EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - MORNING
A perfect day off the coast of Marina Del Rey.
EXT. SHAWN’S BOAT - SAME
Shawn pulls a rope as the jib shifts to the left. The boom sweeps past Grayson as he lounges on the deck.
At the other end of the boat, on the wooden bow, sit two young women in bikinis, taking posey pictures for social media.
Grayson and Shawn observe them for a moment.
SHAWN
(to Grayson)
You think they got the shot…
Grayson snorts.
GRAYSON
I… stopped trying to understand anything after Kobe died…
Beat.
GRAYSON
(looking at the women)
You think these two are from the Bush era? W?
SHAWN
(laughing)
Yeah but which term?
GRAYSON
Mmm. Gotta be Hurricane Katrina.
SHAWN
(to the women)
Hey girls!
They look at Shawn.
SHAWN
Settle a debate for us. Who’s the best NSYNC member?
After a beat.
WOMAN 1
(blankly)
What?
Grayson chuckles. His phone vibrates.
GRAYSON
Jack Brennan, sneaker samurai, lover of leather. What’s going on? I saw your boy shot ten under par this weekend in Greensboro. Huge for the brand, yeah?
INT. PUMA OFFICES - SAME
JACK BRENNAN
(laughing)
I swear, the kid went from good to great after I showed him a few things.
EXT. SHAWN’S BOAT - SAME
GRAYSON
Well if he needs a ball boy, I’m sure I could find someone to pull his iron.
JACK (O.S.)
(smiling)
I have no doubt.
Something in his tone. Grayson glances at Shawn and stands up, casually taking a few steps away.
GRAYSON
(whispering)
Uh. Okay. Is it one of those calls? It’s one of those calls.
JACK (O.S.)
It’s a call.
Grayson mouths “fuck.”
JACK (O.S.)
What’s your schedule like today?
Grayson glances over at Shawn, who’s busy managing the boat. His tone shifts.
GRAYSON
I’m free today. I can meet in an hour. You good? We good?
(attempting to lighten the mood)
Did one of my post-it prodigies step on your cornflakes?
Grayson forces a chuckle.
INT. PUMA OFFICE - SAME
JACK
Just wanted to check in. General state of affairs bullshit. You know, little nibbles… followed by steak frites.
EXT. SAILBOAT - SAME
GRAYSON
Right.
Grayson looks over at Shawn.
GRAYSON
(whispering)
But is it like… good steak? Like some A5 ribeye or is it drenched in hollandaise…
Shawn seems to not notice or care.
JACK (O.S.)
Look, I just want to see how things are doing. Can I do that? Yeah?
GRAYSON
Of course.
JACK (O.S.)
Now I want some red meat, how’s dinner look for you?
Grayson puts his head in his hand.
GRAYSON
Yyyyeah. Dinner. Let’s meet for meat -– actually, you wanna come over? I can have my French person do their thing with some Japanese moo-cow.
Grayson checks his watch.
GRAYSON
Poor bastard’s probably not even dead yet.
Shawn looks over and points to himself. Grayson doesn’t respond.
INT. PUMA OFFICE - SAME
JACK
Have them make three. I want creative there.
EXT. SAILBOAT - SAME
Grayson looks back up at Shawn…
GRAYSON
Uh huh. Will do… okay.
Grayson hangs up. A beat.
SHAWN
Are you gonna make me ask?
EXT. BIG BEAR - MORNING
A huge commercial production is underway. Lights, flags, and C-stands are everywhere – trucks and trailers line the curb. A Lexus RZ 450e sits at the center of attention.
On the main road, a Lexus SUV arrives.
Dave approaches David as he exits the backseat.
DAVE
Hey, hey!
DAVID
Dave Hampton! The titular monarch of innovation.
They shake hands as Dave laughs uncomfortably.
DAVE
David Knox… Czar of the Car Bazaar.
David laughs.
DAVID
How’s that going.
DAVE
I guess you missed my coronation.
Dave winks.
DAVID
(laughing)
That’s good. Good.
DAVE
Was the drive okay?
David surveys the scene.
DAVID
(shrugging)
Came in last night, I’ve got a spot. How’s all this?
DAVE
Good. Got our first couple of shots.
DAVID
Mm. How are the guys?
DAVE
I — On a boat somewhere, settling in.
David chuckles.
DAVID
Fucking pricks. While we’re—
David swats at a mosquito flying near him.
DAVID
—fighting off the bloodsucking brigade.
Dave laughs.
DAVE
So. What can I get you? We’ve got a cushy trailer for your team over there. Food, coffee.
DAVID
You know, I could really go for some of that… albino instant coffee.
Dave looks at David.
DAVID
Mm? Really fucking strong.
He laughs and gives Dave a wink.
DAVID
I better say hi to the squad.
He pats Dave and heads to the trailer. Dave thinks for a moment, unsure.
INT. DIM BEDROOM, APARTMENT - MORNING
A shaft of light stabs between black curtains. The room is a grungy mess.
Sailor slowly wakes up. She takes a deep breath before tentatively looking over to the other side of the bed, then slowly sets her head back down, sighing.
INT. BATHROOM, APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER
In a t-shirt and underwear, Sailor leans over a dirty sink, repeatedly swishing her mouth with the running water. On the wall behind her is a poster for an underground techno event.
Checking herself in the mirror, she notices a bruise on her neck.
INT. LIVING ROOM, APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER
Sailor grabs her pants from the couch and pulls them on before looking around the room for something.
