EPISODE 11, SCENE 77:
My Diary to a Rock Beat

[Setting: Writers Room, midnight. One lamp glows over the table. No lyrics on the walls yet — just stacks of notebooks and a laptop showing a blank page. Lorenzo sits slumped, scrolling through his phone, shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for impact.]

LORENZO:
Maybe I should’ve never allowed the world to read my damn diary — to a rock beat?

KAT:
That’s not new.

LORENZO:
No, but back then it was hypothetical.
Now there’s a contract, a tour, deBos calling every other sunrise, asking for something “radio friendly.”
I just wanted healing.
He wants a brand.

KAT:
It’s worth it when it helps someone else.
(pauses)
You’re losing sleep again.

LORENZO:
And hair. The mirror’s staging a rebellion.

KAT:
That’s stress, not vanity.

LORENZO (low):
You wanna see something sad?

He turns the phone so Kat can read.

TEXTS ON SCREEN:
Is he okay?
Has he lost it?
It’s too much. Too weird. Too desperate.

[He sets the phone down, rubs his face.]

LORENZO (voice cracking):
And our TV pilots are so controversial, too.
But what is fiction?
Isn’t it mostly empathy?
The courage to step into somebody else’s shoes and tell that story—
even if they don’t exist?
It’s fiction.
Well… semi-fiction.

[Silence. Kat nods.]

KAT (gently):
Exactly. Fiction is the rehearsal space for the heart — a safe place to try on the truth.

[Lorenzo exhales. His eyes flutter closed, too tired to keep them open.]

KAT (softly, almost to herself):
You know, you’re allowed to care this much.
You’re allowed to want it to matter.
Even if they don’t understand it yet.

[She glances at Casey. Lorenzo is asleep, breathing slow.]

KAT (even softer):
And you’re allowed to rest.
That part’s not optional, Lorenzo.

[Kat watches the night through the window a long moment, then lets the words come out in a voice barely above a whisper—half lullaby, half poem.]

[Kat sings her privately-written song in a Whisper]

You didn’t crack — you hatched
You broke the cage you never chose
You didn’t snap — you scratched
Through every scar that no one knows
Let ’em say you lost your way
I’ve watched you fight for every patch
You didn’t crack — you hatched.

Call it madness, call it grace
Call it whatever gets you through
But darling, I have seen your face
And there’s nothing left to prove.

[She wipes her eyes, one more look to be sure Lorenzo’s still sleeping.]

You didn’t crack — you hatched.

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 78:
Prayer Set to a Power Chord

[SETTING: Marv deBos’s office — morning light through the glass, brutal as always. 

A wall monitor shows:
“Better Than I Prayed For -- Debut #118”
“Jesus Bootcamp — Out of Rotation.”

[Clem scrolls charts. Lorenzo and Casey sit opposite deBos, who’s already pacing.]

deBOS:
You two realize we just doubled down on another spiritual rock anthem after Jesus Bootcamp belly-flopped?
I’ve seen softer sermons in biker bars.

LORENZO:
That one was actually your call, Marv.

deBOS:
Details. I’m the label. You’re the talent.
Talent’s supposed to have instincts.
What was this — your Aerosmith goes to Sunday school phase?

CASEY:
We were aiming for “redemption with distortion.”
Apparently that’s still a niche market.

deBOS:
You think radio’s gonna play a prayer set to a power chord?

LORENZO:
We’ll see. Miracles test well in Q4.

deBOS:
Don’t get cute, Cheap Whiskey.
Next time, maybe try another hook about whiskey.

[He turns to Casey.]
You two introverts don’t actually believe your ‘Isn’t It Ironic’ pilot is going to work, do you? Seriously?
You two can barely keep one act together.

CASEY:
Just a concept deck. Five shorts. Probably nothing.

deBOS (rolling his eyes):
Yeah. And I’m the sixth Beatle.
Stick to the album, gentlemen.
Leave the irony to the internet.

[Phone buzzes on Clem’s phone.]

