Have Some Guts, Page 2
Justin Langer
asshole off.
Kenny pours another drink in front of her and smiles.
Kenny's whole demeanor changes from bored and lethargic to interested and alert.
KENNY
This one is on me. Go on, get it all out. What happened?
Rosa swallows half the drink in a single sip.
ROSA
I was his fucking maid. I cleaned up after this rich, cheap, pervert, Mr. Feinstein. I had no choice. It is so hard to get a good job these days unless you have one of those things hanging on the wall. A..a..a…
KENNY
A degree?
ROSA
No, one of those things that says you been to college and graduated. Anyways, I was part of a cleaning crew that serviced his house twice a week. His mansion was huge. It is right outside Portland with a big pool and expensive cars. Well, after a few months he started smackin' my ass everytime I was in his office. This guy was into whackin' people for money and selling drugs. A complete fuckin' lowlife! But I needed work so I could save some money and get the hell out of Portland. Well, just a little while ago, I overheard the shithead pervert talkin' to his two goons…
DISSOLVE TO:
INT: MR. FEINSTEIN'S MANSION. TWO HOURS EARLIER.
MR. FEINSTEIN is in his late sixties with a bald head and a serious case of curvature of the spine. His lower lip is perpetually wet and his hands shake ever so slightly. He bends over his desk and locks the briefcase closed. Rosa enters the office in a maid's uniform.
ROSA
Good evening, Mr. Feinstein. Does your trash need to be emptied?
MR. FEINSTEIN
Yes, Rosa. Especially when you're here. I moved it over by my desk, darling.
Mr. Feinstein wipes some dribble off his chin.
Rosa scuddles behind his desk and bends over. SMACK! Mr. Feinstein plants a firm spank on her butt. Rosa springs back to her feet.
ROSA
(in spanish)
Crazy fucking pervert!
He stands there glowing with joy. She quickly ties the bag of trash and leaves the room. She passes his two henchmen, SIMON and NUMBERS, as they enter the office.
Simon is born and raised English and is 30 years old. He is short with blond hair and dark beady eyes. Numbers is tall and dark. He has a gothic crucifix tattooed on both of his hands.
Both men wear black from head to toe. Mr. Feinstein notices them.
MR. FEINSTEIN
Simon, you creepy little fucker. Numbers, you holy pile of shit. I need you boys to do something short and sweet for me. This briefcase contains something of PRICELESS VALUE to ME. I trust you two will deliver it quickly and safely for me to Mr. Coleman for safe keeping in his vault for the weekend until I return from Miami. I would store it here, but… on second thought, that's none of your business.
SIMON
(thick English accent)
No problem, Mr. Feinstein. But isn't Mr. Coleman you're ex wife's new husband?
MR. FEINSTEIN
Yes. But me and Mr. Coleman go way back. She is a gold digging whore who worked her magic on me. After I divorced her, she took my little black book of contacts. She will eventually fuck, marry, divorce and rob all my business associates like she did to me. But some of them are into that like I was, so it works out.
SIMON
Goddamit sir, but I think your old brain mistakens you. As my memory has it, she dumped you and you cried your eyes out like a wee lil' sissie for weeks.
Mr. Feinstein throws a book at Simon and misses by a wide margin.
MR. FEINSTEIN
That's why I have to lock this damn thing up in someone else's vault, because lately everyone is too busy running their mouth and dicking around to do their job! Just get the fucking thing over there. Come back in a few minutes after I leave and the maids are done. I will leave it locked in the desk.
Numbers picks up the book and wipes it off. It is the Holy Bible. With care and precision he places it back on the desk.
NUMBERS
Might I recommend you be a little more careful with the Almighty's good book, sir?
MR. FEINSTEIN
Hey new guy, what is this, you're second week? Shut up!
Mr. Feinstein flips them off as they leave.
He opens the briefcase for a moment to look inside. He smiles and closes it securely.
He slides the briefcase in to the desk and locks it. He grabs his leather satchel and cane and leaves the office.
CUT TO:
INT: HALLWAY.
Rosa is bent over watering a fake plant. Mr. Feinstein closes the office door behind him and takes a long gander at her behind.
MR. FEINSTEIN
Water it all you want, babe, but it's fake.
He slowly disappears as he hobbles down the hallway.
