Sunset
by Joseph Russo
CAST OF CHARACTERS
WILLIAM THOMAS (Age 57) A formerly successful playwrightJUMPER (Age 24) A gigolo.
TIME
Sunset on a summer night.
SET
The sitting room of a suite in the Atlantis Hotel.
William Thomas, a formerly successful playwright, is having difficulty writing the end of his new play and has hired Jumper, a gigolo, to help him. What the gigolo is not aware of is the fact that Thomas may not be seeking help with ending his play as much as he is seeking help with ending his life. The play opens in the less-than-organized sitting room of Thomas’ suite in The Atlantis, a once thriving hotel overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. Thomas is searching frantically for the pages he had written earlier and is interrupted by Jumper’s arrival. After an awkward introduction, Jumper begins to settle in and Thomas begins to work on the “end.”
(JUMPER rises from the sofa and goes to the French doors. The sky shows the beginning of a brilliant sunset. JUMPER steps out onto the balcony.)
JUMPER
It’s… incredible.
WILLIAM
(Joining JUMPER)
To put it simply, yes. The sunsets at the Atlantis Hotel are legendary this time of year. I have to say I’m surprised people stopped coming as frequently as they used to… Miss out on so much.
JUMPER
You come here a lot?
WILLIAM
I live here. Now, anyway. But I was coming here for probably close to twenty-five years before this. Really just for the sunsets. They were my muse… Inspiration.
JUMPER
I know what a muse is.
WILLIAM
I wasn’t sure.
JUMPER
Aren’t they still?
WILLIAM
Still what?
JUMPER
Your muse.
WILLIAM
Now they’re just nice to look at - old postcards.
(JUMPER walks back into the room and begins
to undress. While JUMPER is undressing,
WILLIAM begins to speak, still facing the sunset.)
I’ve written numerous plays, all of which have done… quite well… on Broadway…
Or almost all of them… My last play was on twice with only a year between the two productions. A Troubled Sleep. We replaced the star and I rewrote a number of scenes in the play, but it seems the title was prophetic; it flopped miserably after a week both times. The one immediately before it didn’t fare too well, either… It seems nothing I’ve written recently quite matches Orphans of Eden. Honestly, I believe …Sleep is my favorite piece. Perhaps someday there will be a wildly successful revival.
(WILLIAM reenters the room. JUMPER
now only has on his socks and briefs.)
Oh. You’re - Wait here.
(WILLIAM goes into the bedroom and
returns with a black silk robe which he
hands to JUMPER.)
Here.
JUMPER
I’m comfortable like this.
WILLIAM
Yes, but I’m not. Put it on, please.
(JUMPER does.)
Thank you. Now. Tell me about yourself.
JUMPER
What do you want me to tell you?
WILLIAM
The truth, of course. I assume you didn’t always do… this.
JUMPER
What else do you assume?
WILLIAM
Come now, I simply want to see if I can trace who you are to who you were. I usually
can. But sometimes people can surprise you.
JUMPER
I wasn’t hired to tell you my history -
WILLIAM
I believe you were hired to do what I ask.
JUMPER
(Coldly.)
Why do you want to know?
WILLIAM
I’m curious. As a writer, I find people fascinating.
JUMPER
I was brought up by my grandmother. I dropped out of high school at the end of my second year -
WILLIAM
Why?
JUMPER
It wasn’t for me. I did some-
WILLIAM
Was it local?
JUMPER
Was what local?
WILLIAM
Your high school. Did you go to a local one?
JUMPER
It’s a few towns over.
WILLIAM
Ah. So you’ve been in the area your whole life.
JUMPER
Yeah.
WILLIAM
Then everyone knows what you do?
JUMPER
Only if they’ve hired me… I did a little yard work and odd jobs for a few years. Then Ms. Erikson found me and offered me a more steady source of income.
WILLIAM
What you do now?
JUMPER
Yes.
WILLIAM
And your parents?
JUMPER
God knows where Ma is. My dad died a few years ago.
WILLIAM
You said your grandmother raised you, though.
JUMPER
Dad couldn’t handle himself; how was he going to handle a kid?
WILLIAM
I see. How old are you?
(JUMPER smiles but doesn’t answer.)
I suppose it doesn’t matter.
(Pulls out a cigarette.)
Cigarette?
JUMPER
No. Thank you.
