White Trash

Happy Friday, 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 23 of Ridgeway, Cate takes Halene's trans male son Les to lunch to offer support, but things turn nasty when a gaggle of redneck jocks start making fun of him ...


EXT. SPARKY’S ROADHOUSE - NIGHT
A big, rambling joint that
would make Patrick Swayze proud.

Neon beer signs. A line of
pickup trucks parked in front,
Cate’s red convertible
the fly in the ointment.

INT. SPARKY’S ROADHOUSE - NIGHT
38 Special on the juke.
Picnic tables and booths abound.

Families, couples, old folks.
More than a few cowboy hats.

Cate and Kayla sit in a booth with Les.
A CHUBBY WAITRESS (30’s) with
teased hair takes their order.

CHUBBY WAITRESS
(to Les)
And what would you like to drink?

LES
Can I, uh -- get a beer?

Chubby raises her eyebrows.
Shoots Kayla and Cate a look.

HALENE
How about a Coke?

LES
Okay --

CHUBBY WAITRESS
Be back with your drinks in a sec.

She waddles off.
Kayla looks around.

KAYLA
Well, isn’t this fun.
I haven’t been here in a long time.

CATE
(to Les)
Check out the biker chick over there
with the three-mile hair.
Are those ugly tattoos or what.

Les flashes a hint of a smile. Nods.

A foursome of REDNECK JOCKS (17)
sit down at the next table.

Start fidgeting, chuckling,
adolescent hormones running amok.

BEEFY REDNECK JOCK
Hey. There’s that man-girl.

Les stiffens. Cate turns and looks.

KAYLA
So, Les. How’s everything at school?

LES
Okay, I guess.

KAYLA
I remember when I was sixteen,
I was confused about -- who I was.

LES
(low, urgent)
I’m not confused. I’m a boy, and
it freaks my parents the fuck out.
(off Kayla’s reaction)
I know why we’re here tonight.
I’m not stupid.

COWBOY HAT REDNECK JOCK
(loud)
Think she’s gonna get
herself a fake dick?

PIMPLY-FACED REDNECK JOCK
You mean like a strap-on?

They burst into GALES OF LAUGHTER.
Cate WHIRLS around.

CATE
Excuse me. What did you say?

COWBOY HAT REDNECK JOCK
Fuck off, lady.
I ain’t talking to you.

CATE
You were making fun of our friend.

BEEFY REDNECK JOCK
Why don’t you go fuck yourself.

Cate’s face turns red. She gets up.
Grabs the bottle of ketchup.

SMASHES it on the edge of the table.
Jabs the blood-red, jagged,
broken glass in his face.

CATE
What did you say?

Everyone in the restaurant turns and looks.

PIMPLY-FACED REDNECK JOCK
(to Beefy)
Fucking bitch is crazy.

CATE
Got that right, you fucking
red state NRA-sucking,
Hee Haw piece of white trash.
Apologize to my friend --
before I clean the floor
with your banjo neck.

BEEFY REDNECK JOCK
Fuck you, cunt.

Cate HURLS the bottle across the room.
It SMASHES into a window, SHATTERING it.

GRABS the edge of their table.
FLIPS it over, sending everything
CRASHING to the floor.

The jocks JUMP to their feet,
ready to fight.

Cate LEAPS UP on her table.
Starts BEATING her chest. Then HOWLS.

CATE
AHHH-OOO, AHHH-OOO, AHHH-OOO, AHHH-OOO, --

They stare, wide-eyed.
She smiles, evil.

Puts her hands in front of her
like a dog. Starts BARKING.

CATE
ROOF, ROOF, ROOF, ROOF, ROOF --
(growls)
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR --

They exchange looks, freaked out.
Get the hell outta there.

The other patrons stare at Cate,
open-mouthed.

CATE
The fuck you looking at?

INT. CATE’S CONVERTIBLE - NIGHT
Cate starts the engine.
Kayla sits in the passenger
seat, still in shock.

Les sits in the back.
Flashes a big grin.

LES
That was fucking COOL.

Johnny On The Spot

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. 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 22 of RIDGEWAY, local sheriff/Dixie Mafia crime boss Big Boy gets a call from police chief Willa Knox, revealing that they're in cahoots ...


INT. SHERIFF’S OFFICE - NIGHT
Small-town law enforcement decor.
Pale yellow cinder block walls.

The signed picture of
KD Lang is a nice touch.
So are the bowling trophies.

Willa’s at her desk chomping
on nicotine gum, on the phone.

