Z: The Beginning of Everything

I'm Scott Fitzgerald. May I?

Well, that depends.

On what?

On what you got in that flask of yours.

Whiskey.

I'll get you some ginger ale.

I take it straight.

How do you feel about free love?

Free love?

Like Blake or Shelly's concept of?

And Isadora Duncan.

- The dancer. - She was an atheist.

She had two children out of wedlock.

They both died. It was quite tragic.

- I didn't know. - Hmm.

May I?

No, you may not, old bean.

So what about this Isadora Duncan?

Have you ever seen her dance?

No. But I like her style.

She's dark and wild as sin.

Huh. And you?

I'm the only girl in town with style.

I guarantee you that.

Lord, it's so blazing hot.

I don't know how y'all can stand

to wear all that wool

and not want to strip down

and jump in his own creek.

Well, if you promise to join me.

Oh, you think I wouldn't?

Okay, then. Let's go.

You mean tonight? It's almost midnight.

- So? - Zelda,

Daddy's r'aring to go.

I got to scoot.

You can telephone me some time.

Oh, can I?

Judge Anthony Sayre's residence.

Don't take any guff from the operator.

They don't look kindly

on soldiers phoning local girls.

I'm going to be a famous writer some day.

You should know that.

We'll see.

Who's that, Zelda?

Just some boy.

Sayre residence.

Hello.

She's not home, Lieutenant Fitzgerald.

Because I could tell by the sound of your ring.

Sorry, Mr. Fitzgerald. Zelda's not here right now.

No, Lieutenant Fitzgerald. She's not back yet.

Yes. Yes, I'll let her know you called.

Better call after 9

unless you want to antagonize the judge.

I don't know what to tell you. She's...

It's that Fitzgerald boy.

I can't. Not right now.

No. She's not here.

Yes. I'll tell her.

Good Lord, Zelda,

if you're not going to talk to this boy,

release him from your spell.

Spare us from all the constant ringing.

I can't help it if I'm never home.

He's going to give up.

No, he won't.

I sure as heck would.

There's a new picture at the Strand.

Oh, no. I saw it three times.

We haven't been to the arcade for a while.

Miss Sayre!

- Ha ha! - What?

- Uh-oh. - Oh, Lord.

Now don't get awful flushed.

I'm not.

Miss Sayre.

Why, Lieutenant Fitzgerald.

What in heaven's name are you doing here?

I thought you'd be off doing military maneuvers or something.

What brings you to town?

I'm looking for you.

Seems you found me.

I imagine I have Tootsie to thank for that.

Livye Hart, this is Lieutenant Scott Fitzgerald.

How do you do?

Much better now that I've found the elusive Miss Sayre.

I'm hardly elusive,

but life can be so awfully distracting.

In fact, I'm surprised

you even have a moment to chat with us,

given how busy you must be

with all that writing of yours.

Mr. Fitzgerald's going to be a famous writer some day.

Really?

Well, I would be rewriting my novel right now,

but I can't finish it

because I find myself inordinately concerned

with your phone line, Miss Sayre.

No matter how many times I'd call,

somehow I can't seem to find you in.

Sounds like the problem's not the phone line.

What were you calling about anyway?

I know that you're, uh, quite sought after.

But I'm not going to be stationed here forever,

and I need to get to know you better.

Well, what are you doing tonight?

I understand your people

are from up north, Lieutenant Fitzgerald?

Yes, sir.

I hear it's mighty cold up there.

Biscuits?

I will take the cold over this heat

any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

That's a fact. As soon as this war's over,

I'm moving back to New York.

That's where my husband's from.

It gets cold up there, too,

but not nearly as cold as Saint Paul.

So what do your people do up there?

Fail, mostly.

I beg your pardon?

Daddy, this isn't a deposition.

I'm simply asking.

My father was a salesman.

He was never much good at it.

He had a talent for disappointment

that made me even more determined to succeed.

At what?

Scott's a writer, Daddy. I told you that.

And writing is a real job?

- I write poetry. - My point exactly.

And I write a column for the newspaper.

I get a paycheck every week.

Last time I checked, I was still supporting all of you writers.

Well, I guess the only one who does anything of value around here is old Dick.

Now, baby, that's not nice.

How much money do you make anyway, Daddy?

I'm sure Scott would like to know

what a person gets paid to do a real job.

I agree with Judge Sayre.

Writing is not a real job.

Now until you get paid for it.

But I plan on getting paid a lot for it some day.

As soon as Scribner's publishes my first novel.

That's right.

Now, Mark Twain,

he was a millionaire.

And Theodore Dreiser,

they were voices of their generations.

You are going to be our next Mark Twain?

No, sir.

I'm going to be the next F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Well, your father didn't care for me.

Ah, he doesn't care much for any boy that comes courting.

Most boys are too scared to talk to old Dick.

And yet, knowing that,

you threw me right in there anyway.

Well, after the professors of Princeton,

your father is a whoop and a holler. I like him.

If I were the judge, I would lock you in a tower

- like a princess. - He already has.

What do you think Montgomery is?

It's a good place to be from.

No buts about it.

Well, hello, there, Zelda.

Hey, John Sellers. Hi, y'all.

This is Lieutenant Scott Fitzgerald.

You got a cigarette for me, John?

How long you in town for, Lieutenant?

No telling.

I'm expecting my orders any day.

Scott's a writer. That's what he does

when he's not defending

our country's honor.

One of those Yankee highbrows, huh?

I went to college, if that's what you mean.

John Sellers was just telling us

about the new car his daddy just got him.

A Franklin Touring, slick as all get-out.

Cost more than $3,000.

Well, whoop-dee-doo.

Isn't there anything more interesting

to talk about than motorcars?

Lieutenant Fitzgerald's going to think

we're all a bunch of asinine clodhoppers.

The thought never crossed my mind.

Come on. Let's scoot before we get comfortable.

You have a lot of friends.

When I was 6, my mother threw a birthday party for me.

Invited every child in school.

No one came.

- Not even one? - Nope.

Not one.

I ate the entire chocolate cake

all by myself.

And several candles.

Oh, you are a heartless woman, Zelda Sayre.

I'm sorry,