High Fidelity Script - Screenplay
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HIGH FIDELITY SCRIPT
by
D.V. De Vincentis, Steve Pink, & John Cusack
based on the novel by Nick Hornby
9/11/98
London Draft
Registered: WGAw
FADE IN:
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
STEREO
Not a minisystem, not a matching set, but coveted audiophile
clutter of McIntosh and Nakamichi, each component from a
different era, bought piece by piece in various nanoseconds
of being flush.
ROB (V.O.)
What came first? The music or the
misery? People worry about kids
playing with guns and watching
violent videos, we're scared that
some sort of culture of violence is
taking them over...
RECORDS
Big thin LPs. Fields of them. We move across them, slowly...
they seem to come to rest in an end of a few books... but
then the CD's start, and go on, faster and faster, forever
then the singles, then the tapes...
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
But nobody worries about kids
listening to thousands -- literally
thousands -- of songs about broken
hearts and rejection and pain and
misery and loss.
It seems the records, tapes, and CD's will never end until...
we come to ROB -- always a hair out of place, a face that
grows on you. He sits in an oversized beanbag chair and
addresses us, the wall of music behind him.
ROB
Did I listen to pop music because I
was miserable, or was I miserable
because I listened to pop music?
INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT
A group of bags huddled next to the door. Not the go-on-
vacation set, but the clothes-to-coffee-maker moving out
variety. Rob stares at them, his face unreadable, his head
gripped by a big pair Boudokan headphones. We hear what he
is hearing, something foreboding and upbeat at the same time.
LAURA, Rob's girlfriend, enters the room, and he immediately
pulls the headphones off. She clocks him for a moment, catching
him in what seems to be an old and repeated moment of
nonpresence. She begins to heft the bags, Rob goes to her, a
little tardy for his big goodbye. Laura begins to cry a bit.
LAURA
I don't really know what I'm doing.
He smiles, and she doesn't. He adjusts.
ROB
You don't have to go this second.
You can stay until whenever.
LAURA
We've done the hard part now. I
might as well, you know...
ROB
Well stay for tonight, then.
Laura shakes her head, lifts the last small bag, and backs
out the door. A strap catches on a handle and the two of
them wrestle with it a bit, while trying to keep the door
open, until Laura awkwardly disappears from view and the
door shuts behind Rob. He stays right there staring at the
shut door for a long moment, listening to the fading sound
of Laura and her dragging bags.
STEREO
Rob's left hand cranks the volume knob while his right
switches the CD changer to something loud and adrenal. He
addresses us again.
ROB
My desert-island, all-time, top
five most memorable break-ups, in
chronological order are as follows:
Alison Ashworth, Penny Hardwick,
Jackie Allen, Charlie Nicholson,
Sarah Kendrew.
INT. APARTMENT STAIRWELL
Laura drags her bags, banging down the stairs --
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT
Rob moves around the apartment, seeming to expand physically,
looking for change as he continues.
ROB
Those were the ones that really
hurt. Can you see your name in
that list, Laura? Maybe you'd
sneak into the top ten, but there's
no place for you in the top five.
Sorry. Those places are reserved
for the kind of humiliations and
heartbreaks that you're just not
capable of delivering.
He adjusts the angle of the TV, stuffs a creepy family
portrait into a drawer.
ROB (CONT'D)
That probably sounds crueler than
it's meant to, but the fact is,
we're too old to take each other
miserable. Unhappiness used to
mean something. Now it's just a
drag like a cold or having no money.
He moves through the living room to an open window facing
the street. Looking down two stories, he sees Laura emerge
from the building and drag her bags toward her car across
the street.
ROB (CONT'D)
If you really wanted to mess me up,
you should have got to me earlier.
CUT TO:
EXT. SUBURBAN PARK - DUSK - 1980
Rob and Alison sit on the bench, kissing awkwardly.
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
Which brings us to number one.
Alison Ashworth.
PARK BENCH - DUSK
The same shot, the next night: new clothes, same clumsy
make-out session.
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
My relationship with Alison Ashworth
lasted six hours.
PARK BENCH - DUSK
...Next night...
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
The two hours after school and
before The Rockford Files, three
days in a row. On the fourth
afternoon.
SAME PARK BENCH
...And the fourth night...
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
Kevin Bannister.
Alison and another boy, KEVIN BANNISTER. Kissing. In the
background, Rob approaches and stops. He implodes with
self-consciousness and humiliation and attempts to affect a
casual gait as he mopes away.
ROB (V.O.)(CONT'D)
It would be nice to think that
since I was fourteen, times have
changed, relationships have become
more sophisticated, females less
cruel, skins thicker, but there
still seems to be an element of
that afternoon in everything that
has happened to me since. All my
other romantic stories seem to be a
scrambled version of that first one.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT
Rob sits in his chair, a cord leading from the stereo to
headphones draped around his neck. Behind him is the wall
of music.
ROB
Number two. Penny Hardwick. Penny
was great-looking, and her top five
recording artists were Carly Simon,
Carole King, James Taylor, Cat
Stevens, and Elton John...
He lets the needle down on the turntable next to him.
"Nobody Does It Better" by Carly Simon begins to play as
PRESENCE...
EXT. HIGH SCHOOL LAWN - FLASHBACK - MOS
... and continues as SOUNDTRACK. PENNY, 16, is walking
across the grass toward us. She's the clean, sporty, nice
wholesome girl-next-door. She waves tp off-camera friends,
smiling a winning smile.
ROB (V.O.)
Everybody liked her. She was nice.
Nice manners. Nice grades. Nice-
looking.
INT. PENNY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
Penny and Rob sit on the edge of the bed, kissing. Rob
moves his hand up toward the breast, but the hand then seems
to have a new idea, and dives south to follow the thigh into
Penny's skirt...
ROB (V.O.)
She was so nice, in fact, that she
wouldn't let me put my hand
underneath, or even on top of, her
bra.
... when he contacts skin, Penny rolls like a gymnast away
and off of the bed, out of frame. Rob looks away balefully.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
"Nobody Does It Better" continues as Rob walks Penny to her
front door. She is smiling, he seems distant.
ROB (V.O.)
Penny was nice, but I wasn't
interested in nice, just breasts,
and therefore she was no good to me.
And so I was finished with her.
She leans in to kiss him, and he shrugs her off.
ROB
What's the point? It never goes
anywhere.
Without looking at her, Rob turns and walks down the street,
getting smaller. Penny watches for a while.
CUT TO:
INT. "EL" TRAIN CAR - MORNING - PRESENT
Rob sways with the other commuters.
ROB
She cried, and I hated her for it,
because she made me feel bad. I
started dating a girl who everybody
said would put out, and Penny went
with this asshole Chris Thompson
who told me that he had sex with
her after something like three
dates. How had Penny gone from
a girl who wouldn't do anything to
a girl who would do everything?
A BUSINESSMAN looks up from his paper at Rob, then back down.
EXT. CLARK STREET - DAY
An old Chicago block of local merchants, on a busy street.
Rob makes his way down the street, jangling a set of keys
and talking to us.
ROB
My store's right up here. It's
called The Record Exchange. It's
carefully placed to attract the
bare minimum of window shoppers.
Rob arrives at a storefront, and begins unlocking a rusty
gate with two locks and then a beaten-down door.
ROB (CONT'D)
I get by because of the people who
make a special effort to shop here
on Saturday young men, always young
men, who spend a disproportionate
amount of their time looking for
deleted Smiths singles and "original
not rereleased" underline Frank
Zappa albums.
INT. RECORD STORE - DAY
In almost darkness. More light might penetrate the windows
if there weren't so many record-release posters taped to
them. A dusty narrow corridor clad in burlap and shag rug.
On the walls are bagged 45's you will never hear unless you
commit your life to the losing proposition of listening to
every noodling of Jah Wobble and Glen Glenn and other people
you've never heard of.
But as Rob opens the door, enters, and flips a switch
causing the fluorescents to sputter, we see in his eyes the
reverence and earnestness of a football coach gazing across
an empty field or a priest drawn at midnight to his empty
church.
ROB
The fetish properties are not
unlike porn. I would feel guilty
taking their money if I wasn't,
kind of, well, one of them.
As he walks one of the two slim aisles toward the back, he
stops on a dime, steps back and pulls a CD from the sea and
replaces it almost the same position, but not quite --
meticulousness and pride in this gesture...
After a moment the door creaks open behind Rob, admitting
DICK, a nervous, forlorn but sweet and intelligent discophile
with long greasy black hair, a Sonic Youth T-shirt, a
monstrous pair of headphones, and a canvas record bag
emblazoned with a label logo.
ROB
'Morning, Dick.
DICK
Oh, hi. Hi, Rob.
ROB
Good weekend?
DICK
Yeah, OK. I found the first
Licorice Comfits album at Vintage
Vinyl. The one on Testament of
Youth. Never released here.
Japanese import only.
ROB
Great.
DICK
I'll tape it for you.
ROB
No, that's okay. Really.
DICK
'Cause you like their second one,
you said, Pop, Girls. etc. The one
with Cheryl Ladd on the cover. You
didn't see the cover though.
ROB
Yeah, I haven't really absorbed
that one.
DICK
Well, I'll just make it for you.
ROB
(resigned)
Okay.
CUT TO:
INT. RECORD STORE - LATER
Dick is behind the counter, Rob in the aisles with a
clipboard doing inventory.
ROB
(re: music)
What's this?
DICK
The new Belle and Sebastian. Like
it?
The door flies open and BARRY, an acid-tongued post-punk
rock misanthrope without quite enough intelligence to
conceptualize his own rebellion, walks in. His teeth are
clenched in air-guitar concentration and he's phonetically
cranking a Clash riff:
BARRY
BAA! BA BA DANG!
Dick shrinks back from him instinctively. He stops mid-step
and cocks his ear at the music playing in the store. His
face adopts an exaggerated grimace.
BARRY (CONT'D)
Holy Shiite! What the fuck's this?
DICK
It's the new --
ROB
It's the record we've been listening
to and enjoying, Barry.
Barry moves in on the stereo behind the counter, and Dick
gets out of his way.
BARRY
Well that's problematic because it
sucks ass.
He pops the CD out and frisbees it to Dick.
BARRY (CONT'D)
(re: the CD)
Yours, I assume...
Barry pulls a tape out of his jacket and jams it in. "How
to Kill a Radio Consultant" by Public Enemy comes through at
through the red levels.
ROB
(over the blare)
TURN IT OFF, BARRY.
BARRY
IT WON'T GO ANY LOUDER.
Barry walks in rhythm toward the stockroom and disappears.
Rob goes behind the counter and stops the tape. Barry's
head pops out of the stockroom.
BARRY (CONT'D)
What are you doing?
ROB
I don't want to hear Public Enemy
right now.
