Brian, Contra Episode 6

Reads: 25  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Brian and Lindsay work together to make Annex’s profits appear steep so that the building isn’t sold to Thomas Loveman. Nina hears gossip about Lindsay Royce that she almost can’t help but spread. Savannah loses her job and must find a purpose for her life.

BRIAN, CONTRA

 

“HALLEY’S COMET”

 

TV-MA DLS

 

“I am on a lonely road and I am traveling. Looking for the key to set me free. Oh, the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling. It's the unraveling, and it undoes all the joy that could be”

  • Joni Mitchell

 

(We open on Annex, one afternoon. It’s very sparse, with only a few drunks sitting at the bar. Jack and Nina are both cleaning glasses)

 

JACK: The trick to cleaning the glasses efficiently is to dip your hand through the towel- (Jack sticks his hand into the towel and twists it inside the glass) and twist it around a few times, just a few fluid motions- then re-stock it.

 

(Jack places the glass on the shelf behind him)

 

NINA: That’s kinda how I’ve been doing it.

 

JACK: Really?

 

NINA: Yeah, it seems pretty obvious to me.

 

JACK: Oh. (Beat) You still have much to learn, Nina.

 

NINA: I’m sure I do.

 

(Brian walks in and sits at the bar)

 

BRIAN: You guys make burgers, right?

 

JACK: Yes, sir. Curly fries, too.

 

BRIAN: I’ll have a burger and fries- but NOT curly! My dad always said curly fries were queer.

 

JACK: Coming up.

 

(Jack walks through the backdoor into the kitchen. Nina walks up to the bar)

 

NINA: This is lunch?

 

(Savannah walks into Annex)

 

BRIAN: Yeah, I’m a bit strapped for cash now that my dad cut me off.

 

(Savannah sits at the bar)

 

SAVANNAH: How the hell are you strapped for cash when you have TWO well-paying jobs?

 

BRIAN: Let’s just say I have a LOT of credit card debt.

 

(Jack brings Brian the burger and fries)

 

JACK: That’ll be five bucks.

 

(Brian hands Jack a credit card)

 

BRIAN: Put it on my card.

 

(Jack nods and walks over to a bulky, electronic card reader and swipes Brian’s card. Brian starts eating the burger)

 

NINA: Well, I’m proud of you for being so responsible.

 

(Brian shrugs. Savannah opens a journal and starts writing in it)

 

BRIAN: (Mouth full) What’s that about?

 

SAVANNAH: Hm?

 

NINA: Are you writing down secrets?! I wanna know them!

 

SAVANNAH: No, I just keep a journal.

 

BRIAN: (Mouth full) You mean a diary?

 

(Brian chuckles, and a piece of sesame flies out of his mouth)

 

NINA: Brian, you can swallow now.

 

(Brian swallows. Lindsay walks in, as Jack hands Brian his card back)

 

LINDSAY: If he had a nickel for every time he’s heard that.

 

BRIAN: Fuck off.

 

NINA: Why do you keep a journal?

 

SAVANNAH: Well, first off, I got fired.

 

NINA: What?!

 

BRIAN: You had a job?!

 

SAVANNAH: YES! I had a job! Why does that SHOCK everyone?!

 

(Lindsay lights a cigarette as he sits at the bar)

 

LINDSAY: Because they thought your job was to teste the wear on these barstools.

 

(Savannah takes a toothpick out of a nearby glass container of toothpicks and throws it at Lindsay. He laughs)

 

SAVANNAH: They didn’t give me that many hours, but I have worked at a coffee shop for the last year or so.

 

BRIAN: Why’d they fire you?

 

SAVANNAH: I think my boss had some sort of vendetta against me, plus he was sleeping with this girl who hated me.

 

NINA: OH MY GOD! (Nina cradles her head in her hands and plants her elbows on the bar) TELL ME EVERYTHING!
 

SAVANNAH: I told you everything already, she sleeps with my boss and she hates me. Mostly because I would shame her for what she would eat, by the way, Brian, your lunch once had a face and a personality.

 

BRIAN: How do you know that?! This cow could’ve been a total asshole!

 

(Nina leans against the back of the bar and crosses her arms)

 

NINA: Are you sure that’s all there is to it?

 

BRIAN: Forgive Nina, she’s a bit of a gossip addict.

 

NINA: Nobody gossips here, what am I supposed to do!? Beg for it?!

 

SAVANNAH: You literally just did.

 

LINDSAY: Don’t go gossiping about people here, alright? Except for Winslow, that guy sucks.

 

(Winslow walks over holding a toilet brush)

 

WINSLOW: I’ve cleaned the toilets, Lindsay, what now?

 

LINDSAY: Clean the toilet BRUSH, Winslow. Obviously.

 

(Winslow nods and walks away)

 

SAVANNAH: ANYWAY, back to the point of my story. My shrink told me that keeping a journal would be a good way to hold myself accountable, while I’m unemployed and looking for a job.

 

LINDSAY: Have you jotted down “at a bar at 1pm” in your accountability journal?

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah, I, uh…just did.

 

BRIAN: I like this idea, honestly. I forget a lot of shit that happens to me, mostly because I drink here a lot.

 

LINDSAY: Right.

 

BRIAN: But if I write it all down, suddenly I can tell the cops exactly where I just came from, when they pull me over. Maybe I’ll start doing this.

 

NINA: Same here! This way, I can remember all the details of the fresh gossip I hear at Five-Alarm.

 

LINDSAY: Look at all of you, resolving to improve yourselves. Kind of.

 

BRIAN: Let’s celebrate! Round on me, barkeep! (Brian hands Jack his credit card) Put it on the ol’ VISA!

 

JACK: Yes, sir!

 

(Jack starts making three beers)

 

LINDSAY: Before we celebrate, though, we should talk about O’Halleran.

 

BRIAN: Oh, fuck, did they sell?

 

LINDSAY: No, they haven’t made a decision, yet. They’re sending some reps tomorrow to determine whether we’re worth keeping as tenants, essentially. So, we gotta roll out the red carpet, and pack the house.

 

BRIAN: Worry not. I’ve got the perfect plan. First, though, I’ve gotta stop by a Consumer Value and grab a spiral notebook.

 

(Cut to an establishing shot of the office building where Sarandon S&L is headquartered)

 

BRIAN: (OS, grim voice) Brian Sarandon. 60 West 47th Street, New York, New York. February 7th, 1986. (Cut to Spencer clacking away on a typewriter in his office. A cigarette is resting on the edge of a nearby ashtray) I decided, though my relationship with my father had been recently strained, that I could squeeze just enough juice out of it to potentially save Annex, and thus my wallet from further asphyxiation.

 

(Brian walks in and closes the door)

 

BRIAN: Could I have a second?

 

(Spencer grabs his cigarette and takes a drag, as he turns toward Brian. He blows the smoke in Brian’s general direction)

 

SPENCER: Sure. Go ahead.

 

BRIAN: So listen, have you noticed the moral around here has been, low? For the past year or so? (Spencer considers this) Especially since the Christmas party?

 

SPENCER: You mean the Christmas party where I gave you a bonus thirty times larger than everyone else?

 

BRIAN: Yeah, that one.

 

SPENCER: You know, now that you mention it…

 

BRIAN: I think I have an idea to lift everyone’s spirits. Surprise work party!

 

SPENCER: So, another work party? Do I give you another ten grand at this one, is that the idea?

 

BRIAN: No! We should just have a party at Annex, for no particular reason! To boost camaraderie, morale, and all that shit. And it should be mandatory.

 

SPENCER: When?

 

 BRIAN: Tomorrow.

 

SPENCER: So it’s a mandatory work party, marking no particular occasion, at the club that you have a partnership stake in that just happens to be on the same night that the leasing company will send representatives to determine whether they should sell the property to Thomas Loveman?

 

BRIAN: …Well, if you MUST have an occasion, Halley’s comet is coming tomorrow night-

 

SPENCER: This has to be the most self-serving misuse of company time and resources that you’ve ever proposed- (Spencer leans forward) and that’s why I LOVE it.

 

(Brian pumps his fist)

 

BRIAN: YES!

 

SPENCER: Well done.

 

(Cut to the conference room. Brian is standing in front of a white board, in front of Spencer, Gayle, Bill, Frank, Erica, Garret, Nicholas and Fat Frank, all sitting at the conference table. The white board reads “SURPRISE (mandatory) WORK PARTY AT ANNEX THIS SATURDAY NIGHT, 7PM!” Under that, it reads “COME GET DRUNK AND WATCH HALLEY’S COMET ON THE ROOF”)

 

BRIAN: Any questions?

 

(Bill raises his hand)

 

BILL: Why-

 

BRIAN: Bill?

 

BILL: …Thank you. Why is this mandatory? I have been looking forward to watching Benson all week.

 

DEBRA: And the President’s son is hosting SNL tomorrow night, for some reason.

 

(Spencer stands up)

 

SPENCER: It’s mandatory because this place has been like a cancer hospital recently. (Everyone murmurs) Oh. Sorry, Garret. I didn’t mean to say that. (Garret, an older bald man, wipes tears away from his eyes) We’re all pulling for Janet, you know that. Um. Not a cancer hospital! This place has been like a…heart attack…nurse’s office. We need a little fun, is all.

 

BRIAN: Mandatory fun.

 

BILL: Don’t you have a partnership stake in Annex, Brian?

 

BRIAN: MEETING DISMISSED!

 

(Cut to an establishing shot of Five-Alarm Cabaret that evening)

 

NINA: (OS) Nina Bonaccorsi. Five-Alarm Cabaret, 20 West 37th Street in Manhattan. February 7th, 1986. (Cut to the dressing room at Five-Alarm Cabaret. Nina is doing her makeup in the mirror, alongside five other strippers doing the same) The dressing room is the one place in the whole building where we can be left alone. Unless Hunter comes in, but usually he stays in his office reading girlie magazines like they’re Hemingway novels. It’s fuckin’ ridiculous. This is the place where we get a moment of goddamn peace, away from the rabid animals that await us on the stage.

 

EMILY: That fucking creep Doll-face is out there again.

 

NINA: Why the fuck’s he called “doll-face”?

 

RUTH: Because its what he calls everyone. Even Hunter.

 

NINA: Is he bisexual or something?

 

EMILY: No, he’s just blind.

 

NINA: Oh. So, this is kinda mean.

 

EMILY: Eh, he’s a creep.

 

NINA: (OS) The gossip flowed freely in this room, whether it was about the girls, or the voracious monsters outside, or Hunter, or celebrities like Jodie Foster, Matthew Broderick, that Anthony Michael Hall kid, that Trump asshole. But tonight, the gossip veered uncomfortably in my direction.

 

RUTH: I feel so jealous of you, Nina. (Ruth puts down her makeup and starts digging through her purse) I need to start moonlighting too, because this place is gonna drive me fucking crazy.

 

(Nina starts touching up her face)

 

NINA: Who says I’m moonlighting?

 

EMILY: Everyone knows, girl. You think there’s no overlap between Annex and Five-Alarm customers?

 

(Nina turns to Emily)

 

NINA: So what, I moonlight at Annex. What’s the big deal?

 

EMILY: Not a big deal, at all. That Lindsay guy is pretty cute.

 

NINA: He’s taken.

 

(Ruth takes a canteen out of her purse)

 

RUTH: I thought he was a fag?

 

(Ruth takes a swig of her canteen)

 

NINA: What?!

 

(Emily turns to both of them)

 

EMILY: I heard the same thing! Something about a fling with a co-worker of his in the late 70s.

 

NINA: You’re kidding!

 

RUTH: I heard exactly what she heard.

 

NINA: But he has a girlfriend!

 

RUTH: Could be- what’s it called? Bisexual?

 

NINA: I just don’t think so, he doesn’t seem like the type.

 

EMILY: Neither did my ex-husband.

 

(Emily winks and leaves the dressing room)

 

RUTH: Sorry for ruining your hopes, babe.

 

NINA: No, it’s not like that-

 

(Ruth walks out on stage. Nina sighs heavily)

 

NINA: (OS) It wasn’t like that. I have a beau, of sorts. Even if he is a fat child masquerading as a man. But, still, this gossip was too juicy to pass up. Lindsay having an affair with a man? OH. MY. GOD. (Nina beams and squeals) NO! (Nina goes serious) I can’t spread this around, he’s my friend. I have to at least confirm it first. Put my detective hat on. (Nina puts a latex breast cup on her head) Wait. That’s not a detective hat, that’s a fake tit. (Nina throws it off) I better get out there.

 

(Nina walks out of the dressing room. Cut to Annex. Lindsay is at the bar, speaking with Winslow)

 

LINDSAY: If you REALLY want to live up to your “DJ Aquarius” name, you gotta dress like a fish.

 

WINSLOW: A fish?!

 

LINDSAY: Yeah. Aquarius, aqua, you get it.

 

WINSLOW: I don’t know if I want to-

 

(Jack walks over and slaps a fish costume on the bar)

 

JACK: …He made me buy it, I’m so sorry.

 

(Winslow lifts up one of the fins, looking at the costume with trepidation. Nina walks over)

 

NINA: Anyone want a drink?

 

WINSLOW: Yes, please.

 

LINDSAY: Nonsense! Go change, man. Hey! You’re doing a great job.

 

(Lindsay slaps Winslow’s back, and Winslow walks away, taking the costume with him)

 

NINA: You want anything, Lindsay?

 

LINDSAY: Yeah, I’ll take a whiskey neat.

