text: Logline: A man tracks down his mother's painting, which is worth millions of dollars because of its beauty, when he finally finds it, it may be worth even more than that. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Mike Swanson's mother, Sophie Swanson, was a renowned painter, a living legend at the time of her death, her artwork hung in art galleries and museums. A few weeks after her funeral, Walter Jessup, a billionaire and art collector visited him at his house. They had a long talk about Sophie's life, and Walter brought up a painting named Lola. Walter shows Mike a picture of Lola on his phone, "there it is, isn't she beautiful," Walter says. Mike agrees, he can't take his eyes off it, "That's probably the most beautiful painting I've ever seen," Mike admits. The painting is a realistic portrait of a young girl, couldn't be older than 18, singing into a microphone with yellow feathers in her hair. "I don't think any person could come close to the beauty of this painting; the person who posed for this is probably the most beautiful woman in the world," Mike says. "Keep in mind, the painting is over thirty years old," Walter says. "Still, I can't look away; it's love at first sight," Mike says. "It's the earliest painting ever discovered that your mom made. It's from before she was famous, living out in Las Vegas, trying to make a living as a lounge singer," Walter says. "That's crazy; I didn't even know my mom could sing," Mike says. "In good condition, I've had it appraised at 3.8 million dollars, but no one knows where it is," Walter says. "It's lost?" Mike asks. "I guess so, you see, the girl in the painting is a real person, her name is Lola, she was a showgirl at the Copa thirty years ago, now she's a singer in a Las Vegas night club, people have asked her about the painting, but she won't reveal where it is," Walter says. "Maybe she doesn't have it; maybe it's truly lost," Mike says. "I don't believe that. That woman knows where the painting is. If you went to Las Vegas and asked her for it, she would feel compelled to give it to you; it is your mother's painting. Think of it like this; it technically belongs to you anyway. If you return with the painting, I'll give you eight million dollars, that's double what the painting is worth," Walter says. "Eight million dollars! I'll get that painting for you," Mike says. "The girl does four shows a week, at a joint called The Troubadour, a dinky lounge with slot machines in the lobby. Good luck, kid," Walter says. Mike flies out to Las Vegas, he settles in, and the first night he's there, he goes to The Troubadour to see Lola. He sits in the back; the place is dead, the club has seen better days. A woman, looking to be in her mid-to-late fifties, comes onto the stage with yellow feathers in her hair, it's the woman from the painting, her eyes haven't changed, but life has taken its toll. She's introduced as Lola and performs a version of Unchained Melody; it's beautiful and flawless. When she starts singing, the few people left in the lounge, can't take their eyes off of her, she has a hypnotic presence. Mike found her, Lola, from the painting. When the song concludes, Mike tries to make his way backstage but is not allowed. He waits two hours for Lola at the exit, he sees her and tracks her down. "Hi, Lola?" Mike asks. "Yes, what do you want an autograph or something? A little young for my fan club but whatever," Lola says. "No, my mom was Sophie Swanson, I think you knew her," Mike says. Lola stops in her tracks. "Sophie, yes, I had heard the news, I'm sorry for your loss," Lola says. "Well, I was wondering if you had a few minutes to chat?" Mike asks. "Sure, let's grab a drink at the bar," Lola suggests. They walk over to the Troubadour bar; the bartender is very familiar with Lola, "Hey, Lola, your regular?" The bartender asks. "Yes," Lola replies. "Alright, ma'am, a bottle of vodka coming right up," the bartender replies. "A bottle? I don't drink much, will I like the taste?" Mike asks. "Don't be silly, the bottle is for me," Lola replies. Mike turns to the bartender, "Oh, just a coke for me then," Mike says. "So, Sophie's boy, what brings you out to sin city," Lola asks. "Actually, you," Mike says. "I'm flattered, but you're a little young," Lola says. "No, my mom painted a portrait of you, I've seen a picture of it, it's beautiful," Mike says. Lola pours a glass of vodka and immediately drinks half a glass. "Your mother was always a talented painter, you know we