Two For The Money

Writers: Dan Gilroy

Genres: Comedy, Drama, Sport, Thriller

 

                                    TWO FOR THE MONEY

                                       Written by

                                       Dan Gilroy



                                                        Final Draft: 10-29-04



               EXT. HOME MOVIE - 1982 - DAY


               A DAD tosses a baseball to his SON.  The boy swings, connects, 
               sends the ball flying.  DAD smiles. 
 
                                     BRANDON LANG'S VOICE
               That's me.  Five years old.  I remember that day.  Believe it 
               or not, I remember that hit.  I remember it because of the smile 
               that spread over my dad's face...
 

               EXT. HOME MOVIE - 1983 - DAY


               BRANDON shooting hoops.  DAD drinks a Bud, frowns as he misses. 
                
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               I would've stood there all day to sink one.  Just to see that 
               smile...  
 

               EXT. HOME MOVIE - 1984 - DAY


               BRANDON runs, wears a too-big helmet and pads.  A DOG chases 
               him as DAD throws a football -- long pass -- TIME SLOWS and --
 
               
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               To pop, sports were a religion.  To me, it was about purity, 
               a place where all wrongs could be made right, or at least temporarily 
               forgotten.  I was going to fill the whole house with trophies 
               for him.  There was no doubt in my mind, I was going to make 
               him happy...
 
               BRANDON catches the ball.  Blinding light, loud CHEERING and 
               --  
 

               EXT. STADIUM - 1999 - NIGHT


               Our eyes adjust to see we're in a STADIUM.  It's a night game. 
                Stands packed.  A PLAY CLOCK fills the SCREEN.  It's the fourth 
               quarter.  Seven seconds left.  Score:  CAL WEST 31 / SOUTH WEST 
               NEVADA UNIVERSITY 27.  A bruised and battered UNLV QUARTERBACK 
               gets a play from the COACH, straps on his helmet as he runs back 
               to the huddle.  The name on the QUARTERBACK'S jersey -- B. LANG. 
                10 exhausted, desperate faces come close, hang on BRANDON'S 
               every word -- 
 
                                     BRANDON
               Last play.  Slant red, right back on two.  On two, Scottie.  
               It's a lock.  A guaranteed TD.  I've already seen it.  So relax. 
                There's nothing to worry about 'cept one thing -- after we win 
               and they're shoving cameras in your faces, I don't want to hear 
               any "Hi moms."  Guys, it's overdone, the fans are tired of it 
               and if you have to thank some one you can just thank me.  See 
               you in the end zone.
 
               The teams breaks, approaches the line.  Loud CROWD roar.

                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               I'd been a quarterback since pee-wee football.  Set high school 
               records.  Won state championships.  I wasn't driven by joy, it 
               wasn't winning as much as terror, pure and simple -- fear of 
               losing.
 
                                     TV ANNOUNCERS
               South West Nevada needs a score.  Seven seconds on the clock. 
                22 yard line.  Win or lose, this has been a spectacular season 
               for Lang.  The big question, should he turn pro now or wait until 
               -- Lang's got the snap--
 
               BRANDON drops back.  A GIANT gets a hand on BRANDON'S jersey. 
                BRANDON pulls free, runs.  OPPONENTS charge his way, BRANDON 
               vaults, sails in the end zone, SCORES.  BRANDON rolls on his 
               back as an OPPOSING PLAYER hurtles in -- mid-air -- unable to 
               stop as -- 300-plus pounds come crashing onto BRANDON'S leg. 
                Sickening sound.  BRANDON clutches his strangely angled limb.
 
               
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               ... My first thought was I can tape it and play next week.  Then 
               I puked.
 
               TEAMMATES surround BRANDON, many turning from the sight and --
 
               

               INT. EMERGENCY ROOM ENTRANCE - NIGHT


               BRANDON'S wheeled in.


               INT. OPERATING ROOM - NIGHT


               SURGEONS regard the leg.  IVs are hooked up.

                                     BRANDON
               What's the rehab time?  

               The SURGEONS talk between themselves, impressed by the break. 
                
 
                                     BRANDON
               When do I play again?

               One DOCTOR examines his x-rays.  BRANDON grabs his smock. 

                                     BRANDON
               The patient's got a question!

               Anesthetic haze.  A wavy world is melting far, far away.

                                     SURGEON VOICEOVER
               Football's done, son...


               INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY


               BRANDON'S in a hospital bed.  Big leg cast.  IV's in each arm. 
               
 
                                     MAN'S VOICE
               Brandon... Brandon, it's me.

               BRANDON opens his eyes, focuses on his FATHER (older, cheap suit, 
               beard stubble, clutching a $2 bouquet of flowers).  
 
                                     BRANDON'S DAD
               You okay?  I saw what happened on the tv.  Helluva thing that 
               happening like that.
 
                                     BRANDON
               (edge)

               What are you doing here?

                                     BRANDON'S DAD
               I brought some flowers.  From downstairs in the shop.  

                                     BRANDON
               (pressing the nurse's call button) 

               No, you gotta go -- where's the nurse? 

                                     BRANDON'S DAD
               I'm thinking of getting into a new program, Brandon.

               A NURSE comes fast through the door, watches unsure --

                                     BRANDON
               Could you get him out, please?  

                                     BRANDON'S DAD
               It's okay, we're fine, I'm his father.

                                     BRANDON
               Just get out!

               BRANDON tries to rise, IV'S coming loose.  The NURSE takes his 
               DAD'S arm, leads him out to the hall. 
 
                                     BRANDON'S DAD
               (pulling away, straightening)

               He didn't recognize me.  Must be all the drugs and all.  Boy's 
               been through a lot.
 
               (handing the NURSE the flowers) 

               If you could put these in some water and leave 'em in his room. 
                Before they die.
 
               BRANDON'S DAD nods thanks, departs down the corridor and --
 
               

               EXT. TRACT HOME - DAY


               Vegas desert.  It's raining.  A SWNU car pulls up.  The COACH 
               helps BRANDON out, on crutches now.  A middle-aged WOMAN and 
               a TEENAGE BOY stand under a rusty awning, waiting to greet him.
 
               
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               It doesn't rain much in the desert.  Maybe it was that, or maybe 
               the look on my mother's face, or how fast coach left after getting 
               me up the steps, but I swore then and there -- no matter what, 
               I'd get back -- I would play again...
 

               INT. UNLV WEIGHT ROOM - 1997 - DAY


               Off-season.  The room's packed.  Loud hip hop plays.  BRANDON 
               limps in on a cane.  Back slaps.  ("B's back!" "The man!")   
                
 
                                     OMIT

               EXT. SOUTH WEST NEVADA UNIVERSITY TRACK - DAY 


               Sprinters dart by.  Here comes BRANDON.  Several months have 
               passed.  Big ass brace on his leg.  A GIRL'S TRACK TEAM bounds 
               past like a herd of gazelles.  BRANDON presses on, possessed.
 
               

               EXT. PRACTICE FIELD - DAY


               The TEAM'S practicing for a new season.  BRANDON'S on the sideline, 
               flanked by the COACH and TEAM DOCTOR.
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               Doc told me it would take years to heal.  One bad hit and it'd 
               be over.  But the team needed me and I had to play to get drafted. 
                I figured I'd take a chance...
 
               BRANDON looks at the field, the PLAYERS, the empty stands and-- 
                
 

               EXT. SOUTH WEST NEVADA UNIVERSITY STADIUM - 1997 - DAY


               CROWDED arena.  Electrifying scene.  BRANDON'S suited on the 
               sidelines.  Kick-off.  A SWNU PLAYER returns the ball.  
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               Every minute of recovery I'd dreamt about this moment.  There 
               were NFL scouts in the stands.  I knew what happened next.
 
               
               BRANDON leads his team onto the field.  Into the huddle --

                                     BRANDON
               Let's ease back into it with our bread 

               and butter -- TD first play.  We're going 

               deep.  Split right.  Deep two on three!

               (coming up to the line)

               Red 38!  Red 28!  Set!  Set--

               BRANDON drops back.  Blitz.  Brandon about to throw when one 
               of his own LINEMEN is knocked into him and -- BRANDON'S off balance. 
                Too much pressure on that leg and in one horrible moment... 
               it buckles.  BRANDON falls.  The play whistled dead.  
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               ...It was over.  I could've gone out with class, a gritty smile 
               and a little wave to the crowd from a stretcher, instead I opted 
               to go psycho on national tv.
 
               The PLAYER who hit him leans down to help.  BRANDON grabs his 
               face mask, starts punching.  Pure rage.  A REFEREE steps in and 
               BRANDON slugs him, slams his face in the turf.  LINEMEN yank 
               BRANDON off as the bloody REF struggles to get free and --
 
               
               TV SCREEN -- jim rome sports show

               A highlight reel plays a tape of the incident -- BRANDON seen 
               struggling with PLAYERS as the roughed-up REF crawls away --
 
               
                                     JIM ROME
               Welcome to the jungle!  Hey clones, do you believe this idiot?! 
                That cannot happen!  This is college football, not the ultimate 
               fighting championship!  What we have here is too much muscle 
               and not  enough brain mass -- this is why we need a life-time 
               ban!  Make an example out of him!  Because the sport deserves 
               better than this!  Talk to me! 
 
               CAMERA PUSHES IN -- ECU on the TV as we hear --

                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               It made all the highlight films.  People wrote editorials.  Overnight 
               I became the poster boy for the "Dark Side of Sports." 
 
               The college yanked my scholarship and I was kicked out of school. 
                The ref piled on, pressed charges.  My probation included counseling.
 
               

               INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE - DAY


               A PSYCHIATRIST faces BRANDON.  A clock ticks in the corner.
 
               
                                     PSYCHIATRIST
               Who did the referee represent, Brandon?

                                     BRANDON
               He represented the nearest guy I could grab.

                                     PSYCHIATRIST
               ... Let's try again.


               INT. WINDOWLESS OFFICE - PRESENT DAY - DAY


               CAMERA moves ceiling level above a dreary space.  Passing over 
               cramped cubicles.  Murmer of voices from each one.  EMPLOYEES 
               seen, all reading phone copy into taping devices.  Sex lines, 
               astrology and get-rich-quick schemes are heard.  
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               Football wasn't a sport, it was my life.  Maybe I couldn't play 
               anymore but I couldn't leave.  So I went with it, 
 
               rode it out.  Then one day, and it didn't

               take long, I woke up at the bottom, and I liked it so much, I 
               stayed for six years.
 
               THE CAMERA stops above BRANDON.  Older.  Scruffier.  He sits 
               in his cubicle under a flickering flourescent light, tossing 
               a weathered football as he reads copy into a recording device. 
               
