Chapter X. Durbin Galleries

49 INT. NORA ART RESIDENCY - EVENING

Most of the chairs are filled. The show’s about to start. DJANGO checks his watch. Looks at the door. KAI finds him, buzzing, lit up with something.

KAI
Hey, I gotta tell you. The Morpheus experience has stayed with me.

DJANGO
(distracted)
Yeah?

KAI
I say stuff without rehearsing it forty times in my head.

DJANGO
(glancing at the entrance)
Uh huh…

KAI
And the staff are loving it… They said my freak flag—

DJANGO
This is not like her.

KAI
Madison? She went to check on Jerrica. Said she’d be back by the start.

DJANGO
Why? What?

KAI
Jerrica looked rough in court today. Still won, but—

DJANGO
She’s at Jerrica’s?

KAI
She left an hour ago. She—

Django’s already moving. He’s out the door before Kai finishes.

50 INT. JERRICA’S BEDROOM - EVENING

She gasps awake. Bedroom all normal again. Madison sitting on her bed. Dressed for the show opening.

MADISON
Kai told me you were Jennifer’s hero today.

She reaches out. Places her hand on Jerrica’s.

MADISON (CONT’D)
That’s not why I’m here. I came about last night.

JERRICA
Madi—

MADISON
Let me.

Jerrica goes quiet.

MADISON (CONT’D)
You were my hero in that cafe. I had never seen anyone do that. For me.
(beat)
Everything I learned about how to be in a room I learned watching you. You were how I survived this city, Jer.

She squeezes Jerrica’s hand. Holds. Then releases.

MADISON (CONT’D)
I built around it. I told myself it was enough — most days it was — I made a life that worked.

Gestures to her dress.

MADISON (CONT’D)
I didn’t think I needed saving anymore, but I was wrong. And I thought you would just… know…

Jerrica reaches for her hand. Madison doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t return the grip either.

MADISON (CONT’D)
…the way you did with man bun.

A long silence. Madison’s eyes are wet but she isn’t crying.

MADISON (CONT’D)
And I… I didn’t know how to ask. I was too busy pretending to be you.

She looks at her hands.

MADISON (CONT’D)
I don’t know which one is sadder.

JERRICA
Tell me.

Silence.

JERRICA (CONT’D)
I should have asked then. I am now.

A longer silence.

MADISON
I was twenty-five.

JERRICA
I knew you wanted the apprentice-ship, you said you had a plan. I told myself I should believe you.

MADISON
What do you think my apprenticeship was?

15 INT. DURBIN GALLERIES - ARTIST STUDIO SPACE - DAY

Jerrica is a hologram in the corner. Watching.

Madison dips her finger in paint, and flicks it on his coat.

DURBIN
What the hell, Madison?

Durbin looks down at his jacket, then holds it away from his shirt, careful not to smudge the paint. He stares at Madison. Madison holds up her palm to Durbin.

MADISON
Wait…stop. What are you feeling right now? Are you angry? Worried about your jacket? Or are you looking where the paint landed… thinking about the color?

Durbin dips the brush in paint. Approaches. Measured. Deliberate. Stopping just before her, he flicks it: a streak of red cuts across her cheek, spattering the canvas behind.

Madison wipes her face. Smiling. A small win.

MADISON (CONT’D)
Okay, we’re even. But you felt it, didn’t you?

She points to the mark on the canvas.

MADISON (CONT’D)
A reaction to the mark.

Durbin studies the canvas behind her.

DURBIN
Actually… look at this. The contrast between the deliberate mark and the accidental one.

Madison turns around to examine, cocking her head.

MADISON
Intention versus impulse.

DURBIN
My impulse is to do more.

Durbin removes his jacket. Madison eyes him matter-of-factly. She strips to her underwear. Directs Durbin to the canvas.

MADISON
Stand there.

Durbin strips down to t-shirt, boxers, and socks. All white. He stands in front of the canvas. Madison dips a brush in paint and, with a full-arm whip, slashes a streak of color across Durbin’s chest. They take turns standing in front of the canvas and trading splashes. The canvas reveals two figures, superimposed, as negative space.

Durbin steps back. Adopts a critic’s voice.

DURBIN
“The work explores the tension between control and surrender, each mark both response and provocation.”

MADISON
“The anonymous duo dissolves traditional authorship, their bodies a double-slit obstacle, disrupting the paint’s trajectory to the canvas. Critics are calling it ‘corporeal interference.’”

Durbin turns to Madison. She smiles, powerful.

MUSIC: playful, loose.

DISSOLVE TO:

Same space. A different canvas. Different paint colors on their skin. Mid-motion, mid-laugh. The choreography looser.

DISSOLVE TO:

Several painted canvases lean against the walls — evidence of multiple sessions. A fresh, larger canvas stands center.

