Ghosts

Of 

The

Boulevard

By Matt Waters

A quotation:

"Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." - MATTHEW 26:41

Fade In

EXT.MCDONALD’S PARKING LOT-DAY 

Two teenagers, aged 14, stand together in an empty, snow dusted parking lot. They are JOHN MIRABELLI and TONY RONZINI.

A green, corroding, metal trash cylinder sits in front of them, a waning fire within.

They hover gloved hands over the warmth.

John:
Tony?

Tony:
John?

John:
Ever ponder the meaning of life?

Tony stares at him quizzically.

Tony:
No.

John:
Good. Me neither.

Tony:
That’s a fucking relief.

John:
I was just wondering though… what’s the point, exactly?

Tony:
Fuck if I know.

                           John:
The old crew always used to hang out around here… Nikolai, Brandon, James.

                           Tony:
Ashes to ashes…

Tony quickly crosses himself.

John:
 Whatever happened to them other two?

Tony:
Left the neighborhood.

John:
They still legends, bro.

Tony:
Yeah? What does that make us?

John considers for a moment.

John:
Bored.

Tony nods in agreement.

Dissolve

EXT.MCDONALD’S PARKING LOT-DAY

Caption: December 2004

NIKOLAI RUSSO, 17, stands in the same place at a different time, smoking a cigarette.

He is tall, of mixed Russian and Italian descent. He has jet-black, wavy hair, and a bored disposition.

The weather is cold. He wears an expensive jacket, colored gunmetal gray.

A beautiful girl briskly walks by, slightly older than him, named MARIA.

Nikolai:
Hey sexy, need any company in this cold?

Maria ignores him, sighing and flipping her hair before moving along.

Nikolai
[Mumbles, flips cig]: 
Stuck up bitch…

EXT.SUBURBAN SIDEWALK-DAY

JAMES HALLER, short, skinny, and Irish, 17, walks down an empty block.

He wears a blue hooded sweatshirt under a black timberland jacket, the former sticking out sloppily near his waist.

He troops along lifelessly, passing houses enveloped with Christmas decoration, before arriving upon a prone stray dog. The dog has patches of hair missing, and appears woefully malnourished.

James stops in his tracks, kneeling down to examine the dog.

Golden arches, forming the letter M, hang over his shoulder, in the distance.

James:
Need a home, pal?

The dog tries to lick James’ face, tongue dirty.

James veers away, narrowly avoiding the swipe.

James:
Chill dog… how bout we get to know each other?

The dog responds by abruptly springing up and scampering away, out of sight.

James is left kneeling alone, watching as the stray sinks into the landscape.

James: 
[V.O.]
My name is James Haller. I’m a twisted prophet, a philosophic gangster, and a lover who can’t stop fighting. This is my demise. 

EXT.MCDONALD’S-DAY 

James and Nikolai lean against McDonald’s brick outer wall.

There is a stiff, violent wind in the air.

They are in the middle of an uneasy silence. James hesitates before piping up.

James:
Nikolai… let’s fucking call it. He isn’t coming. You know it and I know it, so how’s about a Happy Meal? What do you say?

Nikolai:
He’ll be here.

James:
I don’t get the fucking point anyway. Too freezing to smoke in Clear View, right?

Nikolai:
 Got a feeling we’ll manage. Piss holes are warm enough.

James:
 Bullshit…

Nikolai:
Want to smoke, or not?

James lingers slightly before responding.

James:
Course I do.

Nikolai:
Than wait Haller, and deal with the cold. Things don’t come easy sometimes.

Nikolai lights a cigarette.

James:
They should. Icicles wouldn’t be hanging from my balls.

Nikolai:
Ten more minutes James. Andre needs the money.

James:
Could have crashed his car for all we know.

Nikolai:
Or maybe he’s right around the corner.

James:
Shit, getting dark out already?

Nikolai:
 Hate this time of year.

James:
Summer…

Nikolai:
Miss it.

James:
It’ll be back, and we’ll-

Nikolai:
  Complain about the heat.

James:
So true…

Nikolai:
This has been a pretty shitty winter, all and all.

James:
Who’s keeping score anyway?

Nikolai:
What do you mean?

James:
Hard for me to tell when a night is good or bad anymore, when we do the same shit all the time.

Nikolai flicks his cigarette at James, who alertly ducks out of the way.

James:
 If you can’t handle the truth, just avoid the topic.

                           Nikolai:
Where we go is fine. Could be these people we see…should cut some acquaintances.

James:
Solve the problem than. Know you’re talking about them girls from the park. I could give a shit either way.   

Nikolai:
You should. Haven’t seen your lady in what, two weekends now?

James:
 See her plenty, save the concern.

Nikolai:
But Heather isn't exactly setting aside her nights aside… must be tough finishing second to her loser friends.

James:
No, she’s finishing second to my loser friends. Get it right, jerk off. 

Nikolai:
Maybe you’re finishing second to something else.

James:
Don’t get off that fucking exit.

Nikolai:
Trust? God fucking bless you Haller. God bless you.

James:
Whatever. Fuck you know about Heather, anyway?

Nikolai:
Why can’t she come to the club?

James:
Don’t hand me that bullshit.

Nikolai:
Answer the question.

James:
 People bleeding on the dance floor…

Nikolai:
Word spreads, don’t it? It was just one time…

James:
Once is enough. Now pop dukes won’t let Heather near the place.

Nikolai:
Can’t she lie?

James:
Honestly? I think she hates the fucking club anyway. How could I blame her?

Nikolai:
That punk Alex getting cut had nothing to do with us. Doesn’t that factor in a little bit with Heather’s daddy?

James:
We’re all the same in the eyes of our elders, Nick.

Nikolai:
So fuck it. Dump her. Give it 10 minutes… someone new will come walking right down the block. Hell, a cutie walked by before, practically drooled all over me. Didn’t give her my number though…enough headaches as it is, know what I’m saying Haller?

James turns around, as a blood red Cadillac approaches the scene.

Nikolai:
[Exhales] 
Told you he’d show up.

The Cadillac pulls over recklessly, almost jumping the curb.

Nikolai walks over to the passenger side of the car. The window opens, and he extends his hand inside. After a brief pause and the sound of muted laughter, he pulls his hand back and the window closes. The car speeds off.

Nikolai turns to James, a tiny plastic baggie dangling from his right hand’s fingertips.

Nikolai:
[Smiles] 
Time to smoke up.

James:
[Drops hand as if guiding symphony]
 And… we finally fucking agree.

EXT.APARTMENT COMPLEX-NIGHT

James and Nikolai hurry through Clear View Gardens, an expansive apartment complex.

They reach a narrow pathway encased by grim parking garages. Bright, vibrant graffiti adorns the cement.

Nikolai:
How long this time?

James:
Today. Until 5 minutes from now.

Nikolai:
Congrats, I never could have lasted.

James:
I’d compare it to waking up in the morning and brushing my teeth. Not easy breaking routine.

Nikolai:
Need more than 24 hours to do that.

James:
Whenever I get pissed off about something, say if I lose a game in Madden because the computer is cheese, or my fucking breakfast didn’t hit the spot, I want to smoke… I need to smoke.

Nikolai:
The weak-minded usually have addictive personalities, Haller.

James:
Least I never sniffed coke.

Nikolai fails in offering a rebuttal, instead expressing a dirty look suggesting a crossed boundary.

They exit the alleyway, walking across a short patch of grass before arriving upon a piss hole.

The Piss Hole is a tiny, putrid catacomb resting at the bottom of a miniature line of brick steps, lined by long dead leaves.

James:
Let’s get this over with.

INT.TAXI CAB-NIGHT

HEATHER BECK and her friend LINDA PIAZZA sit in the back of a Taxi. Heather, 17, is beautiful, a blonde ten. Her friend Linda, 16, is similarly gorgeous, raven haired, almost dripping with makeup.

Heather:
Let me reiterate Linda… no.

Linda:
He’s the captain of the football team. He gets good grades, comes from a great family. He’s… wholesome. What more could you want?

Heather:
I already have what I need.

Linda:
Talk to him tonight, than give me a verdict.

Heather:
God… I can’t believe you did this.

Linda:
I said it when you first hooked up Heather: James Haller is trouble. And did you listen to me?

Heather:
Not this again…

Linda:
Yes, this again.

Heather:
Why do you force me to question my judgment?

Linda:
Come on… I’m your consigliere. I’d never steer you wrong.

Heather:
[Rolls eyes] 
Of course you wouldn’t.

Linda:
What’s that supposed to mean?

Heather:
You never gave James a chance.

Linda:
I’m a good character reader Heather. And that boy James… there’s something missing. He never shows any emotion. He’s always just sitting there, expressionless. Honestly, it’s pretty creepy.

Heather:
You don’t know him.

Linda:
Do you?

Heather:
What?

Linda:
Know him?

Heather is offended by the question.

INT.PISS HOLE-NIGHT

The two are passing the blunt back and forth, trying to keep warm, taking hits. James coughs occasionally, washing the taste out disgusted spit of wadded saliva.

Nikolai:
Let me ask you something man… no, let me tell you something. That fucking jacket has to go.

James:
I know, I know. Way too big.

Nikolai:
Some old school GORTEX shit right there.

James:
My dad bought it for me without asking. Thought he’d surprise me with a present or something… shit… I appreciate the effort.

Nikolai:
Dads should never buy clothes bro. That’s for moms.

James eyes become filled with sadness.

Nikolai:
Shit, James… I didn’t—

James:
Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.

James fiddles with a gold chain resting across his next, before taking another hit of the blunt.

INT.MCDONALD’S-NIGHT

James and Nikolai sit an opposite ends of a booth.

James is eating a Big Mac, insides spilling all over the table. Nikolai devours a carton of fries.

James:
Brandon is nowhere to be found.

Nikolai:
Late as usual… Same shit different day as they say.

James:
I’ve been hanging out with B since birth, and one thing about this cat… he’s always late. Think of it as a trademark.

Nikolai:
If the raging alcoholism doesn’t count, right?

James:
That’s a given.

INT.LIVING ROOM-NIGHT

BRANDON NEELY, 17, is putting on a heavy jacket, his hair combed, ready to head out for the night. He’s average in height, with an almost unimaginable amount of muscle packed onto a medium frame. He has blue eyes and blonde hair.

His middle-aged mother, CATHY NEELY, sits on the far edge of their couch, sipping red wine. She is intoxicated, her eyes bloodshot, slurring words.

Cathy:
 Going out Brandon?

Brandon:
Yeah. 

Cathy:
Bring a jacket…

Brandon:
 I’m already wearing one.

He hurriedly puts on a pair of Timberland boots.

Cathy:
Your father always used to go out… look where that got him…

Brandon:
Away from you, right?

Cathy:
And you.

Disdain becomes etched on Brandon’s face.

Brandon:
Mom…

Cathy shows remorse, quickly overcome with self-righteousness.

                           Cathy:
How about some appreciation? For all I’ve done? For all I’ve given up? Would that kill you?

Brandon:
 Ask me while you’re sober sometime. 

Brandon turns away.

                          Cathy:
That’s the problem with you kids! Ungrateful! All ungrateful!

Brandon: 
Have some more wine.

The front door slams shut.

INT.MCDONALD’S-NIGHT

James and Nikolai have finished their food. The table is a complete mess, covered with ketchup matted napkins, spitballs, and other assorted filth.

James:
The man has arrived.

Brandon arrives through the entrance and walks toward James and Nikolai.

They get up to greet their friend, exchanging requisite hand pounds, a forced but real sign of friendship.

James:
[Broad smile] 
B-Neely, what’s the word man?

Brandon:
Nothing’s new kid… club tonight?

James:
Of course, just ask this guy.

Nikolai:
Have any other ideas?

Brandon considers it for a moment.

Brandon:
No.

Nikolai:
Thank you.

They begin heading out.

Brandon:
What time we heading over there?

Nikolai:
Around ten, or however long it takes to pre-game.

Brandon:
Can’t rush that…most important part of the night.

EXT.EXXON GAS STATION-NIGHT

This station is not unlike any other, a beacon of depressing industrialism, deserted, James and Brandon leaning against a gas pump.

James:
 Got a good feeling about tonight.

Brandon:
That right? Go fuck yourself.

James:
Sometimes B, you just have to believe in better days.

Brandon:
There are no better days you idiot… only today.

James:
Shitty attitude… somebody needs to get laid.

Brandon ignores, hocking a wad of membrane on James’ sneaker.

Brandon:
How you like that?

James:
[Fights smile]
Fucking dick.

Brandon laughs.

James:
Hey B?

Brandon:
What?

James:
Think Heather would ever cheat on me?

Brandon:
Never know Haller… Karma’s a killer.

James runs his left hand through his hair.

INT.EXXON GAS STATION-NIGHT

The inside of the gas station is harshly lit, in stark contrast to its dank exterior. The cashier, MEL, age 18, mans his post while reading a magazine, daydreaming, a wet rag dripping off the edge of his counter.

Mel is startled back to the reality by Nikolai, who slams a 24 pack of Coors near the register.

Mel:
I.D.?

Nikolai grudgingly pulls out his fake I.D. He hands it over to Mel, who inspects it with careful consideration.

Mel:
Not bad. One of the better I’ve seen tonight.

Nikolai:
How old are you bro? You look a little young to be working in a fucking gas station.  No offense of course…

Mel:
None taken. I just turned 18 a couple of days ago.

Nikolai:
Really? Why you working in this dump for?

Mel:
What else should I be doing?

Nikolai:
It’s Friday night. Use your imagination.

Mel:
I’ll leave that to you my friend… We all have to grow up at some point, just my turn.

Mel returns the I.D., bagging the beer and sliding it to Nikolai, who exits.

Mel:
[Reminiscing] 
Friday night… 

He laughs to himself, wiping the counter.

EXT.184 PARK-NIGHT

The protagonists absorb their prized elixir on the park’s playground. James drinks his beer on the jungle gym drawbridge. Nikolai is stationed at the apex of a bending slide, while Brandon relaxes at the base of a winding fire pole. The playground is slightly elevated above ground. They are all within easy talking distance.

James:
Can’t wait to fucking drive, sick of this four-two’s taxi bullshit.

Nikolai:
At least messing with them is fun.

James:
A consolation prize… if I have to hear that douche’s catchphrase one more time…

Brandon:
Four-Two’s… this is Stu, where are you?

Nikolai:
Fucking Stu…

Brandon:
Ever think he gets sick of saying it?

Nikolai:
Well until we nab those licenses, Stu and the crew are our best means for transportation.

Brandon:
Hey James, you drinking that beer or getting caught up lightly caressing the fucking bottle?

Nikolai:
Hurry up Haller. We’re running late.

James:
Can’t wait to see the wife?

