[Tye pours her a cup and puts it in her violently trembling hand. He holds the hand and lifts the cup to her lips, standing behind her. He lets his hand fall to her breast. She sobs and removes his hand. The singer-pianist is heard.]

—Why do you stay on here?

TYE: Babe, here’s where you are. [She shakes her head.] —This ain’t where you are?

JANE: No more. I—have to dress . . . [She dresses awkwardly, frantically. He watches in silence.] You have to get dressed, too. I told you I was expecting a very important visitor. Did you forget that?

TYE: Aw. The fat ass buyer, that’s right, he won’t mind me. I’ll give a pitch for your fashion designs. I’ll sell ‘em to him, Babe. I’ll say just look at these fashion designs, elegant—like her!

JANE: Elegant your ass. I’m hardly able to dress. Oh, I want to die! —That’s a lie, too, I don’t!

TYE: Babe, you’re in no condition to peddle fashion designs—go back to bed and rest.

JANE: I have told you he isn’t a buyer of fashion designs, he’s a businessman from Brazil.

TYE [slow burn]: Have you started dating businessmen on me, Babe?

JANE: Here’s my bank account statement: overdrawn at Whitney’s. How about your bank account?

TYE: Smokey’s giving me half of all he gets for this—

JANE: Not merchandise he’s stashed here?

TYE: Soon as he finds a fence.

JANE: You’re looking for a stretch in the clink. Tye, the situation’s turned impossible on us—face it.

TYE: You’re not walkin’ out on me.

JANE: Who have I got to appeal to except God, whose phone’s been disconnected, or this—providential—protector.

TYE: From the banana republic, a greaseball. And you’d quit me for that?

JANE: You’ve got to be mature and understanding. At least for once. Now dress. The man is due. . . . I realized your defects but you touched me like nobody else in my life had ever before or ever could again. But, Tye, I counted on you to grow up and you refused to. I took you for someone gentle caught in violence and—degradation that he’d escape from.

TYE: Whatever you took me for, I took you for honest, for decent, for—

JANE: Don’t be so—“Decent?” You ridiculous little—sorry, no. Let’s not go into—abuse. —Tye? When we went into this it wasn’t with any long-term thing in mind, that would have been ludicrous of us both, and senseless and we’re not senseless, we’re reasonably intelligent and certainly experienced enough to— That’s him on the steps.

TYE: You go in the bathroom quiet and I’ll explain without words. [She thrusts his clothes at him. He throws them savagely about the stage.] —Well?

DIRECTOR: Sound: footsteps on stairs.