The Second Page #3

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Oh, look at her.

She loves an audience.

- You're very protective of her.

- Somebody has to be.

I can control myself.

That's interesting, 'cause most

men prefer her, you know.

My father, for one.

He called her

his little bellbird.

And that makes you angry?

You'd love that, wouldn't you?

Next minute,

we'll be mud-wrestling.

It shouldn't, you know. You have

everything and she has nothing.

OK, so...

..you've got to jam it

into your shoulder really tight.

Now, don't focus on the tip

of the barrel - focus here.

- Got it?

- I got it!

Listen, I'm sorry about before.

- I like the pages, OK?

- No, you don't.

Anyway, it's OK. They're sh*t.

Come on.

F***!

- Attaboy!

- Let me.

Told you -

it's all in the shoulder.

What happened to your foot?

I just stepped on

a piece of glass. It's nothing.

You're in the wars, aren't you?

Don't worry, I'll protect you.

Do you know why Butch Cassidy

likes to throw snakes?

- There's history.

- Yep, there certainly is.

- We were 14...

- We were here.

Just as we are now.

Sunny, his younger brother, was

standing over there on the shore

and he tried to swim out to us.

But he didn't make it.

- Actually, he...

- He drowned.

He just drowned?

You couldn't jump in

and save him?

Doesn't seem like it's that far.

We tried, but... No, it all just

happened so quickly.

Well, that's the story.

No, it's not just a story.

It's a statement of fact.

You know, I gave a statement

to the police.

Father helped us sort it out.

So you knew him.

What?

The other day on the road,

when we arrived.

You acted like you didn't

know him, but you did.

You know,

if I remember correctly,

I was protecting you

from yourself.

"You know why...

"..he likes to throw snakes?

"Because there's history."

F*** you!

What are you doing?

You have such expensive taste.

Let me see. Um...

What about this one?

It's expensive.

You're angry.

No.

It's McQueen.

You should have it.

It's gonna look better on you

anyway.

Thanks.

Nice dress.

Does she know you have it?

Now, what's the one thing that

you want to see most of all?

I don't have time for games.

Think about it, fanboy.

I know where all the bodies

are buried.

Oh, God, that smell.

It's exactly the same.

I can feel him

watching us.

I can too.

Why are the windows

all boarded up?

I don't know. It was probably

done after his death.

Keep out the elements, fans.

- Like a shrine?

- More like a tomb.

Ah!

Look.

My youth.

- So it's true.

- What's true?

- You were his favourite.

- Why do you say that?

That's him in the reflection,

right?

He always said

I was destined for greatness.

Stupidly, I believed him.

You're a waitress, aren't you?

I got fired,

so technically I'm nothing.

I'm sure

you're good at something.

Yeah.

Living in the shadow

of greatness.

There is no sun without shadow.

Camus said that.

F*** Camus.

Yeah. F*** Camus.

Although she would

agree with him.

So would the old man.

He used his...

sunny powers of celebrity

to help us with

the dead boy problem.

What are you saying?

- What, he lied for you?

- El scandalo.

She said it was an accident.

You said it was an accident.

She avoided the question.

What are you doing?

I'm shining light

on the shadow of greatness.

So, if it wasn't an accident...

..what happened?

Why don't you ask her?

And while you're at it...

..ask her about her memoir.

For someone who trades in lies,

you're pretty dim.

Are you saying

she didn't write the book?

Tap-tap-tap on the keyboard.

Hmm?

Pretty easy to make that sound.

You're un-f***ing-believable.

- Don't you laugh at me.

- Look at you.

You're wearing her dress,

claiming her story.

- F*** you.

- You even tried to hit on me.

- I don't want you.

I want you to get the f*** out

before I smash

your f***ing face in.

Get the f*** out.

I don't believe it.

Good, because it's not true.

- She's jealous of you.

- She always has been.

I said to you, don't trust her.

But no, you're like

a cartoon wolf.

It's not my fault

her life's a f***ing mess.

The hangovers, the losers!

And then, just when she thinks

something's going to happen...

Franklin...

Sunny.

Hello?

Hello?

What do you want?

Hey, I...I don't want a fight.

Seems like you do.

Just trying to figure out

the truth.

About?

Your brother.

I think she's writing about him.

It's a free country.

Did he drown in the lake?

Do you know why

we called him Sunny?

He was f***in' terrified

of water. He couldn't swim.

Like the Sundance Kid.

That was his nickname.

I should've been there for him.

How much justice can you afford?

That's how it goes round here.

Didn't you get the memo?

Jogging can kill.

I'm heading back to the city.

What? What's wrong now?

- Just confused.

- About?

Us. You. Everything.

You know, I can't believe

you're still going on about it.

I spoke with Butch Cassidy.

So?

He tells me

his brother couldn't swim.

If he couldn't swim,

what was he doing in the water?

He was a horny boy.

I don't know.

What happened to the kid?

You know what?

Maybe I need

a different publisher,

one that believes in me.

Why don't you stay out here?

I hope a snake does bite you.

Ever heard the expression

"A work of art is a confession?"

No.

Guess who said that.

Fortune cookie?

Albert Camus. I'm surprised

you didn't know that.

Yeah, well, f*** Camus.

Why would I write a confession

and hide it in a story?

I don't know. That's what

I'm trying to get straight.

Well, it wouldn't be much

of a confession, would it?

Not unless

there's another reason.

But then,

you don't kiss and tell.

- Well, that depends.

- On?

The kiss.

"I was in Moscow after Glasnost.

"Such wealth and poverty,

"all entirely without rules.

"A powder keg of depravity.

"I was staying in a hostel

"near the train station.

"I'd run out of money,

knew no-one.

"But I thought, a girl like me

can always find

"the sharp edge of a knife."

So I found an underground club.

It was some abandoned remnant

of a hotel -

it was full of oligarchs

and hookers.

The Hotel Rossiya.

I danced and I drank

whatever they gave me.

And then I wasn't in

the Hotel Rossiya anymore...

..and I wasn't dancing.

When I woke up,

all I could see was a forest.

Trees and shadows.

There were lots of shadows

moving around me,

with torchlights.

And they were

pushing me forward.

One of them, he took my hand.

The other, he stripped me naked.

He forced me onto the ground

and he spread my legs.

My whole body burned

from the fallen needles

of the fir trees.

They were cutting into my skin.

And then I felt

the first shadow.

And then when he finished,

the next started.

And then the next.

The funny thing was,

I wasn't thinking...

I thought, "This isn't an orgy.

This isn't rape.

"This isn't dirt in my mouth.

This is theatre.

"I need to play my part

and play it well."

So I stared straight into those

flashlights and I didn't flinch.

It's so hard to imagine

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