Nikolai:
Fuck no. By the way, if you aren’t careful, maybe B-Neely over there will get his hands on Marissa. Hell, he should have first dibs anyway.

Brandon:
Who’s Marissa?

James:
Some girl this drunk met at a Keg. She’s showing up at the club later. God only knows what she’ll actually look like.

Nikolai:
Trust me, she looks good. I wasn’t that wasted.

Brandon:
Got her number?

Nikolai:
Of course, why?

Brandon:
Let me talk to her. I’ll tell you if she’s hot or not by the sound of her voice.

James:
What a load of shit!

Nikolai:
It’s on B. 1646-555-3767.

Brandon:
[Dialing on his phone.] 
Got it…

James:
Yo B, what if she turns out minus ten?

Nikolai:
He’ll definitely hook up with her anyway. He’d stick his dick in a light bulb.

Brandon:
…Why not?

Brandon presses the phone to his ear.

Nikolai:
Hit the speaker. Maybe we all want to weigh in.

Brandon sounds the speaker. A dial tone cackles once, twice, three times without answer. They all wait with silent anticipation. Finally, right in the middle of the fourth, lifeless sound…

Marissa:
[V.O]
Hello?

The voice is somewhat distorted, filtered through the phone’s speaker.

Brandon:
Hello. Is this Marissa?

Marissa:
[V.O.] 
Who’s this?

Brandon:
A friend of Nikolai’s…

James:
High roller!

Nikolai punches James in the arm.

Nikolai:
Shut up.

Marissa:
[V.O.]
 Are you with him?

Brandon:
I am. But I want to talk with you for a minute.

Marissa:
[V.O.] 
Can I get a name?

Brandon:
My name?

Brandon eyes James.

James:
Don’t do it.

Brandon:
My name’s James… James Phillip Haller.

James:
Son of a bitch!

Nikolai:
Quiet. Let’s see where this goes.

James:
Where could it possibly go Gorbachev?

Nikolai:
It could entertain me.

Brandon:
Coming to the club tonight? I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

Marissa:
[V.O.]
 I thought you were with someone.

Brandon:
That depends on you.

James lunges at Brandon, who escapes down the fire pole.

Brandon scurries beneath the playground, dodging the pillars and poles that hold it up. James is in hot pursuit.

James tackles Brandon from behind, smashing his head into the rubberized padding covering the concrete, shoving snow into his face.

Brandon’s phone skids away, out of his grasp.

Brandon:
Oh, you are done after this homo, done!

James:
I thought I saw some yellow in that last batch!

Brandon shakes him off, and they stagger to a standing position, alcohol already altering their coordination.

James:
What the fuck isn’t wrong with you?

Brandon:
Relax Romeo. It’s a fucking joke

Nikolai watches from the slide.

Brandon:
You have got to admit Haller… she sounded pretty hot.

James charges Brandon, who grins almost in pity before effortlessly shoving his friend off course.

Nikolai:
That’s enough!

Brandon:
He’s taking his relationship a little too serious. It’s nothing.

James:
[Standing up, slipping] 
Fuck you!

Nikolai:
You guys can go ahead and fight to the death down there, more beer for me. Come on… bros before hoes. Let’s finish the drunkenness.

James and Brandon look at each other, laughing slightly.

They make their way back up the playground, already joking about the incident.

INT.TAXI CAB-NIGHT
   
The three sit in the backseat of a taxi, driven by an elderly man named MORT. Mort has wrinkles on his face and tremendous bags under his eyes, life weary.

Nikolai, James, and Brandon are under varying degrees inebriation. Brandon leads the three in blood alcohol content, James a very distant second.

Mort:
You the kids crank calling Stu?

James:
Who us? Nah… we love Stu.

Brandon:
[Loud] 
Where are you?

James and Brandon laugh uproariously.

Mort:
Heading to that club, I see.

Brandon:
Of course we are. It’s the fucking spot Mort. Be there… or be fucking square.

Nikolai:
[Embarrassed] 
Shut the fuck up, you drunk mess.

Brandon:
Relax Nickels, just making a friend, extending a little courtesy.

Mort:
All my friends are dead.

Brandon:
[Offended] 
Fine than. Just drive. But don’t expect a gracious tip partner.

Mort:
Tips don’t concern me kid, only time.

Nikolai:
Don’t need the handout?

Mort:
Nope. I do this because it reminds me I’m still alive… and I can still drive.

Brandon:
Well look at that… a little insight into the world of Mort. See? We can be amigos.

Mort:
If that’s the case, I will be expecting a tip.

They all laugh.

James:
Still chasing honeys Mort?

Mort:
That ship has sailed.

Nikolai:
Now who in the fuck is this guy to ask? Don’t listen to him Mort, he’s pussy whipped. He doesn’t have any insight.

Mort:
Pussy whipped?

Nikolai:
He’s got some bitch dragging him around by his Johnson.

James:
He’s just jealous Mort.

Mort:
What is it with you kids? Calling women bitches, why?

None have an answer.

Mort:
[Shudders] 
This generation… you rationalize with hate. All the work of the past, right down the gutter… like we weren’t even here.

Brandon:
Who, hippies?

Mort:
Every generation provides prologue for the next one, kid. Maybe we didn’t work hard enough, because change…

James:
No, no, continue Mort. 

Mort: 
Forget it. You aren’t supposed to understand. Not yet, anyway.

INT.CLUB-NIGHT

James, Nikolai, and Brandon navigate through the packed dance floor, eventually reaching a door, marked from above as an emergency exit. They pass through the door-

INT.STAIRCASE-NIGHT

-Turning left, approaching a carpeted stairway guarded by a club employee named HECTOR, in his thirties.

Hector:
Evening, mob deep. Been waiting on you.

Hector steps aside, Nikolai handing him some cash.

Nikolai:
Good for later?

Hector:
Absolutely, Nick. Black House tonight?

Nikolai:
Sounds excellent.

Hector exits, locking the door behind him.

Nikolai:
That guy is the fucking man.

They head up the stairs.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

White tiles cover the ceiling and the floor. A high definition T.V. rests opposite a luxurious leather couch, which covers the entire perimeter of the room. A black, one-way window peers out toward the rest of the rollicking club.

There are eight inside the room. From the left on the couch: James Haller, MARISSA SMITH, 17, who is actually quite gorgeous, VINCENT STREET, 17, a friend of Nikolai’s from school, Brandon Neely, Nikolai Russo, DANIELLE GOMEZ, 16, Nikolai’s “girl”, LISA DUNN, 15, Danielle’s friend and cousin of JEFF ROSS, 17.

A techno base pulsates, reverberating.

James leans across Marissa to talk with Vincent.

James:
-- Didn’t think I caught your name?

Vincent:
Vincent Street. S-T-R-double E-T nigga.

James:
Word had it that you were an awesome speller. Now I’ve seen it myself.

Marissa gets a chuckle out of James’ sarcasm. Vincent didn’t find the jab amusing. Someone calls Marissa’s name from across the couch, and she exits the scene.

James offers his hand to Vincent, who shakes it, breaking the tension.

James:
Never seen you here before.

Vincent:
Actually Nickels and me, we real chill. Been that way for a long time at school, he always on me to come through.

James:
Offer’s been on the table?

Vincent:
Honestly, I was worried that y’all wouldn’t have love for me. Heard you guys roll mad white.

James:
Mad white?

Vincent:
Well… you don’t really be…

James:
[Mocking] 
Gangsta?

The tension returns…

Vincent:
Yeah… But don’t misinterpret the message, you niggas is chill, you cool.

James:
We’re honored.

Vincent turns away to talk with someone else. James stares straight ahead, his eyes smoldering, clearly insulted.

INT.CLUB-NIGHT

Hector saunters over to the bar, slamming a 50 dollar bill in front of the ‘keep, JOSEPH RANDOLPH.

Hector:
Joe, what’s good? I need a bottle of Black House, stat!

Joe:
Cut the shit. Everyone knows you’re buying for the boss’ nephew. Start sharing the wealth, before somebody rats you out.

Hector:
Joe, I’m insulted! It’s a crime to buy alcohol for minors… what kind of man would I be, accepting money from a kid half my age?

Joe glares at Hector, not buying it.

Hector:
[Slumps shoulders, resigned] 
How much you want?

INT.STAIRCASE-NIGHT

Danielle and Nikolai share a private conversation.

Danielle:
Why are you so afraid of settling down?

Nikolai:
It wouldn’t work.

Danielle:
How do you know? Why can’t we give it a shot?

Nikolai:
Christ Danielle, I thought you were different. We’re not like everyone else. What do you want, dinner and a movie on Friday nights? You want me to paint your fucking toenails while we watch Lifetime? I know you Dee. I know that’s not what you want. I know you love getting drunk, getting high, I know you love not giving a fuck.

Danielle:
[Eyes water] 
Than why do I hate myself?

Nikolai:
Don’t do this to me Dee… please don’t do this to me. I can’t see you cry, cause I can’t stop it. You know how that makes me feel?

Danielle:
Look at me Nikolai…

He can’t.

Nikolai: 
Not now… 

Danielle:
Look at me.

Now he does.

Danielle:
Think of how much fun we have together.

Nikolai:
Here comes the sentimentality. How much you drink tonight?

Danielle:
Stop it. It means something. I need to know that you need me. Like I need you.

Nikolai takes her hand.

Nikolai:
You matter to me, Dee. What else can I say?

Danielle waits for more. It doesn’t come.

Danielle:
I just want to know you.

Nikolai:
There are others… you realize that, right? And what about you? Not exactly Miss Chastity.

Danielle:
 Tell me, by the end of tonight, whether you want anything more than this. Because I can’t keep cheapening myself for you Nikolai, I won’t do it anymore.

Nikolai is knocked off balance by the ultimatum.

Nikolai:
[Leaving hastily] 
Go clean yourself up.

Nikolai departs, back through the door into the party box.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

Jeff Ross, Danielle Gomez, Lisa Dunn, and Nikolai, swigging straight from a bottle of Black House, stand in front of Lisa at the far end of the couch.

She is slumping downward, flask in hand.

Nikolai:
Bullshit. I don’t believe it.

Danielle:
I’ve seen her do it before…

Nikolai:
The female body just doesn’t have the capacity to absorb all that liquor. Prove me wrong Lisa.

Lisa:
[High on something] 
I don’t know… I don’t know why I even bought this… I woke up with a hangover today…

Nikolai:
[Calling out] 
B! Come over here!

Lisa:
…It just numbs the pain… like Aspirin…

Jeff:
Lisa, you OK? You want to get out of here?

Enter Brandon, from across the room. He punches Nikolai on the chest, trashed.

Brandon:
Nickels, what up?

Nikolai:
B-Neely, these cats are telling me that our home girl here can kill that Goose on one chug.

Brandon:
[Excited] 
No shit?

Lisa:
…Why don’t I have a boyfriend… where am I…

Jeff steps in.

Jeff:
Guys, relax. She took two Z’s before. She’s done for the night.

Brandon:
What the fuck is your problem? Let the girl put on a show!

Jeff:
Listen, she’s my-

Nikolai:
Never mind it bro. It’s already too late!

Lisa downs the remaining Grey Goose in her flask, spitting the last bit of it up, nearly collapsing in laughter.

 INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

Lisa Dunn, incoherent, is being dragged out of the box, courtesy of Nikolai and Vincent.

Nikolai does the job with one hand, still holding the Black House.

James, Brandon, and Marissa sit on the couch, observing the situation.

Nikolai:
Know her?

Vincent:
She’s with them. Came with that girl you be hooking up with. Seen them together outside.

Nikolai:
…Guess we should call her a cab or something.

Vincent:
Fuck-that-shit. She can find her own way home.

Nikolai:
[Stern] 
No. I’ll call Hector. He’ll get her out of here.

And with that, they discard Lisa, shoving her out the door, walking back into the box, met by Jeff and Danielle.

Jeff:
Who the fuck you think you are? You think you can just toss people out of here like fucking trash? Fuck that!

Vincent:
Fuck you son.

Jeff:
Fuck me! Fuck me? We roll with same crew, you fucking moron!

Vincent:
I hardly even know you dog.

Nikolai:
She had to go, bro. I can’t have people puking in here, making a mess of things. I’m responsible for this shit. Don’t worry about it, she’s just outside the door, I’ve got someone coming up to lead her out of the club. She’ll be fine. You want to wait with her and come back in, go ahead.

Jeff calms down.

The tension begins to deflate.

Jeff:
I’ve been telling her she needs to calm down, all the time, she doesn’t fucking listen.

Nikolai:
They never seem to.

Jeff:
Tell me about it. I think we should bring her back in though… I don’t want her falling down the fucking steps.

Vincent:
[Explodes] 
Nigga, what the fuck is your problem? That bitch is finished!

Jeff:
[Angry again] 
That bitch is my fucking Cousin!

Nikolai shrugs, unable to put this fire out.

Vincent:
Than don’t let her get crunk like that fool. You can’t possibly be L.M.O. Nick, know this fool?  He rep my crew, but I got no clue.

Nikolai:
He’s tight with her. I don’t vouch for the guy.

Danielle:
What the fuck Nikolai? He’s my friend!

Nikolai:
[Losing temper] 
Bitch, if I don’t give a fuck about you, what makes you think I’m going to give a fuck about Joe Shit Bag over here?

Jeff is taken aback by the insult, seconds after the civil discussion.

Danielle is stunned.

Danielle:
What’s wrong with you?

Nikolai:
What’s wrong with you? How many different ways can I possibly tell you to fuck off? Back there, getting all fucking weepy with me, who do you think I am? You need to find yourself a nice, queer, Molloy boy. That’s what you need, so you can bring him home to your fucking parents, so you can say look mom, I finally wrangled someone who isn’t a fucking degenerate! Well, fuck you! Because I’m done!

Nikolai takes a big chug from the black house, stumbling onto the couch.

James:
[O.S.] 
Preach on!

Nikolai:
Shut up Haller.

Danielle:
You’re drunk.

Nikolai:
I’m telling the truth, that’s what… that’s what I am.

Danielle:
You’re drunk.

Nikolai:
Just get of here. Leave me the fuck alone…

Jeff:
 [Stares at everyone] 
Animals…  I’ll have you docked Street!

Vincent:
Nigga, you can’t dock shit. And did you just call me an animal?

Jeff:
What, you didn’t hear me? How’s this? You are a fake ass wigger, a poser, a clown, and queer. I shit on you. Danielle, let’s go.

James presses his face against Marissa’s shoulder, laughing uproariously at Jeff’s sentiment.

Jeff and Danielle head toward the exit, Vincent practically shoving Jeff out the door.

Vincent:
[Shoving] 
Gone loser…gone… be gone…

Jeff pauses before leaving, staring a hole through Vincent.

Vincent slings a butter fly knife.

