"FEARLESS LOVE"

by
Steven J. Weller
Steven J. Weller
512 S. Hobart Blvd. #205
Los Angeles, CA 90020
(323) 799-8004
steven_weller01@hotmail.com
FADE IN:
EXT. THE PITZ/ROCK N' ROLL BAR - NIGHT
A black-painted cement block faade, with corrugated steel
accents. The sign above the door is roughly cut from sheet
metal, and beneath it stands a DOORMAN at the head of a line.
Big, solidly-built, tattoos and piercings.
Not exactly a crowd, but the line looks good for a weeknight -
lots of black leather, black denim, band tee shirts and short
skirts. The music's pumping, even through the concrete wall.
The Doorman checks IDs with a small flashlight, and pretty
much everybody's getting in. Another night of rock n' roll
in Los Angeles.
INT. THE PITZ - NIGHT
Inside, the decor continues, augmented by lighted beer signs.
A green splotch of neon politely reminds the patrons - TIP OR
DIE. The music's even louder, and people drink and dance and
shout intimate conversations into each others' ears.
Behind the bar, shots are poured and beer bottles are opened
and inverted into plastic cups. A WAITRESS weaves through
the crowd, delivering drinks and collecting empties.
Against the bar stands JEAN, all of 19 in a belly shirt,
tight black jeans, and a leather bracelet. Lean and petite,
like a swimmer, but with more curves. Short dark hair over
bright eyes that survey the crowd with obvious enjoyment.
As she hits her bottled beer, she spots a hot-looking Asian
woman, TOPAZ, across the room. She's dressed to seriously
impress, club-style. They make eye contact and exchange sly
smiles.
jean looks back to the crowd as Topaz saunters casually over
to join her.
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
'Sup?
JEAN
(over the noise)
I love this music.
Topaz sets her drink down on the bar, next to jean. The
movement catches her attention, and they lock eyes for a
moment.
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
Can I get you another?
jean kills the beer, smiling but not meeting Topaz's eyes.
JEAN
(over the noise)
You beat me to it. No, I'm good.
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
Oh, did you want to buy me one?
JEAN
(over the noise)
It's okay. I've been picked up
before.
jean meets her gaze, with a smile and a cocked eyebrow.
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
I've got a place not too far from
here.
jean leans down to retrieve her slightly tattered backpack
from the floor at her feet.
Topaz shoots a look across the room, back to where she was
standing before she caught jean's eye.
Standing in the shadows is MIKHAIL - tall, dark, and well-
muscled, and somewhat out of place in an expensive suit and
tie. His gaze is focused and professional as he shifts it to
jean, then back to Topaz.
He nods his approval.
jean stands up and throws her backpack over her shoulder,
unaware of Mikhail or of the moment exchanged.
JEAN
(over the noise)
I'm jean, by the way.
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
Topaz.
They head for the door together.
2.
JEAN
(over the noise)
"Topaz?" Really?
TOPAZ
(over the noise)
Sure, why not?
jean laughs, a little derisively. Topaz joins her in the
laugh as they reach the front door.
Mikhail opens it for them, and follows them out into the
night.
EXT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE (SANTA CRUZ) - NIGHT
A rich, expensive, very private structure, set into the
wooded hillside. Lights are on but the curtains are drawn.
The plantings are low-maintenance, lush but without blooms.
A shiny grey behemoth of a Lexus sits in the driveway, in
front of a closed garage door. No porch light.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BEDROOM - NIGHT
A large, carpeted room in dark, expensive wood, with a high
California King in the center. The impressive headboard
matches the panelling, and the bedspread is rich and elegant.
Very dramatic, though not exactly cozy or inviting.
Book cases full of leather-bound hardcovers line two walls.
Strong, tasteful art adorns the spaces between - expensive
but not ostentatious.
At the dresser stands ABIGAIL, late 30s, a tall, willowy
redhead in expensive lingerie. She looks into the mirror
with a critical eye, a hanger of clothes in each hand. She
compares them, but neither outfit seems to thrill her.
Tossing them both on the bed, she walks purposefully to the
open closet, where the bar hangs heavy with carefully chosen
clothes. Sleepwear, lingerie, business dresses and suits -
all in neat order.
She flips through a few outfits, looking down the line to the
far end where a couple of more casual choices hang. She
pulls one out, looks at it in front of the closet, and hangs
it back up. Not what she had in mind.
Going back to the bed, she grabs one of the two outfits,
almost at random, and heads to the door.
3.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
She hangs the outfit on a hook in the generously-appointed
space, as impeccably ordered as the bedroom.
At the vanity, she retrieves a modest make-up case and takes
a moment to consider colors. Making her decision with a
quick glance back to her outfit, she begins to apply her make-
up. It's subtle, understated, and precise.
Her Blackberry, on the vanity beside her make-up case, buzzes
to life. She picks it up, looks at the ID for a moment.
Checking her watch, she hits DECLINE before setting it back
down again.
EXT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Abigail pulls the front door closed behind her and turns the
key in the lock, ready to head out into the world. She has
her hair pulled back - attractive but controlled, like the
rest of her presentation.
She points her no-nonsense key ring at the Lexus, thumb on
the remote. The alarm chirps as the headlights click on and
the locks snap open. As she walks to the vehicle, the engine
turns over automatically, quietly purring to life.
