Movie script

LOVE AND BASKETBALL

BY

GINA PRINCE-BYTHEWOOD



































	OPENING TITLES

	SLOW MOTION.  STYLIZED.  TIGHT.

	The silhouette of a man and woman.  They are on a blacktop
	basketball court, playing a sexually-charged game of one-one-
	one.

	Sweat glistens.  Hands pull at clothes.  Hips bump and
	collide.  Eyes lock...

								FADE TO:

	BLACK.

	FADE IN:

	TITLE CARD: "FIRST QUARTER" then "1981"

	BALDWIN HILLS

	EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - LATE MORNING

	An upper middle-class neighborhood, known as the Black
	Beverly Hills.  Big houses, green grass and Caddies in every
	other driveway.  The street is quiet, until --

				YOUNG VOICE (O.S.)
		You wanna be Kareem?

	CAMERA REVEALS: QUINCY MCCALL, eleven years old, dribbling a
	basketball in front of KELVIN and JAMAL, also eleven.  He
	sports a fro, a "Clippers" jersey, and a serious swagger.

				QUINCY (CONT'D)
		All his big butt do is stand by the
		basket.

				JAMAL
		Shoot, I'll be blocking your stuff.

				KELVIN
		I'm gonna be like Dr. J.

				QUINCY
		I'ma be like my Dad.

				JAMAL
		He ain't a star or nothing.

				QUINCY
		I don't see none of your sorry daddies in
		the NBA.

				KELVIN
		Hey, look, Q.

	Quincy follows Kelvin's eyes, to a beat-up pair of Converse
	All-Stars approaching from next door.  Walking in the kicks
	is a YOUNG KID in a T-shirt and Tuff-skins, and a LAKERS cap
	pulled low.  A moving van is parked in the driveway.

				KELVIN (cont'd)
		Thought only girls were moving in.

				QUINCY
		That's what my Moms said.

				KELVIN
		I hope he can ball.

				JAMAL
		Bet he's a scrub.

	The Kid stops at the edge of Quincy's driveway.

				KID
		Hey.

				QUINCY
		Hey.

				KID
		Can I play?

				QUINCY
		You nice?

				KID
		Yeah, I'm nice.

	Quincy looks the Kid up and down, then --

				QUINCY
		You and Kelvin gainst me and Jamal.

	Quincy tosses the Kid the ball.  The Kid pulls off the
	baseball cap.  Brown hair tumbles down, framing a soft brown
	face and bright eyes.  She is MONICA WRIGHT, eleven years
	old.

				JAMAL
		Ah man, he is a girl.

				QUINCY
		Girls can't play no ball.

				MONICA
		Ball better than you.

	Quincy laughs derisively as Monica walks to the top of the
	driveway.

				QUINCY
			(whispering)
		What a dog.

	Monica shoots him a glare.

				JAMAL
		She heard you.

				QUINCY
		Nuh uh, they could only hear dog
		whistles.

	Monica starts to dribble.  Jamal whistles as he walks
	backwards, guarding her.  She throws up a shot.  IT'S AN
	AIRBALL.  Quincy and Jamal crack up.  Kelvin rolls his eyes.

	Quincy grabs the rebound and shoots.  Swish.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		One, zip.

	He rolls the ball to Monica.  She starts dribbling and again,
	Jamal just backs up with her.  She passes to Kelvin.  Jamal
	and Quincy collapse on him, leaving Monica open under the
	basket.  Trapped Kelvin has no choice but to pass it back.

	Monica catches the ball and throws up a shot.  It banks off
	the backboard...AND DROPS THROUGH THE NET.  The boys look at
	her in shock.  Monica tosses the ball back to Quincy.

				MONICA
		One, up.

				QUINCY
		Lucky.

	Quincy easily dribbles by Kelvin and lays up the ball.  He
	throws the ball back to Monica.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Two, one.

	Monica dribbles.  Jamal plays her a little tighter.  Monica
	bounces the ball through his open legs and lays up the ball.

				MONICA
		Two, up.

	Quincy can't believe it.  Kelvin cracks up.

				KELVIN
		Aaah, she dogged you.

				JAMAL
		Shut up.

	The game continues, with Quincy and Monica trading baskets
	for their teams.  Quincy grows agitated with Jamal, who is
	unable to stop her.  The score hits nine, nine.

	Quincy stands at the top of the driveway, ball in hand.

				QUINCY
		Point.

	Quincy dribbles through his legs, then pops an outside shot.
	The ball bounces on the rim...and rolls off.

	Quincy curses as Monica grabs the rebound and clears the
	ball.  Jamal moves to guard her, but Quincy shoves him off.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		I got her.

	Quincy defends.  Monica smiles back at him.

				MONICA
		Told you I was nice.  I'm going to be
		the first girl in the NBA.

				QUINCY
		I'ma be in the NBA.  You're gonna be my
		cheerleader.

	Monica suddenly passes to Kelvin, sprints for the basket.
	Quincy stumbles, giving her a step.  Kelvin throws it back.

	Quincy knows he's beat as Monica goes for the winning lay-up.
	In desperation, he swings at her for the hard foul, shoving
	her off balance.

	THE BALL FLIES FROM HER HAND AS SHE CRASHES TO THE GROUND,
	FACE-FIRST.  SHE GRABS HER CHEEK.  BLOOD SLIPS THROUGH HER
	FINGERS.

	The boys stand frozen.  Quincy stares down at her, his eyes
	wide with fear...and regret.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - BATHROOM - LATE MORNING

	Monica leans over the sink as her mother, CAMILLE, 36, wipes
	the blood from her face with a washcloth.

				GIRL'S VOICE (O.S.)
		Eeew.

	Her sister, LENA, 14, leans in the doorway, making a face.
	She is a mirror of their mother, with relaxed hair and
	painted nails.

	Her father, NATHAN, 39, moves behind Lena, holding a box.

				NATHAN
		How are you feeling, munchkin?

	Monica nods.  He smiles.

				NATHAN (cont'd)
		Yeah, you're through.

				CAMILLE
		She needs to stop running around like a
		little boy.

				NATHAN
		She's alright.

				CAMILLE
		How is she alright looking the way she
		does?

				NATHAN
		Camille, she'll be fine.

	He gives Monica a wink, crosses away.  Monica pulls the
	washcloth away from her Mom and starts wiping the blood
	herself.

				CAMILLE
		I'll get some ice.

	She exits.  Lena shakes her head, follows.

	Monica pulls the washcloth from her face and stares into the
	mirror.  TORN SKIN SURROUNDS A SMALL DEEP GASH IN HER CHEEK.
	Seeing her latest battle scar, there's only one thing left
	for this little girl to do.  She smiles.

	INT. MCCALL HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY

	Quincy sits at the kitchen table, writing "I AM SORRY" in
	block letters across a homemade card.  His face is tight with
	concentration as he tries to write in a straight line.

	At the counter, his mom, NONA, moves a cake from its store
	box to a cake dish.  She is 30, beautiful, with effort.  She
	smooths the frosting with a spoon.

	ZEKE, 32, with the height and ego of an NBA ballplayer,
	enters.  He laughs.

				ZEKE
		Girl, who you trying to fool?

	Quincy looks up, smiles.  He quickly grabs a piece of
	crumpled paper, and tosses it to Zeke.

				QUINCY
		Alley-oop, Dad.

	Nona intercepts his pass.

				NONA
		Boy...

	She points him back to his card.  Quincy scowls, starts
	writing again.  Nona scoops some frosting on her finger,
	holds it up.

				NONA (cont'd)
		New neighbors.

	Zeke wraps his lips around her finger, sucks the frosting
	off.

				ZEKE
		See, Quincy, this is how your Moms caught
		me, with the old fake and bake.  Had me
		thinking I was getting a sister who could
		burn.

	Nona laughs, pulls him down for a kiss.  Quincy suddenly
	throws down his pencil in frustration.

				QUINCY
		I can't do this shit.

	Zeke and Nona pull away, stare at Quincy in shock.

				ZEKE
		Boy, what'd I tell you about using that
		word?

				QUINCY
			(sighs, then)
		"Can't" should never be in a man's
		vocabulary.

				ZEKE
		Why not?

				QUINCY
		Cause when you say can't, you ain't a
		man.

				ZEKE
		That's right.

				NONA
		Zeke.

				ZEKE
		What?
			(then)
		Oh, and, uh, don't say "shit."

	Nona just shakes her head.

				NONA
		We should head over.

				ZEKE
		Just you and Quincy, baby.  I got a
		meeting.

				NONA
		With who?

				ZEKE
		Business folks.

				NONA
		You just got back from a four game road
		trip.

				ZEKE
		Nona, don't start bitching.  I got maybe
		two years left to play.  I'm just trying
		to put some things together for us.

	Zeke grabs his keys.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		Later, Quincy.

				QUINCY
		Later, Dad.

	Zeke exits.  Nona leans against the counter, concerned.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Mom?

				NONA
		What?

				QUINCY
		We still have to go?

				NONA
			(beat)
		Yeah.

	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY



	Camille and Nona stand among the piles of boxes.  Monica and
	Quincy stand at their mothers' sides, stealing glances at
	each other.  A large bandage covers Monica's cheek.  Monica
	holds her card, Camille holds the cake.

				NONA
		...we moved back here when Quincy was
		about five, after Zeke was traded.
		Neighborhood was a little more mixed
		back then...

				CAMILLE
		Until the Black family down the street
		became the Black family next door.

				NONA
			(nods)
		Okay?

	Camille tries to smooth down Monica's unruly hair.  Monica
	moves her head.

				CAMILLE
		Well, thanks again.  This was really nice
		of you.

				NONA
		It was the least we could do.  And I love
		to cook.

	Quincy looks up at his Mom, surprised.  She quickly hugs his
	face into her stomach.  Camille lights up.

				CAMILLE
		Oh, me too.  I used to cook for my
		friends' parties and things back in
		Atlanta.

				NONA
		You're a caterer?

				CAMILLE
		Well, no, but once Nathan gets settled
		and the girls get a little older, it's
		definitely something I want to do.
			(then)
		Since you love to cook, maybe it's
		something we can talk about.

	Quincy snickers.  Nona quickly changes the subject.

				NONA
		You know, girl, long as I've lived next
		door, I've never seen the inside of this
		house.

				CAMILLE
		Really?  Well, come on, then.

	Camille hands Monica the cake.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		Honey, put this in the kitchen.

				NONA
		Help her, Quincy.

	Camille and Nona head down the hall, leaving Monica and
	Quincy alone.  The two just stand there.

	Quincy reaches out, scoops a finger of frosting, and pops it
	in his mouth.  Beat, then Monica takes a bigger scoop.

				QUINCY
		So...does it hurt?

				MONICA
		It's this big hole.  You could almost see
		bone.

				QUINCY
		For real?

				MONICA
		Uh huh.

	Quincy is impressed.

				QUINCY
		So how come you could play basketball?

				MONICA
		I just can.

				QUINCY
		I never knew a girl that could play.

				MONICA
		My Mom says she doesn't know where I come
		from 'cause I act different.

				QUINCY
		Your Dad play?

				MONICA
		He works at a bank.

				QUINCY
		My Dad plays for the "Clippers."  He says
		I'ma be a doctor or a lawyer, but I'ma
		play for them, too.  Same number and
		everything.

				MONICA
		I'm going to be number thirty-two, like
		Magic.

				QUINCY
		He's alright, but my Dad can take him.

				MONICA
		What was the most points your Daddy ever
		got in Junior High?

				QUINCY
		I don't know.  A lot.

				MONICA
		One time Magic scored forty-eight points,
		and they only had six minute quarters and
		he sat out the whole fourth.

				QUINCY
		You do act different.

				MONICA
		I don't care.

				QUINCY
		Well, if anybody bothers you, you could
		just tell me cause I run this street.

				MONICA
		I'd just tell my sister, Lena.

				QUINCY
		She don't know how to box, I bet.  My dad
		showed me how to fight like Ali.

	He shows off a flurry of punches.

				MONICA
		So, I know karate from "Almighty Isis."

	Monica puts the cake down on a box, does a couple of kicks
	and hand movements.  Quincy is impressed.

				QUINCY
		Bet you can't do this though.

	Quincy does a jump kick.  Monica does the same.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Okay, how bout this?

	Quincy takes a couple steps back, then does a cartwheel.  It
	looks great, until he crashes into the box with the cake.
	The cake falls onto his head and shoulder.

	Monica doubles over, laughing.  Quincy is embarrassed.
	Camille and Nona rush back into the living room.

				CAMILLE
		Monica, what did you do?

				MONICA
		Nothing.

				CAMILLE
			(to Nona)
		Oh, all that work.

				NONA
		It's...it's okay.  Can I get a towel?

	Camille quickly crosses into the kitchen.  Quincy stares at
	the floor.

				QUINCY
		Sorry.

	Nona bends down, whispers in his ear.

				NONA
		No.  Good boy.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - NIGHT

	Monica sits between Lena's legs, grimacing, as Lena works a
	comb through her freshly washed, kinky hair.  Monica's head
	flops like a rag doll.  Her eyes are wet.

				MONICA
		Ow!

	Lena keeps tugging.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Ow, Lena!!!

	Monica punches her in the leg.

				LENA
		Ow!

	Lena yanks Monica's head back as Camille enters, carrying a
	yellow dress on a hanger.  Monica sees it and her face falls.

				MONICA
		Ah, Mom.

				CAMILLE
		I'm lucky I found it.  Someone put your
		box of dresses under a pile of rags in
		the garbage.

	Monica sulks.  Lena cackles in her ear.  Camille has to
	laugh.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		Child, pick up your lip.

				MONICA
		I hate it.

				CAMILLE
		Fine, you don't like this one, which one
		would you rather wear?

				MONICA
		Pants.

	Camille rubs her temples, then hangs the dress on the door.

				CAMILLE
			(to Lena)
		When you're done can you make sure she
		brushes her teeth?

				LENA
		Are you okay?

				CAMILLE
		I just need to lay down.  I've been
		running around all day.

	Just then, Nathan enters.  He holds up two dress shirts as if
	it were a matter of life and death.

				NATHAN
		Which one for tomorrow?

				CAMILLE
		The blue.

				NATHAN
		You sure?

	Camille nods.  Nathan looks at both of them, then:

				NATHAN (cont'd)
		Can you iron both tonight just in case?

				CAMILLE
			(beat)
		Okay.

				NATHAN
		Thanks, sweetheart.

	He kisses her on the cheek, hands her the two shirts and
	crosses out.  Monica just watches.  Beat, then Camile turns
	back to her daughters.

				CAMILLE
		The boy next door is riding with you to
		school so you'll know somebody your first
		day.
			(to Lena)
		Hurry so she can go to sleep.

	Monica reacts, surprised.  Camille leaves.  Lena puts the
	comb back to Monica's hair.  Beat, then:

				MONICA
		Make it look nice, kay.

	INT. MCCALL HOUSE - QUINCY'S ROOM - NIGHT

	Basketball posters, "Clippers" and USC memorabilia, a
	basketball globe light.

	Quincy lays tucked in bed, eyes wide open, listening to his
	parents MAKING LOVE.  The sounds bring a smile to his face.

	Quincy climbs out of bed, wearing underwear.  He moves to his
	window, sees Monica through her window directly across from
	his.  Her eyes are closed as Lena braids her hair.  Quincy
	kneels down, rests his arms on the window sill, and watches.
	
	
	  EXT. MCCALL AND WRIGHT HOUSES - MORNING



	Quincy sits atop his BMX bike in front of Monica's house.  A
	basketball is tucked under his arm.

	Monica emerges, walking her banana-seater.  She is looking
	cute in her yellow dress and braids tied with ribbons.  A
	basketball sits in her back basket.

	Quincy is taken aback, stares at her.

				QUINCY
		You wanna be my girl?

	Monica blinks in surprise.  She thinks for a moment.

				MONICA
		What do I have to do?

				QUINCY
		I guess, you know, we play ball and we
		ride to school together.  And if you get
		mad at me, I gotta give you flowers.

				MONICA
		I don't like flowers.

				QUINCY
		Oh.

				MONICA
		How bout Twinkies?  My mom won't ever
		buy them.

				QUINCY
		Kay.

				MONICA
		Okay.

	An awkward beat between the new couple.  Finally --

				QUINCY
		I think we gotta kiss now.

				MONICA
		For how long?

				QUINCY
		Five seconds.

	The two glance around, then climb off their bikes and walk to
	the secluded area between their two houses.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Ready?

	Monica nods.  They lean in, eyes wide open, and touch lips.
	Quincy counts to five with his fingers.  They pull away,
	embarrassed, and walk back to the driveway.

	Monica lifts her bike from the ground and climbs on.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Wait.  Cause you're my girl now you
		gotta ride my bike.

