The Water's Edge - Chapter One

After serving 35 years in prison, Steve Engler is a free man, hoping for an honest life. But his second chance at a fresh start is threatened when a nagging cough turns out to be a possible death sentence. 

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Transcript

NOCTURNUM COLLECTIVE – SEASON THREE

The Water’s Edge – Chapter One

Written by Karl White

NARRATOR (OPEN): There are constants that endure in the known world. Space, time, energy, matter. Physical and scientific laws constraining us to this existence. But there's a current below the surface. Contrary to the explainable, it's where the unknown resides, where meaning and form collide with the abstract, where shadows hold dominion…Enter the Nocturnum Collective.

(MUSIC – opening sequence)

NARRATOR: And now, Season Three, The Water's Edge, Chapter One, written by Karl White.

(MUSIC – mysterious drone)

NARRATOR: The biology of life is a fragile thing. Where and how life truly originated is a mystery. The ingredients, carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and phosphorus, melding under just the right conditions. Energy expending, with a mix of hydrocarbons, and of course, water, creating a primordial soup from whence our existence flowed…But we're born with the knowledge that life is fleeting. We'll all die someday, there's no denying it. Cellular and molecular changes, diseases ravaging our systems, yet built into our DNA, as primal as the origins of life itself, is the fight for survival. And when faced head on with the prospect of death, we instinctively resist, doing what we can to delay the inevitable by any means necessary.

(MUSIC – old-school hip hop beat)

NARRATOR: Our story starts on a humid summer night, on the mean streets of the South Bronx. It's 1990, and the city is in the midst of decades of decline. Drugs and crime run rampant, it's one of the most blighted parts of New York. Some call it urban decay, to others it's a hellhole. But to those who live here, it's home. And to them, the ebb and flow of life is feast or famine. Dog eat dog. Be tough or die.

(SFX – city sounds)

NARRATOR: A rundown car is parked down the block from a neighborhood check cashing store. In the driver's seat, Joe, 20, he's stocky, some would call him a “hood rat”, but he's just a kid living one day at a time. He shifts in his seat, nervous. Joe's gaze drifts down the block to someone standing on the corner…This is Enzo…he's 18, a skinny tweaker acting as a lookout. He gives Joe a subtle nod, indicating the coast is clear.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Eyes back on the darkened storefront, Joe grabs a toy walkie talkie off the seat next to him.

YOUNG JOE: (into walkie) Hey, all's clear, but hurry the fuck up, will ya?

NARRATOR: On the other end of the walkie, inside the check cashing store, is the leader of this small, motley crew -- Steve Engler, he's 23, a resident of the streets. He's lean and athletic out of necessity, and hard-headed out of experience. And at the moment, he ignores his partner's call as he's trying to drill into a safe…But Joe keeps talking, pushing for an update of any kind.

YOUNG JOE: (over walkie) Come on man, I need an ETA. We can’t just be sitting out here.

NARRATOR: Steve shakes his head, frustrated with the safe and something else. He grabs the walkie, barking at Joe.

YOUNG STEVE: (into walkie) God damn it, Joe. I thought you said no one would be here.

YOUNG JOE: (over walkie) I cased this place for a week. It was empty, I swear...

(SFX – radio click)

NARRATOR: Steve turns off his radio, not interested in Joe's excuses. He looks back at an elderly security guard, on the ground, tied up.

YOUNG STEVE: Just hang in there, old timer. I’m almost done, and I'll be out of your hair.

NARRATOR: Back to drilling. And a moment later, he breaks through. Pulling the door open, there are stacks of cash. Steve begins filling a small duffel…But something makes him stop and look back at the security guard again. The man is too quiet and too still. Steve finishes what he's doing, hurrying to the guard's side.

YOUNG STEVE: Hey, you okay?

NARRATOR: Steve shakes him, but the guard doesn't move. He kneels, putting an ear to the man's chest.

YOUNG STEVE: Oh, shit!

NARRATOR: Outside, Joe unsuccessfully calls for Steve over the walkie.

YOUNG JOE: (into radio) Come in, Steve…you need to wrap it up.

NARRATOR: The sudden wail of police sirens fill the air. Joe looks down the block to see Enzo sprinting off. He goes to start the car, but there's a problem.

(SFX – car won’t start)

YOUNG JOE: Motherfuck!

NARRATOR: He needs to bail, but he's got to let Steve know trouble is approaching.