EXT. THE PITZ - NIGHT
jean and Topaz step out into the night, past the Doorman and
the line. Behind them comes Mikhail. As they walk off to
the side of the building, he follows.
jean notices, uncomfortably, that he's behind the two of
them.
JEAN
(to Topaz)
So... I don't have a car or
anything, so...
TOPAZ
It's okay, we have a--
Mikhail steps up past them, suddenly a part of the
conversation.
MIKHAIL
I'll bring the car around. Wait
here, it'll just be a moment.
4.
As he speaks, his gold tooth shows, belying his button-down
presentation. He strides off, purposefully, and disappears
around the corner of the building.
JEAN
(shocked)
He's with you?!
TOPAZ
Yeah, I wanted to tell you about
that...
jean pulls her backpack up tight and starts to look for a
quick way out.
JEAN
Look, I'm sorry, my mistake. This
isn't my scene. At all.
Panic floods across Topaz's eyes as she puts her hand on
jean's arm.
TOPAZ
It's not as simple as that, Jenny--
JEAN
You don't even know my name. I
don't do threesomes, I sure as HELL
don't do guys. AT ALL. And I'm
not looking to hook up with anybody
who thinks she can just pull
something like this out of her ass,
and I'll just flop on my back
and... and...
Topaz tries to keep her in place, as much with her voice as
the hand on her arm.
TOPAZ
He's going to be back any second,
and there isn't anyplace you can go
where they can't find you. I'm
sorry.
jean stops, the tone of voice holding her in place.
TOPAZ (cont'd)
These aren't the kind of people who
hear "no," okay? I'm sorry.
jean reflects the fear in Topaz's eyes.
5.
JEAN
But I'm not...
TOPAZ
Just try to relax. I'll do all the
work. In a few hours, you can put
the whole thing behind you.
EXT. SAPPHO'S CLOSET - NIGHT
The hip main drag of Santa Cruz, a college town that seems to
be mostly bars and coffee houses.
One door sits tucked beneath an understated sign, with an
inverted pink triangle and a slightly suggestive orchid.
In front of the door sits a well-worn black rolling podium,
behind which perches EMBERLYNN, on a high stool. Early 30s,
attractive and in-shape, she wears a tee shirt with a logo on
the breast that matches the sign.
A couple of WOMEN, arm in arm and dressed for a nice evening
out, stroll up to the podium. Emberlynn smiles,
professionally, and stamps both of their hands without
checking IDs. They head in.
Abigail strides briskly up the sidewalk - a woman on a
mission. She stops short, if only for an instant, when
Emberlynn raises her head and they make eye contact.
There's a moment.
ABIGAIL
I didn't know if you'd be here.
EMBERLYNN
I work here.
They go through a couple of false starts at saying something -
Abigail embarrassed, Emberlynn dismissive - before Emberlynn
stops and takes a step back.
EMBERLYNN (cont'd)
Go ahead, Abigail.
On the spot, she takes a breath and tries for professional.
ABIGAIL
I was going through a lot of... a
lot of, well, stuff, and it wasn't
the right time for me to... It
wasn't the right time.
6.
Emberlynn looks her in the eye for a moment, then dismisses
her.
EMBERLYNN
Well, "stuff," then. That explains
everything. "Stuff," I should have
known.
She grabs the stamp and marks the back of Abigail's hand.
EMBERLYNN (cont'd)
Have a great evening.
ABIGAIL
Look, Em, I didn't want to...
She cuts Abigail off, sharply.
EMBERLYNN
It's "Emberlynn."
Emberlynn's eyes drop to the podium, where she pretends to
deal with some kind of paperwork.
Abigail slinks into the club.
EXT. THE PITZ - NIGHT
jean, very focused, digs through her backpack, fishing for
something.
TOPAZ
It's too late for that, you've
gotta believe me--
JEAN
Here it is...
She pulls out her iPhone.
TOPAZ
There isn't time!
JEAN
It's okay, I can make this work.
She touches the screen and starts to scroll.
7.
JEAN (cont'd)
Someone's going to call me, it'll
be a family emergency or something,
I'll have to take a rain check, you
can go find somebody else...
A Town Car pulls out of the alley and around, Mikhail behind
the wheel. All of the rear windows are tinted, to the point
of being black.
TOPAZ
(under her breath)
Shit!
She reaches into her own oversized bag and grabs her own
iPhone, thumbing it on.
Mikhail efficiently unfolds out of the driver's seat,
spotting the phones in the women's hands. In an instant he's
next to them on the sidewalk.
MIKHAIL
What's going on here?
His jacket hangs open, still unbuttoned from sitting behind
the wheel. jean looks up toward his face but is stopped by
the sight of a serious pistol on his waistband.
TOPAZ
It's okay, we're just exchanging
information. Just take a second--
She taps the screen a couple of times, and gets jean's
attention away from Mikhail's firepower.
MIKHAIL
Let me see.
He takes the iPhone out of Topaz's hand and looks at the
screen.
Topaz looks over to jean and her phone, and helps her tap
the right controls to send her info along.
Mikhail looks up from Topaz's phone, eyeing the two of them
suspiciously.
TOPAZ
In case we want to do this again
sometime, y'know?
jean looks up to meet his gaze, forcing a smile.
8.
JEAN
(to Mikhail)
Yeah, absolutely. What took you so
long? It's cold out here.
