VERONICA: Uh-huh … How’s he doing?
RALPH D: Jackie? Good. Excellent. If I do say so myself.
VERONICA: Right. Whatever …
RALPH D: Okay then. I’ll leave you to … All this.
VERONICA: Uh-huh. You got everything?
RALPH D: Yes I do.
VERONICA: You better never tell him.
RALPH D: Call me when you’re sober.
VERONICA: Call me when you’re fuckin’ dead. (RALPH exits.)
SCENE 5
RALPH’s apartment — that same evening. RALPH’s living room. VICTORIA and JACKIE drink beer and share a joint on the couch. There’s a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table. Lights are low.
JACKIE: I am so zooted!
VICTORIA: Me too. (VICTORIA laughs.)
JACKIE: Yo, why you laughin’? This shit, it ain’t funny. (They kiss.)
VICTORIA: Oh my God — I am so, so sorry!
JACKIE: No no no no no no! I’m sorry.
VICTORIA: No no no no no no — it’s okay.
JACKIE: No no no no no no! It’s not okay. I could go. You want me to go? I’ll go!
VICTORIA: No no no no no no — I just hate him so much, please don’t go, ya know!
JACKIE: No no no no no — I’m mean, yes, I DO know, I mean, I mean, I don’t know, but if I did know, I’d know, ya know? And I won’t go, unless you want me to go, then I’ll go.
VICTORIA: I just fuckin’ hate him! Cheating prick!
JACKIE: I mean, I never heard nothing ’bout Ralph cheating.
VICTORIA: Well, he did. Would I be acting like this if I had made it up in my head? I hate him. Ya know?
JACKIE: I know. I. I hate Veronica, too.
VICTORIA: Me too.
JACKIE: You do?
VICTORIA: I mean, if you do.
JACKIE: Yeah. I fuckin’ hate her. I hate her so much I can’t stop crying.
VICTORIA: I know.
JACKIE: I’m so fuckin’ stupid.
VICTORIA: You’re in touch with your feelings, thass all. You’re a sensitive, feeling man.
JACKIE: I swear to God: Being in love with Veronica — it’s like feeding your balls to Godzilla every morning, and every morning you go, “Yo, ’Zilla, these shits are very delicate so please chew softly,” — and every morning — the motherfucker just goes crunch!
VICTORIA: You’re a beautiful guy, Jackie. You deserve more.
JACKIE: Yeah?
VICTORIA: Umm-hmmm.
JACKIE: I mean, nah, I ain’t easy either, believe me, I’m fucked up, but Veronica, even though she’s fucked up, and she’s really fucked up, but her heart, her heart is pure, nobody got heart like her — her heart is like — it goes to infinity.
VICTORIA: Jackie
JACKIE: Yeah?
VICTORIA: You’re upset. I’m upset. Look at me.
JACKIE: Yeah?
VICTORIA: Maybe we need to … do what we both know we wanna do.
JACKIE: You mean, like —
VICTORIA: Fuck. Like mad dogs chasing heartache.
JACKIE: Victoria —
VICTORIA: You see me? I’m not built like some talking head on a stick.
JACKIE: I could see that.
VICTORIA: And I really need to disappear. Just. Temporarily. Ya know? Would you do that for me? Would you help me … disappear?
JACKIE: I wanna disappear too. (They begin making out. JACKIE stops.) I can’t! I’m sorry. But I just can’t.
VICTORIA: Why not?
JACKIE: I just can’t. If I could, I would, but I can’t, and dass dat. Okay? … I mean, what are we — Europeans or some shit?! I’m from the neighborhood, you’re from the neighborhood too, I mean originally, right?
VICTORIA: So?
JACKIE: So, so — I don’t know, but, it ain’t this … And this ain’t you.
VICTORIA: I’m not saying this is me. I’m saying this is this, and this is me asking you to make this not this — not horrible, not feeling like I wanna die, just alive in the present, with an ounce of delight, for like a moment — and then — then wake up and go back to forgetting.
JACKIE: Forgetting what?
VICTORIA: Just fuck me, Jackie: You want to, I want to — it’s what’s supposed to happen — like how you’re not meant to feel it when you fall off a roof —
JACKIE: That’s, that’s the weed talking, Victoria. The wine. That ain’t you. I know you in real life. This is not you.
VICTORIA: What? You think you’re being honorable, Jackie — with your hands all over my tits two seconds ago?
JACKIE: I’m not trying to be honorable.
VICTORIA: So then what? You’re like Ralph? You don’t find me attractive?