(SFX – horn honks)

NARRATOR: It's too late as cop cars swarm, coming down both ends of the street.

(SFX – police siren)

NARRATOR: Inside the check cashing store, panicked and busy doing chest compressions on the guard, Steve's oblivious to the commotion outside, but he catches the reflection of blue and red lights off the wall…As he stands, looking out the window, spotting Joe being slammed on the hood of a getaway car by a cop, other officers with guns drawn head towards the storefront.

YOUNG STEVE: Shit!

(SFX – back door opens)

NARRATOR: Steve bursts out of the back door, duffel in hand, sprinting down a dark alley. Behind him, sounds of cops on foot giving chase. He's about to get away when a cop car skids to a stop cutting off his escape.

(SFX – car tires screech)

NARRATOR: Behind him, the police in pursuit catch up.

POLICE: Freeze!

NARRATOR: He's surrounded.

POLICE: Hands up!

NARRATOR: With nowhere else to run, he drops the duffel and puts his hands in the air.

(MUSIC – mysterious drone)

NARRATOR: The choices we make have a way of affecting our lives forever. Small moments, rash decisions, false moves reverberate across our timelines, like ripples in a pond. An instant decades before can dictate where the future leads. For Steve, the consequences of his actions would lead to hard time. A resident of Rikers for the last 35 years, he's now the ripe old age of 58. Life has passed in hard years. Long gone is the punk kid with the devil-may-care attitude, replaced with a man who has paid his debt to society and then some…In his cell, Steve is doing push-ups, dispensing advice between rises to his young cellmate Manny, a former gangster who is staring down a long sentence. Manny seeks truths from someone like Steve.

STEVE: Years in here are hard, especially when you stop countin days…Doin as much time as I have, you're locked up body and mind…The isolation can be unshakable, akin to a caged animal.

NARRATOR: With the last push-up, Steve gets to his feet.

MANNY: Akin, ain't never heard that.

STEVE: It means similar.

MANNY: 35 is a long stretch.

STEVE: Over half my life, the only silver lining, being in here, probably kept me alive. But I tell you what, I've felt every fucking day of it, and that's what I'm trying to say. Prison time can make a man crazy.

NARRATOR: Steve climbs up to the top bunk. On the wall next to him is a collection of photos from magazines…Most guys have pictures of scantily clad women or souped-up cars, but Steve has accrued a collection of stunning images of nature, sandy beaches, open fields, a tranquil bayou meant to induce calm and contemplation.

STEVE: I got this trick.

NARRATOR: Steve looks at his collage, focusing on the image of a wheat field. He lies back and closes his eyes.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: In his mind, he's there in the photo. He walks through a wide-open field of amber framed against a beautiful blue sky. Golden beams of sunlight beat down on his face. Steve holds his hands out, feeling the tall wheat kissing his fingers as he passes. He's alone, at peace.

STEVE: It's easy to go somewhere else with some practice.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Opening his eyes, Steve is back in his cell.

STEVE: In your mind, no bars can hold you.

NARRATOR: On the bottom bunk, Manny, with his eyes closed, is having a vision of his own.

MANNY: That's nice, man.

STEVE: I'll leave you my pictures, so you can have places to go, and my books.

MANNY: Thanks.

STEVE: There's a GED study guide in there. Get your diploma, learn a trade. I'm walking out with a job waiting for me. There are guys that do a fraction of the time I do, and they got nothing to show. Those are the guys that end up back in here.

MANNY: I hear you, but outside, I ain't never done nothing honest to make a buck.

STEVE: Chasing the wrong things will always end in tragedy. It's up to you to follow the right path.

NARRATOR: Steve stops mid-sentence with the urge to cough. He sits up, feet dangling over the side of the bunk. He clears his throat, trying to hold it in.

MANNY: What's the first thing you gonna do when you get out?

NARRATOR: Steve pulls a picture of his girlfriend from under his pillow. Her name is Jane. She's 55, beautiful, but has a large distinctive SCAR running down the length of her face…Manny looks up, seeing Steve looking at the picture and gives a big grin.

MANNY: Gonna get you some, huh?

STEVE: It ain't like that with Jane. She and I've been talking for the better part of a decade.

MANNY: Shit, I'm 18 months in and can hardly take it. Can't imagine how you feel.