				MONICA
		I want to ride my own bike.

				QUINCY
		My Dad always drives my Mom.

				MONICA
		So?

				QUINCY
			(impatient)
		So that means I have to ride with you.

	Monica doesn't move.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Come on.

				MONICA
		I don't have to do what you say.

				QUINCY
		Man, forget you then, stupid.

				MONICA
		You're stupid.  And your Daddy plays for
		the worst team in the NBA.

	Quincy's face instantly clouds.

				QUINCY
		What?

				MONICA
			(laughs)
		Last time they won, Dr. J. was a nurse.

				QUINCY
		Shut up!

	He shoves her, knocking her off her bike.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		I don't wanna be your boyfriend, you ugly
		dog!

	Monica leaps up, her dress now dirty.  She shoves him back.

				MONICA
		I don't want to be your girlfriend, big
		head!

	They grapple, then fall to the ground swinging...

								FADE TO:

	BLACK.

	FOOTAGE.  Men's NCAA Finals.  Michigan State against Indiana
	State.  Magic Johnson against Larry Bird.  Magic drives on
	Bird, hits a beautiful scoop shot.  He celebrates as he jogs
	back down court...
	
	  FADE IN:



	TITLE CARD: "SECOND QUARTER" then "1988"



	INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - DAY



	A snarling Black cougar glares down from a large mural.  On

	the court below, a girl's basketball play-off game.

	The bleachers are almost half-full with a hyped crowd.  In
	the crowd are Monica's parents.  Her father is excited and
	vocal.  Her mom reads a book.  Also in the stands, the HEAD
	COACH OF THE TENNESSEE LADY VOLS, PAT SUMMIT.

	A fine-ass BROTHER leans in the doorway, sporting a letter
	jacket with an embroidered "Q" on the chest.  He gets as much
	attention as the game.  A couple of JUNIOR VARSITY
	CHEERLEADERS smile his way.

				CHEERLEADERS
		"U", "G", "L", "Y", you ain't got no
		alibi, you ugly, yeah, yeah, you ugly.
		"M", "A", "M", "A", how you think you got
		that way, your Mama, yeah, yeah, your
		Mama.

	On the floor, MONICA, dribbles down court.  Just EIGHTEEN,
	her athletic figure has a few curves, but her loose jersey
	does little to show it off.  Her hair is a mess and her knees
	are dark with bruises.  A small scar is visible on her cheek.

	She whips a no-look, around the back pass to a cutting
	TEAMMATE under the basket, who scores.  The crowd cheers.

	Monica defends the opposing point guard like a gnat.  She
	knocks the ball loose and grabs it up.  She goes for a lay-up
	and the opposing guard steps in front of her.  Monica crashes
	into her, knocking both to the floor.

	A WHISTLE.

				REFEREE
		No basket!  Offensive foul, number thirty-
		two.

	Monica leaps up.

				MONICA
		What?  She wasn't set!

	The referee ignores her.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		She was still moving!

	From the sideline, COACH HISERMAN waves frantically.

				COACH HISERMAN
		Monica!  Let it go!

	Monica stares down the ref as she jogs back on defense.

	The opposing guard drives the lane and puts up a shot.
	Monica leaps and blocks it with a taunting scream.  A
	WHISTLE.

				REFEREE
		Technical foul!  Number thirty-two.

	Coach Hiserman slams down his clipboard.  Monica charges the
	referee.  A teammate grabs at her but she pushes her off.

				MONICA
		For what?

				REFEREE
		Taunting.

				MONICA
		Taunting?!

				COACH HISERMAN
		Sub!

				MONICA
		Man, you suck!

	The referee whips back around, whistle in mouth.  Coach
	Hiserman grabs her arm and pulls her off the court.

				COACH HISERMAN
		Sit down and shut up.

	Monica slams down in a chair, sweat pouring, hands clenched.
	Her mom watches from the stands, completely embarrassed.  The
	brother in the doorway turns, leaves.

	Monica looks up at the clock.  SIX MINUTES LEFT IN THE THIRD
	QUARTER.

								   DISSOLVE TO:

	INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - LATE DAY

	Monica, still benched, sits slumped in her chair, her sweats
	on, her face dry.  She glances up at the clock.  TWENTY
	SECONDS LEFT IN THE FOURTH QUARTER.  Her team's up by SIX.

	Her teammates dribble out the clock.  The BUZZER SOUNDS and
	they dance across the floor.  Monica looks up in the stands.
	COACH SUMMIT IS GONE.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - KITCHEN - DUSK

	Camille, now forty-three, stands at the stove stirring a pot
	of gumbo.  Lena, 21, and pretty, stands next to her, holding
	a handful of plates and silverware.

				CAMILLE
		...and if you want a thicker base, you
		can cut in a potato or just use a little
		flour.

				LENA
		But you use potato?

	Camille nods as they cross into:

	INT. DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	At the table, Monica is in mid-conversation with her dad.
	Camille and Lena start setting the table.

				MONICA
		Dad, you have to talk to Coach for me.

				NATHAN
		And what am I supposed to say to the man?

				MONICA
		The coach from Tennessee was there and he
		has me riding the bench.

				NATHAN
		You lost your head.

				MONICA
		I was just showing emotion.

				CAMILLE
		So that means it's alright for you to act
		like that?

				LENA
			(to Monica)
		What'd you do?

				MONICA
			(dismissive)
		nothing.

				CAMILLE
		I don't know why I keep hoping you'll
		grow out of this tomboy thing.

				MONICA
		I won't.  I'm a lesbian.

	Lena chokes on her drink, cracks up.

				CAMILLE
		That's not funny

				MONICA
		Well, that's what you think, isn't it?
		Cause I'd rather wear a jersey than an
		apron...

				CAMILLE
		Watch your mouth.

	Nathan quickly jumps in, tries to clean things up.

				NATHAN
		Monica, I think her point is...maybe it's
		time to start thinking about other things
		besides basketball.

				MONICA
			(taken aback)
		What?

				NATHAN
		You only have one game left and you
		haven't been recruited.  Munchkin, I
		wanted it as bad as you did, but we have
		to face reality.

				MONICA
		The coach from USC is going to be at the
		championship.

				NATHAN
		I know.  But chances are...

				MONICA
		Chances are there's still a chance.

	Nathan nods.  She can always soften her dad, but not her mom.

				CAMILLE
		If you'd just listen for once, you'd
		realize you have a lot more going for
		yourself.  You're smart, you'd be pretty
		if you put a comb to your head.  I mean,
		why walk around with your hair looking
		like "whodunit"...?

	As her mom nags on, Monica looks out the window.

	OUTSIDE, QUINCY and a GIRL lean against a car parked at the
	curb, slobbing each other down.

	Just shy of 18, with a magnetic face and muscular body, he is
	a brother who drank his chocolate milk.  HE IS ALSO THE
	BROTHER WHO WAS WATCHING MONICA'S GAME FROM THE GYM DOORWAY.

	Monica watches and her mom's droning voice disappears...

	EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - SAME TIME

	FELICIA, 17, can't get enough of Quincy's lips.

				QUINCY
		Yo, Felicia, I gotta get to my game.

	She keeps kissing him.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		And my mom's about to be home.

				FELICIA
		So I'm not good enough to meet your mom?

				QUINCY
		Girl, she knew I had a hottie like you
		up inhere, she'd beat the black off me.

				FELICIA
			(kissing him again)
		That's a lot of beating.

	She finally lets go, and slides into her car.  Quincy watches
	her go with a cocky-ass smile.
	

	  INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - NIGHT



	A frenzied crowd from floor to ceiling watches Quincy explode

	across the court.  He is the complete point guard - hitting
	from the outside, driving to the hoop, no-look passes,
	playing tight D.'

	His father, Zeke, now 39, stands on the sideline.  His muscle
	has softened a little over the last five years of retirement.

	Monica sits alone in the bottom row, holding a basketball.
	She wears jeans and a T-shirt and her hair is pulled back in
	a simple pony-tail.

	Quincy does a killer cross-over move and his Defender falls
	down.  He lays up the ball, then taunts the player he just
	poster-ized.  Behind Monica, TWO GIRLS smack each other
	excitedly.  One of them, SHAWNEE, 17, pretty, big chest,
	slides down into the empty seat next to her.

				SHAWNEE
		Hey, girl.

				MONICA
		Hey.

				SHAWNEE
		Your hair looks so cute like that.

	Monica knows she's full of shit, doesn't respond.

				SHAWNEE (cont'd)
		So...you know who Q's asking to the
		Spring Dance?

				MONICA
		No.

				SHAWNEE
		C'mon, girl, you live next door.  Who's
		been creeping?

				MONICA
		There's so many I just can't keep track.

				SHAWNEE
		Well, can you give him this for me?

	Shawnee holds out a folded note.  Monica doesn't take it.

				MONICA
		Give it yourself.

				SHAWNEE
		I don't wanna look fast.
			(drops it in Monica's lap)
		Thanks, girl.

	She slides back to her seat.  Monica shakes her head, turns
	back to the game.

	Quincy dives for a loose ball.  Shawnee clutches her friend.

				SHAWNEE (cont'd)
		Good Lord, look at that ass.  I just want
		to lick the sweat off it.

	Monica takes in his tight body.  He does look good.  Quincy
	jogs back down court and flashbulbs go off...

								  MATCH CUT TO:

	INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - NIGHT

	Flashbulbs.  Quincy stands with his dad, his sweat still
	fresh, talking to a reporter named JIM.

				JIM
		Quincy, word has it you might make the
		jump the NBA.

				ZEKE
		Don't go starting rumors, Jim.  My son's
		college bound with or without basketball.

				JIM
		You could make a career by telling me
		where.

				ZEKE
		Gotta wait til the press conference.

				JIM
		But you'd love for him to play at USC,
		like you did.

				ZEKE
		I'd love for him to get a good education.
			(then)
		That's it.

	Jim crosses away.  Zeke puts an affectionate arm around his
	son as they walk toward the locker room.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		We should have another talk with Coach
		Carril at Princeton.

				QUINCY
		Pop, there's no way an Ivy League Team is
		going all the way.

				ZEKE
		I don't care about the team.  I care
		about the school.

				QUINCY
		Didn't we already have this conversation?

	Zeke sighs, then:

				ZEKE
		You played good.  I was proud of you.

	Quincy smiles wide.

				QUINCY
		Yeah?
			(then)
		So you up for a game later?

				ZEKE
		I don't wanna hurt your feelings.

				QUINCY
		You don't wanna hurt your back.

				ZEKE
			(smiles)
		Anyway, I gotta get to this meeting.
		Tell your Mom I'm gonna be late.

				QUINCY
		You work too hard, Pop.

				ZEKE
		Let's hope I can say the same about you
		one day.

	Quincy watches his dad move toward the doors, stopping once
	to give an autograph.  Zeke passes Monica, entering.

				MONICA
		Hey, Mr. M.

				ZEKE
		Hey, Miss Baller.

	He exits.  Monica approaches Quincy.

				MONICA
		Way to hoop.

				QUINCY
		I know this.  What do you want?

				MONICA
		A ride home.

				QUINCY
		Your legs don't look broke.

				MONICA
		Look, big head, I'll be at your car.

				QUINCY
		Guess "please" would be a stretch.

				MONICA
			(dryly)
		Please.

	  INT. QUINCY'S JEEP - NIGHT



	Silence as Quincy wheels his Jeep Wrangler toward home.
	Monica sits in the passenger seat, basketball in lap.  She
	pulls Shawnee's note from her pocket.  Quincy glances it
	over.


				QUINCY
		What's that?

				MONICA
		Some note Shawnee Easton told me to give
		to you.

				QUINCY
			(thinks)
		Big-ass titties?

	Monica shoots him a disgusted look.  Quincy reaches out.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Give it here.

	Monica leans away, reads aloud.

				MONICA
		"Q.  I think you are so fine and I've
		been wanting to get with you.  Let me
		take you to the Spring Dance and I
		promise I'll leave you satisfied."

	Monica laughs in disbelief.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		What a ho.

				QUINCY
		Why she gotta be a ho, just cause she
		wants to get with me.

				MONICA
		She's a ho cause she's sending her
		coochie through the mail.

				QUINCY
		And?

				MONICA
		And?  She's not saying, "I think you're a
		nice guy and I wanna get to know you
		better," she's saying, "I wanna bone."

				QUINCY
		So she's honest.

				MONICA
		Yeah, an honest tramp-ass ho.  But I
		guess you'll stick your dick in anything.

				QUINCY
		Didn't know you cared so much.

				MONICA
		I don't.

				QUINCY
		So who you going to the dance with,
		Spalding?

				MONICA
		Who's Spalding?

	Quincy looks down at the SPALDING BASKETBALL in her lap and
	cracks up.  Monica glares.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Fuck you, Quincy.

				QUINCY
		See, that's why you ain't getting
		recruited.

				MONICA
		Who said I'm not getting recruited?

				QUINCY
		Your hot-ass temper.

	Monica points to the scar on her cheek.

				MONICA
		I'm not the one who put this scar here.

				QUINCY
		God, here we go.

				MONICA
		When we were eleven years old cause he
		was about to lose.

	Quincy turns, faces her.

				QUINCY
		That's it, give it your best shot.

				MONICA
		Would you watch the damn road?

				QUINCY
		I mean it, give it your best shot, cause
		I'm tired of you holding that over my
		head.

				MONICA
		I'm warning you, don't tempt me.

				QUINCY
		I'm warning you.  You don't stall that
		bad attitude, no one's gonna recruit you.

	Quincy pulls his Jeep into his driveway.

				MONICA
		Please, you jump in some guy's face, talk
		smack and you get a pat on your ass.  But
		because I'm a female, I get told to calm
		down and act like a "lady".  I'm a
		ballplayer, okay.  A ball player.

				QUINCY
		With a jacked-up attitude.

				MONICA
		Didn't know you cared so much.

				QUINCY
		I don't.

				MONICA
		Good.

	Monica slams out of the Jeep and walks across the lawn to her
	house.  Quincy exits his ride.
	
	  INT. MCCALL HOUSE - ENTRY WAY - SHORT TIME LATER



	Quincy steps inside, drops his bag on the floor.  His mom,
	Nona, approaches from the dining room.

				QUINCY
		What's up, Moms.

	Nona holds up a large hoop earring.

				NONA
		What is this?

				QUINCY
		Uh, your earring?

				NONA
		I look like some hoochie to you?  I
		found it on your floor.

				QUINCY
		What are you doing in my room?

	Quincy crosses into:

	INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

	Nona follows.  Quincy pulls open the fridge, grabs a couple
	of slices of cold pizza.

				NONA
		Quincy, I told you about these fat-ass
		girls.

				QUINCY
		We were just studying.

				NONA
		I'm not playing with you, these girls are
		looking to get you caught.  They see you,
		they see dollar signs.

				QUINCY
		Okay.

				NONA
		You hearing me?

				QUINCY
		I've been hearing you.

	Nona eyes her son, then lets up.  She gives him a kiss.

				NONA
		How was your game?

				QUINCY
		Twenty-seven points, eleven assists and
		still undefeated.

				NONA
		Still the man.

				QUINCY
		Yup.

	Nona smiles, starts back the kitchen.

				NONA
		Where's your dad?

				QUINCY
		Said he'd be home later.

				NONA
		Later when?

				QUINCY
		I don't know, he had a meeting or
		something.

	Quincy exits to his room.

	INT. MCCALL HOUSE - ZEKE AND NONA'S ROOM - LATE NIGHT

	Nona angrily rolls her hair as Zeke undresses.

				ZEKE
		I had some players to see and hands to
		shake.

				NONA
		At one in the morning?

				ZEKE
		I'm not gonna get anywhere punching a
		clock just so my wife doesn't get an
		attitude.

				NONA
		I came second to the NBA.  I'm not about
		to come second to this bullshit scouting
		job.

	Zeke looks at her, offended.

				NONA (cont'd)
		I didn't mean it like that.

				ZEKE
		Yeah.

				NONA
		I'm just saying it'd be nice if you found
		time for your family.
		You should see the tramps coming after
		Quincy.  If you don't talk to him...

				ZEKE
		I have.

	A beat.

				NONA
		You said you'd think about going back to
		get your degree.

				ZEKE
		No, you said I should get my degree.  I
		like my "bullshit" job, okay, and it's
		gonna lead to a spot in the front office.
		Til then, don't worry, there's just
		enough savings to keep your ass in Gucci
		and gold.

	Livid, Nona pulls off her gold bracelet, throws it at him.

				NONA
		Fine, then how many nights home is that?

				ZEKE
		Keep your voice down.

	She grabs a pair of gold earrings from her jewelry box, nails
	him.

				NONA
		How about now?  I got a week yet?

	INT. MCCALL HOUSE - QUINCY'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, as his parents
	continue to have it out.

