Read Online Dreamsongs - Volume II by George R. R. Martin - Free Book Online Page A

don’t need
to waste my time.
     
    Scowling, Tom knocks on the door.
     
    ANGLE ON THE DOOR
     
    The POLICEMAN opens the door from outside.
     
    POLICEMAN
     
    All through in
here, Dr Lake?
     
    TOM
     
    I guess we are.
     
    He is about to exit when ...
     
    CAT
     
    (soft)
     
    Cat.
     
    TOM
     
    She talks .. .
     
    (to policeman)
     
    Maybe you better
give us a few more minutes.
     
    The policeman closes the door, leaving them
alone.
     
    TOM
     
    Did you say
something?
     
    CAT
     

(a beat, then:)
     
    Cat.
     
    TOM
     
    Cat? Like in
Catherine?
     
    CAT
     
    Cat. Name,
     
    (shy smile)
     
    Toe Mas.
     
    Cat speaks with a slight ACCENT. Nothing we
can easily put a finger on, nothing that suggests any known country or region,
but a musical lilt to her words that hints that somehow she is a stranger in
this place.
     
    TOM
     
    Bingo. Toe Mas. Toe
Mas Lake
     
    (beat)
     
    How about an
address? Do you have a family? A boyfriend? Anyone we can
    contact?
     
    (no response)
     
    Where did you come
from?
     
    Cat gets up from the floor.
     
    CAT
     
    Earth.
     
    TOM
     
    That clarifies
things. What part of Earth?
     
    CAT
     
    Angels.
     
    TOM
     
    Angels ... you mean
L.A.? Los Angeles? Here?
     
    CAT
     
    Not here. There.
Angels.
     
    TOM
     
    Okay. How did you
get from there to here?
     
    CAT
     
    Door.
     
    Now it’s his turn to look blank.
     
    TOM
     
    On the freeway? A
car door?
     
    CAT
     
    Door between,
     
    (impatient)
     
    Leaving now, Toe
Mas. Going now. Getting out.
     
    She gets up, strides to the door, pulls at
it It’s locked She looks at Tom, expecting him to help.    
                     
           
     
    TOM
     
    That door only
opens for me right now. Sorry.
     
    Firmly, but gently, he moves her away from
the door, KNOCKS. THE POLICEMAN IN THE HALL OPENS FOR HIM.
     
    TOM
     
    Look, my girlfriend’s
a lawyer. I’ll talk to her. That’s all I can do for you right
    now.
     
    CAT
     
    Not knowing lawyer.
     
    TOM            
                     
                     
                     
                     
                     
               
     
    You really must be
from another country.  
                     
                     
   
     
    He EXITS, the door closes, and Cat throws
herself on the bed, frustrated and trapped.
     
    DISSOLVE TO
     
    EXT. - BEACHFRONT APARTMENT - NEAR DAWN    
           
     
    Tom’s car, a little Mazda Miata, pulls up
in front of a ramshackle   old wooden
apartment building by the beach.            
                     
             
     
    INT. - TOM’S BEDROOM - DAWN
     
    A woman is asleep in a big brass bed, under
a rumpled sheet. In b.g.   are lots of
bookcases crammed with medical texts, law books, and paperbacks. Right over the
bed, very prominent, is Tom’s framed antique poster for a performance featuring
HARRY HOUDINI. The woman in the bed is in her late twenties, pretty, with long
red hair. Her name is LAURA.
     
    Tom sits on the bed beside her. He touches
her shoulder, gently,   Laura rolls over,
muttering a protest. Tom shakes her a little harder. Her eyes open.
     
    LAURA
     
    (sleepy)
     
    Tom? Is that you?
What time is it? You just get home?
     
    (glances at clock)
     
    Oh, god, it’s too
early. Go away. Leave me alone.
     
    Laura rolls over and pulls the sheet back
over her head. Tom gently tugs it down again.
     
    TOM
     
    Wake up. Coffee’s
on. Jump in the shower and put on your shyster hat. I
    need help.
     
    Tom moves off. Laura sighs, stirs. She sits
up in bed, grumpy but awake.
     
    INT. - TOM’S KITCHEN - DAWN
     
    Laura sits at the kitchen table. She has
slipped into a terrycloth robe. Her hair is still tousled from sleep. She
cradles a steaming mug of coffee and listens. Tom paces the kitchen floor,
restless, angry.
     
    TOM
     
    I tell you, there’s
something very strange about this