STEVE: Of course I want the physical, but we have a deeper connection. We've even talked about getting married, but Jane, she's been through her own shit, you know? You should think about joining the Church Pen Pals program. I'm not into all that God BS, but there are some good people who will listen and help keep you grounded, and you never know. You could meet someone who could really change your life.

NARRATOR: Unable to hold his cough back any longer, Steve starts hacking uncontrollably.

(Steve coughs)

MANNY: You okay?

NARRATOR: But he can't stop. Manny jumps up and gets some water. Steve downs it, and his coughing fit finally lets up.

MANNY: Man, that sounds like it's getting worse.

NARRATOR: But Steve waves him off. It's nothing.

(MUSIC – windy drone)

NARRATOR: An overcast day at Riker's. Steve, dressed in street clothes, stands outside, waiting. He holds a paper bag with all of his belongings.

(SFX – rusty gates open)

NARRATOR: The weathered rusty gates to the prison slowly open. Steve shakes hands with a few guards, who wish him well…Then steps beyond the prison walls. The countless years, days, and hours of his incarceration are over -- He's a free man…Waiting just beyond the gate is the woman from the photograph, Jane. She took the train and two buses to be here in the flesh. And she's a bright spot on this dreary day.

STEVE: There's something sweet about seeing you out here in the fresh air.

JANE: Yeah. It's kind of nice without all the bars and the guards watching.

NARRATOR: They share a deep kiss and join hands, walking away.

(SFX – rusty gates close)

NARRATOR: Steve looks back over his shoulder as the prison gates close, never wanting to see them again.

(MUSIC –  ethereal)

NARRATOR: In Yonkers, at Jane's small one-bedroom apartment, the table is littered with leftovers and empty plates, the aftermath of a big home-cooked meal…Steve throws his napkin down in defeat and leans back in his chair, satisfied.

STEVE: That was the best meal I think I've ever had.

JANE: It's good to see you smile.

STEVE: I've been dreaming about this for a long time. Home cooking, a beautiful woman.

JANE: Some normalcy.

STEVE: Normal was never like this. I told you, growing up, with my pops gone, mom was always strung out, a hot meal was hard to come by. And don't get me started on the sludge they served in the joint.

NARRATOR: Steve trails off, feeling like he's being a bit too personal. Jane silently reaches out, putting her hand on his. She knows he's had a tough life but dares not say it.

STEVE: I know you're taking a huge leap of faith. Letting an ex-con like me into your home? I mean, given what you've been through.

JANE: You are nothing like him, okay?

NARRATOR: She takes Steve's hand, holding it against the scar on her face. It's deep, jagged, born from the violence of someone else.

JANE: Jerry was rotten to the core. I was young, I thought it was love. I didn't know better until it was too late.

NARRATOR: Jane leans over and kisses Steve.

JANE: God delivered you into my life for a reason.

STEVE: I'm committed to be in the best man I can be, for you and for myself.

NARRATOR: She kisses him again, long, deep, passionate…Jane stands and takes Steve by the hand, leading him back towards her bedroom…

(Steve clears throat)

NARRATOR: Steve fights back a cough as he follows her.

(MUSIC – melodic)

NARRATOR: This has been one of the best nights Steve's had in as long as he can remember. In the small hours after their coupling, the room is dark and quiet. But Steve's wide awake, watching Jane sleep. He can't help but smile. His life feels like there's finally an ounce of control after spending all those years behind bars…But his mind wanders. Who he'd be if he hadn't made so many mistakes. He thinks about the break-in, the robbery, the old security guard he had to restrain. Steve had no idea he had a heart condition. No amount of explanation in front of the judge could change the fact that a man died as a result of his foolish actions. First degree murder, 35 years in prison. If he could go back and do it differently, he would…But he can't, and he shouldn't dwell on what can't be changed. Life only moves forward; mistakes and regret linger. All he can do is be a better man.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: Rolling over, Steve glances at the clock. It's 4:41 a.m. The sun will be up soon, and he'll need to be on his way for his first day at work. So he slips out of bed, eager to start moving forward.

(SFX – shower)

NARRATOR: After a shower, Steve stands in front of the mirror, shaving. He wears worn prison tattoos on his shoulders. His skin is rough and wrinkled. His chest sags. His stomach is doughy. He has crow's feet around his eyes, deep worry lines on his forehead. His hair, gray and thin. In this light, looking at himself, Steve realizes how much life has passed him by.