BARRY
Public Enemy! All I'm trying to do
is cheer us up. Go ahead and put
on some old sad bastard music see
if I care.
ROB
I don't want old sad bastard music
either. I just want something I
can ignore.
BARRY
But it's my new tape. My Monday
morning tape. I made it last night
just for today.
ROB
Yeah, well it's fucking Monday
afternoon. You should get out of
bed earlier.
BARRY
Don't you want to hear what's next?
ROB
What's next?
BARRY
Play it.
ROB
Say it.
BARRY
(sighs)
"Little Latin Lupe Lu."
Rob groans.
DICK
Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels?
BARRY
(defensive)
No. The Righteous Brothers.
DICK
Oh well. Nevermind.
Barry bristles and moves slowly in on Dick.
BARRY
What?
DICK
Nothing.
BARRY
No, not nothing. What's wrong with
the Righteous Brothers?
DICK
Nothing. I just prefer the other
one.
BARRY
Bullshit.
ROB
How can it be bullshit to state a
preference?
BARRY
Since when did this shop become a
fascist regime?
ROB
Since you brought that bullshit
tape in.
BARRY
(sarcastic)
Great. That's the fun of working
in a record store. Playing crappy
pap you don't want to listen to. I
thought this tape was going to be,
you know, a conversation stimulator.
I was going to ask you for your top
five records to play on a Monday
morning and all that, and you just
had to ruin it.
ROB
We'll do it next Monday.
BARRY
Well what's the point in that?
From outside. HEAR THE SOUND OF SKATEBOARD WHEELS CLACKING
AND SCRAPING, GETTING LOUDER. Rob, Dick and Barry stop
fighting to listen, then each moves purposefully to a spot
in the store. Dick to the register, Barry to the back, Rob
next to the door, as if bracing for a street fight.
The SOUND gets closer, then stops. The door swings open to
admit VINCE and JUSTIN, two fifteen-year-old skate punks.
Vince's hair is post-apocolyptically hacked to different
lengths, Justin's in uniformly shaven with leopard spots
dyed browse. Rob follows them, watching their every move.
Dick counters from his perch, getting another angle. Barry
cracks his knuckles threateningly. Vince and Justin do
their best browser impersonations. Finally Justin plucks a
CD, and the two move to the counter.
ROB
Hey. Didn't you steal that one
already?
DICK
Can I help you?
JUSTIN
Just this.
DICK
That'll be fifteen-twenty-seven.
Vince reaches into his deep pocket and pulls out a paper
cup, with piece of paper attached that says "Please help me.
I'm retarded." He pours a mass of change and crumpled
singles onto the counter. Dick begins counting it out.
VINCE
Isn't your name Dick?
DICK
Yes.
VINCE
That sucks. Get it?
Dick cracks a sad smile for a second. He bags the CD and
Vince and Justin are off. Rob walks back through the stock
room door.
CUT TO:
INT. RECORD STORE - STOCK ROOM - LATER
Rob is on his knees, opening boxes with a razor knife. He
talks to us as he works.
ROB
I'm sick of the sight of this
place, to be honest. Some days I'm
afraid --
Dick sticks his head in the door, looks at Rob, looks where
Rob is looking (camera), and retreats back through the door.
Rob continues.
ROB
I'm afraid I'll go berserk, rip the
Elvis Costello mobile from the
ceiling, throw the "Country Artists
Male A-K" rack out onto the streets,
go off to work in a Virgin Megastore
and never come back --
He hears the bell on the front door RING, and he stops and
listens, looks a bit worried.
CUSTOMER (O.S.)
I'm looking for a record for my
daughter. For her birthday. "I
Just Called To Say I Love You." Do
you have it?
BARRY (O.S.)
Oh yeah. We got it.
Rob relaxes and goes back to work.
CUSTOMER (O.S.)
Great. Can I have it then?
BARRY (O.S.)
No, you can't.
Rob deflates, shaking his head.
STORE FLOOR
Barry leans back, elbows up on the counter behind him,
talking to the CUSTOMER, a middle-aged graying man in a
raincoat.
CUSTOMER
Why not?
BARRY
Because it's sentimental tacky
crap, that's why not. Do we look
like the kind of store that sells
"I Just Called To Say I Loved You?"
Go to the mall and stop wasting our
time.
CUSTOMER
What's your problem? What did I...
Why are you --
BARRY
Do you even know your daughter?
There is no way she likes that song.
Or is she in a coma?
The Customer throws up his hands and starts out of the store.
CUSTOMER
Okay, okay, buddy. I didn't know
it was Pick On the Middle-Aged
Square Guy Day. My apologies.
I'll be on my way.
He steps out of the door.
BARRY
B'Bye!
Outside, anger catches up to the Customer. He turns and
throws up a middle finger --
CUSTOMER
FUCK YOU!
-- and bolts. Barry smiles and turns to see
ROB
standing in the doorway of the stock room. He feigns
applause.
ROB
Nice, Barry.
BARRY
Rob. Top five musical crimes
perpetrated by Stevie Wonder in the
'80's and '90's. Subquestion -- is
it in fact unfair to criticize a
formerly great artist for his
latter-day sins? "Is it better to
burn out than to fade away?"
ROB
You just drove a fucking customer
away, Barry.
BARRY
We didn't even really have it. I
happen to know for a fact that the
only Stevie Wonder single we have
is "Don't Drive Drunk." I was just
goofing on the straight, and it
never cost you a penny.
ROB
Not the point.
BARRY
Oh, so what's the point then?
ROB
I don't want you talking to our
customers like that again.
BARRY
"Our customers?" You think that Mr.
L.L. Bean out there is going to be
a regular?
Rob's face begins to redden with anger.
ROB
Barry, I'm fucking broke! I know
we used to fuck with anyone who
asked for anything we didn't like,
but it's gotta stop.
BARRY
Bullshit. The guy was going to buy
one record -- which we didn't even
have -- and leave and never come
back again anyway. Why not have a
little fun? Big fucking deal.
ROB
What did he ever do to you?
BARRY
He offended me with his terrible
taste.
ROB
It wasn't even his terrible taste.
It was his daughter's.
BARRY
Oh, now you're defending that
motherfucker? You're going soft in
your old age, Rob. There was a
time when you would have chased him
out of the store and up the street.
Now all of a sudden I'm offending
your golf buddy.
(sarcastic)
You're right, Rob. I am so sorry.
How are we ever going to make
enough money to get you and Laura
into the country club?
Rob is red and seething.
BARRY (CONT'D)
And by the way, I tell you this for
your own good: That's the worst
sweater I've ever seen. I have
never seen a sweater that bad worn
by anyone I'm on speaking terms
with. It's a disgrace to the human
race.
Rob springs on Barry, grabbing him by the lapels and jerking
him up against the wall. Rob is so mad he can't say anything.
DICK
Hey, guys... Hey.
Rob runs out of steam and drops Barry, who backpedals fast.
BARRY
(extremely shaken)
What are you, some kind of fucking
maniac? If this jacket's torn
you're gonna pay big.
Barry stomps out of the store. Rob turns and goes back to
the stockroom, and sits on the stepladder. Dick appears in
the doorway, terrified.
DICK
Are you all right?
ROB
Yeah. I'm sorry... Look Dick,
Laura and I broke up. She's gone.
And if we ever see Barry again
maybe you can tell him that.
DICK
'Course I will, Rob. No problem.
No problem at all. I'll tell him
next time I see him.
Rob nods. Dick sets out into the uncharted conversational
territory of interpersonal relationships.
DICK (CONT'D)
I've ah... got some other stuff to
tell him anyway, so it's no problem.
I'll just tell him about, you know,
Laura, when I tell him the other
stuff.
ROB
Fine.
DICK
I'll start with your news before I
tell him mine, obviously. Mine
isn't much, really, just about
Marie LaSalle
(flashes CD of pretty woman)
playing at Lounge Ax tonight. I
like her, you know, she's kind of
Sheryl Crowish... but, you know,
good. So I'll tell him before that.
Good news and bad news kind of thing.
Dick laughs nervously.
DICK (CONT'D)
Or rather, bad news and good news,
because he likes this person
playing tonight. I mean, he liked
Laura too, I didn't mean that. And
he likes you. It's just that --
ROB
I understand, Dick.
DICK
Sure. 'Course. Rob, look. Do you
want to... talk about it, that kind
of thing?
Rob looks up at Dick, who is so nervous that his brow is wet.
ROB
No. Thanks though, Dick.
Dick sighs with relief, and smiles his way out of the stock
room.
CUT TO:
ROB IN HIS CHAIR
Rob to camera.
ROB
Number three in the top five break-
ups was Charlie Nicholson, sophomore
year of college. Some people never
got over 'Nam, or the night their
band opened for Nirvana. I guess I
never really got over Charlie.
CUT TO:
EXT. COLLEGE QUAD - DAY - FLASHBACK
About twenty feet away we see a tall, thin beauty, bleach-
blonde hair cropped short in darling '80's new-wave asymmetry.
She is speaking animatedly to a PAMPHLETEER, driving her
points home with a forefinger.
ROB (V.O.)
She looked different. Dramatic.
Exotic. She talked a lot, about
remarkably interesting things like
music, books, film, and politics...
INT. CAFE - DAY
A younger Rob sits amongst a group of STUDENTS who are
engaged in a heated conversation. He is smiling, mouth
closed, just happy to be there. Charlie sitting next to
him, tousles his hair as she talks incessantly.
ROB (V.O.)
(over her talking)
...so we didn't have those terrible,
strained sentences, that seemed to
characterized most of my
relationships. And she liked me.
She liked me. She liked me.
Charlie gives Rob a quick kiss and keeps talking...
EXT. STREET - AFTERNOON
Rob and Charlie walk arm in arm, Rob in cool clothes and
sunglasses trying to look cool, Charlie making a point about
something.
Rob checks out how cool he looks with her as they walk by a
store window REFLECTION.
ROB (V.O.)
We went out for two years, and for
every single minute I felt as
though I was standing on a
dangerously narrow ledge. I
couldn't get comfortable, couldn't
ever stretch out and relax. Why
would a girl -- no, a woman -- like
Charlie go out with someone who
only a few years ago sewed a Foghat
patch on his jacket? I felt like
all those people who suddenly
shaved their heads and said they'd
always been punks. I felt like a
fraud. And I was depressed by the
lack of flamboyance in my wardrobe...
INT. CHARLIE'S APARTMENT - DAY
The fabulous sophomore design student's studio apartment:
White wood floor, white walls, overvarnished door, Doisneaux
print on the wall, futon on the floor. Rob lies back on his
elbows, watching Charlie in uncomfortable, worried awe. She
stands, her back to him, wearing only her underwear and
pulling on a T-shirt -- a heartbreaking image to look back on.
ROB (V.O.)