 

NINA: Great. Jack, can you make that for Lindsay?

 

JACK: Sure thing.

 

(Jack gets started on making a whiskey neat, as Nina slides over to Lindsay)

 

NINA: Hey, so, you remember the 70s?

 

(Lindsay takes out a cigarette and lights it)

 

LINDSAY: Barely. Why?

 

(Lindsay exhales smoke and puts his lighter away)

 

NINA: I was just thinking about it today, I miss the 70s.

 

LINDSAY: Which part? Watergate? Vietnam? Heroin? Kent State? The Pinochet coup? Son of Sam? Disco, for Christ’s sake?!

 

NINA: Okay! I get it! But, like, there were good parts about it. Especially the late 70s, you know?

 

(Jack hands Lindsay the whiskey)

 

JACK: Anything else, Nina?

 

NINA: Yeah, we need new coasters, see if you can order some.

 

JACK: Yes, ma’am.

 

(Jack walks away)

 

LINDSAY: Why is he acting like he’s YOUR barback?!

 

NINA: Where’d you work in the late 70s?!

 

(Lindsay furrows his brow, taken aback)

 

LINDSAY: Uh, I worked at this place in the Village called Billiards, with a Z. Lame-ass dive bar.

 

(Nina nods)

 

NINA: Thank you.

 

LINDSAY: Go relieve Jack of his duties.

 

NINA: Yes, sir.

 

(Nina walks away. Savannah walks over to the bar, and mounts the seat right beside Lindsay)

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) I figured right now was as good a time as any to bring up the elephant in the room, visa vi, my employment situation.

 

SAVANNAH: Heyyyy, Lindsay.

 

LINDSAY: I can’t hire you, Savannah.

 

SAVANNAH: WHY NOT?!

 

LINDSAY: We can barely afford to pay the new barback, the new DJ and the mob tithe. I mean. There is no mob. I mean, the security we pay for, provided by a group of Italian American men, who, uh, rarely show up for work.
 

(Lindsay clears his throat)

 

SAVANNAH: Ugh. The hell am I gonna do, then?! My own boyfriend won’t even hire me.

 

(The camera pans over to Bertha, who’s enjoying a screwdriver at the far end of the bar)

 

BERTHA: Maybe I can put in a good for you at my job.

 

SAVANNAH: What’s your job?

 

BERTHA: It’s a Botanical Garden in Brooklyn. It doesn’t pay much, but the hours are flexible, and it’s a fun place to work.

 

SAVANNAH: That’s perfect! I love nature, and I like talking to old people, who love botanical gardens.

 

BERTHA: You’d be in Heaven here, girl. A lot of old people work there!

 

SAVANNAH: Perfect! Mind if we check it out?

 

BERTHA: Definitely. (Bertha gets up and slaps a few bucks on the counter) Do you mind changing?

 

(Savannah gets up)

 

SAVANNAH: Changing? Into what?

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) I was about to find out what kind of uniform was typical at this botanical garden.

 

(Cut to Bertha and Savannah walking into a beautiful botanical garden, brimming with color and unique and towering plants and flowers of all kinds. But Bertha is completely naked, as are the other employees- which are mostly old white men and women, along with a few middle-aged and younger men and women, watering and tending to flowers and plants. Savannah looks very uncomfortable)

 

BERTHA: As you can see, we have hydrangeas, Venus fly traps, and these Moth Orchids!

 

(Bertha stops by an orchid plant, leans over and takes a deep inhale. Savannah averts her eyes from Bertha’s bare ass)

 

SAVANNAH: Bertha, a word?

 

(Bertha turns around)

 

BERTHA: Yes, Savannah?

 

SAVANNAH: You walked into the lobby, you immediately disrobed and led me back here. You think maybe you should’ve explained what the fuck is going on here?!

 

BERTHA: Oh, sorry, it’s a nudist-run Botanical Garden.

 

SAVANNAH: You’re a nudist?

 

BERTHA: I am now! It feels so liberating to let go of all self-consciousness and just BE.

 

(Bertha gets on her tiptoes, closes her eyes and breathes deep. Savannah just stands there, staring. A naked old man walks over)

 

NAKED OLD MAN: We teach that-

 

(Savannah jumps away from him)

 

SAVANNAH: OH, FUCK!

 

(Bertha opens her eyes)

 

BERTHA: Please, Savannah, it’s just Walter.

 

WALTER: Hi, I’m Walter.

 

(Walter extends his hand)

 

SAVANNAH: I’m good, Walter, thanks. (Savannah turns to Bertha) I don’t wanna work naked, Bertha.

 

BERTHA: Oh, please, Savannah, nudity is not a requirement of working here.

 

SAVANNAH: I think the problem is that it’s not completely disallowed. That’s my issue.

 

(Bertha shrugs)

 

BERTHA: What do you want to do, then?

 

SAVANNAH: What about the… (Savannah turns to Walter, who’s just staring) Walter, go away.

 

(Walter nods)

 

WALTER: Sure thing, then.

 

(Walter walks away)

 

SAVANNAH: What about the maid service you used to work for?

 

(Bertha throws her hands up)

 

BERTHA: I guess if you’re not ready to be liberated, that’s your choice. Here’s their number.  (Bertha pats around her naked body) Where is that number?

 

SAVANNAH: Wouldn’t it be in your clothes or your purse, inside?

 

BERTHA: No, I have it on my person, somewhere.

 

SAVANNAH: You know what. Just leave a message on my machine. (Savannah goes to leave, but then turns back) By the way, you have a great rack.

 

BERTHA: (Genuinely touched) Aw, thanks!

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) I just couldn’t leave without pointing that out.

 

(Savannah nods and departs. Cut to the exterior of Annex)

 

BRIAN: (OS) Brian Sarandon. Annex night club, 200 East 32nd street, Manhattan, New York city, New York. February 8th, 1986.

 

(Cut to the interior of Annex. Everyone from the All-Hands meeting at Sarandon S&L is there, drinking, conversing, dressed in suits and ties. Jack is hard at work, making drinks. Lindsay is speaking with Bill and Nicholas, a middle-aged dad in a tan suit)

 

NICHOLAS: You know, it’s not just the fancy towers they’re building, I read in the times that the sewage treatment plant they opened in Manhattan last year is the real sign of the city’s construction boom.

 

BILL: It’s a great time to be a New Yorker. That World Trade center used to look ghastly, now I love it.

 

(Lindsay rubs his temples furiously)

 

NICHOLAS: They’re building a new water tunnel, too, should be up and running by the 90s.

 

(Brian walks by, and Lindsay pulls him aside)

 

LINDSAY: Brian, a word?

 

BRIAN: Sure?

 

BILL: Nice meeting you again, Mr. Royce.

 

(Lindsay and Brian sit down at the bar)

 

BRIAN: (OS) Usually, when Lindsay pulled me aside for a “word”, he’d tell me that my fly was down, or that I had said something racially insensitive. So, I was nervous. But it was neither of these things.

 

BRIAN: What’s up?

 

LINDSAY: Look around.

 

(Brian looks around)

 

BRIAN: What? Is JFK Jr. here?? You know, I thought I saw him at a Dunkin’ Donuts the other day?

 

LINDSAY: No, the clientele here looks like they just funneled out of a Jerry Falwell Q&A. This is totally against brand for our club, and the appraiser from O’Halleran is gonna notice!

 

BRIAN: Shit. You’re right. But what can we do about it?

 

(Lindsay looks around)

 

BRIAN: (OS) I was excited that he was coming up with the idea, because I was a little too tipsy to be doing much thinkin’.

 

LINDSAY: Maybe we can make this into a theme party…

 

BRIAN: In the MDIDLE of the party?

 

(Lindsay takes out his wallet and fishes out a couple of twenties)

 

LINDSAY: Go buy them some clothes from down the street. We’ll tell them it’s an 80s party.

 

BRIAN: It IS the 80s!

 

LINDSAY: Well, they can’t all be dressed like hippies! Just GO, alright?!

 

(Lindsay hands him the cash, but Brian waves it off and takes out his credit card)

 

BRIAN: Thanks, but I’ve got this.

 

(Brian walks away. Lindsay rolls his eyes and stuffs his cash back in his wallet. Cut to a sleek, fashionable clothes store for club rats called “Vested Interest”. Brian scoops jean vests, acid wash jeans, fingerless gloves, big sweaters, waist-high jeans, white sneakers, leather jackets, etc. As he crowds past a handsome man walking by, Brian turns around and points at him)

 

BRIAN: ARE YOU JFK JUNIOR?!?

 

(Cut to Brian piling all these clothes on the counter, being manned by a pierced, tattooed, gum-chewing twenty-something guy with curly red hair)

 

CASHIER: Sir, this isn’t a laundromat.

 

BRIAN: Very funny, you little shit, just ring me up.

 

(The cashier scans everything and calculates the cost as Brian waits)

 

CASHIER: That’s 1,350 bucks.

 

BRIAN: Damnit, I should’ve taken that cash. (Brian hands the cashier his credit card. Cut to Brian walking into Annex with a grocery cart full of clothes) ATTENTION, SARANDON S&L EMPLOYEES!

 

(Everybody turns toward Brian, including Lindsay, Bertha and Spencer at the bar, and Winslow at the DJ perch. He stops the music)

 

BRIAN: This party has just become THEMED!

 

LINDSAY: Where did you get that shopping cart?

 

BRIAN: Not important!

 

BRIAN: (OS) This guy was sleeping next to it, I figured he didn’t need it anymore. I let him keep the bottles!

 

(Brian winks)

 

SPENCER: What are you doing, Brian?

 

BRIAN: The party has a theme now! Here, dress up like burnout club rats, everyone gather around! (Brian throws a pair of acid wash jeans on Bill. It drapes over his head and knocks the drink out of his hand. He stands eerily still) Go ahead! Don’t all come up at once!
 

(Brian chuckles nervously. Gayle bursts out of the men’s room and looks at the grocery cart full of clothes)

 

GAYLE: Oh, SHIT! New clothes?! GIVE ME SOME!

 

(Gayle sniffs loudly, and then dives into the cart, digging through the clothes like a mole. Brian backs away from her)

 

BRIAN: Alright, take your time, then. But I don’t want to see one clothed knee within an hours’ time!

 

(Brian smirks awkwardly as he walks back to the bar. Everyone returns to their business, and Winslow puts The Human League back on. Brian sits next to Lindsay, dejected. Lindsay takes a drag of his cigarette and pats Brian on the back)

 

LINDSAY: Honestly, that’s my bad. I don’t know why I thought people would go along with that.

 

BRIAN: Can you please give me 1,350 dollars?

 

LINDSAY: No, Brian. No, I can’t.

 

(Brian sighs and rubs his eyes. Gayle runs over, wearing a pair of sunglasses, a Dead Kennedys t-shirt and a jean vest)

 

GAYLE: DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL LIKE THE AIR IS THICK WITH POSSIBILITIES?! (Gayle raises her hand) JACK! ONE GLASS OF AYAHUASCA, PLEASE!

 

BERTHA: Same here!

 

(Jack comes over)

 

JACK: Is that a brand of beer?

 

BRIAN: Everybody shut up, I have an idea. (Brian turns to Lindsay) Why don’t we let in our regulars, and just tell everyone they’re friends of mine from another firm?

 

(Lindsay stubs out his cig and beams)

 

LINDSAY: That’s brilliant! Go buy thirty suits!

 

BRIAN: YES, SIR!

 

(Brian takes out his credit card and runs away)

 

LINDSAY: Wait!

 

(Brian returns)

 

BRIAN: Yeah?

 

LINDSAY: They can’t be wearing suits because then the appraisers will-

 

BRIAN: Right, of course. Never mind, then.

 

BRIAN: (OS) I should really stop immediately doing whatever Lindsay says.

 

(Cut to an establishing shot of Billiardz, a dive bar in Greenwich Village)

 

NINA: (OS) Nina Bonaccorsi.  Billiardz, 100 7th Avenue south, Greenwich Village, Manhattan, New York City, New York. February 8th, 1986.

 

(We cut to Nina cutting through the crowd of bar patrons, and walking right up to the bartender- who is a middle-aged black dude with a goatee)

 

NINA: Excuse me-

 

BARTENDER: All the pool sticks are checked out, sorry.

 

NINA: (OS) People were obsessed with pool, here. I don’t know why.

 

NINA: No, that’s not what I’m asking about. Do you know someone named Lindsay Royce?

 

BARTENDER: Lindsay Royce…yeah, he worked here back in, ’76 or ’77. Only for a couple years.

 

NINA: But not in the late 70s?

 

BARTENDER: The late 70s? No. Last I heard he was working at a gay bar a few blocks over, called “HOT PEX”. That was back in ’79.

 

(Nina’s eyes widen)

 

NINA: (OS) Oh, my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

 

NINA: Oh, my GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

 

(Everyone stares at her. Nina looks around and quickly ushers herself out of the bar. Cut to an establishing shot of HOT PEX- an extremely gay bar with a blazing, bright neon sign reading “HOT PEX” and a blinking neon sign depicting the silhouette of a muscular, shirtless man slapping his own ass)

 

NINA: (OS) Nina Bonaccorsi. HOT PEX. 124 West Houston Street, Greenwich Village, Manhattan. Still February 8th, 1986.  

 

(Cut to inside the gay bar. There is a huge crowd of sweaty gay man dancing, and multiple shirtless gay strippers on platforms scattered throughout the club, while “YMCA” by the Village People blares. Nina is sitting at the bar, next to two gay men making out. Nina flags down the bartender, a muscular young man with rainbow suspenders and curly hair)

 

BARTENDER: YEAH?

 

NINA: HI! I’M NINA!

 

BARTENDER: WELL, HI THERE! LET ME TELL YOU, YOU’RE PROBABLY GONNA STRIKE OUT, HERE!

 

NINA: OH, THAT’S OKAY!

 

BARTENDER: ALTHOUGH NOT WITH ME!

 

(He winks)

 

NINA: YOU’RE NOT GAY?!

 

BARTENDER: PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE! YOU KNOW?

 

NINA: TOTALLY! (Nina smirks) LISTEN, DID SOMEONE NAMED LINDSAY ROYCE WORK HERE IN THE LATE SEVENTIES?!

 

BARTENDER: LINDSAY?! YEAH, I HOOKED UP WITH LINDSAY A COUPLE TIMES!

 

(Nina gasps and slaps the bar several times)

 

NINA: THANK YOU, GOD! (Nina takes the bartender in and kisses him on the mouth) GOD BLESS YOU!

 

(Nina runs away, as the bartender looks after her with stars in his eyes. Cut to Annex. Lindsay has his hand splayed out on the bar, using a knife to stab around the fingers as Bertha watches. Lindsay is smiling while eyeing Bertha)

 

LINDSAY: You see that shit?

 

BERTHA: Yeah.

 

LINDSAY: I’m four whiskeys in, and I’m doing this. I could do surgery, right now.

 

BERTHA: I’ve seen a few teenage girls giving birth in your bathrooms, you ever help them out, doctor?

 

LINDSAY: I’m not allowed in that room- wait, what’s going on?!

 

(Nina walks over)

 

NINA: Bertha, could you give us a minute?

 

BERTHA: Yes, please.

 

(Bertha walks away, and Nina takes her seat. Lindsay puts his switchblade away)

 

LINDSAY: What’s up?

 

NINA: I have something to ask you.

 

(Bill and skinny Frank sit at the bar, a few seats down from Nina and Lindsay)

 

LINDSAY: Did Savannah put you up to this? I can’t hire anyone else!

 

NINA: (OS) People keep jumping to conclusions today.

 

NINA: No, I just want to ask- I heard a rumor that you’re gay.

 

(Lindsay squints)

 

LINDSAY: What the hell are you talking about? From who!?

 

NINA: Doesn’t matter, but I did some investigating, and I found this guy at HOT PEX in the village, you know, where you used to work- (Lindsay recoils) and he says that he hooked up with you!

 

LINDSAY: First of all, keep your voice down!
 

(Bill looks  behind his shoulder, at the two of them. Nina looks around)

 

NINA: Sorry. (Bill and Frank walk away, and Nina shakes Lindsay by grasping his torso) So is it true, is it true, is it true-

 

LINDSAY: NO! It’s not true! For Christ’s sake, I never even worked at Hot Pex!

 

NINA: This guy says you did!

 

LINDSAY: There was a stripper at Hot Pex with my same name! Some broad from Jersey!

 

NINA: What?! (Nina deflates) Was it Lindsay with an “E”?

 

LINDSAY: Yes! Half the people who wondered into the Uranus Room would point it out to me! “Oh, there’s a stripper with your same name at Hot Bazongas”!

 

NINA: (OS) Hot Bazongas?

 

NINA: Hot Bazongas?!

 

LINDSAY: Yeah, it used to be a regular strip club, not a gay bar.

 

(Nina sighs)

 

NINA: Well. That dude did imply he was bi.

 

NINA: (OS) Don’t think he was bi for me, though, he wasn’t giving off that vibe.

 

LINDSAY: See! This is what we told you about spreading rumors! What if someone overheard that?!

 

(Nina nods her head)

 

NINA: You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s something I need to work on.

 

LINDSAY: Luckily, I don’t think anybody DID hear it.

 

NINA: (OS) Neither did I. Little did I know…

 

(Pan way over to Spencer sitting at a booth, smoking a cigarette, nursing a rum and speaking with Erica, who has a beer in front of her and is crossing her arms)

 

SPENCER: You know, you’ve always been my favorite. You don’t take shit from anyone.

 

ERICA: Yeah, that’s why I filed all those sexual harassment complaints.

 

SPENCER: And you were a good sport when we ignored ‘em! (Spencer grips Erica’s arm) THAT’S what I like about you!

 

(Erica pulls away from him, as Spencer downs his drink. Bill and Frank walk over)

 

FRANK: Mind if we join the party? (Frank “roars” like a tiger as he gawks at Erica) Come on, Erica, loosen up!

 

(Erica scoots out of the booth)

 

ERICA: I’m gonna murder all of you, someday.

 

(Frank and Bill laugh aloud, as Erica walks away as they sit down across from Spencer)

 

FRAK: Guess what we just heard?

 

SPENCER: Did Kissinger die?!

 

FRANK: No! Thank God. (Spencer takes a deep breath of relief) Although, you have to imagine it could be any day now.

 

SPENCER: Probably.

 

BILL: Really? He’s only like, 60 or something.

 

FRANK: Anyway, we overheard some broad talking to Lindsay- the club owner?

 

SPENCER: Uh-huh.

 

FRANK: She said that Lindsay had SEX with a guy.

 

SPENCER: What?!

 

BILL: And he told her to “keep her voice down”.

 

(Spencer recoils)

 

SPENCER: Disgusting. (Spencer looks over at Lindsay, who’s helping Jack make drinks for the patrons- some S&L employees, others club rats) Lindsay’s a fag?! I thought he had a girlfriend!

 

FRANK: So what?! That ass pirate Elton John is married!

 

(Spencer shakes his head, with disgust)

 

SPENCER: There’s no chance we’re in a gay bar, right now?

 

BILL: Is a gay bar any bar with a gay in it?

 

FRANK: Look up the definition!

 

(Spencer stands up)

 

SPENCER: IS THERE A THESAURUS IN THE HOUSE??

 

(Cut to an establishing shot of an apartment building on the Upper West Side)

 

SAVANNAH: Savannah Scanlon. Fish Egg luxury apartments. 142 west 87th street. New York City, New York. February 8th, 1986.

 

(We find Savannah, wearing a maid’s outfit of an apron, hair tie and cheap white shoes, walking into a luxury penthouse apartment with a broom, dustpan and a basket of various cleaners. She’s greeted by a handsome young man in a suit with dark hair, thick eyebrows and a winning smile)

 

MAN: Welcome.

 

SAVANNAH: Hi, nice to meet you. (The man closes the door) Martin, correct?

 

MARTIN: Yes. Savannah?

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah, it’s Savannah. Has anyone ever told you that you look like JFK Junior?

