February 16, 2015

FEBRUARY 16, 2015

A man in an expensive shearling coat sits at table. An older man, he looks out window. His face brightens when he sees an attractive, fortyish woman approach. She enters coffee shop, taking off hood and sunglasses and sits down at his table.

Man: Hello, my love. Don’t tell me you walked here?

Woman: Of course. *blows nose in tissue* A twenty minute walk never killed anyone.

Man: It might in this weather. Although, do you realize it’s colder here than where we’ll be skiing next week?  

Woman: Scary thought. *fixes hair* I must look a mess.

Man: You look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. But you mentioned something about being upset?

Woman: Yes, the IRS closed Gar_ _ _’s salon.

Man: What? What do you mean closed?

Woman: I mean, shut down … locked the doors. We were all in shock.

Man: But why?

Woman: Evidently he owes back taxes.

Man: How much?

Woman: A million.

Man: Can he pay?

Woman: I guess not. I don't know if he has the money. 

Man: But he must have been paying his rent.

Woman: Yes, I suppose ... just not his taxes.

Man: And they shut down his business? Have they no shame? How is he supposed to earn a living? And it’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating. They're heartless.

Woman: They do not care. They want their money.

Man: But how much can he earn? $200,000 a year?

Woman: Two hundred … what did you just say?! *incredulous*

Man: I said, how much can he be earning. $200,00 a year.

Woman: Are you kidding me? He’s a top hair stylist with clients like Madonna, Gwynneth Paltrow, Angelina Jolie and you think he’s earning a measly $200,000 a year? Doubtful.

Man: Then how much?

Woman: Try ten times that much.

Man: Really?

Woman: Yes.

Man: What’s he going to do?

Woman: I just talked to him. He’s moved back to Florida. He has a salon there, you know. He'll keep that one open. 

Man: I guess Florida protects your assets. I think it’s why OJ moved there. Remember? They couldn’t touch his assets?

Woman: I have no idea, but they’re not just going to let this drop. The IRS isn’t like that.

Man: Where was his salon? I mean, in NY?

Woman: Oh, it was in the best section. Mick Jagger lives around there … in The _________.

Man: Mick Jagger?

Woman: Yes, he’s in the gym all the time. I mean, all the time. I have a friend living in The _______ and he says, he’s in there working out for hours at a time.

Man: Really? Impressive. He must be in his seventies.

Woman: I think so. Maybe. Let me get a latte; then we’ll leave.

Man: Yes, it’s getting late. You know, you really do look beautiful.

Woman: *smiles* *goes to counter to purchase drink*

Man Sitting Next to their table: Hey, that’s a great jacket. Must be warm.

Man: Thank you, it is. I’m going to bring it on my trip to Aspen next week. We’re going skiing.

Woman: Ready? *has drink* *puts on coat*

Man: After you, my dear.

*they exit into the cold as I continue writing*

FEBRUARY 15, 2015

Three teenagers sitting at a table. One boy and two girls, the boy had his arm over the shoulder of the girl closest to him. A single red rose was next to girl #1. It appeared they were on a Valentine's Day date. 

Girl #1: I talked to that girl that used to go to our school.  

Boy: What girl? 

Girl #1: Jessica.    
Girl #2: Jessica?
Girl #1: Yes, Jessica. You must remember. She's the one who stabbed her boyfriend's ex-girl- ... wait, no, she was the ex-girlfriend and she stabbed her boyfriend's new girlfriend ... and him ... they both died... *mutters* she's really nice 

Boy: *derisively laughs* Nice? How can she be nice? She killed two people. 
Girl #2: Yeah, how?   
Girl #1: She is ... of course, she's in prison. 

Boy: Doesn't sound so nice to me.   

Girl #1: Well, she comes from a really good family. 

February 9, 2015

FEBRUARY 9, 2015

Two women in their thirties enter. A beautiful child in tow, she holds the hand of the taller, blonder woman. The child bears a striking similar to her. The mother removes her daughter’s coat revealing a magical outfit. A unicorn on the front of the blue shirt, it's surrounded by an iridescent glow. A long, purple taffeta tutu float over the matching leggings. Her long blonde hair hanging down her back in waves, the seven-year-old looks like a princess out of a fairy tale. After the two women buy their lattes, they take a seat at a table.

Little Girl: Is daddy really coming? 

Mother: Yes, I’ve already told you he is. Now sit down and shut up.

Little Girl: Daddy’s coming! Daddy’s coming!

Mother: Didn’t I just say to shut up? *addressing woman* God, she’s so loud. All the time, she just shouts. It’s so annoying.

Little Girl: *in soft tone* Mommy?

Mother: *ignoring daughter* I mean, I get a headache from her every single day. Why can’t children just behave like adults? It’d be so much simpler. *laughter*

Little Girl: *raising volume* Mommy. 

Woman #2: I suppose that would be easier. If they were adults, we could talk about plays—like the one we just saw this weekend.  

Mother: Oh, my, that was good! The acting was superb and the music, well, I quite thought that—

Little Girl: *screaming* Mommy! 

Mother: Oh, dear God! Stop screaming! Now what do you want?

Little Girl: When's daddy coming?

Mother: *glancing at her watch* He should be here. *addressing second woman* He’s always late! Always! If I tell him 5:30, he arrives at 6:00! Todd? Where are you? We’re waiting? *pauses* Well, hurry up. *hangs up phone*

Little Girl: Is he coming?

Mother: I said YES, now shut up! Where was I, oh, the play … well, I think it should win the Tony this year.

Woman #2: I think so, too. It’s undoubtedly the best play I’ve seen and—

Little Girl: *escalating from soft to loud* Mommy? Mommy. MOMMY! 

Mother: Now what?!

Little Girl: Can I have Minerva, please? *mother angrily digs through bag and shoves a stuffed unicorn into her daughter’s arms.

Mother: God, children are so annoying. I can’t wait until she’s in college! *more laughter*

Little Girl: Daddy! *she screams as she jumps up and runs to the tall, handsome, suited man entering* *she flings out her arms to give him a hug and be picked up* *he puts hands on hips and scrutinizes her instead*

Father: What the hell do you have on?

Little Girl: *looks down at shirt* *tugs on it and smiles* My magical shirt! See! It’s got sequins!

Father: Those are pajamas! PAJAMAS! You look ridiculous!

Little Girl: *smile goes away* *looks down at floor* *becomes uncomfortable*

Father: Who dressed you? Who put that on you?

Little Girl: *whispers* I did, Daddy. I picked it out—for you. I thought it was pretty.

Father: I think it’s stupid and you look like a jerk, that’s what I think! Your mother said it was okay for you to wear that out? *daughter is silent* We’ll see about this. *grabs her by her hand and marches her to her mother’s table* What the hell? You let her wear pajamas out? She looks like a clown! A fool! What kind of mother lets there child wear pajamas outside?

Mother: She said she wanted to wear them.

Father: Well, she looks stupid! *kneels down, his hands smother his child’s small shoulders* You want to look stupid, is that it? Well, you do! *laughs* What a clown! *sits down at table* *addresses mother* Well, at least you two look nice. Did you lose a little weight?

Mother: Why, yes, I did. I’ve been going to the gym and—

Little Girl: Daddy. Daddy? DADDY!

Father: Stop screaming in my ear.

Mother: I’ve told her to stop doing that. Maybe she’ll listen when she’s twenty-one. I’ll just have to endure it until then.

Little Girl: *in normal tone* Daddy?

Father: What? What do you want?

Little Girl: *takes paper out of pocket* I wanted to show you something I made in school. It’s a drawing and—

Father: I don’t want to look at a drawing—I want to talk to your mother. *father and mother continue conversation about going to gym*

Little Girl: *turns to second woman* Aunt Jane, can I show you?

Woman #2: *smiles broadly* Sure, you can show me. Now let’s go to another table so we can talk. *little girl smiles* *dances around as she’s led to empty table* *they engage in animated conversation about picture*as divorced couple begin to bicker

FEBRUARY 8, 2015

FEBRUARY 8, 2015

Woman: We just have to wait for a bit because I don’t have the keys to the roof.

Man:  You mean, because of the fire?

Woman: “Yes, before that it was open. People went up there to smoke, drink, talk, but it’s locked now. Did you know that Charles is in love with my assistant Petra? She’s blonde, about twenty-five and if she were here with us, he’d be here already. Just love, love, loves her.

Man:  *laughs* No, I didn’t know.

Woman: So tell me about you … where are you from?

Man:  Ecuador.

Woman: Really? And how was it you came here?

Man: Because of my parents. They were both business owners and they lived through the most brutal dictatorship in the world.

Woman: What happened?

Man:  Well, after the government fell, the military started shaking down business owners. My father and mother were taken advantage of, but could do nothing. They lost everything, but it seemed the new regime didn’t care … or was a part of what was going on.

Woman: It must have been awful. And they moved to NY?

Man:  Yes, Sunnyside.

Woman: I love Sunnyside. *cell rings* Hello, Charles? You’re at the apartment? What are you doing there? I told you to call me? *starts packing up to leave* We’re in Starbucks, but we’ll be right there.