EPISODE 9, SCENE 64:
The Four Looks of Cheap Whiskey

[Setting: Whiteboards covered in lyric scraps, coffee cups everywhere. Lorenzo’s hair brushes well past his shoulders -- in his “full-hippie” mode today. Rickles is parked in a corner with a big bag of trail mix.]

RICKLES (squinting):
Alright, before we get into scene sequencing — are you ever gonna cut that mop?
Or is this the Cheap Whiskey look for this mini-tour?

LORENZO (rubbing his temples):
I dunno, man. Feels like if I cut it now, it’s just…some big symbolic gesture I don’t actually feel yet. 
But if I don’t cut it, it’s like the record’s stuck in the same loop.

KAT (scribbling notes):
Maybe the question isn’t whether you cut it. 
Maybe it’s whether you can stand being seen exactly as you are.

RICKLES (mouth full):
Or maybe you’re overthinking a fuckin’ haircut. 
You look like if Tom Petty and Jesus had a baby that quit the band to open a vape shop.

[Lorenzo tries to glare, but cracks up in spite of himself.]

CASEY (amused):
Sixteen straight days of caffeine and Google Docs, and this is where we land.

RICKLES:
I’m just saying — when you go ponytail, you look like a divorced magician.
When you go bandana, you look like you’re auditioning for Survivor: Kalamazoo.
Hair down, you look like the Unabomber’s cheerful cousin.

LORENZO (laughing harder)
[pulls shoulder-length hair behind both ears]
And if I wear it like this?

RICKLES:
…if you tuck it behind both ears like that, you look like you’re about to give a TED Talk on hemp farming.

[Lorenzo laughs again, harder this time, has to look away.]

CASEY (turning to Dr. Kat):
What’s that mean — laughing so hard like that when the dude’s mocking him directly?

KAT (calm):
It means he’d rather laugh than admit he feels exposed. 
It’s safer to let it be funny than let it be true.

[Lorenzo takes a breath, finally sits back down.]

LORENZO (quieter now):
Actually, I’m laughing because this man is funny. I don’t care who ya are.
You’re fucking funny, Rickles! 
That’s why I love ya. 
I’m just glad you’re part of our awesome writing team…

LORENZO (begins to stand, leans into Kat):
… and not a personal friend.

CASEY:
So…you deciding about your hair before the mini-tour? Or letting it ride?

LORENZO (leaving for bathroom):
If I haven’t cut it by concert day, that’s the story. Ponytail, bandana, whatever….

We’ll call it …. The Four Looks of Cheap Whiskey!

[Everyone nods. Rickles looks smug, Lorenzo still half-smiling.]

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 65:
We Never See Lorenzo Rehearse

[Setting: Practice space, lyric boards everywhere. Kat's on the couch, Casey typing. Lorenzo is pacing, half-engaged. They're working on the ditty “Don’t Wanna Hate My Own Song,” and Lorenzo starts getting picky.]

LORENZO (mock-grumbling):
See, that’s the problem with karaoke.
You get your one brave song, maybe two, then people start going ‘Sing that one again!’
And I’m like… No. I hate singing the same song over and over.

CASEY (pausing, amused):
Wait. Is that why we raely see you rehearsing for the tour?

[Lorenzo freezes mid-stride.]

LORENZO (caught):
…Shit. Busted.
After I sing a song a few times, brother, I start resenting it.
I love Please Call Me Lorenzo.
Now I’m afraid I’m gonna hate it by Friday.

CASEY:
You used to toke in your car between karaoke songs, too, didn’t you?
Timed your buzz. Made sure the high hit right as they called your name.

LORENZO (laughing, a little defensive): 
It’s called precise-buzz timing. It’s science.

LORENZO:
I’m not scared of singing. I’m scared of emptying myself into a song… and then having to do it again. And again. Until it means nothing.
That’s the curse of rehearsal — no surprise.
I need the edge, the almost-fall.

CASEY (gently): 
So you’d rather ghost your own tour than feel hollow onstage?

RICKLES (walking in):
Oh, just buy me a damn wig and a tophat.
I’ll lip-sync the whole fuckin’ tour.

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 66:
Mr. Tambourine Man

[Setting: Early band rehearsal space. Lorenzo shows up with a duffel bag and something that jingles. The crew’s been gathered for hours. The vibe’s warm, unhurried. Lorenzo is seated at the edge of the couch, shaking a tambourine — not to the beat. On purpose.]

RICKLES (holding a lime La Croix like it’s moonshine):
You’re not even playing in the groove, champ.

CASEY (grinning):
Rickles, the pocket’s where the amateurs live.

[Kat tilts her head — impressed.]

CASEY (not looking up):
That little roll thing you do with your thumb? Pure swagger.

LORENZO:
It was all I had on some nights.
Couldn’t sing for shit — but I could make people feel like something was happening.

