Saturday, June 28, 2014

Leaving Rhode Island: Tuscon


                (A dive bar in Tuscon.  JOEY locking up.  AMY enters.)

JOEY:  We’re closed.

AMY:  I’m looking for Joseph Gadaggio?

JOEY:  You found him.

AMY:  You’re him?

JOEY:  Yup.

AMY:  Okay.

JOEY:  Expecting somebody prettier?

AMY:  I was expecting…I don’t know what I was expecting.

JOEY:  You’re not some long-lost kid of mine, are you?

AMY:  No.

JOEY:  Good.  So far, not procreating has been my biggest accomplishment.

AMY:  How did you end up in Tuscon?

JOEY:  I killed somebody.

AMY:  Really?

JOEY:  No.  Who are you?

AMY:  I’m Amy Lawrence.

JOEY:  Should that mean something to me?

AMY:  Not necessarily.

JOEY:  I’m confused.

AMY:  I’m looking for my sister.

                (A beat.)

JOEY:  Ohhh…Tara.

AMY:  She gave me your name.  She said if they ever let the exiles back in Rhode Island, I should come here and ask for you.

JOEY:  Did you ask her why?

AMY:  No.  I mind my own business for the most part.  I thought maybe you were a friend or—

JOEY:  I haven’t seen Tara in a year.

                (A beat.)

AMY:  Okay.

JOEY:  Sorry.

AMY:  Do you know where she went?

JOEY:  I’m not sure she went anywhere.  I just haven’t seen her.

AMY:  How did you—what was your—

JOEY:  She worked here.  For me.  I own this bar.  She was a bartender.

AMY:  And then she quit or—

JOEY:  Well, she stopped showing up, so yeah, I guess she quit.

AMY:  I’m sorry, but—Did I open up a wound or something, I—

JOEY:  How well did you know her?

AMY:  You’re asking me how well I knew my sister?

JOEY:  She never mentioned having a sister.

AMY:  I’m not surprised.

JOEY:  Did you two not get along?

AMY:  She hated my guts.

                (A second.)

So yeah, I guess we didn’t get along.

                (A beat.)

JOEY:  Then why are you looking for her?

AMY:  I just want to know she’s all right.

JOEY:  I’m sure she’s fine.  Tara was one tough cookie.

AMY:  Was?

JOEY:  Was.  Is.  She had a boyfriend.  Not sure what happened to him.  She was a good worker.

AMY:  How much?

JOEY:  Excuse me?

AMY:  Did she steal from you?

                (A beat.)

JOEY:  Hard to say.  I didn’t notice until…I figured she needed the money.

AMY:  Everybody needs money.

JOEY:  Ain’t that the damn truth.

AMY:  My sister had a way of making people angry.

JOEY:  Are you asking me if I hurt her?

AMY:  Did you hurt her?

JOEY:  I probably would have, but not for stealing from me.

AMY:  What for then?

JOEY:  For disappearing.

AMY:  She told me I shouldn’t believe anything you say.

JOEY:  For somebody who hated you, she sure told you a lot.

AMY:  She wanted to go home.  She didn’t like being away from Rhode Island.  She knew that if they ever let her back in, she’d need me.

JOEY:  Need you for what?

AMY:  She couldn’t take care of herself.  I’m sure you know that.

JOEY:  She seemed pretty capable to me.

AMY:  Capable?

JOEY:  Like she could take care of herself.

AMY:  She was a good actress.

JOEY:  Better than you?

                (A beat.)

AMY:  I never understood why she moved here.

JOEY:  People have their reasons.

AMY:  Maybe I could hang around for a few days.  See what the appeal is.

JOEY:  Suit yourself.

                (She starts to leave.  JOEY begins humming “Nobody Does It Better.”  She stops.  He continues to hum.  She looks at him for a moment.  He stops humming.)

AMY:  Maybe I’ll just head home.

JOEY:  Okay.

                (A beat.)

AMY:  What about you?

JOEY:  What about me?

AMY:  Are you going back?

JOEY:  Back where?

AMY:  To Rhode Island.

JOEY:  Why would I go there?

AMY:  Tara—

JOEY:  --Told you I’m from there?

AMY:  Yeah.

JOEY:  I’m not an Exile.

AMY:  Okay.

JOEY:  People do just move, you know.  Not everybody’s forced out.

AMY:  Yeah, but—

JOEY:  So if I want to go back, I’ll go back.

AMY:  All right.

JOEY:  (Spreading his arms out.)  But I got everything I need right here.

AMY:  I…Okay.

JOEY:  Don’t believe me?

AMY:  It…doesn’t really matter.  Does it?

JOEY:  I guess not.

                (He goes back to humming.)

AMY:  Are you--?

JOEY:  What?

                (A beat.)

AMY:  Nothing.

                (Slight pause.)

It wouldn’t mean anything—if you were.  An Exile, I mean.

JOEY:  Didn’t say that it would.  I just said I’m not.

AMY:  Okay.

                (She turns away from him.)

JOEY:  You know you don’t look anything like her.

                (A second.)

Your sister.

AMY:  Yeah.

                (A second.)

I get that a lot.

                (She exits.  Lights.)

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