INT. PAYDAY LOAN BUILDING – DAY
The groovy beat of "For the Love of Money" by the O'Jays kicks in.
We start inside a clean, relatively well-kept payday loan building. The line is long, people fidget with their paperwork, clutching bills, and wiping sweat from their brows. The camera pans down the line, capturing the atmosphere. A stamping machine loudly approves paperwork, followed by cash being handed out in crisp white envelopes.
One after another, folks shuffle to the front, exchange paperwork, and exit, the small bills in their hands seemingly a lifeline.
OUR GUY stands patiently in line, observing this routine as we hear "Money, money, money..." echo in the background. The music dominates the scene, leaving us with no dialogue just the soundtrack of the day.
Finally, it’s OUR GUY’S turn. He steps up to the window and slides his papers across the counter. The LOAN OFFICER takes a glance, gives a sad smile, and shakes their head.
Our guy, shoulders slumped, grabs his papers, and trudges out.
CUT TO:
INT. SECOND PAYDAY LOAN BUILDING – DAY
This one’s a little dingier. The line is shorter, but the feeling is the same. OUR GUY enters, now looking more anxious. The transaction is quick. Once again, he’s denied, but this time with a tired, "nothing we can do" shrug from the CASHIER.
We follow him back out into the afternoon sun.
CUT TO:
EXT. PAYDAY LOAN BUILDING (BAD PART OF TOWN) – EVENING
This place is at the end of a rundown strip mall. The neon “Open” sign flickers against the darkening sky. People mill about outside shady characters, smoking, chatting in hushed tones. Trash rolls across the cracked parking lot, carried by the wind.
OUR GUY heads inside, determined. This building feels seedy, the clientele rough around the edges. The signs plastered on the walls are louder: "No credit? No problem!" "Fast cash for your emergencies!"
Inside, we see it all again. People in line, the process on repeat. But this time, as OUR GUY steps up, he gets the nod. A crinkled envelope is slid across the counter, packed with cash.
He walks out, envelope in hand, a small moment of victory….with 35% interest, of course.
The door slowly swings shut behind him, and just as it closes, CHRIS steps into frame, entering the building.
We follow CHRIS through the door and into the harsh fluorescent lighting. His eyes dart around the room, barely masking his discomfort. This is rock bottom. The same process unfolds: paperwork, people in line, and cash handed over at absurd interest rates.
The music fades as CHRIS approaches the window. He slides his paperwork across. The LOAN OFFICER looks it over as the scene fades.
INT. EVAN'S CAR – EVENING
Evan pulls out of the S-Mart parking lot, the glow of the evening casting a soft light across the dashboard. His face is thoughtful, still riding the energy from a good shift. He glances at the rearview mirror, almost like he’s practicing a smile or rehearsing something to say. The car hums down a clean, suburban road trees, large houses, all signs of wealth.
EXT. EVAN'S FAMILY HOME – LATER
Evan’s car pulls into the driveway of a grand, almost mansion-like house. His parents’ place is pristine. We see the manicured lawn, the luxury cars in the driveway. The kind of house that screams “money.” Evan parks and takes a deep breath before getting out, like he’s preparing himself.
INT. FOYER – EVENING
As Evan enters, the vast foyer echoes with his footsteps. We can hear distant chatter his parents, speaking in low tones, laughing, but it’s all background noise.
INT. DINING ROOM – CONTINUOUS
His parents are seated at a long dining table, finishing up their dinner. His mother, BARBARA MONTGOMERY, an elegant woman in her 50s, looks up with a lukewarm smile.
BARBARA Evan, sweetie. You're home so late. (a beat) How’s the...uh, store? S-Smart?
EVAN S-Mart, Mom. It’s fine.
His father, RICHARD MONTGOMERY, glances up from his phone, half-listening, halfscrolling through emails.
RICHARD Still don’t understand why you’re working there, son. You know, we could
EVAN (quickly cutting in) I know, Dad. But I want to work. It’s important.
Barbara shrugs, not entirely getting it but too detached to argue.
BARBARA Well, as long as it makes you happy, dear.
She waves over a maid, MARTA, standing near the kitchen doorway.
BARBARA Marta, can you get Evan’s dinner ready, please?
Evan stiffens.
EVAN No, I’m good.