...I worried about my abilities as
a lover. I was intimidated by the
other men in her design department,
and became convinced that she was
going to leave me for one of them.
Charlie turns around and looks at Rob with naked ambivalence.
ROB (V.O.)
She left me for one of them. The
dreaded Marco.
EXT. CHARLIE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
It is RAINING like crazy, and Rob is shouting up at a lit
window, maniacally gesturing. The curtains part and
Charlie's figure appears, clad only in a sheet. Next to her
is a tall, built, handsome man, MARCO, also in a sheet.
Eventually he falls to his knees with a splash and buries
his head in his hands. The light goes out.
ROB (V.O.)
And I lost it. I lost it all.
Dignity, faith, fifteen pounds...
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Rob wandering through the rain.
ROB (V.O.)
Any small idea of personal identity
that I had acquired up to that point.
INT. SOME RECORD STORE - DAY
A younger and catatonic Rob listlessly sorts through a stack
of records.
ROB (V.O.)
I came to three months later, and
to my surprise had flunked out of
school and started working in a
record store.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob stands in front of his wall of music, shifting LPs
around between the shelves and piles on the floor as he
talks to us.
ROB
What I really learned from the
Charlie Debacle is that you gotta
punch your weight. Charlie was out
of my Class: too pretty, too smart,
too witty, too much. What am I?
Average. A middleweight. Not the
smartest guy in the world, but
certainly not the dumbest. I've
read books like The Unbearable
Lightness of Being, Angela's Ashes,
and Love in the Time of Cholera,
and understood them, I think --
they're about girls, right? -- just
kidding -- but I don't like them
very much. My all time top five
favorite books are Johnny Cash's
autobiography, Snow Crash by Neil
Stevenson, Zen and the Art of
Motorcycle Maintenance, The Trouser
Press Guides to Rock, and, I don't
know, probably something by Kurt
Vonnegut. I look through the New
Yorker when my neighbor's done with
it, and I'm not averse to going
down to the Fine Arts to watch
subtitles films, although on the
whole I prefer American films.
Top five being Blade Runner, Cool
Hand Luke, the first two Godfathers
which we'll count as one, Taxi
Driver, and The Shining. I'm okay
looking, average height, not
skinny, not fat. My genius, if I
can call it that, is to combine a
whole load of averageness into one
compact frame. You might say there
were millions like me, but there
aren't, really: Alot of guys have
impeccable music taste but don't
read, alot of guys read but are
really fat, alot of guys are
sympathetic to women but have
stupid beards, alot of guys have a
Woody Allen sense of humor but look
like Woody Allen. Some drink too
much, some drive like assholes,
some get into fights, or show off
money, or do drugs. I don't do any
of these things, really. If I do
okay with women it's not because of
the virtues I have, but because of
the ugly flaws I don't have... So.
Charlie and I didn't match. After
her I was determined to never get
out of my league again.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob presses play on the answering machine. A pleasant,
older female voice is heard. It's JANET, Laura's mother.
JANET
(on machine)
Hello, you two. Laura, it's your
mother. Your father's angina is a
little rough today and I thought
he'd like to talk to you. No big
deal. I love you two. Bye.
Beep.
LIZ
(on machine)
Rob, it's Liz. Just calling to
see, well, if you're okay. Give me
a ring. I'm not taking sides. Yet.
Lot's of love. Bye.
He pulls an LP from a shelf, puts it on the turntable and
sits back in his chair.
EXT. LAKE MICHIGAN WATERFRONT - MOS - THE PAST
The MUSIC becomes SOUNDTRACK to the following scenes. Rob
and SARAH, a thin, modestly attractive young woman, SARAH,
walk and talk. They seem to be emphatically complaining
together.
ROB (V.O.)
Charlie and I didn't match. Marco
and Charlie matched. Me and Sarah,
number four on the all time break-
ups list, matched. She wore more
or less the same clothes as mine,
had an acceptable working knowledge
of music, and she had been dumped
by some asshole named Michael. He
was her moment, Charlie was mine.
Sarah had sworn off men. I had
sworn off women. It made sense to
pool our loathing of the opposite
sex, swear them off together, and
get to share a bed with someone at
the same time.
INT. SARAH'S APARTMENT - MOS - NIGHT
Rob and SARAH sit up in bed, staring at the television...
ROB (V.O.)
We were frightened of being left
alone for the rest of our lives.
Only people of a certain disposition
are frightened of being alone for
the rest of their lives at twenty-
six. We were of that disposition.
Everything seemed much later than
it was.
INT. SARAH'S KITCHEN - MOS - DAY ROB'S POV
of Sarah, sitting across the table, mid-confession.
ROB (V.O.)
When she told me that she met
someone else it made no sense. Her
meeting someone else was contrary
to the whole spirit of our
arrangement. All we really had in
common was that we were dumped by
people, and that we were against
dumping. We were violently anti-
dump. So how come I got dumped?
ROB IN HIS CHAIR
The MUSIC becomes PRESENCE again, and Rob takes the needle
off the record.
ROB
You run the risk of losing anyone
who is worth spending time with.
But I didn't know that at the time.
All I saw was that I'd moved down a
division and that it still hadn't
worked out, and this seemed cause
for a great deal of misery and
self-pity. And that's when Laura
came along.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob is surrounded by stacks of records on the floor. He
looks to camera.
ROB
I'm reorganizing my records tonight.
It's something I do in times of
emotional distress. When Laura was
here I had them in alphabetical
order, before that, chronologically.
Tonight, though, I'm trying to put
them in the order in which I bought
them. That way I can write my own
autobiography without picking up a
pen. Pull them all off the shelves,
look for Revolver and go from there.
I'll be able to see how I got from
Deep Purple to The Soft Boys in
twenty-five moves. What I really
like about my new system is that it
makes me more complicated than I am.
To find anything you have to be me,
or at the very least a doctor in
Rob-ology. If you wanna find
Landslide by Fleetwood Mac you have
to know that I bought it for
someone in the fall of 1983 and
then didn't give it to them for
personal reasons. But you don't
know any of that, do you? You
would have to ask me to --
The phone rings again. Rob picks it up.
ROB (CONT'D)
Yeah?
MOM
Hi, Rob. It's your mother.
Rob deflates a bit.
ROB
Hi, Mom.
MOM
Everything all right?
ROB
Great. Super-fantastic.
MOM
How's the store?
ROB
So so. Up and down.
MOM
Your lucky Laura's doing so well.
If it wasn't for her, I don't think
either of us would ever sleep...
Rob holds his lips together with thumb and forefinger, but
succumbs --
ROB
She left. She's gone.
MOM
What do you mean? Where did she go?
ROB
How would I know? Gone. Girlfriend.
Leave. Not say where gone. Laura
move out.
MOM
Well call her mother.
ROB
She just called. She doesn't even
know. It's probably the last time
I'll ever hear her voice. That's
weird, isn't it? You spend
Christmas at somebody's house, you
know, and you worry about their
operations and you see them in
their bathrobe, and... I dunno...
Silence.
ROB (CONT'D)
There'll be another mom and another
Christmas. Right?
Silence... More silence.
ROB (CONT'D)
Hello? Anybody there?
The sound of SOFT CRYING
ROB (CONT'D)
I'm all right, if that's what's
upsetting you.
MOM
You know that's not what's upsetting
me.
ROB
Well it fucking should be, shouldn't
it?
MOM
I knew this would happen. What are
you going to do Rob?
ROB
I'm going to drink this bottle of
wine watch TV and go to bed. Then
tomorrow I'll get up and go to work.
MOM
And after that?
ROB
Meet a nice girl and have children.
I promise the next time we talk
I'll have it all sorted out.
MOM
I knew this was going to happen.
ROB
Then what are you getting so upset
about?
MOM
What did Laura say? Do you know
why she left?
ROB
It's got nothing to do with
marriage, if that's what you're
getting at.
MOM
So you say. I'd like to hear her
side of it.
ROB
Mom! For the last fucking time,
I'm telling you Laura didn't want
to get married! She is not that
kind of girl! To use a phrase.
That's not what happens now.
MOM
Well I don't know what happens now,
apart from you meet someone, you
move in, she goes. You meet
someone, you move in, she goes.
Silence. Rob busted.
ROB
Shut up, Mom.
Rob hangs up the phone. He fills up his glass again, takes
a swig, and slumps into a chair. If there was any wind left
in Rob, it just got knocked out. After a moment, he gets to
his feet, grabs his jacket and heads out the door.
CUT TO:
EXT. LOUNGE AX CLUB - LINCOLN AVE. - NIGHT
Rob comes down the street and gets in the short line to
enter the club. From inside he hears a GUITAR, playing a
tune that becomes familiar not only to Rob, but to us. When
a strong, lilting female VOICE begins to sing, we hear what
it is: "Baby I Love Your Way," by Peter Frampton.
Rob smiles at first, but begins to darken as the verse
continues. He steps out of line and leans against the
outside wall, listening. Is he beginning to cry? Yes, he
is...
CUT TO:
ROB IN HIS CHAIR
ROB
Peter. Frampton. That perm! "Show
Me the Way"! A phenomenon based on
a live album that was actually
recorded in a studio! What is
happening? I am getting misty,
choked up at a song that I had the
good sense at twelve to realize was
so saccharine and stupid as to be
inarticulatable, until Michael Bolton,
that is.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. LOUNGE AX CLUB - LINCOLN AVE.
He looks around self-consciously, and paces a bit, deciding
whether or not to stay. He takes a deep breath, and heads
in the door.
INT. LOUNGE AX - NIGHT
As Rob enters he looks to the stage, where MARIE LASALLE is
standing alone with her acoustic guitar, heading toward the
song's finish. Rob's expression begins to shift from the
melancholy to something else altogether. Marie is beautiful,
and Marie has touched his heart. Rob navigates toward her
though the small crowd as if pulled by something unseen. He
addresses us over his shoulder.
ROB
Sentimental music makes you
nostalgic and hopeful at the same
time. Marie's the hopeful part.
Laura's the nostalgia part. These
things happen. They happen to men,
at any rate. This is why I
shouldn't be listening to pop music.
As he gets closer to the stage --
DICK
ROB!
Rob looks over to see Dick sitting with Barry, a few feet
away. He shakes it off and sits with them, extending a
meaningful hand to Barry, who takes it. They turn back to
the stage as Marie finishes the song.
ROB
I always hated this song.
DICK
Yeah.
BARRY
Yeah.
ROB
But now I kind of like it.
Dick and Barry nod, then keep watching. All three of them
are in their own private fantasies with Marie.
DICK
She shouldn't done it on "The
Number Four With a Smile."
BARRY
Isn't her album called "Number Four
With A Smile?"
DICK
That's what I said.
BARRY
No, no, no, you said "The Number
Four With a Smile," and there's no
"The" at the front of the title of
the album.
