Foster (Tentative By Eric Parsons

Original Work

Eric Parsons 2012

INT. NORTHBOUND AMTRAK TRAIN INTO CHICAGO - DAWN The reflection of passing trees and power lines. FRANKIE FOSTER slowly awakens, slumped against the window of his train. He yawns and sits up slightly, adjusting his eyes to the sun rising above the suburban landscape to the East. FRANKIE is an unshaven mess, his eyes are bloodshot and his clothes are wrinkled from not changing for a number of days. Foster is a stern but soft talker, his sentences seeming to end with a sharp point. He sounds street but refined and quick with his delivery. From where he came, nobody knows but him. His self-imposed exile three years ago came after a hostile takeover of his burgeoning criminal empire by his friend CHANDLER. For the past three years, FOSTER assumed several UNKNOWN IDENTIES and worked odd jobs. Some legal. Most illegal. He has been living fairly utilitarian and without frills. This is a life he has grown to appreciate. The train begins to cut through the south side of Chicago, heading to Union station, his destination. When he arrives, he stands and reaches into the overhead compartment where he pulls out a half empty gym bag. INT. UNION STATION - CHICAGO FOSTER ambles through the dense crowd of early to risers and commuters. He maneuvers around people heading the opposite direction, sometimes even shouldering into others. He goes up the escalator and it takes him to the ground level on Adams street. He looks up and exits the doors that takes him to the Riverwalk along the Chicago River. EXT. CHICAGO - RIVERSIDE As soon as he walks outside he admires the buildings stretching into the morning sky. Its a bit gray but its not raining. He smiles slightly and walks to a line of TAXIS that are waiting at the curb. He walks over to an unoccupied car and pauses. TAXI DRIVER Hey, man. You gettin in or what? Foster digs one of his hands in his pockets and pulls out a small wad of money. He only has several balled up ones and some pocket change. Not even a quarter. He holds a hand up and waves the driver off.

(CONTINUED)

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2.

FOSTER You know what? Nevermind. He looks back down at his near empty hand then stuffs the sad pile of money back into his pocket. FOSTER I need to get some money. Foster slowly begins to walk across the Adams street bridge with a handful of money to his name and a half full gym bag. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a crushed cigarette soft pack. He shakes it and sees a single cigarette fall into view in the pack. He scoffs and puts the pack back into his jacket pocket as he walks. Morning commuters pass by him, scurrying to their offices so they can be desk drones for the next nine hours. Blue collar workers in their drab grey and blue uniforms hustle to their work areas. Cars are stalled on the bridge and buses stand for what seems hours while the lights change at half the speed than they are supposed to. Foster reaches a corner and a homeless man sits with a cup in between his legs. His dirty hair is matted on his head and he looks as if he hadnt bathed in this current mayoral term. A handful of change knocks and jingles in the plastic cup. Foster looks down at him and sees a sign reading "Please help. God Bless." He stops walking and approaches him. HOMELESS MAN Hey, brother. Im hungry and would like a sandwich and maybe a cup of coffee. You got anything for me? FOSTER Well... Foster sighs and looks both ways before reaching in his pocket. FOSTER Heres all I got in my pocket. The grateful man smiles as he sees Foster take that handful of cash he had left in his pocket. He outstretches his hand and Foster places the wads of cash inside. HOMELESS MAN Sir! Youre a blessed man and may God bless you much more.

(CONTINUED)

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3.

FOSTER Save the blessings for someone that needs one. You know where I can find a damned phone booth in this city anymore? HOMELESS MAN You can check the library. Down on State and Congress. FOSTER I know where it is. Hey. Gimme fifty cents. The mans eyes widen. HOMELESS MAN You just gave me this money, sir. You cant just ask for it back. FOSTER Look Im only asking for cents. That was the last change I had on me and I get somewhere. Gimme the cents. HOMELESS MAN But I-Foster reaches down and grabs a handful of change out of the cup and drops all but two quarters back into the cup. The homeless man tries to come to his feet but Foster pushes him back down by the shoulder. FOSTER You stay down there. Youre just fine right there. Get up youll be begging me to put you down. The man relents and settles back down. FOSTER Thank you. You have a nice day. HOMELESS MAN Asshole. Foster continues down the street. fifty pocket need to fifty

4.

INT. HAROLD WASHINGTON LIBRARY Foster walks through the tall gilded doors into the classically designed library. Students are sitting on nearby benches while small groups of children loudly pass him. Foster finds a small bank of payphones in a small hallway and puts the two quarters in the phone. He dials a number by memory and waits for a ring. The phone picks up. FOSTER (into the phone) Hey, Dickie. Dickie. DICKIE (V.O) Yeah, whos askin? FOSTER Its an old friend. DICKIE pauses before responding. DICKIE (V.O.) I got very few friends left. FOSTER Then I shouldnt have to narrow it down. DICKIE (V.O.) Look man. If I owe you money, Im sure Ill get it to ya as soon as I get some but Im gonna have to know who I owe. FOSTER Still betting on shit horses? DICKIE (V.O.) Everybody knows I bet on shit horses. Its what I do. FOSTER Hey look. Im not gonna shit you. The only reason why I dont stop by unannounced is because I dont know who you keep around. If youre alone, Ill stop by. If not, I can wait.