Vincent:
What, trick? You talk shit… but can you do shit? 

James:
Keep your head… Joe was it?

Jeff:
It’s fucking Jeff.

James:
Fucking Jeff? What is that, Portuguese? Walk away.

Jeff:
I’ll be seeing you again.

James:
[Laughs] 
I see a lot of nothing everyday. Save your time.

Jeff grills James, intently, before exiting with Danielle.

Nikolai:
[From across the couch] 
See James? Take some notes. That’s how to avoid the pussy whip.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

A two man cleaning crew, club employees, scrub away at Lisa’s vomit, spread over the white tile.

Brandon is laid out, spread eagle on the floor.

Marissa now sits on James’ lap, Nikolai and Vincent giving the two their space.

James:
Quiet.

Brandon:
Good. They were herbs anyway.

Nikolai:
See the trash Danielle was bringing around here?

Marissa:
Brandon, just warning, you are dangerously close to that girl’s puke.

Brandon:
Que Sera, Sera…

James:
 Classiest guy I know.

Brandon:
Fuck you Haller. Always talking ‘bout class… Princess over here know you have a girl friend yet?

James:
She’s just sitting on my lap.

Marissa:
Yeah… No big deal.

Marissa moves her hand down toward James’ crotch.

James is practically exultant, as Marissa takes out her phone and snaps a picture, of him and her.

A tiny snap emits from the phone. The moment is frozen in time.

Brandon:
No big deal… Wonder what Heather would think about that.

Nikolai:
Mind your own business drunkard.

Nikolai tosses a pillow at Brandon, hitting him in the face.

Nikolai:
[Motions to the employees] 
Hey, that’s enough… Here… take this, for the inconvenience.

Nikolai forks over two ten dollar bills.

They both accept the money, ungratefully, indignantly.

EXT.GRASSY HILL-NIGHT

Two teens sit on their backs gazing at the stars, on the bottom of a grassy hill. They are Heather Beck and MARSHALL LYNDON, 17.

Marshall appears air brushed from an advertisement for the GAP.

Marshall:
I don’t know if there exists another guy alive who wouldn’t compromise for you. He has to be crazy.

Heather:
He isn’t crazy Marshall, just loyal.

Marshall:
There’s a thin line between loyalty and stupidity. James has crossed it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a free agent.

Heather:
Not exactly…

Marshall leans in and lovingly touches her face.

Marshall:
Beautiful, beautiful Heather… [Strokes her hair] when are you going to realize that you deserve better?

Heather moves away.

Heather:
James loves me. He doesn’t want to stab his friends in the back. I understand.

Marshall:
All I would need… is you.

Heather:
I don’t know… it’s that stupid club… why do they always have to go there?

Marshall moves in real close.

Marshall:
Listen, this isn’t about James. I’m right for you. More than he is.

Heather:
How do you know?

Marshall kisses Heather.

She kisses him back.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

Brandon is now leaned over on his side, passed out. Marissa presses her back against James, perfect lap dance positioning. She lies still.

Vincent and Nikolai have the rest of the couch all to themselves, sharing a bottle of Hennessey.

Nikolai:
Hell, do I remember that day? Like fucking yesterday. Every single moment, from the second I woke up to the second I went to sleep.

James:
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Vincent:
Word.

Nikolai:
James, remember that English teacher we had? Ms. Collins?

James:
Ms. Collins… I remember what she said, do you?

Marissa:
What was it?

James:
She tried spinning that maybe the pilot had a heart attack or something… the entire day was a 24-hour nightmare.

Nikolai:
Tell that to the people who lost someone. They haven’t woken up yet.

James:
Ms. Collins’ theory went out the window once that second plane hit. They didn’t even want to tell us. Remember Jamie? How his mom worked in the second tower?

Nikolai:
She got out.

Vincent:
I knew this one kid… Marco. His pops wasn’t so lucky. Engine 42… R.I.P

James:
Those bastards were cheering in the streets when they found out what happened.

Nikolai:
I read this one guy… he was telling the people celebrating to calm down, not because they were cheering too loud, but because he wanted them to be patient… he didn’t want to miss the real show. Motherless fuck.

Marissa:
And they claim to believe in God…

James:
Allah actually… It doesn’t really matter… there isn’t any difference.

Nikolai:
Sure about that Haller?

James:
You can’t condemn a whole religion because some assholes twist it to fit their fucked up agenda. If that were the case, Christianity wouldn’t have lasted past the first crusade.

Nikolai:
Fucking History Channel over here. Wake up Haller, they’d piss on your ashes.

Vincent:
And they still haven’t found that nigga Bin Laden. Still looking—

Nikolai:
He can’t hide forever.

James:
Can’t live forever.

Nikolai:
It gets me so fucking mad when I think about it.

Nikolai punches the couch, futilely.

INT.CLUB-NIGHT

The crowd has noticeably thinned out. The night is growing late.

At the end of the bar, a kid, no older than 17, sniffs coke discretely, off his fingertips.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

The box is a complete mess now. Brandon is sprawled on top of three beer bottles, occasionally rolling over and grunting in pain.

Nikolai and Vincent grant James and Marissa abject privacy, sitting at the furthest corner of the couch rolling a blunt. 

Marissa is now facing James, sitting on his lap.

Marissa:
That wasn’t you on the phone before, was it?

James:
No…

Marissa:
You’re really smart.

James:
So they say…

Spilt liquor lines James’ shirt.

Marissa:
Heather’s sweet, I have a study hall with her.

Awkward silence.

Marissa tries to kiss James. He moves his face away.

Marissa:
What’s wrong?

James:
Heather.

Marissa:
She won’t ever know.

Marissa moves James’ hand up to her breasts.

Marissa:
Don’t you think I’m pretty?

James:
Of course… But if I do this I’m going to feel real ugly. 

James politely pushes Marissa off. Nikolai and Vincent, who were watching while pretending not to, react in legitimate surprise.

James:
Air…

James makes a stumbling exit.

Marissa:
What the hell is wrong with your friend?

Nikolai:
You heard him. He doesn’t want to feel…[Chortles] ugly anymore.

Vincent laughs.

Nikolai:
James is a real stray. Don’t worry about it… I’ll talk to him.

Marissa:
We’re either going to hook up or we’re not. I don’t have time for this shit. I could have gone to Premiere.

Nikolai leaves the room.

Vincent:
Hey… I’m available.

Marissa is visibly disgusted by the proposition.

INT.CLUB-NIGHT

James meanders around the empty dance floor, kicking discarded trash, hands in his pockets, eyes searching for answers.

Nikolai appears behind him, patting him on the shoulder.

Nikolai:
Haller… what the fuck?

James:
Why’d we almost get into a fight with that nobody before?

Nikolai:
Who?

James:
You know… that kid Jeff.

Nikolai:
He’s a schmuck. Who cares?

James:
What was the point?

Nikolai:
The point?

James:
The point.

Nikolai:
[Laughs slightly] 
What the hell you talking about?

James:
I’m starting to think there isn’t really a point to anything. No rhyme or reason, just biding our time until the next beef, right?

Nikolai:
Philosophical drunk?

James:
I had a good feeling about tonight… and look at me… I can’t keep doing this.

Nikolai:
Not you too… stop complicating everything.

James:
I should be with her right now. I-

Nikolai:
Haller, if it’s about chilling in the box—

James:
No. It’s not the box.

Nikolai:
[Ignores] 
You want Marissa to take a hike? That what you want, cause it’ll be done, like that.

Nikolai snaps his fingers.

James groans.

Nikolai:
Free will, Haller. Exercise it.

James thinks.

James:
Tell her to come out here. I’ll take her to the D.J. Booth.

Nikolai:
So you hooking up?

James:
I want to talk, us alone.

Nikolai turns to leave.

Nikolai:
[Under his breath] 
Fucking Macbeth.

EXT.GRASSY HILL-NIGHT

Heather and Marshall are still trapped in their kiss.

Suddenly, and decisively, Heather backs away.

Marshall:
What’s wrong? What is it?

Heather:
I can’t go through with this.

A vicious expression crosses Marshall’s face.

Marshall:
What the fuck’s the problem?

Marshall bites at his lower lip.

Heather: 
I knew it. Asshole.

She rushes back up the hill.

Marshall: 
Damn… played this one wrong…

He laughs to himself. 

INT.D.J. BOOTH-NIGHT

James is screwing Marissa on a mixing board. He sees his reflection in the one-way mirror, stares at it, spews venom with his eyes.

Marissa:
Come on Baby… look at me… look at me…

James pounds his fist into the mirror.

James:
[Rubbing hand] 
Aw, fuck…

Marissa:
What happened?

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT 

Marissa has departed.

The remaining cast, Vincent, James, Nikolai, and Brandon, slouch into the couch. Brandon has made it back aboard from the floor, but is still fast asleep.

The mood however, is of celebration.

Vincent:
Laid the wood to her?

James:
Yeah…

Vincent:
My Nigga!

Vincent leans over Nikolai and forces a hand pound, and than a hug with James. He is absolutely wrecked.

Vincent is visibly digging deeper under James’ skin.

James and Nikolai share a quick look. James makes a motion with his eyes toward Vincent.

Nikolai shrugs with shame. His bad.

James pulls himself away from Vincent.

Vincent:
Hell, anybody would bang that broad. So what if you got a girl?

Nikolai:
What she doesn’t know, she won’t know. She can’t know.

Vincent, an annoying drunk, now forces a hug with Nikolai.

James’ face is vacant, devoid of any real feeling or emotion.

Brandon slowly keels over and passes back out on the floor.

James:
Time to call it.

Nikolai:
He’s right. Want to stop over at Gill’s for some… [Checks phone] Breakfast?

James:
Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.

Vincent:
Chill son, chill. We be bouncin’ homie.

James:
Shut the fuck up and move!

Vincent and Nikolai are nonplussed.

Brandon sleeps.

Vincent:
What the fuck you say to me?

James:
You heard me 50.

Vincent:
50? Fuck you nigga.

They both stand up, getting in each other’s faces.

Nikolai:
[Still sitting] 
Watch it Vince. You’re nothing in this room.

Vincent turns toward to Nikolai.

Vincent:
Shit, I thought we boys?

Nikolai:
Not when you fuck with him. [Kicks the limp Brandon] Or him.

Vincent:
Aight, aight, just chill a minute.

James:
Let’s not. I’m drunk. Don’t even know what I’m saying.

Vincent:
[Wary, but relieved] 
Oh… aight.

James exits.

Vincent:
W—

Nikolai:
I think you’d be better off saying nothing at all.

Brandon moans in pain on the floor.

Vincent:
No beef, no beef. Come on Nick… you my boy.

Nikolai:
[Cold] 
Wake him up and meet us outside.

INT.STAIRWAY-NIGHT

Nikolai stops James halfway down the stairs.

Nikolai:
What the fuck was that about?

James:
Marshal fucking Mathers up there has been getting on my nerves all night.

Nikolai:
Let it go. He won’t say shit for the duration, I can promise you that.

James:
Why the fuck did you bring him around anyway?

Nikolai:
He’s too stupid to be disloyal. A lot of other kids would have just laced you right there. And you wouldn’t stand much of a chance in your condition.

James:
And you’re a real picture of sobriety, dick.

Nikolai:
Hey, how was she?

James:
Marissa?

Nikolai:
Was she better than Heather?

James doesn’t answer.

Nikolai:
Haller… be real, kid. You can tell me.

James continues down the stairs.

INT.PARTY BOX-EARLY MORNING

Vincent attempts to wake up Brandon. He kicks at his legs as if Brandon were a corpse.

Vincent:
Wake up. Wake up. Wake the fuck up!

Brandon stirs.

Brandon:
Relax bro… call me when the party’s over.

INT.GILL’S DINER-EARLY MORNING

It’s a typical, no frills Diner.

James and Brandon have a window seat. Nikolai and Vincent are on line behind two old men ordering breakfast. The seniors occasionally shoot dirty looks at the two, before returning with food to their table.

The place is virtually empty.

James:
How was the beauty sleep?

Brandon:
[Yawning] 
Quality.

James:
You missed it. I almost got into a fight with our new buddy over there.

Brandon:
Who, Pretty Fly for a White Guy?

James laughs.

James:
That’s a fact.

Brandon:
Fuck it. We should roll on him.

James:
It’s over with. But he really is a five star fuck face… Nikolai should’ve left him where he found him.

Brandon:
Hook up with Marisa?

James:
 D.J. Booth.

Brandon:
[Nods head] 
I’ve got to give you credit Haller. You said you had a good feeling about tonight.

James grimaces.

James:
True.

Brandon takes a close look Vincent, clowning around with Nikolai on line. His eyes turn hollow.

Brandon:
How tight is he with Nikolai?

James:
Please, Nickels would scalp him on a second’s notice.

Brandon:
I’m really thinking about rocking this kid. I’d really enjoy it, you know?

Brandon pounds his right fist into his left palm, his hand emitting an audible thud.

James:
Nikolai told me to forget about it.

Brandon:
What if I had a vendetta?

James:
A vendetta? You’ve been fucking passed out all night.

Brandon:
He talked shit. Where are your fucking balls?

James:
I was ready to.

Brandon:
Why didn’t you?

James:
I don’t know.

Brandon:
You don’t know…

Brandon suddenly slams his fist on the table. His face has turned red. He is infuriated.

Vincent looks over a bit nervously.

Brandon:
Fuck it. It’s going down. It’s going down right fucking now.

Brandon shoves the table away, nearly turning it over, before walking over to Nikolai and Vincent, now waiting for their order to be served.

James:
[Throws down rolled up napkin] 
Tired of this shit…

Brandon approaches Nikolai and Vincent.

Brandon:
Yo, Nikolai, I don’t know bro, I might have been passed out all night, but did this dirt bag step to James?

Nikolai:
Chill B. It isn’t a big deal.

Vincent:
You just call me a scumbag?

Brandon:
Dirt bag… scumbag… take a fucking pick pussy.

Vincent:
I will not continue to be disrespected by y’all! I’m straight up-

Nikolai:
Vincent, will you shut up!

Vincent:
Nah, fuck that. Y’all some bitch ass—

Vincent’s sentence is interrupted by Nikolai’s fist exploding into his jaw. He nearly flies over the counter, causing female cashier behind it to scream in shock.

Nikolai grabs Vincent by the collar and flings him to the floor.

Nikolai:
I fucking told you to shut the fuck up!

Nikolai kicks him point blank in the face. Vincent nearly flies head over heels.

Brandon:
Get up! Get up! I thought you were straight Gangsta!

James watches it all from the booth, a spectator.

Vincent gets to his feet, taking a swing at Brandon, missing horribly.

Brandon:
Come on tough guy! Let’s shoot it!

