Mumford Page #11

MUMFORD:

Nope.

Jeremy puts the cigars down, pulls a joint out of his cashmere

pullover and fires it up. After exhaling a huge cloud of

smoke, he offers the joint to Mumford, who declines.

JEREMY:

Makes the whole thing that much

better.

Jeremy takes another hit on the joint and puts it down. He

gives a cigar and his gold lighter to Mumford, who begins to

light up --

JEREMY:

Just hold the flame a little bit

below the end... that's it... now

just turn it slowly as you draw...

Mumford does as he's told. Jeremy lights his own cigar.

JEREMY:

Are you a man who likes to treat

himself right?

MUMFORD:

I've had my moments.

JEREMY:

I am. And I'm not ashamed of it.

Nobody ever said on their death bed --

"I treated myself too well."

MUMFORD:

I thought it was -- Nobody ever said,

"I should have spent more time at

the office."

JEREMY:

Fill in the blank. I don't mind the

office. The point is, you only go

'round once. Like the Zens say -- Be

here now.

MUMFORD:

What do you do?

JEREMY:

Althea hasn't told you?

MUMFORD:

(no)

We've been talking about her, mostly.

JEREMY:

Well, in '85 four of us left our

firms and formed an investment banking

venture. We've got twenty-three people

working there now.

MUMFORD:

You've done well.

The marijuana is kicking in now -- Jeremy gets a self-

satisfied, condescending look on his face that no straight

mind would dare. His response includes their lavish immediate

surroundings--

JEREMY:

We've done... very well. You know

anything about addiction, Doc?

MUMFORD:

A little.

JEREMY:

Well, I'm addicted to winning. I say

when you're in the red zone, you

gotta score.

(watches Mumford smoke)

So what do you think?

MUMFORD:

Tastes good.

JEREMY:

No... I mean about Althea. About

her...

(makes a face)

...behavior. Do you think you can

fix her up?

MUMFORD:

What do you think's wrong with her?

JEREMY:

She's gone weird is what's wrong

with her. Out of control. Probably

from living out here in Mayberry.

Jeremy blows cigar smoke into his snifter, then takes a

mouthful of cognac, savoring the sensations. Mumford watches,

fascinated by this guy.

JEREMY:

You're the doctor, what do you think?

MUMFORD:

She seems very unhappy.

Jeremy gives him a look, as if to say "duh."

JEREMY:

I think we all knew that, professor.

The question... the real --

(drawn out, stoned)

-- quest-tio-nee... is... why?

Mumford looks at him a long time.

EXT. ROAD INTO MUMFORD - NIGHT

Jeremy Brockett's Mercedes 500 SL whips around a curve.

INT. BROCKETT'S MERCEDES - NIGHT

Martin is driving Mumford back to town.

MARTIN:

But you know how to drive?

MUMFORD:

Sure.

MARTIN:

Got a license?

(yes)

But no car?

MUMFORD:

Don't need it.

MARTIN:

I just got my license two weeks ago.

MUMFORD:

You're good.

MARTIN:

I been drivin' since I was twelve.

MUMFORD:

That would explain it.

MARTIN:

Can you help Mom?

MUMFORD:

I'm trying.

MARTIN:

(intense)

Got to.

They drive in silence for a bit. Then --

MARTIN:

Nessa Watkins... She comes to you,

doesn't she? You're treating her,

right?

Mumford gives him a surprised look, then acknowledges it.

MARTIN:

What's wrong with her?

MUMFORD:

Is she a friend of yours?

MARTIN:

No... sort of. Man, she could be

cool, but all she does is get wrecked

and do all the guys. She's blowin'

them in the parking lot.

Mumford knew that.

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