Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Hot And Cold Running Decadence


Hey there, crime kids. Happy Hump Day. 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 15 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster, in disguise, checks into the Chateau Marmont to hide out and plan her next move. Meanwhile, mercenary-for-hire Bland Loosener searches Friday's apartment, and finds an invite to a 'special party' at Club Fuck ...


EXT. CHATEAU MARMONT - NIGHT
A limo pulls up to the entrance. Stops.
Ponytailed DRIVER gets out.

Walks to the passenger door.
Opens it. Out steps --

A tall WOMAN.
Massive mane of blonde.

Big shades. Cowboy hat.
Sharkskin suit. Great legs.

She watches ponytail pull out luggage.
Shopping bags. A guitar case.
A bird in a cage.

A BODYBUILDER-LOOKING PORTER
pulls a cart up to the mountain of Blonde’s stuff.

BODYBUILDER-LOOKING PORTER
Good evening, Miss.

BLONDE
(flashes ring, Italian accent)
Oh, I’m marreed.
My name ees Francesca Bertolucci.
My husband is --

BODYBUILDER-LOOKING-PORTER
Bernardo Bertolucci?
Yes, ma’am. Right this way --

INT. CHATEAU MARMONT - REGISTRATION DESK - NIGHT
The officious FRONT DESK CLERK
stares at a computer monitor.

OFFICIOUS CLERK
I’m sorry, Mrs. Bertolucci,
but I don’t see a reservation --

BLONDE
Eye’m going to ring
dat assistant’s NECK.
Please look again.
Bernardo will be most upset.
He’s joining me here in a couple of days.

OFFICIOUS CLERK
(punching buttons)
No, I’m sorry, there’s no
reservation for Bertolucci --

The blonde pulls a wad of bills
out of her bag.
Starts peeling off hundreds.

BLONDE
Tell you what.
Why don’t you give me a
nice, cute little bungalow --
and then go out on the town, on me.

She lays what looks like
a couple thousand on the desk.

The clerk eyes bug. He swallows.
Scoops them up. RINGS a bell.

OFFICIOUS CLERK
Porter. Please show
Mrs. Bertolucci to Bungalow 5.

EXT. BUNGALOW 5 - MOMENTS LATER
The porter wheels the Blonde’s things
into the front door.
She follows, imperious.

INT. BUNGALOW 5 - CONTINUOUS
He shows her the lux digs.

PORTER
Satellite plasma TV. Mini-bar.
Jacuzzi. Room service menu.
Massage schedule.

BLONDE
(hands him a hundred)
Thanks, chief.
Spend it in lots of places.

PORTER
Enjoy your stay.

BLONDE
I always do.

He smiles. Nods. Leaves.
She goes to the door. Locks it.
Looks around. SQUEALS with joy --

BLONDE
Holy SHIT.

And WHIPS OFF her wig.
We see it’s FRIDAY.

FRIDAY
Now this is more like it.
Hot and cold running decadence.
I’m gonna haveta find a
suitcase full of cash more often --

INT. FRIDAY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Dark. A FLASHLIGHT sweeping the blackness.
A FIGURE rifles through papers on a desk.
Talks on a cell.

FIGURE
She’s a civilian,
some kind of writer.

We realize it’s Bland.

BLAND
Movie scripts.
(listens)
What else?
Just a pile of bills.
There’s no power, no phone, just --
(beat)
Wait a minute.

The light FLASHES on a club invite.
‘Club Fuck.’

With a drawing of a
latex honey with a whip.

BLAND
I just found one of her hangouts.
Invite says some big party tonight --
(beat)
And I think somebody’s
about due for a spanking --

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