	He rolls out of bed, pulls on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
	He moves to his window, pulls it open and climbs out...

	EXT. MCCALL AND WRIGHT HOUSES - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy crosses the grass to Monica's window, knocks quietly.

	Long beat, then Monica sleepily stumbles to her window,
	wearing boxers and a tank top.  She pushes it open and Quincy
	pulls himself through...

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Now a routine, Monica tosses Quincy one of her pillows and
	blankets, then crawls back into bed.
	He lays out on the floor and closes his eyes.  Monica casts a
	long, sleepy glance at him, then drifts back to sleep.

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - LATE DAY



	Posters of Magic line three walls.  A hand-made collage of

	female college and Olympic ball-players fills the fourth.
	The only real "soft" touch is the teddy bear laying on the
	pillow.

	Monica sits on the floor between Lena's legs, as Lena puts
	Monica's hair in cornrows.

				LENA
		That too tight?

				MONICA
		No.

				LENA
		Mom's going to hate it.

				MONICA
		Always on my ass, anyway.

				LENA
		Like you don't give her a hard time.

				MONICA
		Just cause I don't kiss her booty like
		you...

	Lena yanks Monica's head back.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Ow!!!

				LENA
		You need to.  She's alone in this house
		all day, taking care of Dad and your
		ungrateful behind.

				MONICA
		No one's forcing her.

				LENA
		Just try and chill a little bit, alright.

	Monica doesn't answer.  Lena yanks her head back again.

				MONICA
		Ow!!!  Okay!

	They crack up.

				LENA
		So what's going on with the Spring Dance?
		You have a date yet?

				MONICA
			(sarcastically)
		Yeah, brothers are lined up at my locker.

				LENA
		I found you someone.

				MONICA
		Found?  I'm not some charity case.

				LENA
		I know...

				MONICA
		Mom tell you to do this?

				LENA
		No.

				MONICA
		Damn, Lena...
			(then)
		Who is he?

				LENA
		This brother from my college.

				MONICA
		He's in college?

				LENA
		And he's fine, girl.

				MONICA
		How'd you get him to say yes?

				LENA
		I told him you looked like me.

				MONICA
		Oh, great.

				LENA
		You do.

				MONICA
		Yeah, right.

				LENA
		If you were tore up I would not be
		claiming you.  Trust.

	Monica is not convinced.

				LENA (cont'd)
		We'll do something cute with your hair,
		get you a dress, get you some heels...

				MONICA
		I don't know how to walk in heels.

				LENA
		Hey.  You just worry about playing your
		behind off for that recruiter tonight.
		Let me worry about your date.

	Lena starts to braid Monica's hair again.  Beat, then...

				MONICA
		You ever been in love?

				LENA
		Too many times.

				MONICA
		They ever love you back?

				LENA
		Yeah, once I cut them off.  Why?

	Monica just shrugs.  Lena continues braiding.
	
	
	  EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - LATE DAY

	Quincy and Zeke sweat through a playfully intense game of one-
	on-one.

	Quincy almost breaks Zeke's ankles with a cross-over dribble,
	and leaves him in the dust.  He stops under the basket, waves
	for his Dad to come on before laying it up.

	Zeke smiles, tells Quincy to bring that shit on again.
	Quincy tries his cross-over again and this time Zeke picks
	him clean.

	Zeke taunts him as he easily backs in on him to the basket.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - KITCHEN - DUSK

	Camille stands at the stove, cooking up some yams.  Monica
	enters with a gym bag over her shoulder, dribbling her ball.
	THE HOOD OF HER SWEATSHIRT COVERS HER HAIR.

				CAMILLE
		Monica, please.

	Monica stops.

				MONICA
		Sorry.
			(then)
		I'm leaving.

	Camille fills a spoon from the pot, holds it out.

				CAMILLE
		Taste this.

				MONICA
		I can't eat before a game.

				CAMILLE
		Child, take a bite.

	Monica sighs, takes a bite.  It's good.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		I found some apricot chutney and mixed it
		with the yams.

				MONICA
		You really should be a caterer or
		something like you used to say.

				CAMILLE
		Sure.  In between all the other things I
		have to do.

	She pulls off Monica's hood, then stops when she sees her
	braids.  Monica looks back defiantly.

				MONICA
		What?

				CAMILLE
		Nothing.  So good luck.

	She forces a smile, turns back to her cooking.  Monica just
	nods, and crosses out.

	INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - NIGHT

	The championship game.  The bleachers are almost filled.
	Nathan and Lena sit, dead center.  ALSO IN ATTENDANCE, COACH
	CHERYL MILLER - THE COACH OF USC.

	Quincy sits in the back row with a couple of teammates.  As
	always, he's the focus of much attention.

	Monica and her teammates are crouched in a tight huddle,
	surrounding Coach Hiserman.

				COACH HISERMAN
		I don't have to tell you girls how big
		this game is.  We worked too damn hard
		all season to leave without this
		championship.  So let's play smart...
			(looks at Monica)
		...let's play in control, and let's kick
		some butt.  Cougars on three.
		Once...two...three.

				TEAM
		Cougars!

	As Monica moves to center court, she glances up at the USC
	Coach, then at Quincy.

	Monica takes a deep breath as she lines up for the opening
	tip.  An opposing player suddenly bumps her out of position.
	Monica glares at her, but just moves over.

	The ball is tossed up...

								  SMASH CUT TO:

	INT. CRENSHAW GYM - NIGHT

	Fourth quarter.  One minute left.  Cougars down three.

	Monica dribbles down court, bouncing with confidence as her
	opponent plays her tight.

	Monica zips a no-look pass to a teammate, who lays it up.
	Quincy punches one of his friends - "Oh shit!"  She is having
	the game of her life.

	On the defensive end, Monica steals the ball.  She drives the
	length of the court, lays it up between two defenders.  The
	crowd is hyped.

	Twenty seconds left, up by one.  Monica hounds the opposing
	guard as she brings up the ball.
	Monica suddenly reaches in and knocks the ball loose.  As she
	goes for the ball, a WHISTLE.

				REFEREE
		Reaching in, number thirty-two.  One-and-
		one.

	Boos fill the gym.  Monica's eyes widen.

				MONICA
		No!

	Anger rushes through her as she starts for the ref.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		That's bullsh--!

				COACH HISERMAN
		Monica!

	Monica catches herself, turns the word "shit" into a
	frustrated yell as she quickly moves away from the ref.

	Monica lines up for the free-throw, clenching her fists.  The
	girl hits the first one.  Then, she hits the second.

	With ten seconds left, down by one, Monica drives down court
	and throws up a prayer.  EVERYONE IS ON THEIR FEET AS THE
	BALL SPINS AROUND THE RIM.  AND THEN...IT POPS OUT.  An
	opposing player grabs the rebound and Monica has no choice
	but to foul her.

	Monica has just fouled out.  She walks to her bench and drops
	down.  She buries her face in a towel and sobs.

	The buzzer goes off.  Cougars lose.

	Quincy stares at Monica, feeling almost as bad as she does.

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
								
	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - NIGHT



	Monica sits slumped on her bed in a bathrobe, as Lena stands

	in front of her, putting the finishing touches on Monica's

	make-up.



				LENA

		Might help if you didn't look so evil.

				MONICA
		I don't even want to go.

	She steps back, looks at her work.
  
				LENA
		Mom!

	Beat, then Camille enters.
  
				LENA (cont'd)
		Talk to me.

	Camille stares at her daughter, taken aback by how great she
	looks.

				CAMILLE
		Go in my top drawer and get my pearls.

	Lena exits.  Monica still looks miserable.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		You okay?

	Monica shrugs.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		Well, can you promise me one thing?

				MONICA
		What?

				CAMILLE
		Tonight, don't worry about yesterday's
		game, the recruiters, or anything else.
		I just want you to enjoy being beautiful.
		Will you do that?

	Monica takes this in as Lena returns with Camille's pearls.

				LENA
		Here.

	Camille puts them around Monica's neck.  Monica looks back at
	her.

				MONICA
		You really think I look beautiful?

	Camille smiles at her daughter, nods.  Monica touches the
	pearls.

	INT. CRENSHAW GYM - NIGHT

	An R&B song jams through the speakers, filling the dance
	floor with high school kids in suits and dresses.

	In the middle of the floor, Quincy gets his groove on with
	his date, Shawnee.  She dances so provocatively, there is no
	mistaking what she has in mind for later.

	Over at the doors, Monica enters with her college date,
	JASON, 21, and fine.  Heads turn in surprise.  Monica feels
	the stares, shifts nervously.

				JASON
		Can I take your coat?

				MONICA
		You're cold?

	Monica starts to pull it off.

				JASON
		No, I mean I can check it for you.

				MONICA
			(embarrassed)
		Oh, sorry.

	Jason pulls off her coat, revealing a dress that shows off
	everything Monica has been hiding.  He checks out her frame,
	smiles.

				JASON
		Your sister wasn't lying.

	He crosses to the coat check, leaving her alone.

	ANGLE ON

	Quincy, who glances over from the middle of the dance floor,
	and abruptly stops.  He stares at Monica in shock.

				QUINCY
		Oh...shit.

	Quincy starts off the floor as a new song kicks in.

				SHAWNEE
		Q, I like this song...

	ANGLE ON

	Monica, sees Quincy approaching in his suit.  She quickly
	steadies herself on her heels, brushes a curl from her face.

				QUINCY
		See you made it.

				MONICA
		Yeah.

				QUINCY
		You don't look half-bad.

				MONICA
		You either.

	Jason returns.  Quincy looks at him, surprised.

				JASON
		What's up, Black.  I'm Jason.

				QUINCY
		Q.

	Shawnee suddenly steps up, slides her arms around Quincy.

				SHAWNEE
		Dang, girl, I didn't know Nike made
		dresses.

	Monica looks at Shawnee, wrapped around Quincy.  She can't
	believe it.

				MONICA
		Guess we'll see you later.

	Monica heads into the crowd with her college man.  Quincy
	watches her go.

	INT. CRENSHAW HIGH SCHOOL GYM - LATER

	Monica sits at a table with Jason.  His arm lays casually
	across the back of her chair.  Monica sits upright, stiff.

				JASON
		So, you like school?

	Monica smiles nervously, nods.

				JASON (cont'd)
		Yeah, high school was cool.  I don't
		remember sisters being as fine as you,
		though.

	Monica just holds that nervous smile.

				JASON (cont'd)
		So what do you like studying?

				MONICA
		Gym.

	He waits for more, but nothing comes.

				JASON
		I'm an English major.  You like English?

				MONICA
		Sort of.

				JASON
		Careful.

				MONICA
		Huh?

				JASON
		That was two words.

	Monica ducks her head, embarrassed.  Jason laughs.

				JASON (cont'd)
		Girl, how come you're so stressed?

				MONICA
		Sorry.

				JASON
		I mean, I'm having a good time with
		you...

	His arm slides off the back of her chair and onto her
	shoulders.

				JASON (cont'd)
		So tell me what I have to do to make you
		have a good time with me.

				MONICA
		My mouth is kinda dry.

				JASON
		Then I'll get you some punch.

	He stands, then.

				JASON (cont'd)
		Just don't jet while I'm gone and leave a
		glass slipper behind.

	Monica's face lights up.  Jason smiles.

				JASON (cont'd)
		There we go.

	He crosses away to the refreshment table.  Monica smiles
	wider, leans back in her chair with her legs splayed.  She
	catches herself and quickly crosses them.

	A couple of guys pass by and check her out.  Monica smiles
	wider.  Quincy steps up, holding two cups of punch.

				QUINCY
		Hey.

				MONICA
		Hey.

				QUINCY
		You having fun?

				MONICA
		Yeah.

				QUINCY
		Yeah, the DJ's kinda whack, though.
			(beat)
		So who is this clown?

				MONICA
		He ain't Spalding.

				QUINCY
		Guess not.

				MONICA
		So you took Shawnee, huh?

	The DJ puts on "Make It Last Forever" by Keith Sweat.
	Couples move to the dance floor.

				QUINCY
			(embarrassed)
		You know, it was late and she asked...

				JASON
		You want to dance?

	Jason stands behind her chair.  Monica smiles shyly.

				MONICA
		Sure.

	Jason puts down her cup of punch, takes her hand, leads her
	to the dance floor.

	Quincy just shakes his head, then crosses to his table, grabs
	Shawnee's hand.

				QUINCY
		C'mon.

	He pulls Shawnee to the middle of the floor.

	ANGLE ON

	Monica, nervous at first, a little awkward, but Jason gently
	guides her in a slow circle and she starts to relax.

	Jason moves his hands down Monica's back, pulling her in
	closer.  Shawnee snuggles into Quincy's chest, runs her hands
	down his neck.  The heat from bodies grows.

	Monica and Quincy glance up at the same time and catch each
	other's eyes.  They start to look away but find they can't.
	Eyes locked as they dance, they move together, almost feel
	each other.  Finally, as their bodies turn, they lose sight.

	Monica puts her head to Jason's chest, Quincy slides his
	hands lower down Shawnee's back.  The music continues...

	INT. JASON'S CAR - NIGHT

	Jason and Monica are parked up on Mulholland Drive.  LL Cool
	J's "I Need Love" plays on the tape deck.

	Jason has his arm around Monica, ready to make his move.

				MONICA
			(rattling)
		Freshman year, my free throw percentage
		was fifty-one percent, cause I was
		shooting it like a jump shot.

	Jason leans in, kisses her bare shoulder.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Um...but then sophomore year I was
		shooting seventy-five percent from the
		line.

	Jason kisses her neck.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		...uh, by keeping my feet set and really
		following through.

	Jason goes in for the slam dunk.  Kisses Monica on the lips.
	It's the first time she's really been kissed.  Jason pulls
	away, smiles.

				JASON
		That was nice.

				MONICA
		Uh-huh.

				JASON
		Your sister told me hands off, but I
		can't help myself...

	Jason leans in.  Monica closes her eyes, and they kiss some
	more.  Monica tries to follow his practiced lips.

	Jason's tongue slides in and their bodies slide down.  His
	hand moves across her breast.  Monica's eyes pop open.

				MONICA
		Wait...

				JASON
		Shh.  It's okay.

	Naive and inexperienced, Monica shuts her eyes tight.

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
								
	  E WRIGHT HOUSE -NIGHT



	Jason's car pulls off, Monica slowly moves to her front door.

	She looks in the living room window.  Her mom is asleep in a
	chair, trying to wait up.

	Monica catches her reflection in the window.  She glares at
	her made-up face, then wipes at her mouth with her hand.

	She steps back , walks to her bedroom window.  She pulls it
	open, kicks off her heels and climbs through.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Monica moves to her bed and drops down.  She sits motionless
	for a beat, then suddenly feels something beneath her.  She
	reaches for it.  IT'S A LETTER FROM THE USC ATHLETIC
	DEPARTMENT.  Monica stares at it in her hands...

	Light suddenly cuts through the darkness.  Monica turns and
	is surprised to see Quincy standing in the middle of his
	room, pulling off his jacket.  Monica moves to her window,
	pulls it open.

				MONICA
		Psst.

	Quincy looks over.  Beat.  Then he climbs out of his window,
	drops down.

	EXT. WRIGHT AND MCCALL HOUSES - CONTINUOUS

				MONICA
		Early night for you, isn't it?

				QUINCY
		I was about to ask you the same thing,
		going out with a college boy and all.

	Monica doesn't respond.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		So where'd you go after?

				MONICA
			(beat)
		Mulholland Drive.

				QUINCY
		Figures.

				MONICA
		So what dead-end street did you and
		Shawnee hit?

				QUINCY
		None of your business.

				MONICA
		Well, I'm sure she kept her word and left
		you satisfied.

				QUINCY
		That what you think?

	Monica shrugs.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Little after you left, I told Shawnee it
		was time to go and I drove her ass
		straight home.  And after she told me I
		was the dumbest brother in the world, I
		took off.

				MONICA
		Why?

				QUINCY
		Cause I don't just stick my dick in
		anything.

	Monica takes this in.

				MONICA
		I was sitting in Jason's ride with him
		kissing on me and feeling on me and it
		was really bugging me cause I couldn't
		remember how many offensive boards I had
		in the championship.  And then I guess
		she got tired of me sort of accidentally
		kneeing him in the balls.

	Beat, then Quincy cracks up.  Monica laughs with him.

				QUINCY
		Four.

				MONICA
		What?

				QUINCY
		You had four offensive rebounds.

	Monica stares at him, surprised.  She thinks.

				MONICA
		Hold up for a second.

	Monica disappears back inside.  Beat, then she re-appears.
	She climbs out her window, drops down.  Quincy looks at her.

	She holds out the envelope from USC.

				QUINCY
		When'd you get this?

