Don't Mess with Riot Girl Roxie

by
Jeremy Wechter

Jeremy Wechter

212-677-3223
jeremywechter@yahoo.com
INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT

Vodka flows in SLOW MOTION over cubes of ice.

ROXIE (V.O.)
I don't know what freakin' came over
me the night of the incident. Maybe
I went a little crazy or something.

ROXIE, AGE 30, a riot girl bartender with jet-black hair,

pretty ivory skin, a silver nose ring and ruby lipstick.

Her black wife-beater shirt shows off the tattoos on her

chiseled biceps as she pours a vodka tonic.

ROXIE (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Since landing at the Ace, I've
garnered a bit of a bad reputation
on account of my heart growing black
like over micro-waved jiffy pop.
Folks know not to mess with me.

Roxie glares at MARCUS, mid-twenties, nerdy, hipster barback

sporting thick black-rimmed glasses and gelled up hair.

MARCUS
Roxie, I caught this kid trying to
slip out with your tip bucket.

Marcus grips a struggling, skinny, teenage PUNK BOY wearing

brown dingy clothes with a spiked belt, combat boots, a funky
hat and various patches safety pinned to his tattered bag.

Punk Boy grips Roxie's silver tip bucket as he attempts to

escape Marcus's clutch. The HIPSTER CROWD looks up as blue
light from their laptops reflect off their eager faces.

MARCUS
What'cha want to do with him, Roxie?

Roxie flashes her trade-mark smirk. She pounds her fist

into her palm. As Punk Boy struggles in Marcus's tight grip,
a bunch of papers fall out of his tattered bag onto the floor.

ROXIE (V.O.)
There was over a hundred greenbacks
in my goody bucket that night. That
dirty kid deserved some pain for
swiping my cash, but what I did was...
shocking. Now in my defense, you
need to know where I'm coming from.

FREEZE FRAME on Roxie, Marcus and the struggling Punk Boy.

 2.

FLASH BACK as we PUSH through the lobby. JUMP CUTS reveal

various glimpses of lounge guests and employees IN REVERSE
through the years until -

INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT -- MORNING

SUPER: Three Years Earlier

We approach the lounge staircase where a younger Roxie, age
27, climbs the steps as she encounters -
A SUPER MODEL and DRAG QUEEN struggle in an epic cat fight.
The super model pulls the wig off the drag queen's head.

The outraged drag queen slaps the model. Model slaps back.
ROXIE (V.O.)
Keep in mind, I was the broke, artsy,
Goth girl trapped in a suburban cookie-
cutter drab fest. I was picked on
every day. Those nasty spoiled brats
were ruthless and cruel. But on the
bright side, it toughens a girl up.
Roxie squeezes by the cat fight with a tray of drinks. As
she passes them, the frazzled super model lunges for the
drag queen's throat.

They both topple over knocking into Roxie. Her tray of drinks
CRASHES to the floor.
ROXIE (V.O.)
When I finally escaped to the city,
I filled up on all the funk and the
cool with the glitz and the glam. I
basked in this playground of unique,
freaky peeps. I finally felt at
home, but sometimes families fight.
The GLAM CROWD looks up to see the Roxie drama unfold.
Realizing what they've done, the quivering super model and
drag queen embrace each other out of fear.

Fuming, Roxie pours a pitcher of beer over their heads.

Make-up streaks down their faces.

The Model and Drag Queen flee the lobby SCREAMING.

Roxie flips them the finger with both hands. WHIP PAN to -
FLASH BACK as we ZIP through the lobby again. JUMP CUTS
reveal flashes of various lounge hipsters IN REVERSE until -
 3.

INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT -- MORNING

SUPER: Three Years Earlier

We arrive at the plaid chairs where a sprawled out WAIFISH
MODEL poses wrapped in plaid fabric. An ARTSY ARTIST with
star-shaped side-burns paints the model's portrait in oils.
An even younger Roxie, age 24, with black dread-locks, walks
by in between the artist and his model. The artist is fuming.
ROXIE (V.O.)
Being a poor girl, I landed this gig
at the Ace to put myself through art
school. Oh, yeah, except only...
I forgot to actually go to art school
and it's like ten years later. Oops.
If you think this would make someone
angry and bitter... You'd be right.

Outraged by Roxie breaking his concentration, the artsy artist

flicks a gob of orange oil paint her way. The paint SPLATS
on the back of Roxie's black leather jacket.

An angry Roxie stops in her tracks. She slowly turns around.

ROXIE (V.O.)
I haven't dipped a paint brush or
dabbled in clay in like forever. I
don't even doodle on the cocktail
napkins anymore. Don't really miss
it that much. Ten years later and
I'm still here. How'd that happen?
A hush falls over the excited LOUNGE CROWD as they realize
Roxie's going to teach this artsy artist a lesson.
Roxie grabs the artist's oil-paint covered canvas. She smears
it down his face and chest. She drops it. Steps on it.
The oil-paint covered artsy artist stomps his foot in protest.
The amused lobby crowd CHEERS for Roxie.
Roxie snarls as she struts away. WHIP PAN to -
FLASH BACK as we MOVE through the lobby again. JUMP CUTS
reveal varied lounge guests IN REVERSE through the years
until -

INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT

SUPER: Three Years Earlier

We reach the coat-check area where a young Roxie, age 21, in
a Goth Band t-shirt chats with the HOTEL CLERK who wears a
grey "catholic school girl" tie and cardigan sweater.
 4.

