Grosse Pointe Blank Page #13

DEBI:

Next caller.

GUFF MAN VOICE:

I don't know, Debi. Sounds like bad

gas to me. I would not allow him

access to your being.

DEBI:

Thank you.

DEBI:

Grosse Pointe Michigan, I hear you

loud and clear:
"If you love something

set it free. If it comes back to you

it's, well...

She turns to him and shrugs apologetically.

DEBI:

...Broken...."

Martin has his answer.

EXT. RADIO STATION - DAY

Martin leaves the station, alone and beaten down.

MARTIN:

Dammit. Never trust my instincts.

He scans the main strip.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

A MAN walks down the street. He is FELIX, a bookish,

forgettable man in his forties, wearing Le Coq Sportif sweats

and shoes. He looks as if he has a dark cloud over his head.

Martin's seen him somewhere, and doesn't like what he

remembers. Martin's POV TRACKS him.

FELIX'S P.O.V.

As he walks down the street, he spots the Country Squire,

and eyes Lardner and McCullers in the front seat.

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

follows Felix's eyes to Lardner and McCullers and catches

their look. Their eyes lock, neither wanting to betray that

they've made each other. They all do a pretty good job. His

P.O.V. swings to a square-jawed, hale fellow wearing dark

sunglasses who is approaching directly and only a few feet

away. The man is going for something in his breast pocket...

Reaches into his own jacket, most likely for a gun....

THE MAN:

pulls out a glasses case, and takes off his shades-- He is

PAUL SWIDERSKI.

MARTIN AND PAUL:

Martin relaxes.

PAUL:

(grinning ear-to-ear)

Hell, I would've voted for you, but

there's all this apple sauce stuck

in my phone... I don't wanna talk

about it. How the hell are you?!

(extends his hand)

Here's five good ones!

No trace of recognition on Martin's face.

PAUL:

Marty! It's me. Paul.

MARTIN:

(realizing)

Paul?

PAUL:

(re:
hand)

You're leaving me hanging here...

They shake. Martin looks him up and down, astonished at the

respectable veneer of his old burn-out friend.

PAUL:

Hey. Give me a break.

INT. PAUL'S BMW - DAY

Martin and Paul rive through Grosse Pointe, Michigan: Wide

streets lined with huge, shady oaks. Castle-like homes on

golf-course green lawns. A comfortable, Midwestern Beverly

Hills. They are cruising their old haunts, Paul smoking a

joint.

PAUL:

This won't take but a minute. I just

gotta hold their hands for a final

walk-through. I'll take them in, get

'em out, then you and I can grab a

little quality time.

Martin looks out the window, breathing in the past.

PAUL:

Goddamn, It's good to see you. I was

afraid you joined a cult or something.

I half-expected you to come back to

town in a fennel wreath and paper

pants.

Paul offers Martin the joint. He declines.

MARTIN:

There was no money in it.

Martin regards Paul archly.

MARTIN:

(grinning)

So what happened to you?

PAUL:

Same thing that happened to you-- I

stopped poutin' there on the

sidelines. Got in. Got on the team.

I joined the working week, you slick

f***ing a**hole, so why don't you

valet park your high horse and take

it easy on your old buddy, Paul.

MARTIN:

Fair enough.

Beat.

PAUL:

God it's great to see you.

MARTIN:

You too.

EXT. FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT HOUSE - DAY

MARTIN'S P.O.V.

of a lovely YOUNG COUPLE on the front porch of a mid-sized

Wright home... Perhaps that could be him if things were

different, but for now it feels like along shot. Paul is

hawking the house to them out of earshot.

SOUTHTEC GUARD (V.O.)

Well, we do what we have to do if we

find you on the property. But we

don't really enforce the law, we

execute company policy for homeowners.

MARTIN AND THE GUARD

standing in the driveway.

MARTIN:

So when are you authorized to use

deadly force?

SOUTHTEC GUARD:

Well, a 'course, taxes provide your

basic service-- police and whatnot.

But our customers need a little more

than just that, you understand? This

badge doesn't mean that I am a peace

officer.

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