Loose Lips



Scene Title Loose Lips
Synopsis Sometimes you have to beat them open.
Date February 25, 2021

Fluorescent lights flicker on in an attached garage.

Stanley DuBois steps out of the hallway of his Bay Ridge home and down onto the concrete floor of his garage, cell phone tucked under his chin. "Well, then we're going to have to go after his material assets. I know it's not what the clients want, but there's only so many ways to skin a cat, right?" He walks past a pegboard of tools to a large rolling tool cabinet, sliding out a drawer with a rattle.

"Honestly I'm not sure it matters. It's not exactly like the Franklin case is drawing in a huge payoff for the firm. I say we see where this goes, then let it run its course. We have way more at stake with Hebert's patent case anyway. I don't understand why we'd waste a senior partner on this." Stanley says as he pulls a socket wrench set out of the drawer, carrying it by the handle over to a car on the other side of the garage shrouded in a slip cover. Outside thunder rolls and rain hammers down against the garage doors. "Well, then you pitch that to Landry in the morning."

Stanley leans over and sets the tools down on the concrete floor, then goes about pulling the gray slip cover off of the car, revealing a mint-condition metallic blue 1963 corvette convertible. "Look, I'm picking up my kids from Rebecca's right now." He lies with a roll of his eyes. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Stanley pleads, pulling the slip cover down to crumple against the hood of the car. He then turns to a small radio sitting on a workbench, considers turning it on, and then shakes his head and leaves it alone. "Alright, absolutely. Sure thing. Monday morning."

Stanley bobs his head in a nod the man on the other end of the phone can't see. "Uh-huh. Yeah, I agree. Alright, talk to you later Marty. Buh-bye." Stanley hangs up the call and exhales an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, what a fucking…" he mumbles, trailing off as he sets the phone down on the workbench beside the radio.

As the rain continues to hammer down outside, Stanley eyes the car jack by the garage door, then pauses to listen to the rain. And to something else.

"If you're going to rob me, the keys to the car are under the visor." Stanley says to the air, turning to look over his shoulder to a looming silhouette of a man standing at the unlit top of the steps into his house. A man dripping with rain.

"Ah' don't want yer money, Stan."

Stanely's eyes widen. He knows that voice.

But Kain Zarek is dead.

Bay Ridge
NYC Safe Zone

February 25th
6:17 pm

Stepping down out of the doorway, Kain Zarek is a ghost risen from the grave. When Stanley sees Kain he takes a few reflexive steps back, winding up bumping up against the '63 corvette's door.

"Kain?" Stanley rasps, straightening his glasses.

"Nah, Ah'm the ghost'f Christmas Past, and you've been a naughty little fucker Stan." Kain says with smug certainty. He hides his discomfort as he walks, hides the stiffness in his posture. Thick clothes protecting against the cold air outside hide the layers of bandages covering his chest and abdomen. Painkillers hide the wincing he should be doing.

"Bullshit," Stanley says with a quick shake of his head. "No, no, no. This is some sort of fucking mind-fuck. They buried you. I saw your body in the morgue. I took pictures!"

Kain continues to advance on Stanley. "How'd Ah' look?" He asks casually, unbuttoning his peacoat.

"Like a fucking corpse." Stanley says, reaching behind himself to grab the tire iron laying in the driver's seat of the convertible.

"Was Ah' smilin'?" Kain asks, getting closer.

"No." Stanley says a little hastily. "On account of the fact that you were missing most of your fucking head!" Stanley's voice rises into a shout as he lunges at Kain, swinging the tire iron. Kain sidesteps and slugs Stanley in the ribs as hard as he can, sending him doubling over. Kain turns, winds up and punches Stanley in the kidney as hard as he can while he's on his knees. Stanley collapses forward and drops the tire iron. Kain grabs him by the back of his sweater and throws him across the garage. Stanley's glasses come flying off his face and clatter across the concrete.

Circling, Kain comes around to Stanley's side and then kicks him in the ribs with all the strength he can muster. Stanley grunts and rolls onto his back, gasping and wide-eyed as he stares up at Kain. But Kain doesn't stop. He straddles Stanley's chest and settles down on his knees, grabbing the attorney by the front of his sweater. Then, punches him in the side of the head as hard as he can. Stanley screams, and Kain punches him again, then once more before letting go of his sweater and rising up from off his chest.

Stanley rolls onto his side again, coughing up blood and clutching the side of his face. Kain paces around the garage, picking up the tire iron from the floor as he does. "When'd you start working fer Jason Mines?" Kain asks, turning the tire iron over in his hands. Stanley gasps, a stringy line of blood and saliva dangling out of his mouth. He looks over his shoulder toward Kain, wincing as he does.

