LOW SPADE IN THE HOLE

Written by

Arthur Wei

Draft: April 2010

L O W S P A D E I N T H E H O L E

ACT 1:

FADE IN:

[EXT. – NIGHT. DECREPIT DOWNTOWN STREETS.]

A black shoe, methodically followed by another, trekking

along the sidewalk. Footsteps on wet concrete. Quick pace.
And only getting quicker.

A MAN – low hat, long coat, high collar – hustles along in

the pelting rain. He holds his hands in his pockets,
hunching his shoulders, shielding himself from the
downpour. This man is DEUCES.

[INT. – NIGHT. HALLWAY.]

DEUCES’ silhouette illuminates amidst the doorframe. He

walks down the dim hallway, sparse lights overhead guiding
his footsteps.

He stops at a door and pulls out a short, GOLD KEY. He

inserts the key, jostling the door handle, and hurriedly
enters.

[INT. – NIGHT. APARTMENT.]

Shrugging off the rain, DEUCES casually reaches for the

light switch by the door. He toggles it. Toggles it again.
No lights.

A voice:
(O.S.)
Anthony “Deuces” Armone.

DEUCES jerks around in the darkness, surprised at the sound

of this name.

Suddenly, a lone light ignites from the shadows, searing

through the petty apartment, casting long eerie shadows
around the walls.

A MAN, clad in a black trench coat, sits at the kitchen

table, his face half hidden in the shadows. One gloved hand
rests on the table – a silenced pistol sits under the hand,
pointed directly at DEUCES.
 DEUCES:
You’s back in town?

THE MAN nods, slightly.

DEUCES sighs, as if expecting this. He casually pulls out a

pack of cigarettes from his coat and offers one to THE MAN.

THE MAN shakes his head, no.

DEUCES grabs a cigarette and puts the pack back in his

coat. He flicks open a lighter and amidst the flame,
DEUCES’ face is illuminated for just an instant, quivering
as the flickering flame reveals – TWO JAGGED SCARS run down
across his nose and face, remnants of a past life.

DEUCES takes a few drags of the cigarette, savoring the

smoke, unhurried and calm. He nonchalantly plops down on
the nearby couch, facing THE MAN.

DEUCES:
Always wondered who he’d send to do me… It gets
to a man y’know… all dat double-crossing… secrets
only stay secret for so long…

DEUCES takes a long drag, calm, as if talking to a friend.

THE MAN sits motionless.

DEUCES:
But I guess I don’t gotta worry no more, do I?

Suddenly, as swift as the last words landing, DEUCES

unveils a pair of SILENCED .45 PISTOLS from the couch
cushions behind his back.

Beat. THE MAN coolly looks down the twin barrels in DEUCES’
hands, motionless.

DEUCES:
You never shoulda come back. I’m not the man I
was before.

MAN:
Nothing ever changes in this city Deuces.

DEUCES:
Tell that my father’s casket. I’m not one for
sentiments, but the funeral was nice. You woulda
liked it. But as nice as it was, I’m not ready to
shake hands with death just yet.
DEUCES suddenly pulls the triggers in both guns - CLICK
CLICK. Empty. DEUCES’ relaxed face quickly shifts with
tension, knowing he’s been had.

MAN:
You have changed, Deuces. You’ve gotten sloppy.

THE MAN stands up at the table, calmly. His gloved hand

unfolds, dropping TWO LOADED MAGAZINES on the tabletop,
loaded bullets glistening under the harsh table-light.

MAN:
Don’t blame yourself kid. Step away from this
business for too long, everyone gets sloppy.

DEUCES:
You’re one to talk. You still don’t get it do
you? One day, your types won’t be around no
longer. And you’s gonna have to find a decent job
like I did.

MAN:
I know what a “decent job” does to a man in this
city. But I’m not ready to shake hands with death
just yet.

A sly smirk crosses DEUCES’ face as he takes the cigarette

out of his mouth, burnt down to the butt. He holds the butt
in his hand, examining it as if gazing upon the end of his
own life.

DEUCES:
You can try to ditch your past… but it don’t let
the man go as easy… remember that next time you
pull that trigger, Dealer.

MAN:
Always.

Deuces flicks the cigarette butt into the air.

[C.U.] The smoky trail of the cigarette flutters through

the darkness.

[C.U.] A gloved hand raises the pistol, swiftly.

[C.U.] The cigarette butt falls to the wooden floor,

flinging a puff of red-hot ash into the air.
[C.U.] A metallic echo resonates through the small room as
a bullet tears through DEUCES’ head, unleashing an
explosion of dull red blood onto the wall behind him.

[C.U.] The cigarette butt bounces against the floor,

unleashing another puff of ash into the air.

[C.U.] Another bullet tears through DEUCES’ head, a grisly

splatter of blood stains the wall again.

[C.U.] The cigarette butt comes to a stop on the floor, the

red ash finally settling on the floor.

DEUCES’ body reverberates from the force of bullets tearing

through flesh, grisly bullet holes where his two eyes once
were, blood flowing down his face like tears.

THE MAN swiftly holsters the gun in his jacket, almost

mechanic. He grabs a phone from his jacket. The line
connects.

MAN:
It’s done.

THE MAN hangs up and, careful to avoid the pooling blood on

the ground, walks to the front door.