Barbara glances at Richard, who just shrugs, indifferent. They’re not cruel they don’t get it. They never have.
BARBARA Alright, honey. If you’re sure.
She returns to her wine, already distracted by something else, while Evan heads toward the kitchen.
INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Evan enters the modern, spacious kitchen. He grabs a plate, opens the fridge, and starts fixing himself some leftovers. There’s no noise in the house except the soft clink of utensils. It’s clear this is his usual routine. He’s not mistreated. Just...overlooked.
INT. EVAN'S ROOM – NIGHT
Evan walks into his room with his plate in hand. It’s a large, immaculately clean space neat bed, expensive gadgets, posters on the wall. But it’s sterile, missing any warmth or personal touch. He sets the plate down and sits at his desk, staring at his phone for a moment.
He opens a message from Chris “Thanks for picking up the slack today.”
Evan smiles softly, clearly valuing this connection more than anyone would guess. He eats his dinner alone, in silence, feeling more at home here than he did downstairs with his parents.
INT. MINDY'S LIVING ROOM – DAY
The living room is a colorful jumble of toys action figures, building blocks, and a play cash register with fake money scattered around. Sunlight streams through the curtains as TOMMY, a confident five-year-old, stands behind a makeshift counter made of stacked boxes. BILLY, an eager three-year-old clutching a stuffed dinosaur, stands on the other side.
TOMMY (in a superior tone) Welcome to my store. What do you want?
BILLY (smiling) Cookies, please!
TOMMY (rolling his eyes) We don't have cookies today. Only big kids get cookies.
BILLY (hopeful) Oh... okay. Can I have juice?
TOMMY (sighs dramatically) Fine, that'll be two dollars.
Billy fumbles with the fake coins, unsure.
BILLY (holding out coins) Is this enough?
TOMMY (shakes his head) You don't even know how to count money yet. Here, let me do it.
He takes the coins from Billy, counts them with exaggerated motions.
TOMMY See? This is only one dollar. You need more.
Billy looks confused and a bit upset.
BILLY I don't have more.
TOMMY (smugly) Then you can't buy juice. That's how it works.
Billy's lower lip quivers slightly.
BILLY But I'm thirsty...
Tommy sighs, rolling his eyes again.
TOMMY Fine, I'll give it to you this time. But only because I'm the man of the house.
BILLY (curious) What's that mean?
TOMMY (puffing up) It means I'm in charge now. Since my dad moved out 'cause of the divorce, I have to take care of everything.
BILLY (innocently) What's di-vorce?
TOMMY (speaking as if explaining to a toddler) It's when your mom and dad stop living together. So now, I'm the boss. That's why I'm starting school soon to learn important stuff.
BILLY (eyes wide) School?
TOMMY (nods importantly) Yep. I'll learn reading, math, all the things you need to be the man of the house.
BILLY (thinking) I live with my daddy.
TOMMY (smug) Well, you're still a little kid.
Billy looks down, feeling small.
BILLY (softly) I want to be big.
TOMMY (patting him on the head) Maybe someday. But for now, you have to listen to me.
BILLY (reluctantly) Okay.
TOMMY (decisive) Good. Now, let's play something else. You be the servant, and I'll be the king.
BILLY (confused) But I don't want to be a servant.
TOMMY (exasperated) You don't even know how to play it right. Fine, you can be... the knight. But you have to do what I say.
BILLY (brightening) Okay! I can be a knight!
TOMMY (nods) Alright, knight. Your first job is to find my lost treasure.
Billy looks around eagerly.
BILLY Where is it?
TOMMY (smiling slyly) I hid it outside. But you probably can't go by yourself since you're too little.
Billy's enthusiasm dims.
BILLY (can't hide disappointment) Oh...
Just then, MINDY calls from the other room.
MINDY (O.S.) Boys, snack time!
Tommy perks up.
TOMMY (quickly changing tune) Snack time! Let's go!
BILLY (hopeful) Maybe cookies?
TOMMY (shrugs) Maybe. But remember, I get the first pick 'cause I'm the oldest. They start heading toward the kitchen.
BILLY (timidly) Can I have one too?
TOMMY (sighs) Fine, but only after I choose mine.
Billy nods, accepting this.
INT. MINDY'S KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
They enter the kitchen where plates of cookies and glasses of milk are set out.
MINDY (smiling) There you two are! Plenty for both of you.
Tommy immediately grabs a cookie.
TOMMY (with mouth full) Told you there'd be cookies.
Billy reaches for one, smiling.
BILLY (thankful) Thanks, Tommy.
TOMMY (trying to maintain authority) Just doing my job as the man of the house.
Mindy overhears and raises an eyebrow, amused.
MINDY (teasing) Oh, is that so? Well, Mr. Man of the House, maybe you can help me with the dishes later.
Tommy blushes slightly.
TOMMY (awkward) Uh, maybe after we play some more.
Mindy chuckles.
MINDY We'll see about that.
Billy giggles, and the two boys munch on their cookies, the earlier tension easing in the comfort of snacks.
INT. CHUCKLES' OFFICE – DAY
The cluttered office feels even more claustrophobic today. Papers are piled high, and the blinds are half-closed, letting in slivers of harsh daylight. CHUCKLES, wearing a new Hawaiian shirt adorned with flamingos and palm trees, leans back in his creaky chair, arms crossed. CHRIS stands on the opposite side of the desk, a worn envelope clutched tightly in his hand.
CHUCKLES (flat, unapologetic) I'm telling you, Chris, there's nothing more I can do for you.
CHRIS (agitated) What do you mean there's nothing more? You said you had leads.
CHUCKLES (sighs) Leads that went nowhere. Buzzer's off the grid. And even if he wasn't, chasing him is a dead-end for both of us.
Chris slams the envelope of cash onto the desk between them.
CHRIS That's your job, isn't it? To find people who don't want to be found?
CHUCKLES (leaning forward) Look, what do you really expect to get out of this? Closure? Justice? This isn't some movie where the hero takes down the villain and rides off into the sunset.
CHRIS (voice rising) He destroyed my life! Burned everything my father built!
CHUCKLES (holds up a hand) Your brother got involved with dangerous people. He played a game and lost. You're lucky you got out alive.
Chris's eyes flash with anger.
CHRIS Lucky? You’ve got a funny definition of the word, Provost.
CHUCKLES (serious) Exactly my point. You're sinking fast, and this obsession is the anchor tied around your neck.
CHRIS (seething) What would you have me do? Forget it ever happened? Let that monster walk free?
CHUCKLES (blunt) Yes. For your own sake and your family's. Go home, be with your wife and kid. Start rebuilding instead of tearing yourself down.
Chris's fists clench at his sides.
CHRIS You don't get it. This isn't just about me. It's about what's right.
CHUCKLES (scoffs) Right? There's no "right" in this world, only survivors and victims. Which one do you want to be?
A tense silence fills the room. Chris's gaze drops to the cash on the desk, then back to Chuckles.
CHRIS (low, determined) I want it. All of it. With interest.
Chuckles shakes his head, a mixture of pity and frustration.
CHUCKLES That’s never going to happen, and you know it.
CHRIS (narrowing eyes) You talk a lot for someone who's happily taken my money for months without real results.
CHUCKLES (defensive) I warned you it wouldn't be easy. And I've put myself at risk more times than I care to admit chasing your white whale.
CHRIS (stepping closer) Then maybe you're not as good as you think you are.
Chuckles stands up slowly, meeting Chris's gaze head-on.
CHUCKLES (firm) This isn't about me. It's about you not knowing when to quit. And for what it's worth, I know how you’re paying me. All this debt, Chris. You’re drowning. What about your family?
Chris flinches slightly but holds his ground.
CHRIS (voice cold) Stay out of my personal life.
CHUCKLES (raises an eyebrow) Hard not to notice when you're throwing every last cent at a lost cause.
Chris turns abruptly, heading for the door.
CHRIS (over his shoulder) We're done here.
CHUCKLES (calling after him) And what’s next on this suicide mission of yours?
Chris pauses at the door, his back to Chuckles.
CHRIS (quiet but resolute) Never underestimate a man with nothing left to lose.
He opens the door but stops when Chuckles speaks again.
CHUCKLES (sincerely) Take the money back.
Chris glances back to see Chuckles opening a small safe behind the desk, pulling out a bundle of cash previous payments.
CHUCKLES (CONT'D) I don't want it on my conscience.
Chris's eyes harden.
