Last Call

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 21 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, suspended homicide dick Carrie Love and investigative reporter Kelly Klavan watch fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster do an S/M demonstration on her 'girl toy' Dolly at Club Fuck in the 'Playroom,' but suddenly get interrupted when mercenary-for-hire Bland Loosener starts shooting up the joint ...


INT. CLUB FUCK - PLAY ROOM - NIGHT
The decadent, subterranean croon of
David Bowie’s cover of GOD ONLY KNOWS
soars through the dark haze.

Plain brick walls
and a scattering of tables and chairs.

The crowd mingles, sip drinks,
like any cocktail party.

Carrie and Kelly
sit at a table in the back.

KELLY
So what’s the plan, Stan.
You gonna snap the cuffs on her?

CARRIE
If I arrest her, and it’s not Friday,
I’m afraid we’d be whipped to death.

ON STAGE
a platform, really --
A MASTER unshackles a SKINNY MAN in a jockstrap.
Tenderly takes his hand. Bows.

AS HE TURNS
we see criss-crossed red lashes on Skinny’s back.

FRIDAY
holds Dolly’s hand.
Pulls her to center stage.

Guides her over to a large wooden cross,
like a big ‘X’.

DOLLY’S EYES
flicker. Liquid. Innocent. Part fear. Part wet.

FRIDAY
places Dolly’s wrist on the wooden plank.

Into a shackle. CLICKS it shut.
Then the other. CLICK.

She slowly reaches up to the zipper
at Dolly’s throat.
Slowly unzips it down. Down. Down.

Revealing plain, girlish lingerie.
Pale, trembling skin.

Friday places Dolly’s left ankle
on the cross.

CLICKS the shackle shut.
Then does the right. CLICK.

She stops. Takes a red vinyl-gloved hand,
strokes Dolly’s calf.
Dolly SHUDDERS.

-- goes up, up Dolly’s leg.
Reaches her soft, milky thigh. Stops.

DOLLY
quivers. Bites her lip.
Closes her eyes.

A tear of pleasure trickles down. Yes.
Friday’s hand continues on it’s journey.

Reaches Dolly’s panties.
A small wet spot glistens.

Stops. Dolly’s hips buckle.
She can’t take it. Please.

A FETISH COUPLE watches.
Holding hands. GIRL dabs her eyes.
CARRIE stares. Repulsed. Scared. Turned on.

Gunshots POP! POP! POP!
A woman SCREAMS. Pandemonium.

Clubbers STAMPEDE for the exit.
But it’s LOCKED.

FRIDAY
Shit!

She quickly undoes Dolly’s restraints.
CLICK, SNAP, CLICK, SNAP.

GRABS Dolly’s hand.
Pulls her toward backstage.

FRIDAY
C’mon, baby, we gotta split -- last call.

IN THE ALLEY
a door BANGS open.
The women RACE outside.

THE LIMO
idles nearby.
The DRIVER starts to get out.

Friday GRABS the door.
Opens it. SHOVES Dolly inside.

FRIDAY
(to the driver)
Get back in, now!
We GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE!
Go, go, move, MOVE!

IN THE PLAYROOM
Bland stands in the entrance.
Door blasted off its hinges.
Points twin handguns at the petrified crowd.

BLAND
Don’t be alarmed.
I’m looking for someone.
And when I find her, you can all go. Unharmed.
(beat)
Perverted, but unharmed.

TWEEKER BOY
You wouldn’t dare.

Bland SHOOTS him in the foot, BANG.
The boy SCREAMS in pain.

Hits the floor.
Holds his boot, blood pouring out.

TWEEKER BOY
You fucking shot me!

BLAND
Try dancing now.

CLICK, CLICK.

CARRIE
points her Glock against Bland’s temple.

CARRIE
Put the guns down, you ugly fuck.
Or else all you’re gonna hear
is the wind whistling through your empty,
‘be all you can be’ head.

Bland drops ‘em.

KELLY
watches, in awe.

KELLY
This is like out of a movie.

CARRIE
Shhh.

Bland takes advantage of the moment,
and in a BLUR OF SPEED,
GRABS Carrie and Kelly’s heads
and SMASHES them together.

He grabs his guns off the floor,
races backstage.

Carrie leaps up.
Unsteady on her feet.

CARRIE
Whoah. Head rush.

EXT. CLUB FUCK - BACK ALLEY - NIGHT
Bland JUMPS on his motorcycle.
KICK-STARTS the engine.

It ROARS to life.
He takes off in a SQUEAL of rubber.

CARRIE
runs outside. Chases after the bike.

CARRIE
Come BACK HERE!

And, like some marathon sprinter,
she catches up.

LEAPS in the air. GRABS him, and --

The bike, Bland and Carrie
skitter across the parking lot.
And BANG, into the side of a dumpster.

Carrie SOCKS Bland in the jaw.
BANG, he goes out.

She whips out handcuffs,
fastens him to the bike.

KELLY
appears. Rubbing his temples.

KELLY
Do you have any ibuprofen?

She rifles through Bland’s pockets.
Finds the PICTURE.

CARRIE
Holy shit.

KELLY
It’s her.

CARRIE
And it looks like she’s made
some pretty nasty enemies.

KELLY
Maybe he can lead us to where she is.

CARRIE
If we’re lucky.
(beat)
Or unlucky --