VERONICA: —The motherfucker delivers?!
JACKIE: Like FedEx, baby!
VERONICA: I am so proud of you!
JACKIE: I think I’m hyperventilating!
VERONICA: Me too!
JACKIE: I got a job today!
VERONICA: I know you did!
JACKIE: I did it because of you, Veronica!
VERONICA: Nah baby, you did it ’cuz you’re the fuckin’ MAN—that’s why you did that shit!
JACKIE: I ain’t saying I’m not the MAN—’cuz clearly I AM the fuckin’ MAN—but, it’s because of you, Veronica—’cuz you wanna know why?
VERONICA: Why?
JACKIE: Because get in this bed right now and lemme show you why!
VERONICA: . . . Lemme shower first.
JACKIE: I don’t care about that.
VERONICA: But I wanna shower.
JACKIE: But I like it like that.
VERONICA: Jackie. I’ll be quick.
JACKIE: . . . I love you, Veronica . . .
(Beat.)
VERONICA: Lemme shower, stoopid . . .
(Beat.)
JACKIE: Veronica?
VERONICA: Yeah?
JACKIE: Why you gettin’ all misty over there?
VERONICA: I can’t get misty when my man warms my heart?
JACKIE: Nah, yeah, you could get misty.
VERONICA: You’re sober. You got a job. You got me a little fuzzy bear that grips an’ shit—what?—I can’t get misty if I’m feelin’ like that?
JACKIE: Nah, yo, mist away—I’m good with dat.
VERONICA: . . . I’m gonna go to Carvel after we finish our business, and I’m gonna get you a fuckin’ cake, baby.
JACKIE: Yeah?
VERONICA: A big-ass Wally the Whale cake wit’ chocolate and sprinkles and icing and Carvel goodness and Carvel love all up in it.
JACKIE: Take a shower, mami—’cuz I’m ready to do work!
VERONICA: Oh yeah?
JACKIE: Yo: when I’m done with that ass, that ass gonna levitate three feet off the mattress! And you gonna be like, “Yo, Jackie: why me and my ass floatin’ in the air like this?” And I’ll be like—
VERONICA: Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a minute.
(Veronica exits to the shower.)
JACKIE: Oh! And yo, I didn’t even tell you about the best part!
VERONICA: Did you tell your PO yet?
JACKIE: What?
VERONICA: Your parole officer, you told him about your job?
JACKIE: Yeah. He told me, “Whaddya want? A medal for doing what you’re supposed to be doing?”—but I could tell his ass was happy . . .
VERONICA: . . . I’m gettin’ in the shower now.
JACKIE: Okay . . . Can you hear me?
VERONICA: Mmm-hmm.
(Jackie strips. Gets in bed.)
JACKIE: Yo, the best part: career advancement! This guy, Veronica—the boss an’ shit—he talked to me just like one human being to another, Veronica. He tol’ me, “We only got two rules here: Be polite to the tenants, and be polite to each other.” . . . And I thought about it, and I was like, “Those are good rules, sir,” and then he was like, “Good enough. Start Monday.” . . . And after I left, I was like, “That motherfucker was right.” ’Cuz, really, life is too short, ya know? Why shouldn’t we all be nice, or at least, like try . . . Ya know? An’ yo—career advancement! If I hook this up right, these people got like five buildings. I could go from porter to maybe even a super ’cuz I already got the repair shit down, and then you get free rent and cable and even free internet for like emails an’ shit, and union benefits—and they got a strong-ass union—and anyway, I started thinkin’, Veronica, ya know, and I started makin’ plans, you know? Like—grown-up plans, like “you and me” plans, happy plans, like, “next step” plans, Veronica, you know, like how you been saying? And I juss . . .
(He stops. He notices a hat on the table. He fixates on it. Beat. He crosses to the hat and examines it. He picks up the hat and sniffs it. Beat. He looks around the room. Then goes back to the bed. He smells the sheets and pillows. Beat. Veronica enters from the shower. She looks good and she knows it.)
VERONICA: . . . Hey.
JACKIE: Hey.
(She moves toward him.)
VERONICA: I look good, right? . . .
JACKIE: . . . Um . . . Yeah.
VERONICA: You had to think about it?
JACKIE: Nah.
VERONICA: . . . What?
JACKIE: Um . . . Was someone here?
VERONICA: No. Why?
JACKIE: Nah, just . . . Nobody was here?
VERONICA: I thought I just answered that.
JACKIE: Um . . . Wass up with the hat?
VERONICA: What hat?
JACKIE: That hat over there. That man hat that ain’t my hat that’s right over there.
VERONICA: Dass not your hat?
(Beat.)
JACKIE: . . . Anything you need to say?
VERONICA: ’Bout what?
JACKIE: You don’t need to say nothin’?
VERONICA: Jackie—
JACKIE: —Don’t “Jackie” me, okay? I’m calm, I’m civil, I’m polite.
VERONICA: . . . And?
JACKIE: You know my mother gave us this bed, right?
VERONICA: If you got something to say, why donchu just leave your fuckin’ mother out of it and say what you gotta say.
JACKIE: The hat: it ain’t mine.
VERONICA: So? It’s prolly your friend’s. Or your fuckin’ sponsor’s. Or whoever the fuck else comes up here sometimes—that old man down the hall you always got coming the fuck by. I don’t know.
JACKIE: You don’t know?
VERONICA: You know what? Go fuck yourself. I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t know why you’re buggin’ the fuck out over a hat could belong to anybody—
JACKIE: —You’re right.
VERONICA: I know I’m fuckin’ right—
JACKIE: Fuck the hat.
VERONICA: Fuck the hat?
JACKIE: Dass what I said. Fuck the hat.
VERONICA: Good. Fuck it.
JACKIE: Dass right: the hat, fuck it!
VERONICA: Okay then.
JACKIE: That hat: dass a hat I got no interest in.
VERONICA: How about my apology now? You got any interest in that?
JACKIE: The bed.
VERONICA: The