Billy, slinging back a whiskey at the bar.

   

A small STAGE sits empty in the corner.

   

Fred eats his breakfast in his VIP booth where he can observe everything happening in his bar.

 
 

The door swings open, spilling light over the dark room as GRETA GLADE walks in, wearing a trench coat over her cocktail waitress uniform.

Draws the attention of all the guys. Especially Billy.

 

GRETA

(to the bartender) Hey Busby.

   

BUSBY

Hello Greta.

     
 

GRETA

Better be a big night tonight. Rent's due tomorrow.

   

She hangs up her jacket behind the bar, straightens out her uniform.

Grabs a handful of table candles and starts spreading them about the room.

     
   

She reaches Fred's table.

 

GRETA (CONT'D)

'Mornin' Mr. Gridge.

 

FRED

I got your paycheck in the office. Come back and get it when you're done with this.

 

He gets up, busses his plate as he slides into the kitchen. Greta can't hide her discomfort, humiliation. Her unfettered disdain for Fred.

 

She heads behind the bar to fill saltshakers as Busby heads into the kitchen. She feels Billy's sympathetic eyes.

 

GRETA

You hand me that?

 

She points at an empty shaker. He hands it to her.

 

GRETA (CONT'D)

What brings you in here?

 

BILLY

Nowhere else to go.

 

GRETA

(shrugs) Guess that's why I'm here.

 

Billy sips on his whiskey.

 

     

BILLY

You look familiar...

 

GRETA

I work here a lot...

 

BILLY

No, I've seen you. You're on that billboard, off the interstate...

 

GRETA

(mix of pride and humility) Yeah, that's me. "Fred's Garage." My first paid modeling gig. Fred thought I'd be good for it. Said I had a wholesome "girl-next-door" charm. His wife would disagree.

 

BILLY

You mean Ava Blundt, the actress?

 

GRETA

Fred got his claws in her early. He won't let her go, even if he doesn't love her anymore.

 

BILLY

Who does he love?

 

GRETA

Not me. Not anyone. Just money.

     
   

THUD! A massive fight breaks out in the kitchen. Brutal.

 

Billy springs alert. Greta is nonplussed.

     
   

Fred throws Busby through the door, onto the bar floor.

 

FRED

You think I don't look at the books? You think I'm not gonna notice a case of $100 a bottle bourbon - "poof" - just gone? $1895 unaccounted for.

 

BUSBY

Fred, I'm sorry, but we ring up thousands of dollars off the books every night... Fred kicks him in the stomach.

 

FRED

What the Hell's wrong wit you, you nit. Shut up!

(looking around, putting on a show) They're ain't nothing improper in my books. You hear me?

 

BUSBY

Yes, Mr. Gridge.

 

Fred gathers his composure.

 

FRED

Why don't you take the day off. See if that case finds it's way back into inventory.

(beat) Billy, get him outta here.

 
 

Greta leans over to help Busby, but Busby, embarrassed, brushes her off.

Billy escorts him to the door.

   
   

FRED (CONT'D)

(to Greta) You, come by my place tonight to get your check.

 

He storms back through the kitchen.

 

GRETA (V.O.)

When you're the one at the bottom of the pile, with their feet digging into your spine, breaking you in the mud. Never forget they all fall if you step aside.

   

She looks to Billy.

 
 

BILLY

Come on. Let's get out of here.

   
   

GRETA

Where to? "There's nowhere else to go."

 
 

BILLY

We'll find some place.

 

He heads to the door, holds it open. Waits.

   
 

She gets up, hurries out the door with Billy.

Continue

But she won't follow him. She returns to prepping the bar. He leaves.

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