Mikhail puts Topaz's phone deliberately back into her bag,
and with a less-than-gentle hand on her shoulder, steers her
to the rear door of the Town Car.
There's a brief moment before the automatic locks click open,
then he opens the door. Topaz slides in, trying for relaxed.
He turns to jean, still a good couple of steps away on the
sidewalk, and puts a firm hand on her shoulder as well.
Another forced smile and she steps up to the car door, under
her own steam.
JEAN (cont'd)
Let's get this party started, okay?
She climbs in, terrified.
I/E. THE TOWN CAR - NIGHT
In the back seat, all the way over, sits YURI. Late 30s,
fit, dark, in an even more expensive suit than Mikhail's.
He's on a cell phone of his own, calmly speaking what sounds
like Russian. The name "Alexander" comes up, a lot.
He doesn't so much as acknowledge either of the women.
Topaz perches in the center of the seat, making sure not to
touch him as she sits.
jean sits, trying to stay as far away from them both as is
physically possible. She holds her backpack on her lap, more
or less hiding behind it.
Mikhail climbs in behind the wheel, putting the car in gear
but not moving.
After a brief moment, Yuri looks up to the rear view mirror,
meeting Mikhail's eyes. He nods, professionally, and Mikhail
pulls away from the curb.
The car heads off into the night, toward the downtown LA
skyline.
9.
INT. SAPPHO'S CLOSET - NIGHT
Dark, understated, and sparsely populated, the place is a bar
for grown-up women. Light, inoffensive music filters through
the air. It could almost be the world's largest all-female
elevator, if such a place served drinks.
Abigail, still feeling awkward, slides onto a chair at a
small empty table. Her clutch clutched in her hand, she
looks around at the scattered handful of WOMEN.
It's an assortment of couples, mostly. Some in professional
clothes, other dressed more casually, all involved in
friendly conversations over drinks and crudits.
A young, pretty waitress, CHARLIE, also in a Sappho's Closet
tee shirt, appears at the side of the table.
CHARLIE
Abigail! Long time, no see!
Abigail starts, caught off guard.
ABIGAIL
Oh, I... Hi.
(she checks the name tag,
discreetly)
Charlie, hi. Yeah, it's been a
while. Um... How are you?
CHARLIE
I'm good, thanks. What can I get
you?
Abigail's eyes scan the room, still a bit unsure.
ABIGAIL
Just a... Just a Sav Blanc, I
guess.
CHARLIE
I'll have Rose open a fresh bottle.
Anything to nibble on? We've got
the veggie and cheese thing, if
you're hungry...
ABIGAIL
No, I'm not... I mean, just the
wine, I guess.
Charlie places a reassuring hand on her arm.
10.
CHARLIE
I'll bring it right along, sweetie.
It's good to see you again!
She takes off toward the bar, as Abigail almost huddles
behind her purse, uncomfortably looking around the place.
INT. HOTEL - NIGHT
The door to an expensive suite swings open, and Yuri walks
past Mikhail and the gals without pausing.
Mikhail re-pockets the electronic key card and ushers the two
inside.
The main room is full of MEN, in suits and shirtsleeves; it's
a bustle of activity. Stacks of cash - bundles of $100
bills, Euro notes, even piles of smaller, wadded-up loose
bills - lie everywhere.
And drugs. A pile of tiny ziplock baggies, each with a bit
of crack cocaine, lies next to a triple-beam balance scale as
a MAN weighs each one. Powdered cocaine, pink crystal meth,
pills and other drugs lie about as well.
Every man in the room wears a weapon - assorted pistols and
small machine guns in tactical shoulder holsters. Crumpled
fast food wrappers and half-eaten sandwiches are scattered on
tables, along side assorted empty mini-bar bottles.
Mikhail leads the gals to a couch, not too far from the front
door, and motions for them to sit down. jean is near panic
at the sight of it all. Topaz offers her a slightly
apologetic look as they take their seats.
A couple of the guys look up at the two women, but only
briefly and without emotion, or even much interest. None of
their business.
One of the guys, FEYODOR - mid 20s, all restrained energy in
suspenders and prison tats - carries an iPad. He meets Yuri
as he walks up to survey the activity, and hands it to him
without a word. Yuri taps the screen and begins scroll.
Satisfied, he hands it back and motions - not to the women,
but to Mikhail, who looks over to the couch. Mikhail motions
the two of them toward the bedroom.
Topaz gets up, easily, and turns back to offer jean a
helping hand.
11.
As Yuri turns toward the bedroom, a distinctive knock - two,
then one, then two - sounds at the front door.
The room falls silent as Mikhail and Yuri exchange looks of
concern. Feyodor's hand goes to his weapon.
Mikhail motions for jean and Topaz to sit back down and
continue waiting.
With a nod from Yuri, Mikhail goes to the door and opens it,
cautiously.
In the doorway stands ALEXANDER, a Russian man in his mid
20s, in a disheveled suit. It looks like he's on the very
tail end of a long weekend bender - cocaine and booze. Fear
shows in his eyes.
YURI
Alexander. You're early. I didn't
expect you until morning.
Mikhail guides him into the room, but Alexander tries to hang
back, at least a little.
ALEXANDER
I found a car, so I just drove
straight through.
YURI
You "found" a car?
ALEXANDER
Yeah.
