Redemption-A Spec Script - Patrick Sean Lee (best black authors TXT) 📗

the volumes in her arms. The door opens shortly. Marvin appears, cleaned up. His eyes are clear, and when he sees her, he smiles.

 

marvin

 

Maribeth, dear child, come in!

 

Maribeth steps forward. Marvin grabs hold of half of the books in her arms.

 

cut

 

int. Marvin's bedroom-continuous

 

Marvin shuffles with the books across the small room, and places them on a small desk beside a desktop computer. A tall, narrow window to the right. Marvin's makeshift desk, with stacks of books on either side, on the wall adjacent. A Japanese, black-laquered bureau on the wall to the right. Colorful paintings on the walls. A skylight ceiling.

 

Maribeth

 

You look alive again...finally. Have you eaten this morning?

 

MARVIN

 

Oh yes. Fruitloops.

 

MARIBETH

 

That is not eating, Marvin. It's poisoning your delicate old body. I'll fix you something nutritious.

 

She places the remainder of the books onto the end of the bed tucked against the window. She sighs.

 

MARIBETH

 

Anyway, I brought the books you asked me to find. God, I had to go to two University Bookstores to find some of them!

 

MARVIN

 

Thank you, child. I've made headway this past week, you know. A few questions; a few riddles yet to unravel. Perhaps one of these books contains the answers. Thank you so much.

 

Maribeth gathers up dirty clothes lying on the floor near the bed, glances over at Marvin, and then turns back toward the door.

 

MARIBETH

 

I'll wash, dry, and fold these, and then fix you breakfast.

 

Marvin mutters a thank you without turning, already flashing like lightning through the pages of one book. Maribeth exits.

 

cut

 

int. an office-afternoon

 

John Delilah stands near a sleek desk, beaming. Amy standsjust inside the doorway holding a small potted plant.

 

AMY

 

It's beautiful, John! So unlike our old office.

 

John

 

Thanks ever so much for helping me decorate. I'm so glad you decided not to go back to Chicago. Clients are calling right and left. I need you...here, to help, I mean.

 

AMY

 

Any word from him?

 

John

 

No. Just a pre-suit letter. He'll lose.

 

AMY

 

He's so vindictive. Insane. I still can't believe I...well, I don't remember very much...

 

John

 

It's history now.

 

AMY

 

I loathe the monster.

 

John

 

I know.

 

Hey, a woman I've known for years invited me to her studio. To see the sculptures she's working on. Really a unique artis! Maybe, I mean, would you consider going with me? Maybe this evening...after dinner? I mean, if you want...have time?

 

AMY

 

Of course I'll go. Seeing as though it isn't a demand, like...

 

John

 

I am so sorry, Amy. I should have stood up to him that morning. The night would have turned out much differently. You know.

 

John blushes. Fiddles nervously with a file atop the desk. Amy walks across the room and places the plant on an empty stand. The phone atop the desk rings. She turns and lifts the receiver.

 

AMY

 

Law offices. May I help you?

 

fade

 

ext. an industrial building-night

 

John and Amy stand at the dented metal door. To the left, a tall, battered pair of padlocked sliding barn doors. The entry door opens. A WOMAN, thirty-ish, stands with one hand on the knob. She wears overalls, a welder's mask flipped open covers all but a few strands of her jet hair. Her eyes are lit up, dark, mirthful.

 

Angela motieri

 

John! You made it. I'm thrilled!

 

John

 

Thanks for the invite, Ang. This is Amy Apollinaro. She's an art lover, too. Thought she'd enjoy seeing what you're all about.

 

Amy steps forward, hand extended. Angela grabs it and shakes furiously.

 

ANGELA

 

Welcome! Hey, c'mon in. Watch your step. Kind of a mess in here. Got a show coming up in a couple of weeks.

 

cut

 

int. Angela's studio-continuous

 

John follows Amy in. She stops abruptly a few feet in and gazes around the huge interior, her jaw agape.

 

AMY

 

Wow.

 

The interior is vast. Overhead, steel rails with block and tackle chains dangling run the length of the room. Steel tables laden with small, metal sculptures, stand at haphazard angles. Several large, glistening, beaded sculptures stand weightily on wooden pallets throughout on the littered concrete floor. At the far end, bottles of gas. Hoses leading to a torch sitting on a sturdy gurney. Nearby, an eight foot-tall work in progress.

 

John

 

Like it?

 

AMY

 

Ohmagod, yes. Amazing!

 

(to Angela)

 

You work in steel? It's so...just wow!

 

ANGELA

 

Yup. Dad was a welder. High work. I stay on the ground.

 

AMY

 

He taught you?

 

ANGELA

 

I watched when he worked on stuff in our garage. I taught me, actually.

 

Amy walks to a small gurney loaded carefully with smaller sculptures. She rubs her fingers across the thickly beaded curving surface ofone of them.