(Steve clears throat, then coughs)

NARRATOR: The uncontrollable urge to cough comes on again. He does what he can to keep quiet, hoping not to wake Jane.

(Steve coughs)

NARRATOR: Dressed and ready for work, Steve tiptoes to the fridge. He opens it to find a sack lunch Jane packed for him, with a note that reads, “Good luck on your first day.” And with an air of purpose at his back, he's out the door.

(MUSIC – old-school hip hop beat)

NARRATOR: As he walks to the subway station, Steve looks around. The city's changed so much, not for better or worse. It's just different. An alternate reality with familiar sights, but a contrasting feel. Cars look alien, but not quite as futuristic as he had hoped. People have definitely changed. The way they dress and carry themselves is too casual for his taste. And and everyone walks around on their phones, distracted. What happened to being present and living in the moment? The life he knew as a kid on these streets seems exotic compared to the here and now…And as he thinks all of this, he gives an amused smile, realizing he's turned into quite the grumpy old man.

(SFX – subway sounds)

NARRATOR: On the subway, he's heading out to a neighborhood in Queens. The train is packed with commuters. At the next stop, even more people squeeze in. Steve watches an old woman slowly board. She's a white-haired granny type, walking with a cane and carrying an oversized purse. He quickly gives his seat up to her…And as the train lurches forward, Steve grabs onto a handhold.

(SFX – subway moving)

NARRATOR: People watching his fellow passengers, he notices no one is engaged. No one reads the paper anymore. Everyone's nose is buried in their phones, scrolling, clicking…The only other person on the train, not staring at a screen, is a punk kid. He's 19, a rough neck, and something of a mirror image of Steve when he was younger. The punk's eyes shift, looking for trouble. His gaze settles on the old woman Steve gave his seat to, honing in on her purse…Steve watches the kid, knowing what's about to go down.

NARRATOR: As the train pulls to the stop and the door's open…

(SFX – subway doors open)

NARRATOR: …The punk rushes by and grabs the old woman's purse. He makes his escape, but Steve grabs him before he reaches the door, pinning the punk against the wall with his forearm.

PUNK: Get the fuck off me, old man.

STEVE: Hey, it ain't worth it.

NARRATOR: The punk fights to get away, but Steve applies a little pressure. The punk cringes and drops the bag. The old woman hobbles over, snatching her purse off the floor of the train. Steve pushes the punk out the door as it slides closed.

(SFX – subway doors close)

NARRATOR: And as the train takes off, Steve shares a look with the punk who stands on the platform. It's like watching his past speed away…Turning back, the old woman gives Steve a grateful nod. A few passengers clap at his valiant deed. Others ignore the whole incident like it's just another morning on the train. It's good to be back in the city.

(MUSIC – pensive)

NARRATOR: Somewhere in the labyrinth of the burbs, Steve stands at the bottom of the drive of a house undergoing construction. The site seems empty, so he hesitates to go any further. But a voice rings out behind him.

RAY: Are you Steve?

NARRATOR: He turns to see Ray, 40s, standing across the street at a work truck, fastening his tool belt.

RAY: You're early.

STEVE: Sorry, just anxious to get to work.

NARRATOR: Ray crosses the street, meeting Steve on the sidewalk.

RAY: Don't apologize. It's a good thing.

NARRATOR: They shake. Ray seems friendly, but there's a rigidness just below the surface that's quick to show itself.

RAY: A couple rules to get out of the way. While I'm happy to have ex-cons working for me, as most of the guys I employ are, we don't talk about it. Keep who you are and what you've done to yourself. Work hard, be on time, be respectful. Do that and you'll be just fine. Step out of line and you're gone. Got it?

STEVE: Yes, sir.

(SFX – construction sounds)

NARRATOR: Within the hour, the rest of the crew arrives. They're a misfit band of carpenters and craftsmen who all share a hazy past of confinement. But dues paid, and together on the straight and narrow, they help transform outdated houses into warm, cozy, modern homes. Steve jumps right into the thick of it. His trade is cabinetry, picked up and perfected in his years spent at Rikers. In the kitchen, he helps rip out the existing fixtures from when the house was built in 1967. That was also the year he was born. The place has good bones, but heavy use has worn the look and function of everything down. So here he is, putting skills to good use, renovating and refreshing what was old, making it new again. By the end of his first day, Steve's installed the base cabinets to be able to set the island and countertops. All in all, he's been productive and efficient, raised happy so far. The crew is on schedule, and there's just something about hard work that's good for the soul.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: As they pack it in for the day, Steve has another of his coughing fits.