DICK
It's a reference to a Chinese meal
in Toronto and I think that there
is a "The." But I could be wrong.
BARRY
You can be and are wrong.
They drop it, so that their eyes can drift back to Marie.
BARRY
I wanna date a musician...
ROB
(nods in agreement)
I wanna live with a musician.
She'd write songs at home, ask me
what she thought of them, maybe
even include one of our private
jokes in the liner notes.
BARRY
...Maybe a picture of me in the
liner notes...
DICK
Just in the background somewhere.
MARIE
as the song ends, and she smiles out over the room. The
audience applauds.
MARIE
Thanks, you guys, I know I'm not
supposed to like that song, but I
do. I'm gonna take a break for a
second. Anybody wants to buy one
of my tapes, they're five bucks up
here. One of my other personalities
will be selling them.
ROB, DICK, AND BARRY
BARRY
Let's go get one.
ROB
Let's not.
DICK
I want a tape.
Barry and Dick stand and begin to move off...
ROB
I don't need to go up there right
now.
... and they're gone. After a beat, Rob gets up and follows
them.
FOOT OF THE STAGE
Dick and Barry wait nervously to buy a tape, Rob just behind
them. Marie processes sales with polite monosyllables,
until the three get up front.
MARIE
Enjoying yourselves?
They dart eyes to each other, then nod.
MARIE (CONT'D)
Good. 'Cause I'm enjoying myself.
ROB
Good.
Rob hands her a ten and she roots around in a duffel bag for
change...
ROB (CONT'D)
So you live in Chicago now?
MARIE
Yup. Not far from here, actually.
BARRY
You like it?
MARIE
It's okay. Hey. You guys might be
the sort to know. Are there any
good record stores around here or
do I have to go downtown?
Barry and Dick do not try to control themselves. They point
to Rob.
DICK
He's got one!
BARRY
On Clark Street!
DICK
A couple blocks! About six!
BARRY
We work there!
DICK
You'd love it!
Marie laughs.
MARIE
What do you sell?
BARRY
A little of anything that matters.
Rock, soul, R&B, punk rock, hip-
hop, ska, new wave...
MARIE
Sounds great.
The line behind them is moving in, and Marie smiles at them
and turns to someone else. They scurry back toward their
table.
ROB
What did you tell her about the
shop for?
BARRY
I didn't know it was classified
information. I mean, I know we
don't have any customers, but I
thought that was a bad thing, not,
like, a business strategy.
Rob looks over Barry at Marie. She catches his eye as she
looks over the room. His eyes shoot to the floor.
CUT TO:
INT. RECORD STORE - STOCK ROOM - LATER
Rob is going through a huge stack of used CD's, sorting them
off into different bins, bouncing his head absently to the
music -- the same song of Marie's that Rob had on when Laura
called last night.
BARRY (O.S.)
ROB! PHONE!
Rob reaches over and hits the SPEAKER button on the phone,
still in the groove of sorting.
ROB
Rob here.
LIZ (O.S.)
Hey. It's Liz.
ROB
What's happenin'.
LIZ
You called this morning?
ROB
Yeah. I just wanted to thank you
for that message last night. It
made me feel like...like less of an
asshole.
LIZ
How're you holding up?
ROB
Actually, I'm fine. I'm great.
Last night I got to thinking, "you
know what? Maybe it is time to
move on. Maybe we're just not
right for each other. Or maybe we are.
But time will tell and at this
point I'm going to be fine with
whatever's meant to be." You know?
LIZ
Yeah. Like I said, I don't want to
take sides. And I like Laura with
you. She's more fun, more open.
You guys are good together. I just
wish you two could, I don't know.
I don't think much of this Ian
guy --
-- Dick bursts in, huge-faced --
DICK
Rob.
ROB
Liz, hold on a second --
(turns to Dick)
What?
DICK
Marie LaSalle is in the store!
Here, she's here, and now!
Rob freezes, he and Dick turn to the speaker, which cranks
Marie's voice. Rob goes to the phone and picks up the
handset.
ROB
Liz, can you hold for a second?
He hits hold.
ROB
(to Dick)
I'll be out there! Go!
(picks up the phone)
Hey, Liz, I gotta go... Tomorrow
night? Great. Green Mill. Fine.
Seven? Done. Thanks. Right. Bye.
He hangs up fast, spins around to look in a cracked one-
foot-square cracked mirror bearing the logo of Aerosmith
that is mounted on the wall, and moves out into the
FRONT ROOM
and up the aisle fast toward the stereo where he turns
Marie's music off. He takes a deep breath and looks up,
meeting her eyes.
ROB (CONT'D)
Oh. Hi.
Marie smiles.
MARIE
(re: music)
Don't you like that?
ROB
No, no, I love, it's just, thinking
you're, you must be so sick of it...
Well.
He reaches back and puts it back on. He cracks his face
into a smile, then walks fast back to the stock room door.
Marie watches him go.
STOCK ROOM
where as soon as he crosses the threshold his fist clench
and he grimaces:
ROB (CONT'D)
WHAT FUCKING IAN GUY?!!
Dick comes in --
DICK
Rob --!
ROB
-- FUCK OFF!
Dick backs out fast. Rob leans on a wall. Barry enters --
BARRY
We're only on the fucking list for
Marie's gig at the Pulaski Pub,
that's all! All three of us.
ROB
That's fucking great, Barry. We
can spend fifteen bucks on a cab to
save five each. Fantastic, Barry!
BARRY
We can take your car.
ROB
It's not my car, now is it? It's
Laura's car, and thus Laura has it.
So it's an ass-bumping double-
transferring bus ride through
bumblefuck or a fat wad on a cab.
Wow. Fucking great.
Barry sighs, throws up his hands and heads out the door.
BARRY
Jaggoff...
Barry exits. Rob seems to be having trouble staying on his
feet.
ROB
Who the fuck is Ian?!
CUT TO:
INT. ROB'S BUILDING'S LOBBY - NIGHT
Rob enters and walks to the mail table, looking like shit.
He starts sifting through envelopes for his.
ROB
Laura doesn't know anybody called
Ian. There's no Ian at her office.
She has no friends named Ian. She
has never met anyone called Ian in
her whole life. Although there may
have been one in college -- but I
am almost certain that since 1989
she has lived in an Ian-less
universe.
He slows... and stops. His face gets a little paler as he
lifts a letter up to his face.
CLOSE-UP: LETTER
A cable service bill to a Mr. I. Raymond.
ROB
as he looks at it, divining.
ROB
"I. Raymond." Ray. "I." IAN.
CUT TO:
ROB IN HIS CHAIR
Rob to camera.
ROB
Mr. I Raymond. "Ray" to his friends,
and, more importantly, to his
neighbors. The guy who up until
about six weeks ago lived upstairs.
I knew it was him the moment I saw
the letter. I start to remember
things now: His stupid clothing,
his music -- Latin, Bulgarian,
whatever fucking world music was
trendy that week--stupid laugh,
awful cooking smells. I can't
remember anything good about him at
all. I never liked him much then,
and I fucking hate him now... I
manage to block out the worst, most
painful, most disturbing memory of
him until I go to bed.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Darkness. We move silently through the rooms, and enter the
bedroom... closer to the bed, we see Rob on his back, sheets
held clenched up to his chin. He stares at the ceiling,
sadly.
JUMP CUT
to almost the same shot, but it's Rob and Laura in the bed,
semi-tangled. Laura has a book in her lap. A CREAKING is
heard. Laura's eyes go to the ceiling, and Rob sits up at
attention. They look up at the light fixture, which shakes
a little faster, with the rhythm of the creaking. Someone
is definitely having sex upstairs, and they are going for it.
ROB
Jeez. He goes on long enough.
LAURA
I should be so lucky.
They turn to each other and laugh.
JUMP CUT BACK
to Rob lying still in bed, staring at the ceiling.
ROB
You are as abandoned and as noisy
as any character in a porn film,
Laura. You are Ian's plaything,
responding to his touch with
shrieks of orgasmic delight.
No woman in the history of the
world is having better sex than the
sex you are having with Ian in my
head.
ROB'S IAN-LAURA SEX NIGHTMARE - QUICK CUTS
Ian mercilessly savages Laura from behind, below, and above,
champagne showers, toe-sucking, and animal screams --
BACK TO ROB IN BED,
imploding with disgust and sorrow. Tears run down his
cheeks into his ears.
ROB
Number five -- Jackie Allen. My
break up with Jackie Allen had no
effect on my life whatsoever. I
just slotted her in to bump you out
of position, Laura. Yes, you do in
fact make it into the top five.
Welcome. And just to remind you,
the list is in chronological order,
not in the order of pain and
suffering.
INT. RECORD STORE - DAY
Dick and Barry are stocking the racks. Rob stands at the
register, rocking back and forth sort of like an idiot, to
"Always and Forever" by the Commodores. He is a mess.
FEMALE VOICE
Hey.
Rob looks up to see a nineteen or twenty-year-old GIRL
standing in front of him.
GIRL
Do you have soul?
Rob smiles bitterly at her, clearly having a different
meaning in mind.
ROB
That all depends.
She kind of backs away and goes back to browsing. The phone
rings and Rob picks it up.
ROB (CONT'D)
Record Exchange... How many
records... Right, well if you could
bring them -- okay, well, where do
you live? Right... how about now?
I can come right over...
(Rob scribbles)
Okay.
He hangs up and grabs his jacket. Dick emerges from the back.
ROB (CONT'D)
(to Dick)
Some lady's got some singles to
sell. I'll be back in a half-hour.
Rob walks out.
EXT./INT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob mounts the stairs and rings the doorbell. The door
opens, revealing a too-tan WOMAN in her late forties, in
designer jeans and a T-shirt bearing a rhinestone peace sign.
She says nothing.
ROB
Hi. You called about the records?
She turns and walks into the house, leaving the door open
for him. He follows her in and through a fabulous first
floor, packed with big-bucks bourgeois: Rugs, art, and
antiques:
She ushers Rob into a large study, and turns the light on.
He misses a breath. The walls are lined with mahogany cases
custom-built for CDs, albums, epicurean stereo components, a
couple priceless vintage guitars -- every one of the
thousands of items bear a little numbered sticker, like a
museum. She points to several boxes on the floor, full of
hundreds of singles.
WOMAN
Those.
Rob steps into the room like an Undeserving, and carefully
drops to his knees to examine the singles, each pristine in
a plastic sleeve: the original God Save the Queen by the Sex
Pistols, original Otis Reddings, Elvis Presleys, James
Browns, Jerry Lee Lewises, Beatles... on and on. The mother
lode. Rob is doing the best to control the onset of
hyperventilation. He dares a glance over his shoulder to
her to see if this is a joke.
WOMAN (CONT'D)
What do you think?
ROB
It's the best collection I've ever
seen.
