sylus's band comes to spaceland

Here's the next installment. I actually have 26 pages already written, but I figured it might be fun to post segments. Here you go, and Merry Christmas. :)

EXT. THE SHORTSTOP - BACK PATIO -- NIGHT

Greta places a fat garbage bag gingerly into the dumpster and stands there a second, brushing off her hands, looking around. The night is quiet now. She leans against the chain-link fence that pens in the tiny smoking area.

She looks up at the sky.

ALEX
Greta! Greta, where the hell is the close-out sheet?

Greta draws a deep breath and goes back in slowly.

EXT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL - SAN FRANCISCO -- NIGHT

Sylus and Tim carry out BAND EQUIPMENT, looking hot and sweaty, as a small crowd stands around, watching them with mild interest. Micah follows with DRUM CASES. A LOCAL GUY, (20's), wearing a hoodie under a blazer, stops him.

LOCAL GUY
Hey, what band are you guys?

MICAH
(encouraged)
The Lake. We're from Portland.

LOCAL GUY
Oh, okay, so what time do The Warlocks go on?

MICAH
(slightly annoyed)
Oh, I don't know.

He slides the drums into the back of the van, as Sylus stands there, stretching. Tim sits on the bumper.

MICAH
What do you think?

SYLUS
I kept sweating into my eyes.

MICAH
It's fucking hot in there!

TIM
Micah, go get people to sign the mailing list.

MICAH
No, Tim, I'm tired. Nobody cares anyway.

SYLUS
How do you know? How do you know they're not just playing it cool?

TIM
You always do the mailing list.

MICAH
(grumbling)
I just wanna get to L.A. and do the Long Wolf show.

Sylus and Tim gaze at him together, with a baleful expression. It's a look they've obviously practiced.

MICAH
(mildly annoyed)
...Shit, man...

He walks back in with his head down and Sylus and Tim grin at each other.

TIM
Do you think we pick on him?

SYLUS
(serious)
He's right though. Nobody cares.

He scratches his head and then slams the van door shut. He starts walking back towards the club entrance, his expression weary.

TIM
(following him)
Good shows and bad shows, Sylus, you know that. It's not a big deal.

SYLUS
Maybe not for you...

CUT TO:

INT. BOTTOM OF THE HILL -- CONTINUOUS

They step inside the dark venue and Tim looks at Sylus quizzically.

TIM
What are you talking about? Your dad?

Sylus steps up to the bar and gestures to the BARTENDER. Tim settles calmly onto a barstool next to him.

TIM
So you're the black sheep, so what. There's something impressive about that.

SYLUS
(to bartender)
A Red Stripe and a Guinness.

BARTENDER
A red what?

Sylus looks back at Tim.

SYLUS
Just a Heineken.

SYLUS
(to Tim)
I wish my granddad was still around, man. I'm getting tired of lugging his stupid guitar around, pretending he's watching.

TIM
You love that guitar.

They hear LAUGHTER and both notice Micah further down the bar, talking to some GIRLS and gesturing with a clipboard.

SYLUS
Don't let him fall in love again. Remember last time? At the Alehouse?

Tim accepts his Guinness and gives Sylus a scornful look.

TIM
That was you.

Sylus breaks into a grin and drinks his beer.

TIM
We just gotta keep plugging away. What were we talking about the other day, the music blogs? We gotta jump on that wagon.

Sylus laughs.

SYLUS
No way, I hate those kids. They're not even musicians, they just think they're fuckin' definitives on music.
(beat)
It's like they pick a band and decide they're gonna talk about them until they get signed.

Micah approaches them with a big smile.

TIM
Well, let's get picked. I'm sure they'll all be at the Long Wolf show.

Micah holds up the clipboard and there are seven email addresses written down.

SYLUS
You're a rockstar, son.

MICAH
The blonde and the redhead want to party with us.

The other two look startled. Groupies are obviously an unfamiliar thing.

SYLUS
What? Where?

TIM
They do?

