Tradition of Monogamy

Tradition of Monogamy: Arc One

[The camera pans over rows and rows of cubicles, all of the people with computers before them and each wearing headset-phones. There is a buzz of voices in the office that intermingles with the opening music and credits. Finally the camera comes to focus on one man, SEBASTIAN, who is talking on the phone and working on his computer. Sebastian has short, wavy, brown hair, and is a good-looking, average height, twenty-something white male; he’s wearing beige slacks, a short-sleeve dress shirt, with a tie.]

SEBASTIAN: Yes, that is all. [Short pause, nods.] Well thank you and have a nice day.

[Hits a button, which disconnects the phone. He looks over his shoulder at the clock (ten of five). He takes off his headset, leans back in chair, stretches and exhales.]

RHONDA (short, buzz-cut, young black female, wearing a summer dress): [Leaning around her cubicle.] What, like your day is done?

SEBASTIAN: You bet it is.

RHONDA: [Raises eyebrows.]

SEBASTIAN: Come on, it’ll take ten minutes to clean my station, right?

RHONDA: You are one bad boy, Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN: [Looking back at station.] Yeah well, try not to let my secret out, okay Rhonda?

RHONDA: [Laughs.] Okay.

[Camera skips to Sebastian cleaning up the last of his station, the music returns, and he gets up, gathers his things, runs his hand through his hair, and walks out: waving to others, nodding and talking. He lifts his card and punches out. He walks through the lunchroom and stops at the fridge to get his insulated lunch-bag. As he leaves the lunchroom, into a hallway, which leads to the exit, he meets JAMIE (an average height blonde with sizable breasts, very pretty.)]

JAMIE: Any plans for the weekend, Sebastian?

SEBASTIAN: No. Not really. I’m just gonna be glad to get the hell out of here.

JAMIE: Are you seeing that girl?

SEBASTIAN: What girl?

JAMIE: The one I hear you’re seeing.

SEBASTIAN: [Stops walking, and looks at her with his head cocked.] What exactly did you hear, and from who?

JAMIE: [Shrugs.] I hear things.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, well don’t get too disappointed. Rumors of my monogamy have been greatly exaggerated. [Starts walking again.]

JAMIE: So do you or do you not have a girlfriend?

SEBASTIAN: [Opening the door of his newer compact car, he stops and looks at her, pausing.] I’m going out tonight with my male friends. We’re going to Centers. You should stop by.

JAMIE: [Smiles.] Maybe I will.

SEBASTIAN: Good. [Sits in car and closes the door.] Good. [Drives away. If necessary, show car driving during more credits.]

[We see a locker door slam shut, and we are in the locker room of Sebastian’s gym, where he works out. He is now in shorts and a T-shirt, he nods to a man as he walks out.]

SEBASTIAN: How’s it going? [Steps out into the gym, full of machines, mirrors, and people.] What’s up, O? [Gives O (ORENTHAL) a quick hand shake and a clap on the back. Orenthal is a taller, slender, but cut, black man, with a black crewcut.]

ORENTHAL: Not much, Sebastian. How’s the phone center?

SEBASTIAN: Same as always. Thanks.

ORENTHAL: Don’t even ask, because my job is great.

SEBASTIAN: [Beginning to stretch out.] Screw you Mr. Regional Manager, let the world cry at my seventy-grand salary.

ORENTHAL: Hey, don't bitch at me because your literary talents don’t get you anywhere, and so you’re stuck in a dead end job trying to make ends meet.

SEBASTIAN: [Holds his hand out, pointing.] You make me sound so cliché.

ORENTHAL: Yeah, well.

SEBASTIAN: Are you here to work out or talk shit, O?

ORENTHAL: [Holding hands up in mock-surrender.] Okay, okay. [Gestures towards bench-press.] Is this too much for you?

SEBASTIAN: [Punches O’s shoulder, then lays down on bench.] Shut up.

