Alright, already. It's my birthday. 52 years, old goddammit. Doesn't look right on the printed page. Or on this computer monitor. C'est la fucking vie. Having lunch with the most wonderful guy in the world, Roberto Luna, my manager and really great friend. Then I'm probably gonna take a nap. (Think it was the martinis last night). I just got flowers from the producer for whom I'm writing the drama pilot DIRTY BUSINESS, which really floored me. Guess she's liking my work. (What's not to like?)
Okay, enough about me. That's not what you came here for.
Onto today's touching little episode from HIT & RUN HOLIDAY. Wanted fugitive/would-be screenwriter Friday Foster,after a hard night of fetish fun at Club Fuck, has brought her 'catch of the day' back to her bungalow at the Chateau Marmont, and discovers the young woman's big secret ...
Needless to say, the would-be tryst turns out to be quite a disaster.
INT. CHATEAU MARMONT - BUNGALOW 5 - NIGHT
The door opens. In comes Friday and her catch of the day, DOLLY.
Both completely, utterly trashed. Giggly.
This is nice. Can I move in with you?
One tryst at a time, luv. This is a U-Haul-free zone.
They kiss. Friday pulls away.
Takes Dolly’s gloved hand.
Come with me.
She leads her to the bed.
Dolly follows. Obedient.
Sit. Make yourself comfortable.
(picks up the phone, dials)
(nods, eyes wide)
Can we get -- something to eat?
A bedtime snack. GREAT idea.
Not that you’re not a bedtime snack --
Yes, hello. Uh, hold on --
What would you like? Tuna tartar?
Caviar? Their pate is to die for.
Can I get a cheeseburger?
You are adorable. GREAT idea.
Pre-hangover measures. What a pro.
(into the phone)
Yes, hi -- sorry, big decision time.
Could you please send up a bottle of Cristal?
AND, two cheeseburgers -- medium rare, and --
(looks at Dolly, off her nod)
Both, medium rare. Please.
You bet. Thanks.
She hangs up. Goes to the bed.
Sits. Strokes Dolly’s hair.
You have such beautiful hair.
Do you mind if I take it down?
(starts untying ponytails)
Silly girl, call me Friday.
I’m not a real dom, I just play one on TV.
That’s just fun and games.
Okay -- Friday.
Tonight isn’t a game, love.
You’re an angel --
and I’m honored to share some heaven with you.
You’re my last supper.
She leans in. Kisses Dolly softly on the lips. Pulls back.
So what do you do?
Are you in fashion, an artist --
I’m -- a student.
Oh, what college? Getting a graduate degree?
I’m a sophomore at Hollywood High.
How old ARE you?
Fifteen. Please don’t be mad at me.
Fifteen? You’re FIFTEEN?
How did you get in the club?
My daddy owns it.
A KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK at the door.
HISPANIC MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Saved by the bell.
(to the door)
Come in. It’s open.
Are you mad at me?
The HISPANIC WAITER wheels in their repast. Smiles.
Where would you like it?
(looks at Dolly)
That’s a loaded question --
(to the porter)
Out on the terrace, please.
Sure thing, Miss.
He eyes Dolly. Pushes the cart out through the patio doors.
You’re mad at me. I can tell.
I’m not mad at you.
(leans in, kisses her)
(of Dolly’s nod)
C’mon. Let’s eat.
INT. BUNGALOW 5 - MAIN ROOM - EARLY MORNING
Sunlight streams in through half-shuttered blinds.
The remains of the party are strewn across the room.
Friday sleeps like the dead on the big, thrashed bed.
We hear soft crying OFF CAMERA.
It stops. Something BANGS.
Friday stirs. Awakens. Groggy.
The crying starts again.
We realize it’s DOLLY.
(sees Dolly is gone)
She gets out of bed.
The sobbing gets louder.
(goes to the bathroom door)
Dolly, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry --
SPLIT SCREEN WITH:
INT. BUNGALOW 5 - BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Dolly sits in her bra and panties on the tile floor.
Cradling Friday’s chrome Magnum like, well -- her dolly.
Dolly, I wanted to make love to you, but I just couldn’t -- I --
Because loving me is a crime?
No -- well, yes, technically --
but that’s not what I mean --
you’re still a child, a young woman, a --
I’m not a CHILD!
I’ve been having sex for ten years.
She starts crying again. Now big, heaving SOBS.
Dolly, please open the door.
Let’s talk about this.
No! I’m done talking! I’m leaving!
Bella Legosi’s dead.
Puts the barrel of the gun in her mouth.
Closes her eyes.
IN THE BEDROOM
Friday listens at the door. Panicked.
What are you gonna do, kill --
She realizes. HER GUN. She races to the bedside.
Frantically rummages through her bag.
(runs to the door)
Friday steps back. Braces herself.
KICKS open the door.
lies on the floor next to the toilet.
Back of her head, brains, blood,
bits of skull all over the wall.
I’ve just been cluster-fucked.