Chapter I. Ten Years Ago

1 INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

SUPER: TEN YEARS AGO

MADISON (24) dressed in bright colors with long blonde hair, not quite a New Yorker, more a fish out of water - sits at a corner two-top wearing a crossbody. Roller bag by her side. Backpack on chair across from her. A half-drunk coffee. A half-eaten sandwich. A charger snakes from her phone to an outlet. Cramped, warm, busy. Hunched over the phone, scrolling. Other hand pressed to her forehead.

She doesn’t notice the shadow of a man approaching. BODHI (20s, man bun, a Brooklyn hipster type) leans on the chair across from her.

BODHI
You look like you’re having a moment.

MADISON
I’m okay, thanks—

BODHI
I’m a documentarian. I see you.

MADISON
(polite, glancing around)
Oh. Ok. Cool.

Bodhi moves her backpack. Sits down. Madison trapped into the corner. Adjusts her coffee. Gives a closed-mouth smile.

BODHI
My current piece is portraits.

He frames her with his hands. Holds. Then slowly moves his hands into her personal space. Madison leans back.

BODHI (CONT’D)
Of women. In transit.

He nods at the backpack and roller bag blocking her exit. She tightens. Eyes flick past him. Scanning.

BODHI (CONT’D)
Not the way men have been telling women’s stories for them. I listen. May I?

MADISON
I’d actually—

He is already reaching across the table. Two fingers under her chin. Tilts her face toward the window.

BODHI
Almost there…

He brushes her hair back off her shoulder. Slow. Lets his fingers trail. Madison grips her coffee. Her eyes scan. JERRICA (24) is ordering drink at the counter. She has short red hair, stands confidently, and wears an over-the-top business casual outfit.

JERRICA
Double shot mocha. Extra drizzle. Hold the whip.

Jerrica clocks Madison’s face. Then Bodhi. Walks over, doesn’t wait for her drink. Bodhi, framing Madison, tilts his head.

JERRICA (CONT’D)
Babe. There you are.
(then, to Bodhi)
Hon, I’m gonna need this.

She taps the back of his chair.

BODHI
Oh, we were about to—

Bodhi looks to Madison. Jerrica gestures to the open floor with both hands. Right this way. He stays seated. Jerrica taps the chair twice. Controlled violence. Bodhi looks up at Jerrica who is looking down with a firm smile. Bodhi relents, gets up. Jerrica slides in as soon as there’s space.

JERRICA
(big fake smile at Bodhi)
Thank you so much.

Bodhi opens his mouth. Closes it. Jerrica’s eyes flick to the bun. Then scans down. Bodhi drifts off. Madison exhales. Unclenches the coffee mug. Rubs her palm against her jeans. Mouths a thank you. Jerrica nods. Doesn’t push. Beat.

JERRICA (CONT’D)
So. New in town?

Madison nods.

JERRICA (CONT’D)
Why here?

MADISON
I figured it would be easier to find my tribe here than in Indiana.

JERRICA
What’s your tribe?

MADISON
Artists.

JERRICA
Right place. Can’t throw a rock without hitting one. Or a man bun.

BARISTA (O.S.)
Jerrica! Mocha. No whip.

MADISON
Jerrica? I’m Madison.

Jerrica smiles. Gets her drink. Returns but doesn’t sit. Madison looks at her. Tries to say something. Can’t. Jerrica reads it.

JERRICA
When you’re famous, Madison, and you want to sue your gallery, you come to me.

MADISON
Deal.

JERRICA
There’s a rooftop tonight. Some of your “tribal elders” might be there. Come.

Jerrica takes Madison’s phone. Types in her number. Sets it down. Exits. Madison’s eyes follow her out.

OPENING CREDITS BEGIN

2 EXT. EAST VILLAGE ROOFTOP - NIGHT

MADISON pushes through the rooftop door. Downtown lit up behind her. A party at full hum. Fairy lights, folding bar, bodies.

She scans. Across the roof — JERRICA. Drink in hand. Mid-story to a tight circle. She spots Madison. Waves her over.

A blur of introductions. A GUY pulls Madison into a conversation. Her eyes flick to Jerrica.

Jerrica throwing her head back laughing. Eyes back to the guy. Smiles. Nods. Eyes flick to Jerrica again. Jerrica holding court. Catches Madison looking. Winks. Turns back to her circle.

3 EXT. BROOKLYN STREET - GOLDEN HOUR

JERRICA walks, gesturing as she talks. MADISON keeps pace. Her free hand starts mirroring Jerrica’s gestures. A half beat behind. Her eyes drift to Jerrica’s face. She catches herself. Looks away. Looks back.

4 EXT. STOOP - NIGHT

They sit at the top of the stoop sharing a bottle of wine. Madison’s scarf hanging on the railing. Jerrica is on her phone. Madison’s gaze drifts to Jerrica’s collarbone.

She starts to say something, but Jerrica is already laughing at her phone. Madison’s mouth closes. She looks out at the skyline. The wine is gone from her face.

HOLD on her profile. Something is calcifying.

Jerrica gets up to leave, pulls Madison’s scarf from the railing, loops it around her own neck. Poses. It looks better on her. She knows it. So does Madison.

5 INT. THRIFT STORE - DAY

Madison poses with something sculptural. Teal. Checks the line of her shoulders in the mirror. Lifts her chin. The same angle Jerrica struck when she took the scarf. Rehearsing, not shopping.

6 INT. MADISON’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

Madison on her laptop. Researching Chelsea galleries. Who’s in the news. Where the collectors are going. Who’s breaking new artists. Who the other owners are jealous of.

ON SCREEN: A profile in The Cut. ALEXANDER DURBIN, 40ish. A man in his prime.

Embedded in the piece — an Instagram video. Red carpet.

INSERT — INSTAGRAM VIDEO

Five seconds, shot vertical on someone’s phone. The carpet lights blow out slightly. The audio peaks.

Durbin is mid-turn. Unhurried, almost accidental. The suit catches the light wrong. An asymmetric lapel. White shirt. Banded collar. Ruby button at the throat. He completes the turn.

CAPTION: 👀Alexander Durbin is hot AF this year! 🔥🔥🔥

The comments move faster than anyone can read.

BACK TO SCENE

Madison watches it again.

7 EXT. CHELSEA GALLERY DISTRICT - DUSK

Floor-to-ceiling glass. White cube interior. Etched into the door: DURBIN GALLERIES.

Madison stands outside. Alone. She finds the small door cut into the oversized garage door. She pushes through. Determined. The door closes.

PUSH IN to the closed door.

Hold on black.

END OPENING CREDITS.

PRE-LAP: Street. Traffic. A truck downshifting.