MICAH
So I said we were one-third married and two-thirds tired and hungry, so maybe next time.

Sylus stares at him and Tim starts laughing. He wiggles his ring finger, revealing which third he is.

SYLUS
...You're not a rockstar, Mic.

MICAH
(yawning)
The blonde was all right but the redhead was really annoying. She said we sound like The Gin Blossoms...

TIM
(aghast)
We do not sound like The Gin Blossoms!

MICAH
I don't even know who that is.

SYLUS
(grinning)
Let's go.

EXT. CLUB SPACELAND - SILVER LAKE, CA -- NIGHT

A huge line of people snakes down the sidewalk from the unassuming venue with its small marquee. The large black letters read: FRIDAY LONG WOLF ALBUS THE LAKE

Greta stands in line with PETER (24), painfully thin with glasses and messy hair. He carries a notebook. Greta's hair is tied up into two knots at the back of her head and she wears a tanktop with black and white stripes. Her camera hangs from her wrist.

She looks happy and excited, in her element.

PETER
(reading marquee)
The Lake? How dare they?

GRETA
Maybe they're trying to get our attention.

PETER
Maybe we shouldn't flatter ourselves.

GRETA
I heard they're friends with Albus.

PETER
Must be Oregonians then. Look, there's Justine and Anders.

A handsome, fashionable looking COUPLE heads towards the end of the line and the four of them all wave to each other.

GRETA
(moving up in line)
Are they friends now?

PETER
Yeah, but I heard they still broke up the band.

GRETA
Oh no.

PETER
Never, never, start a band with your significant other. You might as well get a tattoo of their name.

They reach the door and show their IDs.

CUT TO:

INT. CLUB SPACELAND ENTRANCE -- CONTINUOUS

Peter gives their names to a jaded-looking GIRL behind a small desk. Greta shows her a photo pass.

MAIN ROOM

Sylus and Micah set up Micah's drum kit, the venue's signature silver curtains shimmering behind them. Tim messes with the bass amp and YELLS something towards the SOUNDMAN across the floor.

CHRISTIAN (33), tall and lanky with a beard and a floppy ski cap, stands off to one side, watching them.

MICAH
Who is that?

SYLUS
Long Wolf's singer.

MICAH
(startled)
Why is he watching us?

SYLUS
(shrugs)
Maybe we're his favorite band.

Micah laughs and plays the punchline beat on the drums. Tim looks up at him, with a fake scowl.

TIM
I told you never to do that.

MICAH
I can't help it. It was funny, and the drums are right here.

Sylus steps over to Christian and offers his hand.

SYLUS
Hey, I'm Sylus.

CHRISTIAN
(absently)
Oh, hi, I'm Christian. Are you Scott's friends?

SYLUS
Yeah, I went to school with him, before they moved down here. Back when they were "The Albus Band."

Christian laughs, a little derisively.

CHRISTIAN
Editing, my friend. It's so important. What are you called again?

SYLUS
The Lake.

CHRISTIAN
See then, you know. There's nothing extraneous about that one. Although you could always drop the article. I'm off to the bar! Happy playing.

He wonders off and Sylus turns to look at Tim and Micah.

TIM
So what's the handshake of Long Wolf like?

SYLUS
Kind of cold and limp.

Micah plays the punchline beat again and they both glare at him, as people start to filter in through the club doors. Micah holds up his hands, as if to say "What??"

in which we meet sylus platt and greta anders

So I promised I'd put up some excerpts from the script about the blogger and the musician... I realize that was ages ago, but here are my excuses:

First of all, I lost the plot trail for awhile there and wasn't sure where I was going with it, (as you do), and then I managed to lose the disc for my screenwriting program, which was pretty old school and wouldn't run without the disc inserted. So that was fun. It wasn't that I was just too lazy to write it in Word - I couldn't even open the file. So I had to buy it again online and all...

But anyway, here you go. Don't try anything funny, I mail everything to myself for poor man's copyright purposes. LOL. Any suggestions for the small town outside of Portland?

FADE IN:

EXT. PLATT HOUSE - SMALL TOWN OUTSIDE PORTLAND, OR -- FOGGY EARLY MORNING

SYLUS PLATT (28) stands in the front doorway, tired, gazing out over the yard. He is a charmingly lost soul, tall and thin, a sweet expression belied by tattooed arms and a short scraggly beard.

In the yard, MICAH JONES (23) and TIM WILDER (33) load up a beat-up old van with some meager BAND EQUIPMENT. Micah, super skinny with bushy hair, throws an armful of cords into the van and turns to squint up at Sylus.

MICAH
Well you're up early, aren't you?

SYLUS
Going on tour, son.

Micah grins.

MICAH
I could eat a horse.

Tim, heavy-set with a full beard and baseball cap, slams the van doors closed and brushes his hands off.

TIM
Not me. I ate a good breakfast.

He smiles cheerfully and Micah laughs. Sylus shakes his head and steps off the porch. His father, PLATT (60's), comes to the door and looks down at them.

PLATT
You boys taking off now?

They all wave, getting into the van, Tim in the driver's seat. Platt stands watching them in his flannel shirt and heavy beard, a gruff-looking man who has never understood his son.

PLATT
(calling)
You fix that axle, son?

SYLUS
Yes sir!

They start the engine and Platt comes down to the passenger side window, where Sylus looks out at him hopelessly.

SYLUS
We're taking off now, Dad.

PLATT
(kindly)
Don't fool around too much, boys. Just get your business done and head back.

SYLUS
That's right, Dad.

TIM
Thanks for seeing us off, Mr. Platt!

Micah waves from the back. Platt stands there a moment, trying to think what to say.

PLATT
(to Sylus)
I guess your Granddad would be proud.

Sylus looks away and Tim steers the van across the dirt driveway, out onto the road. Around them, the Platts' land spreads out, green and damp, DEEP WOODS circling behind the house, extending as far as the eye can see.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN LOS ANGELES SKYLINE -- DAY

A thin line of smog extends as far as the eye can see.

INT. GRETA'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM -- DAY

GRETA ANDERS (26) sits on her couch, gazing out her large window. She is small and thin with doe-ish eyes and flaxen blond hair, twisted up behind her head. She looks like she is trying to remember something.

A tiny, slightly messy LIVING ROOM encircles her, with stacks of books and cds and a COMPUTER MONITOR lit up with ITUNES. PHOTOGRAPHS are stuck up in random places.

The phone RINGS on the windowsill and she picks it up.

GRETA
Hey.

PETER
Greta. You did read it, right?

GRETA
Yes, yes, I read it. It's good, I like it!

PETER
Really? Really, right? Because you know I spent all night writing it, Tuesday.

GRETA
Yes, I know, Peter. I could actually tell, haha.

PETER
Haha.

GRETA
(laughs for real)
I'm just kidding, it is good, I like it.

PETER
Okay, cause I was thinking maybe it could be a column that we run on a regular basis? You know, it's like this analysis of what is "cool," just kind of like a deconstruction of what is cool, you know what I mean? The hipsters'll love it.

GRETA
Peter, you are a hipster!

PETER
Well, yeah, that's how I know!

Greta shakes her head. She gets up and looks at her iTunes library. A small CAMERA rests next to the keyboard of her computer.

GRETA
So a column, huh? We've never really had a column...

PETER
I know, but it could be a new thing! I don't know, you think Simon and Anne would mind? You could give them more of the live reviews. I mean I don't have to see every shitty band that puts us on the guestlist...

GRETA
I don't know, I'll ask them.

PETER
Although I'm eternally grateful you got us both in for Long Wolf.

GRETA
You're welcome.

She clicks on a track on the computer and BAND OF HORSES's "The Great Salt Lake" starts up.

PETER
Great, cool, thanks, Greta. Hey, so guess what?

GRETA
(walking towards the kitchen)
What?

PETER
I'm a columnist now.

Greta laughs.

PETER
I'm living the dream.

GRETA
You should call your mom.

EXT. THE SHORTSTOP - ECHO PARK -- NIGHT

The dark building juts out on a street corner with a neon sign above the door that reads only COCKTAILS. People straggle in, talking, pass the doorman LEROY (30's), black, heavyset with a patient expression.

A small group stands outside SMOKING.

INT. THE SHORTSTOP -- CONTINUOUS

The inside is large and dark with a cluster of people at the bar, and doorways on either side to separate rooms. Greta and ALEX (29) work at the bar while music from a JUKEBOX in the corner plays overhead. The music is a mix of old soul or country hits with indie rock in between.

Alex, wearing a band tee shirt and a constant irritated expression, is quick and efficient - Greta appears awfully short on their side of the bar and moves slowly, but she is friendlier with the customers.

One of them is LAUREN (20's), a tall, loud girl with dyed black, messy hair and big jewelry.

LAUREN
Greta! I didn't know you were working tonight!

GRETA
Hey Lauren. Yeah, I switched with Beth.

LAUREN
God, that girl has so much drama going on! So much drama.

GRETA
(only mildly interested)
Really? What's going on?

LAUREN
God, she didn't tell you?

A GUY with messy hair and a trucker cap cuts in.

TRUCKER CAP GUY
Hey, can I get a Pabst?

Lauren looks at him critically and then rolls her eyes at Greta. Greta nods and gets the drink for him as his FRIENDS crowd in and start TALKING LOUDLY. Lauren leans across the bar.

LAUREN
Can you believe there's someone here in a trucker hat?

Greta grins and opens the beer.

LAUREN
I mean, really. Does everyone have to come here now?

Alex stands near them, annoyed, shoving his hair back.

ALEX
It's way too fucking crowded.

LAUREN
I mean, come on! This used to be our bar! We need to get on Leroy,
(gestures at the door)
and get him to be a little more selective...

GRETA
(surprised)
Then we'd be Hollywood!

LAUREN
What are you talking about, Hollywood lets everyone in these days.

GRETA
Oh, I guess I haven't been there in awhile.

She gives the guy his drink and takes his money.

LAUREN
Ha! But anyway, Greta, what happened with Beth -

A couple of LAUREN'S FRIENDS join her at that moment and she gives a little SHRIEK, hugging them.

LAUREN
Ricky! Julie!

The little group CHATTERS there, blocking a few other patrons from getting to the bar, so Greta moves down and takes a few more drink orders.

MILES (23), thin and underaged-looking, with a short beard and glasses, perches his elbows on the edge of the bar and gives Greta a little wave.

GRETA
Hey Miles!

MILES
Hi. How's the blogging?

He speaks a little effeminately.

GRETA
Good. How's the band?

MILES
Oh, you know, still quietly enjoying obscurity.

Greta laughs.

GRETA
Jamison, right?

MILES
(beaming)
That's it.

She pours him the whiskey.

MILES
So you're going to the Long Wolf show, right? Taking pictures?

GRETA
Yeah, their manager set up an interview with us.

MILES
(sipping his drink)
Lucky! I'll be paying my $15 with the rest of the rabble.

GRETA
$15! Can you believe that? They used to play Monday nights at The Echo.

MILES
Last time we ever saw them for free.
(he drinks)
You played a part in that, you know that, right?

Greta has obviously considered it, but feels guilty at the thought. She scratches her head.

GRETA
I guess we did write about them a lot.

MILES
Oh, don't underplay it! The Lake gave them a feature every other week! You singlehandedly created a buzz that's currently allowing those guys to quit their day jobs.

Greta notices a gesture from another PATRON and nods at him.

GRETA
(repeating)
Heineken? Okay...

MILES
Well, I'll see you next week then. Cheers.

He raises his glass and timidly pushes away from the bar.

GRETA
(calls after him)
Don't believe everything we print, Miles!

He disappears into the crowd.