Set Fire to the Stars Page #3

- Of course.

Your audience awaits you, Mr. Thomas.

"If I were tickled by the rub of love

A rooking girl who stole me for her side

Broke through her straws

breaking my bandaged string

If the red tickle as the cattle calve

still set to scratch

a laughter from my lung

I would not fear the apple nor the flood

Nor the bad blood of spring

Shall it be male or female?

Say the cells

And drop the plum

like fire from the flesh"

Rest is obviously needed along

with a complete change of lifestyle,

starting from now,

if he's to have a fighting chance.

I'm a drunk!

- He knows.

- I know.

Have you contacted his family?

Leave her out of this!

You have to.

This isn't something you and I can fix.

Believe me.

I sent a letter on his arrival

but nothing since.

- Perhaps I should call.

- Yes, you should.

Doctor, we've major engagements

that start in a few days.

Important engagements.

Important?

I can't stop him, I can only advise.

But for now and until then

don't let him out of your sight.

New York is killing him.

It was a pleasure, Mr Thomas.

I'm a great admirer of your work.

Good night.

Dylan, are you okay?

Please come out, we need to talk.

Thought I'd find you here.

I took the liberty of collecting

your mail from your office.

I think that one's for Dylan.

It's from... Caitlin Thomas.

Congratulations, on this evening.

It certainly was a triumph.

Tickets have started to fly out.

Where's Dylan?

He's in the bathroom.

He's a little under the weather.

You boys.

Look, I understand your next reading

isn't for four days?

I'd have no bother setting up another

- venue before...

- No, no thank you.

It would be good to take the time

to prepare and work up to it.

Fair enough.

We wouldn't want to kill

the man now, would we?

- I'll see you in four days.

- Sorry?

At Yale, John. Yale.

My old Alma Mater.

I promised them a private reading.

Right.

I really don't want to mess that one up.

Again, well done.

You really have caught the big fish.

Something for me?

From home.

Your wife.

Lavender scent.

It's how she gets a grip on you.

Will you not open it?

Yale is in a few days.

It's very important...

New York City...

you brave b*tch.

You certainly haven't disappointed.

Dylan... Dylan?

Christ! Don't do this to me, Dylan.

Don't you bloody dare...

Please, John.

- Reception. Hello?

- Please...

Hello?

Jesus, John! What have you done?

What happened to Third Avenue?

Did the Reds steal it in the night?

Morning. We're in Fairfield County.

Forty-seven miles up the coast.

This belonged to my parents.

We used to summer here.

These days I don't really

make it up here.

Now it's a halfway house

for a dollar-mad nightingale.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes