by Dani Amore
Rocky smiles. “I love Peter Pan. Love the story. Love the characters. Timeless.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence while the teacher gives Rocky a sidelong glance.
“Have you settled on the parts?”
“Parts?”
“Sure. You know, who the “big star” is going to be?”
Tom looks up from helping Lisa with her backpack.
“Cause you know, a successful play is primarily in the casting. That’s what they’ll tell you on Broadway,” Rocky points out.
“You’ve worked on Broadway?” Ms. Calisi asks.
“Oh, here and there. Bit parts really, but I spent some time learning my chops. So, who’s going to be smack dab in the middle of the spotlight?”
“I haven’t really decided. I was going to have the kids work on the parts a little bit. But Molly over there is a natural.”
She points to a very pretty, very poised young girl who appears to have enraptured a few classmates with a story she’s re-enacting.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” Rocky says. “What’s the scouting report on little Lisa Goddard over there? Where do you see her?”
The teacher smiles politely.
“With some polishing she could be a good secondary player.”
“Interesting!” Rocky says. “Well, okay, I’ve got to get going. Lots of work to do today. It was so nice to meet you,” he says, flashing a megawatt smile.
Ms. Calisi takes his hand and lets hers linger for a moment.
“Nice to meet you, too, Rocky,” she says.
“Keep up the good work, Ms. Calisi. Teachers like you are this country’s greatest asset.”
He beams at her and she blushes. Rocky turns to leave but takes one more look into the classroom. He zeroes in on the girl Ms. Calisi pointed out and the smile leaves his face.
Fourteen
Tom and Rocky are standing outside the entrance to “Straun & Partners Advertising.” It’s a big, impressive building of modern design.
“So this is the snake pit, eh?” Rocky says, rubbing his hands together.
“This is it,” Tom says, completely devoid of enthusiasm.
“This is where you fight and claw and bite off chunks of meat to take home to your family.”
“I’ve never really looked at it that way, but yeah, I guess,” Tom says.
“Let’s go,” Rocky asserts.
They take the elevator and Tom leads Rocky down the hallway toward his office. They are about to step into Tom’s office when Dylan appears.
“Hey, Tom, nice of you to finally show up,” Dylan says.
Rocky turns to Tom. “Who’s the hall monitor?”
“This would be Dylan.”
“Who is this guy?” Dylan asks Tom, but looking at Rocky.
“Tell you what, Dylan, we’ll call you when we need you, okay?” Rocky says, not waiting for Tom to respond. “Why don’t you run along and do your pathetic little time clock checking on everyone else, okay? Thanks.”
Dylan scoffs, but turns and goes back toward his office.
“Was that really necessary?” Tom asks Rocky.
“Don’t tell me you let him talk to you like that? You let him get away with that?”
“Ah, he was just kidding around.”
Rocky stops Tom and puts a finger in his chest.
“Tom. Voltaire said that an aggression unanswered is an aggression agreed to.”
“I don’t think it was really an aggression. And are you going to be spending all day with me? Don’t you have any other clients?”
Rocky starts jabbing Tom in the chest again.
“Tom, he was pushing you around. Snide comments about you being late, he’s chipping away at you, knocking you down.”
Tom rubs his chest.
“Ow.”
“Every once in awhile you gotta knock those kind of people back.”
Tom nods half-heartedly.
Fifteen
Tom and Rocky are standing in Morgan’s office. Tom looks a little uncomfortable, Rocky’s totally at ease.
“This is Morgan’s office. Morgan’s my boss,” Tom says.
“He’s not your boss. No one’s your boss. You’re your own boss.”
Tom nods unconvincingly.
“He’s in L.A.,” Tom points out.
“Nice. Very nice,” Rocky says as he walks around Morgan’s office. Rocky goes to Wolcott’s desk, starts going through his papers.
Tom looks back over his shoulder to see if anyone’s watching.
“What are you doing?” Tom asks.
“Just looking around,” Rocky says. “It’s harmless. It’s all out in the open. Obviously for public consumption.”
“Okay, well let’s get out of here before his secretary comes back.”
“Hey, I’m just looking,” Rocky says.
“For what?”
“Weakness.”
Sixteen
Molly, the girl from Lisa’s class likely to get the lead in Peter Pan, home with her mother in their Volvo station wagon. The car pulls into the garage. Molly and her mother get out of the car and walk into the house.
Molly puts her backpack on the steps leading upstairs.
“Java!” she calls out, looking around. “Java!”
Molly returns downstairs and walks into the kitchen where her mother is taking things out of the fridge.
“Mom. Have you seen Java?”
“Not yet, check outside.”
Molly walks through the back door, looks around the backyard, but sees no sign of the dog.
“Java?”
Molly waits a beat, and then goes back into the house to the kitchen.
“Mom. He’s not out there.”
“Did you check your bed?” the mother says, as she looks into a cupboard. “You know how he loves to sleep there. What sounds good for dinner? Spaghetti?”
Molly doesn’t answer, instead, she runs back up the stairs and into her room.
“Java?”