WOMAN
Give me fifty bucks and they're all
yours.
Rob's face goes funny. He looks around for a hidden camera.
ROB
These are worth at least, I don't
know --
WOMAN
I know what they're worth. Give me
fifty and get them out.
ROB
But you must have --
WOMAN
I must have nothing. Their my
husband's.
ROB
And you must not be getting along
too well right now, huh?
WOMAN
He's in Jamaica with a twenty-
three-year-old. A friend of my
daughter's. He had the fucking
nerve to call me and ask me to
borrow some money and I told him to
fuck off, so he asked me to sell
his singles collection and send him
a check for whatever I go, minus a
ten percent commission. Which
reminds me. Can you make sure you
give me a five? I want to frame it
and put it on the wall.
ROB
It must have taken him a long time
to get them together.
WOMAN
Years. This collection is as close
as he's ever come to an achievement.
Rob looks back at the records but avoids the trance.
ROB
Look. Can I pay you properly? You
don't have to tell him what you got.
Send him forty-five bucks and blow
the rest. Give it to charity. Or
something.
WOMAN
That wasn't part of the deal. I
want to be poisonous but fair.
ROB
(looking back at the records)
Look... I... I'm sorry. I don't
want to be any part of this.
WOMAN
Suit yourself. There are plenty of
others who will.
ROB
That's why I'm trying to compromise.
What about fifteen-hundred? They're
worth five times that.
WOMAN
Sixty.
ROB
Thirteen hundred.
WOMAN
Seventy-five.
ROB
Eleven-hundred. That's my lowest
offer.
WOMAN
And I won't take a penny over ninety.
They start smiling at each other.
WOMAN (CONT'D)
With eleven hundred he could come
home, and that's the last thing I
want.
ROB
I'm sorry but I think you better
talk to someone else.
WOMAN
Fine.
Rob half stands, then drops again for one last lingering look.
ROB
Can I buy this Otis Redding single
off you?
WOMAN
Sure. Ten cents.
ROB
Oh, come on! Let me give you ten
dollars for this, and you can give
the rest away for all I care.
WOMAN
Okay. Because you took the trouble
to come up here. And because
you've got principles. But that's
it. I'm not selling them to you
one by one.
CUT TO:
EXT. FANCY LINCOLN PARK TOWNHOUSE - DAY
Rob comes down the stairs holding his single, and walks down
the street talking to camera.
ROB
How come I end up siding with the
bad guy, the man who ran off to
Jamaica with some nymphette? I
just got left for someone else, so
why can't I bring myself to feel
whatever it is his wife is feeling?
All I can see is that guy's face
when he gets that pathetic check in
the mail for those records, and I
can't help but feel desperately,
painfully sorry for him.
CUT TO:
INT. GREEN MILL - NIGHT
The bar where Al Capone used to party, and it looks about
the same: colored lightbulbs, shadowboxes, deep plush booths
and a stage for jazz. Rob slumps back in a booth, stirring
a drink with his finger. After a beat, we hear a DOOR SLAM
off camera, and Rob looks up with a bit of fear.
Heavy footsteps get louder and closer, until a shadow
shrouds Rob -- LIZ stands in front of him.
LIZ
MOTHERFUCKER.
She is enormous, and she is mad as hell. Rob reflexively
shrinks.
ROB
What's the -- hey, Liz --
LIZ
-- No, no, no, don't even. I
talked to Laura, Rob. I talked to
her and she gave me a little
background. And you're a fucking
ASSHOLE.
She turns and stomps toward the door. Rob gets up and
follows.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Rob comes out of the club and follows Liz. She hears him
and turns on him, punctuating with a finger in his chest.
LIZ
To think I sympathized with you for
two seconds! Poor Rob! Laura left
him out of nowhere for the schmuck
upstairs. You let me believe that!
ROB
It's true!
LIZ
Rob! Two years ago you got Laura
pregnant; you then proceeded to
cheat on her! You borrowed money
from her and never paid a dime back!
And then, just a few weeks ago, you
told her you were unhappy with her
and were "kind of looking around
for somebody else!"
ROB
Well she --
She turns again and keeps walking, holding a defiant middle
finger over her shoulder as she fades down the street.
INT. SUBWAY CAR - NIGHT
Rob sits, rocking slightly with the movement of the train.
He stares at an OLD COUPLE who do not speak to each other.
ROB
She's right, of course. I am a
fucking asshole. I did and said
those things. But before you
judge, although you've probably
already done so, go off for a
minute and write down the top five
worst things that you have done to
your partner, even if -- especially
if -- your partner doesn't know
about them. Don't dress things up
or try to explain them. Just write
them down in the plainest language
possible...
A LONG BEAT, even five or ten seconds.
ROB (CONT'D)
Pencils down. Okay, so who's the
asshole now?
CUT TO:
INT. RECORD STORE - DAY
Saturday. For the first time we see the place kind of busy.
Rob watches the room. Barry is toward the back, talking to
a CUSTOMER. "Cruel to Be Kind" by Nick Lowe plays.
BARRY
It's almost impossible to find,
especially on CD. Yet another
cruel trick on all of the dumbasses
who got rid of their turntables.
But every other Echo and the
Bunnymen album --
CUSTOMER
I have all of the others.
BARRY
Oh really. Well what about the
first Jesus and Mary Chain?
CUSTOMER
They always seemed...
BARRY
They always seemed what? They
always seemed really great, is what
they always seemed. They picked up
where your precious Echo left off,
and you're sitting here complaining
about no more Echo albums. I can't
believe that you don't own that
record. That's insane.
He plucks it from the rack, and sticks it in the Customer's
hand, who regards it with a bit a of shame.
CUSTOMER
Well what about the new Echo --
BARRY
Do not get ahead of yourself.
DICK
is listening to a female customer, but he doesn't hear her
voice.
CUSTOMER - DICK'S POV
The army bag with a red cross on it. The ring-of-ivy tattoo
around the wrist. The monkey boots. The eye shadow.
DICK
thinking, calculating...
DICK
The interesting thing about Green
Day is that so much of their music
is in truth directly influenced by,
in my opinion, two bands.
FEMALE CUSTOMER
The Clash.
DICK
Correct. The Clash. But also the
Stranglers.
FEMALE CUSTOMER
Who?
DICK
I think you would love the
Stranglers...
Dick pulls a Stranglers record and puts it on the stereo.
Her brow furrows, and then she smiles.
FEMALE CUSTOMER
This sounds great.
Dick smiles humbly. Two people in the store turn and
approach.
CUSTOMER
Is this the new Green Day?
BARRY still talking to his Customer, who now has several
CD's in his hand. He looks at Barry with a mixture of hate
and adoration.
BARRY
That is perverse. Do not tell
anyone you don't own fucking Blonde
on Blonde. What about Television?
CUSTOMER
I have a television.
BARRY
NO--!
Barry adds more records to the Customer's stack.
A FEW MINUTES LATER - ROB AND DICK
stand behind the counter. Rob holds a CD in his hand, and
surveys the roaming customers with a semi-serious air of
authority.
ROB
I will now sell four copies of Cats
and Dogs by the Royal Trux.
DICK
Do it. Do it.
Rob pops the CD in and it begins to play... He stands there
with his arms folded, waiting. After a moment, a Customer
approaches.
CUSTOMER
(re: music)
What is this?
ROB
It's the Royal Trux.
CUSTOMER
It's great.
ROB
I know.
ROB'S POV
of the room. Something has caught his eye: a cropped head
with a leopard skin pattern surfaces and disappears, like
Nessie.
Rob's face gets hot and mad. He jumps out from behind the
counter.
ROB (CONT'D)
Dick, ring the man up...
He moves like a cat through the crowd. Justin sees him
coming and counters around the middle island and heads for
the door. Vince appears next to him, fiddling with his belt.
He sees Rob now, and he and Justin bolt for the door. Rob
doubles back.
ROB (CONT'D)
DICK! THE DOOR!
Dick sees Vince and Justin too late. Rob is right behind
them and as they get out the door, he reaches... and comes
up with the back half of a skateboard.
EXT. RECORD STORE - DAY
Rob emerges behind them, Vince's skateboard in hand. They
have enough distance to bolt, but they can't leave that
board behind.
ROB
Okay, fuckos. How much is this
deck worth to you, and how many
CD's did you rip off? Can you do
the math?
Justin pulls two CD's out and slides them over to Rob.
ROB (CONT'D)
(to Vince)
And what about you, dork?
Vince pulls about six, and puts them down in a neutral spot.
Rob picks all of them up and starts looking through them.
Dicks pokes his head out of the door.
ROB (CONT'D)
Dick, call the police, please.
Vince and Justin look at each other.
ROB (CONT'D)
(looking through the CD's)
Eno import. Sigue Sigue Sputnik.
Break beats. Serge Gainsbourg.
Ryuchi Sakamoto, Syd Barrett...
What's going on here? Are you guys
stealing for other people now?
VINCE
Naw. Those are for us.
ROB
Oh really. You two are slamming to
Nico now?
JUSTIN
You're, like, so bigoted to look at
us and, like, think you know what
we listen to.
VINCE
You got the CD's so can I have my
board back?
ROB
I think you have more.
VINCE
Well we don't.
ROB
I can't frisk you but the cops can.
Justin reaches down again into his baggy shorts and comes up
with a tattered old book, "How To Make A Record." He tosses
it over.
ROB (CONT'D)
Jesus. That thing's been in the
bargain bin for six months! Was it
just your criminal nature or what?
Hell, I would've given it to you
for free.
VINCE
No, we...
JUSTIN
We don't know how it works. Nobody
even knows, so we wanted to check
it out in that mag.
Rob snorts.
JUSTIN
Like, do you know how to actually
make a CD?
Rob can't resist edifying them -- the curse of the
underappreciated expert.
ROB
Uh, yes I, like, do... It's simple.
You make the tracks -- recording
studio -- deliver them to the
pressing plant where a master is
cut, the master is then dubbed to
submasters, which are the "mothers,"
as their called, for each press in
the plant. You press the CD's or
records, put in your cover art, and
that's it.
VINCE
Records are those big round black
things, right?
ROB
Fuck off.
Rob turns to go back in the store.
VINCE
Hey, can I have my board?
Rob drops it and enters the store.
CUT TO:
INT. RECORD STORE - NIGHT - QUICK CUTS:
Barry emerges from the back wth three opened bottles of beer
as the last customer goes out the door... The three lean
against the bins, tired and smiling.
BARRY
(to Rob)
What?
ROB
What do you mean, "what?"
BARRY
What are you snickering about?
ROB
I'm not snickering. I'm smiling.
Because I'm happy.
BARRY
What am I missing? What do you
have to be happy about?
DICK
Well we rang $900 today.
ROB
Yeah but more than that. I'm happy
because I'm proud of us. Because
although our talents are small and
peculiar, we use them to their best
advantage.