				MONICA
		It was on my bed when I came in.
			(then)
		Can you just...?

				QUINCY
			(beat)
		You sure?

	Monica nods.  Quincy takes the envelope, sits down on the
	grass.  Monica sits down beside him.  He tears open the
	envelope and pulls out the letter.

	Monica stares at him as he reads, trying to see an answer in
	his face.  Quincy finally looks up.  Expressionless.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Damn girl...

	Monica's face falls.  And then, a slow smile spreads across
	Quincy's face.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		They want you.

	Monica grabs the letter, reads.  Her head just drops as a
	tidal wave of relief washes over her.

	Quincy smiles.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Congratulations.

	Monica looks up, cheesing.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		I'm gonna be there, too.  I'm announcing
		tomorrow.

				MONICA
		I knew it.

	Monica can't contain her excitement.  Without thinking, she
	gives Quincy a kiss.  They pull away, then break into nervous
	laughter.

				QUINCY
		What was that about?

				MONICA
		I know, right?

	But they both want more.  They lean in, kiss deeply.  They
	fall back on the grass.  And kiss.  And kiss.

	Suddenly, Monica pulls away, sits up.  Quincy follows,
	instantly apologetic.  Monica stares at him, then to his
	surprise, she reaches over, gives his shirt a small tug with
	her finger.

	Quincy stares at her, then slowly pulls off his tie.  He
	nervously unbuttons his shirt.  He fumbles with the last two
	buttons.

	Monica slowly pulls down the straps of her dress, self-
	conscious.  Quincy can't keep his eyes off her.

	He pulls off his pants.  Monica glances down and her eyes
	widen.  She looks scared to death.  Quincy smiles softly,
	leans in and gently kisses her.  She relaxes.  They lay down.

	Quincy reaches into his pants for a condom.  His hands shake
	as he puts it on.  They stare at each other as he moves on
	top of her.

	Quincy pushes inside her.  She flinches back in pain.  Quincy
	immediately stops as tears spring to her eyes.

				QUINCY
			(softly)
		You want to stop?

	Monica shakes her head.  Quincy pushes inside again.  He
	looks down at her with tenderness, moves gently, kisses her
	tears...

								 FADE TO BLACK.

	FADE IN:

	FOOTAGE.  1988-89 NBA Finals.  Game SEVEN.  The Lakers
	against the Pistons.  With seconds left, up by three, Magic
	guards Isiah Thomas.  They collide, no foul is called and the
	Lakers win their second championship.
	
	
	 FADE IN:



	TITLE CARD: "THIRD QUARTER"

	INT. USC - CAMPUS GYM - MORNING

	Championship banners hang from the ceiling.

	TWELVE YOUNG WOMEN sit on the first two rows of bleachers.
	The eight upperclassmen kick back in the second row,
	comfortable, confident.  Monica and the three other freshmen
	sit in front of them, jiggling nervously.

	COACH MILLER stands in front of the team.

				COACH MILLER
		I don't know some of you very well yet,
		and you don't know me because I'm still
		being nice to you.

	Laughter from the upperclassmen.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		But my philosophy is simple. Hard work
		and sacrifice.
		There's a lot of basketball history and
		pride here at USC, but just putting on
		the cardinal and gold doesn't make you a
		great player.  Hard work and sacrifice
		makes you a great player.  What you were
		doesn't matter anymore.  For the first
		time in your life, you won't be the best.
		You'll be going up against women that are
		bigger and stronger and better than you
		ever imagined.  So the question is, how
		will you respond?  Well, your answer
		better be hard work and sacrifice because
		that's the only way you're gonna make it
		through.  Vince Lombardi preached it and
		I teach it, "There is only one way to
		succeed at anything and that is to give
		everything."

	Coach Miller pauses a moment to let her words sink in.
	Monica glances at her fellow freshman for their reactions.
	Like her, a lot of cockiness, a lot of fear.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		A few simple rules.  Eleven o'clock
		curfew, no exceptions.  Always be on
		time, no exceptions.  Attend every class,
		no exceptions.  No drugs, no alcohol, no
		getting pregnant.  And finally, respect
		yourselves, respect your coaches and
		respect your teammates, right Sidra?

	SIDRA, senior point guard, nods from the second row.

				SIDRA
		That's right, Coach.

				COACH MILLER
		By the end of this year some of you will
		hate me...

	The upperclassmen crack up.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Some of you will want to go home...

				UPPERCLASSMEN
			(cat-calling)
		Cree!

	CREE, junior forward, ducks her head sheepishly.  Coach
	Miller smiles.

				COACH MILLER
		But I guarantee you, if you work hard and
		sacrifice, all of you will be better
		basketball players and better people.

	Monica nods, accepting the challenge.

	EXT. TRACK - EARLY MORNING

	It's cold, it's dark.  It's six a.m.

	The team pounds down the track, pushing through a two-mile
	run.  Monica and her freshman teammate/roommate SHAYLA, 18,
	breathe heavily from the back of the pack.

	From the sideline.

				COACH MILLER
		Let's go, freshmen, you're getting
		spanked!

	Monica sucks it up, runs faster.  She reaches the middle of
	the pack, then runs out of gas.  She drops back to the rear.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Monica, I'm putting you on my Wizard of
		Oz team.  No brains, no courage and no
		heart!

	INT. CAMPUS GYM - MORNING

	Defensive drills.  One by one, players crouch low and move
	backwards down the sideline.  ZVETTE, a junior guard, hustles
	through the drill.

				COACH MILLER
		Way to work, Zvette.

	Monica starts the drill.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Get lower, Monica, move your feet.

	Monica grimaces as she squats lower.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		I said lower!

	Coach Miller stops her, squats down low beside her.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		This is low, got it?  Offense sells
		tickets, defense wins games!

	Monica starts again.

	INT. CAMPUS GYM - MORNING

	The team stands along the baseline.  Monica stands right
	below the free throw line.

	TONI, 6'4", 200 pound senior, drives the lane.  Monica steps
	in front of her, and is slammed to the floor.  She lays still
	for a moment, stunned by the impact.  Laughter from the
	baseline.

				SIDRA
		Dag, you took her out, T.

	Teammates SANDRA and LISA crack up.

				SANDRA
		I think she just said "Mommy."

				LISA
		No, she said "mammary."

				COACH MILLER
		Monica, you trying to tell me you can't
		take a little challenge?

	Monica crawls to her feet.

				MONICA
		I can take it.

				COACH MILLER
		This time get your feet set.

	Monica moves back into position.  Toni drives at her again.
	Monica steps in front of her, braces herself.  Toni slams
	into her and she hits the floor.  Monica blinks back the pain
	as she pops back up.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Next!

	Monica wobbles back to the sideline.

	INT. WEIGHT ROOM - LATE DAY

	The team is spread out, lifting weights.  Monica lies on a
	weight bench, her arms shaking as she struggles to bench
	press fifty-pounds.  Sidra stands behind her, spotting.

				SIDRA
		You got it, c'mon, lift!

	Monica lifts it with Sidra's help.

				SIDRA (cont'd)
		That's it.

				MONICA
		Coach hates me, doesn't she?

				SIDRA
		She hates all freshmen.

	Monica scowls, discouraged.

				MONICA
		What's up with that?

				SIDRA
		Hey, don't take it personal.  And don't
		think just cause we play the same
		position we have to compete with each
		other.  We're teammates, okay?

				MONICA
		Thanks, Sidra.

				SIDRA
		Besides.  I've been starting point the
		last two years.  Ain't no way some dumb-
		ass freshman is taking my spot.

	Sidra walks off, leaving Monica with the bar on her chest.
	Finally, she has to drop the weight to the floor.

	EXT. USC CAMPUS - LATE MORNING

	Monica and Quincy walk to class, his arm draped casually
	across her shoulders.  Quincy gets looks and smiles.  Monica
	just looks exhausted.

				MONICA
		You finish the reading for E-con?

				QUINCY
		Yeah.

				MONICA
		What'd it say?

				QUINCY
		Basically broke down how I'm gonna make
		mad loot in the NBA, me being such a
		limited commodity and all.

				MONICA
		Whatever, big head.

	Quincy laughs.  TWO GIRLS pass by, smile.

				GIRL #1
		Hey, Q-man, you gonna take us to the
		Final Four?

				QUINCY
		We'll see.

				GIRL #2
		We'll be watching.

	The girls continue on.  Monica looks at Quincy.

				QUINCY
		What?

				MONICA
		You do see me standing here, right?

				QUINCY
		I can't be nice to a fan?

				MONICA
		Fine, Quincy.

				QUINCY
		I can't help girls coming up to me.

				MONICA
		I said fine.

	Quincy looks at her sulking.  He suddenly pulls her down onto
	the nearby lawn, and cradles her.

				QUINCY
		It's okay, little baby.

				MONICA
			(struggling)
		Quit.

	Quincy grips her tighter, rocks her.  Students pass by,
	laugh.

				QUINCY
		Shhh.  Daddy's here.

	Monica finally cracks up.

				MONICA
		You're such a punk.

	He gives her a kiss.

				QUINCY
		All these girls...you're the only one I
		know who's for real.

	Monica smiles, kisses him back.

				MONICA
		Always.

	 INT. CAMPUS GYM - MORNING



	A heated scrimmage between the women's "A" team (the starting
	five) and "B" team (five who want to be starting).  Monica
	runs point for the "B" team, playing opposite Sidra.


	Sidra is all over Monica, slipping in cheap shots, but Monica
	starts to come on.  She does a quick cross-over and loses
	Sidra.  She dishes off to Shayla, who scores.

				COACH MILLER
		Sidra!  You feel like playing any "D"?

	Sidra scowls as she runs down court.  She gets a pass in the
	corner, tires to make a move but Monica slaps the ball loose.

	Monica grabs it, drives to the three-point line, puts up the
	shot.  SWISH!  Monica stays posed, with her arm up.

	Sidra takes advantage, sprints back down court.  She get the
	long pass, lays it up.  Coach Miller blows her whistle.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Monica!  Get over here.

	Monica jogs over, sheepish.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		While you're so busy posing, your man
		just scored!

	Monica drops her head.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		Show me again.

				MONICA
		What?

				COACH MILLER
		You love to pose so much, let's see it
		again.

	Beat, then Monica holds up her arm like she just shot the
	ball.  Snickers from her teammates.

				COACH MILLER (cont'd)
		I want you to stand like that for the
		rest of practice.

				MONICA
		Coach...

				COACH MILLER
		I want you to stand like that until
		you're sick of it because I don't ever
		want to see it again, you hear me?
			(then)
		Dora, take her spot.

	DORA, freshman, jogs onto the court.  Coach Miller blows her
	whistle and the scrimmage resumes.

	Monica stands alone on the sideline, posing, and feeling like
	an asshole.

	INT. LOCKER ROOM - LATE MORNING

	Monica sits on the bench in front of her locker, dressing
	after the shower.  Shayla sits next to her.

	Nearby, Lisa and Sandra apply make-up in the mirror.  Zvette
	passes by, already dressed.  Lisa turns.

				LISA
		Z, I know you're gonna shower first.

				ZVETTE
		I don't smell bad.

				SANDRA
		And you wonder why your ass sits alone on
		the bus.

	Cree glances over from another sink, as she snaps the chain
	on her CROSS NECKLACE.

				CREE
		You guys curse too much.

				SANDRA
		Since when is "ass" a curse?

	MAEYEN walks past.

				MAEYEN
		Whoa, it's as big as yours.

	They crack up.  Cree just shakes her head.  Two TEAMMATES
	pass by Monica with their arms raised, mimicking her pose.
	Monica shakes her head.

	Sidra glances at Monica from her spot on the bench.

				SIDRA
		That's what you get for trying to show
		out, freshman.

				MONICA
		I was just playing ball.

				SIDRA
		You were trying to make me look bad.

				MONICA
		Didn't have to try very hard.

	Ears prick up around the locker room.  Sidra stands.

				SIDRA
		Girl, don't you know you're just sloppy
		seconds?

	Monica rises.

				MONICA
		What?

	Toni tries to step in.

				TONI
		Sidra, let it go.

				SIDRA
		Only reason you're here is cause Tonya
		Randall got pregnant and decided not to
		come.  They were done recruiting.

	KELLI, senior forward, shakes her head.

				KELLI
		That's cold, Sid.

				SIDRA
		Just thought the girl should know.

	Monica is stunned.  Sidra saunters to the showers.  Shayla
	nudges her with her shoulder.

				SHAYLA
		Don't even trip.  She's just mad cause
		she's bow-legged.

	  INT. USC SUITES - QUINCY'S ROOM - NIGHT



	Monica and Quincy lay feet to face on Quincy's twin bed.

	Monica's hand holds an ice bag on Quincy's hip.  Quincy's arm
	rests across an ice bag on Monica's ankle.

				QUINCY
		Forget Tonya Randall.

				MONICA
		I'm telling you, Coach wishes she was
		here instead of me.

				QUINCY
		Then prove her wrong.

				MONICA
		I don't have it easy like you, alright.
		There's no red carpet laid out for me.

				QUINCY
		So you're gonna act salty all night?

	Quincy's roommate/teammate REGGIE, 18, suddenly pops his head
	into the room.

				REGGIE
		Yo, dog, we're about to order some wings.

				QUINCY
		Nah, thanks.

	Reggie shrugs, closes the door.  Quincy looks at Monica,
	still brooding.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Fine.  Don't worry about proving
		everybody wrong, okay?  You can't handle
		the pressure, I'll understand.

				MONICA
		That was so weak.

				QUINCY
		Who cares if you're never known as the
		first girl in the NBA.  You'll get more
		play behind Quincy McCall's woman anyway.

	Monica shoves Quincy's ice bag down his sweat pants.  He
	leaps up.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Aaaah!  Damn, girl!

				MONICA
		That's what you get.

	He smiles as he pulls the ice.  Then looks her up and down.

				QUINCY
		So how about a little one-on-one?

				MONICA
		What are we playing for?

				QUINCY
		Clothes.

				MONICA
		What?

	Quincy locks the door, sets up his indoor hoop.

				QUINCY
		I score, you strip.  You score, I drop
		something.

	Monica looks at him, then cracks up.

				MONICA
		Give me the ball.

				QUINCY
		My court, I go first.

	Quincy grips the ball.  Monica crouches low on defense.
	Quincy drives past her and slams down a vicious dunk.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Strip.

	Monica makes a face, then pulls off her sweatshirt.  Quincy
	skips back.  Monica drops low again.  Quincy fakes her out
	and slams down another vicious dunk.  He laughs.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Where's the "D"?

				MONICA
		Kiss my booty.

				QUINCY
		Plan to.

	Monica glares through her smile, then pulls off her T-shirt,
	leaving her in a bra and shorts.

	Quincy goes for another dunk, but this time, Monica reaches
	out, GRABS HIS DICK.  Quincy drops the ball.  Monica picks it
	up and lays it in.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Hold up...

				MONICA
		All's fair in love and basketball.
		Strip.

	Quincy pulls off his shirt.  Monica moves back into position.
	Quincy drops down low.  Monica fakes, gets him to leave his
	feet.  She slips under him and scores.  She laughs.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Too bad you got your mama's height, huh.

	Quincy pulls off his sweats, leaving him in just drawers.
	Monica takes in the view as she moves back into position.

	She holds the ball out, taunting.  Quincy pretends to reach
	for it, but grabs her breast instead.

				QUINCY
		Oh, my bad.

	She drives.  Quincy just steps out of the way and lets her
	score.  Monica snatches the ball off the floor.

				MONICA
		Yo, where's the "D"?

				QUINCY
		Right here.

	Monica turns, finds Quincy butt-naked.  He moves her against
	the wall and kisses her.  Monica drops the ball, wraps her
	arms around him.  She smiles.

				MONICA
		I won.

				QUINCY
		I wanted you to.

	Game over.  They hit it.
	
	
	  INT. ESPN STUDIOS



	Sportscaster DICK VITALE talks animatedly about the upcoming
	season.

				DICK VITALE
		It's the start of the new college season
		and I'm like a kid in a candy store.  Too
		many great teams to choose from.  You
		have your Dukes', Kentuckys', Arkansas',
		but my surprise treat this season...

	INT. BASKETBALL COURT

	Sportscaster ROBIN ROBERTS reports on the upcoming women's
	season.

				ROBIN ROBERTS
		...USC.  The women of Troy made it to the
		Sweet Sixteen last year and are returning
		four starters from that squad.  And many
		consider their recruiting class one of
		the best in the nation.  The highlight of
		that class,...

	INT. ESPN STUDIOS

				DICK VITALE
		...is Quincy McCall, one of my diaper
		dandies.  He's a real P.T.P., a prime-
		time player.  Every college in the
		country wanted him but he chose to follow
		in his father's footsteps and become a
		Trojan.  He's gonna have a lot on his
		shoulders this season...