Yuri exchanges a silent, private look with Mikhail -
something more that will have to be cleaned up. Mikhail
acknowledges it.
jean, still sitting on the couch and terrified, looks back
to the door behind Alexander. It's slightly ajar.
YURI
And have you returned from Las
Vegas empty-handed?
The last remaining bit of color drains from Alexander's face.
ALEXANDER
There were police there, Yuri, I
wasn't able to--
YURI
Had you misplaced your weapon?
12.
Feyodor's hand goes back to his own, in anticipation. All of
the other eyes in the room search for someplace else to look.
This is going to get bad, and quickly.
Alexander sees this.
ALEXANDER
Yuri, I wasn't... there were cops,
I mean... I couldn't just...
Feyodor starts to advance from behind the table, his hand
still on the butt of his pistol.
Alexander, in a blind panic, takes a swing at Mikhail and
tries to bolt for the door.
Feyodor leaps toward him, crashing into the table and
knocking it nearly over. Drugs, money, the scale, all crash
to the floor as he un-holsters his weapon.
Alexander's swing doesn't really connect, and while Feyodor
stumbles toward them, Mikhail punches Alexander once - hard,
in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Yuri, mostly just annoyed, watches it all.
ALEXANDER (cont'd)
(gasping for breath)
Yuri, no! I didn't...
YURI
(to Feyodor, re: his gun)
Put that away.
Alexander struggles as Mikhail and Feyodor wrestle him into
the room proper. Furniture falls and food wrappers scatter
as he fights for his life.
Topaz watches it all in terror, but jean's eyes and
attention focus intently on the door leading out to the
hallway. It's still ajar.
Mikhail and Feyodor drag Alexander toward the bathroom, still
kicking and screaming - as much as possible, with his breath
gone.
jean tightens her grip on her backpack as she shoots a
cautious look around the room. No one's paying any attention
to her, or to Topaz.
The door is still ajar.
Yuri follows the three men into the bathroom.
13.
INT. SAPPHO'S CLOSET - NIGHT
Still at the same table, still alone - it looks like Abigail
hasn't really moved since she sat down. On the table in
front of her sits a plate with some carrot and celery sticks,
cheese chunks, and a cup of ranch dressing - barely touched.
The wine glass has the dregs of a nice Sav Blanc in the
bottom, and Charlie spots it as she cruises by with a tray of
cocktails for other tables.
CHARLIE
Can I get you a refill, sweetie?
Abigail looks up, barely interested.
ABIGAIL
No, I'm good.
Charlie looks at her with a bit of friendly concern.
CHARLIE
I'll be right back, okay?
She heads off to deliver the drinks.
Abigail pushes the plate to the center of the table and puts
her purse in front of her, unzipping it. She looks through
it, briefly, for her wallet.
Charlie arrives back, the empty tray hanging at her side.
CHARLIE (cont'd)
You okay, hon?
ABIGAIL
It's alright, I'm just... It's just
getting late, is all.
Charlie checks her watch, easily.
CHARLIE
Things usually pick up after ten or
so; you might want to give it a
little more time...
Abigail puts on her professional face.
ABIGAIL
That's sweet of you, Charlie. I
really should be on my way, though.
14.
CHARLIE
Well, okay. Maybe you want to ease
back into it, sweetie. Get your
sea legs back. See you next time?
ABIGAIL
Thank you. Have a nice evening.
Charlie nods and heads off to another table.
Abigail reaches into her wallet and extracts a bill, folding
it neatly in half and tucking it under the edge of the veggie
plate.
Quickly reassembling her purse, she stands and heads to the
door.
EXT. HOTEL - NIGHT
jean, her backpack over her shoulder and a crumpled brown
paper bag (like a lunch bag) in her hand, quick-steps alone
across the lobby toward the glass and brass front doors.
Trying not to break into a run.
Stepping out onto the walkway, she takes a quick last look
over her shoulder. No one sees her except for a couple of
LATINO VALETS in red vests, who have no reaction.
Fighting to keep in control, she walks toward the sidewalk.
As she reaches the edge of the hotel's pool of light, she
looks across the nearly empty street to spot the METRO SUBWAY
STATION.
A quick glance back over her shoulder, then checking the
street for traffic, she darts silently toward...
EXT. NORMANDIE SUBWAY STATION - NIGHT
Still fighting not to break into a run, she heads around the
stone border to the escalators.
With a quick glance back up to the hotel, she silently sinks
out of sight.
EXT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE - NIGHT
The luxury car crunches to a stop in the driveway, the
headlights flicking off. The massive door swings open.
15.
After a moment, Abigail almost hauls herself out of the
Lexus, looking tired and worn. She heads up the walk, aiming
the remote behind her without looking. The car chirps and
the door locks snap shut.
Separating the door key with one hand, she steps up onto the
porch and absentmindedly slips her free hand into the
mailbox. It's empty, of course.
She closes the door behind her. The sound of the deadbolt
turning almost reverberates through the stillness. After a
moment, the light clicks on, dimly visible through the heavy
curtains. Home again.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD/VINE SUBWAY STATION - MORNING
The escalator carries jean up to street level, along with a
couple of other ASSORTED RAIL RIDERS, as the sun begins to
peek out over the mountains.
Her backpack and the paper bag clutched like security
blankets, she takes a moment to get her bearings.
A quick, nervous check behind her - no one's there, but it
doesn't seem to calm her much.
