Work Text:
"Lights, Camera, Action" (alternate ending)
by the other g.m.
INTERIOR - SET OF BEVERLY HILLS GUN CLUB
(It has taken an entire day, but they have finally filmed the first 10 second scene of the movie. It was perfect, but...)
Director: Cut! And print that.
Peter: Good job people. That was an unbelievable first day of shooting.
(Camera man whispers something to the director. Peter turns and looks.)
Peter: (Dread.) What could make my _perfect_ day even more perfect?
Director: They say they ran out of film halfway through the shot.
(Peter is about to explode with anger and starts to yell something, but stops and gets a blank look on his face.)
Peter: (Mumbles to self through gritted teeth.) I wouldn't be having these problems if Cole was still in the film.
(Hoping to keep their jobs, no one says anything. Peter gives death stares to the cast and crew then walks off the set.)
EXTERIOR - GUARD HOUSE AT STUDIO GATE - DAY
(Peter walks past the guard house toward the street.)
Guard: Where's your car?
Peter: Where's your career?
(Guard simmers.)
(Peter pulls out notepad, writes something on it, then hands it to the guard.)
Guard: (Eyes it suspiciously.) What's this?
Peter: The keys to Hell. (Peter walks out the gate and disappears around a corner.)
INTERIOR - COLE RICCARDI'S CONDO IN NY
(Peter wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. The sound of a shower can be heard in the background. Peter eyes his surroundings. He notices two champagne bottles and a half-dozen condom wrappers on the floor. Both the bottles and the condom wrappers are opened and empty. Cole walks out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.)
Cole: (Softly.) Morning.
Peter: (Urgently.) Did we?
(Cole gives Peter a "You've got to be kidding?" look.)
Cole: (Gestures poetically.) The ultimate expression of the deep link - the eternal bond - between our two souls.
Peter: (Peter nods slowly.) We did _that_ ?
Cole: Like a herd of rabbits. (Gestures toward tabloid on dresser.) We even made the news.
(Peter drops his head on the pillow like a dead weight.)
Peter: (A thought suddenly strikes him.) Weren't you going with that guy from that show you starred in?
Cole: The bikini show?
Peter: No, other show. Short guy. Long hair. Annoying.
Cole: (Nods. Relates anecdote with unnatural calmness.) Mental hospital. He was just too needy. Following around like a puppy. Crying at the drop of a hat. Stalking. Restraining orders. Death threat "love letters." In the end, it just wouldn't have worked between us.
Peter: (Freaked by Cole's calmness. Feigns sympathy.) Relationships are like that.
(Cole nods wisely then disappears back into the bathroom. Peter walks *nude* over to dresser - his body aching and sore in places he didn't know he had. He sees a picture of himself and Cole on the front page of a national tabloid. He gets back into bed then flips to the article.)
Peter: Action film star Cole Riccardi... reunited... lover of many years, Peter Dragon... love nest. (Peter sighs and rubs his face.) _Oh, god._ (Continues reading.) Riccardi drawing audiences to his sold out off-Broadway performances... (Peter perks up.)
(Cole walks out of the bathroom wearing boxers and starts getting dressed.)
Peter: Who's handling your PR? (Cole shrugs. We can tell that the wheels have started turning in Peter's head.) I made you a household name once...
Cole: You've done a lot - for the real me.
Peter: (Smelling money and feigning sincerity.) I _want_ to do this for you. Exercise videos, beefcake posters, appearances at fund raisers, book deals -.
Cole: Tasteful?
Peter: The posters? Cole, your not just some beefstick. Your intelligent. Talented.
Cole: (Strokes his goatee while admiring Peter's body.) Talented?
Peter: Enough that I can barely walk. (Cole smirks with pride.) If you're posing on the beach in a wet Speedo, so what. With you, how could it be anything but tasteful. I want to share with the world the man that only I know. The _real_ Cole Riccardi.
(Cole considers for a moment then finishes dressing. Peter flips through the tabloid and finds another article of interest.)
Peter: Dragonfire Productions... new owner... out of work actor and former guard... yelling "!@#$% Idiots!" over and over... murderous rampage. (Snorts.) Maybe there is a God. (Looks cautiously toward ceiling.)
Cole: Hmm?
Peter: Religion. (Hits chest with fist- like he has indigestion.) It'll pass.
(Cole, fully dressed, walks over to bed and gives Peter a long sensual kiss. Peter has a shocked, eyes wide-open, deer-in-headlights expression on his face.)
Peter: (Voice too high-pitched) Would that - (Swallows. Voice normal) be a yes?
(Cole nods and leaves. A few seconds later, we hear the sound of front door closing.)
Peter: (Looks toward foot of bed and wiggles feet under covers.) _That_ was a 9.8 toe curler. (Puts one arm behind his head and slips the other hand down *there*, under the covers.) The Sandra Bullock tapes pulled steady revenue. (Smiles) Maybe Cole would like to make some home videos.
ACT OUT
end