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: DICKIE (V.O.) I got no time to fuck around, whoever you are.

5.

Dickie hangs up on Foster. He looks at his watch at the time. Its past 8am. Usually when new in town, Foster would pickpocket a few mopes for some walking around money. These days, executives dont walk around with 20s and 50s in cash. They keep plastic; traceable. The second a hedge fund manager finds out his wallet is gone, hes on the phone with his bank, freezing everything and having a new card sent to his four bedroom house in the north suburbs or his 3 million dollar condo in the Gold Coast. He cant take that chance so hed rather foot it to Dickies. INT. DICKIES HOUSE Dickie is a rat face of a man. Hes perpetually sweaty and wears a dingy fedora to cover up his bald spot. He has bushy eyebrows that move when he talks in his high pitch. After hanging up on Foster, he reached in between his mattresses and pulled out a snub nose revolver for his protection. He fits the pistol in his pants at the belt and nudges a woman asleep in the bed next to him. She rolls over and touches his arm. Her name is SHARON and is one of his "female companions". Shes a thirty year old woman that looks twice her age. Her black hair is frizzy on top of her head from last nights tryst and is naked except for a pair of dirty ankle socks. SHARON Leave me the fuck alone Dickie. Let me sleep. DICKIE You gotta go, hun. I might have company. SHARON Then dont bring em in here. I aint fall asleep last night until a few hours ago. DICKIE Seriously, you gotta get the fuck outta here. Sharon rolls over and looks at Dickie. Her face is puffy from her sleep. Shes wearing no makeup except for some smudged eyeliner. She sits up, letting her breasts fall from under the covers. (CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: SHARON Where am I supposed to go? I cant go home. DICKIE You dont have to go home. You just gotta get the fuck outta here. I got some company coming. SHARON Who is it? DICKIE I dont know. When they get here, I dont want you here. SHARON I swear, Dickie. I dont need one of your bitches coming over here starting no drama. DICKIE Its no bitches coming over here to start no dra-Dickie notices her nude body. DICKIE Can you please put on some fucking clothes and make yourself into vapor? Sharon looks blankly. DICKIE Vapor. Sharon continues a vapid look. DICKIE Disa-fuckin-pear. Vapor. You cant see it! Thats what you should be right now! SHARON Shit, Dickie. Fine. Fuckin bum. Sharon scrambles from the bed angrily and gathers her clothes scattered around Dickies junky bedroom. DICKIE Hurry up! If its some asshole that means business then hes already here!

6.

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CONTINUED: SHARON You always have some bullshit going on. Do you ever have a normal day? DICKIE NO! And my bullshit days usually end with you! Now get outta here!

7.

Sharon walks barefoot with her pants halfway up her ass and her shirt barely on. She stops and turns around when she reaches the door to leave. SHARON Ill see you tonight? Dickie sighs. DICKIE Ill see. If Im not in the hospital or dead, Ill call you. SHARON Love ya, baby. DICKIE Yeah yeah. Sharon switches seductively and walks her sad ass out of the room. Dickie watches her ass as she walks and shakes his head slowly. EXT. DICKIES HOUSE IN HIS NEIGHBORHOOD Dickie lives on the second story of a three flat in Bridgeport. The neighborhood looks quiet now that the workers have left for the day. Sharon stumbles out of his front door while adjusting her jacket. She stops on the porch and puts her heels on and lights a cigarette that was hanging from her lips. INT. DICKIES HOUSE - LIVING ROOM Dickie is pacing around in his living room from the front window to his television on the far end. Whenever he reaches the window, he glances outside, scans the street and continues pacing. He takes his pistol out and checks to make sure its properly loaded. Dickies face looks assured as he sees that it is and puts it back in his pants. His phone rings again and he looks at it sitting on his end table. He walks over and answers.

(CONTINUED)

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8.

DICKIE (into phone) Yeah... FOSTER (V.O.) Dickie? DICKIE What? FOSTER (V.O.) You still fucking Sharon? I know youre not a man of standards but... DICKIE Youre a fuckin creep, you know that? This is from somebody that is a certified creep. Youre creeping me out. FOSTER (V.O.) Look. I dont want to bring any trouble to you so Im going to have to meet you somewhere else. DICKIE What makes you think Im going to meet you? FOSTER Believe me. If you werent counting on meeting me you wouldnt have kicked Miss America out ten minutes ago. DICKIE How do I know you wont try to blow my head off? FOSTER Would you rather me come in? Dickie wipes his brow and looks outside. He sees a yellow cab on his street. DICKIE That you? In the cab?