INT. BEDROOM, APARTMENT - SAME
She steps back in and surveys the room before her gaze lands on something. Sailor walks over to grab her phone from the foot of the mattress, REVEALING a GUY who looks like one of the Sex Pistols.
INT. LIVING ROOM, APARTMENT - SAME
As Sailor leaves, something catches her eye — the guy’s tattered wallet. She glances back at the bedroom before stepping over to it and taking a look. Skipping his ID and various cards, she checks the main fold for cash. There are two one-dollar bills.
Sailor sets the wallet down and reaches into her pocket. Coming up empty, she takes a beat. She then unlatches a gold bracelet from her wrist and sets it on the table before quietly leaving.
INT. ERIC’S OFFICE - MORNING
EXT. BIG BEAR - MORNING
Cliff watches the action in the video village tent behind Dave. He’s fidgeting, something clearly on his mind. As the camera moves around the Lexus, Cliff’s attention moves to Dave who’s watching the monitor.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Cut!
Dave looks up and nods to the others.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
You guys good with breaking there?
DAVE
Yeah, good.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
Okay! One hour!
Cliff watches as Dave stands and leaves the tent. Just then, a PA runs up to Dave, carrying a small box. He whispers to Dave who whispers something back and nods to the side. The PA runs to the Lexus trailer and knocks.
Cliff looks back at Dave who walks over to catering.
EXT. CATERING LINE - MOMENTS LATER
As Cliff is handed his plate, he catches Dave heading off to his own table for privacy.
EXT. DINING TABLE - MOMENTS LATER
Dave’s food sits untouched as he works on his phone. Cliff approaches.
CLIFF
Hey, Dave.
Dave turns to look.
DAVE
Cliff. How’re you liking it?
CLIFF
The shoot? Good. It’s good, I – haven’t been on a ton of sets so this is all pretty electric to me.
DAVE
(nodding)
After some time, you learn to drown out the noise.
CLIFF
It’s looking good though. I mean. It’s looking fucking great.
Dave splits his attention between Cliff and his phone, giving him respectful glances.
DAVE
Yeah. Well. We’re on track now but once you hit golden hour, it’ll feel like the newsfloor of election night.
CLIFF
Well at least I’ll miss that.
Dave looks a question.
CLIFF
I have to get back for that three o’clock.
DAVE
Oh… This is your baby, right?
CLIFF
This? Well. The others played a good part.
DAVE
Take credit where you can get it. It’s a team sport but your career’s more of a tennis match.
Cliff snorts at this.
DAVE
Although… I gotta say… Really liked your other one.
CLIFF
Which?
DAVE
Your other Lexus script. The one you didn’t send through.
CLIFF
Wait, you saw that?
DAVE
I asked Henry for the rejects. Next time.
CLIFF
Shit.
DAVE
(new beat)
Am I misremembering or are you Scott’s… nephew or something?
CLIFF
(smiling)
No, yeah, you remembered. I used to stop by the office with my mom.
DAVE
That’s right… how’s she doing?
CLIFF
(struggling)
She’s… yeah, uh… I don’t know. Are you – are you gonna ask?
DAVE
Ask what.
CLIFF
You know, why… I’m here. At Lange.
DAVE
(smiling)
No.
They both want to ask how the other likes it at Lange but neither has the courage. After a beat.
CLIFF
Um. So I actually came over because… not to totally derail the conversation but…
Dave stops typing and looks surprised.
CLIFF
I kind of came across something I think I should tell you. In confidence. I wasn’t sure who to chat with but… honestly, I figured I’d capitalize on the moment while you were on your own.
Beat.
DAVE
Okay?
EXT. NOBU, MALIBU - NOON
Grayson and Shawn are seated on the patio. A waiter takes their drink order.
SHAWN
I… have my eye… on the
(forced Japanese accent)
Hokusetu Umeshu. How sweet is that gonna be?
WAITER
It’s subtle… it lingers in the aftertaste.
SHAWN
I’m looking for a… robust sweetness. Right? Like… imagine this is the Edo Period. Okay? 17th century.
Grayson's attention wanes as he scrolls through his phone.
SHAWN (CONT’D)
(in the background)
And you’re among the Daimyo, and I’m but a… humble Samurai, caked in the stink of war and testosterone, carrying the enemy’s dripping head as assurance of our victory. Stay with me.
Grayson goes through his text messages with Jack Brennan, which are interspersed with shared memes, each tagged with a "haha" reaction. He scrolls to the bottom and sends a new meme from his camera roll.
SHAWN (CONT’D)
In return… you bestow this Umeshu upon me as a symbol of honor… for my bravery. Okay?... That and an evening with your daughters.
He gestures generously for the waiter to respond.
WAITER
You won’t be disappointed, Mr. Miller. I assure you.
SHAWN
Fine. Two of those.
The waiter turns.
SHAWN
Oh! And your grilled shishito.
The water leaves.
SHAWN
(looking out at the ocean, sighing)
Water, water, water.
Grayson ensures the image delivers, then puts his phone down.
SHAWN
Am I gonna see you down at the sweatshop? Where the clock devours hours and the sweat of the brow is the only currency we trade?
GRAYSON
(on his phone)
Uh… maybe.
His phone buzzes and he checks it. Instead of a “haha” reaction, Jack’s given it a “thumbs up” reaction. Shawn notices Grayson’s distress.
SHAWN
What’s up?
Grayson’s eyes dart up.
GRAYSON
Huh?
SHAWN
Huh? Your little… glowy magic box. What is it?
GRAYSON
It’s my fuckin’ – Nothing.