WILLIAM
Fine. It’s just as well that you don’t. It’s bad for you, you know. You don’t mind if I have one, do you?
(JUMPER shakes his head.)
Good. I started smoking when I was eleven. A bit young, I suppose, but what else is there to do when you’re that age? I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself. You’re already aware that I’m a … “formerly successful” playwright. I was raised in the South-
(Takes a drag from his cigarette.)
JUMPER
You don’t really have an accent.
WILLIAM
I worked very hard to remove the slightest trace of an accent.
JUMPER
Why?
WILLIAM
Because it was too ordinary - something I hardly see myself as - I knew if I ever wanted to be anything, I couldn’t be
(Southern accent.)
the naïve boy from down South.
(Drops accent.)
I never would have survived up here. Oh, it might have been cute or charming at first, but it seemed people would grow tired of it very quickly. Too many people would have taken advantage of me if I hadn’t dropped it. More than already had… When I was nineteen - Oh God, I had the body of Adonis then—when I was nineteen, we moved up North to New York. It was immediately after my sister passed. She was twenty-two.
JUMPER
Were you close?
WILLIAM
I don’t know. She was my sister, but she was hardly ever home.
JUMPER
Out with friends?
WILLIAM
In the hospital.
JUMPER
Oh. I’m-
WILLIAM
She passed after a botched psychological “procedure.”
JUMPER
I’m… sorry.
WILLIAM
Why? You weren’t one of the “surgeons.” Do you have any siblings?
JUMPER
No.
WILLIAM
An only child, eh?
JUMPER
(Changes the subject)
What are you writing now?
WILLIAM
I’m writing about the last days of a failed playwright.
JUMPER
An autobiography?
WILLIAM
Ha. Thank you. But, yes. Of course, at this point in my life, I don’t know if what I’m remembering is truly mine to remember or if it belongs to one of my characters. It all gets blended together over time. Memories are fascinating things, Jumper… They’re formed so quickly. Each moment, as it passes, instantly becomes a memory. In the wink of an eye. What I’ve just said is now a memory. That sunset - a memory. Today - a memory. Just another day to be recalled… To remember that nothing was accomplished.
(WILLIAM goes silently to the coffee table, picks
up his and JUMPER’s glasses and refills them.
He then hands a glass to JUMPER.)
Every morning is the same. It leads into the same day and that day ends like the one before it and the one before it. And I can’t write anything!
JUMPER
You were writing when I got here; I heard you typing.
WILLIAM
Typing is not writing! My agent is coming to pick up the script and I haven’t finished the goddamn thing!
JUMPER
Why?
WILLIAM
Why? Because I don’t know how it ends!
(Pauses.)
I don’t suppose anyone knows how he ends, does he?
JUMPER
Well can’t you just make something up?
WILLIAM
You think I haven’t tried? Look at all these papers!
JUMPER
There has to be something you can use.
WILLIAM
I’ve already used them in my other plays.
(Takes a drink. Pause.)
How did you get that scar? The one across your chest.
JUMPER
(Looks down at his chest.)
From the first time I did this.
WILLIAM
Your first… client, you mean?
JUMPER
Yeah.
WILLIAM
What happened?
JUMPER
We both had more to drink than we should have and things got rougher than planned.
WILLIAM
I see. What happened?
JUMPER
I don’t remember much about it, actually.
WILLIAM
I have a few scars.
(Pulls up his sleeves to show JUMPER a series
of scars on his wrists.)
I remember how I got them.
JUMPER
Did you…?
WILLIAM
Years ago. When Orphans first opened.
JUMPER
Why?
WILLIAM
Oh, a day later there’s hardly a good reason.
JUMPER
Since then?
WILLIAM
No. Now I just write about people who do.
JUMPER
Sounds depressing.
WILLIAM
Me, or the plays? Let me tell you something, Jumper. There isn’t a person who has lived who hasn’t experienced a moment, however brief, of depression. Some more than others.
I’m sure you’ve thought about it.
JUMPER
No, actually. I haven’t.
WILLIAM
Oh, you must have. Your life is hardly satisfactory.
(JUMPER gets up, takes the robe off, and begins
putting his pants on.)
What?
JUMPER
I’m not going to sit here and let you talk shit and insult me. I get paid to fuck; it’s what I do. And if you don’t want to do that, fine. I’ll go somewhere where-
WILLIAM
I’m paying you.
JUMPER
To listen to you bitch about how you can’t write?
