"BAD INFLUENCE" (1990)

The original Road to Nowhere. Sand, blacktop, dead animals.

A GAS STATION.

The sign hangs at an angle, sunburned and tired like everything else. Inside the office, a GIRL of about fifteen sits with her feet on the desk, her cutoff jeans revealing a shapely young pair of tanned legs. She watches a game show raptly.

From outside comes the WHINE of a motorcycle engine. The Girl looks up.

’ The motorcycle pulls into the parking lot and stops in

front of one of the pumps. The Girl squints out the window at her customer.

ALEX, about twenty-six, gets off the bike and turns around. He is drop-dead handsome, "Rough" is the best way to describe Alex's looks, rough like a diamond. He's deeply tanned, roundly muscled, so perfect he's flawed. A Rogue.

The Girl comes out of the office, openly admiring his physique.

GIRL

What can I do for '

ya?

Alex looks up and grins disarmingly.

Alex goes into the office. The Girl watches as he goes, then tears herself away to pull the nozzle off the gas

pump.

She looks back. Through the winduw, she sees Alex from behind as he goes.into the bathrocm. She bites her lip.

ALEX runs water over his face in the bathroom and regards himself in the mirror.

In the corner of the mirror, he can see through the open bathroom door and into the station's office. A cash register is on the counter.

He turns and walks into the office. The cash registui drawer is hanging open slightly -- greenbacks inside.

Looking quickly out the window, he sees the GIRL bent

over the motorcycle. He pulls the drawer open a little

further and runs his hand over the bills.

He settles on a single ten and slips it into his pocket.

The GIRL wipes her hands, turns to ALEX as he comes back outside.

ALEX | Show?

GIRL

Game show. On the tube.

Alex pulls the ten out of his pocket and gives it to the Girl.

ALEX

Keep it. GIRL (impressed)

Where're you from? Not from around here, that's for damn sure.

He gets on the bike.

ALEX

Sorry. Can't.

He kicks the bike to life and flashes a wide, spectacular grin.

He ROARS away. She watches him go.

Downtown. Buildings, freeways, smog.

An incredibly busy place. WORKERS scamper officiously in and out past the RECEPTIONIST, who monitors the BEEPS and WHISTLES of a busy phone system. A sign behind her announces the "EuroPacific Funds Management Corp."

RECEPTIONIST : EuroPacific, please hold. (another line) EuroPacific, please hold. (another line) EuroPacific, good morning. Mr. Boll? One moment.

She punches a button.

LESLIE is about thirty-five, earthy, wearing a blousy cotton dress and large, bizarre earrings. There's an openness in Leslie's face; she exudes warmth and sincerity.

Right now she's sitting at a large computer terminal -- uptight. She looks at her BUZZING phone in annoyance and answers it.

She hangs up and looks at the computer in frustration.

ri INT BATHROOM DAY 7

MICHAEL BOLL is in his late twenties, conventionally handsome, bespectacled. Most striking is his careful grooming -- his natty suit and close-cropped hair give an impression of order and consistency.

Right now he looks ill -- pale, sweaty, fragile. He splashes water over his face and studies himself in the mirror, trying to gain composure.

He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and opens the door.

His office is that of a busy middle level executive. Everywhere are the trappings of work -- stacks of computer forms, heavy bound reports -- but nowhere are

signs of personality or an outside life.

MICHAEL strides through into the outer office’ purposefully and approaches LESLIE.

MICHAEL

An X tree, It shows everything in the whole system.

She moves aside and he types in a few commands, attacking the keyboard like Beethoven.

He strides out of the office briskly.

MICHAEL comes into an outer office and approaches BRITT, a secretary, businesslike as hell. As Michael speaks to her, his tone rises in anger and panic. ‘

Well, I don't have it.

The door to the office behind Britt opens and FENWICK steps out. Fenwick is in his late twenties -- handsome, expensive suit, slicked back hair. He puts a file on the desk in front of Britt.

He turns and goes back into his office, closing the door behind him. Michael watches him go, powerless.

MICHAEL returns to his office. LESLIE is at the outer desk.

He heads into his office.

But he closes the door on her.

MICHAEL leans against the closed door, visibly drained. . Someone in the office SPEAKS and he jumps a foot.

Michael looks over at RUTH FIELDING, mid-twenties, blonde, pretty in a boring sort of way. She is impeccably dressed in a conservative business suit, not really much different from Michael's. A briefcase

hovers at her side like a small child.

She goes to

him and touches his forehead tenderly.

_ tomorrow?

reminds me -- I'm having second thoughts.

RUTH

Oh God, that sounded terrible. No, I just meant that October might not be good for me. How's November for you?

She puts her arms around hin.

RUTH

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.

(kissing him) I absolutely, positively want to marry you.

(another kiss) This year.

(another kiss) And I absolutely, positively want to have a baby.

(another kiss) Next year.

Michael is hit by a bolt of pain in his stomach. He doubles over.

MICHAEL

My stomach!

(another stab hits him) Oh, Christ! It's like I can't breathe!

She helps him to the sofa. He holds his stomach, trying to catch his breath but unable. He gets panicky.

He ‘breathes deeply a few times, trying to settle down.

Michael suddenly stands and elbows past Ruth, moving with the conviction and swiftness of one who knows he is about to vomit.

He falls to his hands and knees in his bathroom.

Ruth moves quickly to close the door to his office. Apparently, this is not an unfamiliar situation.

QO

Michael retches. Twice. Regaining himself, he wipes the sweat from his forehead. Ruth sighs.

He doesn't answer, just gets to his feet and staggers to the window, which is twenty floors up. He stares out, not really listening to her. Across the street is a large parklike area with black patches here and there.

Michael looks up, higher. Off in the distance, he can see the vibrant blue water of the Pacific Ocean, shining like diamonds in the afternoon sun.

She moves for the door. Michael continues to stare at the water -- shimmering, beckoning.

He turns back to her.

She leaves. He turns back to the window.

A stunning day -- white sand, bronzed bodies, beautiful waves kissing the shoreline.

MICHAEL is in a surf shop, checking out the vast array of colorful surfboards. He's taken off his jacket and tie, but still has that straight-—from—the-office look.

EDDIE, a surf rat, is looking him up and down.

EDDIE

You mean like an ultra-light?

Eddie goes to some shorter boards, all with wild paint jobs. He picks one out.

He points to an enlarged photo of a SURFER on the face of a wave that is roughly the size of Mount Rushmore.

of.

Eddie climbs up on a ladder and starts to rummage through some boards up in the rafters.

EDDIE

You sure you surfed before, Ace?

. MICHAEL Oh, yeah. Sure. Well -- body surfing. Some. Once.

2:

He finds a board and comes down with it.

Pause. Michael thinks.

MICHAEL, wearing loud shorts and toting his new surfboard, makes his way across the sand. He looks around, checking out the GIRLS and some of the other SURFERS, enjoying himself.

MICHAEL gets to the water, wades into the surf, and promptly trips and falls, brought down by the two foot elastic cord that binds his surfboard to his ankle. He gets up, then flops onto the board, belly down, and paddles out.

A wave crashes and washes him back to the shore.

He tries again to get past the impact zone where the waves break.

Same result. This time it's a little rougher with him and he's lucky to get out of the rough whitewater at all -- still, he ends up back at the beach.

Looking around him, he spots another SURFER making his way into the sea. Seeing a wave, the Surfer rolls off his board and ducks under it. The board, strapped to his foot like Michael's, stays with him.

Michael tries again, imitating this action.

O

It works. Soon he's out past the break point, bobbing on the waves with a couple dozen SURFERS. They talk among themselves, but throw decidedly territorial glances at Michael.

Michael tries to decipher snatches of their conversation.

A wave comes, bringing excited SHOUTS to those surfers in the right position to catch it. The lucky ones paddle furiously, stand up, and drop down over the crest expertly, disappearing from sight. Michael watches, studying them.

A bit intimidated, he lets himself drift off from the main group.

SHOUTS of excitement abruptly break out. Michael looks up. The Surfers are all looking directly at hin, pointing. He turns.

A Perfect Wave approaches. A very large Perfect Wave.

Michael's eyes widen as the wave sweeps under him, rolling heavy and powerful. The board is swept along with the wave, and Michael, quite without conscious effort, is in perfect position.

He sputters, pushes himself up with his hands, and staggers halfway up on one foot, trying like hell to get up on top of the darting surfboard.

And then the wave breaks, thunderously. Michael topples off the board.

The wave sends up a spectacular shower of foam, crashing over Michael, picking him up and sucking him under, raking him across the bottom, tumbling him senselessly, head over heels.

As the froth settles, he fights and kicks his way to the surface, gasping, coughing and spitting water.

He hears a sound and turns, looking behind him.

A WALL OF WATER slams into him, bouncing him around on the ocean floor like a sunken ship. He's battered, held

under even longer.

He finally surfaces, vomiting water. ON THE BEACH,

no one pays any attention as Michael, a tiny figure, continues his fight with the sea in the distance.

IN THE WATER,

Michael is floundering in the break. He looks, sees another wave coming, and this time has the presence of mind to try to dive under it.

His head pops up on the other side of the wave, but only briefly. The wave hits the board, which is still floating on the surface, and sucks it under. Michael, who is bound to the board by his foot, is dragged along with it.

He disappears beneath the surface. A moment goes by. ; The water settles.

Michael's board pops up out of the water and floats lifelessly, but he is nowhere to be seen,

ANOTHER WAVE approaches, a SURFER on a bright orange board at the front of it. The Surfer kicks out and swims to Michael's board swiftly.

He dives under and soon Michael bursts to the surface, boosted from below. He's gasping, choking, but still alive and conscious.

The other Surfer bobs up next to Michael. It's ALEX.

Michael gets a good look at him and tries to mumble his thanks, but he loses consciousness and slips beneath the waves.

Alex goes after hin.

x

MICHAEL lies on his back on the beach, unconscious. Slowly he opens his eyes and a great "AAAAHH!!" goes up from the small crowd of BEACHGOERS around hin.

