American Bitch

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 6 of NOWHERE GIRL, Token Ware, the vicious thug that chained a briefcase to fugitive stripper Cherry Nation's wrist accosts her and hipster Peeler Mardo at his joint at gunpoint, but the tables get turned when Homeland Security agent April Street arrives on the scene. Meanwhile, high in the Hollywood Hills, we meet the Al Quaeda sleeper cell that's awaiting the briefcase ...

INT. PEELER'S SILVERLAKE BUNGALOW - NIGHT

TOKEN WARE
Walks into the room.
Holding a sawed-off shotgun.

TOKEN
You should lock your front door.
Open invitation for dangerous criminals.

CHERRY
YOU.

PEELER
That’s the guy who -- ?

TOKEN
I gave you an address
to take the case to.
And instead, you come to this
rat-trap to fuck this LOSER?

CHERRY
I’m gonna go, I’m gonna go.
We got shot at, at the airport,
and, and --

PEELER
We were -- just leaving.
Please don’t shoot us.

TOKEN
(to Cherry)
Did I say you could
take SOMEONE WITH YOU?
This isn’t a DATE.
We’re dealing with TERRORISTS here.
There’s a TIME-TABLE.
And now you’re LATE.
You think an AL QAEDA SLEEPER CELL
is just gonna HANG AROUND ALL DAY
and WAIT?

A GLOCK
Appears next to Token’s head.
The safety CLICKS.

WOMAN’S VOICE (O.C.)
Put the gun down, slowly.

APRIL
Stands in the doorway.
Token lowers the gun.

APRIL
You gave the case
to the wrong chick, doll.
(looks at Cherry)
Jesus Christ.
You could be my sister.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD HILLS - MANSION - NIGHT
A glass and steel monstrosity
right outta ENTOURAGE, high on a cliff,
jutting out into the sky on stilts.

INT. MANSION - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
The very definition of ritzy.
The room is fucking HUGE.

An amazing view of
Los Angeles twinkles below.

Seated in front of a roaring fire is
HAMAD KHARRAZI, head of this particular
Al Qaeda sleeper cell.

His second-in-command, KAMAL AESEFIJ,
stands before him.

Both wear ‘Hollywood casual’
jeans and polo shirts with jackets.

KAMAL
We have heard nothing yet, sir.

HAMAD
American BITCH.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Excuse me.

HAMAD
I told you to be SILENT.

CAMERA PULLS BACK to reveal --

The homeowners.
A RICH HUSBAND (50’s)
and his TROPHY WIFE (20’s).

Seated on another sofa
across the room.

Right now being held at gunpoint
by TWO AFGHANI TERRORISTS with Uzis.

Dressed in hip-hop baggies
and baseball caps.

TROPHY WIFE
I’m sorry, but I, I --
need to use the -- ladies’ room.

HAMAD
Stay where you are!
You can piss yourself
for all I care!

KAMAL
I have an idea.

HAMAD
And what is your IDEA?

KAMAL
Well, as you know,
I am a bit of what they call
a 'tech-head' here in the states.

HAMAD
Yes, I know.
You went to university.

KAMAL
Ball State, sir.
Excellent humanities
and science programs.

HAMAD
I am growing impatient, Kamal --

KAMAL
Well, since she called us
on the cell phone,
we can return the call
with the push of a button.

HAMAD
We CAN?

KAMAL
But of course,
it’s stored on the phone.
I suggest we -- call her.
Find out what the story is.
Fuck Avi.

HAMAD
BRILLIANT. Call her IMMEDIATELY.

Kamal smiles.
Pulls out his cell.
Punches a button. Listens.

KAMAL
It’s ringing --