Incident At Gate 7

Happy Friday, gunslingers. What a great way to start the weak-end -- a little early. A brand, spanking-new story is awaiting you kids. NOWHERE GIRL -- a balls-out, hardboiled, femme-driven spy thriller, straight from my demented mind. Get ready for the joyride of your life ...

Whew. Tons of stuff going on. Have a director and producer interesting in shooting my film noir A DISH BEST KILLED -- which I will post here at a later date -- but since it's also lesbian-tinged, I want to show you all that I can write hetero people. (Ha.) That's right kids, this new one is for the masses. Needless to say, I''m totally stoked to be starting up my second film. We're still in the preliminary 'taking a meeting' phase, but I promise to keep you posted as things develop ...

But first let me tell you about a cool little British flick I screened last night, THE FOURTH ANGEL, a nifty little thriller with Jeremy Irons, Forest Whitaker and Jason Preistly (!). A ripping good time was had with this one. To say anything about the plot would give too much away ... but I WILL tell you this ... if the idea of Jeremy Irons with an AK47 submachine gun gets you excited, then see this film. SOON. It's THAT good.

Drumroll, please. Hold onto your secret decoder rings, kiddies, cause today I'm unveiling NOWHERE GIRL, the spy thriller from hell. Balls-out, non-stop action from start to stop.

Brace yourself ...

Oh, did I mention one of the main characters is a former porn star, now stripper?

Well, Cherry Nation makes Jason Bourne look like a piker ...


INT. LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - BAR - DUSK
One of those bland watering holes for travelers
who aren’t picky about ambiance. Or their cocktails.

A WOMAN (20’s) sits a table near the windows, watching the planes.
Unbelievably hot, with long, long black hair. Reckless curves. Sleek. A gazelle.
Meet CHERRY NATION. Exotic dancer. Future entrepreneur.
Single mother of two.

Right now she’s sipping a whiskey sour and talking on her cell phone.
She tugs on her miniskirt.

CHERRY
Thanks for watching the kids for me, Shag.
I owe you one.
(listens)
Yeah, the money is fucking AMAZING.
I’m getting close to having the amount I need
to quit dancing and open the store.
(listens)
My MEDS? Mind your own business.
(listens)
Okay, okay -- I’ll call you when I get to Vegas.

She feels something in the small of her back.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Don't move.
I have a gun pointed at the base of your spine.

CHERRY
What the fuck?

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Don't speak. Just listen.

CHERRY
But --

The gun CLICKS.

Camera PULLS BACK to reveal --

A TALL, UGLY THUG in shades and a trench coat
seated at the table behind her back.
He smiles. Not a pretty sight.

TALL, UGLY THUG
I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,
girlie, and I don’t care. Get off the fucking PHONE.

She clicks it shut.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Good girl. Now listen carefully.
The briefcase is next to your chair.

He FLIPS an envelope on her table.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Take this. In it, you’ll find an address.
Take the briefcase there. Got it?

CHERRY
Listen to me, I think you’ve got the wrong --

TALL, UGLY THUG
If you don't deliver the package by sunrise,
we’ll kill you. And your family.
(nudges her with the gun)
GOT it?

She nods. Frightened to death.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
Lower your left arm.
Put it near the case.

She does.
We hear a SNAP, CLICK.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT’D)
If you change your mind,
or go to the cops,
your family will DIE.
GOT it?

Cherry nods slowly.

TALL, UGLY THUG (CONT'D)
Good girl. Now you’re being smart.
I’m gonna leave now,
and you’re gonna keep facing the window.
DO NOT MOVE. Understand?

CHERRY
Y-yes.

TALL, UGLY THUG
One last thing. DO NOT open the briefcase.
If you do, you’ll die.
(beat)
Enjoy your cocktail.

He stands.
And in one fluid movement, he’s gone.
Cherry vibrates in her chair, shaking.
Blinking back tears.

She raises her hand.
We see she’s clutching the briefcase.
And that she’s been handcuffed to it.
She puts it back down.

A good-looking HIPSTER
slides into the chair next to her.
Studiously messy hair.
Five-hundred dollar torn jeans.

HIPSTER
These airport bars kinda suck,
don’tcha think?