Glengarry Glen Ross Read online

  Lingk: Did I . . . ?

  Roma: Yes.

  Lingk: I don’t know.

  Roma: Or a piss . . . ? A great meal fades in reflection. Everything else gains. You know why? ‘Cause it’s only food. This shit we eat, it keeps us going. But it’s only food. The great fucks that you may have had. What do you remember about them?

  Lingk: What do I . . . ?

  Roma: Yes.

  Lingk: Mmmm . . .

  Roma: I don’t know. For me, I’m saying, what it is, it’s probably not the orgasm. Some broads, forearms on your neck, something her eyes did. There was a sound she made . . . or, me, lying, in the, I’ll tell you: me lying in bed; the next day she brought me café au lait. She gives me a cigarette, my balls feel like concrete. Eh? What I’m saying, what is our life? (Pause.) It’s looking forward or it’s looking back. And that’s our life. That’s it. Where is the moment? (Pause.) And what is it that we’re afraid of? Loss. What else? (Pause.) The bank closes. We get sick, my wife died on a plane, the stock market collapsed . . . the house burnt down . . . what of these happen . . . ? None of ‘em. We worry anyway. What does this mean? fm not secure. How can I be secure? (Pause.) Through amassing wealth beyond all measure? No. And what’s beyond all measure? That’s a sickness. That’s a trap. There is no measure. Only greed. How can we act? The right way, we would say, to deal with this: “There is a one-in-a-million chance that so and so will happen . . . . Fuck it, it won’t happen to me . . . .” No. We know that’s not the right way I think. (Pause.) We say the correct way to deal with this is “There is a one-in-so-and-so chance this will happen . . . God protect me. I am powerless, let it not happen to me . . . .” But no to that. I say. There’s something else. What is it? “If it happens, AS IT MAY for that is not within our powers, I will deal with it, just as I do today with what draws my concern today.” I say this is how we must act. I do those things which seem correct to me today. I trust myself. And if security concerns me, I do that which today I think will make me secure. And every day I do that, when that day arrives that I need a reserve, (a) odds are that I have it, and (b) the true reserve that I have is the strength that I have of acting each day without fear. (Pause.) According to the dictates of my mind. (Pause.) Stocks, bonds, objects of art, real estate. Now: what are they? (Pause.) An opportunity. To what? To make money? Perhaps. To lose money? Perhaps. To “indulge” and to “learn” about ourselves? Perhaps. So fucking what? What isn’t? They’re an opportunity. That’s all. They’re an event. A guy comes up to you, you make a call, you send in a brochure, it doesn’t matter, “There’ re these properties I’d like for you to see.” What does it mean? What you want it to mean. (Pause.) Money? (Pause.) If that’s what it signifies to you. Security? (Pause.) Comfort? (Pause.) All it is is THINGS THAT HAPPEN TO YOU. (Pause.) That’s all it is. How are they different? (Pause.) Some poor newly married guy gets run down by a cab. Some busboy wins the lottery. (Pause.) All it is, it’s a carnival. What’s special . . . what draws us? (Pause.) We’re all different. (Pause.) We’re not the same. (Pause.) We are not the same. (Pause.) Hmmm. (Pause. Sighs.) It’s been a long day. (Pause.) What are you drinking?

  Lingk: Gimlet.

  Roma: Well, let’s have a couple more. My name is Richard Roma, what’s yours?

  Lingk: Lingk. James Lingk.

  Roma: James. I’m glad to meet you. (They shake hands.) I’m glad to meet you, James. (Pause.) I want to show you something. (Pause.) It might mean nothing to you . . . and it might not. I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. (Pause. He takes out a small map and spreads it on a table.) What is that? Florida. Glengarry Highlands. Florida.

  “Florida. Bullshit.” And maybe that’s true; and that’s what I said: but look here: what is this? This is a piece of land. Listen to what I’m going to tell you now:

  ACT TWO

  The real estate office. Ransacked. A broken plate-glass window boarded up, glass all over the floor. Aaronow and Williamson standing around, smoking.

  Pause.

  Aaronow: People used to say that there are numbers of such magnitude that multiplying them by two made no difference. (Pause.)

  Williamson: Who used to say that?

  Aaronow: In school. (Pause.)

  Baylen, a detective, comes out of the inner office.

  Baylen: Alright . . . ?

  Roma enters from the street.

  Roma: Williamson . . . Williamson, they stole the contracts . . . ?

