"WONDER BOYS" Screenplay by Steve Kloves Based on the novel by Michael Chabon January 21, 1999 (Pink Revision) ALL IS A BLUR... ...then WORDS appear, twisting and vaguely transparent, reflected on the window GRADY TRIPP stands before as he reads from a sheaf of NEATLY-TYPED PAGES. GRADY 'The young girl sat perfectly still in the confessional... INT. CLASSROOM - UNIVERSITY - AFTERNOON Grady -- 45-year-old novelist, professor, and insomniac -- is in the midst of reading a story to the dozen college STUDENTS who make up his Advanced Writing Workshop. GRADY ...listening to her father's boots scrape like chalk on the ancient steps of the church, then grow faint, then disappear altogether.' As he finishes, Grady ponders a PAIR of MAINTENANCE MEN, perched on ladders in the quad below, stringing a LARGE BANNER between two bare trees. The BANNER reads: WELCOME TO WORDFEST Grady turns, peers at his students. They look as if they've been on a field trip to the DMV. GRADY (a wave of the pages) So... Anyone? A GIRL with jet-black hair turns to a PALE YOUNG MAN sitting at a desk in the back of the classroom. He is JAMES LEER, 19. Like Grady a moment before, he is staring out the window. CARRIE MCWHIRTY Let me get this straight. The girl with the big lips is depressed because, each night, when her father goes off to work at the bakery, her mother sneaks some mysterious lover into the house. Not only does this girl have to listen to her mother working this guy in the next room, she has to wash the sheets each morning before Daddy gets home. After a few weeks of this, she starts to go a little nutty so Daddy takes her to confession -- only, once she gets in the box, she gets a whiff of the priest and realizes he's the mother's secret lover. Is that it? James Leer says nothing, huddling lower in the PATTY OVERCOAT he wears. CARRIE MCWHIRTY I mean, Jesus. What is it with you Catholics? GRADY All right. Let's try to keep it constructive, shall we? Howard, what about you? HOWARD I hated it. GRADY That's not exactly what I meant by constructive, Howard. HOWARD I think James should try to be more constructive. This is my second semester with him. His stories are brutal, man. They make me want to kill myself. Grady glances at James, but his face remains impassive. Then -- with a visible sense of relief -- Grady notices the raised hand of the achingly beautiful HANNAH GREEN. GRADY Yes, Hannah? HANNAH GREEN I think maybe we're missing the point. It seems to me James' strength as a writer is that he doesn't take us by the hand. He treats us like adults. He respects us enough to forget us. That takes... courage. Grady nods, smiles subtly. Appreciative. GRADY Well put, Hannah. And a good note to end on, I think. (as the students rise) Don't forget about WordFest this weekend. And remember: those of you driving V.I.P.s to tonight's cocktail party need to have them at the Chancellor's house no later than 5:30. Hannah Green gathers her things, pauses by Grady. GRADY Thanks for that. He all right? HANNAH GREEN I think so... What about you? GRADY Me? Sure. Why? HANNAH GREEN Just checking. Grady watches her glide away in her CRACKED RED COWBOY BOOTS, then starts to exit himself. JAMES LEER Turn out the light, please. Grady pauses, studying the wan figure sitting at the back of the classroom, then -- reluctantly -- hits the switch on the wail, leaving James Leer alone in the DARK. INT. STAIRWELL/CORRIDOR - AFTERNOON (MOMENTS LATER) Grady hurries down the steps, then spies SARA GASKSLL, 45, standing below. She is talking to a BOY with an armful of SLICK PROGRAMS. SARA (calm but firm) No, Elliot, I said five hundred programs for today. This means we have no programs for the weekend. This means that tomorrow morning, at 9AM, several hundred people will walk into Thaw Hall and have absolutely no idea where they are going. (shaking her head) It's all right, Elliot. I'll take care of it. Grady watches Sara take the programs, turn, and spot him. There is the slightest of hesitations, then... SARA Professor Tripp. GRADY Chancellor. SARA I got the message you called. GRADY I got the message you called too. This hangs in the air, awkward somehow, then both nod and continue on, without so much as a backward glance. INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING The RADIO BLASTS as Grady pops the glove box, removes a JOINT as big as his pinky, and wheels his DARK MAROON '66 GALAXIE RAGTOP away from campus, cruising under another BANNER: WELCOME TO WORDFEST FEBRUARY 26-28 EXT. GALAXIE - MOVING - PITTSBURGH Grady cruises past the three rivers and modest skyscrapers of downtown, sipping at the weed. INT. PITTSBURGH AIRPORT Grady rides the long, automated treadmill that runs half the length of the terminal, until... INT. ARRIVAL GATE - PITTSBURGH AIRPORT ...TERRY CRABTREE -- Grady's editor and friend -- exits the tunnel with a STUNNING YOUNG WOMAN in a skin-tight black dress, bright red topcoat, and three-inch spike heels. Grinning devilishly, Crabtree whispers something in the woman's ear, then spots Grady. CRABTREE Tripp! GRADY How are you, Crabtree? CRABTREE Brimming. Say hello to my new friend, Miss Antonia... uh... WOMAN Sloviak. CRABTREE I took the liberty of inviting Antonia to tonight's festivities. You don't mind, do you, Trip? GRADY (a slight beat) The more the merrier. MISS SLOVIAK Terry was telling me about you on the plane. It was all so interesting. CRABTREE I was explaining to Antonia how a book comes to be published. What you do as a writer, what I do as an editor... GRADY I sweat blood for five years and he checks for spelling. MISS SLOVIAK (indicating Crabtree) That's exactly what he said. CRABTREE We know each other pretty well. (to Grady) So where's Emily? GRADY Emily? CRABTREE Your wife. GRADY Oh. We're picking her up. Downtown. CRABTREE Perfect. Well then, shall we? Grady nods, but lingers briefly -- studying the architecture of Miss Sloviak's ankles as she CLICKS off in her spike heels, arm in arm with Crabtree. INT. BAGGAGE CAROUSEL - AIRPORT - MOMENTS LATER Grady and Crabtree watch suitcases tumble as Miss Sloviak sits across the way, inspecting her face in a compact. CRABTREE Do you know how many times I've boarded an airplane praying someone like her would sit down beside me? Particularly while I'm on my way to Pittsburgh. GRADY Lay off Pittsburgh. It's one of the great cities. CRABTREE If it can produce a Miss Sloviak you'll get no argument from me. GRADY She's a transvestite. CRABTREE You're stoned. GRADY She's still a transvestite. CRABTREE Mm. GRADY Isn't she? Crabtree ignores Grady's question, smiling placidly as he watches the carousel spin. CRABTREE So how's the book? Grady stiffens. He had been expecting this, but not so soon. He tries to act casual. GRADY It's fine. It's done. Basically. I'm just sort of... tinkering with it. CRABTREE Great. I was hoping I could get a look at it sometime this weekend. Think that might be possible? GRADY I don't know. I'm sort of at a critical... juncture. CRABTREE I thought you were tinkering. GRADY I just mean... CRABTREE Forget I asked. I don't want to pressure you, Tripp. But... (pointedly) ...I get pressure. Know what I mean? Grady ponders this, troubled by it. Suddenly, Crabtree's face brightens again. CRABTREE Ah... well now. What do you suppose that would be? Grady turns, watches an immense PONY HIDE CASE drop onto the carousel. GRADY That would be a tuba. INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING - LATE AFTERNOON As the Galaxie emerges from a TUNNEL, GRADY watches the great city of Pittsburgh reveal itself in the distance, then glances in the rearview mirror. GRADY That perfume you're wearing, Antonia. It wouldn't happen to be Cristaile, would it? MISS SLOVIAK Why yes. How did you know? GRADY Lucky guess. CRABTREE You didn't actually purchase this car, did you. Trip?? GRADY It was Jerry Nathan's. He owed me money. CRABTREE He owes God money. You know, he queered himself for good with Esquire. Grady takes a joint from the ashtray, snaps a Scripto butane. GRADY He said something about being between things. CRABTREE Yeah, between a bookie and a pair of broken legs. EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - MOMENTS LATER A YOUNG WOMAN with a crumpled PITTSBURGH STEELERS UMBRELLA exits the building and -- seeing Grady parked in front of a fire hydrant -- stops, a puzzled expression on her face. As she approaches, Grady rolls down the passenger window. GRADY Hi, Tanya. (to the others) This