Double Vision

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.

Our next story is EXIT, a single-location crime thriller. It takes place in an after-hours club, where a small group of celebrities are getting wasted just before dawn. But when a pair of crazed gunmen storm in and take them hostage, their lives change forever.

In Chapter 1, we meet fading goth/grunge/punk rock star Bettie Blue, and Oscar-winning screenwriter Casey Montana, who are right now drowning their sorrows in a bottle of top-shelf tequila ...


EXT. THE SUNSET STRIP - NIGHT
A CHYRON reads ‘August 16, 4:47 AM.’

An occasional CAR passes by.
An occasional HOOKER works the stroll.

A trio of WASTED PARTY GIRLS (18)
turn a corner and stagger down a side street
looking for their car.

CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON a SMALL WHITE BUILDING
that was once a bank, now a
high-end designer boutique
at the foot of the Hollywood Hills
in the Sunset Plaza shopping district.

CAMERA GLIDES OVER to the side of the building,
where we see a STAIRCASE to the basement.

CAMERA GLIDES DOWN THE STAIRS
and STOPS at the door.

No window. No sign.
Just a small red buzzer.

INT. AFTER HOURS CLUB - NIGHT
Plush and jazzy. Part Art Deco. Part tiki lounge.
The dim, pin-spot lighting makes the joint seem to glow.

Welcome to The Exit Room.
Hot and cold running decadance until dawn.

Standing behind the long, polished bar
is MIA TANAKA (20’s), mixologist deluxe,
shiny black hair down to her ass.

Looking every bit the wannabe actress she is.
Right now she’s cutting up lime wedges
and evesdropping on --

A pair of WOMEN
doing shots of top-shelf tequila.

They SLAM them down,
then CRACK their shot glasses on the bar.

The dark-haired chick grabs the bottle.
Pours two more.

DARK-HAIRED CHICK
(raises hers)
To the best fucking screenwriter in HOLLYWOOD.

Meet BETTIE BLACK (40),
fading grungy-goth rock star.

Still good-looking,
but now a bit rough around the edges.

But still sexy in revealing,
ripped black threads.

If you squint your eyes.

She lights a new smoke off the old one.
A crooked grin.

BLONDE BABE
(raises hers)
To the best poet since PATTI SMITH.

Meet CASEY MONTANA (20’s),
white-hot Oscar-winning screenwriter.

Sexy-dirty, working that vintage pinup look.
The black and blue streaks in her hair
match her outfit.

BETTIE
Patti Smith? Really?

CASEY
Hey. If you’re gonna compare me
to Quentin Tarantino --

They DOWN them.

BETTIE
Flattery will get your clit sucked.

Bettie pours two more.
They DOWN them.
CRACK their glasses.

CASEY
Yow.
That’ll grow hair on your tits.

BETTIE
What are you working on now?

CASEY
That bottle. Keep pouring.

BETTIE
Ever seen Leaving Las Vegas?
Wanna write the rock star version?

CASEY
Only if Nic Cage plays you.

BETTIE
Pay him enough, he probably would.

They DOWN them.

BETTIE (CONT'D)
Doctor says if I don’t stop drinking,
I’ll die.
(pours more)
Works for me.

CASEY
Hey. Don’t talk like that.

BETTIE
(downs hers)
It’s the end of the road, baby.
My label says if I don’t go to rehab,
they’re dropping me.

CASEY
(downs hers)
But you don’t seriously mean --

BETTIE
(pours more)
You don’t know my pain.

CASEY
Well, if we’re playing
‘to tell the truth,’
I’m in a bit of a crisis myself.

They raise their shots.
Nod. SLAM them. CRACK.

BETTIE
Oh, yeah?
Having a hard time
spending all that money?

CASEY
No, that’s easy. It’s --
(beat)
I can’t come up with my next story.
I’m blocked.
(off her look)
It took me a year to write the first one.
I wrote it longhand during my lunch hour,
carefully crafting it.
Now they want another one
right away, and I can’t --
(beat)
Can you imagine the pressure
after winning the Oscar?

BETTIE
Hey.

CASEY
What.

BETTIE
There’s two of you.

CASEY
Two of me --

BETTIE
Got double vision.
See two of you.
(puts hand over one eye)
One --
(takes it off)
Two.

CASEY
I think that calls for another drink --