Had a very interesting day. Visited Tina the Wonder Dog's memorial. Shared some nice memories. Might just be getting the hang of this grief thing. Had a great meeting with my true story guy -- the former PI/Spy/Millioniare Almost-Mobster. Great guy. Shitload of amazing stories. Felt like I've know him for years. Fucking hilarious. Have a good feeling about this one. Gonna make GOODFELLAS look like child's play.
Okay, not really. But this one's a DOOZY.
Onto our story.
We now meet up with our intrepid robbery/homicide cops, who are coping with THEIR grief over the death of the three cops at the bank job.
See how life imitates art?
Or is that other way around ...
EXT. CHEZ JAY - LATE AFTERNOON
A small, crusty beach dive just south of the Santa Monica pier.
We see Bobby and Taya’s sedan parked in the gravel lot.
INT. CHEZ JAY - CONTINUOUS
Dark, dank. Sawdust on the floor.
The kind of place where serious drinking gets done.
Food’s not bad, either.
A pair of GRIZZLED REGULARS
sit at the bar living their liquid lives.
A ball game plays softly over the bar.
The jukebox plays some forgotten, gin-soaked classic.
Bobby and Taya sit at stools at the end.
He drains a bottle of beer.
Points at it, then the empty shot glass.
(to the bartender)
(looks at Taya)
Taya eyes him warily, sips her Diet Coke.
I’m fine, thanks.
The SMUG BARTENDER (40’s)
brings over another shot and beer.
Places them in front of Bobby.
Here you go, officer.
Bobby eyes him coolly.
SLAMS down the shot.
Sips the beer.
Is that a cockroach over there by the sink?
(shakes his head)
Be a shame to lose that ‘C’ rating --
Tell it to the owner. I’m just a mixologist.
He turns around and starts washing glasses.
Three officers were KILLED today.
And I don’t appreciate your ATTITUDE, pal.
Shut up. Drink your fucking COKE.
THREE cops were killed?
Yeah, fucking bank job right down the street.
Don’t you watch the news?
Fuck, no. Too depressing.
I just watch the game.
There’s another shooting on the news every day --
Economy’s in the fucking toilet.
Santa Monica used to be SAFE,
and now we’ve got these --
heathens running RIOT on my home turf.
Fucking cops are DEAD.
Taya looks down. A tear slides down her cheek.
My parents were shot --
(starts to lose it)
Home invasion --
She looks up. Eyes glistening.
Reason I joined the force.
Quit law school --
How about a little rum in the lady’s coke,
my good man.
Smug pulls down a bottle of 151.
Holds it over Taya’s glass like a question.
She nods. He pours.
Then another shot for Bobby.
One for himself. Raises it.
This one’s on the house.
They toast. Drink.
Taya winces. Hers is STRONG.
We’re gonna get these fuckers,
if it’s the last thing I do.
You with me?
He leans over. Kisses her on the cheek.
(surprised she likes it)
What was -- that for?
I dunno. Felt like it.
You’re kinda cute when you’re distraught.
(off her stare)
Okay, I’m drunk.
Taya takes a big slug of her drink.
SLAMS it down on the bar.
So let’s get a fucking room.
I’m not hearing this --
What the fuck?
You wanted to ball me the first moment
you laid your eyes on me.
Taya stands. Puts her purse over her shoulder.