Martini Built For Two

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 16 of HIT & RUN HOLIDAY, fugitive screenwriter Friday Foster is holed up at the Chateau Marmont dressed in kinky fetish club gear getting ready for a night on the town at Club Fuck. Meanwhile, her ex, suspended homicide dick Carrie Love, goes to her apartment to search for clues, and runs into alternative weekly reporter Kelly Klavan, who has his own agenda ...


INT. CHATEAU MARMONT - BUNGALOW FIVE - NIGHT
Saucy, hip-shaking depravity on the stereo.
My Life With the Thrill Kill Kult’s
A MARTINI BUILT FOR TWO oozes promises of sin.
Salvation. Getting royally laid.

Friday’s poured into a red vinyl number
that screams 'kinky.'
Thigh-high boots.

Maybe it’s the cowl.
Or is it the horns and tail --
that spell ‘devil.’

FRIDAY
(sings along)
'I sit here all alone,
in a martini built for two -- '

The deviant sips a Kettle One vodka martini.
SNAPS a riding crop against her thigh.
Evil smile. Steps out onto --

EXT. BUNGALOW 5 - TERRACE - CONTINUOUS
Inky black humid nightfall.
Distant traffic sounds.

Ugly, violent, RAP MUSIC
blares from Bungalow 6.

FRIDAY
HEY. Can you turn that
jungle shit DOWN?

A huge, GOLD-TOOTHED GANGSTA appears.
An apparition in the dark.
He raises an UZI.

GOLD-TOOTHED GANGSTA
(British accent)
What the bloody fuck?

Friday pulls out her piece.
Aims it. Scowls.

FRIDAY
THIS is ‘the fuck.’

Gangsta’s saftey CLICKS.

GOLD-TOOTHED GANGSTA
You have balls, lady.

FRIDAY
No. I don’t.

Pause.

GOLD-TOOTHED GANGSTA
I must say, you look positively smashing.
Would you like to go to a party?

FRIDAY
(smiles, toasts)
Sorry, big guy.
Already got one.

INT. FRIDAY’S APARTMENT - AT THAT MOMENT
A bright swath of light sweeps the living room, until --
It strikes a FEMALE FIGURE in black. Back turned.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Friday?

The woman WHIPS AROUND.
It’s CARRIE LOVE.

She WHIPS OUT a HANDGUN.
SHINES a flashlight on --

KELLY
holding an electric torch.

CARRIE
Police! Hold it right there! Identify yourself!
KELLY
It’s okay, it’s okay!
I’m not armed!
I’m a reporter, K-Kelly Klavan!
I’m a friend of hers.
(beat)
Hoo-boy --

CARRIE
Goddammit.
You scared the shit out of me.

KELLY
Then we’re even.
(puts hand on chest, feels)
Talk about beats per minute --

CARRIE
What are you doing here?

KELLY
I saw the story on the news
and I thought maybe I could
dig up something, a clue --

CARRIE
What paper are you with?

KELLY
City Weekly.
What division are you, robbery?

CARRIE
I’m a homicide detective.
City Weekly doesn’t cover crime.

KELLY
So we’re both moonlighting.

CARRIE
I was -- seeing her.
(low)
Romantically.

KELLY
So was I.
Well, for one night.
But as you’ve just confirmed,
I didn’t have a chance,
as she is a sister
of the saphic arts.

Carrie stares at him.
Wheels turning. Her eyes flash.

CARRIE
Okay. Here’s the deal.
I work better with a partner.
Helps not getting killed.
Thing is, I’m officially off-duty.

KELLY
So you need a partner.

CARRIE
Yeah. And I need to go undercover.

KELLY
Do I get a gun?

CARRIE
No.

KELLY
Okay. I’m in.
(beat)
You sure I can’t have a gun?

CARRIE
No gun.

KELLY
How about one without bullets?

CARRIE
It’s against the law.

KELLY
But what if you need backup --

CARRIE
I SAID NO.
And that means NO.
So zip it, before I change my mind.

KELLY
Alight, okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
(beat)
How about a realistic
looking water-pistol?

Carrie pulls out her piece.
Aims it him. CLICKS the safety.

KELLY
Okay. Okay. Okay. No gun. No gun.

As they start to leave --

KELLY
You want to go
get a cup of coffee?

CARRIE
And what, plot our strategy?

KELLY
Yeah.

CARRIE
Nah. I hate that shit.