The room is empty. Molly walks in slowly. She spies a folded piece of paper on her bed. She picks up the paper and reads it.
Her face goes white with fear.
Seventeen
Rocky’s at the steering wheel, a big Chocolate Lab is standing up in the passenger’s seat, panting into Rocky’s face.
“Jesus Christ,” he says.
Rocky tries to push the dog’s face away, but Java just keeps breathing on Rocky’s face.
“Is that breath from licking your bunghole? Good God, man!”
The dog turns around and now his ass is in Rocky’s face. Rocky gets a good whiff and his eyes roll back into his head. Rocky takes a tin of Altoids, opens it, grabs one of the little breath fresheners and tries to put it in Java’s mouth.
Java growls.
Rocky drops the breath freshener, puts on the brakes, stops, and shuts off the car.
“I want you to wait right here. Don’t get into any trouble. If anyone tries to mess with you, just breathe on them or give them a face full of your ass. That should do the trick.”
Rocky gets out of the vehicle. It’s not his BMW, but instead a white van, painted with the words “Midwest Telephone.” Rocky is dressed as a telephone repairman and he walks toward the building at the front of the parking lot.
It’s Straun & Partners Advertising.
Eighteen
Tom and Kelly are walking toward the front door of Straun & Partners.
“So, what’s on tap for you tonight?” Tom asks her.
“Remember I told you I was working on a novel?” Kelly says.
“About a peasant in the French Revolution, right?”
“Yeah, I’m touched you remembered! Well, I finally finished it. I’m FedEx-ing it out to a publisher in New York who said they’d read it,” Kelly says.
They get to the front door of the office.
“That’s so cool. I can’t believe you did it. I can barely write a thirty second commercial. A four hundred page book? Get out of town.”
Tom holds the door open for Rocky, who’s in his telephone repairman coveralls. Rocky turns his face away and Tom doesn’t notice it’s him.
“I didn’t think I could, either. But sooner or later, I guess you just have to believe in yourself.”
“And have talent,” Tom adds. “Like you.”
“And you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You are talented, Tom. You just don’t believe it.”
“No one else does, either,” Tom says.
Kelly stops and faces him.
“If you don’t, do you really expect them to?”
Nineteen
Rocky walks into Morgan Wolcott’s office and looks around. He goes over to Morgan’s computer. He sees the yellow Intranet cable hooked up to the back of the computer.
Rocky walks along the outer wall of the office, following the yellow cable as it runs up through a small opening in the ceiling. He walks down the hallway to a door marked “Utility.”
He opens it. Inside is a maze of yellow cables, all hooked into a panel. Rocky opens the panel and studies it for a moment.
He then sets his tool box on the floor, opens it and inserts an electronic box on the panel.
After clearing out a space on top of the panel’s shelves, he pulls out a miniature satellite dish. He sets it in place, and then pulls a small laptop from the toolbox. He opens it, clicks a few buttons, but there is nothing but static.
“Come on baby, who’s your Daddy?”
The static continues.
“Come on, work with me.”
Static.
He starts thrusting his hips forward in rhythm and singing. “I’m givin’ you everything that I got! I’m givin’ you everything...”
Suddenly, a diagram appears and information begins to scroll across the screen.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about baby!” Rocky says. He gives a final, triumphant thrust and accompanies it with a couple of ass slaps.
Twenty
Michelle sets down a big bowl of pasta on the middle of the dinner table. Tom and Lisa are sitting down.
“Is this whole grain?” Tom asks.
“Yes, Mr. Health Conscious.”
“And the pasta sauce is fat free?”
“Uh-huh,” Michelle says. “This dinner adheres to your new diet perfectly.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” He turns to Lisa. “How was school today?”
“Good,” Lisa says.
“How’s the play coming along?”
“Good.”
“Are you doing your best? Going after what you want?” Michelle asks as she takes a seat at the table.
“Let me tell you what I’m learning, Lisa, from my success coach. It’s really quite interesting–“
The doorbell rings, interrupting him.
“I’ll get it,” Michelle says.
Tom leans in toward Lisa. “The most important thing is that if you want success, you’ve got to–“
“Get down to business!” Rocky booms from the hallway.
Michelle and Rocky appear in the doorway to the kitchen.
Tom gets up from his chair.
“Rocky? What are you doing here?”
“We’ve got work to do, buddy!”
“Tom,” Michelle says, a look of frustration on her face.
“Uh, hey Rocky, we were about to eat,” Tom says.
“Not him again,” Lisa whispers to her mother.
Michelle offers without much enthusiasm, “Well, I guess we could set an extra place.”
“No thanks, ma’am!” Rocky says. “I’ve got to set up the war room. I’m thinking your den would be the best place, Tom, I’ll just get started while you finish up eating.”
“War room?” Tom asks.
“So that’s a no for dinner, then?” Michelle says.
“That’s correct, Michelle,” Rocky says. “If you want to send up a pot of coffee at some point, we could use it. Looks like it may be an all-nighter.”
“An all-nighter?” Tom looks at his watch.
“That’s all right, go ahead and eat. I already had a Turbo Kale Juice. Feed the stomach, feed the brain!”
