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AN EVENING WITH THE STALKERS
A screenplay by Stephen E. Peake
Copyright 2003 by Stephen E. Peake
FADE IN
INT. SUBURBAN LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON - PRESENT
Pull back on a smoky room, with the sound of soft voices in the
background as Cream or some other overplayed dinosaur supergroup plays
on a stereo. Three friends are talking very seriously about music.
They're on break from college but have not taken advantage of their
independence to expand their musical tastes or experiment with the kind
of substances such smoke would suggest. TIM is one of these, a quiet,
overly serious big brother sort. His two friends are SCOTT, a real
bonehead poser, and MATT, the only one possessing a happy medium
between sense and sense of humor. Focus on Scott to reveal him fiddling
with a smoke machine.
MATT
Will you stop fuckin' with that thing? You're gonna give us all cancer
makin' us breathe that shit.
Matt waves at the air to disperse the smoke and glares at his friend.
SCOTT
Well, there's nothin' else goin' on here. I'm so bored already. Why do
y'all never talk about bar none the ultimate guitar god?
MATT
Who is it this week?
SCOTT
As always, Jimmy Page.
MATT
(laughing his ass off)
My God, when is somebody gonna bury the smelly carcass that's Led
Zeppelin?
(authoritatively)
Page is sludge through an amplifier.
SCOTT
Oh, but Clapton, Clapton, Clapton. There's no such thing as too much of
him, to hear you tell it. Talk about tired.
TIM
Now wait right there. I'm gonna kick your ass for even comparing those
two guys.
SCOTT
(disbelieving)
You're gonna kick my ass? Motherfucker, you can't even kick it at home
on a Saturday afternoon.
MATT
Now, now, girls.
INT. SAME SUBURBAN HOME - KITCHEN - PRESENT
Tim's younger brother NICK and his best friends, brothers BEN and JAY,
rummage for snacks, which aren't too plentiful in this house not used
to company. Pink Floyd's "Mother," accompanied by rough strumming and
singing, can be heard faintly from the adjoining living room, as Tim
and his buddies continue to argue.
JAY
Jesus, do they have any idea what they sound like in there?
BEN
(bored)
They sound like the modern equivalent of a '60s flashback, minus the
intrigue of mind-altering substances.
NICK
Shit-talking one bloated, overexposed supergroup to raise the stock of
another. (Shaking his head) Goddam. At least we wish bad things on all
of them equally.
BEN
(sardonically)
Yeah, good for us.
Ben munches on a creamy snack cake lazily, his eyes drooping with the
weight of ennui. Everyone takes a taste of some kind of processed food.
JAY
(sighing)
This can't be all there fucking is to it.
INT. CLUTTERED TEEN BEDROOM - HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET - DAY
A freaky girl listens to music in her room. It's definitely not the
Eagles, and in fact it sounds like something never heard before, as if
it were locked in a vault for too long but still retains its freshness.
This is LAUREN, a recently arrived schoolmate of Nick and the brothers.
Her long brown hair is a bit disheveled as it hangs in her face, and it
doesn't hide a piercing or two in her lower lip or nose. She's darkly
monochromatic except for her milky, makeup-free skin, and she's dressed
unabashedly like a boy. As the Minutemen's "It's Expected I'm Gone"
winds down, Lauren's voice explodes with D. Boon's: "Big fucking shit.
Right now, man." This could be the something else Jay was hoping for.
INT. SUBURBAN LIVING ROOM - AFTERNOON - JUST LATER
With Jay on drums and Nick on lead guitar, the two threesomes of Nick
and the brothers and Tim and his buddies sit there farting around,
eventually deciding to try and play a "classic." The room brims with
indifference as Ben, manning the oversized stereo box, hits the record
button.
SCOTT
(to Nick, eyeing his guitar)
Yamaha? I thought they made fuckin' motorcycles. Leave it to you to get
a cheap-shit guitar. Why didn't you just get a Whirlpool or General
Electric?
He laughs far too loudly at his own joke, and Nick just seethes.
NICK
I'm sorry, why are you here again?
MATT
All right, goddammit, let's play some fuckin' music. We've been sittin'
on our asses so long somebody's gonna have to make a Preparation H run.
Let's keep it simple and try some Eagles, all right? "Already Gone?"
Nick and Jay accept this decree silently and just prepare to play.
Scott, who happens to be the most talentless loser in the room, insists
on singing lead, and this creates a comic moment of the highest order
when he barely begins the first line before everyone cracks up at how
terrible he is. Matt falls over laughing, and the recording session
comes to an abrupt halt. Nick's smile fades long before anyone else's.
EXT. NICK'S HOUSE - LATER
Nick and the brothers gather outside next to Ben's late-model American-
made vehicle. As they prepare to head home, Jay and Ben are practicing
basketball in the driveway.
NICK
But that's the thing. You saw it. They don't take anything seriously.
It's all so oppressively casual.
Ben and Jay smile at their friend's dramatic language, sharing a
knowing glance.
BEN
And you think that ear-splitting disaster in there was something to
take seriously? Don't forget, you almost got a hernia from laughing,
too.
NICK
(visibly upset)
Yeah, but I can't believe everybody's so eager to spend their lives on
pointless shit. I mean, there's a place for relaxing and drifting, but
it was so relaxed in there I was pretty sure at one point I stopped
having a pulse.
JAY
Well, now your blood pressure's high at age 17, and what's that getting
you?
NICK
No, you know what, we should start a band just because we know we can't
be any worse or more lacking in direction than those guys. I'm serious;
let's raise our jam sessions to the next level if only to avoid this
kind of premature adulthood.
BEN
I'm up for it, as long as you don't turn into Napoleon or something
about it. If you do, I'd rather watch cartoons all day.
Renewed, Nick exchanges excited farewells with his friends, who are
wrapped up in an argument over who's cheating in their game. At least
as far as Nick's concerned, they part that night having advanced from
the doldrums after all.
INT. BEN'S STATION WAGON - MORNING - ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL
America's 1980s hit "You Can Do Magic" plays on the radio as Ben drives
to school. Nick's car's in the shop, as usual, so he rides along
silently, growing drowsy with the steady hum of the motor. Finally he
looks sharply from the radio to Ben and starts a conversation.
NICK
You know, who the hell do these fucking guys think they are? Is this
the Family Radio Channel or some shit? Can you remember the last time
you actually used the word "darn" in a real-life conversation? Maybe
first grade. Maybe. But are they serious, in a rock and roll song?
Well, it's not rock and roll anymore when you're trying to resurrect a
dead career for profit, but still, can you imagine, (he mimics)
"Highway to heck, dow-now-now-now-now."
BEN
(smiling in spite of himself)
Isn't it a little early for ranting at this volume? I mean, Christ,
pick your battles.
NICK
You mean you're not offended by this? Me, I'm much too devoted to the
art of profanity to allow this kind of blasphemy to go unfettered.
BEN
(serious)
Oh, shit, I forgot about the vocabulary test today.
NICK
See, right there's a perfect example. You didn't say "shoot," now
didya? Fuck the test; you gotta learn to focus on what's important.
(Beat) The thing is, overall these guys aren't completely devoid of
dignity. Some of their '70s hits still stand as among the best of folk-
rock stylings. But to think that the composers of a sublime classic
like "Sister Golden Hair" descended to the level of not even being able
to use the word "damn" in a song is truly depressing.
They've now arrived at school and have parked facing the front
entrance. Students mill around lazily, barely awake or at most
unenthusiastic about the day ahead. Lauren walks even slower than the
rest and glares at most people who pass. Ben spots her and decides to
make a point.
BEN
But see, you have to consider your credibility when you talk like this.
You see that girl over there? You would have completely lost her with
this horseshit.
NICK
Hell, it looks like she's already lost. I think somebody hit the weed
before they peed this morning.
BEN
That's not the point.
He turns to address his friend in a serious pose.
BEN (cont'd)
Does she look like somebody you of such high standards would want to
talk to at a social gathering?
NICK
Well, from this considerable distance, she looks like she could be
fairly hot, but she's most definitely a freak.
BEN
(ignoring him)
Lemme tell you something you don't seem to know. This is a relatively
typical American high school. If you walk around revealing your
interest in and intimate knowledge of '70s soft rock, you're not gonna
have many people to talk to.
NICK
Are you lecturing me about hipness? You remember the days before you
cornered the market on cool, don't you?
They now exit the vehicle and begin making their way reluctantly toward
the main entrance. The sidewalks have cleared mostly, but the two spot
Lauren seated with her back against a wall, apparently napping
peacefully. It's inadvertent slumber, but it looks like it's some of
the best sleep she's had in a while.
BEN
See? You put her to sleep, and she wasn't even in on the conversation.
NICK
(walking onward to the day's doom)
Like I said. Freak.
BEN
So if I've convinced you of the perils of bands with geographical
names, then you've learned all you need to today.
NICK
Good, then let's go home.
While they enter the building, Lauren has roused from her restfulness,
or maybe she was never really asleep but just descending into a
comfortable shadow, as usual. She watches Ben and Nick head inside, not
in a hurry to do so herself.
INT. HIGH SCHOOL HALLWAY - THAT AFTERNOON
Jay and Nick are complaining about school, watching the rest of the
world, which is seemingly a lot happier and more satisfied than they,
go by. Cross Canadian Ragweed's "Bang My Head" plays on the soundtrack.
NICK
Well, how big is this fucker?
JAY
Shorter than me but thicker. He's shaped like a fuckin' brick and I'm
sure that's all he's got for brains.
NICK
Well, that's PE for you. You know, we gotta have it, or we have
absolutely no chance to go out in the world and be productive citizens.
A short distance away, Lauren, in garage sale-style clothing, visits
her trashed locker, putting a few things in and taking out an art-
covered notebook. She slowly walks toward them and
Jay notices the t-shirt she's wearing under something else. It displays
the name the Avengers, a band Nick doesn't recognize.
JAY
Where did you find that? I would have guessed there was no way to get
that merchandise.
LAUREN
(surprised)
Well, you can't get it anywhere it's called merchandise, that's for
sure. God, I think you're the first person at this fucking hellhole
who's displayed the least bit of taste in music.
She starts to move closer to Jay to embark fully on a conversation, but
pauses first to survey Nick, whose clothing, hairstyle and demeanor
don't suggest he belongs hanging out with this not totally suburbanized
guy he's apparently friends with. This hesitation allows Chad, the
asshole from PE, to approach like a shark that smells blood. He
scissors between Lauren and Jay, smiling aggressively.
CHAD
Whoa, whoa, I can't have this. The freak alarm has sounded, and this
school has guys like me to make sure we keep the social structure in
place. (to Lauren, waving his arms as he raises his voice) Hello, I'm
talking to you. Is that eye glaze natural or artificial?
Lauren backs off as if struck, a scowl forming without effort, and she
mutters profanities at this alpha male, the kind she most dreads and
least understands. She walks slowly away.
JAY
Man, fuck you, why are you always hanging around me? It's obvious we
can't stand each other, so why the fuck can't we just limit it to the
hour this school says we have to be in the same place?
CHAD
(with false sincerity)
Oh, man, you got it all wrong. I don't hate you. I'm just trying to
help you grow out of this loser stage you seem to have been stuck in
for, like, forever.
Chad walks off, satisfied.
JAY
(enraged)
Goddammit, that motherfucker. I think he's a fucking fag, that's the
only explanation I can think of for him always being around.
NICK
Jesus, that guy does suck ass.
A moment of silence passes, and then Nick sees a blonde girl approach,
look at him for a second or two, and then pass by, ignoring his stilted
attempt at a salutation.
NICK
That was Carey, the girl I was telling you about. (Beat) I don't think
she's interested.
JAY
It's probably cuz she gets that stalker vibe from you. We've all warned
you about that. You can't call up a girl you've never met and who may
not even know you exist and expect her not to feel creeped out.
NICK
Why not? I'm sure other people do it. How are you supposed to get to
know somebody if you don't make a first move?
JAY
Other people might, but you can't. That's all I'm saying.
The conversation subsides into uneasy silence for a moment, as the din
of the hallway continues around them. Then Nick unleashes a bit
himself.
NICK
Fuck! I hate this shithole school! And those aren't strong enough
words, either. I literally feel like I'm gonna fuckin' explode
sometimes just standing here. (Screams) Goddammit!
JAY
(calmly)
Ooh, that's helping. Ya hear that? That's the sound of Carey sprinting
for the closest place that's away from you.
NICK
Well, I just don't think you're getting an accurate impression of the
depth of my discomfort. This is an unprecedented level of hate in the
whole considerable history of hate.
Lauren, still lurking in the hall, looks back over at Jay and Nick.
Even though she probably didn't hear all of this exchange, she may have
sensed some camaraderie with the angst that is constantly emanating
from Nick's pores.
INT. LAUREN'S NEW HOUSE, A FIXER-UPPER - AFTERNOON
Lauren is living with an uncle who used to be in the music business,
and that's where she gets much of her knowledge of really great
underground music. He sits alone, long-faced and constantly stubbled,
sort of like Harry Dean Stanton in "Pretty in Pink" but maybe only
about half as droopy. He does Internet research from the home, and so
he's always at home but not visibly so.
Lauren enters the house on one of the few occasions we see her in her
domestic element. She navigates the sparely decorated domicile and
checks the refrigerator without much hope. "Fuck," she says
nonchalantly. Then she goes upstairs to look for her beaten-down ward
who for some reason seems permanently wracked with guilt. She finally
finds him after calling for him for a while.
LAUREN
Hey, Jack, there's no food in the house, and this time there's not a
shred of exaggeration lining my commentary.
JACK (John Doe) is at his computer in what looks like pajamas, and he
acknowledges but waits a moment, as if to gather the strength to speak.
JACK
Yeah, I've been meaning to do something about that for a couple of days
now, but that would involve leaving the house.
LAUREN
You've known for two days, and you didn't tell me? I could have skipped
school to go grocery shopping. Now that should count as an excused
absence.
JACK
Well, what the hell, if you'd been here in the last two days you might
have noticed yourself, so from where I'm sitting, no harm, no foul.
LAUREN
Yeah, but also from where you're sitting there's not enough deodorant
in the world to make you April fresh.
He finally turns around and breaks into a sad smile at this, looking at
her for the first time. Jack's lifestyle is both an advantage and
disadvantage for Lauren, as she can live more independently than most
anyone else her age but often feels but a tenuous, fleeting connection
to anyone else.
LAUREN
I'm not sure working more and more everyday is resolving anything for
you. Ever thought of therapy?
JACK
(turning back to the screen)
You forget that this thing constitutes therapy for the underemployed
and aimless. I'm not getting in touch with my feelings, but I'm giving
this keyboard a $200 massage. Oh, by the way, I burned you a few more
albums I think you'll enjoy. They're in your room.
LAUREN
Well, it's about time for something new.
She walks off toward her room.
JACK
(from the other room)
You're quite welcome.
LAUREN
Oh, yeah, thanks, blah, blah, blah.
On her desk sit at least a dozen CDs, neatly labeled and stacked. Jack
must have been having trouble sleeping again. Surrounding her, an
unchecked decorative scheme has clearly begun making its mark. Self-
produced art, sculpture and found collectibles abound, along with
posters and memorabilia featuring a multitude of bands, the more
obscure the better. Aside from multiple musical instruments, there's
not much nice stuff that a teenage girl might typically enjoy, but it's
hard to make a transient living space much more than what it is by
nature. Lauren leans back on her uncomfortable bed, puts on her
earphones, and begins to listen to her new music, led off by the
Vandals' "Ladykiller."
EXT. SUBURBAN HOME - AFTERNOON
Nick exits his hand-me-down Chevrolet on a beautiful Saturday afternoon
that features lots of empty hours just waiting to be filled. He opens
the trunk and rummages for a dusty old amplifier and electric guitar to
match. Lugging them up the driveway to the garage, he encounters Ben
and Jay grinning awkwardly, with their mother lagging behind. He
approaches them and gingerly rests the amp on the ground, suspiciously
careful.
MOM
Hello, Nick. I was just offering to make you guys some sandwiches, but
I guess free food embarrasses your pals here. But let me ask you. Would
you like something to eat?
NICK
Oh, no thanks, Mrs. Gillis. I just ate, so I should be OK for a couple
of hours anyway.
MOM
All right, well, I know you guys would probably prefer to be left
alone, but I guess I feel like it's part of my job not to grant you
that wish every time. My sweet boys.
She tousles Jay's hair and gives Ben a shoulder squeeze that adds to
both brothers' consternation as well as her playful, ironic enjoyment
of this moment.
MOM
(walking away)
You guys try not to stay cooped up in there all day. And let me know if
you have a change of heart on the refreshments.
Waiting for her to get out of sight, Jay approaches Nick and takes the
amp in a helpful gesture that would have made his mom beam with pride
had she stayed around to see it.
JAY
Man, she gets way too much pleasure out of that. The sandwiches would
have been low-fat anyway, so you're not missing anything.
Up the stairs and into a bare room containing Jay's drums and little
else, Nick begins to set up his equipment. Ben sits on a windowsill,
typically reserved.
JAY
Ben's on the rag over here or something. I should be happy he's not
saying anything, but instead I'm suspicious.
Nick reaches into an extra compartment of his guitar case and feels
around, brightening when he finds what he's looking for. Then he checks
the back of the amp and pulls out two more Bud Lights he's gleaned from
family members. Ben likes this new wrinkle. There's two apiece now,
each lukewarm, but they're accepted with grand acclaim.
INT. DRUM ROOM - AFTERNOON - MOMENTS LATER
The threesome in action: Two out of three instrumentalists ain't bad,
or more accurately, one and one-half. Nick is a garage guitar hacker at
best, and Ben wields only a broomstick as his device for musical
transcendence. But Jay is already a consummate drummer, able to mimic
many styles and ready to apply the stamp of his own style. Nick now
gouges at his guitar in a rough reproduction of U2's "Pride" but is not
quite there with the chiming nuances. Meanwhile, Jay consistently nails
the complex rhythms and pauses patiently when Nick makes mistakes. Jay
is younger but in no other way is he outranked.
NICK
Here, let's see what we can do with this. I just came up with it.
Nick plays a power chord riff. It probably has the potential to sound
better than it does now, but the fuzzy amp is not complimentary. Lack
of bass doesn't help, but when Jay jumps in it doesn't sound nearly as
amateurish. Jay's professional energy melds well with Nick's rough-
edged fury. During a break in their playing Ben offers commentary.
