Many women dream and wish for things since they were little girls; some simply forget what they once loved so deeply when they were young, lost in the harsh realities of life that make them abandon those desires they used to hold so close. How interesting, or how magnificent it is, that people can drift so far from the path meant for them. For months now, Winona had been completely detached from the world around her, so it was no surprise that she found herself entirely caught up in the atmosphere of Hollywood. She had begun taking sleeping pills — small white tablets made for those who suffer from insomnia. She would take one, her mind would grow dizzy, and she'd find the bed as quickly as one could wish, falling asleep for the next nine hours. She'd wake up hardly knowing where she was or what she was doing. A constant fatigue lingered — she rested, yet she never truly understood what real rest was.
-You're completely out of it. – Billy remarked, noticing Winona's eyes, almost bloodshot. It was something he'd seen before when she struggled with alcohol. She liked wine now, mixing it with the pills — it had been nearly six months. A problem. When she didn't take them, she could go two days without sleeping. It was almost impossible for her to fully grasp the thing that plagued her.
-It's too early. – murmured the dark-haired woman, leaning against Billy's chest, leaving a faint stain on his white shirt. She fell asleep so quickly that Billy sighed as he carefully adjusted her. Like a cat, she clung to him, looking as innocent as a child missing her mother's warmth to fall asleep.
-You've got half an hour while the crew finishes some setups. – Billy said, not wanting to interrupt her rest. It was hard for anyone not to notice the scene — different, yet so similar to the one Nora had in her hands, a romance that felt alive, tangible. It's the smallest details that make each relationship beautiful, for from them spring the truths — intrinsic, patient, from every angle, perspective, or desire of life and reality.
-Just… a little while. – she muttered, almost stammering, her eyes closing as if by magic.
Billy took a breath. But there was still work to do.
…
For Nora's world, each scene was like giving life through a fervent lens — allowing people to see a reality that almost felt like their own. Each frame reflected something particular, something raw and defining, the point where life reached its fullest expression.
The lens breathed life, and now she was preparing for her final film — or at least, one of the last romances left on her path.
–Scene 51, take 2.–
A publication party for an author named VINCE MANCINI. A mix of literary types, journalists, and other media professionals.
FRANK: Hi, Vince. Congratulations. You already know Kathleen Kelly.
VINCE: How are you?
FRANK: Guess who I ran into on the subway today? William Spungeon.
VINCE: I thought he was in Mexico.
They start chatting. Across the room, Joe is with Patricia, who's telling two others a story about her encounter with a rabbi in a taxi. Joe looks over and sees Kathleen. Suddenly, he seems pained. He shifts position so she can't see his face but steals a glance at her.
PATRICIA: Get me another drink, honey? I'm out.
(She keeps talking)
Then the rabbi says, "It's a wonderful place to unwind." Isn't that hilarious? Everyone laughs. Joe walks over to the bar.
JOE: Absolut on the rocks.
While he waits, Kathleen steps up beside him.
KATHLEEN: A glass of white wine, please.
(cheerfully)
Oh, hi.
JOE: Hi.
KATHLEEN: You remember me, from the bookstore?
JOE: Of course I remember you.
KATHLEEN: How's your aunt?
JOE: Good. She's good.
(takes his drink)
I've got to run. I have a very thirsty date. Half camel.
Kathleen laughs.
KATHLEEN: Joe. It's Joe, right?
JOE: And you're Kathleen.
Joe drifts back into the party. Like a wandering soul, life around him had long become difficult and impossible to make sense of for anyone with even a hint of feeling.
–Cut.–
-You and Joe seem pretty alike. – Winona commented as she approached, her black sweater covering her hands — a quiet sign of her usual guardedness.
-In what way?–
-In how you both run at the slightest sign of danger. – Winona replied. Billy simply nodded, acknowledging her calm and simple words, their truth cutting deeper than she likely meant.
-Joe's got a lot on his mind. – Billy answered, admiring her expression. She was remarkably strong when it came to always hitting her mark — especially in matters of the heart.
-Kathleen melts for Joe, but he doesn't even know it. – said Winona.
-The science of attraction, then. – Billy replied. Curiously, the entire film lacked any real trace of physical intimacy.
INT. VINCE MANCINI'S APARTMENT – NIGHT – A MINUTE LATER
VINCE: I can't believe you were talking to Joe Fox.