Rosa leaves the water pitcher in the plant and tiptoes into the office.
CUT TO:
INT: OFFICE.
Rosa tries to jerk open the desk drawer.
She picks through her hair and plucks out a hair clip. She bends it every which way and inserts it into the lock.
CLICK, the lock pops open.
CUT TO:
INT: HALLWAY.
Rosa crams the suitcase into a laundry basket and smothers it in sheets and rags. She then disappears from the Feinstein mansion through a hallway door.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT: SEASIDE SKIPS.
Kenny stands wide-eyed with attention. Rosa puffs on her cigarette as if she just finished having sex with the briefcase. She sets the briefcase on the floor and grinds a cigarette butt into a small pile of lipstick-stained butts in the ashtray.
ROSA
After that I jumped into my car and drove here in about an hour. I am gonna be fuckin' rich once I get this damn thing open. I aint neva' seen no lock like this one before. There must be some fuckin' gold or rubies in there.
KENNY
Well, whatabout those two henchmen of Mr. Feinsteins? Won't they be coming after you?
ROSA
Fuck those fuckers. Let them come after me. You eva' had your eyes scratched out by a pissed off Puerto Rican woman?
Kenny takes a slow step back and shakes his head.
ROSA
One more for the road, Lenny.
KENNY
It's Kenny and I don't think that's a good idea since all that remains in the tequila bottle is the worm. I will call you a cab and get you to a motel.
ROSA
Are you tellin' ME, no? Fuck this! I am gonna be filthy rich tomorrow and you'll still be a bartender in a shitty bar. I'll find my own motel and you can say buenos noches to your tip.
She wrestles on her jacket and throws down a handful of wrinkled cash. She then jams everything into her jacket pocket, including the matches, cigarettes, and ASHTRAY. She trips over the barstool and stumbles out of the bar.
Kenny sorts through the cash and wipes the bar where she was sitting. Rosa peels out of the parking lot in her car with tires SCREECHING.
CUT TO:
EXT: HIGHWAY 101.
Rosa blasts the radio and is dancing while driving her Ford Pinto.
INSERT: SPEEDOMETER
95 miles per hour.
BACK TO SCENE:
She swerves viciously a few times. She reaches down and turns the radio up louder as the car slowly fills with SMOKE. Rosa COUGHS and waves her hands around. She digs through her pocket and pulls out the ashtray with a handful of smoldering cigarette butts. She attempts to throw it out the driver side window but the window is rolled up.
The ashtray and smoldering butts bounce off the window and fall back into her lap. She forgets about driving and bats all the smoking butts off her lap. But when she returns her attention to steering the car, a furry little beaver scurries across the road. She veers to the right to avoid hitting it and ends up on the historical Seaside boardwalk.
She is now SCREAMING hysterically.
She drives through a large gumball machine and some closed up kiosks. Gumb
alls and splintered wood fly everywhere.
She continues her excursion into a statue of the famous pioneers, Lewis and Clark. She panics and pushes down on the ACCELERATOR. The statue tips onto her car and joins her for the remainder of the ride. She drives another sixty feet and SLAMS on the brake. The statue slides off the hood, and SCREECHES through the street.
CUT TO:
INT: FURRY LITTLE BEAVERS GENTLEMANS CLUB.
BILL sits in a private booth, while a stripper in a bikini gives him a lap dance. He is as old and weathered as the crusty denim overalls he is wearing. He rubs his thick, greasy mustache.
BILL
That's right, honey. Shake that butt. Why don't we get past the games and you give me what I really want.
STRIPPER
Well, what is it you want?
BILL
Oh, come on now, you know I just can't come out and say it. That would be illegal. Why don't you just guess and do it.
Bill smiles in a drunken stupor while she gives him a puzzled, grossed out look.
STRIPPER
What? Do you want me to shave that fucking roadkill off your face?
BILL
No, you fuckin' trollip. Suck the spit outta my whistle! GIVE ME SOME…
Suddenly, the statue CRASHES through the tinted glass windows of the strip club, grabbing everyone's attention.
It SLAMS into the stage causing the HEAD of Lewis to separate and sail through the air. The head hurdles through the veil of the private booth and CRUNCHES into the groin of BILL.
STRIPPER
Head?