	INT. BASKETBALL COURT

				ROBIN ROBERTS
		...but Coach Cheryl Miller feels that if
		just one of her freshmen has a breakout
		year, they can go all the way.  It's a
		long season, anything can happen, but one
		thing is for sure...

	INT. ESPN STUDIOS

				DICK VITALE
		It's gonna be awesome, baby!

	MONTAGE:

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - NIGHT

	A hundred flashbulbs pop as Quincy jogs out to center court.
	The crowd goes crazy as...

	INT. CAMPUS GYM - NIGHT

	Monica sits on the bench, watching Sidra run the floor
	against UNLV, as...

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - NIGHT

	Quincy drives to the three-point line against Cal and puts it
	up.  It drops through the net.  He pounds his fist against
	the number twenty-two on his chest, nods to Zeke standing
	behind the bench, as...

	INT. CAMPUS GYM - NIGHT

	Coach Miller motions to Monica.  She jumps up, pulls off her
	sweats.  She jogs past Arizona bench and onto the floor,
	as...

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - NIGHT

	Quincy goes up for a dunk against North Carolina.  He jams it
	down, grips the rim, and pulls his legs up high, as...

	INT. KAISER ARENA - NIGHT

	Monica catches a long outlet pass.  She drops a no-look
	bounce pass between two Berkeley defenders, to a teammate who
	scores.  She jogs back, as...

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - NIGHT

	Zeke grips Quincy's head proudly, affectionately, as they
	walk off the floor after a game against Washington, as...

	INT. UNIVERSITY OF CONNECTICUT - GAMPEL PAVILION - NIGHT

	Sidra crashes to the floor, immediately grabs at her ankle.
	Monica rises off the bench...

								 CUT TO:
								 
								 
	  INT. SPORTS BAR - NIGHT

	Televisions hang from every corner, broadcasting various
	games.

	Zeke and Quincy sit at a bar.  Quincy is still hyped from his
	game.

				QUINCY
		...up and under between two defenders,
		with the left hand.  That's gotta make
		SportsCenter.

	Zeke just nods as the Bartender/Owner crosses over.  He is an
	ex-ballplayer named TERRY.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		They can't stop me, Pop...

				TERRY
		What are you having, Zeke?

				ZEKE
		Genuine Draft.  And an orange juice for
		my kid.

				TERRY
		Cross-over's looking good, Quincy.  I
		know your old man didn't teach you that.

				ZEKE
		Didn't need a cross-over to post you up.

	Terry laughs as he moves off to fix the drinks.  Something is
	on Zeke's mind, but before he can speak on it...

				QUINCY
		You know, the numbers I'm putting up are
		better than any freshman.  Some people
		are saying I'm a definite lottery pick.

	Zeke suddenly focuses.

				ZEKE
		What people?

				QUINCY
		You know, people.

				ZEKE
		Well, tell them to mind their damn
		business.  You're smart enough to get a
		degree.

				QUINCY
		I'm also good enough to go pro.

				ZEKE
		You know how much higher the play level
		is in the NBA?  Give yourself time to
		develop, Quincy.  Get an education.  The
		NBA ain't going nowhere.

				QUINCY
		You came out early.

				ZEKE
		Your mom got pregnant and I had to make
		choices.  You don't have a choice.

				QUINCY
		Okay...

	Silence, then.

				ZEKE
		Besides, the sooner you go pro, the
		sooner you'll have to deal with the mess
		I'm dealing with.

				QUINCY
		What mess?

				ZEKE
		there's this thing out there.  This
		paternity suit.

				QUINCY
		What?

				ZEKE
		Some girl that's been hanging on at every
		party.  now I'm supposed to be her baby's
		Daddy.
			(then)
		Anyway, I told your mom I wanted to be
		the one who told you.

				QUINCY
		Tell me what?

				ZEKE
		I just told you.

				QUINCY
		I mean, it's not true, is it?

	Zeke stares at his son.

				ZEKE
		You got the balls to ask me that?

	Quincy can't hold his father's look.  Zeke shakes his head,
	hurt.

				QUINCY
		Sorry.

				ZEKE
		No, you need to hear me say it, I'll say
		it.  It's not true.

	Quincy looks in his father's eyes, knows he's telling the
	truth.

				QUINCY
		So what are you gonna do?

				ZEKE
		I want this thing to go to court, but my
		lawyer's telling me to settle.

				QUINCY
		Why?

				ZEKE
		A case like this could hang around for
		months and I'm up for this player
		relations job with the "Clips."  This
		gets out, false or not, no one'll touch
		me.

				QUINCY
		What's Mom think?

				ZEKE
		We haven't exactly been living the fairy-
		tale life the past few years.  Something
		like this happens, it either brings a
		family closer or pushes them further
		apart.  We'll just have to see how it
		plays out.
			(then)
		I'm giving her some space, couple
		days...

	Just then, a COLLEGE STUDENT approaches.

				COLLEGE STUDENT
		Yo, Q-man, great game.

				QUINCY
		Thanks.

	The student holds out a piece of paper, without even a glance
	to Zeke.

				COLLEGE STUDENT
		Can I get an autograph?

	Quincy nods, signs the guy's paper.  Zeke watches his son,
	the rising star.

	EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - NIGHT

	Through the windows, we see Quincy enter the house.  He
	glances around, then walks to the living room.  He sees his
	mom sitting outside by the pool, drink in hand, looking torn
	up.  He pulls open the sliding glass door.  Nona jumps, then
	sees Quincy.  She quickly puts her drink down.

				NONA
		You scared me.

				QUINCY
		Sorry.  You okay?

				NONA
		I'm fine.

	Quincy glances at her half-hidden glass.

				QUINCY
		Last time I remember you drinking was
		when Marvin Gaye died.

	No response from Nona.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		This about Dad?

				NONA
		Guess he talked to you.

				QUINCY
		Don't sweat it, okay.  Sooner or later
		the truth'll come out.

				NONA
			(beat)
		Whose truth are you talking about?

				QUINCY
		Mom, we can't let something like this
		mess up the family.

	She doesn't respond.  Quincy studies her.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		I mean, you believe him, right?

	Nona sits silent, humiliated.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Mom?

				NONA
		Just...leave it alone.

				QUINCY
		This is just about money, you know that.

				NONA
		Quincy, please...

				QUINCY
		I mean, how many times have you told me
		yourself to watch out for these ho's?

				NONA
		Guess I should have been telling your
		father.

				QUINCY
		So you're gonna take the word of some
		trick over Pop's?  He wouldn't lie.

	Nona grabs an envelope beside her and throws it at him.

	Confused, Quincy opens it.  HE PULLS OUT A COUPLE OF PHOTOS:

	Zeke outside a party.  IN ONE PHOTO, his arm is around a
	young woman.  IN ANOTHER PHOTO, they KISS.  AND YET ANOTHER,
	they climb into his car.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		What...what's this?

				NONA
		I hired somebody.  How pathetic is that?
		After all his late nights and "meetings"
		and I still needed proof.

	Quincy just stares at the photos.

				NONA (cont'd)
		I used to think I was lucky just to be
		married to Zeke McCall, but I'm too
		tired.

	Quincy looks stricken, but he moves to Nona, comforts her as
	she cries...
	
	
	  EXT. TRACK - NIGHT



	Monica sits with a devastated Quincy, high up in the
	bleachers.  In the distance, the clock-tower glows 10:50.

				QUINCY
		Don't put your hands in your pockets,
		hold your head up, always look a man in
		the eye, and all the time I'm hanging on
		his every word like he's God or
		something...

				MONICA
		I know he messed up, but that doesn't
		change what he's been to you.

				QUINCY
		What has he been to me?  I mean, he
		looked me in my face and lied like it was
		nothing.  Like it was easy.
			(then)
		And I'm standing there getting loud on my
		mom like she's the one with no sense...

				MONICA
		She understands.

				QUINCY
		He even had me wanting to play for the
		"Clippers."  Man, how stupid am I.

				MONICA
		You're not stupid.

				QUINCY
		I know a lot of brothers dog their wives,
		I just never thought my pops would do
		some shit like this...

	Monica puts her arms around him.  They sit there, quiet.
	Monica glances up at the clock tower.  She reacts.  Quincy
	notices.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		What?

				MONICA
		Nothing.
			(beat)
		Why don't we walk to my dorm?

				QUINCY
		I'm not up for running into anybody.
		Let's just kick it here, alright?

				MONICA
		I...can't.

				QUINCY
		Why not?

				MONICA
		Coach has us on eleven o'clock curfew.
		If I'm late, I don't suit up.

	Quincy looks at her, almost in shock.

				QUINCY
		Didn't realize you were watching the
		clock.

				MONICA
		I mean, I can stay a few more minutes.

				QUINCY
		Nah.  Don't sweat it.

				MONICA
		Quincy...

				QUINCY
		For real.  I should be alone, anyway.

	Monica reluctantly stands.

				MONICA
		Will you call me when you get in?

	Quincy nods.  Monica gives him a kiss.  Then she turns and
	crosses away.

	INT. MONICA/SHAYLA'S DORM - NIGHT

	The lights are off but Monica sits up in bed.  SHE WEARS
	BOXERS AND ONE OF QUINCY'S PRACTICE SHIRTS.

	Shayla lies under her covers across the room.

				MONICA
		I shouldn't have left.

				SHAYLA
		Go to sleep.

				MONICA
		You should have seen him, Shay...

				SHAYLA
		Mon, Sidra's out for one game, and you
		got the start.  But you get caught
		breaking curfew and Coach is gonna send
		your ass back to the bench.  You'll see
		your man tomorrow.

	Shayla's warning slowly sinks in.  Finally, Monica lays down.

								   DISSOLVE TO:

	EXT. TRACK - NIGHT

	The clock tower glows 12:30.  Quincy still sits in the
	bleachers.  Alone.  Tears fill his eyes as his world comes
	crashing down...

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
								
	  INT. CAMPUS GYM - LATE DAY



	USC vs. Louisiana Tech.  The packed crowd is hyped.  Nathan

	sits by himself in the stands, excited.



	Monica sits on the bench with four of her teammates.  The
	rest of the team is lined up in front of them, including
	Sidra in street clothes.

				ANNOUNCER
		And now the starting line-up for your
		Women of Troy!  At center, a senior, Toni
		Noise!

	Toni rises, jogs through the line of teammates to the court.

				ANNOUNCER (cont'd)
		At forward, a senior, Lisa Mason!

	Lisa stands, skips through the line.

				ANNOUNCER (cont'd)
		At forward, a junior, Zvette Mitchell!

	Zvette jumps up, bumps into each teammate as she moves down
	the line.

				ANNOUNCER (cont'd)
		At guard, a freshman, Monica Wright!

	Monica takes a deep breath, then jogs through the line.  She
	gets to the middle of the floor and looks around with her
	game face on.

				ANNOUNCER (cont'd)
		And at guard, a sophomore, Sandra Perez!

	Sandra jogs out and the rest of the team follows.  Everyone
	gathers in a tight circle with their arms around each other.

				TONI
		Look y'all, we got all these people here
		to see big-bad, La Tech.  We need to let
		them know that this is our house.  So
		everybody better leave everything out on
		that floor, you got that?  Ready?  One,
		two, three....

				TEAM
		Team!

								  SMASH CUT TO:

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - LATE DAY

	A sellout crowd for the men's SC/Temple game.  And Quincy is
	having the worst game of his life.

	He drives down court on a fast break.  He ignores his two
	open teammates and puts up a three-pointer.  It hits nothing
	but air.  The crowd boos.

	Humiliated, Quincy tries to steal the ball back and commits a
	stupid foul.  His teammates glare at him as they line up for
	free throws.

	INT. CAMPUS GYM - CONTINUOUS

	Monica's game.  Late second half.  SC down two.

	Monica drives the lane, drawing two defenders.  She looks
	like she's about to force up a shot, then suddenly whips up a
	pass to a wide-open Sandra at the three-point line.  Nothing
	but net.  SC up one.

	Coach Miller claps intensely on the sideline.

				COACH MILLER
		That's it, that's it!

	Ten seconds left.  Game on the line.  Monica tries to lob a
	pass inside to Toni.  The pass is knocked away and grabbed up
	by the opposing point guard.

	It is a one-on-one between Monica and the guard.  The girl
	drives hard for the winning hoop.  Monica races to the key
	and slides in front of her.  The guard goes up and slams into
	Monica.  Both crash to the floor as the ball drops through
	the net and the buzzer goes off.

	A WHISTLE.  The two women stare up at the REFEREE from the
	floor.  And then --

				REFEREE
		Offensive foul!  Charging!  No basket!

	Monica leaps up as the crowd goes crazy.  Toni grabs up
	Monica in a hug as their teammates celebrate around them.

	INT. SPORTS ARENA - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy drags himself to his bench, slumps down dejectedly, as
	the Temple Owls celebrate their win around him.

	INT. LOCKER ROOM - DUSK

	The female players continue to celebrate as they undress.

				MAEYEN
		Shoot, you see that crowd?  We need to be
		playing in the Sports Arena.

				KELLI
		Hell yeah.

	They give each other a pound.

	Lisa looks at Monica, standing in her shorts and sports bra.

				LISA
		Oh damn, Mon.

				MONICA
		What?

				LISA
		I think ol' girl took out your chi-chis
		with that charge.

	The women break into laughter.  Monica smiles.

				MONICA
		Kiss my ass.

				SANDRA
		Nah, I think she took that too.

				MONICA
		Sandra, please, last time you chest-
		bumped me, it took you three tries.

	More laughter.  Monica looks over at Toni, sitting quietly at
	the bench.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Yo, T, why you so quiet?

				TONI
			(beat)
		I don't want to go play overseas.

				DORA
		I thought you were hyped about going to
		Portugal next year.

				TONI
		It's never gonna be like this.  Playing
		in front of my family, hanging out with
		my girls.  Probably not even a
		McDonald's.

				SANDRA
		Nah, there's always a McDonald's.

				SIDRA
		Least you got an offer.  My agent's
		still looking.

				CREE
			(to Lisa)
		What about you?

				LISA
			(beat)
		Maybe it'd be worth it if I knew some day
		I could come back here and play.  But for
		right now, it's law school.

				COACH MILLER (O.S.)
		Monica.

	Monica turns, sees Coach Miller standing in her office
	doorway.  She motions for her.  Monica heads over.  Sidra
	watches.

	INT. COACH MILLER'S OFFICE - SHORT TIME LATER

	Trophies, plaques and photos fill every empty space.

	Coach Miller sits behind her desk.  Monica stands before her.

				COACH MILLER
		You could've given up after you threw
		that ball away.  But you kept your head
		and you showed real heart.

				MONICA
		Thanks.

				COACH MILLER
		We've got our final games against Oregon
		and Oregon State and I want to shake
		things up a bit, so I'm starting you at
		point again.

				MONICA
			(confused)
		I thought Sidra's ankle was okay for next
		game.

				COACH MILLER
		You want the job or not?

	Realization finally hits.

				MONICA
		Yeah.  Yes.

	Monica looks at Coach Miller completely thrown.

				COACH MILLER
		What?

				MONICA
		It's just...it seems like you're always
		yelling at me.

				COACH MILLER
		You think I'd go hoarse for a player with
		no potential?   When I ignore you, that's
		when you worry.
			(then)
		Go get dressed.

	Monica nods, crosses out.

	INT. LOCKER ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	As Monica walks back to her teammates, Coach Miller steps
	into the doorway.

				COACH MILLER
		Sidra.

	Sidra looks at Monica as she rises, crosses over.  Monica
	avoids her eyes as they pass.  Sidra enters the office and
	the door closes.

				SHAYLA
		Yo sis, what's going on?

	Beat, then Monica smiles.

								  SMASH CUT TO:
								
								
	  INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT



	Black folks pack the cramped houseparty, bumping to a phat

	hip hop joint.



	Monica bounces through the throng.  A GIRL grabs her arm.

				GIRL'S VOICE
		Yo, great game.

				MONICA
		Thanks.

	Another PARTY-GOER grabs her arm.

				PARTY-GOER
		Girl, you can play.

	Monica smiles wider.  She spots Reggie dancing in the crowd,
	moves to him.

				MONICA
		Reg.  You seen Quincy?

				REGGIE
		What's up, girl.

				MONICA
			(louder)
		Derek said Q was here.

				REGGIE
		We'll roll through.

	Monica is suddenly pulled into a dance routine by Sandra and
	Lisa.

	She laughs, tires to move away, but they won't let her go.
	Monica gives in, grooves with them.

	ANGLE ON:

	Quincy walks through the door with a half-empty forty in his
	hand.  Girls immediately try to grab his attention from the
	dance floor, or stare him down from the sidelines.