CHRIS (bitter laugh) Conscience? What a word for a man like yourself.
CHUCKLES (stepping forward) Look, take it back. Go home. Start rebuilding instead of tearing your whole life down.
Chris stares at the money, then meets Chuckles' gaze.
CHRIS (rejecting) Keep it. Buy yourself a new wardrobe.
Without another word, Chris exits, the door closing sharply behind him.
INT. CHUCKLES' OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
Chuckles stands there for a moment, the cash still in his hand. He exhales deeply, frustration etched on his face. Walking back to his desk, he picks up the phone and dials a number.
CHUCKLES (into phone) This is Provost. Subject has disengaged. He listens, nodding slightly.
CHUCKLES (CONT'D) Understood, sir. I'll proceed accordingly.
He hangs up, tossing the cash onto the desk. For a moment, a hint of regret crosses his face. He looks toward the door where Chris exited, then back at the mess of papers photos of Buzzer, maps, surveillance images.
CHUCKLES (whispering to himself) Be careful, Chris.
FADE OUT.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON
The sun casts a warm glow through the windows of the modest suburban home. The sound of a one-sided phone conversation drifts through the quiet house.
CHRIS enters, loosening his tie, fatigue etched on his face. He pauses when he hears LAURA's voice coming from the kitchen, muffled but audible.
LAURA (O.S.) (frustrated, into phone) I've tried talking to him, but he shuts me out....
Chris's brow furrows. He quietly sets his keys down, moving closer to the kitchen doorway, staying just out of sight.
LAURA (CONT'D) (sighs) I can't keep pretending everything's okay. Billy deserves better.
Chris clenches his jaw, a mix of anger and hurt flashing across his face. Before he can step forward, BILLY barrels into the hallway from the living room, clutching his stuffed dinosaur.
BILLY (excitedly) Daddy! You're home!
Chris forces a smile, the tension momentarily melting away.
CHRIS (kneeling down) Hey there, buddy! How's my little man doing?
Billy throws his arms around Chris's neck.
BILLY I played store with Tommy today! I was the shop man, just like you!
Chris chuckles, ruffling Billy's hair.
CHRIS Is that so? Did you sell lots of things?
BILLY (nodding vigorously) Yeah! But Tommy said I was too little to be the boss.
Chris's smile tightens slightly.
CHRIS Well, you tell Tommy that being the boss isn't about size. It's about smarts.
LAURA steps into the hallway, having just ended her call. She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, a touch of apprehension in her eyes.
LAURA (forcing cheerfulness) Hey, you're home early.
Chris stands, picking up Billy.
CHRIS Finished up sooner than I thought. Figured I'd spend some time with my favorite people.
There's a brief, loaded silence. Laura avoids his gaze, busying herself by straightening a picture frame on the wall.
LAURA That's nice. Dinner's almost ready. I was just about to start setting the table.
CHRIS Great. Need any help?
LAURA No, I've got it. Why don't you and Billy wash up?
BILLY (tugging at Chris's sleeve) Come on, Daddy! Let's race to the bathroom!
Chris allows himself to be pulled along, casting a lingering glance back at Laura. She meets his eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – DINING ROOM – EVENING
The family sits around the table. Plates of steaming food are set out, and Billy chatters away about his day.
BILLY ...and then the dinosaur ate all the cookies!
LAURA (smiling softly) Sounds like you had quite the adventure.
Chris watches Laura carefully, noting the distracted way she picks at her food.
CHRIS So, who was on the phone earlier?
Laura's hand stills, her fork hovering above her plate.
LAURA (without turning to face him) Oh, just a telemarketer. You know how they are, always calling at the worst times.
Chris raises an eyebrow. The lie is thin, and they both know it.
CHRIS (tone neutral) A telemarketer, huh?
LAURA (nodding quickly) Yep. Trying to sell us a new cable package.
Billy looks between his parents, sensing the undercurrent but not understanding.
BILLY Mommy, can I have more juice?
LAURA (grateful for the distraction) Of course, sweetheart.
She gets up to fetch the juice. Chris's eyes follow her, his expression unreadable.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Laura pours juice into Billy's cup, her hands shaking slightly. She takes a deep breath, steadying herself.
BACK TO DINING ROOM
Chris continues to eat, the clink of his fork against the plate the only sound. Laura returns, placing the cup in front of Billy.