WILLIAM
To help with the end.
JUMPER
What?
(WILLIAM goes to his desk and pulls out a roll
of cash.)
WILLIAM
You help with the end, and you get this money.
JUMPER
I can’t write anything.
WILLIAM
You don’t have to write anything.
(WILLIAM shows his arms again.)
I’m not referring to the end of the play, Jumper.
JUMPER
What? No. No! I’m… I will not get involved with a murder.
WILLIAM
No one knows you’re here.
JUMPER
Ms. Erikson.
WILLIAM
It’s already been worked out.
JUMPER
No.
(JUMPER grabs his shirt and heads toward the door.)
WILLIAM
(Holds out money.)
Then here.
JUMPER
No.
WILLIAM
It’s the least you could do.
(JUMPER stares at it for a beat, then takes the
money, grabs his coat and leaves. WILLIAM
looks at the door for a moment, then goes to the
telephone, dials a number and waits.)
WILLIAM
Yes, I’d like to speak to Charles Hobbs… Tell him William THOMAS needs to speak to him about-… Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to interrupt his meeting… Tell him it’s absolutely exigent!… I really don’t care who he’s with right now, just connect me!…
(Long pause.)
Charlie! Charlie, how are you?… Wonderful! That’s wonderful!… Truly wonderful… Look, I’m sorry I pulled you from your meeting… Well, that’s-… That’s what I wanted to discuss with you… Nothing really, but-… When’s the latest I can get the play to you?… Are you sure?… You can’t get them to extend it for me?… Just a few days… I know I-… No, I haven’t quite finished it yet… The end needs polishing… It’s not going to be ready by tomor-!… I’m only asking for a few days…
(Pause.)
That’s irrelevant… I don’t care who else the backers want to put in the theat- McCabe! That bastard can‘t write!… Charlie!…
(There is a knock on the door. William ignores it.)
Charlie, this is going to be utterly glorious, I promise you!… Charlie!… Two more days!… This is insane!… I’ll get you the script when I’m finished with it…
(Slams phone down and slumps in the chair.
There is another knock on the door. WILLIAM
storms over and swings open the door violently,
startling JUMPER, who is standing on the other
side, now fully dressed.)
What?
JUMPER
I-
WILLIAM
I didn’t give you enough?
JUMPER
No, it’s not-
WILLIAM
I counted it out. I paid you more than the others do.
JUMPER
I can’t take it.
WILLIAM
What do you mean? Of course you can.
JUMPER
Not for not doing anything.
WILLIAM
You mean to tell me you have morals? A business ethic?
JUMPER
I just-
WILLIAM
Keep it.
(JUMPER begins to protest.)
Perhaps we can think of some way for you to earn it, then?
(WILLIAM lets JUMPER in and closes the door
behind him. JUMPER removes his coat.)
Has it gotten cold out?
JUMPER
A little breezy.
WILLIAM
That’s not unusual for this time of year. Can I get you another drink?
JUMPER
No, thanks.
(Pause while WILLIAM pours.)
I… I don’t understand.
WILLIAM
What?
JUMPER
Why you’d want to-
WILLIAM
I have no reason to continue.
JUMPER
What about the play?
WILLIAM
Unfinished work of a late playwright will always receive more applause than mediocre work that is finished. It’s more sporting to hurt the living.
JUMPER
Why does it have to be so successful?
WILLIAM
Because what I wrote before it wasn’t.
JUMPER
Why don’t you just stop writing?
WILLIAM
A writer doesn’t stop writing. Until he is dead.
(Long pause.)
Look, why don’t you just take the money and leave. I’m sorry I’ve put you thr-
JUMPER
(Quietly.)
I’ll do it.
WILLIAM
What?
JUMPER
I’ll do it.
WILLIAM
No. It’s all right. Go. Take the money-
JUMPER
I said I would do it and I will.
WILLIAM
Are you sure?
JUMPER
Yeah.
WILLIAM
Why?
JUMPER
It doesn’t matter.
WILLIAM
(Pause.)
Alright. But we have to do it a specific way.
JUMPER
Whatever. How?
WILLIAM
I want you to stand in front of me.
(JUMPER steps up.)
Good. Now I want you to take your hands… and put them around my neck.
(JUMPER does.)
You have very large hands. Strong.
(Takes a breath and- )
No!
(JUMPER lets go as if he touched something hot.)
