358. Fate, Manufactured - Leslie

• FADE IN:


• EXT. FARMER'S MARKET - DAY


• PAUL wanders the rows of stalls idly, inspecting everything from neatly labeled jars of wild honey to sniffing at soy candles.


• The market is packed with every type of booth imaginable.


• Paul trips over a small pile of postcards, sending them flying.


• He looks around, embarrassed, then, assured of his conspicuousness, he reaches down and grabs a card, walking casually away from the mess.


• When he's moved far enough away, he looks down to read what he's holding.


• It's a simple card, printed on thick, brown, recycled paper. and it reads "Gypsy Market: Catch us if you can".


• PAUL
• Well, that's silly.


• He looks around, then heads to the closest booth and approaches the vendor.


• PAUL
• Hey, can you tell me where this is? The Gypsy Market?


• VENDOR
• Sorry, I've got no idea. Maybe if you follow the closest pair of dreads.


• PAUL
• Heh, thanks.


• Paul wanders a bit more, peering at booth titles.


• He nears the end of the row of booths and then stops.


• A small sign hangs on a streetlight pole
  among the usual collection of lost-and-found notices, concert flyers, and random ads.


• It reads "Gypsy Market," with a small arrow pointing left.


• He heads left, behind booths, cutting behind the rows and rows of vendors.


• The booths then and he finds himself at the edge of the farmer's market.


• A ring of RVs and caravans are parked in a semi-circle, there at the edge, tables and booths piled full of wares.


• Paul smiles and clenches his fist in small gesture of victory.


• He enters the semi-circle, one of a few shoppers eyeing the wares.


• Several of the shoppers are engaged in loud and cheerful bargaining with the vendors.


• He scans the tables an finds a small one covered with votive holders, small lamps, and little figurines crafted out of scrap metal.


• He stops to inspect the figurines, which are put together with a surprising amount of skill and intricacy.


• KATE, a girl with carefully mismanaged dreads, an exotic looking jacket, and flared jeans covered with well-placed flecks of paint, slips out of the RV directly behind the table and comes up to Paul.


• KATE
• So you like my little toys?


• Paul pauses.


• Her accent is a north English one, surprising and beautiful.


• PAUL
• Eh, they're nice enough.


• KATE
• Oh, I know you love them - look at you, trying to drive a hard bargain.


• PAUL
• Like I said, they're ok.


• KATE
• Ok, mister.


• He scans the table, feigning boredom.


• PAUL
• So what inspired these?


• KATE
• Oh, a summer of reading Flannery O'Connor and a weird assortment of steampunk lit.


• Paul's mask cracks.


• KATE
• Ah, ha! See. Not only do you love my little creations, you are either a fan of dear old Flannery or steampunk lit.


• PAUL
• What? I didn't say anything.


• KATE
• Come off of it.


• PAUL
• Both.


• KATE
• Oh, my dear, I have you, don't I?


• PAUL
• You've utterly destroyed my bargaining position.


• KATE
• Well, you're cute - and you obviously have good taste, so we'll see what I can do for you.


• PAUL
• And now you're trying to rush me. I'm still just looking.


• She smiles coyly.


• PAUL
• So when did you discover Flannery?


• KATE
• A library in Stevensville, Michigan.


• PAUL
• Visiting family?


• KATE
• Do I sound American?


• PAUL
• You could have American family, I'm just saying.


• KATE
• The caravan was there for a few weeks.


• PAUL
• Wait, so you guys really are gypsies? I thought maybe this was a cool marketing gag for a store, or just something local. So you don't live anywhere?


• KATE
• Homeless and couldn't be happier.


• PAUL
• Wow. So why'd you move to the States?


• KATE
• What is this, a first date?


• PAUL
• Oh, sorry, guess I was trying to give you the sixth degree there.


• KATE
• 'Tis alright. Now which piece do you want.


• Paul points to a dancer with a gas mask that covers the lower part of her face and nail file blades in either hand.


• PAUL
• I see the steampunk influence, but the Flannery?


• KATE
• If I could explain everything about my art or how something influenced it, it wouldn't be art, now would it?


• PAUL
• Fine. So how much?


• KATE
• What do you think is fair?


• PAUL
• You tell me.


• KATE
• Fifty.


• PAUL
• Ha! If you noticed, this isn't a gallery show and I'm not Daddy Warbucks - Fifteen.


• KATE
• See, I had started to like you. Are you delirious? Forty-Five.


• PAUL
• Twenty.


• KATE
• Thirty, I'll go no lower.


• PAUL
• Twenty-Five.


• KATE
• Thirty-Five.


• PAUL
• Was nice talking to you.


• He begins to walk away.


• Kate grimaces.


• KATE
• Twenty-Seven.


• Paul spins around.


• PAUL
• Done.


• He counts out the money.


• PAUL
• So how much do you usually sell these things for, twenty?


• Kate doesn't say anything, but her eyes twinkle as she wraps up the figurine.


• PAUL
• Figures. So how often do you guys come around the area?


• KATE
• I don't really know, this is our first time. Maybe we'll be back; maybe we won't. We just go where the wind takes us.


• PAUL
• Oh.


• KATE
• I'm sorry.


• PAUL
• Well, I was going to take you out next time you were in town - but since you won't be, you have some time today?


• KATE
• Sorry, no - we're leaving as soon as we finish here. But, if I could, I would - like I said, you have good taste.


• PAUL
• See, we shouldn't leave something like this to chance - you have some kind of contact?


• KATE
• What better thing to leave to chance? The world is infinitely smaller and larger than you can imagine. If we're supposed to meet again, we will.


• PAUL
• And what about us making our own fates?


• Kate shrugs, smiling, and walks around the table to hand him the figurine.


• PAUL
• Or maybe you just don't to see me again, eh? Just being nice?


• KATE
• Maybe it is that only, yea?


• PAUL
• You really would leave it to fate?


• KATE
• Life is strange. We'll bump into each other again if we're supposed to. If not, we have these sweet memories.


• She hugs him and surprised, he hugs her back.


• She steps away.


• PAUL
• Well, ok, here's to fate then.


• KATE
• Kate, I'm Kate.


• PAUL
• Paul, Paul McGrew.


• KATE
• Be well, Paul.


• He walks away from the table and waves, then heads back to the main market, figurine in hand, his face a bemused mix of emotions.


• ARI walks over to Kate from his booth.


• She's inspecting Paul's business card in her hand.


• ARI
• Who was that then? And when did you start hugging folk? Did you whip him that badly on the price?


• She smiles and waves the business card bearing Paul's name at him.


• KATE
• He didn't do too bad.


• ARI
• Oh ho, you are a sneaky one. He was that special, was he?


• KATE
• I think so, yea.


• ARI
• What happened to fate? The world being big and small or whatever that crap is you say?


• KATE
• You can't leave something like this to chance.


• ARI
• Hypocrite!


• She smiles, then leans back against her RV and inspects the card again.


• FADE TO BLACK.