It’s turned into a one on one altercation. Brandon nails Vincent’s chin with an uppercut. Vincent flops to the ground, spitting out a tooth.

Nikolai:
Raging Bull, time to go.

Brandon kneels down beside Vincent, who is nearly unconscious.

Brandon:
Number one junior fighter in the city. If ya don’t know… know ya know… nigga.

Nikolai:
Finished?

Brandon:
Now I am.

Nikolai:
Haller?

Nikolai nods his head toward the exit.

James taps the table, a drummer beating his instrument with the bored ease of experience. He puts on his jacket and heads toward the exit, where Brandon and Nikolai stand waiting.

Before he can get there, Vincent trips James, sending him to the floor.

As James gathers himself, Vincent lunges at him, butterfly knife in his hand.

Nikolai:
No!

The knife plunges into James’ chest, piercing his jacket.

James falls backwards.

Vincent bounces to his feet, and tries to ram through Brandon and Nikolai, who catch and throw him to the ground, administering a few more vicious kicks.

Quickly, however, their attention turns to the fallen James.

They leave Vincent, who flees the scene.

Nikolai arrives first.

Nikolai:
[Kneeling over] 
James!

He slaps him in the face.

James:
Fuck was that for?

Nikolai:
Thought you were dead.

James:
I’m not, Nickels. I’m not even hurt, man.

Nikolai reaches into the hole in James’ jacket. No blood when he pulls it back.

Nikolai:
It never touched you… how?

James:
My fucking dad… just saved my life.

Nikolai:
How? 

James:
The jacket bro… The jacket.

Nikolai remembers now.

He helps James back up.

Brandon, who had been standing by the doorway in nervous anticipation, finally walks over.

Brandon:
So… who’s still up for breakfast?

Nikolai:
[Still slightly stunned] 
Fuck breakfast.

Nikolai exits first, Brandon second, James last.

INT.BEDROOM-MORNING 

James sits on his bed, staring at the hole in his jacket. He walks over to his desk, picking up his cell phone, dialing a number. He accidentally turns on the speaker.

Heather:
  [V.O.]
 Hey, you’ve reached Heather Beck… I’m not available to talk right now, but please leave a message. Ciao.

James:
Heather… it’s James. I just wanted to let you know how much I love you. I love you. I love you. You’re the most important thing in my life. I would walk through hell for you. I love you. Call me tomorrow. I’ll take you anywhere you want. I’ll do anything you want to do. I love you. And… uh…

He passes out, phone thudding on the floor.

INT.APARTMENT HALLWAY-MORNING

Nikolai approaches an apartment door, marked “28.” He taps lightly in the door.

Danielle opens it.

Danielle:
Are you crazy? My parents literally left for work 2 minutes ago.

Nikolai:
I’m sober now. I’m sober.

Danielle:
Jesus! [Grabs his right hand, bloodied by a busted knuckle] What happened?

Nikolai:
Just let me in.

Danielle lingers in front of the door.

Nikolai begs with his eyes, completely burnt out.

Nikolai:
Dee…I can’t go home right now. I can’t fucking go home.

He bows his head down. She kisses him, pulling him close.

Danielle:
Nikolai… what did you do to yourself?

EXT.FRANCIS LEWIS BOULEVARD-MORNING 

Brandon strolls leisurely, through the middle of a vacant Francis Lewis Boulevard, the artery connecting Whitestone. His cell phone rings. He picks it up.

Brandon:
Mom? Yeah… I’m taking a detour… I’ll be home soon…

He hangs the phone up, his mother’s screaming still audible as he flips the top down. Brandon continues along, alone.

EXT.BEACH-MORNING 

Vincent stumbles, sliding on the frozen sand of a forgotten beach. 

He cups the knife in his hands, searching for blood, amazed and petrified. 

Vincent: 
It’s a miracle. It’s a miracle. 

He throws the knife into the icy shoreline, far as he can. 

Vincent: 
I’m not a killer… I’m not a killer…  

INT.EMPTY CHURCH-MORNING 

Sunlight pours through stain glass windows, weaving a shadowy tapestry, as James walks toward a confessional booth.

INT.CONFESSIONAL BOOTH-MORNING 

James kneels down, the PRIEST in a separate compartment, face hidden behind a lattice.

James:
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession. When we jumped Donovan Jones, remember?

Priest:
James. How are you, my son?

James:
Pretty terrible, Father.

Priest:
Nothing’s changed?

James:
Never does.

Priest:
Tell me your sins, my son.

James:
I’ve been… what, unfaithful again? That the word I’m looking for?

Priest:
[Soothing]
 Haven’t we previously discussed this James? Haven’t you pledged faithfulness?

James:
I messed up.

Priest:
You’ve sinned.

James:
Last night… I drank, did drugs… had sex with a girl I may never see again. 

Priest:
James… a confession isn’t worth anything if your philosophies remain the same.

James:
These aren’t my philosophies Father.

Priest:
Whose are they?

James:
Everyone else’s…

Priest:
What does that have to do with you?

James:
Father?

Priest:
Yes, James.

James:
You ever wonder why people do the things they do?

Priest:
Do you have an explanation for your behavior?

James:
[Searching] 
… I almost died last night. I passed out for a couple of hours, after I got home. Woke up, just vomiting… this entire existence. Puking my life out. Walked for a long while trying to figure out why I was spared…

Priest:
God is sending a message, James. The wise would heed it.

James:
You think He ever sees how messed up everything is, down here I mean?

Priest: 
God has a plan.

James:
It doesn’t make any sense.

Priest:
It will in time.

James:
What should I do, for what I’ve done?

Priest:
Your mother James… she was a wonderful woman… she is missed, by the entire community. Think of her. Honor her. Our teenage years, they can be treacherous. Be reasonable, my son. Please be reasonable, for your own sake. God will give you strength. You have to believe. And… you have to move on.

James: 
Have you ever watched the life drain out of the eyes of someone you loved, with all your heart? Have you ever felt that powerless, that completely futile? Has your love ever been rendered useless? Annihilated by some… fucking cancer? Has it? Has it?   

Priest: 
No.

James: 
Than you don’t tell me to move on! You don’t tell me to move on, why, because your imaginary friend says so? 

Priest: 
James… I know you don’t mean that-

James: 
You know? I’m telling you father, here on earth, in reality, what I’ve seen… what I’ve learned… there may be a God, and I damn well hope there is, I pray there is, but his residence isn’t in our area code. Someone else is behind the wheel, man, someone else…

Priest:
James, have you ever seriously sought professional help?

James:
[Wiping his eyes] 
Christ… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

He departs.

INT.MONASTERY-MORNING 

James lights a candle, silently prays, and crosses himself. 

He gazes deeply into the flame, the light.

DISSOLVE

EXT.WHITESTONE LANES-DAY 

CAPTION:OCTOBER 2004

James, Nikolai, and Brandon are walking toward the bowling alley, Whitestone Lanes.

All three appear slightly younger. Brandon has a completely different hairstyle, Nikolai sporting sunglasses.

Nikolai halts.

Nikolai:
Check her out.

Standing alone, next to a boarded up Lemon Ice Stand, is Heather Beck.

Nikolai:
She could use some company. Neely? Game?

Brandon:
Me? Nah, Haller’s the smooth operator.

James:
What, you expect me to just walk over there?

Brandon:
Pretty much. What do you have to lose? Playing with that house money.

Nikolai:
Shit James, B’s right. She turns you down, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.

James:
Can we just pick up my chain?

Nikolai:
What a pussy.

James starts walking away.

They are compelled to follow.

Nikolai:
You know what? I’m calling you bitch from now on. How’s that sound?

James:
[Motions toward Brandon] 
What about this kid? I didn’t see Rico Suave making any moves.

Brandon:
That’s a double standard. Besides, I’m just giving out a little charity.

James:
The poor, huddled masses don’t give out charity. You fit right in, believe me.

They enter the alley through revolving doors.

INT.WHITESTONE LANES-DAY

They move through the alley, the noise of dropping pins echoing their every step.

James arrives at the front desk first, Linda Piazza working behind it.

James:
How’s it going?

Linda:
What do you need?

James:
Listen, I was here last night around closing time, and I misplaced my chain. I was wondering if it was in the lost and found or something?

Linda:
Wait a second… were you the drunken assholes playing catch with the bowling balls at three in the morning?

James:
Guilty. Do you have the chain or not?

Linda:
Oh, I have it. But my boss said if you guys came back for any reason at all, I should call the cops.

James:
Are you serious?

Linda:
Very.

James:
Why don’t you give me a break? It has this Crucifix attached worth more than my life.

Linda:
I might have thought about it, but, unfortunately, you just aren’t very charming. Now get out of here before I call [thumb quotes] “Five-O” son.

James:
Real productive, real fucking productive…

Linda:
[Waving with a sardonic smile] 
Bye.

James:
My mother gave me that chain for my 13th birthday. I need it back.

Linda:
That’s not my problem. Explain to mommy what effects alcohol can have on the already dim minded.

James steps backward.

Brandon:
I don’t think you understand. His mom gave him that chain before she-

James:
No, stop it! Just… stop. It’s just a chain. She’s had enough fun for her power trip today.

Linda:
[Concerned] 
Wait, what is it?

James nods his head, and they follow his lead out of the scene.

EXT.WHITESTONE LANES-DAY 

The three sit on a curb facing a vacant street.

James:
My mother bought me that chain. Last thing she ever gave me, and I lose it in a fucking bowling alley.

Nikolai:
This is bullshit--

Brandon:
Hold that thought. Look.

Heather Beck approaches the curb, from the entrance of the Alley. She has James’ chain dangling from her hand.

When she comes close enough, she flings the chain at James.

Heather:
Happy?

James:
[Surprised, catches it] 
Thanks.

Heather:
Don’t thank me. Thank my friend Linda. She wants it known you aren’t welcome back. Why she even let you have the chain, I have no idea. She’s a better person than I am.

James:
[Puts chain on] 
You sure? 

Beat.

James:
Work here?

Heather:
I do. Is there something wrong with that?

James:
Did I say there was?

Heather:
No. My dad owns the place.

James:
Really? Get out of here…

Heather: 
[Sarcastic] 
I know, like totally amazing right?

Heather turns and starts back toward the Alley.

James:
 This chain means a lot to me.

Heather:
 I’m sure it does.

Nikolai:
That was weak.

James:
She was pissed.

Nikolai:
So what? I would have got a number.

James:
Bullshit. Say something to her right now.

Nikolai:
No problem. Hey beautiful, come back here a second!

Heather stops and turns around.

Heather:
What?

James:
Sorry, my friend here is being a jerk off. It’s par for the course, never mind it.

Nikolai:
Jesus Christ Haller, do you even own a set?

This causes Heather to laugh. Suddenly the mood lightens.

Heather:
Leave him alone. He seems the nicest out of all you.

Nikolai:
Why don’t you come over here? We won’t bite.

Heather lingers.

Nikolai:
On break right?

Heather: 
[V.O.]
And than you said…

James: 
Keep me company with these cretins!

Heather: 
[V.O.]
Cretins… I was so surprised to hear you use that word. It made me curious about you.

EXT. GIGI’S PIZZERIA-DAY

CAPTION: JULY 2005

James and Heather eat lunch on a patio table outside GiGi’s Pizzeria.

Heather:
Nine months today.

James:
Nine more?

Heather:
Try Eighty Nine more.

James:
Fine with me. Come here.

James kisses Heather. As they release from it, he looks directly into her eyes.

James:
Do you think I’ve changed? 

Heather: 
Changed… from when, exactly? 

James: 
The first time we met? 

Heather: 
I’m not sure. 

James: 
Something happened to me Heath, a few months ago. I think it made me change, into something better than I used to be. 

Heather: 
What happened? 

James: 
It wasn’t the happening that was important… it was a lesson I had to learn. That life’s fleeting. Everything that used to be so goddamned valuable… the park, the crew… all we have is who we love. You know, life ends, the brightest leaves in spring crumble and die by fall. Love transcends time, death. I realize that now. It took me awhile, after, you know… but that’s how I finally learned to cope. There must be something more.

Heather: 
Do your duel identities ever disconcert you? 

James: 
Duel identities?

Heather: 
When are you going to stop pretending to be a gangster?

James: 
It isn’t a game, not pretending. And it’ll be over soon.

Heather: 
When?

 James:
Listen to me. In there here and now, I have to honor what B and Nickels have meant to me over the years. I’ll go to the club, to the park. I’ll be willing to fight for them. But that sun will set. Don’t ask me when, but it will. You know, I think back, to this one night, I had to be only 14, 15 tops. My dad left the house to me, so I invited everyone over and we raided the liquor cabinet, standard operating procedure. Except, I had a little too much. I end up in a rage, completely out of my mind. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs that nobody can touch us, I’m naming all the other crews in our neighborhood, and I’m cursing them, I’m challenging them, I’m pounding my chest. Spits flying out of my mouth, my boys are trying to rein me in… so much anger. And I just think… it seems so pathetic now… almost… insulting. And, in some way, I have to admit… I wouldn’t mind the world being that simple again. And that’s what scares the hell out of me. Ignorance is dangerous… liberating.

INT. DANIELLE’S BEDROOM-DAY

Nikolai and Danielle lay with each other in bed, Danielle resting her head on his chest.

Danielle:
So?

Nikolai:
What?

Danielle:
Did you tell your friends yet?

Nikolai:
That all you ever think about?

Danielle:
No.

Nikolai:
Than stop bothering me… they don’t need to know my fucking business.

Danielle:
But they are your friends, right?

Nikolai:
Why does it matter?

Danielle:
I don’t know. It makes… it would make it feel more real.

Nikolai:
This isn’t real enough?

Danielle:
This is fine. Believe me. But why can’t other people know?

Nikolai:
They… don’t… need… to… know.

Danielle:
Don’t patronize me, OK? I’m going to Cornell after Senior Year.

Nikolai:
I’m not patronizing you. Listen… everyone knowing about you and me…

Danielle:
Going steady?

Nikolai:
That’s the gayest thing I ever heard, but yeah, going steady, that might make it more real for you, but it would make it fake for me.

Danielle:
What do you mean?

Nikolai:
I have my reasons.

Danielle:
What are they?

Nikolai:
I don’t think you’d understand.

Danielle:
Why not? I’m full of surprises.

Danielle looks up at Nikolai, with a quizzical expression.

He can’t help but laugh.

Nikolai:
I always have to know, what to do, what to say, how to handle every single situation. Little 13 year old drug runner tells me one of his dirt bag buddies stole money, and I got to make sure these fucking kids, who should be watching some goddamn cartoons or something, don’t stab each other to death at high noon. These are my problems.

Danielle:
They don’t have to be.

Nikolai:
Yes, they do. Because that’s who I am-

Danielle:
No, it’s who they think you are.

Nikolai:
Is there a difference?