is Tanya. My wife's secretary. Crabtree and Miss Sloviak smile and nod. Tanya smiles and nods back, her eyes passing uneasily over Grady's joint. TANYA Grady... Emily's not here. Grady just smiles, nods. TANYA Is there anything I can do for you? Grady watches a tiny stream of water trickle through Tanya's sad umbrella. GRADY You're leaking, Tanya. Tanya nods -- at a loss -- then turns away into the rain. CRABTREE Trip?? GRADY She left me. Crabs. CRABTREE Left you...? Who? Emily? GRADY This morning. I found a note in the kitchen. CRABTREE But. ...why didn't you say something, Tripp? I mean, what are we doing here? Grady gazes at the glittering scene beyond his windshield, turns on the ignition. GRADY I thought maybe I made it all up. EXT. GASKELL HOUSE - EVENING Through the windows, a rabble of writers, faculty and select students can be SEEN, mingling under a haze of cigarette smoke. Grady brings the Galaxie to a lurching halt across the street, parks in front of another fire hydrant. As the trio steps out. Miss Sloviak notices a GREENHOUSE, shimmering quietly in the chill night air. MISS SLOVIAK That's a nice greenhouse. GRADY It's Mrs. Gaskell's. Her hobby. CRABTREE I thought you were Mrs. Gaskell's hobby, Tripp. GRADY Piss off, Crabs. I lost a wife today. CRABTREE Oh, I'm sure you'll find another. You always do. EXT. FRONT PORCH - GASKELL HOUSE As the front door swings open, Sara Gaskell appears, riding a wave of jagged party CHATTER onto the porch. SARA Well, hello, everyone. Terry, good to see you again. CRABTREE Chancellor. Don't you look ravishing. SARA Aren't you sweet to say so. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to -- oh! As Sara steps forward, her heel-catches and she pitches forward... into Grady's arms. GRADY Easy there. SARA I'm sorry. It's these goddamned shoes. I don't know how anyone actually walks in these things. MISS SLOVIAK Practice. Sara looks at Miss Sloviak, a faint glitter of scientific curiosity in her eye. SARA I don't believe we've met... MISS SLOVIAK Antonia. Antonia Sloviak -- Just then, a THICKLY-MUSCLED DOG with very strange EYES skitters around the corner, BARKING SAVAGELY in the general direction of Grady. SARA Poe! CRABTREE (mildly) This wouldn't be Walter's dog, would it? Poe continues to rage, his paws doing crazy eights on the hardwood floor, until he's spun himself completely around and is barking at the living room. MISS SLOVIAK Who's he barking at now? GRADY He's still barking at me. He's blind. SARA Poe' Hush! Now stop this. Honestly. As Poe simmers to a deep growl, Grady leans forward. GRADY I need to talk to you. SARA That's funny. I need to talk to you, too. (strategy in her tone) Perhaps you could put some of these coats in the upstairs guest room, Professor Tripp. GRADY (reading her) I don't believe I know where the upstairs guest room is. SARA Well then. I'd better show you. Terry -- CRABTREE We'll just make ourselves at home. (kneeling by Poe) Won't we, Poe? Yes, yes... INT. UPSTAIRS ROOM GRADY enters a room swimming in BASEBALL MEMORABILIA. AUTOGRAPHED BASEBALLS abound, as well as PHOTOGRAPHS of famous big-leaguers. In one somewhat-dated PHOTO a TRIM MAN IN HIS FORTIES (a younger Walter Gaskell) stands with PITTSBURGH PIRATE BILL MAZEROSKI at an old-timers game. As Sara eases the door shut, Grady nods to a 1951 YANKEE'S PENNANT hanging over the mantle. GRADY New? SARA (nodding) Walter just got it back from the framer today. Sara takes Grady's hand, drawing him away from the pennant and down onto the coat-covered bed. SARA You go first. GRADY All right. This morning -- SARA I'm pregnant. A flash of LAUGHTER flutters from the living room below. Grady starts to speak. SARA I'm sure. GRADY Well. This is... surprising. Does Walter...? SARA I think Walter would find this a little more than surprising. Grady nods, getting her drift, then roils onto his back. GRADY Emily left me this morning. SARA She's left before... GRADY She's left the room before. She always came back. Sara nods. Considers this. SARA So. I guess we just divorce our spouses, marry each other, and have this baby, right? Simple. GRADY Simple. Grady and Sara stare at the ceiling. Sara sniffs the coat lying beneath her. Miss Sloviak's coat. SARA Is that Cristaile? GRADY Hm. SARA (weary) My God, I wear the same scent as a transvestite. She IS a transvestite, isn't: she? GRADY If she's not now, Terry will make sure she is by the end of the evening. SARA Has he asked to see the book yet? GRADY Yes. SARA And? Are you going to tell him? GRADY No. Maybe. I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do. SARA (distantly) Neither do I. Grady starts to pull up, but his arm is underneath Sara. GRADY Sara, my arm. I'm stuck, honey. SARA I guess you're going to have to chew it off then. INT. LIVING ROOM - GASKELL HOUSE Poe noses blindly through a forest of legs, pauses by Miss Sloviak's high heels and scores a Rye Krisp. Crabtree, returning with a pair of DRINKS, tiptoes around him, finds Miss Sloviak chatting with a trim MAN in his 50's. CRABTREE Walter! I see you've met my friend. WALTER GASKELL Yes. She's charming. MISS SLOVIAK (taking her drink) Walter's been telling me the most fascinating things about Marilyn Monroe and... who was it? WALTER GASKELL Joe DiMaggio. Simply put, Antonia, it's my contention that their marriage tapped into the very id of American popular culture. Joe DiMaggio represented, metaphorically speaking, the Husband as Slugger... And, though it may be controversial, I personally believe every woman, in some way, desires to be Marilyn Monroe. MISS SLOVIAK Oh, I couldn't agree more. NEW ANGLE GRADY works his way through the crowd, spies Walter, and changes course. Directly ahead is an oddly commanding MAN ("Q"). From the behavior of the people in his vicinity it's clear he is someone of interest. Presently, he is putting the make on Hannah Green. Q And while my latest has been on the New York Times bestseller list for 40 weeks, I can't help but lament that my first book, which contains what I consider my finest writing, was remaindered in less than five. So, I find myself conflicted. GRADY Ask him if he's conflicted about his house in the Hamptons. HANNAH GREEN (brightening) Grady. Q eyes Grady over his wine glass. Q Hello... Professor. GRADY Q, Hannah's had two stories published in The Paris Review. You'd best dust off the 'A' material for her. As Grady moves off, he sees Poe sniffing, and goes the other way, heading directly into the crosshairs of a MAN IN TWEED, who is talking to another, shorter MAN. MAN IN TWEED (to short man) A supermarket for the mind, my ass. I'm telling you, they're nothing but a big, fat mob laundry. Have you ever been to Davenport, Iowa? Let me tell you, they need a 30,000-square- foot bookstore like they need another goddamn cow. (as GRADY passes) Grady! GRADY Hello, Nathan. MAN IN TWEED My God, I haven't seen you since, what? The PEN/Faulkner Awards. That was a big night for you, Grady. (to his friend) Grady was there for Arsonist's Daughter. The short man blinks, impulsively takes Grady's hand. SHORT MAN Douglas Triddly, Amherst. I kid you not when I say Arsonist's Daughter belongs in the pantheon of late twentieth century fiction. I've had it on my Graduate Studies syllabus three years running. GRADY (pulling away) No wonder it's still in print. As Grady flees, he passes a WOMAN holding a cigarette. WOMAN WITH CIGARETTE ...can take my word for it, writer's are lousy fucks. Poets aren't bad, but then you've got to deal with the sweater thing. They'll discover the cancer in your heart every time, but God forbid they find a decent dry cleaner. EXT. REAR GASKELL HOUSE - NIGHT Grady comes out the back: door and ferrets a JOINT from his pocket, lights it. He takes a long draw, walks around the side of the house. As he passes a window, a VOICE accosts him. MAN'S VOICE There you are. Grady starts, but when he looks through the window, he sees that the VOICE belongs to WALTER GASKELL and the person to whom he's talking is Sara. They are standing in the kitchen, near an elaborate WINE RACK. WALTER I could swear I had a '63 Chateau Latour in here. You haven't seen it, have you? SARA I doubt I'd recognize a '63 Chateau Latour if I was sitting on it. WALTER You'd recognize it if you tasted it. SARA I doubt it, darling. WALTER (angling & bottle to the light) Well, Q certainly will. And, given that he will be addressing 500 people in little over an hour... SARA You want to keep him happy. WALTER