Chapter 4 – A Whole Day of Sleep and Monica's Question
Fueled by coffee and sheer determination, Bruce finally finished typing the script just before eight in the morning.
Ruby had been sitting in his living room since seven-thirty, so the last two pages were written with an audience—something Bruce, who preferred working alone in the dark, found incredibly uncomfortable.
"There. Take it." Bruce handed the clipped pages to Ruby.
Ruby flipped through them casually. "No rush—I don't meet with Charles until tomorrow at nine."
Charles was the production manager at Wildcat Pictures.
Bruce stared at her. "You said on the phone I had five days. What day is this?"
Ruby took a leisurely sip of coffee. "Day five. I need to deliver the script to the department meeting at nine tomorrow morning."
"So I actually have all day today?"
"Yep. If I hadn't pushed you, you'd never know how fast you can actually write when you try. You're welcome."
Bruce felt his temper rising. "You realize I stayed up all night because I thought eight a.m. was the deadline?"
"Hey, relax. Remember last time? You were late, and the studio cut your percentage of the VHS sales. Know how many copies that movie sold? Two hundred thousand. At ten cents per tape, that's twenty grand. After my thirty percent, you would've made fourteen thousand. But because you were late, my six and your fourteen both disappeared—you only got the flat fee of eight..."
Bruce cut her off. "I know. You've told me this story a thousand times."
Ruby shrugged. "Fine. I said finish by eight today. Never said that was the actual deadline. You have the contract—don't you read the dates Wildcat gives you?"
She scanned a few more pages, finished her coffee, and stood to leave. "I didn't actually expect you to finish by eight. I came early to drag you out of bed and make you work. Good job, Bruce."
"Get out, Ruby. I'm going to sleep."
At the door, she turned back. "Since you'll skip tomorrow's production meeting like always, I'll pass along any notes. I'm thinking we should add fifteen minutes of 'convenience store freezer action' to the finale."
Bruce waved her off. "Do whatever you want. Polish one turd, you've still got a turd."
Ruby laughed. "Maybe that's our purpose in life—polishing turds. We survive on those turds. Pleasure doing business, buddy."
She left. Bruce dragged himself to the bedroom, pulled the curtains, and collapsed into bed.
Knocking. Persistent knocking pulled him from deep sleep.
Half-awake, Bruce stumbled to the door and opened it.
Monica stood in the hallway, already starting to turn away.
She turned back. "Hi, Bruce. Sorry, did I wake you?"
Bruce rubbed his eyes. "It's fine. What time is it?"
"Five-thirty. How long have you been asleep?"
"I pulled an all-nighter, crashed around eight this morning. Lost track of time."
Monica's eyes widened. "Wow, that's the whole day. Go shower and come downstairs for coffee. I need to talk."
Bruce stepped aside. "Or you could just tell me now."
Monica glanced at his messy living room. "Thanks, but... maybe another time. Go clean up, I'll wait downstairs."
"Okay, I'll be down soon. Wait—downstairs meaning your place or Central Perk?"
Monica paused. "Where do you want to go?"
"Did you make the coffee yourself?"
"Yes!"
"Then I'm coming to your place."
"Great! See you in a few."
After showering and changing, Bruce headed down and knocked. Monica opened the door while the other five sat on the couch watching TV.
"Hey, everybody!"
"Hey, Bruce!" they chorused.
Monica led him to the dining table. "Just made fresh coffee—tell me what you think!"
Bruce sat down and noticed several cut-up credit cards on the table. "Are these Rachel's?"
Monica, mid-pour, stared at him. "Yes. Rachel decided to be independent and stop using the cards her dad pays for. How did you know? Okay, if you can also guess what I'm about to tell you next, you're seriously going to freak me out."
She tossed the card pieces into the trash.
Bruce took a sip. "This is really good. Alright, I don't know what's next—tell me."
Monica studied his face for a moment, then gasped. "Oh my God—you already know!"
"After what I said yesterday, it shouldn't surprise you that I realize you want to talk about your date last night."
"Yes! Everything you said—I should've listened and not gone out with him!"
"Because...?"
"My date, Paul, is a liar. He told me he hadn't slept with anyone in two years. Today at work, I found out he told my coworker the exact same line!"
Joey, still watching TV, burst out laughing and turned around. "I can't believe you fell for that—guys say whatever it takes!"
Monica glared at him. "Shut up, Joey. I didn't realize how low some guys will go."
She turned back to Bruce. "But that's not my point. I want to know: how did you warn me not to go? You told me to talk to my coworker about the date—I did, and that's how I caught him lying. Maybe he's used that line on even more women. Can you really see the future? How does it work?"
By now everyone had stopped watching TV and was waiting for Bruce's answer.
Bruce set down his coffee. "I told you last night—I've got a weird sense about things. Call it intuition, call it whatever you want."
He needed to stick with some version of this story now.
Everyone stared at him in silence. Then Phoebe suddenly asked, "Will I be a dolphin in my next life, or stay human?"
Bruce blinked. "What? No, it doesn't work like that. Just because you ask about the future doesn't mean I can give you a specific answer. It's... how should I put it? I get feelings about things. Understand?"
They kept staring, completely confused.
Bruce continued, "For example, the moment I met you all yesterday, I suddenly had this sense that Monica and Chandler would end up together, that Monica had a date that night, and that going out with Paul was a bad idea. That's as clear as I can make it."
He paused. "So sorry, Phoebe—I have no idea about the dolphin thing."
Monica looked relieved. "Honestly, that's good. If you could predict everything, I'd have to avoid you."
Bruce smiled. "Even when I'm right, people rarely listen—everyone trusts their own judgment until they learn the hard way. Like last night: you still went on the date. So most of the time, my hunches don't matter anyway."
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