Dick and Barry look at each other. They almost know how to
take a compliment.
EXT. RECORD STORE - NIGHT
Rob, now alone, turns the sign from "open" to "closed" shuts
the door behind him, and pulls the gate across. Laura
appears from the next doorway. He jumps.
ROB
Shit!
LAURA
Hi.
ROB
Hi.
LAURA
I thought I could give you a lift
back.
ROB
Are you coming home?
LAURA
Yes. Well, I'm coming over to your
house to get some things.
ROB
My house?
Laura turns and begins walking. Rob looks at camera.
ROB
First of all: The money. The money
is easy to explain: She had it and
I didn't, and she wanted to give it
to me. If she hadn't, I would have
gone under. I've never paid her
back because I've never been able
to, and just because she's took off
and moved in with some Supertramp
fan doesn't make me five grand
richer. So that's the money --
Laura's CAR HORN is heard. He heads off.
CUT TO:
INT. LAURA'S CAR - NIGHT
They move down the street, and it's a little tense. Laura
pushes a tape into the stereo. Art Garfunkel's "Bright
Eyes" begins to play. Rob turns away from her and makes a
face, but she knows he's making it.
LAURA
You can make all the faces you want.
My car. My car stereo. My
compilation tape.
Rob tries not to speak, but --
ROB
How can you like Art Garfunkel and
Marvin Gaye? It's like saying you
support the Israelis and the
Palestinians.
LAURA
It's not like saying that at all,
actually, Rob. Art Garfunkel and
Marvin Gaye make pop records --
ROB
-- Made. Made. Marvin Gaye is
dead, his father shot him in --
LAURA
-- whatever, and the Israelis and
the Palestinians don't. Art
Garfunkel and Marvin Gaye are not
engaged in a bitter territorial
dispute, and the Israelis and the
Palestinians are. Art Garfunkel
and Marvin Gaye --
ROB
-- Alright, alright but --
LAURA
-- and who says I like Marvin Gaye,
anyway?
He reels on her.
ROB
Hey! Marvin Gaye! "Got to Give It
Up!" That's our song! Marvin Gaye
is responsible for our entire
relationship!
LAURA
Is that right? I'd like a word
with him.
ROB
But don't you remember?
LAURA
I remember the song. I just
couldn't remember who sang it.
Rob shakes his head in disbelief.
LAURA
I can see why you prefer Gaye to
Garfunkel. I get it, really. But
there are so many other things to
worry about. They're only records,
and if one is better than the
other, well, who cares, besides you
and Barry and Dick? I mean really,
who gives a flying fuck?
Silence.
ROB
You used to care more about things
like Marvin Gaye than you do now.
When I first met you, and I made
you that tape, you loved it. You
said -- and I quote -- "It was so
good it made you ashamed of your
record collection."
LAURA
Well, I liked you. You were a
deejay, and I thought you were hot,
and I didn't have a boyfriend, and
I wanted one.
ROB
So you weren't interested in music
at all?
LAURA
Yeah, sure. More so then than I am
now. That's life though, isn't it?
The car slows, and Laura parks.
ROB
But Laura... that's me. That's all
there is to me. There isn't
anything else. If you've lost
interest in that, you've lost
interest in everything.
LAURA
You really believe that?
Laura turns the engine off and unbuckles her seat belt.
ROB
Yes. Look at me. Look at our --
the apartment. What else do I
have, other than records and CDs?
LAURA
And do you like it that way?
ROB
Not really.
She half smiles.
LAURA
Let's go in.
She gets out of the car. Rob turns to camera, speaking
quietly and urgently.
ROB
Okay, Number two: The stuff I told
her about being unhappy in the
relationship, about half looking
around for someone else: She
tricked me into saying it. We were
having this state of the union type
conversation and she said, quite
matter-of-factly, that we were
pretty unhappy at the moment, and
did I agree, and I said yes, and
she asked whether I ever thought
about meeting someone else.
So I asked her if she ever thought
about it, and she said of course,
so I admitted that I daydream about
it from time to time. Now I see
that what we were really talking
about was her and Ian, and she
suckered me into absolving her. It
was a sneaky lawyer's trick, and I
fell for it, because she's much
smarter than me.
He scrambles out of the car.
INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT
The lock turns and Rob enters, holding the door for Laura
who slips by, her coat in her hands. She glances down at
the table by the door and sees Ian's envelope.
ROB
You can take it with you if you want.
She slips it into her purse. He stands facing her for a
moment, then crosses to her, takes her coat and tosses it on
a chair. She opens the closet and takes out a big laundry
sack.
LAURA
Have you tackled the Great
Reorganization yet?
ROB
Don't you think there are more
important things to talk about than
my record collection?
She begins putting books and other things into the bag...
LAURA
You bet. I've been saying that for
years.
Having no comeback, Rob goes for the moral high ground.
ROB
So. Where have you been staying
for the last week?
LAURA
I think you know that.
ROB
Had to work it out for myself,
though, didn't I?
Laura looks suddenly tired and sad, and looks away.
LAURA
I'm sorry. I haven't been very
fair to you. That's why I came
here to the store this evening. I
feel terrible, Rob. This is really
hard, you know.
ROB
Good.
(beat)
So. Is it my job?
LAURA
What? Gimme a fucking break. Is
that what you think? That your not
big enough a deal for me? Jesus,
gimme a little credit, Rob.
ROB
I don't know. It's one of the
things I thought of.
LAURA
What were the others?
ROB
Just the obvious stuff.
LAURA
What's the obvious stuff?
ROB
I don't know.
She stands and walks toward the bathroom.
LAURA
I guess it's not that obvious, then.
ROB
No.
As soon as she shuts the door behind her, he turns to camera.
ROB
And number three: The Pregnancy. I
didn't know she was pregnant. Of
course I didn't. She hadn't told
me because I had told her I was...
sort of... seeing somebody else.
We thought we were being very
grown-up, but we were being
preposterously naive, childish
even, to think that one of us could
fuck around and then own up to it
while we were living together.
So -- I didn't find out about it
'til way later. We were going
through a good period and I made a
crack about having kids and she
burst into tears. I made her tell
me what it was all about, and she
did. I felt guilty and so I got
angry. She told me that at the
time I didn't look like a very good
long-term bet. That it was a hard
decision and she didn't see any
point in consulting me about it...
When the whole sorry tale comes out
in a great big --
We hear the bathroom door open.
LAURA (O.S.)
What?
ROB
(covering)
What, what?
Laura comes out with a toiletry bag and places it by the door.
LAURA
Did you say something?
ROB (CONT'D)
No. So. Is it working out with Ian?
LAURA
Rob. Don't be childish.
ROB
Why is that childish? Your living
with the guy! I'm just asking how
it's going.
LAURA
I am not living with him. I've
just been staying with him for a
few days until I work out what I'm
doing. Look, this has nothing to
do with anyone else. You know
that, don't you? I left because we
weren't exactly getting along, and
we weren't talking about it. And I
suddenly realized that I like my
job, and I like what my life is
could be turning into, and that I'm
getting to a point where I want to
get my shit together and I can't
really see that ever happening with
you, and yeah, yeah, I sort of get
interested in someone else, and
that went further than it should
have, so it seemed like a good time
to go. But I have no idea what
will happen with Ian in the long
run. Probably nothing.
ROB
Well then why don't you quit it
while you seem to not be ahead?
Laura rolls her eyes and head off into the bedroom with the
laundry bag. Rob turns back to camera.
ROB
-- When the whole sorry tale comes
out in a great big lump like that,
even the most shortsighted jerk,
even the most self-deluding and
self pitying of jilted, wounded
lovers can see that there is some
cause and effect going on here,
that abortions and Ian and money
and affairs all belong to, all
deserve each other.
Laura reappears, her bag half-filled with clothes, and goes
to the book shelves next to the records. She starts topping
off the bag with books.
LAURA
Look. Maybe you'll grow up and
we'll get it together, you and me.
Maybe I'll never see either of you
again. I don't know. All I know
is that it's not a good time to be
living here.
ROB
So, what, you haven't definitely
decide to dump me? There's still a
chance we'll get back together?
LAURA
I don't know.
ROB
Well, if you don't know, there's a
chance, right? It's like, if
someone was in the hospital and he
was seriously ill and the doctor
said, I don't know if he's got a
chance of survival or not, then
that doesn't mean the patient's
definitely going to die, now does
it? It means he might live. Even
if it's only a remote possibility.
LAURA
I suppose so.
ROB
So we have a chance of getting back
together again.
LAURA
Oh, Rob, shut up.
ROB
Hey, I just want to know where I
stand. What chance --
LAURA
-- I don't fucking know what chance
you fucking have!
She abandons her attempt at packing.
ROB
Well if you could tell me roughly
it would help.
LAURA
Okay, okay, we have a nine percent
chance of getting back together.
Does that clarify the situation?
ROB
Yeah. Great.
LAURA
(shaking her head)
I'm too tired for this now. I know
I'm asking a lot, but will you take
off for a while so I can get my
stuff packed up? I need to be able
to think while I do it and I can't
think while you're here.
ROB
No problem. If I can ask one
question.
LAURA
Fine. One.
ROB
It sounds stupid.
LAURA
Nevermind.
ROB
You won't like it.
LAURA
Just ask it!
ROB
Is it better?
LAURA
Is what better? Better than what?
ROB
Well. Sex, I guess. Is sex with
him better?
LAURA
Jesus Christ, Rob. Is that really
what's bothering you?
ROB
Of course it is.
LAURA
You really think it would make a
difference either way?
ROB
I don't know.
LAURA
Well the answer is that I don't
know either. We haven't done it yet.
ROB
Never?
LAURA
I haven't felt like it.
ROB
But not even before, when he was
living upstairs?
LAURA
No. I was living with you, remember?
We've slept together but we haven't
made love. Not yet. But I'll tell
you one thing. The sleeping
together is better.
ROB
(trying not to smile)
The sleeping together is better but
not the sex because you haven't
done it was him yet.
LAURA
Will you please just go?
INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT
Rob shuts the door behind him and does a crazy
Charleston/Cabbage-Patch/Boxstep/Touchdown dance of pure
elation, then bounces down the stairs.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Rob bounces along, a smile wider than we have seen yet.
Maybe even jumping to touch an awning. He lands and tells
us:
ROB
I feel good! I feel great! I feel
like a new man. I feel so much
better, in fact --
INT. WEEDS BAR - NIGHT
Rob moves through the room, still grinning a bit like a
proud new father, toward the table where Barry, Dick, Marie
and T-Bone sit, listening to a story T-Bone is telling.
Marie turns to him.
ROB
Hi, Marie.
MARIE
Everything go alright?
Rob glances at Barry, who averts his gaze.