	Quincy sees Monica on the dance floor.  He stands, watching
	her.  Takes a drink.  Monica finally looks over, sees him.
	She smiles, crosses to him.

				MONICA
		Hey.

				QUINCY
		What's up?

				MONICA
		I've been trying to find you all day.

				QUINCY
		Here I am.

	She glances at the forty in his hand.

				MONICA
		Sorry about your game.

				QUINCY
		It happens, right...

	Shayla suddenly grabs Monica from behind.

				SHAYLA
			(to Monica)
		What's up, superstar.
			(then, to Quincy)
		Your girl was on tonight.  She tell you?

				QUINCY
			(beat)
		I heard.

				SHAYLA
		She also tell you she ganked the starting
		spot from Sidra?

	Monica looks at him for a reaction.

				QUINCY
		Nah.

	He downs the last of his forty.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Where's the keg at?

				SHAYLA
		Balcony.

	He heads for the glass doors.  Monica and Shayla follow.

	EXT. BALCONY - CONTINUOUS

	Reggie approaches the group.  Gives Quincy a nod.

				REGGIE
		What's up, dog?
			(to Shayla)
		Hey, flyness.

				SHAYLA
		Get off the bra strap, Reggie, you're a
		ho.

	He laughs, then turns back to Quincy.

				REGGIE
		Coach is gonna kill us in practice
		tomorrow.  Might even pull his lips off
		your dick, limp as your game was tonight.

	Quincy just looks at him.

				QUINCY
		That's funny.

	Monica leans against Quincy, affectionately.

				MONICA
		he's just playing, Q...

				QUINCY
		You think for once we could talk about
		something besides basketball?

				SHAYLA
		Sure.

				REGGIE
		Whatever's clever.

	Silence.  Reggie and Shayla crack up.  Quincy shakes his
	head, moves to the keg line.

				MONICA
		Y'all need to quit.

	She starts for Quincy

				SIDRA (O.S.)
		Monica.

	Monica looks over, sees Sidra standing in the doorway.  There
	is no escaping this confrontation.  She glances at Quincy,
	then crosses over.  Quincy turns, sees her disappear back
	inside.

	INT. HOUSEPARTY - CONTINUOUS

				MONICA
		What's up?

				SIDRA
		Just wanted to say good game.

				MONICA
		But?

				SIDRA
		No buts.  Took a lot of heart to take
		that charge.

				MONICA
		Thanks.

				SIDRA
		But that was a dumb-ass pass to Toni.
		Ten seconds left, you run out the clock.

	Monica shakes her head.  An awkward silence.

				SIDRA (cont'd)
		I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pissed.

				MONICA
		I know.

				SIDRA
		Just one word of advice for next season.

				MONICA
		What's that?

				SIDRA
		Never let a freshman take your spot.

	Sidra turns and walks away.

	EXT. BALCONY - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy takes one long drink from his cup.  KERRY, 20, and
	spandexed, stands directly in front of him, flirtatiously.

				KERRY
		Excuse me.

				QUINCY
		Excuse me.

	He steps aside as she tries to work the keg.  Nothing comes
	out.  She nods at his cup, smiles.

				KERRY
		If that's the last beer, you and I are
		sharing.

	Shayla glances over as Quincy pumps the keg a couple of
	times.  Kerry hands him her cup and he starts filling it up.

				KERRY (cont'd)
		I like watching you play.  Number twenty-
		two.

				QUINCY
		Guess you didn't see the game.

	Quincy knows he should blow her off, but he's digging the
	attention.  He hands her back her cup.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		What's your name?

				KERRY
		Kerry.

				QUINCY
		Q.

				KERRY
		I know.

	ANGLE ON

	Monica looks over at Quincy and sees him talking to the
	hoochie.  The girl looks too damn comfortable.  Monica moves
	back outside.

				KERRY (cont'd)
		I'll see you.  Q-man.

	She swishes past Monica.  Shayla "accidentally" bumps her.
	Kerry glares.

				MONICA
		Who was that?

				QUINCY
		Nobody.

				MONICA
		Who's nobody?

				QUINCY
		Look, this party's whack.  You ready to
		go?

				MONICA
		You want to go talk?

				QUINCY
		Not really.

	He leans in, kisses her drunkenly.  She pulls away.

				MONICA
		We could finish what we were talking
		about last night.

	Quincy kisses her again.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Q...
			(pushing him off)
		Quincy, quit.  You're drunk.

	They fall silent.

				QUINCY
		You know what, I'm just gonna crash.

				MONICA
			(agitated)
		Fine...Maybe I'll come by later.

				QUINCY
		Nah.  I have curfew.

	He starts to walk away, then stops.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Oh, by the way.  Congratulations.

	He goes.  Monica stares after him.
	
	
	  INT. QUINCY/REGGIE'S SUITE - LIVING ROOM - LATER

	Quincy pushes through his front door, then stops short in his
	doorway.  Zeke sits on the couch.

				QUINCY
		What are you doing here?

				ZEKE
		Your door was unlocked.

				QUINCY
		Still is, so let yourself out.

				ZEKE
		We need to talk.

				QUINCY
		We ain't got nothing to talk about.

				ZEKE
		I messed up, okay, I know that.  But I
		ain't that kid's father.

				QUINCY
		Lucky kid.

				ZEKE
		Look, I ain't saying it was right, but
		sometimes things happen.

				QUINCY
		And some things should never fucking
		happen!

				ZEKE
		Boy, you're so perfect you can look down
		on me?

				QUINCY
		I ain't a damn liar.

				ZEKE
		Your mom was real quick to show you those
		pictures, wasn't she?
		Well, she was nineteen when she got
		pregnant and don't get me wrong, you're
		the best thing in my life, but she knew I
		wasn't ready for no marriage.

				QUINCY
		So now you're saying my mother trapped
		you?

				ZEKE
		I'm saying I handled my responsibilities
		like a man.  But when you're in the NBA,
		you pull into a city and there's a
		hundred women waiting at the hotel.  And
		another twenty that made it past security
		on your floor.  And the boldest one is
		standing right at your door.  And after
		awhile, it just becomes part of the game.
			(then)
		I'm sorry I lied to you, I shouldn't
		have.  But I did it cause I love you.

	Zeke looks at his son, meaning every word.  Quincy stares
	back, long and hard.

				QUINCY
		Since we're being honest, guess I should
		tell you.  I'm dropping out of school and
		going pro.

				ZEKE
		What?

	Quincy just stares back.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		Quincy, you'd be making the biggest
		mistake of your life.

				QUINCY
			(sarcastic)
		From your mouth.

				ZEKE
			(desperate)
		I know your mad at me, okay, but I can't
		let you do this.

				QUINCY
		Always thought "can't" wasn't in a man's
		vocabulary.

	Zeke is taken aback by the hatred in his son's eyes.  He
	turns and without another word, exits.

	EXT. STREET - LATE NIGHT

	Quincy stands across the street from the houseparty, staring
	up at the balcony.  Monica leans against the railing,
	laughing with a couple of teammates.  Quincy watches her,
	then turns and walks away...

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
								
	  EXT. CAMPUS GYM - LATE DAY



	SLOW MOTION.  Monica's eyes are on fire as she races an

	Oregon player for a loose ball.  Both dive for it, slide

	across the floor.  Monica grabs it up, screams for a time-out
	as her opponent tries to wrestle away the ball...

	EXT. QUINCY/REGGIE'S SUITE - DUSK

	Monica walks down the hall to Quincy's suite.  The window is
	open.  The sounds of Nintendo are heard.  She walks in
	without knocking.

	INT. QUINCY/REGGIE'S SUITE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Reggie sits on the couch with a TEAMMATE, playing Nintendo's
	"Duck Hunt".

				MONICA
		Hey, y'all.

	They barely give her a nod.  Monica crosses into

	INT. QUINCY/REGGIE'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy stands at an ironing board, ironing a T-shirt.

				MONICA
		Hey.

				QUINCY
		Hey, what's up.

				MONICA
		You weren't at my game.

				QUINCY
		Yeah, sorry about that.  I had this
		meeting with this guy.

	Quincy pulls on the T-shirt.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		You win?

				MONICA
		Yeah, I hit a three at the buzzer.

				QUINCY
		The "man" again.

				MONICA
			(smiles)
		Woman...

	A knock at the front door.  Quincy exits.

	INT. LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Monica follows, then stops short.  Kerry, the spandexed girl
	from the party, stands in the doorway.

				QUINCY
		Hey, you.

				KERRY
		Hi.

	Quincy gives her a hug.  Monica stares at him in disbelief.
	Reggie and his teammate smack each other, "Oh shit!"

				QUINCY
		Oh, Kerry, this is Monica.  Monica,
		Kerry.

				MONICA
		What the hell's going on?

				QUINCY
		We're going to get some food.

				MONICA
		Are you out of your mind?

				KERRY
		Maybe I should come back?

				MONICA
		No.  You stay, I'll leave.

	She storms out.

	EXT. WRIGHT HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - DUSK

	BAM!  Monica slams her car door.  Her face is a mask of anger
	and confusion.

	Camille exits the house, car keys in hand.  She sees her.

				CAMILLE
		Monica.  What are you doing here?

				MONICA
		Didn't know I needed a reason to come
		home.

				CAMILLE
		Don't be defensive.  I'm just surprised
		to see you.

				MONICA
		Dad around?

				CAMILLE
		He's still at the bank.

	Monica glowers.  Camille looks at her.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		Everything okay?

				MONICA
			(clearly not)
		Yeah.

	Camille just nods, doesn't bother asking again.

				CAMILLE
		Well, I'm going to get dinner.

	She pulls open her car door.  Beat, then...

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		It's just a game.

				MONICA
		What?

				CAMILLE
		Whenever you lose, you get this attitude.
		But it's just a game.

	Monica rolls her eyes, as her mom leaves.

	EXT. DORMS - NIGHT

	Quincy sits on the wall outside of Monica's dorm, as Monica
	slowly makes her way up the walk.  She sees him, stops.

				QUINCY
		Can we talk?

				MONICA
		Talk to your new girlfriend.

				QUINCY
		I just took the ho to Burger King,
		alright.

				MONICA
		Cheap date.

				QUINCY
		Least she had time for me.

				MONICA
		So you fucked around to prove a point!

				QUINCY
		I just said I didn't fuck around.  But
		you got your head so far up your ass it
		took a cheap date for you to notice me.

				MONICA
		What, "Q-man", did I forget to kiss your
		ass like everybody else?

				QUINCY
		You forgot to be there.

				MONICA
		That night you wanted to talk about your
		Dad I had a curfew.  What was I supposed
		to do?

				QUINCY
		Stay!

				MONICA
		If I stayed, I wouldn't be starting!

				QUINCY
		Least you got your priorities straight.

				MONICA
		I never asked you to choose.

				QUINCY
		Never had to.

				MONICA
		I'm a ballplayer.  If anyone knows what
		that means it should be you.

				QUINCY
		Well, if all you care about is
		basketball, why you fucking me?  Go fuck
		Dick Vitale.

	Monica punches the shit out of Quincy, then pushes past him.
	Quincy grabs her arm, stopping her.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Hold up.  I'm sorry, alright.

	They stand, silent.  Trying to come down from their anger.

				MONICA
		How do I know next time you're feeling
		neglected or whatever, you're not going
		to run around on me?  If we're going to
		be together I have to be able to trust
		you.

				QUINCY
		I'm not asking for us to be together.

	Monica flinches in shock.

				MONICA
		What?

				QUINCY
		I'm going through a lot of shit right
		now, more than you have time for.

				MONICA
		How are you going to tell me what I have
		time for?  I mean, whatever I did...we
		can fix this.

				QUINCY
		I don't think so.

				MONICA
		You don't think so?

				QUINCY
		Look, I'm entering the draft.

				MONICA
		You're what?

				QUINCY
		I decided to go pro.  And who knows where
		I'll end up, you know?

	Monica's heart is sinking fast.

				MONICA
		When did you decide all this?

				QUINCY
		Few days ago.

				MONICA
		So that's it, just forget about us?

				QUINCY
		Damnitt, Monica.  This ain't about us
		anymore, it's about me.

	Monica is crushed.  Beat as, Quincy struggles to stay cold.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		But, you know, I'd still like us to be
		friends.

				MONICA
		Friends.

	She fights back tears.  Quincy has to look away.  Monica
	can't respond.

				QUINCY
		So...I guess I'll see you around.

				MONICA
		Uh huh.

	Beat, then Quincy turns and walks away.  Monica tries to
	fight her tears but her pain, hurt and confusion are too
	much.  Finally, she gives in, and the tears fall.

								 FADE TO BLACK.

	FOOTAGE.  Press conference.  Magic sits beside his wife
	Cookie.  He shocks the world as he announces his retirement
	from basketball.
	
	  FADE IN:



	TITLE CARD: "FOURTH QUARTER" then "1993"



	ESTABLISHING SHOTS OF SPAIN



	Madrid, Pampolona, the running of the bulls, old-world
	architecture.

	Finally, we rest on a large billboard, a photo of Monica in a
	basketball uniform, drinking a Spanish soft-drink.

	EXT. STREETS OF SPAIN - LATE DAY

	Monica jogs down the congested cobble-stone street, a sports
	bag over her shoulder.  She is TWENTY-THREE.  Half-assed
	braids frame her matured features.

	She passes store fronts, street vendors, and dodges
	pedestrians, as she makes her way toward a large, older
	arena.

	EXT. ARENA - CONTINUOUS

	An excited crowd jockeys for position at the front doors.
	Above them, a huge banner reads "Campeonato de Europeo".
	(European Championships".)

	As Monica heads for the back entrance, a cheer goes up from a
	large contingent in the crowd.  Monica smiles, waves back.
	TWO LITTLE GIRLS break from line, run to her.

				LITTLE GIRLS
		Baloncesto!  Balencesto!  (Basketball!
		Basketball!)

				MONICA
		Oye.

	They giggle, hold out a piece of paper and a pencil.

				LITTLE GIRLS
		Autografo.

	As Monica signs her autograph, a tall woman carrying a
	matching sports bag approaches.  She is LUISA, Spanish, 33.

				LUISA
			(thick Spanish accent)
		Monica.  What is up?

				MONICA
		Oye, Luisa.

	Monica hands the girls her autograph and they run off.

				LUISA
		Large game, no?

				MONICA
		Si.  Large game.

	They duck into the arena.

	INT. ARENA - LOCKER ROOM - LATE DAY

	Paint peels off the walls.  Windows are broken overhead.

	Monica sits alone at her locker, taping her own ankles.  Her
	TEN TEAMMATES, all from Spain, sit on the surrounding
	benches, talking and joking among themselves in Spanish.
	Monica is clearly an outsider.

	COACH PARRA, Spanish, late 40's, enters.

				COACH PARRA
		Silenco!

	The women immediately stop talking.  COACH PARRA gives an
	animated, impassioned speech in Spanish.  Monica doesn't
	understand a word, just continues taping her ankles.

	Coach Parra finishes and the women clap, pumped up. Monica
	turns to Luisa, seated next to her on the bench.

				MONICA
		What did he say?

				LUISA
		He say to give the ball to you.

	INT. ARENA - NIGHT

	The arena is PACKED with a raucous European crowd, chanting
	and waving signs - the love their women's basketball.

	Monica walks onto the floor, tucking her jersey into her
	shorts.  The uniforms are old-style - polyester and tight.
	Her club's name is stitched on the front, "GODELLA".

	As she hits center court, a smile suddenly breaks through her
	game face.  Standing opposite her, playing for the opposing
	Italian club is Sidra, HER RIVAL FROM USC.

				SIDRA
		Well, what do you know.

				MONICA
		What's up, Sidra.

				SIDRA
		I'm gonna love winning this championship
		in your house.

				MONICA
		How do you say "you're dreaming" in
		Italian?

	They move into position.  The ball is tossed up.  Italy winds
	the tip and the ball is passed to Sidra.

	Monica hounds her as she brings up the ball.  Sidra shoves
	her off and to the floor, and scores.  No whistle.  Women's
	pro ball is at a whole other level.  Bigger, better, tougher.

	The ball is passed in to Monica.  She drives down court, goes
	up for a lay up.  An Italian player shoves Monica in mid-air,
	taking out her legs.  Monica crashes on the hardwood.

	A whistle.  Monica lays still for a moment, then pushes
	herself up and walks to the free-throw line without a word.
	Without emotion.

	INT. SPAIN - NIGHTCLUB - LATE NIGHT

	A huge crowd dances fervently to the live Spanish music.  In
	the middle of the floor, the Spanish players are the life of
	the party.

	In a corner, Monica sits with Sidra, drinking and watching
	the festivities.  A large trophy sits on the table.

				SIDRA
		Can you take that damn thing off the
		table.

				MONICA
		You mean my championship trophy?  My bad.

