Happy Tuesday, crime motherfuckers! You say you're frustrated? Angry? Mad as hell, and can't take it anymore? Then why not head on over to the coolest hardboiled crime joint in cyberspace and blow off a little steam ... right here, at That Killing Feeling.
In chapter 6 of THE HEISTERS, we flash forward and return to the aftermath of the bungled robbery, where heister Ronan Kelsey rounds up the drivers used on the job, who are right now holed up in a seedy motel on the wrong end of the hood ...
EXT. THE MATADOR MOTEL - DAY
A seedy ‘sex motel’ on the outskirts of Compton.
The usual assortment of crack whores, gang-bangers
and assorted street trash loiter outside.
A cab pulls up and parks at the sidewalk.
INT. CAB - DAY
Ronan leans over the divider.
Shows the BORED CABBIE a hundred-dollar bill.
He RIPS it in two. Hands him half.
Wait for me and you get the rest.
How long you gonna be?
Five minutes, tops.
(looks at the motel)
It’s business, buster.
Yeah, right. And I’m Donald Trump --
INT. MATADOR MOTEL - SHITTY ROOM - DAY
A ridiculous ‘theme room’ made up to look like
a medieval castle cell. But the ‘stones’ on the wallpaper are peeling.
Two MEN sit on the bed watching TV.
A pizza box lays between them.
They both take swigs from forties of malt liquor.
Take hits from a joint they pass back and forth.
LARGE BLACK GUY
DAMN, that’s some serious SHIT.
Saturday Night Fever blew
the fucking nigger’s BRAINS out --
Meet JEFTY BROWN (28),
now working his way up the ladder.
Chip on his shoulder the size of a Escalade.
I can’t believe you never seen this shit, homes --
(passes the joint)
Tarantino is THE MAN.
You ever seen JACKIE BROWN?
Meet KASPER GARZA (25),
former Mexican drug cartel runner.
Decided he liked LA better.
Bulky fireplug. Wannabe boxer.
But partied too much.
Could be Luis Guzman’s little brother.
(takes the joint)
I seen dat. Pam Grier got BACK.
A soft knock-knock-knock at the door.
They both pull out GUNS.
Kasper hops off the bed.
Tip-toes up to the door.
Nods at Jefty,
who’s got his weapon aimed.
The Good Humor man. Open up.
Yeah. Open the fucking door.
How do I know it’s you?
If you don’t open the door,
I’ll break it down and kick your wetback ass
all the way to TIJUANA.
(to Jefty, smiles)
It’s him --
He unlocks the door. Opens it.
Ronan comes in. Surveys the scene.
Shakes his head.
All that’s missing are the hookers --
They left last night.
Ain’t gonna pay ‘em for sleepin’ --
You said some shit went down.
The money got jacked.
What THE FUCK?
I KNEW we shouldn’ta trusted
that fucking BITCH --
Shut up and LET ME TALK!
Kelsey didn’t do it.
She went out for five minutes
to get supplies at the corner,
and when she got back her boy-toy
was harpooned to the bed,
and the cash was GONE.
She called me right away.
We think it was non-pro.
The boy-toy’s ex or some shit.
We’re all meeting up to figure out
how to find ‘em,
so pack up your shit and let’s go.
I’ve got a cab waiting outside.
But I thought we were supposed to lay low --
Yeah, till the heat was off --
Stay here and party down.
But when we get the money
you’re on your own.
Shit, hold on. I’m comin,’ I’m comin.’
Yo, chill. Let me get my shit.
They both race around the room.
Grabbing their bags,
stuffing their belongings in them.
(shakes his head)
I love a well-oiled machine --