CUT TO:
INT: MR. FEINSTEINS MANSION. BAR.
Simon and Numbers are playing pool. A few empty bottles are on the bar and the basketball game is on the television.
INSERT: TELEVISION
The Chicago Bulls are ahead in the fourth quarter.
BACK TO SCENE
Simon looks at his watch.
SIMON
Jesus Christ, man. It's almost midnight. Let's…
NUMBERS
(interrupting)
Hey, don't use the Lord's name in vain.
SIMON
Yeah, fine. Like I was saying, let's take this fuckin' briefcase over to Coleman and go hit a real bar. I am tired of drinking Feinstein's piss beer.
The television news suddenly interrupts for a breaking story. Simon and Numbers hang up their pool sticks and watch the story.
SHAUNA SPARKS
Good evening. This is reporter Shauna Sparks for News Channel Eight. I am at the scene of a horrible car accident here on the historic boardwalk in Seaside. It seems an unidentified woman was driving under the influence and drove her blue Ford Pinto onto the boardwalk and destroyed some property, including a giant gumball machine, some souvenir kiosks, and tragically, the beloved ten-foot statue of Lewis and Clark. Apparently, she panicked and pushed down on the accelerator instead of the brake. The woman has been rushed to the Seaside Memorial hospital.
She suffered a broken arm and a minor concussion. Behind me you can see the totaled Pinto.
The reporter steps aside and the Pinto is shown. A sign on door of the car reads:
INSERT: CAR DOOR SIGN
Portland Wonder Maids
BACK TO SCENE
Simon tilts his head and almost his whole body awkwardly while watching the television.
SIMON
Hey, those are the maids that were just here earlier today! Small world, eh, Numbers?
NUMBERS
Got that right. Let's go.
Both men leave the bar.
CUT TO:
INT: HALLWAY.
Simon and Numbers stroll through the hallway. The plant near the office has a dirty puddle of water underneath it.
SIMON
Well, no wonder the fuckin' thing is leaking. Someone left a pitcher full of water in the plant. Stupid fuckin' maids.
Numbers feels the leaves on the plant.
NUMBERS
This plant is fake, Simon. Why would someone water a fake plant?
SIMON
Like I just said, stupid fuckin maids!
Numbers goes to open the office door but it is already ajar. They share a concerned look with each other. Both men hurry into the office.
CUT TO:
INT: OFFICE.
Simon stands by the door and looks around while Numbers sprints to the desk. The desk drawer is open.
NUMBERS
Dammit! It isn't here. We need to call Mr. Feinstein and tell him.
SIMON
No fuckin' way Jesus-freak. We were supposed to deliver the damn thing almost three hours ago.
Both men pace around for a moment. Numbers picks a hairpin off the floor. Simon looks at the pin, then Numbers.
SIMON
Oh, I fuckin' get it now. That Puerto Rican dame with the pointy titties broke in here, picked the lock, and flew out of here like a straight guy in a gay bar.
NUMBERS
She went out, partied, and wrecked her car. I believe the lady on the news said Seaside Memorial Hospital?
SIMON
Numbers, I think we need to take a roadtrip!
Both men hurry out.
CUT TO:
INT: SEASIDE SKIPS.
The television is still on.
INSERT: TELEVISION
The Bulls celebrating their win over the Trailblazers.
BACK TO SCENE
Kenny yawns and checks his watch.
KENNY
And we are closed. Awesome, another moneyless night filled with annoying drunks.
Kenny walks around the bar and begins putting the stools up. As he puts up one of the middle stools, he kicks something. He looks down and sees the briefcase.
KENNY
Well, thank you sweet irony.
CUT TO:
EXT: SEASIDE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL.
A black Jeep Grand Cherokee pulls into a handicap spot in front of the emergency room entrance. Simon and Numbers climb out of the vehicle and stride into the hospital.
CUT TO:
INT: SEASIDE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL. EMERGENCY ROOM LOBBY.
They push their way through the room and up to the receptionist window. A young black woman sits behind the window with a stack of clipboards and a bottle of orange soda. Simon looks at her nametag.
INSERT: NAME TAG
Kesha, Emergency Ward Receptionist.
BACK TO SCENE
KESHA
What's the emergency?
SIMON
Hello, Kesha. Me and my friend here are looking for that young woman who just wrecked her car all over the boardwalk. We are in no real emergency except for to see her.
Keshaa slides a clipboard through the window slot.
KESHA
No emergency? Fill this out and have a seat. The Doctor will see you in a little bit.
Kesha picks up her book and starts reading.
INSERT: BOOK COVER
College Success Skills
BACK TO SCENE
Simon stands curious for a moment.
SIMON
Going to school are ya?
Kesha rolls her eyes and ignores him. Simon slides a twenty-dollar bill into the window slot.
KESHA
Please, honey. Have a seat like all of these other people. The Doctor will be out shortly.
Simon smiles and slides four more twenty-dollar bills into the window slot. Kesha looks at him and snatches the money. She then writes something on a piece of paper and slides it through the window slot. She hits a button on the wall and keeps reading.
The double doors to the ward BUZZ and click open. Simon retrieves the piece of paper and slips through the doors with Numbers.
CUT TO:
INT: HALLWAY.
Simon and Numbers stride through the hall to the elevators. Doctors look at them curiously. They climb into the elevator and the doors close.
CUT TO:
INT: SEVENTH FLOOR.
The elevato
r opens and the two henchmen continue their stroll.
Simon looks at the piece of paper.
INSERT: PIECE OF PAPER
Floor 7, #15b
BACK TO SCENE
An OLD MAN crosses their path in a wheelchair.
SIMON
You, there. Can you tell us where room number 15b is?
The Old Man stops in his tracks and clutches his heart.
OLD MAN
No, no! I aint ready fer you yet. I aint giving up my soul! Get away you angel of death! HELP!
Simon crams a handkerchief into the old man's mouth while Numbers quickly wheels him into a broom closet and closes the door.
NUMBERS
Lord, forgive me.
Simon points towards a room at the end of the hall.
SIMON
There it is, straight ahead. See, there was no need to tell Feinstein. We got this shit under control.
They casually slide into the room.
CUT TO:
INT: ROOM #15b.
Rosa lies on a gurney with her arm elevated and some bandages on her head. The goons stealthily sweep the room in search of the briefcase.
SIMON
Where the fuck is it? This is the bitch, so where's the briefcase?
NUMBERS
Check her clothes on the chair. She must have left it somewhere else.
They ravage her clothes only to find cigarette butts, an ashtray, and a book of matches.
Rosa opens her eyes and sees them. The BEEPING of her heart monitor speeds up. She quickly closes her eyes.
NUMBERS
She got drunk, right? Maybe she left it at the bar.
He looks at the matchbook in his hand.
INSERT: MATCHBOOK
Seaside Skips
BACK TO SCENE
SIMON
Holy shit, this is really starting to get on me fuckin' nerves.
A voice SOBS in the other bed, from behind the curtain.
BILL
(O.C.)
My poor balls. They're the size of grapefruits. Doctor, please do something!
Simon peeks behind the curtain.
INT: CURTAIN
Bill lays in the gurney with his legs spread apart. Peeking out just below the bottom of his hospital gown are two bloated, veiny, shiny testacles.
CUT TO:
Simon stumbles back in horror into a shelf, knocking items on to the floor. The CLATTER of aluminum instruments and plastic cups hitting the floor breaks the silence.
Simon scrambles away from the curtain.
SIMON
Oh, Jesus! Let's get outta here!
The goons dart out of the room.
CUT TO:
INT: SEASIDE SKIPS.
Kenny closes down the lights of the bar and hides the suitcase underneath his coat. He heads for the front door. Just as he unlocks it, Numbers and Simon KNOCK on the glass. Kenny relocks the deadbolt.
KENNY
Sorry, fellows. I'm closed.
SIMON
We don't want no drinks. Me friend left her briefcase here, and she asked me to pick it up for her. Might you have it? It's black with some shiny chrome.
KENNY
No, I haven't seen in it. Sorry.
SIMON
Maybe we can come in and take a look around?
KENNY
Nope. My boss won't allow that after hours. Come back tomorrow and he'll let you mop the place if you want.
SIMON
Is your boss there? Let me speak to him. This is an emergency my young friend.
KENNY
Sorry, again. He doesn't want to be disturbed. He is doing the drawers and payroll
