INT. KITCHEN/DINING AREA - DAY
High end appliances, cabinetry, countertops, porcelain tile. Door from kitchen to patio and shaded grill and table, xeriscaped yard bordered by low stone wall. Land, neighbors and mountains beyond. Window to same in dining room and over kitchen sink.
Calendar on refrigerator turned to July features an accompanying image a 35-year-old man and 10-year-old boy playing catch with a baseball in a backyard. A 35-year-old woman on a chaise under umbrella on patio observes over her laptop. Bananas and peaches in a wooden bowl on the center island, with keys and a stack of mail.
Oak dining room table with candle in the middle seats eight under minimalist chandelier, handsome hutch.
SQUEAK OF SHOES before Hunter enters, pockets keys, gets half-empty plastic bottled water from fridge, finishes it in three gulps, puts it in plastic bag of recyclables in bin in broom closet, ties off bag is about to exit where he entered but stops when his PHONE RINGTONES the late Chicago Cubs broadcaster Harry Caray in his signature "Cubs Win” style. He gets phone from pants pocket.
HUNTER: About out the door to pick up Chloe.
You know I fucking hate L-A. but I get and expected it. And it’s probably poor form to complain about meeting people who want to give me that much money.
Sure. Downtown. The Biltmore.
Also, Bev, and we can talk about it this tonight, I’m going to write it or it's not going to happen.
K. What’s too late?
Eleven?
Talk to ya then.
Horseback riding tomorrow, a day in Taos, then a motorcycle tour.
I’m renting a Harley.
Flagstaff loop to include a ride through Tucson to check the campus.
Til then.
Oh, Bev. I also want complete control over casting Dave.
Yes, I'm kidding. Talk to you later.
(Pockets phone, gets bag, exits where he entered.)
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