Carole A. Parker

EXT. RODEO DRIVE - UPSCALE BOUTIQUE - DUSK A 1996 LAND ROVER parks in front of a trendy boutique. A blight on the landscape. Sign reads LOADING ONLY. A YOUNG WOMAN (25) gets out of the car, SLAMS the door. Heads inside, on a mission. Tall and taught, with reckless curves. Long blonde hair to her ass. Even in this nabe, people stare. Meet CAMERON CLINCH. Former trust fund heiress. Tres biker chic. She checks her watch. We see its CRACKED. She TOSSES her cigarette in the gutter. PUSHES OPEN the door into -INT. UPSCALE BOUTIQUE - CONTINUOUS Haughty Euro-pop plays on the sound system. The ANOREXIC, MULTIRACIAL SALESGIRL approaches Cam. ANOREXIC, MULTIRACIAL SALESGIRL We’re closing in a few minutes. Can I help you find something? Cam fingers a display of $50,000 watches. Holds one up. We now see she’s wearing a hospital ID bracelet. CAM Does this come in black? ANOREXIC, MULTIRACIAL SALESGIRL That watch is VERY expensive. (condescending) Let me show you something that’s more -in your price range. She bends down, looks on a shelf below the display case. THE FRONT DOOR FLIES open. A LARGE, BEEFY GUY wearing a ski mask CHARGES in. Points a 357 Magnum at Anorexic. RUSHES over to the counter. PUSHES Cameron to the side. BEEFY MASKED GUNMAN Hands where I CAN SEE ‘EM. This is ROBBERY. The GIANT GUARD rushes him. Beefy PISTOL-WHIPS him. BANG, he goes down. Anorexic swings a BASEBALL BAT. CRACKS Beefy on the head. He goes down like a sack of rocks, THWUMP. Cam LEAPS at Beefy. GRABS his gun. Points it at Anorexic. She DROPS the bat. CLANG. CAM Gimme that fucking watch, BITCH. Shaking, Anorexic hands Cam the watch she was looking at. Cam smiles, turns, and RACES out the door. 2. EXT. UPSCALE BOUTIQUE - CONTINUOUS Cam RUNS to her car. OPENS the door. Anorexic stands in the doorway, SHOUTS. ANOREXIC, MULTIRACIAL SALESGIRL HELP. ROBBERY. Somebody STOP THAT WOMAN. CAM Turns. Smiles. Raises the gun. Points it at Anorexic. ANOREXIC HITS the ground. CAM Takes aim. CAM Ask yourself, punk. Do you feel LUCKY? She SHOOTS. BANG. The window SPRAYS broken glass. Cam’s body RECOILS from the force of the blast, REELS back. She rubs her hand. Ow. She JUMPS in the car -CAM (CONT'D) That’ll teach you to be RUDE. And PEELS OFF in screech of rubber. INT. LAND ROVER - MOVING - DUSK On the car stereo, the sludgy, buzzsaw riot gurl snarl of L7’S PRETEND WE’RE DEAD thuds ominously. Cam CRANKS IT UP. CAM Holy fucking SHIT. Cam stops at a light. Looks in the rearview. No one. She looks down at her crotch. Wiggles in her seat to the music. CAM (CONT’D) Better than -- riding horses. The light changes. She PUNCHES the gas. EXT. LOS ANGELES GUN CLUB - NIGHT Plain brick building. Red letters read LOS ANGELES GUN CLUB. A cluster of shitty cars and trucks litter the parking lot. Cam’s Rover SCREECHES to a stop in front. INT. LOS ANGELES GUN CLUB - NIGHT Cam strolls up to the registration counter. A buzz cut, beefy CLERK eyes her appreciatively. She SLAPS her gun down. (CONTINUED) 3. CONTINUED: BEEFY CLERK Evenin,’ miss. CAM Hey, there. Okay if I use my own piece? BEEFY CLERK Sure thing. If it’s registered to you. CAM It belongs to -- a friend of mine. BEEFY CLERK Then they’d have to be here, too. CAM I see. (beat) Guess I better rent one of yours. BEEFY CLERK Sure thing. He moves to a display of guns under glass further on down the counter. Points to a small pistol. BEEFY CLERK (CONT’D) That’s a 22-caliber. Good for -beginners. Cam scans the arsenal. Points at a large, chrome behemoth. CAM I like that one. BEEFY CLERK The Smith & Wesson? (chuckles) That’s a 357, Miss. Kinda big for a lil’ gal like you. CAM (evil smile) That’s Dirty Harry’s gun. Yeah? BEEFY CLERK CAM Go ahead. Make my day. (beat) And gimmee a box of ammo. INT. LA GUN CLUB - SHOOTING RANGE - MOMENTS LATER A row of stalls, each with a target at the end. The sound of GUNSHOTS is