If he's happy... (kissing her as he exits) I'm happy. As Walter goes, Grady studies Sara as she stands alone in the quiet little room, looking small and tired. Finally, she takes a breath, steeling herself, and moves off, returning to the clamor inside her house. Grady sighs, guilt-stricken, then detects a FLICKER of LIGHT coming from the darkness beyond. A FIGURE is watching him from the retaining wail that leads to the Gaskell's garage. GRADY blinks, chagrined that he's been caught eavesdropping, then his eyes narrow and he steps off the porch. GRADY James? James Leer wears the same nasty overcoat from class, a GREEN KNAPSACK hanging off one shoulder. GRADY looks at what appears to be a sliver of moonlight in James' palm. JAMES LEER It's fake. James' face betrays his own fragile chagrin and Grady peers more closely at what lies in his extended hand. The sliver of moonlight is, in fact, a shiny PEARL-HANDLED PISTOL. JAMES LEER It was my mother's. She won it in a penny arcade in Baltimore when she was in Catholic school. GRADY It's very convincing. JAMES LEER It used to shoot these little paper caps, but they don't make them anymore. The caps. Grady reaches for the gun, but James closes his fingers and slips the tiny thing back into his overcoat. JAMES LEER It's just... for good luck. Some people carry rabbits' feet... GRADY ...You carry firearms. As Grady exhales a plume of smoke, James' eyes pass briefly over the jay. Grady notices, offers. JAMES LEER No, thank you. I don't like to lose control of my emotions. Grady nods, accustomed to James' weirdness. JAMES LEER I'm not supposed to be here, in case you were wondering. I crashed. I mean, not intentionally... James nods toward the house, where Hannah Green can be seen in a window, still fending off the determined Q. JAMES LEER ...but the other night, Hannah and I were together, at the movies, and she asked me. Since she was coming. So I ended up coming too. Grady nods, ponders this over-elaborate explanation. GRADY Are you and Hannah seeing each other, James? JAMES LEER No! What gave you that idea? GRADY Relax, James. I'm not her father. I just rent her a room. JAMES LEER She likes old movies like I do, that's all. (glancing back at the window) Besides, she doesn't really know me. She thinks she does, but she doesn't. Maybe it's because she's Mormon and I'm Catholic. GRADY Maybe it's because she's beautiful and she knows it and try as she might to not let that screw her up, it's inevitable that it will in some way. James looks away from the window, at Grady. JAMES LEER You're not like my other teachers, Professor Tripp. GRADY You're not like my other students, James. So what was the movie you two saw? JAMES LEER Huh? Oh. Son of Fury. With Tyrone Power and Frances Farmer. GRADY She went crazy, Frances Farmer. JAMES LEER So did Gene Tierney. She's in it too. GRADY Sounds like a good one. JAMES LEER (a crooked smile) It's not bad. Grady considers James' fragile face. GRADY Listen, James, about this afternoon. In workshop. I'm sorry. I think I let things get a bit out of control. JAMES LEER They really hated it. I think they hated it more than any of the other ones. GRADY Well... JAMES LEER It doesn't matter. It only took me an hour to write. GRADY (truly impressed) Really? That's remarkable. JAMES LEER I have trouble sleeping. While I'm lying in bed I figure them out. The stories. As James gazes off at the gloaming greenhouse, Grady looks down at the left front POCKET of James' overcoat. Like a nervous tic, James' hand -- hidden -- twitches against the modest bulk of the cap gun. GRADY You cold, James? JAMES LEER (distant) A little. GRADY So what are you doing out here? JAMES LEER It's colder in there. GRADY (laughing) You're right. James blinks, startled by Grady's laughter, startled that he's said something funny. He looks back to the greenhouse JAMES LEER Actually, I saw the greenhouse. So I thought... I thought I'd come out here and take a look at it. You don't see one of those every day. It looks like heaven... GRADY Heaven? JAMES LEER I saw a movie once. Part of it took place in heaven. Everyone wore white and lived in crystal houses. Like that. At least that's the way I remember it... Abruptly, James glances at his watch. JAMES LEER I should be going. James turns away, then stops. He stands like this a moment, then turns back. Holds out his right hand. JAMES LEER Goodbye, Professor Tripp. Grady hesitates, then shakes James' hand. James moves off then, leaving the light of the house behind. GRADY James. (as he stops) Don't leave just yet. There's something I think you ought to see. JAMES LEER I'll miss my bus. GRADY This is worth it. James looks conflicted. GRADY Trust me. INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER It's quieter now, the party winding down, as Grady sneaks James past the departing guests and toward the stairs. HANNAH GREEN Hey, you two. Grady stops, sees Hannah slipping on a coat in the foyer. HANNAH GREEN Are you riding with me, James? JAMES LEER No, I'm going ho -- GRADY He's going with me. You take Crabtree. And his friend. All right? HANNAH GREEN Ail right. By the way, his friend...? GRADY The answer's yes. I think. Yes. I don't know. Where are they exactly? CRABTREE Here we are! Crabtree appears at the top of the landing with Miss Sloviak. Her lipstick is blurry. CRABTREE (spying James) Nell, hello there. Crabtree steps down the stairs, hand extended. James Leer's pale fingers rise as if on a string. GRADY James. This is my editor, Terry Crabtree. HANNAH GREEN James'll know about George Sanders. JAMES LEER George Sanders? HANNAH GREEN Mr. Crabtree was saying how George Sanders killed himself, only he couldn't remember how. JAMES LEER Pills. August 25, 1972. In a Costa Brava hotel room. The few people within earshot glance oddly at James, but Crabtree's eyes glitter with intrigue. CRABTREE How comprehensive of you. HANNAH GREEN Oh, James is amazing. He knows all the movie suicides. Go ahead, James. Tell them who else. JAMES LEER There's so many... HANNAH GREEN Just a few then. The big ones. James glances at the loose group of people around him, watching, then... JAMES LEER Pier Angeli, 1971 or '72, also pills. Charles Boyer, 1978, pills again. Charles Butterworth, 1946, I think. In a car. Supposedly it was an accident, but, you know... (a trace of irony) He was distraught. Dorothy Dandridge, she took pills in, like, 1965. Albert Dekker, 1968, he hung himself. He wrote his suicide note in lipstick on his stomach. Alan Ladd, '64, more pills, Carole Landis, pills again, I forget when. George Reeves, Superman on TV, shot himself. Jean Seberg, pills of course, 1979. Everett Sioane -- he was good -- pills. Margaret Sullavan, pills, Lupe Velez, a lot of pills. Gig Young. He shot himself and his wife in 1978. There are more but I don't know if you would have heard of them. Ross Alexander? Clara Blandick? Maggie McNamara? Gia Scaia? HANNAH GREEN I haven't heard of half of those. CRABTREE You did them alphabetically. James turns, finds Crabtree's laser eyes on him. James blinks, as if he had forgotten about Crabtree, then shrugs shyly, looks away. JAMES LEER That's just how my brain works, I guess. CRABTREE Fascinating. Listen, why don't you come out with us after the lecture. There's a place on the Hill I always get Trip to take me. JAMES LEER Actually... I just want to go home. CRABTREE Oh, don't be silly. No one your age just wants to go home. Besides, faculty will be present. Just think of it as a field trip. As he exits, Crabtree raises an eyebrow to Grady, as if to say: "Bring him." Miss Sloviak follows, eyeing James glacially as we CUT TO: BLACK The dull PURR of a COMBINATION LOCK is HEARD, a DOOR opens, and a triangle of LIGHT falls on a PHOTOGRAPH of MARILYN MONROES JOE DIMAGGIO on their wedding day. INT. CLOSET - GASKELL HOUSE Grady and James Leer stand in the doorway. Just below the photograph of Marilyn and Joe -- hanging next to a PIN-STRIPED JERSEY bearing the number 5 -- is a SHORT BLACK SATIN JACKET trimmed with an ERMINE COLLAR. JAMES LEER Is that really it? GRADY That's really it. JAMES LEER The one she wore on her wedding day? GRADY So I'm told. James, in the presence of the holy grail of suicide garments, stands speechless. GRADY Go ahead. JAMES LEER Really? GRADY Really. James swallows, then goes to the jacket. Carefully, he reaches out his fingers and touches the yellowed collar, barely making contact, as though it might crumble to dust. JAMES