you roy? he nods. father and daughter meet.
yep. she swings a little more.
when'd you get out?
of prison. a beat.
oh.
first she told me you were dead. then she said you might as well be.
that's what the doctor said. on the phone. when he said that, mom started to laugh. roy glances about, anxious.
you're gonna get wet, might as well go swimming.
anorexia.
i could have bulimia. that's when you go in the bathroom after and vomit. she continues to eat. roy studies her face.
you're staring.
that's okay. i used to do it, too. look at your picture and see if i got your nose or your eyes. mom used to say i got lucky and only got your elbows.
fine. roy waits: is there more information forthcoming? angela eats, deliberately: no, there isn't.
not now. it's summer.
you drop out? roy hesitates, then nods.
that why you ended up a criminal?
it's okay, you know. whatever you do. everybody's done something bad in their life --
-- if you make it a career, it's just a lot of something strung together --
what -- what was that word? 'shi. t'? when's the last time you saw each other, you and mom?
you still love her? he doesn't know how to answer.
'cause she still hates you, you know.
stop, stop, stop. that's her car in the driveway. you better drop me here.
got a pen? he does. she takes it, then his hand, and writes a telephone number on his palm.
this is my private line. mom got it for me for my birthday. 'cause my friend carrie kept on calling after midnight. maybe we could go bowling some time. roy is caught off-guard by the suggestion. angela leaps out, then leans back in.
nice meeting you, dad.
remember me? roy nods, bemused.
took the bus. think i could come in a sec? panic flickers across roy's face. no one but frank has crossed this threshold in many years. he opens the door wider and she steps inside. she peers about.
nice.
it's nice. your place. i bet you're wondering how i got your address. he wasn't.
off your car insurance, in your glove compartment. roy feels suddenly uncomfortable in his own home.
mom and i had sort of a fight. it happens once in a while. i usually take off for a day or two to let her calm down.
normally i go to carrie's. only her family's on vacation. and i thought, since we seemed to hit it off so good last time -- -- i could sleep on the couch?
i could pay you back by cleaning up or something -- you wear those to read? they make you look kinda old.
this late?
sure. i can watch tv.
you don't have a tv? you seriously don't have a tv? he smiles, sheepishly.
new york super fudge chunk.
that's my favorite flavor. new york super fudge chunk.
super fudge chunk.
roy?
how was your meeting?
why'd mom leave you?
i did. she didn't want to talk about it. called you names. that's why we got into a fight. roy smiles. touched she stuck up for him.
she said you were a bad guy. you don't seem like a bad guy.
i don't think you're a bad guy. roy smiles, shuts the light off. immediately: knock-
that's okay. mom can pick me up. roy reacts: the prospect of confronting heather rattles him.
who was that guy who came by earlier?
what's his name?
how come you didn't want him to see me?
all you've got here is tuna. lots and lots of tuna. and one tv dinner. tv dinners are cool. you should get the tv to go with 'em. roy stiffens, pissed: someone went snooping.
hi.  no.  no.  guess.  what if i am? so? he's my father.
i know. i know. okay, i promise. yes, i promise! 'bye. she hangs up abruptly.
at me. not you. roy looks relieved.
she said she was gonna call the police -- so much for relief.
-- but now she just wants me home in time for summer school.
monday.
that's okay, isn't it?
how'd the meeting go? did it go okay? confronted by his daughter's breasts, hips and calves, roy walks straight into the house.
what's the matter? you freaking out about something?
don't you drink?
come on. i'm fourteen. roy isn't sure which way to take that.
the line for that one's shorter.
just a minute. roy closes it fast.
nowhere.
i went to the arcade. it's only like a half-mile away.
it's stuffy in here. this whole house smells like lysol.
i told you, the arcade --
that's how i left. i don't have keys to lock the door.
jeez, you're worse than mom.
what did i do wrong?
i just went out. i didn't drink, i didn't get high, and i didn't take any money out of your stupid horse. so, what, you never heard of a bank?