  Baylen: Excuse me, sir . . .

  Roma: Did they get my contracts?

  Williamson: They got . . .

  Baylen: Excuse me, fella.

  Roma: . . . did they . . .

  Baylen: Would you excuse us, please . . . ?

  Roma: Don’t fuck with me, fella. I’m talking about a fuckin’ Cadillac car that you owe me . . .

  Williamson: They didn’t get your contract. I filed it before I left.

  Roma: They didn’t get my contracts?

  Williamson: They-excuse me . . . (He goes back into inner room with the Detective.)

  Roma: Oh, fuck. Fuck. (He starts kicking the desk.) FUCK FUCK FUCK! WILLIAMSON!!! WILLIAMSON!!! (Goes to the door; Williamson went into, tries the door; it’s locked.) OPEN THE FUCKING . . . WILLIAMSON . . .

  Baylen (coming out): Who are you?

  Williamson comes out.

  Williamson: They didn’t get the contracts.

  Roma: Did they . . .

  Williamson: They got, listen to me . . .

  Roma: Th . . .

  Williamson: Listen to me: They got some of them.

  Roma: Some of them . . .

  Baylen: Who told you . . . ?

  Roma: Who told me wh . . . ? You’ve got a fuckin’, you’ve . . . a . . . who is this . . . ? You’ve got a board-up on the window. . . . Moss told me.

  Baylen (Looking back toward the inner office.): Moss . . . Who told him?

  Roma: How the fuck do I know? (To Williamson:) What . . . talk to me.

  Williamson: They took some of the con . . .

  Roma: . . . some of the contracts . . . Lingk. James Lingk. I closed . . .

  Williamson: You closed him yesterday.

  Roma: Yes.

  Williamson: It went down. I filed it.

  Roma: You did?

  Williamson: Yes.

  Roma: Then I’m over the fucking top and you owe me a Cadillac.

  Williamson: I . . .

  Roma: And I don’t want any fucking shit and I don’t give a shit, Lingk puts me over the top, you filed it, that’s fine, any other shit kicks out you go back. You . . . you reclose it, ‘cause I closed it and you . . . you owe me the car.

  Baylen: Would you excuse us, please.

  Aaronow: I, um, and may . . . maybe they’re in . . . they’re in . . . you should, John, if we’re ins . . .

  Williamson: I’m sure that we’re insured, George . . . (Going back inside.)

  Roma: Fuck insured. You owe me a car.

  Baylen (Stepping back into the inner room): Please don’t leave. I’m going to talk to you. What’s your name?

  Roma: Are you talking to me? (Pause.)

  Baylen: Yes. (Pause.)

  Roma: My name is Richard Roma.

  Baylen goes back into the inner room.

  Aaronow: I, you know, they should be insured.

  Roma: What do you care . . . ?

  Aaronow: Then, you know, they wouldn’t be so ups . . .

  Roma: Yeah. That’s swell. Yes. You’re right. (Pause.) How are you?

  Aaronow: I’m fine. You mean the board? You mean the board . . . ?

  Roma: I don’t . . . yes. Okay, the board.

  Aaronow: I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m fucked on the board. You. You see how . . . I . . . (Pause.) I can’t . . . my mind must be in other places. ‘Cause I can’t do any . . .

  Roma: What? You can’t do any what? (Pause.)

  Aaronow: I can’t close ‘em.

  Roma: Well, they’re old. I saw the shit that they were giving you.

  Aar
onow: Yes.

  Roma: Huh?

  Aaronow: Yes. They are old.

  Roma: They’re ancient.

  Aaronow: Clear . . .

  Roma: Clear Meadows. That shit’s dead. (Pause.)

  Aaronow: It is dead.

  Roma: It’s a waste of time.

  Aaronow: Yes. (Long pause.) I’m no fucking good.

  Roma: That’s . . .

  Aaronow: Everything I . . . you know . . .

  Roma: That’s not . . . Fuck that shit, George. You’re a, hey, you had a bad month. You’re a good man, George.

  Aaronow: I am?

  Roma: You hit a bad streak. We’ve all . . . look at this: fifteen units Mountain View, the fucking things get stole.

  Aaronow: He said he filed . . .

  Roma: He filed half of them, he filed the big one. All the little ones, I have, I have to go back and . . . ah, fuck, I got to go out like a fucking schmuck hat in my hand and reclose the . . . (Pause.) I mean, talk about a bad streak. That would sap anyone’s self confi . . . I got to go out and reclose all my . . . Where’s the phones?

