Hardcore Page #14

FELICE:

Are you going to stiff me?

JAKE:

What do you mean?

FELICE:

Look, that twenty dollars you just

paid, I don't get any of that. That

goes to the guys that own this place.

I get two bucks an hour, minus ten

percent for a bail fund. I make all

my money on tips.

JAKE:

You want a tip?

FELICE:

Sure. What do you want? Tips can be

anywhere from thirty dollars to

seventy dollars.

JAKE:

What do you mean?

FELICE:

What do you want to tip me for? Look,

you got to spell it out. Whatever

you want, just say it.

JAKE:

I'll give you a tip. Here's forty

dollars.

Jake digs out a couple twenties and gives them to her. Felice

tucks the bills into her bikini crotch and pulls off her

shirt top. Her breasts seem surprisingly pale and small.

FELICE:

Now, what do you want?

JAKE:

I said I just wanted to talk to you...

FELICE:

That's cool.

JAKE:

...about this woman.

(showing glossy)

I'm trying to find her. Do you know

her?

FELICE:

(uptight)

Look, I don't know anybody. I never

seen her before.

Jake, previously upset, is now angered. Nobody tells him

anything, he gets nowhere.

JAKE:

I'm getting angry.

FELICE:

Wait a minute, that's going to cost

you more than forty bucks.

JAKE:

I'm getting angry. I want some

answers.

(stands)

Where's the guy who runs this place?

He slides open the door and walks out. Felice pulls on her

shift and follows him.

JAKE:

Who is it? That blond guy? Where is

he? I'm going to talk to someone.

FELICE:

Wait?

JAKE:

Where is he? Where's the bastard

that runs this sh*t hole?

The Manager, as if on request, steps to the top of the stairs.

His huge frame fills the hallway.

MANAGER:

What do you want?

FELICE:

He's causing trouble.

JAKE:

(contentious)

I got a picture here. I want you to

tell me where to find this woman. I

been asking everybody. Nobody knows

anything.

MANAGER:

Calm down, mister. You don't want to

get the cops in here do you? You got

a family?

JAKE:

(shows picture)

I don't suppose you've ever seen

this girl before either? Her name's

Kristen, but I suppose you've never

seen her?

MANAGER:

Why don't you just go outdoors,

mister? Cool off.

JAKE:

Cool off, huh? How's this for cooling

off?

He knocks a cheap print of a naked woman off the wall. The

frame crashes to the floor.

MANAGER:

Hold it, mister.

JAKE:

What do you think of that? Or this?

Jake knocks over a small table. The Manager has had enough.

He grabs Jake's arm, wrenches it tight behind his back and

rams Jake's face into the wall. He forces Jake down the

stairway of love.

Jake struggles and kicks, but is no match for the larger

man. At the foot of the stairs, the Manager ejects Jake,

thrusting him across the sidewalk.

Jake rams face-first into a parked car. He staggers on the

sidewalk. His mouth and nose bloody.

He looks back. A black and white slows down. There's nothing

to be done. He moves on.

CUT TO:

INT. HOLIDAY INN ROOM - DAY

Van Dorn, thinking, lies face up on the bed in his motel

room. He wears slacks and a white undershirt.

His face is bruised, his lip is swollen. An open First Aid

Kit sits on the lamp stand.

LATER. Jake slouches in a chair watching "Day of Discovery,"

a Sunday evening religious program. The chorus of wholesome

young people look like they've come from another planet.

A soothing, innocuous hymn. In the distance church bells

RING, as if signalling a call to action.

CUT TO:

EXT. BEVERLY HILLS - DAY

The next day. Jake, now wearing a print sport shirt under

his navy jacket, strides down Camden. He has a plan.

He checks an office building address and enters.

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