 

MARTIN: Oh, please, you flatter me too much. Do you want a drink?

 

(Martin walks toward the kitchen)

 

SAVANNAH: A drink?

 

MARTIN: Yeah. Just, before we get started.

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) Before we get started doing WHAT?

 

(Savannah’s eyes go wide)

 

SAVANNAH: …Sure…

 

(Martin gives a thumbs-up and heads into the kitchen)

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) I didn’t know what else to say! I suspect that he thinks this is a covert prostitution service! (Savannah looks around) And from the looks of it, he’d pay top dollar. (Savannah looks toward the kitchen, as Martin pours a drink) Lindsay and I have an open relationship, and this guy bears an uncanny resemblance to John Kennedy Junior.

 

(Martin comes back with two champagne flutes, and hands her one)

 

MARTIN: Cheers.

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) Is this really happening?!

 

SAVANNAH: Sorry, I don’t drink.

 

MARTIN: …I guess we’ll cut to the chase, then.

 

(Martin puts his drink aside and starts making out with Savannah. Cut to Savannah and Martin in the dark of his bedroom, fucking. Martin is on top, sweat dripping from his brow)

 

SAVANNAH: …Oh, oh…OH! …Ask me what I can do for my country-

 

MARTIN: What?!

 

SAVANNAH: Nothing- OH!

 

(Cut to Savannah picking up a thousand bucks from the dresser. She flips through it, with stars in her eyes, as Martin gets dressed in the background)

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) It was the most money I’d ever seen in one place, amazingly.

 

MARTIN: Hey, I had a great time.

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah, me too.

 

MARTIN: I’m not a Kennedy by the way.

 

SAVANNAH: No, I know.

 

(Cut to a heavyset man with a bald head, clothed in a robe, opening the front door of his upscale apartment to see Savannah, with her maid outfit and gear. She scrunches up her face as she takes in the man’s homeliness)

 

UGLY MAN: Hello, hello. Care for a glass of chocolate milk?

 

(Savannah shakes her head “no” rapidly)

 

SAVANNAH: I think I’ll just get started.

 

(Savannah brushes past the man)

 

UGLY MAN: Oh, really now?

 

(Savannah walks over to the dining room and starts sweeping. She smiles as she brushes dirt into a dustpan. The ugly man frowns)

 

SAVANNAH: Shouldn’t take too long!

 

(The man groans and walks into his bedroom. Cut to a run-down office building in the East Bronx)

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) Savannah Scanlon. Ramirez Maid Service. 3245 Tenbroeck Avenue, East Bronx, New York City, New York. February 8th, 1986.

 

(Cut to Savannah sitting down in front of a chubby Puerto Rican man with a comb-over in a disorganized, run-down office. The man rests his elbows on the desk and leans forward)

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) I had a feeling I was in trouble, here. Mr. Ramirez looked like he found out about my activities with some of the customers. I felt like I may have blown this, so far, very lucrative gig.

 

MR. RAMIREZ: Savannah, we should talk.

 

SAVANNAH: Go right ahead, sir, I’m all ears.

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) Goddamn, what a stupid thing to say.

 

MR. RAMIREZ: Some customers have been complaining that you’ve been withholding sex.

 

(Savannah squints)

 

SAVANNAH: …Withholding sex?

 

MR. RAMIREZ: Yes. They feel like they’re not getting what they paid for.

 

SAVANNAH: I cleaned their houses, that’s what they paid for!

 

MR. RAMIREZ: Right, but they’ve heard about their friends getting sex, and so they’re wondering why they’re not getting sex.

 

SAVANNAH: Mr. Ramirez, are you running an escort service?

 

MR. RAMIREZ: No, but, if you give one student a cookie, the rest of the students are gonna wonder why they didn’t get a cookie. So. I’m gonna have to let you go.

 

SAVANNAH: Let me get this straight- you’re firing me, not because I slept with our clients, but because I didn’t sleep with ALL of them?

 

MR. RAMIREZ: That’s correct.

 

SAVANNAH: Even though you are NOT running an escort service?

 

MR. RAMIREZ: Uh-huh. (Savannah runs her tongue along her cheek and shakes her head. She stands up and quietly walks out of the room) REMEMBER TO CHANGE BEFORE YOU GO!

 

(Cut to fat Frank, Bill and a skinny, shaved head tweaker in a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt and a worn jean jacket, speaking at a booth in the corner. The tweaker is scratching his face furiously and toying with the buttons on his jacket obsessively. Fat Frank downs a drink)

 

FAT FRANK: So, I’ve been dealing with sleep apnea recently, sometimes I stop breathing for seconds at a time in my sleep. I wake up, I feel like I’ve gotten a few hours at most of restful sleep, it’s pretty bad.

 

BILL: Yeah, I read about that in a medical journal-

 

TWEAKER: I haven’t slept in five days. (They both stare at the Tweaker) Every time I do, these spiders CRAWL through my skin, chanting in their tiny little voices, “WAKE UP! WAKE UP, YOU CUNT! WE HAVE MORE SECRETS TO TELL YOU, WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

 

(The Tweaker hyperventilates as he grips the table in a panic. Bill and fat Frank are at a loss for words)

 

FAT FRANK: …What firm are you from?

 

(The tweaker calms a bit and takes a gulp)

 

TWEAKER: …Lincoln Savings and Loan…

 

BILL: That makes sense, actually.

 

FAT FRANK: Yeah, definitely.

 

(We pan away from them and cut over to Lindsay and Brian at the bar, with a man in a tweed jacket, mustache and clipboard)

 

APPRAISER: I have to say, I like the eclectic mix of people you have here.

 

BRIAN: Right? We got Wall Street and Skid Row. It’s a perfect revenue base.

 

(Lindsay turns to Jack)

 

LINDSAY: Another round for our friend here!
 

JACK: Yes, sir.

 

(Jack starts making a drink)

 

APPRAISER: Actually, I’ve seen enough. I have to say, I’m impressed. (The appraiser stands up and shakes Lindsay’s hand) I’ll let the people at O’Halleran know about my findings.

 

BRIAN: Thanks, Kent, stop by anytime. (Brian shakes Kent’s hand) You’re always welcome here.

 

(Kent smiles)

 

BRIAN: (OS) Thank God I got his name right, that was a total shot in the dark.

 

KENT: Thanks.

 

(Kent leaves, and Lindsay and Brian high-five)

 

LINDSAY: FUCK, YES!

 

(Brian flashes middle fingers)

 

BRIAN: SUCK MY DICK, BRENT!

 

(Jack walks over with the beer)

 

JACK: Where did Brent go?

 

BRIAN: Fuck, was his name Brent?!

 

JACK: I mean, Kent.

 

LINDSAY: FUCK, Jack, don’t scare us like that again!