ROB
She just wanted to pick up some
stuff. No big thing. A relief,
actually.
MARIE
God, I hate that time. That pick
up stuff time. I just went through
that before I came here. You know
that song "Patsy Cline Times Two" I
play? That's about me and my ex
dividing up our record collections.
ROB
It's a great song.
MARIE
Thank you.
Rob glances at T-Bone, his mind calculating the new info.
ROB
Is that why you came to Chicago in
the first place? Because of, you
know, dividing up your record
collection and stuff?
MARIE
Yup.
Marie slides closer, turning her back on the others. The
loop is closed.
ROB
You share a place with T-Bone?
MARIE
No way! I'd cramp his style. And
I wouldn't want to listen to all
that stuff happening on the other
side of the bedroom wall. I'm way
to unattached for that.
ROB
I understand completely.
SERIES OF CUTS - ELAPSED TIME
Rob and Marie lean in to each other, everyone else out of
focus.
ROB (V.O.)
Awhile back, Dick and Barry and I
agreed that what really matters is
what you like, not what you are
like...
ROB AND MARIE - LATER
MARIE
Yeah, but if you heard this band
called the Crumblers, you'd --
ROB
What do you mean, the Crumblers?
You know the Crumblers? Nobody's
heard the Crumblers. Except me.
MARIE
Yeah, I know the Crumblers! I
bought a used Blasters album in New
York about ten years ago and
somebody left a Crumblers single in
it. My everything changed for a
couple of weeks.
Rob glows --
ROB (V.O.)
Books, records, films -- these
things matter. Call me shallow but
it's the damn truth, and by this
measure I was having one of the
best dates of my life.
ROB AND MARIE
ROB
Yeah, but you know what's his best
film and nobody's even seen it?
MARIE
The Conformist.
ROB
Exactly! Fucking ex-actly!
MARIE
(laughs)
You haven't even seen it!
ROB
Nor have you!
They just laugh and laugh --
ROB (V.O.)
References, titles, lyrics, flew
and met each other in mid-air
embraces. The evening goes with
breathtaking precision.
INT. MARIE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob and Marie are kissing standing up.
MARIE
Are you okay?
ROB
(nodding)
Yes. You?
MARIE
For now. But I wouldn't be if I
thought this was the end of the
evening.
ROB
I'm sure it isn't.
MARIE
Good. In that case, I'll fix us
something else to drink. You
sticking to the whiskey or you want
coffee?
ROB
Whiskey.
Marie goes into the kitchen, and they keep talking around
the corner.
MARIE
Tops off two whiskeys and starts into the other room where
she sees Rob, standing and holding his jacket.
ROB (CONT'D)
I'd better go. I gotta get up
early. Go over to my parents'.
MARIE
When I said before that I hoped it
wasn't the end of the evening, I
was, you know... talking about
breakfast and stuff.
She plants the whiskeys firmly on the coffee table.
MARIE (CONT'D)
I'd like it if you could stay the
night.
ROB
(as if it is dawning
on him)
Oh, right. Alright.
MARIE
Jesus, so much for delicacy. I
pegged you for a master of
understatement, beating around the
bush and all that buzz.
ROB
I use it but I don't understand it
when other people use it.
MARIE
So you'll stay?
ROB
Yeah.
MARIE
Good.
Marie picks up the drinks again and exits to the bedroom.
Rob just stands there... and the LIGHTING CHANGES.
ROB
(to camera)
Over nine million men in this
country have slept with ten or more
women. And do they all look like
Richard Gere? Are they all as rich
as Bill Gates? Charming as Oscar
Wilde? Hell no. Nothing to do
with any of that. Maybe fifty or
so have one or more of these
attributes, but that still
leaves...well, about nine million,
give or take fifty. And they're
just men. Regular guys.
We're just guys, because I, even I,
am a member of this exclusive, nine
million member club. In fact,
Marie is my seventeenth lover. "How
does he do it?" you ask. "He wears
bad sweaters, he's grumpy, he's
broke, he hangs out with the
Musical Moron Twins, and he gets to
go to bed with a recording artist
who looks like Susan Dey-slash-Meg
Ryan. What's going on? Listen up,
because I think I can explain, with
all modesty aside: I ask questions.
That's it. That's my secret. It
works precisely because that isn't
how you're supposed to do it, if
you listen to the collective male
wisdom. There are still enough
old-style, big-mouthed, egomaniacs
running around to make someone like
me appear to be refreshingly
different. If you can't hack this
simple strategy, there are some
women out there, of course, who
want to get pushed around, ignored
and mowed over, but do you really
want to be with them anyway?
... he goes through a door into the bedroom. Marie is
taking off her earrings.
ROB
Would you like me to turn the
lights out? Or would you like them
on?
MARIE
God, you ask a lot of questions.
INT. MARIE'S BEDROOM - MORNING
Rob stares at the ceiling as Marie sleeps on next to him.
ROB (V.O.)
But in the morning we were just two
people, slightly hung-over, who
were not in love, sharing the same
space. And I feel...
Rob looks to the camera.
ROB
Sex is about the only grown-up
thing that I know how to do; It's
weird, then, that it's the only
thing that can make me feel like a
ten-year-old.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. MARIE'S APARTMENT - MORNING
The two of them come out of the building and into the street.
ROB
Which way are you going?
MARIE
(points left)
That way. You?
ROB
(points right)
That way.
MARIE
And so it is. I'll talk to you
later.
ROB
I'll call you.
MARIE
(smiles)
Right.
INT. RECORD STORE - DAY
Empty. Dick prices records out on the floor. Rob leans
against the register. Barry sits on a stool next to him.
They're top-fiving it. Rob's heart isn't in it.
ROB
Okay. Top five side one track ones.
Number one... "Janie Jones," the
Clash, from The Clash.
BARRY
Ehh.
ROB
"Thunder Road," Bruce Springsteen,
from Born to Run. "Smells Like Teen
Spirit," Nirvana, Nevermind.
BARRY
Oh no, Rob, that's not obvious
enough. Not at all. Dick, did you
hear that?
ROB
Shut up. "Let's Get It On," Marvin
Gaye, from Let's Get It On.
"Airbag," Radiohead, from OK
Computer.
BARRY
(sarcastic)
Ooh! A kind of recent record!
Rob's sly declaration of new
classic-status slipped into a list
of old classics! Nice! "Let's Get
It On?" Couldn't you make it more
obvious than that?
DICK
Rob. Phone.
(whispers)
It's Laura.
Rob springs to his feet, takes the phone and walks to the
end of the cord. Deep breath.
ROB
Hi.
LAURA - INTERCUT
LAURA
Hi. I've been looking for an
envelope of my receipts from last
month and I'm thinking I didn't
take them with me. Have you seen
them around?
ROB
I'll look for 'em. How you doing?
LAURA
I'm sorry to call, but I need that
stuff...
ROB
Fine, I'm sure it's in the file at
home. I'll call you when I find
it, and then we'll talk.
LAURA
We'll talk some other time.
ROB
Great... That's great.
Rob comes back to the counter and hangs up the phone.
BARRY
Rob! What about the Beatles? What
about the fucking Rolling Stones?
What about fucking... fucking...
Beethoven? Track one side one of
the Fifth Symphony? You shouldn't
be allowed to run a record shop.
You shouldn't be allowed to --
SFX: BARRY'S VOICE FADES OUT. Rob's mouth slacks and he
stares off.
ROB (V.O.)
There's something different about
the sound of her voice... And what
did she mean last night, she hasn't
slept with him yet. Yet. What
does "yet" mean, anyway? "I haven't
seen... Evil Dead II yet." What
does that mean? It means you're
going to go, doesn't it?
SFX: BACK TO THE ROOM.
BARRY
-- You're like a little squirrel of
music, storing away dead little
nuts of old garbage music, musical
lint, old shit, shit, shit --
ROB
-- Barry, if I were to say to you I
haven't seen Evil Dead II yet, what
would that mean?
Barry just looks at Rob. He pulls out a Game Boy and begins
playing.
ROB (CONT'D)
Just... come on, what would it mean
to you? That sentence? "I haven't
seen Evil Dead II yet?"
BARRY
To me, it would mean that you're a
liar. You saw it twice. Once with
Laura -- oops -- once with me and
Dick. We had that conversation
about the possibilities of the guy
making ammo off-screen in the
Fourteenth Century.
ROB
Yeah, yeah, I know. But say I
hadn't seen it and I said to you,
"I haven't seen Evil Dead II yet,"
what would you think?
Barry shuts off the Game Boy.
BARRY
I'd think you were a cinematic
idiot. And I'd feel sorry for you.
ROB
No, but would you think, from that
one sentence. That I was going to
see it?
BARRY
I'm sorry, Rob, but I'm struggling
here. I don't understand any part
of this conversation. You're
asking me what I would think if you
told me that you hadn't seen a film
that you've seen. What am I
supposed to say?
ROB
Just listen to me. If I said to
you --
BARRY
"-- I haven't seen Evil Dead II
yet," yeah, yeah, I hear you --
ROB
Would you... would you get the
impression that I wanted to see it?
BARRY
Well... you couldn't have been
desperate to see it, otherwise
you'd have already gone...
Rob brightens. Barry finally considers.
BARRY
...But the word "yet..." Yeah, you
know what, I'd get the impression
that you wanted to see it.
Otherwise you'd say you didn't
really want to.
ROB
But in your opinion, would I
definitely go?
BARRY
How the fuck am I supposed to know
that? You might get sick of people
telling you you've really gotta go
see the movie.
Rob darkens.
ROB
Why would they care?
BARRY
Because it's a brilliant film.
It's funny, violent, and the
soundtrack kicks fucking ass.
They look at each other for a strange moment.
BARRY (CONT'D)
I never thought I would say this,
but can I go work now?
ROB
Let's pack it up. We haven't had a
customer in four hours.
Barry stands.
BARRY
Fine by me. I still want pay to 7
o'clock.
ROB
Ha.
DICK
I can't go to the club tonight, guys.
BARRY
Why?
Dick smiles sheepishly.
BARRY
Who are you going to see?
DICK
Nobody.
Barry's eyes widen.
BARRY
Rob, looky looky. Dick! Are you
getting some?!
Silence.
BARRY (CONT'D)
Un-fucking-believable. Dick's out
on a hot date, Rob's boning Marie
LaSalle, and the best-looking and
most intelligent of all of us isn't
getting anything at all.
ROB
How do you know about that?
BARRY
Oh come on, Rob. What am I, an
idiot? I'm more bothered by Dick's
thing. How did this happen, Dick?
What rational explanation can there
possibly be? What's her name?
Barry is going a little hard. Dick shrinks back.
DICK
Anna.
BARRY
Anna who? Anna Green Gables? Anna
Conda?
DICK
Anna Moss.
BARRY
Anna Moss. Mossy. The Mossy Thing.
