Bugsy Malone by Alan Parker Page B

on stage, Fizzy continued his strange ‘music’ – though it was scarcely romantic. Upstairs, Jelly had finally nodded off to sleep and was snoring quietly. Tallulah put her hand on Bugsy’s shoulder and began her attack.
    â€œLong time no see, Bugsy.”
    â€œWell, you know how it is.”
    â€œYou used to come and see me every night.”
    Bugsy fiddled with his hat brim. “I’ve been busy,” he squeaked.
    â€œBusy doing what?”
    Tallulah was returning his service with great ease.
    â€œOh, this and that.”
    Bugsy’s answers weren’t getting any better. Tallulah edged even closer towards him. Fizzy’s piano playing had reached a crescendo and Tallulah snapped at him.
    â€œFizzy, will you quit the ivories and hit the shoe leather.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    Fizzy finished his ‘piece’ in defiance and then sheepishly closed the lid of the piano. He skulked off, a little moody and upset at being so unceremoniously evicted. The ‘specials’ arrived and were set down in front of Bugsy and Tallulah. She crisply gave the barman his marching orders.
    â€œOK. Beat it. Go check the storeroom.”
    â€œSure thing, ma’am.”
    Fat Sam’s girl knew who she was and wasn’t about to let people forget it. She turned back to Bugsy. This time she was pulling all the stops out.
    â€œYou’re aces. You know that, Bugsy? I’ve always found you kind of special.”
    â€œCareful, Tallulah, you’re racing my motor.”
    He meant what he said. And so did she.
    â€œCome on, Bugsy. Give a girl a break, won’t you?”
    â€œYou sure you got the right fella?”
    Tallulah sighed. “You’re not like those other saps.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œYou’ve got lovely brown eyes. You know that?”
    She was inches from him, and she ran a finger along his dark brown eyebrows as she spoke. Bugsy offered a lame joke.
    â€œThey’ll be lovely black eyes if Fat Sam catches us.”
    â€œHow about smearin’ my lipstick?”
    Tallulah tilted her head on one side and narrowed her eyes at him. She pouted her lips and let out another sigh. Bugsy gulped.
    â€œIf you come any closer, I’ll call my lawyer.”
    Tallulah was not put off. She’d also caught sight of Blousey coming in at the speakeasy door.
    â€œSo call him.”
    Tallulah leaned across and kissed Bugsy on the forehead. The bright red lipstick made an indelible shape on his swarthy skin. Blousey was dumbstruck. She stormed down the stairs with a loud clatter and Bugsy immediately pulled away from Tallulah.
    â€œOh, hi, Blousey,” he stammered.
    Tallulah sat back in her chair and breathed coolly on her shiny red fingernails. Blousey stormed up the stairs towards Fat Sam’s office, ignoring Bugsy’s calls after her. She burst through the double doors that led to Fat Sam’s inner office. Her knuckles rapped violently on the dappled glass marked ‘S. Stacetto Private’. She bit her lip while she waited, more in frustration than in anger. Knuckles answered the door and sighed a bored sigh at seeing her standing there. He didn’t bother to ask her what she wanted.
    â€œIt’s the broad about the audition, Boss.”
    Without waiting for a reply from Sam, he took it upon himself to send her away. “He’s busy, lady. Come back tomorrow.”
    Blousey’s face dropped. She could handle Bugsy and Tallulah, but not getting an audition poleaxed her, and the last drop of courage drained from her face and tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly Sam appeared at the door, and surprised them both.
    â€œOK, lady, I’m all ears. Go right in and get ready. We’ll be right with you. Just a couple of things to tie up here, and we’ll be in there a-listening.”
    He smiled a big Italian smile that seemed to be reflected in his shiny, greased-down hair. Blousey, delighted, grabbed her