Monday, September 6, 2010
Let Your Fingers Do The Crying
SPECIAL LABOR DAY EDITION:
It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your darkest fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 29 of FULL BODY, masseuse/would-be torch singer Summer Donovan makes her debut at The Eighteenth Street Lounge, which turns into a disaster. Meanwhile, at Dhumbah, DC's hottest restaurant, French-African gazelle Ayanna Prouxl, jonesing for heroin, falls and hits her head on the loo ... but fortunately Chick, the Surgeon General, comes to the rescue ...
INT. EIGHTEENTH STREET LOUNGE - MAIN ROOM - NIGHT
Thievery’s house-dub remix of Nora Jones’ ANGELS over --
Gianluca. In a dark corner
huddled with ERIC HILTON (30’s).
Pale, good looking. Shaken, not stirred.
Azure eyes glint with the secrets of success.
Twinkle with passion.
But we didn’t send for another artist.
INTENSE HISPANIC MAN
What were you thinking? Are you high?
Meet ROB GARZA (30’s), Eric’s partner.
Serpentine soul patch, sideburns.
Glossy black hair pulled back
under a middle-eastern cap.
Dark eyes flash.
Go find the girl. Escort her out.
But she --
(pulls out CD)
Said she sent you this.
Signed her to the label --
(takes the CD, looks at it)
You fell for THIS?
Every kid in the lounge has a demo.
Easy, Rob -- I get it.
She must be -- exquisite.
She, she -- is.
You’re right. She is.
They turn their heads. Look at --
standing on a raised platform
in the middle of the room.
Wrapped in silk. Draped arms rise.
BRITISH FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Ladies and gentlemen,
Messieurs and Madams,
the Eighteenth Street Lounge
is proud to present`--
The aching, yearning, supple trip-hop of Hooverphonic’s
CLUB MONTEPULCIANO oozes over --
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Summer reaches the sky. Glorious. Taking flight.
Fiona said something nice to me,
green velvet jacket sets you free --
Club Montepulciano is what you need --
Blue Hawaii, Picadilly whore --
a cocktail is what I’m hoping for --
is entranced. She’s a hit.
A DIPLOMAT in a white dinner jacket leans over.
Whispers in a RASTA’S ear.
A TURBANED SHEIK nods.
Riding the wave.
shimmies and sways to the music.
A RIVULET OF BLOOD
trickles out of her nose.
Runs down her face.
Into her mouth.
A TRUST FUND HIPSTER
notices. Grins. Points. Laughs.
tastes something wrong.
Wipes her nose. Sees the blood.
GASPS. Turns, RUNS off the stage,
WHIRLS through the crowd.
I’m sorry! I’m Sorry! I’m sorry --
ROB AND ERIC
watch her go.
What was her name again?
INT. DHUMBA RESTAURANT - AT THAT MOMENT
The Egyptian trip-hop sacred siren song of
Anteus’ PALM OF THE PROPHET over --
Catalina, at a primo table.
Pulls out her cell phone.
Turns it on. Listens to a message.
Rolls angry eyes.
Puts it away.
Looks at her watch.
What is she doing?
IN THE LADIES’ ROOM
Ayanna pulls herself up.
Grabs the paper roll,
which TEARS OFF.
She loses her balance,
BANGS against the door --
Careens forward. Slips.
BANG, head against the sink.
HITS the tiles with a CRACK.
Say good night, Gracie.
IN THE RESTAURANT
Catalina reads the menu.
'Sweet and sour lamb?'
A SCREAM from the back.
PATRONS whip their heads, look.
A WAITRESS appears.
Blood on her hands.
There’s a woman in the ladies’ room
with her skull cracked open!
Chick FLIES BY her table.
Twenty-four skiddoo on the 911,
doll-face -- c’mon!
They race toward the commotion.
How did you -- ?
She let her fingers do the crying --