  Aaronow: They stole . . .

  Roma: They stole the . . .

  Aaronow: What. What kind of outfit are we running where . . . where anyone . . .

  Roma (To himself): They stole the phones.

  Aaronow: Where criminals can come in here . . . they take the . . .

  Roma: They stole the phones. They stole the leads. They’re . . . Christ. (Pause.) What am I going to do this month? Oh, shit . . . (Starts for the door.)

  Aaronow: You think they’re going to catch . . . where are you going?

  Roma: Down the street.

  Williamson (Sticking his head out of the door): Where are you going?

  Roma: To the restaura . . . what do you fucking . . . ?

  Williamson: Aren’t you going out today?

  Roma: With what? (Pause.) With what, John, they took the leads . . .

  Williamson: I have the stuff from last year’s . . .

  Roma: Oh. Oh. Oh, your “nostalgia” file, that’s fine. No. Swell. ‘Cause I don’t have to . . .

  Williamson: . . . you want to go out today . . . ?

  Roma: ‘Cause I don’t have to eat this month. No. Okay. Give ’em to me . . . (To himself:) Fucking Mitch and Murray going to shit a br . . . what am I going to do all . . .

  Williamson starts back into the office. He is accosted by Aaronow.

  Aaronow: Were the leads . . .

  Roma: . . . what am I going to do all month . . . ?

  Aaronow: Were the leads insured?

  Williamson: I don’t know, George, why?

  Aaronow: ‘Cause, you know, ‘cause they weren’t, I know that Mitch and Murray uh . . . (Pause.)

  Williamson: What?

  Aaronow: That they’re going to be upset.

  Williamson: That’s right. (Going back into his office. Pause. To Roma:) You want to go out today . . . ?

  Pause. Williamson returns to his office.

  Aaronow: He said we’re all going to have to go talk to the guy.

  Roma: What?

  Aaronow: He said we . . .

  Roma: To the cop?

  Aaronow: Yeah.

  Roma: Yeah. That’s swell. Another waste of time.

  Aaronow: A waste of time? Why?

  Roma: Why? ‘Cause they aren’t going to find the guy.

  Aaronow: The cops?

  Roma: Yes. The cops. No.

  Aaronow: They aren’t?

  Roma: No.

  Aaronow: Why don’t you think so?

  Roma: Why? Because they’re stupid. “Where were you last night . . . ”

  Aaronow: Where were you?

  Roma: Where was I?

  Aaronow: Yes.

  Roma: I was at home, where were you?

  Aaronow: At home.

  Roma: See . . . ? Were you the guy who broke in?

  Aaronow: Was I?

  Roma: Yes.

  Aaronow: No.

  Roma: Then don’t sweat it, George, you know why?

  Aaronow: No.

  Roma: You have nothing to hide.

  Aaronow (Pause): When I talk to the police, I get nervous.

  Roma: Yeah. You know who doesn’t?

  Aaronow: No, who?

  Roma: Thieves.

  Aaronow: Why?

  Roma: They’re inured to it.

  Aaronow: You think so?

  Roma: Yes. (Pause.)

  Aaronow: But what should I tell them?

  Roma: The truth, George. Always tell the truth. It’s the easiest thing to remember.

  Williamson comes out of the office with leads. Roma takes one, reads it.

  Roma: Patel? Ravidam Patel? How am I going to make a living on these deadbeat wogs? Where did you get this, from the morgue?

  Williamson: If you don’t want it, give it back.

  Roma: I don’t “want” it, if you catch my drift.

  Williamson: I’m giving you three leads. You . . .

  Roma: What’s the fucking point in any case . . . ? What’s the point. I got to argue with you, I got to knock heads with the cops, I’m busting my balls, sell you dirt to fucking deadbeats money in the mattress, I come back you can’t even manage to keep the contracts safe, I have to go back and close them again. . . . What the fuck am I wasting my time, fuck this shit. I’m going out and reclose last week’s . . .

  Williamson: The word from Murray is: leave them alone. If we need a new signature he’ll go out himself, he’ll be the president, just come in, from out of town . . .

  Roma: Okay, okay, okay, gimme this shit. Fine. (Takes the leads.)

  Williamson: Now, I’m giving you three . . .

  Roma: Three? I count two.

  Williamson: Three.

