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BARTENDER:

Did you get the license plate of the

truck?

BOBBY:

(unamused and

preoccupied)

Johnny Red rocks.

A BLACK MAN in his late twenties slithers up beside him.

His name is HORRACE and he seems to like gold. He puts down

his empty highball glass.

HORRACE:

Martel's and coke. One ice cube. In

a snifter this time.

BARTENDER:

Snifter are for warm drinks --

HORRACE:

Yeah, snifters are for cognac --

BARTENDER:

When served warm --

HORRACE:

What's the matter? You ain't got no

snifters in this motherf***er?

BARTENDER:

We have snifters

HORRACE:

Then put my Martel's in a snifter.

She walks away to get him his snifter.

HORRACE:

Like I'm gonna break her goddamn

snifter.

Bobby downs his drink as he watches Jess give a HORNY GUY in

a suit a lap dance. He gets a little frisky, grabbing her

ass cheeks. Bobby begins to RISE. Jess circumvents any

confrontation by smiling and twisting away his wrists. She

throws Bobby the 'Don't worry, I got it' look. He sits.

Horrace pokes his nugget encrusted fingers into his sock,

counting a stack of bills.

HORRACE:

It's already been a hell of a night.

Where you been?

BOBBY:

I had a fight up at Sportsman's.

HORRACE:

Well, you look it. You win?

BOBBY:

Draw.

HORRACE:

What's your record at?

BOBBY:

5-5-1.

HORRACE:

Yeah, well you let me know when you

wanna start makin the real money.

BOBBY:

Yeah, sure.

HORRACE:

I'm serious. Humping sheetrock and

driving on weekends got to get to

you after a while. Might be nice to

buy your lady something. All it takes

is one fight.

Wendy is now being dry humped by two guys. Jessica looks

over at her, and is concerned. Lines of protocol are

definitely being crossed. Jess' horny guy makes a bold move,

jamming his face in her cleavage. In a split second, Bobby

has crossed the room and has him by a wrist. The guy is

surprised by Bobby's presence and grotesque appearance.

HORNY GUY:

Whu --

BOBBY:

There's no touching.

HORNY GUY:

But what about them?

BOBBY:

I don't give a sh*t. I work for her.

No touching.

She hands Bobby a stack of sweaty bills. He walks away,

zipping the roll into his pocket. When he arrives at the

bar, a drunk EXECUTIVE is having a quiet conversation with

Horrace. Horrace looks around, answers, and the executive

picks quite a few hundreds out of his wallet. Horrace walks

him back to Wendy. Bobby grinds his teeth and points to his

empty glass. The bartender pours and watches the interaction

as Wendy walks off with the executive. The party howls as

they leave the room for some privacy.

BARTENDER:

(sarcastic)

That's not allowed.

Bobby downs another drink. Things are now heating up for

Jess as mob mentality takes hold. She squirms. We TRACK BACK

with Bobby's face as he bee lines for the feisty horny guy,

who holds Jess' hips as he grinds her.

BOBBY:

I said no touching.

HORNY GUY:

Look, man, I'm the bachelor, alright?

I gave her a hundred bucks in tips

alone --

BOBBY:

Get your hands off of her.

HORNY GUY:

Dude, listen, man. I'm cool. How

much for the treatment?

BOBBY:

Your dance is over.

HORNY GUY:

Come on, dude. The other chick's

giving my best man a blow job in the

toilet. I know the drill, I'll wear

a rubber --

Bobby cracks his face apart with an uppercut. Another guy

rises in protest and is on his ass with a broken nose before

he can speak.

JESS:

God damn it...

Bobby drags his girl by the arm to the men's room. He kicks

open the door and grabs Wendy, who is doing coke off a mirror

with her john. He drags the women out. Horrace disappears. A

PARTIER calls to the bartender.

PARTIER:

Call the police.

She picks up the phone, but doesn't dial. She hides a smile.

Bobby drags the women down the staircase.

INT. BOBBY'S CAR - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT

Bobby drives, eyes locked on the road. Jess is beside him,

Wendy's in the back.

WENDY:

What the f*** was that about?

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