Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In the final chapter of LEGS, Episode 3, private eye Carrie Love and her porn star squeeze Laura Lang relax in their hot tub to recuperate from the violence of the day ... until Laura makes a shocking announcement ... which sends Carrie in a shocking direction.
EXT. CARRIE’S BUNGALOW - PATIO - NIGHT
Old flagstones, surrounded by a wooden fence
with wainscotting across the top
with lush plants and a sunken
old-school oak hot tub.
Sultry jazz plays on hidden speakers.
Carrie and Laura lie in the tub,
luxuriating in the hot, bubbling water.
Steam rises off the surface.
Their bare skin glows in the soft moonlight.
Laura drinks from a bottle of vodka.
Carrie’s got a bottle of something brown.
CARRIE (V.O.)
I can’t begin to extole
the virtues of the hot tub.
The pulsating heat,
the bracing smell of chorine,
the urgent rush of swirling waters
against private places --
(beaat)
Not to mention the recouperative
powers of Jack Daniels.
LAURA
This feels so good.
Every bone in my body
is bleedin’ thrashed.
(takes a sip)
Ahh, the nectar of the gods.
CARRIE
(raises her bottle)
To no more perverted German directors
sticking electronic devices
up inside my baby’s cooch.
She takes a swig. Smiles.
LAURA
At least not until tomorrow.
CARRIE
It must be the full moon.
I thought I heard you say
you’re going back there.
LAURA
I have to or else
I won’t get paid, love.
CARRIE
You gotta be kidding.
LAURA
I never kid about money.
CARRIE
Don’t worry about the money.
(beat)
Move in with me.
LAURA
You mean -- shack up?
CARRIE
Just for a little while.
We can try it out.
And you can maybe --
go back to being a hair stylist.
You always say how much
you loved it back in London.
Pause.
LAURA
Until my lover and business partner
fucking O-D’d on me and DIED.
(beat)
How fucking dodgy.
Of all the --
I thought you were --
you’ve slept with
half the girls I work with --
and now you want ME to go straight?
You’re just like all the other civilians.
Laura gets out of the tub.
Naked in the moonlight.
Steam rises off her perfect body.
CARRIE
Wait, DON’T GO. I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it.
Get back in. Let’s talk.
C’mon, we’re both drunk.
I didn’t mean it.
LAURA
Thanks for the tub.
I feel really good all of a sudden.
Like a weight’s been
lifted off my shoulders.
She DARTS over to the door, goes in.
SLAMS it shut.
CARRIE
Holy shit.
Carrie JUMPS out,
THROWS ON her bathrobe,
RACES to the door --
to discover it’s been locked.
She JIGGLES the knob.
CARRIE
The bitch. She wouldn’t DARE.
(POUNDS on the door)
LAURA. Open UP, let me IN.
MALE VOICE (O.S.)
Whoah. Let me guess.
Lesbian drama?
Carrie wheels around to face --
A UNIFORMED PRIVATE SECURITY GUARD.
UNIFORMED PRIVATE SECURITY GUARD
Know the feeling. Nasty stuff.
Wife left me a couple a years ago
for her gyno.
(beat)
Nice bathrobe.
CARRIE
She’s my roommate.
UNIFORMED PRIVATE SECURITY GUARD
Yeah. And John Travolta likes eating pussy.
INT. BERNIE’S HOUSE - NIGHT
A small joint similar to Meg’s
in the same kind of neighborhood,
but not well-tended like hers.
INT. BERNIE’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Very masculine. Kinda ratty. But oddly homey.
Bernie sits on a big, sagging couch
watching a ball game on TV,
drinking a bottle of beer.
BERNIE
(at the TV)
FOUL? C’MON, Ref --
The doorbell RINGS.
Bernie looks at his watch.
BERNIE
What the fuck?
It RINGS again.
Bernie sighs. Gets up.
Walks to the front door.
Opens it, revealing -- Carrie.
Messy drunk.
In her bathrobe.
We can tell she’s been crying.
CARRIE
Bernie.
(beat)
I know it’s late --
(hiccups)
I’m sorry.
BERNIE
What’s wrong?
What -- happened?
CARRIE
Laura and I had a big fight,
she locked me out of the house, and --
She COLLAPSES in his arms.
Bawling her eyes out.
Bernie awkwardly holds her.
He looks up at the ceiling.
BERNIE
(mouths silently)
Thank you --
No comments:
Post a Comment