"I don't!" Stanley howls. Kain rolls his eyes and immediately circles back around at Stanley who raises his hands up defensively and cries. "Okay, okay! Stop! Stop!" Kain locks eyes with Stanley and brandishes the tire iron. He asked a question. "A couple years ago. It was a couple of years ago, Jesus fucking Christ!"

Kain eases off, letting his grip on the tire iron slack. "You work for Gideon too, or just Mines?"

"I consult for Mr. d'Sarthe," Stanley says with a delicate touch of fingers to his face. "You could've broken my fucking jaw!"

"That's why…" Kain says as he doubles back, then lunges in to gently tap the tire iron against the side of Stanley's brow, "…Ah' punched y'in th' side'f yer head." He smiles, threateningly, before leaning away.

"I don't know how you pulled this bullshit off, but you do realize you're fucking dead. Again. Right?" Stanley sputters, wiping his mouth with trembling fingers. "You kill me, you know d'Sarthe will find out and then he'll be up your ass sideways. You let me go and you know I'm going straight to him. What the fuck were you thinking, Zarek?"

Kain hefts the tire iron in one hand, then looks back at Stanley. His mouth twitches, almost a smile, but no. He has nothing to be happy about with this exchange. Instead, Kain turns on the radio and cranks the volume. The Beach Boys come blaring out of the tiny speakers.

—it be nice to live together

In the kind of world where we belong?

Stanley scrambles back, realizing what Kain is doing, and tries screaming for help. Kain, instead, walks briskly across the floor and strikes Stanley across the head with the tire iron, sending him sprawling to the floor. "What does Mines want with Kay Damaris!?" Kain screams, and Stanley covers his head and continues to cry for help.

You know it's gonna make it that much better

When we can say goodnight and stay together

Kain winds up again and kicks him in the back, then stomps down on his ribs. Stanley howls in pain, and Kain kicks one of his hands away from his face and steps down on his wrist. "Damaris! What's he want with her? Answer me!" Stanley continues to scream for help, and Kain recognizes how terrified he is of d'Sarthe. Already doubt is creeping in about this reckless plan, but Kain being the stubborn bastard that he is doubles down. He leans forward and smashes one end of the tire iron down on one of Stanley's fingers.

Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up

In the morning when the day is new?

An agonized howl of pain fills the air and Stanley's cries go from calls for help to pleas for Kain to stop. He doesn't. Kain slams the tire iron down again, and again, and again until he breaks Stanley's middle finger off at the second knuckle. The primal howl of pain is drowned out by the blaring music reverberating through the garage.

And after having spent the day together

Hold each other close the whole night through

"Linderman!" Stanley howls, "Linderman! Linderman!" It's enough of an answer for Kain to pull his foot off of Stanley's wrist, allowing the attorney to roll over and cradle his mangled hand to his chest. Kain grimaces, bringing a hand up to his own side where he feels a sharp pain from his stitches. His shirt feels damp with his own blood. He'd gone too far, but he was getting answers.

Happy times together we've been spending

I wish that every kiss was never ending

"Th' fuck's this got t'do with Danny?!" Kain demands to know, kneeling down next to Stanley, pressing the crook of the tire iron under his chin. "Don't make me start goin' for fuckin' teeth."

Oh, wouldn't it be nice?

"S-something—something about his money. All the money he hid from the feds when he was dying! Jesus Christ what did you think it was about?" Stanley wails, rocking back and forth cradling his hand. Kain presses the tire iron harder against Stanley's throat. "She's gotta know something. He said it was valuable—information. He was making a deal with a buyer. I don't know who."

Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray

It might come true

"Bullshit." Kain growls, grabbing Stanley's bald head and dashing it against the corvette's door, leaving a dent. "You know what she knows you wormy little shit." Kain winds up with the tire iron again and Stanley tries to shield his face, shouting.

Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do

Oh, we could be married (oh, we could be married)

"It's the Corinthian!" Stanley yells, "Fuck! Jesus. Damaris knew about a vault in the Corinthian!" In response to Stanley's confession, Kain lowers the tire iron.

And then we'd be happy (and then we'd be happy)

"What vault?" Kain asks, eyes narrowing.

Oh, wouldn't it be nice?

"I don't know, I seriously don't know!" Stanley screams. "It's hidden! Only a handful of people knew! Mr. Linderman told me he entrusted its location to Damaris the week before he succumbed to his cancer! I swear that's all I know! I swear, Kain, please!"

You know it seems the more we talk about it

It only makes it worse to live without it

Kain throws the tire iron aside with a noisy clatter, then stands up and hides his physical discomfort behind a scowl. "You might wanna skip town, Stan. You know Gideon don't like snitches much."

But let's talk about it

Stanley collapses down onto his side, sobbing as he cradles his mangled hand to his chest. Kain looks him over once, then around the garage, before stealing Stanley's cell phone on the way out.

Oh, wouldn't it be nice?

He got what he came here for.

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