 

AMY

 

These are gorgeous. How on earth do you make the steel bend and...they're simply phenomenal!

 

Angela laughs. She pokes John in the side with an elbow, and then addresses both of them.

 

ANGELA

 

Follow me, I'll give you a demonstration.

 

She walks toward her work area, grabs two welder's masks, turns and throws one to each of them. Amy drops hers. Bends and retrieves it off the floor.

 

ANGELA

 

Put those on, and stand about six feet away. I'll fire up the torch.

 

cut

 

int. Angela's studio-later

 

The three sit at a rickety table on three chairs, a bottle of wine opened, three glasses. Laughter.

 

AMY

 

I'm just knocked out.

 

ANGELA

 

Really, a simple process. Kind of dangerous unless you know what you're doing, but simple.

 

John

 

So, you have an upcoming show?

 

ANGELA

 

Yup. In two weeks. Albuquerque. Of all places. I have to finish that big guy, then crate 'em all by week's end. Jesus, that's the worst part.

 

John

 

Do you think you might squeeze a free night into your schedule. Like next Saturday? About 8:00?

 

ANGELA

 

Well, yeah, sure. Anything for an old buddy. What's up?

 

John sighs heavily in relief.

 

John

 

I, um...well maybe jumped the gun a little, but I...Amy and me, that is...already printed and sent out some invitations to a few well-oiled potential patrons. A little party at my place in honor of you.

 

ANGELA

 

Seriously?

 

AMY

 

Yes! I had no idea when he suggested it, but now I can see why! My God, you should be famous.

 

John

 

Thirty or so people. I even invited the governor and his wife and daughter. Some business types. The curator of the art museum. People who have the means and connections to advance your career.

 

ANGELA

 

Awesome! How can I thank you?

 

John

 

Just show up and smile. We'll do the rest.

 

fade

 

int. john's loft-morning

 

Maribeth is in the kitchen off the entry. Marvin BURSTS into the room waving a file folder over his head. Maribeth starts.

 

MARVIN

 

Got it! I'm positive, Mare! I checked and re-checked. It's perfect!

 

MARIBETH

 

You what?

 

MARVIN

 

The needed formula! Oh, girl, it's so elegant. I want you to call Jonathan. Tell him to meet us at the lab at 10:00 tonight. Tell him to wear his bloody glasses, and bring the right key this time. We're mixing!

 

MARIBETH

 

But...

 

MARVIN

 

It's okay. I'm 100% certain. Just call him, sweetheart.

 

Marvin rushes forward and bearhugs Maribeth.

 

cut

 

ext. university campus-night

 

Marvin, a small file in hand, stands excitedly at the same door the trio stood before weeks earlier. He inserts a key and unlocks the door. The trio enter.

 

cut

 

int. a hallway-continuous

 

Marvin motions for Jonathan to lead the way down the long, brightly lit corridor. Jonathan trips, walks past Marvin.

 

MARIBETH

 

Marvin, I don't know. I know you think. Well, what if you know, your calculations are off just a tiny bit?

 

MARVIN

 

Impossible.

 

He carefully lays the file on the floor at his feet, rises, and then puts his hands on Maribeth's cheeks. Maribeth's eyes show grave concerns. They stare for a moment at one another.

 

MARVIN

 

Lost faith in me already?

 

MARIBETH

 

No. It's not that, but...Marvin, your wild dream. Accomplishing what thousands of brilliant scientists aren't even close to unraveling. The chemicals. The formula. It might kill you.

 

MARVIN

 

Have you so easily forgotten?

 

MARIBETH

 

Forgotten what?

 

Marvin smiles broadly. Points toward the ceiling.

 

MARVIN

 

He's here. I don't see him, but I know he has my...our...hand. I've no idea why, but I've been chosen. I'm deadcertain the formula is perfect. Trust me.

 

MARIBETH

 

(a tear forming)

 

I don't know. Before, it was just a crazy notion. Now it's real. I don't know.

 

joanthan (off screen)

 

It's open.

 

MARVIN

 

Let's go, my dear. It's time. have faith.

 

Marvin bends down, picksup the file, and then takes hold of Maribeth's shaking hand, leading her toward Jonathan and the open lab door.

 

cut

 

int. lab-continuous

 

Long rows of sturdy tables. Bunsen burners. Petri dishes. Beakers and flasks. All neatly situated atop the tables. Marvin leaves Maribeth at the entry and rushes forward, laying the file folder on top of a table midway into the lab. He opens it, lifts a typed sheet of paper, and peruses it quickly. Maribeth stands frozen at the door.

 

MARVIN

 

Jonathan, find the thermostat. Tell me what the temperature is.

 

Marvin busies himself, reaching for test tubes and beakers, carefully aligning them on the table. Jonathan locates a digital read-out thermostat on a metal column nearly dead center of the room.