BEN
That sounds just like a Sex Pistols song.
JAY
Which Pistols song?
Ben smokes near an open window, not looking at Jay.
BEN
Oh, I don't know.
JAY
(persistent)
Well, then, how are you so sure it's their song? It could be some other
band, or it could be a bona fide Nick Morgan original. You don't know.
BEN
Get up out my face about it. It just sounds really familiar, that's
all.
NICK
(innocently)
Well, I don't think it's the Sex Pistols. Come to think of it, I don't
think I've ever actually heard them before.
Jay and Ben stare after Nick in synchronized shock and disbelief at
first and then mutually realize that his tastes do often run toward
soft rock, metal and classic rock. As the brothers share a glance, Ben
pointedly remembers their discussion about America.
BEN
(ridiculing)
Too much Little River Band, I guess. (Beat) Hey, who's that girl out
there?
The guys rush over to look and see a girl with dark hair dressed in
black, on her knees, apparently digging in the dirt in an adjacent lot.
NICK
Hey, that's the sleeping girl, Ben. What the fuck is she doing over
there?
JAY
If a chick lives in that house, it's the first I've heard of it.
NICK
Hey, let's go out there. It's about time for me to leave anyway. Why
don't you help me haul my shit to the car and we'll check her out...
see if we can lure her out for a closer look.
Reluctantly Jay grabs the small but surprisingly heavy amp and starts
to lug it downstairs, falling in behind Nick. Ben searches for
something to carry and grabs some cord Nick left behind.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - CONT'D
Jay drags the amp over to Nick's car as the latter loads his guitar
into the trunk and looks around searchingly. Ben approaches.
BEN
(softly)
Let's see if we can keep the creep factor down, OK. You know, stay
casual.
JAY
OK, but then both of you have to go back inside.
Lauren has sneaked up on them somehow and now stands surveying the
equipment stacked in the trunk. Her voice startles Ben and Nick
slightly, who have had their backs turned.
LAUREN
So, you guys are the neighborhood garage rockers I've been unable to
keep from hearing. You don't look like you'd play anything but with
yourselves.
Lauren's face is strikingly beautiful but set in a semi-permanent,
slightly amused scowl. Lauren reaches into the trunk of Nick's car to
fiddle with his old amp. Nick is uncomfortable with her
straightforwardness and moves instinctively to stop her.
NICK
Do you live in this neighborhood, or does someone who rattles off
sarcastic commentary to strangers actually need a residence?
He tries to use a smile to hide his anxiousness and show her he's just
kidding around like he imagines she was. But it comes off a little too
eager and perhaps creepy as he moves a step closer to her.
LAUREN
Oh, are you the charming one? If so, you guys must be special ed cases.
(Beat, to Jay) The term "strangers" is a bit strong, don't you think?
Based on my sum total of encounters with people at school and in this
neighborhood, two conversations within a week's time is like best
friends.
She sits down on the curb and leans back with hands on the ground
behind her, as if invited for a picnic. She smiles, and Nick hesitates
before speaking further. So Ben decides to take a shot, stopping to
light a cigarette first and then offering Lauren one in what he thinks
is a suave, aloof manner. She declines.
BEN
OK, it seems you know something about our shortcomings. What do you
suck at, besides social skills?
LAUREN
(innocently)
Oh, I didn't say you sucked. Your brother definitely doesn't suck on
the drums. And you (to Nick) have energy enough; I just don't think you
take much time to practice. What about you, Ben? What do you do?
JAY
Uh, that's a good question. Nick and I will be interested to hear this
answer.
BEN
Fuck you both. I'm the heart and soul of this band.
He chuckles at himself.
BEN
(cont'd, to Lauren)
I'm responsible for the vision.
LAUREN
Oh, I get it. Like a manager of a band yet to actually exist. The
Phantom Colonel. (Beat) So you don't play anything, then. But it is
your house, after all.
Jay snorts at this and Ben throws a rock at him in mock anger. They
have a mini brotherly argument about this, almost as if in their own
world. Nick takes this opportunity to reenter the conversation and sits
down next to Lauren on the curb.
NICK
So what the hell were you doing digging in the dirt over there? Hiding
the bodies? Damn, I bet that's not even your yard.
She glances over her shoulder to where Nick has gestured but doesn't
respond.
BEN
Assuming you do live nearby, why don't you come over sometime and show
us how it's done if you know so much?
Lauren stands up then and begins to shuffle off, looking pleased.
LAUREN
Well, if you're sure it won't break up the testosterone party, maybe I
will. But for now I better get back to my project before somebody gets
the wiser. It's a good thing Nick reminded me of it.
She moves out of sight, and the guys are stunned momentarily by the
abruptness of her exit. Then they relax, slightly relieved, as Nick
leans on his car and Ben smokes.
JAY
(urgently)
Did she ever even say her name in that whole spiel? She sure as hell
knew our names. Sneaky bitch.
Nick and Ben look at each other, ponder the question briefly, and then
shake their heads, smiling. Nick looks around suspiciously to make sure
she's not spying.
NICK
(cont'd)
She is totally hot, though. Defensive sarcasm isn't enough to hide that
basic fact.
Lauren then reappears on the other side of Jay.
LAUREN
I didn't want to appear rude, so hi, hello, howdy, or whatever people
say here. (Uncomfortably) My name's Lauren, and thanks for the "hot"
designation. I usually get freaky, psycho or fucked up, but that's a
new one.
Then she's gone again, cutting through the woods, presumably toward
home in a circuitous path. Ben and Jay laugh, though Nick is mortified
and curses himself softly.
JAY
A chick samurai, that's all we need. But this whole episode does give
me an idea for a band name. The Stalkers.
Ben and Nick look at each other, considering the notion with some
seriousness.
INT. THE BROTHERS' HOUSE, DRUM ROOM - AFTERNOON
Nick and Jay are scorching through Nick's power chord riff again, this
time with Ben supplying spirited but tuneless vocals to rudimentary
lyrics, basically just a chorus. They stop and take a break when they
run out of lyrics, which is pretty quickly. At this point comes a knock
on the door and the brothers' mom's voice.
MOM
(urgently)
Ben? Jay? Do you happen to know who this girl is trespassing on our
lawn?
A look of excitement springs up in each guy, as they hurry to the
window.
BEN
(sighing)
What the hell is she doing now? (To his mom) Yeah, I guess we'll claim
her.
From window view, Lauren stands with her back to the house, at the edge
of the driveway. Ben and Jay head downstairs. Nick remains for a moment
longer, enamored. Finally, he joins his friends.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - AFTERNOON
Outside the front door, Ben and Jay emerge with puzzled smiles and
approach Lauren, who still stands near the curb.
BEN
Just so you know, we have both a doorbell and a knocker. But I guess
it's more dramatic if you make us come to you, is that it?
LAUREN
(acknowledging but not turning)
Actually, I'm expecting a package, so I was looking out for its arrival
from this better vantage point.
JAY
Well, that decides it. Definitely sounds like narcotics.
BEN
What the hell do you know about narcotics, Scrappy Doo?
Lauren smiles mysteriously and watches Nick approach something off to
the side.
NICK
Well, not unless the contraband is a whole goddam orchestra.
With awe he holds up a bag containing a violin/fiddle with bow,
acoustic guitar and electric bass, among other equipment. Lauren takes
it from him and straps it across her shoulder.
LAUREN
Yeah, well, I was on my way over here, but I was hoping to get my CDs
today and I guess I got a little impatient. Stores around here don't
sell anything but shit, so I'm forced to order takeout. (Beat, then
more quietly) Plus, I like to limit my interactions with other people's
parents to the passing-through, on-the-move variety.
BEN
In that case, if you actually want to come inside, you're probably not
gonna like the price of admission.
Just then their mom chimes in from OS, calling her sons. She comes
around the corner, then, and Lauren has no real opportunity to flee.
She's actually not too unhip or annoying for a mom, just curious about
the trespasser.
MOM
Oh, hello. What, are these guys tripping over their tongues? Well,
they're not smooth talkers, but at least that means you know they're
not usually trying to put one over on you.
JAY
Mom... jeez.
MOM
Don't say that, Jay. I know it's a sly way of taking the Lord's name in
vain. (To Lauren) It's nice to meet you. I'll have to do this myself,
I guess. I'm Ruth, but I guess I'm enough of an old fogey that I'll
expect you to call me Mrs. Gillis.
Mom extends her hand, and Lauren puts her bag back on the ground so she
can oblige. She says her name quietly but offers nothing else in the
way of conversation.
MOM
Well, Lauren, feel free to come inside and make yourself at home,
whether or not these guys ever find the poise to extend an actual
invitation.
This is all it takes for Nick to grab Lauren's bag of instruments and
start inside. This catches Mom's eye and everyone else watches him,
too.
MOM
See, boys, there's a man who has some manners left.
Nick blushes and then blushes even more when he becomes annoyed at his
own reaction. The group slowly begins to drift toward the house, while
Mom stays put, apparently with intentions to do something in the yard
or garage or something. Nick is now fully uncomfortable, and Lauren
watches him intently, with mostly hidden amusement. He's just so gung-
ho.
NICK
(reacting)
What?
LAUREN
(gesturing in front of her, with mock seriousness)
Aren't you gonna lay your jacket down or something?
NICK
Oh, fuck y'all.
Amid chuckles, he continues toward the front door, followed by the
others. Lauren feigns a look of injury before following suit.
LAUREN
Well, now, that wasn't very polite. Ruth was on to something, I guess.
Chivalry these days is like sex from the male perspective: Easy come,
easier go.
INT. THE MUSIC ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Upstairs, the group files in and eagerly starts setting up instruments.
In addition to her band in a bag, Lauren has supplied a bass amp and,
most importantly, a microphone and mini PA. Just outside the room, Mom
Gillis reappears and discreetly pulls a straggling Ben aside in the
hallway.
MOM
Leave that door a foot or two open, OK. It's one thing with just you
boys holed up in there but quite another to throw a girl into the mix.
Besides, she looks a little wild.
She especially whispers this last word and crinkles her nose for
emphasis.
BEN
(laughing but mortified)
Mom, there's not gonna be an orgy or anything. She's a recovering
nympho; we did a background check.
MOM
(taken aback)
That's not funny. If you hadn't just used those specific sex words, I'd
be less worried. But if you say it, then you're obviously thinking it.
I'm serious; leave it ajar at least.
Ben rolls his eyes after Mom turns to go. When Ben enters the room,
Nick is playing his "Hootered" riff for Lauren, and then he and Jay run
through it a couple times, with Ben supplying the chorus and earning a
strange look from Lauren, who's never heard him "sing" before. After
they've played enough for her to get the picture, she offers
commentary.
LAUREN
What are those lyrics? Hootered? Meaning getting wasted? I'm not
familiar with that euphemism, but it's a pretty good take on typical
masculinity. You know, putting breasts and alcohol together in a nifty
package. Who could ask for anything more?
She shifts in tone to all business.
LAUREN
(cont'd)
That riff is definitely similar to the Pistols and the Ramones... about
every one of their songs, actually.
It's not bad, it really isn't. Needs development, as my English
teachers like to say. But let me play something for you we might be
able to cover. I hope you're not dead set on playing originals
exclusively. I just already know this song kicks ass. Besides, good
cover bands are way too rare anyway.
NICK
Yeah, I think cover bands generally have this false principle hanging
over them that they're automatically inferior musicians. But I think
they only suck if they play songs that suck.
Lauren is intently fiddling with the CD player, pushing buttons more
haphazardly than Ben is comfortable with.
LAUREN
(inserting the CD, not looking at Nick)
Exactly, Nick. (Beat) All right, see what you think of this.
On the soundtrack plays X's "Your Phone's off the Hook," and as soon as
the opening riff starts up, Nick and Jay begin organically absorbing
its essence into their own light playing. It's amazing to see the
talent of both guys seeping out all at once now. Lauren is delighted
viewing the process and marvels at how quickly they've picked up an
unfamiliar tune. Ben, meanwhile, fiddles with the bass, occasionally
plucking the right note. It seems he's taken to the instrument.
Eventually, Lauren rises to join the "band" in an initially rough but
not bad version of the song, providing Exene's vocal parts beautifully
and with ample edge, as if she's just been waiting for the opportunity
to do this. And it's clear from early efforts that Nick will be able to
harmonize and sing well with Lauren, though he doesn't know this song
fully yet. Lauren has supplied lyric sheets for just that reason. After
they finish, everybody is surprised at how decent they sound. It's a
transcendent moment, and Nick and Lauren share at least a pregnant
glance that indicates something has truly formed here.
INT. MUSIC ROOM - A DAY OR TWO LATER
The band is sitting around, enervated after rehearsing "Your Phone's
off the Hook" yet again, when Lauren suddenly sits bolt upright and
exclaims.
LAUREN
Fuck me courageous!
She pauses long enough for all three guys to look over somewhat
dreamily.
LAUREN
(not unaware)
No, I just thought of the song your riff really sounds like, but I
can't quite place it. Fuckin' brain paralysis. (Beat) Play it again
real quick.
Speaking of paralyzed, Nick is still trying to get his mind around
courageous and doesn't respond to Lauren's request.
LAUREN
Oh, I got it. I got it. I'll be back in a minute.
She races out of the room and down the stairs, and if Nick had had time
to react, he would have probably obeyed his nagging impulse to follow
her. But she's out the front door in a rush, out into the pouring rain
that has been falling steadily now for quite some time. She runs
probably too fast down the driveway and across the road and suffers
from this lack of care when she reaches a bank that leads down to a
grassy open area of her yard, a shortcut to the front door. She slips
utterly when she reaches the grass and tumbles spectacularly, sliding
an extra 10 feet through the standing water. She enjoys this completely
and turns to see if anyone's looking at her from the window. Nick is,
and he alerts the others to the incident. Lauren raises her arms in
triumph, smiles though drenched and takes a bow.
INT. LAUREN'S HOUSE - JUST AFTER
Lauren shakes her head like a dog, spraying the landing, before she
climbs up the stairs two at a time. She's soaked as if having showered
fully clothed, and she's leaving plenty of obvious wet spots on the
rugs and wood floors. She moves up into her room and rummages around.
From down the hall, we see Jack approach with coffee cup in hand. He's
barefoot, and he gets an uncomfortable look on his face as if he's
truly alarmed by what he just stepped in. He knows there's no pet in
the house, but the thought still crosses his mind. Then he sees the
human foot-shaped tracks and a bit of mud and musters up the energy to
actually get a little pissed.
JACK
What the hell happened out here? I'm having very unpleasant flashbacks
to that little yipping dog we used to have. Lauren?
There's no response, but she finally comes out of her room and walks
casually by Jack.
LAUREN
(straight-faced, with some effort)
It's raining outside.
JACK
(now just mock angry)
No, really, and I thought you were turning into one of those semi-
amphibious fish or something and just flopped on up to your room.
Lauren has now reached the front door, with CD in hand. She raises it
in a brief salute before exiting.
LAUREN
Oh, I am. My metamorphosis is almost complete.
JACK
(after a moment)
Well, at least the place'll finally feel like home when the mildew
forms.
Nick is busy tuning his guitar as Lauren re-enters the room, breathing
hard and still dripping wet. Ben, mainly with his mother in mind,
fusses silently about this, trying to keep Lauren from ruining any
furniture or electronic equipment. Eventually, he sees that she has no
intention of guarding against such hazards herself and is instead
focused on placing a CD in the player.
BEN
(with mocking politeness)
Would you like a towel, my lady? Jay, get a towel before Mom has a
stroke.
JAY
Before you have a stroke is more like it. Why don't you get it? You're
closer.
BEN
Oh, sweet Christ, Lauren, you're gonna get us all electrocuted.
He snatches the CD from her hands and wipes it down with his shirt.
LAUREN
Well, don't scratch it.
Nick has quietly exited and reemerged with a towel for Lauren, which he
now extends to her gently, like a servant. She accepts it and thanks
him, then vigorously goes to work on her hair, followed by wringing out
her tee-shirt, onto the towel when possible. Then she tries to stop the
dripping from her pants and other problem areas. Nick watches all of
this with probably too much pleasure. A beat, as she watches Ben still
peering at the CD and the CD player for signs of wetness.
LAUREN
Jesus God, man, CDs are gonna be an obsolete technology before you're
satisfied.
BEN
(placing the CD carefully)
All right, let's see if this is worth the trouble.
Lauren urgently presses buttons on the player to navigate to the right
track, and the music begins, softly at first but then louder and on the
soundtrack. The Descendents' "Suburban Home" kicks into gear, and Nick
quickly begins to noodle on his guitar to match the basic power chords.
He catches on pretty quickly, as does Jay, and Ben is impressed enough
to forget about the dampness problem for a moment. Lauren smiles in
enjoyment and mouths some of the words, singing somewhat. It's over
pretty quickly, an unfortunate piece of baggage afflicting much punk
rock.
NICK
Let's give it a try.
INT. JAY'S DRUM ROOM - A FEW HOURS LATER
The band (now one can almost call it that) tears through a version of
the Descendents' "Clean Sheets" and sounds much cleaner and sharper
now, having spent much of the day as drenched in this fresh sound as
Lauren was with water from her spill in the rain. Lauren clutches a
mike, focused and much more comfortable singing now. Nick uses the one
stand Lauren owns, and they harmonize staggeringly well for such a
short collaboration. Ben sits to the side, having a small amount of
success on the bass, and Jay thrashes with abandon. They play through
mistakes and when finished look at one another, astounded.
JAY
Holy shit, that was almost good enough for an audience or something.
BEN
(grinning)
Carter's party. I know they don't have shit else for entertainment,
which should mean they won't say no to a band just getting on its feet
that's still too green to expect to be paid.
JAY
(green)
Why can't we get paid? We're good enough.
Everyone else just looks at him as if he's a mere child and they know
so, so much more.
NICK
Well, let's set it in motion, then. It's the first step to the big
time, boys.
He leans back in his chair, contemplative. Lauren keeps staring at him,
not ready for the conversation to be over. Nick just looks at her,
smiling dumbly, quite excited about this new chapter in his life.
Finally, he realizes what she's waiting for.
NICK
Oh, oh, OK. It's the first step to the big time, colleagues.
Nick's testing terms out, not happy with that one.
NICK
(cont'd)
Compatriots? Comrades?
LAUREN
That's great, Vladimir. (Looking at the other guys) Jesus Christ, this
is like waiting for world peace, isn't it?
INT. LARGE SUBURBAN HOUSE CROWDED WITH TEENS - NIGHT
As a pack of bored suburban teens sits around in various states of
being, mostly of the chemical variety, the band rips through a raucous
version of the Queers' "I'm OK You're Fucked." But they don't get the
response they're hoping for; one can almost hear the crickets chirp. So
they pause to regroup, now experiencing a sense of hesitation after
feeling ignored through their set of mostly American punk. Following a
quick band conference, Lauren crams herself into a corner with her
small keyboard. Ben steps back reluctantly, thrilled to have found
himself progressing nicely on bass, not that anyone has noticed. Then,
over a rising party din of conversation, Lauren launches into "Endless
Love," relishing the role of diva. This freezes the crowd more
efficiently than blue lights, as they just stop and stare. Nick chimes
in with the male vocal part, and it seems they're going to play this
one straight. Before anybody can hurl insults or heavy objects,
however, the band makes an explosive segue into the Goo Goo Dolls' "Sex
Maggot," with Lauren on bass and, for this once, Ben on screaming
vocals. This produces the desired result in the audience, and the band
would probably be concerned for their safety if not for the reality
that a first gig that inspires an audience reception this uproarious
has to be some kind of major achievement.
INT. PARTY, LATE AND LESS CROWDED - LATE NIGHT
With the show complete, the band members put down their instruments and
share excited glances of disbelief. A group of school acquaintances
approaches them, focusing on Nick. Suddenly, he's more popular than
ever, it seems.
TALL GUY
Dude, that fuckin' rocked. That couldn't have been your first show.
NICK
For an audience beyond ourselves, it actually was. Thanks, man, that's
nice to hear.
A female classmate has worked her way up to the position closest to
Nick, as the rest of the band stands awkwardly in the background,
though it's more the moment's dynamic than anything Nick's done to
cause this. The girl is of above average attractiveness but probably
doesn't register too much on Nick's radar, as all the recent excitement
has not clouded his attraction to Lauren. Even so, the girl shows her
congratulations with an intimate hug, regardless of the group's
relatively consistent status as strangers. Nick is surprised at this
new action but not repulsed, and Lauren's face reveals obviously that
she notices him reciprocating. She also sees that the other girls
gathered around don't have hugs for her but try to at least marginally
include the rest of the band.
LAUREN
(deadpan, to a hanger-on)
So where's the fuckin' love, baby?
The girl nearest to her freezes briefly but doesn't respond, although a
couple of guys are happy enough to offer some affection. One even puts
his hand on her ass.
LAUREN
(pushing him away)
Goddam, handyman. I knew something was weird about this place. This is
a working brothel, isn't it?
INT. PARTY HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
The huggy girl, AMY, leads Nick upstairs without saying much. He
follows, drunk and in disbelief, as the Knack's "Good Girls Don't"
plays.
NICK
Wow, you know your way around this house pretty well. Is this a usual
party destination? Cuz I don't remember being here before.
AMY
Yeah, Mike's a friend of mine. (Beat) At least I think this is his
house.
INT. PARTY HOUSE - BACK DOWNSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS
Lauren has forged a safe distance between herself and the relatively
hardcore partiers still at it. She stands uncomfortably against a wall
and tries to glare. Nonetheless, a guy across the room, not one who
tried to grope her before, seems to have taken an interest in her. He's
not good at hiding his glances. After looking around in vain for
familiar faces, Lauren forces herself to approach the guy.
LAUREN
(nodding toward the kitchen)
So, the beer's in there?
The guy's so excited he almost spills his beer, but he eventually finds
the composure to respond.
NICE GUY
Yeah, let me show you to it.
He gestures for Lauren to go first, but she insists wordlessly that he
lead the way. Something between a grimace and a smile forms as she
glances over her shoulder one last time.
INT. PARTY HOUSE - UPSTAIRS BEDROOM/SEX ROOM - CONTINUOUS
No more talking, as Amy enters a bedroom quietly and immediately starts
kissing Nick once they're inside.
Music plays over a montage of the two getting sloppy, with
progressively less clothing on. Nick is starting to get the message
that there may not be a stopping point on the horizon, at least of the
variety he's used to. Then, on the floor, a shot of a naked Amy on top
of Nick, getting started.
INT. PARTY HOUSE - DOWNSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS
Lauren puts down her cheap beer with a grimace and stands in limbo
between the kitchen and living room. She doesn't want to participate in
jello shots on one side, nor is she eager to hang out with the dregs
scattered on furniture on the other. She scowls as she notices the
brothers in the kitchen and then steals a concerned look upstairs. She
sidles over to the staircase, glancing at her watch, and starts up with
an exasperated sigh. Only a few steps up, she senses a drunk, huffing
male trailing her and swivels to face him.
LAUREN
Don't fucking follow me, OK. (she notes that it's the nice guy from
before and hesitates) You sound like you've got Paul Stanley's
platforms on, the way you're clomping around. The absence of stealth
makes for an ineffective predator, you know.
FOLLOWER
Whoa, somebody's got illusions of grandeur. I can't walk into another
room in my own house without tripping the psycho alarm?
LAUREN
It's "delusions," dumb-ass. I'm just trying to say I'm going up here
for my coat, not in search of a bedroom companion or anything.
FOLLOWER
Fine, go. Who's stopping ya?
When Lauren turns around to proceed up the stairs, the guy flips her
off with both hands and makes a face at her, muttering when she's out
of earshot.
FOLLOWER
Go back to your igloo, fuckin' ice queen.
INT. UPSTAIRS BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Nick and Amy are on the other side of the bed from the door, and Nick's
head extends out so he could see the door if he were looking. Amy bobs
up and down, and both participants express rising excitement as a faint
knock on the door comes. It might not be enough for these two to hear,
so after a moment the door opens slowly. It's Lauren, looking surly, in
search of her jacket. She begins fruitlessly sifting through other
coats on the bed and then sees Nick writhing on the floor.
LAUREN
Nick, what the fuck? Are you...?
Then Amy rises up again, not paying attention to Lauren. The latter is
shocked, then embarrassed, but stops anyway to watch in fascination for
a moment. She continues to stare to see what impact this might have on
the action.
NICK
(seeing her)
Jesus... Lauren.
They don't completely stop, though Nick is mildly mortified. Instead,
Amy slows down to bitch at this intruder.
AMY
Hello! Goddam, don't you get the picture?
LAUREN
Oh, I'm getting a picture, all right. Hustler, page 10.
AMY
Jesus, bitch, you've missed your cue. Please leave, perv.
She nonetheless quickly resumes riding Nick, who remains speechless.
Lauren goes to leave, without her coat, feeling a mixture of disgust,
humor and excitement. She has seen plenty of Nick in a passionate
moment, after all, and recognizes her own definite reaction to that.
NICK
(to Lauren, softly, almost conversationally)
Are you having a good time?
LAUREN
(closing the door)
Not nearly as much as you.
She pulls the door to and stands on the other side, exclaiming and
shaking her head.
INT. PARTY HOUSE - DOWNSTAIRS
Lauren goes to tell the boys, half-afraid she'll find them mid-coitus
as well. But the brothers are together, as it turns out, sitting at a
kitchen table nursing canned beers.
LAUREN
You both have your pants on, right?
Ben looks down as if to check.
JAY
What?
LAUREN
Well, as the excitement reaches fever pitch down here, Nick's getting
some major pussy upstairs. (Beat) So I figured that naturally both of
you are right on the brink of getting tremendous amounts of trim as
well. I never dreamed the assumption that everybody wants to fuck
musicians would turn out to be this true this quickly.
BEN
Oh, my God, is it that huggy girl? She moves really fast. Hey, maybe
we're next.
Jay glances at Ben pessimistically as Lauren sits down and swigs some
of his beer without permission.
INT. PARTY HOUSE - CLEARED-OUT LIVING ROOM - LATER
Nick comes back downstairs, looking stunned but satisfied, and sits
next to a deliberately aloof Lauren on the couch.
NICK
Look, I'm sorry you walked in on that. I'm sure it's not what you most
wanted to see tonight.
LAUREN
Well, you got that straight, but... it's cool. (With a shift in tone,
batting her eyelashes) So where's your lover now?
NICK
I don't know where she got to. She didn't hang around to cuddle.
LAUREN
Especially after she gathered her payment, right? (Beat) But wouldn't
you like to have remembered your first time?
NICK
(grinning)
Oh, I'll remember that, don't worry about it. (Beat) Why are you so
sure it was my first time?
Almost imperceptibly she flinches and pauses to swallow this ever
larger bitter pill.
LAUREN
Well, at the very least was that a condom I saw on that cock? I hope
you didn't dare enter that particular cavern without the proper
equipment. That would be like going caving without the hat with the
light.
NICK
(fighting bashfulness)
You actually saw my dick?
LAUREN
(shrugging, putting on a good show)
Yeah, so, big fucking deal.
NICK
Well, it kind of is. (Beat) I hope it's not an abnormally small deal
anyway.
LAUREN
(casually)
Nah, it looked pretty good, don't worry about that.
NICK
Really? Well, it's important that you're pleased.
LAUREN
Oh, get the fuck outta here. It's not like I wanted a hardcore angle on
your penetration. It was kinda in my face, you exhibitionist fucker.
NICK
No, if anybody's sick it's you. You weren't in a hurry to put a stop to
the show.
He leans in to tickle her or otherwise give her a hard time, but she's
not really ready for that kind of casual closeness. So she springs
away, leaving Nick to decide if he'll follow.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - MOMENTS LATER
Nick walks out to see Lauren sitting in her idling car. He approaches,
kneels and settles his forearms on her open-window car door. They sit
there a moment.
LAUREN
Hey, maybe I'm drunk, too. Alcohol has to be the explanation for this.
NICK
I haven't seen you drink a drop.
LAUREN
Well, you haven't been around me all night, have you? If you'll recall,
you were up there a good while fucking that skank. (Beat) That's
another thing. I would have expected that to go pretty quickly.
NICK
Ah, come on, you underestimate me again. (Then) Actually, I jerked off
at opportune times today, and, confidentially, I think that helped in
the longevity department.
LAUREN
(slumping)
Oh, that's nice. (Beat) I think I've had quite enough encounters with
your genitals for one day, so I think I'm gonna go.
NICK
(serious)
Well, shouldn't we talk about this at least semi-seriously? Admittedly,
it could be a complication.
LAUREN
Why would it be? Like I said, I'm gonna go. It was a good show, though.
(off Nick's uncertain look) You know, that period of time when we
played live music together? That show.
Lauren puts the car in gear and prepares to move off.
LAUREN
(cont'd)
See you tomorrow for rehearsal?
NICK
Yeah, wouldn't miss it.
Lauren rolls up to the end of the driveway, still shaken from the
night's events. Her face appears particularly stricken.
INT. SMALL MIDDLE CLASS HOME - FLASHBACK
A younger, more innocent and much more conventional Lauren. She's
wearing light makeup and the only thing that visually distinguishes her
from a typical, mall-going, mainstream adolescent girl is a hoop in her
right nostril. She cautiously approaches the room in which her mother
is supposed to be writing, seemingly afraid of what she might find
there.
LAUREN
(poking her head in the doorway)
Mom, Jason just drove in. Is it OK if I go over and see if my guitar's
ready?
She's almost literally bouncing from foot to foot as if a need for
urination is urgent, and her mother senses it even before she turns
around, smiling, to look at her daughter. She wears a bandanna over her
head and has dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise her joy over
seeing her daughter this way is obvious.
MOM
Of course you can. I wonder if that amplifier was too old to fix.
(Beat) Joke. Need any help hauling it over here?
LAUREN
Not from you I don't. We don't need you pulling any more martyr duty.
(Hugging her from behind) Besides, Jason has a dick, which means he has
powerful muscles.
MOM
(with slight admonition)
Lauren. That's unnecessary description.
LAUREN
Getting some things done?
MOM
Oh, getting some things started, anyway.
LAUREN
OK, I'll be back in a little while, but don't stopwatch me cuz he said
he might show me a few chords or something.
Mom softly agrees to this, and Lauren scampers off excitedly, out the
front door and over to the house across the street. Her mom watches her
from her position near the window, smiling, then grimaces as she
reaches for a bottle of pills.
EXT. MIDDLE CLASS HOME - AFTERNOON
Lauren approaches the front door of Jason's house, dawdling a bit.
She's restless after poking the doorbell twice because she doesn't want
to be a complete nuisance. Jason is older, after all, and she has to
concentrate not to blush in his presence anyway. Noise from inside
sounds like there are other teens present. After a moment Jason opens
the door.
JASON
Well, you don't waste any time, do you? Come on in. It's good to have
somebody who really wants this thing to be the one who gets it.
Lauren follows Jason inside warily and waits in the living room hallway
while he rustles some equipment together. He calls for her to follow
him into his bedroom, and she obeys reluctantly.
JASON
The guys at the store assured me they tweaked this thing about as much
as it could be tweaked, and they even pronounced it in good condition.
I was afraid they were gonna shit-talk me about not taking care of it
better.
Lauren enters the room and stops when she sees two other guys playing a
video game.
JASON
Lauren, this is Roman and Andy, a coupla friends of mine. Guys, this is
my neighbor who's taking this thing off my hands. (To Lauren) I wasn't
doing much good with it anyway.
ROMAN
That sure is the truth. Hey, Lauren. Nice to meet you.
ANDY
Yeah, how's it goin'? We've met before, Jay, you didn't need to
reintroduce us.
Andy nods at her briefly, but Lauren is uncomfortable immediately
around these guys.
JASON
I wanna make sure I give you everything I have related to that guitar
that could be useful to you, so let me go out to the car and I think I
have some stuff in the basement. You mind waiting a few minutes?
LAUREN
(hesitating)
Um, OK. No problem. Thanks for doing all this for me; you didn't have
to go to so much trouble.
Jason waves her off and takes his leave, and Lauren hangs by the door,
glancing occasionally at Roman and Andy, who seem engrossed in their
game.
INT. CONVERTED WAREHOUSE SPACE - AFTERNOON
The band practices in its new space, working on the Weirdos' "Solitary
Confinement." They're sticking pretty cleanly to American punk for now.
We see that someone has crudely applied the band's name, the Stalkers,
to Jay's drum kit. During lulls another band playing next door can be
heard, a loud alterna-funk outfit apparently. Lauren almost groans
aloud upon hearing it, turning then to some massive paper lists Nick
has compiled of songs the band should rehearse. Away from her Nick and
Ben argue.
BEN
But that's just the shit I thought we were getting away from. How can
we play Black Flag and Bad Company within the same half-hour? I just
don't get it.
NICK
There's a reason behind it, if you'd calm down and let me explain it.
We need to work on our fundamentals if we want to play any of the music
that inspires us to any degree of quality. We're shoddy right now, and
shoddy can sometimes pass, but do you just want to stay shoddy?
LAUREN
Def Leppard? Dokken? Are you outta your fuckin' mind? If we practice
that shit, I guess you'll want me to stand on a table and flash my
tits, cuz I can't imagine anything else I could do in that cage.
NICK
Oh, cut back on the drama, they're just possibilities. Do you have any
other ideas on getting better at harmonies? Darby Crash and Rollins are
not very instructive in that area, and I don't think we're there yet.
(Beat) Besides, a good tune is a good tune, and I don't think we should
be exclusive about it.
JAY
But excluding is a good thing when you cut out the bad stuff, and
that's all we're talking about here, isn't it?
For once Ben and Jay are on the same side, and everyone is surprised at
the wisdom coming forth from the younger brother's lips. During this
conversation, which is clearly not the first of this nature, a louder
din has begun to infiltrate the room, and Lauren is most definitely
distracted by it. It's Suicidal Tendencies' "I Saw Your Mommy" being
blasted outside.
LAUREN
Well, all I have to say is shit is shit whether it's brown and lumpy or
cream-colored and silky smooth. (Beat) What the fuck is going on out
there?
Lauren blithely steps out of the room, prompting Jay to throw a mini-
tantrum. He's tired of the many "breaks" the band seems to be taking.
EXT. UGLY WAREHOUSE BUILDING, AN ALLEY REALLY - AFTERNOON
A guy with mussed hair is singing along theatrically with the Suicidal
Tendencies tune as Lauren tries to confront him about it.
LAUREN
You've played that song about five times already, so I'm just asking
you to maybe play something else.
GUY
Well, if you guys would rehearse instead of arguing about pointless
shit, you wouldn't be able to hear me out here.
LAUREN
Look, I'm not asking you to turn the music off or down or anything else
unreasonably geriatric. It'd be fucked up for me to be complaining
about loud music when we're here to play loud music. Continue to blast
Tendencies if you want, but why not skip to another song? I think you
have this one down.
GUY
Yeah, but you've ruined my enjoyment of it by distracting me. So I'm
gonna play it again.
By this time JAMES, the other band's leader, has come out to fetch his
drummer. The rest of the Stalkers are also watching the scene. Now the
guy even more adamantly sings along with the same song, playing it
louder than before. At first Lauren looks resigned and appears ready to
go back inside, but then she moves in abruptly, grabs the guy's shirt
and begins slugging him hockey style with short hook and jab bursts.
This happens so fast that no one is able to break it up before the
guy's pretty well pummeled. He's shocked into paralysis and almost
whines as James gingerly turns down the music.
GUY
What the fuck was that? You're a crazy bitch. Goddam, James, she fucked
me up.
James and his bandmates start laughing, as Nick continues to restrain
Lauren. The other guys guide the defeated one inside ("I'll put some
Bactine on it, OK"), while James hangs back, having noticed Lauren.
JAMES
Don't worry about it; he probably benefited from it. It couldn't have
made him any dumber, anyway.
LAUREN
What? Did you hallucinate that I apologized? I don't think it's a
problem to get a little fed up with songs about dead mothers after
about a dozen fucking repeat plays for no reason.
JAMES
Ah, he doesn't need a reason to be a dumbass. But I'm sure he didn't
mean anything by it. He just didn't know you'd lost your mother, if
indeed that's the case.
Lauren just glares at him briefly before going back into the rehearsal
room. Nick bids a brief, curt farewell to James, noticing the latter's
sudden interest in Lauren.
