Philadelphia Page #7

RACHEL:

What can I do?

ANDREW:

Get down to Word Processing.

Help Jamey look.

She rushes out.

Andrew begins shoving floppy discs into the slots on his

computer, bringing up each disc's directory.

ANDREW (CONT.)

No.

He throws the disc to the floor. Shoves in another.

Shoves in another, bending it in half.

ANDREW (CONT.)

No, goddammit!

He pulls open a file drawer, dumping legal briefs onto the

floor, frantically spreading them around with his foot.

Andrew THROWS a document across the room, takes a breath.

He picks up the telephone.

ANDREW (CONT.)

Bob? Something's come up. With

Kronos. I don't want to

upset Charles, but...

(letting down his guard)

Oh, sh*t, Bob, the complaint's

due in forty minutes and I can't

find it.

(suddenly)

No, you don't have to come...

(hanging up the phone)

Great. F***ing great.

Andrew rubs his eyes, this is a nightmare.

He switches off the overhead light. He slants the window

blinds, filling the room with shadow

Bob Seidman comes into the office, typically cheerful.

SEIDMAN:

C'mon, Andy, you didn't lose

anything...

Seidman is struck by the mess in the office, and Andrew's

disheveled appearance.

SEIDMAN (CONT.)

Jesus.

ANDREW:

I don't know what to do, Bob.

SEIDMAN:

You'll never find it in the dark.

Seidman FLIPS ON the overhead light. Andrew flinches.

Seidman approaches. Andrew gives up trying to hide the

purple blotches, facing his mentor straight on.

SEIDMAN (CONT.)

What in God's name... ?

ANDREW:

Bob...

SEIDMAN:

What's wrong with your face?

ANDREW:

What's wrong with my face? You

want to know what's wrong with

my face? I've got a skin

condition. Next question, Bob?

No more questions? Fine. Now

can you help me find the complaint?

SEIDMAN:

Allright. Calm down.

ANDREW:

Sorry...

Seidman sits in front of Andy's computer.

SEIDMAN:

What was the file name?

ANDREW:

K-R-O-one.

SEIDMAN:

Maybe you mistyped the name when

you were saving it. We'll try

combinations of those letters...

Seidman goes to work. Andrew leans over his shoulder.

ANDREW:

You're right, I probably just

misfiled...

KENTON (O.S.)

Andy?

Walter Kenton is standing at Andrew's door. His demeanor is

casual. So casual it seems a little forced.

KENTON (CONT.)

Some sort of problem?

Andrew has kept his face averted. But now he TURNS DIRECTLY

TOWARD CAMERA, showing his face to Kenton.

ANDREW:

Yeah, Walter. Yeah. Some sort of

major problem.

HOLD ON THIS CLOSE UP OF ANDREW...

SOUND OF A BABY CRYING CROSSES THE CUT TO:

A NEWBORN BEING LIFTED INTO A DOCTOR'S HANDS (INT./DAY) ...

DOCTOR:

There she is, okay. You can relax

now, Lisa.

LISA MILLER has just given birth to a baby girl. She

collapses on her pillow, gasping for breath, moaning in

pain, quietly crying a little.

TITLE:
"One month later."

The NURSES and the (FEMALE) DOCTOR move professionally

around the bed, doing their jobs.

At Lisa's side, Joe fumbles with a camera while darting

amazed looks back and forth between Lisa and the baby.

JOE:

Oh my god... a girl... oh my

god... Lisa... oh my god...

He's frantic.

JOE (CONT.)

You load the film... ? No, on

this side... or this side?

Don't move the baby!

LISA:

Give me the camera, Joe.

Lisa pops the film into the camera, hands it back.

JOE:

Thanks, hon. Oh my god...

With wildly trembling hands, Joe begins SNAPPING PHOTOS.

JOE (CONT.)

Oh my god... oh my god, look at

her... oh my god...

CUT TO:

JOE, WALKING THE HOSPITAL CORRIDOR, STILL WEARING SURGEON'S

greens, SPEAKING INTO HIS PORTABLE PHONE (INT./DAY) ...

JOE:

Go to Famous Fourth Street and

buy a pound of Nova. No! She

likes Scotch salmon better. Ah

heck, get a pound of both! Get

a dozen onion rolls. Get some

bagels. Get a dozen. Get a

bottle of champagne. Dom

Peringon... A hundred bucks a

bottle?! Better get a good

California...

Passing a PATIENT IN TRACTION, ROLLING BY ON A GURNEY, Joe

drops a business card into the PATIENT'S broken hand.

JOE (CONT.)

(to the PATIENT)

Give me a call.

(into the phone)

Get everything over here as soon

as you can, she's starved. No,

not the baby! Lisa! ... Iris,

listen:
any calls I should know

about? ... Uh huh... Uh huh...

Beckett? Who's Andrew Beckett?

Turning a corner, Joe comes face to face with HIS RELATIVES,

who charge at him joyfully:

JOE'S MOTHER/AUNTS/UNCLES, ETC.

Congratulations! How is Lisa?!

When can we see the baby?!

CUT TO:

QUIET... JOE, LISA AND THEIR BABY CUDDLED TOGETHER IN

Lisa's hospital bed, surrounded by debris from a party,

paper plates, empty champagne bottle (INT./NIGHT) ...

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote