Chapter 3 – Joey's Favorite Burger and His Agent
Bruce headed back upstairs, drew the curtains, and let the room fall into comfortable darkness. He flicked on the desk lamp and found himself staring at a half-finished script—something the previous version of himself had been working on. The title made him wince: Crazy Clerk #69.
He sighed. Film school at NYU, and this was the best he could do? Bruce pushed the pages aside and rolled fresh paper into his typewriter.
His mind was racing with ideas—stories from films that didn't exist yet in this timeline. He steadied himself, fingers hovering over the keys, then typed: INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS.
Sorry, Quentin, he thought. You're my first.
Bruce knew Tarantino's style was deeply personal—the music choices, the dialogue rhythms, the visual flair. Another director would make it completely different. But he couldn't worry about that now. In his previous life, Tarantino's films were the ones he'd studied most obsessively.
There was another reason he chose Tarantino: curiosity. If he wrote all of Quentin's future classics, would it force the director to create something entirely new?
Hours passed. The phone rang at some point, but Bruce was so absorbed he barely heard it. The machine picked up with a muffled message he ignored.
When he finally typed the last line, he checked his watch: eight p.m. He splashed water on his face and remembered the phone call. The message was from his agent, Ruby.
Ruby worked as a projectionist at an old independent theater in the West Village called the Neon—one of those places that showed midnight movies and ran a side business duplicating VHS tapes. Her other job was connecting writers and actors with low-budget production companies for a commission.
Her message was blunt: "Bruce, if I don't see that script by tomorrow morning, you're done. The whole shoot is fifteen days, and Wildcat Pictures is giving you five to finish writing. What more do you want? Eight a.m. tomorrow, or I'm calling someone else."
Wildcat Pictures was the company producing Crazy Clerk #69.
Bruce looked at the half-finished pages and groaned. "Finish this by tomorrow? How the hell am I supposed to do that?"
He decided to grab dinner and the biggest coffee he could find. It was going to be a long night.
On the stairwell, he ran into Joey and Chandler heading up.
"Hey, where've you guys been?" Bruce asked.
"Helping Ross build some furniture," Joey said. "Where are you headed?"
"Been writing all afternoon. Need food and coffee—my treat if you want to come."
Chandler grinned. "We already ate with Ross, but I'm holding you to that rain check."
He continued past Bruce up the stairs.
Joey paused. "Wait—what are you planning to eat?"
"Not sure. Maybe grab a great burger, bring it back to Central Perk, eat it with coffee."
Joey's eyes lit up. "I could eat. I'll show you my favorite burger place." He called up to Chandler, "Go ahead without me! Bruce is buying me dinner!"
Chandler's voice echoed down. "Of course he is. Buy Joey a burger and you're instantly his best friend."
As they walked, Joey launched into an enthusiastic description. "You're gonna say it's the best burger in the city—five layers, perfectly stacked..."
Two blocks later, they arrived. Joey ordered two burgers while Bruce paid, then they headed to Central Perk. Joey grabbed a table while Bruce got coffee from the counter.
When Bruce sat down, both burgers were unwrapped and waiting on the table.
"Why aren't you eating?" Bruce asked.
"Waiting for you. I need to know if you love it."
Bruce picked up his burger and took a large bite. After chewing thoughtfully, he nodded. "This is fantastic. Exactly what I needed."
Joey beamed and dove into his own burger. "Told you! So what did you want to ask me about?"
"You've got an agent, right?"
"Yeah, Estelle. Why?"
"Think you could introduce me? Or any other agent you know?"
Joey hesitated. "I can set up a meeting with Estelle, but she handles actors, not writers. And definitely not—" He lowered his voice. "—not your current genre. Not that there's anything wrong with it! Jurassic Park: Adults Only is a classic."
Bruce smiled. "That's exactly why I need a new agent. I want to write real scripts. No more dialogue like 'Payment due—cash or something else?'"
Joey perked up. "Wait, is that from your new script? That's actually pretty good! Tell me more!"
"In about a month you'll be able to rent it. Let me keep some surprises. Can I finish explaining?"
"Sorry, go ahead."
"I finished a legitimate script this afternoon. A real one—the kind that could get studio attention. I'm going to write more, all under my real name, all meant for the big screen. I need an agent who can actually walk through studio doors."
"Don't you already have an agent?" Joey asked.
"My current agent's main job is running a projector at a theater that shows movies at midnight. I don't think he could find the front entrance to Warner Bros. if his life depended on it."
Joey nodded slowly. "Okay. I've got my own issues with Estelle, but I'll make a call. Give me a day or two."
"Thanks, Joey. I owe you." Bruce raised his coffee cup. "And hey, plenty more burgers where this came from. That's how we do it—someone helps you out, you buy them meals until you're even."
Joey grinned. "I like your style, Bruce. I really do."
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