i don't want to stay where i'm not wanted.
fooled me.
let me go. you just don't want me going home to mom saying she was right all along. you're like one of her boyfriends: i'm just something you have to deal with in order to screw her.
even they tell me what they do for a living. oh, yeah, antique dealers always keep large stacks of cash in their homes. right next to their guns.
why do you have a gun?
in case what? roy is stuck. he sighs, resigned.
bullshit.
you're a con man?
and that guy frank?
bullshit.
teach me something.
teach me something. a con.
teach me something.
why not?
really, you think that?
that i'm beautiful? a beat.
then why won't you?! because crime doesn't pay?
you seem to be doing okay by it. roy stops.
then why do you keep doing it? roy has no answer.
i'm not as innocent as you think. i've done stuff with boys. i've done stuff, if i told you, you'd probably throw up right here.
teach me something!
at the christmas dance last year, i went with this boy, josh ward, he's cute and i really really liked him.
after the dance, at carrie's, we went upstairs, and he pushed me up against the bed.
and he took his hand.
where we going?
'don't.  shit.  where.  you'
you his financial advisor?
no. you're a cashier at a 7-eleven. take his dollar and give him a ticket for the twenty-second. the cashier hops to it. roy considers angela, amused.
i was born ready.
i've got longer nails. roy watches her scratch away with all her might.
that taken?
sure you don't need it? you've got a lot.
any of 'em cute? the housewife smiles, and angela smiles back: she has her mark. she sets her bag down, stealthily planting the lottery ticket beneath it.
that's what i keep telling my brothers.
central. her dryer full, angela picks up her backpack to go.
i'm gonna get a coke across the street. do you want anything?
it's not mine.
gotta be eighteen to play.
probably a loser. the housewife nods, and angela continues on her way. but on second thought:
wait, wait. six, eighteen, what?
thirty? you're sure? missed by one.
look!
mine, too.
four out of five, can you believe it?
what'd they say?
holy -- she cups her mouth: oops.
holy shit! roy watches from inside as they laugh and hug.
you don't have to.
she works. pretty late.
he -- he doesn't live with us anymore. you know, it's okay. i'm supposed to be home anyway.
thank you.
did i do good?
mom was wrong: i didn't just get your elbows.
uh-huh?
what?!
c'mon! you're joking.
this is so.  roy points: go. petulantly, angela stalks back inside. roy watches through a glass wall as she hands the money back to the housewife, utterly befuddled.
i thought we were partners.
perv. she's snuck up behind him. he smiles.
mom says i have to be back by dinner.
i own you. roy glares at her, then steps up to the alley. concentrates. approaches and releases his first roll. gutter ball. keeping his chin high, he retreats to the ball return.
dad. the first thing you have to understand about this game is: ninety-percent of it is knocking down at least one pin. he grabs at her, and she screams with laughter. and just then -- beep beep beep -- it's roy's pager going off. he checks it, sighs.
you want me to bowl for you?
it's okay.
you want me to take the bus?
is it a job? roy nods.
can i help? roy considers her, thinks, then:
really? roy nods, unhappily.
what do i get to do? roy thinks. is this the worst idea he's ever had?
i thought you kept all your money in the horse.
why can't i see?
then why does he get to? roy thinks. to the clerk:
so, what, now i can get into the whatever-it-is?
when do i get that?
oh.
how much is in there?
no, in there. three hundred thousand?
five hundred thousand? a million? he shrugs. angela is flabbergasted.
how did you --
why aren't you -- why don't you go live in hawaii? why don't you buy hawaii?
old and rich. roy checks his watch. he's really not certain about this.
stop worrying about me. i'm barely even doing anything. he gives the whole plan one more thought. shakes his head. she looks at him with puppy eyes.
please, can i have the pass code? he has to laugh.
oh, come on! i'm twenty-one! roy peers up and frank and frechette turn to look: angela is screaming at the lounge bartender.
