6. Ext. Construction Site – Day
Mike pulls up to a gigantic housing development smack
on the water in Saint Pete. Rows of unfinished, vacant homes.
He gets out, walks towards a tool van. On his way he
passes a busted-up old civic – a towel wedged into the window. Looks like
someone’s sleeping inside.
A Foreman greets Mike at the van.
Foreman: There he is, Magic Mike. You have a good
night?
Mike: For a thursday.
Mike starts loading up his tool belt. He sees someone
– The Kid, 19, clean-cut good looks – climb out of the civic.
Foreman: Well, today is lucky friday.
Mike: Yeah? How’s that?
Foreman: Cause not only am I gonna forget about the
fact that you’re fifteen minutes late, but I’m buping you up to lead man – pays
four bucks more. How’s that sound?
A beat. Mike looks around.
Mike: Where’s George and the rest of the crew?
Foreman: Took another gig last minute. Fuckers left
me high and dry – you believe that?
Mike looks at the crew climbing up on the roof – a
ragtag bunch of illegal immigrants.
Mike: Uh-huh. Looks to me like someone taught you how
to use Craigslist.
Foreman: Mikey, don’t insult me. They’re all
referrals. I’ve got enough to worry about let alone
having union crews barking at me about fucking benefits. Benefits – I mean,
shit, does it look like 2005 around here?
Mike: Sal, I ain’t jumping up with that crew for no
fourteen bucks an hour. No way.
Foreman: Don’t make me the asshole here, Mike –
Mike: Twenty or I walk.
Foreman: You better be fucking with me. (off Mike’s
stare) Sixteen.
Mike: Quality’s in the details, Sal. You want these
poor people calling Toll Brothers in two months asking why they got a swimming
pool in their living room? Fine by me. (turns to walk)
Foreman: Eighteen. Or you can fuck off. For real.
Mike smiles, heads up for the roof.
33. Int. Thong Shop – Day.
Dallas, Mike and the Kid walk through a small room
full of male/female stripper clothes. An Old Lady with a major tan and bright
gold hair tailors thongs at a sewing machine.
Dallas: Not all thongs are created equal. It’s like
underwear – one fit’s different from another.
The Kid scans the rows of thongs.
Dallas (Cont’d): You watch
the news, Kid?
The Kid: Not really.
Dallas: You should. These
fucking democrats are trying to raise taxes on the top five percent, you know
that?
The Kid: Uhhh.
The Kid looks at a row of thongs with gigantic penis
pouches.
Dallas: Stay away from those elephant socks, Kid.
You’ll want a lively colour for the younger girls. Mike’s in blue, so.
Mike: Go red.
Dallas: Bingo. (picks out a red one) You gotta keep your eyes open or they’ll fuck you when you
ain’t looking. I don’t know about y’all, but that socialist shit affects me.
All the regulations of my business, you know? Fucking un-American.
The Kid: Yeah.
Dallas: You’ll want a black on ein case I throw you
an S&M routine or something.
Dallas holds a thong up in front of the Kid’s crotch.
Dallas (Cont’d): Darla – what do you think?
The old woman looks up at the Kid, gives a thumbs up.
Dallas (Cont’d): Winner winner chicken dinner.
They get to the checkout with the old woman.
Dallas (Cont’d): Shit – forgot my wallet.
Mike gives Dallas a look, pulls out his credit card.
The woman swipes it. A beat.
Darla: Declined.
Mike: Huh? Oh, just got it in the mail, forgot to
authorise it.
The Kid: It’s cool – I got it.
The Kid pulls out his wallet, pays.
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