Dave Page #5

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A huge CHEER goes up from the throng as he dismounts. Duane

grabs him by the collar and pulls him into the limo...

DIFFERENT ANGLE:

The car speeds away from the curb with

the motorcade behind it.

INT. LIMO

He turns around to see Duane, sitting stone-faced across

from him.

DAVE:

(clearly thrilled)

Sorry, I couldn't help it. I just got

carried away...

(finally letting it out)

... I was really good though, hunh?

Duane keeps staring at him. Dave shakes his head.

DAVE:

(cluing Duane in)

So I guess there must be something

pretty important going on for the

President to go through all of this...

Duane just looks at him...

CUT TO:

INT. PRESIDENTIAL SUITE - NIGHT

A discarded tuxedo lies tossed across a chair along with a

woman's bra and pantyhose.

The CAMERA PANS THROUGH DARKNESS SLOWLY TOWARD the bed while

the sound of a MAN and WOMAN MAKING LOVE plays O.S.

MAN (O.S.)

Oh...

WOMAN (0.S.)

Ah!

MAN (O.S.)

Oh...

WOMAN (0.S.)

Ah!

Beat.

WOMAN (0.S.)

Ahhh!

Silence.

WOMAN (0.S.)

Ahhhhh!

Pause.

WOMAN (O.S.)

Bill?

The CAMERA ARRIVES AT the bed as the torso of Randi, the

Oval Office secretary, pops INTO FRAME.

RANDI (WOMAN)

Mr. President?

Longer pause...

RANDI:

(frightened)

Oh; sh*t...

CUT TO:

EXT. BALTIMORE HILTON - NIGHT

A red and white ambulance sits parked at the service entrance

to the hotel with its red light flashing.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - LATER

The President is loaded onto a gurney bed with an array of

tubes and catheters. The CAMERA PULLS BACK to reveal Bob and

Reed, Sitting in a corner, while the medical drama unfolds

before them.

REED:

(softly)

It doesn't look very good.

Bob looks up at him.

REED:

(a little softer)

They say it hit both sides of his

brain... Even if he makes it he's gonna

be a vegetable.

BOB:

I can't believe he'd do this.

REED:

I know.

Bob stares straight ahead clutching onto his drink.

BOB:

Where's the girl?

REED:

She's a little hysterical right now.

We've got her upstairs in a laundry

room.

BOB:

(shaking his head)

Nightmare...

REED:

(leaning closer)

Look... at some point we're going to

have to call the Vice President...

BOB:

(suddenly)

Don't call the Vice President!

REED:

... What?

BOB:

(grabbing his lapels)

Just don't call him, Alan!

REED:

(treading softly)

The guy's in a coma, Bob.

BOB:

I don't give a sh*t.

REED:

Bob...

BOB:

This is mine, Al -- all mine ...

I made him. I built him. And no

cocksucker is gonna come in here and

take it away from me just because he

to be Vice President of the United

States!

CLOSEUP - BOB

He looks at Reed for a moment...

CUT TO:

INT. LIMOUSINE - NIGHT

Dave sits in the back seat with Duane. He has his small

canvas bag opened beside him on the seat. He finishes getting

dressed in his own clothes.

DAVE:

(jacked)

You know if you guys want to do

something for his birthday, I could

come down to Washington. I have some

great birthday stuff...

Duane smiles at him tightly.

DAVE:

I do this thing with the first lady --

my friends love it -- it's the two of

them going away to Club Med...

Duane just looks at him when the TELEPHONE RINGS beside him.

He reaches next to him, picking it up.

DUANE:

Yeah...

(PAUSE)

What?.. Are you sure? What?

DAVE:

(innocently)

What?

CUT TO:

EXT. WHITE HOUSE - NIGHT

The famous building is lit up like a picture postcard while

Bob's voice plays 0.S...

BOB (V.0.)

It's a temporary solution.

INT. WHITE HOUSE - SUBTERRANEAN HALLWAY - NIGHT

A doctor and two nurses wheel a gurney in front of them while

Bob and Reed trail behind.

REED:

Till what?

BOB:

TilT we figure something out.

REED:

Bob, the guy had a stroke!

Reed looks at him like he's nuts as they turn a corner in the

hallway.

BOB:

Look, everything can be handled. We'll

just find a way to handle it.

REED:

(stopping)

Like how?

BOB:

(big smile)

Well, start by going on television

and saying that he's had a mild

stroke...

REED:

Mild stroke?

BOB:

Yes - - and that he ought to be up

and around sometime soon.

REED:

Up and around? Soon?

BOB:

Soon.

CUT TO:

RESUME - EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. - AERIAL SHOT - NIGHT

A lone black limousine heads down Connecticut Avenue toward

the mall.

DAVE (V.0.)

You know, I think I've been real

cooperative up until now but...

It bears right on Pennsylvania Avenue, angling south.

DAVE:

Just tell me where we're going.

The car turns right into the driveway of the White House.

DAVE:

Holy sh*t.

INT. OVAL OFFICE - NIGHT

Dave sits frozen in an armchair across from the President's

desk. There are twenty-foot windows that lead out to the

Rose Garden and two huge flags on either side of the desk.

Alan Reed leans nonchalantly on one of the chairs. Bob

stands nearby.

REED:

(all schmooz)

Dave, my name is Alan Reed. I'm the

White House Communications Director.

This is Bob Alexander, our Chief of

Staff.

(smiling)

We met you earlier tonight at the hotel,

remember?

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