Killing Zoe Page #5

The drunken Englishman, Oliver, belches and then cheers.

EXT. PARIS STREET - NIGHT

The two cars are franticly racing through traffic.

INT. JEAN'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Jean is very intent on beating them to whatever location it

is they're going to.

Claude, in the seat next to him, gives him some advice.

CLAUDE:

[Faster, faster...go faster. Let's beat

them!]

Francois laughs and coughs out a cloud of smoke.

EXT. PARIS STREET - NIGHT

Jean's car makes a dangerous lane change across traffic and

cuts off Ricardo.

INT. ERIC'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Ricardo swerves as he passes a joint to Eric.

RICARDO:

[Sh*t! That bastard.]

ERIC:

(to Ricardo)

Watch it! Don't crash my car.

Eric takes a big hit.

ERIC:

Over here is where the male prostitutes

sell themselves. Do you see?

No, Zed doesn't see.

Suddenly, everyone in the car is shouting out the windows.

OLIVER:

(out the window)

F***ing fags!

ERIC:

(also out the window)

Suce ma bite?!

RICARDO:

Perverts d'homosexuels!

Eric laughs.

ERIC:

(into Zed's ear)

This is good to have you here. We could

not do this without you.

Zed nods.

ERIC:

Everyone has agreed to give you double

shares. That's good.

Zed nods, delirious.

ERIC:

You know I have AIDS. From the needle.

Zed can't believe this. He's not sure if what he heard was

what he thought he heard.

ZED:

Really?

Then Eric sees something.

ERIC:

Okay, up here is the Arc de Triomphe.

They take a sharp turn.

CUT TO:

INT. CELLAR - NIGHT

Eric, Zed, Francois, Ricardo, Jean, Claude, and Oliver are

all walking down some dank stone steps into a cellar.

Somewhere crazy Raymond Scott Toy Jazz music is playing.

An old wine cellar has been converted into a Toy Jazz club.

Nothing fancy...dirt floors, chairs and small tables

scattered about...but the arched brick ceilings make for

great acoustics.

ON STAGE:

a BAND is playing away. In the audience sit about TWELVE

FRENCH PEOPLE, all enjoying the music.

AT THE BUFFET:

In the back of the club near the doors some tables have been

set up with a buffet of local cuisine on it. Behind the

tables are two rotund but happy French women MIRELLE and

JOSEPHINE.

Eric, Zed, Francois, Ricardo, Jean, Claude, and Oliver walk

in and immediately start blabbing away in French to Mirelle

and Josephine.

Eric hands them some money.

ZED'S TABLE

Everyone enters and takes seats at various parts of the club.

Oliver sits next to Zed.

OLIVER:

So, how long have you known Eric?

ZED:

Well, Eric's mother is American.

OLIVER:

Yeah, and his dad's French.

ZED:

They're divorced. And she and his father

had some kind of six month split plan set

up. So every six months he would come

back to the states. We were best

friends. Eventually he and his mother

had a falling out and he stayed here.

It's been...years.

OLIVER:

Well, it's good to have you here. Eric

speaks fairly highly of you. Say, he

says you're a big fan of Viking films.

ZED:

Well...I suppose. I used to be, when I

was young.

OLIVER:

Oh they're the best. Helmets with horns

on them. Sh*t. That's f***ing genius.

He starts laughing.

OLIVER:

How 'bout Toy Jazz? You like it?

Zed watches the players on stage and then nods.

ZED:

Yeah...I guess.

OLIVER:

I love it. It's really good, you know?

Like real music. It has a heart and

culture all it's own. It's, like, jazz

for dwarves...or guys in Leiderhosen.

Total purity of essence.

ZED:

Yeah.

OLIVER:

Hungry cannibals'd like it.

Then Claude comes up to them with some glasses and a bottle

of red wine.

CLAUDE:

Here, you must drink some of this wine,

it's good.

He pours Zed a glass.

Oliver passes on the wine.

OLIVER:

(to Claude)

Non merci, c'est de la merde.

CLAUDE:

(to Oliver)

La ferme. C'est du bon vin.

(to Zed)

The f***ing English.

Zed sips some. He's in no real shape to tell if the wine's

good or not.

ON STAGE:

Suddenly, it seems as though the bands music gets louder.

The horns really start to scream and the room becomes a

delirium of music.

The band stands up.

IN THE AUDIENCE:

The people watching start to dance, if not in their seats

then right in front of everything.

ZED'S TABLE

Suddenly, Zed notices something...

ON STAGE:

Eric is up on stage playing a trombone right alongside the

band.

ZED'S TABLE

Zed blinks but it's true.

Oliver and Claude start laughing.

OLIVER:

Look at him. He's crazy.

ON STAGE:

And surely he must be, yet, in a strange way, he's keeping up

with the other musicians and sounding pretty good.

Eric is all smile as he plays with them. Sweat is running

down his face but he's caught up in the moment.

ELISE, a woman from the audience has jumped up onto the

stage, caught up in Eric's frenzy, and is dancing about like

James Brown.

Then, the music crescendos and Eric hands the trombone back

to a musician.

The set is over.

Eric skips off the stage and walks over to where Oliver,

Claude, and Zed are sitting.

EXT. BOULEVARD SAINT MICHEL - NIGHT

The McDonalds on the corner of Boulevard Saint Michel and Rue

Soufflot is bustling.

Eric's Citroen screeches around the corner on it's way past

the Pantheon and into the heart of the fifth Arrondissment.

INT. ERIC'S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT

Eric and Zed are driving through the streets of Paris in

Eric's car. The grooving Ryuichi Sakamoto song "Triste" is

playing on the radio.

ERIC:

I'm glad you came. How long has it been?

ZED:

Years.

ERIC:

It's amazing, you know? Here you are.

One day in America. Now here.

ZED:

Well, to be honest there really wasn't

much happening for me in the states.

ERIC:

But in Paris your old friend Eric has a

job for you, so you came. That's good.

ZED:

How could I resist your invitation?

ERIC:

You would have been stupid to.

ZED:

So what have you been doing here?

ERIC:

After school I spent some time in Algeria

studying African philosophy. And then I

bummed around. You know. For fun. For

a while I worked at Le Figaro. The

newspaper.

ZED:

Really?

ERIC:

Yes. With an assumed Masters degree.

And lately we have just been bombing

fascists here in Paris. You know, like

terrorists.

Zed looks over at him.

ERIC:

It's fun.

CUT TO:

INT. ERIC'S FLAT - OUTER STAIRWELL - NIGHT

Eric and Zed walk up the stairs to the fifth floor where

Eric's flat is. On the top landing there is a dead cat

laying. Zed and Eric notice the cat as Eric is opening the

door.

There is also a telephone coming out of the neighbors door.

ERIC:

The people next door are on holiday. We

took their phone. If you want to make a

long distance call, go ahead.

ZED:

Is that cat dead?

ERIC:

I don't know. I think it's asleep but

it's been there for days.

Eric gives it a kick. No response.

ERIC:

I guess it is dead.

They walk into the flat.

INT. ERIC'S FLAT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Eric's flat consists of a good sized living room area with a

connected kitchen and a small bedroom in the back. In the

front of the living room there is a small balcony where the

sounds of the city pour in. The room itself is a general

mess. A bunch of guns are piled in one corner of the floor.

Hung up on the wall is a huge, French "Dressed To Kill"

poster.

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