THE MAN stops in the doorway, half in shadow, never

revealing his face. He reaches into DEUCES’ coat pocket on
the hangar and retrieves the GOLD KEY and the pack of
smokes. He turns to the lifeless body, gazing at his
handiwork, shadows filling the voids where his eyes should
be. His face is pure darkness – no emotion, no features, no
life.

The door closes. DEUCES’ dead body lies awkwardly limp on

the couch, the lone light on the kitchen table casting an
eerie shadow on the blood-stained wall behind him.

On the floor, at DEUCES’ dead feet, rests two empty bullet

casings and an ordinary playing card – an ACE OF SPADES
with a bullet hole torn through the center. THE DEALER’s
CARD.

[EXT. – NIGHT. DOWNTOWN STREETS.]

THE MAN exits the decadent building and drags on a

cigarette, keeping his head down in the pelting rain.
 [V.O.]
I’m the best at what I do. And what I do ain’t
very nice. I was born Alonzo Damiano. But my
friends call me “The Dealer.”

ALONZO walks up to the driver’s door of a random parked

car. He glances up and the down the block – no soul in
sight. He jostles the car handle until it gives, opens the
car door, and sits in the driver’s seat, calm and
nonchalant.

[V.O.]
I use that term – friends – lightly. In my line
of business, money flows freer than blood. And I
get paid – real well – to make friends.

ALONZO reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a RING OF
KEYS, dozens of jangling keys - long, short, silver, gold –
all looped on a metal ring. He rings DEUCES’ GOLD KEY onto
the ring of keys, now indistinguishable from the others.

[V.O.]
Most people in this town don’t know I exist. And
the few that do often wish they didn’t or are
already dead.

He fingers through the keys and begins to try the car

ignition, one key after another. The car engine sputters
and coughs. He swiftly fingers through the variety of keys
and keeps trying the engine until finally, the engine
coughs to life.

[V.O.]
I’m alone. No baggage. No strings. No
connections. It’s why I do what I do.

Tires screech as ALONZO drives off into the night. CRANE

overhead the car as it speeds towards a sea of glimmering
spires in the distance – The City.

[FADE OVER:]

[INSERT SUPERTITLE:]

LOW SPADE IN THE HOLE

 [CUT TO:]

[EXT. – NIGHT. HEART OF DOWNTOWN.]

Tires screech as ALONZO’S car pulls up to a fancy downtown

building - shimmering lights in the night. Grand granite
pillars guard the grand double-door entrance. A massive
sculpted décor hangs overhead the doors, sculpted into the
marble: AGOSTINA GRAND HOTEL.

[V.O.]
She shines like a light guiding me home. Just
like I remember her. No matter how long it’s
been, I still love The Agostina just the same.
Always have.

Alonzo steps out of the car. The nearby valet driver – a

young, skinny kid barely out of his teens, no older than 16
– walks over eagerly. The regal hotel uniform loosely hangs
off his meager frame. This is FATS.

VALET:
Welcome back, sir. It’s been a while.

Alonzo tosses him the keys to the car and breezes past him,
ascending the entrance stairs, never revealing his face.

ALONZO:
Not long enough Fats.

FATS:
(yelling after him)
Business tonight?

ALONZO:
(to himself)
Always.

[INT. – HOTEL LOBBY. GRAND. SHIMMERING.]

Alonzo strolls through the grand entrance doors, trench

coat billowing, and raises his eyes to the bright hotel
lobby – the first time his face is revealed.

Sharp features, crisply combed-back hair, clean shaven. His

eyes – stern and intense – dart back and forth, scanning
the room as if laying eyes on it for the first time in
years. Instinctively, Alonzo’s eyes dart to the nearby
LOBBY BAR, as if expecting something. But there’s nothing.
 [V.O.]
She’s the only girl I need in my life. The only
one who won’t ask questions. The only one I won’t
hurt.

A shimmering chandelier drapes overhead the lobby. Marble

pillars support the intricate roof. Bustling bellboys push
carts back and forth as visitors stroll in fancy night
gowns and sharp suits.

In the far wall is a line of elevators – old, golden,

polished doors open and close. Alonzo makes his way through
the lobby crowd to the elevators. He enters the empty
elevator at the far end of the lobby.

[V.O.]
She’s all glimmer and shine, hiding nothing more
than stiff drinks and dizzy dames. This place has
something for everyone… if you play your cards
right.

He turns around in the elevator as a couple approaches,

tipsy from the night’s excursions. Alonzo shakes his head
slightly, staring a hole through the couple. They stop in
their tracks, intimidated, their drunken giggles ceasing.

The elevator doors close on Alonzo.

[V.O.]
But tonight, I don’t come here for what’s on the
menu.

[INT. – ELEVATOR.]

Inside the elevator, alone, Alonzo opens a compartment in

the wall disguised as a rich mahogany wood panel. He pulls
out his ring of keys, picks a short silver one, and inserts
the key into the wall. The elevator jolts and begins to
move, the lights overhead still indicating L for LOBBY.

[V.O.]
I don’t mix business with pleasure. And tonight,
it’s all business.

[INT. – UNKNOWN HOTEL FLOOR. HALLWAY.]

The elevator doors open and Alonzo steps out into a softly-
lit hallway. Overhanging lights shine soft halos of light
on the dark carpet, guiding his footsteps to the only door
at the end of the hallway.
 [V.O.]
Her secrets remind me of my own. All those lonely
nights years ago, when I’d step foot in here for
all the wrong reasons.

