2016 NYCM Screenplay challenge. Comments and shares welcome.
A factory worker.
Logline: A hard-edged woman, following a path to self-destruction, makes a life decision to change, and win back the love of her life.
EXT. WAREHOUSE DISTRICT – NIGHT
Red and blue neon reflect the words “GO-GO” off a shallow puddle. The street is illuminated by sparsely spaced streetlights. The building’s signs indicate their use. Fleetwood Bedding. Stewart Sprockets. Dyson Logistics.
Muffled, HARD-ROCK MUSIC is heard coming from a beat-up bar, the sign ‘WAREHOUSE GO-GO,’ flashes above the entrance. Half a dozen motorcycles are parked outside.
The THUMP of a large-bore engine is heard over the music.
ANGLE ON: A CUSTOM HARLEY DAVIDSON TOURING MOTORCYCLE.
The fuel tank on the heavily chromed bike has airbrushed roses with I-beams for stems, and flames for petals.
ROSALITA, 35, muscular body, is leaning back in the seat. Tufts of jet-black hair bulge from under her helmet. She is wearing a well-worn black leather jacket. Covering the jacket is a denim vest adorned with numerous patches.
CLOSEUP: PATCH ON VEST.
An image of Mount Rushmore with the words “STURGIS 2009” above. Below, there are smaller patches stacked: 2010, 2011, then two blank spaces, then 2014, and 2015.
Rosalita parks in front of the bar. Studying the sign as she removes a pack of cigarettes from her vest. She pulls a chrome lighter from her pocket, and lights a cigarette.
CLOSEUP: THE ZIPPO LIGHTER.
A pair of intertwined hearts are engraved into the side. One lace, the other barbed wire.
(Mumbles)We can do so much better than this, Lou. I just hope you can forgive me.
Rosalita walks to the door.
INT. WAREHOUSE GO-GO (CONT’D)
The pulsating MUSIC is louder. Strobes and spotlights aim on a polished hardwood dance floor in the middle of the bar. A bikini-clad woman works the bar. Two, sans swimsuits, gyrate around chrome poles on the dance floor.
Three private booths take up the far wall. The two closest red-painted accordion doors are closed.
ANGLE ON: ENTRANCE
Rosalita enters the smoky bar. Rising from a barstool, the BOUNCER, 30, juiced up body-builder, stops her.
Ten dollar cover.
Rosalita removes her helmet, her long hair tumbles out.
Oh, hey sorry. Chicks are free. Drinks are half price too.
Rosalita unzips her jacket exposing her ample cleavage.
The bouncer’s eyes her low-cut, tight-fitting tee-shirt.
Rosalita smiles, drops her cigarette and cruses it out with the pointed tip of her boot. Leaning over, she places her helmet on the bouncer’s stool as she squeezes her bosom for maximum effect.
The bouncer’s leer deepens, his mouth curves into a grin.
In a flash, Rosalita flicks the back of her hand off the bouncer’s crotch. She grabs his throat with her other hand as he doubles over.
My eyes are up here, bro. Got it?
The bouncer’s attention is now solely on Rosalita’s face, he nods his agreement and she releases him.
The bouncer is rubbing his throat and crotch at the same time, more embarrassed than in pain.
Sorry about that. No offense.
Rosalita picks up her helmet.
I’m used to it, we’re good.
Rosalita looks around the bar.
Is Lucia working tonight?
The bouncer shrugs.
Don’t know. Most of the girls don’t use their real names. She a friend of yours?
Yeah. Hopefully more, if I can get her to agree to what I came for.
What’s she look like?
She scans the room. Her nose scrunches at the stench of stale smoke and cheap cigars mixed with the sweat and desperation of the men paying for a moment of attention from women who wouldn’t glance at them in broad daylight.
Lucia’s Jamaican. Dark skin, heavy accent. Short. Big boobs–
Rosalita sees LUCIA entering the open booth with an obviously drunk, MAN, 45, stocky and overweight, high-school football star decades past his prime.
Never-mind. Found her.
ANGLE ON: PRIVATE BOOTH ENTRANCE — LUCIA’S BACK.
Centered above her bikini top string is a large tattoo matching the dual hearts etched onto Rosilita’s lighter.
Lucia is carrying a small purse to hold her tips.
I met that guy earlier today. Seems like a douche. Who is he?
The bouncer looks as Lucia closes the booth behind her.
The dancer is Kaya, and you’re right about that dude. That’s CARL. Thinks he’s King Shit. He’s the foreman at the sheet factory up the block. I think she works for him up there during the day.