CHRIS (casually) You seemed pretty involved in that call. Didn't sound like the usual sales pitch.
Laura meets his gaze this time, a hint of defiance in her eyes.
LAURA Well, they can be quite persistent.
A tense silence settles over the table. Billy slurps his juice noisily, oblivious.
CHRIS (deciding not to press further) Right.
He turns his attention back to his food. Laura does the same.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – LIVING ROOM – LATER
After dinner, Chris sits on the couch, flipping through channels without really watching. Laura is in the kitchen, cleaning up. Billy plays on the floor with his toys.
BILLY Daddy, can you play with me?
Chris looks down at his son, forcing a smile.
CHRIS Sure thing, buddy.
He slides off the couch to join Billy, but his eyes keep drifting toward the kitchen where Laura moves about, her back turned to him.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
Laura glances over her shoulder, watching Chris and Billy for a moment. A mixture of sadness and determination crosses her face. She wipes her hands on a towel and heads toward the stairs.
LAURA I'm going to fold some laundry.
CHRIS (calling after her) Need any help?
She pauses on the stairs, not turning around.
LAURA No, I've got it. Thanks.
She continues upstairs. Chris watches her go, a storm of emotions playing across his face.
BACK TO LIVING ROOM
Billy tugs on Chris's sleeve.
BILLY Look, Daddy! The dinosaur is flying!
CHRIS (absentmindedly) That's great, Billy.
Billy notices his father's distraction.
BILLY Are you sad, Daddy?
Chris blinks, focusing on his son.
CHRIS (forcing cheerfulness) No, buddy. Just thinking about grown-up stuff.
BILLY Oh. Can we have ice cream?
Chris chuckles softly.
CHRIS Tell you what, why don't we both get some ice cream?
Billy's face lights up.
BILLY Yay!
They head toward the kitchen together.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS
As Chris scoops ice cream into bowls, he glances upward, as if he could see through the ceiling to where Laura is.
BILLY Can Mommy have some too?
CHRIS (smiles thinly) Maybe later. Let's let her rest.
He hands a bowl to Billy.
CHRIS (CONT'D) Here you go. Don't tell Mommy we're having dessert before bedtime.
Billy giggles.
BILLY Our secret!
They sit at the kitchen table, enjoying the ice cream in companionable silence.
INT. LATTIMER HOUSE – MASTER BEDROOM – NIGHT
Later that night, Chris enters the bedroom. Laura is already in bed, a book open in her hands, but her eyes aren't moving across the page. She looks up as he closes the door behind him.
CHRIS Long day.
LAURA (non-committal) Mm-hmm.
Chris begins to change into his pajamas, the silence between them heavy. After a moment, he glances over at her.
CHRIS I was thinking... maybe we could go out this weekend. Just the two of us.
Laura looks at him skeptically.
LAURA Go out? With what? Things are tight, Chris. How much longer do you want to keep up appearances?
Chris's expression hardens slightly.
CHRIS It's just dinner. We could use a night out.
Laura closes her book, setting it on the nightstand.
LAURA We can't keep pretending everything's fine. You know that, right?
CHRIS (defensive) I don't know what you're talking about.
LAURA (sighs) Why were you so interested in who I was on the phone with earlier?
CHRIS Can't a husband ask his wife who she's talking to?
LAURA You seemed worried. Did you think maybe a bill collector finally figured out how to reach you at home instead of at an office that doesn't exist anymore?
Chris's jaw tightens. He turns away, pulling back the covers on his side of the bed.
CHRIS I don't know what you think you know, Laura, but the only thing you need to know is that I'm taking care of it.
Laura shakes her head, frustration evident.
LAURA Taking care of it? Like you're taking care of everything else? It’s been a downward spiral since Da-
Chris cuts her off at the mention of his brother, his voice dropping to a cold neutrality.
CHRIS I said I'm handling it.
LAURA (softly) Chris...
He cuts her off, climbing into bed.
CHRIS Goodnight, Laura.
She watches him for a moment, then reaches over and turns off her bedside lamp. The room plunges into darkness.
They lie there, side by side but worlds apart, both staring into the void…contemplating things that, so far, remain unspoken.
INT. S-MART – DAY
It's a quiet afternoon at S-Mart. The fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over the neatly stocked shelves. A couple of customers meander through the aisles, browsing without urgency.
