Qball's Pool Hall

INT. QBALL'S POOL HALL - 10 PM

Dom and Jordan are engaged in a game of pool, waiting for customers. Dom stands in a shooting stance, cigarette perched in his mouth as he eyes the cue stick aimed at the nine ball. Jordan leans casually on a bar stool beside a high-rise, half-circle table, exhaling a puff of smoke toward the ceiling.

Dom strikes the cue, potting the nine ball and sealing their game. He holds the cue stick like a spear, standing tall with a self-satisfied grin.

DOM
(smiling, pleased)
Yeah, suck it, bitch... Pay up.

JORDAN
(rubbing his eyes, exasperated)
Fucking unbelievable, you damned cheater. You only play this table because you know how to work the lean.

DOM
Then why not another table? There’s a new virgin one right over there by the bar.

Dom gestures toward the bar, cigarette dangling between his fingers.

JORDAN
Because I've lost enough scratch for one night. Maybe you can hustle Craig; I'm sure he'd love it...

Jordan pulls two twenties from his shirt pocket, laying them flat on the pool table and placing the blue chalk on top. He shifts his weight and turns to return the cue stick to the rack.

As Jordan sets the stick on the rack and turns back, he notices Dom conversing with a girl. She glances over Dom's shoulder, locking eyes with Jordan. He maintains the eye contact, drawing closer as she leans in to kiss Dom, breaking only to establish a gaze with Jordan again.

JORDAN
I’m assuming she’s one very satisfied customer.

Jordan raises his right eyebrow, scrutinizing Dom while slightly crouching, like a wolf sizing up its prey.

DOM
Um... Yeah, something like that.

Jordan clenches his teeth for a moment, then relaxes and smiles, glancing at Kate before turning to Dom.

JORDAN
(whispering)
Can I talk to you for a sec?

Dom raises his head, following Jordan's gaze toward the bathroom. Jordan pivots, turning toward the bathroom while extinguishing his cigarette in an ashtray along the way. They move into a hallway where the bathrooms are designated by gender.


INT. QBALL'S POOL HALL / BATHROOM HALLWAY - 10 PM

Jordan and Dom stand in the dimly lit hallway, their faces illuminated by the burnt plastic-colored light overhead. They exchange suspicious glances. Jordan scratches his head, glancing around before stepping into Dom's personal space with the urgency of someone strung out.

JORDAN
Is she a mutual investor in our enterprise?
(inquisitive inflection)

DOM
No, what? What the fuck, man?
(raising his voice, irritated)

JORDAN
Then why the fuck is she here? We're here to work, not to play!
(voice escalating into a yell)

DOM
FUCKING A! Relax, man. She's my girl; she’s cool...

Jordan interrupts, his anger boiling over.

JORDAN
(yelling in Dom's face)
Well then, take your bitch to a movie! Jesus Christ, this isn't take your bitch to work day!

DOM
(yelling back)
Then I'll get rid of her! Fuck!

Jordan rubs his temples, trying to regain composure. He steps back to reassess the situation, then moves back into Dom's personal space to speak his mind, seeking resolution.

JORDAN
(offering a reassuring smile)
Fuck, fuck... Forget it, man. Sorry I lost my temper. Just a little paranoid. You ever think what might happen if you both break up and she wants to hurt you? You're giving her ammo to put you away... Just think about that. She can stay, but keep that in mind. I told you before, no one knows you're an entrepreneur but me and your clientele. The bitches can come for dessert... but the entrée is me, you, and the customer.

DOM
I get you, man, but you're being a little too paranoid.

JORDAN
Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you. You say paranoid; I say playing it safe. We're not like the rest; we don’t do stupid shit. Bringing a bystander to a transaction is a great way to freak out not only our customers but also to land yourself in the glorious experience of butt-fuck jail. We’re pros here, not fucking Mama coca crack-head basas.

Suddenly, Craig walks through the front door, scanning the room for Dom and Jordan.

JORDAN
Shit, Craig's here. I’ll do the talking this time. Just hang with your girl; it’s cool. Just looking out, okay?

DOM
Yeah, man, it's cool. Sorry.

Jordan exits the hallway and paces by a pool table, dodging a player preparing to take a shot. A waitress wearing a turquoise tube top and a tight black skirt walks in front of him, her hot pink hoop earrings catching the light. She smiles as she nearly bumps into him, and he smoothly glides around her, placing his hand on her waist and pressing his fingertips against her back.

A close-up reveals a gang symbol tattooed on the lower arch of her back, just above the cleavage peeking from her skirt. Jordan continues toward Craig, who now recognizes him. Craig tips his baseball cap and grins aggressively in a thug-like fashion upon seeing Jordan.

Jordan meets him at the door, mirroring the same demeanor.


INT. QBALL'S POOL HALL / FRONT DOOR - 10 PM

JORDAN
Hey, Craig, you made it! We were getting worried. Let’s move back out to your car, okay?

Jordan and Craig turn toward the front door. In the background, Dom is ordering a beer from a waitress for his girlfriend. The camera follows Jordan as he walks out the door, mirroring the movement of the assailant from the beginning, creating an illusion of continuity.

The camera halts at the door, which closes with a soft thud. As it shuts, the street scene speeds up in a time-lapse. It slows again, revealing Jordan walking back into view in real-time. He steps through the door, and the camera pivots to show Dom leaning over Kate, teaching her how to play.

JORDAN
Dom, we’re going back to the house.

Dom leans over Kate’s shoulder, whispering into her ear.

DOM
(whispering to Kate)
Come on, baby.

Dom and Kate stand upright, and Dom grabs his coat while Kate reaches for the cigarettes. They all walk out the front door, and Kate kisses Dom as they exit.

---

EXT. QBALL'S POOL HALL / PARKING LOT - 10:30 PM (CONTINUOUS)

The trio strolls toward Jordan's black 1994 Honda Prelude. Jordan presses the keychain, unlocking the doors. Dom opens the passenger door, reclining the seat for Kate as she climbs into the back.

As she's getting in, Jordan opens the driver’s side door and glances over at a royal blue 1964 Chevy Impala. Craig and two friends sit inside. Craig starts the car, and its headlights flicker on just as Jordan settles into his own driver’s seat.

Jordan pulls out of the lot, passing a police car parked nearby, the officer watching him closely. The Chevy follows shortly behind as they merge onto the neon-lit, busy highway.