DEAFENING. It’s punctuated by the CLINK-CLINKCLINK of shells hitting the cement floor. The SHOOTERS are a rogue’s gallery of COPS, THUGS, MILITARY TYPES and REDNECKS. And a KID with his DAD. (CONTINUED) 4. CONTINUED: At one stall is ROD FUNK (40’s), rugged, gone to seed. Former cop, now of questionable repute. Cleaned up, he’d be quite the catch. But he’s still good with the ladies. He takes a secretive sip from a flask. Wipes him mouth. Cam takes the lone empty stall, right next to him. Slips on her ear protectors. She SHOVES a magazine into the Magnum. Raises the giant weapon in her right hand. Rod notices her. Tries not to stare. Lopsided grin. ROD (not looking, taking aim) You should use a two-handed grip. Cam FIRES, BANG. The gun RECOILS. Her hand FLIES back. OW -- CAM ROD Got quite a kick, doesn’t it. Cam looks. Likes what she sees. Hides it. CAM (rubs her wrist) Yeah. Rod puts down his gun. Walks over. ROD You gotta use a two-handed grip. (demonstrates) Like this. Left hand over the right. (hands the gun back) Try it. She does. Takes aim. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. THE TARGET Shows five holes in the head. ROD (CONT’D) She’s a natural. (low) Nice cluster. CAM Cluster? ROD First time, isn’t it. CAM You know what they say. ROD What’s that. (CONTINUED) 5. CONTINUED: (2) CAM First time it hurts. (beat) Then it gets better. He stares. Gives a salute with his finger. Returns to his stall. Slides on his ear protectors. Starts SHOOTING. She smirks. Resumes her stance. FIRES. EXT. LA GUN CLUB - PARKING LOT - NIGHT Cam stands at her Rover. Paper targets in her hand. She unlocks the door, opens it. ROD (O.C.) Not bad for a beginner. ROD Stands a few feet away. Hands in his long, leather coat. ROD (CONT'D) I used to keep the targets, too. She looks at him. Then glances at the bullet holes. Something flashes in her eyes. CAM For my scrapbook. Rod pulls a Sig Sauer out of his left pocket. A bottle of Jack Daniels from his right. ROD Thought maybe we could continue the party. CAM Continue the party. ROD Back at my place on the beach. Malibu. Gotta firing range and everything. CAM I’ll follow you. (beat) But I’m not spending the night. ROD Wouldn’t think of it. CAM Of course you’re thinking about it. You’re a guy. ROD I’m cool. Used to be a cop. I’m safe. (CONTINUED) 6. CONTINUED: CAM Who said anything about safe? ROD Don’t worry. I bite. EXT. MALIBU BEACH - ROD’S JOINT - NIGHT Rod’s beach shack sits in the sand near a rocky wall of dirt. He leads Cam around the side. They come to a formation of rocks near the water. CAM Is this where you take your victims? ROD Only when they’re good. He leads her over the rocks, until they reach -- a protected COVE. Rocks surrounding an inlet. The waves CRASH behind them. Water flows over their bare feet. CAM A secret hideaway. ROD This is where I come to think. (beat) And then forget. He takes a swig of Jack. Hands her the bottle. ROD (CONT’D) Check it out. Rod walks over to a light switch on a post. Flicks it on. A floodlight SNAPS ON. We now see the outline of a FIGURE scratched in the dirt. Then spray-painted red. Cam’s eyes flash. She pulls out her piece. FIRES at it -BANG. The bullet HITS the head. A SPRAY of dirt FLIES OFF. ROD (CONT’D) (ducks) Hey. What the FUCK are you doing? You wanna kill me? CAM Chill out. I didn’t hit you. He walks over to her. Takes the bottle. Swigs. ROD You’re crazy. Gun crazy. CAM ROD What’s with you and guns? (CONTINUED) 7. CONTINUED: CAM My whole life, I’ve always felt -powerless. (sticks it in her jeans) Now I don’t. ROD Rough childhood? CAM You could say that. ROD (hands her the bottle) Wanna tell me about it? She takes a long, slow swig. Wipes her mouth. CAM Gotta couple weeks? MALE VOICE (O.C.) ROD. Where the fuck ARE you? FEMALE VOICE (O.C.) Little dark for surfing, isn’t it? LAUGHTER. Two FIGURES appear on top of the rocks. MALE