JACKIE: Dass not true. And that’s not true about Ralph neither he talks about you all the time.
VICTORIA: Yeah, I’ll bet. That fuck … You know, when I met Ralph, forgetaboutit, I was smoking hot, making a 100K a year as a junior trader on Wall Street — and dating a fuckin’ art dealer who was a hell of a man and wanted to marry me. And what did I do? I heard Ralph speak at a meeting — I mean the man was wearing acid-washed jeans and white sneakers from, like, they were Ponys or some shit for Christ’s sakes, and still, he charmed me, he listened to me, he begged me — and I threw my life away because I thought I met my soul mate. And the truth is that there’s no such thing.
JACKIE: Veronica —
VICTORIA: I let Ralph beat me down emotionally and psychologically with his scamming and philandering, and I took care of the physical part my own self by shacking up with Ben and Jerry and cable TV, and now, who the hell’s gonna want me? I’ve regressed. And gotten old. And I got about ten more minutes of gravity left before it all comes crashing down. And even you won’t fuck me.
JACKIE: That’s bullshit. You’re fuckin’ hot — and smart, and hot – And if it wasn’t for Ralph, believe me, I’d be all up in that, for real.
VICTORIA: You’re just lying because you think lying is being nice.
JACKIE: I’m not lying. And I’m not nice. You know you’re fuckin’ hot. But Ralph’s my sponsor. And my friend. And men, even though we’re fucked up, we got a code. It’s a fucked-up code, but still, it’s a code. And I respect the code. ’Cuz I respect Ralph. But even if I didn’t respect Ralph, I’d still respect the code, unless, like, I fell in love with you instantly — but even if I did fall in love with you instantly, I’d still call Ralph and tell him that I had to break the code before I even tried to touch you, ’cuz, that’s the only exception to the code, and maybe the code is stupid, but to me, it ain’t fuckin’ stupid. That’s why I shot the motherfucker with the hat’s hat. Even though we wasn’t exactly friends, we was neighbors and we knew each other, so, in my mind, his ass broke the code. Ya know?
VICTORIA: I don’t think Ralph plays by those rules.
JACKIE: Yeah, well, on that: Can I ask you something? How you know Ralph’s having affairs, ’cuz, you know — he ain’t never said nothin’ to me, and he tells me everything.
VICTORIA: … Really?
JACKIE: Yeah.
VICTORIA: Well, some Albanian-sounding bitch called here today, asked for Ralph, I said, “Who’s this,” she said, “Who’s this,” I said, “Ralph’s wife, who’s this” — and then it got quiet. She told me she’d been sleeping with Ralph for months and then he dumped her by saying that I had just died and he was in grief! She was just calling to see if he got the flowers she sent! I mean, be honest: Can you even imagine the diabolical mind that could even come up with that shit?!
JACKIE: Dag.
VICTORIA: She’s one of our best customers too — we ship like six units of NutriFlex to her health food store on Fordham Road every week. Fuckin’ bitch.
JACKIE: Well, I mean, but maybe it was a misunderstanding —
VICTORIA: — A misunderstanding?
JACKIE: Yeah, like, sometimes one person thinks one thing, but the other person, they think —
VICTORIA: — This isn’t about “thinking,” Jackie. “Thinkin
g,” I got no jurisdiction over. But, fucking — whole other story. Do you get the distinction?
JACKIE: Yeah, but —
VICTORIA: You never covered for him?
JACKIE: For Ralph? Hell no!
VICTORIA: All that “step work,” all those midnight meetings and the coffees afterwards — Ralph never told you to cover for him?
JACKIE: Nah.
VICTORIA: Never?
JACKIE: Absolutely not.
VICTORIA: Jackie, I’m giving you a free pass here. I’m not stupid. I know how men do. You can tell me the truth now, and I won’t hold any hard feelings for anything that came before this moment here. I’m serious. You wanna be serious? Because this is me being serious.
JACKIE: Look, I understand what you’re going through here, and I identify, like, obviously, like, my heart and your heart, it’s, like, we’re both fucked up, but, I’m starting to feel a little uncomfortable.
VICTORIA: ’Cuz Ralph is your friend?
JACKIE: Yeah. And my sponsor too, I mean, don’t forget that!
VICTORIA: Ralph is not your friend. Not even close. He always wanted a dog. I never let him have one. And now he has one. And it’s you.
JACKIE: … Meaning what?
VICTORIA: Meaning you maybe ought to find yourself another sponsor.
JACKIE: Why?
VICTORIA: Ask Ralph.
