The Work

Brooklyn, New York. Squat low rise strip mall off Flatlands Avenue, in between Starett City and the northeastern edge of Canarsie.

Weeknight crowd, not late but getting there. From what we can tell of the sparse patrons is that they are working class black and latinos. Some have good jobs, the rest do not.

They wear this reality in their clothes and faces. We pick up on a RETAIL ASSOCIATE as she darts toward her MANAGER.

ASSOICATE

Its just weird. I mean three dudes come up in here and ask for that much. And it’s a school night too

MANAGER

And it's gelling late. How old are they?

ASSOCIATE

Like my age.

MANAGER

How much money are they counting?

WESTERN UNION

Tucked into a corner it's a scaled down version of the real thing. There ANOTHER Associate stares out toward the aisle, she clocks a trio of three young boys...

---

DOUG

Bro how much is in one stack?

JUSTIN

Two got sixty-six hundred the other has sixty-eight.

JUSTIN snaps a rubber band around a large stack of bills, exchange a smirk toward one another. Places it in a knapsack.

DOUG

Y'all ain’t got one of those counting machines from Scarface?

Parrish smirks at Justin, these two same age as Doug but their time in the streets knowledge is grad student level status.

PARRISH

Just remember-

DOUG

After they count the bread, they gone put the work in the same bag got it.

Doug lifts up the knapsack

JUSTIN

Just don’t lose that bag on the train.

Parrish places his stack of cash into the knapsack, the trio breaks for the door.

FLATLANDS AVE

Light changes, the fellas stroll across the street.

PARRISH

How long is that ride back to your school?

DOUG

Like six hours. But I’m usually writing rhymes.

-He fishes out a small A4 sized black book.

DOUG

Or I’m on my phone so time flies by.

JUSTIN

I’ll be around leave the work with me before you dip.

DOUG

Bet.

---

Standing on the Van Siclen Avenue station platform

Doug stares at an oncoming 3 train rumbles into the station.

He beelines for the corner seat in an empty car, he places the bag between his legs, opens it. He rifles through the bag, and roots out three more small black rhyme books.

Searches for one to rehearse from...the train pulls off…

...As the train pulls into Pennsylvania Avenue Doug has book. Cues up a track on his phone, and he spits bars-loudly to a crowd of no one.

---

Doug descends the long Zerega Ave elevated stairway.

We are now in the Westchester section of the Bronx.

Doug struts down the street, bangs into a...

BODEGA

DOUG

Yo, Papi let me get a chopped cheese.

The Cook, prepares the sandwich. The Clerk makes a very brief phone call, two or three words. Hangs up.

Doug whips his black book flips it open. It’s crammed with sentences head to toe. Doug reads them out loud just under his breath-then we realize he’s reciting his rap lyrics.

The Cook takes the sandwich to the counter. The Clerk hands it to Doug.

He takes it — doesn't pay and walks out. On that the Clerk dials a number-call rings out-after the first one he hangs up.

He hands Doug his sandwich, Doug swings out to the street.

He opens the bag and inside is an actual chopped cheese sandwich and wad of napkins.

Doug yanks out the napkins, written on the first one is an address written on it.

He takes out the chopped cheese and tears into it.

---

He trots down the block dusts off the last of the sandwich, wipes his mouth. He stops. Looks up and enters

BAR

Desolate. Only three people. A Latino couple shares a drink, BARTENDER wipes down and restocks the bar.

Doug walks up to him ask if he has a garbage.

BARTENDER

I can toss it for you.

Doug doesn’t give him the bag or sandwich wrapper.

He hands him the napkin

The Bartender unrolls it, glances at it.

Then tosses it.

He exits to the kitchen.

Leaving Doug staring at the couple, who eye him right back. The Man rises and heads off to the bathroom.

The Woman stands, applies her lipstick.

She glides over to a very attentive Doug.

She stops in front of him and says...

WOMAN

...Baby, do you a have a light?

DOUG

Ah-I-I...

Doug eyes shoot toward the kitchen-standing there is El Unico.

Slim guy, calm probably in his forties but doesn’t look it. His blank face gives away nothing. He eyes Doug...

As he snatches a book of matches off a table, strikes a match lights the Woman’s cigarette.

El Unico mosey up to Doug, he does all of the talking.

Now El Unico whips around and back to the kitchen. Doug bangs back out to the street...

---

Doug eyes the block long line of parked cars, checking for a specific ride...

...He continues and...boom! He’s spots the car. Walks around to the passenger side, enters.

---

Doug checks out the ride, twenty years old and nothing fancy.

He settles in, now he waits.

And waits. He rifles his knapsack roots out his books shuffles them-looking for a worthy rhyme...finds one and starts rhyming.

This goes on a bit...and again he does it loudly for his ears only...

...and FINALLY the drivers side door swings open-

El Unico hops in with an identical bag like Dougs, he places it between them.

Doug lifts his bag from between his feet. El Unico whips out an automatic money counter from his knapsack. Doug fishes out the three stacks of rubber banded money. Doug tosses it to El Unico, he runs it through the feeder...

...The first stack completes its count, Doug hands him the second stack of money.

As the machine does it’s thing-El Unico’s attention is drawn to his drivers side rearview mirror...

The counting machine dings-El Unico hopes out of the car in one move with no words...Doug doesn’t know what to do...

So Doug roots out the last stack of money and feeds it into the feeder...He notices a stack wedged in his book...

El Unico jumps back in the car...

EL UNICO

Ok, after this one you should go.

DOUG

We good?

El Unico eyes the machine and...the rearview mirror...

The machine dings complete and El Unico yanks the money out and stuffs it in the black knapsack. Now Doug is watching the action through the rear window.

The Man with the Woman at the bar races to the car-El Unico pops out...

So does Doug, he clocks the Man and El Unico as they stray from the car to have a rapid conversation-all in Spanish...

In a breath, an unmarked late model sedan bends the corner and motors right at the bar. Screeches to a hard stop. Doors fly open.

---

And like that, the quiet ho hum night is loud, chaotic and very dangerous

EL UNICO

Go-go, get the bag and go.

Doug yanks the door but its locked, he whips his eyes to the scene at the bar-the bulky and beefy white dudes with guns drawn and Kevlar vest strapped to their chest charge inside-

Doug can hear them yell “NYPD” and the distant sirens grow louder.

EL Unico dives back into the car-jerks back out with the bag-

-Tosses it over the hood of the car, Doug catches it, pivots off down the block away from the car and on the building side of the block.

Cop cars whiz down the block passing by Doug who dares not look back.

---

A hungover Justin awaits as Doug fishes out the work-wrapped in a brown bag hands it to Justin

JUSTIN

Thats crazy, glad you didn’t get caught up though.

DOUG

That was too close bro. Like I think,

I’m all the way good doing that again.

JUSTIN

Sure, we do pay you for it?

Justin hands Doug five hundred in Benjamins.

DOUG

Nah son I’m straight but good look. But yo son, I got to bail out though, cant be late for this flight.

Doug and Justin dap it up and Doug pivots and hauls off.

---

Doug awaits in the Kennedy Airport lounge for his flight to be called. He cues up a track on his phone, tosses on his headphones.

He pop opens his knapsack, rifles it for his books...but he feels something else...that sort of feels like books. He can feel paper but something is off...

He peels apart the knapsack peers inside and his eyes widen...

He fishes out a rubber wrapped seven grand stack-he then reaches down and there are the other two stacks of cash, all twenty grand.

But no books.

Doug’s flight is called...

THE END.