At the door, Alonzo slides open a nearby wall panel to

reveal a keypad and a key-hole. He enters another key and
types in a pin. Immediately, the wooden door begins sliding
open with a heavy metallic moan.

[V.O.]
He’d give me names. And a place and time. No
motives. No reason.

[INT. – THE VAULT.]

He enters the room as harsh fluorescent lights flicker on

overhead, illuminating the small room and the bits of dust
wafting through the air, remnants of a past forgotten.

Bright lights shine against the far wall – a polished metal

wall of various PISTOLS and attachments – silencers,
cartridges, holsters, etc.

[V.O.]
A complete schedule for the end of a man’s life,
planned and scribbled out on little sheets of
paper. And I’d give him blood. No questions
asked.

Various photos are pinned on the opposite wall – men in

trench coats, smoking, talking on the phone, eating, all
shot from far away in a long lens – DECEASED stamped across
the top of the board.

Alonzo walks over to the gun wall, takes out the pistol
from his coat pocket and replaces it on a vacant spot on
the wall. He grabs a new silenced pistol. Beat. He grabs
another identical one and pockets that one too.

[V.O.]
It’s how we used to do it. It’s how it’s always
been done.

Alonzo walks over to the DECEASED wall and pins a photo of

Deuces on the wall.

In the middle of the room, a sole table sits under a bright

light – a spotless black granite top except for a plain
BLACK SUITCASE with a plain WHITE ENVELOPE on top.
 [V.O.]
And it’s how it’s still done. All these years
later, he still runs this town like I remember.
Nothing ever changes in this city.

Alonzo picks up the envelope, printed on it: THE DEALER. He

opens it. Inside is a printed note:

SALVATORE “THE BULL” BATTISTA.

503 3rd STREET.
TOMORROW. 11pm.
-THE EMPLOYER

Behind the note is a picture of “The Bull” – shot from a

long lens. He’s a big man - gaudy jewelry hangs off his
barrel frame, a thick beard with a sharp mustache covers
his face. Alonzo pockets the picture.

Alonzo opens the black suitcase – inside, perfect rows of

crisp $100 bills, bundled into piles, line the suitcase
walls. A slow smile spreads across Alonzo’s face.

[V.O.]
And on nights like this, I can think of about
500,000 reasons why I’m here. And why I came back
to this town.

CUT TO:

[INT – DEUCES’ APARTMENT.]

Heavy footsteps resonate over cheap carpet. A shadow

approaches DEUCES’ apartment door as the handle jostles
open.

THE SHADOW, silhouetted against the meager hallway light,

steps foot into the crowded apartment. It stops before
DEUCES’ dead body, strewn across the couch from the
bullets.

At his feet rest TWO EMPTY BULLET CASINGS and THE DEALER’S
CARD – the ACE OF SPADES.

THE SHADOW, drenched in darkness, slowly retrieves and

pockets the ACE OF SPADES in his coat.

He turns off the light in the apartment, as if paying his

respects to the man, and gently closes the apartment door
on his way out.
[INT. – PAWN SHOP. DARK. SMALL.]

A paper sign hangs in the window, flipped to CLOSED. The

shabby wooden door jostles open as Alonzo enters the small
room, the ring of keys in hand, jingling a rusty bell over
the doorframe.

Dusty, old objects line the walls, long forgotten by

anyone, extending down the lengths of the small room.
Meager lights hang overhead, cutting rays of light through
the dusty air.

A MAN sits behind the counter of the decrepit pawn shop,

leaning back in his chair, hat low over his eyes, feet up
on the counter – sleeping loudly. The jangling bell stirs
this man – THE LOCKSMITH.

LOCKSMITH:
Huh? We’re uh… we’re closed…

ALONZO:
You’re always closed Locksmith.

The Locksmith lifts his hat from his sleepy eyes, surprised
at the muttering of this name. His face is wrinkled with
the passage of time – long years spent in this city. But
his eyes sharpen as they gaze upon a familiar face.

LOCKSMITH:
…Alonzo…?

ALONZO:
Good seeing you.

LOCKSMITH:
Alonzo! When… when’d you get back into town?

ALONZO:
Earlier tonight.

LOCKSMITH:
Oh it’s been too long my boy. Business again? Or
back for good this time?

ALONZO:
Business.

LOCKSMITH:
Oh… how many this time?
 ALONZO:
Five names. Five heads.

LOCKSMITH:
A long job huh?

ALONZO:
A last job. An encore presentation for the city
that made me who I am.

LOCKSMITH:
Well that’s gotta pay a helluva lotta green. So
what’d ya need me for?

ALONZO:
I need your help. (Beat) I need to go home.

The Locksmith’s eyes narrow. Beat. A sly grin spreads

across his face.

LOCKSMITH:
Let’s talk in the back.

[INT. – POLISHED ROOM. COLD WALLS.]

A heavy door retreats to the side, silhouetting Alonzo’s

and The Locksmith’s shadows.

Lights flicker on, illuminating a small, clean room. Cold,

dark walls surround the room. On each wall, thousands of
individual keys hang, jangling from the rumble of the door
opening. In the center of the room, a vice and key filers
sit on a crowded desk.

LOCKSMITH:
I remember it like it was yesterday, you coming
in here… wide-eyed and stupid…

ALONZO:
I was young…

LOCKSMITH:
…but you were happy. That’s the boy I want to
remember.

The Locksmith sits behind the desk, grabbing a pair of

high-magnification glasses and a basic key template. He
clamps the slab of metal into the vice and begins filing
teeth into the key, focused and alert.
 ALONZO:
Who says I’m not happy now?