The SONG ends and another upbeat SONG immediately begins.
Rosalita steps toward the booth.
Sorry, gotta wait. She’ll be done when the song’s over. Assuming she gets the job done in one.
A’right. Where’s the deejay?
The bouncer points to the other side of the bar.
Rosalita nods, then walks passed the seated men who, as if part of a wind-up clock, turn when she passes to check out what they see as “new talent.” Rosalita keeps her fists ready in case any of them have the nerve to say anything.
She hears MUFFLED MOANS when she passes Lucia’s booth.
Rosalita converses INAUDIBLY to the DEEJAY, 25, thin in the malnourished way a man who has an affinity for meth and cheap liquor would be.
After appearing to refuse to do what she’s asking him to, Rosalita reaches into her pocket.
CLOSEUP: ROSALITA’S LEFT HAND
Pulling cash from her pocket, she’s wearing identical silver bands, one each on her ring and pinky fingers.
She hands the deejay twenty dollars, he nods. She takes a barstool, and sits by the Lucia’s booth.
SONG plays as Rosalita sits in front of the booth.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. FLEETWOOD BEDDING LOCKER ROOM – EARLIER THAT DAY
Rows of drab-green lockers line the walls. Lucia is half naked, changing out of her work clothes.
Carl comes up behind her.
End of another week, ‘eh doll?
Carl swings his hips.
You wanna make some overtime for a little extra, physical labor?
Lucia, surprised by his approach, covers her bare breasts.
LUCIA (IN A HEAVY JAMAICAN ACCENT)
What are you doing in here, Carl! Get out before I scream.
Really, Lucia? You got nothing I haven’t seen in the bar.
Carl pulls out a folded wad of cash. He peels off a hundred dollar bill, and waves it in front of her.
C’mon, baby? How ’bout a little of that island sugar? You know the game.
Carl points to his crotch.
You keep the little boss happy…
Carl, using his thumbs, points to his chest.
…he keeps the big boss happy.
Lucia puts on a multi-colored shirt from her locker.
Leave me alone, boss man. I have to take my boy to the sitter.
Not my problem your roommate ran out on you so you have to work two jobs.
Carl rolls the bill around in his fingers.
Speaking of which, I hope you’re working tonight. I told some biker friend of yours you’d be there.
Lucia stops gathering her belongings from the locker.
LUCIA (PAUSES BEFORE SPEAKING)
I don’t know any bikers.
Well, she knows you. She’s a big broad, I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of that. I like it when they can put up a good fight.
Didn’t give me a name. I told her if she wanted to see you, to come down the bar later. I said you always do your best work in the dark. Thought she was going to slug me. Kind of turned me on.
Careful what you wish for. She’s more woman than you can handle.
Carl rips the hundred in half and stuffs one half into Lucia’s shirt pocket.
Take this as a deposit for later. Might be another one in it if we can get your girlfriend into the act.
Lucia looks at Carl with disdain. She’s forced to brush against him as she pushes passed him as she leaves.
See you tonight, love.
FADE TO BLACK.
INT. WAREHOUSE GO-GO – PRESENT
Rosalita is sitting outside Lucia’s booth.
The SONG ‘Rosalita’ by Bruce Springsteen begins to play.
LUCIA (MUFFLED INSIDE BOOTH)
Lawd Jesus! That skinny white boy knows not to play that song.
Lucia opens the door. She’s pulling her bikini top back over her breasts.
Carl is standing, buckling his belt and zipping his pants.
Lucia’s expression changes from anger at the deejay, to recognition of her former love. She smiles, but it is quickly replaced by anger at Rosalita’s return.
Rosie! I thought you were out of my life. Why’d you come back?
Rosalita is smiling, happy.
Lou. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry, I made a mistake, I’m ready now.
Empty words from you I don’t need.
Lucia shakes her head and starts to close the door.
Rosalita pushes Lucia inside and closes the door.
INT. PRIVATE BOOTH (CONT’D)
The Music’s volume is muffled by the door being closed.
There is a shiny black upholstered couch in the booth.
Lou, please, I’m serious. I’m sorry I left.
Lucia slaps Rosalita’s hand off.
Don’t you “Lou” me. You lost that right. I’m just another notch in your leather belt.
Lucia looks defiantly into Rosalita’s face.
Or is it a soldier belt? Which Rosie stands before me today? You like girls again? Want to prove you’re as hard as boys can be?
ROSALITA (HURT BY HER WORDS)
No, it’s not that. I need to be with you.
Carl steps between them.