INT. WAREHOUSE REHEARSAL SPACE - CONTINUOUS
Jay sits in front of Lauren on the floor like a little kid, as she
seems to be volunteering information.
LAUREN
Well, it was hockey, although I don't know how you'd know that. I'm not
trying to sound snotty; I just don't know many people around here who
give a shit about the sport.
Nick has entered the room at this point, and Lauren notices the partly
scolding, mostly curious look on his face. He sits in an old, ratty
chair, observing that she seems to be speaking with pride about
herself, a new development indeed.
LAUREN
Anyway, my mom was Canadian, and she watched so much hockey in her life
up to and during the time she was pregnant with me that she used to say
I learned to skate in the womb and she had the rut scars to prove it.
So I guess she must have rubbed off on me genetically or something,
helping to produce the signature fighting style you just witnessed.
Nick seems to be preparing to say something, probably to chastise her
for losing control, so she simply resumes talking to block his attempt.
LAUREN
See, the key to winning a hockey fight is to always keep the feet
moving. It's not the same on pavement as it is on ice, of course, but
you have to improvise to keep your opponent off balance. Then, the
other important thing is you have to throw short, quick punches. Much
better than haymakers.
JAY
So, do you play much, or do they even have ice rinks around here?
NICK
(aghast)
What's wrong with you people? You must be aware that there's NHL hockey
in this market now.
Nick points theatrically to the Carolina Hurricanes baseball cap he's
wearing and then yanks it off to show it to Jay.
LAUREN
No, I don't play or watch much anymore, but thanks, Nick, I'm sure you
and about a dozen other people are real excited about that. Come to
think of it, I do remember one day I was driving down the road and
these swarms of guys in suits were over by the curb trying to toss game
tickets through my open car window.
She walks past Nick as she says this, rubbing her hands through his
hair on the way by. After he recovers from this, he responds.
NICK
Oh, now, you malign us closed-minded bumpkins.
JAY
(persistent like a pup)
Well, what does your mom say about you leaving behind the game she
loved so much?
Jay has said this innocently, but Nick glares at him to let him know it
was a faux pas. Lauren, her back to them, freezes briefly before
suggesting they get back to the music.
INT. CIVIC AUDITORIUM - WAITING ROOM SPACE - EARLY EVENING
The four band members sit awkwardly on surfaces not meant for sitting
as they wait for the proper school official to herd them into the
auditorium for their graduation ceremony. Lauren and Nick sit side by
side while Ben sits furthest away, looking even more glum and bored
than the rest. Nick's hat keeps falling off.
LAUREN
See, look, your body's trying to reject it, like a fucking baboon's
heart or something. Is this torturous ritual really necessary?
BEN
No, not in the least. That's why it's become tradition.
The three titter and look over at Ben, but there seems to be a psychic
distance between him and the other three that is larger than their
physical one. From the crowd comes Jenny, a classmate, who startles
Lauren almost to the point of spasm when she approaches her and speaks.
JENNY
I can't believe your mom didn't make you take that out. (pointing to
Lauren's nose ring) My mom would have pulled out the pliers and yanked
it out before she let me ruin the family's special night. What a crock
of shit. (Beat) At least we get the beach next week. That makes up for
this a little, wouldn't you say?
LAUREN
Wow, you have a real knack for making misguided assumptions. Actually,
all of us start shitty jobs next week. We're the other half, or I guess
the other tenth in this case.
JENNY
Well, it doesn't cost much. It really doesn't if you take advantage of
the deals. They're just dying for graduates to fatten their wallets.
You should still try and see if there's room.
JAY
Actually, we're kinda tied up with the band, so I guess we'll have to
survive without the week-long drinking binge.
JENNY
Well, I wouldn't miss it. We should get to celebrate a little. This is
a major milestone. At least that's what they say.
LAUREN
Yeah, well, you wanna know what I say?
Ignoring her completely, Jenny turns to Nick for more conversation.
JENNY
I heard you got into Wake. That's awesome. You're going, right? It must
be nice to have that option.
NICK
Actually, my family doesn't have that kind of money lying around, so I
don't think so.
JENNY
Well, don't just give up. There's all kind of scholarship money, if you
look hard enough. I think it would be a real shame if you ended up at
community college or something with that bunch of losers.
With grim smiles, Lauren and Nick share a glance and try to include
Ben, who continues to look down, trying to be invisible.
LAUREN
Yeah, well, in that case, Jenny my dear, you happen to be talking to
four losers right here. Call us crazy, but we're committed to this
band, and plus we don't consider it all that good of an idea to spend
50 grand to piss, puke and fuck when we can do that perfectly well here
for mere hundreds.
From behind her comes a grinning Jack, who puts his hands on her
shoulders and begins acting more like a teenager than they. Jenny, with
a look of disgust, files away just in time.
JACK
I don't think they like the idea of me being up here. I keep getting
pervert and drug dealer glares. But I thought I'd subject myself to the
abuse and come say hi anyway. (Beat) It's boring out there.
LAUREN
Well, as you can see it's just this side of a European street festival
in here. Is there ever a time when ceremony isn't pointless?
JACK
Well, I, for one, think it's pretty cool. You gotta remember, I never
had a chance to do this myself. I have no conception of what this kind
of event is like in real life.
JAY
Really, you never graduated high school? (Beat, then sheepishly) Well,
you wouldn't know it.
JACK
Oh, yes, you would. (Laughing) Don't shit a shitter.
His smile fades as he notices Lauren looking at anything but him.
JACK
You think I've embarrassed you enough? There's plenty more where that
came from, you know.
LAUREN
Oh, I know there is. I just don't know what possessed you to bring it
out of the cave tonight.
Jack absorbs this blow and considers a response.
JACK
I don't know, Lauren. A Sumerian demon, maybe. I plan on pukin' pea
soup any minute.
LAUREN
Ooh, there's a with-it reference.
JACK
All right, then, fuck you. Fall on your goddam face when you go
onstage, it'll be a camcorder highlight. The rest of you,
congratulations. Enjoy yourselves. I'm off to sell drugs.
Jack exits abruptly, hurt and failing in his attempts to hide it. He
all but storms off, pouting, more a teenager in almost every way than
this girl he's supposed to be overseeing. Worse, he knows it.
NICK
Damn, you not only kick that guy when he's down but when he's up, too.
You should be at least half as nice as he is to you.
LAUREN
Don't think that just because he made an appearance he's a stand-up
guy. Mostly he's a sit-on-his-ass-and-stank kind of guy.
NICK
Yeah, well, don't forget to tell him that later, OK?
LAUREN
You know, you've gotten downright snotty since you got laid. I don't
like it very much.
Out of fatigue, the group just lets Lauren have the last word. They
settle back into silence watching everyone else "enjoy" themselves.
INT. YMCA OR SIMILAR RUN-DOWN COMMUNITY CENTER - LATE NIGHT
The four band members are busy putting the finishing touches on their
equipment set-up, moving slowly and without much passion. A couple of
dozen fellow graduates are scattered in the wide-open gymnasium where
Project Graduation is being held, munching on pizza or playing cards or
otherwise passing the time.
LAUREN
You heard it here first. I said this was gonna suck mightily, and the
truth makes me look like a swami.
NICK
So when is this fucker gonna give us the go-ahead? Why do we have to
wait for his permission anyway?
BEN
Well, we don't really have to, but do you really want to play for the
10 or so geeks that are in here right now? We need to make
announcements to let everybody know there's a band playing. Nobody even
knows cuz we don't advertise worth a shit.
JAY
Oh, nobody cares. It wouldn't make any difference. We just need to get
used to playing for ourselves.
About halfway down the basketball court, a fellow geek has set up his
keyboard and seems to be leading an impromptu lesson for a couple of
what look like school marching band members.
LAUREN
Hey, look, there's a dork trying to steal our nonexistent thunder.
JAY
I know that guy. Let me go see if he wants to sit in with us.
Jay moves off toward the guy as his brother shoots him a nasty look.
BEN
Keyboards? We don't need a fuckin' keyboard player. What are we gonna
do, start playing Styx now?
Nick glances over at Ben, knowing that this barb is partially directed
at him. Almost out of vengeance he follows instead of stopping Jay.
INT. GYMNASIUM AREA - MOMENTS LATER
GRANT is noodling around on his synth keyboard with several other geeky
kids gathered around him in awe. Jay and Nick approach.
GRANT
(playing mentor)
It's just the slightest thing, a finger twitch really, that makes the
difference between the two riffs. (He demonstrates) But that one flat
note shifts the mood, see, and the songs don't sound at all the same.
(Seeing his friend Jay) Hey, man. How's it goin'?
Grant eyes Nick in a way that could be either natural discomfort upon
meeting someone formally or there could be the slightest suggestion
that he's checking him out. Jay introduces the two, and when they begin
discussing a chance to sit in with the band, the other geeks slowly
file away, heads down.
NICK
So, I guess I don't have to ask if you've performed for an audience
before. Hell, in terms of instrument proficiency, you seem to be way
ahead of where I was when we started this thing.
GRANT
Yeah, well, my usual arena of theatre's probably a lot different than
what you generally play in, but I don't get stage fright much anymore.
I've forgotten how.
He continues to play during the conversation, mixing finger exercises
with melodies that reside within his mind.
NICK
Jay says you're multi-instrumental. Is that true?
GRANT
Well, it's not contagious.
There's a pause as Nick doesn't react to this attempt at a joke.
NICK
The reason I ask is that a lot of the stuff we play doesn't require
keyboards, but it'd be great if you could contribute pretty much on all
the tunes. Guitar, bass, sax, fiddle, anything but a xylophone.
GRANT
Never played a fiddle but I could probably pull everything else in a
pinch.
He concentrates now on a synth riff that sounds vaguely familiar and
ominous. He's barely paying attention to Nick, deflecting the latter's
mild attempt to seem intimidating and powerful. Soon he finds the
combination he's looking for, and lays down a near-perfect rendition of
the theme from the film "Halloween." Both Jay and Nick react favorably
to this, delighted.
GRANT
I'm sorry. I've been working on this one for quite some time, and I was
just barely off over and over again. I think that's got it, though.
NICK
That's such a classic movie, man, though it started some pretty
unfortunate trends. (Beat) Well, why don't you set up with us? We'll
just plan on tooling around and seeing what happens. If Jay hasn't
informed you, I don't insist on playing just punk all the time. So
there should be some room for you creatively to do your own thing.
GRANT
Well, I've got a pretty good ear, though it's probably the only body
organ of mine that's anything to speak of.
Both Jay and Nick look at him strangely.
GRANT
Nah, you say the word, and I'll provide some accompaniment. That's my
favorite thing to do, be a background guy.
Ben and Lauren both watch the conversation and Grant's subsequent move
to bring his equipment over with equally concerned but differently
motivated suspicion. All of Ben's insecurities now rise to the surface,
and he doesn't have to say anything; the look of hurt on his face shows
that in his mind, he's already no longer a part of the band. Lauren
sees his expression and seems to brace for future strain.
Nick arrives back at the makeshift stage, picks up his guitar and
gleefully announces that Grant will be sitting in with the band for
this gig. Lauren watches him, feeling him symbolically taking the reins
and elbowing her out of the way. She looks over at Ben empathetically
before strapping on a guitar of her own.
NICK
(fearless leader mode)
Let's start off with something a little more mersh to see if we can
draw in somebody, anybody, all right? Grant, why don't you jump in when
you feel comfortable and do what you think is appropriate? Key of C,
moderate slow tempo, Lauren on lead vocals singing the shit out of
these fuckers. (To Lauren) Glory Fountain?
She nods briefly, still a little stunned and disappointed but
swallowing her concerns to ready for performance.
JAY
(to Ben, oblivious)
What the hell's mersh? Man, I hate playing fuckin' slow.
Ben glares at him but then turns professionally to his bass. Jay, with
a sigh, counts out a start to the song. Lauren begins singing Glory
Fountain's "Slip So Easily" and for the first time displays a
stunningly beautiful and powerful voice. The band sounds tight, even
Ben on bass, and soon Grant joins in with some haunting background
organ sound from his synth, right on target. Kids start filing into the
room slowly, impressed. Even some of the faculty and the Ichabod Crane-
looking vice principal seem pleased with the sounds they hear. Several
adults decide to take a look, which just plays into Nick's hands. The
band wraps up Glory Fountain just after the adults arrive, hoping for
Fleetwood Mac or something else "edgy" from their youth. Nick whispers
something to Lauren and then nods at Grant, broadcasting waves of
overconfidence and self-importance.
NICK
I don't know if that keyboard will be necessary for this one. Just to
give you an idea of what else we like to do.
Nick announces the next song to the band, and they furiously crash into
Minor Threat's "In My Eyes." Nick's leadership seems solid, as
everyone, especially Jay, relishes this chance to play fast and hard.
Nick especially seems to love the profanity, directing it aggressively
outward, particularly with the lyric, "What the fuck have you done?"
The kids look confused, while the adults blanch with anxiety and begin
to feel they need to put a stop to this. Meanwhile, an awestruck but
amused Grant steps away from his keyboard as if it's in danger of
blowing away and settles back to watch. After the tune's scorching end,
only a few scattered punks and freaks applaud and cat-call, while most
everyone else stands mortified. Nick looks extremely pleased with
himself, while Lauren and Ben look at him with considerably less
elation.
INT. YMCA SPACE - LATER
During a break, the band stands around eating snacks and partaking of
non-alcoholic beverages from paper cups. Ben has all but shrunk a few
inches, but he doesn't say a word about his torment. No one else says
much either, as Nick's sudden megalomania still rings in their brains.
The vice principal approaches with an uncomfortable smile.
VICE PRINCIPAL (TUCKER)
Well, that sure did seem to get everyone's attention. Do you need any
help packing up?
NICK
Oh, no, we're just taking a break. We still have our second set to do.
TUCKER
Well, no, that's not exactly right. Actually, there won't be any more
music tonight. This town has a little-known ordinance that says this
building can't have excessive noise past 2 AM, and I'm afraid the
clocks don't lie. Sorry, guys.
NICK
You're not sorry, you smug motherfucker. I'd bet you just made that
shit up on the spot if I didn't know how goddam stupid you are.
TUCKER
Look, kid, it's a nice performance you're putting on here, but like I
told you, I'm sorry to report that tonight's show is over. Just go get
some pizza or something. There'll be other gigs.
At this point Lauren maneuvers Nick away from this authoritative prick.
Despite appearances, this is the first real run-in they've had in their
four years of high school. Nick defers, somewhat exhausted from all the
posing he's been doing tonight.
LAUREN
So how does one define excessive noise anyway? Do you have any
documentation on this ordinance?
TUCKER
Oh, is this your Little Miss Lawyer bit? That's an interesting
variation. Look, this place is within 200 feet of the closest
residence. I didn't know that when we set this thing up, and it's never
come up before...
JAY
You expect us to believe you've never had live music at one of these
things? If that's true, it makes sense why everybody's somewhere else
having real fun. Fuck this. We don't need this shit.
TUCKER
OK, have it your way, but if you leave you're not getting back in here,
I'll tell ya that.
GRANT
Ooh, that's an imposing threat. We're cryin' in our non-alcoholic punch
over that one. Look, I don't know why you're even talking to us. You
don't have any fucking say over anything anymore.
TUCKER
Look, there's no call for this. You guys are embarrassing yourselves. I
do have some say over things, and I don't need to look at my watch to
know it's time for you assholes to leave.
Tucker starts to walk off, as Lauren has to restrain Grant from going
after him. He smiles, enjoying himself.
GRANT
Oh, come on, I was just starting to have fun. Great party tonight, by
the way, ya greasy fuck.
Lauren continues to serve as the lone voice of reason, moving to start
gathering up their gear before they get thrown out.
LAUREN
God, I would have pegged you guys as merely beta males, but this is, I
think, official dick swinging.
INT. NICK'S CAR - AFTERNOON
Nick drives Lauren and himself to a local music store to get some much-
needed equipment and supplies. Mission of Burma plays on the CD
player/radio.
LAUREN
Why are you sitting so stiffly? You look like you're going to goddam
church.
NICK
You've never ridden with me before, so I'm trying to make sure the
experience is smooth for you, or at least doesn't bring carnage and
death.
LAUREN
That's a strange way to look at it. Therefore, I approve. (Beat) I wish
we didn't have to go to a fucking store for this. Why can't we just
order it online?
NICK
Well, we could, but this is supposed to be one of those warehouse
blowout deals, and I think we can probably save 100 bucks compared to
the best prices online.
LAUREN
Yeah, but there'll be people there. Avoiding them might be worth 100
bucks.
Fidgety, Lauren opens up the glove compartment and begins excitedly
sifting through the mess inside. Nick looks at her sideways but doesn't
say anything. Out of discarded car maintenance slips she holds in her
hand, something different drops to the floorboard. Nick notices and
winces as Lauren leans to retrieve it.
CLOSE ON
A greeting card with a sad-looking, humanized animal of some sort
expressing a cheesy sentiment like, "Twinkle twinkle little star, How I
wonder how you are."
LAUREN
God, what in the fuck is this? Who was the intended recipient of this
pap?
NICK
I have no idea what that is or where it came from.
Lauren looks at him a moment and then bursts out laughing. He squirms
perceptibly, letting out a sigh.
LAUREN
If there were a game show that rewarded the worst liars, you would be a
five-time returning champion. This is for Amy, isn't it? I can't
believe it. You fucked her, sure, but I thought you said you didn't
even like her.
NICK
I don't... well, I didn't send it, all right. It was just a thought
among a random number of thoughts. I've never said all of them are
keepers.
By now they've arrived at the store, and Nick has parked jerkily and
quickly, coming to a sudden stop that lurches them both forward.
LAUREN
But this is so fucking cheesy. You think this kind of thing would
appeal to a girl that impulsively mounts and conquers novice rockers?
NICK
(reaching for the card)
Look, I just thought I might see her again, so I tried to make some
preparations in case that happened.
LAUREN
Well, I don't know what you were thinking. They have plenty of "Thank
You for Fucking Me" cards these days. I think they're usually right
next to "Thinking of You in Your Time of Need."
As Lauren laughs with both amusement and a small, bitter amount of envy
she won't admit to herself, Nick successfully wrests the card away from
her and bolts out of the car, stepping quickly over to a strip mall
garbage can and stuffing the offending material inside.
