Dave Page #6

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Dave nods, frozen in his chair.

REED:

Can I get you something to drink?

He shakes his head.

REED:

You sure? A Coke or a Perrier or

something?

DAVE:

(still frozen)

Oh yeah... 1'm fine...

Reed flashes him a smile and glances over at Bob.

REED:

(moving toward him)

Now, Dave, something has come up and I

think we need to talk about it...

DAVE:

(blurting it out)

Look, I'm sorry. I know you said not

to talk, but when I saw the crowd I

just got excited...

REED:

We're not upset with you, Dave. We

think you did a terrific job.

(to Bob)

Don't we?

BOB:

(all tension)

Terrific.

Reed smiles at Dave, who musters a little smile in return.

REED:

In fact, we think you did such a good

job, we'd like to extend things a little

bit.

DAVE:

Extend things?

REED:

(nodding)

Extend them.

(beat)

C'mere for a second.

He places a hand on Dave's shoulder and motions toward the

desk. Dave hesitates, then follows him over.

DIFFERENT ANGLE:

Reed pulls out the President's chair and motions to it.

REED:

Try it out.

Dave looks down at the chair in wonder.

REED:

Go ahead.

Dave pauses for a moment then sinks down into the soft brown

leather. He stares out in awe across the Oval Office.

DIFFERENT ANGLE:

Reed looks over at Bob, who nods at

him. He takes a deep breath.

REED:

Dave, something has happened to the

President.

DAVE:

(whirling)

Oh my God...

REED:

(soothing him)

I know... I know...

(pause)

It's difficult for all of us. But

sometimes we have to put our personal

feelings aside and focus on the gQod

of the country.

DAVE:

(beat)

What happened?

REED:

Well, it's... It's sort of an... an

`incident' really...

BOB:

(nodding)

A condition...

REED:

Exactly. A condition.

Dave nods but still doesn't understand. Reed hesitates when

Bob glares at him again.

REED:

It's actually kind of serious, Dave.

I'm afraid the President's not in very

good shape.

DAVE:

(actually shaken)

Oh my gosh...

He sits there, stunned for a moment.

DAVE:

Will he be alright?

REED:

Oh, yeah... probably...

BOB:

We think so.

REED:

Yes.

DAVE:

(beat)

Oh.

Reed moves closer.

REED:

Dave, we need our friends and even our

enemies to feel safe and secure... We

need them to feel like they can go to

bed at night knowing President Mitchell

is fully in control... We need them to

feel like he's sitting right here in

this chair...

Bob and Reed just stare at him. Dave nods, then suddenly

jumps out of the chair.

DAVE:

Hey - - wait a second...

He stares at them for a beat...

DAVE:

What about the Vice President?

RTED:

(panicked)

Vice Presidant?

BOB:

Well... We didn't want to have to get

into this but...

(deadly serious)

... The Vice President is mentally

unbalanced.

Reed's eyes go wide. Bob stares straight ahead.

DAVE:

(stunned)

No.

REED:

(catching on)

I'm afraid so.

DAVE:

Really? Crazy?

BOB:

Certifiable.

Dave looks at them amazed. Bob moves closer to the desk.

BOB:

How much do you usually get paid?

DAVE:

(lost...)

Uh -- I don't know. Sometimes it's

just like a barter thing... Is this

legal?

Reed stops and looks at Bob for a moment. He turns back to

Dave.

REED:

(evenly)

Dave - - have you ever driven through

a red light?

Dave stares at him.

REED:

You know, on an empty road where you

know it's safe and nobody's around...

DAVE:

I'm not sure... I might have.

REED:

Well, let's say your mother was in

the car and you had to get her to a

hospital. You'd do it then for sure

wouldn't you?

DAVE:

Well... I gues I would... Yeah.

REED:

(beat)

Now, let's say the whole country.

Was in that car. The entire United

States of America.

DAVE:

In the car?

REED:

(nodding)

In the car.

DAVE:

I see what you mean.

Reed smiles at him and rests a gentle hand on his shoulder.

REED:

Dave, the country is sick. And we're

gonna get it to a hospital.

CLOSEUP - DAVE

He stares at them for a moment then

smiles slightly...

CUT TO:

INT. THIRD FLOOR RESIDENCE - NIGHT

A pair of gilt-edged doors swing open to reveal a massive

bedroom beyond. It is fifty-feet long and twenty-feet wide.

Brocaded draperies hang from the windows and a four-poster

bed stretches to the ceiling.

BOB:

These are the living quarters.

The President's bedroom is on

this side and the First Lady's is over

there.

WIDER:

Dave walks forward in awe.

DAVE:

(concerned)

First Lady...

BOB:

Don't worry. You won't even see her.

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