ORENTHAL: [As Sebastian works out at the bench press.] Hey at least you don't have to put up with the bullshit I do. I mean it's hard enough to work through market trends and advertising schemes, planning for shifts in buyer interests and the selling market economy. Then you have to deal with store managers telling you that your plans and projects haven't or won't work, and they each give you a different reason why, and add a slew of ideas of their own. [Sebastian finishes his set and sits up.] Do you know how much of a pain that is?

SEBASTIAN: I can only imagine.

ORENTHAL: It's bad, son.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, and then some jackass like me calls you and asks if he can do a survey with you about copiers and faxes.

ORENTHAL: [As Sebastian walks away towards the water fountain, shaking his head.] Exactly.

[Scene shifts to the two at the water fountain.]

ORENTHAL: So what’s the plan for tonight?

SEBASTIAN: I thought we’d go out to Centers, see what’s up. I talked to Doug last night, he said he and Tommy would be there.

ORENTHAL: Is Rachel gonna be there? [Leans over to drink.]

SEBASTIAN: Why would she be?

ORENTHAL: She’s like your girlfriend, son.

SEBASTIAN: [Holds up a finger at O.] She’s like a friend.

ORENTHAL: Like a friend you hang out with all the time alone and sleep in the same bed with.

SEBASTIAN: I hang out with Laura all the time, and no one accuses us of being together.

ORENTHAL: Yeah, well, you’re not sleeping with her.

SEBASTIAN: Okay, so because I'm sleeping with Rachel, I gotta hang out with her every night?

ORENTHAL: Yeah, well she is your girlfriend.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, well don't forget we're seeing other people, too.

ORENTHAL: Right.

SEBASTIAN: Jesus Christ, what, like I can’t see other people because I’m seeing Rachel?

ORENTHAL: Man, you gotta be careful with that shit.

SEBASTIAN: Dude, she knows. [He sits into the butterfly machine.]

ORENTHAL: I know she knows, but just cause she knows doesn’t mean she likes it or is gonna take it forever.

SEBASTIAN: Whatever, she sees other people too.

ORENTHAL: Yeah right.

SEBASTIAN: [Working out, grunting his words.] She does. [Pause.] She’s seen more people than I have.

ORENTHAL: Yeah but she doesn’t fuck 'em all.

SEBASTIAN: [Finishes his set, looks over at O.] Your point?

ORENTHAL: I’m not gonna even dignify that with an answer.

SEBASTIAN: Fuck off.

ORENTHAL: Besides, when is the last time she even kissed someone other than you? [Sits into the butterfly machine.]

SEBASTIAN: [Shrugs.] I don’t know.

ORENTHAL: Man, you gotta talk to that girl. You gotta decide whether you want to be with her or not.

SEBASTIAN: That’s not even the issue.

ORENTHAL: Then what is?

SEBASTIAN: Whether I wanna be with just her.

ORENTHAL: Whatever. You just gotta figure out what you want.

[Scene shifts to Sebastian in the shower, he is rinsing the shampoo out of his hair; he is listening to music. The phone rings, and he quickly shakes the last bits of soap off, and reaches out of the stall for a towel. He wraps it around him and jogs into his kitchen (the closest room), and picks a cordless phone up off of the kitchen table.]

SEBASTIAN: Hello?

RACHEL: [Rachel is a short, dark-haired, pretty young white girl. But right now, we can only hear her voice over the phone.] Sebastian?

SEBASTIAN: Yeah. Rachel?

RACHEL: Yeah. How are you?

SEBASTIAN: Good.

RACHEL: How was work?

SEBASTIAN: Shitty.

RACHEL: Sorry.

SEBASTIAN: Don’t worry about it.

RACHEL: Are you going to do any writing tonight?

SEBASTIAN: On a Friday night? Yeah right.

RACHEL: You never work on Friday nights?

SEBASTIAN: I’ve tried to stay in, but I just get anxious. I think about how everyone else is out, having a good time, partying, and I don’t get much done. I lose my focus. Besides, going out Friday and Saturday nights aren’t too big of a loss, if I can write on Saturday and Sunday during the day.

RACHEL: Yeah right.

SEBASTIAN: What?

RACHEL: Like that ever works.

SEBASTIAN: What?