NICK
OK, on to the next thing, please. The trip wouldn't have been complete
for you without snooping.
LAUREN
Calm down, teddy bear slut toy. You just don't seem so tenderhearted
usually.
Nick rolls his eyes and enters the store abruptly. Lauren hangs back,
her smile fading. She edges over to the garbage can and peeks in,
searching. She takes a look around and then plunges her hand in with a
grimace but soon gives up.
LAUREN
(as she enters the store)
Shit, and there's a frame shop and everything.
INT. JASON'S HOUSE AGAIN - FLASHBACK
Andy stops playing the video game, allowing Roman to take over for him.
ANDY
Jason's a good boy, isn't he? He spent probably half the day taking
care of that equipment for you. Not that he only did it cuz he felt
obligated. He's just like that. He wanted to make sure you got your
money's worth. (Beat, serious) He's a really good friend to have.
Lauren assents quietly, further giving Andy the once-over, still uneasy
but not sure if she should trust that feeling. Andy indicates the video
game controller lying in front of him on the bed.
ANDY
You wanna play?
LAUREN
Oh, no thanks.
Roman stays silent, making occasional eye contact with Andy.
ANDY
Well, just so you're not bored to death with this waiting, I think
Jason's got a stack of sheet music and tablature on his dresser. I bet
he'll let you take it with you. Well, maybe not all of it, but you
know. (Beat) You know what tablature is, don't you?
LAUREN
Yeah, I know what it is. What, are you one of those people that thinks
girls can't play guitar?
When Lauren walks over to the dresser, she makes her biggest mistake,
though she has already decided that even if these guys tried something
she didn't approve of, she could avoid being trapped. At this time
Roman slips out, muttering something about the bathroom.
ROMAN
I want next game, though, all right.
ANDY
Oh, don't be sensitive like that. I was just making sure. (Beat) So
let's be honest here. This whole thing is kind of about you wanting to
get with the smoochies with my boy Jason. You can admit it.
Lauren glances at the door before answering, measuring the distance
between and mentally calculating the prudence of making a break for it.
LAUREN
No, I wouldn't say that's accurate. I like him as much as I would like
any really nice guy. Plus, he's kinda beyond me when it comes to that
pesky puberty thing.
Andy rises from the bed and moves nimbly but slowly between Lauren and
the bedroom door, looking over her body and smiling slightly as if to
question her most recent comment.
ANDY
Well, ya gotta like somebody, don't you? A girl your age.
At this point Lauren feels a flash of fear but labors not to show it as
Andy seems to be approaching her.
LAUREN
What are you doing? We've met like three times, and you haven't shown
much interest in having a conversation with me before.
ANDY
(closing the space between them quickly)
Who said anything about conversation?
Andy moves in to try and steal a kiss but is rebuffed by Lauren, who
still hasn't grasped how serious the situation has become. She pushes
him in the chest a couple of times, and he just kind of bounces back as
if on a tether. Soon he's using his weight to pin her against the wall,
and any moves to knee him in the crotch or scratch at his eyes aren't
easy to make. He moves to cradle her face in almost a tender gesture,
but upon closer look he's actually concentrating to get Lauren's hoop
between his thumb and forefinger.
ANDY
Hasn't anybody ever told you the disadvantages of having these things?
It's so easy for 'em to get caught on stuff.
Lauren looks up at Andy in genuine horror now.
LAUREN
Please. You haven't given me much of a chance, you know. I was bound to
be a little resistant at first.
Andy just looks at her, but perhaps she senses that he's relaxed a bit
because she suddenly jerks away, snapping her head back, before moving
once more toward the door. But it's a weak attempt, as the shock of the
pain and violent trauma in her nose takes over. Blood streams down her
face as Andy grabs her shoulders, spins her around to face him, and
then takes off his tee shirt in a swift motion. He holds it to her nose
almost gently, catching some of the blood.
ANDY
Now I'm sure you're gonna think, in your distorted little mind, that I
just caused that. But in fact, it was your sudden move. You did that,
Lauren.
He guides her into a seated position on Jason's bed, and just as he
wants, she lies back, the shirt only partially catching the blood flow.
He pulls her skirt up over her knees and has easy access to what he
wants.
ANDY
I just want to check things out for my boy Jason. You know, think of me
as that Inspector 12 guy on that old underwear commercial. You remember
that one?
Lauren whimpers softly from her prone position, looking up and away,
still in terror. She's bleeding on the bedspread as Andy reaches up her
skirt to finger her genitals, looking grotesquely like a gynecologist.
ANDY
See, this isn't so bad. You're plenty wet there, you're starting to get
the hair where it's supposed to be. (Beat) You might wanna work on your
hygiene, though.
He smiles at her after saying this but backs away, as if she's now free
to go and just needs to stop at the reception desk before she leaves.
Lauren raises her torso abruptly, looking at Andy. The bleeding has
slowed, and she stumbles up and toward the door, only to find it
locked, presumably Roman's doing. Andy actually gets up to unlock it
for her, and she moves as quickly as she can out the front door. She
walks past Roman, who looks at her and then over at Andy still in the
hallway. The former genuinely doesn't seem to know exactly what was
going on back there.
EXT. JASON'S HOUSE - NIGHTFALL - FLASHBACK
Lauren, without her guitar, makes her way slowly, deliberately and what
almost looks like casually back across the street. She could see her
mother through the window if her eyes were currently focusing, but her
mother doesn't see her, having fallen into a rare but certainly fitful
slumber on the couch. What she would see if she were awake would
certainly horrify her. From a long shot, in fact, Lauren seems to have
captured the merciless gait of unstoppable killer Michael Myers, the
blood visible on her face a vivid reminder of an altogether different,
utterly real kind of trauma.
INT. JASON'S HOUSE - LATER
Jason emerges from the basement, carrying a couple of bags full of
stuff for Lauren. He walks into his bedroom casually, where Roman and
Andy are eerily back in almost the same positions they were when he
left them.
JASON
I think I got everything, but of course you can just cross the street
if... Where's Lauren?
ANDY
Oh, she had to go all the sudden. I think it was something about her
mom.
He continues to play a video game, successfully acting casual.
ANDY
She said she'd come back over later and get it all.
Jason looks at both of his friends, puzzled and suspicious. He does a
double take at Roman, which Andy notices. He looks at the spot where
his friend sits, the same spot where Lauren bled, which is covered with
extra blankets or clothes Andy found on the floor.
JASON
Well, is her mom sick or something? Was it an emergency? Maybe I should
go over there.
ANDY
No, she said they had to go somewhere, I think.
Jason considers this and pauses, reflecting.
JASON
What, did y'all run her off or something?
Andy looks at his friend, shrugs, and then goes back to his game.
INT. LAUREN'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
Once inside, Lauren continues to move slowly and stealthily, petrified
that her mom will be alerted to her presence. She moves into a bathroom
and stands before the mirror. Only when she begins to wet a washcloth
do her hands start shaking. Simultaneously and without warning, she
vomits. Unable to react to that reality fast enough, she holds it in
her mouth a moment as if a child, ultimately opening it and spilling
puke into the sink, on her hands and on the cloth. This emotionally
jars her enough for a brief but spasmodic weeping spell, which she
follows up by robotically returning to cleaning herself up.
Now Lauren begins frantic work on covering up the rip in her nostril.
She applies a glut of alcohol and other makeshift medicinal treatments
to the wound and then has to go into girly mode to experiment with
makeup. She winces as the substances sting the wound, but she
eventually thinks the Phantom of the Opera look might pass muster with
her mom.
INT. LAUREN'S HOUSE, HALLWAY - JUST LATER
Lauren comes out of the bathroom and tiptoes down the hallway as her
mother's call from an unexpected location alerts her.
MOM
Are you OK?
Lauren freezes and glances into the kitchen, where her mom stands
staring at her in the dark. Her face shows that she's only mildly
worried and has not been awake or alert long enough to suspect that
something is truly wrong. She goes back to flipping through a cookbook.
MOM
Where's your guitar? I thought I'd wake up to you whaling away on it
and I'd have to pry it out of your bloody fingers to make you eat your
dinner.
LAUREN
Oh, something happened. (Beat) The bridge was loose on it after all,
and the tuning was way off. Jason was pretty pissed about it.
(Shifting) What are you doing with this? You know, you don't have to do
your Martha Stewart with cancer impression for me every night. There
are other options in our beautiful modern world.
Mom ignores her, still curious about the guitar situation and her
daughter's ambivalence toward something she had been so adamant about
just hours earlier.
MOM
I thought you'd be more disappointed about this. (Beat) Jason's not
taking it back to the same place, is he? If they fucked up once,
they're likely to fuck up again.
LAUREN
Mom, you're getting a little nihilistic in your old age.
MOM
No, just realistic. I don't have time for bullshit.
Lauren takes a certain meaning from this and recoils perceptibly,
swallowing her trauma even more completely than before.
INT. OFFICE HELL - FIRST THING IN THE MORNING - PRESENT
A bleary-eyed Lauren enters a Kafkaesque office full of open-ended
cubicles where the bosses can see everything. She passes by the
receptionist, who offers her the first of a great number of "Good
mornings" she will hear today. She tries to be polite, whispering
something like "Hey" but not reciprocating the greeting verbatim. She
clocks in and then continues on to her desk, settling in for the day's
grind.
Lauren sits down in her cubicle, which is much less stocked with office
supplies than the rest of her coworkers' and features subpar, surplus
computer equipment. She's clearly a temp, but that's not the only
reason for the sideways glances she receives. After a short time on the
clock, Lauren is snoozing, her head down on her desk. The bosses
clearly notice but don't have the gumption yet to get rid of her. They
don't crave conflict, and frankly, she frightens them a bit. A chipper
Christian coworker dressed in a brightly colored but tacky dress
approaches, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.
JESUS LADY (NANCY)
You have everything you need back here?
Nancy continues to talk before looking up. Then she frowns at the sight
of the back of Lauren's head.
NANCY
(trying to be discreet)
Hey, hello, Lauren. Did you say you needed some office supplies?
Nancy activates Lauren's stapler several times in machine-gun fashion,
trying to make it seem like the noise could be coming from Lauren's
hard-working hands. This brings Lauren up with a start, a stream of
drool clinging to her lips.
LAUREN
Oh, fuck, Nancy. You scared me shitless. (Beat) Did the fascists see?
NANCY
I don't know, but they suspect something's not right. They were craning
their necks to see. You're just lucky you're back here in their semi-
blind spot.
LAUREN
Yep, I'm lucky.
NANCY
So, I think you need to restart your day the right way. (Theatrically)
Good morning!
Lauren looks up at her strangely and then dismisses the comment.
NANCY
Come on, I'm serious, I'm trying to keep you from getting fired. Good
morning!
LAUREN
Um, I think I've been pretty clear on this. I don't say that.
NANCY
You don't say what?
LAUREN
The salutation you just used to greet me... twice, in sing-songy tones.
NANCY
What do you mean you don't say it? How can such a pleasantry be against
your principles?
LAUREN
Because, Nancy, I don't make it a practice going around saying things I
don't believe to be true.
NANCY
I don't get it. What's not good about this morning? We're alive, the
sunrise happened on schedule. It's a beautiful world God has created
for us, and I don't know why you refuse to see that.
Lauren grimaces at this last comment, leaning back in her chair.
LAUREN
Nancy, I appreciate your perspective, and that you're looking out for
my very gainful employment at this office, but kindly refrain from
comments that infringe upon my individual right to not subscribe to
hollow platitudes.
NANCY
Look, I'm not saying it has to be my God. Just as long as it's
something that makes you thankful every morning.
LAUREN
Any more goddam coffee in there?
INT. SPARE PUNK CLUB - LATE NIGHT
Montage of Lauren playing a punk version of Sheena Easton's "Morning
Train" with feminist, revisionist lyrics and then Nick playing Bottle
Rockets or something consciously non-punk. Toward the rocking end of
this alt country tune, the band starts getting pelted by steadily
larger items thrown from the crowd. The atmosphere is turning a bit
nasty, which becomes clearer despite the raucous ending to the song.
BIG BALD AUDIENCE MEMBER
You need to get that country shit outta here. If we wanted Lynyrd
Fuckin' Skynyrd, there's plenty of shitkicker clubs we can go to.
Nick initially ignores the cries for a return to straight-ahead punk,
consulting during the song break with the rest of the band about
whether or not to expand their new direction or allow the naysayers to
influence their set list.
BALD GUY
There's nothing to discuss, asshole. Just go on back to the drawing
board, motherfucker. We don't need your goddam alternative country
experiments.
Nick stares hard at the guy, considering. The guy's big and solid, and
there's no doubt he knows how to kick ass in dozens of different but
equally effective ways. Nonetheless, after a few seconds, Nick makes
his decision to take the bait, and he approaches the mike.
NICK
Are you a fan of labels, shithead? Cuz you sure seem to like throwing
'em around. (Mimicking, using a whiny voice) You're not really a punk
cuz you acknowledge country and folk and pop in your music. You're
different but different in a different way from me. (Back to normal
voice) You want me to give you a label, motherfucker? You look like a
cock, so maybe everybody should go around calling you a big fat dick.
And I don't mean that in a metaphorical way; I mean, literally. You
look like a cock with legs instead of balls, you Right Said Fred
motherfucker.
To the side, Lauren slides her index finger across the front of her
neck, trying to get Nick's attention.
BALD DICK
And I guess you and your fuckin' keyboard player should know real well
what a dick looks like, you fucking faggots. Maybe you should listen to
your cunt up there. It's probly not wise to tangle with me this way.
Grant rolls his eyes at this and joins Lauren in trying to convince
Nick to get back to some music. Other audience members echo this
sentiment, catcalling to show they're growing tired of the drama.
NICK
Yeah, I know what a dick looks like. I've had one attached to me for
over 19 years now. But then again, I guess you might have assumed
everybody has as much trouble finding theirs as you do in those folds
of fat.
In response to this, Dickhead pulls his shirt off and smiles. It looks
like he just might lift weights.
NICK
Well, maybe I misspoke just a touch.
To further express their impatience, some in the crowd who recently
visited a grocery store start chucking produce. Some of this begins
hitting idle instruments on stage, and when a particularly soft tomato
knocks one of Lauren's instruments over, she flies off the handle more
than Nick, tracking down the piece of fruit.
LAUREN
(at the mic)
Which one of you fucking assholes threw this? Throw shit at us all you
want, but I don't want my equipment fucked up too, and this thing is
rancid enough to do it. (Beat) Oh, who am I kidding, I don't give a
shit who threw it.
She rares back and tosses the fruit as hard as she can, not even
aiming. It hits Dickhead square on the upper forehead, forcing him back
on his heels. Some pieces stick to the top of his head. Lauren yanks
her hand up and covers her mouth in disbelief, trying to stifle
laughter. Dickhead lunges forward to grab her leg, and then Nick drops
his guitar and dives into the crowd instinctively. He probably doesn't
even get that close to Dickhead himself, but the mini-brawl is on. As a
short-term patch for the problem, the remaining band kicks into gear on
a random hardcore tune, which is enough to start a slam-dancing frenzy
that acts as a relatively effective smokescreen against most actual
violence.
INT. CLUB - CRAMPED BACKSTAGE AREA - MOMENTS LATER
The tussle in the crowd has nonetheless produced a bloody nose for
Nick, and as he holds a towel to it, the band gathers in the makeshift
backstage area discussing what to do next. The crowd remains rowdy and
animated, though it's not clear whether they want the band to come out
and do an encore or come out for more violence. Either way, it's clear
what the band must not do: play any more off-style music.
GRANT
OK, if we go back out there, we're gonna have to bring out the Pistols
or the Germs or something lethal. This shit's gotten serious.
Nick is clearly resistant to this idea, and he forms a serious, focused
scowl on his face despite the tufts of twisted toilet paper stuck up
his nose to control the bleeding.
NICK
Christ, I don't wanna do the Pistols. That's so goddam typical. And the
Germs? Are you fuckin' crazy? You wanna tear your throat out on the
vocals? Cuz I'm sure as hell not doing it.
JAY
Well, then, what do you suggest?
LAUREN
How 'bout the Jerks? That's can't-miss.
Everyone nods at this, and a moment of silence follows while they
ponder at least a couple more choices for an acceptable encore.
BACK ON STAGE
The band re-emerges, and the tension rises again. Then Nick approaches
the microphone with toilet paper still in his nose, pausing to survey
the crowd's mood. They're smiling about this makeshift medical
treatment, but not even mostly out of ridicule. Instead, they seem to
admire his perseverance, so Nick, sensing this, removes the bloody
mini-rags and tosses them out to the crowd, not angrily.
NICK
I feel better since my bloodletting. Allow me to express my
appreciation.
A few people are mildly disgusted by this, but mainly the crowd breaks
into enthusiastic action when the band launches into Husker Du's "Don't
Want to Know if You Are Lonely" with an increased tempo. This seems to
appease the crowd and allows a more peaceful end to the night's show.
INT. CLUB - BACKSTAGE AREA - LATER
Lauren and Nick gather the band's remaining equipment at the now-quiet
club, carrying it out to Grant's pickup truck. Once Grant and Jay drive
off, this frees Lauren and Nick to clean up the place, which the club
owner has requested to make up for the blood and damages. They don't
speak much, laboring to the strains of the Pretenders' "Show Me."
Lauren picks up various trash around the stage and floor, while Nick's
working on mopping the stage and the rather large amount of his blood
that has accumulated. After awhile Lauren notices that Nick seems to be
having trouble with his duty. Wordlessly he seethes, grunting
occasionally as he tries to use brute force to wring out the mop head.
Lauren approaches slowly, fascinated.
LAUREN
What the fuck are you doing?
Nick steps away from the mop, tossing his hair in frustration. He
points at the mop bucket and sighs.
NICK
This thing sucks. I'm getting the blood up but just spreading slightly
bloody water in its place. I swear to Christ, if there's ever a major
crime done at this club, the massive amount of DNA evidence would most
certainly lead investigators right to me. Did anybody else even bleed?
Lauren climbs up the steps to the stage and comes around to watch as
Nick makes another valiant attempt at wringing out the mop. For some
reason, he neglects to use the handle on the wringer. Lauren begins to
laugh, softly at first but with rising, silent intensity that
eventually forces her to bend over. When it ebbs she offers commentary.
LAUREN
Who are you, Richie Rich? Irona can't be everywhere at once, you know.
She laughs again, but Nick doesn't seem to get it. In response, she
leans across his body to demonstrate the magic of the wringer handle.
As she brushes close to him, he's not really paying attention to the
mopping anymore. But then the delayed light bulb goes off and Nick
recoils with surprise.
NICK
Oh. Oh shit, that's what that thing's for. I thought it was just... I
don't know what I thought it was.
LAUREN
I never suspected it. There must have been a whole set of silver spoons
in your mouth when you popped out of your momma.
NICK
Goddam. I'm a dumbass.
LAUREN
(walking off)
Well, let's go, dumbass, and finish this shit up so we can go home.
They get back to work vigorously, and now the mess (presto) is coming
up more easily than before. As they finish, Nick dumps the dirty water
out back and stows the bucket. When he comes back out, the two meet
each other in a hallway and pull the old mirror-image dance of
misdirection as the Pretenders continues to play. They finally pass by
and reach their destinations but not before turning around to check
each other out.
INT. CLUB - FLOOR AREA - LATER
Waiting around to get paid, Nick and Lauren stand in silence near the
stage, still not moved to decisive action. Lauren pulls herself up on
the edge of the stage and takes a seat, as now "Don't Get Me Wrong" has
begun to play.
NICK
Well, I hope he's not waiting us out, thinking we're gonna leave
without our fuckin' palms greased.
LAUREN
So, are you headed home after this?
Nick follows suit and perches on the stage about two or three feet away
from Lauren, what he considers a respectful and safe distance from this
girl for whom he can't hide his attraction.
NICK
Yeah, I guess. (Beat) Oh, I don't know. What about you?
LAUREN
Not sure. I'm pretty riled up from tonight. The blood is flowing, but
actually inside my veins, which tends to be more comfortable.
After their nervous smiles and a couple of seconds, she throws a
gauntlet down, sliding over to check on Nick's nose. Breathless, he
thinks she's coming over for another reason, and so he feels a jolting
mixture of relief and disappointment when she reaches up to lightly
touch the outline of his nose.
LAUREN
(in examination mode)
Well, I don't think you've got a break. Is there such thing as a nose
sprain?
Nick laughs and looks down, but Lauren does not. When he looks up
again, she's still looking directly at him, and it seems she won't
allow him to back down again. He begins to move in for a kiss (finally)
and she meets him two-thirds of the way. As soon as they get into the
groove of the kiss, getting a little sloppy and groping vigorously
(it's gotta be very hot), of course DAVE (Jeremy Piven or Jack Black)
the club owner reemerges.
DAVE
OK, OK, I guess you two have done your penance. (Looking up) Whoa,
whoa, now cool down over there. Don't you think we've had enough
trouble with stray body fluids for one evening?
Nick and Lauren break reluctantly from the kiss, sighing heavily. Nick
stares at Dave, frowning.
NICK
That's nice, Dave. Real nice.
DAVE
What? I've always had impeccable timing. It's a gift.
Dave counts out some bills into Lauren's outstretched hand.
DAVE
All in all, a pretty good night. (mutters) And it could get better for
some of us.
He walks off and from behind Lauren makes suggestive gestures to Nick
regarding his chances for sex, certain that Lauren can't see the lewd
nature of them. Without looking, Lauren extends her middle finger
toward Dave and turns immediately to Nick. Dave looks astonished at her
apparent sixth sense and steps away, defeated.
LAUREN
You wanna follow me home?
INT. NICK'S CAR - ON THE ROAD
Nick drives somewhat jerkily, adrenaline flowing, something appropriate
but not too appropriate playing on the radio or tape player.
NICK
(talking to himself)
Oh, man, I should have been more prepared for this.
He checks his look in the rearview and blows a breath out while he and
Lauren are stopped at a stoplight. There's one car between them, and
this worries Nick slightly. He's still being vain when the light turns,
and someone blares a horn before he gets moving again. He speeds up to
catch up and has to slam on the brakes after rounding a curve and
seeing a line of cars stopped for a checkpoint.
NICK
Fuckin' motherfucker.
INT. LAUREN'S MAZDA - CONTINUOUS
LAUREN
Fuck me responsible. I never know where my registration is. (Fumbling
in the glove compartment) Who keeps up with those things?
Lauren slowly eases up to the next available cop, who has to knock on
her window because she's failed to roll it down.
COP
(as the window comes down)
Good evening, ma'am. License and registration, please, and we'll move
you along as fast as we can.
LAUREN
(handing him the documents)
Is this one of those fugitive deals, or are you just trolling for
drunks?
COP
(regarding the ID)
Well, not a particular fugitive, anyway. But I'm sure somebody's
running from something. You don't have anything to be running away from
tonight, do you?
Lauren rolls her eyes but quickly, so as to remain out of his sight.
EXT. NICK'S CAR - CONTINUOUS
Another cop has joined the fray to deal with the sudden rise in
customers. He regards Nick suspiciously and sternly.
COP
I really need you to step out of the car, sir. I don't enjoy repeating
myself.
NICK
(frantic, increasing the suspicion)
I'm sure you don't, but I'm in a delicate situation here. You see that
girl up ahead?
COP
(looking reluctantly)
Well, I can't really see her from here, no.
NICK
Well, believe it or not, she and I are on the cusp of a long-awaited
romantic encounter. At least I think there's a good chance. So if you
could just grant me a temporary stay from this, I'll be glad to endure
a much longer delay in the future during the day, when I'm on my way to
work or something.
COP
Well, I gotta say I haven't heard that one as much as you might think.
But you look a little jumpy. You sure you haven't been drinking
tonight?
NICK
Not a drop. I did have a bloody nose earlier, but I've recovered pretty
well, and frankly, I'm eager to get to my destination. (Beat, no
decision from the cop) This girl is in a band with me, and she's just
about perfect. Easily the most talented of us all.
COP
(interrupting)
All right, you're gushing all over my shoes now, and they're new shoes.
(handing back the license) Have a good night.
INT. LAUREN'S APARTMENT - LATER
Lauren enters, followed closely by Nick. Inevitably, the passionate
tone of their earlier encounter has been broken.
LAUREN
Well, you probably gave him a charge. He got something out of it, so he
decided to be charitable. What, did you tell him you were getting laid
tonight?
NICK
(hesitating, stammering)
No, I didn't say that. That would've been a little crass.
LAUREN
Well, what did you say? I'd be interested to hear the exact words.
Nick actually starts to answer, trying his best to navigate the
situation skillfully and truthfully. This effort produces a stammer and
then an awkward pause.
LAUREN
Come on, I'm not really gonna make you answer that question. I'm a
bitch sometimes, but I'm not an outright cunt.
NICK
But seriously, I don't have any specific expectations about this. I'm
glad you invited me over, but it's not like since I'm here I feel I'm
entitled to certain things.
Lauren puts some music on, something ethereal like Nickel Creek's "Out
of the Woods.". She removes some initial, rather innocent clothing,
moving casually around the room, fully holding Nick's attention.
LAUREN
I think I'm gonna take a shower. If you want to continue yammering, you
may do so, but I really feel I could use some freshening.
NICK
But you're being so glib when I'm introducing a serious topic.
Shouldn't we talk about this before we get too far? I mean, this isn't
your average hook-up, you know.
LAUREN
See, if we could have just teleported here, there wouldn't have been so
much time to think this to death. I always thought by now mere cars
would be an outdated mode of transportation.
She moves into the bathroom, undressing quickly, and has the shower
started before he gets there.
LAUREN
I would be embarrassed about the state of this apartment - and
particularly this shower, damn! - but I've seen your place.
Nick stands momentarily, staring at the shower curtain. Then he
develops a sudden grimace and clutches at his crotch.
NICK
Is it OK if I pee?
LAUREN
(calling, water slurring her words a bit)
Sure, especially if you mean in the toilet. It would be a bit of a
mood-killer if you waited till you got in here.
Nick's not sure about joining her, but he seems to be thinking as he
pees. He finishes and closes the lid.
LAUREN
Hey, I'll step away and you can flush.
Nick does as he's told.
NICK
Hey, cool, you got the blue stuff.
Lauren quietly assents, and Nick inwardly flouts himself for saying
something so stupid. Then he decides to take the risk, removing his
shirt and then the rest of his clothing.
NICK
So, just to be sure, I have permission to join you?
LAUREN
Please do.
Nick pulls back the curtain slightly and steps in, still a little
shaky. From the other side, we detect some immediate foreplay, with
heavier breathing and non-cleaning kinds of movement. Soon, though,
Lauren steps out, having completed her business and wearing a slight
grin.
NICK
You haven't left me much incentive to wash behind my ears.
Lauren doesn't reply but finds a towel to leave out for him.
INT. LAUREN'S BEDROOM - LATER
Dressed in a bathrobe, Lauren is drying her hair while sitting on her
bed. She looks very much like a woman. Nick walks in holding the towel
around his waist. He's not fully dried himself but sits next to her on
the bed, seemingly waiting.
LAUREN
(laughing)
Damn, you really weren't very thorough, were you? You're still so wet I
bet there'll be a perfectly round buttprint when you get up.
Nick rises, apologizing, and both take an inevitable peek at the spot
where he was sitting. They laugh at what they see, and he does another
perfunctory job of drying off before they get into a more permanent
clinch.
LAUREN
(laughing to mask her unease)
My God, I thought I was gonna have to pull a sheela-na-gig back there
to get you to make a move. I know this is the modern, liberated age,
but come on, man, I was all but batting my eyelashes, dude.
NICK
(taking a break from kissing her neck)
A sheela what?
LAUREN
Oh, now you're gonna make me explain it? You know, Celtic fertility
goddess stuff.
It's like a pose out of Hustler but with female empowerment as the
prime motivation instead of misogyny.
Nick nods like he sorta gets the picture, but she knows he still
doesn't know. So she points to a sculpture on the dresser. He looks up,
squints and smiles.
NICK
(sarcastic)
Oh, come on, you're far too bashful for that.
Lauren smiles and for a moment indeed looks bashful. But then she
initiates another kiss as the encounter is elevated. Montage of a
steamy love scene, with Lynn Miles' "Undertow" overlaid on the
soundtrack. They move from very erotic kissing while standing up to
continued, darkly lit foreplay on and half under the covers. Obviously,
there's a need to stay away from soft-core porn, but the scene should
be arousing to watch.
Lauren is growing more aggressive and moves on top of Nick as he tries
to direct his attention toward foreplay. When she maneuvers to begin
intercourse, Nick doesn't exactly argue but tries to protest when he
realizes there's not sufficient lubrication for sex to happen
comfortably. But Lauren seems to be in a trance as she pushes forward
anyway, wincing through a few strokes before Nick, alarmed by the pain
this must be causing her, verbalizes his distress and pushes her off.
There is blood visible on the sheets and in small patches on their
bodies, and the moment renders them both speechless. Lauren slides away
from him, shaky but seemingly catatonic, and Nick just stands there.
LAUREN
It's the only way I can feel it.
Nick can't find any words for this, flooded with sympathy, confusion,
fear and shame for something he's not sure he caused. Lauren's
declaration hangs over both of them like a thick, noxious cloud.
Finally, Nick numbly pulls on his boxers, gently touching the blood on
his midsection.
NICK
Lauren... I'm sorry. (Dumbest thing to say) Are you OK?
Lauren stares at the blood on Nick and suddenly seems to gather her
faculties. She rises, wild-eyed and incoherent, and starts to dash to
the bathroom. Nick steps in her path, begging her to wait and failing
miserably to talk to her about what just happened. His attempt to
restrain her threatens and frightens her, so she fights him briefly
before breaking free, stepping into the bathroom, and locking the door.
Nick is left outside in despair.
INT. LAUREN'S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Lauren's not in much better shape, as she carries a look as if her life
has ended. Delirium and panic have set in but share uneasy space with
paralysis and numbness. She leans over the sink as if she needs to
vomit, but she strains violently to avoid doing so, chastising herself
out loud as tears run down her cheeks and drool hangs in a string to
the porcelain. Finally, she slides down the wall to an awkward seated
position between the toilet and shower.
LAUREN
Oh, what the fuck did I do?
She blubbers to herself and occasionally shows rational thought by
trying to attend to her wounds medically. She applies alcohol or
something to her crotch area and winces when it stings. Then she closes
her eyes in an attempt to gather what reserve strength she can find.
INT. LAUREN'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Not knowing what else to do, a stunned Nick tries to tidy up a bit,
working futilely to clean up some of the blood.
NICK
(deadpan)
Where the hell's that Oxi-Clean guy when you need him?
He doesn't smile at his own joke. He sits down on the bed and mopes
briefly before rising to have another go at talking Lauren out of the
bathroom.
NICK
How in the hell did this get so fucked up? (at the door) Lauren?
Please. I gotta be honest and say I don't have a fucking clue what to
say. I don't understand what happened.
OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR
LAUREN
I'm OK, really. I know it didn't seem like that out there, but I just
got a little carried away. I assure you it's not as bad as it seemed.
Lauren goes to the mirror and puts some finishing touches on her
desperate makeover. As she looks at her reflection, her earlier trauma
echoes, but she's doing everything she can to see beyond it.
BACK IN THE BEDROOM
Lauren steps out from behind the locked door, forces herself to look at
Nick and smiles weakly. He rises again from the bed, clearly hurting on
a number of levels.
LAUREN
Listen, I know we're gonna have to talk about this, but I think I can
stand just about anything as long as it doesn't have to be now. (Beat)
That wasn't your fault, you know that, right?
NICK
But are you OK at least physically? I mean... do you need to go to the
hospital?
LAUREN
No, the only place I need to go, I think, is bed. To sleep. Seriously,
I'm OK. It wasn't as bad as it looked.
She moves over to the bed and seems to be preparing to turn in. Still
mostly unclothed, Nick stands watching her.
LAUREN
I don't know about you, but I gotta go to work tomorrow. You're welcome
to stay, of course.
Nick stands a few seconds longer, still unable to find words for the
situation. Then he slowly moves to get in bed next to her, wanting to
make some gesture but not knowing what it should be. From above, we see
her eyes open in chaos, though she's still and pretending to sleep. He
relaxes and leans away from her after a moment, having been unable to
touch or speak to her. His fatigue soon leads to slumber, which is just
what she was waiting for.
INT. LAUREN'S APARTMENT - MORNING
Nick wakes up just before dawn in a mess of covers in Lauren's bed, but
she's nowhere to be found. After a moment, he overcomes his initial
grogginess and realizes the events of the night before were not a
nightmare. He rises with a sigh of submission, pulls on some minimal
clothing, and goes searching rather hopelessly. He enters the living
room and begins scanning the area for either Lauren or a note. He finds
the latter, of course, and reluctantly walks over to read it. An
initial look of hope fades quickly as he does so.
EXT. OFFICE PARK PARKING LOT - VERY EARLY
Lauren sits in her car still gripping the wheel, though she's been
finished driving for several minutes now. She stares at the office
building and its bevy of reflective windows. Outside, the sun is
rising, nearly ready to shed sunlight on her currently shaded spot. She
responds by putting on sunglasses and leaning back, despite a strong
conviction that she won't be able to sleep.
Some time later, a bald, uptight man is knocking on a sleeping Lauren's
car window. He motions for her to roll her window down once she stirs.
STU THE BOSS (HENRY ROLLINS CAMEO?)
Do you have any idea what time it is? I mean, what is going on with
you? Do you ever sleep at night?
LAUREN
Uh, which question am I supposed to answer?
STU
Lauren, I'm sorry, but this clearly isn't going to work out. This
behavior of yours has become just a wee bit too erratic for me.
Lauren leans around Stu to get a look at the office building's front
entrance, where, sure enough, Nancy stands looking straight-laced and
guilty. Lauren turns back to Stu.
LAUREN
Do you expect me to be devastated or something? (Beat) Just get the
fuck outta my sight before I decide to kill you. I think I feel an
attack of insanity coming on.
Stu starts to back away, but then absorbs her words.
STU
What did you just say?
LAUREN
Why do people ask questions they know the answer to?
STU
Did you just threaten to kill me? Cuz if you did, I'll get the cops out
here. I don't need this shit from a fuckin' freak like you.
She reaches out and throws any debris she can find in her floorboards
at him, and he flinches. Then he turns around, disgusted, and with
purpose waddles back toward the office, cell phone to his ear.
LAUREN
Intolerant motherfucker.
She starts the car in hopes of peeling out of the parking lot, but her
hands and body are shaking so much she can't seem to find the
coordination to perform this basic function. A song comes on the radio
that catches her attention, perhaps Juice Newton's "Love's Been a
Little Bit Hard on Me," and before she knows it a cop has pulled up
behind her car, partially blocking her in. He gets out and approaches
her car.
LAUREN
Oh, fuck no! I'm sure someone's in a pool of blood across town and
can't get a cop to give a second look, and yet here you are in a hero's
flash.
The cop frowns only slightly at this relatively routine dose of bile
and sarcasm.
COP
Well, ma'am, it helps that the station's less than 10 minutes away from
here, and because of all the nearby commercial activity, we tend to
make several sweeps of this area on a daily basis. Plus we're kinda
bound by law to take it seriously when someone threatens to kill
somebody. You've heard of assault and communicating threats?
LAUREN
Yeah, apparently I'm on a roll. You familiar with the asshole boss
archetype?
The cop smiles at her and lets loose a good-natured but fatigued sigh.
COP
I'm in a good mood today. Therefore, I have a moderate threshold for
bullshit, and that would be the only reason you're not sitting in that
patrol car right now. Now you wanna tell me what happened this morning?
LAUREN
(smiling bitterly)
People in positions of authority have this puzzling tendency to ask
people to do undesirable things using some variation of the word
"want." You wanna explain that one to me?
The cop, who's basically restoring Lauren's trust in law enforcement
with his calm and tolerant handling of this situation, gives her a look
that says he's quickly losing patience.
LAUREN
OK, I'm sorry. I've had a really bad several hours, as you might
imagine by the look of me. That asshole who called you just fired me,
and all I did in retaliation was throw a fast food wrapper. He probably
picked it up to see if he could slurp any crumbs out of it, the fat
bastard. So does that sound really all that violent?