LOCKSMITH:
That suitcase you’re carrying. Those guns in your
coat. The cards you deal…

ALONZO:
I didn’t come here for a lesson in morals…

LOCKSMITH:
I know I know… I’m not your father. But someone
had to keep you grounded after he bit the bullet.
Just because you live alone doesn’t mean you
don’t have others in your life.

ALONZO:
I know… I didn’t mean to –

LOCKSMITH:
I watched you grow up in this town. I watched you
lose more people around you than I care to
remember. You don’t need to explain yourself to
me son.

ALONZO:
Did you know then? That I’d turn out this way?

LOCKSMITH:
Good men do whatever’s necessary to survive in
this town. I never expected anything less from
you. And neither would your father.

ALONZO:
Then I’m sorry to disappoint you… and him…

LOCKSMITH:
You’re not a bad man Alonzo. I know that, even if
the world doesn’t.

ALONZO:
But do I know that?

Beat. The Locksmith pauses working and looks up into

Alonzo’s eyes.

LOCKSMITH:
Only you can know that.
 ALONZO:
I’ve seen what this place does to good men.
Nothing’s changed.

LOCKSMITH:
Don’t rock the boat Alonzo. This city’s already
seasick enough. It ain’t like the old days no
more…

ALONZO:
As long as The Employer’s in control, this town
no different.

LOCKSMITH:
You might be right. There’s always something
pushing us to our place. To our roles. Most of
the time, it’s The Employer. But other times,
fate steps in.

ALONZO:
Steps in for what? I have no reason to be here.
Why should I even give a damn about this dump
anymore?

The Locksmith opens the metal clamp. He hands Alonzo a

crisply cut SILVER KEY.

LOCKSMITH:
Go home and figure it out my boy.

[EXT. – NIGHT. STREETS.]

Alonzo exits the shop doors. He glances around the streets,

breathing in the night air. He pulls out the pack of smokes
and lights one, taking a few drags.

A shadowy FIGURE in a wide fashion hat watches Alonzo from

around the corner. The FIGURE begins following Alonzo as he
walks along the sidewalk.

[V.O.]
The Locksmith is old enough to know: in this
town, it ain’t the cops or judges who run things.
Here, The Employer holds the city’s balls in a
vice. Nobody knows who he is. Not even the old-
timers. Not even me.

The sound of the woman’s heels click against the concrete

sidewalk, walking behind Alonzo. She follows pace with his
steps.
 [V.O.]
But The Employer pays the right people and he
pays them well. And on account of him owning the
lives of a great many people, this town knows the
rules: stay cool or start shopping for caskets.

Alonzo keeps his head down and quickens his pace. THE
FIGURE quickens. He walks through a small group of people.
THE FIGURE continue to follow through the group of people
and upon emerging on the other side, Alonzo is gone. THE
FIGURE stops, lost.

[V.O.]
Here, some things never change…

From the darkness of the adjacent alleyway, a gloved hand

points a silenced pistol to THE FIGURE’s head. The wide
fashion hat hides her face.

[V.O.]
…but some things do.

ALONZO:
Why are you following me?

WOMAN:
Put the gun away sweetheart.

ALONZO:
I won’t ask again.

WOMAN:
Do you really not recognize me anymore… Dealer?

She turns her head to face the darkness of the alleyway.

Piercing eyes shine from under the brim of her hat – rich
and exotic, piercing. FAMILIAR. Waves of smooth chocolate
hair flow down her shoulders. A coy smile spreads across
her face.

WOMAN:
Or should I say… Lon?

She stares into the darkness, waiting. Beat. From the alley
shadows, Alonzo steps out, his face twisted in confusion.
He stares into her eyes, incredulous.

ALONZO:
…Adriana?
 ADRIANA:
Good seeing you too handsome. Can we put the gun
away please?

Beat. He finally holsters his gun.

ALONZO:
What are you doing here?

ADRIANA:
Came to see you. Heard you were back in town.

ALONZO:
You followed me.

ADRIANA:
You may be a tough man to find, but I knew you’d
go to the Agostina sooner or later. You always
loved that place more than anyone.

She approaches him and grabs his cigarette from his lips.
He stands frozen, watching her every move.

ADRIANA:
It’s been a while.

ALONZO:
Seven years.

ADRIANA:
Seven years? Seems like a lifetime ago…

ALONZO:
Not long enough.

She takes a drag from his cigarette, slow and sensual,

unhurried.

ALONZO:
What do you want?

ADRIANA:
I need your help.

ALONZO:
No.

ADRIANA:
Don’t you wanna know what this is about?
 ALONZO:
No.

ADRIANA:
Won’t you do it for me Lonnie? For him?

Alonzo stiffens. His apathy gives way to simmering anger.

She’s touched a nerve.

ALONZO:
I don’t owe you anything. And don’t call me that.

ADRIANA:
Sorry. Would you prefer “The Death Dealer?” Why
are still doing this? He putting you up to it
again?

ALONZO:
I owe him.

ADRIANA:
That was another life. We were young then.

ALONZO:
You’re right. That was another life… so drop it
Ana. And don’t come looking for me again.

He begins to walk away.

ADRIANA:
Why won’t you look me in the eye Alonzo? Still
avoiding your past?

He doesn’t stop walking, footsteps resonating on cold

concrete.

