INT. CAFEALGARVE – EAST VANCOUVER – NIGHT
Warm lights. Soft Fado in the background. A rainy glow through the window.
JOE JUKIC sits across from NELLY FURTADO, a notebook full of scribbles, ideas, and half-finished slogans in front of him. He looks exhausted—but determined.
Nelly watches him with that mix of affection and worry that only someone who has known you for years can pull off.
JOE
(leans forward, voice low, raw)
Nell… being your entertainment agent, running your fan page… it’s a pride-swallowing siege that I will never, ever fully tell you about.
He cracks a half-smile, Jerry Maguire style—tired, human, honest.
NELLY
(soft laugh)
That bad, huh?
JOE
Worse.
You ever try fighting trolls with one hand, while trying to make art with the other?
It’s like singing “Powerless” while someone is unplugging the mic.
But I do it because you deserve the real space.
A space where people talk like grownups…
A space that lifts you up, not tears you down.
He takes a breath—this is the pitch he’s been holding inside.
CUT TO:
INT. SMALL PRIVATE INDUSTRY ROOM – LATER THAT WEEK
Joe stands in front of a group of entertainers—singers, actors, indie creators—like Jerry Maguire giving his mission-statement speech.
They’re half-curious, half-cynical.
Joe steps forward with the conviction of a man who has been through it.
JOE
We can build something groovy.
We can build something fun.
A place where you can actually talk to your fans—
without getting buried by trolls, bots, or drama merchants.
A place where YOU approve the comments.
You set the tone.
You reclaim your own digital house…
And no one storms the gates unless you say so.
He looks around, pleading for one spark of belief.
JOE
We don’t need chaos for engagement.
We don’t need cruelty for clicks.
I’m telling you—there’s a better way to run your world.
And I’m already building it for Nelly.
If it works for her… it can work for anyone.
CUT BACK TO:
INT. CAFEALGARVE – NIGHT
Nelly reaches across the table, placing her hand on Joe’s.
NELLY
Thank you, Joe.
For fighting for me—even when no one sees it.
Joe looks down, humble, still carrying the weight.
JOE
Someone’s gotta show you the money.
But someone’s also gotta show you the love.
I’m trying to do both.
A quiet, emotional beat.
Rain hits the window.
Fado plays softly.
East Van feels like Hollywood for one suspended moment.
FADE OUT.