Now we’re talking.
Both women face Carl.
Hey, don’t let me get in the way of true love, but I wouldn’t mind watching.
Shut up Carl. This is none of your business.
Carl pulls the wad of cash from his pocket.
I’ll make this worth your while…
Carl waves the cash in Lucia’s face.
CARL (CONT’D MOCKING)
Carl thrusts out his pelvis and winks.
C’mon, throw me a bone and I’ll throw you mine.
Rosalita steps to him and punches him in the face.
Carl staggers, a look of shock and disbelief on his face. He drops the cash before falling unconscious on the couch.
Rosie! That man’s my boss. He’ll fire me.
You don’t need him, Lou. Him or anyone but me.
Rosalita grabs Lucia’s hand.
I’m sorry I doubted my feelings. I really do love you. I was afraid of the person I’d become in the shit. Afraid you wouldn’t want me like that. I know you had to make it by yourself. And then, when you had that kid–
You leave my boy out of this.
Lucia tries to pull away but Rosalita does not let go.
You think I don’t miss the way it was before you raised your hand to go prove what a big, imaginary dick you have? Maybe if you didn’t go fight in a war that wasn’t yours to fight, I wouldn’t have my boy. Then, when did come back, you wouldn’t walk out on us both.
You know I tried to make it work, but the baby made me feel I would always be second in your heart. I thought I couldn’t live with that. I was wrong, Lou. So very wrong.
Lucia shakes her head, listening but not believing.
I wanted to hurt you. Hurt you bad. So I ran. I was trying to bury myself in booze, and girls, and boys, and the road.
Lucia pulls her hand away, her eyes welling with tears.
I don’t need your history lesson, Rosie. I lived it.
Lucia walks to check on Carl. He’s moaning, but still out.
She turns back to face Rosalita.
Say what you come to say. What reason you come back to play with my life again? I make do for me and my boy. He don’t need no daddy and he sure don’t need half another mommy.
I was a mess out on the road, ended up in Vegas and met a man.
Lucia scoffs and tries to head for the door.
Rosalita grabs her by the shoulders to stop her.
No, not like that, Lou. He helped me get sober. Him, his wife and their kid.
Rosalita begins taking the ring off her pinkie.
They were a real family, just like we can be. Like we should be. Something woke in me I didn’t know I was capable of.
Rosalita holds up the ring. She reaches out to Lucia’s left hand.
Lucia holds her hand back, but doesn’t retreat.
No, Rosie. Don’t you dare say what your thinking. Why would doing that make this time any different?
Because I’m clean now. I’m not angry at the world or afraid to settle down and share your love with that little boy. And that means, you’ll share mine with him.
Rosalita kneels on one knee.
The man I met in Vegas got me into the MMA. I’m a pro fighter now. I’m good, real good. I can make enough money to take care of all of us. You won’t have to work. You’ll stay home, be a mom to that boy like you always were to me. I want us to be a family.
Rosalita takes Lucia’s hand.
Lucia Clarke, will you marry me?
Lucia shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lucia begins to nod.
Yes. Oh yes, my Rosie.
Lucia vigorously nods her head.
CLOSEUP: LUCIA’S HAND.
Rosalita puts the ring on Lucia’s finger.
Lucia hugs the still-kneeling Rosalita.
My barbed-wire Rose. My Empress. I love you, you stupid, stupid girl.
Rosalita stands. They embrace.
CLOSEUP: LUCIA AND ROSALITA’S FACES.
Lucia begins to gather the cash Carl dropped. She puts it in her purse, removes the ripped hundred, crumples it, and throws it onto his chest.
Here, you pussy-klat of a man. I don’t need your dirty money anymore. My Rosie is more a man than you’ll ever be.
Lucia goes to Rosalita, they kiss. Rosalita opens the door and they walk out.
The CLOSING STRAINS of SPRINGSTEEN”S ROSALITA rise.
FADE TO BLACK.
EXT. MT. RUSHMORE NATIONAL MEMORIAL – DAY -6 MONTHS LATER
The SOUNDS of motorcycles revving and idling is heard.
A banner with the words “Welcome Riders. Sturgis Motorcycle Rally 2016” is strung above a parking lot full of motorcycles.
ANGLE ON: ROSALITA’S MOTORCYCLE FITTED WITH A SIDECAR
Arms comfortably around each other’s backs, Rosalita, Lucia, and a small boy stand side-by-side, facing the memorial.
(The SONG ‘KAYA’ by Bob Marley plays over.)
FADE TO BLACK.