Stepmom Page #12

He stares at her. It looks like he's gonna let go --

On the mothers -- impressed, not to mention surprised. When Ben

suddenly HURLS the toy onto the floor SHATTERING IT! A horrible

SILENCE falls over the room. Broken only by the sound of Duncan

SCREAMING from inside the phone.

DUNCAN IN PHONE:

Rachel...This is a big bloody account --

If you don't show up in five minutes...

Rachel takes Ben and leads him into another room.

RACHEL:

Ben I'm sorry. It's been a hard day.

Now would you do us both a favor and

take this phone and...

She SLAMS the phone SHUT. Hands it to Ben.

RACHEL:

...make it disappear.

Okay. He SHOVES it down the front of his pants. The peach moms

are taken aback. Rachel nods, you got it. Delighted, Ben turns,

scampers off, as...

...his pants start RINGING. He stops dead. Looks down at them.

Still RINGING. He turns around and waddles delicately back to

Rachel, as if he's carrying nitro in his shorts. She holds out her

hand...

RACHEL:

Breaks out the geiger counter, the

man is radio-active!

He pulls the ringing phone from his pants. She grasps it without

hesitation, while peach moms wince in disgust. SNAPS it open...

RACHEL:

Get over it, Dunc...

(stops)

...whoa, whoa, Annab...

Listens. While everybody watches.

RACHEL:

Could it be, maybe...anywhere else?

Like...another galaxy would be more

convenient.

Listening, listening. Everybody really watching. Even Ben.

Rachel oblivious...

RACHEL:

(gently)

Okay, don't cry. Flunking science

is not happening. On my watch.

EXT. STACY'S YARD - LATER

All the kids are running around crazily in a hypersugared frenzy.

Peach moms drink diet sodas and chat. Rachel making a call by the

phony little carp pond...

RACHEL:

...just that her daughter left a

science book somewhere at her house,

and I need t...

INTERCUT throughout: a starchy, powerful, crisply intellectual

SENIOR EDITOR, in her early fifties and her Jil Sander outfit. The

East Side below her window.

SENIOR EDITOR:

I'm sorry, Ms. Harrison is not here.

I think I mentioned that. Twice.

Rachel nodding.

RACHEL:

Well, she's been meeting with the

head editor for the last few w...

SENIOR EDITOR:

Miss, I am Senior Editor. Ms.

Harrison left Random House eleven

years ago. We have not had the pleas-

ure of a visit from her in that time.

Rachel blinks.

RACHEL:

Actually, she's going back to

work with your company on a part-

time basis.

SENIOR EDITOR:

Excuse me. If Jackie Harrison were

coming back to the editorial staff,

I would be frankly delighted. And I.

Would be the first. To know.

Silence. In the midst of hysterical children.

RACHEL:

Thank you for your time.

SENIOR EDITOR:

Don't mention it.

And Rachel's line. Is dead.

EXT. JACKIE'S HOUSE - DAY

Rachel alone at Jackie's front door. Staring at the key in her

hand. One last chance to back out.

RACHEL:

(mutters)

What the hell.

OPENS the door. Enters the empty home. Walks slowly, self-

consciously, down the hallway. Kitchen, kids' rooms...

RACHEL:

Now, if I were a science book,

where would I...

And stops. At the doorway of the master bedroom.

RACHEL:

Who am I kidding.

And goes straight to Jackie's desk. Starts rummaging through the

incredibly neat stack of papers...

RACHEL:

Great, I'm leaving prints.

The open appointment book. Today's date. Just says, NEW YORK.

Nothing more. Opens a drawer. Stapler, clips, neatly-stacked

stationery. Opens the bottom drawer, and...

...stops. She pulls out...AIRLINE TICKETS. Opens the folder.

Continental Airlines. Newark to San Francisco. And tucked

inside...

...a fax, neatly folded. Rachel opens it. The letterhead says,

NORTH POINT PRESS, 134 Sutter Street, San Francisco, California.

CHARLENE DRUMMOND, Editor.

RACHEL:

(reads)

Jackie. Can't wait to see you here.

I know you're anxious. But it's going

to work out wonderfully, I promise.

Til then. Charlie.

HOLD on Rachel. Trying to put this together.

INT. JACKIE'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

Jackie takes a kettle from the stove. Pours the water into a tea

cup. Then, fills a second cup. Drops a tea bag into each.

Carries both cups to...

...the kitchen table. Where Rachel is waiting. She looks more

than tense. Actually, scared. Jackie taking this in, as she sets

down the tea.

JACKIE:

Okay, what is this? If you want to

dump Luke on me, no sale. You're

stuck with him.

And before she can sit...

RACHEL:

I know your secret.

Jackie FREEZES. To stone. No one says anything. Two hearts

beating at red-line.

JACKIE:

I don't know wh...

RACHEL:

I was looking for Annabelle's book,

and I found your tickets. And the

note. From your new boss.

My what? Jackie leans forward. Her hands resting on the back of

the chair she never sat in.

JACKIE:

My boss.

RACHEL:

You're not working at Random House,

I talked to them.

JACKIE:

You WHAT?

RACHEL:

You're taking the kids. And moving

to San Francisco.

And Jackie has to laugh. Cold. Bitter.

RACHEL:

Look, you've never liked me...

JACKIE:

Don't flatter yourself.

RACHEL:

And I know checking into your life

was inexcusable...

JACKIE:

Nobody likes a snoop.

RACHEL:

But I came here to...

All the air comes out of this young woman. so vulnerable, so real.

RACHEL:

...to beg you. Not to do it.

And at this. A look of intense interest crosses Jackie's face.

Really?

JACKIE:

I'd have thought this was the

answer to your prayers. Lose the

witch, and her two brats, in one

swoop. Problems solved.

Rachel is clearly distraught. This is no act.

RACHEL:

You can't take Luke's children

away from him.

Jackie thinking. Reading this girl's face.

JACKIE:

Bi-coastal parenting. Happens every

day. Luke gets the kids every other

summer, every other holiday, it's not

ideal, but people make it work, and...

RACHEL:

(blurts)

We can't live like that.

And Jackie straightens. C*cks her head.

JACKIE:

Did I hear the word...

RACHEL:

Luke. Can't live like that.

Ah.

JACKIE:

Then let him talks to me. We don't

need you to solve our prob...

RACHEL:

(quietly)

...it's my problem, too.

And Rachel's eyes. Fill with tears. She hates that. Jackie won't

take her off the hook. Stands waiting, until...

RACHEL:

I got used to...thinking of them.

As...my kids too.

JACKIE:

Really. By what right? Six months

of part-time screw-ups?

Rachel lifts her chin. Defiant and tender at once.

RACHEL:

No right at all. I just love them.

Now it's Jackie's eyes. That begin to fill. And she hates that

even more.

RACHEL:

(pleading)

There's so many publishing houses

in New York. Surely, you could find

a good one?

Jackie takes a step back. Shakes her head. Goddammit, life is

full of surprises. She walks around in a little circle. Turns

back...

JACKIE:

Sure, I could. If I was looking

for one.

Rachel's turn to be surprised. Confused.

JACKIE:

You're a moron, kid. You guessed

the wrong secret.

An odd, almost defiant look. Jackie reaches up to her own head,

and...

...slowly, holding eye contact all the way, she slips the wig from

her head. Her scalp covered by the partial regrowth that chemo-

therapy has left her. You can hear Rachel's GASP clear to Kansas.

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