  Roma: Patel? Fuck you. Fuckin’ Shiva handed him a million dollars, told him “sign the deal,” he wouldn’t sign. And Vishnu, too. Into the bargain. Fuck that, John. You know your business, I know mine. Your business is being an asshole, and I find out whose fucking cousin you are, I’m going to go to him and figure out a way to have your ass . . . fuck you—I’ll wait for the new leads.

  Shelly Levene enters.

  Levene: Get the chalk. Get the chalk . . . get the chalk! I closed ‘em! I closed the cocksucker. Get the chalk and put me on the board. I’m going to Hawaii! Put me on the Cadillac board, Williamson! Pick up the fuckin’ chalk. Eight units. Mountain View . . .

  Roma: You sold eight Mountain View?

  Levene: You bet your ass. Who wants to go to lunch? Who wants to go to lunch? I’m buying. (Slaps contract down on WiUiamson’s desk.) Eighty-two fucking grand. And twelve grand in commission. John. (Pause.) On fucking deadbeat magazine subscription leads.

  Williamson: Who?

  Levene (Pointing to contract): Read it. Bruce and Harriett Nyborg. (Looking around.) What happened here?

  Aaronow: Fuck. I had them on River Glen.

  Levene looks around.

  Levene: What happened?

  Williamson: Somebody broke in.

  Roma: Eight units?

  Levene: That’s right.

  Roma: Shelly . . . !

  Levene: Hey, big fucking deal. Broke a bad streak . . .

  Aaronow: Shelly, the Machine, Levene.

  Levene: You . . .

  Aaronow: That’s great.

  Levene: Thank you, George.

  Baylen sticks his head out of the room; calls in, “Aaronow.” Aaronow goes into the side room.

  Levene: Williamson, get on the phone, call Mitch . . .

  Roma: They took the phones . . .

  Levene: They . . .

  Baylen: Aaronow . . .

  Roma: They took the typewriters, they took the leads, they took the cash, they took the contracts . . .

  Levene: Wh . . . wh . . . Wha . . . ?

  Aaronow: We had a robbery. (Goes into the inner room.)

  Levene: (Pause.) When?

  Roma: Last night, this morning. (Pause.)

  Levene: They took the leads?<
br />
  Roma: Mmm.

  Moss comes out of the interrogation.

  Moss: Fuckin’ asshole.

  Roma: What, they beat you with a rubber bat?

  Moss: Cop couldn’t find his dick two hands and a map. Anyone talks to this guy’s an asshole . . .

  Roma: You going to turn State’s?

  Moss: Fuck you, Ricky. I ain’t going out today. I’m going home. I’m going home because nothing’s accomplished here . . . . Anyone talks to this guy is . . .

  Roma: Guess what the Machine did?

  Moss: Fuck the Machine.

  Roma: Mountain View. Eight units.

  Moss: Fuckin’ cop’s got no right talk to me that way. I didn’t rob the place . . .

  Roma: You hear what I said?

  Moss: Yeah. He closed a deal.

  Roma: Eight units. Mountain View.

  Moss (To Levene): You did that?

  Levene: Yeah. (Pause.)

  Moss: Fuck you.

  Roma: Guess who?

  Moss: When . . .

  Levene: Just now.

  Roma: Guess who?

  Moss: You just this morning . . .

  Roma: Harriet and blah blah Nyborg.

  Moss: You did that?

  Levene: Eighty-two thousand dollars. (Pause.)

  Moss: Those fuckin’ deadbeats . . .

  Levene: My ass. I told ‘em. (To Roma:) Listen to this: I said . . .

  Moss: Hey, I don’t want to hear your fucking war stories . . .

  Roma: Fuck you, Dave . . .

  Levene: “You have to believe in yourself. . . you—”look—“alright . . . ?”

  Moss (To Williamson): Give me some leads. I’m going out . . . I’m getting out of . . .

  Levene: “. . . you have to believe in yourself . . .”

  Moss: Na, fuck the leads, I’m going home.

  Levene: “Bruce, Harriet . . . Fuck me, believe in yourself . . . ”

  Roma: We haven’t got a lead . . .

  Moss: Why not?

  Roma: They took ‘em . . .

  Moss: Hey, they’re fuckin’ garbage any case . . . . This whole goddamn . . .

  Levene: “. . . You look around, you say, ‘This one has so-and-so, and I have nothing . . . ”’

  Moss: Shit.

  Levene: “‘Why? Why don’t I get the opportunities . . . ?’”