COP
I'll tell you what. I don't think you're in any kind of shape to be
driving, if I'm guessing right that you've got a pretty hefty case of
sleep deprivation accompanied by high anxiety. I'm just hoping my
instincts are right that you're in the midst of a genuine personal
crisis and deserve a break. So, why don't you try to relax and drive
this car somewhere other than here? In the meantime, I'll tell your
former boss that we had to make a priority choice based on the lack of
crime in this crime. How does that sound?
LAUREN
(rolling up the window)
Thank you. You know something, you give fuzz a good name.
Lauren pulls out of the parking space jerkily, narrowly missing the
cop's bumper. The cop watches her go calmly, then rolls his eyes before
turning toward the office building, outside of which Stu now stands,
looking none too happy.
INT. THE BAND'S REHEARSAL SPACE - THAT AFTERNOON
Grant sits on a cheap couch, leaning back and working on his laptop.
Nick all but paces the room, occasionally retuning his guitar or
fiddling with other equipment. He keeps looking out into the hallway
expectantly. Jay is talking on his cell phone, and although Nick stays
relatively low-key, an observant onlooker would be able to detect
serious anxiety and rising tension in his posture. Grant happens to be
observant.
GRANT
(discreetly)
So how did it turn out?
NICK
How did what turn out?
GRANT
You and Lauren. (Beat) I kinda detected something lately, but clue me
in if I'm off base.
NICK
(turning away, toward the door again)
No, you're not off base. Um, let's just say things have quickly grown
more complicated.
GRANT
Yeah, it never seems to get simpler.
Nick gives him a surprised look, as if surprised to hear this from
Grant.
GRANT
Hey, just because I'm asexual now doesn't mean that's how I've always
been. You wanna hear about the baseball player who went high and inside
on me?
Jay walks in on the conversation just in time to hear this.
JAY
(putting his hands up and backing away)
Oh no, I think we'd rather leave those gruesome details unsaid, if you
don't mind.
Nick and Grant both smile at this, just as Lauren enters the room
quietly. Grant's smile fades, and he glances intently at both Nick and
Lauren before making a decision.
GRANT
Jay, you have any interest in one of those subs you talk about all the
time?
JAY
Grinder Zone? You're damn right. You payin'?
GRANT
Yeah, like you have any fucking money anyway.
Grant guides his always famished friend out the door, nodding to Nick a
quiet salutation.
GRANT
We'll be back in a half-hour or so.
After Nick and Lauren are left alone in the room together, a heavy
shroud of silence settles over Nick as he watches her plug in her
guitar and fiddle with the knobs. She knows it's futile, but she's
trying her best to avoid this conversation that must take place. Nick
sits with his hands folded, trying to think of what to say. He almost
speaks several times before losing his nerve, finally settling on a
simple approach.
NICK
Hey.
Lauren looks over at him as if just alerted to his presence.
LAUREN
Hey. (Beat) So, do you have a revised setlist, or are we going with an
old one today?
Nick doesn't answer immediately, his face struck white by the
realization that she may have already formed her own version of what
happened the night before. She uncharacteristically looks away under
the duress of his stare.
NICK
I don't have an organized list, but I have a few more song ideas.
(Beat) Did you have a good day?
LAUREN
It was slow.
NICK
Yeah, same here.
LAUREN
I got fired, actually. Well, that's not exactly true. I kinda quit
after the boss caught me dozing. I didn't sleep much last night.
Nick considers this comment and how to respond.
NICK
Yeah, I didn't either. I woke up early this morning, but apparently not
early enough to see you off.
Lauren doesn't answer immediately, directing her concentration toward
tuning her bass.
NICK
How are you feeling? I mean, I didn't push last night cuz I thought
that was the last thing you needed, but...
LAUREN
(not looking at him)
Look, I know I said we'd talk about the carnage that took place in my
bed last night, but I don't think I can bring myself to do it right
now. Besides, I don't really see the point.
NICK
Look, I just don't think this is something you can get away with
glossing over.
LAUREN
Well, why the hell not? (Beat) I'm sorry. I've said it before and I'll
say it again. You didn't do anything wrong and you didn't deserve what
happened. But I don't want to talk about that part anyway. I just think
somebody needs to say that maybe what happened was a sign we shouldn't
have let it get to that point in the first place.
Nick recoils physically from this declaration, blindsided by Lauren's
apparent wish to focus on anything but the traumatic incident of the
night before.
LAUREN
I was hoping the vibe wouldn't feel so different, but I guess there's
no denying it is.
NICK
Vibe? What exactly are we talking about if it's not what happened last
night and why you felt the need to get up in the middle of the night to
run away from it?
In response to this, Lauren sighs with unease and can't help but
verbally express her irritation.
LAUREN
Oh, Jesus, here we go.
NICK
(pouncing on this)
What? Here we go?!? You act like I'm over here shuddering in the throes
of puppy love when I'm really just concerned about your emotional and
physical health.
LAUREN
I don't mean that like it sounded. I was just hoping we were on the
same wavelength.
NICK
Which wavelength? Stepford? I'm confused. Did we experience two
different versions of last night, like in a Choose Your Own Adventure
novel?
Lauren just stares at him for a moment, not trying to see him. Then Jay
rushes into the room and intrudes on the conversation, still munching
on chips.
JAY
With you two over here looking like you're discussing the news or
something, what the hell are Grant and I supposed to do to pass the
time before somebody decides to play some music?
NICK
Yeah, you're right, we've got a lot to do. (Stands up, glares at
Lauren) We're not doing anything significant over here anyway.
LAUREN
Oh, come on, Nick. This is fucking soap opera shit.
Nick straps his guitar on, trying to build a shield of machismo. Then
Lauren stands up as if to make an announcement, hesitating and looking
from Jay to Grant, who just now enters the room. Just when Jay can
scarcely contain himself from changing the subject, she blurts out some
news.
LAUREN
We fucked last night.
Grant has no reaction at all, while Jay sits frozen at the news.
JAY
This is just a wild guess, but I don't suppose you mean the royal "we."
NICK
No, this is actually the less commonly used casual "we."
Lauren flinches almost imperceptibly but then offers a defensive glare
of her own.
JAY
No, I guess you mean you and Nick had the sexual intercourse. OK, well,
that's good news, right? Grant, what do you know, somebody around here
is actually having sex.
GRANT
(back at his computer)
Oh, I knew.
Everyone but Nick stares at him, surprised. He feels their looks and
continues.
GRANT
Well, I didn't know in the documentary sense of the word. But I've kept
my eyes open all day, and that was enough to know something around here
has changed. I swear, Jay, you wouldn't be able to recognize a talking
tomato if it offered to make you ketchup. (Beat) Maybe we should hold
off on rehearsal so you two can hash this thing out.
Lauren pulls on her bass and doesn't speak immediately.
LAUREN
No, let's just do what we're here to do.
INT. SAME REHEARSAL SPACE, ANOTHER PART OF THE ROOM - LATER
Nick tries to be a trooper and goes ahead with rehearsal even though
it's the last thing he feels like doing, especially with the new
additions he has brought to rehearsal today, Kasey Chambers' "Not
Pretty Enough" for Lauren to sing and V-Roys' "Sooner or Later" for him
to sing. Montage of their performances, where Nick seems much more
emotionally affected by hers than she is by his raw-nerve vocals. She
seems to be on auto-pilot.
INT. LAUREN'S APARTMENT - DAY
Lauren is at home alone, clearly more upset about the situation with
Nick than she's been displaying to the world. Teddy Thompson's "Love
Her for That" plays on her stereo/the soundtrack as she paces the room,
halfheartedly perusing a stack of CDs. There's no one else in the room,
but she keeps glancing over at the bed as if it houses a ghost. She
finally goes over and sits on the edge, eventually working her way back
to her own pillow and what looks like an unduly pronounced "side" of
the bed for someone who lives alone. She then brings her knees up near
her chest and rolls over facing the edge of the bed, uttering profanity
but not allowing her furrowed look of despair to progress into weeping.
INT. NICK'S APARTMENT - SIMULTANEOUS
Nick sits strumming his acoustic guitar and looking out the window. An
almost full beer and a heaping bowl of weed sit mostly untouched on his
nightstand. He begins to put together a chord progression but keeps
getting distracted by his Lauren-inspired emotional tempest. It's made
him angry, but he stops cold to try and gather himself. He starts again
after a deep breath, launching into what at first sounds like a nice,
impassioned version of Springsteen's "Downbound Train" but which
ultimately transforms into a listless take that's not even always on
key. Nick notices this and this time doesn't attempt to control his
anger. He strums the guitar with added force after he gives up on
singing the song, threatening to break some strings. Then he tosses it
absently onto a chair across the room, which it bounces off of and onto
the floor loudly. Then he looks down and begins to cry, although he
does his best to shield this fact from the nobody in the room with him.
He unleashes some vulgarities of his own as a sort of counteractive
strategy.
INT. HOTEL BALLROOM AREA - AFTERNOON
The band works on setting up its equipment, still an hour before the
wedding reception they're set to play this evening. Nick lags behind,
already very worried if not surprised that Lauren hasn't shown up yet.
NICK
Grant, I hate to have to ask this, but would you be able to lay down a
bass line on that keyboard if Lauren doesn't fucking show up?
Grant knows the answer to this question is "yes" but isn't ready to
accept that Lauren's not coming.
GRANT
If it comes to that, I guess. But you think she'll get here eventually,
don't you?
NICK
I don't know. She pretty much seems checked out even when she does show
up for rehearsals. Whatever, I just hoped we wouldn't end up all Spinal
Tap, at least in the first year of our existence. What are you gonna do
at a gig like this when we have to play a bunch of power ballads and
shit? I'm gonna turn around during Hall and Oates and you're gonna be
playing the piano part with your hands but you'll have to pull your
dick out to scrounge up the slightest semblance of a bass line.
Just at this moment some older female members of the catering staff
walk by, doing a double take when they catch the end of this
conversation.
NICK
(seeing them)
Hey, how ya doin' tonight, ladies?
They walk off, offended, and Jay and Grant start laughing in the
background. Nick doesn't laugh nor is he angry at Lauren because of his
clear feeling that she's headed for disaster.
INT. HOTEL BALLROOM - WEDDING PARTY - EVENING
With the bride and groom whooping it up on the dance floor and family
and friends already well into the alcohol, the band soldiers through
its gig, finishing a fast number and moving quickly into Little River
Band's "Take it Easy on Me." Grant leads off on piano, and Nick glumly
helms the vocals, eventually leading into the full band effort, for
which they make do with Grant very busy with his hands and Nick
providing loud, slashing guitar parts. This adds to the confusion of
the crowd trying to dance. The band is good even without Lauren but is
clearly missing a vital component. Nick maintains a look of resignation
and fear but tries to do his job anyway.
INT. TRENDY CLUB - THAT NIGHT
Lauren's not just at home doing nothing during all this; she's busy on
a project of her own. She enters a club she's never patronized before,
and this is immediately no secret, judging from her eye-popping
reaction to the room. Young girls mill by in midriff-baring tank and
tube tops. Flashes of orange and pink contrast strongly with Lauren's
dark, dull color schemes. She tries to skulk into a seat at a table off
to the side but has trouble avoiding the notice of other couples who
stink of perfume and cologne.
The music is part rave, part noisy assembly line, with a touch of
melodic metal to sweeten things up a bit. Lauren squints through the
darkness to see that this is indeed James's band, as he prances around
like a third-rate Anthony Kiedis, occasionally looking as if he's a
beginner in kung fu class. The camera gapes at this disaster. The
bassist can thump with authority but can't stay on rhythm. Back to
Lauren, who is now struggling to stifle laughter. She's attracted the
attention of a group of teenyboppers who sneer at her as only they
could. They're dancing off rhythm (hey, they're following the music,
it's not their fault), and then Lauren approaches them.
LAUREN
(shouting to be heard)
I think you people need refunds on your ears.
The girls not too cool to respond mouth, "What?"
LAUREN
(louder)
Your ears. I think they're defective, but if you still have your
receipt, you might be able to get a store credit.
The leader of these three turns away and the others soon follow. The
song ends, and ecstatic cheers erupt from almost everyone. Lauren
shakes her head, as if trying to get over a blow to the head.
JAMES
(on stage)
Hey, you guys! (peppy) We're gonna take about 10 minutes to cool off.
In case you haven't noticed, we're getting quite a workout up here.
Cheers follow for no apparent reason, and Lauren fake wretches noisily.
Then she realizes what James may be planning to do with his break, as
he walks off the stage and into the crowd.
LAUREN
Oh, shit.
She wheels and tries to run out but is blocked by the throng. As she
fights for the door, we see Nick standing several rows behind. He
rushes to follow Lauren but then sees a better route.
EXT. GRIMY CLUB - PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Lauren jogs toward her car, which is parked in a side lot. She fumbles
for her keys.
NICK
(his voice coming out of the dark)
So... you took a nibble of grass from the other side and found out
somebody had peed on it, huh?
Lauren gasps with a rush of fear and then relaxes.
LAUREN
I thought you were gonna be James or some perv stalking the dark.
(Beat) I'm still not sure about the second option. What the hell, I
think we picked the right band name.
NICK
(indicating the club)
Not quite what you had in mind, was it?
LAUREN
Yeah, I'd say that's true in a number of ways. In fact, you caught me
in the middle of a revelation. But you know, I'm in a pretty volatile
state right now; I could change my mind any minute.
NICK
Well, for the time being then, what's your plan for the future
concerning the band you're still a member of right now. You remember
us, don't you? The guys who are actually passionate about music and on
occasion can play it passably well?
LAUREN
I don't know what you want me to say. I'm in an exploratory period
right now, how 'bout that? I hate to say this, but at least those guys
write their own stuff and have the guts to play it before an audience.
NICK
Well, I can see you're going for the knockout punch. I thought you
understood my view on that. So in your opinion, as long as James
prepares it himself, he can serve you a dinner of steaming shit and
you'll call it a delicacy.
LAUREN
Look, I'd love to talk about the culinary arts some more, but I'm
supposed to be meeting James after the show.
NICK
Well, then, what are you doing out here? I watched you run out of there
like the place was on fire.
LAUREN
I told you. I'm kinda crazy, and my decisions can't be trusted.
NICK
Why do you keep saying shit like that? You just keep forecasting the
worst for yourself, and that's what you'll get.
LAUREN
Hey, that's good. That could be a line in the song you'll never write.
She turns and walks off, leaving Nick with nothing to say. He's run out
of verbal fuel.
INT. CLUB - THINNING CROWD - LATE NIGHT
James stands talking to some hangers-on who keep offering him drinks.
He looks bored and sleepy, but he drinks anyway. After a moment, he
turns to look to his side and stops, suddenly interested. Lauren stands
before him, smiling. James steps away from the entourage and approaches
her, looking sensitive and caring.
JAMES
Well, you showed up. I gotta say I'm pleasantly surprised to see you.
Did you catch the show?
LAUREN
Yeah, I caught it all right.
JAMES
Well, what'd ya think? You ready to ditch that Weird Al outfit you've
been hanging around with?
LAUREN
I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. I just thought you
and I might hang out a bit tonight, when you're free.
James's expression changes, and he looks over at the group still
awaiting his return. He turns back, grabs Lauren's elbow and leads her
toward the front exit without hesitation.
GIRL 1
(yelling from back toward the stage)
James. James! Where the hell ya goin'? What about the fucking party?
GIRL 2
What the hell does he see in that sullen bitch? Well, at least this one
has one-nighter written all over it.
GIRL 1
(scoffing)
Shit, I'll bet she won't last an hour.
EXT. CLUB PARKING LOT - LATE NIGHT
JAMES
(as they walk)
You hungry? Let's see if there's still someplace open in this turd of a
town.
LAUREN
Whatever. Let's just get outta here.
EXT. MEXICAN RESTAURANT - LATE NIGHT
Beer with lime, really trendy. Lauren has allowed a date to commence.
LAUREN
So why now with the charming? I can tell it's not hard for you. But
until today, it was kinda nowhere to be found.
JAMES
I have a sense about these things. You were still kinda hung up on Nick
for awhile, but I think that's expired now.
LAUREN
Really? Hmmm... well, I'm pissed at him right now, just generally sick
of his shit. Are you sure that's not what you're picking up with your
radar there?
JAMES
No, I just think we've kinda drifted closer toward the same wavelength
lately. You know there's only so far you can go without making changes.
She wants to be irritated by his sly attempt, but she's alarmed by how
much she agrees. The waitress comes up, and Lauren accepts her offer
for another beer.
INT. JAMES'S APARTMENT - LATER
The two enter kissing, a little sloppy and uncoordinated. Things move
quickly from the edge of the living room to the couch, as we get our
first glimpse of Lauren as a sexual being with someone other than Nick.
She's girlish and uncertain, while the other player is smooth but
gentle enough to get results. However, his grasping for her breasts and
ass indicates to Lauren that he's a long way from the finish line.
LAUREN
(through kisses)
James, I probably should tell you something. Especially since your
fingers are doing some walking now. (Forcefully sliding his hands away)
My period. (Beat) I'm sorry, but it's a fact, not a theory.
He doesn't hide his exasperation, pulling away from her coldly. She
forms a look composed of hurt, fear and anger, mostly of the righteous
variety, despite the fact that she's lying about this "fact."
LAUREN
Hey, it doesn't mean we have to close up for the night. I'm sorry, I
didn't think I would need to mention it earlier. (Beat) I know it's a
bit of a mood killer, but it's not the apocalypse.
JAMES
No, no, it's cool. I'm just adjusting to the new information.
James plops down on a chair, purposefully stepping away from the couch.
He leans back and exhales. Lauren stands uncertainly, visibly shaking
and shaken. She's confused about what she wants to happen next.
LAUREN
Maybe I should go, although I oughtta take a breathalyzer test first.
(Sarcastic) You don't happen to have one of those kits lying around, do
you?
JAMES
No, no, don't be ridiculous. Sit back down, you don't have to go. I'm
sorry, I was just disappointed, that's all. That's a good thing, right?
Lauren sits back down momentarily, puzzled. She's still shaking, having
been certain that James would not be stopped by her announcement but
would just continue on with a look on his face as if he's seeing not
her, not tonight, not even sometime next week. Then James suddenly
rises with purpose, approaching Lauren quickly and cursing. He passes
by her to pick his jacket up off the floor, looking angry that it's
gotten wrinkled. Whimpers come from Lauren's lips, and James looks over
at her strangely.