LEER They're glass. The buttons. GRADY Like the lady herself. Grady says this airily, ironically, riding his buzz a bit, but James nods solemnly, eyes transfixed on the jacket, as if Marilyn herself were inside it. JAMES LEER She was small. Most people don't know that. The shoulders are small. (touching the satin) It looks so perfect. I bet it's the only time she wore it. That day. She must've felt so... happy. Grady studies James as he takes the fringe of the jacket, lifts it lightly. JAMES LEER It's feels unreal, like butterfly wings or... something. It must've cost Dr. Gaskell a lot. GRADY I guess. Walter never tells Sara the truth about how much he pays for these things. JAMES LEER You're really good friends with the Chancellor, aren't you? Grady's eyes slide, paranoid, but James' face remains unchanged, consumed with the jacket. GRADY (carefully) Pretty good. I'm friends with Dr. Gaskell, too. JAMES LEER I guess you must be, if you know the combination to his closet and he doesn't mind your being here in their bedroom like this. GRADY Right. A DOOR SLAMS downstairs and Grady and James jump. The CLICK of a woman's HIGH HEELS sends Grady to the bedroom window, where he watches Sara slide into a WHITE CITROEN DS23, turn on the ignition, and motor away. GRADY We, better skedaddle. Close that closet -- James? You all right? James is slumped on the Gaskell's white linen bed, knapsack between his knees, head in hands. JAMES LEER I'm sorry. Professor Tripp. Maybe it's seeing that jacket that belonged to her. It just looks... really lonely. Hanging there. In a closet. Maybe I'm just a little sad. GRADY Maybe. I'm feeling a little sad myself tonight. JAMES LEER You mean, with your wife leaving you and all? (off Grady's look) Hannah mentioned something about it. About a note. GRADY Yes. Well. It's complicated, James. I think we should go now. Without thinking, Grady flicks out the bedroom light, leaving James Leer in the dark for the second time today. James just sits there, a shadow in a room of shadows. INT. HALLWAY A LOW RUMBLE freezes Grady as he enters the hail. A few feet away, Poe lies belly to the ground, his blind blue eyes trained, more or less, in Grady's direction. GRADY Okay. Easy now. Eee-zy... Grady starts to take a step, when... Poe shoots forward and sinks himself deep into Grady's ankle. GRADY Jesus! Grady hops gracelessly, momentarily lifting Poe off the ground as he swings his leg up. Poe, countering, rolls his head in a snapping motion and drops Grady in a clumsy heap. GRADY Get off of me, you son-of-a-bitch! Poe regains his feet, but doesn't let go, whipping his head back and forth, back and forth, over and over, growling low, dark, and hideously from the back of his throat, until there is a sharp... CRACK! CRACK! Poe YELPS, goes perfectly still, then topples heavily onto Grady's legs. GRADY turns. James Leer stands in the doorway, posed with the little pearl-handled pistol like Steve McQueen. Grady looks at James. Then Poe. Then back to James. GRADY Shit, James. You shot Dr. Gaskell's dog. JAMES LEER I had to. Didn't I? GRADY Couldn't you've just pulled him off me? JAMES LEER No! He was crazy. I didn't -- he looked -- I thought -- GRADY Okay, okay. Take it easy. Don't freak out on me. Grady roils down his sock. Apparently, Poe went through life with a slight overbite. JAMES LEER Do you have a mirror? It's the best way to see if someone's breathing. GRADY He's dead, James. Believe me, I know a dead dog when I see one. James looks miserably at Poe. JAMES LEER What are we going to do? Grady rises awkwardly, holds out his hand. GRADY First you're going to give me that little cap gun of yours. INT. GALAXIE - MOVING Grady and James stare gloomily out the windshield. JAMES LEER Professor Tripp? Can I ask you a question? GRADY Yea, James. JAMES LEER What are we going to do with... James glances in the backseat, where Poe lies, strange blue eyes gleaming. GRADY I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how to tell the Chancellor I murdered her husband's dog. JAMES LEER You? GRADY Trust me, James, when the family pet's been assassinated, the owner doesn't want to hear one of her students was the triggerman. JAMES LEER Does she want to hear it was one of her professors? GRADY I've got tenure. EXT. PARKING LOT -- THAW HALL (CAMPUS) As sporadic APPLAUSE wafts from the high windowpanes of Thaw Hall, Grady leans into the Galaxie's trunk, creates a space between the tuba and a ZIPPERED SUITCASE. GRADY Okay. James totters forward, arms hooked under Poe's front legs looking like a sorry marathon dancer. Grady frowns, limps forward, and takes the hind legs. JAMES LEER He's still a little warm. They lay him down, push him deep into the trunk -- until there is a SOUND like a pencil SNAPPING. JAMES LEER Yuck. Grady grabs Crabtree's garment bag, frisks the pockets. JAMES LEER That's a big trunk. It fits a tuba, a suitcase, a dead dog, and a garment bag almost perfectly. GRADY (searching) That's just what they used to say in the ads. Come on, Crabtree, I know you're holding... JAMES LEER Whose tuba is that anyway? GRADY Miss Sloviak's. JAMES LEER Can I ask you something about her? GRADY She is. Ah. Here we go... Grady unravels a pair of boxer shorts, finds an airplane- size bottle of JACK DANIELS, then grabs another pair of boxers. JAMES LEER Oh. So. Is -- is your friend Crabtree -- is he -- gay? GRADY Most of the time he is, James. Some of the time he isn't. Now what do we have here? Grady rattles a prescription bottle, then shakes out a pair of WHITE PILLS, each etched with a tiny numeral 3. GRADY Looks like... our old friend Mr. Codeine. That should take the pinch out of my ankle. (handing the bottle to James) Have one. JAMES LEER No thanks. I'm fine without them. GRADY Right. That's why you were standing in the Chancellor's back yard twirling that little cap gun of yours tonight. You're fine, all right, you're fit as a fucking fiddle. Grady opens the tiny bottle of Jack with his teeth, drinks down two number 3's, then looks at James. GRADY I'm sorry, James. I'm sorry I said that. Recklessly, James takes a pill, tosses it in his mouth, and tips back the tiny bottle of Jack. Half a second later, he spits it all out. Grady looks down, peels the soggy pill from the lapel of his jacket. GRADY How 'bout we try that again. INT. AUDITORIUM - LATER On the stage. Walter Gaskell stands alone at a podium. WALTER ...really needs no introduction. Walk down the aisle of any airplane or by the pool of any hotel and you'll see his face beaming back at you. You all know the name, you all know the books, so welcome if you will, the man those of us who know him simply call... Q. As the audience THUNDERS, Grady and James slink into the auditorium. It's standing room only. As they head for an open space against the back wail, Grady squeezes past a KID with a GOATEE .who regards him warily. Q Good evening. Grady stares, over the gleaming sea of heads before him, watching as Q pauses, ...for a very long moment... waiting until the auditorium is consumed in a heavy, anticipatory hush. Finally, he speaks again. Q I am a writer. As the audience EXPLODES with glee, Grady frowns. He glances to his right, sees James' left brow crinkled with a similar look of bafflement. Q As a writer, one thing you learn is that everyone you encounter has a story. Every bartender, every taxi driver, everybody has an idea or a story that would make a "great book" or a "great movie." Presumably, each of you has an idea. (gestures to the audience) But, how do you go from there to here? How do you go from having an idea to having a book? How do you get across? What is the bridge, the bridge that allows you to walk on air from the shoreline of inspiration to the terra firma of accomplishment? Faith. Faith that your story is worth the telling, faith that you have the wherewithal to tell it, faith that the carefully woven structure you create won't collapse beneath you... Grady glances at James, sees that his eyes are unblinking and glazed, then sees, beyond him, Sara standing by the far EXIT. A blink later, she is gone. Q ...and faith that when you get to the other side someone will be waiting who gives a damn about the tale you have to tell. Grady leans back, listening to the BEATING of his own HEART, the soft GLIMMER of the chandeliers hanging by a thread forty feet above his head... Abruptly, James LAUGHS OUT LOUD -- some private amusement: bubbling up from the bottom or his brain and out into