CHRIS LATTIMER stands behind the counter, absentmindedly organizing receipts, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.
The soft jingle of the entrance bell draws his attention. EVAN steps inside, not in his usual uniform but dressed in casual attire. His appearance is slightly out of place, and Chris raises an eyebrow.
CHRIS (surprised) Evan? Didn't think you were on the schedule today.
EVAN (nervously adjusting his glasses) Hey, Mr. Lattimer. Yeah, I'm not. I was hoping we could talk for a minute?
CHRIS Sure thing. Slow day anyway.
Evan glances around the store, noting the minimal activity.
EVAN Maybe we could step into the office?
CHRIS (gesturing toward the back) Lead the way.
They make their way to the back. Ever dutiful, Evan stays half in and half out of the office doorway, keeping an eye on the store in case any customers need assistance.
INT. S-MART – BACK OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
The office is modest, cluttered with paperwork and inventory lists. Chris takes a seat behind his worn desk, while Evan remains standing, shifting his weight between his feet.
CHRIS So, what's on your mind?
EVAN (takes a deep breath) Well, I just... I wanted to say that I really appreciate working here. You've been... you've been really good to me.
CHRIS (smiles lightly) I appreciate the hard work you put in. You're a great employee.
EVAN You've had my back, you know? Like with that delivery guy the other day. Not everyone would do that.
CHRIS Just looking out for my team.
Evan nods, fidgeting slightly.
EVAN Sometimes, good guys deserve a break.
CHRIS (curious) What's this about, Evan?
Evan takes a deep breath, pulling out a stack of papers from his backpack.
EVAN I... I wanted to give you these.
He hands the papers to Chris, who looks puzzled.
CHRIS What are these?
Chris begins to flip through them. They are receipts and confirmation letters: "Paid in Full," "Account Closed," from various loan companies including the one from the opening scene.
EVAN I noticed some... notices lying around the office last week. I didn't mean to pry, but I saw the names of some loan companies. I recognized them because, well
Evan trails off, and Chris's eyes widen slightly as he scans the documents, the amounts paid evident.
CHRIS Evan, what did you do?
EVAN (rushing) I wanted to help. You've been so good to me, Mr. Lattimer... like I mattered.
CHRIS This is a lot of money. Where did you get it?
Evan shifts uncomfortably.
EVAN I have a trust fund. It's mine to use as I see fit. So, I used it.
Chris looks at him, a mix of shock and disbelief.
EVAN It's already done. The accounts are settled. I just wanted to help you, the way you've helped me.
Chris leans against the desk, processing this information. He notices the letterhead on one of the documents: a distinctive logo with an elegant "M" intertwined with a crest.
CHRIS (eyeing the logo) Your trust fund... who's managing it?
EVAN (casually) Montgomery Holdings.
Chris's gaze sharpens. He connects the dots, realization dawning.
CHRIS Montgomery Holdings... as in the Montgomery family?
Evan nods modestly.
EVAN Yeah. They're... my family.
A moment of silence hangs between them.
CHRIS I had no idea.
EVAN I don't like to advertise it. I wanted to make my own way, you know?
Chris's mind races, considering the implications.
CHRIS Evan, this is... I don't know what to say.
EVAN You don't have to say anything. Just... let me do this. You deserve a break.
There's a long pause. Chris studies Evan's earnest face, a mix of gratitude and something else flickering in his eyes.
CHRIS (slowly) Alright. Thank you, Evan. This is... incredibly generous.
EVAN (smiles, relieved) You're welcome. I'm glad I could help.
He glances back toward the front of the store.
EVAN (CONT'D) I should get going. Just wanted to let you know.
CHRIS Of course. And, Evan?
EVAN (turns back) Yeah?
CHRIS (with a hint of curiosity) If there's anything else you want to talk about, my door's always open.
EVAN (nods earnestly) Thanks, Mr. Lattimer.
Evan exits the office, heading back into the store. Chris remains seated, the receipts still in his hands. His eyes drift over the documents, the logo of Montgomery Holdings catching his attention.
CHRIS (muttering to himself) Montgomery...
He taps the papers thoughtfully against the desk, the gears turning in his mind. A subtle shift crosses his expression.
FADE OUT.