CLEM:
Chart update just hit.
“Better Than I Prayed For” jumped twenty-three spots overnight.

deBOS (blinks):
That’s a typo. Refresh it.

CLEM (reading):
Nope. Trending on both streaming and Classic Rock Weekly.
They quoted Steven Tyler about the two sound-alike vibes.
He said— (checking notes):

“It sounds like someone’s been drinkin’ my riffs with holy water.
As long as they spell Aerosmith correctly on the royalty checks, I’m cool with it.”

[Silence. Lorenzo and Casey exchange a tiny smile.]

LORENZO:
So… still want me to wear the cowboy hat?

deBOS (scowling):
Just make sure it fits the crown.

(turns to Clem):
deBOS:
Let’s get a quick Press Release out immediately:
”Mr. Tyler is a national treasure and, we hope, a future collaborator.
Cheap Whiskey pays homage, not plagiarism.”

SCENE 79:
Album-Cut Redemption

[Setting: Lorenzo’s living room, half-dark, Morgan curled up beside him.]

RADIO DJ (Voice-Over):
Next up, a surprise climber from Cheap Whiskey’s debut album —
Better Than I Prayed For.

[Lorenzo scratches Morgan’s ears; the song begins — same rasp, softer faith.]

RADIO DJ (V.O.):
Classic Rock Weekly calls it “a Jesus-rocker for people who don’t do Jesus rock.”

[Montage — fans online posting lyrics, homemade covers,
church youth group rehearsal clips.]

RADIO DJ (V.O.):
They said it was a throwaway track.
Turns out Heaven has a long memory.

LORENZO (to Morgan):
You realize you heard every one of these before the world did.

[Morgan tilts her head.]

LORENZO (laughs softly):
And you still stuck around.

[He turns the radio up, leans back; the chorus swells through the quiet house.]

[Lorenzo sorts through several newspapers Kat provided for him.]
AMONG THE HEADLINES:

“Faith Restores Cheap Whiskey’s Buzz.”
“Banned Band Finds Salvation in Deep Cut.”
“Track 11 was never meant for daylight -- but the fans found it at night.”

LORENZO:
I guess the gospel doesn’t need much marketing.

SCENE 80:
We Already Printed the Posters

[Setting: Marv deBos’s office, Casey and Kat seated nearby. Lorenzo’s sitting across from deBos, looking cornered.]

CASEY (Voice-Over):
Marv deBos is beginning to learn that Lorenzo Champion was a miracle —
but a fragile one.

[Inside the meeting:]

deBOS:
So you can’t sing and play percussion.
Fine. We’ll fake it.
What else?
Tell me something good, dammit, Cheap Whiskey.

LORENZO (lowers eyes):
Maybe now isn’t a great time to mention I do get… performance anxiety at times.
Like, real anxiety — if people are watching.
I was amazed I ever got past it for karaoke.
This — this is a little different.

deBOS (eyes bulging):
You’re joking.

LORENZO (flexing and unflexing left hand):
Wish I was.
And lately the stress is creating arthritis in my hands—

deBOS:
Perfect.
A tambourine champ who can’t shake and a singer who can’t move his fingers.

KAT:
Marv, take a breath.

CASEY:
We can scale back the set—

deBOS (overheated, trembling):
Scale back?!
He’s under contract!
The tour is the brand!

LORENZO:
Look, I’m not trying to be difficult.
I just… freeze sometimes. If I feel watched.
Karaoke was different — I was buzzed, no expectations.
This? Lights, cameras, contracts…

deBOS (boiling):
We’re weeks from launch, Cheap Whiskey!

KAT:
Marv—

deBOS:
No, no, let him finish his confession!

LORENZO (small voice):
Maybe we don’t have to do it.
The tour, I mean.

[Silence. Everyone freezes.]

deBOS (call-me-insane laugh):
That’s adorable.
You think fame’s optional now.
Newsflash — we already printed the posters.

[Casey shoots Lorenzo a look: “we’ll fix this later.”]