RICKLES: 
I’ve seen funerals with more rhythm than you, champ.

LORENZO (grinning, riffing now):
It was just… my way in.
Even if I hated the first few notes — bad song, worse singer — if I had a good buzz and a tambourine in hand, I’d usually find the groove.
Start diggin’ it.
Support the singer.

KAT (softly):
You were helping the crowd enjoy watching karaoke.
Not just doing it.

LORENZO:
Exactly. You spend way more time watching karaoke than singing it.
Why not try to make it more fun for everyone?

CASEY:
That’s the INFJ way, right?
You don’t just perform. You anchor the energy.

RICKLES (still confused but impressed):
I mean… yeah. But who brings their own tambourine to a bar?

LORENZO:
No one ever asked me to stop.
Plenty asked me why I wasn’t playing during their song.

KAT:
Did you really compete in tambourine contests?

LORENZO:
Sure did. I was the #7-ranked tambourine player nationally, at one time.

KAT:
And where are you ranked currently?

LORENZO:
They don’t really do full rankings anymore.
Not enough sponsors. Not enough tournaments.

RICKLES:
Tragedy. The world loses a true artist in his prime.

CASEY (amused):
I’ve seen him turn a shitty Billy Joel cover into a full-room revival.
With nothing but syncopation and sincere eyebrows.

LORENZO:
And every now and then?
Some drunk gal would lean over and whisper,
‘Play that for my song next time.’
And I’d be like: ‘Yes ma’am. God bless karaoke.’

[They all laugh.]

LORENZO:
Let’s just say, if I’m sitting there with a nice buzz, and I don’t automatically reach for my tambourine -- you probably picked a shitty song.

RICKLES:
Oh, come on, Tambourine King.
Some songs just don’t need your … shake of approval.

CASEY:
If Lorenzo doesn’t pick up the tambourine by the first chorus, you’ve failed him.

LORENZO (mock-serious):
That’s sacred. Put that one in bold.

CASEY:
You do have serious rhythm, brother.

RICKLES:
And zero trophies that don’t say ‘second place.’

[Everyone goes quiet a second.]

**FLASHBACK**
[Lorenzo’s house, a few months earlier]

[Setting: Soft light through blinds. Lorenzo is in the next room taking a call.
Kat and Casey wander into a converted den — instruments, stacked notebooks, a faint scent of cinnamon whiskey.]

KAT (whispering):
Look at this… “299.” Bowling?

CASEY (laughs quietly):
One pin away from perfection. Of course.

[They move along the shelf: Softball runner-up trophy. Second-place Best Columnist plaque. Runner-up in Karaoke Contest. Then their eyes find it — a gleaming gold tambourine mounted in glass, inscription barely visible: “National Tambourine Open — 2nd Place.”

KAT:
You ever wonder what happens when you’re always almost there?

CASEY (soft smile):
You start making second place look sacred.

[They both chuckle — fond, a little sad.]

LORENZO (voice carries from the next room):
Hey, you guys ready?
Can we bring the dog? Morgan’s my good-luck charm!

[Lorenzo grins, unaware of what the others know now. He gives the tambourine a playful shake — jingle-jingle — as if answering fate’s punchline.]

SCENE 67:
Both Left a Dent

[DR. KAT BLOOM’S OFFICE — LATE AFTERNOON]

Lorenzo sits across from Kat, hat tipped low, hands folded loosely.
He looks calm, but the “INFJ tightness” is there — the guarded posture.

Kat studies him with that serene, therapist half-smile.

KAT:
You’ve mentioned trust a few times this month.
Whenever we start talking about confidence, the topic… slides sideways.
So let me ask plainly:
How’s your heart doing?

Lorenzo scoffs softly.

LORENZO:
My heart is… retired.
On a Florida pension plan.
Taking long naps.

Kat doesn’t laugh. She just waits.

Lorenzo sighs.

LORENZO:
Fine. I’ll answer like a grown-up.
I’ve had two real relationships in my life — long ones.
Both ended rough.
Both when my health tanked.
Both left a… dent.
Or a crater.
Depends on the lighting.

Kat nods gently.

KAT:
And after Myra?

Lorenzo winces.

LORENZO:
A mess.
I wasn’t ready.
Thought I was — nope.
Dated someone for a minute.
She tells me, “We’re not compatible.”
And instead of arguing or asking what she meant—
(shrugs)
I just agreed with her.
Because she was right.

KAT:
Why was she right?

LORENZO:
Because I’m INFJ.
We’re not built for casual.
We’re built for deep, long-term connection…
which is great on paper, until real people get involved.

KAT:
That sounds like fear talking.

LORENZO:
It is. And it’s also experience talking.
I feel things too strong, too long.
I don’t bounce back like other people.
So when I got hurt… twice…
I told myself:
“Enough. I’m done chasing romance.”
And you know what?
It actually brought me peace.

