Good afternoon, minions. Have I got a surprise for you. A crisp, seductive little slice of noir just waiting to be devoured. Part one of a new story that I call 'Little Girl Blue.' It's about small-town girl Aerin Mist, the sister of a stripper that the newspapers say committed suicide. But she knows that's not true. So she comes to LA ... and goes 'undercover' ...Drumroll, please ...
***
EXT. STRIP CLUB - NIGHT
The gut-kicking metal PUNCH
of The Cult’s LOVE REMOVAL MACHINE over --
Fantasy Island Gentleman’s Club.
About a mile from the beach on the outskirts of Santa Monica.
Not exactly in disrepair, but not fancy, either.
A meat and potatoes strip joint.
Parking lot a quarter-full on a Sunday night.
Sign reads ‘AmateUr NiGht’.
ANGLE ON --
A beat-up Dodge Dart Swinger convertible.
A YOUNG WOMAN sits behind the wheel.
Listening to the music on the car stereo.
Nodding her head, eyes closed.
PUNCHING her fists in the air.
Meet AERIN MIST (20), recent transplant from the Midwest.
Tall and gawky, a gazelle still on the cusp.
Long brown hair tied in a ponytail.
Studious-looking horn-rimmed glasses.
Which clashes with her denim cutoffs and black leather halter top.
Not to mention the six-inch platforms.
ANGLE ON --
Her slim, amazing tan legs move to the music.
ANGLE ON --
She takes off her glasses.
Puts them on the dashboard.
RIPS out her scrunchie.
SHAKES her hair like a wild woman.
AERIN
(sings)
Scarlet woman, bought me a be-er --
She stops. SHUTS OFF the music.
Looks in the rearview mirror.
AERIN (CONT’D)
I can’t do it. What the hell was I thinking.
MALE VOICE (O.C.)
You dancing tonight?
A GOOD-LOOKING JOCK
appears next to the car. Grinning.
AERIN
I was -- thinking about it.
GOOD-LOOKING JOCK
Better think harder. You’ll win, no problem.
AERIN
You really think so?
GOOD-LOOKING JOCK
You’re not from around here, are you?
AERIN
It shows, huh.
INT. FANTASY ISLAND - MOMENTS LATER
Marilyn Manson’s THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, LOUD, over --
The club. Long and dark, with a bar running along one wall.
A smattering of CUSTOMERS on stools.
A couple of DANCERS lounge at the end, chatting.
The BARTENDER cleans a glass, watching -
THE STAGE
On it, ‘Gothika’ (18), pale, skinny --
and, you guessed it --
totally goth, is working the pole.
Down to her black vinyl G-string.
Pierced nipple rings glistening in the pin-spot.
She looks great, if you like that death-warmed-over look.
But she’s jacked up on something -- speed, maybe PCP --
and it’s making her move more like a stormtrooper than a stripper.
THE FRONT DOOR
Opens. In walks Aerin. She’s made up her face.
Almost unrecognizable. Painted, tarted-up.
And scared to death.
She walks over to the bar.
Tentative in platforms.
Sits precariously on a stool.
Bartender glides over. Pounces.
BARTENDER
(leers)
Here for the contest?
AERIN
Uh -- yeah.
BARTENDER
Name your poison. On the house.
AERIN
A Heinekin -- and a shot, please.
BARTENDER
Jack okay?
AERIN
Sure. Thanks.
He turns to get her drink.
FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Woman after my own heart.
Aerin turns, looks, sees --
CARRIE LOVE
On the stool next to her.
Rakish in jeans, white t-shirt and motorcycle jacket.
Ponytail. Naughty red lips.
Bright blue eyes full of secrets.
What momma warned you about.
CARRIE
Shot and a beer. Simple. Perfect.
All-American.
AERIN
Uh -- yeah.
CARRIE
(offers hand to shake)
Carrie Love. Just making small-talk.
I would imagine you’re a bit nervous.
AERIN
(takes it, shakes)
Hi. Yeah. Thanks. I’m -- Aerin.
CARRIE
Aerin?
I would have figured you for a Becky or a Susie.
Heather, maybe.
AERIN
(smiles)
My father’s an English professor.
The bartender places the beer and shot in front of Aerin.
Carrie pulls out a money clip. Peels off a fifty. Tosses it.
CARRIE
Leave the bottle. Keep the change.
Bartender gives her a look.
Takes the bill. Glides away.
Carrie fills her shot glass.
Raises it in a toast.
Aerin raises hers.
They CLINK.
CARRIE (CONT’D)
Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.
They down them. Grab their beers.
Take a swig. Smile.
AERIN
So -- you’re not a dancer --
CARRIE
(pours two more)
Hell, no. I’m a dick.
AERIN
A what?
Carrie does her shot.
Aerin follows. Staring.
CARRIE
(pours two more)
Private dick. You know, missing persons.
Cheating spouses. Serial killers.
Cat stuck in a tree. The usual.
AERIN
You’re a private detective?
The song ends.
The DJ’S Voice BOOMS over the sound system.
OILY DJ
Give it up for GOTHIKA, fellas.
Wasn’t she AMAZING?
A smattering of half-hearted applause.
CARRIE
(raises her shot)
To Gothika --
AERIN
Gothika.
They down them.
Carrie pours two more.
CARRIE
(raises hers)
Liquid courage.
Aerin NODS. They both SLAM THEM.
OILY DJ
Up next, we have the lovely AERIN.
AERIN
Shit, that’s me.
She hops off the stool.
Pulls a CD out of her bag.
Weaves a little.
Weaves a little.
AERIN (CONT'D)
Wish me luck.
CARRIE
Luck has nothing to do with it.
(beat)
Not with that chassis.
Aerin grins. Turns to go.
Stops. Looks at Carrie.
AERIN
I’d like to talk to you about something.
You gonna stick around?
CARRIE
(Cheshire cat grin)
Consider me stuck.
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