Grosse Pointe Blank Page #12

EXT. STREET -

Martin stops in his tracks. His face softens, then becomes

determined. He turns and walks back toward the station.

INT. DEEJAY BOOTH -

Debi broadcasting...

DEBI:

It felt like an apparition, or some

cheap, gruesome Rod Serling time

warp I'd been thrust back into without

warning. There's a strangeness in

the air and I don't mind telling

you, I'm a little spooked. He was a

man from my past. A man I loved. A

man who disappeared.

DEBI'S P.O.V.

of Martin walking back into the station.

DEBI:

A man who's walking back into the

station.

Martin comes into the booth. The temperature rises as they

square off.

INT. COUNTRY SQUIRE -

LARDNER:

Well?

MCCULLERS:

I don't think so.

LARDNER:

Well, remember when Frysal's men

paid off the Deejay in Cairo to

announce a bogus press conference in

the --

MCCULLERS:

--Nooo--

LARDNER:

--Yes. And the Munich Olympics in

'72. A local radio station started

broadcasting news of the massacre

two minutes before it happened.

McCullers is not to be outdone.

MCCULLERS:

That's strictly Bàader-Meinhof stuff.

LARDNER:

It was the PLO.

MCCULLERS:

Whatever.

INT. DEEJAY BOOTH

Martin and Debi locked in a passionate embrace. They break

away.

DEBI:

Sit.

Martin obeys. Debi clandestinely flips the "ON-AIR" switch

as she drops into her chair. The "ON-AIR" light bar goes on

above and behind Martin. Unbeknownst to him their conversation

is put out over the airwaves.

DEBI:

All right mystery man. I want some

answers. Let's recap. Spring of '84.

Two young lovers with frightening

natural chemistry. The girl sits in

a seven-hundred dollar prom dress at

her father's house waiting for the

most romantic night of her young

life. The boy never shows up, until

now. So, what's the question?

MARTIN:

Where have I been?

DEBI:

More like what happened? What

happened, Mr. Blank?

MARTIN:

I don't know exactly. I could venture

a guess but it would sound like a

rationalization... I thought you

know... maybe seeing you, some

friends, my house... of course now a

7-11--

DEBI:

--Torn down in the name of convenience--

MARTIN:

--and I guess, sure, seeing you would

be part of that whole equation... I

suppose the most important thing,

really. I don't know. Anyway, this

whole thing's my therapist's idea.

It's my shrink, really.

DEBI:

Ohhh. You're in therapy too, Marty?

MARTIN:

You see someone?

DEBI:

Uh, no. So you're back now, a decade

later, and you want to sort things

out with me. The question now is, do

I allow you... access... to my being?

Martin says nothing.

DEBI:

All right then. Would you like to

share any more deeply personal

thoughts with our listening audience

before we go to our phone poll and

see how the folks in radioland come

down on this one?

A beat as Martin realizes he's been had. He seems about to

bolt.

DEBI:

Should a broken-hearted girl give a

guy a second chance at love....

Debi jabs a phone line on the console.

DEBI:

(HARD)

You're on the air.

Martin deflates.

OLD WOMAN'S VOICE

I think this young man has avoided

the question completely. Has not

discussed "what happened" nor if

he's sorry for what he has done.

Therefore, I don't see any reason

why you should see him until he fully

discloses his intentions and feelings.

DEBI:

Thank you caller.

Stabs another line.

DEBI:

You're on the air.

DUMB GUY VOICE:

Are you there?

DEBI:

Yes.

DUMB GUY VOICE:

No, the guy.

Martin looks up, humiliated.

MARTIN:

Yeah....

DUMB GUY VOICE:

Uh... when you guys use to go out...

Did you guys ever... heh heh heh

heh... ever f***in', ever totally

f***in' heh heh heh-

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