With the air of someone who's been up all night and wants a
shower, she heads off down the sidewalk.
EXT. VINE STREET AT HOLLYWOOD - MORNING
Rounding the corner, jean spots what she's looking for - the
Hollywood Greyhound bus station.
A sparse HANDFUL OF PEOPLE hang out next to the building,
most sitting on their luggage. It's early, and there's a lot
of wet in the air.
She walks the long way up the hill to the station, hitching
up her backpack as she goes.
INT. GREYHOUND BUS - DAY
The air hisses as the door to the coach closes, and jean
makes her way to one of the many open seats. She's still a
long ways away from relieved, but she's getting there.
Off-loading the pack from her back, she begins to stuff it up
into the overhead rack, but stops. Setting it down on the
seat, she unzips the pack and stuffs the paper bag inside.
16.
For a moment she considers putting the pack back into the
overhead, but as the bus lurches into motion, she elects to
keep it on her lap instead.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/HOME OFFICE - DAY
The office is well-appointed, like the rest of the house. A
handsome wooden desk, very old in design, supports a state-of-
the-art computer.
Files in manila folders are arranged neatly along the side,
and a printer perches next to an old wooden in/out box set.
A classic pen and pencil set, also old, sits at the head of
the desk.
Abigail sits, dressed for a day in a corporate office, in a
dark wood and leather chair. A very modern headset is
plugged into a business-style phone.
ABIGAIL
...So everything else is
transferred into one-one-eight-
seven-nine dash seven-seven, and
that leaves you with six hundred
forty two thousand as still liquid.
The taxable part of that is only...
(checking the screen)
Seventeen percent, so far as your
national is concerned, and as for
the, um... provincial, is it?
(a response)
Right, right, that should be about
twenty two percent, but you'll want
to run that past your domestic
advisor.
(a response)
Well, that's between you and your
local authorities.
She takes a moment, as she listens, to update something on
the computer. A keystroke and the printer comes to life,
spitting out a couple of pages.
ABIGAIL (cont'd)
(professionally)
Actually, I'm on the West Coast.
It's barely lunchtime, here. But
thank you for asking.
(a response)
Here?
(she leans over to look
out of a window)
17.
(MORE)
Yes, it looks like it's sunny out.
I've set up the commission payment
as a wire transfer, so if you'll
just log on and confirm, we should
be all set.
There's a pause, and her computer beeps a friendly alert.
ABIGAIL (cont'd)
And there we are! Thank you, we'll
talk again next month then? Have a
nice evening.
Abigail disconnects the call with a click, then takes the
pages out of the printer and inserts them into the
appropriate manila folder.
She goes back to her computer, opening another account.
EXT. CAF LIMELIGHT/PATIO - DAY
Abigail picks at a boring salad.
Across from her sits MARCUS, about the same age, in a casual
sports jacket and tie. Respectable haircut, nice watch,
looks like he takes care of himself.
He has a more substantial lunch in front of him, but he's
also not paying much attention to it.
MARCUS
I'm not trying to hover, I promise.
ABIGAIL
I know.
She puts her fork down, disinterested.
MARCUS
It'd help if you picked up a phone,
once in a while. You know how I
worry.
ABIGAIL
I've been busy.
Marcus shoots her a look, annoyed, and starts in to his
lunch.
MARCUS
Like hell you have. You haven't
left your house.
18.
ABIGAIL (cont'd)
Abigail meets his gaze, also a bit annoyed.
ABIGAIL
What, you're spying on me now?
He takes a bite, finally having engaged her attention.
MARCUS
No...
ABIGAIL
So then you're a mind reader, all
of a sudden?
MARCUS
Sweetie, I'm looking at your skin.
You haven't been out in the sun in
DAYS. At LEAST.
She's been caught, and she knows it.
ABIGAIL
Oh. Well, that doesn't mean I'm
not busy, though.
He points to her plate.
MARCUS
Eat your salad.
She pokes an unenthusiastic fork around the bowl.
MARCUS (cont'd)
How about... we go out to see a
movie this weekend? Do it up
right, some popcorn, something
funny, maybe some kind of chick
flick--
ABIGAIL
Marcus? Still a dyke, okay?
That stings. He covers it by pretending to be hurt.
MARCUS
Hey! If there's anyone in the
world... anyone in the UNIVERSE who
knows that, it'd be me, okay? I'm
just sayin' you need to get out
once in a while. Answer your
phone, maybe return a voice mail or
something--
19.
ABIGAIL
I'm here, Marcus, alright?
They exchange looks for a moment.
She breaks first, and stabs a piece of lettuce and shoves it
into her mouth.
MARCUS
Was that so hard?
He picks up the cup of dressing and pours it on her salad for
her.
MARCUS (cont'd)
Here, live a little fer' Pete's
sake. You make a good living,
"invest" in some dressing. Have a
breadstick. Eat some dessert.
She pushes his hand away, but she's smiling. A little.
ABIGAIL
Don't push it.
The WAITRESS steps up, perky and professional.
WAITRESS
Everything okay here, guys? Can I
get you anything else?
MARCUS
A dessert menu, when you have a
moment--
Abigail interrupts him.
ABIGAIL
No, thank you, we're fine. Just a
cheque.
The Waitress scribbles briefly on her pad and tears off the
cheque. She starts to put it down next to Marcus, but he
points to Abigail.
