Two wire benches near a great expanse of concrete retaining wall. Part of a logo sign overhead with a flickering bulb that reads INGTON GALLERIA.
TIM and DARRELL lean up against the wall some distance off, smoking. DARRELL holds a drink.
DARRELL
—fucking “Arches,” huh?
TIM
Yeah.
DARRELL
What’s McDonald’s doing, the middle of a supposed “celebration of international tastes,” anyway, I ask you?
TIM
Dunno. (BEAT) Nothing happening out here . . . you wanna go back down the lower level, do something?
DARRELL
Sounds good.
TIM
Yep.
DARRELL
Grab us some more CDs maybe, I don’t give a shit.
TIM
’Kay. (BEAT) I gotta be back some time, though, got an extra shift tonight.
DARRELL
Not asking for a weekend in fucking Vegas, am I?
TIM
No.
DARRELL
Jesus!
TIM
I’m just saying . . . just saying it, that’s all.
DARRELL
I heard you. Fine. Hang out here, do some video, fine—
They pass the smoke a few times without speaking.
TIM
—so, we gonna go back in? I still got a little time—
DARRELL
“Time?” Oh yeah, I forgot, you gotta work—
TIM
Whatever.
DARRELL
—yeah. (BEAT) I told Jenn we might meet her out here, though.
TIM
Oh man.
DARRELL
What?
TIM
Nothing.
DARRELL
No, fuck that, alwaying moaning your ass off, she does anything with us. Fuckin’ jealous or what?
TIM
—no.
DARRELL
’S my girlfriend, okay?
TIM
Uh-huh.
DARRELL
Jesus, Tim, you got a woodie for me or something, gay shit like that?
TIM (smiling)
Asshole.
DARRELL
Then what the fuck?
TIM
I just—
DARRELL
Didn’t make no promise, anyway, okay . . . I said “maybe.”
DARRELL lights up another cigarette. Offers TIM a drag.
TIM
—I don’t like her so much.
DARRELL
Up yours!
TIM
I don’t, though. Not anymore. (BEAT) She fucking called me “stupid” once.
DARRELL
Oh yeah, she was really outta line on that one—
TIM
That’s not so funny, you know? Hurt my feelings, maybe, give a shit about me you might care.
DARRELL
Just shut up and finish the smoke. Mall’s not open forever, ya know.
TIM
’Kay. (BEAT) She say she’s coming for sure?
DARRELL
I dunno, just hurry up! (sips his drink) I’m outta Coke. Shit! Fucking thirsty—
(TIM takes another hit off the Camel Light as DARRELL sucks savagely on his straw, looking for moisture. He looks up suddenly, watching something.)
Hey. Hey, lookit that dude!
TIM
Where?
DARRELL
Don’t fucking stare . . . just casual. Ol’ fucker in the camouflage. What a loser!
TIM
Prick—
DARRELL
I hate that crap! Vietnam assholes, still wear that fuckin’ garb everywhere they go. M.I.A. T-shirts and shit.
TIM
That cock—
DARRELL
Catch this. (loudly) Hey man, you kill many kids when you were over there?
(They burst out laughing and flip off the middle-aged man.)
Fuckin’ retards . . . (BEAT) That wasn’t a war, anyway, not like the Persian Gulf. My dad told me a bunch ’a shit they did over in Saudi . . . you wouldn’t believe some ’a the stuff. He told me one time—just to make a point, he was there ten months or so, I think—and he said that, this is true, the nicest thing that happened when he was there, he was up in a helicopter and flying out to some base or somewhere, and they ran right into this flock of birds. Yeah, these, like, giant birds they got near Kuwait or some place like that, big fucking birds just migrating or who knows what, but they went ripping right through ’em at about a hundred fifty miles an hour . . . feathers, blood, all sorts ’a shit on everybody! He and around six or ten of the guys with him, just covered in bird guts! They barely landed the chopper thing, that’s what he said. And they hardly get on the ground, at this outpost they’re going to, and they get attacked by these fucking ragheads!—that’s what they called the Iraqi guys, “ragheads”—really nasty shit, too, I guess, hand-to-hand stuff and they go into it already wearing all this crap on ’em! Big chunks of these, like, white birds . . . he said it really scared the fuck outta the Iraqis and they took off running. Seriously. I’m not shitting ya. He said they must’ve killed thirty or so of these birds and that was the best thing that happened while he was there. So, you can pretty much imagine the kind ’a fucking ordeal he went through. Not a holiday, anyway, some port on the South China Sea. (BEAT) Dad don’t talk about it much, not when I see him, but he did tell me that he still feels bad about those birds. He told me that—
TIM
No shit?
