Jerry Maguire Page #14

LAUREL:

Good.

DOROTHY:

Thanks.

INT. LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

Jerry and Ray have a great conversation, playing tug with a

piece of rope.

RAY:

And then my dad died and my mom

took me to the zoo and I love the

zoo. Do you hate the zoo or do you

love the zoo?

JERRY:

Wait. I want to tell you more

about my dad.

RAY:

Let's go the zoo.

JERRY:

Okay. I've been hogging it.

You're right.

(more)

_

76.

JERRY (cont'd)

All my life I've been trying to

talk, really talk, and no one

wants to listen. You know that

feeling?

Ray nods vigorously.

RAY:

Let's go right now. Let's go to

the zoo.

JERRY:

Aw, the f***ing thing... I mean,

the zoo is closed.

RAY:

You said "f***".

JERRY:

Yeah I know. I did.

Ray loves this guy. He pats Jerry's knee.

RAY:

I won't tell.

JERRY:

We'll go to the zoo sometime.

Okay? I think I might have some

time on my hands.

Ray looks at Jerry's hands.

RAY:

I don't see any.

JERRY:

(points respectfully)

Funny.

RAY:

Funny...

(imitates him)

(hears mom

approaching)

I better go to bed.

Ray hugs Jerry and exits. Jerry sits contemplating the kid

for a moment. The door swings open and a harried Dorothy

appears in the sexier top, but with a distinctly less sexy

attitude, and a tray.

_

77.

DOROTHY:

Drinks. Food. Plus, I called you

a cab.

JERRY:

(slightly confused)

Good idea. Thank you.

And we should keep our voices down a little. I have a little

boy asleep.

JERRY:

(continuing)

Right. Of course.

Jerry tries to twist open the beer, ripping at his palm. It's

not a twist-off. She hands him an opener. He opens it,

inelegantly.

DOROTHY:

So. Our company.

She watches the drunken man, who drinks. Then coughs a

little. Then stands.

JERRY:

Okay. Lil' speech before I go.

He gets up, woozy, but loose. Powerfully:

JERRY:

(continuing)

Do. Not. Worry. About. Your.

Job.

(beat)

Our company is in good shape. You

and your son... we... are just

fine. You still have a job. I

want you to feel confident! In.

Me. And I have a problem with

people who talk about themselves

in the third person, but let me

tell you something about Jerry

Maguire.

His confidence nicely fueled, Jerry reaches for a fireplace

poker. He begins to joust with an imaginary opponent.

JERRY:

(continuing)

Come after me and you will lose I

am a survivor! Do not

underestimate Jerry Maguire! I've

got wits!

(more)

_

78.

JERRY (cont'd)

I've got the instincts of a

panther!

(joust)

I've got Dorothy Boyd on my side!

DOROTHY:

Don't worry about me. I can get

jobs --

JERRY:

We will be fine!

DOROTHY:

-- especially one like this.

JERRY:

And I am...

He becomes very aware of himself. Acting out in a virtual

stranger's small-but-comfortable living room.

JERRY:

(continuing)

I am drunk.

He collapses onto the sofa, embarrassed. Shaking his head.

Dorothy scoots closer in an adjacent chair. She breaks the

personal barrier, carefully touching his wound with the wet

tip of the aloe vera plant.

DOROTHY:

Truth?

JERRY:

Sure.

Dorothy turns to see that Laurel's two shoes are still very

visible at the kitchen door. Decides to ignore them. She

gets closer.

DOROTHY:

Sure, I care about the job. Of

course. But mostly...

(very honest)

... I want to be inspired.

There is something inspiring about the way she says the word

"inspiring."

JERRY:

Me too.

DOROTHY:

What you wrote inspired me.

_

79.

He is catching a scent of that most ancient elixer. A

woman's affection. Their heads inch closer together.

DOROTHY:

(continuing)

I'm working with you because of

that memo...

JERRY:

Mission... statement...

They kiss. It turns rather passionate. She places a cool

hand on his cheek. He places a hand on her breast. The

taxi beeps outside. She pulls away. Both regard the hand on

her breast.

DOROTHY:

Well.

JERRY:

Sorry about this hand.

(he rises unsteadily)

You know that feeling -- you're

not completely embarrassed yet,

but you glimpe tomorrow's

embarrassment?

DOROTHY:

Don't worry about it, boss.

JERRY:

Oh sh*t. You said "boss."

DOROTHY:

Yeah, I did.

JERRY:

Now I feel like Clarence Thomas.

DOROTHY:

No. No don't feel like Clarence

Thomas.

JERRY:

No, I do. I feel like Clarence

Thomas.

(the worst day ever)

I'm like... harrassing you...

right now.

DOROTHY:

I may not sue.

He laughs a little. Music. Unsure what more to say, Jerry

rubs his face. And then:

_

80.

JERRY:

Well, good evening.

DOROTHY:

Good evening.

He stands, returns the fireplace poker to her, and exits.

Stumbling slightly on the first step leading down from the

front porch, he recovers with style.

JERRY:

We'll be okay. And I'm going to

take my... one client and we're

gonna go all the way.

He takes a few more steps, re-balancing bags, coughs a

little. He is a mess, and he knows it.

JERRY:

(continuing; loving

the dark humor)

Hey. I'm back.

She laughs, waves, and exits back into the kitchen. She

regards the poker still in her hand. Laurel watches her

conflicted, slightly lovesick sister.

INT. CAB -- NIGHT

Jerry in the back of the cab. He turns for a moment, looking

back at the warm house he's just left. Something is

scratching at his soul, trying to get in. Music continues. He

was strangely comfortable there, as the house disappears from

his view.

FADE TO:

EXT. TEMPE PRACTICE AREA -- DAY

Rod Tidwell races to catch up to a wobbly, overthrown pass.

He snags it out of the air, and moves gracefully downfield.

He turns back to shout at the quarterback for the wobbly

pass, and slams into a padding post. Dennis Wilburn, the GM

we met earlier, crosses in front of Maguire, giving him a

look. Maguire forges ahead anyway.

JERRY:

We gotta talk about his contract,

Dennis.

WILBURN:

Your timing is impeccable,

Maguire. Gee, I can't imagine how

you ever lost Cush...

_

81.

Wilburn moves on, scoffing loudly.

INT. LOCKER ROOM SHOWER AREA -- DAY

Jerry stands in pre-season locker-room. Off-stage we hear

a shower. In the b.g., one of those locker-room psych-up

signs like:
Injuries happen first in the mind.

JERRY:

I started talking with Dennis

Wilburn about your renegotation.

Rod emerges naked, dripping wet, pissed.

TIDWELL:

Did you tell him about the "ten

million for four years?"

JERRY:

Uh, not today, but --

TIDWELL:

John Taylor. J.J. Stokes. Andre

Rison. I SMOKE all these fools,

and yet they're making the big

sweet dollars. They're making the

money, and I got an agent that

ain't even put the number on the

table.

JERRY:

I understand your anxiety.

TIDWELL:

Maybe you don't. Because it's not

just the money I deserve. It's

not just the "coin." It's the...

He says this next word royally, as if it's fine silk.

TIDWELL:

(continuing)

-- the kwan.

JERRY:

That's your word?

TIDWELL:

Yeah, man, it means love, respect,

community... and the dollars too.

The package. The kwan.

JERRY:

(impressed)

But how did you get "kwan?"

_

82.

TIDWELL:

(irritated)

I got there from "coin," dude.

Coin, coin... kwaaaan.

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