SHAWN
Nothing? Come on dude.
GRAYSON
It’s — my uh… Tai-Chi person’s dog died.
SHAWN
Oh, God.
GRAYSON
Yeah… uh — let me —
Grayson stands.
SHAWN
Well, he’s gotta deal. Has he heard of the butterfly effect?
GRAYSON
I gotta take care of this.
SHAWN
Does he realize the repercussions this can have? The media plans of a handful of Fortune 500s? The S&P?!
GRAYSON
—Yeah, I’ll be right back.
Grayson walks away.
SHAWN
(calling after him)
I’ve got a good one that’ll burp the baby.
Shawn gestures a handjob and smiles to himself as a mom and her teenage daughter stare at him, appalled.
SHAWN
(to the mom)
She knows what I mean.
EXT. BASE CAMP, BIG BEAR - DAY
Dave, in video village, oversees some car-to-car beauty shots on a side road. A couple of crewmembers are pointing to the monitors, discussing details.
DAVE
Let’s get more of the front. Three-quarters.
A crewmember speaks into their earpiece. After a moment, the monitor reflects this change.
DAVE
Yeah.
Just then, he receives a phone call from Grayson.
DAVE
(to the crewmembers)
Uhhhhhh — Hey, sorry, I’ve gotta take this. One minute.
Dave steps away from the others.
DAVE
(answering the phone)
Hey, Grayson—just in the middle of some car-to-car stuff, what’s up?
GRAYSON
Dave, I need to evacuate you. I’m sending the SEALs to extract you.
DAVE
I… don’t understand.
GRAYSON
Eric’s gonna step in. Need you at my place in two hours. Puma. Japanese beef. Black tie affair. Not really but, you know, wipe the shine off.
DAVE
I’m… wouldn’t it make more sense to have Eric or Shawn with you? What’s going on with Puma?
GRAYSON
We’ve gotta charm a snake.
DAVE
Okay, well—
(he checks his watch)
We’ve got a good amount of shots left and I’d really rather make sure we’re keeping this thing coherent being our first—
GRAYSON
—Dave.
DAVE
I’m not even on that account–
GRAYSON
–Dave. I’m saying I need you here.
Dave sighs but hears the gravity in Grayson’s tone.
DAVE
Uh, yeah.
(checking his watch)
Alright – wait, that’s like a three-hour drive, four hours with rush hour.
GRAYSON
The whirlybird’s on its way with your sub. Make sure Eric is caught up and you’ll be golden – I gotta go, I gotta go. I’ve got Japanese cattle on the other line. See you soon.
Grayson hangs up.
Dave looks at his phone, then stands in place, controlling his frustration. He looks around, then returns to set.
EXT. RUNWAY, LAX - DAY (MONTAGE)
A cargo plane lands.
EXT. PRIVATE GATE, LAX - DAY (MONTAGE)
A luxury sedan pulls through the entrance and onto the tarmac.
EXT. TARMAC, LAX - DAY (MONTAGE)
Emily goes over paperwork with a crewmember as cargo is unloaded from the plane.
Moments later, boxes are loaded into the back of the sedan.
INT. LUXURY SEDAN - A FEW MINUTES LATER
Emily answers a call.
EMILY
Hey Heather.
HEATHER (O.S.)
Hey, you got a sec.
EMILY
Yeah. Just… on my way back from LAX with a box of meat. What’s up.
HEATHER (O.S.)
So, I’m sorry to pin this on you but apparently, there are a bunch of road closures in Big Bear and it’d take like an hour for Eric to get from the airport to set.
EMILY
Shit.
HEATHER (O.S.)
They need a better landing spot. I’d help but I’m up to my tits right now.
EMILY
(sighing)
Uh huh. Okay.
HEATHER (O.S.)
Thanks, babe.
Emily hangs up, leans her head back, and looks out the window. After a contemplative beat, she turns to her phone and gets back to work.
EXT. SHOOT, BIG BEAR - DAY
Dave is having a discussion with the assistant director when he gets a call. He pulls his phone out to see an unknown number.
DAVE
(to the AD)
Uh, I’m sorry — one – one second, let me take this.
(under his breath)
Jesus.
Dave steps away.
DAVE
Hello?
VOICE (O.S.)
Hi, Dave?
DAVE
This is Dave.
EMILY (O.S.)
It’s Emily, Grayson’s assistant.
DAVE
Oh, Hi Emily — I’m kind of in the middle —
EMILY (O.S.)
I know you’re busy, I just need to coordinate the chopper.
DAVE
The chopper?
EMILY (O.S.)
Yeah, to pick you up.
DAVE
Uh, yeah – hey, Emily, I’m really busy and — aren’t there, like, twenty other people you can call to handle this?
EMILY (O.S.)
Grayson made it very clear that he wants this to remain tight-lipped.
DAVE
(rubbing his face)
Sure, okay but it’s gonna be hard to keep a 50-ton flying earth-vibrator under wraps, Em. Right? This isn’t the Bin-Laden raid.
EMILY (O.S.)
He just doesn’t want anyone to know until you have to leave.
DAVE
(given in)
Okay, well… fine, what’s the issue.
EMILY (O.S.)
Uh, we need a… 100-foot by 100-foot clearing, ideally – or 30 by 30 at the very least.
Dave looks around, only to see trees and the lake. There’s no nearby clearing.
EMILY (O.S.)
It says here that a good rule of thumb is to imagine the space between the bases of a baseball field… the diamond–
DAVE
Yeah, I get it—
EMILY (O.S.)
