EXT – GRAND CANYON TOUR OFFICE – DAY EDGAR BURNS paces back and forth, his hand resting on his holstered Glock in a nervous manner. He is moving a cell phone up and down in an attempt to get a signal. He squints at the screen in the brilliant midday sun. EDGAR: Come on you stupid piece of junk. His pacing leads him to the edge of the building where he notices a small rise nearby. He wipes sweat from his brow as he trudges up the slope. At the top of the rise Edgar holds the phone as high as he can and spins a few times. A signal is finally obtained. He punches in a number and places the phone to his ear. EDGAR: (on phone) Chief? Hey, its Edgar. Yeah. Um, I sent in for an arrest warrant for Jill Haynes this morning. Did it come through? What? Why?! There’s plenty of probable cause! Edgar continues to pace, becoming more and more agitated. EDGAR: Cause her mother was a dealer and a user and so is she. I just know! Listen, she is about to go out on some tour for I don’t know how long and she’s probably up here for some sort of deal or something. It may be going down on this tour! Edgar stops and tries to compose himself. EDGAR: Here? Um, well, a tour of the Grand Canyon area. Um, no, I’m not in Vegas. Cause that’s where she went! No. No! She left town right as my investigation was picking up. Find another judge! With all due respect, I.. What? But, she may never come back! This is my best shot to.. no! I can’t.. I mean.. Hello? Chief? Chief?!? Edgar begins to throw his phone down but then thinks better of it. He turns back toward the building just as Jill and Carter emerge. He ducks down behind a small bush. EDGAR: Screw a warrant.

INT. DESPINA's HOUSE - DAY DESPINA: Mmmmm sushi sounds good. Let's go to Nobu. Why? Because. That's why. When's the last time we went somewhere schmancy? Ok, I'll call you right back. She hangs up, searches for the number and it connects... DESPINA: Hello. Can I make a reservation for 2 for Friday night, please? How 'bout the 8:30? That's fine. It's Despina D-e-s-... No, not Jessica. Des-pin-a. I'll spell it D-e-s-p-i-n-a. No, 'P' as in Papa. D-e-s-P-i-n-a. It's Greek. It's the Greek word for the Virgin Mary, sort of like Madonna is for Italian. Yup. Mother of God. Oh really? That's great. I do indeed. Yes, my father lives there still. So that's for 8:30, right? Ok, thank y- Oh, the Greek Festival is at the end of this month. Yes. So fun. Yes, I love Greek food. Ok, thank y- No, I don't know him. Oh he is? Cool. Ok. Ok, thank y- Click. (and this, friends, is why I started using the pseudonym Texas... until that created just as much conversation and led to innocently curious questions as to why I don't use my real name and what my real name is and then I roll into that exact same conversation as seen above every.single.time.)

EXT. HARVARD SQUARE - EVENING Jake exits the busy T, wrapped up for a brisk Cambridge evening. An office girl smiles at the bouquet he's carrying: blue and white carnations, a couple of blood red roses. Night has fallen but Harvard Square is bright, lit by a full moon, streetlights and garish store displays. Across the road, the Coop reminds us there are a mere 40 shopping days until Christmas. Jake turns left, strolls happily up Mass Ave. Passing Mr Bartley's, his phone rings. Jake beams to see who's calling. JAKE: Hey Laura, I just got off the T-- Jake comes to a complete halt. JAKE: ...what do you mean you've changed your mind?... Holly? What did Holly say?... you know I turned her down just so I could ask you out, right?... *Laura*... Jake holds his phone to his chest as an exasperated look crosses his face. You can almost see his heart break. JAKE: (defeated) ...ok... ok. Call ends, Jake stands crestfallen, almost tearful, then looks up at the full moon like he's ready to howl. JAKE: Fuck! Jake turns around, marches to a garbage can, throws in the flowers so forcefully, Tom Brady would have been proud. Marches back towards the T.

EXT. BEACH CAFÉ – EARLY AFTERNOON It’s a hot sunny day, even the sunflowers feel they are outshined by the sun. The beach is crowded. At the boulevard George, in suit, is having a great time till his mobile rings. GEORGE: oh no, sir, you don’t bother at all. Actually, I was just talking about it to the new guy. We know it’s going to be tough. We do best what we need to do. You agree? Oh, thank you sir. WAITRESS: (interrupts phone call) your blue lagoon, sir GEORGE: Noo. How could you think that. That was Maggie, she uses fun names for water. Not at all sir. You know, I hate water, but, doctor’s orders. What? You’re at my office within 5 minutes? What for? Sorry, yes sir. I’ll see you soon.

INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT Lillian is sitting up in bed reading a book. The other half of the bed has yet to be disturbed. Josh comes crashing into the bedroom. He throws his phone and keys onto the bedside table, his jacket and briefcase onto the chair in the corner of the room, and enters the bathroom without a word or glance at his wife. The shower turns on. She's looks concerned, but goes back to reading her book. Across the bed, her husband's cell phone begins to ring. She looks at it and hesitates, unsure whether she should answer it or not. She decides she should. On the screen is the name and photo of a woman she doesn't recognize. She answers. LILLIAN: Hello? Who is this? This is his wife. You're sorry? Sorry for what? What do you mean? Wha...? She holds the phone out in front of her, stunned. A tear falls down her cheek before the anger begins to bubble up. The shower turns off and Josh comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist. She throws the phone at his head and storms out of the room, not looking back to see if she hit her target.

EXT STATEN ISLAND FERRY - DAY Holly stands alone on the upper deck, looking tough in a black leather jacket, taking in the view through her Raybans. Ocean breeze through her auburn hair. Ferry powers past Ellis Island on it's way to Manhattan. Governors Island's to the right. Classic opening riff from Stooges "I Wanna Be Your Dog" sounds from inside her jacket. She answers a blue flip-up burner phone. HOLLY: ...it's done... our friend? You won't see him no more... What about my money?... outstanding! She smiles. This job was a nice little earner for her. HOLLY: ...I'm glad you're satisfied with my work... Holly glances around as if she's looking for witnesses. HOLLY: ...no problem, but you still gotta go through Bernie. He handles all the arrangements... right, I'll let him know, same deal as before... ok then... bye. Holly hangs up, dismantles the phone. Throws the battery into the river, then snaps the phone into two also tossing each half into the water. Holly grabs another phone from her pocket. Hits the speed dial. HOLLY: Bernie, heads up. Last client wants me for another gig...

INT. CAR - DAY BILLY and RON sit in a beaten-up white pickup by the side of a dirt road. The sun is high. It's bright. Both are sweating. RON: No, man, that's what I'm saying. When it gets to that point there's really no reason in keeping it going. No reason except that you're used to it. Once you get -- BILLY'S phone rings. He rolls his eyes and picks it up. BILLY: Hey babe... Workin'... Yep... Probably around 6 or so... That sounds fine... OK... Babe, I'm working right now. I really can't talk. I've told you this befo -- BILLY gradually raises his voice. He's on the verge of yelling now. BILLY: Because why?... No, no, I told you to leave the dog food by the door, where he couldn't get at it! You were the one that put it by the counter where the chair is!... How is that my fault?!.. He's your dog, remember?!?... I always do what? I don't know what you're talking about?... This? What is this? This is me talking. So now I don't know what this is?... Because this is so stupid. You always call me when I'm working and you know I can't talk! There's nothing we -- BILLY pulls his phone from his ear. He looks at it in disbelief. RON knows what happened but acts naive. RON: Did she? BILLY: Bitch. They share a loud, obnoxious laugh. RON: That's exactly what I'm talking about man.

Sometimes it's simply better to be mysterious and explain nothing, instead of wasting your breath on people too dumb to understand.

EXT. Parking Deck - Night LARA, a nurse in scrubs, 28, walks out of hospital middle of the night towards a parking deck in a big city. Looks before crossing the street, sees sketchy guy smoking. Moves faster. Approaches stairwell to deck, looks again -- sketchy guy throws down cigarette, jogs towards her. LARA: Shit. She flungs the steel door open, digs in massive tote bag as she tries to also runs down the stairs. Gets keys and phone. Stops. Turns phone on, it lights up then dies, no charge. Hears DOOR ABOVE HER OPEN. LARA: Shit, shit, shit! Okay, he doesn't know, he doesn't know. Keep your shit together. Continues down stairs. LARA (phone to ear): Hey honey! Oh, you know, night shift, drunks and traumas, loads of fun. Yeah. Yeah, I gotta get off this shift, (looks up warily) before it kills me. Exactly. Well, mom is right, what can I say? Mom is always right... He's getting closer. She busts through the door into the bottom level of the deck. Full out runs towards her car until she hears the DOOR SLAM. Stops, walks casually. LARA(panting): Un huh, yeah, I know. Looks over her shoulder, he's twenty feet away. LARA: What? You're here? To pick me up? Bottom level, oh that's okay... She's walked to the next stairwell exit. LARA: I'll just run up. She plows through the door, pulls the fire alarm and runs up the steps. CUT TO: Lara walking back into the hospital.

Ha! Thanks for the culture lesson. Headed to Greece soon, obviously I don't know shit if I don't know about Mother of God. If I used this word, and I don't, I'd say your name is "awesome." To hell with explanations.

Ha! I dream of calling out sick, so I like to imagine it ends badly for those who do. Though drinking something blue may be punishment enough.

Yeah, mobile phones must make having affairs even trickier. As you wrote, you do have to put it down at some point.

Slick. Assassin girl?

Of course.

INT. HOUSE - DAY A MAN (31), black beard and mustache, wearing a 1850's tweed suit, walks around a study room filled with books, cut wood and wires. He holds a square piece of wood to his ear. MAN: Yes sir. Not at all. The finest of course. My face on a stamp? I don't see how that would work. Stampable? Is that a word? Sure, why not then. Listen, I was thinking- A young beautiful woman, MABEL (30s), walks in with a tray filled with a tea setting. The Man puts away the wooden block in a hurry. MABEL (She knows): What are you doing my dear? The Man clears his voice, embarrassed. MAN: Well, huh, these past few days, past few weeks actually, I've been having this idea. More of an obsession really. He drops the wooden block on his desk, worried and tired. Mabel walks to him, stares right in his eyes and smiles, holding his face in her hands. MABEL: Don't chase it my love. Let it come to you. You'll find it I'm sure. He looks back at her, appeased for a second then his face jolts with excitement. He turns away from Mabel and screams. MAN: Watson, come here! I want to see you!