 

(Cut to Lindsay and Gayle in Annex’s bathroom. Gayle is wearing the club rat clothes Brian brought. We can hear two people fucking in the stall behind them, in fact, we can see two legs with pants wrapped around them and a consistent shaking and moaning from the stall. A couple in the corner of the bathroom are sharing a crack pipe. Lindsay takes out a baggie of cocaine and flicks it)

 

GAYLE: Where’d you get it?

 

LINDSAY: I have contacts throughout the island. (Lindsay sets out a line on the bathroom counter and straightens it with a credit card) Guy in the park.

 

GAYLE: Got it.

 

(Lindsay hands Gayle the straw, and Gayle goes down and snorts the whole line. She sniffs several times and wiggles her head)

 

GAYLE: Oooooh, chug-a-chug, motherfuckers- FUCK!
 

(Gayle slaps the counter hard, causing a crack to form)

 

LINDSAY: JESUS CHRIST! Would you relax?!

 

(Lindsay sets out a line of coke and snorts it- right as Spencer walks in)

 

SPENCER: What the hell!?

 

(Lindsay comes up and wipes his nose and stands nervously, trying to block Gayle)

 

LINDSAY: Uh, uh- Mr. Sarandon, what’s going on? You wanna take a shit?

 

MAN IN THE STALL: Uuuuuuuughhhhh!!!

 

(Spencer’s nostrils flare and his knuckles go white)

 

SPENCER: WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, HERE?!

 

DUDE SMOKING WEED: What are you, some kinda narc?

 

(Brian walks over)

 

BRIAN: Dad, what’s going on- oh.

 

(Gayle peeks out from behind Lindsay)

 

GAYLE: What’s up, boss.

 

(Lindsay pushes her behind him)

 

SPENCER: Is this the kind of DEN of INIQUITY you’re running here?!

 

BRIAN: Not at all-

 

LINDSAY: Pretty much.

 

SPENCER: That’s it! (Spencer turns to the rest of the club) IF YOU WORK FOR SARANDON S&L, IT’S TIME TO GO!

 

(Groans of disappointment from the crowd)

 

MAN IN THE STALL: Does that include me, Spencer?

 

SPENCER: Yes, Frank, come on.

 

(We can hear Frank zipping up, as he walks out of the stall, where a ratty-looking blonde biker chick is sitting on the toilet and smoking a cigarette. Frank pats Lindsay on the back)

 

FRANK: Thanks for having me, man.

 

LINDSAY: You’re welcome.

 

(Frank leaves the bathroom, and joins the mass of employees funneling out of the club)

 

BRIAN: (To Spencer) You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, you know that?!

 

SPENCER: WATCH YOURSELF, SON!

 

BRIAN: Like you haven’t been in a THOUSAND bathrooms like this, sharing drugs with drug-addled sluts like Gayle?! No offense, Gayle!

 

(Gayle puts her hand up)

 

GAYLE: None taken.

 

SPENCER: Gayle, get the FUCK out of here! (Gayle holds her hands up and walks out of the bathroom. Spencer turns toward Brian with fire in his eyes and pokes his finger into his chest) You’re lucky I’m in a fantastic mood, you little shit. Otherwise, you’d be out of a fucking job. And all you’d have left is running a weirdo night club with this- (Spencer points at Lindsay) fairy!

 

LINDSAY: Fairy?!

 

SPENCER: That’s right, I’ve heard all about your perverted escapades, Royce. (To Brian) Try not to get AIDs, I don’t want you to bring it back to the office.

 

(Spencer walks away from Brian, who is dumbstruck. He looks over at Lindsay)

 

LINDSAY: …Fucking Nina…

 

(Cut to Brian and Lindsay sitting on lawn chairs on the roof of Annex. Lindsay is looking at the night sky through a telescope)

 

BRIAN: See anything?

 

LINDSAY: Nah. (Lindsay hands Brian the binoculars) You sure it wasn’t the 9th?

 

BRIAN: Yeah, but that’s a Sunday, who wants to party on a Sunday night? (Brian looks through the binoculars. Lindsay lights himself a cigarette) I’ll be 100 when Halley’s comet comes around again.

 

(Lindsay exhales smoke)

 

LINDSAY: The way we live, we’ll be lucky to make it to, I don’t know, the next time they try to launch a space shuttle.

 

(Brian puts the binoculars down)

 

BRIAN: …I keep trying to make things normal with my dad, I just can’t do it.

 

LINDSAY: You have to just cut it off. Clean break.

 

BRIAN: I need that income from Sarandon S&L though, it’s my lifeline. Plus, knowing my dad, if I quit, he’d try to get in the ears of O’Halleran and fuck us over.

 

LINDSAY: This is the piece of shit you want to impress?

 

(Brian sighs)

 

BRIAN: …Evidently. (Brian picks up a bottle of whiskey from the ground and takes a swig, then puts it down) …I should make a call. Be right back.

 

LINDSAY: Alright.

 

(Brian gets up and walks away. Lindsay picks up the bottle of whiskey and takes a swig. Brian walks past Nina and Savannah as they emerge from the door leading down into the building. Lindsay turns around and waves as they walk over)

 

SAVANNAH: So, this is where you’ve been.

 

(Lindsay stands up and kisses Savannah)

 

LINDSAY: What about you, has your maid career gone well? Hi, Nina.

 

SAVANNAH: It went alright.

 

NINA: Hi, Lindsay.

 

(Lindsay sits down)

 

LINDSAY: Nina, guess what?

 

NINA: What?

 

LINDSAY: Your rumor made its way into Spencer Sarandon’s hairy, liver-spotted ear canal.

 

NINA: NO!

 

LINDSAY: Now he might try to sabotage our chances with O’Halleran because he thinks I’m a homo.

 

NINA: Oh my GOD! (Nina gets on her knees) Lindsay, I’m so sorry!

 

SAVANNAH: I’ve heard those rumors for months, now.

 

(Nina gets up)

 

NINA: See?! She heard them too!

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah, but I didn’t  spread them!

 

(Nina gets on her knees)

 

NINA: Lindsay, what can I do to make it up to you!? Maybe I could- I don’t know, print posters that read “LINDSAY ROYCE IS NOT GAY” and put them up around the city, maybe?!

 

LINDSAY: Yeah, that’d really quiet things down- get up! You don’t have to do anything, you didn’t mean it.

 

(Nina gets up and sits on the other lawn chair)

 

NINA: Thank God…

 

(Savannah clears her throat)

 

SAVANNAH: Nina, do you mind?

 

(Nina scoffs)

 

NINA: Sorry, I didn’t know you needed “lover time”.

 

(Nina gets up and walks away, to the edge of the building, where she looks at the city skyline. Savannah sits down)

 

LINDSAY: How’d it go?

 

(Savannah smirks)

 

SAVANNAH: I got fired.

 

(Savannah starts laughing. Lindsay laughs along, albeit with confusion)

 

LINDSAY: What happened?