–or two school buses long by two school buses wide… I’m assuming they’re referring to the larger school buses… placed end-to-end.
DAVE
Okay, great – thanks for that, Emily. I… don’t see anything, and I really gotta get back to set. Aren’t you able to… look on… Google maps or something?
EMILY (O.S.)
The pilot needs the area to be visually confirmed, unfortunately.
DAVE
(under his breath)
Of course he does.
Dave looks around and spots a PA, casually on their phone.
DAVE
(to Emily)
Okay, I’ll get back to you.
EMILY (O.S.)
I’m sorry, I really need—
Dave hangs up.
DAVE
Hey! Hello!
INT. LUXURY SPA - DAY
A young woman lies face-down on a sleek bed in a dimly-lit luxury spa. A curtain of rain falls behind the bed, creating a calming atmosphere as an attractive masseuse works expertly on the woman.
Then, buzzing. The woman sighs as the masseuse grabs the nearby phone and hands it to her. They’ve done this before.
The woman holds the phone beneath the bed to check the messages. She lets out a long, comically exasperated sigh.
WOMAN
Fuck.
She lifts her face from the bed.
SAILOR
Can we finish later?
MASSEUSE
I have back-to-backs, Sailor. And I’m booked through Thursday.
SAILOR
Goddammit.
MASSEUSE
Just tell him the truth.
SAILOR
Excuse me?
MASSEUSE
Tell bossman you’re here and you need it because… girl, you need it.
SAILOR
Oh.
Sailor sits up, moving the towel over herself.
SAILOR
Yeah, thanks Miranda. That’s not really how assistants work but good effort.
MIRANDA
So next week?
SAILOR
(sighing)
Yep.
INT. COLD PLUNGE SHOWER - MOMENTS LATER
Sailor yanks the chain as torrents of ice-cold water are dumped onto her. Her breathing quickens as it chills her to the core.
INT. CLIFF’S CAR, SOMEWHERE UNREMARKABLE ON THE 210 - AFTERNOON
Cliff listens to a podcast. A call from Henry interrupts. He sighs to himself. After a moment, he answers.
CLIFF
Yeah.
HENRY
Uhh, Yeah?
CLIFF
What’s up?
HENRY
We’re doing yeahs now because you just got off your applebox?
CLIFF
(in an overly polite tone)
Hey Henry! What can I do for ya?
HENRY
Easy. I wanted to check in on my buddy to see how the shoot went and get an ETA. I’d love to start this meeting on time. And I didn’t realize I’d be having a phone call with the reincarnation of my ex.
CLIFF
Yeah. Just distracted, sorry. I’m like… 45 minutes out, maybe an hour.
HENRY
Well which is it?
CLIFF
Probably closer to an hour.
HENRY
It’s a little soon to be showing up late to scheduled meetings. Careful Icarus, you don’t wanna singe those feathers.
CLIFF
Okay, 45. See you soon.
HENRY
Uh-huh. Alright.
Cliff hangs up.
CLIFF
Fuck.
Cliff crosses the double-white line into the carpool lane.
EXT. CLEARING - BIG BEAR - DAY
Dave follows a crew member into the field where the helicopter awaits. Disembarking, Eric approaches, patting Dave on the shoulder. Dave opens his mouth to say something but Eric wastes no time as he walks purposefully toward the set. Dave watches briefly before boarding.
The helicopter ascends beyond the treeline.
INT. HELICOPTER - DAY
Dave peers out the window. There’s more on his mind than the landscape before him.
INT. DRY CLEANER - DAY
Sailor steps into the dry cleaner and gives the woman a familiar raise of her eyebrows. The woman finds Sailor’s order.
EMPLOYEE
Your boss must have a new ladyfriend.
SAILOR
Excuse me?
EMPLOYEE
He dropped off a very nice…
The employee finds the order and looks at it.
EMPLOYEE
Dress.
She brings it to the counter as Sailor takes a look, confused.
SAILOR
Wait, he was here? Shawn was?
EMPLOYEE
(nodding emphatically)
Yes.
SAILOR
Tall guy? Douchey attitude, handsome face?
EMPLOYEE
He was on TV.
Sailor can’t believe it. She looks at the beautiful dress.
SAILOR
What the… fuck?
INT. OFFICE - DAY
Shawn’s eating chicken wings with his feet up on the desk, talking on speakerphone.
SPEAKERPHONE VOICE
And get this. Martin fucking Scorsese walks out of the bathroom and, without missing a beat, says “You gonna wipe my ass to be in the movie?”
Both Shawn and the guy on the other end laugh hysterically.
Shawn’s door flies open as Sailor marches in with the dry cleaning.
SAILOR
What the fuck, Shawn?
Annoyed, he sits up, holding one saucy finger to his mouth telling Sailor to be quiet and pointing the other at his phone.
Sailor looks pissed. Shawn returns a “what the fuck” face as he licks his fingers.
SPEAKERPHONE VOICE
Is… everything okay?
SHAWN
(staring at Sailor)
Yeah, that was just my assistant who seemingly forgot what fucking planet she’s on, sorry ‘bout that.
SPEAKERPHONE VOICE
Well anyway, I gotta get back to set. Let’s grab a bite.
SHAWN
Yeah, yeah definitely! Oh and remember to mention me to Marty for that thing.
Shawn winks to Sailor.
SPEAKERPHONE VOICE
You got it, my man.
SHAWN
Chow.
He hangs up.
SHAWN
(holding his hands out)
Were you hoping to catch me playing my skinflute?... Do you know who that was?
