Friday, June 18, 2010
Don't Get Your Wife-Beater In A Twist
Happy Friday, crime motherfuckers! Are you ready to take a trip to the dark side? Ready to get the SHIT kicked out of you? Then slide on over the coolest hardboiled joint in cyberspace, where you darkest dreams become sins of the flesh, right here ... at That Killing Feeling.
In chapter 5 from THE HEISTERS, we flash forward to where we left off after the dough from the robbery was jacked. Ringleader Kelsey Hazard goes to visit fellow heisters Ludo and Chick to give them the bad news, which they are NOT happy about ...
EXT. THE INTERNATIONAL MOTEL - DAY
A piece of shit flea bag on the wrong end of Pico.
Flags from around the world painted
on white cinder block. A real dump.
INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - MORNING
Kelsey walks down the hall. Stops at a door.
Knock-knock-knocks softly. Pauses.
Then twice. Stops. Then once again.
The door opens. She goes in.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - MORNING
Shades drawn. Dark.
A smoky haze drifts in the room.
Pizza boxes and beer cans litter the joint.
Chick sits at a table playing solitaire.
Ludo motions Kelsey to come in.
I don’t like it.
It’s too soon for us to see each other.
(SNAPS down a card)
Don’t get your wife-beater in a twist.
Let’s hear what she has to say.
She wouldn’t have come over here
and risked everything if it wasn’t important, right?
You gotta beer?
We drank ‘em all.
I got -- scotch?
Kelsey nods. Chick gets up.
Goes to the mini-bar.
Pours two fingers in a glass.
Walks over to Kelsey.
Hands it to her.
She downs it. Looks at the glass. Sighs.
Somebody jacked the haul.
What the FUCK?
I went out for --
You went out? You WENT OUT?
Where the FUCK did you GO?
Holy FUCKING SHIT.
What the fuck were you DOING?
How could you --
HEY. Calm the FUCK down
and let her tell us what the fuck HAPPENED.
YOU calm the fuck down, ASSHOLE.
The money’s GONE.
Kelsey sighs. Goes to the bar.
Freshens her drink. Sips it.
But maybe we can fucking GET IT BACK
if you let her TELL US WHAT HAPPENED.
(pulls out his gun)
So shut the FUCK up
and stop acting like your version of
what you think a tough guy
is supposed to ACT like.
What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?
It means you’re not
acting like a PROFESSIONAL.
It’s hotheads like you
that’ll get us killed, in jail, broke --
or a combination of all three.
Tears form in Ludo’s eyes.
He takes a step back.
PLOPS onto the couch.
Head in his hands.
If I don’t get the money --
the bank’ll take the RESTAURANT.
(looks at Kelsey)
Tony Soprano he’s not.
So tell us what happened.
I was holed up with this kid
in bed for two days, since the job.
I went out for ten minutes
to get smokes and beer,
and I come back
and he’s harpooned to the bed
with a sword and the money’s gone.
(takes a sip)
That’s about it.
So it’s not a pro.
Did the kid know about the job?
Nah. Low-level runner
for Jimmy Two-Fingers.
NOT a player --
Maybe Garza and Jones --
Are you fucking KIDDING ME?
With their records?
Has to be a spurned lover,
that kind of thing.
Yeah. And Ronan and I think
we should regroup and find them.
You mean out in the open?
You got a better idea?
But the cop’s will be --
Do you want to get the fucking MONEY BACK?
Ludo sighs. Puts his head in his hands. Slowly nods.
Then it’s settled.
Pack up your shit and let’s get going.
Where we going?
Venice Motor Hotel, right at the beach.
Ronan’s got a suite.
Ludo looks up. Glaring.
Great. I’ll be sure to pack my bathing suit.