 

SAVANNAH: These guys I cleaned for, they thought I was a prostitute. (Lindsay laughs) But they were offering pretty good money, so I went for it with some of them, but-

 

(Lindsay deflates)

 

LINDSAY: Wait, what?

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah, but, some of them were serious uggos, and I didn’t want to-

 

LINDSAY: What the fuck are you saying- you fucked some of these people?!

 

SAVANNAH: Yeah?

 

LINDSAY: Why are you telling me this?!

 

SAVANNAH: I thought we had an open relationship?!

 

LINDSAY: SINCE WHEN?!

 

(Bertha emerges from the door leading into the building)

 

BERTHA: I was wondering where you guys went.

 

SAVANNAH: (OS) Bertha always had impeccable timing.

 

(Bertha goes over and leans against the concrete railing and observes the city skyline as well)

 

SAVANNAH: I thought we agreed to that right off, I don’t know, maybe I misinterpreted?!

 

LINDSAY: YEAH! OBVIOUSLY, YOU DID!
 

(Lindsay turns away from her, sits back and stares forward. Savannah sits back and stares forward, mortified)

 

SAVANNAH: I-I’m really sorry, Lindsay…I would’ve never if I’d known…

 

LINDSAY: Just. Stop talking.

 

(Lindsay takes a giant swig of his whiskey bottle. Bertha walks over)

 

BERTHA: By the way, Savannah, I heard you got fired- just know, that the job at the garden is still open, and remember, you don’t have to work naked, if you don’t want to.

 

(Lindsay and Savannah both recoil)

 

SAVANNAH: Yes. Thank you, for the heads-up, Bertha. Thanks.

 

(Bertha gives her a thumbs-up, and walks off, as Lindsay desperately sucks on his cigarette. Cut to Brian using the telephone at the bar. Jack is serving the remaining club rat patrons in the background)

 

BRIAN: (OS) And there I was, groveling again. Or is graveling?

 

BRIAN: I’m sorry for blowing up at you, dad. It was a stressful moment.

 

(Cut to Spencer sitting in his office, tie loosened, ashtray full of cigarettes, half-empty bottle of vodka on the desk. Intercut between Brian & Spencer)

 

SPENCER: Hey, we all snap sometimes. Remember all the secretaries who’ve run out of here crying?

 

BRIAN: Including that one who was never seen again?

 

SPENCER: Yeah, exactly.

 

(Brian nods)

 

BRIAN: I remember. How can I make it up to you?

 

SPENCER: Well. (Spencer takes out a glass and pours himself a vodka) I was thinking. The best way to prevent Loveman from taking Annex, in my mind, is to beat his offer.

 

BRIAN: We can’t afford to beat his offer, dad.

 

SPENCER: You can’t. But I can.

 

(Brian furrows his brow)

 

BRIAN: What are you saying?

 

SPENCER: You and I can buy Annex. And remember! I like my night clubs like I like my yogurt. No fruits.

 

BRIAN: But those are the best kinds of yogurts- wait, you’re asking me to stab Lindsay in the back!?! You realize we live together?!

 

SPENCER: Yeah, I was wondering about that. You lock your door at night, right?

 

BRIAN: (OS) It was at this moment, I realized, this man was never going to change. I mean, how could he? I’m never going to change, so why would an even worse version of me change? I knew what I had to do.

 

BRIAN: You know what, dad. I would never ask you to betray your best friend. IF YOU HAD ONE.

 

SPENCER: You little shit.

 

BRIAN: Go fuck yourself. (Brian hangs up. He takes a deep breath. Jack walks over and pats him on the shoulder as he walks by. Brian regards him with a nod. Cut to Lindsay leaned against the concrete barrier on the roof, and staring into the NYC skyline, next to Bertha and Nina. Savannah is lying on the lawn chair with her eyes closed. Brian emerges from the door to the roof and walks over to Lindsay) I just told my old man to go fuck himself.

 

(Everyone perks up, and Lindsay and Nina pat Brian on the back)

 

NINA: Look at you!

 

LINDSAY: That’s my man. NOT- like, “my man”- you know what I mean.

 

(Savannah sits up, opening her eyes)

 

SAVANNAH: Bravo, Brian.

 

BRIAN: He still thinks your gay, Lindsay.

 

LINDSAY: Naturally.

 

BRIAN: He offered to buy Annex himself, with me as a partner. Cut you out of it.

 

LINDSAY: That son of a bitch.

 

BRIAN: He’s gonna try to do it without me. We gotta figure out how to stop him.

 

(Lindsay smirks)

 

BRIAN: (OS) It was at this point, that I saw the kind of glint in Lindsay’s eye that I knew means he came up with something truly inspired. And I don’t mean, “go buy a bunch of suits with your credit card for no reason” kind of inspired.

 

LINDSAY: You know, Nina, I think I just came up with a way for you to make it up to me.

 

(Nina gives Lindsay an inquisitive look)

 

NINA: (OS) I didn’t like the look in Lindsay’s eyes at this point.

 

(Cut to Five-Alarm Cabaret. Nina is in the dressing room, applying her makeup alongside Ruth and Emily once again)

 

EMILY: You know, I saw your friend Lindsay out there. He’s sitting with Brian.

 

RUTH: Ooh, you think they’re an item?

 

NINA: Yeah, Ruth, Brian’s totally gay. That’s why he spent half of 1985 coming here.

 

RUTH: You never know!

 

NINA: Lindsay’s not gay, turns out there’s a chick named Lindsey Royce and people got confused. But you know what I did hear about him?

 

EMILY: What’s that?

 

NINA: He’s packing heat. The Soviets can only dream of building a missile as- (Nina turns away from them and rolls her eyes) long and powerful…

 

RUTH: Ooooh! Where’d you hear this?

 

(Ruth, Nina and Emily finish up and start walking out on stage)

 

NINA: His girlfriend. She also says his balls could conceive an army.

 

EMILY: Not sure why I’d want that, honestly.

 

(Nina shrugs, as she and her two friends start working the poles. Nina looks over at Lindsay and Brian in the far corner, where they have drinks at their sides and legal papers and blueprints splayed out in front of them. Nina winks at them, and they each raise a glass to her. As she works the pole, ravenous men throw bills at her, and we can see Brian and Lindsay in the distance, studying the papers, and sketching ideas onto scratch paper)

 

NINA: (OS) Now everyone’s gonna think I wanna fuck Lindsay, what was the point of this.

 

(Brian stares forward as Nina slides down the pole upside down)

 

BRIAN: (OS) God, her ass is amazing.

 

(“All I Want” by Joni Mitchell comes in as we cut to credits)

 

DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF RUTH RICKARD, 1952-2020

 

THE END


Submitted: December 16, 2020

© Copyright 2021 NEONETWORK. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments: