Meet Joe Black Page #4

DREW:

I'm all excited --

PARRISH:

Me, too.

DREW:

I thought it was great, I thought

you and Big John would be like a

couple of bulls in a china shop --

(faltering)

Instead it was --

PARRISH:

Like a marriage made in heaven?

DREW:

You have a way with words.

They stride to the main bank of elevators.

INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICES, PARRISH COMMUNICATIONS - DAY

Parrish, Drew beside him, proceeds through a high tech, but

tasteful, maze, spiffy executive secretaries at burnished

desks. Neither looking right or left, somehow Parrish man-

ages to acknowledge their bright smiles and deferential nods

despite his swift entrance.

He passes through an open set of doors and he is into his

own suite, commanded by JENNIFER, his assistant.

JENNIFER:

Good morning, Mr. Parrish.

PARRISH:

Hi, Jennifer.

Drew is still at Parrish's heels, but now Parrish stops at

the open door, turns back to him, reminding Drew that this

is as far as he goes without being invited.

DREW:

So... Board convenes tomorrow, you'll

recommend, we close and it's a deal,

right?

PARRISH:

As close as a deal could be.

DREW:

(bursting)

Olympic.

Parrish disappears into his office. Drew, on his way out,

glides past Jennifer's desk.

DREW (cont'd)

This is our lucky day.

Jennifer acknowledges Drew with a smile, rises and moves to

Parrish's doorway, waiting for the day's instructions, but

Parrish only nods to the door and Jennifer quickly closes

it, returns to her desk.

INT. PARRISH'S OFFICE - DAY

Alone in his office, Parrish's ebullient mood immediately

changes. Leaning against the back of the couch, he stares

out through floor-to-ceiling windows, surveying the

Manhattan skyline: cogitates.

He takes a seat on the couch, opens a folder, suddenly he

flinches with a spasm of pain in his shoulder. It is sharp

but brief, he notices it but what it does not continue, he

ignores it.

Parrish resumes looking at the folder when suddenly the

pain comes again. He reaches for his shoulder, tries to

massage the pain, it does not subside. Parrish stands,

trying to shake it off, but it refuses to go away, some-

thing is unmistakably wrong. Now a SOUND which he has

come to recognize, makes itself heard:

VOICE (V.O.)

Yes.

Frozen with surprise, Parrish's eyes search the room for the

source of the SOUND, it comes from no particular direction,

yet surrounds him. Suddenly Parrish's symptoms sharply

intensify, he is sinking to the floor but somehow grabs a

corner of the desk, holds on with one hand, with the other

clutches at his shoulder and arm, the pain has violently

seized the upper part of his body. He breaks out in a sweat,

his pallor now waxen as the Voice repeats itself:

VOICE (V.O., cont'd)

...Yes.

Parrish grips the edge of the desk, the pain assaulting him

on the one hand, the Voice coming at him from the outer,

each aberration feeds on the other, he is beside himself,

consumed with pain and bewildered by what seems to be a

hallucination but which he is certain is not. Parrish is

possessed. He angles his face in every direction, arbi-

trarily chooses one and now embarrassedly, unconsciously,

enrage, responds to the Voice.

PARRISH:

'Yes' what?

VOICE:

'Yes' is the answer to your

question.

PARRISH:

I didn't ask any question.

VOICE:

I believe you did.

Parrish is absolutely confounded, seized up with pain and

consternation at this unseen Voice which has such presence

and reality.

PARRISH:

Who are you?

Silence.

PARRISH (cont'd)

Goddammit, what is going on?!

VOICE:

I think you know --

PARRISH:

I don't!

VOICE:

Try. Because 'if you haven't tried,

you haven't lived'.

A moment.

PARRISH:

What are you talking about?

VOICE:

What you were talking about.

Parrish gasps.

PARRISH:

What is this? Who is this f***ing

guy?

He holds on tight to the corner of the desk, sweat dripping,

his skin ashen. Now he addresses the Voice again, searching

for it in another direction:

PARRISH (cont'd)

Tell me who you are!

VOICE:

Are you giving me orders?

PARRISH:

I'm sorry, I --

VOICE:

No, you're not. You're trying to

'handle' the situation but this is

the one situation you knew you never

could handle.

A spasm, the worst one yet, finally it subsides and there is

an eerie silence in the room, a VOID, almost more disturbing

than the voice that has filled it.

PARRISH:

Where are you? Are you there?

VOICE:

It's enough now.

PARRISH:

Please. Talk to me --

VOICE:

There's going to be plenty of time

for that.

PARRISH:

What do you mean?!

VOICE:

I think you know --

PARRISH:

Know what?

(a moment)

Know what, goddammit!

The VOICE is gone. Parrish searches the corner, but the

room has lost the quality it had when it was inhabited by

the VOICE, it is now just Parrish's office. Faint SQUEALS of

traffic from the street, then a KNOCK at the door.

Parrish touches his shoulder, the pain is gone, but he is

still wet with sweat, the KNOCK again. Parrish straightens

himself up, adjusts his tie, runs his fingers through his

hair, blinks as he addresses the door.

PARRISH:

(carefully)

Come in.

Jennifer enters.

JENNIFER:

I've been buzzing you, Mr. Parrish.

Are you all right?

PARRISH:

Sure.

JENNIFER:

Lunch is 'in' today, have you given

it any thought --_

PARRISH:

(interrupting)

No. Nothing.

JENNIFER:

Nothing?

Parrish is within himself, doesn't answer.

JENNIFER (cont'd)

Why don't I think of something?

Parrish still doesn't answer, however Jennifer is satisfied,

correctly hearing his silence as an affirmative. She has her

hand on the door, 'Open' or 'Closed'? He nods and she closes it.

Utter silence again. Parrish's eyes search the room, nothing

there.

INT. CORINTH COFFEE SHOP, YORK AVENUE, DAY

The place has cleared out now, the counterman busy bussing

tables laden with dishes and cups, Susan and the Young Man

are still at the counter, but about to leave.

YOUNG MAN:

...It's kind of a pro bono job.

SUSAN:

'Pro bono'. That means doing good

-- Going to be doing good all your

life?

YOUNG MAN:

I know what you're saying. Doesn't

pay very well. Depends on the woman

I marry. Maybe she'd like a bigger

house, a better car, lotsa kids,

college doesn't come cheap --

SUSAN:

You'd give up what you want for the

woman you marry?

YOUNG MAN:

I would.

Susan rises now, the Young Man with her, leaving money for

their checks they head for the door.

YOUNG MAN (cont'd)

If I married you, I'd want to give

you what you wanted, I know it's

old fashioned and all that, but

what's wrong with taking care of a

woman? She takes care of you.

SUSAN:

You'll have a hard time finding a

woman like that these days --

YOUNG MAN:

You never know. Lightning could

strike.

Susan at the door now, pauses abruptly, her eyes on the

Young Man.

EXT. CORINTH COFFEE SHOP, YORK AVENUE - DAY

The Young Man holds the door for Susan as they step out

onto the street.

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