 
                                     BRANDON
               --You've reached the Jessica Simpson hot line!  Jessica's going 
               to tell you all about Nick's surprise birthday party and her 
               rockin' new panty line at Wal-Mart, but first, here's a little 
               fan trivia to win a VIP Gold Package back stage pass to Jessica's 
               Omnicon Hotels Summer Tour--
 
               A bull-like BOSS appears at BRANDON'S cubicle entry -- 

                                     BOSS
               Got a job for you, Lang.

                                     BRANDON
               I'm in the middle of taping.

                                     BOSS
               Bauer's sick, can't update his betting line.  You know anything 
               'bout sports?
 
                                     BRANDON
               ... Yeah, a little.


               INT. NEIGHBORING CUBICLE - OFFICE - MINUTE LATER


               BRANDON enters a co-worker's cluttered cubicle. 

                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               900 numbers, audio text, the racket had a lot of names.      
                 
 
               Brandon sits at his co-worker's desk.  He picks up the text copy 
               sitting beside the recording device, looks it over -- 
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               This guy's gig was sports handicapping.  Predicting winners for 
               people who bet.  I was supposed to just record his picks.
 
               The thing was, I didn't agree with them.  

               Brandon starts changing game selections, re-writing the copy. 
                
 
                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               My picks went 9-and-1 that weekend.  By football season, the 
               job was mine...
 

               INT. BRANDON'S NEW CUBICLE - SEVERAL MONTHS LATER - DAY


               A football is seen, rising and falling from BRANDON'S cubicle. 
                He tosses the football as he records a new update --
 
                                     BRANDON
               --Kansas City is 7-1 against the point spread versus division 
               opponents coming off a Monday night game.  Take K.C. minus the 
               six points.  Call tomorrow for my pro football game of the year 
               -- Tampa Bay versus Oakland.  That's 900-656-3100.  This is Brandon 
               Lang saying good night and good luck everybody.
 
               BRANDON pops the tape.  Dons an old UNLV windbreaker.  He shoulders 
               a beat-up bike, walks up front, hands the tape to his BOSS.  
               BOSS hands back a paycheck.  Regarding the amount --
 
                                     BRANDON
               I went 9-2 in pro football Sunday and hit my third straight Monday 
               night parlay. 
 
                                     BOSS
               That's what you get paid for.

                                     BRANDON
               I want a raise to 12 bucks an hour.

                                     BOSS
               I don't make 12 an hour.

                                     BRANDON
               You're not picking 75 percent.

                                     BOSS
               If you're so good then bet your own games, get rich and send 
               me a postcard 
 
               from the Riviera.

               BOSS pops BRANDON'S tape in a multi-line answering system and--
 
               

               EXT. LAS VEGAS - DAY


               BRANDON rides a beat-up bike through downtown.


               INT. CASINO - DAY


               BRANDON maneuvers through a bustling casino, enters the SPORTS 
               BETTING ROOM.  He goes to a rack of printed bettling lines for 
               the weekend games, pockets a printed sheet, sees a SUPERVISOR.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               Hey Stu, where's the action this weekend?

                                     SUPERVISOR/STU
               We're getting big money on Tampa/Oakland.  Everyone's jumping 
               on Tampa Bay.  
 
                                     BRANDON
               Crazy.

               Supervisor/stu

               You think?

                                     BRANDON
               That game's gonna be won by coaching, Stu.  Gruden put that Tampa 
               Bay team together before he came to Oakland, right?  He knows 
               every weakness of that team and every strength.  He knows Brown 
               only likes to catch over his left shoulder and he'll have him 
               double-teamed to the right.  He knows Gannon always throws on 
               a 3-step drop and the linebackers will take away the middle of 
               the field.  Gannon'll be intercepted at least 4 times on Sunday. 
               
 
               (STU staring at him, pained look)

               ...You got sucked into Tampa, didn't you?

               (STU manages a nod)

               Stu, how many times do I have to bail you out?  All right, listen, 
               forget the point spread.  Oakland's going to win outright.  Bet 
               the money line and bet big.
 
                                     STU
               Thanks, B.

                                     OMIT

               EXT. BRANDON'S HOUSE - NIGHT


               BRANDON rides up.  His younger brother, DENNY (18, Metallica 
               t-shirt) and some FRIENDS work on an old, bondo-pocked muscle 
               car in the garage.  
 
                                     DENNY
               I scrounged some old headers, B!  Check it out!

               DENNY turns the key.  The car rumbles to life.  He revs the bored-out 
               engine, flashes a shit eating grin.
 
                                     BRANDON
               ... Awesome dude.  That's a righteous ride, Denny.


               INT. BRANDON'S HOUSE - NIGHT


               MOM'S readying for work, dressed in croupier attire, searching 
               for something as BRANDON enters.
 
                                     MOM
               I'm late.  Dinner's in the oven.

               Where the hell's my lucky crucifix?

               BRANDON reaches to a key rack, hands it to her.  She dons it.
 
               
                                     MOM
               Thank God.  A man won 5600 at my table last night.  Tipped me 
               out in color.  I gave it to Denny, help him with college.
 
               BRANDON nods, downs a carton of milk.  MOM about to go.

                                     MOM
               Mail came, letter for you, from Chicago.  

               You just tried out last week.  They got back to you quick.  That's 
               a good sign.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Wanna bet?

                                     MOM
               Open it.

               BRANDON opens it.  Reads.  Words pop out: "Arena Football League"..."We 
               regret to inform you"..."but based on your performance"..."staff 
               declines."  
 
                                     BRANDON
               At least they kicked me a cap.

                                     MOM
               Shit.


               INT. BRANDON'S ROOM - NIGHT


               Filled with exercise equipment.  BRANDON pins the letter to a 
               wall covered by dozens of rejections -- National Football League 
               -- Canadian Football League -- Arena Football League. BRANDON 
               changes into shorts.  And now we see, he's in amazing shape. 
                Could maybe still play pro.  But that two foot scar running 
               the length of his leg makes you wonder.  As BRANDON pumps it 
               out we realize he still has a dream of coming back, a dream we 
               sense by his intensity is fast slipping away and --
 

               EXT. LAS VEGAS - DAWN


               BRANDON pedals to work when his cell phone rings.  Answering:
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               Hello.

                                     MAN'S VOICE
               Brandon!

                                     BRANDON
               Yeah?

                                     MAN VOICEOVER
               Congratulations!  You went 9-2 last Sunday!  20-4 college!  Picking 
               77 percent winners since opening weekend!  I've been following 
               you!  I'm a big fan, Brandon!  A big fan.
 
                                     BRANDON
               How'd you get this number?  If you want picks, call my 900 line.
 
               
                                     MAN VOICEOVER
               What I want, Brandon, is for you to come to New York and work 
               for me.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Who is this?

                                     MAN VOICEOVER
               This is Walter Abrams.  I don't know if you know me but I run 
               the biggest sports service in the country.  Hell, I started the 
               industry.  Ask around.  Ask anyone, 
 
               even that reprobate boss of yours.  It's

               my job to keep track of who's doing what and what you're doing 
               should be rewarded.
 
               Focus, Brandon.  Focus.  One day you'll 

               look back, see this was one of life's defining moments.  Allow 
               me to paint a picture for you.  Right now I'm getting a massage, 
               looking out my window at the greatest city in the world and all 
               I'm asking you to do is come up with a number.  Write down what 
               you make now, cross it out and write what you should be making 
               and then toss in how much it'll take to get you to fly here first 
               class and come work for me -- did I mention free room and board 
               -- and speak up when you've got something to share.
 
               (aside to MASSEUSE)

               Right there.  Yeah.  Deeper.  Yes.  Fuck that hurts.

                                     BRANDON
               Do me a favor and lose my number, I gotta go to work.

               BRANDON hangs up and --


               INT. BRANDON'S CUBICLE DAY


               BRANDON hefts the bike down the hall, reaches his cubicle to 
               find his phone ringing.  Picking up --
 
                                     BRANDON
               Hello.

                                     WALTER VO
               It's me again.  

                                     BRANDON
               This is a joke, right?

                                     WALTER VO
               A joke can be the ultimate intellectual pursuit sometimes.  This? 
                This is just a job offer.  In your top drawer there's an envelope 
               with your name on it.  
 
               BRANDON opens the drawer, pulls an envelope and a ticket.

                                     WALTER VO
               That's travel cash and an airline ticket.  It's not a magic trick, 
               Brandon.  I paid someone to put it there, who incidentally
 
               
               said the place reminded him of a Turkish prison.  I don't have 
               to tell you you're 
 
               wasting your time there, Brandon, unless

               this is a part time gig -- unless you're

               planning some kinda "comeback," in which

               case I request you use a fraction of your 

               talents and weigh the odds of that dream becoming reality.  Two 
               leg fractures?  Passed on by every conceivable team in the league? 
                Any chump can make that call, and anyone who clears the boards 
               the way you do week in and week out should live in a penthouse 
               on Park Avenue -- which is not for you to construe I'm offering 
               that to start, but keep these stats up working for me and I'll 
               have you in one in less than a year.  Unless of course you're 
               a village kind of guy...
 
               BRANDON glances at the old faded football in his back pack.
 
               
                                     WALTER VO
               Run the numbers, do the math.  Hold on a sec--

               Muzak.  BRANDON juggles the phone, searching, finds a pay stub. 
                Amount: $275.00 a week.  BRANDON crosses it out, writes $1000. 
                He crosses that out, writes $1500.  BRANDON pulls a quarter, 
               flips it.  The coin bounces, spins, falls and--
 

               EXT. JFK MOVING WALKWAY - DAY


               BRANDON hefts a duffel bag -- sees an ASIAN DRIVER, chauffeur 
               uniform, mirrored shades, holding a sign reading B. LANG and 
               --
 

               INT. MOVING LIMO - DAY


               BRANDON eyes a basket of croissants and juice, grabs a danish, 
               takes a bite, sees the DRIVER watching in the mirror.
 
                                     BRANDON
               I'm gonna pay.  I'll pay you--

                                     DRIVER
               --Pay me?  Pay Walter.  His car.  I'm Milton, I drive for him.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               I thought it was a service.

               (moving to the jump seat, seeing MILTON is driving very fast)
 
               
               So what's the deal with this guy?  You work for him a long time?
 
               
                                     MILTON
               Oh yeah, going on two weeks.

               (off BRANDON'S look)

               I was bike messenger.  Walter's driver hit me with his car.  
               I lie on ground, make it look worse than is, big car, you
 
               know maybe get some money.  Driver call me name, I call him name, 
               he take swing -- big son of a bitch -- so I kick his ass.
 
               (slicing the air with his hands)

               Walter get out.  I say his driver can't drive, he say you're 
               right.  I say damn right.  He ask if I can, I say hell yeah. 
                He take hat off driver, give it to me.
 
               Every day with Walter is...


               EXT. BROOKLYN HEIGHTS BROWNSTONE - DAY


               Five stories.  Next to the Brooklyn Bridge.  Manhattan rises 
               across the East River.  The limo pulls up.  BRANDON steps out, 
               regards the structure.  Exhaust fans dot the second floor.  Satellite 
               dishes on the roof.  Security cameras everywhere. 
 

               INT. BROWNSTONE - TOP FLOOR - DAY


               BRANDON follows MILTON through a large, wildly furnished apartment. 
                They pass an large library dominated by rows of bleacher seats 
               from the old Polo Grounds.  A hot dog stand sits outside a wine 
               cellar.  Toys tell us there's a child in the house.  A cha-cha 
               plays from a stereo.  MILTON stops at a set of doors.  About 
               to knock when --
 
                                    WALTER VO

               Bring him in!


               INT. WALTER ABRAMS' OFFICE - DAY


               WALTER smokes a cigarette, talking on the phone as an ASSISTANT 
               in a separate, adjoining space handles four ringing phones.  
               Across the room, a large wall is filled with TVS, each turned 
               to a different channel, no sound. 
 
                                     WALTER
               I'll hire the trainers too... Well run it by them, you won't 
               know until you try... So, they can stay the night.  I'll put 
               'em up at the Plaza, nice suite, park view... Okay double it... 
               Triple it... Everything's about money.  Look, on Sunday, my daughter, 
               an angel, turns six, it's not likely to happen again.  She
 
               
               loves elephants.  Your circus has 10,

               I only want one, my little girl's happiness is in your hands.
 
               
               (beat, icy edge)

               I don't need parenting advice from a guy 

               who doubles as a clown.  I want an

               elephant and I'll pay.  What'll it take to grease your wheels 
               and get one this weekend?  Hello?... Hello?"  Fuck wad!
 
               (intercom his ASSISTANT, furious)

               Find Ringling Brothers!  Get me on the horn with someone who 
               understands profit!
 
               WALTER sees BRANDON.  Something new.  Full focus.  He removes 
               the headset.  Dons his glasses.  Circles around.  
 
                                     WALTER
               Whoa, look at you.  The Marlboro man.

               (feeling his bicep)

               Jesus you're in great shape.

                                     BRANDON
               I've been in better.

                                     WALTER
               (assessing BRANDON as he speaks--)

               Modesty's not a virtue, it's a vice, as evil as vanity.  There 
               are rules to
 
               success, Brandon, and this is rule number one, know what you 
               know and know what you don't know and know I gotta know  everything 
               you know as soon as you know it, if not sooner!  Smile.  C'mon! 
                What the hell is that?  I said smile.  Bigger.  Hungrier.  More 
               teeth.  Ever sell before?  
 
                                     BRANDON
               No.

                                     WALTER
               If you can sell you'll never starve.  Ever speak in public?  
               Perform?  Anything like that?
 
                                     BRANDON
               I played quarterback in college.  Division one. 

                                     WALTER
               I know, I'm talking about not in uniform.

                                     BRANDON
               I used to sing at church.

                                     WALTER
               Oh really?  So you're religious?  

                                     BRANDON
               I don't know.  I guess.  

                                     WALTER
               Certain things, you either are or you aren't.  Which is it?
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               When I was a kid I thought I wanted to be a pastor... obviously 
               not now.  I mean, yeah, I believe in God.
 
                                     WALTER
               Relax.  What do I care?  Besides, it's against the law to hire 
               based on religious orientation.  You're not a republican are 
               you?  Just kidding.
 
               (silent beat, staring at him)

               You're scaring me son.  What's with the deer-caught-in-headlights 
               vibe?  You were a quarterback for God's sake.  A leader.
 
                                     BRANDON
               That was six years ago.

                                     WALTER
               C'mon, you won three conference titles at a major university. 
                You think I went to college?  I'm autodidactic.  Big word, huh? 
                Know what it means?  Self-taught.  Partially by reading, sure, 
               but mostly by keeping my eyes open and asking a lot of stupid 
               fucking questions.  I swear to God I'm looking at myself 30 years 
               ago.  A taller, more athletic version maybe, but the resemblance 
               is remarkable.
 
               WALTER crushes out the cigarette, sprays air freshener.

                                     WALTER
               I'm not supposed to smoke any more, among other things.  It's 
               bad for my condition.  So before I die, did you do anything other 
               than the sports phone in Vegas?  
 
                                     BRANDON
               Just the 900 number recordings, it was full time, I mean we got 
               10 bucks a call.
 
                                     WALTER
               Chump change, Brandon.  We're angling for bigger fish here.  
               You see, the networks don't talk about it and Uncle Sam can't 
               tax it, but sports gambling is a 200-billion-dollar-a-year-business. 
                These gamblers have needs, Brandon.  Come Monday morning, after 
               a losing weekend, a lot of them have big needs.   
 
               WALTER presses a button and the TVS fill with football games. 
               
 
                                     WALTER
               That's every pro game played last Sunday.

               Do you know why Monday Night's the most watched game of the week? 
                It's because Monday's the last chance bettors have to climb 
               out of the hole before paying their bookies on Tuesday.  Sports 
               betting's illegal in 49 states, including this one, but what 
               we do is 100% legal -- it's exactly the same as a stock broker, 
               only instead of touting stocks, we advise people on how to bet. 
                We make the big money off our client list.  You see, when a 
               client wins with our advice we take a percentage, which they 
               gladly give to keep getting our picks.  When they lose we get 
               zip.  So the object here, my tall, athletic, religious friend 
               -- is to win.
 
               WALTER clicks a control and his face fills the wall of tvs.  
               Phone numbers and messages ("FOOTBALL SELECTIONS!" COLLEGE AND 
               PRO!"  "BASKETBALL PICKS!") flash on the screens.  It's a high-octane 
               infomercial for sports gamblers.
 
                                     TV WALTER
               Hello -- this is Walter Abrams and welcome to The Sports Advisors 
               and week three in professional football.  After a nice five day 
               vacation on my yacht I can't be any more ready than I am right 
               now.  Studying the mismatches this weekend I can only conclude 
               they're giving my handicappers a license to steal.  I want you 
               to take out a blank 
 
                                     
               Tv walter con'd

               check right now -- go on, do it -- and write in as much you want 
               to cash it for on Tuesday, that's how much money we're making 
               for you this weekend.  Year in, year out, no stock matches our 
               return, and for the first time in the history of the company 
               I'm releasing our three-team college and pro parlays absolutely 
               free!  That's right.  This is why in a business with a higher 
               turnover rate than Leona Helmsley's maid staff we're still going 
               strong after 28 years!  I'm giving these picks away.  800-238-6648. 
                1-800-BET-ON-IT.  Absolutely free.  We're looking at a big money 
               weekend so let's get right into it with our panel of experts--
 
               
                                     WALTER
               (freeze frames himself, to BRANDON)

               My cable show.  Tapes Thursday, airs Saturday and Sunday morning. 
                Nationwide.  Hell I need a new barber.  The man should 
 
               be shot.  Look at my hair in the back.

                                     BRANDON
               How'd you afford that yacht if the picks are free?

                                     WALTER
               There is no yacht.  Good, keep asking question.  Next.

                                     BRANDON
               You didn't answer about the free picks.

                                     WALTER
               I know.  What else?

                                     BRANDON
               What's on the second floor?

                                     WALTER
               That's where we print the money.  Any more?

                                     BRANDON
               No, that clears up pretty much everything.

                                     WALTER
               Great.  Welcome aboard.  We got some good stuff to work with. 
                
 
               ASSISTANT/over intercom

               Ringling Brothers on one.

                                     WALTER
               Ever have a manicure?

                                     BRANDON
               Me?  No.  Why?

                                     WALTER
               Because you need one.  Besides, there's  a girl you gotta meet.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               Really?  What's she like?

                                     WALTER
               Beautiful, you'll like her--

               (answering the phone)

               --This Barnum or Bailey?


               INT. HIGH-END, BROOKLYN SALON - DAY


               TONI MORROW looks into CAMERA, styles an attractive, 30-ish WOMAN'S 
               hair as the WOMAN regards her face in a mirror --
 
               woman

               I'm just thinking of doing some work around the eyes.  Tighten 
               it up a bit.  A lift here, look, see these lines?
 
                                     TONI
               I see a beautiful woman.  What are you --all of 35?  I have a 
               girlfriend, she was stunning, went in to "tighten it up a bit" 
               and came out with a permanent smile.  Even when she cries she 
               looks like she's laughing.  Another, she's on her third eye lift. 
                Her skin's so tight, I swear, if you put an egg shell on her 
               butt she'd look like a baby bird.
 
                                     WOMAN
               I'm just thinking of a tune-up.

                                     TONI
               Oh yeah, first it's a tune-up, then it's something else, and 
               one day you'll come teetering in with your new 36Cs and a stretched 
               face and you won't be able to say how unhappy you are because 
               of all the collagen they shot in your lips.  
 
               Do youself a favor.  Skip the surgery and get a shrink, work 
               on the inside.
 
                                     WOMAN
               Easy for you to say.  You used to model.

               The other WOMEN CUSTOMERS listening nearby nod in agreement.
 
               
                                     TONI
               Oh yeah, that's true.  Those were the good days.  Sometimes I 
               like to just curl up on the ledge with my box of retouched photos 
               and reminisce about rehab.
 
                                     WOMAN
               Tightly wound today, aren't we?

                                     TONI
               I guess.  Must be the coffee talking.  

               (handing her a fashion magazine)

               Here, read a fashion magazine.  Feel more insecure about yourself.
 
               
               TONI walks through the shop, checks her watch, passes a row of 
               WOMEN getting lunch-hour nail jobs.  BRANDON'S squeezed in among 
               them.  Only guy there.  Cotton between his toes post-pedicure. 
                Hunched and uncomfortable as the WOMEN around him discuss boyfriends 
               and relationships.
 
                                     TONI
               ... Brandon?

                                     BRANDON
               Hi.

                                     TONI
               I'm Toni.  Walter said you'd stop by.

                                     BRANDON
               Nice to meet you.

               (immediately, re: the pedicure)

               This was his idea.

                                     TONI
               I know. 

                                     BRANDON
               He makes all his employees do this?

                                     TONI
               Every one.

                                     BRANDON
               How often?

                                     TONI
               Once.  Before they start work.

                                     BRANDON
               Weird.  

                                     TONI
               You think?

                                     BRANDON
               I've never had my nails done before.

                                     TONI
               I can see that.

               (putting his hands in water)

               Strong hands.  Nice.  Do you drink?

                                     BRANDON
               No thanks.  I'm fine.

                                     TONI
               No, do you drink?

                                     BRANDON
               Excuse me?

                                     TONI
               Alcohol.  Are you a drinker?

                                     BRANDON
               I've been pretty focused on staying in shape.  I mean a beer 
               once in a while.
 
                                     TONI
               Smoke?

                                     BRANDON
               No.

               Toni

               What about gambling?

                                     BRANDON
               What about it?

                                     TONI
               Look, I'm sorry, I'm pressed for time.

               (stopping work, regarding him)

               I asked do you bet.  Are you a bettor?

                                     BRANDON
               No.

                                     TONI
               Really?  Why not?

               BRANDON meets her gaze.  Gears turning.  She's hitting on him.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               Toni, huh?  Are you here full-time?  

                                     TONI
               It's my shop, I better be.  Why don't you gamble?

                                     BRANDON
               Well I'll tell you, Toni.  I bet on something once.  Risked everything 
               I had and lost.
 
                                     TONI
               So?

                                     BRANDON
               I swore I'd never do it again.

               Toni

               You're sticking to that story?

               Brandon 

               Hey, we just met.  I sure wouldn't want to start our relationship 
               off by lying.
 
                                     TONI
               Well Walter could definitely use someone with a little resolve 
               in his life.
 
                                     BRANDON
               (leaning in)

               Ya know, Toni, this is my first time in town.  I'm not used to 
               how fast things run around here.  I'm wondering if you'd  like 
               to have dinner tonight?  Let's get 
 
               to know each other without so many people around.

                                     TONI
               ... He didn't tell you.

                                     BRANDON
               What?

                                     TONI
               Brandon, Walter and I are married.

                                     BRANDON
               What?  Walter just said I was meeting a woman.  He acted like...
 
               
                                     TONI
               Walter's got a weird sense of humor.

               Look, he has a big, bright, beautiful spirit, you'll love working 
               for him, but he's held together by meetings.  If it has "anonymous" 
               at the end, Walter goes.  He has to.  He also has to be very 
               careful who he let's into his life.  In  most ways, Walter's 
               brilliant -- but he can be bullshitted and I can't.  So he sends 
               'em over to me before he hires 'em.  
 
                                     BRANDON
               You're kidding me?  Coming here... the manicure... this was an 
               interview?  
 
                                     TONI
               You're swift.

                                     BRANDON
               How'd I do?

                                     TONI
               Except for an illegal forward pass, 

               perfect, flying colors.  Congratulations.  I'm late for my next 
               appointment.
 
               TONI walks away, glances back, smiles and --


               EXT. BROWNSTONE - DAY


               BROWNSTONE.  CAMERA favors the ground floor windows.

               WALTER vo

               The apartment on the first floor is yours.  You have satellite 
               tv, a gym, you want to relax there's a jacuzzi tub the size of 
               a kiddie pool.
 

               INT. BROWNSTONE - FIRST FLOOR - DAY


               900 number office.  A phone and a computer on an empty desk. 
                Two TVs mounted on the wall.  WALTER shows BRANDON around.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               I'm starting you on the 900 numbers, same gig you did in Vegas. 
                You'll make your picks and record them every day, once a day 
               Monday through Friday and five times a day on weekends.  Each 
               call's worth 25 bucks a shot.  Right now we get a few dozen hits 
               a week.  We should be doing triple that.  I'm sending down some 
               test copy.  Before you record it, a little advice.           
                                    
 
               BRANDON sits.  Regards the phone --

                                     WALTER
               Your pitch sucks, it doesn't exist.  The pieces are there, we 
               just gotta bust you out. 
 
               Brandon 

               How?

                                     WALTER
               From now on you have a new name -- John Anthony, "The Million 
               Dollar Man." 
 
                                     BRANDON
               Hold on.  What's wrong with Brandon Lang?

                                     WALTER
               Brandon Lang is still at home with his mother.  You're selling 
               a lifestyle here, and John's livin' large.  John's got a direct 
               line to God and for a measly 25 bucks a call you're gonna let 
               the world's losers listen in.      
 

               INT. BROWNSTONE - 900 NUMBER OFFICE - NIGHT


               BRANDON studies the copy.  He pops in a CD, hits record, reads 
               into a mike --
 
                                     BRANDON
               Hello sports fans!  This is John Anthony in the Big Apple with 
               my big money picks!  The action starts Saturday with college 
               ball and our first matchup, Michigan against Indiana--
 

               EXT. BROWNSTONE - DAY


               The upstairs window flies open and a CD sails out.

                                     WALTER VO
               Wrong!


               INT. WALTER'S OFFICE - SAME TIME - DAY


               WALTER turns from the window, faces BRANDON.

                                     WALTER
               What's your sales pitch? 

                                     BRANDON
               What's my sales pitch?  77 percent's my sales pitch.

                                     WALTER
               Stats aren't enough!  These are gamblers

               you're talking to, people ready to risk what they can't afford 
               for what they can't have!  You're selling the world's rarest 
               commodity.
 
               BRANDOn

               What's that?

                                     WALTER
               Certainty in an uncertain world!


               INT. BROWNSTONE - 900 NUMBER OFFICE - NIGHT


               BRANDON back at the mike.  Groping for a delivery.

                                     BRANDON
               John Anthony here, ready to make all your betting dreams come 
               true!  Call now and let me win for you!  The point spread in 
               the Indiana/Michigan game's up to four, making that game a gimme-- 
                  
 

               INT. BROWNSTONE - WALTER'S OFFICE - DAY


               Another CD sails out.  WALTER staring at BRANDON --

                                     WALTER
               What is that shit?  You spent 6 years bouncing from one dead-end 
               job to another.  Riding to work on a frigging bicycle.  Were 
               you making some kind of statement?  What the hell were you afraid 
               of?  
 
                                     BRANDON
               I wasn't afraid of anything.  I was working my ass off, trying 
               to get back in the game.
 
                                     WALTER
               You are back in the game!  Convince me you belong here!  


               INT. BROWNSTONE - DOWNSTAIRS GYM - NIGHT  


               BRANDON pumping it out.  Music pounds on a stereo.  BRANDON watches 
               himself in the mirror, muscles straining.  He suddenly slams 
               the bar down, goes down the hall, grabs the mike, reads from 
               the copy and --
 
                                     BRANDON
               This is John Anthony here, and from Wall Street to Tokyo to Hollywood, 
               all your big money stays and plays with me!  Winning consistently's 
               the name of this game and I always remain the same, winners on 
               a consistent basis, 77 percent winners!  So sit back and relax 
               because
 
               because it's a scud attack this weekend and I'm shelling your 
               bookmaker!
 

               INT. BROWNSTONE - DAY


               BRANDON bounding up to WALTER'S office.

                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               Game one of my three-team parlay is  Michigan hosting Indiana; 
               the big boys at Michigan are just 2-7 against the spread as a 
               double-digit home favorite and with arch rival Wisconsin on deck 
               next week, Indiana will catch them looking ahead!  Take Indiana 
               plus the 16 points!  It's a lock!
 

               INT. WALTER'S OFFICE - DAY


               WALTER listening to the CD.  BRANDON watching him.

                                     BRANDON VOICEOVER
               You want more?  John Anthony's the man with a plan to make you 
               money!  Game two goes to Florida and North Carolina!  I don't 
               care how many points you gotta lay with Florida, lay it!  They'll 
               win by 50!
 
               WALTER pops the CD, heads for the window. 

                                     BRANDON
               C'mon!  First too little, then too much --

                                     WALTER
               It's a start. 

                                     BRANDON
               Tell me what you want.

                                     WALTER
               No.  What do you want, Brandon?  That's what this is about!
 
               
               WALTER stops.  Steadies himself.  He pulls a prescription vial. 
                Sits.  Passing, pained look.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Walter?  Are you okay? 

                                     WALTER
               ... Huh?... It's nothing. 

               (popping a pill from the vial, beat, taking another)

               ... Small one.

                                     BRANDON
               Should I call someone?

                                     WALTER
               Not unless they got a spare heart.  I'm okay.

               WALTER finds a cigarette.  Lights it.  Savors the first drag.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               What are you doing?

                                     WALTER
               Courage wants to laugh.


               EXT. BROOKLYN BRIDGE - MORNING


               BRANDON riding his bike hard across the Brooklyn Bridge.   Wearing 
               earphones while he listens to a radio sports show.
 
               RADIO ANNOUNCER/keith jackson vO

               --Talking about college defenses you have to include Oklahoma. 
                The Okie boys are 2nd-ranked going into this weekend and facing 
               an offensive powerhouse in Oregon. 
 
               That game and more coming up after the break. 

               A commerical's heard as BRANDON pedals away, glances up and --surreal 
               sight -- Brandon hurtling at an ELEPHANT'S ASS -- he swerves 
               -- looks back at the TRAINER walking the pachyderm across the 
               city span and -- 
 

               INT. BRANDON'S APARTMENT - DAY


               A TV SCREEN FILLS FRAME.  A COLLEGE FOOTBALL GAME starts. ANNOUNCERS 
               riff a MEDLEY of analysis and scores.
 
               PULL BACK TO SHOW -- BRANDON comes out of the shower, towel around 
               his waist, putting on a clean shirt.  Through a ground floor 
               window the boardwalk can be seen.  A child's party is in progress. 
                The elephant ambles by wearing a birthday hat, the bemused TRAINER 
               walking beside him.  TONI and WALTER are seen arm-in-arm with 
               their 6-year-old daughter, JULIA.  WALTER crosses the lawn, looks 
               through the window.
 
               BRANDON'S switching between football games blaring from the tv. 
                A radio blasts scores and updates.  WALTER knocks on the window, 
               mouths "How we doing?"  BRANDON grabs a betting sheet, writes 
               something, holds it up -- 0 and 9.  WALTER scowls.  BRANDON realizes 
               it's upside down, flips it to read -- 6 and 0.  WALTER kisses 
               the glass and --
 

               EXT. BROWNSTONE - SAME TIME - DAY


               WALTER catches up to TONI, walks through the party with her.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               He's a machine, all he does is work out and pick winners.  Talk 
               about fit.  Go  take a peek, see him with his shirt off.  I did. 
                He's a serious side of beef. 
 
                                     TONI
               Enjoy your daughter's party.

                                     WALTER
               Check him out, you know you want to.  

                                     TONI
               Get out of your head, Walter.  It's a bad neighborhood.

               TONI kisses him, walks with WALTER through the party and --
 
               

               EXT. BROWNSTONE ROOF - DUSK


               Satellite dishes aim at the sky.  ANNOUNCER CHATTER continues 
               OVER, giving non-stop COLLEGE football scores.  BRANDON comes 
               down the street, carries a bag of take-out.  
 
               BRANDON'S POV -- a second floor window opens as someone blows 
               cigarette smoke into the night.  Activity seen inside before 
               the window shuts.  BRANDON left staring and --
 

               EXT. PARK SLOPE - NIGHT


               BRANDON rides a bike.  Wears headphones.  Sunday's NFL scores 
               coming in now.  BRANDON'S reactions indicate he's doing well.
 
               

               INT. WALTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT


               WALTER writing on a call sheet -- 375 calls at $25/85 at $50!" 
               The city's seen through WALTER'S office window.  NFL ANNOUNCER 
               CHATTER subsides as scores filter in.  WALTER flipping through 
               BRANDON'S betting sheets, smile spreading over his face and --
 
               

               INT. N.Y.C. RESTAURANT - NIGHT


               Loud.  Crowded.  High-end.  WALTER, TONI and BRANDON at a table, 
               ordering dinner.  
 
                                     BRANDON
               I'll have the bruketta and the -- this, with the pasta.

                                     WAITER
               (takes the menus, departs)

               Very good, and may I say, sir, an excellent choice.

                                     WALTER
               It's bruchetta.  Like little pizzas without the cheese.

                                     BRANDON
               Bruchetta.

                                     WALTER
               Don't worry about it.  Anyone goes 20 for 24 in college football, 
               12 for 14 pro can call it whatever he wants.  Ever drink a thousand 
               dollar bottle of wine?  Steward!
 
                                     TONI
               It's a waste, Walter.  He hardly drinks. 

                                     WALTER
               It's a celebration.  Just because he's out with a couple of reformed 
               drunks doesn't mean he can't enjoy himself.
 
                                     TONI
               I was a lot of things, Walter, but I was never a drunk.

                                     BRANDON
               Actually, truth be told, I've never had a 12 dollar bottle of 
               water either.
 
                                     WALTER
               He thinks we're fighting.

                                     BRANDON
               No.  I just, this place is great.

                                     TONI
               --Watch out, Walter, he's a fixer.

                                     WALTER
               175 calls on the 900 number.

                                     TONI
               Did you call home?  Let 'em know how you did?  How you're doing?
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               I will tomorrow.  My mom works nights at the casino, she'll sleep 
               till three.
 
                                     TONI
               Are you close with your parents?

                                     WALTER
               He's very close.  They sound terrific.  

                                     TONI
               Is your name Brandon?

                                     BRANDON
               Oh, they're great.  We talk all the time.

                                     TONI
               What're they like?

                                     BRANDON
               Mom's terrific.  Amazing lady.  I got a little brother, Denny, 
               going to college next year.  Complete motor head.  Dad's a... 
               well he's a sports nut.  He was, I mean, it all came from that.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               Kid grew up with the frigging Cleavers...


               INT. RESTAURANT - LATER


               WALTER, TONI and BRANDON finish dessert.

                                     WALTER
               I should've ordered two.  

                                     TONI
               What'd the doctor say, Walter?

                                     WALTER
               Oh yeah, I've been meaning to tell you.  I had a check-up yesterday. 
                Afterwards 
 
               he was very concerned.  He sat me down, looked me in the eye 
               and said, "Walter, who do you like in the Buffalo/Oakland game?"
 
               
               WALTER laughs.  He reaches to Toni's plate, lifts a dessert pitcher.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               You didn't touch the sauce.

                                     TONI
               Neither should you, Walter.

                                     WALTER
               I read chocolate's good for you. 

                                     TONI
               I'm not raising a kid alone.

                                     WALTER
               Don't get dramatic, Toni.  In biblical times you'd just move 
               in with my brother Morty.
 
               TONI shoots him a look and WALTER quickly sets down the sauce.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               --Wow.  What a meal.  Do you feel good, Brandon?  Content?

                                     BRANDON
               Very.

                                     WALTER
               Yeah, I can tell.  Don't be.  Ever.  One week's over, another 
               begins.  The past is merely a prologue.  In this job you have 
               to push the envelope every day.  
 
               BRANDON glances at a nearby table, catches the eye of a stunning 
               GIRL sandwiched between two middle-aged, overweight MEN.  WALTER 
               catches the eye contact before she looks away.  The GIRL seems 
               bored as the two big men heartily chow down.
 
                                     WALTER
               Look at that.  Beauty and the beasts.  What do you think of her, 
               Brandon?    
 
                                     BRANDON
               She's cute.

                                     WALTER
               Cute doesn't half cover it.  The girl's gorgeous.  And bored 
               out of her mind.  Waiting for some young buck to save her from 
               those two gorillas.  Check it out.  She's eyeing you again, Brandon.
 
               
                                     BRANDON
               So are the two guys she's with.

                                     WALTER
               I'll bet you 10-to-1 on a 1000 you can't pick her up, cash, if 
               you leave with her.
 
               Toni

               C'mon Walter.  You might as well go to Atlantic City and open 
               a house account.  You know you can't gamble.      
 
                                     WALTER
               Who's gambling?  It's a challenge.  If Brandon leaves with her 
               I give him ten thousand dollars, that's probably more than he 
               made last year.  If not, he gives me a grand, which I'll give 
               to you. 
 
                                     BRANDON
               I don't bet, Walter.

               (glancing over, look from the GIRL)

               ... But I do love a challenge.  

                                     WALTER
               All right.  Before you bust a move, just one thing...

               (talks across the table, addressing the MODEL and the two MEN)
 
               
               Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt but 

                                     
               Walter con'd

               I have to know what's going on here.

               You're drop dead gorgeous and your dates

               look like they haven't missed a meal

               since Christ died.  Seriously, you

               two are eating like you have a date 

               with the electric chair.  What's the story with you three?  I'm 
               not gonna sleep if I don't know.  Lemme guess.  Garment district. 
                The Hardy boys make lingerie and you're a model.  That
 
               it?  Close?  Sprechenzee English?  Sit down, sit down -- I'm 
               just joking.  I better stop before I get stabbed with a fork. 
                Bon apetit.
 
               (turning back, TONI staring at him)

                                     TONI
               What the hell was that?

                                     WALTER
               I'll send over a bottle of champagne.  

               Toni

               You'll pick up their check.

                                     WALTER
               The voice of reason.  She's right.  I owe 'em a meal.  Hey -- 
               here we go, Brandon, your girlfriend's going to the bathroom. 
                
 
               The GIRL glides by their table.  Heads up a flight of stairs.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               Well get moving, slick.

               Brandon 

               After that introduction? 

                                     WALTER
               Hey, I just raised the bar.  C'mon, kid.  John Anthony could 
               close her.
 
               Beat.  BRANDON looks from WALTER to TONI.

                                     TONI
               I'd prefer Brandon...

               BRANDON smiles.  He walks through the restaurant, up the stairs 
               as the WOMEN'S ROOM door opens and the GIRL emerges before him. 
                She regards BRANDON.  Jaded, disintested air. 
 
                                     BRANDON
               You're beautiful.

                                     GIRL
               (stepping past)

               Excuse me.  

                                     BRANDON
               I just want to get to know you.

                                     GIRL
               You just want to get into my pants.

                                     BRANDON
               I want to get into your mind, your heart, your soul.  I don't 
               see you wearing any pants in this equation.  
 
               Beat.  This could go either way before -- the GIRL smiles.

                                     BRANDON
               I'm Brandon.  What's your name?

               GIRl

               Alex.

                                     BRANDON
               Alexandria.  Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

               BRANDON leans in close, talking too low now for us to hear.  
               Selling hard.  ALEXANDRIA laughs at something he says and --
 
               

               INT. MOVING CAB - NIGHT


               BRANDON and the GIRL all over each other and -- 


               INT. GIRL'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


               40th floor of a luxury high rise.  In the darkness, BRANDON'S 
               seen naked on a big bed, GIRL straddling him, body rising and 
               falling, pace quickening, back arching.  BRANDON looks up --GIRL 
               silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling windows -- city spires 
               sparkling all around and -- 
 
                                     OMIT

               INT. BROWNSTONE BACK STAIRWELL - DAY


               WALTER and BRANDON reach the second floor landing, stand outside 
               a solid steel door.
 
                                     WALTER
               Everything you've ever done's been leading up to this moment. 
                Put your ear to the door.  Hear that?  It's the sound of possibilities. 
                The din of greatness.
 
               WALTER turns the knob, BRANDON nearly tumbles through and --
 
               

               INT. BROWNSTONE SECOND FLOOR - DAY


               Another world.  A dozen SALESMEN work in a large room.  Phones 
               ring.  FAXES churn.  Numbers are called out.  A half-dozen GIRLS 
               stroll the space, deliver betting and tip sheets.
 
                                     WALTER
               We use the 800 number and free tips to bait the hook.  Then the 
               bettors are 
 
               bounced to our sales staff.

               (stopping at the front desk, talking to a pretty Brooklyn GIRL) 
               
 
               You're looking lovely today, Tammy.  Give it up baby, you know 
               what I need.
 
               TAMMY smiles, hands WALTER a long list of names and numbers. 
                WALTER studies the sheet as he walks BRANDON through the room.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               This is the day's phone sheet, it's a list of everyone who's 
               called.  Only way to keep track of the action.  All leads equal 
               money. 
 
               BRANDON'S POV -- walking by SALESMEN doing their thing.  The 
               first is a chain smoker, battering ram tone.  This is SOUTHIE.
 
               
               Southie

               Did I not tell you that game was going over the total?  Now stop 
               holding back and let's make some serious dough...
 
               What's our game plan this week?  Look, Mr. Mitch, collect from 
               your bookie, wire our pitiful frigging share and then we'll discuss 
               the goddamn game plan.
 
               The second MAN'S HERBIE.  Slight.  Polite.  Soothing tone.

                                     HERBIE
               Trust me, we're going to turn all this around... I'm aware last 
               weekend was difficult... Well of course I do, that's a substantial 
               sum--
 
               (cupping the phone, to WALTER)

               --He's a bit miffed about our picks

                                     WALTER
               Fuck him if he can't take a joke.

                                     BRANDON
               You're telling me that all this is legal?

                                     WALTER
               It better be.  Five of these guys are off-duty cops.  We're just 
               advising people how to bet, not making the bets for 'em.
 
               C'mon, I want you to hear our best salesman, Reggie Hawks.

                                     REGGIE/INTO PHONE
               --It says here your minimum bet's five grand, so let's be honest 
               now, can you
 
               move 50 large on this game or not?...  I don't have time for 
               this shit, Jimmy.  I
 
               know you're a loser, because if you 

               were such a big winner you wouldn't have paid money to call me 
               today.  Vegas is calling, I'm putting you on hold. 
 
               (pressing hold)

               What's up big Wally, you slummin' today!

               This the new kid?

                                     WALTER
               Brandon Lang, meet Reggie.

                                     REGGIE
               You're the QB that went off on the refs.

               (BRANDON shamefully nods)

               --Yeah, but you covered!  Shit, as much money as the refs cost 
               us every year, that was pure.  Totally crystal.  Hell, I like 
               you already.  Even if you did get the best office.
 
                                     WALTER
               (re: an item on the sports ticker)

               Barker's not playing this weekend?

                                     REGGIE
               Hamstring.

                                     BRANDON
               No, he's in the middle of renegotiating.  It's a tantrum, he'll 
               play Sunday.
 
               WALTER and REGGIE exchange a glance, they can use that and --
 
               
               ANGLE ON -- TWO GLASSED-IN OFFICES overlooking the sales room. 
                  One office is crammed with clutter, bears a prominent KEEP 
               OUT sign on the door.  Inside, a big, bearded MAN wolfs a breakfast 
               burrito, scours the sports pages.  In the other office sits a 
               suited, studious-looking MAN in his 30s, talking on a headset--
 
               

               INT. OFFICE OVERLOOKING SALES ROOM - SAME TIME - DAY


               JERRY SYKES types stats into a computer as he fields a call. 
                 Three other computer screens flash football info and data. 
                Large, complex wall graphs chart esoteric team trends.  A framed 
               promotional picture shows JERRY standing in a bank vault, the 
               banner type below reading "Jerry 'The Source' Sykes, Creator 
               of The Sykes Sports Wagering System."
 
                                     JERRY
               (typing on a computer as he speaks)

               --I know it's a new stadium, I'm asking if they used Astroturf 
               or Astroplay?... Astroplay, it has a rubber silica base, like 
               ground up tires... Look, I don't have time to explain abrasion 
               indexes and resistance scales to you, trust me, it makes a big 
               fucking difference...
 
               (looking through the glass, seeing WALTER showing BRANDON around)
 
               
               So bribe a security guard, sneak in with the grounds crew, do 
               what you have to -- this is what I pay you for.
 

               INT. ENCLOSED OFFICE - SECOND FLOOR - DAY


               WALTER and BRANDON enter.  It's spacious.  Nicely appointed. 
                A glass partition overlooks the sales room.
 
                                     WALTER
               I had three guys who picked games.  I fired one last weekend. 
                I'm giving you his job.  This is your office.  From here  out 
               your picks are going straight to our biggest customers.  How 
               do you like it?
 
                                     BRANDON
               What's not to like?

               JERRY SYKES appears at the door.  Fast glance at BRANDON, attention 
               to WALTER -- 
 
                                     JERRY
               The Miami/New York point spread shifted a half tick up to 10.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               What do you think?

                                     JERRY
               Miami's still a lock.  The win/loss ratios and RPI ratings are 
               off the charts.  I'm keeping it on my sheet.
 
                                     WALTER
               Jerry's our top handicapper, came to me straight out of grad 
               school.  Jerry, meet the new kid in town. 
 
                                     JERRY
               Whoa, phone guy makes good.  Big jump from the 900 numbers.  
               Watch out you don't get a nose bleed.  Just kidding, best of 
               luck, I gotta get back to work.          
 
                                     BRANDON
               Pleasure meeting you.  By the way, Jerry, New York's gonna win 
               straight up.  They always play the fish tight.  Tonight it's 
               foregone, they win outright.
 
                                     JERRY
               Really?  Listen up, stick to college, sonny.  You have to work 
               up to pro ball around here.  Nice try though.  
 
                                     WALTER
               (watching JERRY walk away)

               I got three guys who can handicap and 20 who can sell but I never 
               had one who could do both, not really, not until now.
 
                                     BRANDON
               You mean me?

                                     WALTER
               Not you.  John Anthony.

                                     BRANDON
               John Anthony doesn't exist.

                                     WALTER
               That's a shock 'cause I'm standing in his office and you're sitting 
               in his chair!
 
                                     BRANDON
               Look, making predictions is one thing -- but pushing people to 
               bet, it's not me.
 
                                     WALTER
               Pushing people?  Get real, this country was built on gambling. 
                Look at Wall Street -- one big casino.  The state spends millions 
               hawking the lottery.  If people want to pay for advice on who 
               to bet, who are we to say no?  Stop being selfish, spread the 
               word!  Check your bible, Brandon, tis better to give than receive. 
               
 
                                     BRANDON
               You got a whole room full of salesmen.

                                     WALTER
               Big bettors don't want to talk to a middle man, they want to 
               speak to the guy making the picks -- and you're picking 80 percent 
               winners.   
 
                                     
                                     WALTER CON'D
               What's the matter?  Gonna lose your purity?  C'mon, what do you 
               think selling is?  We're just talking a few well-timed phrases. 
                Let's start with an easy one.  A throw-away.  "I don't want 
               your money, I want your bookie's fucking money?"
 
                                     BRANDON
               I don't want your money --

                                     WALTER
               --Jesus, don't start that shit again.  Sell me.

                                     BRANDON
               I don't want your money, I want your bookie's money!

                                     WALTER
               What happened to the fuck?

                                     BRANDON
               Nothing, I just don't talk like that.

                                     WALTER
               I can't have someone working for me who can't say fuck.

                                     BRANDON
               It's not that I can't.  Why do I have to?

                                     WALTER
               Because there's no other fucking word that can convey the precise 
               feeling and fucking flavor of life's various predicaments and 
               certain concepts the way a well-placed fuck can.  Fuck is your 
               friend.  Fuck can be your best friend.
 
                                     BRANDON
               I'm happy for you and your friend, Walter, but I'm not using 
               it. 
 
                                     WALTER
               Chaucer used it 600 years ago.  It was good enough for him.  
               C'mon--
 
               (calling out to the SALESMEN)

               --this fucking guy has a problem saying fuck!  

               A chorus of "Fuck yous" fill the air.  

                                     WALTER
               C'mon, repeat after me -- fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  Fuck he, 
               fuck she, fuck me, fuck them, fuck me -- try it.
 
                                     BRANDON
               It's not me.  Let it go. 

                                     WALTER
               Backbone.  Almost as good.  We'll keep working on the other thing... 
               So, you really like New York in tonight's game?
 

               EXT. MANHATTAN - MID-DAY


               Looking down Fifth.  Thousands of heads in a hurry to get somewhere. 
                Here comes BRANDON and WALTER.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Where are we going?

                                     WALTER
               Continue your education. 


               INT. MANHATTAN APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY


               A dozen people fill an upscale living room.  Doorbell.  A well 
               dressed WOMAN answers.  WALTER and BRANDON stand before her.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               We're here for the gambler's anonymous meeting...


               INT. MANHATTAN APARTMENT - DAY


               The GROUP sit in a circle, listen as a BUSINESSMAN, near tears, 
               gives his testimony.
 
                                     BUSINESSMAN
               ...I mean you'd think with two mortgages out, repo guys staking 
               out my car, my job on the line and my wife threatening to leave, 
               you'd think I'd have the goddamn brains to stop, instead of staying 
               in the chase, doubling down, which of course is what I did... 
               I know I'm sick because I keep thinking if I just pulled that 
               game out then I got a lock on the parlay and I'm flush going 
               into Monday night and--
 
               (breaking down, unable to continue)

                                     MEMBER #1
               ... It's a disease, Leon.

                                     MEMBER #2
               Admitting you have a problem is the first

               step.

                                     BUSINESSMAN/LEON
               Then I guess I'm doing pretty good because I got one big fucking 
               problem.
 
               Someone claps.  Everyone joins in.  LEON smiles.  Warm beat. 
                WALTER suddenly stands.  BRANDON watches, concerned.
 
                                     WALTER
               My name's Walter.  I'm new to the group.

               (various "hellos")

               Hi.  I've been going to meetings like this for 18 years.  Once 
               a week, every Friday night, for 18 years.  This, my friends, 
               is my 936th consecutive meeting.
 
               (enthusiastic applause)

               Thank you.  Thanks.  And my hand to God, I haven't been to a 
               track, casino or bet a game that whole time.  Not a cent.
 
               (murmurs of approval)

               I've listened to thousands of sob stories by people like Leon 
               here, and I gotta say, Leon -- if I learned one thing it's that 
               gambling is not your problem. 
 
                                     LEON
               It's not?

                                     WALTER
               Not even close.  You're a lemon.  Like a bad car, there's something 
               inherently defective in you.  And you.  And me!  All of us here 
               -- we're lemons!  Big, juicy, acidic, ice-tea flavoring lemons! 
                We look like everyone else but we're defective because when 
               most people make a bet they want to win, while we, the degenerate 
               gamblers of the world, we're subconsciously playing to lose. 
                All humans like going to the edge of the abyss, but what makes 
               us different is we go all the way and hurl ourselves off into 
               the void!  And we like doing it so much we do it time after time 
               after time!  Me?  I always felt most alive when they were raking 
               away the chips, and every one here knows what I'm talking about. 
                People like us, even when we win, it's just a matter of time 
               before we give it all back.  But when we lose, and I mean the 
               kind of loss that makes your asshole pucker to the size of a 
               decimal point, there's a moment when you're standing there and 
               you've just recreated the worst possible nightmare this side 
               of malignant cancer for the 20th goddamn time and you suddenly 
               realize -- hey, I'm still here, I'm still breathing, I'm still 
               alive!  In order to really live you have to be aware of your 
               own mortality -- and a losing bet of a certain size is one of 
               the best ways 
 
                                     
                                     WALTER CON'D
               I know of getting that feeling.  When you win, you defy death, 
               but when you lose, 
 
               you survive it, and that's remarkable! 

               Us lemons, we fuck shit up on purpose!  We need to constantly 
               remind ourselves
 
               that we're alive!  Gambling's not the problem, Leon, your fucked 
               up need to feel something, to convince yourself you exist, to 
               test what's really real, that's the problem!
 
                                     BICYCLE MESSENGER
               Hey!  You're the guy I see on tv every weekend selling betting 
               picks! 
 
                                     WALTER
               ... Yeah.  So?

               This guy peddles a tout service on tv.

                                     WALTER
               Check the charter, buddy, we all left our jobs at the door.  
               You gonna toss an ex-alcoholic bartender out of an AA meeting?
 
               
                                     BICYCLE MESSENGER
               (to BRANDON)

               Hey, didn't you come with this jerk?

                                     BRANDON
               ... No, I mean, we walked in together --

                                     WALTER
               (handing out business cards)

               -- My card -- we're topping 80 percent this season -- put it 
               in your wallet, in case you fall off the wagon --
 

               INT. APARTMENT ELEVATOR - DAY


               WALTER and BRANDON riding down in silence.  Finally --   

                                     BRANDON
               What the fuck was that?!

                                     WALTER
               ... What'd you just say?

                                     BRANDON
               You heard me!  I said what was that?

                                     WALTER
               No, you said "What the fuck?"  That's what you said.

                                     BRANDON
               So?

                                     WALTER
               That was great!  It was all worth it! Don't you see?  I felt 
               your anger because of that one word!  Well done!  I'm proud of 
               you!  The progress you're making Brandon, I gotta say, it's exhilerating!
 
               
                                     OMIT

               INT. SALESROOM - DAY


               Cacophony of calls.  Building buzz.  College football games play 
               in the BG.  The big, bearded MAN  exits his pack-rat cluttered 
               work space, strides to the office coffee machine, pours a quick 
               cup.  BRANDON approaches, extends a hand.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Hey, I stopped by to say hi, I'm Brandon.

                                     BIG MAN
               (averting his gaze, walking past)

               Congratulations.

                                     BRANDON
               I'm picking now with you and Jerry.  

                                     CHUCK
               (ducking back into his office)

               Whatever.  

               The MAN shuts the door, leaves BRANDON looking at the KEEP OUT 
               sign.  SOUTHIE stops for a coffee, has seen the exchange.
 
                                     SOUTHIE
               Don't take it personal.  Chuck's got a condition, get's anxious 
               around people.
 
               CHUCK closes his blinds, blocks out his glassed-in walls and--
 
               

               INT. BRANDON'S OFFICE - DAY


               BRANDON'S poring over sports pages and injury reports when   
               TAMMY enters his office, sits on his desk, extends a lead sheet.
 
               
                                     TAMMY
               His name's Amir, he's a dime bettor.  Owns a dry cleaners.  We 
               got him for the subscription.  He's on line three.
 
               (leans in, gives BRANDON a kiss)

                                     TAMMY
               Walter wanted your first call to be special.  Go get 'em tiger. 
                
 
                                     BRANDON
               (picking up)

               Amir, my man, John Anthony here!


               INT. NEW JERSEY DRY CLEANER - DAY


               A MIDDLE EASTERN MAN (ratty t-shirt, beard stubble, sleepless 
               look) stands in the back of a low-end dry cleaners.   
 
                                     AMIR
               Yes, hello.

                                     BRANDON
               Today's your day, Amir!  It's a Pamplona thing, I'm running wild 
               in the streets this weekend!  Starting with the hottest Saturday 
               of my life!  How much can you lay with your bookie?  20 large?
 
               
               Amir

               You crazy?  No way.  I was betting a thousand a game but... Look, 
               I saw an ad.  I was just calling to see--
 
                                     BRANDON
               --Amir, this is my lock of a lifetime!  Texas plus the six points! 
                They win by two touchdowns!
 
               Amir 

               Really?  I like Oklahoma in that game.

                                     BRANDON
               (looks up, sees WALTER watching)

               Oklahoma huh?  Okay... well considering that, I like Texas even 
               more now.
 
               Amir 

               I shouldn't have called.  Thank you for--  

                                     BRANDON
               --Amir, buddy, I'm talking about banging out the biggest win 
               of your life.  
 
               WALTER crosses, whispers to BRANDON.  Into the phone:

                                     BRANDON
               Hold on, I got Vegas on the line.

               (pressing HOLD)

                                     WALTER
               There's only one thing you have to know about any of our clients 
               -- they're all in the hole.  The second they pick up the phone, 
               wham!  Right to the point!  You're above them!  Let 'em feel 
               it!  More confidence!  More John Anthony!
 
               (punches speaker phone)

               BRANDON/into phone

               Amir, what's your favorite drink?

                                     AMIR
               Favorite drink?  I dunno, Pina Colada.

                                     BRANDON
               Tomorrow we gotta get you a new drink.  But for now, this is 
               what you're gonna do.  First, you're going to bet 20 large on 
               Texas, then you're going to put on a 
 
               Hawaiian shirt, whip up your sweet little rum concoction with 
               the orange slice and 
 
               the cherry, turn on the game and play

               with the little umbrella while you sit 

               back and watch Texas tear those Okies a

               new asshole -- and when you call me back 

               after winning 20 G's the first thing out out of your mouth will 
               be words every fratboy knows -- "Thank you, sir, may I have another!"
 
               
                                     AMIR
               ... What about payment?

                                     BRANDON
               Good question.  What about it?

               Amir 

               Well how much is this going to cost me?

                                     BRANDON
               We take a percentage if WE win, Amir -- not exactly your problem 
               of late, is it?
 
               Amir

               What if I don't pay?

                                     BRANDON
               It's simple, you don't get any more picks.  Comprende?  So make 
               the bet, make the drink and let's roll this into
 
               something big!  


               INT. BRANDON'S OFFICE - NIGHT


               BRANDON jamming, using a phone headset.

                                     BRANDON
               To hell with power ratings -- McNab lost his dog yesterday!  
               Hunting accident.  Everyone knows you don't mess with a man who 
               just lost his dog!  Take Atlanta plus the points and send me 
               ten thou Western Union by tomorrow, Stan -- let's ride this wave 
               into Sunday!
 
               (punching a new call)

               Denny!  Sorry to keep you on hold, bro...  Hell yeah it takes 
               pictures, bitchen
 
               little phone, huh?  Now I got something else for ya, Green Bay 
               against Minnesota, take the Cheesheads... That's right -- go 
               to a sports book and put 500 hundred on 'em... So I'll send you 
               the money to bet... Don't worry about it, just JPEG your big 
               brother a smile when you win.
 

               INT. SALES ROOM - DAY


               WALTER paces like a hyped-up Ahab as his SALESMEN jam.

                                     SOUTHIE
               Billy, thanks for the 15,000 Fed Ex. What're you up, 160 or something? 
               
 
               Did you ever go 12-2 betting college football before?  Didn't 
               think so.  Now, Greenbay--Dallas--Cleveland--100,000 across the 
               board, got it?
 
                                     REGGIE
               The fuck do you care how he does it?  And where the hell's our 
               30 grand for hitting that 3-team college parlay last night?
 
               
                                     HERBIE
               (sipping a cup of tea)

               Do this, call your off-shore sports book right now and put the 
               whole 100,000 on Green Bay-Dallas-Cleveland, it's called a three-team 
               parlay and pays 6-1.  I do appreciate the 40,000 you sent us 
               today, but let me assure you we've only just begun to make serious 
               money.
 

               INT. WALTER'S OFFICE - DAY


               NFL GAMES fill the TV screens.  Theme music, announcers and action 
               create a frenetic pace.  
 
                                     TIME LAPSE
               SAME SHOT.  LATER.  Sunday sports start winding down and --
 
               
                                     TIME LAPSE
               SAME SHOT.  LATER.  All the screens are dark save one, where 
               the last game of the day finally ends in overtime and --
 

               INT. BRANDON'S OFFICE - NIGHT


               BRANDON pulls the headset, heads out to the water fountain.  
               SALESMEN work the phones, glance at him as he passes.  
 
               Herbie

               ... Hey -- great job.


               INT. WALTER'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


               TONI in the kitchen cooking pasta.  Moving fast.  BRANDON sits 
               in the living room, watches JULIA ride WALTER like a horse.  
               Music on the stereo.
 
                                     JULIA
               Faster daddy!

               WALTER crawls around the room, stops before BRANDON, grins.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               10-2 in pro football?  85 percent for the weekend?  Jesus, you're 
               a mutant.
 
                                     JULIA
               Go daddy!

               WALTER whinnies like a horse, keeps crawling.  BRANDON goes into 
               the kitchen.  TONI cooking at the stove, referring to a daily 
               planner, talking on the phone.
 
                                     TONI
               Monday's no good because I take Julia to ballet.  Tuesday I work 
               late at the salon.  Wednesday's a maybe if I can move a couple 
               clients to after six but I'll have to check.  I really want to 
               come in with him.  Listen, I have to call you back tomorrow. 
               
 
               (grabbing a pot about to boil over)

                                     BRANDON
               What's all the commotion?

                                     TONI
               The doctor, thank God, put Walter,on an exercise program.  I 
               want to be there the first time he goes.  Make sure the trainer 
               understands Walter's aversion to consistency.
 
                                     BRANDON
               Aversion to consistency?

                                     TONI
               He's always been that way.

                                     BRANDON
               Well that's consistent.

               CLOSE ON -- WALTER watches from the living room -- sees TONI 
               and BRANDON laughing, enjoying each other and -- 
 

               INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT


               WALTER, TONI and BRANDON relaxing after dinner.  

                                     WALTER
               Life is fucking... good.

               (burp, regarding BRANDON)

               Let's talk about making it better.

                                     TONI
               Duck, Brandon, here it comes.

                                     WALTER
               I've been tracking you since last year.

                                     TONI
               Don't let him steamroll you.

                                     WALTER
               --Can I get the damn thing out?  I want to put John Anthony on 
               tv this week.
 
                                     BRANDON
               That's me.  You mean me.

                                     WALTER
               That's right.  You, John Anthony.  You're one in the same. 
 
               
                                     TONI
               Go on -- get to the good part, Walter.

                                     WALTER
               Hold on.  Before I say another word, understand -- you do this 
               thing, Brandon, and from here out you gotta eat, sleep, shit, 
               breathe, walk, talk and fart John
 
               Anthony.  It's not just a new persona.

               You can't play it.  You gotta live it.  That's how this works. 
                The only way it works.  You have to sell it all the way.
 
                                     TONI
               Think it over, Brandon, don't decide now.

                                     BRANDON
               It sounds like a promotion.

                                     WALTER
               Bet your ass it is.  Five-star.

                                     BRANDON
               --I'm in.

                                     TONI
               Well that's a thoughtful response.  Here I was, worried you'd 
               rush your decision.
 
                                     BRANDON
               It's the only move.  For six years I've been living on Ramen 
               noodles.  For the
 
               first time in a long time I've got something going.  If that 
               means I gotta do a little acting, fine.
 
                                     WALTER
               Living, not acting.  You understand that as of right now Brandon 
               Lang with his fettucini knee and his self-fucking pity is as 
               flat dead as Donald Trump's hair and John "I-can-walk-on-fucking-water" 
               Anthony has taken his place?
 
                                     TONI
               Listen to what he's asking you, Brandon.

                                     WALTER
               She's right.  There's no going back.  I mean that.  This is gonna 
               cost me.  I'm talking about building an empire around you.  Do 
               you understand that?
 
                                     BRANDON
               ... Should I wait a little to create some tension?  Of course 
               I understand, I'm John Fucking Anthony.  I've got the crystal 
               ball...
 

               INT. TONI'S SALON - DAY


               BRANDON'S FACE FILLS SCREEN.  Scissors come in, start cutting. 
                TONI begins bringing John Anthony to life.  BRANDON chatting 
               her up in the chair, TONI laughing at something he says and -- 
               
 

               INT. BARNEY'S MEN'S STORE - DAY


               BRANDON (new haircut) stands in private room, modeling a suit. 
                WALTER nearby, looks through racks of clothes with a SALESMAN.
 
               

               INT. MERCEDES DEALERSHIP - DAY


               BRANDON (new haircut, new suit) walks through the showroom as 
               WALTER talks with a DEALER.
 
                                     WALTER
               I need a new car for my friend.

                                     DEALER
               (to BRANDON)

               Do you have any credit?

                                     BRANDON
               No.

                                     DEALER
               Walter, do you trust him?

                                     WALTER
               With my wife naked.

                                     DEALER
               (calling to BRANDON)

               In that case, which one do you want?

               BRANDON comes over, runs his hand over a sleek, silver SL500.
 
               
                                     WALTER
               I think he likes that one.


               EXT. SIXTH AVENUE BAR - DAY


               The silver SL500 pulls to the curb.  License plate reading "900 
               KING."  A pair of $500 shoes emerge.  BRANDON stands on the sidewalk 
               as the DOORMAN comes up, eyes the car.
 
               Doorman

               I'll watch it for you.

               (seeing the license plate)

               What's "900 King?"

                                     BRANDON
               (handing him a card)

               I don't lose.

               BRANDON heads into the bar, meets WALTER and a group of HEAVY 
               HITTERS outside.  John ANTHONY instantly comes alive and --
 
               

               INT.  TV PRODUCTION HOUSE - NIGHT


               BRANDON and WALTER sitting side-by-side, getting made-up.

               MAKE-UP ARTIST/to brandon

               You're sweating a lot honey.

               BRANDON nervously regards himself in the mirror.  WALTER sees. 
                
 
                                     WALTER
               You okay?

                                     BRANDON
               I'm scared shitless.

                                     WALTER
               Don't worry about your lines, it's all scripted.  You've been 
               here before, kid, just think of it like a football game.
 
                                     BRANDON
               This is different.

                                     WALTER
               How?

                                     BRANDON
               There's no opponent.

                                     WALTER
               Perfect, then you're a lock to win.


               INT. TV PRODUCTION HOUSE - NIGHT


               The CAMERA TRACKS to a talk show-like set dominated by a triangular 
               table, three chairs and a backdrop bearing a sports-themed logo 
               and the words - THE SPORTS ADVISORS.  BRANDON sits between WALTER 
               and JERRY, increasingly nervous as the CAMERAS push close.  CHUCK 
               arrives, loud suit, takes a seat at the end of the table, head 
               down, averting eye contact with everyone.
 
                                     TECH
               30 seconds.  Walter, we're not getting your audio.

                                     WALTER
               (fumbling with a clipped on mike)

               Something's wrong here.

                                     JERRY
               (leaning over, plugging in a wire)

               Your lead's loose, I got it.  I'm talking to the tech guys about 
               going wireless. 
 
               JERRY looks at BRANDON, staring anxiously at the teleprompter.
 
               
                                     JERRY
               John Anthony, huh?  All I see's another wannabee in a 1000-dollar 
               suit.  Word to 
 
               the wise, save the clothes you came in.

                                     TECH
               Five, four, three, two, one--

               (NOTE: WALTER and the PANEL follow text from a teleprompter.)
 
               
                                     WALTER
               Welcome to this week's edition of The Sports Advisors!  America's 
               premier sports information program with myself, Walter Abrams, 
               Jerry Sykes, Chuck Adler  and a truly gifted newcomer to the 
               Sports Advisor panel, a substantial find -- John Anthony!  We're 
               entering week six in pro football!  This is when the cream rises 
               to the top!  This is when things get hot!  It's oven mitt time! 
                This is big-time ball season so let's get right into it with 
               the Wizard of Odds -- Jerry "The Source" Sykes!  Jerry, what's 
               the Sykes System predicting for this weekend?
 
                                     JERRY
               Walter, my patented computer models tell me we're looking at 
               nothing less than the perfect storm of betting opportunities. 
                But first, last week I cashed in a big-time call on on Chicago 
               as an outright winner over Indianapolis -- making it my 8th straight 
               top selection winner right here on this tv show!  This Sunday 
               I have 5 match-ups I absolutely love, including Miami at New 
               York!  Stats, rankings, records, weather, the Sykes System uses 
               42 proven indexs to eliminate the guesswork from sports wagering. 
                Without my patented, computer-based picks you have a better 
               chance of seeing God knocking on your door with five strippers 
               and a bag of Bolivian cocaine than winning on your own!  Call 
               me for my five games!  Absolutely free -- 800-238-6648! 
 
                                     WALTER
               Our experts know how to read between the lines, we know how to 
               analyze a point spread, we're not pulling rabbits out of 
 
               a hat here.  Certainly not Chuck Adler --

               (turning to CHUCK)

               Chuck, you'd probably eat that rabbit if you got your hands on 
               it.
 
                                     CHUCK
               (coming suddenly, wildly alive)

               Hell yes -- with a side order of fried bookmaker!!!  I'm the 
               grim reaper of bookmakers!  I've put more bookies out of business 
               than the I.R.S.!  How many gamblers did I bail out last weekend 
               with my game of the year!  Denver, a 10-
 
               point underdog beating Cincinatti by two touchdowns!  A $100 
               bettor made $10,000!
 
                                     
                                     CHUCK CON'D
               A $500 bettor made $50,000!  I've got six games on Sunday I'm 
               releasing absolutely free!  These games are a burial!  A blow-out! 
                A human lock!  You can bet your children's unborn children's 
               children on these six games -- ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!    
 
                                     WALTER
               (finger in his ear)

               Holy Christ, I forgot my earplugs.  Take a break before you blow 
               a gasket, we'll get back to you after my hearing returns.  Saturday 
               comes before Sunday and looking at this Saturday's college match-ups 
               is the last but certainly not least member of The Sports Advisors 
               -- John Anthony!
 
                                     BRANDON
               (reading off the teleprompter)

               --John Anthony here, the Million Dollar Man with the billion 
               dollar plan!  From Wall Street to Tokyo to Hollywood, all your 
               big money stays and plays with me!
 
               (beat, processing this, suddenly going off the teleprompter script)
 
               
               --Someone wrote some great stuff for me here but the "Million 
               Dollar Man," I dunno, it sounds kinda small somehow.  I mean 
               maybe if you change that M in million to a Z I could get behind 
               it.  They tried all sorts of names, wanted to call me the Magic 
               Man -- but picking 80 percent winners sounds pretty scientific 
               to me.  So let's just call me John.  I was a quarterback.  And 
               every QB knows the key to victory is anticipating -- the ability 
               to see the future and react to it.  That is what I do, that's 
               the truth, and what do they say about the truth, Walter?
 
                                     WALTER
               ... It bites you on the ass?

                                     BRANDON
               Not in my case.  You tell us, Jerry. 

                                     JERRY
               It sets you free?

                                     BRANDON
               That's right, but with me it makes you M-O-N-EE!  I'm picking 
               80 percent, is that 
 
               unbelievable?  Well it used to be.  I know the leagues!  I know 
               the players!  I
 
                                     
                                     BRANDON CON'D
               know the game!  I'm your friend on the field!  Your insider on 
               the outside!  You can't do what I do if you haven't been there! 
                Played at the level I have!  Maybe you'll get lucky -- guess 
               right once in a while -- but these match- ups won't be called 
               consistently by anything other than experience!  Forget trends! 
                Throw out every system you possess!  Keep your friends but toss 
               their opinions out the window!  It's time to change I-would-if-I-could 
               to I-can-and-I-am!  You wanna know who I like -- call that little 
               number at the bottom of your screen!
 
               BRANDON continues.  CAMERA on WALTER, watching proudly and -- 
                
 

               INT. WALTER AND TONI'S APARTMENT - NIGHT


               WALTER walks down the dim hall, looks in on JULIA, sleeping. 
               
 

               INT. WALTER AND TONI'S BEDROOM - NIGHT


               Dim darkness.  Silence.  Then someone bumps into something.  
               Muffled curse.  A light goes on.  TONI sits up in bed, sees WALTER 
               fully dressed, across the room, holding his shoes.
 
                                     WALTER
               I'm not here.  Go back to sleep.

                                     TONI
               It's four in the morning.

                                     WALTER
               (continues to his dresser, manic)

               What a show!  You should have seen him!  I'm sitting there watching 
               him roll and I swear he made me want to grab a phone and call! 
                I took the sales boys out to Smith and Wo's.  Get 'em primed 
               for the
 
               weekend.  Chuck got drunk, took a swing

               at one of the deer heads on the wall. 

               Just blowing off steam.  I'm gonna hire more guys Monday.  Put 
               in more phones.      Everything's amping up.  It's okay.  There's 
               room.  I'll tear down a
 
               few walls, fit another 10 desks down 

               there easy.  I'm gonna do a whole dot-com thing around him!  
               Oh shit, if I had me when I was his age... I never had a 
 
               protege.  Someone you hand it all down to.  Anything happens 
               to me, he steps in!  Just knowing that, with the thing... I 
 
               
               mean that's just beautiful!

               (changing into workout clothes)

               Just beautiful.

                                     TONI
               What are you doing?

                                     WALTER
               Going for a run.  See the sunrise.  We're doubling volume this 
               week.  And doubling it again after that.  He can pick, he can 
               sell, he's gonna change things around here.  He's the real deal. 
                Knows sports from the inside.  That's how he picks.  Guy like 
               him comes along once in a -- a -- 
 
                                     TONI
               -- 100 years.

                                     WALTER
               Yeah, a lifetime.

                                     TONI
               Walter, come to bed.

                                     WALTER
               Not tired.

                                     TONI
               You're exhausted.

                                     WALTER
               I'm just gonna run the bridge, up Fifth, circle Central Park, 
               be back in no time.
 
                                     TONI
               Get in bed.  Lie down next to me.  Come on.  Come here, Walter. 
                
 
                                     WALTER
               Just a quick once-around.

                                     TONI
               Roll on your stomach for a minute.

                                     WALTER
               Just for a sec.  I've gotta meet the trainer tomorrow.  Told 
               me to run.  Run in place, or from one place to another...
 
               WALTER lays down.  TONI gently massages his back.  She leans 
               in, whispers to him.  We sense she's done this before.
 
                                     TONI
               --I know.  Of course you do.  This is no time to sleep, Walter... 
               Can't sleep now... Just because you're so tired... Completely, 
               totally, utterly exhausted... I'll be here when you get back 
               from your
 
                                     
                                     TONI CON'D
               run... Right beside you... You go on now, baby, I'll stay right 
               here... It's okay... Close your eyes... Just for a second before 
               you leave... I'm not going anywhere... I'll just hold you--
 
               
               (quietly crying)

               I'll wait right here for you...

               TONI'S whisperings become a constant, soothing, mantra.  WALTER'S 
               eyes close.  Dressed in sweats and sneakers.  Gone.  TONI loosens 
               his laces, covers him with a blanket, slides under the covers. 
                TONI kills the light.  Seen in darkness.  Holding WALTER close, 
               draping a protective arm around and --
 

               INT. SALES ROOM - DAY


               A SLEDGE HAMMER smashes through a wall.  DELIVERYMEN dolly in 
               new