ScriptFrenzy 2011: "Dead and Breakfast" pages 7-11

Joy and Harry have collected their luggage. Joy waits while Harry goes through their carry-on luggage and comes up with two slick-looking SMARTPHONES. He hands Joy one.

HARRY
Here’s yours for while we’re here. We drop them off at the show when it’s over.

JOY
They ought to let you keep them.

HARRY
You kidding? Mrs. Erickson’s little Bobby didn’t get to be the tenth richest man on the planet by giving his employees freebies. Discounts, maybe…

Joy turns hers over in her hands, looks at it.

JOY
It’s really nice.

HARRY
Best on the market.

JOY
The eternal salesman.

HARRY
No, it’s true! Best performance for the least money. Drives the competitors nuts. They wish they could figure out how we do it.

JOY
How do you do it?

HARRY
Don’t ask me. That’s hardware. I’m sales. But anyway, it’s all set up so you can text me or tweet me if I have to cancel dinner or something…

JOY
(resigned)
You mean “when.”

HARRY
Look, hon, you knew this would be a working holiday. You said, I understand, I’ll probably have to be on my own a lot, I’ll cope…

He’s not cruel about this, just needs her to understand. Joy tries to put a good face on it as they head toward a door signed “TAXICABS”, through which the cab rank is visible.

JOY
And I will. I just wish we could have a real vacation together, a normal trip, like normal people….

HARRY
Joy, you know how work’s been.

JOY
And now I’m going to have to spend my days running around in a strange country all by myself…

HARRY
Come on, Joy, it’s not as if we don’t all speak the same language.

They pass a newsagent kiosk sporting a “Sun” broadside advertising today’s edition. It says, “GAZZA HAZZA BOG ROMP!” Joy gives it a look.

JOY
I’ll take your word for it. [/scrippet]

[scrippet]EXT. ORMONDE HOTEL — DAY

One of many near-identical three-story houses in the “small hotel zone” near Victoria Station: all the hotels painted white, all with two steps up to the door, all with the same twin-pillared portico in front. The cab lets Harry and Joy off in front of one that sports a small lighted sign saying ORMONDE HOTEL. While Harry pays the cabbie, Joy eyes the place. Whatever she was expecting, this isn’t it.

JOY
(gallant)
Looks nice. The travel agent said it was a good deal?

HARRY
She said it was the only deal. There are five other conventions in town.
(encouraging)
Come on, hon, it won’t be bad. We won’t be in a lot in the daytime.

JOY
(slight wistfulness)
And what about nighttimes?

HARRY
Come on…

INT. ORMONDE HOTEL LOBBY — DAY

If “lobby” is the word for so tiny a reception area. Like all the rest of the hotel, it’s stuck in the 70’s in decoration and design: everything a little tired and shabby, though clean enough. The reception desk has a small room behind it, with business equipment and some furniture, a cross between an office and a sitting room. Down a short hallway is a two-person elevator, and another door leading to a tiny lounge, not visible from this angle. Near the reception desk, in a faded vinyl chair, a BLOND MAN in his early twenties, GUNTER MEYRING, sits reading a newspaper.

Harry leans over the desk, RINGS the bell there.

HARRY
Hello? Hello?

DORIS
Oh! Oh my goodness!

From the little room comes DORIS LEWISHAM, a plump lady in her mid-50’s with an expression of eternal surprise –and the surprises haven’t always been good: there’s sadness in that face, too. She comes out to take care of Harry with a manner that suggests she’s pleased to see business walking in her door, any business at all.

DORIS
Oh, good morning! Can I help you?

HARRY
Uh, we have a reservation… Mr. and Mrs. Collins?

DORIS
Oh, yes, certainly, I think I remember, yes, here it is, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, that’s a double, isn’t it? Oh, my, you’re ever so early, I’m not sure the room’s ready yet.

HARRY
Could you possibly check? We’re just off the red-eye, and I’d like to get a few hours’ sleep if I could.

Doris bustles out from behind the desk and hurries down the hall to the lift, into which she VANISHES. A little terrier dog, BRUNO, comes out from behind the desk to check out the guests, their luggage, etc.

DORIS
I’ll be right back, sir, wait just a moment, I’m sure we can have everything ready for you shortly…

Harry leans on the desk and looks around. Joy makes a fuss over Bruno and looks around doubtfully at the tacky furnishings: the plastic-covered furniture, the dingy “Monarch of the Glen” print, etc. She turns and finds herself looking at the man in the chair.

JOY
Good morning!

GUNTER
Gute morgen, gnädige Frau.

JOY
Oh, another tourist! How nice! Have you been waiting here long?

GUNTER
(passable German-accented English)
A little while, madame.

JOY
Oh, not too long, I hope.

She turns to Harry, who’s looking also around dubiously.

HARRY
Last time I was here, they put me in the Savoy. This is a little… different.

Doris comes hurrying back, SQUEEZES behind the desk. As she talks she produces the sign-in book and a ROOM KEY (the TAG on the key is SMALL: this will be a plot point later).

DORIS
Yes, Mr. Collins, it’s just fine, can you sign here please? Here’s your key, you’re in room eighteen, that’s the third floor, third room down on your right as you come out of the lift, it’s all set for you, you have a nice rest now, breakfast is from seven to nine-thirty if you sleep late, I’m Mrs. Lewisham, if you need anything at all just call…

HARRY
Thank you.

He takes the key, loads himself with bags and heads down the hall. Joy takes the key off him, pauses by the desk as GEORGE LEWISHAM, Doris’s husband, in his mid-50’s and balding, comes out to look over Doris’s shoulder.

JOY
Thanks so much. He’s really tired…
(to George)
Oh, hello. Are you Mr. Lewisham?

GEORGE
That’s right. How do you do?

Joy puts her hand out to shake his. She doesn’t notice Doris’s suddenly concerned look. But George, his hands full of a stack of magazines, simply bows a little to Joy and smiles an apologetic smile. Joy smiles back.

JOY
I’m Joy Collins, I’m pleased to meet you, please excuse me, I’d better go make sure he doesn’t drop anything of mine on the way up, you know how jetlagged people are…

She heads after him. Doris and George exchange a glance: slight unease.
[/scrippet]