Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Like Fifteen-Year-Old Labia
Happy Wednesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 2 of LEGS, episode two ... we meet Jackie Flowers, old-school movie producer, who arrives back home from a dinner at a Hollywood 'power restaurant,' where he's met by a pair of Isreali mobsters who make him 'an offer he can't refuse' ...
EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD - NIGHT
West of the strip.
The home of the one-percent.
A glitzy array of lux mansions
hidden behind walls and hedges fly by.
INT. BENTLEY SEDAN - MOVING - NIGHT
All soft leather, polished wood and brushed silver.
Behind the wheel is JACKIE FLOWERS (60’s),
old-school movie producer.
Tall and rangy, with craggy good looks.
Right now he’s driving,
talking on his cell and smoking a joint.
Harrison, it’s Jackie.
You read the script yet?
Well, get on the stick.
It’s not like the offers
are just rolling in, you know --
Okay, okay. Keep your pants on.
Call me after you’ve read it.
(ends the call)
'Air Force Two.' Oy vey’s mir.
EXT. JACKIE’S JOINT - FRONT GATE - NIGHT
The Bentley pulls up to a large,
ornate gate that starts slowly opening.
The car glides through.
EXT. JACKIE’S JOINT - NIGHT
A giant faux-Tudor monstrosity.
The Bentley heads down the long drive
toward a four-car garage.
INT. JACKIE’S JOINT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
A culinary orgy of steel, glass and chrome.
The door to the garage opens.
Jackie walks in, talking on his cell.
I told you, Alan, I don’t wanna make
a fucking PIMP movie. Stop asking me.
He goes to the fridge.
Gets a bottle of beer. Opens it.
Takes a swig. Walks into the next room.
INT. JACKIE’S JOINT - STUDY - NIGHT
Dimly lit. A real power-office.
Bookshelves filled with books, music, movies --
and a ton of awards.
The door opens. Jackie comes in.
FLICKS ON the lights.
Sitting behind his desk
is a GIANT HULKING BRUISER (30’s).
GIANT HULKING BRUISER
How was dinner?
I hear steak at Palms
is tender like fifteen-year-old labia.
Meet LERON HADAR,
two-hundred-fifty pounds of Israeli muscle.
Slick in Armani. Slicked-back hair.
Who the hell are YOU?
Standing to the side with his
hands behind his back is another THUG (30’s),
small and wiry, but somehow
even more menancing-looking.
Gitanes filterless dangling on his lip.
But hey, somebody should tell him
the Versace silk shirt
needs to go out with the Eurotrash.
Sit down. We’ll ask the questions.
Meet TAL HADAR, Leron’s brother.
If you did a Google image search
for 'Napoleonic Complex,'
you’d find his picture.
I will NOT sit down.
I DEMAND to know what you
shit-heads are doing in my house.
Tal pulls a baseball bat
from behind his back.
SWINGS IT at a lamp, SMASHING it -- BANG.
Smiles, gold teeth flashing.
If you don’t sit down,
your kneecaps are next on deck.
Jackie sits in a leather chair
opposite the desk. Glowering.
What the fuck do you want?
You had dinner tonight with young lady.
Yeah, so what. What’s it to you?
You two discussed movie
you’re about to make,
and role she would like to play.
How do you know about that?
We are her brothers.
We are here to strongly suggest
you give her part.
Look, here’s the deal.
I met her at a party,
and I had dinner with her
just to be nice.
The role she wants is the lead,
but she’s too green.
She doesn’t have any credits.
The lead has to be a name.
If I cast her,
the investors will pull out.
(off their looks)
The best I can do is give her
a day player role.
She’ll get one line,
and she’ll be onscreen.
And it’ll get her into the union.
How does that sound?
Tal SWINGS the bat again.
SMASHES a flat-screen on the wall.
HEY. That’s BRAND-NEW.
This is your last chance.
Cast the girl in the lead,
or you’ll be eating
through straw at Cedars.
You can go fuck yourself.
(starts swinging the bat)
Hey, batter-batter -- SWING.
He WHACKS Jackie in the stomach. OOF.
Then takes out a knee with a CRUNCH.
Then the other. CRACK.
Three strikes and you’re OUT.