ROXIE (V.O.)
Don't get me wrong. This funky lounge
rocks. It's made this fierce pink
lady even tougher. I've witnessed
all sorts of shenanigans here. Met
some great freaky peeps and busted a
few heads along the way. This babe
is battle ready. Got the scars to
prove it.

An old RECORD PRODUCER checks in with two BIMBOS wearing

tight, short skirts. He grabs a big handful of Roxie's ass.
Roxie slaps the producer's gnarly hand away.
OLD RECORD PRODUCER
Do you know who I am? Don't mess
with me. Bitch.
Young Roxie gazes down. She humbly approaches the producer.
ROXIE
I'm so sorry, sir. I'm new here.
Please don't be mad at me.

Roxie softly places a hand on each one of his shoulders.

She gently smiles as she gazes into his eyes. Now satisfied,
the old record producer smiles back until -

Roxie knees him in the nuts. Hard. He doubles over in pain.

ROXIE
Bitch. Don't mess with ME.

The CHIC CROWD loves that Roxie nailed the prick record
producer. Even his bimbos chuckle as he squirms on the floor.
Although surprised by it, Roxie basks in the crowds approval.

Young Roxie flashes her trade-mark smirk. WHIP PAN to -

BACK TO THE PRESENT as we SNAKE all the way back through the
lounge. JUMP CUTS reveal moments of lounge customers through
the years. We land at the bar where we're back to the -

INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT (PRESENT)

FREEZE FRAME on Roxie, Punk Boy and Marcus the barback stuck
in their dilemma over the stolen tip bucket.

UNFREEZE as Roxie pounds her fist into her palm. Grimaces.

She stomps towards Punk Boy.

Punk Boy breaks free of Marcus's grip to gather the scattered

papers that fell out of his tattered bag.

Roxie stops in her tracks when she beholds the breath-taking

CHARCOAL PORTRAITS scattered on the floor before her.
 5.

Each drawing depicts one of the unique, colorful people who

frequents the funky lounge bar. Punk Boy's drawings are
beautiful.

When Marcus hoists Punk Boy up off the floor, he inadvertently

knocks Punk Boy's funky hat off. As the hat tumbles off,
long, jet-black hair cascades down revealing -

Punk Boy is in fact a Punk Girl.

A breathless Roxie locks eyes with Punk Girl.

ROXIE (V.O.)
And before I knew it something came
over me. I tried to hold myself
back. I really did. But I just
couldn't stop my hand from moving.

SLOW MOTION: Roxie raises her hand to smack down Punk Girl. -
But Roxie ends up holding her palm out in a "stop" gesture.

ROXIE
Whoa. Hold off there, Marcus. This
chick is a buddy of mine. I owed
her some green, so I gave her my tip
bucket. Nothin' shady here.

Marcus releases his grip on Punk Girl's arm.

MARCUS
Oh. That's cool. No prob, Roxie.
(to Punk Girl)
Sorry 'bout that. Uhhh... Ms.

Marcus stumbles back to the front lobby to load some luggage.

The hipster crowd goes back to their lattes and cell phones.
A confused Punk Girl collects the last of her drawings off
the floor. She meekly hands a drawing to Roxie.
PUNK GIRL
Thanks... Roxie.
Roxie scowls at Punk Girl. Punk Girl shrugs. Turns to leave.
ROXIE
Hey. You.
Punk Girl turns back.
ROXIE
Don't forget, b.f.f. You said I
could have your funky hat 'cause I
liked it so much. Remember, pal?
A puzzled Punk Girl thinks for a moment. Then she gets it.
Punk Girl throws her funky hat to Roxie who snags it with
one hand. Roxie slips the hat on.
 6.

Punk Girl leaves the funky lounge with the tip bucket.
Wearing Punk Girl's funky hat, Roxie attempts to conceal her
trade-mark smirk as she mixes a tequila sunrise.
INT. FUNKY LOUNGE BAR - NIGHT
We smoothly glide through the doors.

We drift past BOUNCER and trendy GUESTS.

We gently pass Marcus the barback. We flow past espresso

DRINKERS on the plaid chairs.
ROXIE (V.O.)
Yeah. I regret it. Was a moment
of weakness. It won't happen again.
I got a bad reputation to protect.
We slip past the sheik TECH-GEEKS transfixed to the screens
of their laptop computers.

We roll by a PLAYBOY ROCK STAR surrounded by HOPEFULS on the

plush velvet couch.
We approach the lobby bar as a pissed off Roxie turns our
way wiping down the bar with a scowl on her face.
ROXIE (V.O.)
You have to be tough to survive in
this thunder-dome of a city. That
Polly-Anna crap don't fly here.
We focus past Roxie to the wall behind her. There hangs the
framed charcoal drawing given to her by Punk Girl.

It's a portrait of Roxie at the bar with her trade-mark smirk.

END.