JACKIE: Ask Ralph what?
VICTORIA: Ask Ralph about your girlfriend.
JACKIE: What? What about my girlfriend?
VICTORIA: No. That’s between you and Ralph.
JACKIE: Victoria, if there’s something I should know —
VICTORIA: This is what you should know: You just told me you had no knowledge about any of Ralph’s affairs, and that’s just a lie.
JACKIE: Victoria —
VICTORIA: Whenever I see you, you kiss me on the cheek, and smile that dopey smile, and sing Ralph’s praises to me, and act all carefree like nothing is wrong, and meanwhile you totally know that Ralph is doing his business every chance he gets. True or false?
JACKIE: False.
VICTORIA: Yeah, right. Half of AA knows Ralph is a cheat, but somehow, you, the guy he spends most of his time with — when he’s not out fucking strippers and newcomers — you — his number one sponsee — you were somehow completely in the dark about the whole thing.
JACKIE: He’s my sponsor.
VICTORIA: And who am I? A punchline over cheeseburgers after your men’s meetings? I was there, Jackie, when you brought your mother to Park 11 to get your thirty-day chip! I took her home in a taxi! I was at the damn funeral! You’re staying in my house. Is this how she taught you to respect women? To accept their kindnesses and shit all over them in return?
JACKIE: Look. Whatever I might have heard or didn’t hear, it wasn’t my business.
VICTORIA: You lied for him.
JACKIE: Like I said —
VICTORIA: Do you lie for him or don’t you? You need to declare yourself right now.
JACKIE: I don’t lie for him.
VICTORIA: … Okay.
JACKIE: Okay?
VICTORIA: Okay.
JACKIE: Good. Okay.
VICTORIA: Ralph got your girlfriend pregnant while you were locked up. Which is a miracle because the man’s sperm count is, like, 8! Okay?!
JACKIE: What?
VICTORIA: She had an abortion. Ralph paid for it. And the fuckin’ idiot put it on his Mastercard.
JACKIE: … Dass, dass bullshit.
VICTORIA: No. No. That’s Ralph. That’s your friend Ralph.
Pause.
JACKIE: No way. There is absolutely no fuckin’ way that that could be true.
VICTORIA: Why not? Because Ralph is such a good guy? Because Veronica is so strong? Or because her daddy issues and lack of security in her relationship with you could never manifest into her acting out — or being charmed by a fuckin’ master dickhead like Ralph with his Ph.D. in manipulation and self-loathing? … Or, maybe it’s not so much because you think Ralph wouldn’t do it, but that he just somehow wouldn’t do it to you. Well, he would, and he did …
JACKIE: … That’s fucking — how would you even know all that?
VICTORIA: No. That’s not a conversation you get to have with me. I’ll tell you this, though: The one thing bigger than Ralph’s ego is his package — and trust me, when he wants to, he can bang away with the best of them. I’m sure he banged her to the moon and back. The sonuvabitch …
JACKIE: Victoria?
VICTORIA: There’s your fuckin’ boys’ code. Take it with you on your way out.
JACKIE: Victoria —
VICTORIA: I’m leaving his ass tonight. You see the bags?
JACKIE: Oh. I didn’t notice them.
VICTORIA: Um-hmm. I’ve threatened before, but this time I’m going. Got a van coming in the morning. And I’m taking fucking everything.
JACKIE: Well, um, I just wanna —
VICTORIA: No. Don’t act the friend.
JACKIE: This shit with him and Veronica —
VICTORIA: All true. You did your time at Clinton Correctional outside Dannemora upstate?
JACKIE: Yeah?
VICTORIA: Got a Dannemora Red Roof Inn bill on my bureau dated last June. They had them some chicken wings and a Party Fixings pizza from the Dannemora Domino’s that night too. It’s right next to the abortion bill. Yeah, baby, they did you too. Good night. (VICTORIA begins to break down.) I got more packing to do. (JACKIE surveys the room. Surveys VICTORIA. And exits.)
SCENE 6
VERONICA’s Apartment. 2 a.m. VERONICA is in a nightgown and grips a stickball bat. JACKIE is wasted off his ass.
VERONICA: I called the fuckin’ police!
JACKIE: Good! I loooooove fuckin’ police! I love police like I love fuckin, I dunno, but I fuckin’ love it!
VERONICA: You better fuckin’ run!
JACKIE: Love it! Yo, how’s the motherfucker with the hat doing?! Huh?! I looove that motherfucker with the hat! He’s a good-lovin’ motherfucker, that first-floor motherfucker!
