Marc: (Suddenly alert.) Sure. (Pushes a button. Begins to open the package.) What’s your name?
Woman: Tracy.
Marc: Tracy. That’s a nice name. (Continues to open package carefully. Tracy does not pay any attention. The elevator stops at floor 8 and they get out.) Why don’t I escort you to your room?
Tracy: That’s very nice of you. This is my first time in the city. My husband always promised he would take me.
Marc: (Who has opened the package, read a note inside, and closed the box back up.) That’s….very nice of him. Down here, ma’am. (They reach the door. Tracy tries to open it.)
Tracy: It’s locked. Wait, I have the key.
Marc: Please. Allow me.
Tracy: Such a gentleman! (Marc takes her key and opens the door. He steps inside first. Tracy’s husband is standing in the nude. A woman is in the bed.)
Husband: What the hell—
Tracy: Michael?
Michael: Tracy?
Marc: (To Tracy.) Turn around. (Opens the package and pulls out a gun.)
Michael: No. What are you doing? No! Please! (Marc shoots him. He falls to the ground. The woman in the bed screams.)
Marc: Come on Tracy, let’s move, let’s move, now now now! Come on! (He pulls her down the hall and through a door which leads to a stairwell. They run down until they reach the bottom and exit out the back of the building. Tracy collapses on the ground.)
Tracy: (Crying.) I knew it. That bastard. I knew it.
Marc: (Opens package again. Pulls out a wad of money.) Here. I want you to take this.
Tracy: What is it?
Marc: It’s $3000. It’s yours.
Tracy: What? I—I can’t take this. Who are you? How did you know—
Marc: Don’t ask me that. (Turns to walk away. He then runs, leaving Tracy standing there with the money in her hands. He throws the package in the garbage, gun included. He runs all the way back to Peyton’s apartment, and takes the stairs to his room as opposed to the elevator. He bursts into the room. Peyton and Nora are naked and in bed.)
Marc: God dammit! (Nora shrieks.)
Peyton: (Jumps up and pulls a blanket over himself.) Woa woa woa, you wanna knock next time?
Marc: I’m sorry, you know, I just—
Peyton: (Smiling.) You did it, eh?
Nora: He did?
Marc: Oh great, she knows too?
Peyton: Relax there, pal. (Lights a cigarette. To Nora.) What a night. Ok. Nora, me and Marc need some alone time, ok babe? I’ll see you later.
Nora: Sure. (Gets up, puts her clothes back on.) Call me later, alright? (They kiss and she leaves.)
Peyton: Wow, am I proud of you. I knew you could do it.
Marc:(Trembling.) I—I can’t believe I did that. That guy. He looked at me, right in the eyes, right when I was gonna pull the trigger, he looked at me like I was the worst person in the world.
Peyton: Oh but it was for a good cause, wouldn’t you say?
Marc: (Pause.) I—I guess, but maybe they could have worked it out—
Peyton: No. They were on the brink of divorce. Trust me. That guy was an asshole.
Marc: I think I need some fresh air.
Peyton: Fair enough. (They walk outside.)
Peyton: You did wonderful.
Marc: You really think so?
Peyton: Yea, I really do. What do you say we sit for awhile?
Marc: Sounds good. (The two walk into a park and sit on a bench. They are silent for a few seconds.) Could I get a smoke?
Peyton: What happened to the pack I gave you?
Marc: (Searching pockets.) It fell out.
Peyton: Here. (Gives him a cigarette and lights one for himself.)
Marc: Peyton?
Peyton: Mmm?
Marc: How did you know that time?
Peyton: What did I say, Marc?
Marc: Not to ask. Sorry. I just don’t understand. How is it we run around killing people, but no one ever sees?
Peyton: (after a pause.) God sees everything.
Marc: Do you think they’ll catch me?
Peyton: Nope.
Marc: But Tracy saw me. The mistress saw me. The people in the elevator saw me.
Peyton: You’ll be fine.
Marc: (Pause.) I don’t get it, Peyton. I don’t get how you’re so sure of everything.
Peyton: Don’t worry about it.
Marc: I wish I could be like that sometimes, you know. Sure of things. I always worry about stuff. And the past two days…they’ve been so unreal. Sometimes I don’t even think I’m living through them.
Peyton: Who the hell knows. Maybe you aren’t.
Marc: One thing that’s really bothering me, though—
Peyton: Just take some aspirin.
Marc: How did you know what I was going to say?
Peyton: Well your head is bothering you, isn’t it?
Marc: Yea…it is…and uh, also—
Peyton: Don’t baby it. It’ll only make it worse.
Marc: You knew that—
Peyton: Your left leg hurts. Yea, I knew that one too.
Marc: But the thing is, I don’t even remember how it happened.
Peyton: I’m sure you don’t.
Marc: (Pause.) So how did you meet Nora?
Peyton: Through a mutual friend.
Marc: She’s real pretty. I’m kinda jealous.
Peyton. Don’t be. I haven’t had a date in years.
Marc: What? I thought all the ladies just loved you.
Peyton: I lied.(Pulls out a picture of a young woman.) Reminds you of Nora, doesn’t she?
Marc: (Takes the picture and studies it.) Yea, she really does. Is she your ex?
Peyton: I guess you could say that.
Marc:Do you still talk to her?
Peyton: Nope.
Marc: Well what happened?
Peyton: If you knew, (takes a drag of his cigarette,) you’d kill yourself.
Marc: Don’t say that, Peyton.(Pause.) Maybe-- maybe it sounds wimpy but you can talk to me about stuff...you know...if you want.