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 81:
Please, Call Me Lorenzo

[Setting: Marv deBos office, midnight. Billboard monitor glowing: “Better Than I Prayed For – #2.” Empty champagne flutes. A plaque on the wall reads CHEAP WHISKEY – GOLD CERTIFIED.]

deBOS:
Alright, miracle boy. What’s the next album?
We keep the Cheap Whiskey train rollin’?
Album 2 still on schedule?

LORENZO:
Almost wrapped. Masters next week.

deBOS:
Beautiful. I love a punctual prophet.
So what’s the first single?

LORENZO:
It’s called Please Call Me Lorenzo.

[deBos freezes mid-sip, eyes narrowing.]

deBOS:
You’re joking. Nobody knows you as Lorenzo.
You are Cheap Whiskey.

LORENZO:
Yeah, because you keep calling me that.
My name’s been Lorenzo the whole damn time.

deBOS (shrugs):
It’s branding, Cheap Whiskey.
Springsteen’s the Boss. You’re Cheap Whiskey.
It’s folk mythology with a UPC code.
It’s part of the myth.

LORENZO (snaps):
Who calls Springsteen “Boss” to his face?
You call him Bruce.

deBOS:
Okay… okay. Fine. What’s the album called then?

LORENZO:
Please Call Me Lo--

deBOS (chokes on sip):
That’s not a brand, that’s a midlife crisis!
Nobody buys tickets for a guy reinventing his first name!

LORENZO:
Then maybe they’ll buy honesty.
Cheap Whiskey was the mask; this one’s the man.

deBOS:
You drop that moniker, we lose recognition.
That’s marketing suicide.

LORENZO:
Or resurrection.
Depends on who’s counting.

[They lock eyes. Neither wants to blink.]

deBOS:
Take it easy—

LORENZO (louder):
Don’t “take it easy” me, Marvin!
Every time I walk in here it’s “Cheap this, Whiskey that.”
You’ve never once said my name, no matter how many times I’ve asked.
Please Call Me Lorenzo — that’s not a title, Marv.
That’s a cry for recognition.

[Silence. deBos looks rattled but won’t give ground.]

deBOS:
You done?
Because I’ve got four casino tour dates waiting to see Cheap Whiskey on the marquee.

[Lorenzo’s fury drains; now he’s just tired.]

LORENZO:
Right.
Contract.
Thanks for reminding me.

[He grabs the contract folder off the desk and walks out. deBos calls after him.]

deBOS:
Hey, whatever you call yourself, just don’t tank the brand!

[Door slams.]

[Setting: Writers Room next morning. Lorenzo drops the previously-signed contract on the table in front of Casey and Kat.]

LORENZO:
Tell me how stuck I am.

[Casey studies the contract for several minutes, and looks Lorenzo squarely in the eyes.]

CASEY:
Minimum four appearances.
If Marv wants to be a prick, he can hold you to every one.

LORENZO (mutters):
Four gigs in four hells.
I’ll choke ‘em down… then I’m free.

[He looks down at Morgan curled in her chair.]

LORENZO (softly):
We’ll get through it, girl.
Just four. 
For now.

[Camera lingers on Morgan’s eyes — knowing, loyal — before fading to black.]

SCENE 82:
The Inventory

[Setting: The Writers Room looks lived-in now: half-empty coffee cups, lyric piles coded with sticky notes, Morgan curled up in the middle of it like a furry paperweight. Guitar loops hum softly through the monitors.]

[Enter NICK DELANEY – the co-producer deBos sent to help weeks ago. Hoodie, headphones around his neck, clipboard full of scribbles.]

NICK DELANEY:
You two ever sleep?

LORENZO:
Only during playback.

NICK (grinning):
Good. Because this might keep you awake.
I’ve been living with your stems for three weeks now.
Half the files named “track_wtf_finalFINAL.”
I thought I’d heard everything — 
then you drop this cache on me.

LORENZO:
The pre-III stuff? Yeah, we shelved those when the detour hit.

NICK:
You didn’t shelve them, you buried treasure.
These aren’t demos—there are full rhythm-section takes in here.
Session players, background vocals — halfway mixed!