	Monica sets it down in the seat next to her, puts an arm
	around it.  Sidra shakes her head.

				SIDRA
		Still a cocky bitch.

	Monica laughs.  She downs her drink, motions to the waiter.

				MONICA
		Uno mas, por favor.

	The waiter nods.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Last I heard, you were playing in Sweden.

				SIDRA
		Yeah, four years ago.  They had me
		staying in this tiny-ass town with like
		fifty people.  I'm not playing, there was
		about a thousand goats running around,
		and it gets dark at four o'clock.  Then
		the whack club I'm on loses three games
		in a row and I get blamed.  So they fire
		me.

				MONICA
		Just like that?

				SIDRA
		Yup.  So I've been playing with this
		Italian club the last three years.

				MONICA
		How's that been?

				SIDRA
		It's better.  Even though the whole first
		season my teammates didn't pass to me
		cause they were mad "The American" was
		making more money.
			(smiles)
		I led the team in rebounds cause it was
		the only way I could touch the damn ball.

	Monica laughs as the waiter brings her drink.  She tries to
	pay, but he just shakes his head, crosses away.

				SIDRA (cont'd)
		Most of us don't win championships our
		first year overseas.

				MONICA
		Please, I went through the same drama as
		everybody else.  I mean, the first four
		months, only person I could talk to was
		this chick Luisa, who knew like ten words
		of English from watching old "Dif'rent
		Strokes" reruns.  Swear to God, I had to
		tell her if she said, "What you talking
		bout, Willis?" one more time, I was
		gonna kick her ass.

	Sidra laughs.  They watch the madness out on the dance floor.

				SIDRA
		So what are these Spanish guys like?

				MONICA
		I wouldn't know.

				SIDRA
		What?  You've been over here seven months
		and you ain't tapped anything?

				MONICA
		Just not my type, I guess.

				SIDRA
		Shoot, Italian boys love them some black
		women.  They can't get enough of me.

	Monica smiles.

				MONICA
		You ever think about going back?

				SIDRA
		Sometimes.  But what's the alternative,
		not playing?  You remember big Toni?
			(off Monica's nod)
		She quit last year, now she's working at
		some bookstore.  I mean, look at us.
		They treat us like we're Hollywood stars
		over here.  We just played in the
		championship game.  It doesn't get much
		sweeter than this.

	Monica takes this in.  Her eyes do not reflect someone on top
	of the world.  She takes a long drink.

	INT. SPAIN - MONICA'S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

	A small, sparse, one-bedroom.  Sam, Diane and the rest of the
	gang from "Cheers" fill the small TV screen that flickers in
	the darkness.  Their dialogue is dubbed in Spanish.

	Monica sits on the floor, braiding her hair.

	SHE WEARS BOXERS AND QUINCY'S OLD PRACTICE SHIRT.  AFTER FIVE
	YEARS, IT IS WELL-WORN.

	Feelings of loneliness threaten to swallow her whole.  She
	looks out her window and sees her billboard, looming in the
	distance.  She just stares.
	
	
	  INT. LOS ANGELES FORUM - NIGHT



	The crowd erupts as a Laker player dunks the ball on a fast

	break.



	ANGLE ON



	Laker announcers CHICK HEARN and STU LANTZ.



				CHICK HEARN

		Stu, this game is in the refrigerator.
		The door is closed, the lights are out,
		the butter's hard and the Jell-Oooooo's
		jigglin'.

				STU LANTZ
		And here come the subs.

	ANGLE ON

	Quincy pulls off his sweats and jogs onto the court with the
	rest of the subs.  He is twenty-three, a man.  His goatee and
	tired eyes make him look older.  HE NOW WEARS NUMBER TWENTY-
	ONE.

				STU LANTZ (cont'd) (V.O.)
		It's good to see these guys get a little
		playing time.  And the fans love it.

	Quincy immediately gets a pass in the corner.  He puts up a
	quick three and it banks hard off the rim.

	ANGLE ON

	Chick and Stu.

				CHICK HEARN
		Three-pointer is off for the kid from
		SC.  Came out after his freshman year,
		now in his fifth year with the league.

				STU LANTZ
		The son of Zeke McCall, played twelve
		years with the Clippers.

				CHICK HEARN
			(nods)
		Pretty good player.  The kid's moved
		around quite a bit, but he's hoping to
		finally have a home with the Lakers.

	ANGLE ON

	Quincy steals the ball, has nothing but open court ahead of
	him.

				CHICK HEARN (cont'd) (V.O.)
		Watch out, folks, it's showtime.

	Quincy takes off from the hash-mark and throws down a monster
	jam.  He swings high off the rim.  Too high.  His hand slips
	and he crashes to the floor.  His knee twists at a sickening
	angle.

	The dwindling crowd gasps as Quincy clutches his left knee,
	writhing in pain.

	INT. DANIEL FREEMAN HOSPITAL - HALLWAY - LATE NIGHT

	Zeke walks down the corridor, checking room numbers.  He is
	forty-five now.  His slight paunch as become a roll.

	He sees Nona exiting a room, with an empty water pitcher in
	hand.  Her hair is in locks.

				ZEKE
		Nona.

	Nona looks over.  Her eyes narrow.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		How's he doing?

				NONA
		Not great.

				ZEKE
		What's that, not great?

				NONA
		The doctor'll be back in a minute.

				ZEKE
		Nona, please.

				NONA
		He tore his ACL.

	Zeke's shoulders slump.  Then he looks back at her.

				ZEKE
		Almost didn't recognize you with your
		hair like that.  How you been?

				NONA
		Happy.  And he won't want to see you.

	Nona walks over to a MAN standing nearby.  He puts an arm
	around her and they move down the hall.  Zeke watches for a
	beat, then pulls open Quincy's door, steps inside.

	INT. QUINCY'S HOSPITAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Quincy lays in the bed.  His knee is bandaged and propped up
	by pillows.  He stares out the window.

				ZEKE
		Hey, son.

	Quincy turns, sees his father.  He turns back to the window.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		Well, you made SportsCenter.

				QUINCY
		What do you want?

				ZEKE
		Came by to check on you.

				QUINCY
		After five years.

				ZEKE
		Don't remember that being my fault.
		Seems like you divorced me same time as
		your mom.

				QUINCY
		Look, I'm busy.

				ZEKE
		I can see that.  I know things look
		pretty bleak right now, but you can't get
		down on yourself.

				QUINCY
		I stopped taking your advice a long time
		ago, or did you forget?

				ZEKE
		No.

				QUINCY
		Good.

				ZEKE
		Quincy.  I know you left school early to
		throw your middle finger up at me.

				QUINCY
		And now I'm paying for it, right?  That
		what this is about?  "I told you so?"

				ZEKE
		You want me to fuck off?

				QUINCY
		Yeah.

				ZEKE
		Fine, I'll fuck off, but not til I say
		something.

	Silence.  Then.

				ZEKE (cont'd)
		You're a better ballplayer than I ever
		was.  But you got a lot of other things
		going for you.  You're smart.  I always
		felt...I always knew that you could do
		anything you wanted.  You want to be a
		ballplayer, be a ballplayer.  Just know
		you ain't like everybody else on that
		court.  You ain't like I was.  You got
		options.  That's all I ever tried to show
		you.

				QUINCY
		You're still trying to tell me what I
		should and shouldn't do.  How come you
		couldn't be the man you kept trying to
		make me?

	Zeke stares at his son, wishing he could satisfy him with an
	answer.

				ZEKE
		I just couldn't

	With nothing left to say, Zeke pulls open the door and
	leaves.  Quincy stares at the door long after it closes.

								   DISSOLVE TO:
								
								
	  INT. QUINCY'S HOSPITAL ROOM - DAY



	A NURSE enters, carrying a bouquet of flowers.  She moves

	past the empty bed, puts them on a table already overflowing

	with flowers.  She pulls open the blinds and light floods the
	room.  She crosses back out.

	A toilet flush.  Beat, then Quincy slowly hops out of the
	bathroom, scratching his bare ass through the opening of his
	gown.

				VOICE (O.S.)
		And I thought this was gonna be awkward.

	Quincy whips around and is shocked to see Monica standing
	there, laughing.  She has clearly made an effort with her
	appearance.

				QUINCY
		Monica?

	He stumbles.  Monica quickly goes to him, catches his arm
	before he falls.

				MONICA
		I'm sorry.

	Quincy stares at her, completely thrown.  It's been five
	years.  An awkward beat.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		So, how you doing?

				QUINCY
		Alright.  I heard you were in Spain.

				MONICA
		I was.
			(smiling)
		I see your peach fuzz finally grew in.

	Quincy rubs his goatee self-consciously.

				QUINCY
		Just something I'm trying.

				MONICA
		No, it looks good.  I mean, it's cool.

				QUINCY
		Thanks.

	Quincy tries to adjust his footing and flinches in pain.

				MONICA
		Shouldn't you be lying down, or...

				QUINCY
		I'm alright.  But you can sit.

				MONICA
		I'm fine.  My dad said you tore your ACL.

				QUINCY
		Yup.

				MONICA
		What are the doctors saying?

				QUINCY
			(shrugs)
		A lot of things.  All I know is I'll be
		back in six months.

				MONICA
		I thought a torn ACL was ten to twelve.

				QUINCY
		Not for Quincy McCall.

				MONICA
		I forgot, "Q-man."

	An awkward beat.

				QUINCY
		So, how's pro-ball, Europe?

				MONICA
		We won the championship.

				QUINCY
		Still working on being the first girl in
		the NBA?

				MONICA
		Well, I tried sneaking in after college,
		but they found breasts during my
		physical.

				QUINCY
		Funny.  I never did.

				MONICA
		Kiss my ass.

	Monica cracks up.  Quincy laughs with her.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		I can't believe it's been five years.

	Quincy nods.

				QUINCY
		Tried calling you a couple times.

				MONICA
		Oh yeah?

				QUINCY
		Wanted to give you props on making First
		Team All-American.  And then when Magic
		retired, I tried calling you again.

				MONICA
			(lying)
		Must have been my cheap-ass answering
		machine.  It was always messing up.

				QUINCY
		Figured it was something like that.

	They look at each other.  The moment is building.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		So, when do you go back?

				MONICA
		Actually, I don't...

				QUINCY
		What do you mean?

				MONICA
		I'm tired of playing overseas.  Thinking
		about giving it a rest for awhile.

				QUINCY
			(completely thrown)
		A rest?

				MONICA
		Yeah.  Basketball just, isn't fun
		anymore.  You know?

				QUINCY
		No.

	He stares at her.  Into her.

				FEMALE VOICE (O.S.)
		Quincy!

	Quincy and Monica turn, as KYRA KESSLER, black, 26 and
	beautiful, rushes into the room.  She wears a flight
	attendant's uniform.  She goes to Quincy, gives him a kiss.
	Monica reacts.

				KYRA
		I'm so sorry.  No one would switch
		flights with me.

				QUINCY
		It's okay.

				KYRA
		Why are you up?  Get in bed.

	She takes Quincy's arm, moves him to the bed.  Monica
	watches.

				KYRA (cont'd)
		Tell me you're going to be okay.

				QUINCY
		I'm gonna be okay.

	Kyra relaxes.  Then she glances over at Monica.

				KYRA
		Hello.

				QUINCY
		Kyra, this is Monica.  She, uh...

				KYRA
			(recognizing)
		Monica.  You grew up together, right?
		Quincy's told me about you.

	Monica smiles awkwardly.

				QUINCY
		This is Kyra.  My fiance.

	The shock hits too quick to cover.  But Monica tries.

				MONICA
		Fiance.  Wow.  Congratulations.

				KYRA
		Thank you.

				MONICA
		I didn't know.  Wow.  That's great.
			(then)
		Well...I should go.

				QUINCY
		It means a lot that you came by.

				KYRA
		Yes, we appreciate that.

				MONICA
		Yeah, and Quincy, good luck with your
		knee, and everything.

				QUINCY
		Thanks.

	Monica forces one last smile, pulls open the door and leaves.

	INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER

	Monica walks down the hall, shell-shocked.
	
	
	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - KITCHEN - LATE DAY



	Camille moves between the counter and the stove, whipping up

	a couple pecan pies.  Monica enters.



				MONICA

		Hey.



				CAMILLE
		Hi.

				MONICA
		Need any help?

				CAMILLE
		I can manage.

	Monica nods and moves to the barstool.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		Your sister's bringing the baby over.
		You should try to be here.

				MONICA
		Yeah.  Can't wait to see him
			(she falls silent, then)
		I just saw Quincy.

				CAMILLE
		How is he?

				MONICA
		Engaged.

				CAMILLE
		To that stewardess?

				MONICA
		Yeah, you met her?

				CAMILLE
		His mother had a cookout a few weeks ago.
		He could do a lot better if you ask me.

				MONICA
		Maybe she is.

	Camille looks up, studies Monica for a moment.

				CAMILLE
		I thought you were over him.

	Monica shrugs.

				MONICA
		So what do I do?

				CAMILLE
		Find out where they're registered and
		send them a gift.

				MONICA
			(disgusted)
		Whatever.

				CAMILLE
		You didn't want my opinion in the first
		place, so why even ask?

				MONICA
		I asked but why does it always have to be
		so damn prissy.

				CAMILLE
		Don't curse.

				MONICA
		There you go.

				CAMILLE
		What do you want me to tell you, Monica,
		to go beat that girl up?  To go have sex
		with him?  I'm not going to do that.
		Yes, I believe thinking of other people
		is important and yes I'd rather bake a
		pie than shoot a dumb jump shot.  If that
		makes me too "prissy" for you, too bad.

	Monica stares at her mother.  There's no going back.

				MONICA
		So that's why we can't get along?
		Because I'd rather shoot a "dumb" jump
		shot?

				CAMILLE
		You're the one always turning your nose
		up at me.

				MONICA
		No I don't.

				CAMILLE
		Child, please.  Ever since you were
		little you thought you were too good for
		anything I had to say.

				MONICA
		I wasn't Lena.  I didn't care about nail
		polish or lip gloss or sneaking a spray
		of your perfume.

				CAMILLE
		What was so wrong with wanting to teach
		you the things I knew could help you?

				MONICA
		Because you're pushing me to be something
		I'm not.

				CAMILLE
		So you're angry with me because you're
		standing here with your hair combed and
		wearing perfume?

	Monica is busted.  It takes her a moment to come back.

				MONICA
		I'm angry because I want a mother, not
		Martha Stewart.

				CAMILLE
		Oh, yes.  The superstar female athlete
		whose mother is nothing but a housewife.

				MONICA
		That's not it.

				CAMILLE
		Don't tell me you aren't ashamed of that
		because I know.

	Monica stares at her mother.

				MONICA
		I remember when I was eight years old,
		you spent like four hours cooking up this
		fancy meal.  All you'd let me and Lena do
		was set the table.  And I guess you and
		Dad got your wires crossed or something
		because he walks in with a couple of
		pizzas.  And you didn't say anything.
		You just threw the whole meal into some
		tupper-ware and tossed it in the fridge.

				CAMILLE
		I don't remember that.

				MONICA
		I do.  You never stood up for yourself.
		Ever.  If I was ashamed, it was because
		of that.

				CAMILLE
		That's ridiculous.

				MONICA
		What's ridiculous is not being a caterer
		so your husband can feel like a man
		knowing his woman's home cooking and
		ironing his drawers.

	WHAP!  Camille's humiliation is immediate and she cuts off
	Monica with a SLAP.  Camille curses herself for losing it.

				CAMILLE
		Dammitt, Monica!

	Monica is stunned, hurt.

				MONICA
		I'm sorry.

	Camille stares at her daughter, devastated.

				CAMILLE
		Is that really all you think of me?

	Monica can't answer.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		When I married your father, all I wanted
		was a nice house with a big kitchen so I
		could start my catering business.  And
		then I got pregnant with Lena, and then I
		got pregnant with you.  And I put it out
		of my mind because that's what you did.

	Monica stares at her mother.

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		But you want to know what day I remember?
		In high school, you getting ready for the
		Spring Dance.  I put my pearls around
		your neck, told you you were beautiful
		and you looked like you were going to
		cry.  That day I was happy I didn't have
		a catering business to run off to.  My
		family had three meals a day, had someone
		to pick up after them, and when my
		daughters went to a dance, I helped them
		get ready.  That's what I came to care
		about.

				MONICA
			(softly)
		That's all you cared about.  I must have
		played in a thousand games and I can only
		remember you being to two.

				CAMILLE
		You had your coaches and your father for
		that stuff.  It never mattered one way or
		the other if I went to your games.

				MONICA
		It mattered, Mom.

	Camille looks at her daughter and is struck by the need in
	her eyes.  Monica moves off the barstool and leaves.
	
