(back to pp 43-47)<\/a><\/p>\n[scrippet]INT. RESTAURANT — EVENING<\/p>\n
A nice restaurant. Joy and Harry are in the middle of the meal. An empty bottle of wine is taken away and a new one is brought. Both of them seem edgy.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nAnd on top of it all, you forgot to leave the key at the hotel again. I couldn’t get a clean shirt.<\/p>\n
Joy starts going through her “secret pockets” with much VELCRO-RIPPING, hunting for the key in an abstracted way.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nOh, honey, I’m sorry. It’s just been — a weird day, that’s all.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nAt least I was able to thank George. That was one heck of a tip he gave me.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nWas it?<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nIt won me six hundred quid. I wish I’d bet more.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nOh, honey, that’s terrific! See what I mean about it being such a nice place.
\n(ready to tell him)
\nHarry — there’s something unusual about the people there.[\/scrippet]
\n
\n[scrippet]<\/p>\n
Harry is quiet for a moment: looks at her.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nSo I gather. How was lunch with your boyfriend Gunter?<\/p>\n
JOY
\nIt was more of a snack, he doesn’t —
\n(blinks)
\nHe’s not my “boyfriend”. Don’t be snide.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nThat’s just how it looks.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nIt’s not like that. I think he’s lonely.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nLike you?<\/p>\n
Joy says nothing for a moment. She busies herself cutting up her food.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nLook, I know this isn’t turning out the way I said it would. I had no idea the trip was going to be this busy. If I’d —<\/p>\n
JOY
\nIf you’d known.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nI’m glad you understand. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, or the next day —<\/p>\n
JOY
\n(looking haunted)
\nYeah? Is there going to be a tomorrow? How can you be so sure?<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWhat’s that supposed to mean?<\/p>\n
JOY
\nHarry —<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nLook. I know I’m a workaholic. I want a good life for us, that’s all! After the way things went downhill with Mary because there was never enough money —<\/p>\n
JOY
\nHasn’t it ever occurred to you that money might not be the issue? And I don’t think it was for Mary, either. I don’t want stuff, or a big fancy house. It’s you I want. But you’re always working so hard, sometimes I think I’m running a hotel myself. Food and laundry service, travel agent, secretarial, everything but wife stuff! Sometimes I think Mary got tired of being married to “sales”, instead of a man!<\/p>\n
A long silence here. Harry is beginning a slow burn.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nIf I thought you were seeing so much of this Gunter just to make me scared I was messing up our marriage by overwork, I’d get really angry. But I don’t think you’re calculating enough for that. So all I can assume is that you want me to know that you’re lonely. Okay! You’re lonely! I’m sorry! But it can’t be helped, not this trip. Don’t you realize how terrific it was that I asked to come here? It could mean a promotion, even a transfer over here —<\/p>\n
JOY
\n“Not calculating enough?” God, what a backhanded compliment. Not smart enough, you mean.
\n(angry too, now)
\nYou don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you? Even though you haven’t come right out and said “liar”. There is nothing between Gunter and me. He hasn’t touched me. He can’t touch me: he’s dead!<\/p>\n
HARRY
\n(aback again)
\nWhat?<\/p>\n
JOY
\nHe is dead. He died in nineteen forty.
\n(wry beat)
\nHis bomber was shot down and crashed into a Burger King.<\/p>\n
Harry simply stares at her, completely confused.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nYou saw how people in the hotel were just picking at their breakfasts —<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWith that bacon, it’s no surprise.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nIt’s not the goddamn bacon! They only eat for practice! They’re from all kinds of times, and they’re stuck here, near where they died. Doris just gives them a place to stay. She has to!
\n(beat)
\nGeorge is dead, too.<\/p>\n
Harry rubs his face, finding all this a little too bizarre.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nGeorge. And here I thought Gunter was the problem.<\/p>\n
JOY
\n(cranky)
\nGeorge is fine. He gave me a little scare when he came through the bedroom wall at me, but we’re friends now.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nHave you stopped taking the Zoloft?<\/p>\n
JOY
\n(shocked)
\nHarry!<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nI tried to be understanding about it, I really did. The doctor told me you were going to need some room and some time to get through the stress, the divorce going final and all, and dear God I tried to give it to you. But if you think you’re going to get some petty little vengeance on me now by acting like you’re going nuts — at this moment in time, when if I perform well enough, it could make my career —<\/p>\n
Joy stares at him, stony-eyed. Harry glares back.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nI can’t believe you’d be so selfish, so petty. I can’t believe it.<\/p>\n
JOY
\nBelieving does seem to be a problem for you. Doesn’t it…<\/p>\n
Harry GETS UP, tosses his napkin onto the table, STALKS OUT.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nJust get back on the pills.<\/p>\n
Joy sits there stunned.<\/p>\n
INT. COMPUTER SHOW PARTY — NIGHT<\/p>\n
One of the endless PR-driven boozefests that surround such events, this one thrown by Erickson Computers. A loud band, a lot of media and computer people talking and drinking nonstop. Harry wanders through this disconsolately, having come down from angry to vaguely miserable.<\/p>\n
Off to one side, propping up the bar, are Harry’s immediate boss, Boyce, and another of the young Salesguys seen earlier at the computer show, NIGEL. Harry WANDERS over to them.<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nHarry! Great day!<\/p>\n
HARRY
\n(unenthusiastic)
\nYeah, thanks, Boyce. Hey, Nigel. How’d you do?<\/p>\n
NIGEL
\nA hundred and fifty units, all by myself. I am a happy lad. What’re you having?<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nA beer, thanks.<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nHey, cheer up, Harry. You did just fine. And the whole group had a super day. Nine hundred units! The boss is pleased.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\n(glancing around him)
\nThat’s great. Looks like some people aren’t, though.<\/p>\n
