Deal Or No Deal

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In Chapter 8 of FULL BODY, newbie masseuse Summer Donovan is in for the ride of her life when she meets her next client, former US Vice President Cameron Bisby ...


INT. THE INTERNATIONAL - CORRIDOR - DAY
The big band cocktail-swing of Paul Anka’s cover
of Nirvana’s SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT over --

Summer walks down
the Persian-carpet
flanked by two grim-looking
SECRET SERVICE AGENTS.

TALL, OLDER AGENT
(touches his earpiece)
Mountaineer.
Approaching the lair.

PUDGY AGENT
Don’t use the word ‘lair.’
It sounds -- jokey.

They arrive at a black door.
Summer goes for the knob.

TALL, OLDER AGENT
Please, Miss.
Allow us.
You don’t know what
could be on the other side
of that door.

PUDGY AGENT
Deal or no deal.

TALL, OLDER AGENT
Now look who’s being jokey.

SUMMER
Are you guys
really Secret Service?

INT. BLACK MASSAGE SUITE - MOMENTS LATER
Summer sits on the massage table
while the men scan the room.

They hold I-pod looking
devices with earphones.

TALL, OLDER AGENT
The lair is clean.

PUDGY AGENT
You won’t let go
of the lair thing, huh?

He walks over the video monitor.
Takes out a small rubber cap.
Places it over the lens.

IN THE SECURITY ROOM
on the monitor,
The Presidential Seal.

With the word ‘Classified’
in block letters underneath.

ROD
Shit.

IN THE MASSAGE ROOM

TALL, OLDER AGENT
(into his lapel)
Mountaineer to Shadowboxer.
Okay to bring in Dirk Diggler.

PUDGY AGENT
Dirk Diggler?
Like from --

TALL, OLDER AGENT
Don’t look at me,
I didn’t pick it.

The door opens.
In walks --

CAMERON BISBY, (50’S)
former U.S. Vice President.

Small and squirly.
Almost too good-looking.

Frozen smile part
deer in the headlights,
part bland emptiness.

He raises his hands.

BISBY
At ease, gentlemen.
Thank you for the escort,
but you can leave now.
It’s starting to look like
a gang-bang in here.
(looks at Summer)
Got a top-secret meetin.’
Heh-heh.

TALL, OLDER AGENT
We can’t do that sir,
national security --

PUDGY AGENT
Yes sir, what if
someone tried to --

BISBY
Kill me?
Please, gimmee a break.
Who’d want to kill me?
I left the White House
fifteen years ago.
Took David Letterman
over a year
to stop crackin’
jokes about me.
Go on now.
Leave me be.
I need my R&R,
take a break from the --
uh -- stuff I gotta --

The Agents stifle a chuckle.
Bow. Leave.

BISBY (CONT’D)
(starts untying his tie)
So what’s your name,
little lady?

SUMMER
Summer -- sir.

BISBY
Summer breeze,
makes me feel fine.
Pretty name.
Parents were hippies?

SUMMER
No, sir.
Just -- imaginative.

BISBY
Enough of the
'sir' stuff, Summer.
Call me Cammy.
All my friends do.

SUMMER
'Cammy?'

BISBY
(touches her face)
Music to my ears --

A BULGE appears
in his pants.

He looks down.

BISBY
Well now, looks like
I’m running for re-erection --