CASEY:
We were on a roll until Isn’t It Ironic stole our oxygen.
Guess we forgot we were productive before the storm.

NICK (scrolling on laptop):
You realize you’ve got fully tracked sessions in here?
Bass, drums, background vocals — pro stuff.
Some of it’s mixed, some halfway.

LORENZO:
We figured we’d circle back once the smoke cleared.

NICK (laughs):
So you didn’t just write the next record — you accidentally recorded half of it.

LORENZO:
We’re efficient procrastinators.

NICK (laughing, dialing phone):
You’re not behind schedule—you’re sitting on a banquet.
What are we waiting for?

CUT TO – SPLIT SCREEN

Left: Nick pacing the hall, phone to ear.
Right: Marvin deBos Jr., in his office, half-listening, half-calculating.

NICK (into phone):
Hey Boss deBos — incredible news.
These guys are sitting on an abundance.
Album Two’s basically wrapped — whatever they end up calling it —
and there’s enough gold for Album Three already tracked.
Maybe another decent one close behind.

deBOS:
Then tell ’em November 1st deadline still stands.
If they’ve got the gold, I’ll mint the coins.

[Nick hangs up, sheepish grin.]

NICK:
Congrats, boys. You just bought yourselves a deadline.

LORENZO:
Deadlines we can handle.
Bosses… still debating.

CASEY:
Let’s finish it by Halloween, master by November 1st.
Trick or treat, Joyous Sadsack.

SCENE 83:
All My Exes Return To Exes

[Setting: Late-night Writers Room. Empty pizza box, two cold mugs, whiteboard scrawled “Album 2 — Please Call Me Lorenzo?” circled ten times. Morgan snoring under the table.]

CASEY:
Marvin deBos actually told us, “We need a song that smells like diesel fuel and heartbreak!”

LORENZO (half-laughing):
Maybe we just give Marv what he wants for once — a straight-up country tune.

CASEY (laughing, jotting notes):
So… beer, trucks, and a little self-loathing?
We can do that.

LORENZO:
You do realize we sorta already gave deBos a country song, right?

CASEY:
Jesus Bootcamp. Johnny Cash tempo. Steel-string salvation.

LORENZO:
Exactly. Worked out great—for his brand.
Our chart? Not so much.

CASEY:
So… appeasement track?
We give him one country song that bleeds sincerity through sarcasm.

LORENZO:
Exactly. One twangy throw-away so he’ll leave us alone.
But if we’re writing country, we’re doing it our way.
A wink, not a bow.

CASEY:
Something he can’t tell whether to market or apologize for.

LORENZO:
I’m okay with it, honestly.
(smirks)
But just watch — he’s gonna ask me to wear a damn cowboy hat for this one.

(leans back, guitar on lap)
Problem is we’re writing “in-the-style-of” but I’m not all that familiar with too many Country Western styles -- Johnny Cash, Roger Miller, George Strait — a few others.
Do you?

CASEY:
Not unless “existential twang” counts as a genre.

LORENZO (laughs):
George Strait wrote about all his exes living in Texas.
I do know most of my exes went back to their exes.
That seems even more ironic, yes?

[Casey freezes mid-note, looks up.]

CASEY (nodding):
That’s the hook right there, brother — country truth with an INFJ wink.

KAT (smiling, half-groan):
Oh Lord, it’s catchy already.
That’s it. That’s the title.
George Strait wrote about where they live —
you’re writing about where they run back to.

CASEY (still nodding):
You just handed deBos a marketing plan.

[Lorenzo grins, plucks a slow, easy riff.]

[They lock eyes, knowing this “throw-away” might cut deeper than either planned.] 

LORENZO (starts strumming, softly singing):
“All my exes go back to exes…
(pauses, eyes glassy)
…and I still write ’em songs professional.”

LORENZO (half-smile):
A love letter to everyone who left me for someone they already once left.

CASEY:
Perfect. Make it funny enough to sell, true enough to sting.

[Silence. Tears stream down Lorenzo’s face. Morgan lifts her head.]

