Sideways Page #34

MILES:

You're joking, right?

(seeing that he isn't)

What are you doing? Un-f***ing-

believeable. Can we just go back to

the hotel and hang out and get up

early and play nine holes before we

head home?

Jack rests one hand on Miles's shoulder and drops his head,

thinking how best to put it.

JACK:

Look, Miles. I know you're my friend

and you care about me. And I know

you disapprove. I respect that. But

there are some things I have to do

that you don't understand. You

understand wine and literature and

movies, but you don't understand my

plight. And that's okay.

CLOSE ON MILES --

as the disappointment in his friend deepens by the moment.

FADE TO BLACK:

UNDER BLACK, SUPERIMPOSED --

FRIDAY:

Now comes the sound of hysterical KNOCKING.

INT. MOTEL ROOM - DAWN

Despite the knocking, Miles remains motionless in bed, his

expression serene.

Finally he awakens and drags himself toward the door, opening

it to find --

JACK:

silhouetted against the first rosy fingers of dawn. He is

barefoot. In fact he is clad only in his UNDERWEAR. Hugging

himself, he PANTS and SHIVERS.

JACK:

Jesus f***ing Christ, it's freezing.

He limps past Miles, yanks off the bed covers and wraps them

around himself.

JACK:

Vicodin. Where's the Vicodin? My

nose.

Miles hands him the bottle, and Jack frantically pops a couple

of pills, chewing them like candy. He sits down and bends

over at the waist as though preparing for an airplane crash.

JACK:

F***ing chick's married.

MILES:

What?

JACK:

Her husband works a night shift or

something, and he comes home, and

I'm on the floor with my cock in his

wife's ass.

MILES:

Jesus, Jack. Jesus. And you walked

all the way back from Solvang?

JACK:

Ran. Twisted my ankle too.

MILES:

That's five clicks, Jackson.

JACK:

F***ing-a it's five clicks! At one

point I had to cut through an ostrich

farm. F***ers are mean.

Miles has now awakened to take in the absurdity of the whole

scene, and he LAUGHS HARD. The blanketed bulge just sits

there. Finally it looks up and shows its pitiful visage.

JACK:

We gotta go back.

MILES:

What?

JACK:

I left my wallet. My credit cards,

cash, f***ing ID, everything. We

gotta go back.

MILES:

Big deal. We'll call right now and

cancel your cards.

JACK:

You don't understand. The wedding

bands. The wedding bands are in my

wallet.

MILES:

Okay, so they were in your wallet,

and you left your wallet somewhere.

Some bar. Christine'll understand.

JACK:

No. She ordered them special. Took

her forever to find them. They've

got this design on them with dolphins

and our names engraved in Sanskrit.

We've got to go back. Christine'll

f***ing crucify me.

MILES:

No way. No way.

JACK:

(a pitiful whine)

Please, Miles, please.

MILES:

Forget it. Your wallet was stolen at

a bar. Happens every day.

Jack stares straight ahead, breathing through his mouth as

he considers this. Then --

JACK:

No, we've got to get my wallet! Those

rings are irreplaceable! We've got

to get them, Miles! I f***ed up! I

know I f***ed up, okay? I f***ed up.

You gotta help me. You gotta help

me. Pleeeease!

Jack now descends to a level of wretchedness and desperation

that Miles has never seen before in Jack, or in anyone else

for that matter.

JACK:

Oh, God, please... Oh God. I know

I'm bad. I know I did a bad thing.

Help me, Miles. Just this one thing,

this one last thing. I can't lose

Christine. I can't. I'm nothing

without her. Please, Miles, please...

uuuuu... uuuuuu.... uuuuuuu......

No longer able to form words, Jack is reduced to emitting

low, primitive sounds. Snot flows from beneath his bandaged

nose.

INT./EXT. SAAB - MORNING

Miles drives in the early-morning light. Jack is now subdued,

quieted by his pain and exhaustion.

MILES:

She tell you she was married?

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