KATHLEEN: Joe Fox? I mean…
She can't even finish the sentence.
–Cut.–
-Everyone to your places.–
People hurried around. Billy saw Monica arrive — a stunning woman in a yellow dress, radiant and magnetic. She was truly beautiful, and everything she did seemed to draw attention. Billy could only raise a hand before they moved on to the next scene — Scene 44 — where so much still needed to be done, each moment carefully crafted and guided.
–Scene 56, take 5.–
INTERIOR: VINCE MANCINI'S APARTMENT – A FEW MINUTES LATER
Joe stands by a table, his back to the room.
KATHLEEN: Fox? Your name is Fox?
Joe turns to face her.
JOE: F–O–X.
KATHLEEN: God, I didn't realize. I didn't know who you…
(Her voice fades)
JOE: …were with.
(Quoting)
"I didn't know who you were with."
KATHLEEN: Excuse me?
JOE: It's from The Godfather. When the producer realizes Tom Hagen is Vito Corleone's envoy…
(He continues)
Kathleen stares at him.
JOE (continuing):
-- just before the horse's head ends up in his bed. Anyway—
KATHLEEN: You were spying on me, weren't you? You probably hired those kids.
JOE: Why would I spy on you?
KATHLEEN: I'm your competition. You know it perfectly well, or you wouldn't have put up that sign that says "Around the Corner."
JOE: The entrance to our store is around the corner. There's no other way to say it. It's not our store's name, it's where it is. You don't own "around the corner."
KATHLEEN: Next thing you'll use are twinkling lights.
JOE: Twinkling lights?
KATHLEEN: Little white Christmas lights that twinkle. I use them in my window display and all over my shop — as if you hadn't noticed.
JOE: Look, the reason I came into your store was that I was spending the day with Annabel and Matt. I like to get them a gift when I see them — I'm one of those uncles who wins kids over that way. There was only one children's bookstore in the neighborhood, though that won't always be the case, and it was yours — a lovely little shop. You probably sell about $250,000 in books a year.
KATHLEEN: How do you know that?
JOE: I'm in the book business.
KATHLEEN: I'm in the book business.
JOE: Right, and we're the Price Club. Only instead of a $3.99 can of olive oil too big for your kitchen shelf, we sell discount books. Me, a spy.
(pauses)
Completely. And I even managed to get my hands on a secret printout of the sales figures for such a tiny, charming bookstore that I simply had to rush over, terrified you might ruin me.
Kathleen stares at him, speechless.
JOE (continuing):
What? What?
He looks away. Kathleen shakes her head.
Frank appears.
FRANK: Hi. I'm Frank Navasky.
JOE: -- Joe Fox.
FRANK: Joe Fox? Inventor of the supermarket, enemy of second-rate novels, destroyer of City Books... tell me, how do you sleep at night?
Patricia joins them.
PATRICIA: I use this wonderful over-the-counter medication, Ultrasom. Don't take the whole thing, just half, and you'll wake up without a trace of a hangover. You're Frank Navasky, right?
FRANK: Yes.
PATRICIA: Your last piece in The Independent — the one on Anthony Powell — was brilliant. I'm Patricia Eden, from Eden Books. Joe, this man is the leading living expert on Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.
JOE: And this is Kathleen Kelly.
Kathleen glares at him.
FRANK: You liked my article? God, I'm flattered. You know, you write these things and wait for someone to mention them, and then the whole week goes by, the phone doesn't ring, and you think, "My God, I'm a fraud, a failure."
PATRICIA: You know what's always fascinated me about Julius and Ethel Rosenberg? How old they looked when they were actually our age.
Everyone freezes at the remark and looks at Patricia, who smiles brightly.
PATRICIA
(to Frank)
I'm so glad to finally meet you. We'll talk. Have you ever thought about writing a book?
FRANK: Sure, it's crossed my mind. Something truly relevant these days, like the Luddite movement in nineteenth-century England. Meanwhile— Patricia—
FRANK –
-JOE
-KATHLEEN
–Cut.–
Billy finished with a sigh. An entire day and half the night, all for twelve minutes of footage — with fifteen more to go. Almost double the usual time.
-There's a break now. – Billy said, glancing toward Monica.
...