FIGURE THERE he is. Hey, Rod. Where’s the party? ROD (looks) HONDO. Meet HONDO RUFF (29), biker-suave in leathers and denim. Giant black pompadour. Red lizard boots. Pretty, like a young Chris Walken. With a menacing gleam in his eye. Carrys a sawed-off shotgun in one hand, and a bottle in the other. HONDO What the fuck you doing out here? And who’s the frill? (to Cam) Better watch out for this one, doll -the notches on his belt have notches. ROD What are you trying to do? Scare off the catch of the day? Hondo and the girl walk over to them. HONDO Not possible, brother. (nods at the girl) This here’s Net. NET Pleasure’s all yours. (CONTINUED) 8. CONTINUED: (2) Meet ANNETTE CARGO (25). Six-feet of toned muscle poured into an hourglass of leather. Red lips curled in a brutal sneer. She’s also got a bottle of Dom. Takes a swig. We now see they both have blood on their clothes. Quite a lot of it. ROD What did you kids do? Slaughter a chicken? HONDO Asshole wouldn’t give me the combination. NET It was my fault. (giggles) Finger slipped. Cam stares. Entranced. NET (CONT’D) And who’s the little fishie? I’m Cam. CAM HONDO Grrrrr. Twin-cam engine. NET Get your motor running. INT. ROD’S JOINT - A LITTLE LATER The The Cramps’ GOO-GOO MUCK plays on the hi-fi. A big living room. Full Tiki bar. Roaring fireplace. With a fireman’s pole coming down through the bedroom above. Hondo’s changed into fresh leathers. Net’s in a vinyl halter and miniskirt. Everyone has cocktails. And at this point, is more than a little fucked up. Net GRABS the brass pole. NET Daddy warned me to stay off the pole. (swings a leg around it) Sorry, Pop. HONDO That’s not a stripper pole. ROD Previous owner was a fireman. NET Well, it’s a stripper pole NOW. They watch Net dance to the music, working the pole. She slides, bumps and grinds like a pro. Which she was. (CONTINUED) 9. CONTINUED: ROD Think she’s got a point. (big hit of his drink) So what went down tonight? HONDO (starts rolling a joint) We jacked the Thrif-T Mart on the coast highway. (licks the paper) Kid said he couldn’t open the safe, didn’t know the combination. (lights up) Then Miss Bada-Bing here got itchy. Blew his fucking head clean off. He inhales a big hit. Passes it to Rod. He takes a toke. Holy shit. CAM NET Don’t worry, honey. We took out the security camera. It’s between us and God. HONDO (to Rod) We just needed a safe place to change, crash for the night. NET Don’t forget the other thing. HONDO Oh, yeah. (evil grin) And we need a wheelman. ROD (another hit, passes it to Cam) What’s the job? HONDO Cute little joint on Main Street. The Fisherman’s First National Bank. Cute, huh? CAM You’re going to rob a bank? NET Hell, yeah. Only got a couple hundred from the Bozo Mart. HONDO It’s either that -- or get a job. Hondo and Net exchange glances, then EXPLODE with LAUGHTER. ROD You’ve cased it? (CONTINUED) 10. CONTINUED: (2) HONDO Hell, yeah. It’s a little mom-and-pop fuck. Two tellers. ONE camera. Piece of cake. NET Smash and grab, baby. She WHIRLS around, does a split. Finishes her drink. CAM You need a fourth? YOU? HONDO CAM Yeah. Why not? HONDO Not sure I’m into splitting the take four ways. CAM So I’ll do it for free. HONDO Well, now -- that’s quite an offer. (beat) Let me think about it. He takes out a small leather bag from his pocket. Pulls out tin foil and a little paper triangle. Dumps some white powder on the foil. Inserts a glass tube in his mouth. NET (comes over) Oooh, goody -- Puff the Magic Dragon. Hondo flicks his lighter under the foil. The powder starts bubbling, giving off white smoke. He INHALES. Net takes the tube. Does a hit. They both close their eyes. Rod goes over to Cam, sits next to her on the couch. ROD So you wanna be a heister, huh? CAM Yeah. (beat) Think I’m crazy? He leans over, softly kisses her on the mouth. Pulls back. ROD Nah. I’m kinda crazy, too.