ADRIANA:
Still hunting the only enemy you can’t find?

Alonzo freezes. She’s hit the nail on the head.

ALONZO:
I can’t.

ADRIANA:
Can’t? Or won’t?

ALONZO:
I can’t forgive myself for what happened.

ADRIANA:
 Why won’t you let that go? It’s been seven years.

Beat.
ALONZO:
Because I don’t want to let go. And because you
did so easily.

Alonzo walks away as Adriana watches him walk into the

distant shadows, a single tear rolling down her face.

[CUT TO:]

[INT. – HALLWAY. DARK & DINGY.]

Gloved hands insert a SILVER KEY in the lock, jangling from

a ring of dozens of keys. The door opens.

[INT. – APARTMENT. PLAIN AND SIMPLE.]

The gloved hand flicks on the nearby light switch. A lonely

ray of light sears through the darkness.

A small, desolate, bare room ignites before Alonzo’s sad

eyes, barely illuminated by the lone light in the corner.
He looks around the room. Dust thinly coats everything. The
walls are bare. Everything is clean and pristine. A table
sits nearby, spotless. A couch. And the light. A mausoleum
of nothing. This is HOME.

Alonzo drops the suitcase on the table, taking a long

glance around, uneasy in this place.

[V.O.]
Adriana Moretti. I always said the day I saw her
again would be the day I put a bullet between her
eyes.

He walks down the long, dark hallway and enters the

bedroom. It’s similarly bare. Nothing but a bed, a stand
and a closet, all covered in a thin layer of dust, long
forgotten. The moonlight outside the window casts eerie
shadows across the room.

Alonzo sits at the bedside, fitful. He pulls out his ring

of keys, inserting one into the nightstand drawer. He opens
it and grabs something.
 [V.O.]
But how could I have know that she’d come back
into my life as if our fire had never died all
those years ago? As if nothing had ever happened?
As if I still loved her.

We can’t tell what THE OBJECT is. But as he looks at it,

the coldness in his eyes disappears and is replaced by an
ancient sadness.

[V.O.]
What good is a man’s life if he comes home to
nothing? What good is a man’s home if an empty
room only feels emptier when he’s returned?

He lies down on the bed, alone, sad. He tucks a silenced

pistol under his pillow, drifting off to sleep, tightly
holding on to THE OBJECT in his hand.

[V.O.]
She always tried so hard to make us work. To make
me a better man. But that was another life. And
as much as she tries now, I’m alone. No baggage.
No strings. No connections. It’s why I do what I
do.

SMASH CUT TO:

[DREAM SEQUENCE]

[C.U.] Pure darkness. A light glistens in the distance.

Another shimmer. Eyes.

[C.U.] The eyes flicker in the dark, reflecting whatever

meager light exists. They shine through the shadows - the
youthful, innocent stare of a young boy.

A wave of indistinguishable flashes – dark streets,

shimmering lights, silhouetted figures. A distinct sound
echoes over everything – the metallic cocking of a gun. The
gun fires – BAM.

SMASH CUT TO:

[INT. – BEDROOM. THE NEXT DAY. SUNSET.]

Eyes flicker open abruptly. Alonzo stirs in bed, awakening

from the dream.
He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling of the room, a look
of worry and sadness wash over him. This is Alonzo at his
most vulnerable, a side of him no one ever sees. A side of
him he doesn’t like to show.

He feel THE OBJECT in his grasp and just as quickly, his

eyes are replaced with cold steel, reversing back to the
killing machine.

Alonzo returns THE OBJECT to the drawer and locks it. He

pulls out his gun from under the pillow and heads out.

CUT TO:

[EXT. – NIGHT. EMPTY PARKING LOT.]

Two sleek black SUVs pull up to a plain building, desolate

and decrepit – 503 is faded into the wood above the
weathered door. No other markings on the building. In the
background, the city’s lights shimmer in the darkness.

The SUV doors open – 8 men, breathing heavy, greet the 2

bouncers and enter the club. One of these men is a mammoth
of a man – clean suit, gaudy jewelry, bald, and a full
beard with a sharp mustache. This is “THE BULL.”

[V.O.]
It takes me less than 48 hours to remember this
town’s heartbeat. A heart of filth and lies and
death.

[INT. – NIGHT. CAR. FRONT SEAT.]

Alonzo sits in the seat of a nearby car, shrouded in

darkness. He watches the men enter the building. He peeks
down at his watch – 10:58pm. He cocks his gun and opens the
car door.

[V.O.]
A city’s secrets not unlike my own.

[EXT. – PARKING LOT. CLUB DOORWAY.]

Two bouncers stand at the door, one is a towering man with

a shaved head and a wicked goatee. The other is younger,
arms full of tattoos.

A sole light hangs above the door to the building, casting

a halo of light around the entrance.
Something stirs from the shadows. The bouncers peer into
the darkness, trying to see anything, cocking their guns…

Suddenly, two silenced shots ring out through the night.

Both men jerk their heads back violently and fall limp
against the wall, bullet holes in their foreheads, eyes
staring the cold stare of death.

Footsteps casually approach as Alonzo walks past them,

holstering his guns.

[INT. – STRIP CLUB. DINGY AND DARK.]

Alonzo strolls through the door and into a wave of smoke,

sex, and lust. The place is small and the air is thick with
smoke. A few pool tables sit on the far end of the room. A
stripper dances onstage, no older than 16. Men crowd the
tables around the stage, staring at her, breathing hard.

