44. Lucky Night-Eric

• FADE IN


• INT. HOTEL BAR-NIGHT


• Don, a forty-something man dressed in a business suit and jacket sits at a bar. His large, gold rings shimmer. Two women in black, low cut skirts hang on either side of him, laughing with him. The two kiss him on either side of the cheek and head to the ladies' room. Don pulls out a little vial, and dumps powder from it into the two womens' drinks. He leans his head back and smiles to himself, looking at his Rolex.


• DON V.O.
• This gig never gets old.


• An attractive female bartender enters the room and walks behind the counter.


• BARTENDER
• Can I get you another drink?


• DON
• Sure.


• She pours him a drink. The two women return from the rest room. They take their places at his side on the bar stools again. They sip their glasses of wine. Don drinks a rum and coke. They watch a band set up on a small stage nearby. The women look drowsy.


• ANGELA
• Well, I say we head to your room.


• DON
• You don't have to ask twice.


• Don and the two women slowly stand up, flipping their jackets and purses over their shoulders. The women begin stumbling.


• INT. HOTEL ROOM-MORNING


• The two women lie on the floor, slumbering in puddles of their own vomit. They are wearing the same clothes as the previous night. Angela begins stirring. She lifts her head, and hoists herself in a half push-up, pausing at the pool of vomit below her. She gags, and vomits again. She looks over to Brea and shakes her. She finally wakes up, her head wobbling from side to side. She places a palm over her forehead, and holds her head down.


• BREA
• What the hell?


• ANGELA
• That was my first response.


• They look around the room.


• ANGELA
• Yeah, my purse is gone too.


• BREA
• That bastard! I'm going to call the cops.


• ANGELA
• That's not going to do any good. He probably has fake ID.'s. They'll never catch him.


• BREA
• So what? They've got cameras in the hotel. And the bar.


• ANGELA
• Umm, you can go ahead. But what we do isn't exactly legal, you know.


• BREA
• He probably raped us, and you don't want to do anything about it!


• Angela stands up, balancing herself with the dresser. She holds her head and moans.


• ANGELA
• Nothing that hasn't happened before.


• Brea finally stands, steadying herself on the corner of the bed. Angela wipes her hand with her mouth and heads to the bathroom. Don is lying on the bathroom floor naked, in a puddle of his own vomit. He is handcuffed to a pipe under the sink. A strap-on dildo lies next to him on the floor. She slowly closes the door and walks out. She whispers to Brea.


• ANGELA
• Oh my god, he's in there!


• Brea's mouth drops.


• BREA
• Let's get the hell out of here!


• ANGELA
• No, I don't think he did this. I think the same thing happened to him.


• Brea pulls a small knife from a hidden pocket of her boot. She holds a finger at her lips, the universal sign for quiet. Angela grabs a lamp and they both slowly walk into the bathroom. They shake and kick him. He stirs.


• DON
• Huh? What the hell?


• ANGELA
• Yeah, that was my first reaction. Mind telling me what the hell is going on?


• Don rolls over, covering himself. He sits up.


• DON
• No idea. I started getting dizzy at the bar and the last thing I remember is walking back here.


• INT. AIRPLANE TERMINAL-MORNING


• The bartender sits on a bench, counting rolls of money. She holds the money to her face and fans it. She pulls thr ROLEX out of Brea's fur purse, twirling a golden KEY in the other hand.


• BARTENDER
• Mmm, this gig never gets old.


• FADE OUT