 

Jonathan

 

(squinting, raising his thick glasses)

 

Twenty-five. I think.

 

MARVIN

 

You think? Whatdo you mean you think?

 

Jonathan

 

I'm...positive. Twenty-five. Or four.

 

MARVIN

 

Way too hot. Lower the setting to eighteen. Be quick.

 

Marvin rushes to a tall glass-doored cabinet. Peers in. Opens the doors and begins to retrieve several dark bottles with white labels. Stuffs them under one arm, goes to another cabinet and retrieves more bottles. Maribeth tentatively walks to the area where Marvin intends to mix the chemicals in test tubes and beakers. Marvin turns.

 

MARVIN

 

Mare, pull that Bunsen forward and light it, please.

 

She slowly obeys the request, hands trembling. Marvin reappears shortly at her side. Overhead, the sound of the air conditioner coming to life. Jonathan joins Marvin and Maribeth.

 

MARVIN

 

Good, good. Get it set at eighteen, Jonathan?

 

Jonathan

 

Pretty sure. It's just that the numbers are fuzzy. But I'm sure I got it.

 

Marvin throws a look at the young vision-challenged assistant.

 

MARVIN

 

How the devil do you work with computers when you can't see the hands in front of your face?

 

Jonathan

 

(defensively)

 

Fingertips as sensitive as...

 

MARVIN

 

(caustically)

 

Time bomb on the screen.

 

He lifts a vial and hands it to Maribeth. Hands a beaker to Jonathan, and then lifts the first of several bottles, the one in hand labeled "Hydrochloric Acid". He opens it, pours a tiny amount into the vial Maribeth is holding.

 

MARVIN

 

Two point five milliliters. There, got it.

 

MARIBETH

 

Hydrochloric acid? Oh God!

 

MARVIN

 

Just a pinch.

 

He sets the jar down, Caps it again, and then reaches for another jar quickly. Over and over, jar after jar.

 

MARVIN

 

Twirl the tube, my dear. Slowly. Carefully.

 

Jonathan, quit for God's sake shaking! Hold that beaker steady.

 

Jonathan cringes. Shoots Marvin a nasty look. Steadies his hand. Marvin carefully follows a similar procedure with a host of other chemicals.

 

MARVIN

 

Rotate it, kid. Be careful! Now, set it down and grab another beaker.

 

The procedure continues, jar after jar, beaker after beaker. Marvin turns to Maribeth.

 

MARVIN

 

Hand me the tube, dear one, and then raise the Bunsen flame just a tiny bit.

 

SOUND of the air conditioner working away. Marvin carefully moves the test tube, half filled with deadly chemicals, over the flame. Minutes pass. Procedure continues.

 

MARVIN

 

Jonathan, get on down to the thermostat. Tell me what the temperature in here is at now. Seems awfully cold.

 

Jonathan clumsily sets the beaker he holds onto the table with a bang. He rushes back down the aisle to the thermostat module. Squints.

 

MARVIN

 

Well?

 

Jonathan

 

(tentatively)

 

Eight...er...teen. I think. Maybe just eight.

 

MARVIN

 

What? Damn, which is it you nitwit? Never mind. Get away from there.

 

Marvin hands the tube to Maribeth, and then races to Jonathan, who is scowling at him.

 

MARVIN

 

Move out of the way...Criminy! It's fourteen! Jesus, Jonathan, are you...well, I know you're blind. Go help Maribeth. Try not to trip on your way.

 

Jonathan

 

I've had it, you old coot! Kill yourself without my help. Goodbye!

 

Jonathan storms off. Marvin, as quickly as his old fingers will allow, taps on the thermostat setting, then turns.

 

MARVIN

 

Aw kid, don't be so sensitive. I'm sorry.

 

Jonathan

 

(raising a middle finger over his head)

 

Sensitive this.

 

MARVIN

 

Block the door open on your way out, then.

 

(mutters)

 

Let some hot air in. Probaly ruined everything. Damn.

 

Marvin walks dejectedly past Maribeth, to the closed door. He opens it and props a chair under the knob. Walks back to Maribeth, muttering.

 

MARIBETH

 

Maybe we should just give up for the night, Marvin. Try again some other night after he cools down. Maybe this all was a sign.

 

MARVIN

 

(absently)

 

The other chemicals. Way too cold. Probably spoiled...wait.

 

He picks up two of the beakers Jonathan had held, moves them high above the Bunsen, twirling them slowly.

 

MARIBETH

 

Marvin? Did you hear me?

 

MARVIN

 

All I have to do is...please get me a thermometer, Mare. Gotta' get these...

 

Maribeth sighs in defeat.

 

fade

 

int. governor mansion basement-later

 

Marvin stands at the bar end near his old bedroom, a large, capped vial in one hand,