Strange Days Page #7

LENNY:

You were just an eighteen year old

girl taking a shower. Are you

beginning to see the possibilities

here?

CUT TO:

EXT. PARKING LOT/CORAL LOUNGE

A figure moves stealthily from the shadows and approached

Lenny's car:
Iris, hair dyed black now, wearing jeans and

a coat but still showing scars from last night's pursuit.

She tries the door of the car: locked. She looks toward

the Coral Lounge, debates whether to go look for Lenny.

Better not.

She takes a Squid tape from her pocket, and scribbles a

note on the label: "HELP ME. IRIS." She drops the tape

through a 2-inch gap in Lenny's sun roof... and it bounces

off the seat, onto the floor.

She looks through the windshield, totally distraught,

trying to see where the tape landed... and sees the

reflection of cop cruiser lights coming down the street.

She crouches next to the BMW, trying to blot herself out.

And when the cruiser passes, she slumps to the ground,

crying, afraid to move.

CUT TO:

INT. CORAL LOUNGE

A man in his late 30s: longish hair, no shave since the

weekend, army jacket bulking over a massive frame. A

daunting figure as he approaches the bartender.

MAN (MAX)

Where is he?

Bobby, the bartender, c*cks his eye toward the restrooms.

CUT TO:

INT. CORRIDOR/CORAL LOUNGE

Lenny unlocks the men's room door and walks down the dingy

corridor with her new customer, Keith.

KEITH:

Yeah, I'm interested, but can we get

someplace a little less public?

LENNY:

(grinning)

You nervous? Forget it. The cops

have more to worry about in this

city than the squid-trade, believe

me--

Behind them, the door of the women's bathroom whips open

and the guy in the army jacket grabs Lenny from behind and

SLAMS him face-first into the wall, jamming a .45 against

his skull.

MAN (MAX)

Don't move! That's it, assume the

position you miserable techno-perv

puke.

Cop style, the man in the army jacket kicks Lenny's feet

apart. Starts to cuff him.

MAN:

(to Keith)

Beat it fuckwad.

Ash-white, Keith lays a smoke trail down the hall. On the

main floor of the club, Fabrizio sees him splitting and

hurries after him.

Back in the corridor, Lenny spins around and shoves his

attacker against the opposite wall. The guy offers no

resistance. In fact, he's too weak from laughing.

MAN (MAX)

Gotcha.

LENNY:

Damnit, Max, I was with a client!

You think that's funny? To mess

with a man's livelihood? It's not

funny!

MAX:

You see the look on that preppy

puke's face? F***in' pissed in his

Topsiders.

LENNY:

(laughing a little)

Okay. It was funny. But it cost me

money.

MAX:

Come on, amigo, the world's full of

marks. And nobody knows how to work

'em like you do, pal. You could

sell a goddamn rat's a**hole for a

wedding ring! Let me buy you a

drink.

LENNY:

Least you can do.

Max Peltier, which he mispronounces "Pelcher", slings his

arm fraternally over Lenny's shoulder. They cross to the

bar. Max roars greetings to several regulars, pushing

between strangers like an out of control tractor.

REGULAR:

Yo, Pelcher! Mad Max!

MAX:

F***in' A right I'm mad! I might

kill every man in here. But first

I'm buyin' my buddy here a drink.

(seeing another

regular)

Hey O'Neal! You were right, your

wife does give good head.

Max lurches onto a barstool and hunches there like a

misanthropic bear, pounding the bartop.

MAX:

Bobbyyyy! Tequila por favor!

Double shots. Make it Tres

Generaciones, huh. Nothin' but the

best for my good friend Lenny, the

finest cop that ever got thrown off

the vice squad. Hey, nice tie.

LENNY:

Thanks, Max.

MAX:

D'you always have to dress like a

f***in' pimp?

LENNY:

This tie cost more than your entire

wardrobe.

MAX:

That's not sayin' much.

LENNY:

It's the one thing that stands

between me and the jungle.

Max raises his double shooter.

MAX:

To the jungle! Where outa the blue

some shitbird can cap you in the

back of the head and ruin your whole

day.

He downs it in two fierce gulps.

LENNY:

You were lucky, Max.

MAX:

Yup. So darn lucky. I wake up with

a .22-short floating in my brainpan,

and a cop pension I can't live off

of. Good thing I wasn't any

luckier. Bobby! Another shooter

right here!

Bobby pours for Max.

MAX:

You seen Faith lately?

Lenny reacts visibly to the name, his whole demeanor

sagging.

LENNY:

Naw. She won't call me.

MAX:

Just as well, Lenny. You gotta get

past it. I mean sure, Faith was by

far the most outstanding woman a guy

like you could ever hope to get, I

mean it's completely and deeply

humiliating that she's gone, but

it's over, campadre.

LENNY:

Thanks, Max. I'm touched by your

concern.

CUT TO:
Iris, working her way from the front door, staying

on the fringe of the crowd, wary, moving toward Max and

Lenny at the bar.

MAX:

I just hate to see you pining away.

It makes me want to vomit, frankly.

(philosophically)

Broken hearts are for a**holes.

LENNY:

(seeing Iris)

Hey, Iris, you okay?

IRIS:

Lenny, I got to talk to you, it's

serious...

MAX:

(looking at her face)

What happened, honey, some john get

rough on you?

IRIS:

(to Lenny)

I mean talk private. Please, I'm in

trouble, and so is Faith.

MAX:

(as Lenny reacts to

the name)

There it is, the magic f***in' word.

Lenny takes Iris by the arm and pulls her away from the

bar.

IRIS:

Can we go to your car? There's

something you have to see right

away.

He nods and steers her toward the front door of the Coral

Lounge.

LENNY:

What's going on?

CUT TO:

EXT. CORAL LOUNGE/PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Lenny and Iris come out the front door.

IRIS:

It's a bad situation... if they get

me I know they're going to -- OH

SH*T!

She bridles like a startled horse. Lenny looks at what

she sees:
a red beam, sweeping the parking lot. Must be

the cops. He turns back...

She's gone. What the hell?

He looks back at the red light... and edges around the

corner to see what the cops are up to...

It's not a cop car. It's a tow-truck, with Lenny's BMW on

the hook. Lenny runs to the TOW DRIVER, who looks like a

biker only meaner.

LENNY:

Hang on, that's my car--

TOW DRIVER:

Not anymore. Belongs to the bank.

LENNY:

Hey wait a second...

Ignoring him, the driver has started the hydraulic lift,

and Lenny makes the mistake of grabbing his beefy arm.

The guy whips around, putting the muzzle of a .38 in

Lenny's face.

LENNY:

Oh, yeah, that's the answer! Two

million years of human evolution and

that's the best idea you can come up

with?

(driver continues

with the hoist)

Okay. Look, whattya get to repo a

car? Two hundred? Two fifty? I'll

pay you three fifty, right now. All

you gotta do is drop it off the hook

and say you came by, your mark

wasn't here. Simple. Make a few

bucks. Do a good deed. Huh?

DRIVER:

You got the cash on you?

LENNY:

I was going to write you a check, if

that's--

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