(Steve coughs)

NARRATOR: The spell is a bad one. He covers his mouth, coughing into his hand…It's not letting up. The fit lasts more than just a moment. And when Steve pulls his hand back, he notices a hint of red.

(SFX – front door)

NARRATOR: Home again after his long day. As Steve comes through the door, Jane is in the kitchen making dinner.

JANE: Hey there, honey!

NARRATOR: Steve perks up as he walks into the kitchen.

STEVE: Honey? I like the sound of that.

JANE: How was your first day?

STEVE: It was good.

JANE: Dinner will be ready soon. Do you mind setting the table?

STEVE: Let me go wash up.

(SFX – water running)

NARRATOR: In the bathroom, as he scrubs his hands, Steve has another coughing fit.

(Steve coughs)

NARRATOR: He tries to do it quietly but can't stifle it. After a moment, he spits up blood. Copious amounts…As he looks up at himself in the mirror, he sees Jane watching from the doorway. She's concerned.

(SFX - hum of fluorescents)

NARRATOR: White, bright walls, illuminated with the unnatural tone of fluorescent lights. Steve is in an exam room, as Dr. Feldman, an old school general practitioner, listens to his lungs with a stethoscope.

DR. FELDMAN: How long have you had this cough?

STEVE: A few months.

DR. FELDMAN: Are you a smoker?

STEVE: Never touched that garbage.

DR. FELDMAN: Did it develop after an illness or any sort of exposure?

STEVE: No, just kind of came out of nowhere.

DR. FELDMAN: Give me a deep breath.

(SFX – deep breath)

DR. FELDMAN: And another.

(SFX – deep breath)

NARRATOR: As Steve breathes again, Dr. Feldman's mouth contorts, bothered by something he hears.

(SFX – sting)

NARRATOR: The myth about our health and what ails us is that there are immediate answers and fast cures. But the reality is unless your arm is broken or you've come down with a cold, the human body is a mystery even to doctors. They follow symptoms as a road map, relying on imaging and tests to narrow a prognosis…Weeks after his initial visit, after blood work, x-rays, a CT scan, biopsies, and an MRI, Steve and Jane sit anxiously in Dr. Feldman's office. The doctor's disposition is dour.

DR. FELDMAN: There's never a great way to break this kind of news. Some lung cancers are slow growing, manageable if caught early. But what you have is fairly advanced…While this isn't necessarily a death sentence, it's not good. Rate of survival can improve with the right avenue of treatment.

NARRATOR: Jane grips onto a cross she wears around her neck, saying a silent prayer. Steve tries to put on a strong face, comforting Jane, but feeling the immense weight of his own worry.

(SFX – subway)

NARRATOR: In silence, Steve and Jane sit together on the rumbling train. His mind is a million miles away. She holds her cross close to her heart.

JANE: We'll do all we can. I'll pray God will show us the way.

STEVE: I don't think God's gonna help. This is my past coming back to haunt me.

NARRATOR: She rests her head on his shoulder.

JANE: Don't say that. You have a lot of life to live. Have a little faith.

NARRATOR: They wait at a neighborhood pharmacy, along with a slew of other customers. The place is like a cattle call of the sick and infirmed. Steve watches those around him, an old man with an oxygen tank, a strung-out mom, people way too young and not sickly enough to be dependent on prescription drugs. He'd read about it in the joint, the medical industrial complex, and seen all the commercials during TV time, touting this drug or that pill, a cure just waiting for you to take, and now experiencing it in person, seeing that it's hard to thrive in a for-profit system. And despite the real calamity that is afflicting him, he wonders how many here are just waiting for their fix…Everyone perks up, like Pavlov's dogs, as the pharmacist comes to the pickup window.

PHARMACIST: Um, Engler?

NARRATOR: Steve hops up, hurrying to the counter, Jane at his side. The pharmacist is already shaking his head.

PHARMACIST: Yeah, so I checked, and unfortunately, there aren't generics for any of the scripts you have.

NARRATOR: The pharmacist types in the drugs on his computer, adding up the total.

PHARMACIST: Your insurance is bottom of the barrel. It covers 10%, leaving the amount you owe...$4,500.

STEVE: Four thousand, five hundred? Is that for the year?

PHARMACIST: No, that's a month's worth.

