Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Shit Outta Luck
Hey there, crime kids. Happy Wednesday. 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.
In Chapter 23 of BABY HEISTER, after shooting the cop that pulled her over, Jo Hazard gets off the freeway and parks the hearse at an abandoned gas station, where she runs into some pint-sized gang-bangers. Meanwhile, Doc and Kelsey have 'luggage issues' at the airport ... where, unbenownst to them, rogue detective Flint Cole is arriving ...
EXT. FREEWAY - DAY
The hearse turns off at the next exit.
Goes down the ramp.
EXT. EAST LA - INTERSECTION - DAY
A REALLY shitty part of town.
Crumbling apartment blocks.
The hearse pulls into
an abandoned gas station.
INT. HEARSE - DAY
Jo slips the gun in her pocket.
Opens the car door.
EXT. ABANDONED GAS STATION - DAY
She gets out. Looks around.
Not a soul to be seen.
Sees a pay phone. Walks over to it.
Lifts the receiver. Listens. Dead.
SNEERING GANG-BANGER (O.C.)
Hey, lady. Where’s the funeral?
She turns, sees a pair of
THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD HISPANIC KIDS holding switchblades.
They FLIP them open menacingly.
Looks like someone got lost or somethin.’
What you doin’ in this neighborhood?
This is OUR territory.
I had a -- little problem with the police.
You hear DAT?
She had a little trouble with the five-oh?
Well, now you have a little trouble with US.
Give us your WALLET, bitch.
(WHIPS OUT her gun)
The TROUBLE involved SHOOTING A COP.
Now get the FUCK out of my face
before I BLOW A HOLE in your REFRIED BRAINS.
Holy SHIT. Don’t shoot, lady.
We were just fuckin’ with ya --
(CLICKS the safety)
Get your CHALUPAS the FUCK
out of my FACE. NOW.
They RUN. Jo watches them go.
Thinking. A light bulb POPS.
I should call Jack Cotton --
EXT. PALM SPRINGS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY
Gorgeous, beautiful mountains in the distance.
A small, white circular building with
passenger ramps around it like an octopus.
Planes taxi on the runways.
EXT. CHARTER FLIGHT HANGER - DAY
A smallish building for private jets.
Parked in front is a PIPER CUB.
One of those tiny planes used for
crop dusting and pulling banners across the sky.
Standing next to it is BRUB (50’s),
a grizzled pilot.
He looks at Doc, Kelsey, Reno and Dusty.
Then the duffle bags.
Plane’s too small.
Jo said it would only be two people.
We had a change of plan.
(points at Reno)
What if I sit on his lap?
Yeah. We could squeeze in real tight.
Too much weight.
I can take two of you,
plus the bags. That’s it.
Shit. What are we gonna do?
Tell ya what.
It only takes fifteen minutes to get to LAX.
Why don’t I take two of you first,
then come back?
That means we’d have to wait
half an hour --
Seeing as how we go way back and all --
I’ll only charge half-price
for the second trip.
It’s a deal.
Kelsey and me will go first,
with the bags.
Wait a minute.
I thought we were splitting up
the take on the plane.
If something happens,
we’re shit outta luck.
Tell ya what.
We’ll take one bag,
leave one with you.
But who says each bag
has the same amount of dough in it?
Each bag has about a half-million in it.
What’s the fucking problem?
Doc’s giving you a lift,
AND letting you stay at his loft.
Chill OUT. We’ve gotta get the fuck
OUTTA here instead of wasting our time
standing around ARGUING.
See you at LAX.
Brub opens the door.
Doc picks up a bag. Stuffs it in.
He and Kelsey get in. Then Brub.
The plane’s propellers start WHIRRING.
Starts taxiing down the runway.
C’mon. Let’s go see what kinda grub they got.
Fuck that. I could use a drink --
EXT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY
A Yellow Cab pulls up to the curb.
Flint Cole pops out the back door. SLAMS it.
Heads into the building, on a mission.
AT THE SECURITY CHECK LINE
He flashes his badge at a SURLY TSA OFFICER.
Cuts ahead of the line.
Goes through the metal detector.
It starts BEEPING. He grins.
Heads down the corridor --