SAILOR
(ignoring him)
You had me pick up a dress for one of your call girls?!
SHAWN
Whoa. Hey.
SAILOR
I was in the middle of my massage.
Shawn’s hit with the realization.
SAILOR
The one I have every week. At the exact same time. The one that’s in your schedule I make you.
SHAWN
Shit, I did actually forget about that. But… did you see it?
SAILOR
See what? This?
She holds it up.
SAILOR
Yeah, I spent the car ride staring at it trying to extract an entire life’s story from her so I’d know who you’re fucking later.
SHAWN
What’d you come up with?
Beat. Sailor rolls her eyes and turns to leave.
SHAWN
It’s for you, you giant fucking HR complaint.
SAILOR
Oh, fuck off.
She turns around, doubtful.
SHAWN
Take it out on a date tonight. Have some… UCLA jock rip it off of you later, you know. You can tell him after, it was Beyonce’s.
Sailor looks at the dress again.
Shawn chuckles and picks the dress up and turns it to her.
SHAWN
See right here where it says your name. You idiot.
SAILOR
(unsure what to say)
Well – you should’ve hired someone whose name doesn’t start with the same fucking letter.
SHAWN
Shit. You’re right. Anyway, take it or… sell it on… wherever you sell things. Buy yourself another car with the money, I don’t care.
Shawn sits at his desk again, picking up his plate.
SAILOR
Why.
SHAWN
Don’t ask questions, it’s unattractive.
SAILOR
(suddenly looking defiant again)
I’m not gonna say thanks because my neck is still fucked up due to your critical text message.
SHAWN shrugs as he bites from a wing. Sailor thinks on this. She owes him now.
SAILOR
Hey, I think I need to tell you something.
SHAWN
You kinda checked that off your list already.
SAILOR
It’s a real thing.
Shawn sits forward, setting his chicken wing down for the second time.
SAILOR
I don’t know, I was… going over it repeatedly trying to make sure I wasn’t missing something but—
SHAWN
Just fuckin—
SAILOR
I was out with the copywriters last night and I was chatting with one of the new guys — Cliff. He gave me a ride back and on the way, he mentioned — well — a lot of weird shit, but then he said something about his uncle…
SHAWN
Uh huh…
Sailor hesitates and Shawn motions for her to explain.
SAILOR
It sounds like he was in Berlin right before you guys went abroad…
Shawn looks down.
SAILOR
I guess he was–
SHAWN
–Yeah. Yeah, I know.
SAILOR
What?
SHAWN
I know about Hartford and Cluster.
SAILOR
Wait what?
SHAWN
Dave told me.
Sailor looks a question.
SHAWN
Cliff told him.
Something behind Sailor’s eyes.
SHAWN
Yeah.
After a beat, Shawn looks up at Sailor.
SHAWN
What weird shit did he say?
Still processing, Sailor finally looks up opportunistically.
EXT. BIG BEAR - AFTERNOON
Eric steps away from set and makes a call.
ERIC
Hello?
WOMAN'S VOICE
Hello?
Eric checks his phone to see if he has the right number.
ERIC
Who's this?
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
Fuck you, who's this?
ERIC
Right. Hi, this is Eric Hoffman from Lange. I'm calling for Roger. Or Jonah for that matter.
Beat.
ERIC
Do I have the right number?
WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
Oh, Eric. Yeah, this is Anika, Roger's assistant. Hi.
ERIC
Yeah, hi Anika -- we did that part.
ANIKA (O.S.)
So Roger's not available right now, and neither is Jonah. They'll be busy for some time but... I can take a message?
ERIC
Um, okay -- I'm sorry is this... Roger's number? I was under the impression I had his direct line.
ANIKA (O.S.)
Right. He'll be unavailable for a while but I'm happy to take a message.
ERIC
Yeah --
(fighting the urge to be a dick)
So, Anika. I'm not sure how apprised he's kept you about... anything, but we're sort of in the middle of making a large deal. So this isn't really the type of thing --
VOICE
--I'm really sorry to bother--
Eric jumps.
ERIC
Jesus Christ.
ANIKA (O.S.)
Hello?
ERIC
(to Anika)
Nothing.
2ND AD
Sorry. We've–
Eric covers the phone.
ERIC
(to the 2nd AD)
Excuse me? Hi.
(referring to the phone)
Do you see this?
ANIKA (O.S.)
Did you need anything else?
ERIC
(to ANIKA)
Yeah, hold one sec.
Looking at the 2nd AD.
ERIC
(gesturing to his phone again)
What’s your problem? Huh? Did you think I was just standing here plotting corporate subterfuge in monastic silence?
2ND AD
(trying to stay professional)
I’m sorry, it’s very pressing, I—
ERIC
Pressing? It’s pressing? You know what’s — it’s been 15 seconds.
(turning away, speaking into his phone)
—this isn’t the type of thing I can relay through carrier pigeon, Anika. When will they be back?
The 2nd AD looks over his shoulder toward the video village and sees the 1st AD, who speaks into his headset mouthing, “What the fuck?!” In response, the 2nd AD meekly shrugs.
ANIKA (O.S.)
They’ll likely be occupied for…
Eric turns to see the 2nd AD is still standing there, waiting. Eric gives him a death stare. The 2nd AD microscopically stumbles but holds firm. Eric shakes his head.
ANIKA (O.S.)
…the next 24-48 hours.
Stressed, Eric closes his eyes, tapping his phone to his forehead.
