The Clientele

FADE IN:

EXT. CITY STREETS – NIGHT – ESTABLISHING

Couples link arms as they exit a dimly lit restaurant along a shopping mall strip. A few passersby stroll along the sidewalk.

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT

Draped in a long overcoat with thick black sunglasses and a fedora, SHELLEY KAFKA, 37, leans against a brick building. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and dials the number of her most prominent client, SPECTACLE, 31, but immediately ends the call upon seeing him pull up to the curb.

SHELLEY
Where the hell have you been?

SPECTACLE
(Distracted)
I had an appointment. C’mon, let’s get this over with.

SHELLEY
Get this over with?! You’re the one who wanted to get it started in the first place! Mr. “I-gotta-be-a-goddamn-superstar” and all. I mean, Jesus, Spec.

SPECTACLE
Cut the crap, Shell. Will you just gimme it already? It’s easy. You give it to me, I give you cash, we leave. Separately and un-suspiciously. Like nothing ever happened.


SHELLEY
Whoa, whoa, whoa. You think it’s easy, hotshot?

SPECTACLE
That’s not what I meant, Shell—

SHELLEY
Oh, I’m taking it like that, pal.

SPECTACLE
Shelley, really. This’ll take two seconds. Look, if you want, I can take you out for a sundae or something after. Incognito if you want.

SHELLEY
Why the hell would I want ice-cream with you?! Are you pulling my leg?

SPECTACLE
No, actually I was being serious, Shell. My treat.

SHELLEY
Would you quit it with the fucking ice-cream already?! Can’t we just get this over with? Jesus, I feel like we’ve been here all night.

Shelley snaps her fingers and Spectacle robotically hands her a menthol cigarette from a stash in his pocket. He lights it for her as they walk to his “station” in the midst of other dealers and their clientele.

SHELLEY
Hey, Spec, you’ve never taken me back here before, have you? (Pauses) Kinda nice not being by all that noise.

SPECTACLE
Noise? What noise?! Shelley, we keep things on the DL around here. You of all people oughta know that. I mean, it’s the friggin’ black market, Shell. We don’t just go around showing it off every chance we get.

SHELLEY
Are you implying something by that?

SPECTACLE
No. What in the world would I be “implying”?

SHELLEY
That I’m a fucking show off, that’s what. (Pauses) You WERE hinting at that, weren’t you? I can see it on your goddamn face!

SPECTACLE
Dammit, Shell. Why do you always have to make everything so complicated? This really isn’t that difficult.

SHELLEY
Spec, you wouldn’t know what difficult was if it hit you smack dab in the middle of your forehead.

SPECTACLE
(Looks at his watch)
Enough is enough. Just gimme the goods, Shelley.

SHELLEY
Promise me you won’t take me out for ice-cream?

SPECTACLE
Yeah, whatever. I promise.

SHELLEY
Goddammit, Spec. Can’t you give it a little more feeling than that?

SPECTACLE
Shelley Kafka, I vow never to take you out for an ice-cream sundae after a transaction ever again.

SHELLEY
Nicely put. Here.

She slips a sealed jar into Spectacle’s cupped hands.

SHELLEY (CONT’D)
Be nice to it. That one played hard to get. (Pauses) You can pay me next week.

Shelley turns around, headed for the parking garage nearby. Remembering she forgot to tell Spectacle something, she peers over her shoulder.

SHELLEY (CONT’D)
Hey, send me a check, would ya? I like PayPal too.

Shelley turns back around and continues walking, leaving Spectacle dumbstruck in the middle of clients and dealers with a vocal chord in a jar in his hands.

INT. SHELLEY’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

Thirteen cats—some kittens, some full grown and hidden—roam a barely decorated studio apartment, complete with generic vinyl floors and a faux granite bar in the kitchen. Clothes are strewn about a cheap velour couch, a stack of records sits in the corner next to the television, and the key rack in the front entryway is missing a set of keys.

A tired-eyed and weary Shelley unlocks the door to the apartment, throws her keys onto the counter, and slips off her flats by a stool at the bar. She makes her way into the bedroom and collapses onto the bed.

SHELLEY
Hey, sorry I’m late. I promise we’ll go out tomorrow, okay? Promise. Pinky swear even. (Holds out her pinky, but after hearing no response lets it drop to her side) Nel? (Rolling over to face his empty place beside her) Nelson. (Holding her hand up to her forehead) Uh-uh. Not happening, Shell. Not happening. (Pauses) Oh, fuck you. It is too happening. (Pauses) Shit, it’s happening!

Shelley shuffles into the kitchen, grabs the phone off the wall, and dials Nelson’s cell phone number.

SHELLEY
Nel, it’s me. Please pick up. God, pick up. (Pauses) Anyway, listen. I don’t know where you are, but just come back, okay? So... Yeah, night I guess. Love you to infinity and be—

The phone cuts Shelley off. She sighs and hangs up, but stays frozen in place, staring at the countertop. Despite her plea, she knows Nelson won’t return.

Shelley opens the refrigerator and snaps off a banana from the bunch sitting on an otherwise empty center shelf. She bites off the tip in frustration, then spits the entire piece into the kitchen sink.

SHELLEY
Screw Nel.

Shelley turns on the garbage disposal, waits a moment, and then turns it off. Realizing how tired she is, she removes her overcoat and curls up on the floor, immediately falling fast asleep.

She awakes to the sound of the six o’clock news. Nelson is bent over the stack of records by the television, oblivious to Shelley’s waking up. Thinking he is home for good, Shelley starts to make a caramel macchiato for him, until Nelson finally realizes she’s awake and turns off the television. He hastily heads for the front door with a record in his hands.

SHELLEY
(Confused)
Um, hey, aren’t you... gonna stay for a—

NELSON
(Abruptly interrupting her)
I forgot this, sorry.

He holds up a Prince album.

Upon seeing this, Shelley freezes by her place at the coffeemaker and glares menacingly at Nelson.

SHELLEY
(Shouting)
PURPLE RAIN ISN’T YOURS, GODDAMMIT! IT’S MINE!

Nelson leaves the apartment and slams the door shut behind him, taking Shelley’s album with him.

SHELLEY
The rat. I hope he gets run over by Prince on his way home.

She laughs at this as she returns to her bedroom, falling back asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

EXT. STARBUCKS – DAY

Shelley sits in front of her Mac, scrolling through dozens of files of client contact information. Despite the sun, she looks as if she could care less what the weather is. Instead, she focuses solely on her work while alternating between a sweetened black tea lemonade and a Newport cigarette.

Inside, RAUL GOMEZ, 34, sits in a plush armchair in the corner, searching for change. His square-framed glasses slip slightly down his nose as he fumbles through his wallet. Moments later, having found enough, he heads for the register up front. Raul grabs a blackberry Izze and places it on the counter.

JENNA
Is that gonna be it for you today, sir?

There is a long pause. Raul begins counting on his fingers as if making a checklist in his head.

RAUL
Yeah, that’s it.

JENNA
(Raising an eyebrow)
Are you sure?

RAUL
No— Yeah, I mean, yeah, yeah I’m sure.

JENNA
Then that’s... (Looking down at the register) Two ninety-eight.

Raul dumps what change he can find onto the counter while the cashier, JENNA, 18, looks on, embarrassed.

RAUL
I, I’m sorry. IIII don’t know if, if that’s enough.

He starts to look for more change. Jenna becomes agitated as more customers are now standing in line behind Raul.

JENNA
(Biting)
You know what? Don’t even worry about it. (Rolls her eyes) Have a nice day.

RAUL
(Smiling)
Hey, thanks. Thanks a lot.

Raul goes outside, taking a seat at a table near Shelley on an otherwise empty patio. His cell phone rings. Raul answers it, but only because his boss is calling.

RAUL
(Awkward and slightly uncomfortable)
Uhh, hey... I’m... at Starbucks. Yeah, about that... IIII, don’t really remember her name. (Pauses) Oh, yeah, I—I guess that would be okay. I mean, when would III, have to pick it up? (Takes out a ballpoint pen and begins writing on a napkin) Yep, I’ve got it down, Don. I'll... meet her there. Remind me what this is for again? (Pauses) Oh. Right. Listen, I’ll bring it by... tomorrow. Yep. Bye.

Shelley overhears Raul on the phone. As he hangs up, she lights another cigarette and makes her way over to an empty chair at his table.

SHELLEY
You know, you remind me of someone.

RAUL
(Puzzled)
Are, are you... saying something? To... ME?!

SHELLEY
I sure am. (Pauses) You know, when I was little, I used to watch this film with my folks. Annie Hall. Ever seen it?

RAUL
Uhh... yeah. I think, I think I know the one. I’ve always, kind of... Don’t, don’t laugh, okay?

SHELLEY
(Holding up her hand as if pledging)
Scout’s honor.

RAUL
Well, IIII... Always felt like her as a, as a kid, you know? Kind of a, an orphan.

SHELLEY
Whoa now, buddy. I’m sorry to hear that and all, but I think we’re on two different pages here.

Raul hits his hand to his forehead, blushing and embarrassed, but secretly still unaware of what “film” Shelley is referring to.

RAUL
Did I, did I really just do that? (Laughs) I, I’m so sorry. (Pauses, looking up towards the sky, then suddenly speaking with confidence) Yeah, actually, I DO know that movie. Annie... Annie Hall, right?

SHELLEY
(Thinking aloud to herself)
He reminds me a little of Alvy, Shell. (To Raul) You know, you kinda remind me of Alvy.

RAUL
I, I haven’t seen it in a while, Sh— What’d you say your, uh, your name was again?

SHELLEY
I didn’t. But it’s Shelley. (Shakes Raul’s hand) Shelley Kafka. And come on, you said you knew that one! Annie Hall? Directed and co-written by Woody Allen?

Raul takes a long pause, thinking hard.

SHELLEY (CONT’D)
You mean to tell me you were, I don’t know, LYING before?! Jesus Christ.

RAUL
No, no, I— Well, I mean, I've seen it before, yeah. And, Raul... (Shakes Shelley’s hand in return) Raul. Gomez.

SHELLEY
Well then, nice to meet ya, Raul LIAR.

RAUL
I'm, I’m not lying, Shelley. I, I really have, seen it before. Wait... Shelley, Shelley— Kafka?

SHELLEY
That’s my name, love. Do me a favor and please don’t wear it out.

She smiles at Raul, who glances up at the sky, then down at the scribbled-upon napkin in front of him.

RAUL
Shelley, Shelley Kafka... Hey, you don’t happen to... Where, where do you work?

Shelley is suddenly tense and taps her foot rapidly under the table.

SHELLEY
I'm a, a secretary. For the paper.

RAUL
(Confused)
But my, my boss said...

SHELLEY
(Shouting)
I, I hate it, okay?! (Pauses) Wait, what did your boss say?

RAUL
Well, I’m, I’m running an, an errand for him...

SHELLEY
And?!

RAUL
He, might’ve mentioned you, were an...

SHELLEY
You know, don’t even bother saying it, alright? Yes, I harvest vocal chords for a living.

RAUL
So you’re...

SHELLEY
Not really a secretary? No, not really. But don’t even worry about a thing. I’ll still help you fix that article of yours, Ron.

RAUL
Raul, it’s Raul. And, actually, that really wasn’t what I was about to say.

SHELLEY
Whatever, “Alvy”.

RAUL
Wh-What? What does Alvy Singer even have to, to do with this?!

SHELLEY
Oh, he doesn’t. You just remind me of him. A lot, really.

RAUL
How, how do III remind you of... Alvy Singer?!

SHELLEY
I don’t know, but I bet Robert McKee would agree with me.

RAUL
Robert McKee?! The guy who, who wrote Story? He, he would never in a million years agree with you!

SHELLEY
Oh, shut up. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. He’d say you have the right proportions of wit or something.

RAUL
Like, uhh... Like Alvy, right?

SHELLEY
Yeah, like him. (Pauses) See?! You KNOW he’d agree with me.

RAUL
And, and then what would he say? That, that “Love is pleasure and pain, a, a cruelty we pursue b-because without it life has no meaning"? Don’t, don’t even gimme that. (Pauses) I AM NOT LIIKE ALVY SINGER ANND YOOUU KNOW IT!

SHELLEY
Oh, I know it, huh? You are goddamn full of wit, wise guy.

RAUL
Well, you know, unlike Alvy, I, I’m not trying to, to win you over. (Pauses) We aren’t even in a relationship.

SHELLEY
Well then, maybe it’s the way you talk. You talk kind of like him, you know.

RAUL
Are you saying that I talk funny?

SHELLEY
No! (Pauses) Well, yes, but it’s kinda, oh I don’t know, charming I suppose? Goddammit, I don’t even know if that’s the word I’m looking for...

Shelley pulls another Newport cigarette from her pocket and puts it in her mouth. She finds her lighter and offers it to Raul.

SHELLEY
Do you, do you mind lighting this for me?

He lights the cigarette, shielding it with his hand from the slight breeze.

SHELLEY (CONT’D)
You just seem so... nervous. Like you’ve got as much subtext as Alvy. (Pauses) Do I make you nervous, Raul?

RAUL
Subtext?

SHELLEY
Oh, it’s just McKee’s little way of saying you seem like you’re hiding your true colors. That’s all.

RAUL
Hiding things... (Pauses) Well, I was going to ask you— Earlier. I was going to ask you earlier if you, could help me...

SHELLEY
(Interrupting him)
Help you what?! (Pauses, thinking aloud) Jesus Christ, calm down, Shell. (To Raul) Sorry. What’d you need, hun?

RAUL
(Uneasy)
My boss... He, he just needs a, a— (Pauses) A vocal chord.

Shelley smiles and kisses Raul on the cheek.

SHELLEY
You’re cute, you know that?

RAUL
Ha, I... I just need the eggs.

THE END