An empty stage except for a large, bare desk. Behind the desk sits a man dressed completely in white. Bach enters. BACH: Is this the complaint department? ANGEL: The complaint department? BACH: Yes. ANGEL: How did you get in here?
The loud sound of a SNORTING. Lights up. Two men sit facing each other at a kitchen table with a BACKGAMMON BOARD between them. Pop, in his forties. Tony, in his twenties. In front of Tony, a MIRROR with a few grains of COCAINE on it. Tony desperately vacuums them up through a STRAW.
Sound of the surf in blackout. Lights up. JAKE, dressed in a TUX, sits on a Malibu beach, an almost depleted bottle of whiskey next to him. His face glows in the light of the setting sun. He stares at the ocean as he takes a final puff, finishes off the bottle and drops the butt into it. ANGEL ENTERS.