2ND AD
Are we keeping the—
ERIC
(to the 2nd AD)
–I swear to God, Bono, if you—
ANIKA (O.S)
Eric?
2ND AD
—reverse we spoke about, the talent has to—
ERIC
(to Anika)
–I’m here.
(to the 2nd AD)
Scrap it. Was that it?
2ND AD
Dave had mentioned.
ERIC
(pointing to the 2nd AD)
You.
(pointing to the set)
Go… suck the client off.
The 2nd AD turns and quietly speaks into his headset.
ERIC
(sighing)
Okay — Anika, beautiful name by the way. You live up to it’s meaning. Please, do let me know — nevermind, I’ll be in touch.
Eric abruptly hangs up, stares out at nothing for a beat, then reaches into his pocket, opens a small container, and pops a pill. He looks at his phone again and makes another call.
INT. CLIFF’S CAR, SANTA MONICA - AFTERNOON
Cliff looks anxious as he sits in standstill traffic. He shakes his head to himself.
CLIFF
Shit.
He decides to cut through an alleyway and take his chances.
INT. OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
Cliff exits the elevator, with a sheen of sweat, and hurries to the meeting room. Checking his watch, it’s just after 3.
INT. MEETING ROOM - SAME
Cliff enters, REVEALING Shawn is leading the meeting. Shawn looks up at Cliff.
EXT. DRIVEWAY, GRAYSON’S HOUSE - SUNSET
Dave exits an Escalade as an awaiting assistant leads him inside.
INT. FOYER - SAME
GRAYSON
Hey.
DAVE
How’s it goin’?
GRAYSON
Good! Good. Things are good. How about you, are you good?
DAVE
I think so? You wanna fill me in?
GRAYSON
Come on.
Grayson turns and walks. Dave follows behind.
INT. HALLWAY - SAME
GRAYSON
How’s Eric? Did you talk to him?
DAVE
Uh, more of a… no. I didn’t.
GRAYSON
I told him you had a thing.
DAVE
What… what are we doing?
GRAYSON
Just —
Grayson nods Dave into a room.
INT. GRAYSON’S ROOM - SAME
Grayson opens a drawer, REVEALING two throwing axes. He hands one to Dave, who looks at Grayson skeptically. Grayson wears a fatalistic expression so Dave accepts it.
GRAYSON
Good.
Grayson HURLS the axe near the middle of the target. He then retrieves it and waits for Dave.
DAVE
(looking at the target)
Just?… okay.
Dave throws his axe which also lands near the middle.
GRAYSON
(impressed)
Good shit.
Dave retrieves his axe.
GRAYSON
(aiming)
Have you seen Lawless Pursuit?
DAVE
Lawless Pursuit?
GRAYSON
The show. On… something.
DAVE
I know of it.
Grayson throws the axe.
GRAYSON
(retrieving it)
So I produced it with a couple other… jokers. It was created by a guy named Richie Hodder.
DAVE
(aiming)
Okay.
Dave throws it.
GRAYSON
He’s done a bunch of stuff. Massive cunt.
Dave glances at Grayson as he retrieves the axe.
GRAYSON
One of the other two, Mason Danault - I’m giving you a lot of names but bear with me - we were tight. Three shows, two features. We had… fucking… dinner parties, you know. Tight.
(turning to Dave)
Well, I had this idea. Okay? Cause he and I had chatted about advertising – and a friend of ours had a company and blah, blah, blah, lots of money. So I approach Mason with a plan to… form our own thing. And he's all in. Advertising. We could go fucking… nuclear. So I’m ready to just… Irish goodbye these fucks. But Hodder… bitchie Richie, boots me before I get the chance. Huge coincidence. I have theories, but who gives a shit.
Grayson turns and HURLS another ax.
GRAYSON
I was out the door anyway. So I gave Mason a call. Cocksuck doesn’t pick up. I drive to his house. Gate doesn’t open. And I had to find out through the fucking twists and turns of the grapevine that Hodder made him executive producer.
Dave takes a second to process Grayson’s speech. Grayson looks at Dave with “What do you think of that?” expression before reaching for Dave’s axe.
GRAYSON
Salt looks like sugar.
Beat.
DAVE
Right.
GRAYSON
You know why I’m telling you this.
DAVE
Sure. Which is Jack?
GRAYSON
I don’t know. I’ve known Jack for a long time. So… that’s what’s worrying me.
Dave thinks about this.
DAVE
(understanding)
Samsung…
Grayson’s mind whirls.
DAVE
(cooly)
Alright. Let’s show him who he’s dealing with.
Sympathizing with Grayson’s anxiety, Dave gives him a comforting nod.
After a moment, Grayson returns Dave’s nod and takes a deep breath. He hurls Dave’s axe at the target.
EXT. BACK PATIO, GRAYSON’S HOUSE - SUNSET
An elegant table sits on a veranda overlooking the Pacific. Numerous waitstaff tends to it.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - MOMENTS LATER
A Range Rover pulls into the driveway. Jack Brennan steps out, greeted by Grayson and Dave.
GRAYSON
(playfully)
Who ordered the gigolo?
Jack laughs and shakes Grayson’s hand.
JACK
(to Grayson)
It looks like you’ve got one of your own.
GRAYSON
(laughing)
I can’t argue with that. Jack, Dave Hampton.
DAVE
Good to finally meet you, Jack.
They shake and head inside.
INT. HOUSE - SAME
GRAYSON
(speaking to Jack about Dave)
You know, Jack… This is the guy behind that Infiniti campaign, Snickers, Adidas — name the top 5 most memorable spots in recent history and he’s fondled at least 4 of them.