VERONICA: If you wanna talk, we could do it in the morning, and we should talk, and I wanna talk — but you gotta go right now —
JACKIE: Talk?! Who said I wanna talk to your ass?! What’s there to talk about? Hats?! Fuckin’ haberdashery?!
VERONICA: Jackie, please —
JACKIE: Nah, because I wrote you a song, Veronica —
VERONICA: — Get outta here! Get outta here before I fuckin’ clock you, ’cuz I’ll clock you!
JACKIE: Aaight, ssh! Sssh! Here goes. This song is debilated to you, Veronica, since the eighth grade! Eight! Remember? Okay, ready — this song, this long-distance dedication from me to you, is called … “Fuck … You.”
VERONICA: Don’t you do it!
JACKIE: “Fuck your dead stepfather Tito — fuuuck you!”
VERONICA: Stop it!
JACKIE: “Fuck Buster and Negrito, I hope they get run over by cars — fuuuuck you!”
VERONICA: You think you’re the only motherfucker who’s hurting here?!
JACKIE: “Fuck those Commodores records we use ta make it to — fuck you” — Hold up I wrote this shit down — (JACKIE digs through his pockets to find the rest of his song.)
VERONICA: — What about me, huh?! What about my pain?! What about the promises your ass made?! Where’s my ring? Where’s my two-family house in Yonkers? Where’s my little baby Jackie and my little baby Veronica playing on their fuckin’ swing set?! Where’s your “air-conditioning an’ refrigeration” degree? Where’s my “going back to school”? Where’s my Jackie that used ta live in my heart — where is the most decent, loving guy I ever met in my whole fuckin’ life — and why’s he out fucking played-out AA hos?!
JACKIE: “Fuck your whole generation ’cuz you’re a ugly, disgusting, fucked-up bitch who no one loves because you’re so psycho twisted damaged nasty heartbreaker — fuck …” (VERONICA snaps — slugs JACKIE in the head flush with the stickball bat. JAC
KIE goes down. Out cold.)
SCENE 7
The following afternoon. JULIO’s breakfast table. JACKIE is banged up, hungover, but functioning.
JACKIE: Bro, I can’t eat this.
COUSIN JULIO: Please papi, you have to try to eat.
JACKIE: Nah, man, I can eat, I just can’t eat this.
COUSIN JULIO: Papi, you eat that, your body gonna thank you, believe me.
JACKIE: These eggs are green, bro!
COUSIN JULIO: Spirulina.
JACKIE: What?
COUSIN JULIO: Spirulina. It’s the green algae from the sea. Pure protein. You see: the eggs, protein. The spirulina, protein. Aged Asiago cheddar, protein. That’s triple protein, papi — with a rosemary garnish! That’s power.
JACKIE: Power?
COUSIN JULIO: Thass right. Healing power and “power” power! And right now, you need power. Power … And a mimosa!
JACKIE: I shouldn’t drink this.
COUSIN JULIO: It’s a virgin mimosa. I went to the store while you were sleeping it off.
JACKIE: I’m sorry about last night.
COUSIN JULIO: You peed on my floor.
JACKIE: I’m, I’m really sorry about that.
COUSIN JULIO: Forget about it. If my Marisol was here — big problem. But she’s at a conference, so, just eat your eggs so you can get the power.
JACKIE: A conference?
COUSIN JULIO: Conference. Yes. Eat.
JACKIE: … I don’t know what to do, Julio.
COUSIN JULIO: Right now, all you gotta do is eat. Later, we gonna figure everything out.
JACKIE: I gotta go.
COUSIN JULIO: Go where?
JACKIE: Kill that motherfucker Ralph! I told you!
COUSIN JULIO: Hey! Nobody gonna kill nobody, papi. Especially not you. Karma’s gonna kick that motherfucker’s ass, it don’t need no help from you. And if karma don’t do it, I will.
JACKIE: You?
COUSIN JULIO: You say that like it’s a joke that I could kick his ass. Believe me, I could subdue him with these two fingers!
JACKIE: Bro —
COUSIN JULIO: You want me to try it on you? Oh yes, I know, “Julio,” “Julio,” he’s “mariconcito,” right?
JACKIE: I didn’t say that.
COUSIN JULIO: Trust me, you don’t want no part of this mariconcito on the wrong night, mijo, and neither does that friend of yours. Whaddya think I do at the gym every day, sit in the steam room and do reach-arounds?! Thass not me, señor. Yo soy un hombre, papi! Cien por ciento! Make no mistake.
The Motherf**ker with the Hat Page 4