A YOUNG WOMAN helps him sit up. Michael blinks, thoroughly confused. A GUY speaks to hin.

I was up for a second, Did you see me?

The crowd starts to disperse as they see he is okay.

Michael nods, blinking, trying to get his beari::gs. She gets up and starts to walk away.

MICHAEL ‘ The guy who saved me.

The Woman shrugs and turns to the Guy.

The Guy nods to the Woman to leave. She shrugs again to Michael.

They leave. Michael looks out at the ocean.

cuUT TO:

A newish four story apartment building stands in

contrast to the older mid-Wilshire neighborhood that surrounds it.

A WINO leans against the gate to the building's first floor parking garage. With a sudden WHIRR, the gate starts to slide open and the Wino leaps to his feet, alarmed. A gray sedan whizzes down the road and pulls through the gate.

MICHAEL parks the car just inside the gate and gets out, carrying his briefcase and surfboard. He walks out of the garage and around the front of the building past the Wino.

The gate closes again and the Wino reclaims his resting spot.

Between the outer door and the security.door is a foyer with mailboxes and a buzzer system. A COUPLE argue in the foyer.

MAN

We're not even to the car yet and you're fighting already. Do you want to have dinner or not?

MICHAEL comes in, lugging the cumbersome surfboard.

They stop arguing as he sets the board down and gets his mail. He nods and goes inside with his board, to the elevator.

MICHAEL gets off the elevator and walks down the hallway to his apartment. A WOMAN IN SWEATS, fortyish, attractive, is unlocking the door to an apartment. She carries groceries. She sees MICHAEL and is flirtatious.

He continues down the hallway to the next aparteecnt.

His apartment, like him, is well ordered and well furnished. A desk with a computer on top is set up on one side of the living room, part of a.work area. There's lots of expensive stereo equipment, a big television, a VCR, a video camera on a tripod, and other gadgets.

It's obviously the home of a single, successful apartment dweller -- anyone with a family or a larger place could never afford such toys.

Next to the door two pieces of artwork, the same size

and shape, hang side by side. The one on the right is tilted, listing a little to the right and out of line

with the other.

MICHAEL comes in and flicks on a light. Almost reflexively, he straightens the crooked picture. It holds for a second, then slides back off center,

Michael punches a button on his answering machine. He opens a closet and tries to wedge the board inside while the messages play.

BEEP. The board CLUNKS up against the back wall of the closet, too big.

BEEP. Michael CLUNKS the board in sideways, but it's still too big.

Now there is a long silence filled only by the sound of someone breathing. Michael turns and looks at the machine. A very tentative man's VOICE comes on.

VOICE Hello? It's Pismo. Are you there? Okay, yes, I need money again.

Michael GROANS at the message. He shoves the board up against the living room wall, giving up.

VOICE (cont.) Can I come over?

A FACE. Giant. .On the television screen. Michael's video camera is set up on a tripod. PISMO BOLL mugs into the lens, making faces and turning slowly from side to side, watching himself on the screen.

Pismo is short, balding, and practically recoils from light.

He and MICHAEL finish two beers. Michael is in running shoes and sweats.

: Michael looks at him.

Michael throws a quick look to the kitchen, then sits down on the floor and starts stretching out. Pismo takes the camera off the tripod and points it at Michael, interrogating hin.

Yes.

( ) . PISMO i I like to screen my calls.

Everywhere. The whole world. It's like a big swimming pool. Every movement of every individual stirs the water and affects everybody else. If I go out into it, I become part of it.

Michael goes to the door.

Pismo gets up and follows him, stopping him,

. PISMO ; You don't respect what I do. I accept that, even though I'm your ungle, your guardian, and you ought to Keep quiet about these things. But cab drivers serve a valuable function too.

Michael smiles kindly and opens the door.

He leaves, closing the door behind him.

Michael's car pulls to a stop in a parking lot at the beach at the base of a fishing pier. MICHAEL gets out. He jogs off, past the pier and down the boardwalk.

cuUT TO:

MICHAEL runs along the boardwalk. He runs past a couple HOMELESS people, past ROLLER SKATERS, past a group of PEOPLE lingering and laughing outside a sidewalk cafe.

Absorbed in his running, he doesn't seem to notice any of it.

He reaches a far end of the boardwalk and turns around, heading back the other way.

MICHAEL returns, finishing his run near the fishing pier he started at. He's really hauling ass now, sprinting for all he's worth. It hurts, you can just see how much it hurts, but he pushes himself, running past a Jaguar XKE now parked at the entrance to the long concrete pier.

He breaks stride and turns on to the pier, slowing to a walk, hands on hips, catching his breath.

O

At the end of the pier is a small wooden building, a fishing supplies store. Coming around it, Michael startles a COUPLE embracing.

A STYLISH WOMAN in her thirties, pretty, well dressed, is facing Michael. She looks up at him, annoyed at being interrupted. The MAN doesn't turn around.

Michael turns, embarrassed, and stares out at the water. He can hear snatches of their conversation,

Michael turns over his shoulder and sees the Stylish Woman hand the man an envelope. She kisses him, then turns and walks away down the pier, her heels CLICKING.

Michael turns around. The Man, still with his back turned, stuffs the envelope in his jacket pocket. He lights a cigarette and looks out at the ocean.

Don't worry about it.

Michael steps forward. Alex steps back.

my life. (putting out his hand) I'm Michael.

mo ALEX -. + (mot: shaking) “That: was you?

( > MICHAEL

Yeah. But when I woke up —-

me sick. MICHAEL Well, thank you anyway. ALEX What did I just say? Nobody ever

listens.

A pause.

Alex turns and stares out at the water again. Michael

racks his brain, searching for something to say.

Alex continues to stare at the sea. Michael watches him

: for a second, then turns to go. Alex calls after him without turning around.

Alex looks at him.

me. Like there was this little guy C) I'd beaten into submission every day “ - at the office and today he just decided

-- he wouldn't be ignored any more. Today he won. That sounds stupid, I suppose.

always wins. Michael laughs.

or something -- Michael? MICHAEL No. No, I can't. Thanks anyway.

MICHAEL and ALEX sit at the bar in a beach tavern. Not much of a crowd. There are a few empty glasses in front of them and it's obvious they're a bit drunk.

MICHAEL

Maybe. But I refuse to lose my dignity over a computer file.

ALEX , You already have. And it won't be a computer file next time. It'll be your biggest account. Or your girlfriend. And you won't do anything about that either. Same principle, just a bigger scale. He understands that.

Alex lifts his glass in toast.

ALEX ‘ To Fenwick.

Michael looks at him, dumbfounded.

Shaking his head, Michael lifts his own glass and CLINKS it up against Alex's. As he raises it to his mouth, Alex's hand suddenly darts out and he SLAPS the glass from Michael's hand. It CRASHES to the floor, sending shards of glass flying all over.

PATRONS look up, surprised and annoyed.

Alex grabs Michael by the collar and pulls his face close.

He looks around nervously. People are staring.

Alex still holds him. Michael shakes him off roughly. Alex smiles at the slight violence in Michael's gesture.

Alex grins at Michael, then starts to laugh. Michael, after a moment, drops his petulant face and smiles too.

He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the envelope the Older Woman gave him. He pulls a wad of cash out of it, pays the bar bill, and pockets the rest.

This one is a crowded, raucous club. A ROCK BAND plays at the front, loud. The crowd is wired, frenetic, alive. MICHAEL and ALEX make their way through the people.

Michael SHOUTS in Alex's ear.

He leads Michael to the bar and signals for drinks.

Michael looks around. At the other end of the bar is CLAIRE, about twenty-one, dark, her hair perpetually hanging in front of her face, wearing a carefully cultivated Dangerous Character look. She drinks a beer with a friend, a lady ROCKER in a leather jacket.

Michael taps Alex and tilts his head in the direction of the Women at the end of the bar. Alex grins. The drinks arrive. Alex nudges Michael forward, toward the Women. Michael resists. Alex nudges again and Michael finds himself next to Claire.

Michael, terribly uncomfortable, says something to Claire but it is mostly lost under the band.

She turns and looks at him. He smiles feebly. She turns back to her friend.

Alex shakes his head and walks over to Claire. He says something else in her ear.

She laughs. The Lady Rocker looks at Michael fiercely.

Alex grabs Claire's hand and leads her out onto the packed dance floor.

Michael looks at the Lady Rocker with apprehension. He smiles. She holds up her empty shot glass and raises an eyebrow at him expectantly.

Michael understands. He signals to the Bartender, points to the empty shot glass, and holds up two fingers.

The shots are delivered. The Lady Rocker tosses hers back in one gulp. Michael watches and does the same.

Michael looks at the Bartender, who gestures for money, holding up five fingers.

Michael remembers he has no money.

He looks around for Alex, but can't see him. He turns back to the Bartender, who is growing annoyed.

Michael goes out onto the dance floor, which is jammed with people -~ sweaty, seething. The music isn't right, but the crowded conditions are producing a kind of slam dancing, and Michael is buffetted around as he searches for Alex.

Nowhere to be seen,

Michael takes a few hard knocks from out of control dancers. He absorbs them and continues on.

ACROSS THE CROWD,

he sees the Bartender coming out onto the dance floor, following him.

Michael takes a particularly hard shot, almost knocking him over. Briefly enraged, he SLAMS the nearest person. Then he's slammed again, and soon he's CRASHING into people with everything he's got -- getting into it.

The Bartender draws close.

Michael sees him and plows through the crowd to the exit. ,

The street is empty and quiet, then the door bursts open, letting out a flood of NOISE -- and Michael. The door slaps shut behind him and all is abruptly quiet again. ‘

Michael stands on the sidewalk, breathing heavily, sweating, spinning.

He turns and walks toward home.

LESLIE is awkwardly applying liquid paper through the keys of a typewriter at her desk in Michael's outer office. She looks up at a clock and CALLS off to Michael.

