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The slim and cool ARTHUR (26) skillfully weaves in and out of traffic on his bicycle. His ears are plugged with headphones. He mouths lyrics as he listens. INT. HALLWAY - DAY Arthur paces through an apartment building hallway with a ragged paper bag dangling in his hand. He comes to a stop in front of a door, pulls the headphones from his ears and knocks. There is no answer. He knocks again. No answer, again. Arthur waits in silence until, finally there comes the sound of the door unlocking from the inside. It is pulled open by the tall, broad and handsome SCOTT (27). In Scott’s free hand is a raw steak. ARTHUR Hey-Noticing that Scott’s left eye is bruised, he winces. They stare at one another until Arthur lifts the paper bag into sight with apologetic eyes. INT. SCOTT’S APARTMENT - DAY Arthur steps into a chic and modern apartment. Scott shuts the door and paces to the couch, where he takes a seat and presses the steak to his eye. SCOTT You know, I was going to eat this for dinner tonight, but I think it already served it’s purpose. Arthur sits at the other end of the couch and offers the paper bag to Scott.
2. SCOTT I always figured you’d punch like a bitch. ARTHUR My peace offering. Scott takes the bag and digs through it. SCOTT Isn’t it kind of early for you to be up on a Sunday? ARTHUR It’s like noon. SCOTT Exactly. Normally you’re not up until, what, one-thirty, two o’clock? ARTHUR Your text woke me up. Scott pulls a doughnut from the bag, observes it and bites. Chewing, SCOTT Good doughnut. A beat. ARTHUR So... I kind of remember hitting you, but I don’t remember why. SCOTT That makes sense. ARTHUR Huh? SCOTT You were drinking like you were on a mission last night... You ended up getting thrown out of the bar. Literally thrown. Jazzy Jeffed. ARTHUR Wait-- Tell me the whole story. Scott finishes another bite of the doughnut before sitting forward, preparing to tell a tale.
SCOTT Okay. There were these two girls at the bar. One of them, Melissa, was into me. Her friend, I don’t remember her name, kinda seemed into you. So we all got to talking. ARTHUR Yeah, I don’t remember any of that. SCOTT Eventually they asked us both what we did for a living, and by this point you were already too drunk to speak, so I spoke for you. Arthur smirks. ARTHUR What’d you go with this time? Scott goes for another bite of the doughnut. SCOTT I was a fashion designer and you were a writer. A beat. ARTHUR A writer? SCOTT I couldn’t think of anything good. ARTHUR So you should have just told them the truth. SCOTT That you’re in between jobs? A beat. ARTHUR Whatever-SCOTT Because girls don’t want to go home with unemployed dudes, Art. (pause) But anyway, your girl seemed a little more interested after I said
that, but you seemed to be more concerned with me. You were screaming. "I’m not a writer! I’m not a writer!"-ARTHUR Is that your impression of me?-SCOTT Yeah. Good, right? So, I tried to calm you down, but you weren’t having it. First you pushed me, I dropped my drink-- you owe me, and then you threw a temper tantrum and then this happened. Scott removes the steak from his eye, presenting the purple and black bruise to Scott. SCOTT So, thanks. ARTHUR Wow... A beat. SCOTT I think you’ve got some repressed anger in you, my friend. Arthur leans back. ARTHUR So, is that it? That’s all that happened? SCOTT That’s pretty much it, yeah. ARTHUR And what about the girls? Did I cockblock you? SCOTT Impossible. You cockblocked yourself. I still brought Melissa home. Played the injury card. She went and got me an icepack from Duane Reade. Sweet girl.
ARTHUR Yeah? That’s nice-SCOTT And then she gave me what could be the single best blowjob of my life. Arthur laughs. ARTHUR Oh, yeah. Sweet girl. SCOTT She’s still knocked out in my bedroom. ARTHUR Seriously? Clinger? SCOTT I don’t know. She’s too pretty to send home right away. A beat. ARTHUR Sorry about hitting you, though. SCOTT No worries. I can take a hit. He takes the last bite of the doughnut. SCOTT So, is it really that bad that I told them you’re a writer? ARTHUR You could have come up with something better. SCOTT I don’t get it. You just said you would have rather that I told them the truth, which I did. ARTHUR That’s not the truth, though. A beat.