[V.O.]
Nights here still reek of lust and bad
consciences. And everyone tries to turn a blind
eye to the seedy underbelly of this town.

Alonzo casually walks around the room, scouting it, keeping

his head on a swivel.

[V.O.]
But as much as I try to deny it, that knot in my
gut keeps growing, hard and fast, ever since I
got back to town, telling me something ain’t
right. And deep down I know, DEUCES was right.
This town ain’t the same.

Alonzo locks onto a back room. Through the crack in the

curtain, he sees “THE BULL,” getting a private lap-dance,
grinning like an idiot with a fat cigar in his mouth.

[V.O.]
And I ain’t the man I used to be…

Alonzo walks over to the booth, draws open the curtain,

grabs the girl by the arm and shoves a handful of bills in
her arms.

GIRL:
Hey what’s your deal mister?!

Alonzo keeps his eyes fixed on “The Bull,” sitting quietly.

 ALONZO:
Keep the tip.

The girl looks down into her hands at the bills.

GIRL:
(feigning sweet & innocent)
Oh… whatever you say, sugah’.

Alonzo closes the curtain. “The Bull” stares at Alonzo,

neither scared nor surprised. He sits calmly in the leather
booth, relaxed, and takes a slow drag from his cigar.

ALONZO:
Salvatore “The Bull” Battista.

BULL:
Yea? You’re him, ain’t ya?

ALONZO:
The one and only.

BULL:
Yea… I heard of you. Your reputation
precedes you, my friend.

“The Bull” takes a drag, smirking, smug. Alonzo stands

motionless.

BULL:
“The Dealer,” they call you. So what can I do for
you, dealer-man? Or should I say, what can I do
for your employer?

ALONZO:
You know why I’m here.

“The Bull” laughs a hearty rumble, spitting cigar smoke

into the air.

BULL:
HA! Still running around doing his dirty work
huh? You wanna know a secret? Your boss is losing
it. This town ain’t his no more and he knows it.
Why else would he bring back a defect like you?
I’ll tell ya, your employer ain’t the man you
think he is… he’s a low-life… a disgrace! If he
had any balls he’d face me himself and not send
some half-wit puto to do me!
The Bull gets all worked up and springs to his feet. Alonzo
swiftly draws his gun, pointing straight at the forehead of
The Bull, stopping him.

ALONZO:
I’ll send him your best wishes.

Suddenly, a noise stirs from the far corner of the room,

splitting the tension in the room. Alonzo turns quickly,
gun drawn.

In the meager light, a small frame walks out into the booth
– A LITTLE GIRL, no older than 5 or 6, tightly holding her
teddy bear, wearing flowery PJs. She rubs her sleepy eyes.
Alonzo freezes, the cold stare in his eyes now replaced
with genuine shock.

LITTLE GIRL:
…Daddy?

Alonzo stands aghast, slowly lowering his gun. A wave of

guilt hits him as he stares into the eyes of the little
girl.

BULL:
Lizzie I told you to go to bed. Daddy’s busy
right now.

Beat. She stares at ALONZO, trying to hide the sight of the

gun from her young eyes. ALONZO stands frozen.

Suddenly, a set of giant hands grasps Alonzo’s arm,

dislodging his gun. Another set of hands grasp his
shoulder. More hands reach in from behind the curtain and
drag Alonzo out from the private booth.

The burly arms throw Alonzo against a wall. A group of 7

men surround him. The girls flee from the stage. “The Bull”
casually strolls out from the private booth, cigar in hand.

BULL:
Someone shoulda told you dealer-man. The house
always wins. And you better get it straight, my
friend. You’re playing in my house now.

The Bull pulls out a silver revolver from his jacket.

BULL:
It’s very rude, entering a man’s home without so
much as a knock at the door. Didn’t your poppa
ever teach you that?
The Bull nonchalantly takes a drag of his cigar. He feigns
remorse.

BULL:
Oh that’s right… I almost forgot… It’s a shame
really. He was so young. We used to be such good
friends. But you had to go and disgrace him like
that. Tsk tsk. No wonder things turned out the
way it did…

The Bull throws back his head, letting out a bellowing

laugh. Just as quickly, The Bull’s laughter ceases, his
eyes wash over with a deadly serious glare. He cocks his
gun.

Alonzo peers at “The Bull” square in the eye. Unflinching.

Angry. Alonzo pulls out his 2nd gun from his coat and turns
the closest henchman around. “The Bull” shoots once,
hitting the henchman in the chest. Alonzo keeps moving,
firing 4 shots, each one finding the forehead of the 4
furthest henchmen. “The Bull” retreats, firing wildly at
Alonzo.

A henchman grabs Alonzo and dislodges his gun, kicking it

away. Alonzo turns and kicks in the guy’s knee. The last
henchman attacks Alonzo from the side. Alonzo takes him
down, close combat. “The Bull” runs out of bullets for his
revolver. The henchman with the broken knee, groveling on
the ground, whimpers and moans. Alonzo takes him out.

Alonzo glances over to “The Bull” – a cold stare. Beat.

“The Bull” tosses his empty gun and calmly takes off his
jacket – rippling arms show through his fancy shirt.
Alonzo, without a gun, grabs a nearby pool cue, feeling the
weight in his hands. Amidst the empty club, dead henchmen
at their feet, Alonzo and “The Bull” charge at each other.