He appears at the doorway to the office, smiling, eager.

He straightens his tie, grinning, and walks out of the office. She watches him, curious.

MICHAEL stops outside a door marked CONFERENCE ROOM. VOICES can be heard inside. Michael looks through a narrow window that runs along the side of the door.

cUT TO:

FENWICK is at one end of the table. HOWARD NEIL, early forties, black, gray at the temples, is at the other end. There are also two BANKERS in their forties at the table. Alli are somber looking men. The table is snowed under by a mass of papers and charts.

Serious meeting.

He turns to a video display terminal on a swivel table to his right and swings it over closer to him. He types in a few commands expertly and looks at the screen, waiting.

A statistic pops up on the screen:

WADE BOGGS, 1988 -- .342

Fenwick's face drains of most of its color. He retypes the commands. Another statistic comes up:

DAVE WINFIELD, 1985 -— .338

Fenwick's face drains of the rest of its color. He looks up, panicked. He turns and looks to the door.

MICHAEL stands in the window, staring at hin.

FENWICK bursts out the door. MICHAEL leans nonchalantly against the wall.

MICHAEL ie What do you mean? ‘

Batting championships. Not a sports fan, huh? FENWICK

I am in a meeting, you swine,

with Howard and two pension fund administrators. Where's my section report?!

HOWARD NEIL pokes his head out of the meeting room.

C)

Howard goes

.

back into the meeting room. Fenwick pauses,

seeing he is beaten. He strikes a conciliatory tone.

He turns and walks away. Fenwick rushes up and spins

him around.

A loooooong

-- down to your office and get my report back on line in sixty seconds. Then I'll see if I can find it in

my heart to forgive you.

pause while Fenwick considers it.

Fenwick turns and hurries off down the hall. Defeated,

MICHAEL sits on the couch, speaking on the telephone with a hoarse voice that sounds suspiciously affected.

He kicks off his black leather loafers and unwraps a box of new shoes as he speaks.

He takes the shoes out of the box and puts them on —- a pair of high tops.

Michael's car pulls up and parks across the street from the club, the same one he was at the night before. MICHAEL gets out. His dress is an odd mixed bag -- blue jeans and high tops, but also a white button down shirt and a jacket.

Grinning in anticipation, he tugs open the door to the club.

The place is empty -- at most maybe a dozen people sitting at the bar nursing beers, but no band, no dancers. A scratchy "Your Cheatin' Heart" plays on the jukebox.

Michael takes off his shades and looks around in disappointment. He goes to the bar and is met by the same BARTENDER as the night before.

Michael puts a five on the counter.

If you say so. : (pockets the five) You want a drink or what?

Michael looks around at the few scattered patrons as the Bartender cracks open the beer.

a friend of the band.

A VOICE suddenly comes from directly above Michael.

VOICE MICHAEL!

Michael looks up. ALEX is at the upstairs railing, grinning from ear to ear. In one move, he swings out over the railing, drops down onto the bar, and jumps onto the floor next to Michael.

Alex slaps Michael on the back.

Don't wait up, sweetheart. XN

Alex walks to the door of the bar. Michael follows.

ALEX drives, fast. MICHAEL has a nice car, which he is presently riding in with something close to terror.

Alex takes a turn, hard. Michael lurches up against the door.

Alex guns the car through a yellow light. Cars HONK.

A look from Michael. Not the answer he expected.

‘CUT TO:

The car pulls to a stop in a trendy part of Venice.

MICHAEL and ALEX get out and walk up to the front of a building. They stop in the doorway.

To women. Do you live, Michael? Alex takes a capsule the size of a big cold pill out of his jacket pocket. He cracks it open and inhales deeply from it. He offers it to Michael.

ALEX (cont.)

Decongestant? MICHAEL I, uh -- I don't have a cold.

Alex laughs and puts the capsule away.

He opens the door and goes inside. Michael follows.

MICHAEL and ALEX arrive at an art opening at a Venice gallery. Alex surveys the party, which is populated with chic, trendy types. He breathes the air.

Not hearing, Michael turns and looks at the art object next to him. It's strange, abstract expressionist, and it frankly confounds him.

Michael turns back, pointing to the artwork.

Alex is nowhere in sight.

He wanders into the party alone, a little boy lost. He catches a snippet of conversation.

O

Michael keeps walking and reaches a bar.

MICHAEL stands at the bar. A VOICE booms out from behind hin.

VOICE Dominick!

Michael does nothing.

VOICE (cont.) DOMINICK! .

Michael turns to see who's making the racket. It's ALEX, headed straight for him with a young woman on his arm -- CLAIRE, the girl from the bar the night before, looking chic in black thrift store clothes.

Alex reaches him and speaks with a bizarre accent.

Alex leans into the bar to get a drink, passing close to

_ Michael's ear.

“CLAIRE Sure.

She is looking at Michael strangely, probingly -- as if she had a great deal of compassion for him. It makes him uncomfortable.

MICHAEL

Oh. Well, okay. CLAIRE

So what do you think of the pieces? MICHAEL

Well, I -- scuzzi.

He turns abruptly to the bar, speaking to Alex in a

whisper.

Alex laughs:

-- heartily, falsely.

CLAIRE

Wow. That's really interesting, Dominick. MICHAEL

(warming to this)

Well, if one hasn't hope -~ then

what? CLAIRE

God. It's so cool that somebody in

your -- I'm sorry, I don't mean to

get personal -—- but you are’ so 'totaily

positive. It's inspiring.

the

a a

Hey, can we get out of here? This shit's freaking me out.

She turns and moves through the crowd to talk to a GUY. Alex turns to Michael.

She thinks your wife just died.

Claire appears at Michael's side.

They walk off. Alex stifles a laugh and follows.

Keys RUSTLE in the lock ana the door swings open,

revealing MICHAEL, ALEX and CLAIRE. They are all drunk, loud and animated.

Michael steps in and flicks on the lights. Alex looks around the place.

Michael goes into the kitchen.

She follows him into the kitchen. Alex continues to size up Michael's apartment and furnishings. He speaks softly, to himself.

He sees the two pictures hanging by the door, one of them listing off to one side as usual. He looks at them carefully. Instead of straightening theszcrooked one, he reaches out and makes crooked the straight one.

Alex checks out the expensive stereo equipment, then examines carefully the video camera on the tripod, looking through the viewfinder and pointing it around the roon.

+

He pops open the door on the side of the camera —- it holds a tiny recording tape, about the size of an audio cassette. He clicks it shut.

From the kitchen comes GIGGLING, then a SHRIEK of some kind as food is thrown. They're having a good time.

There is a KNOCK at the door. Alex turns. The knock, a low, persistent rapping, isn't loud enough to be heard by Michael and Claire in the kitchen.

Alex opens the door and sticks his head out.

It's PISMO, looking like he just ate a jar of instant coffee.

ALEX

Friend of Michael's. Who are you? PISMO

Is Michael here? ALEX

He's busy. PISMO |

Tell him it's his uncle. Pismo. ALEX

But I said he's busy. PISMO

(urgently)

It's important.

(confidentially) Tell him I've got the Fear. He'll understand.

He starts to shut the door. Pismo stops it.

Alex turns around as a particularly loud burst of GIGGLING comes from the kitchen. He turns back to Pismo.

Alex closes the door.

He wanders across the room to the desk and sits on the corner of it. A box filled with computer discs sits next to a desk top Rolodex.

Alex looks up to the kitchen to see if Michael is still occupied, then flips through the Rolodex, whizzing through the "B's" and stopping at the card with the name PISMO BOLL. An address and phone number are printed on it.

Alex spins the Rolodex and goes into the kitchen.

MICHAEL and CLAIRE are laughing convulsively in the kitchen, trying to keep the top on a coffee grinder that 1s spraying grounds all over the place. ALEX walks in.

She and Michael laugh.

He and Claire burst out laughing.again. Alex smiles too.

MUSIC is on. It's late. Quiet. CLAIRE and MICHAEL are asleep on the couch, embracing rather chastely.

ALEX sits down in a chair across from them. He stares at Claire. After a few seconds, her eyes flicker open and lock on his. They look at each other for:'a moment, then he gets up and walks out of the room.

A shaft of light from the hallway spills across the floor. ALEX walks into the room and goes to the bed. He brushes his jacket aside and pulls a handgun out of~ his belt. He stuffs it under the pillow.

He walks to the bedroom window and looks out. He runs his hand over the top of a set of golf clubs leaning up against the wall. He waits a few seconds, standing there as if expecting --

-- CLAIRE's arms. They snake around his waist from behind. He smiles. He turns and her arms go around his neck. He kisses her.

ALEX * (sexy) Can I ask you something? CLAIRE I don't have it. ALEX Have what? CLAIRE

Your accent. ‘You must be looking for it by now.

She laughs. Alex grins engagingly. He kisses her again.

Alex turns her around, pushing her up against the wall, kissing her harder. She responds.

CLAIRE

He's sweet. They kiss some more, then Alex abruptly pulls away.

{ CLAIRE

What?

; ALEX It's too much to ask,

Alex turns and looks through the open door into the living room, where Michael is asleep on the sofa.

Long pause. She looks at him and he looks back, into

her eyes. ( } CLAIRE 5 * al Okay. ALEX (hopeful, sweet)- Okay? CLAIRE

Yeah. I want to. I think it would be important to him. Tell him to come in here. \

She looks at him, a little confused. He gives a look to the bed.

She touches his cheek.

2 CUT TO:

CLAIRE comes back in and sits on the couch next to MICHAEL. He wakes and sits up. She looks at him purposefully. He looks away.

Pause. Claire looks around the room. She sees the surfboard leaning against the wall in a corner.

She laughs, enchanted.

CLAIRE

Funny. Michael looks around.

She laughs to herself.

They look at each other, a look loaded with meaning.

She smiles at him as she gets up.

She goes into the kitchen. Michael swallows.