DAVE
To those who watch TV, anyway.
They laugh.
EXT. BACK PATIO - SAME
JACK
You were CD at Hartford-Adams, weren’t you?
DAVE
Well… according to LinkedIn anyway.
Jack laughs.
GRAYSON
But he’s finally found a nice girl to settle with.
They sit at the prepared table.
JACK
(looking at Dave)
Really?
DAVE
She has dinner waiting when I get home.
GRAYSON
She sure does.
A server approaches.
SERVER
Can I interest you in a drink?
GRAYSON
I’m interested. We’re interested, right?
(pointing to Jack)
Saz 18. Neat.
Jack snorts.
GRAYSON
Pastis for me. Just kidding, daiquiri.
(gesturing to Dave)
And whatever makes him giddy.
DAVE
Brandy.
GRAYSON
(to Jack)
See? That’s how you know you’re in good hands.
JACK
How’s that?
GRAYSON
Dave’s the kind of… coal-mining, glass-blowing, iron-hammering… sunburnt forehead-kisser who’s perfectly fine with fermented mystery juice.
(looking at Dave respectfully)
Those are the priorities of a shaker.
Grayson nods to Dave.
DAVE
(sarcastically to Jack)
A true blue-collar.
Jack laughs.
A beat.
JACK
So… look, I’m not gonna be a politician… I wanted to see how the machinery’s looking. Right? And I get the message here, I do feel reassured. It’s nice.
Grayson laughs uncomfortably as he looks at Dave.
JACK
I guess… I’ll just say it. I’m wondering where Shawn fits into all of this. You know…
(looking at Dave)
I hope you don’t mind me asking the hard hitters, I… just like an open-kitchen experience.
Dave smiles and looks at Grayson.
GRAYSON
No, sure. I mean, Shawn’s been a partner for some time. And, don’t get me wrong he’s still extremely hands-on—
DAVE
I can attest to that.
Grayson laughs. The drinks arrive.
GRAYSON
It was a mutual decision between Shawn and me that he really starts focusing on the stratospheric level of things… right? Fuckin’... space stations and intergalactic fuckery. And we’ve always… always believed–
JACK
(waving a hand)
–I understand that—
GRAYSON
–in keeping things fresh. That’s the ethos.
JACK
I understand that, Grayson.
Beat.
JACK
But did this all happen before or after two of your clients left?
Dave looks at Grayson who works out what to say.
GRAYSON
(laughing awkwardly)
Two… uh…
JACK
Look. Grayson, we’re pals.
(to Dave)
Grayson and I go back — we were in the same fraternity together, did he tell you?
DAVE
(looking at Grayson)
He didn’t.
JACK
Again. Forgive me for being direct, I’ve gotta answer questions on my side, all the yap-yap-yap-yap-justifications for stagnation, whatever. And unfortunately, someone at Puma got wise and noticed what was going on over at…
Jack motions to Grayson.
JACK
So… it’s not a conversation I want to be having, but I have to leave here with a clear answer to what the fuck is going on?
Jack laughs and takes a sip.
JACK
Oh man. Saz 18 never betrays me.
Grayson looks uncomfortable. The sight is jarring.
DAVE
(interjecting)
May I?
JACK
Please!
DAVE
Look, I… I left Hartford-Adams for the simple, selfish reason that I was too complacent and wanted some excitement. We’re all in the creative industry and so I’m sure each of us can think back to that time when we were barbarians who would’ve sold an organ simply to express some… creative idea… some shitty piece of art. We didn’t stop to consider whether what we were acting feral for was worth the cost, we just knew that what we had needed to exist. Out there in the world for us to be celebrated or mocked. Hartford-Adams is a brilliant agency and they do incredible work… And Lange on the other hand – the guys need no introduction and they’ve done some lovely stuff as well. But I’m not going to Lange for comfort or even another empty house in Colorado. In fact, I see a whole lot of room for improvement. And that’s the point. NOT SURE DAVE SHOULD TALK ABOUT HIMSELF AND EXPLAIN EVERYTHING TO THE AUDIENCE. TAKES AWAY MYSTERY.
Grayson looks at Dave, who takes a sip of his drink. Jack looks at Grayson and then back to Dave.
JACK
Is that it?
GRAYSON
Yeah, are you gonna finish that thought, Dave?
DAVE
Grayson’s not wrong. I have a long list of advertising accomplishments to my name. But I still feel that huge itch that needs scratching — that teenage lust for creative levitation. I’ve only been here for a moment but Jack, there are good things happening that you’re going to want to stick around to be a part of. I’m betting my whole career on it. Lange’s out two clients? Fine. Good. We’re not bringing any more on. We’re going to turn the heat to high and boil everything down so that we’re concentrated on the best creative for what we think are the best companies in the world.
A long pause. Grayson looks at Jack.
JACK
And what about us? I love the passion. I’m almost sold on Dave myself, but I’ve still got to go back and shit something out. And I’m still pretty goddamn constipated. We’re talking about one of America’s largest athletic brands.
DAVE
One of.
JACK
I’m sorry?
DAVE
When you think of major athletic brands, what pops into the average person’s head? Nike. Adidas. Maybe New Balance. And now we’ve got Lululemon, Alo, Athleta… where’s Puma? On the bench. A base-hitter, but not a grand slam.
GRAYSON
(under his breath)
The fuck, Dave…
Jack looks from Grayson to Dave, without a response.
DAVE
Who makes the Soul?
JACK
The Soul?
Beat.