WILLA
Zane? It’s Willa --

INTERCUT WITH:

INT. BIG BOY’S OFFICE - NIGHT
Big Boy sits back in his
chair smoking a stogie.

Feet up on the desk.
Phone on his lap.

BIG BOY
Willa Knox.
How’s the lady sheriff doin’ tonight?

WILLA
Getting ready for my
big date with Jack Daniels.
How about your own bad self?

BIG BOY
Movin’ and shakin,’ hot stuff.
What’s up?

WILLA
Wanted to give you a heads-up.
Londell Kirven told me his
sister-in-law’s shackin’ up
with a screenwriter from LA
who just moved here.
Said she’s gonna write
a TV show about Echo,
and he suggested she talk to you.
Said she might be able to
‘dig up some dirt.’

BIG BOY
Got it under control.
Already met with her.

WILLA
Well, look at you.
Johnny on the spot.

BIG BOY
You know what they say.
Play with fire, and
you might get fucked.

WILLA
Anything I can do to help?

He thinks a moment. Grins.

BIG BOY
How about you send a
pair of constables to
the old McClung shack
at the top of Prospect
around midnight?

WILLA
And why am I sending them?

BIG BOY
‘Suspicious activity.’

WILLA
An ‘anonymous tip.’

BIG BOY
Much appreciated.
Now, the question is,
what are we gonna do about Londell?
He keeps poking his nose
where it don’t belong.

WILLA
He’s an officer of the law, Zane.

BIG BOY
For the time being.

The Horrors Within

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. 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 21 of RIDGEWAY, hipster junkie couple Zeek Moon and Sugar Hart run out of heroin, so Zeek convinces Sugar to go see a certain biker dealer and trade sex for smack ...


EXT. SHITTY COTTAGE - DUSK
A tiny, grimy cottage on
a steep mountain road.

Filthy white picket fence.
Recycling bin filled with
empty beer cans. f

Dense foliage hides
the horrors within.

Across the street, a motley crew
of LOCALS drink beer and
play a game of horseshoes.
One hits the stake with a CLANK.

INT. SHITTY COTTAGE - DUSK
Shades drawn. Piles of crap
everywhere that would do Hoarders proud.

A tiny boom box plays twangy alt country.
A BOY (20) and GIRL (19) sit on the bed,
cross-legged, sharing a smoke.

BOY
I’m sick, Sugar.
Need more brain damage.

Meet ZEEK MOON, mountain-punk-hipster.
Natty in faded denim,
Edwardian blouse and a bowler.

Greasy hair frames an angelic face.
He wipes his nose, rubs it on his leg.

SUGAR
But we just got a sack.

Meet SUGAR HART,
striking in artfully
ripped black hose and
blue velvet minidress.

Mass of tangled black
hair down to her ass.

Pale as moonlight and
sweet as honeysuckle.

ZEEK
All gone, honey pie.
(smiles)
How bout you go down to the Cathouse
and do one of them bikers again?

SUGAR
Aw, Zeek.
Those guys are nasty.
Still have bruises from the last one.

ZEEK
Maybe go see Hoyt again?

SUGAR
Isn’t there a way to score
without me having to fuck somebody?

ZEEK
Well, if you hadn’t lost the gun --

Pause.

SUGAR
Alright, alright.
I’ll go see Hoyt.
(beat)
He smells so bad.

ZEEK
Hold your nose.
It’ll be over before you know it.

SUGAR
He does come fast --

She gets up.
Goes to the door.

ZEEK
Attagirl. Go get ‘em.

Puts her hand on the knob.
Shoots him a look. Leaves.

He pulls out a cigar box
out from under the bed.

Opens it. Pulls out a spoon,
syringe and a length of rubber tubing.

Takes a glassine envelope
out of his pocket.

Holds it up to the light.
FLICKS it with his finger.

Dumps some of it on the spoon.
LIGHTS it with a flick of his Zippo.

Smoke rises as the magic powder
turns liquid, then bubbles.

He places a piece of cotton on it.
Then expertly draws it into the syringe.
Squirts it. Taps it with a finger.

Ties the rubber hose
around his upper arm.
YANKS it tight.

Rolls up his sleeve, revealing a
junkie’s road map of dead veins,
boils and scabs.

Hunts for a spot. No luck.

Thinks a moment.
Takes off a shoe,
revealing a filthy, hairy foot
with long, yellow nails.

Takes a deep breath --

and PLUNGES it between his toes.
CRIES OUT in pain.

The Bitch Is Back

Happy Saturday, 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 20 of RIDGEWAY, Cate pulls a sneak attack on Kayla's abusive coworker Vivi and cuts her to shreds.


INT. DREAMLAND - DAY
Shitty Knickleback-like rock music
way too loud on the sound system.

The joint is deserted,
except for Vivi and Kayla.

KAYLA
Now that Cate’s living with me,
all my utilities went up.
I just can’t make it
on twenty-eight hours.

VIVI
I told you, we can’t
afford it right now.

Can’t Cate chip in?
Cate walks in. Hears them.
Hides behind a rack of fur coats.

KAYLA
She was, until her old landlord
put a lien on her bank account.
Now she’s broke.

VIVI
Why doesn’t she just sell
one of her screenplays?

KAYLA
It’s not that simple.
She spends several hours
every morning trying to
sell her stuff and
looking for writing jobs.
It’s hard work.

VIVI
Maybe she should get a real job.

KAYLA
You know there’s no jobs here
for someone with her experience.

VIVI
Maybe you shoulda thought of that
before you let her move in with you.

KAYLA
That’s none of your business.

VIVI
Excuse me?

KAYLA
You’re not my boss, Vivi.
Sula owns the store, not you,
so I suggest you back the fuck off
before I do something I might regret.

VIVI
Like what, hit me?
Just because that fat slug
slapped you around doesn’t mean --

KAYLA
Shut up.

VIVI
Been on the receiving end so long
you think you can dish it out?
Go ahead, hit me. I dare you.
(beat)
You don’t have the guts.
You’re weak. Pathetic.

Kayla’s bravado starts to crumble.
Her eyes well up.

VIVI
Oh, look. She’s gonna cry --

Tears start running down her cheeks.
She gasps, runs into the back room.

Cate goes to the door, locks it --
then makes a beeline toward
Vivi at the counter.

CATE
Ah, there she is.
The big, fat pig.
I’m surprised your ugly mug
don’t scare the customers away.
(sniffs)
I mean, the smell alone --

VIVI
What did you just call me?

CATE
Big. Fat. Pig.
(makes SNORTING noises)
But then, you’re a razorback, right?

VIVI
(raises a hand to hit her)
How DARE you --

Cate WHACKS it away.
SLAPS her face.
GRABS her collar.

CATE
Shut the fuck up and listen
to me, you fucking cunt.
I’ve had enough of your fucking with Kayla.
She comes home every night in tears
because of your steaming sack of shit.

VIVI
(tries to get free)
LET GO OF ME.
(beat)
The customers will see us.

CATE
One step ahead of you, chubbo.
I locked the fucking door.

VIVI
What do you WANT?

CATE
I want you to STOP FUCKING WITH KAYLA.

VIVI
Fuck you.

CATE
I know all about how you worked
your way into Sula’s graces,
doing her errands for her,
buying her fucking boxes of wine --
my god, boxes of wine, could you
people be any more of a cliche?

VIVI
How dare you --

CATE
How dare YOU.
Ordering Kayla around
like you’re her boss.
You were a fucking
SCHOOL CAFETERIA LUNCH LADY.
Kayla’s got TWENTY YEARS RETAIL EXPERIENCE.
It’s like Sarah Palin
telling Steven Hawking what to do.
Fucking ridiculous.

Vivi stares in disbelief.
Her bottom lip quivers.

CATE
Nobody’s ever called your bluff, huh?
(softly)
When I first met you, I thought you
had a certain kinda back woods,
redneck charm -- but now I see you
for what you really are.
A bloated, scared, angry bully.
(getting warmed up)
I know all about your sexting husband,
your unmarried pregnant daughter
and her waste of human flesh boyfriend.
Quite a life you got there.
(nasty)
Oh. But it’s okay.
Jesus will save you.

VIVI
What -- do you want?

CATE
I already told you,
you fat fucking cow.
Leave Kayla the fuck ALONE.
And if you try to get her fired,
your fat ass is grass.
I just got a job working for Big Boy,
and one word from me --
(off her look)
Be kinda hard to get around
with fucked-up kneecaps.

VIVI
How dare you threaten me.
I’m gonna call the cops.

CATE
Yeah, right.
I’m sure Londell would love that.
He’s heard all about your shit
and would love to see you twist
in the wind like crusty flypaper.
(off her silence)
Well, I’m glad we got that sorted out.
I’ll get out of your hair and let you
get back to selling overpriced trinkets.
(beat)
Like your shirt. Cute.
Does it come in something
smaller than a tent?