hope you knocked the joint off, I can tell our friend here something might help him catch you. (Starts into the room.) You want to learn the first rule you’d know if you ever spent a day in your life . . . younever open your mouth till you know what the shot is. (Pause.) You fucking child . . . (Roma goes to the inner room.)
Levene: You are a shithead, Williamson . . . (Pause.)
Williamson: Mmm.
Levene: You can’t think on your feet you should keep your mouth closed. (Pause.) You hear me? I’m talking to you. Do you hear me . . . ?
Williamson: Yes. (Pause.) I hear you.
Levene: You can’t learn that in an office. Eh? He’s right. You have to learn it on the streets. You can’t buy that. You have to live it.
Williamson: Mmm.
Levene: Yes. Mmm. Yes. Precisely. Precisely. ’Cause your partner depends on it. (Pause.) I’m talking to you, I’m trying to tell you something.
Williamson: You are?
Levene: Yes, I am.
Williamson: What are you trying to tell me?
Levene: What Roma’s trying to tell you. What I told you yesterday. Why you don’t belong in this business.
Williamson: Why I don’t . . .
Levene: You listen to me, someday you might say, “Hey . . .” No, fuck that, you just listen what I’m going to say: your partner depends on you. Your partner . . . a man who’s your “partner” depends on you . . . you have to go with him and for him . . . or you’re shit, you’re shit, you can’t exist alone . . .
Williamson (Brushing past him): Excuse me . . .
Levene: . . . excuse you, nothing, you be as cold as you want, but you just fucked a good man out of six thousand dollars and his goddamn bonus ‘cause you didn’t know the shot, if you can do that and you aren’t man enough that it gets you, then I don’t know what, if you can’t take some thing from that . . . (Blocking his way.) you’re scum, you’re fucking white-bread. You be as cold as you want. A child would know it, he’s right. (Pause.) You’re going to make something up, be sure it will help or keep your mouth closed. (Pause.)
Williamson: Mmm. (Levene lifts up his ann.)
Levene: Now I’m done with you. (Pause.)
Williamson: How do you know I made it up?
Levene (Pause): What?
Williamson: How do you know I made it up?
Levene: What are you talking about?
Williamson: You said, “You don’t make something up unless it’s sure to help.” (Pause.) How did you know that I made it up?
Levene: What are you talking about?
Williamson: I told the customer that his contracts had gone to the bank.
Levene: Well, hadn’t it?
Williamson: No. (Pause.) It hadn’t.
Levene: Don’t fuck with me, John, don’t fuck with me . . . what are you saying?
Williamson: Well, I’m saying this, Shel: usually I take the contracts to the bank. Last night I didn’t. How did you know that? One night in a year I left a contract on my desk. Nobody knew that but you. Now how did you know that? (Pause.) You want to talk to me, you want to talk to someone else . . . because this is my job. This is my job on the line, and you are going to talk to me. Now how did you know that contract was on my desk?
Levene: You’re so full of shit.
Williamson: You robbed the office.
Levene (Laughs): Sure! I robbed the office. Sure.
Williamson: What’d you do with the leads? (Pause. Points to the Detective’s room.) You want to go in there? I tell him what I know, he’s going to dig up something . . . . You got an alibi last night? You better have one. What did you do with the leads? If you tell me what you did with the leads, we can talk.
Levene: I don’t know what you are saying.
Williamson: If you tell me where the leads are, I won’t turn you in. If you don’t, I am going to tell the cop you stole them, Mitch and Murray will see that you go to jail. Believe me they will. Now, what did you do with the leads? I’m walking in that door—you have five seconds to tell me: or you are going to jail.
Levene: I . . .
Williamson: I don’t care. You understand?
Levene: You are a shithead, Williamson . . . (Pause.)
Williamson: Mmm.
Levene: You can’t think on your feet you should keep your mouth closed. (Pause.) You hear me? I’m talking to you. Do you hear me . . . ?
Williamson: Yes. (Pause.) I hear you.
Levene: You can’t learn that in an office. Eh? He’s right. You have to learn it on the streets. You can’t buy that. You have to live it.
Williamson: Mmm.
Levene: Yes. Mmm. Yes. Precisely. Precisely. ’Cause your partner depends on it. (Pause.) I’m talking to you, I’m trying to tell you something.
Williamson: You are?
Levene: Yes, I am.
Williamson: What are you trying to tell me?
Levene: What Roma’s trying to tell you. What I told you yesterday. Why you don’t belong in this business.
Williamson: Why I don’t . . .
Levene: You listen to me, someday you might say, “Hey . . .” No, fuck that, you just listen what I’m going to say: your partner depends on you. Your partner . . . a man who’s your “partner” depends on you . . . you have to go with him and for him . . . or you’re shit, you’re shit, you can’t exist alone . . .
Williamson (Brushing past him): Excuse me . . .
Levene: . . . excuse you, nothing, you be as cold as you want, but you just fucked a good man out of six thousand dollars and his goddamn bonus ‘cause you didn’t know the shot, if you can do that and you aren’t man enough that it gets you, then I don’t know what, if you can’t take some thing from that . . . (Blocking his way.) you’re scum, you’re fucking white-bread. You be as cold as you want. A child would know it, he’s right. (Pause.) You’re going to make something up, be sure it will help or keep your mouth closed. (Pause.)
Williamson: Mmm. (Levene lifts up his ann.)
Levene: Now I’m done with you. (Pause.)
Williamson: How do you know I made it up?
Levene (Pause): What?
Williamson: How do you know I made it up?
Levene: What are you talking about?
Williamson: You said, “You don’t make something up unless it’s sure to help.” (Pause.) How did you know that I made it up?
Levene: What are you talking about?
Williamson: I told the customer that his contracts had gone to the bank.
Levene: Well, hadn’t it?
Williamson: No. (Pause.) It hadn’t.
Levene: Don’t fuck with me, John, don’t fuck with me . . . what are you saying?
Williamson: Well, I’m saying this, Shel: usually I take the contracts to the bank. Last night I didn’t. How did you know that? One night in a year I left a contract on my desk. Nobody knew that but you. Now how did you know that? (Pause.) You want to talk to me, you want to talk to someone else . . . because this is my job. This is my job on the line, and you are going to talk to me. Now how did you know that contract was on my desk?
Levene: You’re so full of shit.
Williamson: You robbed the office.
Levene (Laughs): Sure! I robbed the office. Sure.
Williamson: What’d you do with the leads? (Pause. Points to the Detective’s room.) You want to go in there? I tell him what I know, he’s going to dig up something . . . . You got an alibi last night? You better have one. What did you do with the leads? If you tell me what you did with the leads, we can talk.
Levene: I don’t know what you are saying.
Williamson: If you tell me where the leads are, I won’t turn you in. If you don’t, I am going to tell the cop you stole them, Mitch and Murray will see that you go to jail. Believe me they will. Now, what did you do with the leads? I’m walking in that door—you have five seconds to tell me: or you are going to jail.
Levene: I . . .
Williamson: I don’t care. You understand?
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