DARRELL
Nope. (BEAT) Although I think he’s making a big deal outta nothing. Bunch ’a birds, who gives a fuck?
TIM
Yeah.
DARRELL shakes his head and the ice in his cup at the same time. He stands.
DARRELL
You got any cash?
TIM
I just ate it.
DARRELL
Fuck. That won’t do—
TIM slides up the wall into a standing position.
TIM
We waiting for Jenn or what?
DARRELL
She’ll find us. Not a fucking cent, huh?
TIM
Uh-uh.
DARRELL
Well, we gotta remedy that. (BEAT) Stay out here, ’kay, I’m gonna pop back inside and look for her, maybe get a refill. See if I can get us a few bucks—
Before TIM can answer DARRELL is gone. TIM is left alone, so he plops onto a bench and pulls a CD out of his pocket. He begins absently tearing at the wrapping.
After a bit, JENN appears. Seventeen, pretty, strong-featured. Uniform of the day (T-shirt, jeans) with a large bag over one shoulder. She stops cold when she sees TIM.
JENN
—Tim. Oh. Hi.
TIM
Hey. ’S going on?
JENN
Nothing. You?
TIM
Just sittin’.
JENN
Oh. (BEAT) So, where’s Darrell?
TIM
You know, around. Looking for you, I guess—
JENN
Huh. Which way’d he go?
TIM
He’s gonna be right back. (BEAT) You can sit, if you wanna.
JENN
No.
TIM
’Kay.
JENN
See, I gotta . . . uhh, do you know which direction he went?
TIM
All over.
JENN
Fuck.
TIM
S’pposed to meet him here, right?
JENN
Talked about it, yeah, but, see, I need to go. I gotta go, and I don’t want ’em all pissed off, so . . . anyway, I just gotta.
TIM
Oh.
TIM nods then turns back to working on the CD wrapper. JENN stands there, uncomfortable.
JENN
Tim.
TIM
Yeah?
JENN
How come you don’t look at me when I say something anymore?
TIM
Huh?
JENN
A thing I noticed. Lately. I’m with you and Darrell, or just at a place, you’re always looking away, off some other way. Not at me. How come?
TIM
—whatever. (BEAT) So, you’re not staying?
JENN
Ummm—
TIM
’S all right.
JENN
See, I told some friends, I mean, you know—Shit!
JENN looks around for a moment, then sits on the edge of the bench. TIM scoots down. After a moment, he holds out the CD.
TIM
You like The Cult at all?
JENN
Uh-huh.
TIM
Here.
JENN
What?
TIM
Here. ’S yours.
JENN
No, I’m not gonna take—
TIM
Darrell swiped it. Gave it to me. No big deal—
JENN
Thanks.
TIM
Worry about it.
JENN
So . . . I’m gonna go, then. See you guys tomorrow, or—
TIM
Uh-huh.
She looks over at TIM, then gives his hand a quick squeeze. He looks up at her.
JENN
Do me a favor, ’kay? Don’t say anything, I mean, like, that you saw me or whatnot. ’S probably better—
TIM
Right. Got it.
JENN
Okay, then. See ya . . .
(She gets up and starts off, but turns back at the last moment.)
’S that a new shirt?
TIM
No. My sister got it for me—
JENN
It’s nice.
With that JENN is gone, hurrying away toward the crossroads of the mall. TIM sits alone now in silence, examining his shirt.