Danielle:
Of course there is. Besides, what does it have to do with us?

Nikolai:
Everything. I don’t want you… I just want to keep me and you, [connects hands] me and you. I don’t mean for it to be a big, covert secret, I’m not a sick fuck over here. Just think of us on our own private island. No park. No club. No pressures. No nothing.

Danielle:
I didn’t say you were.

Nikolai: 
What? 

Danielle:
A sick fuck.

Nikolai:
Right, but… I don’t want you to think that. I need us to be separate from everything fake.

Danielle:
What about Brandon and James? They fake too?

Nikolai:
They are family… my brothers.

Danielle:
Nikolai.

Nikolai:
What?

Danielle:
You can’t keep hiding what we have. We need to face the world together… or else, what’s our love worth, really?

Nikolai leaves the bed, puts his clothes on.

Danielle:
Where are you going?

Nikolai opens the bedroom window, stepping out onto the fire escape.

EXT.FIRE ESCAPE-DAY

Nikolai leans against a brown, weathered railing, staring out into glowing water, floating peacefully under the Whitestone Bridge.

Danielle’s hand drapes over his shoulder.

Nikolai:
Who told you to follow me?

Danielle:
Nobody baby, nobody.

Nikolai kisses her hand.

INT.GOLDMIL’S GYM-DAY

Brandon Neely pounds a punching bag.

Everyone in the gym has stopped to watch, as he wails on away.

Brandon grunts after each fourth blow, unleashing blindingly quick combos that leave his trainer laughing in giddy delight.

EXT.BELL BOULEVARD-DAY

Brandon exits the gym, a contented air about him.

James greets him.

James:
Hitting that bag B-Neely?

Brandon:
Better fucking recognize it, left some holes in that bitch. Darren thinks I could take Golden Gloves this year.

They walk down the sidewalk.

James:
What are you doing tonight?

Brandon:
Don’t know yet, but I’m sure some alcohol will be involved.

James:
Obviously.

Brandon:
Where you going to be creeping around?

James:
Anniversary time again.

Brandon: 
Oh, shit. Buying her some flowers and candy? 

James: 
Nah, I used those on your mom already, son.

Brandon laughs. 

Brandon:
That girl never called back.

James:
Who?

Brandon:
Janet.

James:
Janet? Fuck her.

Brandon:
I’m inept with the ladies Haller. It’s pathetic.

James:
You aren’t inept, B. You just need to seize opportunities.

Brandon:
Bro, I have this thing… when I try to call one up, I just can’t do it. My heart stops, my body shuts down.

James:
A preemptive strike against rejection… I used to get that too. It’s nothing. Just look yourself in the mirror before you dial.

Brandon:
Look in the mirror?

James:
Yeah, look in the mirror. Because no matter what happens after you make that call, whether she picks up or doesn’t, whether you get a date or she flat turns you down, next time you look in that mirror, the same guy will be staring back. And that’s what I always think.

Brandon:
I’m stunned Haller. That’s actually good advice. You come up with that by yourself?

James:
No… my mom taught me that.

James frowns slightly, looking down at his shoes.

They enter his car, a Silver Diamante with tinted windows and wide, metal rims.

INT.DIAMANTE-DAY 

James starts driving. Jay Z’s “Lucifer” plays on the radio.

Brandon:
Seen that girl Danielle Gomez at work yesterday. She was looking good, if only her lips never formed words right? God… love them Hispanic girls kid… love them.

James:
That’s a bit of serendipity right there, because I actually have some first rate news to report.

Brandon:
Sere-what?

James:
Serendipity… you know… fuck it. It’s not important.

Brandon:
Nikolai still banging that broad… I had that feeling.

James:
Not just banging.

Brandon:
No fucking way? Who told you that?

James:
Heather’s girl Linda heard it through the grapevine. These things get around.

The light turns green, James continues driving.

Brandon:
That’s crazy. Why would Nickels go out with her? She’s been around the block enough times to lose count.

James:
Maybe it’s laziness.

Brandon:
Laziness?

James:
Sure, why not? He got tired of sifting through girl after girl and settled on the easiest option.

Brandon:
Hate to say it…

James:
Sounds like Nickels don’t it?

Brandon:
But Danielle Gomez? They’re almost completely opposite… this won’t end well Haller. Mark my words.

EXT.184 PARK-DAY 

Brandon and James walk down a cement ramp leading into the park, when two kids, age 12, Tony Ronzini and John Mirabelli, walk by, nodding at James and Brandon before continuing upward.

James:
I hate that.

Brandon:
What?

James:
Little Tony and John, hanging out here.

Brandon:
We did the same, at their age.

James:
I don’t want those kids turning into us.

Brandon:
They’re the next generation Haller. Already talking about holding down the park. Shit, don’t you want to leave a legacy?

James:
I remember when the old crew used to tell us we’d be the last caretakers. Want to know what our legacy is, B?

Brandon:
What?

James stops walking, and points toward the graffiti lining the handball court wall.

Brandon:
That’s never getting clean.

EXT.JAMES’ BACKYARD-NIGHT

James and Heather, sitting together in a patio chair, are staring up at the night sky.

An empty flask of Smirnoff is on the table to their side. They are both intoxicated. James reaches for the flask from under Heather, but tips it over. It hits the ground, shattering.

James:
Oh… fuck.

Heather:
 You are such a lightweight.

James:
Sure I am, Ms. One Shot Only. You know, I let that juicy piece of gossip about my main man Nickels circulate to Brandon. B’s probably having a chat with Nick about his secret romance as we speak.

EXT.184 PARK-NIGHT

Nikolai and Brandon stand on the playground’s drawbridge, each drinking 40 ounce bottles of Old English. They are presumably pre-gaming it. They are in the midst of an animated conversation.

Nikolai:
 How did you even find out?

Brandon:
Relax Nickels… don’t even worry about it. Like I told Haller, it’s not an issue. So you got a steady girl, who really gives a fuck?

Nikolai:
It isn’t other people I’m concerned about.

Brandon:
Honestly? Fuck the crew as far as this shit is concerned. Fuck Jack, fuck D.J. and fuck all the rest. Who cares what they think? Since we started going to the club, we hardly even see them anymore. And if her cheating is a legitimate worry… fuck bro, if it happens, we will end whoever else is involved. End them. 

Nikolai: 
You don’t understand B. I wanted to keep her separate from all this… shit. I didn’t want her to be a part of it, the club or the park, what we do. All my life people have been telling me who I am, like what I thought didn’t matter. This was mine, mine alone, all I wanted was to keep it that way.

Brandon searches for a response.

Brandon: 
That’s cool man… I get that. 

EXT.JAMES’BACKYARD-DAWN

James and Heather, still together, wait for the sun to set.

James: 
One day done, another dawning… 

Heather:
What does it all mean to you? Your friends, the park, it most mean something, because you haven’t been able to let it go.

James:
The life is a lie. Nikolai, Brandon, me, we could have walked away at a young age. Should have. But someone had to keep the torch lit. Somebody needed to be feared, somebody needed to be respected. But underneath the ugliness, there’s this camaraderie, this feeling between us three… we each individually see the joke… and that somehow makes us more unified. Makes us crusaders of a lost ethic, honor in all this madness. Just between us, others don’t apply. Because, if you’re alone in this world baby… you sinking… you sinking real quick…

Heather:
James… you need to walk away. What you were talking about before, this afternoon… what if the sun never does set? You might have to just make a choice. 

James:
After my mom passed nothing was the same. My father and I haven’t looked each other in the eye since. Probably afraid at what we might see. All who I could count on… Nikolai and Brandon are the only reason why some semblance of me survived that time. I owe them.

James pulls Heather closer to him.

He kisses her on the cheek, and they remain silent.

INT.THE CLINTON-NIGHT

The Clinton is a small Italian restaurant.

Nikolai and Danielle share dinner. The eatery is relatively empty. They are in the middle of a conversation.

Danielle:
 I saw your friend Brandon yesterday… working at Home Depot. What’s his deal anyway?

Nikolai:
His deal?

Danielle:
I hear things, like he drinks every day.

Nikolai:
B was born with a hangover.

Danielle doesn’t laugh.

Nikolai:
 B’s dad walked out on him, when he was really young. It messed him up inside. He self-medicates.

Danielle:
And that stuff with James, and his mom?

Nikolai:
I always tell people… our crew isn’t tougher than everybody else. We’re just crazier.

Danielle:
How intimidating.

Nikolai:
That’s the intended reaction. B’s fine, though, all things considered. He’s got boxing. And James… James is a fucking genius. He might even be smarter than me. Maybe.

Danielle:
Does he get good grades?

Nikolai:
He feels grades are beneath him.

Danielle:
A libertarian.

Nikolai:
A fuck up…

Danielle:
Who isn’t?

Nikolai:
[Tips drink]
 Touché.

Beat.

Nikolai:
I’m really not used to this. Ordering food, eating it, paying for it, leaving a tip… so…

Danielle:
Civilized?

Nikolai:
Exactly. Seriously Dee, remember what you were doing a year ago today?

Danielle:
Probably smoking some weed, drinking some liquor, hooking up with some guy I didn’t know…

Nikolai’s raises his eyebrows.

Danielle:
[Laughing] 
Kidding, kidding.

Nikolai:
[Unsettled] 
Yeah, right.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

James’ phone informs him of three missed calls, all from Heather.

The only people in the box are James and Brandon. No party tonight.

James:
This… has got to be a first. Nickels won’t be around tonight. He’s over at the Clinton with his girl. 

Brandon:
Now you know how it feels right? 

James:
I’m a different case.

Brandon:
How do you figure?

James:
Because you and I both know Nikolai sets everything in motion.

Brandon:
I never thought I’d see the day, him dip for a girl. Not Nikolai.

James:
He isn’t the same. Not that it’s a bad thing.

Brandon:
Want to get out of here?

James:
And go where?

Brandon:
I don’t know… we could walk the Boulevard.

James:
Why the fuck should we do that?

Brandon:
Why? I could use the exercise. I was just throwing it out there.

James:
Heather’s been calling me all night…

Brandon:
You going to leave me solo?

James:
Bro, what’s the point of walking the Boulevard? The night will end, the sun will rise, and it’ll be like we were never even there.

Brandon:
Ghosts?

James:
Exactly.

Brandon:
Come on… it’ll be fun. Look, we’ll get fucked up and freak people out, old school. What are you going to do with Heather? Talk about how fucking inadequate you are?

James hesitates before answering.

James:
All I know is…. we better be really, really, drunk.

Brandon:
You have a deal, my friend.

EXT.FRANCIS LEWIS BOULEVARD-NIGHT 

Brandon and James wonder around the boulevard, jumping out of bushes, giving random people high fives, behaving like jackasses.

EXT.FRANCIS LEWIS BOULEVARD-NIGHT 

An empty boulevard features but two shadows, parading drunkenly through the night.

Brandon:
Now you tell me something… Mr., Mr., Mr.… Smart Man… you tell me that this night wasn’t fun. Look me in the eye—

James:
I can’t. ‘Cause this night was mad fun, mad fucking fun.

Brandon:
Feels good, don’t it?

James:
Yeah, being as drunk as this feels great.

Brandon:
Not that bro. Doesn’t it make you feel good… being free again, not worrying about your next fight, or your fucking girl, or the biggest one, school… God I hate fucking school.

James:
It’s the middle of summer, why the hell would I be worried about school?

Brandon:
I’m always worried about school. I fucking hate that place.

James:
Fuck school. Bunch of asshole teachers trying to… teach me something… I don’t care! Why can’t they understand that? Do I need to wear a fucking sign around my neck?

Brandon:
I’m sick of hearing about how they’re the real fucking heroes. There are no fucking heroes. Nobody is a fucking hero. Take my dad for instance…

James:
Oh no…

Brandon:
No, no, it’s fine. I’m not just bringing up Lucifer because I’m wasted. I’m only saying that the guy worked his ass off. He really did. Solving big cases, putting his life in danger, seeing the worst humanity had to offer everyday. And how much money do they pay a hero like that? What did he get in return? A wife yelling at him constantly, a little kid, that was yours truly by the way, constantly bitching about buying a Super Nintendo…

James:
Listen to me you drunken idiot, it wasn’t your fault, never was and never will be, so stop with this shit. This is why I hate getting wasted with you sometimes. Cut that. Cut it. He left because he was afraid. It wasn’t you.

Brandon:
Why would he be afraid of his own son?

James:
How the hell should I know?

They pass McDonald’s.

As they cross the street beyond it, Brandon stops in his tracks.

Brandon:
Look over there.

James:
Where?

Brandon:
That gutter. That fucking dank ass gutter right over there, that fucking gutter I pass by everyday of my life.

Brandon walks over to it.

James:
What are you doing?

Brandon stands over it, quieter now.

Brandon:
I ever tell you about the time, one night, he didn’t come home, and my mom went looking for him? She took me with, in the passenger seat, because she was afraid of leaving me alone in the house. There had been a few robberies in the area… remember that?

James:
I remember. My dad bought a gun just for the occasion.

Brandon:
My dad had a gun. All the time… he was a cop. A good cop…

James:
Come on B, let’s go.

Brandon:
Last I heard he got transferred off Homicide. That was four fucking years ago. Those demons never leave… think he passed them down James?

James:
No. He didn’t. Trust me.

Brandon:
I trust you James. I have to. What else do I have anyway?

James:
Don’t to do this to yourself.

Brandon:
I like it when my hand hurts after a good right. It’s easy to forget sometimes…  [Points down] Right here we found him. Right there… Must have walked out of the bar and passed out. Did he have to do it right in the gutter? Not the sidewalk? Not the street? The gutter… What is that, some kind of sick fucking joke?

James:
We’re having a fun night, and you have to drudge this shit up?

Brandon:
You never talk about your mom James. Why is that? Maybe because you couldn’t control the cancer… everything’s so out of fucking control… You were thirteen bro… thirteen… What did you do to deserve that? What the fuck is going on out here? Does this shit just happen? Does anyone give a fuck about anything?

James:
[Fighting back the memory] 
Just shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.

Brandon:
My mom says something a lot… when I come home late… when she’s had too many glasses of wine… Why did I have to be born? Why?

James:
Fuck that. She doesn’t really mean it.

Brandon:
Think I really mean this?

An unmistakable summer breeze flows through the air.

Brandon breathes it in, before spitting.

Brandon:
Neither of us is too lucky Haller… There was money scattered around, his money. My mom was fucking infuriated. Know what she did? She took the money and drove back to the house without him. She left him there to fucking rot… I’ll never see him again.

James:
You don’t know that B.

Brandon:
Look at this.

James:
What?

Brandon reaches into the gutter and pulls out two empty beer bottles, labels half torn off.

He hands one to James.

James:
What are you doing?