Alonzo swings the pool cue methodically but “The Bull”

avoids each whizzing swing. He’s quicker than Alonzo had
thought. “The Bull” lands a few punches, deafening,
stunning blows. Alonzo finally connects a wide swing
against “The Bull’s” body, sending shards of wood spraying
across the club. “The Bull” doesn’t even flinch. He easily
overpowers Alonzo and rushes him, obviously stronger. He
grabs Alonzo around the waist, digging into his back,
lifting him off the ground. Alonzo feels his back
tightening, on the verge of breaking. Desperate, Alonzo
flings his leg up, solidly catching “The Bull” in the
groin. “The Bull” drops Alonzo instantly.
Alonzo grabs a nearby shard of splintered pool cue and in a
move as swift as it is mechanical, spears it through The
Bull’s throat.

A slow gargle exhales from The Bull as his body falls limp
to the ground – dead.

Beat. A look of sadness washes over Alonzo’s face as he

gazes at his own handiwork. But just as quickly, he regains
his composure. He grabs his phone.

ALONZO:
It’s done.

Suddenly, a slight whimper resonates from the far side of

the room. Beat. Reveal LIZZIE BATTISTA, scared straight,
hiding in the corner, forgotten in all the commotion.

Alonzo feels the guilt course through his body as her young
eyes pierce his armor. He can’t take his eyes off the
little girl. An ancient sadness washes over his eyes… as if
this scenario reminds him of something long forgotten…

Overwhelmed, Alonzo quickly turns and disappears out the

door.

The little girl slowly walks over to her father’s body –

blood flowing from The Bull, pooling around the ACE OF
SPADES at her feet. She tightens her hold on her teddy
bear, trying to console herself. A little girl lost in the
world, fatherless…

[INT. – NIGHT. DOWNTOWN STREETS.]

Tires screech as a slick SUV pulls up to the AGOSTINA GRAND

HOTEL curbside. Fats, the young valet, runs over to the car
door, eyeing the new ride.

Alonzo steps out, clearly flustered, and carelessly tosses

Fats the keys.

FATS:
Hell Mr. D, where’d you get this beauty?

ALONZO:
Get rid of this one Fats.

FATS:
Aw you sure? Look at it!
 ALONZO:
Do it.

Alonzo swiftly walks up the stairs, avoiding everything and

everyone, trying to find solace and consolidation in what
he just did.

FATS:
(yelling after him)
Business tonight?

ALONZO:
(to himself)
Not tonight.

[INT. – AGOSTINA HOTEL LOBBY.]

Alonzo walks through the crowds bustling in the hotel

lobby, heading for the elevators. He suddenly stops in the
middle of the traffic.

[V.O.]
I run back to the only place in town I feel safe.
And she takes me in just like I remember. But
this time, the smell stops me in my tracks and
almost makes me forget what I just did to that
little girl.

Adjacent to the lobby, lights from the LOBBY BAR shine, a

halo of warmth and comfort. This is the same place Alonzo
peered at when he first entered the Agostina.

At the BAR counter sits a woman, her back to the main

lobby, rich chocolate hair flows down her back. She sips on
a tall glass martini, patiently waiting.

[V.O.]
Her sweet perfume cuts through all the blood on
my hands and hits me square in the mug.

[INT. – HOTEL BAR.]

The bar is dark and elegant, rich mahogany wood lines the
walls. Intricate chandeliers spot the ceiling. All around,
thick leather booths surround polished stone tables. A lone
bartender busies behind the counter, wearing a crisp vest
and bowtie.
 [V.O.]
And just like that first day I met her, I can’t
resist her.

Alonzo walks up to the bar stool next to the woman and

slips a crisp bill on the counter.

[V.O.]
I don’t want to resist her.

ALONZO:
A shot of the strong stuff tonight, Tiny. And
keep it coming.

TINY:
Yes sir.

The bartender serves up a shot. The woman turns to Alonzo –

piercing eyes shimmer through her thick hair, covering half
her face – Adriana.

ADRIANA:
Tough night at work, Dealer?

Alonzo downs the shot.

ALONZO:
Something like that.

ADRIANA:
Haven’t seen you this flustered in a while. Musta
been quite the job.

ALONZO:
Why are you still here Ana?

ADRIANA:
I told you. I need to talk to you.

ALONZO:
Why come to me? There’s plenty of bums looking
for a quick buck in this town.

She inches closer to Alonzo. He tries to refrain from

looking into her eyes, knowing he won’t stand up to them.
She senses something’s wrong… she senses his vulnerability.

ADRIANA:
Because I trust you. Tell me the truth Lonnie,
how’s the new life? Is it everything you
expected?
Beat. Alonzo finally looks into her eyes. His glaze of
toughness evaporates, replaced with an ancient sadness that
was long bottled up.

ALONZO:
It is what it is – hell without you baby.

ADRIANA:
It never had to be like that. We could have made
it work…

ALONZO:
I couldn’t do it Ana. Not after what happened.

ADRIANA:
You still think about him?

ALONZO:
How could I not? Not everyone can bury the past
as easily as you…

ADRIANA:
You think it was easy for me? I didn’t get over
it, I accepted it.

ALONZO:
I don’t want to accept it.

She moves in close, peering into his eyes.

ADRIANA:
He had your eyes you know…

ALONZO:
I know. Why do you think I left?

ADRIANA:
I know why you left. But nothing we do now can
change what happened then… I miss him just as
much as you do… but we gotta move on Alonzo…
things change. You’re back here now. And so am I.