No. This isn’t right.
JUMPER
Well. Wha… Do you want to-
WILLIAM
Alright. Okay.
(Pause.)
I want you to come around behind me. Come around.
(JUMPER does.)
Come right up against me.
(JUMPER does.)
Okay, good. Now. Take your hands - are you sure you want to do this?
JUMPER
It’s fine.
WILLIAM
Put your hands around my neck again.
(JUMPER does. WILLIAM takes a breath.)
Now squeeze slowly.
(JUMPER does. WILLIAM slowly loses his breath
and begins to gasp.)
Stop! Stop! Let go! You’re-
(JUMPER lets go and WILLIAM gasps and coughs,
catching his breath.)
JUMPER
Are you okay?
WILLIAM
You were killing me!
JUMPER
That- Isn’t that what you wanted?
WILLIAM
(Rubbing neck.)
No. Yes. No, not really.
JUMPER
Wha-
WILLIAM
The end of my play. At the end of my play, the playwright hires a gigolo to kill him. I didn’t want to write about something without experiencing it.
JUMPER
What are you- What the fuck do-?
WILLIAM
I only hired you to help me get a better sense of how the scene might play.
JUMPER
Isn’t that what actors are for?
WILLIAM
Actors aren’t the real thing. They don’t know. They act. I’m sorry. I know you must be very upset at the-
JUMPER
No shit…
WILLIAM
I’m sorry.
JUMPER
No.
WILLIAM
I am. Please. I did what I-
JUMPER
No, I’m not. Not… really.
WILLIAM
Really?… Upset. You’re not upset? Angry?
JUMPER
No. No, I…
WILLIAM
Are you… sure?
JUMPER
Yeah. I think. I’m… I’m a little… I don’t know. Shook up, I guess.
WILLIAM
God knows I am! I didn’t think you’d be terribly upset. It’s nice to know my judgment isn’t completely gone.
JUMPER
Why didn’t you tell-
WILLIAM
It needed to be real. Or as real as it could be, without- Would you like something to drink?
JUMPER
Yeah.
(Almost to himself.)
You… just used me.
WILLIAM
(Pouring JUMPER a drink.)
Oh, you should be used to that.
(Hands him drink.)
Here. Thank you. All that money I gave you? That’s - keep it.
JUMPER
(Takes a sip.)
Is that how you wanted the guy to die?
WILLIAM
Strangulation? I don’t know. I wanted to try a few other things, but you had given me a-
JUMPER
Like what?
WILLIAM
What?
JUMPER
What other things did you want to try?
WILLIAM
I thought about O.D.-ing - just to try it, but I didn’t want to risk anything. And with you here, I had wanted to see if maybe a pillow would work. Nothing loud or bloody.
JUMPER
(Pause.)
You want to try the pillow?
WILLIAM
No. No, I couldn’t ask you to do that again. Once was…
JUMPER
To be… You know, to be able… I like to think I was able to help.
WILLIAM
You wouldn’t get any credit for it. No special thanks.
JUMPER
I don’t want any. The money’s enough.
WILLIAM
I thought you only got paid to fuck.
JUMPER
Money’s money.
WILLIAM
Very true.
JUMPER
What pillow did you-
WILLIAM
Here.
(WILLIAM goes to the sofa, picks up a pillow
then changes to another.)
No, this one. But you have to stop immediately when I say to. Come around again. And be gentle.
(JUMPER does.)
Now, just hold the pillow to my face. You don’t have to squeeze or anything…
(JUMPER puts the pillow over WILLIAM’s face.
He holds it there with both hands at first, then
moves one arm across WILLIAM’s chest to get
a better hold of him. WILLIAM begins to panic
and tries to call out from under the pillow.
JUMPER presses the pillow harder, yet gently
to WILLIAM’s face. WILLIAM begins to struggle,
but JUMPER retains his grip. He slides down
to the floor; WILLIAM wriggles violently. This
continues for a moment until finally WILLIAM
stops moving. JUMPER hold the pillow for a
few beats more. He gets up, goes to the table
and finishes his drink. He leaves the money on
the desk and heads to get his coat. As he puts
his coat on, the phone rings.)
JUMPER
(Picks up)
Yeah? … It’s finished.
(He hangs up the phone and heads out the door,
closing it behind him. The sunset has now
completely faded to a black sky. Lights down.)
CURTAIN