It's mostly dark, but the sleeping form of MICHAEL on the couch is illuminated by the flickering light of the

television. Sounds come from the TV. Moaning. Breathing.

Michael stirs a little, disturbed by the noise. Slowly he wakes up and squints at the TV, trying to figure out what it is.

All at once he recognizes the images -- it's a home video of him and Claire making love on the couch. He looks to the left of the TV, straight into the lens of the video camera on the tripod, now pointed directly at hin.

He sits bolt upright and flicks on a light. ALEX is sitting in a chair watching the television, vastly amused. He flicks an empty condom packet across the room at Michael.

Michael is horrified. He lunges for the VCR and pulls the tape out. It's a bulky VHS size, which he shoves into the pocket of his robe.

He goes into the kitchen.

He comes back with two beers, gives one to Michael.

Michael sits on the sofa, Alex in a chair.

MICHAEL

I knew you must have done something. That never happens to me.

- ALEX

It'll get easier. You'll see.

Michael sips, waits.

But Alex's tone and manner indicate he's serious.

Tony -- that was my friend -- freaked out on me. He was a philosophy major. ( ) Cold. In love with his intellect. Tony

had an idea about the perfect murder. Someone you didn't know, someone chosen completely at random -- someone there was no reason for you to kill.

O

ALEX

He brought me to the guy's house after he was done. Told me it was a friend of his who'd asked us over for drinks. Nobody was there when we came in. We walked around a little, had a drink. Then we left.

(pause) I didn't notice he hadn't touched anything. Only I had. When things heated up, Tony sent my fingerprints to the cops and they matched ‘em up with the ones from the house. And that was that. I left the state. ad

Alex takes a deep drink of beer.

©

.

Pause, then Alex leans forward, suddenly animated,

Tell me something you want, Mick, and tell me something you're afraid of,

Michael thinks.

- ALEX Simple enough. Don't.

Michael nods proudiy.

hg cot

Michael thinks.

Alex holds out his beer for a toast.

Michael starts to raise his beer, then hesitates, remembering the last toast Alex made.

They CLINK their beers.

MICHAEL is on the phone in his office, pacing.

VOICE (o.s.) Michael, I said I could. Twice. My finger is hovering over the "enter" C) button. Do you want the buy or not?

HOWARD NEIL'S VOICE comes from the doorway to Michael's office.

Michael turns and puts his hand over the phone, acting as if he's been caught at something. Howard and FENWICK are standing in the doorway.

Michael shrugs modestly. Howard walks off. Fenwick walks after him, tossing a dirty look to Michael.

Michael checks his watch. °

A huge IMPERIAL MAMMOTH stands stuck in a bubbling pit of tar, TRUMPETING in panic to its mate and child, who stand helplessly on the shore.

ALEX waits at the railing above the exhibit at the La Brea Tar Pits. MICHAEL comes running up the steps to him.

He tosses a set of car keys to Alex and turns to go.

47 INT

ALEX : What? Tell me about it?

that notion) Too complicated?

GEORGE C. PAGE MUSEUM DAY 47

MICHAEL and ALEX walk through the museum, which is loaded with the skeletons of animals that got stuck in the tar and didn't get out.

Michael stops in front of a wall display lined with the skulls of hundreds of wolves.

Michael looks at him, hard. He turns and walks for the door, his step lively with purpose.

Alex watches as he leaves.

The clock on Michael's desk says 3:04, MICHAEL stands at the window, staring out at the ocean. pervously. LESLIE calls from offscreen.

She hurries into the room. Michael doesn't turn around, just stares out the window, gritting his teeth.

Michael closes his eyes in relief, Offscreen, the phone RINGS. Leslie hurries out to answer it. Michael goes and sits behind his desk, immensely pleased with himself. He puts his feet up.

Michael smiles and snatches up the phone eagerly.

He hangs up.

LESLIE hears Michael hang up the phone. She pushes the intercom button.

MICHAEL is standing behind her, grinning ear to ear.

She breaks out into laughter, then stops when he doesn't laugh along.

He walks out of the office, WHISTLING to himself.

MICK walks down the corridor. Struts, actually. He

passes Fenwick's office. FENWICK, who is going over something with BRITT, looks up at him suspiciously.

Mick reaches an office at the end of the hall. He breezes past a SECRETARY, giving her a little wink.

cur TO:

HOWARD sits behind an impressive desk. MICK appears in the doorway and leans against the frame, hands in pockets.

; MICK Howard!

Howard looks up.

MICK gets out of his car in front of a large Beverly Hills home. He's dressed in a tuxedo and has just a

touch of gel in his hair.

A VALET takes the car and gives Mick the ticket, which he stuffs in his jacket pocket.

Delicate STRINGED INSTRUMENTS play in the other roon.

ELEGANT GUESTS in tuxedos and gowns engage in sparkling conversation.

MICK strides into the room and surveys the place. RUTH

goes to him and gives him a kiss. She touches his hair, surprised.

He takes a glass of champagne from her hand and drinks.

He follows her into the other room.

RUTH and MICK approach a small group of GUESTS who’ are gathered around a television set, chatting animatedly in French.

One of the men excuses himself in French and turns. It's ALEX. He looks splendid, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo, He breaks into a spectacular grin,

Mick is dumbfounded. Ruth nudges him.

A man appears next to Mick -- HENRY FIELDING, Ruth's father, an imposing, impressive man.

FIELDING

How are you, Michael?

Fielding holds up his hand, displaying a‘tiny gold wedding band on an enormous fist.

Yes.

MRS. FIELDING breezes up and kisses Mick on the cheek.

Henry Fielding turns and flicks on the television. He pushes "play" on the VCR.

The small group nods its assent and turns to the screen,

She turns to the television as well.

Alex takes Mick by the arm and leads him around the corner into the front hallway.

ALEX and MICK stop. Alex starts fishing through Mick's pockets.

ALEX a* You'll be mad in a second. But before anything happens, I want you to know I did it for you. Ah.

He finds Mick's parking stub in his jacket pocket and goes to the front door with it. He gives it to the VALET.

From the other room, all conversation abruptly stops. The Stringed Instruments strike a sour note and stop.

From the other room comes a female SHRIEK, followed by the CRASH of glass and VOICES rising up in anger and shock.

VOICE (o.s.) Turn it off! Turn it off! For God's sake, someone turn it off!

.

Mick runs to the door to the party room just in time to see a fleeting image of himself making love to Claire on the couch in his apartment.

Ruth stands in shock in front of the television, a shattered glass of wine on the floor at her feet.

Henry Fielding snaps off the television and sees Mick in the door.

Mick turns. Alex is standing in the front door. Behind him, his car pulls up in front.

Mick doesn't stick around to chat. He bolts for the door.

ALEX slips behind the wheel. MICK jumps in the passenger side. The car races off down the driveway as a small crowd of angry PARTYGOERS and SERVANTS gather in the doorway.

ALEX drives. MICK rides, eyes glued to the road.

ALEX , You're mad at me, aren't you?

MICK's car skids to a stop in the beach parking lot. MICK gets out and stalks down to the beach. ALEX follows. They are still wearing their tuxedos.

Mick ignores him. ON THE BEACH,

a large party is in progress. A bonfire burns, there are garbage cans filled with beer and ice. Mick grabs a can of beer and rips the top off. He upends the can, drinking at least half of it in one swallow. Alex takes a beer as well and follows him, staying a safe distance away.

Mick cruises around. He sees CLAIRE and goes over to her. :

Claire is tipsy and greets him enthusiastically.

Mick throws a look at Alex, who watches them both through the fire.

Mick leans in close to her, speaking earnestly. It's a different Mick we're seeing, an aggressively gregarious one. From time to time he steals a glance over at Alex to make sure he's watching.

Mick suggests something and Claire nods. Making sure Alex is watching, Mick leads her off to the side and they sit down.

They talk animatedly. She offers him a joint. He smokes some. .

They laugh,

A short distance away, Alex watches them through the fire, not listening to some people who are talking to hin,

Mick and Claire move closer. She's drunk, he's getting there.

Mick leans in and kisses her. She kisses back. Alex watches, through the fire.

The kiss grows passionate, almost fierce. Mick runs his hand into her hair and pulls her head back, kissing her hard on the neck. She's turned on and runs both her hands over his chest. He leans her back and kisses between her breasts.

Mick turns his head, makes sure Alex is watching. Alex is.

Claire slides one hand down to Mick's crotch -- surreptitiously, so no one sees.

Alex sees.

Mick looks up, making eye contact with Alex as he kisses Claire.

Alex drops his beer and walks over to them. He stands above then.

Claire looks up, startled.

Alex reaches into his jacket and pulls out a capsule, the same kind as he had the other night. He breaks it open, inhales deeply, and offers it to Mick, a challenge.

Mick takes it defiantly. He takes a deep, hard snort, then shakes his head at the powerful effect.

Mick stands. He looks at Alex, eye to eye.

He grabs Alex roughly.

He hugs him -- not tenderly, but hard. Like men do. Alex laughs.

MICK and CLAIRE are huddled off to one side of the now smaller party. Mick is out of himself -- drunk, stoned, wired, Claire is writing something on a book of matches.

She stops abruptly, staring at something over Mick's shoulder, ALEX.

Claire gives him the book of matches.

Alex shoots a look at both of them, then leads Mick away. He watches as Mick puts the pack of matches in his pocket. As soon as they're out of earshot -—~

Alex pulls a capsule out of his pocket and takes a hit.

He extends the capsule to Mick, who also takes a hit.

TWO DISGUSTING HAMBURGERS are slid off the grill and onto two disgusting buns. The COUNTER GUY, a heroin addict in his thirties, shovels them into a brown bag and scoops up a mess of french fries.

MICK is roaming around the hamburger joint, which apparently was the scene of a kids' party. Torn crepe paper hangs from the ceiling, paper junk overflows the garbage can. Mick notices some party masks on top of the trash. He laughs and pulls them out.