Brandon:
Lift it.

James does.

Brandon:
Here is… to us, Haller.

They click the bottles together.

James:
B… you’re fucking wasted.

Brandon and James both laugh, relieved.

Brandon nearly falls over, he is laughing so hard.

They turn and throw the bottles against the bricked side of McDonald’s, celebrating as both shatter to pieces, making their exit, leaving the glass for the wind to blow away.

INT.GIGI’S PIZZERIA-DAY 

A storm rages beyond the windows of the Pizzeria. Brandon, James, and Nikolai sit at the booth nearest to the door. There are other teenaged faces scattered around the place, sitting at different tables and talking about different things.

A newspaper turned to the Box Scores is spread out across the table.

Brandon:
The night with the wife Nickels, how was it?

Nikolai:
See, this is the shit I’m talking about. One time Brandon…

Brandon:
Sure, it’s just this one time. Until you turn into this lap dog over here [points at James] being, what was it James?

James:
Dragged around by my Johnson, I believe.

Brandon:
What’s on tap for tonight? Assuming you two aren’t double dating or anything.

James throws a Garlic Knot at Brandon, who ducks. The knot nails a kid sitting at the table in front of them, in the back of his head. He turns around and shakes his head, before going back to minding his own business.

The three get a kick out of the whole thing.

Nikolai:
Going to the club, isn’t that what you two did last night?

James:
Not quite.

Brandon:
Had a little fun on the Boulevard, you know chasing people around with shopping carts and shit.

James:
Was it as good for me as it was for you?

Brandon:
Better.

Nikolai:
Dee’s chilling tonight, might bring a friend, might not.

James:
Really?

Nikolai:
It’s been awhile… since she’s been at the club. Months. Its time, I suppose.

James:
I’ll be looking forward to it. 

Brandon: 
Oh, Nickels, you hear that? Haller is making a special guest star appearance tonight. I’m thrilled. 

James: 
Please. I’m still around all the time. Last night, dip shit? 

Brandon: 
Sure, sure. But the circle wasn’t complete [looks at Nikolai] am I right? 

INT.COMO’S BODEGA-DAY [RAIN]

Nikolai and Brandon shop in the only Bodega located within Whitestone, Como’s. It’s small, dingy.

Brandon is walking through the only aisle in the store, on his way to the refrigerator in the back. He’s on the prowl for beer, and just as he reaches for the fridge’s door, he bumps into a girl. Her name is ELAINE STEVENS, 17, petite, black hair, the epitome of cute.

Brandon:
Oh, sorry.

Elaine:
No, my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.

Brandon:
Who is?

They share smiles.

Brandon begins to clear the way for her continued progress.

Elaine:
Hey, are you Steve Shields?

Brandon:
Steve Shields? No. My name’s Brandon… uh… Brandon Neely.

Elaine:
Nice to meet you Brandon Neely, sorry for the confusion. I’m Elaine Stevens.

Brandon:
Yeah… uh… nice to meet you too… I guess.

Elaine sticks her hand out. Brandon nervously extends his courtesy.

They shake.

Now, instead of saying something, anything else, Brandon turns away. Elaine appears to walk away, befuddled.

Brandon opens the fridge and pulls out two Old English Forty Ounce Bottles.

Brandon:
Stupid…stupid…stupid…

He closes the door, disgusted with his continued ineptitude, only to see the reflection of Elaine, behind his.

He turns around.

Brandon:
Oh. Hi. [Smiles] Again.

EXT.BASEBALL FIELD- DAY 

The skies have cleared, for the moment. Puddles overflow the infield. James and Heather sit together in the first base dugout.

Heather:
Can we please go to my house?

James:
What, don’t enjoy the outdoors?

Heather:
Not in this weather, got eyes?

James:
Working just fine, seeing a sky holding up for the rest of the day.

Heather:
It’s my fault meeting you here. I’m right across the street. Let’s go.

James:
Best days of my life were right here.

Heather:
James… we need to talk about something.

James:
Play the sex card and I’ll think about it.

Heather:
James…

James:
No place I’d rather be. Even as a spectator. You couldn’t comprehend getting a big hit with everything on the line… it’s a natural high. Fate… circumstance… they don’t matter on the field… It’s fair.

Heather:
Listen, to me, James. I wanted to see you at my house. But since you were here-

James:
My old Little League stories aren’t interesting? I’m offended honestly.

Heather:
I almost can’t… I just want to pretend I never heard. Don’t you notice this look in my eyes James? Can’t you stop talking about yourself for one second?

James:
What’s wrong? What is it?

Heather tears up.

Heather:
Some girl… some girl said she fucked you last winter.

James:
Who?

Heather:
Her name is Marissa. I’m going to make this real simple James, did you? Or didn’t you?

James:
I don’t know a Marissa, never met a Marissa in my life.

Marissa:
Never met a Marissa?

James:
No.

Heather practically snarls as she takes her phone out, opens it, and flips to the picture settings.

Heather:
Linda sent me this. I guess it’s been going around. Like a big joke on me James! A big joke! I know it’s her. That fucking slut… and you slept with her?

The picture in Heather’s phone is a duplicate, the same one shot in the party box by Marissa all those months ago.

Heather snaps the phone closed. As she gets up to walk away, James grabs her by the arm.

James:
Where you going?

Heather:
I’m leaving.

James:
Where you going?

Heather:
I’m fucking leaving! Let go of me!

James:
Stop it, that doesn’t prove anything.

Heather:
It proves you’re a liar! It proves you’re a fucking fake!

James:
It didn’t go past that. I swear.

Heather is now walking away. James follows her.

James:
After all we’ve been through? A picture over my word, are you serious?

Heather:
You said you didn’t know her.

James:
I didn’t remember meeting her. This is nothing. Look at me…

Heather:
No! It’s over!

James grabs Heather’s shoulders and turns her toward him.

James:
You tired of the lies? Fine, here’s the truth. That night, I fucked her. I fucked that girl. And you know what happened after that? I got stabbed right where my heart should be; only the knife didn’t go through, an oversized jacket saved my worthless life. When I got home that morning, I just stared at this hole, tried to understand what it all meant. The only thing I knew for sure… is that my world wouldn’t change without me… but yours might. You have any idea what you mean to me?

Heather now cries disbelieving tears.

Heather:
[Hysterical] 
No… stop it. I’m leaving… I’m leaving.

Heather drops her head into James’ shoulder.

James:
All I thought about was you. Because when I’m with my friends, when I fucked that girl, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. And it was eating me up inside… everyday you wake up in a hole and dig it a little deeper, until you can’t see the light anymore. I couldn’t see what you meant to me. But than… that jacket saved my life. It was perspective. All that mattered was you. I never even looked at another girl after that night. I wanted to be a better person, not this fucking fake, I need you, understand? I need you to make me the real James, or else I’m nothing. I don’t even exist. You hear me? You’re everything. You are everything to me.

Heather stops weeping.

Heather:
Was there anyone besides this girl, anybody else?

James doesn’t know what to say.

Heather:
Answer me!

James:
No. She was the only one. I… I messed up.

Heather:
Swear to me.

James:
I swear… I swear to God.

Heather:
Swear on your mother.

James says nothing.

Heather pulls her head back from him, moves her wet, matted hair from in front of her eyes.

James:
Heather…

She slaps him in the face and walks away.

James stands there stunned, long after she leaves the scene. Something taps against James’ hand. He lifts it up to his eyes to inspect. It’s a raindrop, from the opening skies above.

He rubs the raindrop from his fingers.

James: 
Why now?

INT. JAMES’ BEDROOM-NIGHT

James sits alone in his room playing Madden on P.S. 2

James is the Jets. He throws an interception with Chad Pennington, and it is run back by the defense for a touchdown.

James:
Fuck!

He stomps over to the PlayStation, picking it up and throwing it against his wall. He than kicks it unmercifully, breaking it into pieces.

His door opens. WILL HALLER enters.

Will:
What the hell’s going on in here?

James doesn’t give a response. He walks right past his father and out the front door.

Will:
[Exasperated]
I need you right now Meg. I really need you…

INT.TAXI CAB-NIGHT

Brandon and Nikolai share a cab.

Brandon:
He’s going to be a walking disaster tonight, Nickels.

Nikolai:
We’ll be there for him.

Brandon:
Without a doubt…

Nikolai:
I heard it was because Marissa.

Brandon:
Fuck’s that?

Nikolai:
Remember the night we fucked up Street, over at Gill’s?

Brandon:
No, actually.

Nikolai:
She snapped a picture of her and James on a camera phone, it got around recently, and boom… Haller’s done, kid.

Brandon:
I never really got to know Heather.

Nikolai:
I think she hated us.

Brandon:
Most people do.

Nikolai:
Most normal people, anyway.

Brandon:
Hopefully Elaine isn’t normal.

Nikolai:
Hopefully. Good job by the way, getting the digits.

Brandon:
No congrats yet… I still got to call her.

Beat.

Nikolai:
Hey, driver?

The driver is TOM NALLS, 50 and fat.

Tom:
What?

Nikolai:
You happen to know a cabbie, real old guy named Mort? We had him as a driver once and never saw him again. He was a cool dude.

Tom:
Mort? You mean Martin McNamara? He died back in December. Sudden stroke.

Nikolai: 
…Oh.

EXT.CLUB ENTRANCE-NIGHT 

Nikolai, Brandon, Danielle, and her friend CHRISTY WEATHERS wait for James by the entrance of the club.

Nikolai:
I’m telling you, this kid is quality, real classy.

Christy:
I hope so. The last friend you tried introducing me to at this place was a real asshole.

Brandon:
Fuck yourself, sweetheart.

Danielle:
Well, where is he?

Nikolai:
I don’t know. He isn’t usually late.

Brandon:
Who the hell does he think he is? Keeping us fucking waiting…

Nikolai gives Brandon a look.

Brandon:
What?

James stumbles up the block toward the club, careening from side to side.

                         Brandon:
Good thing he decided not to drive. I was getting worried when he didn’t pick up his phone.

Christy:
What’s wrong with him?

Nikolai:
Nothing, that’s just the way he walks. It’s a shuffle.

James falls over a parked car, setting the alarm off.

Christy:
What do you call that?

Nikolai:
Making an entrance.

James finally makes it to the group.

After a brief respite, nearly keeling over, he brings his hand up to Brandon for a pound, and without hesitation Brandon obliges him, followed by Nikolai. He kisses Danielle hello, and than stares at Christy, bemused, confused.

James:
Who the hell is this?

Nikolai:
It’s Christy Weathers. You haven’t met.

James:
What is she here for?

Christy:
Excuse me?

Nikolai:
She came through with Danielle. I was thinking it’d be cool for you two to meet.

James:
On the day I break up with my girlfriend? Have you lost your fucking mind?

Brandon:
Come on bro, he’s just trying to do you a solid.

James:
A solid? You know why it’s over? Do you know?

Nikolai:
Haller, I’m sure we’re all really interested. You can share the story once we get to the box.

James:
Why the hell aren’t you there already?

Nikolai:
I didn’t know if you could navigate the dance floor alone buddy. Jack said he seen you pounding some liquor in the park. I’m surprised you made it this far.

James:
I know what I’m doing. I know this fucking neighborhood like the back of my hand… could find this fucking place blindfolded. Think you’re the only one Nickels, you piece of shit?

Brandon:
Chill James… let’s just go in.

Nikolai:
Let’s…

Nikolai ignores James’ desperate bait, and the group wades into the club.

INT.PARTY BOX-NIGHT

James is a wreck, eyes red, embedded bags underneath. His hair is sticking up in a clump. He is a complete mess.

James:
Where those bitches go?

Nikolai and Brandon are playing C-LO.

Nikolai:
They went to dance. I don’t dance. And watch your mouth, Dee isn’t a bitch.

James:
Dee?

James laughs, in on some private joke.

Nikolai grills him.

Nikolai:
Something funny?

James:
About what? How I’m over, I’m over, just because I wanted to be down. Just because, for some strange reason, what you and Prozac over there had to say about me mattered. Or maybe, what’s really funny is that you got a girl now and I fucking don’t. Maybe that’s what you wanted… all the times you joked with me to break it off with Heather. Yeah, a lot of fucking laughs, but I knew what you were really thinking, you son of a bitch. All those fucking ho bags you introduced me to… so you could have a girl and I couldn’t. Because maybe, deep down, all you are is a jealous fuck, how’s that for funny?

Nikolai:
You sabotaged yourself Haller, don’t lay your delusions at my fucking doorstep. Don’t take it out on us. Heather never wanted to be around B, me, or anyone else in the crew. She treated us like America’s Most Wanted. Excuse me if I didn’t give her ringing fucking endorsement.

James:
You know what fucking caused this? You know what fucking caused this?

Nikolai:
I already know. It was about banging Marissa, right?

James:
[Points right finger at Nikolai] 
Bang.

Nikolai:
What you want me to say? Did I force you to do it? We make our own choices.

James:
Na… I had to maintain the illusion… same illusion that says you’re a fucking boss, I’m a fucking captain, and we’re a unified crew. You call me delusional, Nikolai?

Nikolai:
You better pass out or something. I don’t want to go over there and slap you. Don’t make me do it.

Brandon:
Calm down. Haller, Nickels… just chill.

James:
I’m talking shit? Fuck you! How’s that?

Brandon:
Let’s chill…

Nikolai reconsiders it for a second.

Nikolai:
How long they’ve been gone for?

Brandon:
What?

Nikolai:
How long have they been gone?

Brandon:
Oh… about twenty I guess.

James:
Getting protective?

Nikolai:
Shut the fuck up Rummy. No one’s asking your expert opinion. Give me the remote.

James removes tosses the remote over to Nikolai.

James:
And one!

Nikolai presses the buttons quickly. The T.V. screen turns from E.S.P.N. news to a view from security cameras above the dance floor.

The screen is grainy, with a faint blemish of green night vision.

The dance floor is broken into segments, from the cameras’ varying positions, producing a fractured picture on the T.V.

Brandon:
There. Hit three.

Nikolai presses three on the remote. A full screen view of Danielle dancing with someone, face not visible, is shown.

Nikolai’s expression doesn’t change.

Nikolai:
She’s dancing with someone. Fine. She’ll be back.

James gets up, wonders over toward Brandon and Nikolai.

He takes a look at the screen.

James:
Holy shit Nickels, that techno loving fag practically has his dick up her ass. You going to take that, huh, Nickels? What’s the world coming to?

Brandon:
Take it easy James… they aren’t exactly dry humping down there.

Nikolai:
[Walking away]
He’s just looking for a fight.

James:
Am I Nickels? Or are you turning into a pussy? A little fucking bitch… is that what we’re dealing with here? Because if you go by trust… God bless you man… God fucking bless you.