ALONZO:
I’m only here for business.

ADRIANA:
Won’t you help me then… I’m not asking for much
Lonnie. Just for your help. Someone’s after me. A
man in nothing but black… with a scarlet rose
pinned on his lapel…
 ALONZO:
You have your connections straight in this town.
You don’t need me.

Alonzo downs a shot, nonchalant, feigning uncaring.

ADRIANA:
This is bigger than just you or me. Whoever this
is ain’t just going for my blood, they’re going
for my family. And maybe even the city.

ALONZO:
How do you know that?

ADRIANA:
Last week, the Armone poppa was found dead in his
bathtub, soaking in a pool of his own blood for
nearly 2 days. Last night, Lou Battista bit the
bullet in his own home. They found his body this
morning, picked apart by a swarm of crows…

ALONZO:
Why should I care?

ADRIANA:
You know better than anyone, if you want someone
dead in this town, The Employer takes care of it.
Clean and quiet. These weren’t clean or quiet.
This wasn’t The Employer. These were meant to
send a message to the Households.

ALONZO:
The Households? You don’t believe in that do you?

ADRIANA:
It’s a truce for this city, not the damned Easter
bunny Lon. You should know the importance of
that. Your father died protecting his name. Your
name.

ALONZO:
He’s dead now.

Alonzo downs another shot, drowning away the bitter taste

in his mouth.

ADRIANA:
Then won’t you help me? If the Battista and Luzio
lines are cut, the Moretti legacy’s in the
crosshairs. And deep down, I know… I’m next.
Whoever’s been following me Lonnie… they’re gonna
use me to get to my father.
 ALONZO:
Franco Moretti’s outlasted bullets before. Why
should your father be afraid of some lowly thugs?

ADRIANA:
If there’s one thing I learned when we were
together, it’s how to spot a man that’s up to no
good. My father’s been getting threats. Scarlet
roses… stained red with blood… Lonnie please…
he’s not safe in this city… and for the first
time in a long time, I don’t feel safe either… I
don’t know where else to go or who else to go to…
if it’s money you’re looking for –-

ALONZO:
This ain’t about business Ana. You shouldn’t have
come to me…

ADRIANA:
Will you drop the tough guy act? I came to you
because I still think of you… because I still lay
awake wondering where you are… wondering if
you’re safe… or if that job of yours finally
caught up with you…

ALONZO:
I did fine without you. And I’m doing fine now.

He downs another shot.

ADRIANA:
I know. But tell me the truth, what we had
couldn’t have been that bad… even someone as cold
as you can’t forget everything we shared. You
can’t just ditch your past so easily Lonnie.

ALONZO:
I hold onto only what I need…

ADRIANA:
I get it, you don’t need me. But I still need
you.

ALONZO:
I’m not the same man anymore. Why are you still
holding on to what we used to have?

ADRIANA:
Because I want to. And because you let us go so
easily.
Beat. Alonzo’s words are shoved back in his face. He’s
speechless and can’t bear to look her in the eye. She
calmly slides a key over to him on the bar counter,
understanding.

ADRIANA:
I have the old room. If you want to talk, you
know where I’ll be.

She leans in and kisses him on the cheek, gently and

passionately. Alonzo closes his eyes at the touch of her
lips, as if the kiss could wipe away everything he’s tried
so hard to forget in their past. She walks out the bar.

He downs a shot. Beat. He stares at the key left on the bar

counter.

[V.O.]
I run to the only place in town I feel safe.

[INT. – HOTEL LOBBY.]

Alonzo walks over to the elevators. He gets into the far

one, like usual.

[V.O.]
And she takes me in just like I remember.

[INT. – ELEVATOR.]

Alonzo pulls out his ring of keys in one hand. In his other
hand, he holds Adriana’s key. Beat. The elevator doors
close on him.

[V.O.]
Her secrets remind me of my own. All those nights
years ago, when I’d step foot in here for all the
wrong reasons.

[INT. – HOTEL FLOOR HALLWAY.]

Footsteps walk down the dark carpet of a hallway. One step

after another. Fancy wood panels line the walls. Dim
lighting overhead.

[V.O.]
But I don’t come here for what’s on the menu.
The feet stop. A door slides open, spilling a ray of light
into the dim hallway. Adriana stands at the door, half
behind the door, emotionless. Alonzo stands at the doorway.
He looks into her eyes. Beat.

V.O.]
I don’t mix business with pleasure. Not anymore.

They don’t say a word. Her lips finally curl up at the

edges as she grabs his jacket lapel and pulls him into the
room. The door closes, a sign hanging on the doorknob:
PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB.

[V.O.]
And tonight, I ain’t here for business.

[INT. – BATTISTA CLUB. LATE NIGHT.]

Heavy footsteps resonate over the hardwood. A SHADOW slowly

walks across the quiet club floor to the edge of a pool of
blood.

Gloved hands reach down and retrieve THE DEALER’S CARD. But
before leaving, THE SHADOW waits. It kneels down to the
height of a little girl – LIZZIE BATTISTA – and extends a
hand.

Afraid and lost, she slowly clutches onto the gloved hand.
Both figures, hand in hand, turn and walk out the club.
TILT up THE SHADOW’s body as he leads Lizzie out the door -
clad in a long coat, black as the night, opulent and thick.
A top-hat drenches the face in shadow. A vibrant SCARLET
RED ROSE is pinned on the lapel.