Cain Town Frank Lines

DEBBIE: How’re we doing over here? Need a refill? Made it with bottled water…?

No, I think I’m about done.

DEBBIE: How’d you like that country-fried steak? I told ya it was good. Huh?

(smiling warmly at her) It was real good. Must be the second best thing in here tonight.

DEBBIE: Oh, this late in the shift, I’m pretty sure it’s the best thing in here.

Well, in that case, I think the check is all that’s left.

DEBBIE: (starts to walk away) All right, cowboy; well you have a good night, okay?

UHH… the check...?

DEBBIE: (sheepish look) Here’s where it gets awkward.

You’re kidding me. Same guy?

DEBBIE: Look, I told him. But he gave me a twenty dollar tip—on your fifteen dollar check.

I don’t want anyone else paying for my supper. You were standing right there—last night—did you think I was joking?

DEBBIE: I know, but, you weren’t going to leave me a twenty dollar tip, were you?

This is the last time I’m coming in here. The last.

DEBBIE: Don’t get mad. All he did was pay for your supper—

Do you even know this guy?

DEBBIE: He just started coming in here this week. About the same time as you started showing up.

Okay, Pollyanna, listen up: This is what crazy people do. They stalk someone at a diner or a gas station and then someone ends up being…tortured…and killed.

DEBBIE: Hold on there, cowboy. It’s just supper.

No. The first time he did it, it was just supper. This makes three times in a row. He’s watching me come in here, night after night.

DEBBIE: Maybe because he wants to thank you for working on the water tower.

I’m making a bundle of cash, sweetheart. I can afford to buy my own supper. Every time you let that sociopath pay for it, you let him invade my privacy.

DEBBIE: He’s not asking for anything in return. He just pays and walks away. He seems like a very sweet guy.

Are you really this stupid?

DEBBIE: Okay. You’re right: I shouldn’t have done it.

And you know, it’d be different if this town didn’t roll up the sidewalks at nine every night. But you’re the only place open, other than the Seven-Eleven.

DEBBIE: I apologize – and you can leave now. We’re closed.

And then I end up with my throat cut open at the Super Eight, and for what? Twenty dollars?

DEBBIE: I’m going to buy a box of Pop-Tarts from the Seven-Eleven! Okay?

Oh! Well, I’ll be dead but at least you’ll have some Pop-Tarts.

DEBBIE: They're not for me; they're for my son! Fourteen dollars and eighty cents. You want to pay for your meal? Let's go ring you up so you can get the hell out of here.

The point is not paying twice for my meal. The point is I don’t want some backwoods thug paying for my meal.

DEBBIE: I think the real point is you’re scared to let someone do something nice for you.

Oh my God.

DEBBIE: People who pay for your meal aren’t exactly thugs! Around here it’s called being generous.

So it’s all the same to you: generosity, stalking…?

DEBBIE: Oh no: stalking doesn’t come with a free chicken fried steak.

[Beat. FRANK smiles.] Okay. You know what? I’ll pay this forward. Tomorrow night I’ll drive out to your house and make supper for you. (Suddenly serious.) What’s your address?

DEBBIE: Oh, trust me: that ain’t happening.

[She starts to walk away but he blocks her.] You’re not going to let me be generous? Give me your address. I’ll just ask around town and see if someone won’t be helpful…and tell me where Debbie lives.

[Pause.] DEBBIE: You need to leave. We’re closed.

 Oh – and your little boy, too, right? You think he’ll open the door for me if I bring a box of Pop-Tarts?

DEBBIE: You are two seconds away from Gerald coming out here and throwing you in your car.

Your heart racing, Debbie? You think I might be there tomorrow night when you get home from your shift?

DEBBIE: You will not do this to me.

I was just making a point. It’s a whole lot different when you’re the one who’s vulnerable, isn’t it?

DEBBIE: I’m stronger than you.

I’m not going to do anything.

DEBBIE: That guy comes in here and pays for your supper, and you call him a thug. But you come in here and call me stupid, and then you threaten me? I think we know who the real thug is. Don’t we?

I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not a thug.

DEBBIE: And I’m not a Pollyanna. You have no idea how hard I’ve fought to be able to expect the best from people. I worked around the clock for years to not feel like every man who approached me was a threat. You aren’t strong enough to scare me into becoming like you again.

[Pause.] I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to do that.

DEBBIE: Apology accepted. But you should go now. We’re closed.

[FRANK nods and walks toward the exit. He stops and turns to her.] My younger brother was…well…we were kids. The next door neighbor was babysitting us. We liked him. My whole family liked him. And he…took my brother downstairs. It’s not an excuse for what I just did to you, but… I don’t ever live too far away from that day.

DEBBIE: That's a terrible thing, cowboy.

FRANK: My name’s Frank.

DEBBIE: You’ve got a lot of work to do in the morning. Good night, Frank.

I haven’t told anybody that. It’s not easy over here. Okay?

DEBBIE: I know. But it’s not easy anywhere. Trust me.

I’ll see you tomorrow night.

DEBBIE: (gently shakes her head "no") Good night, Frank.

Good night, Debbie.