Nikolai whirls around and pushes James against the adjacent wall.

Nikolai:
You want to fuck with me? You want to do that?

James:
You’re spitting all over me, you fucking Neanderthal.

Nikolai:
She’s just fucking dancing.

James:
Is she? Is she? Or is she fucking cheating on you man, is she fucking cheating on you because she’s a fucking whore and everyone fucking knows it but you, you dumb Rooskie Guinea fuck!

Brandon:
Haller, what the fuck’s wrong with you?

James:
Nothing B! I’m just wondering if our fucking leader here has any sack left!

Nikolai throws James across the room, sending him sprawling.

James practically leaps to his feet, charging at Nikolai, reaching him, throwing wild punches, a few landing, before Brandon intercedes between them.

Brandon searches for the right words to end the dispute.

Brandon:
 While you two are in here fighting, that fucking faggot is out there laughing at you! Look at him!  He’s laughing at you! Remember what we talked about Nickels, I know you fucking remember…

Nikolai:
 I know, but this-

Brandon:
 Fuck this guy! Let’s show him how 184 fucking rolls!

James:
Just like in the fucking good old days! [Hitting himself in the face] We’ll fucking rush him, we’ll fucking rush him!

They both look toward Nikolai, bloodthirsty.

Nikolai peers at the room’s ceiling, and than at the walls.

His eyes fill with sadness.

Nikolai:
… OK… let’s go.

 INT.CLUB-NIGHT

James leads Nikolai and Brandon through the dance floor, shoving people aside, enraged.

They reach Danielle at the bar, sitting next to Christy, talking with a standing Marshall Lyndon.

Marshall recognizes James immediately.

Marshall:
[Drunk] 
James Haller, my bro from Global. What up, you still with Heather Beck?

Marshall extends his hand. James just blankly stares at him.

Marshall:
You OK, James?

James:
No.

Nikolai steps in front of James.

Nikolai:
I couldn’t help but notice… you were dancing with my girl.

Marshall also knows Nikolai, an acquaintance.

Marshall:
Nikolai… what up man? My bad, she didn’t say anything about being anyone’s girl.

Nikolai:
Mine.

Danielle:
Nikolai, what are you doing?

Marshall:
[Sensing the animosity] 
She came up to me. Maybe you should get a fucking leash for her something.

Nikolai:
Maybe you should die.

Marshall:
Back it up.

Now Marshall’s friends, ten of them, back him up.

Marshall:
Hey James, these kids know who I am?

James doesn’t respond.

Nikolai:
You think you’re really fucking somebody don’t you? Mr. Fucking big time Q.B., didn’t you losers go 2-10 this year?

Marshall throws his drink in Nikolai’s face.

A strobe light hits.

Visibility is low.

Nikolai wipes his face clean, cracking his knuckles. Before he can make a move, James flies in, decking Marshall with a left hook.

The brawl is on.

The strobe flickers on and off.

James grabs Marshall’s shirt, hanging on for dear life, pounding away at his face.

People, in a big cluster, hit one another. In the darkness, everyone lashes out at everything. Friends, enemies, it makes no difference.

A flash. Danielle is on the ground, nearly getting trampled by the falling bodies around her.

The situation has degenerated into a confined riot.

Bottles are broken over people’s heads. A shoe randomly flies into the air. The song, “Off With his Head” by Big Pun, continues uninterrupted.

Nikolai emerges from a pile of human wreckage on the dance floor, looks around, and is tackled by a figure in the darkness. The figure pins him down and blisters him with rights and lefts.

Every momentary flash of light reveals the face of his friend Brandon.

Nikolai:
 It’s me! It’s me! It’s me!

Finally, a massive wave of security breaks the brawl up. The wave pushes James, Brandon, and Nikolai out through the back door, somehow navigating past a rampaging, parted sea of rage.

EXT.SIDESTREET-NIGHT

James, Nikolai, and Brandon stand alone together on a desolate side street. James’ face is banged up. Nikolai puts his left hand over right, concealing bloody knuckles. He has a black eye. Brandon is bewildered.

Brandon:
What the fuck just happened?

Nikolai:
I’ll tell you what happened, dip shit! You fucked me up!

Brandon:
I couldn’t see shit. I’m sorry man, fuck!

James paces in circles, freaking out.

James:
Fuck both of you! Fuck this shit! I’m gone.

Brandon:
What are you talking about?

James:
You know what I’m talking about. I’m out. I’m gone. It’s over. I’m fucking out.

Nikolai:
You’re fucking drunk, that’s what you are.

James:
I know what I am. I’m not like you. Take paradise Nikolai, it’s yours.

James exits down the block.

Nikolai:
[Yells down the street] 
See you tomorrow Haller!  Fucking whack job.

Long Beat.

Brandon: 
Hit me.

Nikolai: 
Shut up.

Brandon: 
No, hit me. I feel fucking terrible.

Nikolai sighs.

INT.GILL’S DINER-NIGHT

Brandon and Nikolai are at opposite ends of a small table. They tap their cigarettes into a black ashtray.

Brandon:
How’s the eye?

Nikolai:
It needs ice.

Brandon:
Sorry bro… shit got out of control.

Nikolai:
You’re really going out on a limb there, B.

Brandon:
We catch beef tonight? I mean, long term?

Nikolai:
I doubt it. I don’t think Lyndon’s in with any crew.

Brandon:
Think he got the message?

Nikolai:
Danielle isn’t picking up my calls. I’m surprised the fucking cops didn’t show up, honestly.

Brandon:
Let’s go back.

Nikolai:
They won’t let us in. I called Hector while you were on the john.

Brandon:
And everyone else stays?

Nikolai:
Either that, or everyone else leaves. He said we were the instigators.

Brandon:
Fucking Haller. He was acting insane tonight.

Nikolai:
Not the first time he’s pulled this shit, threatening to dip out.

Brandon:
I’d hate to be the next girl who breaks up with him, all I fucking know.

INT.JAMES’ ROOM-MORNING 

James is passed out on the floor. Pieces of the PlayStation blanket his carpet.

Early Morning light shines through his window.

James begins to stir, eventually picking himself up, moaning and reaching for his head.

James moves toward the window and opens the curtains, blinded by the sun.

An empty bottle of Vodka is sitting on his desk. He trips over a piece of his destroyed PlayStation.

James: 
Shit…

INT.JAMES’ LIVING ROOM-MORNING

James sits, on the living room’s couch, head lowered.

His dad sits down next to him.

Will: 
Talk to me James.

James: 
There’s nothing to say. I’m done.

Will: 
We both knew this would be hard. Moving on without your mom. But we’ve gotten through-

James: 
Have we?

They sit in silence.

EXT.JAMES’ BACKYARD-MORNING 

James, bat in hand, allows for some swings at his solo hitter. It’s a mechanism that allows a hitter to practice his swing on a live baseball, attached to a string, over and over again.

Nikolai appears in the backyard. James notices him, but ignores his presence and continues taking angry hacks at the ball, which comes right back, time after time.

Nikolai:
Exercise in futility, isn’t it?

James ignores.

Nikolai:
Come on Haller. Don’t be a little bitch right now.

James:
Leave.

Nikolai:
Knew you’d be up early. You wake up early when you get hangovers. I knew that.

James doesn’t answer.

Nikolai:
I’ve been up all night, weekly domestic-disturbance at the Russo residence, you know? They worked this one in at 2 in the morning. I’ve got to give them credit for that… it was a new wrinkle. My dad’s Russian obscenities never rang truer.

James continues to ignore.

Nikolai:
So? What are you going to do? Give up on life?

James:
It crossed my mind.

Nikolai:
Marshall’s in with last man over… Wasn’t aware of that.

James:
Me neither.

Nikolai:
This shouldn’t start a war… his crew was about fucked up as we were.

James:
Everybody… [Swings] is fucked up.

Nikolai:
Fuck LMO anyway. We jumped that waste of life Vincent Street back in January and they didn’t do shit. Remember the look on his fucking face, Haller?

James:
I’m tired of being fucked up, Nikolai.

Nikolai:
And I’m not? Why do you think I got a girl?

James:
I have no clue. Do you?

Nikolai:
I just answered the question.

James:
You love being fucked up. Guilty Pleasure, Nickels.

Nikolai:
Think you’re better than me?

James:
If this is who you want to be…

Nikolai:
Fuck you than. Stay alone.

James:
I was thinking of trying it out.

Nikolai:
You were out of line last night.

James:
I was drunk last night.

Nikolai:
You were out of line. Don’t question my leadership Haller. I’ve given up too much.

James:
I haven’t?

Nikolai:
We all have.

James:
I didn’t mean it. It was just anger. I was pissed at everyone and everything.

Nikolai:
Didn’t mean it when you called me a rooskie guinea fuck?

James:
[Laughing] 
No bro… damn, I hit the daily double on you there.

Nikolai:
You’re wrong about Danielle, Haller.

James:
I said I-

Nikolai:
No. You meant that. You’re wrong. 

James stops swinging.

James:
You were wrong about Heather.

Nikolai:
Listen Haller… I’m sorry if I… disrespected… what you felt for Heather. What she felt for you. Hell, up until a couple months ago, I didn’t even understand it. There’s so much fucking pressure… I didn’t mean to heap anymore on you. That thought disgusts me.

James:
Don’t sweat it Nickels. We make our own choices, right? It is what it is.

A beat.

James:
What day is it?

Nikolai:
Sunday?

James:
Sounds right.

A Beat

Nikolai:
This fucking heat… it’s too hot out…

James:
Yeah… [Wipes Brow] way too hot.

INT.APARTMENT HALLWAY-DAY 

Nikolai walks through the corridor leading to Danielle’s room. He gets to the door, and knocks once before it cracks open by itself.

INT.APARTMENT 28-MORNING

He walks in and closes the door behind him, with gentle care. He’s being quiet.

Nikolai:
Anyone here?

He looks around.

Nikolai:
I’m sorry about last night… it was a fucked up situation and I made it-

Marshall Lyndon walks out of the bathroom, across from Danielle’s room.

Nikolai sees him.

Nikolai:
-Worse.

Nikolai is startled at first, as is Marshall. They stare at each other for a moment, completely oblivious to the meaning of their duel appearances in this apartment.

The recognition kicks in for Nikolai first, as his facial expression becomes a scowl.

Danielle walks from her room wearing nothing but a silk robe.

Danielle:
Babe, what’s taking- [Sees Nikolai]

They size one another up for a good moment. No one makes a sound.

Nikolai:
Surprised?

Marshall:
You shouldn’t be.

Danielle:
Oh my God…

Nikolai:
Remember what I said about being fake Dee?

Nikolai sighs, and than stretches out both hands, the knuckles crackling and popping.

Marshall approaches Nikolai, entering the living room.

Marshall:
It was only last night, Nikolai. It meant nothing.

Danielle:
Oh my God…

Nikolai:
Should have locked the door.

Marshall:
We were caught up.

Nikolai:
[Cocks head] 
Oh?

Marshall:
Don’t do it, Nikolai. Nobody knows what the fuck happened last night. No repercussion on either side. You make a move now… and there’ll be hell to pay.

Nikolai:
Like when we broke Street’s jaw?

Marshall:
Vincent Street’s nobody. I’m a fucking captain.

Nikolai:
A captain? Impressive…

Marshall:
I keep my business quiet.

Nikolai goes nose to nose with Marshall.

Nikolai:
I try to.

Nikolai knees Marshall in the stomach, before upper cutting his nose, which audibly breaks. He grabs him by the lower eye sockets, stomping on both his bare feet, before tossing him to the floor.

Danielle sinks against her door.

Danielle:
Stop it… stop it… stop it…

Nikolai begins walking toward her, but catches Marshall stirring out of the corner of his eye. He promptly kicks him, Marshall’s head thudding on the wood floor, knocking him unconscious, forehead busted open.

Now he continues toward Danielle, kneeling down beside her.
He grabs her by the hair.

Nikolai:
How could you do this to me? How could you fucking do this to me? I fucking loved you. I fucking loved you.

Danielle:
It would have never happened… if…

Nikolai:
If what? If fucking what?

Danielle:
After the fight… you weren’t there… he was… he was there. He was so nice to me. And I got drunk… and… and…

Nikolai:
You… you… fuck!

Nikolai punches her door, putting a hole in it.

Danielle:
I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m sorry, please… please…

Nikolai leans in close to Danielle.

Nikolai:
[Whispers] 
What was our love worth?

Danielle sobs.

A singular tear falls from Nikolai’s right eye.

He departs the apartment, kicking Marshall in the stomach before walking out the door.

EXT.184 PARK-NIGHT

The park is filled with members of the crew. This is wartime. Nikolai and Brandon drink brew on benches just past the playground.

Brandon:
You OK?

Nikolai:
OK? No. I’m pretty fucking far from OK. Your fellow Mick was right about everything.

Brandon:
It’s a mad, mad world.

Nikolai:
Lyndon’s in the hospital right now… claimed he was in a car accident. There’s still a little honor left.

Brandon:
Car accident?

Nikolai:
He looked like it. Trust me.

Brandon:
Tomorrow is all set up?

Nikolai:
It is.

Brandon:
When did you hear from them?

Nikolai:
They called my phone about an hour after I left Danielle’s… the fucking cunt.

Brandon:
5 in the fucking morning…

Nikolai:
Less of a chance for the Cops to spoil our fun… it was my idea B.

Brandon:
I always had a feeling we’d catch beef with those LMO kids. It was inevitable.

Nikolai:
Not like this.

Brandon:
Shit goes down. Whether it was Marshall hooking up with your girl, or someone talking shit… it was bound to happen.

Nikolai:
Weapons are fair game.

Brandon:
[Scared a little] 
What?

Nikolai:
Wasn’t my idea…

Brandon:
Agreed to it?

Nikolai:
I didn’t want to back down to these pussies. They’re making a martyr out of their fallen captain. Never mind the fact they have about thirty fucking captains, they’re taking it personal… I say fine. They want to play with bats…pipes… I don’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em all. I’ve got nothing left anyway.

Brandon:
[Unsure] 
Yeah… fuck ‘em.

Nikolai:
[Senses Brandon’s uncertainty] 
You good?

Brandon:
Does James know this is going down?

Nikolai:
Not yet.

Brandon:
Think he’ll be there?

Nikolai:
Shouldn’t even have to ask that question. 

Brandon:
I’ll call him in a few minutes. Let him know.

Nikolai:
I figure we’ll meet before. Get our shit straight.

Brandon:
No sleep tonight?

Nikolai:
No.

Brandon:
Why under the bridge?

Nikolai:
Not a lot of houses over there, just the water and the highway.

Brandon:
The Whitestone Bridge… it’s been hanging over our shoulders forever.

Nikolai:
Right now.

The Whitestone Bridge, illuminated, stands ominously in the distance.