RACHEL: How many times do you take your parents’ boat out or go out with your friends, or do something with me, on the weekends?

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, well, lots of times I’m too burnt out from a shitty week of work to write on the weekends.

RACHEL: Didn't you just say your justification for going out on weekend nights was that you could work during the day?

SEBASTIAN: Yeah.

RACHEL: But you just admitted that you rarely do that either.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, well.

RACHEL: So when do you get your own work done, Mr. would-be Best-Seller-List?

SEBASTIAN: Listen, I just got out of the shower –

RACHEL: Are you naked?

SEBASTIAN: Except the towel wrapped around my waist.

RACHEL: I can see that as pretty much naked.

SEBASTIAN: Tell me what else you see.

[The scene shifts to Sebastian sitting on his living room couch, watching television, sipping a beer and smoking a cigarette. He is dressed in a summer casual outfit, wearing slacks. A buzz sounds, and he gets up, and goes to an intercom.]

SEBASTIAN: Yeah.

ORENTHAL: [We hear his voice in the intercom.] It's me.

SEBASTIAN: About fucking time.

ORENTHAL: [His voice only.] Yeah, well, I had to make myself beautiful.

SEBASTIAN: I'll be right down.

ORENTHAL: [His voice again.] All right.

[He gets up and moves down the stairs of his apartment building, and walks out towards O’s nice car (Infinity, or an Acura, or something comparable), which is a convertible.]

ORENTHAL: My man.

SEBASTIAN: [Nods.] What’s up?

ORENTHAL: We have to go pick up Kyle.

SEBASTIAN: All right.

ORENTHAL: [As he’s pulling out.] So what’s the word on Rachel?

SEBASTIAN: She promised her friends she’d meet them at Paradise Alley. I told her I’d made the same promise to my friends about Centers. So I told her it would be okay if we didn’t spend every night together, and that it was cool.

ORENTHAL: But wasn’t it your idea to get everyone to Centers?

SEBASTIAN: Like I was gonna tell her that?

ORENTHAL: You are cold, son. Ice cold.

SEBASTIAN: Come on. I’m just getting myself some free time.

ORENTHAL: Free for what? To hang out with us? [Pulls into a drive-way of a small house and honks.]

SEBASTIAN: Exactly.

KYLE: [A big man, slightly overweight with a little extra at the middle, but of a jovial nature, with short, brown hair. Slaps O’s shoulder as he opens and closes the door to get into the backseat.] Hey, O. [Looks at Sebastian.] How’s the Iceman?

ORENTHAL: [Laughs as he puts the car in reverse, and stops in the street to point at Sebastian.] See?

SEBASTIAN: Both of you just shut up. Let’s worry about other things than my fidelity.

KYLE: Oh yeah? Like what?

SEBASTIAN: [Lights a new cigarette.] Like enjoying the ride. [Car zooms off.]

[Led by Sebastian, the trio walks into the front entrance of the club, handing the doorman the money for the cover charge, loud dance music can be heard. The hallway they are standing in is a big open foyer, which goes back maybe fifty feet. On the left side of the hall is where the clubs are: Centers is a multi-tiered club, with sports bar, dance club, jazz club, game room, and two separate patios.]

ORENTHAL: Do you think it’ll be crowded?

SEBASTIAN: Definitely.

[They move immediately to the left and enter the sports bar. There are tables and booths in a nice décor lounge, with maybe ten or more televisions hanging up on either side of the long rectangular bar. At the end of the opening, opposite from them is the bar.]

KYLE: Are we meeting people?

SEBASTIAN: I’m sure Tommy and Doug will be down here, guzzling pitchers.

KYLE: I’m going up to the jazz club.

SEBASTIAN: All right. Laura should be there.

KYLE: [Nods, and leaves.]

SEBASTIAN: [Looking at O.] You with me?

ORENTHAL: [Nods.] Yeah.

[Sebastian leads them through the crowd toward the bar, where their two friends are sitting on stools, sharing a pitcher of beer. Sebastian shakes both men’s hands. Doug gives him a bearhug.]