SCOTT I thought you always wanted to be a screenwriter? You’re good. I mean, you were good in school, so you’re probably even better now, right? ARTHUR Hell if I know. SCOTT Well, have you ever thought about picking it up again? ARTHUR I’m 26, man. It’s too late for me to be starting a career. SCOTT Couldn’t hurt. It’s not like you have a career now. Arthur shakes his head. SCOTT Sorry... But, even if it’s just for fun? It’s never too late, you know? ARTHUR Alright, this is starting to sound a little too "after school special" for me. SCOTT You give up too easy. Wasn’t that your passion? Scott stands and walks to a table, where he sifts through stacks of magazines, envelopes and take-out menus. ARTHUR It was just a hobby. SCOTT Your major in college was just a hobby? ARTHUR It’s like... how far can you really go with a hobby? It’s cool for a while, and then--
SCOTT Well, there’s people who collect stamps, model airplanes-- you know, comic books and shit? ARTHUR Like the people on TLC in the middle of the day? SCOTT Yeah-ARTHUR All of those people are going to die alone. SCOTT Well, at least they’re on TV. ARTHUR I’ve got other things to worry about. Like rent. SCOTT Maybe if you stopped buying alcohol like prohibition was coming you wouldn’t have to worry about that. Scott finally finds what he’s looking for: a postcard. SCOTT You need me to float you some cash? A beat. Arthur stands. ARTHUR I swear it’d be the last time. SCOTT Yeah, yeah. You’ll pay me back one day. Scott paces back to Arthur. SCOTT And in return for keeping you off the streets... He hands the postcard to Arthur.
ARTHUR What is this? SCOTT I can’t go alone. Arthur skims it. ARTHUR An art exhibit? SCOTT Yup. ARTHUR And you want me to be your date? SCOTT You could put it like that. ARTHUR I don’t like art... SCOTT A deal’s a deal. ARTHUR I haven’t agreed to anything yet-SCOTT Then I guess you’re not making rent this month. Arthur looks off. SCOTT Come on, I need a wingman. Eventually Arthur releases a reluctant sigh. SCOTT That a boy. Scott takes the postcard from him and flicks it back onto the table, then walks toward the door. ARTHUR When is it? SCOTT Friday. Let’s meet up beforehand, get a buzz.
9. ARTHUR Wait... What business do you have at an art exhibit? SCOTT I know the artist. ARTHUR Who-SCOTT So! Now that that’s all settled, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go see if I can get a little Sunday morning loving. Scott pulls the door open and welcomes Arthur to leave. SCOTT Thanks for stopping by. Arthur, shaking his head, steps out of the apartment. SCOTT And thanks for the doughnuts. ARTHUR Yeah-Scott throws the door shut. INT. AUDITION ROOM - DAY The fair-haired and bright-eyed ABI (24) stands as still as a mannequin. A nervous expression etches into her face as she rolls her fingers in and out of fists. Seated before her are several individuals. The CASTING DIRECTOR (50), a salt-and-pepper bearded man, eyes Abi over his glasses with a less-than-impressed glare. CASTING DIRECTOR Well, you have the look... Abi’s focus breaks. She knows what comes next. CASTING DIRECTOR But your performance was lacking the... authenticity that we’re looking for. I didn’t believe that you were Elizabeth. A beat.