ALEX is at the counter, waiting for the food. Mick calls from behind him.

Alex turns. Mick is wearing one of the masks. ALEX (smiling) Perfect. Mick starts to pull off the mask.

The Clerk steps up to the counter with a brown bag and slides it at Alex.

The smile vanishes from Alex's face. He turns to the Clerk and, in one motion, pulls a gun from his cummerbund and moves forward, pressing it against the Clerk's forehead.

The Clerk does.

He pulls the Clerk out over the counter, gun still at his head.

' Mick doesn't move.

Mick leans over the counter, panicky, willing to do anything that will get them out of there as fast as possible, He searches the keyboard on the modern cash register.

Mick presses a button and the register springs open. He grabs another bag and fills it with cash.

The Clerk lies face down on the floor. Mick turns and bolts for the door with the bag of money. He pauses, seeing Alex isn't following hin.

He races out the door. Alex bends down over the Clerk, who is face down on the floor, shaking with fear. Alex puts the gun to the back of his head. His finger tightens.

His face is rigid. Sweat runs down his cheek.

Outside, a car backs up and stops in front of the door. Mick is inside. He throws open the passenger door.

Alex leans even closer to the Clerk on the floor, so his mouth is next to the Clerk's ear.

He pulls back, grabs the bag of hamburgers off the counter, and races out of the restaurant.

ALEX runs out of the store and jumps in the car. It SCREAMS away from the curb.

MICK drives, ALEX rides. The radio blasts. Hamburgers and french fries fly, not so much eaten as revelled in.

Alex lets out a war WHOOP. Mick echoes it with one of his own.

ALEX

Fuckin’ A you did!

Mick cracks a capsule under his nose and takes a deep hit. He's gone, over the edge.

He suddenly slams on the brakes.

The car stops. Mick piles out and falls to his knees in some bushes, He vomits.

Alex comes and leans over hin.

He looks up, wild eyed, still on his knees. MICK (cont.)

Let's do another one. A 7-11. I always wanted to do a 7-11.

Alex looks at him, surprised. Mick's jaw is set, he's grinding his teeth like mad.

A seedy hole-in-the-wall liquor store on a side street. Mick's car SQUEALS to a halt just down the street and ALEX and MICK pile out. Mick grabs Alex by the arm.

Mick puts his mask back on and they go into the store. We see the entire action from outside, through the glass windows.

Alex takes care of the CLERK while Mick goes for the register. The action is frenetic -- after he gets the money, Mick swings himself over the counter and grabs a bottle from a shelf.

Alex pulls back from the Clerk and they both race out of the store.

If possible, the RADIO is louder, their moods higher. MICK is shaking his head, trying to get some feeling back in it as he laughs uncontrollably. He takes a deep pull from the bottle of rum he stole and passes it to ALEX, who does the same.

—

He lets out another WHOOP, then his head lolis back against the seat. Alex slaps him lightly.

MICK

Just let me sleep a second.

Mick twists in his seat, trying to read the street signs as they whiz past.

Fenwick! ALEX (not the least :* bit surprised) Really?

He takes a drink from the rum and tosses the bottle out the window. It bounces once in the street and SMASHES on a curb. Their taillights recede in the distance.

MICK wakes up in bed with the inescapable feeling that a

_ Manhole cover is resting on his head.

He GROANS and rolls over to look at the clock next to him. It's 6:45. He throws the blankets aside and is surprised to see that he's still dressed in his tuxedo shirt and pants.

He lugs his guts out of bed. He heads toward the bathroom but stops in the doorway of the bedroon, looking out into the living room. The place is a mess, snowed under by junk food wrappers. There are two piles of money on the coffee table -- wrinkled fives, tens and twenties. ALEX is asleep on the sofa.

Mick remembers.

.

He goes into the bathroom.

MICK turns on the shower. He goes to the sink and turns on the cold water tap. He feels a sharp pain in his right hand and he looks down at it.

It's slightly swollen. A purplish bruise is spreading across the knuckles, which are cut and skinned. There is some dried blood on them. He flexes his fingers painfully, then plunges his head into the cold water.

ALEX is asleep on the couch. A hand SLAPS him lightly on the face. He wakes up.

MICK is standing over him, fully dressed in a business suit.

Mick stares at him.

Mick checks his watch. He doesn't like it, but doesn't want the fight.

He turns and heads for the door.

He opens the door.

Mick pauses in the door for a moment to consider the meaning of that, then goes out.

Alex rolls over.

MICK comes into the reception area of his office, wearing sunglasses to hide his hangover. He goes into the back area.

A few WORKERS are in the kitchen area, getting coffee, talking, starting the day. LESLIE is seated at a table, talking to BRITT, Fenwick's secretary.

MICK comes in, still wearing the sunglasses, and goes directly to the coffee pot.

Mick nods and pours a large cup of coffee, finally taking off the glasses. Leslie turns back to Britt.

She holds out the dispenser. Mick goes over to them and she dumps some sugar into his cup.

Assaulted. Can you believe it?

He spills his coffee.

He grabs a stack of napkins and starts blotting at the coffee. He looks up at Britt.

he was beaten up. Pretty badly.

wes}

Mick doesn't bother to answer her, just gets up and hurries out of the kitchen. Leslie watches him go. She and Britt exchange a look.

Mick's car pulls to a stop in front of his building. MICK gets out and hurries inside.

MICK bursts into the apartment. ALEX is sitting on the sofa, his feet up on the coffee table, reading the

morning paper. ‘There is a box of donuts in front of him and he's eating one.

Tell me what happened last night.

Alex shoves the box of donuts across the table toward

Mick.

God damn it, tell me what I DID!

Alex gets up and goes to Mick. He takes Mick's injured hand, holding it like a doctor.

Mick, horrified, turns and goes into the kitchen. Alex follows. .

Mick turns on the tap and starts scrubbing at his hand, trying to clean off all the dried blood. ALEX follows him and leans in, close.

Mick scrubs harder at his injured hand. ;*

; ALEX (cont. ) -- with a belt, then with your fists. You beat him and told him to get out of your way at work. You beat him until I stopped you and if I hadn't stopped you, I think you would have killed him. You were crazy, Mick, you were outta your mind. You were beautiful.”

Mick slumps to the floor, leaving the water running, and hugs his knees up against his chest.

Sure, Mick. It was the drugs. Not you. You're not like that.

Mick gets up and goes back into the living room. Alex follows hin.

Mick paces.

Long pause. Mick stares at Alex. This situation has just completely defined itself; has just settled over him with the weight and clarity of a Big Mistake.

Mick walks to the door and opens it.

Alex stares.

. He picks up his jacket and puts it on calmly, without a

word. He walks to the door and leaves. Mick closes it softly behind hin.

MICK works at his desk, feverishly, working as if to

block out all other thought. LESLIE appears in the doorway. in 3 :-

Mick stares at her. He swallows, then gets up, trying to stay cool.

Mick leaves the office.

73° «INT HOWARD NEIL'S OFFICE DAY 73

MICK pokes his head in the open door of Howard Neil's office. He TAPS on the door.

HOWARD looks up from behind his impressive desk.

Mick comes in and settles into a chair opposite Howard. Howard finishes signing two letters in front of him. He

takes his time. There is a long pause. Mick shifts in the chair.

' Howard finally caps his pen and looks up.

Pause.

—O know. vee MICK

I -- I see.

HOWARD

You don't seem pleased. MICK

Well, I'm sorry it happened this way. HOWARD

So am I.

Pause.

MICK

If that's all, I -- I've got a ton

of paper on my desk.

) HOWARD Fine.

Mick forces a tight smile, gets up, and leaves the office. Howard watches him go, still puzzling over the

e situation. aa CUT TO:

MICK steps off the elevator. The WOMAN IN SWEATS is locking her apartment.

Mick doesn't bother to correct her. He pauses, holding the door. She hurries up and past him,- into the elevator,

redecorating. MICK (covering) Oh. Right.

She smiles and the elevator doors close. Mick turns and looks toward his apartment door. He walks to it quickly.

MICK enters and flicks on a light.

The place is empty.

._ The furniture is gone, the TV and stereo equipment are

gone, the pictures are gone, even the carpeting has been pulled up and left in a roll in the corner.

Mick loses his grip on his briefcase, which drops to the floor with a THUD. He walks numbly into the kitchen, then runs into the bedroom and back into the empty living room. His face tells the story -- the whole place has been cleaned out. .

He hurries to the phone, picks it up, and starts to dial. He pauses, the phone in midair. He SLAMS it down

and runs out the door of the apartment.

O

MICK bursts into the club, the dance place he and Alex came to the night they met. The place is mostly empty again. Mick goes quickly to the BARTENDER.

MICK

Tony. Whoever. The guy who's staying upstairs.

BARTENDER

Split. Had to get back to base. MICK

To what? BARTENDER

To Pendelton. He's in the Marines

with my brother. :

Mick looks at him, decides not to bother, and heads for the door.

MICK walks down the sidewalk to his car, livid. He has

just put the key in the door to unlock it when he hears a VOICE behind hin.

VOICE You know why I took your stuff?

Mick whirls around, startled. ALEX stands behind him.

Pause.

He turns and gets into his car.

He tries to

(imitating, whiny) "Officer, this guy I knocked off a Fatburger with stole all my stuff!"

pull the car door shut. Alex holds onto it.

@)

He pulls at the door again. Alex still holds on.

MICK

Yes, I wanted to hurt you.

He lets go of the door. Mick SLAMS it shut and pulls away. Alex watches him go.

Pismo's apartment is a one room furnished bachelor with a hotplate. PISMO watches curiously as MICK throws a blanket and pillow on the ratty sofa.

He flops down on the couch, rolls over so he's facing the other way, and closes his eyes. Pismo looks at him.

Pause.

Pismo, kind of tickled at the idea of being a host, tucks the blanket around Mick's feet and turns off the light.

