Monday, January 16, 2012
The Dirty City Of Angels
Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent 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.
Some of you might have read THE HEISTERS here on the blog. It's the story of Kelsey Hazard, a forty-year-old, tough-talking professional thief (or 'heister' in the vernacular) who pulls off a big job, only to have someone steal the dough. The story goes back and forth from flashbacking to the robbery and then to the present, where she and her band of heisters try to figure out who robbed them. It's a cool story, if I say so myself.
And just like I did with Carrie Love, I fell in love with this character, and wanted to write another story about her. And then it hit me. How did a hot chick like Kelsey BECOME a heister? What was her family background like?
Here's your chance to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Chapter 1 of BABY HEISTER, where we meet an eighteen-year-old Kelsey Hazard, and find out why she chose a life of crime.
Or did it choose her?
EXT. RANCH - DUSK
TITLE CARD READS: OJAI, CALIFORNIA 1990.
It’s magic hour in the desert.
The mid-summer heat shimmers
in rippling waves in the air.
The crops. The blacktop road.
A small ranch in a green valley.
Giant mountains behind it.
Can you say 'incredible view?'
Old, Spanish mission style house. Big barn.
Rustic pickup truck parked in the drive.
In the distance, a deep blue lake
glows in the fading light.
It’s picture-postcard time, folks.
Doesn’t get much more gorgeous
and idyllic than this.
EXT. LAKE - DUSK
A young WOMAN (18) lies on
an inner tube reading a book,
lazily floating on the water.
She takes a hit from a joint.
Holds it in. EXHALES.
Turns the page. Riveted.
Meet KELSEY HAZARD, tomboy deluxe.
Pretty, but she’s done everything
she can to hide it.
Her long, sleek black hair
tied tight in a ponytail.
Baseball cap. Shades. Bare lips.
The problem is the tiny bikini
she’s almost wearing.
Her killer figure undulates
around her tall, lean frame. Ouch.
A TALL, OLDER GUY (60)
walks out on the rickety wooden pier.
Meet DOC HAZARD, her grandfather.
Looks like your typical old cowboy.
Except for the Grateful Dead T-shirt
and biker boots.
Supper’s almost ready.
(eyes on the book)
Be right there.
Just let me finish this chapter.
(under his breath)
Goddamn crime novels.
If she’d only be as interested
in her school books --
EXT. LOS ANGELES - TEN FREEWAY - DUSK
Clogged with rush hour traffic
heading west toward the beach.
But not so much heading east
into downtown LA.
We see an ARMORED CAR
heading that way in sparse traffic.
It reaches an off ramp, turns,
then starts descending into
the dirty City of Angels.
INT. ARMORED CAR - DUSK
Behind the wheel sits GINO CONTI (30’s).
Wiry. Dark-haired. Dark-skinned.
He smiles, chewing on a toothpick.
Turns and looks at the HULKING BRUTE
sitting in the passenger seat.
Look at that sky. Beautiful.
In the cinema they call it 'magic hour.'
In my book, they call it 'money hour.'
Meet GRIFF HAZARD (40), heister extraordinaire.
And Kelsey's father.
Built like a block of granite.
Face like a potato.
Eyes burning with purpose.
Intense. Mouth a cruel dark slash.
You wrote book?
What is it about?
Griff stares ahead.
Silent. Watching the road.
IN THE REAR COMPARTMENT
Sits CHELLE HAZARD (39), Griff’s wife.
A gorgeous brunette.
Curvy goblet of sin poured
into a leather catsuit.
Armed to the gills. Packing, too.
She speaks into a headset.
Come in, Houston.
This is The Eagle.
Are we cleared for landing? Over.
Eyes flicker. Approach a smile.
Don’t quite make it.
(into his headset)
This is Houston.
Approaching our target in --
(looks at his watch)
T-minus two minutes. Over.
Smiles grimly. Nods.
Copy that, Houston. Over.
Sitting to her left is HELMUT WOLF (40’s),
expert marksman, German expat.
Dolph Lundgren, without the looks.
I still don’t like space travel names.
Is too silly.
I don’t remember asking your opinion.
Sitting to her right is ATLAS DEMO (30’s),
Jet-black hair. Third generation Greek.
Don’t listen to him.
It’s fucking genius.
Anybody hears us,
they don’t know what
the fuck we’re talking about.
ZVI ROZEN (20’s),
Israeli computer hacker extraordinaire.
Hunched over an old-school
briefcase-sized laptop. Looks up.
You just have chip on shoulder
because you came in job late
because someone dropped out.
You should be GRATEFUL,
not ruining vibe.
We need to work as a team, GOT IT?
Helmut and Zvi glare at each other.
Zvi returns to his laptop.
Starts briskly typing out commands.
All set with the power grid?
(smiles, gives a thumbs-up)
Like taking electricity from a baby.
INT. DOC'S FARMHOUSE - KITCHEN - DUSK
Right out of Norman Rockwell.
Enough knickknacks and quaint furnishings
to choke Martha Stewart.
Doc and Kelsey sit at the table
waiting for dinner to be served.
You do any more thinking
about going back to school?
Why the fuck would I do that?
Not having a diploma kinda limits
the kinda jobs you can get.
Not if I’m gonna be a heister.
Where on earth did you --
Doc’s wife JO (60) approaches the table
with a big tray of food.
Once a great beauty, now a bit faded,
but still tough, with the twinkling eyes
of a con artist. Which she was.
She sets it down. Sits.
Doc and Kelsey help themselves.
Thanks, honey. This looks great.
So how was your day, Kelsey?
Okay, I guess.
Kelsey’s thinking about
taking up a life of crime.
Is that so.
If it’s good enough
for Griff and Chelle --
Now where did you get that idea?
Your parents are in sales.
Yeah, GUN sales --