Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Happy Tuesday, 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.
Our next story is EXIT, a single-location crime thriller. It takes place in an after-hours club, where a small group of celebrities are getting wasted just before dawn. But when a pair of crazed gunmen storm in and take them hostage, their lives change forever.
In Chapter 1, we meet fading goth/grunge/punk rock star Bettie Blue, and Oscar-winning screenwriter Casey Montana, who are right now drowning their sorrows in a bottle of top-shelf tequila ...
EXT. THE SUNSET STRIP - NIGHT
A CHYRON reads ‘August 16, 4:47 AM.’
An occasional CAR passes by.
An occasional HOOKER works the stroll.
A trio of WASTED PARTY GIRLS (18)
turn a corner and stagger down a side street
looking for their car.
CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON a SMALL WHITE BUILDING
that was once a bank, now a
high-end designer boutique
at the foot of the Hollywood Hills
in the Sunset Plaza shopping district.
CAMERA GLIDES OVER to the side of the building,
where we see a STAIRCASE to the basement.
CAMERA GLIDES DOWN THE STAIRS
and STOPS at the door.
No window. No sign.
Just a small red buzzer.
INT. AFTER HOURS CLUB - NIGHT
Plush and jazzy. Part Art Deco. Part tiki lounge.
The dim, pin-spot lighting makes the joint seem to glow.
Welcome to The Exit Room.
Hot and cold running decadance until dawn.
Standing behind the long, polished bar
is MIA TANAKA (20’s), mixologist deluxe,
shiny black hair down to her ass.
Looking every bit the wannabe actress she is.
Right now she’s cutting up lime wedges
and evesdropping on --
A pair of WOMEN
doing shots of top-shelf tequila.
They SLAM them down,
then CRACK their shot glasses on the bar.
The dark-haired chick grabs the bottle.
Pours two more.
To the best fucking screenwriter in HOLLYWOOD.
Meet BETTIE BLACK (40),
fading grungy-goth rock star.
but now a bit rough around the edges.
But still sexy in revealing,
ripped black threads.
If you squint your eyes.
She lights a new smoke off the old one.
A crooked grin.
To the best poet since PATTI SMITH.
Meet CASEY MONTANA (20’s),
white-hot Oscar-winning screenwriter.
Sexy-dirty, working that vintage pinup look.
The black and blue streaks in her hair
match her outfit.
Patti Smith? Really?
Hey. If you’re gonna compare me
to Quentin Tarantino --
They DOWN them.
Flattery will get your clit sucked.
Bettie pours two more.
They DOWN them.
CRACK their glasses.
That’ll grow hair on your tits.
What are you working on now?
That bottle. Keep pouring.
Ever seen Leaving Las Vegas?
Wanna write the rock star version?
Only if Nic Cage plays you.
Pay him enough, he probably would.
They DOWN them.
Doctor says if I don’t stop drinking,
Works for me.
Hey. Don’t talk like that.
It’s the end of the road, baby.
My label says if I don’t go to rehab,
they’re dropping me.
But you don’t seriously mean --
You don’t know my pain.
Well, if we’re playing
‘to tell the truth,’
I’m in a bit of a crisis myself.
They raise their shots.
Nod. SLAM them. CRACK.
Having a hard time
spending all that money?
No, that’s easy. It’s --
I can’t come up with my next story.
(off her look)
It took me a year to write the first one.
I wrote it longhand during my lunch hour,
carefully crafting it.
Now they want another one
right away, and I can’t --
Can you imagine the pressure
after winning the Oscar?
There’s two of you.
Two of me --
Got double vision.
See two of you.
(puts hand over one eye)
(takes it off)
I think that calls for another drink --