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9.

FOSTER Maybe. DICKIE Cmon, man. Dont dick me around. FOSTER Okay Im just fuckin with ya. Yeah thats me. Do me a favor: get in your car and drive three blocks west. Theres an alley to your left behind a light green house. Ill follow you in the cab. DICKIE If I see some bullshit I swear Ill pop you and the fuckin cab driver. I swear. FOSTER Fair enough, Dickie. Dont keep me waiting- the meters running. DICKIE Fine. EXT. DICKIES HOUSE IN HIS NEIGHBORHOOD Dickie slides out of his front door and walks toward his car. He keeps his eye on the cab to see whos inside. The windows are rolled up and the the view inside is obscured. He keeps his hand on his pistol in his pants while he fumbles with his car keys in the other. He gets in the car and turns the engine. Dickie pulls off down the street slowly and he looks in his rearview mirror to check if the cab follows. It does. He continues down the street and stops at a stop sign. He nervously keeps his eye on the cab behind him before pulling off. The cab follows. Dickie stops at another sign and looks behind him then continues. His hand stays in his lap with his pistol. Dickies car approaches the last stop sign before the alley and keeps looking back at the cab. He tries to pull off and a car almost collides with him. The man in the car flips the bird at him and curses him out. Dickie ignores the cursing and slowly pulls off and wipes his brow again.

(CONTINUED)

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10.

He makes a left and puts the car in park when its deeper in the alleyway. He looks into the rearview mirror and notices that the cab didnt follow and instead passes the alley, missing its turn. Dickie slowly begins to panic for his life and looks ahead of him. Taking the pistol from his lap he holds it ahead of himself. Fosters hand reaches out from the backseat and pulls the pistol to the right of Dickie, away from his body. Before hes able to pull the trigger, the pistol slides from his fingers and falls in between the seat and center console. Fosters other hand grips Dickies throat firmly. Not hard enough to choke off any air but enough to stop a bit of blood flow to the head to calm him down. DICKIE Ahh Aww what the fuck, man. FOSTER Dickie. I didnt expect you to trust me but you know better than to bring that broken piece of shit with you. DICKIE It fires loud and true my frie--wait. Dickie looks into the rearview mirror and sees part of Fosters face. DICKIE Frankie? FOSTER Its Francis. DICKIE Fuckin Frankie Foster?! FOSTER Only my family calls me Frankie, Dickie. You know that. Dickie wrestles from Fosters grip. He catches his breath and turns around. DICKIE Holy shit, man. You scared the piss outta me!

(CONTINUED)

CONTINUED: FOSTER From the smell of you I mighta scared a bit more out of you. DICKIE I dont see you in years and you damn near had me blow a hole through your mug? FOSTER What did you want me to do? Walk up to your door like a pizza boy? DICKIE You coulda. Its better than this Cloak & Dagger shit you have me doing. What are you doin back? FOSTER You know why Im back.

11.

Foster leans into the backseat and looks out of the window. A slight pained look on his face. Its the look of a man thats too tough to cry. DICKIE Aw man, Francis. Im sorry. You know if there was a way I could reach out to you I woulda. FOSTER Look, its fine. You dont reach a man that doesnt want to be reached. Its my fault. DICKIE It was a beautiful service. Some of the old running crew came to pay their respects. FOSTER I figured. DICKIE You know shit changed since youve been gone. FOSTER I hear. DICKIE Dannys running everything now. Hes running whores, gambling, extortion. The whole nine. (CONTINUED)

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12.

FOSTER With Lucena? DICKIE You know those two dickwads were tight like a houseflies asshole. Once you were outta the picture, they merged. FOSTER ... DICKIE You know, if youre doing what Im assuming youre doing- and this is just me throwing it out there- I suggest you not. FOSTER Why not? DICKIE Those two run everything outside of drugs. Nothing seems to touch em. They gotta couple cops on the payroll to feed em intel. They got people watching every move on their enemies. Jesus Christ couldnt touch em to heal em. FOSTER What if I wanna do it anyway? DICKIE I know what happened to your brother really must hurt. But you gotta think. Youre the last of your bloodline and taking you out would just be another stuffed head on their wall. FOSTER What if I wanna do it anyway? Dickie pauses before answering. DICKIE Then I can help. I cant be out in the streets taking down these pricks but I can probably get you to em. I still value my life, you know.

(CONTINUED)

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13.

FOSTER And whos to say I dont value mine? DICKIE Whos to say? You shouldnt even be IN the city. You sure dont look like the type to value your life at this certain point in time.