Peyton: Nope. Don’t want to. Besides, my time here is almost up.
Marc: (Alarmed.)What are you talking about?
Peyton: Don’t ask me that.
Marc: What if I want to?
Peyton: I don’t give a fuck what you want. Sit there and accept it.
Marc: No. I won’t.
Peyton: (Looks at him.) Honestly, Marc, don’t ruin a good night for me.
Marc: (His confusion is beginning to be transformed into anger.) Well excuse me for ruining such a perfect evening for you, I really should be ashamed of myself! I am so sorry that getting pussy is more important than shooting someone in the fucking face! How dare I be upset! How dare I! (Pause.) What the hell is with you, anyway, with all this mystery crap? Do you know how fucking confused I am? Do you? I don’t know who I am, where I’m from, or what I’m doing here. I—I find myself sitting in some comedy club in the city, with a note in my pocket telling me to do whatever it is you tell me to, and now, I’m running around shooting people. Who the hell are you, huh? I mean really! Don’t you think I deserve to be filled in here? (Peyton does not answer. He keeps looking ahead.) Oh, and another thing. How many people have we killed ? Let’s see, I think it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 5? And no one even notices? How can you go around plowing people over with a taxi and not have anyone even call the cops? Jesus fucking christ!
Peyton: (After a pause. Throws his cigarette butt on the floor.) So you did get that note.
Marc: Yea, you’re goddamn right I did. I don’t know how it got there, how I got here, nothing. I don’t know a god damn thing!
Peyton: Me either.
Marc: Oh yea, you too, huh? That’s great. That’s fucking wonderful! Here I am with some guy I never met in some filthy crime ridden city with no idea of how I got here! Just glorious!
Peyton: (Pause.) You wanna know why that is, Marc?
Marc: Yea, I’d love to know. Go head, doc. Unravel some crazy string of psychological bullshit on me.
Peyton: (lights another cigarette.) You’re dead, Marc. Sorry to break it to you.
Marc: (Pause. Laughing.) Dead? Hah! That’s a good one. You should be a comedian or something, seriously. The fun never stops with you, Peyton! I can’t believe I’m sitting here—and you’re—telling me I’m dead? Is this some kind of weird corporal punishment? You know what? I think I’m just gonna tell everyone else that I’m dead, too! (Stands up and walks a few feet. Throws his arms in the air.) HEY EVERYONE! I’M DEAD!
Peyton: (watching from bench.) Sit down, you prick.
Marc: WHY SIT DOWN WHEN I COULD BE DEAD!
Peyton: Marc. Honestly. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
Marc: (Walks over to Peyton, bends down until their faces are on the same level.) I know what this is, you asshole. A joke. A goddamn joke! (Begins to walk around again.) I know what this must be. Some kind of sick reality TV show, isn’t it? Yea.Yea that’s what it is. It must be called something like, oh I dunno, “Who wants to walk around the city with a psychopath fuckface millionaire” or something. Sounds good, don’t it? Ok guys, you got me! Where are the cameras! And the host! And my millions of dollars! (Suddenly very quietly, with a deranged smile on his face.) Where are they, Peyton? Where are they?
Peyton: Marc. Calm down.
Marc: Calm down. Ok, I’ll calm down, after I’m a millionaire and on the front cover of every magazine! Yea, that’s what I’ll do!
Peyton: Marc. This isn’t a joke.
Marc: Oh yea? (Lowers his face to Peyton’s again.) Well you know what, boss? You are a fucking lunatic. I don’t want you to come near me, I don’t want you to talk to me, I don’t wanna ever remember meeting you. I just wanna go home, you got that? (Starts walking away.)
Peyton: Marc—
Marc: (turns around.) Fuck yourself. (Begins walking to Peyton’s apartment. He is very, very disturbed and does not know quite how to act. One minute he is angry, another he is on the verge of tears. He reaches the apartment, goes into Peyton’s room, and throws himself on the couch. To cloud out his thoughts, he turns on the TV.)
TV Announcer: --Peyton Berke was found dead last night after what appeared to be a suicide.(Marc sits up immediately, his eyes wide)—officials reported a high amount of a toxic substance in his blood, believed to be rat poison. He was found in his New York City apartment, shortly after the death of his 22 year old fiancé, who passed away from cancer—
Peyton: (Walks up behind Marc.) Oh, will you look at that. They found me.
Marc: ( Jumps up, turns around, and backs against the wall. He is unable to say anything for quite some time. He looks as if he has just seen a ghost. Literally.) You—you’re—
Peyton: Yea. I am.(Pause.) And so are you.

Peyton: Here. (Hands Marc an article from a newspaper.)
Marc. (Reading aloud.)19 year old Marc Walters was killed last week in a car wreck involving another vehicle. Police found an alarmingly high amount of alcohol in his blood, and friends say he had been drinking that night. He suffered massive brain trauma and was pronounced dead upon arrival. The driver in the other vehicle, identified as 22 year old Peter Shane, was also killed instantly. Services will be held at the Presbyterian Church located on Birch Street. Marc’s family is starting an awareness foundation to help educate others about the dangers of drunk driving.
Marc: (Struggling to form words. Then he begins to put the pieces together in his mind.) That dream….(Tears start to form.)
Peyton: Sorry kid.
Marc. (Marc buries his head in his hands and crumples the article. He looks up after a long time.) I… killed someone.
Peyton: You did. And now you have made up for it. Rest in peace, mate. (He turns and walks out the door.)



THE END