The Swamp Thing. Is she all green
and furry?
ROB
Shut the fuck up, Barry.
BARRY
Yeah, you would say that, wouldn't
you? You two have to stick together
now. Boners United. United in
getting some.
Barry picks up his bag and heads for the door.
ROB
Don't be sad, Barry. You'll find
true love someday.
BARRY
Suck my ass.
ROB
Terrific.
Rob looks to Dick, who looks guilty.
ROB
Don't worry about it, Dick. Barry's
an asshole.
DICK
Yeah... Well... I'll see you
tomorrow, Rob.
Dick exits. Rob watches the door close behind him, and
looks out over the empty store. He TALKS TO CAMERA as he
goes to the light switches and begins shutting them off, one
by one...
ROB
Why does it bother Barry that much
that Dick is seeing someone? He's
worried about how his life is
turning out, and he's lonely, and
lonely people are the bitterest of
them all.
...until all the lights are out. Rob's silhouette slips out
the door.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
A downpour is on. Rob has himself wedged into a phone
booth, the little kind.
ROB
(into phone)
Hi. It's me... I'm right outside...
I know... I know... I figured I
could just walk you to the train
and you could go... home. Or
whatever it is... No! Of course
not -- okay. I'll be right here.
EXT. OFFICE BUILDING
Rob stands under the overhang, watching Laura walk the long
hallway from the elevators to the door.
ROB (V.O.)
Laura looks different. Less
stress-out, more in control.
Something has happened, maybe
something real, or maybe something
in her head. Whatever it is, you
can see that she thinks she's
started out on some new stage in
her life. She hasn't. I'm not
going to let her.
She emerges from doors, says something to him and they start
walking, sharing her umbrella.
INT. OLDE TOWNE ALE HOUSE - NIGHT
Rob and Laura have just sat down in a booth.
LAURA
So, how are you?
ROB
Have you slept with him yet?
LAURA
I told you I slept with him.
ROB
No, not -- I mean have you, you
know --
LAURA
Is that why you wanted to see me?
ROB
I guess.
LAURA
Oh, Rob. What do you want me to say?
ROB
I want you to say that you haven't,
and I want it to be the truth.
She looks past him.
LAURA
I can't do that.
She starts to say something else but Rob is up and out.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Rob pushes through the rush hour raincoats, seeming to be
the only one going his way.
INT. ROB'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob is soaking, slumped in his chair, his headphones on and
the stereo lit up behind him. He talks a little loud, due
to the headphones.
ROB
Tonight we're gonna figure out the
five best angry songs about women.
Let's go...
He holds up a stack of records and CDs.
ROB (CONT'D)
You kind of have to start with
Elvis Costello, but where? "Motel
Matches?" "I Want You?" "I Hope
You're Happy Now?" "Green Shirt?"
His records should be sealed in
cases that say "in case of vicious
betrayal, smash glass." "Where Did
You Sleep Last Night," sure, but by
Robert Johnson or by Nirvana?
Maybe a Liz Phair track. There are
a couple to get angry at instead of
being angry with. Some devil's
advocate stuff. The Silver Jews
could be good when you're ready to
start putting it all behind you...
But I think we're getting ahead of
ourselves there. Ah. Dylan. Bob
fucking Dylan. Now Bob Dylan
would --
The phone rings. He pulls off his headphones and picks it
up but says nothing.
LAURA (O.S.)
You must have known it would happen.
You couldn't have been entirely
unprepared. Like you said, I've
been living with the guy. We were
bound to get around to it sometime.
She laughs a bit nervously.
LAURA (O.S.)(CONT'D)
(machine)
And anyway, I keep trying to tell
you, that's not really the point,
is it? The point is we got
ourselves into an awful mess, Rob...
Are you there? What are you
thinking?
ROB
(barely a whisper)
Nothing.
LAURA (O.S.)
We can meet for another drink if
you want. So I can explain it
better. I owe you that much.
ROB
Look, I gotta go. I work too, you
know.
LAURA (O.S.)
Will you call me?
ROB
I don't have your number.
LAURA (O.S.)
Call me at work. We can arrange to
meet properly. I don't want this
to be the last conversation we have.
I know what you're like.
ROB
You do, huh.
He hangs up and stares at the wall for awhile. He gets a
beer from the fridge and sits back down. He picks up the
phone and dials.
ROB (CONT'D)
Yes, a residence, a Mr. Ian Raymond,
North Side... thank you.
He writes down a number and hangs up, then looks to camera.
ROB
You know the worst thing about
being rejected? The complete lack
of control due to loss of control.
He picks up the phone and dials, while continuing to talk to
us --
ROB
If I could only control the when
and how of being dumped by somebody
then it wouldn't seem as bad. But
then, of course --
He hangs up quickly --
ROB
-- it wouldn't be rejection, would
it? It would be mutual consent.
It would be musical differences. I
would be pursuing a solo career.
CUT TO:
EXT. IAN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Rob is tucked into a phone booth across the street. He can
see the silhouettes of Laura and Ian in the window. He
picks up the phone, drops a quarter, and hits the numbers
hard as he dials... a muffled male "hello?" is heard and Rob
hangs up. He does it again. And again. And again. Until --
INT. IAN'S APARTMENT - INTERCUT
Still an unpacked box or two, but it's set up: a framed
"Woodstock - The Movie" poster, stacks of new fiction, a
bread maker -- you get the idea. Ian is shorter than Laura,
scruffier than Rob, and looks not unlike Leo Sayer/Steve
Guttenberg. He stares at Laura with amused exasperation.
She picks up the phone --
LAURA
Hello.
ROB
It's me.
LAURA
I figured it was.
(re: traffic noise)
Where are you?
ROB
I think the big question here is
where are you, if you don't mind my
saying so, and I think I know where
you are. You're running. On the run.
You're running from a point that
everyone hits in any relationship,
and you're just going to hit it
again with Ian but it's going to be
with a World Music bunny-rabbit-
looking earth-shoe-wearing "Doctor-
Who"-watching twit who doesn't
really understand you, not the way
that I do and will more in the
future, and you'll have just wasted
more time and arrive in the exact
same place that you're in now, only
later. And with... him.
LAURA
I'm not -- hold on...
She walks into another room, shutting the door behind her.
On a bookshelf is a picture of a younger Ian in a tunic,
emoting on some college stage. She turns it face down.
LAURA
I'm not in love with Ian, okay?
She wanders over to the window, looking out absently. She
sees Rob down there at the phone booth.
ROB
Are you still in love with me?
LAURA
Jesus. I do not know. I'll talk
to you later.
ROB
Think about what I said. I mean,
if you want to experiment, or
whatever --
LAURA
(indignant)
I'm not experimenting. Why don't
you go experiment.
ROB
I don't want to. Don't need to. I
love you.
LAURA
You don't ever think about other
people?
ROB
No... not really... I mean, I think
about it... but no, I don't really
think about it.
IAN (O.S.)
(through the door)
Laura? Are you okay?
LAURA
(covering the
mouthpiece, to Ian)
I am fine...
(to Rob)
I gotta go. Goodbye.
She clicks the phone off. The door cracks and Ian sticks
his head in.
IAN
Are you sure you're okay?
She moves past him back into the apartment.
LAURA
Yeah, I'm fine. I'm off the phone.
IAN
You look upset.
LAURA
I'm upset, but I'm fine.
IAN
Maybe I should talk to him.
LAURA
Mmmm, no. Not a good idea.
IAN
Conflict resolution is my job, Laura.
LAURA
Nothing to resolve, Ian. Let's get
a drink.
She grabs her coat and opens the door. The phone begins to
ring.
LAURA (CONT'D)
(waving toward the door)
C'mon, c'mon.
EXT. IAN'S APARTMENT
Rob stands on the sidewalk in the rain, Ian's building
behind him and down a few doors.
ROB
I wish I could be one of those guys
who doesn't call, the kind of guy
that gets broken up with and
appears not to give a shit. He
doesn't make an ass out of himself,
or frighten anybody, and this week
I've done both of those things.
One day Laura's sorry and guilty,
and the next she's scared and
angry, and I'm entirely responsible
for the transformation, and it
doesn't do my case any good at all.
I'd stop if I could but I --
His head turns at the sharp SOUND of a door opening -- Ian
and Laura are coming out of the building. He jumps behind a
tree, peering around it as they fade down the street.
INT. GREEN MILL - NIGHT
Rob sits alone, nursing a scotch. Rob looks up into the
mirror behind the bar and sees an older woman, MRS. ASHWORTH,
sitting alone a few stools down.
ROB
Do I know you?
ALISON'S MOM
I don't know.
Rob remembers, and his gaze has a new found seriousness.
ROB
You're Mrs. Ashworth. I'm Rob. An
old boyfriend of you're daughter's.
Alison's Mom's brow furrows and her face darkens.
ROB
Alison's.
ALISON'S MOM
Really.
ROB
Long time ago. I was just thinking
about her. I was her first
boyfriend.
ALISON'S MOM
What did you say your name was?
ROB
Rob. Rob Gordon. Circa junior
high...
ALISON'S MOM
I hate to quibble with you Rob, but
she married her first boyfriend.
Kevin Bannister.
ROB
You gotta be kidding me.
ALISON'S MOM
That's right. Kevin. She's Kevin
Bannister. She lives in Australia.
She doesn't seem to happy that Alison lives in Australia.
Rob is thrilled.
ROB
Really? Married Kevin? Her junior
high sweetheart... What chance
would I have had against that?
None, no chance. That's just fate.
ALISON'S MOM
I beg your pardon?
ROB
Technically, I'm number one. I
went out with her a week before
Kevin did. Her first boyfriend. Me.
She stands.
ALISON'S MOM
Well Rob, I'll tell her you said
hello. If she remembers you.
Alison's Mom strolls out.
ROB
(calling after her)
I think she will. But it's okay if
she doesn't. I'm fine now.
Rob turns to the bartender, smiling giddily.
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
Rob walks through Uptown toward the train.
ROB
And suddenly I am fine. For the
moment there is not one extra pound
on my chest. This is fate. Alison
married Kevin. You get it? That's
fate. That's got nothing to do
with me, that is beyond my control,
beyond my fault...
CUT TO:
ROB IN HIS CHAIR
Rob into camera, digging through a box, fishing through
pictures and letters, concert tickets and other mementos.
He begins to assemble a small pile of pictures of women.
ROB
I want to see the others on the Big
Top Five. Penny, who wouldn't let
me touch her and then went and had
sex with that bastard Chris Thompson.
Sarah, my partner in rejection who
rejected me, and Charlie, who I
have to thank for everything: my
great job, my sexual self-
confidence, the works. There's
this Springsteen song, "Bobby
Jean," off Born in the USA. About
a girl who's left town years before
and he's pissed off because he
didn't know about it, and