the auditorium. As Q looks and four hundred other heads turn, James ducks down -- mortified. Crabtree, sitting a few rows away, studies James with amusement, then winks at Grady. Grady blinks, turns to James. GRADY I'll be right back. INT. LOBBY Grady bursts through the auditorium doors and into the lobby. A PAIR of local BOOKSELLERS, chatting quietly behind a table arrayed with the BOOKS of attending authors, glance up as Grady limps toward the restrooms. INT. CORRIDOR Grady stumbles down the sloping carper, but the corridor begins to turn sideways on him and he stops, resting his cheek against the cool... cool... wall... as... all.. goes... BLACK FOR A MOMENT AND THEN.... SARA'S VOICE Grady? Grady? Grady opens his eyes, finds Sara's face swimming above him. He is lying on his back in the corridor, his corduroy blazer bundled under his head like a pillow. SARA You had another one, didn't you? You have to see a doctor, Grady. First thing Monday morning. All right? GRADY Is the thing -- is it over? SARA Almost. Want to sit up? (as he winces) What's the matter? GRADY Nothing. I think I twisted my -- Grady looks at his ankle and feels a rush of guilt. GRADY I have to tell you something. Something... hard. Sara's face stiffens, becomes more Chancelloresque. SARA Then stand up. I'm too old for all this rolling around on the floor. Grady lets her pull him up, watches her light a cigarette. GRADY Well... SARA Don't. I know what you're going to say. GRADY No, really, Sara, I don't think you -- SARA You love Emily. I know that. And you need to stay with her. GRADY I don't think I really have a choice in, that. Emily left me. SARA She'll come back. That's why I'm going to... to not have this baby. Grady watches her flip her hand up, bring the cigarette to her lips, and inhale... then grimace and drop it to the floor. GRADY Not have it. SARA No. There's no way. I mean, don't you think there's no way? GRADY Well, no, I don't see any way. (taking her hand) And I know how hard it is for you to -- to lose this chance. SARA (jerking away) No you don't. And fuck you for saying you do. And fuck you for "saying... (quietly) ...for saying there's just no way. Because there could be a way, Grady. Somewhere deep in the building, APPLAUSE swells. SARA (composing herself) He must be finishing. We should go. Grady looks sadly at Sara then stoops to retrieve his coat. As he grabs it, James Leer's little pistol CLATTERS to the floor. SARA Who's gun is that? GRADY It's -- it's a souvenir. Of Baltimore. Before Grady can close his hand, Sara has it in her own. SARA Heavy. Smells like gunpowder. GRADY Caps. She points it at Grady's chest. He smiles nervously. SARA Pow. GRADY You got me. SARA I love you, Grady. Grady places his fingers gently over Sara's... and removes the gun from her hand. GRADY I love you, too. INT. LOBBY The auditorium doors swing open and James Leer emerges, arms draped over Crabtree and a LARGE STUDENT. JAMES LEER Woah! The doors made so much noise! As they make for the restrooms, Sara and Grady appear. JAMES LEER This is so embarrassing! You guys had to carry me out. GRADY Is he all right? CRABTREE (rolling his eyes) He's fine. He's narrating. JAMES LEER We're going to the men's room. Only we might not make it in time. SARA Terry Crabtree and James Leer. Leave it to you to make that mistake, wait here. As Sara heads off after James, Grady turns toward the lobby... directly into the hostile gaze of Miss Sloviak. MISS SLOVIAK I need a ride. GRADY I'm your man. EXT. STREET As the Galaxie's big trunk yawns open. Miss Sloviak stares at what's wedged up against her suitcase. GRADY There's an explanation. Miss Sloviak raises an eyebrow and then, leaning in, unzips her suitcase. INT. GRADY'S CAR - MOVING As GRADY drives, Miss Sloviak finishes with the top button of a man's shirt, then reaches into the zippered COSMETICS BAG in her lap. Onto the open tray of the glovebox, she places a JAR of COLD CREAM, a BOTTLE of NAIL POLISH REMOVER, and a cloud of COTTON BALLS. MISS SLOVIAK Couldn't he have just thrown a shoe at the poor thing? GRADY James is... I don't know... MISS SLOVIAK Disturbed. And when your friend Crabtree gets done with him, he's going to be even more disturbed. GRADY I'm not sure that's possible. MISS SLOVIAK Sure it is. Grady watches Miss Sloviak peel the wig from her forehead. GRADY Listen, Antonia -- MISS SLOVIAK Tony. Now that I'm home. GRADY Tony. I'm sorry if things didn't work out so well for you tonight. With Terry. MISS SLOVIAK Forget it. I should've known better. Your friend is just, I don't know, into collecting weird tricks. Mind? Tony angles the rearview mirror toward himself. GRADY He's writing his name in water. MISS SLOVIAK What's that? GRADY Like most editors, he really wants to be a writer, but he's too busy living a novel to bother writing one. MISS SLOVIAK That sounds like a fancy excuse for being a shit. GRADY He'd call it habit. But now... I get the feeling he's going through the motions a bit. Tony peels off a pair of false eyelashes, blinks. MISS SLOVIAK You mean because his career's ruined and all? GRADY Jesus. Is that what he told you? MISS SLOVIAK He said he hasn't had a success in ten years and everyone in New York thinks he's kind of a... As Tony re-sets the rearview mirror, Grady gets a glimpse of his own swollen eyes. MISS SLOVIAK ...loser. But I'm sure your book is so good that he'll be able to keep his job. Hearing this, Grady looks troubled. Miss Sloviak points. MISS SLOVIAK Turn here. EXT. SLOVIAK HOUSE GRADY pulls in front of a small brick house. On the front lawn, a small statue of the BLESSED VIRGIN stands under a little white BAND SHELL painted with stars. GRADY That's nice. All we have is a Japanese beetle trap. MISS SLOVIAK It's a bathtub. What she's standing under. The PORCH LIGHT conies on and a SMALL, WHITE-HAIRED MAN squints through the screen door. MISS SLOVIAK There's Pop. (turning) Let me see it. The gun. Grady reaches into his pocket, hands it over. Tony smirks. MISS SLOVIAK Figures. It's like the kind of gun Bette Davis would carry. In a little beaded purse? Grady studies the gun in Tony's hand, then glances at the front screen door. Pop is still there. GRADY I'd better go. I think I may have to rescue James Leer. Miss Sloviak returns the gun, steps out of the car, and peers in at Grady. MISS SLOVIAK You know, Grady, if I were you. I'd think about going home. You look like you need a little rescuing yourself. EXT. PARKING LOT - HI-HAT CLUB Grady parks near a VAN that has KRAVNIK'S SPORTING GOODS stenciled on the side. He watches a BOUNCER frisk a patron in the PINK LIGHT of the Hi-Hat Club's entrance, then slides James Leer's little PISTOL into the glovebox. EXT. ENTRANCE - HI-HAT CLUB As Grady steps to the door, the bouncer gives him a perfunctory pat-down. BOUNCER (kidding him) Clean tonight, huh, Professor? GRADY As a whistle. INT. HI-HAT CLUB Hannah Green is dancing with a sweat-drenched Q as Grady enters this SMOKE-FILLED RHYTHM AND BLUES club. She beckons with a finger, but Grady -- Nervous at the sight of her glistening Mormon skin -- merely pantomimes an exaggerated shrug and she points. Crabtree and James Leer sit at a dark corner table. James slouches, eyes half-closed, while Crabtree stares in the general vicinity of the dancers, his hand extended beneath the table, in the general vicinity of James' lap. Grady, looking a little alarmed, grabs a passing WAITRESS. GRADY Double Dickel on the rocks. INT. BOOTH As Grady arrives, Crabtree withdraws his hand delicately and James' eyes flutter open, briefly, then close. GRADY Is that just beer? CRABTREE Primarily. Although I gather you two staged a little raid on the Crabtree pharmacopoeia. You missed a few bottles, by the way. GRADY I'm sure. Where is everyone? CRABTREE Sara and Walter declined. Guess they wanted to go home and curl up on the couch with the dog. Grady cuts James a glance, trying to determine if he's copped on Poe, but James is winking out. His head drifts back against the wall, settles with a gentle... thunk. GRADY Jesus. He's out. Crabtree glances over, nods. CRABTREE He has a book. GRADY I know. He started it Fall semester. CRABTREE He finished it Winter Break. Grady looks up, unable to disguise his surprise. He glances at James' slack face tilted against the wall. CRABTREE So. Is he any good? GRADY No. Not yet he isn't. CRABTREE Well, I'm going to read it anyway. GRADY Come on. Crabs. Don't do this. He's one of my students, for