She sets it next to Abigail's plate.
He holds up his nearly-empty iced tea glass to her.
MARCUS
Just hit this one more time, then.
20.
The Waitress disappears back into the restaurant as the two
continue lunch.
INT. GREYHOUND BUS - NIGHT
A long, dull day on board a cross-country bus. jean still
sits in the same seat, though the faces around her have
changed. She's half-dozing with the remnants of a
ZippyBurger chicken sandwich on top of her backpack.
She wakes, looking around as her consciousness re-assembles
itself. Recognizing the fast food in her hand, she takes a
moment to decide what to do with it.
She pulls the ketchup-smeared paper wrapper off the seat next
to her, re-wraps the sandwich, and stuffs it into the white
ZippyBurger bag. With a slurp, she empties the dregs of her
soda as well, as the coach grinds to a halt.
BUS DRIVER
(O.S./filtered, on the PA)
Santa Cruz, now arriving. Santa
Cruz...
She stands and slings the backpack into place, heading to the
front of the coach with still-bleary eyes.
EXT. SANTA CRUZ GREYHOUND STATION - NIGHT
The tiny station is dark, closed up for the night. The door
of the coach swings open and jean climbs off, by herself.
The door closes behind her almost instantly, and the coach
pulls out, without ceremony. It rounds the corner and
disappears into the darkness.
jean watches it go, palpably relieved, then walks out to the
sidewalk. She deposits the ZippyBurger bag and empty cup in
a trash can as she heads off into the night.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BEDROOM - DAY
Wrapped in a white terry robe, and holding a large cup of
coffee, Abigail opens a dresser drawer and pushes through the
contents.
A layer of tasteful, expensive undergarments covers a small
number of bathing suits. They're one-piece affairs, in
general, but quite attractive.
21.
She pulls one out and turns to look behind her. A large sun
hat sits on the bed, and the suit coordinates nicely with it.
Down in the bottom of the drawer, under everything, she finds
a tube of sunscreen. She tosses that onto the bed along with
the suit.
EXT. SANTA CRUZ BEACH - DAY
Abigail stands on the sand, barefoot, looking out onto the
field of bodies roasting in the sun. Bikini-clad beauties on
towels, hunks playing with frisbees, loving couples strolling
along with snow cones - a beautiful summer's day.
Abigail, though, is far from basking. Her sandals hang from
one hand but her bathing suit is augmented by a long cover-
up. The sun hat is there, too, and sunscreen smears her arms
and legs. A stripe of zinc oxide obscures her nose.
A ways off, one of the bodies looks familiar, in her very
brief bikini. As she turns over on her towel, it turns out
to be Emberlynn, perfectly oblivious to Abigail's presence.
Nearby lies ANOTHER COUPLE, also from Sappho's Closet. One
rubs oil on the other.
Abigail watches them all, her interest quickly flagging.
jean, looking freshly showered and in a cut-off sweatshirt
and tiny bikini bottom, quietly approaches. She follows
Abigail's gaze.
JEAN
She looks hot.
Abigail's caught off-guard; she hasn't heard jean come up.
ABIGAIL
Excuse me?
jean nods in Emberlynn's direction.
JEAN
Her. She's wearin' the hell out of
that bikini.
ABIGAIL
Oh, yeah. I guess she is.
22.
JEAN
"You guess." That's what the beach
is FOR. Checking out the half-
naked babes.
Abigail smiles, a bit, deciding to join the conversation.
ABIGAIL
More than half, really. I'm
surprised some of them don't get
arrested.
JEAN
Yeah, but this way you get to see
exactly what you're getting. No
surprises.
Abigail takes a look at jean, oiled up and bronze. Her
backpack hangs low at her side, hooked on a finger and
scraping the sand.
JEAN (cont'd)
Beats the bar scene, that's for
sure.
ABIGAIL
It's mostly the same people,
though.
JEAN
Maybe you just have to get out
more. Live a little.
ABIGAIL
Yeah, well...
Abigail gestures to her extensive cover-up.
JEAN
Mr. Sun is Not Your Friend, I can
see that.
ABIGAIL
I just have to be careful, is all.
Keep my exposure under control.
JEAN
Yeah, but sometimes you gotta let
go, right? Just go for it? Life's
too short to hide indoors all the
time.
23.
ABIGAIL
It's about finding the balance.
jean shoots her a bit of a look, though still friendly.
JEAN
You're making me work kinda' hard
for this.
ABIGAIL
Sorry. I'm usually the one who
does the work.
JEAN
That's okay, too; I've been picked
up before. I just don't like
wasting time. So, how's about you
offer to take me out, buy me lunch
or something?
Abigail takes a good look at her - the body, the clothes, the
hair, but also the worn backpack and the old hotel towel she
has rolled up on top of it.
ABIGAIL
(with enough of a smile to
say it out loud)
You're not insane or anything, are
you? Not some kind of crazy
stalker or militant vegetarian or
anything?
JEAN
(with a wicked grin)
Do you really care, right now?
Abigail isn't quite reassured.
JEAN (cont'd)
(sincere)
I promise.
Abigail decides to take her at her word, for the moment at
least. She reaches down and starts putting on her sandals.
jean smiles and hitches up her backpack.
JEAN (cont'd)
You know a good place for lunch?
ABIGAIL
What do you like?
24.
JEAN
I like everything.