He turns to leave. “Okay, people. Eat! I’ll head up and get started. Tom, I expect you upstairs by 2100 hours, okay?”
“Is that like...ten o’clock?”
Lisa shrugs.
Rocky goes up the stairs without answering.
Tom, Lisa and Michelle all look at each other. Michelle finally breaks the silence.
“Well, I guess you’ve got to admire his enthusiasm.”
“True. But how did he know I have a den?”
Twenty-One
Tom carries a pot of coffee and two cups into his den. He opens the door to reveal that Rocky has completely transformed the room. On one wall are giant pictures of people from Tom’s office: Morgan, Kelly, Dylan. There’s a blueprint of the office itself.
On another wall is a series of pie charts and bar graphs. There’s also a giant eraser board and Rocky is going to town on it, writing formulas and words that resemble nothing more than gibberish to Tom.
“Rocky, what the hell?” he says.
Sutton writes furiously on the board. Then winds it up with a couple of intense punctuation marks.
“Yes! Yes, motherfucker!”
Tom jumps at the sound of the curse word. “Hey, take it easy. Lisa’s asleep,” he says.
Rocky holds up his hands. “Sorry. I just get carried away sometimes.”
Tom looks around the room.
“I find that so hard to believe.”
“We’ve got some work to do.”
“But I worked all day.”
“Hey, is that the attitude? What are you on, banker’s hours?”
“I’m tired!”
“You know what you need?” Rocky says.
“A good nine hours of sleep. Drool on the pillow. Farting when I roll over.”
“Sleep is for losers,” Rocky says. “You need one thing. One very important thing at work. Leverage. And the best opportunity for you to get leverage is American Oil. You need to solve that American Oil problem and then you’ve got something to build on. Something to–“
“Leverage,” Tom says, finishing the thought.
“Bingo!” Rocky says.
“I don’t mean to rain on your late-night parade here, Rock, but Kelly already solved that problem.”
“That was the old problem. The new problem is the one you’re going to solve.”
“What new problem?”
Rocky laughs.
“You let me handle that.”
Tom looks confused. Rocky pours himself a cup of coffee.
“Hey, do you mind if I crash in here? That’s a pullout right?”
“You wanna sleep...here?”
“Yeah. Right here in the war room. Whaddaya say, buddy?”
“Okay, sure.”
“All right then!”
Rocky grabs Tom by the shoulders.
“Let’s kick some goddamned ass, man!”
Several hours later, Tom has a sheaf of paper he’s reading through. On the top page is the American Oil logo. He keeps staring at it, as if he’s in a trance.
Suddenly, he grabs a pen and starts scribbling some notes.
He continues to write, scratches something out, and then writes again.
He puts down the paper and paces.
Tom stops and looks back at the paper, then goes and picks it up.
He whispers to himself.
“Dr. Slick...”
Twenty-Two
Dylan walks into his office, sets down his messenger bag and fires up his computer. He plops into a chair and flips through a magazine while sipping coffee.
The computer screen is visible as it starts to display icons as it powers up. Dylan drains the rest of his coffee.
He gets up and walks out, just as the computer comes to life.
The computer screen goes to black as the frame of a QuickTime movie
appears. Two sailors inside a submarine are talking.
The scene is, we see the inside of a submarine. Two sailors are talking.
“So this is where you’ll be sleeping. You got the bottom bunk I got the top. You don’t mind being on the bottom.”
“Not at all,” the second sailor says with a shy smile.
“Well, I like being on top.”
“I kind of like the idea of you being on top.”
Porno music begins as the men get down to business.
Just outside Dylan’s office, a secretary walks past the open doorway.
She stops and steps back to the doorway, lured by the unmistakable sound of pornography.
In the kitchen, Dylan pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, debates for a moment, then goes into the men’s room. He grabs a Sports Illustrated magazine that’s been wedged between the stall doors. He drops his pants, sits down on the throne and starts reading the magazine.
Back in his office, the secretary who initially heard the porn on Dylan’s computer has now been joined by four or five other office workers.
They have gone into Dylan’s office and are watching the action on his computer screen.
“On your knees, sailor!” one of the characters says.
“Yes sir!” a second replies.
Dylan’s office is filled with sounds of various grunts and groans and bedspring squeaks accompany the on-screen action.
“Loading torpedo tube!” one of the sailors in the video says.
“Oh mother of God! Oh, oh, oh!”
An older woman arrives at Dylan’s door. Immediately, the group of people surrounding Dylan’s computer disperse.
The older woman takes a look at the screen and immediately writes something down. She leaves and a beat later, Dylan arrives.
He walks behind his desk.
“Fire in the hole!” a sailor calls out.
“Thank you, sir...oh!...may I have another?” a character replies.
“Fire!”
“Oh! Mmmmm! Oh, oh, oh!”
Dylan stares at his screen, aghast. He hits various keys on his computer, but the scene continues. He totally panics and begins pounding on his keyboard but the video continues. He starts pulling cords and wires out of the wall in hopes of turning the computer off.