Christ sake. I'm not even sure if he's -- CRABTREE He is. Take my word for it. GRADY I think it's more complicated than that. Besides, he's a little... scattered. He almost... did something stupid tonight. At least, I think so. Anyway, he doesn't need sexual confusion thrown into the stew right now. CRABTREE On the contrary, it could be just the ticket. WAITRESS (ducking in) Double Dickel. GRADY Thanks. Grady notices the waitress's nametag (OOLA) and realizes she is conspicuously PREGNANT. He watches her disappear beyond the blur of bodies on the dance floor, where Hannah Green's slinky form seizes his attention. CRABTREE No sexual confusion there, eh, Professor? GRADY Shut up and drink. Crabtree grins, brings his bottle up, then stops. CRABTREE Oh my goodness. Do you see what I see? Grady follows Crabtree's glance and finds Oola again, but it's not Oola Crabtree is eyeing, it's her CUSTOMER. GRADY President of the James Brown Hair Club For Men. Sitting alone in the dark booth is a SMALL BLACK MAN with big hands, a face peppered with scar tissue, and -- most noticeably -- a tsunami of hair sprouting from his scalp. GRADY (initiating an old game) He's a boxer. A flyweight. CRABTREE Huh uh. A jockey. His name's, um, Curtis... Curtis Hardapple. GRADY Not Curtis. CRABTREE Vernon, then. Vernon Hardapple. The scar's are from a -- from a horse. He fell during a race and got trampled. GRADY And now he's addicted to painkillers. CRABTREE He can't piss standing up anymore. GRADY He lives with his mother. CRABTREE And he had a younger brother who... was... a... GRADY Groom. Named Claudell. And his mother blames Vernon for his death. CRABTREE (stumped) Because... because... JAMES LEER (sleepily) ... he was killed, when a gangster named Freddie Nostrils tried to shoot his favorite horse. He took the bullet himself. Grady and Crabtree turn to look at James Leer, who opens one bloodshot eye to regard them. JAMES LEER Vernon, over there, was in on the hit. James' eye closes. Crabtree looks over at Grady. CRABTREE That was good. GRADY He heard everything we were saying. Just then, Hannah Green bounces up in her red boots. HANNAH GREEN Come on, Teach. I want you to dance with me. INT. DANCE FLOOR - MOMENTS LATER Grady and Hannah, reflected in bits and pieces in the jack 'o lantern wall of MIRRORED TILE, slow-dance to a sexy, measured blues. HANNAH GREEN I've been re-reading Arsonist's Daughter. It's so beautiful, Grady. So natural. It's like all your sentences always existed, just waiting around in Style Heaven, or wherever, for you to fetch them down. GRADY I thank you. HANNAH GREEN And I love the inscription you wrote to me. Only I'm not quite the downy innocent you think I am. GRADY I hope that isn't true. We need all the downy innocents we can get. Grady spies the corner table, watches Crabtree say something to Q and then, casually, stroke a lock of hair from James Leer's forehead. HANNAH GREEN So what are you going to do? GRADY Do? HANNAH GREEN I just mean, I -- I guess Emily isn't going to be there when you get home. Grady looks down into Hannah's translucent face, then catches a glimpse of himself in the fractured, wall. The tile that would reflect his head is missing. GRADY Are you holding me up or am I dragging you down? Hannah snuggles closer, lays her head on Grady's chest. HANNAH GREEN Shush. EXT. PARKING LOT - HI-HAT CLUB (2 AM) Grady, limping on his bad ankle, carries James to Hannah's rumpled RENAULT, props him against the fender. GRADY Look, Hannah. When you get him home... make sure he's all right. Before you leave. Okay? HANNAH GREEN I would if I knew where I was taking him. GRADY Hannah, are you telling me you don't know where James Leer lives? HANNAH GREEN Some apartment somewhere. But I've never seen it. GRADY That strikes me as odd. HANNAH GREEN James is odd. I know he has an aunt in Sewickley Heights. I dropped him there once, but... (remembering) Come to think of it, it wasn't even his Aunt's house. He said she worked there. Or something. I don't remember. James MUMBLES, starts to slide onto the hood of the car. JAMES LEER Mmhmmm... knap... sap... GRADY What's he saying? HANNAH GREEN His bag. You know that ratty green thing he's always carrying around. He must've left it inside. GRADY Hh-uh. Last time I saw it was... Grady glances at the idling Galaxie across the street. Crabtree and Q huddle inside. GRADY Shit. He must've left it back at Thaw. In the auditorium. JAMES LEER (delirious, but insistent) Mmrrmmm... KNAP SAP! Grady frowns in annoyance, opens the passenger door. GRADY All right. Take him to my place. He can crash on the sofa. HANNAH GREEN The one in your office? It's the best one for naps. GRADY I don't think it really matters, Hannah. We could probably stand him up in the garage with the snow shovels at this point. As Grady lowers James into the seat, he WHIMPERS, curls into a ball. Hannah turns her puppy dog eyes on Grady. GRADY Ail right. In my office. As GRADY starts to turn away, Hannah's fingers graze his face. HANNAH GREEN Hey. If you want to talk later... I'll be up. Grady watches her fold her lovely self into the car and drive away. He sighs, crosses to the Galaxie, and just has his hand on the doorhandle when a TINY FIGURE appears. Vernon Hardapple. VERNON HARDAPPLE You driving this car? GRADY Excuse me? VERNON HARDAPPLE This 1966 maroon Ford Galaxie 500. You driving this car? GRADY It's mine. VERNON HARDAPPLE Bullshit. It's mine, motherfucker. GRADY You must be mistaken. VERNON HARDAPPLE Bullshit. Grady shakes his head wearily, opens the door. GRADY Go home to your mother, Vernon. INT. GALAXIE Grady slides in next to Q, puts the car in gear, and starts to pull away. As he glances in the rearview, he sees Crabtree smiling darkly in the backseat. GRADY All right, what's the matter? Crabtree just keeps smiling. GRADY Christ, Crabs, what do you expect me to do? The kid's practically in a coma. CRABTREE Tripp. GRADY Yes. CRABTREE Hit your brakes. Grady flicks his eyes from the rearview mirror just as a SHADOW looms in his headlights. As he squashes the break pedal, Q's EYEGLASSES go flying into the windshield. Q (squinting) Oh my God! What is that? It's Vernon, waving his arms, his shadow enormous in the beams of light. GRADY What's this guy's problem? CRABTREE Just go around him. Grady taps the accelerator, but each time, Vernon dances back in front of Grady's grille. GRADY Shit. CRABTREE Back up. Go out the other way. Grady throws the car in reverse, backs straight up, then turns up a one-way street. He shoots down the alley behind the Hi-Hat, turns onto the adjoining street... and watches in amazement as Vernon materializes from behind the high wooden fence that runs parallel to the Galaxie. As Grady punches the brakes, Vernon grins. GRADY Now what? Q (mischievously) You could always go over him. Then, as the three men watch, Vernon rocks back on his heels and -- with a gymnast's precision -- pitches himself onto the Galaxie's big hood. He lands on his ass, slides smoothly off, then takes a deep bow and disappears into the night. Q What just happened? Grady peers at the wrinkled asterisk on his hood. GRADY I just had my car jumped on. EXT. THAW HALL - NIGHT (TWENTY MINUTES LATER) Grady stops the car in the red zone and gets out. GRADY Wait here. I'll be right back. CRABTREE Where would we go? INT. LOBBY The JANITOR, the same shaggy-haired kid Grady saw rigging the WordFest banner earlier, is struggling with a bulky FLOOR WAXER as Grady steps up to the double doors and slaps his hand against the glass. JANITOR It's open. Grady pushes on the door and it opens. JANITOR Hey, Professor Tripp. (off Grady's look) Traxler. Sam. I took your class freshman year. Then I dropped out of school. GRADY I hope it wasn't my fault. TRAXLER (taking him seriously) No. I guess you're here for the backpack. GRADY Oh... yeah. INT. AUDITORIUM The knapsack is sitting on one of the metal folding chairs as Sam and Grady enter the silent hail. TRAXLER I saw the manuscript inside. So when you showed up, I figured... Grady lifts the knapsack, peers inside. There is no title page to the MANUSCRIPT, just the words The Love Parade and then, halfway down, TEXT. TRAXLER Is it good? GRADY (reading) I don't know. It might be... CUT: EXT. THAW HALL - NIGHT - A MOMENT LATER Grady steps outside, closes the flap of the knapsack and, hunching his shoulders against the cold... stops. Crabtree. Q. The car. Gone. INT. TRAXLER'S HONDA - NIGHT Traxler gives Grady a ride in