They walk off the beach together, jean moving close to
Abigail as they go.
JEAN (cont'd)
I'm jean, by the way.
ABIGAIL
Abigail.
JEAN
Nice to meet you, Abigail.
jean gives her a little hip bump as they go.
INT. LAS OLITAS CANTINA & GRILL - DAY
A SERVER, young and pretty in her crisp white shirt and black
apron, carries a round tray of food, up high. Her name tag
reads "Oh, Miss?"
She weaves through the bustle and arrives at a table for two,
where Abigail sits across from jean.
jean finishes off her soda (with a slurp) as the Server
deposits a green dinner salad in front of Abigail. Dressing
on the side, of course.
jean's lunch is more substantial - a thick, juicy hamburger,
piled high with caramelized onions, avocado, bleu cheese,
bacon, and whatever else was on the 'gourmet toppings' menu.
A giant heap of hot, crisp french fries flanks it.
SERVER
You ready for a refill, sweetie?
jean hands her the empty glass, with a smile.
JEAN
Yes, please!
She deposits the plate, plus a giant milk shake glass full of
something purple and creamy, which jean immediately picks up
and sips through the straw.
The Server turns to Abigail, who watches jean with the straw
in her mouth, trying not to ogle her. At least, trying not
to be too obvious about it.
25.
SERVER
Anything I can get for you, hon?
Abigail's attention is barely caught.
ABIGAIL
Hmm? No, I'm fine, thank you.
SERVER
Enjoy!
She turns and leaves, and only then does Abigail look down to
her plate to see if it's all there. It is, more or less.
JEAN
This is so good! I love
pomegranate and blueberry, it's
such a perfect blend of flavors.
Sweet, and tart, with all of that
tannin... You want a sip?
Abigail's enjoying the view.
ABIGAIL
I'm good, thanks.
jean plops it down and grabs a squeeze bottle of ketchup,
squirting a blob next to the fries. A little manages to make
it off the edge of the plate, onto the tablecloth.
JEAN
Oops!
She shoots a smile to Abigail, then scoops up the spill with
a finger, which she licks off.
Abigail watches, sipping her iced tea, as jean scoops up a
bit more ketchup with a french fry and eats it.
JEAN (cont'd)
I LOVE hot french fries.
She picks up the burger, dripping with juice and the toppings
starting to squirt out around the edges, and takes a big
bite.
JEAN (cont'd)
(mouth full)
Oh, my GOD! This is perfect!
She wipes a bit of juice off her chin with her finger, and
licks it.
26.
ABIGAIL
I'm glad you like it. I never seem
to make it out here unless I'm...
um... entertaining, I guess.
JEAN
If I lived here, I'd come here all
the time. This place is amazing,
and the view...!
ABIGAIL
(not looking at the view)
Very picturesque. Great for the
tourists. So, when did you get
into town?
jean continues to eat. Abigail mostly ignores her salad.
JEAN
Last night, or I guess this
morning. Early. How about you?
The question catches Abigail a little off-guard.
ABIGAIL
Me? Oh, I'm from here. Grew up
here in Santa Cruz.
JEAN
Maybe tomorrow you can show me
around town.
They share a smile that says yes, jean's spending the night.
EXT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Abigail's luxurious car pulls into the drive.
The passenger door pops open almost before they've stopped,
and jean's on her feet and checking the place out - clearly
impressed.
JEAN
Nice digs!
Abigail steps up to stand beside jean, but the vibe has
changed for her. She seems a bit more reticent.
ABIGAIL
Thank you.
27.
JEAN
It's just you?
Abigail hesitates, briefly.
ABIGAIL
Yes, I'm on my own.
jean hitches up her backpack, looking around.
JEAN
Very private, too, out here in the
middle of nowhere... make all the
noise we want.
She shoots Abigail a sly smile.
Abigail walks up to the door with her keys in hand.
ABIGAIL
Well, c'mon in.
She opens the door and lets jean go in past her, then clicks
the remote to set the car's alarm.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/FOYER - NIGHT
jean steps in, unslinging her backpack as she looks around.
Very impressed and doing nothing to hide it.
JEAN
And the interior does not
disappoint!
Abigail pulls the door closed behind them.
JEAN (cont'd)
This is an amazing space, I love
the woodwork. And the ceilings...
ABIGAIL
Thank you.
Abigail leads her into...
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
...the house proper, a hand extended to take jean's backpack
for her.
28.
jean hands it over without a second look, still marvelling
at the architecture.
JEAN
This all looks so homey and
comfortable. You could curl up in
front of the fireplace and never
have to leave.
This is all getting more and more awkward for Abigail.
ABIGAIL
Yeah, it's... well, I like it.
Look, if you'd like to freshen up,
the bathroom's through there.
jean makes eye contact again, with a smile.
JEAN
Thanks, that'd be great. Do you
mind if I get a quick shower?
ABIGAIL
Absolutely.
jean meets her eyes with a smile and a cocked brow - an
unspoken "you DO mind?"
ABIGAIL (cont'd)
No, I mean, sure, absolutely, take
your time. I'll bring you some
fresh towels.
JEAN
Cool.
jean, with a hand gesture, confirms the direction she's
headed in, and strolls casually toward...
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Without closing the bathroom door, jean peels off her
clothes without a second thought.
Still marvelling at the opulence of the place, she checks out
the spacious shower and starts the water. A moment to adjust
the temperature, and she's back to looking around.