MICK walks down the corridor at work. Ahead of him, he sees FENWICK coming the other way. He has a bandage

across his nose and wears a pair of sunglasses to hide a bruised eye.

Mick ducks down another corridor until he passes.

MICK passes Leslie's desk. LESLIE looks up at him.

He looks up. TWO MEN are waiting for him. Both are large and incredibly official looking.

The Second Man reaches into his coat and pulls out an official looking pink piece of paper.

Relief floods over Mick's face.

He extends it to Mick, who signs at the bottom.

They leave the office. Mick and Leslie exchange a

glance. The phone RINGS, breaking the glance. Leslie answers it and Mick goes into his office.

MICK sits behind his desk. LESLIE calls from offscreen.

Puzzled, Mick picks up the phone.

-- MICK Michael Boll.

ALEX'S VOIGE comes over the wire, a high falsetto. ALEX (0o.s.)

Now don't pretend you don't remember me, sweetheart.

O

Mick darts a glance out toward Leslie and swivels in his chair so he's facing the other way. He speaks in a low voice.

ALEX (0.s.)

It's there now. I wouldn't wait too long. See you later, Bud!

CLICK. He's hung up.

e

He SLAMS the phone down. Leslie turns and looks at him. He gets up and grabs his coat. He heads out of the office, livid.

He storms out..

The sun is setting over the oil fields near Baldwin Hills. ;

MICK's car parks on a service road and he gets out. He approaches one of the wells.

There is a medium sized cardboard box a few feet from the well. Mick looks around, but there's nobody in sight anywhere. He opens the box and sorts through the stuff.inside. It is as Alex said. He picks up the box and heads for his car.

MICK gets his mail in the entryway to his building.

MICK walks down the corridor outside his apartment. He fishes out his keys and unlocks the door to his place.

MICK comes into his empty apartment, tired and pissed off. He drops the box near the door and goes down a

little hallway to his bedroon.

He tries the door. The knob turns, but it doesn't open. He pushes on it, puzzled. It won't give.

Looking around the edges of the door, he finds it has been nailed shut by a half dozen spike naiis.

He turns and goes back into the living room. Now he sees it -—- in one corner of the room, his VCR and television set are stacked neatly, the video camera beside then.

Mick approaches them cautiously, circling them like they could strike out at him at any moment,

He pushes the "eject" button on the VCR, A cassette slides out. He slides it back in, turns on the television, and presses the "play" button.

ON TAPE, ALEX's FACE comes to life on the screen, in close-up.

‘

There is a KNOCK at the door to the apartment. Alex turns.

Alex goes behind the camera and turns it so it faces the door. He goes to the door. As he gets further from the camera, we can see he is wearing the jacket Mick wore to the gallery opening.

Alex opens the door. It's CLAIRE.

She comes in and goes back to the bedroom. As Alex passes the camera, he winks and turns it so it is facing the open bedroom door.

They go into the bedroom. IN THE APARTMENT,

Mick snaps his head and looks at the bedroom door. He runs to it.

He tugs at the door knob, but the nails hold. He kicks at it, which splinters it some but not enough to get in.

ON THE TAPE,

The VOICES of Alex and Claire can be heard, but the camera can't quite see all the way into the bedroom,

She SCREAMS and there is the sound of something very hard WHIZZING through the air and SMACKING flesh,

AT THE DOOR,

Mick hears the cries on the tape and, as if he could still do something, he resumes kicking the door. It starts to come loose.

ON THE TAPE,

the THWACKING sounds are brutal, horrific, accompanied by Claire's SCREAMS -- and then it is abruptly quiet.

AT THE DOOR,

Mick is throwing everything he has into it. A few of the nails are starting to pull out of the wood.

ON THE TAPE,

Alex staggers back, out of the room. He is covered in blood. He leans against a wall, staining it red.

AT THE DOOR, Mick sees this action and turns to look at the wall behind him. There is a large blood smear where Alex stood. He pulls away from it. Mick hurtles himself into the door one final time and this time it gives ~- two of the nails pull out of the wood and the door splinters in half. Mick falls into the room.

There is blood everywhere. CLAIRE is on the bed, dead. One of his golf clubs is lying on the ground next to her, also bloodied. MICK staggers back out of the room.

ON THE TAPE, Alex is looking into the camera, still breathing heavy.

But his lips haven't moved. MICK snaps his head and sees ALEX standing in the doorway to the apartment. In the flesh,

Alex moves swiftly, coming into the apartment and

“closing and locking the door behind him. He goes to the

VCR, extracts the tape, and pockets it.

Mick, suddenly seized by fear and loathing, lunges at Alex, catching him around the midsection and tackling him in the middle of the room. They grapple on the floor for a few moments, but Alex is stronger and ends up on top.

He starts to release his hold on Mick and Mick lashes out, throwing a wild punch that Alex neatly avoids.

Alex strikes, landing three consecutive jabs to Mick's face. Mick falls back to the floor, staggered by the blows, his eye bruised and his lip bleeding.

Alex gets up and goes to the door.

Pooof. I'm gone.

He leaves. Mick stands, his legs shaky. He turns a half circle, in a daze.

He goes to the door to the bedroom and looks inside. He can't bear it. He turns and staggers back into the empty living room.

He paces, more turning in little circles than walking in any direction.

He is alone. And panicked. He sinks down to the floor and pushes with his feet, sliding across the room until he is up against the wall.

MICK is still on the floor, but now he's lying curled up against the wall, eyes wide open.

Thinking.

Outside, he hears someone walking down the hallway. His eyes dart to the door.

PISMO walks down the hallway and stops at Mick's door. He KNOCKS and waits. There is no response. He KNOCKS again.

No answer. He KNOCKS a third time,

The door opens a crack, held by the chain lock. MICK looks out, his face pale and gaunt.

He starts to close the door. Pismo stops-it.

door enough to take off the chain lock. He opens it a foot or two and nods for Pismo to come in.

He closes the door after him.

MICK stands at the window in the living room, staring outside without seeing much. PISMO is behind hin, pacing, smoking a cigarette, very upset.

PISMO

You can't go to the police. They'd never believe this guy exists. They'd think it was you. :

~

Quick. images:

-- A DRAPERY ROPE is cut and ZIPPED out of the curtain rods.

-- CLAIRE'S BODY is delicately placed in the middle of the rug pulled up from the living room floor.

-- HANDS tie cinches around the ends of the carpet bundle.

-- THE GOLF CLUB is wrapped up in newspaper.

cuUT TO:

PISMO pokes his head out the door to see if anyone is around. He hears voices and goes to the entrance of the building.

C) 93 INT ENTRYWAY - NIGHT 93

A MAN and a WOMAN, the same ones as before, are having a | violent argument in the entryway, near the buzzers and j mailboxes.

WOMAN

You put it in and you took it out. To me, that's fucking.

PISMO sees them and goes back to the apartment.

| MICK is holding down the "listen" button on his buzzer. He can hear the voices of the Man and Woman in the entryway, still arguing.

; WOMAN (0.s.) In front of my roommate?! I'm humiliated enough as it is!

Mick wipes the sweat off his forehead, impatient.

C) I knew it!

_ CUT TO:

As MICK comes out of the building, a police car pulls up and stops at the curb. A POLICEMAN gets out of the car and approaches hin.

Mick stops, nervous.

MICK starts his car and pulls it out of the garage.

MICK pulls his car into a dark alley behind the building. He looks up and down the alley and gestures up to PISMO, who is standing on the balcony above.

PISMO and MICK place the rolled up body on top of the ledge that surrounds Mick's balcony. Using the drapery cord, they start to lower it down the side of the building.

The rug drops down jerkily, bit by bit, passing between two other balconies. The sliding glass doors are open. Drapes blow in the wind, but it's late and no one is around.

The rug is heavy, the cord thin. Pismo winces as it digs into his hands.

The rug continues its descent.

A BLACK DOG comes to the window of one of the balconies and, looking sideways, sees the rug. He stands motionless, staring as it goes down.

Pismo is really in pain now. Blood oozes from his palms.

Before Mick can answer, the rope slips out of Pismo's hands and his end of the carpet drops to the ground with a dull THUD. Mick quickly lowers his end as well. The Dog watches.

MICK opens the trunk of his car. He and PISMO pick up the carpet and stuff it in. Pismo tries to close the trunk, but the rug is too big.

They. go around and get in the car. As he closes the door, Mick turns and looks up at the Black Dog staring down at hin.

He starts the car and drives away. The Dog WOOOFS once, lazily.

The car stops next to an enormous pile of trash in another alley. MICK gets out of the car, looks both

ways, and stuffs the golf club, wrapped in newspaper, into the bottom of the pile.

MICK's car turns left from a main road and into a parklike area in downtown Los Angeles. They pass a sign:

LA BREA TAR PITS,

They pull up a service road and drive into the middle of the empty park. Mick stops the car, looks around hin, then he and PISMO unload the rug and carry it to a pitch black area, something like a smail pond. They swing it a few times, then fling the rug a few feet out into the middle.

For a moment, it just sits on the surface of the pond.

Mick and Pismo exchange a terrified look, then turn back to the rug, begging it to go down with their eyes.

After a few seconds, it starts to sink -- but slowly, as if sinking in something much more solid than water.

In a few seconds it is out of sight. Pismo puts one hand on Mick's shoulder.

Mick stares at the bubbling tar.

MICK sits at his desk, rubbing his forehead, staring

down. A piece of paper slides across the desk toward him. He looks up. LESLIE is standing in front of him.

LESLIE

It's my two weeks' notice, MICK

What? LESLIE

My notice. Is it that much of a surprise?

She turns for the door.

He stops, his attention drawn to something across the room.

But Mick isn't hearing her anymore, his attention is clearly and sqaurely focused on an object that is resting innocently in the corner of the office near the window.

His golf club. Clean and shiny.

She leaves the office. He looks at the club.

MICK is on the phone, speaking frantically, but trying ‘to keep his voice down. He paces, the phone in hand.