Brandon stands up to get a better look.

Brandon:
I never really appreciated the view.

Nikolai:
It’s always been there.

INT.JAMES’ ROOM-NIGHT 

A brand new PS 2 rests in the prior’s place.

James is sitting at his desk, the jacket from winter in his hands.

James makes his decision, throwing the jacket aside. He runs his fingers through his hair, and reaches into his sock draw. From it, he pulls brass knuckles.

James bows his head, pressing the gold ridges to his skull.

INT. UTOPIA BAGEL’S-MORNING 

The small bagel store has only three people seated, Nikolai, James, and Brandon. They aren’t eating.

James:
Stuff is in the trunk?

Nikolai:
I was waiting for someone to ask.

Brandon:
My bad, I’m not using anything.

Nikolai:
A Louisville Slugger… and I got a pipe too, just in case B here decides to change his mind.

James:
A wooden bat… you could kill someone with that.

Nikolai:
They drew first blood. You OK with the knuckles right?

James:
…Always have been.

Brandon:
Where we meeting everyone else?

Nikolai:
They’ll be waiting in the parking lot by the bridge. Might already be there.

James:
How many?

Nikolai:
Make no mistake… this is going to be fucking epic. Some real Brave Heart shit.

James:
Who has more?

Nikolai:
They do. That’s the way it is. They roll mad deep. Jump so many people… I can’t wait. I really can’t.

James sinks into his seat a little bit.

Nikolai finishes the last of his bagel.

Nikolai:
We good?

Brandon:
 Haller…?

James nods.

They get up as one.

They exit, Nikolai first, Brandon second, James last. As James opens the door to leave, his phone falls out of his pocket. He reaches down to pick it up, hesitating, lingering, as he arises back to a standing position.

Nikolai re-enters.

Nikolai:
What the fuck you still doing in here?

James:
Nothing. I should have gotten some more sleep last night.

Nikolai:
[Sarcastic grin] 
Why? Could have woken up this morning and forgot what we were fighting for.

He exits.

James:
[Wistful] 
Yeah…

INT.NIKOLAI’S BMW-MORNING 

James is in the passenger seat. Brandon sits in the back.

Nikolai:
What are we doing, after this piece of work is over?

Brandon:
I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it…

James:
I’m tired. Really, really fucking tired. I just want to sleep for a little while.

Nikolai:
Don’t go to sleep James. We’ll burn one.

James:
Maybe.

Brandon:
That actually sounds pretty good.

James stares out the passenger side window.

James: 
There’s something I got to do. Take a little detour.

EXT.PORCH-MORNING 

James stands in front of a marble front door, considering whether or not to knock. His chain dangles from his left hand.

Nikolai and Brandon are parked across the street. 

Brandon:
[Calling out] 
Get a move on Haller! What the fuck you doing? 

After further contemplation, James opens a mailbox adjacent to the door and places the chain within. 

James: 
[Whispers] 
It was always yours…

He closes the box shut and walks away.   

EXT.WHITESTONE BRIDGE PARKING LOT-MORNING 

Occupying the lot is the Crew. They’re respective ages range from 15 to 19. White, black, all races, all colors, it simply doesn’t matter. Man unified by violence.

Nikolai is opening up the trunk of his B.M.W., pulling out his weapon, the bat. He leaves the pipe.

Nikolai closes the trunk. James is next to him.

The Battle Ground is spread out in front of the lot, a grassy slope rolling downward to a level, wide open Football field sized plain.

A thick fog has rolled off the water, the sky overcast.

L.M.O., which has an equally huge and diversified gathering, waits for the brawl to begin near the lake, almost appearing an optical illusion from the parking lot.

James:
This is going to be ugly, Nickels. Really fucking ugly.

Nikolai:
You really don’t want to be down anymore?

James:
What?

Nikolai:
The other night, outside the club, said you were through with this?

James:
Like I said, I was drunk.

Nikolai:
Look Haller, you don’t owe me anything. You’ve been my friend. You stand beside me today. You could leave… no debts, no regrets.  

James:
I won’t Nikolai. Whether we like it or not, this is who we are.

Nikolai sticks his hand out. James grabs it.

Nikolai pulls James close.

Nikolai:
Bullshit.

Brandon approaches. James and Nikolai separate.

Brandon:
Everybody’s ready.

James, Nikolai, and Brandon stand side by side.

Nikolai:
I’m telling you my brothers… we stand alone.

Brandon:
Together.

James:
 Let’s get this over with.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

The Crew walks out of the parking lot, led in the front by Nikolai, James, and Brandon, a mass of one.

L.M.O. greets them in the middle.

They do not wear distinguishing colors.

They have reached the impasse. It’s Vincent Street who steps forward for L.M.O. He wields a chain around his fist.

Nikolai steps up for the Crew.

Nikolai:
They send you?

Vincent:
For revenge-

Nikolai:
They send you?

Vincent:
 You took my pride. I’m taking it back. 

Nikolai: 
You never fucking had any.

Nikolai swings the bat into Vincent’s stomach.

The opposing forces explode into each other.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

James is jumped by a group of four, who pin his arms behind his head and proceed to beat his face in. The primary assaulter is Jeff Ross.

Jeff:
Remember me?

James smiles and spits blood in his face.

James:
Still nothing.

Jeff continues with the beating.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Nikolai is cracked in the spine by running figure wielding a golf club. He tries standing back up, but is kicked in the head. The bat falls from his grasp, retrieved by a hulking member of LMO. The giant shatters the bat over his own knee, slugging the prone Nikolai afterward. This time, he stays down.

EXT.DANIELLE’S FIRE ESCAPE-MORNING 

Danielle views the brawl, from a perched perspective, eventually clasping her hands over closed eyes.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

James buckles to the ground, falling to his knees. Jeff continues throwing punches, relentless, literally beating him to the ground.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Brandon and the giant, named RICO, square off. Rico wraps his hands around Brandon’s neck, but Brandon head butts his way free.

Brandon proceeds to destroy Rico, with a flurry of body blows, finally knocking him to the ground with a fist to the face.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Nikolai comes to, once more, bleeding profusely from his nose. In a daze, he gets back in the fight, leaving the splintered pieces of his bat behind.

Vincent Street, sneaking up from behind, picks up a shard connected to the handle. He follows Nikolai.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Nikolai, unarmed, saves James from further abuse, beating down his surprised assailants, including Jeff Ross.

Nikolai and James stand alone, together, for a moment.

Vincent, spinning free from a scrum, attempts to spear Nikolai with the shard.

James shoves Nikolai out of the way.

The shard plunges into James chest, near his heart, sticking in.

James falls to the ground.

Vincent stands over James.

They make eye contact.

EXT.BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Vincent, realizing what he has done, panics, tries running, before being jumped by a gang of ten.

LMO has been demolished, Vincent surrounded.

Mob justice follows.

EXT. BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Nikolai kneels down beside James.

Nikolai: 
James? James? Say something. Say something.

James’ eyes are wide open, in shock. He tries talking, spitting up blood.

Nikolai:
No! This isn’t happening! This isn’t fucking happening!

EXT. BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

Brandon pounds Jeff Ross, who begs for mercy.

Brandon looks up, face splattered with someone else’s blood, and sees Nikolai, sees James.

He lets go of Jeff.

EXT. BATTLE GROUND-MORNING 

The fighting is finished, 184 victorious.

Sirens sounding in the distance, they form a circle around their leader, muddied, bloodied, holding the body of his best friend, wailing for help.

Brandon kneels down, on the other side of James.

Nikolai’s speech has become indecipherable.

Brandon: 
You’re going to be OK, James, hold on. Please, hold on bro.

James:
[Choking on blood] 
Bran… Bran…

Brandon:
[Shaking] 
Help me get this out of him. Help me get this out of him.

Brandon, with the help of two strangers, pulls the shard out of James’ chest. James spasms, emitting a horrible scream, blood flowing from the wound, the life in his eyes gradually fading.

Nikolai has quieted. He squeezes James’ hand.

Brandon: 
Look at me James. Look at me.

James focuses his sight on Brandon.

Brandon:
Remember when we were little? Remember how we always played Nintendo after school? Metroid, Mario, Legend of Zelda, those were good times, right?

James manages a smile, nodding his head.

Brandon:
Think about that, and keep looking at me. Think about Little League. You were the best player on the team. You were an all star, kid. Your dad was the coach, your mom always had a lawn chair set up right behind home plate, remember?

James nods again.

Brandon:
Remember. And keep looking at me. Remember, and keep looking at me. You got so much more to do. You got so much more to do, James. Keep looking at me. Keep looking.

James’ head tilts, away from Brandon.

Brandon:
Look at me James! You can’t die… you can’t fucking die… you can’t die.

Beyond Nikolai, beyond the circle formed by the crew, James’ sees the stray dog, covered in blood, walking toward a rising sun.

The stray stops, beckoning James with a friendly nod, before continuing along.

James’ hand falls from Nikolai’s.

Nikolai:
No.

Nikolai shakes the body of James, unmoving.

He shakes harder.

Nikolai:
No! No!

Brandon:
He’s gone.

Nikolai:
Don’t say that.

Brandon:
He’s gone.

Nikolai:
Don’t fucking say that to me!

Brandon:
He’s gone…

Two members of the crew pick Nikolai up, attempting to lead him away. He won’t move.

Nikolai:
 Tell me… for what? Tell me… for what?

Brandon closes the opened eyes of James Haller, tears flowing from his.

Nikolai grabs him. 

Nikolai: 
For what B… tell me for what? 

Brandon: 
Nothing.

Voice: 
[O.S.]
Fucking cops! Everyone get out of here!

A crewmember, JACK RENNER, appeals to Brandon and Nikolai, each still kneeling beside James.

Jack:
We’ve got to go. The cops are here. We’ve got to go.

Nikolai:
You go Jack! You go.

Jack:
Cops-

Nikolai:
Go!

Brandon:
We stay. We stay.

Jack turns and runs, with everyone else.

The battleground is abandoned, Brandon, Nikolai, and James the last ones left.

DISSOLVE.
 
EXT.CONDOMINIUM-DAY

Caption: January 2007

A man in his forties, clad in a black overcoat, steps out of an ancient station wagon and approaches a condominium, his face betraying nervousness.

INT.CONDO HALLWAY-DAY

The man, taking a deep breath, knocks on a door.

He waits, the door remaining closed.

He raises his arm, to knock again, and it suddenly swings open, revealing Brandon Neely, 19 now, bearded.

Brandon and the stranger stare at each other, nearly speechless.

Brandon:
Dad?

INT.CONDO-DAY

JACOB NEELY, Brandon’s father, is seated on a plush couch in Brandon’s spacious condo.

He is drinking a glass of water.

Brandon sits across from him, in an armchair.

Neither of them can conjure words, until-

Jacob:
You own this place?

Brandon:
It’s mine, yeah.

Jacob:
That’s great, son. Owning a home at such a young age…

Brandon:
I do what I can.

Beat.

Jacob:
I read about you in the paper, coming up in the world.

Brandon:
I get paid good money for fighting. My promoter sets everything up. I’m another great white hope, dad. People can’t get enough of that… they’re willing to overpay, to see me win. I come out, bagpipes, shamrocks, all that… bullshit. You should have seen the crowd on St. Patrick’s Day, at the Garden. I was on the under-card, fought a kid from Brooklyn. They almost fucking rioted when I won.

Jacob:
I saw it. I was there.

Beat.

Jacob:
You’re 5-0. Three first round knockouts.

Brandon:
The hype was building, even before I started. After I took Golden Gloves… A couple more years, everything breaks right, and we might move out to Manhattan.

Jacob:
Brandon?

Brandon:
Yeah?

Jacob:
I’m sorry.

Brandon stands, walks to the refrigerator, taking out a can of ice tea.

Brandon:
I’m rampaging through these fucking Nestea’s, since I quit drinking. My trainer said sacrifices are necessary for greatness. My liver said thank you.

Jacob:
Brandon…

Brandon:
I always thought this, [motions around the room] could never happen, but it’s been a whirlwind. All you need to do… is take it.

Jacob:
Brandon…

Brandon:
[Snaps] 
What the fuck you doing here?

Jacob:
I needed to… I needed to see you…

Brandon:
You need some fucking money, don’t you?

Jacob walks over to Brandon, holds his shoulders.

Jacob:
You are my son. My son.

Brandon:
Where the fuck you been, dad? Where you been?

Jacob looks away.

Brandon:
All these years, huh? When James died, you read about that in the fucking paper? It was on the front page. They said Street got life without parole because of my testimony, dad. My testimony. How I saw my best friend die, right in front of my eyes.

Jacob doesn’t know what to say.

Jacob:
…I thought I was going to hurt you. Ruin your life. Did you want me to do that to you, to your mother? I thought running was…

Brandon:
The right thing to do, is that what you thought?

Jacob:
I’m sorry.

Brandon:
I had a great friend once, dad. We talked about everything together, about life, about women, about how dreams can turn to nightmares… on rare occasions we even spoke of hope. He taught me the greatest lesson in life, dad, my friend James Haller, know what that was?

Jacob:
What’d he teach you?

Brandon:
 How to look in a mirror…

Just than, Elaine walks through the front door, carrying shopping bags.

Jacob nods his head solemnly, and walks out, nearly knocking over Elaine.

Elaine:
Brandon, who was that?

Brandon doesn’t respond.

Elaine:
Brandon?

Brandon:
That was… it was someone from the neighborhood. Don’t worry about it.

INT.CLASSROOM-DAY

Nikolai sits in the back of a jammed classroom, as a philosophy professor named MONTY BISHOP lectures.

Monty:
The principal truth Hume attempts to establish is that people, at a base level, thirst for justice that can secure peace, but it is their weakness, their inborn frailty, which precludes the execution of their ideals.

Nikolai raises his hand.

Monty:
Oh, Mr. Russo, to what do I owe they pleasure of you finally speaking in class?

Nikolai:
Loyalty.

Monty:
Excuse me?

Nikolai:
Loyalty. There can never be peace because of loyalty.

Monty:
So, you suggest people need loyalty?

Nikolai:
No, I suggest that everyone needs something, or someone, to believe in, right or wrong.

Monty:
And this interferes with basic sensibility?

Nikolai:
It’s designed to.

Monty considers.

Monty:
Very good… Mr. Russo… very good.

Nikolai leans back in his seat, looking out the classroom window.

Monty:
Moving along to “Of the Dignity or Meanness of Human Nature.”

EXT.MCDONALD’S PARKING LOT-DAY

Tony and John hold their hands over the barely burning trashcan. Frost has collected on their jackets. They are shivering.

Tony:
Want to go hold down the park?

John:
Sounds good, Tone.

They trace off together, laughing about something.

The light flame persists.

Fade Out.