were showgirls, right? Those were the days, youth, enjoy it while you have it," Lola says as she downs the other half of the vodka. "Do you still have the painting?" Mike asks. "Have you ever been in love?" Lola asks. "Love? What does that have to do with the painting?" Mike says. "Love is everything, do anything you can to keep it, because it can leave in a blink of an eye," Lola says cryptically. "But what about the painting, do you have it?" Mike asks again. Lola pours another glass of vodka and immediately downs half of the glass as the bartender brings Mike his coke. "Did your mother ever tell you why she made that painting in the first place?" Lola asks. "No, in fact, I didn't even know about the painting until a couple of days ago," Mike said. "They say you shouldn't fall in love at the Copa, but I was young, and I thought I was immune. His name was Tony; he tended bar on most of my shifts; he was the love of my life. The sweetest man you'll ever meet," Lola says as she drinks another half-glass of vodka. "Being a showgirl at the Copa was a tough business, but I was going to be a star, and into the club walked, Rico, mafia goon famous for his diamond pinky ring. He would always call the showgirls over to his table, show off, and try to get them to come back to his room with him. I was working that night," Lola says as she pours another glass of vodka." Rico had a reputation for getting a little handsy, but I had it under control. Unfortunately, Tony, filled with rage and jealousy, sailed across the bar and got into a fight with Rico, punches thrown, chairs smashed, and eventually, Rico pulled his gun and shot Tony," Lola finishes. "That's tragic; I'm so sorry you had to experience that," Mike says. Lola shrugs and drinks another half a glass of vodka. "So, what do you want with this painting?" Lola asks. "I'm being offered eight million dollars for it," Mike says. "Money, you're going to trade that painting for money?" Lola asks. "Yeah, believe it or not, that painting alone will bring in more than all the rest of her paintings did," Mike responds. Lola shakes her head. "Some things can't be bought, kid, I learned that a long time ago. You can't put a price tag on that painting; it's priceless," Lola says. "I know it's beautiful, but why is it so special?" Mike asked. "Your mom got me through a lot after Tony died, I drank a bunch, and I was sad, your mom got me through that phase of my life. That's actually why she made the painting. I had a difficult time; a few nights prior, I tried to commit suicide, so to cheer me up, your mom painted my portrait. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen; it made me want to live. I never tried to commit suicide again," Lola said. "Wow, I never thought that painting would have such a special significance for anyone," Mike says, as Lola throws back another half a glass of vodka. "Look, your mom was a special person to me, if you want the painting, I'll show you where it is, you can have it if you want it," Lola says. "Well, if you're willing to let me have it, I'll take it," Mike says as Lola finishes her vodka and throws down fifty bucks, "Thanks, George, Victor's got to pull the car around, the kid and I have a trip to make," Lola says to the bartender. Lola is taking Mike to Las Vegas General Hospital; they go straight to the top floor. When they step off the elevator, Mike sees a sign that reads, "The Sophie Swanson Psychiatric Wing." When they reach the ward, his mother's painting of Lola is straight ahead. It's the highlight of the entrance to the wing, that was a multi-million-dollar artwork just hanging there at the entryway to the psychiatric ward, hidden in plain sight. As they continued throughout the wing, some of the patients were still up in the middle of the night. Most of them thanked Mike for letting them keep the painting for this long. Over the years, the art has done so much for so many. The beauty had almost a magical presence; it made people forget their problems; it helped so many to get better. By the end of his journey to Las Vegas, Mike didn't have the heart to take the painting away from the psychiatric unit. He figured it would be better if his mom's legacy had been remembered for something good, rather than hanging up in some guy's collection. And though Lola was a shell of her former self, unable to move on from her one true love, the painting of Lola, stood as a symbol of young love, of what life could be, of a beauty that would stand the test of time.