DAVE
The Soul. Who makes the Soul?
JACK
Uhh… Kia?
DAVE
How did you know that? How did you even know what I was asking you? Without context, that sentence could mean a plethora of things. How do you know who makes one of the world’s most popular cars that happens to be one of the ugliest?... Because of hamsters. The furry little metaphors for “sameness.” People still walk into dealerships to this day saying, “I want to drive the hamster car.”
JACK
So you want hamsters to wear Pumas?
DAVE
(scratching his forehead)
Look. You and Grayson are pals, right? Let me just leave you with this.
Jack laughs, not sure where any of this is headed.
DAVE
There was this famous test pilot, Bob Hoover.
JACK
Okay?
DAVE
He had just put on this airshow in San Diego and was on his way back to his home in Los Angeles when both of his engines failed — three-hundred feet in the air. Now, thankfully, being a highly-experienced pilot, he made it but the plane was in bad shape. So the first thing he did was check the fuel. He already knew before he even looked. The World War II prop plane he was flying had been filled with jet fuel… not gasoline, which is what all of those planes still took. As soon as he got back to the airport, he went straight for the mechanic and, this guy was in almost as many pieces as the plane. He was a mess, he knew he made a nearly fatal mistake. So Hoover finds this guy and he says, “Because I know you’ll never do this again, you’re gonna service my plane tomorrow.”
Jack takes a moment to process this.
DAVE
You know Grayson. You know his loyalty. And he’s gonna service your plane tomorrow.
Jack looks impressed but retains a dash of skepticism. He looks from Dave to Grayson. After a moment…
JACK
(looking at Grayson)
Don’t screw me on this.
DAVE
Never.
Jack smiles to Grayson and points to Dave.
GRAYSON
I know.
The food arrives. Just as it does, Grayson checks his phone. His demeanor changes. He puts his phone away but suddenly looks vacant.
EXT. GRAYSON’S HOUSE - NIGHT
Grayson and Dave see Jack off.
JACK
(through the car window)
Thanks for the beef fellas.
DAVE
The food or the conversation?
Jack laughs.
JACK
Looking forward to the next couple of months.
Jack waves as the car heads down the driveway.
DAVE
(looking at Grayson)
Okay?
GRAYSON
Yeah, good.
Dave expected more of a reaction.
DAVE
Uh… yeah. Yeah, I think we’re good.
GRAYSON
Yeah, hey uh – when were you gonna tell me?
DAVE
Tell you?
GRAYSON
Tonight, tomorrow? After fucking St. Patrick’s day?
Dave understands.
DAVE
I told Shawn I didn’t want to stress you out before tonight.
GRAYSON
We’ve been penetrated by the long, timber dick of a trojan horse.
DAVE
In regards to… Cluster?
GRAYSON
Little Cliff Machiavelli Hartford.
DAVE
What are you talking about?
GRAYSON
I don’t know, Shawn thinks he’s a pom fritz. Trading nuclear codes for page six. My fault for hiring a Hartford.
DAVE
Hold on. Cliff?
GRAYSON
Gone.
DAVE
Gone? He didn’t… Cliff found out by accident because his Mom was having an affair with Scott. He made some last-minute connection that Scott was in town with the Arizmendi’s, he’s solid state.
GRAYSON
Mmm. Well Shawn was fired up.
EXT. STUDIO BACKLOT- DAY
Music plays as the backlot gates open. A luxury Cadillac SUV turns into the driveway and purposefully speeds through.
EXT. STUDIO OFFICE BUILDING - SAME
The SUV parks and Eric exits. He walks into the building with the confidence of someone well-acquainted with the place.
INT. CORNER OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
A desk assistant shows Eric in as he’s greeted by Jonathan Reed, the lead attorney of Warner Brothers.
JOHN
Walking in like you still own the place.
They bro-hug. Eric sits and John moves behind his desk.
ERIC
You’re telling me. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t keep me waiting for however long you must think your prick is.
They laugh.
JOHN
So what’re you getting me into?
ERIC
I’m… trying to have a family and Scott’s putting his dick in my cake.
JOHN
Scott Hartford?
ERIC
I don’t know, who cares. I just need Hartford-Adams out of the picture on this deal. You know of Cluster? The satellite—
JOHN
–Yeah, little bit. Satellites.
ERIC
We’re this close. I really think they just need a tickle… or a push.
JOHN
Well you’re here now so I presume you’ve tried the tickle.
ERIC
Anything you can find. And I know you can. It’s telecommunications, I’m sure there are a dozen stains you find under the rug.
JOHN
Mmm.
ERIC
All above board. I don’t need to get sleazy.
JOHN
We wouldn’t want that.
Eric smiles.
JOHN
What.
ERIC
No, what’s in it for me bullshit.
JOHN
No, I like having full pockets. I’ll be glad to stuff you in there. With the others.
ERIC
Do this for me if you want that to be worth anything in the future.
Eric stands.
ERIC
I half-expected a three-piece suit.
JOHN
Fuck off – I have expected you in Old Navy joggers.
Eric flips John off as he walks out.
JOHN
That’s it?
Eric turns back.
ERIC
Seriously? Want me to ask about your little firecrackers? Fuck, do you have kids?
JOHN
Nah, I’m done with you too.
ERIC
(Chuckling)
Oh you wanted to ask me how I’m liking it.
JOHN
(Turning to his computer)
I was but now I have very important people to talk to, numbers to crunch, and harassment claims to deepthroat.
Eric walks out, flipping John off.
JOHN
You’re welcome.