Two Hooters, No Waiting

Happy Thursday, 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 12 of NOWHERE GIRLS, the shit is about to hit the fan when notorious assassin The Bagger and FBI agents Sunday Sparks and Max Cargo both converge on our hero's safe house. Meanwhile, inside, covert agents Cherry Nation, April Street and Bibi LaSalle prepare for battle ...


INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS - SITUATION ROOM - NIGHT
Sunday and Max sip cups of coffee.
Huddle in the corner.
Watch the other FBI agents
scurry about.

MAX
You gotta say it was a brilliant op.
Using a tall blond with big tits --

SUNDAY
Idiots are in jail, and now
fielding offers from three networks
for a fucking REALITY SHOW.
Our great nation is going in the TOILET.
They should be fucking SHOT.
(sips coffee)
All that crap on TV makes me sick --

MAX
I dunno. I kinda like JERSEY SHORE.
(chuckles)
The Situation --

STRANGE-LOOKING OP (O.C.)
I’ve GOT IT.

Sunday and Max WHIP their heads
in the direction of --

STRANGE-LOOKING
Standing at his desk. Fist pumped.

STRANGE-LOOKING OP (CONT'D)
I got their address.
It’s fifteen minutes from here.

SUNDAY
(races toward him)
Good work, York. If this pans out,
you’ll get a condemnation.
(to the room)
ALRIGHT everybody, let’s MOBILIZE.
Let’s GET THOSE FUCKING BITCHES.

An older, tired-look agent looks at Max.
Shakes his head.

OLDER, TIRED-LOOKING AGENT
She always so -- feisty?

MAX
You should see her after
she’s had a couple of cocktails.

INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - AT THAT MOMENT
Bibi, Cherry and April sit on the couch
with cups of coffee.

Serge looks at the door.
Thinking.

SERGE
Coffee break is over.
We have to get moving.

BIBI
What do you mean?
The tracking device has been disabled.

APRIL
He’s right. The Feds will be here any minute.
We’re talking the state-of-the-fucking-art
spy satellite tracking, heat-seeking surveillance,
the works.

SERGE
(nods)
I have a motor home
parked not far from here.
It will be a little snug,
but it can be our temporary
base of operations
until we find somewhere else.

CHERRY
I like the sound of 'snug' --

APRIL
Down, girl.

EXT. BUNGALOW - SIDE ALLEY - NIGHT
The Bagger and Lemon creep carefully in the darkness.
Walk up to a side window. Try to peer in.

BAGGER
Damn blinds. Can’t see a fucking thing.

LEMON
Maybe we should go to the front door?

BAGGER
Which ruse, 'naughty census taker?'

LEMON
At this hour? In this outfit?
Nah. Was thinking Stripper-gram.

BAGGER
(nods)
Element of surprise. Distract ‘em.

LEMON
(opens her jacket)
Two hooters, no waiting.

The Bagger hears something.
Turns his head.

BAGGER
What was that?

LEMON
I heard it too --

BAGGER
(finger to lips)
Shhhh --

They quietly start creeping
toward the house next door.

BAGGER (CONT'D)
Smells like G-men --

EXT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - NIGHT - AT THAT MOMENT
A dozen FBI AGENTS in flak jackets pile out
of tricked-out SUV’s carrying submachine guns.
Start approaching the house quietly, surrounding it.

Sunday and Max get out of their vehicle.
Watch the action. Sunday lights up a smoke.

SUNDAY
I love the smell of estrogen in the evening.

MAX
So, uh -- do you ever let anyone -- join in?

SUNDAY
I laugh on your lapel, G-man.
In your DREAMS. Keep it up,
and I’ll report you for sexual HARASSMENT.
I’ve got Gloria Alred on SPEED-DIAL.

MAX
Jeez. Alright, okay --
(beat)
Don’t get your panties in a bind.
(smiles)
I mean -- briefs.

INT. BIBI’S SAFE HOUSE - AT THAT MOMENT
Serge hands the girls Uzi submachine guns
and extra clips.

SERGE
Here. You’re going to need these --

APRIL
For me? You shouldn’t have.

CHERRY
The gift that keeps shooting.

BIBI
(examines it)
Oooh. This is the new model --

Serge goes to a spot in the floor.
Pulls aside a rug, revealing a trap door.
He gets down, opens it. Looks at them.

SERGE
Good to have, just in case --

The back door EXPLODES
in a massive FIREBALL -- BANG.

Two FBI AGENTS IN BLACK
stand in the doorway. Weapons aimed.

IRATE FBI AGENT
FBI, NOBODY MOVE -- YOU’RE UNDER ARREST.