Coyote Ugly Page #2

Relax. You look tired.

We can talk about|my raise later.

You think this is Australia?|There's no raise. I'm about to fire you.

Um, excuse me.|Mr. O'Donnell?

- Yes.|- Mr. O'Donnell. My name is Violet Sanford.

I'm a songwriter.|I just wanted to give this to you.

I know it's not the most professional|way to submit a tape.

- But this is all pretty new to me.|- It's pretty new to me too.

I just figured as the manager|of a club like this, you must know every band on the East Coast.

The manager...|of this club.

Um--

- You guys go ahead. I'll catch up.|- Sure thing.

Mr. O'Donnell.

I don't usually do this,|Violet.

Um, but I-- I have|a feeling about you.

- So I'm gonna take your tape,|and I'm gonna see what I can do. - Thank you.

I can't believe|how easy this was.

Neither can I.

Uh, you wanna go for|some coffee or something?

O'Donnell, who do I look like?|Your god damn maid?

That's Mr. O'Donnell,

but I'll let it slide|this time.

I told you to take your stuff|home and wash it.

You got cow grease|caked on the front.

Walt, I've warned you|about your attitude-- You're fired.

Oh, you better not|push me, kid.

I can find a hundred other|little punks like you, can burn a turkey burger.

Minimum wage punk.

Maybe we should start over. Uh...

I'm Kevin O'Donnell,

and I work the grill|here at the Fiji Mermaid Club.

I just made a complete|fool of myself.

I was gonna tell you.

I'm almost sure|I would have told you.

I just want you to know|I'm not following you home.

I'm just walking myself 26|blocks in the wrong direction.

- I asked you to leave me alone.|- Did I mention how sorry I am?

I mean, not that it's all my fault.|You did throw yourself at me.

I didn't throw myself at you.

I was pretending to be sweet|and innocent so you'd give me a break.

- Can I ask you a question?|- What?

Is there a reason we just walked|in a circle? Are you lost?

I'm not lost.|Somebody just moved my street.

You-- You wanna play a game?

I bet I can guess|where you're from.

I'm about to get out|my pepper spray.

I reckon you're|from a big city.

And there's no sign from here|of a belly button ring...

or a tongue piercing.

- I gotta go with Chicago.|- Okay.

I've never had anyone stare|at my ass for half an hour, so I'm gonna say good night.

And I'm hoping|you're gonna say it back.

Okay. I can take a hint.

I really do know alot of people|in the music business.

You just don't give up,|do ya?

- Well, it was the sweet and|innocent thing. It did me in. - Good night, Kevin.

Just for the record,|I was only staring at your ass for the first 15 minutes.

William Morris. - I don't mean to interrupt.

- I just want to leave this--|- I'll transfer.

- William Morris. Please hold.|- It's a demo. I'm a songwriter.

William Morris.|I'll be right with you.

I just want to leave this|for Whitney and Mariah.

- I'm sure they're|personal friends of yours. - Look.

I'm sure it sounds great in your shower,|but karaoke ended a halfhour ago.

So if you'd like to get|your songs heard, you're gonna have to take them...

to an open mic night|just like everyone else.

William Morris.

I'll transfer.|You're not getting validated.

Caughtin a mirror

Looking through sympathetic eyes

- Can I help you?|- Um--

Yeah, hi. Uh, I'm sure all your spaces|are filled for tonight.

I just wanted to come down|and check out what this whole open mic thing was about.

I can squeeze you in in ten minutes.|A couple of my regulars, they called in sick.

So, uh, I've got|some spaces to fill.

I need you to sign your name|in here and get yourself ready.

Bathroom's around the corner|if you want to throw up.

Next up we have a young lady|named Violet Sanford.

So let's put our hands together|for New Jersey's own Violet Sanford! Come on up, Violet.

Good! There we go.|Yeah. Whoo!

- Yea, Violet!

Oh, oops.

- I'm a little nervous.|- So are we, honey.

Don't tease me, honey!|Sing!

Come on, give her a break.

I'm sorry.

Hello?

You gotta cheer up. You look like|somebody ran over your dog.

Hey, um, how much|is a slice of pie?

Oh, uh,

we happen to have|the best French apple in town.

And, uh,|it's on the house.

- Shut up.|- You just have to pay attention.

- Okay?|- Twenty.

- Twenty says it's Pretty Woman.|- I will raise you ten,

because it is Home Alone.

- Oh?|- You guys have to read the signs.

I call with|Saving Private Ryan.

- What?|- Let's fip this over, and Miss Jennifer from Austin...

says her|favorite movie is--

No way. There's no way!|You already saw this one.

Oh, you are such a cheater.

Hello. A naked girl in army boots?|Easy play to call.

- Thank you.|- Those boots are kinda cute.

- I have to get me some of those.

Wait, wait, wait. Oh, Romero.|You gotta turn that up, baby. That is the jam.

- Turn it up!|There you go, there you go. - Oh, no.

- Girl, what are you doing?|- Remember this? Remember this?

- Belly dancing.

- Do you know those girls?|- Oh, yeah. They're here every morning around this time.

- Winding down.|- Wait, wait.

- They have to, in their line of work.|- Are they hookers?

No.

Coyotes.

All right.

You guys? You guys wanna see|what Al gave me for my birthday?

- This.|- You let him brand you?

- Isn't it cute?|- She let the man brand her.

Hey, check it out, ladies.|We each made 300 bucks tonight.

- Mmm.|- You sure you wanna be goin' off to law school?

Hmm?

- Let's make a toast.|- Yeah.

To Zoe's last week|as a Coyote.

- Oh.|- She's gonna be impossible to replace.

I just wanna tell you both|that I will never, ever forget you.

Who's up there?

- I'm lookin' for the owner.|- Hey, come on down. Bring a case with you.

What are you doin' here?

- Uh, I'm gonna drop this case.|Where do you want me to put it? - That depends. What do ya want?

Well, I heard you might need|a new, uh--

That, uh, there might be|a job opening.

Put it right there.|Let me take a look at ya.

Let me guess.

Piedmont, North Dakota.

South Amboy, New Jersey.

Same thing.|You do any drugs?

Just coffee.|That's all I can afford right now.

- Let me see your arms.|- Are you kidding?

Do I look like|I'm kidding?

Ooh, where'd you get|that scar on your wrist?

Pizza oven. It's a permanent|burn from pulling slices for four years.

That could be the saddest thing|I've ever heard.

- Um, what's next?|You want a urine sample? - Ha, ha.

I prefer blood.

Look, are you really the owner?|'Cause I've had a rough couple of days,

and so the last thing I need|is some waitress on a power trip wastin' my time.

You start Friday night.|Be there at 11:00. That's when we get busy.

- You're givin' me a job?|- I'm givin' you an audition.

Don't be late, Jersey girl.

I don't mean to press my luck,|but would you mind telling me why you're hiring me?

Because the average male...

is walking around with a toddler|inside of his pants.

A two year old, right there|inside his Dockers.

Men have two-year-old children|in their pants? That's why you're hiring me?

You look like a kindergarten teacher.|The kids'll love it.

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