He stops in the middle of his sentence as something out the winaow catches his eye. He looks out, down across the street, at the Tar Pits.

A crowd is gathered,-*watching a crew performing some kind of extraction from a pit. A half dozen POLICE CARS and an AMBULANCE are also assembled and the whole area is roped off with yellow tape.

MICK runs across the street and elbows his way to the front of the crowd. He can see the CREW in the middle of the pit performing some kind of extraction. Mick sees a white-coated museum EMPLOYEE just inside the yellow police tape.

Mick is in shock. He stares out at the pit, and now he sees it -- a CORPSE pulled out of the water. He turns his head, not wanting to see, and looks directly at -- -- ALEX.

Staring at him from across the pit. Smiling. Enjoying

“it.

Mick takes a step forward toward Alex. TWO PARAMEDICS step in front of him and he moves to the side.

When the Paramedics pass, Alex is gone.

MICK paces like da madman; PISMO tries to follow him.

107 INT

CORRIDOR NIGHT 107

AN OLD MAN comes out of his apartment and walks down the

hall.

PISMO pokes his head out the door to his own

apartment, waits for the Old Man to pass, and comes out. He's carrying a newspaper, folded open to a page.

MICK appears behind him.

©

5 MICK I'm not gonna sit on my ass.

Pismo takes off down the steps. Mick goes inside, closing the door behind hin.

After a moment, the door opens again. Mick looks out.

PISMO walks up to the front entrance of a downtown club. He checks an address in the newspaper with the address on the building and goes inside, past a group of CLUB- GOERS.

PISMO moves through the crowded club. A ROCK BAND, the same band that played in the club Mick and Alex went to the night they met, is playing at the front. Some people dance, others are crowded around tables. He edges his way through the crowd, searching. Several PATRONS bump into him. He recoils, trying to move without actually touching anyone, finding it nearly

impossible.

Getting fed up, he pulls out of the crowd, off to the Side of the room.

.And sees ALEX. He's sitting at a table across the room

with the STYLISH WOMAN in her thirties, the one who was with him on the fishing pier.

The Woman is fascinated with Alex. They laugh, drink. She hangs on his arm, brushes his hair back a bit on the sides. He's charming and relaxed. They are clearly a couple.

Pismo watches them, edging forward to get a better look. As he moves, someone else is revealed, someone behind

him --

-- MICK. He's standing in a corner of the club, looking dark, ragged, crazy. Watching Pismo. Seeing Alex.

As Pismo watches Alex and the Stylish Woman, it becomes clear they're not only making eyes at each other, they're also looking at someone at another table.

He follows their gaze to a BLONDE in her early twenties, sitting two tables away from them. She returns their look coquettishly, as if this has been going on for some time.

Alex grins at her. She grins back, then looks away.

Pismo looks at Alex again. Alex picks up a bottle of beer and takes a long, seductive drink. He fixes his gaze on the Blonde, a look that has real purpose. She turns back and returns it willingly, now completely ignoring the others at her table.

Michael stays in the shadows, watching Pismo as he watches the activity between Alex and the Blonde.

Now the Blonde gets up. She walks over toward the table of Alex and the Stylish Woman, moving as if she is going to speak to them -- but instead she keeps going, dragging one finger across their table as she cruises past them and into the ladies' room.

Alex and the Woman turn and watch her go, then have a quick, whispered conference. The Woman gets up and follows the Blonde into the bathroom.

Alex waits a moment, taking another sip of his beer. Pismo focuses on the bottle as Alex slowly sets it down on the table, next to two other bottles. Pismo looks at the bottle, an idea forming in his head.

Alex gets up and walks to the door of the ladies' room, pauses to see if anyone is looking, and slips inside.

Pismo moves. He heads over toward their table, eyes fixed on Alex's beer bottle, trying hard to keep it ‘separated from the others.

As he moves, we see the space where Mick was standing.

He's gone.

Pismo draws close to the table. Suddenly, a DRUNK bumps into the table, sending the bottles reeling. Two of them fall over and CRASH on the floor. The third, Alex's, stays on the table but wobbles dangerously, rocking back and forth on the edge, moving closer and closer until --

-- a FINGER comes down into the top of the bottle and steadies it.

Pismo's finger. His finger stuck in the top, he picks up the bottle and delicately slips it into his inside jacket pocket. .

His mission accomplished, he smiles and turns to go. As he turns he notices the Stylish Woman's jacket hanging over the chair. The edge of a black leather wallet is just sticking out.

Pismo throws a quick glance toward the ladies' room. He bites his lip, torn.

He goes for it. He moves up behind the chair, getting between it and the bathroom, and sidles over near the wallet. He prods it out a tiny bit more with his finger, then edges it open.

The Stylish Woman's driver's license is in the middle of the wallet, behind a plastic cover. Pismo's lips move silently as he commits her address to memory.

Satisfied, he edges the wallet back into the pocket, turns around to go ~-— *

‘

-- and walks directly past ALEX.

Both of them keep going, as it doesn't register at first; but then there is a slight hitch in Pismo's step as he realizes who it was.

He continues on to the door, trying like hell not to break into a run.

Alex continues walking to his table, slowly, as if a thought is spinning in his head.

- Then suddenly he whirls around, his eyes wide, just in time to see Pismo disappearing out of the club.

He gives chase, fighting his way through the crowd and out the front door.

ALEX comes out of the club and looks up and down the street. No sign of Pismo.

MICK watches silently as a CLERK takes a .38 handgun out of the display case and shows it to him. Mick nods,

Mick pulls three crisp one hundred dollar bills from his wallet and puts them on the counter.

Mick looks up sharply.

Mick silently puts three more crisp one hundred dollar bills on the counter.

The Clerk looks left and right, bites his lip, and takes the money.

cuT TO:

PISMO walks down the sidewalk in front of a police station. He looks up at the imposing building, steeling himself.

He starts up the steps, then sees TWO BIG COPS coming out the door. He ducks off to the side, letting them pass, trying to hide his face.

After they go, he takes a deep sigh and trudges up the steps.

PISMO walks into the busy precinct room of the police station, shaking like a leaf. He edges his way up to the front desk. The DESK COP hardly looks up.

PISMO

Well, I want you to find him.

‘ PISMO What if I had his fingerprints?

The Cop looks up at him over the top of his glasses.

Pismo pulls the beer bottle out of his jacket carefully and puts it on the counter with a THUNK.

The Cop pulls some forms from a bin and SLAPS them down in front of Pismo.

MICK pulls up across the street from the downtown club Alex and Pismo were at. He parks across the street, watching as some people trickle out.

He holds the gun in his lap. He shakes some bullets out of a box and begins loading it.

PISMO now sits at a desk in the police station. Alone. Waiting. Nervous.

A plainclothes DETECTIVE comes to the desk. He sits down opposite Pismo and stares at him. Pismo stares

back, waiting for him to do or say something.

The Detective looks from Pismo to the form he filled out.

DETECTIVE

You left your address blank.

A VOICE calls from offscreen.

VOICE Richard!

The Detective turns. TWO MORE DETECTIVES wave to hin from an office surrounded by glass windows. He gets up and goes over to join them.

Pismo is really a wreck now. He watches the Cops through the glass. They confer excitedly, then the First Detective looks up and points to Pismo. They all turn and look, then look back at each other.

Pismo slides his chair back from the desk slowly.

The DETECTIVES are huddled around a computer screen. SECOND DETECTIVE

Anthony Robert Newcombe is his real

name. Look here -- another state,

another alias, another murder. The

guy's federal. You better get your

witness in here.

The FIRST DETECTIVE turns and goes to the door. He looks out at the desk where Pismo is.

Was.

MICK is still parked across the street from the club, waiting in his car. The gun is in his lap. He looks up and tenses as he sees the STYLISH WOMAN come out of the bar with the BLONDE. He watches them, confused. No Alex,

They walk down the street, get into the Stylish Woman's Jaguar, and drive off.

Mick is perplexed. He gets out of the car, tucks the gun, in his belt, pulls his jacket over it, and goes to the club,

MICK comes in the door to the club. It's now much less crowded than before, as the band has finished its set.

Mick looks around. Alex is nowhere to be seen.

He leaves.

CLOSE ON Pismo's answering machine as it picks up the ringing phone.

BEEP.

PISMO'S VOICE comes over the machine, sounding desperate.

He hangs up. A finger pushes the "stop" button on the machine.

ALEX.

.

cuUT TO:

PISMO pulls up in his cab and stops in front. From a third floor window above, a drape moves.

Pismo runs up the steps of the building, past a low, decorative railing that runs along the steps. There are about half a dozen evenly spaced wrought iron rods in the railing, each about eighteen inches long.

One is missing.

PISMO steps out of the elevator and walks directly across the hall to his apartment. He passes a female TENANT carrying a bag of garbage. She nods to him.

He reaches for his doorknob.

His hand stops halfway there. He looks back at the Tenant, who is disappearing around a corner. He looks down at the knob. There is a pile of tiny metal flakes on the floor under the lock.

He swallows. Not making a sound, he backs up, back into the elevator. He starts to pull the heavy metal cage door closed, as quietly as he can, his eyes fixed on his apartment door. .

The elevator door SQUEAKS --

-- and the apartment door opens. ALEX appears, crazy as hell, looking both ways, the iron rod in one hand. He sees Pismo.

Pismo ZINGS the door shut. Alex lunges for the cage and swings the steel pipe. It CLANGS against the cage just as Pismo SLAMS the second door shut and punches the first floor button. The elevator moves.

ALEX flies down the stairs.

ALEX reaches the elevator as the doors slide open. It's empty.

He turns and races back up the stairs.

ALEX breaks up onto the second floor. He looks up and down. Pismo is nowhere to be seen.

PISMO stands on the second floor fire escape. He raises his head just enough to look in the hallway window. He sees ALEX stalking down the hallway, spinning the iron rod deftly and murderously with his right hand.

Pismo turns and jumps onto the fire escape ladder. It slides down to the ground with a rusty CLANG.