Kat leans forward just a bit — therapist body language for I’m coming closer emotionally, not interrogating you.

KAT:
And do you miss it?

A long pause. Lorenzo looks down at his hands.

LORENZO:
Sometimes.
But peace beats heartache.
And love, for me, always ended in heartache.

Kat writes something small on her pad.

KAT:
So right now, you’re choosing safety.

LORENZO (smiles sadly):
Creative work. Friendships. 
Music. The Writers’ Room.
That’s my life now. That’s where my energy goes.
Safer that way.

KAT:
You’re not closed.
You’re healing.

LORENZO:
Maybe.
But let’s not rush it.

Kat nods — respecting the boundary without endorsing the fear.

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 68:
Cheap Whiskey’s About To Get Expensive

[Setting: deBos Headquarters. Phones ringing. Posters of washed-up acts. Clem Farmer leans back, eating a Pop-Tart, scrolling through his laptop.]

CLEM:
Well I’ll be dipped in Fireball…
(leans closer)
Hot Damn & Cheap Whiskey just cracked #26 on Billboard.

deBOS (on speaker):
You’re kidding.

CLEM:
Not unless my migraine’s hallucinating.
Up from #68 last week, #18 in airplay —
and the damn B-side’s climbing faster.

deBOS:
Who names a song Grief’s Got Five Names — and makes it catchy?

CLEM:
Grief resonates, Chief.
People are tired of pretending they’re fine.
It’s not poetry, it’s positioning.
They’re authentic. Old. Unmarketable. Perfect.

deBOS:
Line up radio interviews.
Small markets first — ones that still believe in second chances. 
Build the tour schedule further.

CLEM:
You’re serious?

deBOS:
Cheap Whiskey’s about to get expensive, Clem.
Let’s make sure they don’t realize it yet.

[He turns up the volume; “Grief’s Got Five Names” echoes softly as lights fade.]

[Clem smirks, hits dial.]

CLEM (into phone):
Cheap Whiskey, you sittin’ down?
You’re about to learn the difference between “indie success” and “answering your phone every five minutes.”

[CUT TO: Morgan barking in celebration as Lorenzo fumbles with the speakerphone. Everyone crowds around like kids watching fireworks.]

CASEY:
That’s officially “buzzing.”
The kind of buzzing where publicists pretend they always believed in you.

RICKLES:
Or they just like the word “whiskey.”

LUNDY:
Or “Hot Damn.”

LORENZO:
Or irony. The universe is just rewarding irony.

KAT (grinning):
Whatever it is — don’t question grace.
Ride it.

Morgan barks, perfectly on cue. Laughter.

CASEY (typing):
Alright — press release draft:
“Hot Damn & Cheap Whiskey climbs the charts fueled by emotional honesty, dog hair, and mild caffeine addiction.”

RICKLES:
Print it. Frame it. Send it to deBos.

[FADE OUT]

SCENE 69:
Teleprompter Confession

[Setting: Small rehearsal space, mid-afternoon. Guitar amps hum. Lorenzo sings half-heartedly, then stops mid-chorus.]

LORENZO:
I can’t keep singing the same songs, Kat.
I wrote ’em, I love ’em… but after the fifteenth run-through, my soul starts checking email.

KAT (smiling):
That’s called rehearsal.

LORENZO:
That’s called purgatory.
Just give me a teleprompter, like karaoke nights.
At least then I can pretend it’s spontaneous.

KAT:
You realize professional singers rehearse more, not less, before a tour?

LORENZO:
Who said I was “professional”?
I’m a recovering perfectionist with a vape and a prayer.

[He laughs too loud; it’s half-nerves, half-truth.]

KAT:
You’re anxious.

LORENZO:
I’m terrified I’ll get bored before the audience does.

[Morgan barks at Lorenzo’s feet — a perfect rim-shot.]

KAT:
Then let’s make the set feel alive.
Swap verses, improvise intros, talk to the crowd.
You don’t need a script. Just permission.

LORENZO (softly):
Permission’s harder than lyrics sometimes.

KAT:
And the part of you that still wants to write?

LORENZO:
Oh, he’s screaming.
The tour’s a parade for songs that already happened.
Writing’s the only place I still feel new.

KAT:
Then write during the tour. Journal, improvise lyrics between shows.
Turn motion into meaning instead of fear.

LORENZO (half-smile):
That’s the problem with you therapists.
You always find the door in the wall.

KAT:
And you always decorate the wall first.

[They laugh, softly human again.]

LORENZO:
I just don’t know how to fake that feeling. 
Rehearsal feels like pretending to feel it.
That’s how you kill a song.
I never wanted to become a tribute act to my own pain.

SCENE 70:
***MUSICAL NUMBER: Don’t Wanna Hate My Own Song***

[FADE OUT]

[END of EPISODE 9]