The others follow Harry’s glance. In B.G., MICHAEL CARLYLE, a tastefully dressed, slender, silver-haired older man, sits reading one of the trade papers (even in this bad light) and drinking doubles. No one sits with him: there’s a feeling that he’s being avoided.<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nOh. Take more than a good sales day to cheer that one up.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWho is it?<\/p>\n
NIGEL
\nMichael Carlyle.<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nFormerly of Carlyle-Erickson.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nThought he was bought out years ago.<\/p>\n
Nigel hands Harry his beer. Harry takes a long drink.<\/p>\n
NIGEL
\nHe was. Still gets invited to these shindigs, though. Elder statesman, good will gesture and all that.<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nNot that the gesture produces much good will in him. Sour old sod.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWhat’s his problem?<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nOh, the usual. He was there when little Bobby was just getting started, Erickson would never have come to anything without him, blah blah blah.<\/p>\n
NIGEL
\nI think it’s just ‘old school tie’ stuff.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nYou lost me, Nige.<\/p>\n
NIGEL
\nOh, Carlyle was at Oxford, degrees out to here, and Erickson never made it past his local vocational school. Drives him nuts that Erickson was so good with the business angle, and now gets all these wads of money and the media attention as well.<\/p>\n
Harry looks curiously over at Carlyle. Carlyle glances at him, an assessing look: then away again, dismissive.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nIs it bad to be seen talking to him?<\/p>\n
BOYCE
\nPolitically? Naah. Waste of time, though. He’d talk the ears off a donkey, that one. Listen, you coming to the Sega party later? They’re celebrating that new Russian helicopter-gunship game. Unlimited caviar, fountains of Stoly.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nUh, yeah. Gotta catch up with the wife first.<\/p>\n
He pulls out his cellphone, salutes the other two with it: they grin, move on. Harry goes off to one side, dials, hears:<\/p>\n
PHONE NETWORK
\nThe ErickNet customer you are trying to reach is out of cell or has their phone turned off. Please try again later. The ErickNet customer…<\/p>\n
Harry puts the phone away, looking unhappy: then takes his beer and moves slowly over to where Carlyle sits by himself. Carlyle glances up. When he speaks, it is plain that Carlyle is several drinks along, but not at all slurred.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nMr. Carlyle?<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nWelcome to the leprosarium, Mr. —
\n(squints at Harry’s badge)
\nCollins.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nCall me Harry.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nThe adorable instantaneous intimacy of our transatlantic cousins. Well, you may call me Michael. Not Mike.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nThank you, Michael.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nSo doubtless the young minions of British mammon have suggested that you come over and poke the hoary old fossil to hear his sullen borborygmal complaints.<\/p>\n
Harry SITS DOWN by him.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWow, you know big words, Michael. I didn’t really have poking in mind.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nOh come, young man. Grant the spectre at the feast enough intelligence to know what’s going on at the far end of the table. They all loathe me, these wretched little market-driven parvenus, for having had what they so desire and fear, a classical education. Yet such advantage counts for little in the crass world outside the university gates.
\n(another drink)
\nWould that a truck had hit me in the Carfax before they pedestrianized it. I’d have died young and poor and happy.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\n(in the mood to be rude)
\nInstead of old and rich and cranky. But not so cranky that you’ll pass on drinking their booze.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\n(taken with him)
\nWhy, Harry, there’s a bite under your bark. What a welcome change from these buttery-mouthed, whey-faced youths.<\/p>\n
Carlyle GESTURES at a passing BARPERSON for more drinks for the two of them.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nThe scuttlebutt says you’re not entirely happy with Erickson.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nHeresy! Heresy most foul. Here we are all one happy worker-friendly family, awash in employee stock options and corporate handouts to keep the pixel-stained technopeasants content.
\n(beat)
\nFor myself, I saw which way the wind was blowing, and I took the option package that was offered me and got out of the line of fire.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nAnd onto the billionaires’ list.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\n(contemptuous)
\nThe land of the many zeroes. Money I may have, but not what matters: respect. There’s nothing more pitiful than a discarded mentor, as even these contemptible graduates of bargain basement MBA programs and gaming arcades can see.<\/p>\n
He finishes one of his drinks, picks up another.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nWhy did you get out?<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nYou ask almost as if you’re genuinely interested.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nI am interested.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nIngratitude. An awful thing, especially when it thinks itself invulnerable.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nIngratitude… It doesn’t seem like much.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nOh, there’s more. I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would frizzle thee up like the fretful porpentine.<\/p>\n
HARRY
\nOkay. So unfold and let’s frizzle.<\/p>\n
Carlyle spends a long thoughtful moment staring at Harry.<\/p>\n
CARLYLE
\nNot here, for pity’s sake. Come on.<\/p>\n
They EXIT.
\n[\/scrippet]<\/p>\n
(to pages 57-64)<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" (back to pp 43-47) [scrippet]INT. RESTAURANT — EVENING A nice restaurant. Joy and Harry are in the middle of the meal. An empty bottle of wine is taken away…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_lmt_disableupdate":"","_lmt_disable":"","activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":4,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[72,75,70],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1850","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-film-and-tv","category-scriptfrenzy","category-writing"],"yoast_head":"\n
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