YOU (You)

Well, hello there.

Who are you?

Based on your vibe, a student.

Your blouse is loose.

You're not here to be ogled, but those bracelets, they jangle.

You like a little attention.

Okay, I bite.

You search the books. Fiction, "F" through "K."

Now...

Hmm, you're not the standard insecure nymph

hunting for Faulkner you'll never finish.

Too sun-kissed for Stephen King.

Who will you buy?

Sorry.

You sound apologetic, like you're embarrassed to be a good girl,

and you murmur your first word to me.

Hello.

Do you work here?

Guilty.

-Can I help you find something? -Paula Fox.

It's a good choice.

Hmm, I feel weirdly validated.

Follow me.

She's gonna be in here.

"Celebrity authors"? I thought Fox was pretty obscure.

She is Courtney Love's maternal grandmother.

You're not expected to know that.

Good. I didn't.

Mr. Mooney wants anyone in here who's even tangentially famous.

He thinks it sells more books.

That's sad.

People buying books because of what's popular,

and not because they wanna be moved or changed in some way.

Yeah. It's an epidemic.

Yeah, you see this guy? Here, the glasses, behind you.

He just grabbed Dan Brown's latest on the way in.

So he's gonna wander around for another, like, five or ten minutes,

just to find something legitimate to buy with it.

Oh, like the cereal guys buy when they're really there for condoms.

Only makes it more conspicuous. Like, own your shit.

If Dan Brown's your kink, then be out about it.

At the end of the day,

people really are disappointing, aren't they?

Sometimes they surprise you.

-Paula Fox. Top shelf. You want me to... -Oh, no, I got it.

Oh. Are you not wearing a bra?

And you want me to notice.

If this was a movie,

I'd grab you and we'd go at it right in the stacks.

Have you read her fiction? Desperate Characters, it's her best.

That's what I keep hearing.

-You haven't read Desperate Characters? -I know. I know.

I'm worried it's not gonna live up to the hype.

I can safely say it is that good.

That's a high endorsement. And from a bookstore clerk, nonetheless.

Well, it's bookstore manager.

Hello? Anyone working here?

-Asshole. -Mmm...

Whoa.

Do you mind? Uh, I'm in a hurry.

He's just pissed he's gotta buy Salinger to feel respectable

when all he really wants to do is eat Cheetos and jerk it to iPorn

before washing it all down with a Dan Brown chaser.

Have a nice day, sir.

Okay, I'm going for it.

-Good. You won't regret it. -I'd better not.

Paula Fox. Nice.

You know, she was, uh, Courtney Love's maternal grandmother.

That's why I'm buying it.

You have enough cash to cover this, but you want me to know your name.

-"Guinevere"? -Yeah.

My parents were assholes with the whole naming thing.

But everyone just calls me Beck.

And you're Joe...

Goldberg.

Everyone calls me Joe.

Aren't you gonna tell me to have a nice day?

You have a nice day, Beck.

You have one yourself, Joe.

You smiled, laughed at my jokes,

told me your name, asked for mine.

She write her number on there? She was on you hard.

No, she was just being nice.

I'd be googling the hell out of her right now.

You know her full name.

That's pretty aggressive, Ethan.

What do I tell you? Always be closing that shit.

If you need me, I'll be in cookbooks.

But for work. Not for fun. I swear.

At the end of the day, people are really just disappointing, aren't they?

But are you, Beck? Are you?

Yes, people find "the one."

I believe that. I try to stay open.

I was in love once. She broke my heart, Beck.

Ugh, she really did a number on me.

I should've seen the signs.

But we never do when we're in love.

Exhibit A. Claudia and Ron.

I went out for a couple of drinks. Get off my back.

Claudia's a nurse. Single parent.

Leave me alone! You're on your phone...

You think she knew Ron was a shitbag when she fell in love?

No, she thought he was a prince.

Hey, Paco.

'Sup, Joe?

And now,

- hers is not the only life she ruined. - Leave me alone!

Why is coming home such a chore for you?

Is everything cool in there?

Yeah, Mom and Ron are just talking.

You always go out with your friends!

-And I'm sick of it! -Wow.

You are burning through that book, aren't you?

Reads quick. It's good.

Let me know when you finish. I'll get you another one.

Screw you, Ron! Get out of here! Leave me alone.

Are you hungry?

'Cause, you know, I just got this meatball sub,

but I remembered I have Thai from last night.

Nah. My mom will just make me something later.

That's a shame. This won't keep. It's getting tossed.

You sure, Joe?

"All for one and one for all."

The point, Beck... Love is, uh, tricky.

A guy needs to protect himself.

I had to be sure you're safe.

And your name was a glorious place to start.

Not a lot of Guinevere Becks.

And there you were. Every account set to public.

You want to be seen, heard, known.

Of course, I obliged.

Born and raised, Nantucket Island.

A brother, Clyde, and sister, Anya.

Your parents really were assholes about the names.

Your folks split when you were 12. Your dad dropped out of the picture.

Went to Brown where you majored in lit. Cool.

And minored in douchebags. Hmm.

And then on to NYC to conquer an MFA and make your mark, presumably.

Now you still write. Barely.

Too busy living out moments you won't remember five years from now.

I know this because you post about this life all the goddamn time.

Candidly, it's the least appealing thing about you, Beck.

You posted this hours after our encounter.

I was concerned you didn't mention that cute guy in a bookstore.

And then I realized your online life isn't real.

It's a collage.

You paste this Beck up. This...

together, lovable, cute, bendy little creature.

If anything, the fact that you didn't share me with your followers

only confirms we really connected.

The next thing our little friend the Internet gave me was your address.

There it is, with its big, naked windows.

It's nice. Too nice.

I'm thinking subsidized school housing.

Jesus! It's like you've never seen a horror movie or the news.

But you want people to watch, don't you?

You know, I plan on asking you about this quality

when we get to know each other better.

A proposal.

Why don't we spend the day together tomorrow?

Just you and me?

To everyone out there chasing their dreams, don't give up.

And in the meantime, mac and cheese!

It's cute. Not deep. But cute. Is there more to you? Let's find out.

Our day starts at the ass-crack of dawn.

I know from your posted schedule that you teach a 6:30 class

called Get Up N Flow.

You caress the sweaty backs of bulimic, dead-eyed real mommies of SoHo...

I am loving your form today, Tasha.

...offering smiles and lies of encouragement.

By 10:00, you're at campus to TA a Romantics class

and play Vanna White to some shirt.

Morning, Professor Leahy.

I told you, it's Paul. Are you ready for class?

Professor Obvious wants to fuck you.

Now, you're smart. You let him think one day he might.

And what's the harm in that, right?

After class, you head to your favorite café

to write for the first time all day.

But your life doesn't cooperate.

Your wealthy girlfriends have just now woken up,

and have nothing better to do

than plan their next pointless yet instagrammable night.

Can we get real for a second?

You have questionable taste in friends, Beck.

- Cheers! - Yeah!

- Oh, yes. Happy birthday! - Thank you so much.

And expensive taste in lives.

-Ready? -Thank you.

Do you like it?

No, I hate it. Of course I love it!

Jason didn't even get her something that nice,

and Annika finally let him do anal.

- Oh, my God! - Please, please, it was time.

Please open my gift next and tell me how much you hate me then, lady.

A butterfly? It's my spirit animal for the year. You remembered?

Only 'cause you wouldn't shut up about it.

You want so badly to be one of them.

- Happy birthday. - You look so beautiful.

Well, they've got nothing to do after this.