his Honda, one of the original Hondas best suited for sidewalk driving. The backseat bulges with a huge AMPLIFIER and BASS GUITAR. TRAXLER Say, Professor Tripp, is all that stuff true about Errol Flynn? How he used to put coke on his dick. To make himself, you know, like, last longer? GRADY Christ, Traxler. How the hell should I know? TRAXLER Well, jeez, you're reading his biography, aren't you? Sam points and GRADY glances at the knapsack riding on the seat between him and Sam. A BOOK -- bearing ERROL FLYNN'S PICTURE -- is tucked into the side pouch. GRADY Oh, right. Yeah, that's true. He used to rub all kinds of things on it. Paprika. Ground lamb. TRAXLER Sick. EXT. SASKELL'S HOUSE - NIGHT (MOMENTS LATER) Sam brings the car to a coughing idle across the street from the Gaskell's house. TRAXLER Wow, check out that greenhouse. Is that your wife? Grady gazes at Sara, a vaporous blur in the greenhouse. GRADY No, my wife's out of town. Just then, the Honda FILLS WITH LIGHT. HEADLIGHTS loom, then a POLICE CAR sweeps into the Gaskell's driveway. Walter appears on the front steps. TRAXLER Who's that guy? GRADY Her husband. Traxler looks anxiously at the police car. TRAXLER What exactly are we doing here, Professor Tripp? GRADY (staring at Sara) Taking the long way home. EXT. GRADY'S HOUSE - NIGHT - A LITTLE LATER As Traxler drives away, Grady mounts the porch with James Leer's knapsack hanging from one shoulder. He reaches above the door, feeling for a key, but his fingers come away with only dust. He stands, dispirited, then an idea strikes. He takes the doorknob, turns it. It opens. INT. HALLWAY - GRADY'S HOUSE Grady enters, closes the door quietly behind him. INT. LIVING ROOM The room is dim but the TV is on, throwing crazy slashes of light onto the wails and ceiling. As Grady limps by, he finds a sleeping Hannah Green, bundled in a blanket, T-shirt, and little else. On the floor, near her dangling hand, Woolf's A Common Reader lays open next to a Diet Coke. Grady considers the smooth geography of her body, but his eyes are most powerfully drawn to... her feet. He steps forward, lifts the blanket gently, but finds -- to his disappointment -- only the red cowboy boots. He picks up the remote, turns off the TV, and exits. INT. GRADY'S OFFICE James Leer slumbers on a green sofa, draped in an old sleeping bag. Grady drops behind his desk, lets James' knapsack slide to the floor. He lifts his cuff, inspects his ugly ankle, then glimpses something in the knapsack. Something yellow. Something soft. Grady reaches down and, slowly -- like a magician producing a magical scarf-extracts MARILYN MONROE'S WEDDING JACKET from James Leer's ratty green knapsack. Grady glances at the young man on his sofa, then, looking very tired, reaches for the desk lamp... and turns out the light on the both of them. EXT. FRONT PORCH - SATURDAY MORNING (NEXT DAY) Grady steps outside in a WOMAN'S CHENILLE BATHROBE and plucks the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette from the second porch step. He fishes out a charred ROACH, starts to light it, then notices the Galaxie sitting in the driveway. INT. GUEST BEDROOM - MINUTES LATER As Crabtree SNORES thunderously, Grady eases open the door, spots the CAR KEYS on the dresser, grabs them. INT. LANDING - CONTINUOUS Grady eases the door shut, starts to turn, then stops, his eyes drawn to the door just across the landing from Crabtree's room. INT. EMILY'S OFFICE Grady pushes open the door with the tips of his fingers, lets it glide open. The room that is revealed is bright and well-ordered, in direct contrast to the lazy clutter of Grady's office. There is a DRAFTING TABLE and a COMPUTER, pads and pens neatly arranged alongside. A BULLETIN BOARD hangs on one wall, bearing an intricate mosaic of multi-colored index cards. There are PRINTS, framed, from various art exhibits, and two of Grady's DUST JACKETS -- including, most prominently, Arsonist's Daughter. There are PHOTOGRAPHS of EMILY too. In a black turtleneck with friends. In a sundress with Grady. In a billowing Burberry, floating like a dark butterfly against a BLUR of YELLOW TAXIS on a street in Manhattan. Smiling brilliantly. Beautiful. INT. GRADY'S OFFICE Grady enters with a THERMOS -- pauses -- redistributes the sleeping bag over James Leer's pale body. JAMES LEER (without waking) Thank you. GRADY You're welcome. Grady sits at his desk, pours himself a cup of coffee from the thermos, then sets the cup directly in the center of a galaxy of previous coffee rings. Next, he takes a clean piece of paper, balls it up, and -- with ritual precision -- strokes it into the MINIATURE BASKETBALL HOOP that crowns the rim of the WASTE BASKET across the room. All net. A 9-VOLT CROWD ROAR belches from the hoop and, without further ceremony, Grady turns to the blank page curling from his IBM SELECTRIC and SPACES to the top right corner, TYPES: (beat) 2611 In other words: Page 2611. CLOSE UP - THE TYPEWRITER PAPER -- darkening with WORDS, the KEYS SNAPPING faster and faster, a CRAZY CLAMOR that grows and grows until, finally, it just... Stops. GRADY James I... Grady awakes with his back to the floor, James leer's quizzical face floating like a cloud above him. GRADY I'm okay. I just lost my balance. JAMES LEER I put you on the floor. GRADY Oh. JAMES LEER I thought you might -- I don't know -- swallow your tongue or something. (nodding to Grady's robe) I guess you really miss her, huh? Grady peers down at the geraniums blooming on the pockets of the robe, its overall fuzziness. GRADY Huh? Oh, no. This isn't Emily's. I just write in it. JAMES LEER I guess there's probably a story behind that. GRADY There is, but it's not that interesting. James nods. Down the hallway, in another room, the TELEPHONE RINGS. JAMES LEER Want me to get that? GRADY Sure. As James shuffles away in the sleeping bag, Grady rises delicately and turns toward the window, just in time to see a POLICE CAR roll slowly by on the screen below. JAMES LEER (returning) He didn't give his name. GRADY Who? JAMES LEER The guy on the phone. GRADY What'd he say? JAMES LEER He wanted to know if a Grady Tripp lived here and drove a dark maroon 1966 Ford Galaxie 500 with black interior. GRADY What'd you tell him? JAMES LEER Yes. GRADY Good, James. If the Zodiac killer calls, be sure to mention the back door pops open with a couple hard shakes to the right. JAMES LEER I thought maybe you'd won a radio contest or something. Is that single- spaced? James has noticed the towering stack of 20 lb. bond on Grady's desk. GRADY Afraid so. JAMES LEER That's a big book you're writing. GRADY I think it's sort of writing itself at this point. JAMES LEER Wow, Hannah always swore you were working, but -- GRADY But... ? JAMES LEER Nothing, it's just that, well, it's been awhile since Arsonist's Daughter, and some people -- some of the kids in workshop -- thought maybe you were... GRADY Washed up? JAMES LEER Blocked. GRADY Ah. I don't believe in writer's block. James takes another glance at the mammoth manuscript. JAMES LEER No kidding. A LOUD HACKING is HEARD. Grady and James turn, watch Crabtree, wearing only a pair of striped boxers, materialize in the hallway. CRABTREE Good morning, boys. James. James waves feebly from beneath the sleeping bag. GRADY (re: James' "attire") If you're planning on staying for breakfast, I'd put on something a little less comfortable if I were you. As Grady moves to his desk to reacquaint himself with the page curling from the typewriter, James continues to stare into the emptiness of the hallway. The sight of Crabtree seems to have made him suddenly queasy. JAMES LEER Professor Tripp? GRADY Hm. JAMES LEER How did I get here last night? GRADY No one seems to know where you live, James. Hannah thought you'd like my couch. JAMES LEER And... and before that. Did I do anything? Anything bad? GRADY Well, James, you did shoot the Head of the English Department's dog and steal his most prized piece of memorabilia. As James contemplates this, the DOORBELL RINGS. Grady looks up, sees the POLICE CAR he noticed earlier, now parked at the bottom of his driveway. GRADY Do yourself a favor, James... hide. EXT. FRONT PORCH A POLICEMAN not much older than James Leer waits. As the door opens, Grady appears. OFFICER PUPCIK Good morning... (eyeing Grady's robe) Professor Tripp? Sorry to bother you, sir, but I understand you attended an event at Sara and Walter Gaskell's house last night and were one of the last to leave... INT. LANDING - SAME TIME James lurks at the top of the stairs, swaddled in the sleeping bag, straining to hear. OFFICER PUPCIK (O.S.) ...was just wondering if maybe you saw anyone. Someone you didn't know. Who seemed out of place. Suspicious maybe... EXT. FRONT PORCH Grady is scratching his head in mock thought. GRADY Well, there's always people you don't know at these things, but I can't say there was anybody particularly suspicious... Wait. There was one guy. Tiny fella. Claimed to be a jockey. OFFICER PUPCIK A jockey? You mean, like -- GRADY Horses, right. Vernon something... (thinking...) Hardapple. Pupcik stops on his pad, looks up. OFFICER PUPCIK Hardapple? GRADY I could be wrong. What happened anyway? OFFICER PUPCIK Huh? Oh, someone pulled a B&E on Dr. Gaskell's closet. And the dog's missing. GRADY That's weird. OFFICER PUPCIK We figure the perpetrator let him out. He's blind and we figure he just wandered off and got run over. GRADY The perpetrator. OFFICER PUPCIK No, the dog. GRADY Just kidding. Pupcik nods slowly, as if re-filing Grady under "Dealing With Assholes." OFFICER PUPCIK One other thing. About this kid, this student of yours -- Leer -- James Leer. You wouldn't know how I could get in touch with him, would you? GRADY I might have his number on campus. OFFICER PUPCIK That's all right. We'll find him. Pete Pupcik smiles, tips his big blue police hat, and turns away. Grady frowns, starts to close the door... HANNAH GREEN (O.S.) There you are... Grady stiffens, then turns to find Hannah Green across the room in her t-shirt and cowboy boots, looking all dewy-eyed and delectable. HANNAH GREEN I thought we were going to talk. Last night. GRADY Oh. Well. I... Hannah stretches and the t-shirt slides dangerously up her thighs. HANNAH GREEN It's okay... I'm here when you want me. Grady stands frozen as Hannah smiles sleepily, pushes through the swinging door into the kitchen. A THUMPING is heard as James, tangled in the sleeping bag, hitches down the last few steps of the stairway. He watches Pete Pupcik drive away in his big police car. JAMES LEER What do we do now? Before GRADY can reply, the TELEPHONE sitting on the table next to him RINGS. GRADY Hello? SARA'S VOICE Grady, it's Sara. Thank God you're there. You won't believe what's happened. GRADY Could you hold on a minute, honey? With a look of wonderment, Grady watches his hand ever-so- gently... hang up the phone. GRADY How 'bout we get the hell out of here? EXT. GRADY'S HOUSE - MORNING (MOMENTS LATER) James, now wearing one of Grady's flannel shirts beneath his ratty overcoat, follows Grady-to the Galaxie, knapsack swinging from his shoulder. Grady tosses him a ring of KEYS. GRADY You start her up. As Grady runs a plastic WEDGE over the GLAZE of ice blanketing the windshield, James stares curiously at the keys, as if they were some strange artifact, then slides behind the steering wheel. JAMES LEER (as the engine roars) How's that? GRADY Well done, James. As Grady works, James' face comes into view, then... the wedge SNAPS, splintering into the flesh of Grady's hand. GRADY Shit! James blinks, pokes his head out the window. JAMES LEER You're bleeding. Professor Tripp. INT. AISLE - MARKET - MORNING (LATER) Grady and James stand in the sundries aisle of a neighborhood MARKET. Grady has a TIN of BAND-AIDS open and is presently plastering his ragged thumb. GRADY Where exactly do you live, James? James, in the midst of chugging from a 64-OUNCE JUG of ORANGE JUICE, stops. GRADY Apparently not even Hannah Green has a clue as to the location of your apartment. Grady tosses the tin of band-aids into a small plastic hand basket, begins to move down the aisle. JAMES LEER I got kicked out. Well, not exactly kicked out. I was asked to leave. GRADY I guess there's probably a story behind that. JAMES LEER There is, but it's not that interesting. GRADY So where have you been staying? JAMES LEER (a long pause) The bus station. Grady stares incredulously at James. JAMES LEER It's not so bad. I know the night janitor. And there's a broken locker I can put my stuff. GRADY (trying to fathom this) But James. I mean... How long? JAMES LEER A couple weeks. That's why... that's why I had the gun. For protection. GRADY Jesus, James, you should've told someone. JAMES LEER Who? GRADY I don't know... (unconvincingly) Me. Grady drops the basket at the check-out counter and, abruptly, finds himself face to face with a BABY, lolling on the shoulder of the woman before him. The baby is staring, spellbound, at a display of... Q'S LATEST PAPERBACK. Grady frowns, then detects the true source of enchantment: a spray of SHINY MYLAR GIFT BALLOONS. A thought evolves. GRADY (the balloons) What do you think of these? James takes another chug from his jug, nods. JAMES LEER Nice. EXT. GASKELL HOUSE - MORNING Grady, squinting through the ten-inch panel of cleared ice on the windshield, rolls slowly up onto the curb in front of Walter and Sara Gaskell's house... then off. INT. GALAXIE - CONTINUOUS Grady pops the glovebox, takes out a PEN, and scratches something on the GIFT CARD attached to the BALLOON. James glances briefly at a plump ZIPLOC OF POT stashed in the glovebox, then peers at the house. JAMES LEER (the house) Isn't this...? GRADY Hm. Grady gets out, then pauses, glancing at the giant orange juice jug between James legs. It's about half-down. GRADY You better ease off that stuff, James. It's pretty acidic. James takes a powdered donut that lies on his coat, studies it curiously. JAMES LEER I can't help myself. I don't know what's the matter with me. GRADY Shit, James, you're hungover. What do you think's the matter with you? As Grady turns away, James ponders this, then considers the ring of white sugar imprinted on his coat and re-sets the donut in precisely the same place. INT. GREENHOUSE - MOMENT LATER Through the steamy panes, we SEE Grady approach with the balloon, enter. He crosses to a high table, sets the balloon down, and steps back, considering the placement. SARA (O.S.) Feeling guilty? Grady jumps -- startled -- and turns. Sara has materialized behind a ficus, large POTTING GLOVES on her hands. SARA I can't believe you hung up on me, you dick. GRADY Totally. I'm sorry. A lot was happening this morning. Can you talk? Sara nods, moves the ficus to another table. SARA Walter's on campus, being the good soldier for WordFest. But he's a basket case. Someone stole Marilyn's jacket last night. And Poe's missing, too. GRADY I heard. SARA You heard? How? GRADY A twelve-year-old policeman came by the house this morning. SARA Did you confess? Grady looks up, mildly alarmed. SARA Your fingerprints were all over the bedroom. GRADY Really? That was fast. SARA (frowning) I'm kidding. Hello? GRADY Oh. Right. Ha. Listen, about last night. There is something I need to tell... SARA Are you limping? Why are you limping? GRADY Hub? Oh, well, that's part of what I need to... SARA Did you pass out again, Grady? Did you fall somewhere? GRADY No. I mean. Well, actually, yes. Sort of. I don't remember. Listen, Sara, I have to tell you something. SARA All right. Sara settles back, folds her arms. Waiting. GRADY I... As Grady stares into Sara's eyes, things begin to blur. GRADY ...want to be with you. Sara looks at him. SARA Gee, Grady, that sounded so heartfelt. I don't know whether to swoon or smirk. GRADY Really, Sara, I... Sara holds up one gloved hand. SARA I believe you. I believe you want to be with me. But this is not just about me anymore. GRADY I know that. I know what's at stake here... SARA No, I don't think you do. And besides... I haven't decided yet. GRADY About the baby. SARA That... and you. Grady goes still, watches Sara strip off the gloves, drop them on a table. SARA I'm not going to draw the map for you on this one, Grady. Times like these you have to do your own navigating. Sara turns to leave, then stops, squinting far down the street. SARA Who's that sitting in your car? GRADY James Leer. SARA What's he doing out there? GRADY I'm sort of helping him work through some issues. Sara raises an eyebrow, then pushes through the door. SARA Isn't he lucky. Grady watches her ripple across the glass, head for the house, and wave. James, slumped low in the Galaxie, offers a limp hand in return, but it's too late. She's already gone. INT. GALAXIE - MOVING - LATER Grady cradles the wheel in his bandaged paw, while James sits stiffly, the orange juice jug bobbing between his thighs. JAMES LEER She seemed to take it pretty well. GRADY Yeah