JANE: That has to be a mistake.

PHARMACIST: Afraid not. Pre-chemo regiments are terribly expensive. The manufacturers set the price. Insurance companies don't cover most of them. I know it sucks, but it's the price of health care these days.

NARRATOR: Steve and Jane look at one another. Neither was expecting this.

JANE: We can put it on my credit card.

NARRATOR: As she goes for her purse, Steve stops her.

JANE: This is your health we're talking about.

NARRATOR: Others, waiting impatiently, grumble as the couple talks it over. The pharmacist, feeling it too, interjects.

PHARMACIST: There's a discount program you can apply for, but there's no guarantee the drugs will be any cheaper.

NARRATOR: He slides an application, along with the prescriptions, back to Steve, who snatches them up, angrily walking away…Jane follows with the application for the discount program.

JANE: This might be worth a shot. In the meantime, I'll ask my sister if I can borrow money to cover us for a few months.

STEVE: I can't ask you to do that.

JANE: Why? What other option do we have?

NARRATOR: Looking around the waiting room, Steve has an idea.

(MUSIC – distant, loud hip hop)

NARRATOR: Inside of a rundown tenement, Steve walks down a dark hallway. Jane, out of her element, huddles behind him, uncomfortable. Steve stops at a door and pulls an envelope from his back pocket, double checking an address. This is the place. He knocks.

(SFX – door knock)

JANE: What are we doing here?

STEVE: Trying to be proactive.

NARRATOR: The door swings open. An overweight man in glasses, wearing a dingy robe over a tank top, and Boxers stands, annoyed -- It's Enzo, the tweaker teen who was on lookout the night Steve got pinched.

ENZO: What do you want?

STEVE: Enzo, it's me.

NARRATOR: Looking the stranger at his door up and down, it takes Enzo a moment.

ENZO: Stevie Boy? Man, you look so old.

STEVE: And you look fat.

NARRATOR: The two share a laugh and hug. Jane watches, arms crossed, apprehensive.

STEVE: This is my girlfriend, Jane?

NARRATOR: Suddenly modest, Enzo pulls his robe shut, smiling.

ENZO: Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.

NARRATOR: Jane nods, doing her best to be pleasant through her uneasiness.

(MUSIC – distant base)

NARRATOR: Inside Enzo's apartment, the trio sits at a table in the kitchen. Jane is scooted close to Steve, while Enzo sucks on a vape pen. He blows the smoke into the air and offers Jane a hit…She waves him off.

STEVE: I can't believe you. Four eyes with your fucking glasses.

ENZO: Can't stop age, bro. And I can't see with the shit without him. Not like the old days.

STEVE: Enzo and I used to run in the same circles. He was our lookout.

ENZO: Steve was the best box man there was.

JANE: Box man?

STEVE: Eh, it's nothing. We were kids doing stupid shit…Anyway, Enzo and I kept up. He's the only one who wrote me while I was locked away.

ENZO: We boys, man. Stone Street Mafia for life.

NARRATOR: Steve and Enzo demonstrate their gang's handshake, each pointing their fingers at one another like pistols as they join hands. Jane watches on, not liking how Steve's acting around Enzo, but she's trying not to let on.

STEVE: Speaking of what's everybody else up to?

ENZO: Lost Sal to a heart attack a few years back. Gene died on the streets. Joe, he's the only of the ones still kicking. Did half his 10 when you two got caught, went straight, got married, owns a restaurant in Greenpoint.

JANE: So, Enzo, what is it you do?

ENZO: I'm a purveyor of individual experiences.

JANE: Come again?

STEVE: He's being an asshole…He deals in pharmaceuticals.

JANE: A drug dealer.

ENZO: Eh, more like an independent neighborhood pharmacy.

NARRATOR: And with the admission, Steve hands his prescriptions over. Enzo thumbs through them.

ENZO: Let me make some calls. I think I can get you what you need.

JANE: Illegally.

ENZO: Believe it or not, I have contacts in the medical community who supply wholesale.

JANE: But how you get it is still against the law?

ENZO: I ain't gonna sit here and try to convince you I'm a good person. Because I ain't. But the way the drug companies operate makes me look like a fucking saint. When it comes down to it, what's more important, following the letter of the law or giving Steve a chance?

STEVE: Yeah, Jane. Just have a little faith.

NARRATOR: To be continued…

(MUSIC – Outro)

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