my i.d. is in my luggage! my plane doesn't leave for thirty minutes! can't i get a goddamn beer?! the bartender cautions her and she grabs a tumbler --
you touch me, i'll break every glass in this place. -- then hurls the glass down at the floor, shattering it, drawing every eye, including frechette's, and that's when roy pulls the switch: the briefcase stowed beneath the banquette for the identical one by his feet. lightning fast.
hey, you! airport bartender! angela backs out of the lounge, arms raised, giving the finger with both hands to the bartender. and she's gone. frechette turns back, none the wiser. frank knows, of course -- angela's tantrum was part of the act -- and he looks at roy incredulously.
boo! roy keeps walking, despite a minor cardiac, all business as angela bounces around him.
did you see that old chick at the bar? with all the makeup? she almost died when i threw that glass.
what happened on our end? you take him? he nods.
the whole eighty? roy nods. angela bounces higher, singing:
'my dad's a smooth operator! smooth operator!'
dad, i thought about it: we should give the money back. i'd feel better. he looks at her, and she smiles: just joking. he's not in the mood.
do i get a cut?
dad?! roy races down levels of parking lot as frechette chases on foot. with a fair lead, the caprice comes to four gated exit lanes, two cars in the three of them, one car in the fourth. roy chooses that one.
dad?
dad! roy hits the gas, and the caprice slaps the gate as it rises, but before they're clear, frechette gets a clean look at angela hovering below the seat.
are we okay? roy looks down to her, balled up, shaking with fear. he has no one to blame for this but himself.
hiya, frank.
but i want to --
i would have told you, but it never came up. roy gives her the silent treatment a moment, then:
i forgot to pay for a pack of gum once, that's it.
and some other stuff. i mighta put up a fuss when security --
the guard was groping me. he was grabbing at my chest, what was i supposed to do?
last year.
you know, i have all of august off. i was thinking maybe i could come stay with you. he says nothing.
or we could take a trip even. oh, and in september is father's visiting day at school. it's kind of lame, but i thought maybe.  silence. then:
when do you think you'll be back?
maybe when you get back --
is it, did i -- roy keeps staring straight ahead. angela cries, elbows in her hands, arms clutching her gut.
i'm sorry.  i didn't mean to.  roy, tortured, can't look at her.
can we at least talk on the phone? roy says nothing. she weeps openly. roy shrinks as he sees a woman dragging trash barrels to the curb. mid- thirties, a faded beauty. heather. he watches with curiosity.
i got it for you at the airport. i paid for it. she starts out of the car, but roy doesn't want to let her go angry.
why did you even call me?! why did you? roy has no answer.
you're not a bad guy, you know. you're just not a very good one.
will you try? please?
your funeral.
we could get a dog. either a german shepherd or a lab.
not if you train 'em. we can name it frank.
please.
mademoiselle.  bonjour, mademoiselle.  o-reev-ar, mademoiselle.
what?
dad?
i want you to go.
don't. frechette stops. angela looks to roy. all their dreams are slipping through their fingers. roy holds her glance, apologizing for everything.
daddy.
dad.  angela trembles, numb. roy goes to her.
daddy.
i.  i was trying to.
what kind of pet store doesn't carry collars? they've got dog shampoo in there but no collars.
how much is it?
shit. i think i left my.  yeah, i left my wallet in the car. can you get it for me? it probably just fell under my seat.
can i bum one?
long time ago. i was stealing from your pack the whole time. surprised you didn't notice.
you like this job?
nah. i'm retired. that was a one-time deal.
i had a good teacher. teachers.
i had bills to pay. my mom was real sick.
i'm sorry, too. if it's any consolation. you mad at me?
things are good with you, aren't they? slam! angela's boyfriend exits the back door.
just stealing a drag.
i found it. sorry. her boyfriend gives her a look, and angela gives him a big kiss for his effort. roy looks away.
it's good to see you, roy.
you're not gonna ask my name?
i'll see ya, dad. then hops in the car. roy watches the carpet-loaded civic pull creakily away. looks up at the sun for a moment before heading back into work.