CASEY (soft):
Guess we found the heart of it.

LORENZO (wiping his eyes):
Alright, brother — let’s give him a chart-topper and a therapy bill.

CASEY:
That’s why we write together, brother.
Even the jokes tell on us.

[Lorenzo wipes his eyes again, laughs at himself.]

LORENZO (softly):
Easy-Cry Lorenzo strikes again.
I get that from my mother.

CASEY (shrugs):
Guess parody and therapy share the same chords.

LORENZO:
Yeah. But don’t tell Marv he made me cry twice.

[Phone buzzes on the table. “DEBOS CALLING.” They groan.]

LORENZO (into phone, pretending cheer):
Marv! You caught us mid-inspiration.

deBOS (speakerphone):
Perfect! Don’t stop!
I want authentic cowboy energy, Cheap Whiskey!
Try it with a grin — something like “yee-haw, but spiritual.”

[Lorenzo glances at Casey, deadpan. Sighs, then sings mock-earnestly into the phone.]

LORENZO (singing):
“All my exes go back to exes…”

deBOS (on speaker):
That’s gold, baby! That’s your next single!
I can hear the fiddle already!

[Kat leans toward Casey.]

KAT:
You also just gave him a demo he’ll misuse for six months.

[Lorenzo ends the call with a tap and sets the phone down. Silence. He laughs — but his eyes glisten.]

[Lorenzo wipes his eyes, shakes his head, half-smiling through it.]

[Casey hits record. Lorenzo strums the opening chords. Camera pans slowly across the room — Kat mouthing “oh no, it’s actually beautiful.”)

FADE INTO SONG:
“Jesus keeps revealing all these patterns…”

SCENE 84:
***MUSICAL NUMBER: “All My Exes Go Back To Exes”***

[END OF EPISODE 11] 

All My Exes Go Back to Exes

Performed by: Cheap Whiskey, in the style of George Strait)

(half-spoken drawl, half-smile twang):
Jesus keeps revealing all these patterns…
Ol’ Lorenzo might have to go full-Country this time.

Ex-wife parties with her high-school flame
Married him like nothin' ever changed
Left me with some pills, some pain
And a fire that still don't fade.

‘Nother Ex ends up back on their farm
Son got divorced, at least she stayin’ warm
I ain’t sure — she won’t say much
But I still sometimes recall her karaoke touch.

Chorus: 
Yeah, all my Exes go back to their Exes
While I pace these spiritual stretches
With a dog and a vape and a ghost or two
Tryin' to unlearn what I thought I knew.

‘Nother lady kissed me on our first damn date
We sang ‘I love you’ with McCartney’s gait
Then she vanished like a twist of fate --
Back to her Ex’s estate.

‘Nother gal ran a blues bar down on Main
Once loved a man with a crooked grin and a hurricane
Gave him two chances, both went south
Said she’d never let that fool back in the house.

Chorus: 
But all my Exes go back to their Exes
They say it's love but it's just reflexes
I'm the highlight reel in the breakup blur
The warm-up act before returning to him -- or her.

‘Nother dame swore she once found The One
Fifty years young and her race was run
“All my friends approve — this is him for sure”
Then ghosted her heart, left it insecure
Next thing I know — scrollin’ Facebook late —
There’s my girl smilin’, back with her fate.

I guess I got the curse... or the grace
To be the guy they date before they head back to base
Like a tune-up, like a good ol' test
I’m not the keeper, I’m just the guest.

They say the heart wants what it recognizes
Even if it burns in different sizes
So I light a candle, cue the next confessional
Yeah, all my Exes go back to Exes
And I still write 'em songs professional.

Bridge: 
(half-spoken, half-smile):
A love letter to everyone who left me
For someone they already once left.
Yeah, irony’s got a twang if you listen close.

So I raise my glass to recycled flames
To the almosts, the sparks, the infamous names
Yeah, I’m the artist of their in-between
The chapter you skip, but the footnote’s kinda mean.

(fade with fiddle & pedal-steel riff)