Liquid Courage

Happy Tuesday, 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 2 of LITTLE GIRL BLUE, it's Christmas Eve at the Fantasy Island strip club, where wannabe dancer Blue Wonder meets private eye Carrie Love at the bar ... where more than sparks fly ...


INT. FANTASY ISLAND GENTLEMAN'S CLUB - NIGHT
Marilyn Manson’s THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, LOUD, over --

The club. Dark, with a bar running along one wall.
A handful of CUSTOMERS on stools.

A couple of DANCERS lounge at the end, chatting.
Christmas decorations look odd, out of place.
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 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.

Even the Santa hat doesn’t help.

THE FRONT DOOR
Opens. In walks Blue.
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
Here for the contest?

BLUE
Uh -- yeah.

BARTENDER
Name your poison. On the house.

BLUE
A Heinekin and a shot, please.

BARTENDER
Jack okay?

BLUE
Sure. Thanks.

He turns to get her drink.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Woman after my own heart.

Blue 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.

BLUE
Uh -- yeah.

CARRIE
(offers hand to shake)
Carrie Love. Just making small-talk.
I would imagine you’re a bit nervous.

BLUE
(takes it, shakes)
Hi. Yeah. Thanks. I’m -- Blue.

CARRIE
Blue? I would have figured you
for a Becky or a Susie. Heather, maybe.

BLUE
Parents are old hippies.

CARRIE
Jerry Garcia, eat your heart out.

The bartender places the beer and shot
in front of Blue.

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.
Blue raises hers. They CLINK.

CARRIE
Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.

They down them. Grab their beers.
Take a swig. Smile.

BLUE
So -- you’re not a dancer --

CARRIE
(pours two more)
Hell, no. I’m a dick.

BLUE
A what?

Carrie does her shot.
Blue follows. Staring.

CARRIE
(pours two more)
Private dick. You know, missing persons.
Cheating spouses. Serial killers.
Cat stuck in a tree. The usual.

BLUE
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 --

BLUE
Gothika.

They down them.
Carrie pours two more. They toast.

CARRIE
Liquid courage.

Blue NODS. They both SLAM THEM.

OILY DJ (O.C.)
Up next, we have the lovely MISS BLUE.

BLUE
Shit, that’s me.

She hops off the stool.
Pulls a CD out of her bag.

BLUE
Wish me luck.

CARRIE
Luck has nothing to do with it.
Not with that chassis.

Blue grins. Turns to go.
Stops. Looks at Carrie.

BLUE
I’d like to talk to you about something.
You gonna stick around?

CARRIE
Consider me stuck.

Blue smiles. Trots off toward the stage --