Five Plays. Samuel D. Hunter

No way. Scorpio.

      EDDIE: / No.

      TROY: Or Max.

       (Max enters.)

      MAX: What am I doing?

      TROY: You’re cleaning the bathrooms from now on.

      MAX: / The fuck I am.

      ISABELLE: Sagittarius.

      EDDIE: Isabelle—

      ISABELLE: I’m right aren’t I?!

      EDDIE: No.

      TROY: Why do I have to do it every time I close?!

      EDDIE: Okay, okay, we’ll figure out a schedule at staff lunch on Thursday.

      ISABELLE: I don’t even use our bathrooms, I use the ones in the Men’s Warehouse.

      TROY: Are they nice?

      ISABELLE: They are so fucking nice.

      MAX: Hey Eddie, table eight left half a carafe.

      EDDIE: / Yeah okay.

      TROY (To Isabelle): So what’s my sign?

       (Max exits.)

      ISABELLE: Douchebag.

      TROY: Nah I think that’d be the guy who dropped you off this morning.

      ISABELLE: His name is Alex and he’s younger and better looking than you, so.

      TROY: You’re saying that guy is better looking than me?

      ISABELLE (To Eddie): Eddie you’ve seen Alex, tell him.

       (Eddie struggles to add up the receipts while talking.)

      EDDIE: Oh I don’t know, I just—

      ISABELLE: Oh Eddie, I meant to tell you, some of the track lighting over table twelve is broken or something.

      TROY: So change the bulbs.

      ISABELLE: I’m sorry, was I talking to you?

       (Max reenters with a half-full carafe of wine and four glasses. He sets them down and begins to pour everyone a glass.)

      TROY: Eddie, can we get rid of the Famiglia Week stuff?

      EDDIE: Just—give it a few days.

      TROY: I love my family, but I don’t need them at work.

      ISABELLE: I wanted to kill myself today. Sometimes I’m glad that my parents are dead.

      MAX: Jesus.

      ISABELLE: I’m just kidding, calm down.

      TROY: When I was still working at the paper mill we had a bring-your-daughter-to-work day. Becky almost lost her damn hand.

      MAX: Why didn’t you guys move after the mill closed? Everyone I knew who worked there is in Boise or Oregon now.

      TROY: Tammy didn’t want to make Becky switch schools. And so, I’m a fucking waiter.

       (Max is about to pour Eddie a glass. Eddie waves him away.)

      EDDIE: Oh, no, thanks.

      MAX: C’mon buddy, long day.

      EDDIE: Maybe—maybe in a bit, I’m just / trying to—

      ISABELLE (To Troy): Hey what’s with your daughter?

      TROY: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

       (Max mimes throwing up on the table. Isabelle laughs.)

       Very funny, assholes.

      EDDIE: GUYS. PLEASE.

       (Silence. They stare at Eddie, shocked at the outburst.)

       Sorry. I’m—sorry.

       (Pause.)

      ISABELLE: You okay?

      EDDIE: I’m fine, I—. (Pause) I lost count, I just—. I got frustrated, I’m sorry.

      MAX: I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you raise your voice.

      EDDIE: Am I a terrible boss now?

      TROY: You kidding? My last job at the Best Buy, my supervisor used to pour coffee in my backpack. You can shout once in a while, it’s fine.

      ISABELLE: Oh my God I worked there three years ago.

      TROY: I hated it.

      ISABELLE: Yeah I know. Five percent employee discount?

       (Max tries again to pour Eddie some wine.)

      EDDIE: No, really, I’m fine.

      MAX: C’mon, it’s a special occasion.

      TROY: What, you got some new hair gel?

      MAX: No, Eddie hired me six months ago today.

      EDDIE: Oh. Wow, it’s really been that long?

      MAX: Yep.

      TROY: I’ve been here eight years, you never hear me making a big deal out of it.

      MAX: Anyway, Eddie, thanks. This was the only place in town that was willing to hire me.

      EDDIE: Oh I don’t believe that.

      MAX: Seriously. I interviewed everywhere, the moment I said anything about drug court, they just fucking—. Anyway thanks for giving me a chance.

      EDDIE: Well, we’re lucky to have you. Really.

      MAX: Thanks. (Pause) So, okay—maybe this is totally stupid of me, but—I thought maybe we could all— . . .

       (Max reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bag of weed and a pipe.)

      ISABELLE: Hello.

      EDDIE: Wait, what / is—?

      MAX: It’s just pot.

      TROY: Six months working here and you want some big party?

      EDDIE: Why do you / have that?

      MAX: I know it’s stupid, but it helps me stay off the other stuff.

      EDDIE: That doesn’t seem like a good idea to me?

      MAX: No, really. They’re completely different, this stuff calms me down. Gets my mind off of it. I don’t know if I’d be clean without it. Meth is a drug that’s all about—

       (Max makes gestures to illustrate the idea of “the outside world.”)

       But pot’s all about—

       (Max makes gestures to illustrate the idea of “the inner life.”)

       Totally different.

      EDDIE: Look, just—don’t bring it to work, okay?

      MAX: I won’t, sorry. And I never come in to work stoned, I swear. (Pause) Does anyone—want some?

      ISABELLE: Yes.

      EDDIE: Guys, I don’t know if—

       (Isabelle takes the pipe and bag from Max and starts loading the pipe.)

       . . . okay.

      TROY: No wonder you’re both so damn slow on the floor.

      ISABELLE: What, you think this is any worse than wine?

      MAX: Eddie, you take the first hit.

      EDDIE: No, really I’m—I’m fine.

       (Isabelle takes a hit. She and Max pass the pipe back and forth.)

      MAX (To Eddie): I have an older brother too. Total dick. Owns some bullshit office supply company in Twin Falls.

      EDDIE: Oh.

      MAX: