Vanilla Sky Page #4

I hate it when you say "soon."

Danny Bramson gave him that

for his birthday last year.

So this is what's become

of rock and roll--

a smashed guitar behind a glass case

displayed on some rich guy's wall.

It was a gift, actually.

- I like it.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa.

So how did you

get all this stuff--

this apartment, this life?

I see.

How 'bout if you help me,

unless I'm horning in here.

- You are, but the food's good.

- I have a problem. I got a stalker.

It doesn't sound life threatening.

I need for you to pretend we are

having a scintillating conversation...

and you are wildly entertained.

- I know it's tough.

- I'll improvise.

She's across the room and burning

a hole in my back now, isn't she?

Red dress, strappy shoes?

Wow. She's really staring at you.

- Sh*t.

- And she seems to be crying.

Less happy.

I think she's the saddest girl

to ever hold a martini.

- Jennifer Kelly.

- Hi ,Jennifer.

- You have another apartment.

- Sort of a day office. Come on.

- I am not going in there.

- I am. Good night.

- I hear her coming.

- Really?

- Hi.

- How are you?

We're safe, but I've got

nothing to drink.

Who did these paintings?

This is Joni Mitchell.

This one is Monet.

And this one...

was done by me.

It is a snowboard.

Well, two of them are geniuses.

That is the real thing.

His paintbrush painted

the vanilla sky.

And his canvas.

My mother's.

- I'm surprised you're surprised.

- I can't keep this banter going.

- Me neither.

- I caught you.

Brian, come in here.

- What's going on?

- Your friends are fun and I'm drunk.

- Julie Gianni is stalking me.

- She looked dangerous.

Nobody stalks me,

so I drink.

- We're all out up here.

- Finish my Jack and Coke.

- Stupid glass.

- I got it.

- It's the stupid guy holding it.

- Don't worry. No big deal.

I'll go get us something.

Jacks and Cokes?

I better hit it. I drank

too much and I didn't eat.

- The party's just starting.

- For you it is.

You cannot go.

You are my guest of honor.

F*** you, David.

You're paying me to write my novel,

so you own me.

I don't own you. You are brilliant,

good-looking, handsome.

But why'd you have to hit

on Sofia?

- I wasn't hitting on Sofia.

- Fine. Whatever you say.

- I'm crazy. I'm blind.

- You're not blind.

You're drinking Jack and when

you do you start in with that...

Frank Sinatra,

she shot me down...

give me a cigarette

king of sad thing.

- That I do. Give me a cigarette.

- I'll find one.

Wait. You're rich and women love

you and I'm from Ohio and drunk.

- Can I tell you the truth?

- Everybody does.

I dig her.

And I've never said this to you

before about any girl...

but she could be--

could be-- could be--

Rate this script:3.7 / 3 votes