JAMES
What's wrong with you? You look like I'm standing here with a dripping,
bloody knife or something.
Lauren looks over at James with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
She wants very much to leave and keep on running.
LAUREN
So, should I go now?
JAMES
(innocent)
I thought you wanted to go. You looked like you were... preparing. I'm
sorry, but I guess it is getting late.
As Lauren goes to leave, James accompanies her to the door and then
gives her another of what seems to be a heartfelt kiss. Head swimming,
she exits, and James hangs near the door, displaying a surly look.
JAMES
Well, I thought I smelled something.
EXT. JAMES'S APARTMENT - JUST AFTER
Lauren stands on the other side of James's door, looking back toward it
with anguish, not longing. She's afraid she's reached the end of a path
from which she can't advance.
LAUREN
That's it, then. Shock therapy is too humane for me.
She stumbles out the front door of James's building, doubled over in
stomach pain. She leans against a telephone pole trying to compose
herself and then turns around when something on it catches her eye.
CLOSE ON
Flyer that reads: "Do you suffer from overwhelming anxiety? Do you
frequently consider sabotaging the best things in your life? Are you a
victim of sexual assault but have never felt the time was right to
confide in others about your trauma?" Lauren looks at the flyer with
horror, with a look that says, "And this Big Brother shit is supposed
to make me feel better?" Next to it is an old, half-covered flyer for a
Stalkers show. She smiles and strokes it briefly before returning to
her grim expression.
INT. NICK'S APARTMENT - LATER
Nick sits on his barren couch with some of Lauren's papers strewn on
his coffee table. He's working on a song that she began but never
finished. Turns out he's lifted some of her scribblings. He sings the
chorus of "Kill Myself Instead of You," adding some guitar fills to an
otherwise typical chord progression. He furrows his brow with
earnestness as he continues to experiment with it.
EXT. NICK'S HOUSE - PORCH - CONTINUOUS
Lauren stands outside and looks in on Nick playing his guitar. She's
frozen in place, trying to convince herself to knock on the door and
that she might actually be welcomed. Finally she goes to the door, eyes
closed, and knocks. Nick opens the door, surprised to see her, but not
displeased. Without saying anything, he walks back into his living
room, sits back down and picks up his guitar. Lauren follows
uncertainly, stepping slowly before reaching a chair opposite him. She
sits down gingerly, as if favoring an injury. Nick looks up, not doing
a very good job of acting tough and unconcerned.
NICK
Are you OK? You're shaking like a Toronto Maple Leaf.
LAUREN
For the first time in my life, I feel a little like Lucy Ricardo.
Nick looks at her with concentration but has no idea where this is
going, as Lauren struggles to keep from crying.
LAUREN
(in mock Spanish accent)
I've got some 'splaining to do.
Nick recoils slightly, the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
NICK
Well, I don't know about that. Although it would be nice.
LAUREN
It wasn't easy for me to come here, but I don't expect you to be
concerned about that. I'm just at a point where I don't know what to do
next, and I don't mean with my life or career or something specific. I
mean from second to fucking second. I've actually been in that place
for a while, but I just didn't feel like there was anything I could do
about it.
Something happened to me at about the same time my mom was dying, when
I was 14. I think I need to tell you about that.
As Lauren continues to speak, music blurs out her words, but she's
telling the story of the day she went to pick up her guitar.
INT. NICK'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
The story told, Nick leans back on the couch to absorb it. He doesn't
indicate how he's affected by it.
LAUREN
I just didn't think I could stand it for you to know everything. You
were the last person I could afford to reject me, and I couldn't
imagine any other end to this if I opened up to you than a full-scale
rejection. You see, I was hoping it wouldn't be as painful if I
rejected you, but that didn't turn out to be true. Plus, I was going by
the assumption that you couldn't possibly want me after the bloodbath I
put you through that night. (Beat) I was still hoping, of course, but I
couldn't take the risk...
Nick smiles slightly and rises at this point, approaching her to place
himself in the same position, on his knees, as she.
NICK
OK, I'm gonna stop you now cuz I get the feeling you could probably go
around in circles forever with this explanation. You really have some
stamina, you know that? (Beat) I could understand why you did what you
did, even before I knew exactly what led you to do it. Now that I do
know, let me just say this much. There hasn't been a time since I've
known you that I didn't want you in a variety of ways. I wanted you for
our band cuz you were the most important person that helped us be
something more than just a bunch of aimless jerk-offs in the garage. I
wanted you to actually be the same person who's almost exclusively
populated my fantasies since the day I met you, but in order for that
to happen you kinda needed to feel the same way about me. And once that
seemed to be true, it was better than even my fantasies were, just the
element of possibility. So believe me, one bad experience caused by
damage you received from some monstrous adolescent predatory fuck is
not gonna change the fact that you are absolutely remarkable and
beautiful and desirable to me. I'm just trying to tell you in dramatic
terms that I hope don't sound too cheesy, there's nothing about you,
especially now, that doesn't inspire me.
They embrace, and when they pull back to look at each other again,
Lauren moves in impulsively for a kiss. Nick responds but grows a
little stiff with resistance as she grows more passionate. He pulls
away from her.
NICK
There's no rush. There's no rush.
Lauren looks back at him, stricken, and looks around, seemingly for the
nearest exit.
NICK
No, listen, please please don't take that the wrong way. It's not that
my body and soul are not interested. It's just my brain, what there is
of it, is telling me this might not be the right time.
After a moment of contemplation, he gently moves her hand to his crotch
and leaves it.
NICK
Just to back up my statement with evidence.
Lauren raises her eyebrows and moves her hand away.
LAUREN
Well, that's straight... forward.
They laugh for a moment like they're still in junior high. But just for
a moment.
NICK
I'm sorry. That probably wasn't appropriate, but I got the feeling you
needed me to do something inappropriate. (Beat) Let me show you
something... else.
Nick moves over to his acoustic guitar, offering up a polished
rendition of her song, along with his musical suggestions. He stops
after an excerpt and waits.
LAUREN
Well, I guess you did have a lot of time during our rehearsal drought.
Jesus, I think it's twice as good already. It probably needs some work
on the lyrics, though. I suck at lyrics.
NICK
No you don't, but I do, so I don't know if I'll be able to help in that
area. But I think it's a great song. Maybe I was afraid it would be all
along.
LAUREN
I'm gonna have to go to therapy after this, aren't I?
NICK
Well, there's no law about that, but it would probably be a good idea.
I'm certainly not the least bit qualified to help you through stuff
like this. I'm usually in the client's chair myself.
LAUREN
You? You've had therapy?
NICK
Well, not currently, but I've had three separate useless stints. I
guess you could say I'm a veteran in the same way a drunk is who's been
to rehab six times.
LAUREN
I never would have guessed.
NICK
Come on, I can tell you know I'm fucked up. You can't be surprised. But
if you are, you should know that we all hide truckloads of shit
thinking it will just go away.
LAUREN
Something else: if we ever get into a situation where we do wanna have
sex again...
NICK
We don't even need to be talking about that right now. I hope there
might be plenty of time in the future for that.
LAUREN
But I want to talk about it. I really do. I think about it all the time
in a completely positive way. I'm just concerned about the execution.
As Nick picks up his guitar again, she shifts her attention and studies
him briefly.
LAUREN
But don't think I'm not on to you. I appreciate your efforts on my
song, but I wonder if your immersion in it is just another way to avoid
the risk of obliging your own creative ambitions.
NICK
(smiling)
I'm on to you, too, oh Queen of Misdirection.
INT. NICK'S APARTMENT - AFTERNOON
Nick lounges on his couch with his guitar uselessly on his lap. The TV
is tuned to a game show he can't take his eyes off regardless of his
disinterest in its folly. A mostly blank piece of paper lies beside
him, and his pen is lodged between two cushions. Finally he gets angry
and sits up abruptly, trying to use improved posture as a bridge to
better creative output. Cursing himself as well as nearby inanimate
objects, he picks up the pen and paper and stares at the page anxiously
a few more seconds before giving up. Nick hovers over his stereo,
carefully selecting a CD. Then he begins undressing, taking one last
defeated look at his guitar and the few meaningful scrawled notes on
the page facing up.
INT. NICK'S HOUSE - BATHROOM
Nick's in the shower now, humming or whispering fragments of lyrics to
himself behind the curtain. He lulls occasionally, lost in thought, and
then the camera focuses on his upper half as he lathers up his hair
with shampoo and washes his face. In the middle of this action, he
stops cold and recoils with recognition of something. He continues to
wash his hair and stops again, muttering "Well, that's actually not too
bad" or something like it. He starts soaping his chest and arms but
suddenly stops with an expletive or two and begins to rinse furiously.
NICK
Goddammitt, there should be a dry erase board in here. Why hasn't some
motherfucker thought of that by now?
Nick hurries out of the shower, dripping, and he almost slips on the
wet tile. Then he dries himself half-heartedly, shuffling into the
living room with his towel crudely wrapped around his waist. It keeps
threatening to fall off entirely. He makes a beeline for his pad and
paper, taking it over to the kitchen table. He scrawls down a few words
while standing up, pausing to try and remember what he thought was so
goddam profound when he was in the shower. He gets an inspired look and
writes standing over the pad as Bruce Cockburn's "If I Had a Rocket
Launcher" begins to play on the stereo. As he writes, the hair he
didn't bother to dry too well drips a couple of fortuitous times onto
his freshly applied lines. He sees this and curses the drops as if they
weren't inanimate. Then he cradles the page above the table to try and
avoid any additional streaking. He examines the page of scribbles and
possible song verses with a mixture of awe and concern and then
gingerly lays the paper over a chair back, careful to balance its
minimal weight with the movement of air provided by an overhead fan.
NICK
Now please, do me this favor, ink. Don't run anymore. Just dry and be
legible, as is your destiny.
He pumps his fist in exaltation, momentarily pleased with himself. As
he sings along with Cockburn, the paper (and the towel) slides off and
flutters to the ground, but Nick is no longer there to see it.
INT. PLUSH, DARK PSYCHOTHERAPIST'S OFFICE - MORNING
Lauren sits uncomfortably on a very comfortable couch. She shifts her
weight and averts her stare occasionally from the frightfully earnest,
fortysomething female therapist sitting in front of her. Lauren squints
from a thin ray of sunlight that keeps peeking through the blinds right
into her eyes. Suddenly she scoots over to the other side of the couch
without a word.
THERAPIST (ELLIE)
Would you like me to close those blinds?
LAUREN
Actually, aren't they already closed? They just have some unfortunate
gaps. (Beat) No, it's OK. Now that I've moved, the sun's not a problem.
Ellie stares at Lauren intently, either not paying attention or not
seeming to believe her patient's claims. She sighs and resets her
head's position on her neck.
ELLIE
Lauren, are you angry?
Lauren blinks at this question, considering. Then she calmly rises from
her seated position and walks out the door without a word. Ellie
watches her go, sipping from her cup of tea.
ELLIE
(earnest, well-meaning)
Well, shit.
In the hallway of this public mental health center, Lauren approaches
the exit with some urgency, planning on just bypassing the reception
desk and its annoyances. Gradually she slows down to a stop, pondering
the situation further.
Then she turns back around so she's facing the therapists' offices once
again. With a sigh she starts back toward Ellie's office.
INT. ELLIE'S OFFICE - AFTERNOON
Ellie is rummaging at her desk when the door opens and Lauren reenters,
walking back over to her previous position on the couch and plopping
down, once again without a word. Ellie looks at her skeptically, but
after a moment she puts away her paperwork and goes back to her seat
and her tea.
LAUREN
Sometimes I think there should be a personal relationship license, you
know, similar to a driver's license. The kind of thing you might show
to a cop when he pulls you over. Like I'd hand over my ID, and he'd get
this knowing look on his face when he sees I have a restriction, a
designation that I'm not allowed to have relationships of any kind with
any living human being. A mandate that I just need to embrace
aloneness, not only for my own sake but for the sake of the public at
large. And the cop would kind of smile and say, "Just pull over here
and park, ma'am. Then turn on your hazard lights and come sit in the
patrol car." (Beat)
ELLIE
Well, that's a pretty entertaining bit you have there, but I'm not
really interested in hearing a stand-up routine. You know, an hour's
not really enough time to allow for that kind of evasiveness.
LAUREN
You mean, 50 minutes.
ELLIE
OK, 50 minutes. But since we're busy cutting out all the bullshit, let
me just say this. You can walk around feeling bitter and cheated that
you have problems in life if you want to, but I don't think that's
gonna help you. Life is a struggle, but I don't think you know how true
in different, unexpected ways that statement can be for other people.
If we're gonna get anywhere with this, I think we both need to pledge
that we won't talk around things anymore. Fair enough?
LAUREN
Yeah, I think that's better.
ELLIE
Better than what?
LAUREN
Way better than the really wrong foot we got off to before. Don't you
think?
ELLIE
Why don't we talk about why it is you're here?
LAUREN
That's a long, wandering story.
ELLIE
Ah, the best kind.
LAUREN
I'm not sure where to start.
ELLIE
Why don't you start at the beginning?
LAUREN
(in her best Inigo Montoya)
No, there ees too much. Let me sum up. (no response from Ellie) I think
I prefer in medias res anyway.
Ellie smiles, and though Lauren doesn't reciprocate the pleasantry, she
sighs and begins genuinely trying to reopen her wounds.
INT. RELATIVELY GENTEEL CLUB - BACKSTAGE AREA - NIGHT
The band members wait separately for the start of a show, and
individual shots of each show their various states. To the strains of
Cake's "Rock and Roll Lifestyle," Grant tunes his guitar, leaning his
ear down to try and hear better. Lauren has beefed up her punk,
aggressive look, forming a glare to match her piercings as she prepares
her bass for the show. Nick sits by himself, looking down and
fidgeting. He's particularly nervous about this show, and Lauren
approaches, knowing this.
LAUREN
If you're gonna puke, don't be afraid to do it here, OK? You certainly
don't have to be afraid it might affect the smell.
Nick looks up at her pleadingly, exhaling a deep breath and shaking his
head. Lauren then sits next to him protectively.
LAUREN
Remember, it's just one song. There are a couple of dozen others in the
set. Maybe people won't notice much if yours sucks.
Nick looks over, managing a weak smile.
NICK
I know you're trying to help, but don't you know another remedy besides
sarcasm?
LAUREN
Sarcasm? What sarcasm?
INT. CLUB - ONSTAGE - MOMENTS LATER
The band rips through some of its signature numbers, including X and
the Minutemen and maybe a curveball like Thin Lizzy's "Cowboy Song."
Out in the crowd, two spectators look simultaneously official and out
of place at a table off to the side. Most everybody else is enjoying
the show from the floor, the proper and sweatier vantage point.
Intercut between the performance and these two characters, one female,
blond senior executive from an indie record company (an Aimee Mann
type) and a younger, bespectacled tightwad-looking guy in a suit.
AIMEE
We gotta be at least on pace with 'em if we want to sign 'em, so it's
your job to make sure we don't get stumped.
PAUL
I'm doing my job. Are you suggesting I'm not doing my job?
AIMEE
Well, you're not when you're arguing with me. You're wasting valuable
time.
PAUL
Well, what is it exactly you're doing? (Beat, a wince) Or is that
question off limits?
He doesn't even bother to look up from his computer as he says this,
but he can surely feel her glare.
Focus on the band's inaugural performance of "My Brain Has Gone
Smooth," Nick's first original song and the band's first non-cover song
presented to an audience. The band is in top form for this tune,
ripping through the country-tinged effort with loud, fast guitars and
spirited contributions from each member. At Nick's insistence, the band
has chosen this song for its finale, and they get an uproarious
response, in which they bask. They look at each other, smiling onstage,
bidding farewell, as if this may be the fadeout scene.
Paul's eyes dance over a cross-referencing program onscreen that is
furiously shuffling band names and song titles. They're having trouble
locating the source of this last tune, and as the club begins to clear
out, Aimee is busy searching through the crowd for something she's yet
to see.
AIMEE
Other than telling you what the fuck to do, Paul, I don't know if I
really need anything else on my agenda. But since you ask, my job is to
pick out the prime candidates for you to stall with your boyish good
looks, if it comes to that. (Beat) Anything yet?
PAUL
I think I'm close. I have an intensive search going on progressive
country and alt rockers with leanings toward twang. I'm thinking it's
regional and underground.
Before they can find their elusive answer, the band emerges from
backstage, mingling briefly with lingerers not on Aimee's radar. She
waits like a cat, then signals Paul, who responds by closing his
electronic search with Bond gadget speed and secrecy.
AIMEE
All right, I'm cutting this bitch off to my left, and then you're up.
Aimee indeed darts in front of a suspicious-looking wannabe who could
just be a groupie but whom Aimee deems worthy of caution.
The band strolls toward the bar, four strong and together. But for some
reason they can't name, they edge over toward Aimee and Paul even
though they stand in the center of the room. The band stops in front of
them in a Rolling Stone-friendly pose, with Nick front center but
flanked strongly by Lauren and backed up by Jay and Grant.
PAUL
The greatest cover band has become suddenly more ambitious, it seems.
Not bad for your first real premiere of an original.
At first Nick and the band respond with normal pleasantries, but then
they stick around, expectant.
LAUREN
Yeah, that's Nick's original. What'd you think of it?
NICK
Keep in mind it's an early incarnation, sure to change once the band
gets a hold of it to improve it sufficiently. So temper your evaluation
accordingly.
AIMEE
Yeah, well, it sounds like you're already able to avoid mistaking
competence for a justification to line all your ideas with gold.
There's no reason to elevate material just because it's yours. Quality
material and quality musicianship must always be in the same room.
LAUREN
Sorry, I'd like to say I don't want to be rude, but I am rude. Who the
hell are you guys?
AIMEE
We're the kind of people who'd like to help you separate the shit from
the fertilizer.
Aimee and Paul both produce cards like magicians and thrust them
simultaneously at the two leaders. Nick and Lauren take them and must
see something they like, because they glance heavily at each other and
then hand the cards to their bandmates in one swift motion.
LAUREN
I can also be utterly civil on little or no notice, when the situation
calls for decorum.
Lauren extends her hand, ladylike, to Paul, and the band moves to join
the two at their table. Jay scrambles for extra seating and orders beer
with hand motions. Guadalcanal Diary's "Always Saturday" begins to
play.
FADE OUT
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