Madison puts down the paint brush she’d been using. She looks at Durbin and slathers paint on her butt and backs into the canvas. A print. Durbin looks, then dips both hands in paint. Goes over and slaps her butt print. Madison turns, faces the canvas, does a full-body shimmy. a full frontal smudge.

MUSIC: the score darkens.

Durbin catches Madison on her way back from the canvas. Traps her against it. Turns her around. Slathers paint on her body. With one hand on her back, picks up a brush like a microphone. Adopts the critic’s voice.

DURBIN
“The artists have eliminated the barrier between creator and medium.”

He puts the brush close to her face. She’s still facing the canvas. Trapped between the art and the interview. Madison stiffens. Her eyes flick past Durbin. To the door. Scanning. Jerrica’s hologram watching, not moving.

DURBIN (CONT’D)
Trust the process, Madison. Art is about pushing boundaries.

He releases her.

DURBIN (CONT’D)
Let’s go shower this off.

Madison nods. Durbin walks out. Madison follows. Looks over at Jerrica’s hologram on the way out. Leaves.

DISSOLVE TO:

51 INT. DURBIN GALLERIES — OFFICE SPACE - DAY

MADISON moves canvases. DURBIN gets a message on his watch. His eyes widen, he looks terrified. Then disturbed. Paces distractedly. Watches Madison before speaking.

DURBIN
Rashid is flying in from Dubai. Next week. Wants a private studio visit.

MADISON
Of course he does. Which artists? We could open it to the public right after. A little buzz never hurts.

DURBIN
I sent him documentation of our… collaborative pieces.

Madison turns to him.

MADISON
Documentation of what?

DURBIN
Our work. And an artist statement.

MADISON
Artist statement?

DURBIN
It was compelling.

MADISON
I don’t—

She stops.

MADISON (CONT’D)
You fucking didn’t.

Silence.

MADISON (CONT’D)
Oh my god. You did.

Voice rising.

MADISON (CONT’D)
That was just for us. Alex — what the fuck.

DURBIN
Madison, listen. We need this. It’ll open doors. For you.

MADISON
It was just us playing. You want to hang them in your white cube? The irony alone might kill me.

DURBIN
You said art isn’t about intention… it’s what others see in it. And you’d be an artist.

MADISON
This is bullshit. I thought I could trust you.

Beat.

MADISON (CONT’D)
You… told him about us?

DURBIN
Not exactly— A local politician. An intern.

MADISON
So you’re selling a lie?

DURBIN
A fantasy! Patrons always want one—Picasso fucked teenagers but painted wealthy matrons. That’s how art works.

MADISON
I feel used.

DURBIN
Oh come on, Madison. Don’t act so provincial. You knew what you were doing. I could say I was used.

Pause. Then sarcastically:

DURBIN (CONT’D)
Oh. You’re the undiscovered genius I was lucky to find.

MADISON
Fuck you.

DURBIN
He’s already given me an advance.

MADISON
Give it back.

DURBIN
You don’t give money back to Rashid.

MADISON
You’re scared of him.

Durbin circles her. Steps closer.

DURBIN
You should be too…taming a spirited young woman is a sport for him.

MADISON
You’re pathetic.

DURBIN
I’m trying to protect you, Madison. We do this together, we’re both safe. You walk away now… I get fucked, but you…

He gestures toward her. Something in Madison goes cold.

MADISON
Fine. Display it. Sell it.

She turns away in disgust. A beat. Turns back.

MADISON (CONT’D)
We split it.

DURBIN
Standard terms. Gallery gets 50%. Your artists’ share is 25%.

MADISON
So now you’re a fucking artist?

DURBIN
Well… not for the private commission.

MADISON
The what?

DURBIN
He wants to take my place. For the next piece.

MADISON
No…no no. Absolutely not.

DURBIN
He wants to throw paint. Be a Pollock.

MADISON
Are you insane? I agreed to sell what we had—not to whatever this is.

Durbin writes on a piece of paper and hands it to Madison.

DURBIN
Since it’d be just you… you’d get 50%.

Madison looks at the piece of paper.

MADISON
Let’s draw the line… Please, Alex.

She gets closer, offering herself.

MADISON (CONT’D)
We can do a custom commission… but privately, just you and I?

Durbin just looks at her. Madison’s voice cracks.

MADISON (CONT’D)
I have to do it, don’t I?

A long pause. She wipes her face.

MADISON (CONT’D)
Fine. This’ll be my fuck-you money. My fuck-off-Alex money.

She storms to the door, grabbing her coat to leave.

DURBIN
There’s one more thing. He’ll pay double… insisted the extra go directly to the artist. No gallery cut.

MADISON
You have me this far… what’s a little further. I don’t even hate you right now. Tell me his fetish.

BLACK.