I can’t sleep tonight. So I might as well write.

(pages 73 & 74)
EXT. STREET – NIGHT

Sam is sitting on the curb in downtown Greektown. There are a few DETROITERS out this night walking the street. None are paying any attention to drunken Sam.

Sam takes a small flip-knife out of his pocket and flips it open. He untucks his white dress shirt and cuts a rectangular piece out of it. He puts his knife away.

Sam opens the bottle of vodka and pours it onto the cloth. He then
stuffs the end of the rag into the bottle creating a Molotov cocktail.

Sam pulls out a lighter and strikes the flint. It creates a flame. He closes it distinguishing the fire.

Sam gets off his ass and walks into Jimmy’s restaurant.

INT. RESTAURANT – CONTINUOUS

Jimmy is sitting near the entrance when Sam stumbles in with the cocktail in his left hand and the lighter in his right.

Jimmy’s eyes light up when he sees the Molotov cocktail in Sam’s hand. He springs out of the table.

SAM
Where is he!?

JIMMY
Don’t do anything stupid, Sam.

SAM
Tell me where he is or I’ll burn this whole fucking place down!

JIMMY
Who?

SAM
Don’t fuck with me! You know God damn well who. Dino! Where the fuck is he!?

JIMMY
Give me a minute. I have to call Martin.

SAM
You have one minute.

Jimmy takes out his phone and dials Martin.

MARTIN (O.S.)
Hey boss.

JIMMY
Do you still have Dino?

MARTIN (O.S.)
I already dropped him off.

JIMMY
Where?

MARTIN (O.S.)
His girlfriend’s place. Sunrise apartments.

JIMMY
Which apartment?

MARTIN (O.S.)
Apartment three-one-two.

JIMMY
Thanks.

Jimmy hangs up.

JIMMY
He’s at Sunrise Apartments, apartment three-one-two.

Sam doesn’t say anything. He just turns around and leaves.

Jimmy turns and looks at his customers.

JIMMY
Where the fuck are the police when you need them? Is everyone okay? I’m sorry about that.

Jimmy sits down at his booth and pulls out his phone.

MARTIN (O.S.)
Yeah, boss?

JIMMY
I want you and Perry to take care of Sam.

MARTIN (O.S.)
What about the money?

JIMMY
I don’t care about it anymore.

MARTIN (O.S.)
Whoa, boss, that’s a lot of money.

Jimmy starts rubbing his temples.

JIMMY
Do what you can, but I want Sam dead.

MARTIN (O.S.)
Yes, sir.

Jimmy hangs up.

JIMMY
(to no one)
FUCK!

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