ALEX hears the ladder and bolts for the stairs.

cuUT TO:

PISMO comes tearing out of the building and makes for his cab. He leaps inside, locks all the doors, and fumbles for the ignition key. He finds it. ALEX comes racing out of the building and dives onto the hood of the cab. Pismo SHRIEKS and drops the keys. He gropes for them on the floor of the cab, finds them, and

gets the right one in the ignition.

Alex, in one mighty blow, reaches around and SMASHES the iron rod through the driver's window.

Pismo starts the car.

Alex jabs with the iron rod, missing a few times before catching Pismo in the ribs, hard. Pismo GASPS and punches the accelerator. He hauls the cab hard around a corner, sending Alex flying off the hood.

Alex manages to hold on to the door frame with his hand. Pismo pounds on his fingers, rounds another corner, and

‘sends Alex rolling into the street.

Alex watches Pismo's taillights disappear.

PISMO hauls the cab into an alley and kills the lights. He sits there, breathing hard, recomposing himself.

cur TO:

A BUNCH OF PUNKS sit on the front steps of the apartment building, listening to MUSIC from a boom box.

Mick's car pulls up in front. MICK gets out. He walks’ past the Punks. They MUTTER comments as he goes into the building.

As MICK heads toward Pismo's door, a FIGURE moves in the shadows behind him. He doesn't see it.

He reaches Pismo's door and raises his hand to knock. A shadow passes over the door. He whirls, sucking in his breath.

PISMO stands behind him.

PISMO and MICK hurry in. Pismo closes and locks the door behind them. He holds out a scrap of paper with some writing on it.

Mick grabs it.

— PISMO

What are you going to do?

‘

He pulls the .38 handgun he bought out of his belt and checks the chamber. :

MICK

Does he deserve to live?

Long pause. They stare each other down. Pismo reaches out slowly for the gun. Mick doesn't move. Pismo closes his fingers around the barrel and gently puils it from Mick's grasp.

Pismo hurries across the room with the gun, holding it like a live snake.

He turns to go for the door.

He gees to the door.

,

Ud

lll

Pause. - Mick leaves.

MICK closes the door behind him. He pauses.

A modern three story house directly on the beach. Curtains blow in a second floor window.

cUT TO:

The curtains of the second story window waft into a plush, white-on-white living room, dark except for the light of the full moon over the ocean.

From upstairs, up at the top of a winding,staircase, comes the SOUND of people making love. ~*

cur TO:

A framed photo on a night table shows the STYLISH WOMAN Alex was with in the bar and a handsome man in his fifties in a nuptial pose.

Over on the bed, ALEX makes passionate love to her, the moonlight spilling over them, their arms and legs

entangled, gliding over one another, moving gracefully and beautifully, as if there were almost too many arms

and legs.

And, in fact, there are. The BLONDE from the bar is in bed with them as well, kissing, touching, sliding in between them.

The lovemaking increases in passion and rhythm, building to a climax.

Alex rolls off both the women and lays back on the bed. They all catch their breath.

Alex sits up on the edge of the bed. The Blonde runs one hand across his chest.

Ti2

« BLONDE (softly) Me. ALEX

In a minute.

He gets up and pulls on a pair of blue jeans. He walks across the room and down the staircase that leads from the loft to the second floor.

ALEX comes down the winding staircase, turns for the kitchen -- and stops.

He turns, a look of concern flitting across his face. He looks across the room. A potted plant beneath the window has been tipped over, spilling dirt on the white carpet. He tenses.

A gust of wind blows in through the window. The curtains brush across the leaves of the plant, spilling some more dirt.

Alex relaxes and heads for the kitchen.

ALEX opens the refrigerator and scans the contents. He opens a bin and rummages through it, but finds only lettuce, celery, and other health shit. He closes the bin and looks up top.

A lone bottle of beer is in the back, stuck behind some carrot juice. He pulls it out. He closes the door -——

‘-- and nearly jumps through the roof.

MICK stands on the other side of the door, his eyes dark and hollowed, a huge, pointed butcher knife in his hand. Before Alex can even react, the knife moves up, fast,

straight at Alex's throat. It stops there, the sharp point just pressing against the soft skin under Alex's

chin.

Mick grins.

C)

Mick presses the knife a little harder into the skin, just pricking it, drawing a trickle of blood. Alex GASPS,

Alex does.

He steers Alex out of the kitchen and into the living room, the knife still at his throat.

MICK walks ALEX into the middle of the living roon. They speak very softly, in intense whispers.

No answer.

A MICK (cont.) : Do you?!

He flicks the knife again, drawing a little more blood. Alex winces.

‘Pause.

They stare each other down. And then Alex laughs. It's’ a low, quiet, evil laugh that comes from deep inside, It's mocking, sadistic.

ALEX

No, you can't. You can't because I didn't show you how. You don't have it --

But he suddenly cuts himself off in the middle of his own sentence, throwing his head back, away from the knife. The motion draws a little more blood, but his arm quickly flashes up, catching Mick by the wrist, slapping the knife away.

Alex lunges at Mick and they both hit the floor with a THUD.- The knife lands a few feet away.

Alex dives for the knife. Mick, seeing he's lost the advantage, rolls the other way, toward the window.

A VOICE comes from upstairs, alarmed.

VOICE (0o.s.) Maxwell?

Alex stands, holding the knife in front of hin. ALEX

I'm gonna cut you, you son of

a bitch. Mick turns and runs for the window. He jumps.

- _> (CUT TO:

MICK flies out of the second story window and hits the

sand, hard. He rolls, then scrambles to his feet and starts to run away, fast, across the sand.

Behind him, ALEX sails out the window, hits the sand, and gets to his feet, not far behind.

And gaining.

Mick runs, terrified, staggering, kicking up a spray of sand behind hin.

MICK comes tearing down the beach. He looks back over his shoulder, frantic, trying to see how close ALEX is.

He turns back to face forward, but not soon enough to see -- |

-- A SHOPPING CART, packed with blankets and dirty clothes, apparently parked there by a homeless person.

Mick CRASHES into the cart, sending it flying and falling to the ground, twisting his ankle.

He gets to his feet. He's standing at the mouth of the fishing pier he and Alex met at that first night. Disoriented from the crash, he takes off down the concrete pier, limping badly.

ALEX, now not far behind, breaks into a grin. He reaches the pier and starts down it, slowing to a trot.

Near the end of the pier is a small wooden shack with a "FISHING SUPPLIES" sign on the top. Mick races past it. A streetlight casts a single pool of light over the end of the pier.

Mick reaches the railing -- nothing but sea beyond.

Alex comes past the store and stops. He twirls the butcher knife expertly.

In one smooth motion, Mick reaches up under the railing and, with the distinctive sound of Velcro RIPPING, pulis out his .38 handgun.

Alex blinks. This is a new wrinkle.

Pause. Alex does nothing.

Pause.

Alex starts

to walk forward, toward Mick, knife in hand. MICK

GET BACK! Into the light. Where I can see you.

Alex keeps coming forward, knife in hand. Mick FIRES a warning shot that ricochets off the pier near Alex's

feet.

Alex steps back into the light, but keeps the knife.

Silence for

a second.

MICK

Sorry?! You killed Claire and now you say you're SORRY?!

Alex laughs.

. ALEX Yeah.

I beat up Fenwick. You were passed out the whole time. I whacked your hand on the pavement to fuck with you.

Did you get it?

The door to the fishing supplies shack swings open and a FIGURE steps out -- PISMO. He's holding Michael's video camera on his shoulder, pointing it squarely at Alex.

Alex is shocked. Michael looks at him and manages as much of a triumphant grin as he can,

Michael turns to look back at Pismo.

And as he does, Alex moves. With one quick motion, the knife flashes up from his side, a quick, hard, underhand toss.

But Michael sees him move and FIRES.

His shot catches Alex in the shoulder, spinning him around, sending the knife flying off its mark.

Alex THUDS back against the railing and tumbles over it, dropping down toward the ocean, vanishing into the night air.

Michael and Pismo rush forward and look down. There's no trace of Alex, only the dark, choppy, swirling waters far below.

At least a dozen POLICE CARS and LIFEGUARD TRUCKS are parked at the fishing pier. OFFICERS comb the beach, a HELICOPTER flies overhead, and a BOAT offshore patrols the ocean waters around the pier as the sun comes up.

MICHAEL is standing at the entrance to the pier. A UNIFORMED COP is next to him. They watch the operation going on at the other end of the pier.

x The DETECTIVE who spoke with Pismo at the station walks \ down the pier to them, holding Michael's tape in his hands. : DETECTIVE

Might as well go downtown.

They start across the parking lot to the Detective's car. Michael is limping severely, his ankle paining hin,

Michael looks off to his right. PISMO is standing there, a short, careful distance away from the Cops.

Michael limps over next to him and extends one arn. Pismo smiles and steps under the arm, propping Michael up. They walk toward the waiting Detective and the police car, supporting each other.

The Detective casts one more look over his shoulder, then turns to Michael.

| DETECTIVE ( ) He must have drowned,

The Transamerica Building is visible out the window of this upper middle class working stiff bar. The place is crowded with potted plants, brass rails, and middle aged EXECUTIVES with their ties loosened.

One executive, a GUY in his late twenties, sits morosely at the bar, nursing a huge tumbler of bourbon, the sweat stains on his starched white shirt showing the kind of day he had. An unlit cigarette is in his mouth.

A SHADOW passes over him and somebody sits down on the next stool.

The Guy pats his pockets, looking for a lighter.

There is the CRACKLE of a match being lit and a little { tongue of flame is touched to the end of his cigarette.

He turns to his left, the source of the match,

ALEX touches the match to his own cigarette.

Alex waves it off and signals to the BARTENDER.

The Bartender arrives.

He gestures to Alex.

The Bartender goes. Alex reaches for his wallet, but the Guy stops hin.

He pulls out a twenty and puts it on the bar.