ABI C-Can I give it another shot? CASTING DIRECTOR No, that will be all. Thank you. Struggling to smile, Abi bows her head and reaches for her bag. She throws it over her shoulder as she exits. EXT. STREET - DAY Abi fights back tears as she streaks toward a parked car, where in the driver’s seat is GRACE (26), Abi’s close friend and chauffeur for the day. INT. CAR - DAY Abi fusses with the seat belt before finally clicking it in. Grace watches with concern. GRACE You okay?-ABI Let’s go. GRACE Oh... Oh shit. What happened? ABI Can we go, please? GRACE Yeah... EXT./INT. CAR - LATER Abi stares out the window at the cars passing and the pedestrians walking. ABI Do you think I should just stop? GRACE Stop what? ABI Acting. GRACE What? Why would you--
ABI I think I’m ready to give up. GRACE No... No way, Abi. You can’t. Don’t-ABI I hear the same thing every time... "You can’t act for shit." GRACE They don’t say that. ABI They might as well! Or they say I should go out for commercials-GRACE Well... You could get your face out there if you did commercials, right? That’s what the girl from Lost did-ABI There’s zero acting in commercials, trust me. (pause) God, I don’t know what to do... GRACE Confidence, Abi. Confidence. ABI I used to have confidence, but I’ve lost about every bit of it. The car breaks at a red light. Grace turns to Abi. GRACE Look, if acting is what you want to do, then that’s what you’re going to do. You just have to be patient. ABI I get that part, I just don’t know how much longer I can wait. You have no idea how frustrating it is to be turned down every time you--
GRACE My dad used to say, "It wouldn’t be worth it if it was easy." (pause) You’re putting so much effort into this. It’ll work out. Don’t worry. ABI I am worried. I’ve been worried. GRACE Maybe you need to take a break. ABI I don’t have time for a break. A beat. GRACE Then maybe you need a boy. ABI Ha, yeah, I definitely don’t have the time for that. GRACE Yup, that’s what you need. A little, Grace sloppily mimes sex. ABI Grace! The light turns green. The car accelerates. GRACE All that built up stress has to go somewhere! You’re obsessed, and if you keep this up you’re going to burn yourself out. ABI I’m not obsessed... I’m passionate. GRACE You need to tone all of that passion down for a little while. At least for a day. Like Friday. Abi leans her head against the window with a sigh.
13. INT. ABI’S APARTMENT, KITCHEN - DAY Abi stares at a calendar riddled with notes, circles and Xs. She uncaps a pen hanging from the wall and grinds another X over the word "AUDITION" on the current date. She notices there is only one other "AUDITION" written for the rest of the month. INT. ARTHUR’S APARTMENT, BEDROOM - DAY Arthur sits at the desk beside his bed, clicking through the internet on his laptop. His eyes are glazed with boredom. Suddenly, he pauses, sits up straight, and turns to look to the closet at the other side of the room. The closet doors swing open and Arthur reaches up to the top shelf, where he digs around through sweaters, scarves and hats until he finds a big, dusty portfolio. He pulls it loose, examining it like a relic. He returns to his seat at the desk and mulls over it for a moment before opening the portfolio. From it he pulls several bound documents and spreads them across the table. Scripts. Nostalgia washes over Arthur as he looks at the them with the hint of a smile. INT./EXT. TRAIN - NIGHT Abi emerges from a train car like a mouse. After a few steps, she pauses at the center of the platform to look back and forth, unsure of where to go. EXT. STREET - NIGHT After climbing the stairs to the street, Abi is uncertain again in deciding which way to walk. INT. GALLERY - NIGHT Colorful and abstract paintings hang from the walls. Sculptures sit upon pedestals. Soothing synths bellow from the speakers dangling from the ceiling. The well-dressed attendees mingle as they sip from glasses of champagne and nibble on finger foods. And then there’s Arthur, in a basic outfit: a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. He rolls his sleeves up his forearms.
ARTHUR I feel like I’m underdressed. Scott turns to him, revealing a finely tuned outfit. SCOTT You are. ARTHUR You didn’t tell me that I had to come looking like a GQ model. SCOTT Well, there’s no dress code per se. I figured you would have known-ARTHUR I didn’t. SCOTT Now you do. ARTHUR What am I doing here? I’m not drunk enough. We should have drank more. SCOTT You’re not supposed to be drunk. ARTHUR I wish I was. SCOTT Are you that uncomfortable? He presents the room to Arthur. SCOTT Look around you. There’s so much potential. ARTHUR Potential for what? SCOTT Lady meeting. A beat. ARTHUR You came to an art gallery to pick up a girl?
SCOTT No, I brought you to an art gallery to pick up a girl. ARTHUR I thought you came because you knew the artist. SCOTT That too. A beat. ARTHUR I think I’m going to head out. SCOTT You can’t. We had a deal. ARTHUR This isn’t really my scene. SCOTT You’re going to leave me here all by myself? ARTHUR By yourself? Arthur gestures toward a blonde woman on the other side of the gallery. Scott looks and catches her glance. The blonde shyly averts her eyes. ARTHUR Define "yourself." Blonde chick in the white dress. By that... dick sculpture... (pause) She’s been eying you since we walked in. Have fun. Arthur makes off toward the exit. SCOTT Seriously? Where are you going? ARTHUR To a bar. I feel like drinking something other than champagne. A beat.
SCOTT ...They have Sprite! EXT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS A relieved Abi finally finds her destination. ABI Thank God... She moves toward the entrance. INT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS Arthur dodges through the crowd, closing in on the exit. INT/EXT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS Arthur and Abi nearly collide, both stopping just in time. They awkwardly smile before trying to step around one another. Arthur goes to his left and Abi goes to her right, and again they almost collide. They switch directions at the same time, but remain in each others’ way. Arthur then does his best impression of a doorman and bows out of the way. ARTHUR After you. A beat. ABI Thanks. Arthur nods and watches her pass. INT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS As Abi peers around the gallery, a caterer approaches with a tray of champagne glasses in hand. She swiftly grabs one. The instant before it hits her lips, GRACE (O.S.) ABI! Abi spots Grace in the distance, her arms raised in glee.
EXT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS Arthur walks to the curb, looking up at the cloudy sky. Distant voices reach his ear. Arthur turns to look down the street and sees two men walking in his direction. At first he thinks nothing of it, and returns his attention to the sky, but then he double takes. His mouth drops at the realization of who one of the two men, the dirty blonde, blue-eyed and debonair GENTLEMAN on the left, is. They near the gallery entrance, where the gentleman greets an ecstatic girl standing outside. After exchanging pleasantries, they enter. Arthur watches in awe. INT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS Grace and Abi embrace. GRACE Thanks for coming! Any trouble getting here? ABI It was... I made it. GRACE Yes! I’m so happy you’re here. Come on, I have some people to introduce you to. A bunch of my friends are here. You can finally meet-Grace freezes. GRACE Miles Miller... A beat. ABI Miles Miller? Like the Miles Miller? Grace spins Abi around to see the dirty blonde, blue-eyed, and debonair MILES MILLER (29) as he enters. GRACE No... freaking... way...
ABI Is that really him? GRACE Why is he at my show? ABI Let’s go say hello. GRACE What? N-No, I wouldn’t-Abi grabs Grace’s hand and bee lines for him. Miles and his friend move deeper into the gallery until they are stopped by a glowing Abi and a starstruck Grace. ABI Mr. Miller? Looking at Abi, he charmingly smiles. MILES Hi. ABI Um-- I’m a big fan. MILES Ah, thank you. ABI Y-You’re welcome... Um... This is my friend Grace. Miles nods as Grace finds enough composure to step up. MILES Nice to meet you, Grace. GRACE N-Nice to meet you too... ABI She’s the artist. It’s her first exhibit, ever. MILES Oh yeah? That’s awesome. Congratulations.
19. GRACE I love you. And your work. Miles laughs. MILES I’m sure I’ll love yours too. He looks back to Abi, intrigued. MILES I didn’t get your name. ABI Oh-- I’m Abi. INT. GALLERY - LATER Scott looks across the gallery to see Miles chatting with Grace. There’s an unsettling look in his eyes, that turns to shock when he is suddenly grabbed from behind by Arthur. SCOTT I knew you’d be back. I’ve been-ARTHUR Two things. One: I’ve had a couple shots of tequila. And whiskey. Two: I wanna talk to Miles Miller. He came in here right? Is he still here? Where is he? Scot grins, aware of how drunk Arthur is. SCOTT Yeah. He’s here. ARTHUR Okay. And three-SCOTT Wait-- You said two things. ARTHUR Three! Three is, uh... Shit. Three... SCOTT What do you want with Miles? ARTHUR I wanna tell him to stop acting and to start making music again.
SCOTT How do you think he’d respond to that? You’re drunk, maybe you should just take a picture with him and not, you know, talk. ARTHUR I don’t want a fucking picture. Scott waves down a nearby caterer and goes to take two more glass of champagne. Arthur spots Miles and immediately breaks off in his direction. Scott turns back to see Arthur as he leaves, ungracefully squeezing through the crowd. INT. GALLERY - CONTINUOUS MILES I’ll admit that I don’t know a lot about art, but your stuff is great. GRACE Thanks. I-- Um, thank you! MILES There’s this one piece that I think would look great in my bedroom. A beat, as Grace melts. MILES My friend and I are going to stop by a couple spots later on. You should come with. A beat. GRACE Are you... inviting me out? MILES For a little celebration for your first exhibit, yeah. GRACE Seriously?
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