In another moment she finds a can of feminine shaving cream,
which she sniffs and tests out on her hand. One more quick
look around turns up a man's antique safety razor, complete
with blade.
29.
With both in hand, she climbs into the shower, letting the
warm, steamy spray wash over her head and down her body.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/LINEN CLOSET - NIGHT
Abigail looks noticeably more uncomfortable. She carries the
backpack over her elbow as she opens the linen closet.
Inside are stacks of thick, lush towels, in muted colors that
coordinate with the bathroom. There are also stacks of
medical supplies, like for a hospital room - plastic basins,
gauze pads, and odd things in plastic and paper packaging.
She pushes past those to grab a pair of towels and a matching
wash cloth, and heads for...
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BATHROOM - NIGHT
Setting the backpack on the floor by the open door, Abigail
barely pokes her head into the bathroom to deposit the towels
on the vanity.
jean looks up and sees her, and their eyes lock for a
moment. She's got one leg lathered up and the razor in her
hand. Without looking away, she places her foot up and leans
down all the way to her ankle, and begins to shave.
Almost forgetting to put down the towels, Abigail watches
her. It's a powerful visual, but it's almost too intimate.
Too exposed.
She puts the towels on the vanity and turns, breaking away
from jean's gaze and stepping out of the room. She grabs
the knob as she goes, gently pulling the door shut behind
her.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BEDROOM - NIGHT
Abigail steps to her closet and looks through the sleepwear
hanging there; some of it's really fancy, expensive stuff.
Bypassing the more erotic outfits, she lights on another
simple terricloth spa robe, which she takes from the hangar.
jean strolls into the bedroom, naked with a towel in her
hand, her hair still wet.
JEAN
You keep it nice and warm in here.
Abigail forces herself not to ogle, and hands her the robe.
30.
ABIGAIL
Here.
JEAN
I don't think I'm going to need
this, am I?
Abigail puts the robe into her hand.
jean takes it, but doesn't put it on. Instead, she drapes
it over her shoulder, one finger through the hanger loop.
Abigail braces herself for the difficult task.
ABIGAIL
You're very pretty...
JEAN
You, too. I love your hair.
She reaches up and runs her fingers through it.
Abigail's breath catches in her throat.
ABIGAIL
No, I mean... it's not about not
being attracted to you.
jean stops short.
JEAN
What's not?
ABIGAIL
I'm just not sure that this is the
right thing, tonight.
jean, trying to save the vibe, offers up a wicked smile.
JEAN
So, then maybe I need to convince
you?
She leans in for a kiss, her tongue already out before she
makes it to her mouth.
Abigail puts her hand on jean's chest - not as foreplay, but
to stop her before the kiss lands.
ABIGAIL
I mean, it's not... I'm not ready
for this kind of... I just, I
can't.
31.
jean stops, looking for an answer in her eyes.
JEAN
(still with a smile)
Don't even try to tell me that
you're straight, because I'm not
buying that. At all.
ABIGAIL
What? No, nothing like that, I
just... I shouldn't have let it go
this far.
The vibe is broken.
JEAN
So, what, then? You're just going
to leave me hanging, here?
Abigail turns away and takes a step, deeper into the safety
of her bedroom.
ABIGAIL
It's not personal.
jean puts the robe on, annoyed and ready to bolt.
JEAN
It couldn't be MORE personal.
ABIGAIL
It's not--
JEAN
"It's not you, it's me?" Please.
If you didn't want me here, you
could have said so a LOT earlier.
jean turns to the doorway, grabbing the backpack she's
dropped just outside the bedroom. She stalks out, back to...
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Abigail follows her, anxious.
ABIGAIL
I'm not saying never, I'm just
saying not now, not tonight.
JEAN
Now I have to find someplace else
to stay? At this hour?
32.
(MORE)
Can I get a ride back into town, or
do I have to pay for a cab now?
She starts to go through the backpack, looking for clothes to
put on.
ABIGAIL
You don't have to go. You're
welcome to stay.
JEAN
(ignoring her)
I was really looking forward to
this, y'know? I had a really great
time today, and this was going to
be a really nice night.
ABIGAIL
I WANT you to stay... if you want
to. I'm not throwing you out, I'm
just saying...
jean stops, finally hearing her.
ABIGAIL (cont'd)
I'm just saying... for tonight, I
mean, I can't...
JEAN
So, what, I should crash on the
couch, for tonight?
ABIGAIL
(very embarrassed)
No, you can sleep in there. We're
just going to sleep, is all.
JEAN
For now, you mean. Not necessarily
forever, but just for now.
ABIGAIL
Something like that.
jean throws her a smile.
INT. ABIGAIL'S HOUSE/BEDROOM - NIGHT
Abigail's already in the bed, scrunched over to the edge in a
lovely camisole set. The covers are laid open.
33.
JEAN (cont'd)
jean, in an oversized band tee shirt, slides in, keeping a
respectful distance. Abigail scootches even further to the
edge anyway.
JEAN
(with a smirk)
I promise, I won't bite. Until you
ask me to.
She reaches over and grabs the covers, pulling them up as she
rolls onto her side - facing away from Abigail.
JEAN (cont'd)
G'night, Abigail.
jean reaches up and clicks off the bedside lamp, plunging
the room into blackness.
34.