	
	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - DAY



	The room looks exactly the same.  Trophies, medals, plaques.
	Basketball posters and her "strong women" wall.

	Monica sits on her bed, staring up at a photo of her and
	Quincy, tacked up to her bulletin board, amid other photos of
	her childhood.  THEY ARE EIGHTEEN, PLAYFULLY WRESTLING OVER A
	BASKETBALL.

	Monica slowly rises, starts taking her posters down.

	INT. REHAB CENTER - DAY

	Quincy sits on a leg extension machine, with his left leg
	tucked under the padded bar.  A TRAINER stands behind him.

	Sweat and pain coat Quincy's face and scarred knee as he
	slowly lifts the light weight again, and again, and again.

	INT. BANK - DAY

	A long line of customers shift impatiently during the noon-
	time rush.

	Monica sits with a BANK MANAGER at the "New Accounts" desk,
	learning the ropes.  Her hair is done, she wears a simple
	dress.  Behind her, hanging on the wall, are three framed
	photos of the bank presidents.  ONE OF THEM IS HER FATHER,
	NATHAN.

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - NIGHT

	Monica stands in her room, staring out at Quincy's window.
	She watches as Quincy and Kyra pack up some of Quincy's
	stuff.  Quincy tries to take his basketball globe light. She
	laughs, "Hell no."

	INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - DAY

	Camille enters, moves to Monica's garbage can, dumps the
	contents into her larger bag.  Suddenly, she stops.  She
	reaches into the garbage and pulls out a crumpled picture.

	Camille smooths it.  It is the photo of Monica and Quincy at
	eighteen, wrestling over a basketball.

	CAMILLE STARES AT IT, TAKEN IN BY THE PURE JOY IN HER
	DAUGHTER'S FACE.  She sits down on Monica's bed, still
	staring.

	INT. FORUM - DAY

	In the empty gym, Quincy jogs up and down the court.  He is
	still tentative on his knee, but he keeps jogging.

	And then, slowly, the determination melts from his face.  His
	jog turns into a walk, and then he just...stops.

	INT. MCCALL HOUSE - QUINCY'S ROOM - NIGHT

	Quincy stands in the middle of his room, taking in his life.
	Old, worn basketball posters still line the walls.  Trophies
	and awards.  USC memorabilia.  His basketball globe light.

	He walks to his window, looks out at Monica's window.  Her
	room is dark.

								   DISSOLVE TO:

	INT. QUINCY'S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - MORNING

	Quincy tilts his face up to the shower head and rinses the
	soap from his face.  He hears the bathroom door open.  He
	shuts off the water and opens the curtain.

	Kyra sits on the toilet, taking a pee.  Quincy slams the
	curtain closed.

				QUINCY
		Damn, girl.

				KYRA
		What?

				QUINCY
		I don't wanna see that.

				KYRA
		Get used to it, babe.

	She flushes.  Quincy steps out, grabs a towel.  A long scar
	runs across his knee cap.

				QUINCY
		Brother's gonna have to start locking
		doors.

	Kyra laughs as she buttons up her flight attendant's uniform.
	They cross into:

	INT. QUINCY'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS

	Kyra packs up a suitcase.

				QUINCY
		So how long is this trip?

				KYRA
		Four days.

	Quincy nods.

				KYRA (cont'd)
		So are you going to be the kind of
		husband who won't let his wife work?

				QUINCY
		Nah.

				KYRA
			(playfully)
		Why not?

				QUINCY
		You might be the only one with a job.

				KYRA
		Baby, don't talk like that.  Your rehab's
		going well.  You'll be back before you
		know it.

				QUINCY
		Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it.
		Busting my ass, for what?

				KYRA
		To do what you love.

				QUINCY
		I don't know sometimes.

				KYRA
		You're just scared.  I know rehab is
		hard, and you have to worry about whether
		you'll be as good as you were but you
		will be.  I believe in you.  You just
		have to get back on the court.  Like
		you'd get back on a horse.

				QUINCY
			(beat)
		A horse?

				KYRA
		Don't make fun of me when I'm being
		wonderful and supportive.
			(then)
		You belong on the court.  Just like I
		belong in the stands, looking cute and
		cheering you on.

	She smiles, gives him a kiss, moves back to her packing.  Off
	Quincy:

	INT. BANK - DAY

	Monica sits at her desk in a blouse and skirt, punching
	numbers into the computer.  A man sits down in the chair
	opposite her.  Monica glances up.  It's her father.

				NATHAN
		Hey, munchkin.

				MONICA
		Dad.  What are you doing here?

				NATHAN
		I was upstairs for a meeting.  I've been
		hearing good things about you.

				MONICA
		That tends to happen when you're the
		boss's daughter.

				NATHAN
		So how's the job going?

	Monica forces a smile.

				MONICA
		You know.

	Nathan looks at her, nods.

				NATHAN
		I think I know what the problem is.

	He pulls a GARBAGE CAN HOOP from a plastic shopping bag.
	Monica smiles.  He attaches it to her garbage can.

				NATHAN (cont'd)
		There.

	He shoots an ugly, imaginary shot.  She laughs.

				MONICA
		You shoot like a girl.

				NATHAN
		I'll take that as a compliment.

	He gives her a smile, and exits.  Monica looks at the hoop,
	then crumples a piece of paper.

				MONICA
			(whispering)
		And she gets the steal.  Monica goes one-
		on-one against Jordan, she stops, pops...

	Monica shoots.  The paper drops through the net.

				MONICA (cont'd)
			(still whispering)
		It's good!  It's good!

	She glances up, notices a few patrons watching her.  Monica
	quickly composes herself and goes back to her work.

	EXT. WRIGHT AND MCCALL HOUSES - DUSK

	Monica exits her car, after a long day at work.  She wears
	very low heels.  But she still stumbles.  She curses, then
	hears a laugh.

	She looks up - Quincy sits on the grassy hill above her
	house.

				QUINCY
		I remember when your mom had to beat you
		into a dress.

	Monica smiles.

				MONICA
		You visiting?

				QUINCY
			(nods)
		Kyra's gone for a couple days.  Figured
		I'd keep Mom company.

				MONICA
		Who's this guy I always see her around?

				QUINCY
		Darryl.  He's alright, kinda corny.

				MONICA
		So...how's the knee?

				QUINCY
		Getting there.

				MONICA
		Strong enough to get you down the aisle?

				QUINCY
		Yeah.  Two weeks.
			(then)
		I didn't get to send you an invitation,
		but if you...

				MONICA
		That's okay.  I'm probably, you know,
		busy.

	Quincy nods.  Awkward beat.

				QUINCY
		Can I ask you something?

	Monica looks at him.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		You never told me why ball isn't fun
		anymore.

				MONICA
		It just isn't.

				QUINCY
		Because I'm kinda feeling that way, too.

				MONICA
		You had a rough couple years, that's all.

				QUINCY
		That a nice way of saying I rode the
		bench?

				MONICA
		And you tore up your knee.  Rehab is
		tough.

				QUINCY
		Nah.  I haven't dribbled a ball in four
		and a half months.  Maybe I miss some of
		the attention, but besides that...

				MONICA
		You're serious.

				QUINCY
		Seems like I needed a ball when I was
		trying to be like my pops...or trying to
		be better than him.  Now, I kinda think I
		need to try something else.

				MONICA
		Like what?

				QUINCY
		Maybe go back to school.

				MONICA
		Wow.

	Monica stares at him, seeing a man in the boy she grew up
	with.  Quincy looks away, self-conscious.

				QUINCY
		I mean, Kyra hasn't heard the school
		thing yet.
			(then)
		She'll probably say it's the painkillers
		talking.

				MONICA
		It's a trip, you know?  When you're a
		kid, you see the life you want, and it
		never crosses your mind that it's not
		gonna turn out that way.

				QUINCY
		So why'd you give up ball?

				MONICA
		Why do you keep asking me that?

				QUINCY
		Cause I don't get it.

				MONICA
		Something was just missing.

				QUINCY
		What?

	Monica is too hurt, too scared to tell him the truth.

				MONICA
		It doesn't matter, alright.  Just leave
		it alone.

				QUINCY
		Find.

	Monica turns, crosses to her house.  She stumbles on her
	heels, kicks them off in frustration, and exits inside.
	Quincy walks back to his curb.

	ANGLE ON

	Camille watches from the kitchen window

								   DISSOLVE TO:

	EXT. WRIGHT HOUSE - PATIO - DUSK

	Lena sits next to Camille.  Her one year old son, L.P., sits
	on the ground at her feet.  Monica sits quietly nearby,
	watching.

				CAMILLE
		So you're still breast-feeding?

				LENA
		The doctor said it was okay.  Anyway, I'm
		still trying to lose some of this baby
		fat.

	She quickly looks over at Monica.

				LENA (cont'd)
		Shut up.

	Monica gives her a small smile.  Camille looks down at L.P.

				CAMILLE
		You might want to put a jacket on him,
		it's getting cold.

				LENA
		He's fine.

				CAMILLE
			(warning)
		Okay.

	Lena sighs, rolls her eyes.  She picks up her son.

				LENA
		Come on, L.P.  Grandma says it's too
		cold.

	She exits inside.  Camille makes a face.

				CAMILLE
		God.  "Grandma."

	Monica smiles.  And then silence.  There is still so much
	distance between them, so many misunderstanding.  Camille
	stares at her daughter.  And then...

				CAMILLE (cont'd)
		You know, I'd probably be a lot more
		"prissy" in the situation than you'd
		like, but the thing I always admired that
		drove me crazy, was the fight you had in
		you.

				MONICA
		What are you talking about?

				CAMILLE
		When I said Quincy could do better, I was
		thinking about you.

	Monica stares at her mom.  Camille stands and leaves.
	
	
	  INT. WRIGHT HOUSE - MONICA'S ROOM - NIGHT



	Monica lies in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to

	sleep.  Her mind races with thoughts of her past, her

	choices, her future...



	Suddenly, she climbs out of bed.  She wears a tank-top and
	pajama bottoms.  She crosses to her window, pulls it open and
	climbs out.

	EXT. WRIGHT AND MCCALL HOUSES - CONTINUOUS

	Monica drops down.  She moves to Quincy's window and knocks
	quietly.  Beat, then Quincy appears.  Bare-chested and in a
	pair of shorts.  He looks at her, then pulls open the window.

				QUINCY
			(half-asleep)
		What's going on?

				MONICA
		We need to talk.

	Quincy just looks at her.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Please.

				QUINCY
		Hold on.

	Quincy disappears for a moment, then returns, pulling on a T-
	shirt.  He climbs out of his window, drops to the ground.

	Quincy looks at her.

				MONICA
		You asked me what was missing.

				QUINCY
		What?

				MONICA
		From basketball.

				QUINCY
		you woke me up to tell me that?

				MONICA
		It's not fun for me anymore because
		you're missing.

	Quincy stares at her.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		What I'm trying to say is --

				QUINCY
		I heard enough.

				MONICA
		What I'm trying to say is, I've loved you
		since I was eleven and the shit won't go
		away.

				QUINCY
		We haven't talked since college and now
		you wait two weeks before my wedding to
		say something like this?

				MONICA
		I know, I probably should have said it
		two weeks ago.

	Quincy doesn't even crack a smile.  In fact, he glares.

				QUINCY
		You haven't changed.  You still think the
		sun rises and sets on your ass.  Well,
		guess what, it doesn't.

				MONICA
		Then why are you so upset?

				QUINCY
		Because you don't pull this on someone
		who's about to get married.

				MONICA
		Better late than never, right?

				QUINCY
		Wrong.

	Quincy starts back toward the window.

				MONICA
		I'll play you.

				QUINCY
		What?

				MONICA
		One game.  One-on-one.

				QUINCY
		For what?

				MONICA
		Your heart.

	Quincy looks at her in disbelief, then laughs at the
	absurdity.

				QUINCY
		You're out of your mind.

				MONICA
		So you're gonna bitch up?

				QUINCY
		What's that supposed to be, psychology?

				MONICA
		I know why you broke up with me in
		college.  And not that what you did
		wasn't messed up, but what I did was,
		too.  So if you forgive me, I'll forgive
		you.

				QUINCY
		Monica, after that stuff with my dad, I
		couldn't trust anybody, okay.  I mean, I
		was lost.  So you are forgiven.  But that
		was five years ago.  I moved on.

	Monica moves past him, reaches through his window.  She drops
	back down, holding his basketball.

				MONICA
		Prove it.

	She throws him the ball.

				QUINCY
		What will this prove?

				MONICA
		You once said the reason I beat you was
		because you wanted me to.

				QUINCY
		So?

				MONICA
		So, if I win it's because deep down you
		know you're about to make the biggest
		mistake of your life, and deep down your
		want me to stop you.

				QUINCY
		And what happens when you lose?

				MONICA
		If I lose, I'll buy you a wedding
		present.

	Quincy stares at her.
	
	  EXT. MCCALL HOUSE - DRIVEWAY - SHORT TIME LATER



	Monica stands opposite Quincy.  Both are suited up in

	basketball gear.



	They stare at each other, ready to go to war. Monica tosses
	him the ball.

				MONICA
		Check.

	Quincy tosses the ball back.  Monica drives.  Quincy's knee
	is maybe at sixty percent and he can't keep up.  She scores
	easily.

	She walks to the top of the driveway, tosses him the ball.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		One, zip.  Check.

	Quincy rubs his scarred knee, then passes it back.

	The game continues.  Monica owns the first five points easily
	by exploiting Quincy's injury.

	Monica drives for another lay-up.  Quincy suddenly lets go of
	his fear, leaps and swats her shot.

	He grabs the rebound and lays it up.  He nods intensely, as
	he grabs the ball and walks back to the top of the key.

				QUINCY
		One, five.  Check.

	The game continues and now Quincy has the upper-hand, using
	his size and strength.  He scores seven straight points.

	The score stays close.  It is a sexually-charged battle of
	wills -- Quincy pulls off his sweat-soaked shirt.  Their
	bodies collide as they wrestle for the ball.  Monica yanks
	off her jersey in frustration.  Her ass bumps into his hips
	as she backs him in.  Her hands slide across his chest as she
	guards him...

	Finally, the score hits nine, nine.  Monica slowly walks to
	the top of the key.

				MONICA
		Nine, up.  Point.

	She tosses Quincy the ball.

				MONICA (cont'd)
		Check.

	Quincy tosses the ball back, drops low on defense.  Monica
	fakes an outside shot and Quincy bites.  Monica drives around
	him.  SHE HAS A WIDE-OPEN LAY-UP.  SHE PUTS IT UP..AND IT
	ROLLS OFF THE RIM.  Monica can't believe it.

	Quincy grabs the loose ball and clears it.  He stares at
	Monica as he dribbles in front of her.  She stares back.

	He breaks for the basket.  Monica stays with him.  He goes
	up.  Monica jumps, desperately tries to block his shot.
	Quincy dunks on her, knocking her to the ground.  He lets go
	of the rim, and tumbles to the ground also.  GAME OVER.

	Silence.  Quincy stares at her.  Monica looks back.  Then:

				QUINCY
			(pointed)
		All's fair in love and basketball, right?

	Monica struggles to fight back her tears as she picks herself up.
	She slowly walks back toward her house.  And then:

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Hey.

	Monica slowly stops, turns.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Double or nothing.

	Monica stares at him, wonders if she heard right.  Quincy
	limps to his feet, picks up the ball and holds it out to her.

	Monica slowly walks back to him.  They stare at each other.
	No more egos, no more bullshit.  Just love.

	In the moonlight, on the blacktop, they kiss...

								FADE TO BLACK.
								
	  FADE IN:



	INT. LOS ANGELES FORUM - NIGHT



	Music is blasting, banners are waving, crowd is screaming.



	Magic Johnson sits in a floor seat, watching the game.  A

	REPORTER interviews him.

				SPORTS REPORTER
		So, Magic, are you contemplating another
		comeback?

				MAGIC
			(laughs)
		No more comebacks.  Tonight I'm just
		enjoying being a spectator.

	Behind him, in a second row seat, a ONE YEAR BLACK GIRL sits
	in a lap, bouncing, watching feet and legs ballin' on the
	court.

	Quincy leans down, gives the little girl a kiss, then looks
	out at the court.  It's the Los Angeles Sparks and the New
	York Liberty.  The WNBA.

	On the court, the women line up for a free-throw.

				QUINCY
		Let's go, McCall!

	Monica, sporting a uniform with Wright-McCall on the back and
	the number thirty-two, looks over.  Quincy takes their
	daughter's hand and waves it.

				QUINCY (cont'd)
		Go Mommy.

	Monica smiles back, then steps to the line.  The referee
	tosses her the ball.  Monica stares at the basket, then
	bounces the ball twice, licks her lips and shoots.

								 FADE TO BLACK.

				    "THAT'S GAME"
	 END CREDITS