger to take this to their offices. They are on Jamaica Avenue.

Justine frowns as he imparts this piece of information.

ANDERSON

Goodnight. See you on Monday.

Justine tidies her desk, arranging the papers in a neat pile.

CLOSE UP

She returns a pencil and eraser to the drawer, laying them back next to the knife, again visible in the drawer.

4. INT. OFFICE – DAY, ONE WEEK LATER

Although early afternoon, the lights are on. The sky outside is gloomy. Sunlight intermittently lights the office walls. A storm is brewing.

ANDERSON

(Loosening collar)

What is this?

Justine turns from her work at the filing cabinet. Anderson is reading a letter, its envelope laying discarded on the carpet.

ANDERSON

Did you know about it?

JUSTINE

What–

Sweat breaks on Anderson’s brow.

ANDERSON

The schedule. 

There was a mistake on the premiums. 

A zero missing. 

How?

He looks up from studying the page under the desk light, his pallid skin flushes red. 

ANDERSON

This is your doing!

JUSTINE

I typed out exactly what you gave me.

Justine reaches into the file and brandishes his penciled workings. 

JUSTINE

Look.

Outside, distant THUNDER ROLLS.  

He takes the sheet and studies it, frowning. 

ANDERSON

I do not understand. The contract has been signed, the schedule agreed.

JUSTINE

(smiling)

I’m sure we can clear it up.

The phone on Anderson’s desk RINGS. 

ANDERSON

Yes. Yes. No, that’s not it.

(Anderson listens in silence)

Yes, sir. At once.

Anderson lets the receiver drop back onto its rest. The apparatus emits a single DING.

ANDERSON

That was Banks. He wants me in his office. Immediately.

Anderson stands. Pushing past Justine he exits through the door without looking back. Justine returns to her desk. Sitting, she opens the desk drawer, takes out the Randall knife and proceeds to sharpen a pencil, shavings falling on the desk in front of her.

Outside, the rain starts. We see wet droplets spatter the corner of the worn desktop.

5. INT. CORRIDOR OUTSIDE EXEC. OFFICE – DAY

Justine TAPS at the door and it opens. She is met by SHIRLEY (late middle aged, grey hair, formal business dress). She stands in an outer office, furnished with a pair of grey filing cabinets and a desk. On the desk stands two telephones, a typewriter and a large house plant.

SHIRLEY

Go on through. He is expecting you.

Shirley opens the door to the inner office and gestures for Justine to enter.

EXT. VIEW ACROSS CITY

From the window of the General Manager’s office, a wet cityscape is visible. A rain squall obscures the high-rise buildings opposite.

INT. EXEC. OFFICE

BANKS (balding, late fifties, smart three-piece suit) turns from the rain-dappled window and returns to his desk. He balances a cheroot on the ashtray and seats himself.

BANKS

Ah, good afternoon, Miss O’Connor. Please, take a seat.

Banks removes his glasses and polishes them, replacing them on his nose.

BANKS

A bad business, that. It’s hard to understand how he could have been so careless.

Banks draws on his cigar and exhales.  A noxious haze of smoke fills the room.

JUSTINE

There were a lot of figures. (she coughs) I guess he just slipped up.

BANKS

We cannot afford such mishaps. But, thanks to your quick thinking, no harm was done.

Justine swats the air with her right hand.

JUSTINE

They knew me over there, trusted me. I could explain the problem.

BANKS

And that is why I would like you to assume the Commercial Agent role. In particular, the NRA contract.

Justine extends her right hand, palm down. She studies her nails.

JUSTINE

Why, I would be happy to, Mr. Banks.

BANKS

Call me Peter.

6. INT. OFFICE – DAY

The larger desk is tidy. On the blotter is a pile of opened letters on one side, and some handwritten notes on the other.

Mrs. Gabrielli is seated at the typist’s desk. She is reading from a file.

Justine enters. She is wearing a beige pants suit, with her black hair now styled in a shorter cut.

GABRIELLI

Good morning, Miss O’Connor.

JUSTINE

Morning, Betty. Please, it’s Justine.

GABRIELLI

Mr. Anderson was in earlier. He has taken his possessions down to the field agents’ office to the fifth floor.

JUSTIN

Oh, good.

Justine swallows shortly, but then takes her place in the office chair behind the desk. She swivels it back and forth a couple of times. Sitting back, she surveys the room. A brief smile flits across her face.

She lifts the handwritten note from the desk and reads. Smiling and nodding, she crumples it up, tossing it into the wastepaper basket. She picks up the top letter from the pile.

JUSTINE

(reading from the letter in her hand)

This company, International Business Machines, has asked us to prepare a quote.

GABRIELLI

Never heard of them. What do they do?

JUSTINE

I’m not sure, something with electricity. 

(replaces the page on the pile) 

We should pay them a visit. They are on Madison Avenue, I believe.

Justine rubs her palms together briefly as she gazes out the open window at the sunlit buildings opposite.

FADE OUT.