Money Shot

Money Shot
Screenplay by Kel Symons
Based on the novel by Christa Faust
Revised First Draft

EXT. ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL PARK - NIGHT (ESTABLISHING)
A wasteland in Southern California’s Inland Empire. A

FREEWAY hustles cars to better places. Everything’s
tarnished hazy gold by SODIUM STREET LAMPS.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Coming back from the dead isn’t like in
the movies.
EXT. FURNITURE WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
PUSH IN on a shitty BLUE HONDA CIVIC parked under one

flickering lamp. It rocks on creaky suspension--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Takes forever to open your eyes. Or bend
your finger to feel the rope tied around
your wrists. Longer to figure out that
cold, hard thing poking your cheek is the
car’s jack. Hardly gripping cinema.
CLOSER: ON THE TRUNK. More movement inside.
ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

In real life you wonder what will happen
if you throw up behind the rag duct-taped
in your mouth. You think about how much
blood you’ve lost or how everything reeks
of motor oil. That gets you thinking
about puking again and you try not to
because you can only imagine choking to
death on your own vomit isn’t fun.
CLOSER: THREE BULLET HOLES punched through the lid. PUSH

THROUGH one of these--
INT. CIVIC TRUNK - CONTINUOUS
Dusty beams of amber reveal a landscape of shadows.
We make out curves of flesh - a NAKED WOMAN. We find a

face: ANGEL DARE (39). Beat to shit, Angel labors to
breathe; mouth taped, sucking air through a broken nose.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Other than that, you’re just busy
bleeding, trying not to pass out.
Angel works to slip free of the rope tying her hands

behind her back. Breathing’s hard. SHE’S BEEN SHOT.
Money Shot - Symons -2-

I’m sure you’re wondering what a nice
girl like me is doing left for dead in a
piece-of-shit Honda...
VHS AUDITION TAPE:
Lit like an old Polaroid, we meet 20-year-old ANGEL DARE,

with her “Rachel” hair cut and a sweet smile.
ANGEL
Hi. My name’s Gina Moretti.
She begins confidently unbuttoning her top--

But you probably know me as Angel Dare.
Don’t worry, I won’t tell your wife.
MONTAGE OF ANGEL DARE PORN SCENES
A SLOW-MO girl-on-girl scene with Angel-- 90’s-quality

video shot in 4:3 with harsh lighting.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I like sex okay? Let’s not make a big
deal out of it. It’s healthy. Natural.
And I’m good at it. Really good.
CUT TO: Angel, fucked from behind, eyes locked on us--

So when I realized I could make more
doing porn in a month than I could a
whole year back home, I packed my bags
for California and never looked back.
INT. CIVIC TRUNK - (PRESENT)
Hands free, ANGEL RIPS HER GAG AWAY AND VOMITS then sucks
in air. Each exhale comes out as a light sob of pain.
She pounds her fist on the lid of the trunk, SCREAMING.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Sex gave me everything I ever needed.
And I’m not just talking about the money.
She fumbles in the dark until she finds that JACK she
mentioned earlier. She extends the jack, little by
little, until it presses against the trunk lid.

Sex is independence. It’s comforting.
When I have a bad day I don’t have a
drink. I go get laid. Because sex has
always been something I’m in control of.
Each CRANK extends it a little further, METAL GROANING--

Okay, I’ll admit it. I probably wouldn’t
be lying here in this trunk if it weren’t
for sex. How often the things we love
turn around and bite us on the ass.
Another CRANK. And another. This may take a while...
INT. DARING ANGELS - LATE AFTERNOON (EARLIER THAT DAY)
Looks like any talent agency except for the framed

glossies of porn stars and posters for movies like Double
Dare, ASSablanca and Battlestar Gazongas on the wall.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Porn years are a little like dog years,
so I saved every penny, got out early and
opened my own agency: Daring Angels.
Booked the best talent in the biz and
really took care of my girls. But being
surrounded by gorgeous 19-year-olds all
day sometimes gets to me.
The camera finds ANGEL CHECKING OUT HER BODY in a full-

length mirror. She’s feeling insecure about her looks
but she has no reason to.

And no amount of cardio or crunches can
reverse time. Or gravity.
She checks the droop and bounce of each breast.

I was always proud I’d never gotten my
tits done. I’d seen too many beautiful
women ruined by wall-eyed, Frankenstein
implants. But with forty sneaking up on
me I found myself wondering if maybe I
didn’t need a little surgical pick-me up.
DIDI (O.S.)
Would you stop it already! You do not
need a Goddamn boob job.
DIDI (50s) enters, Angel’s feisty office manager and Mom

Friday. Sets a novelty mug of coffee on Angel’s desk.
A porn star back in the Deep Throat days, now Didi’s

plump and voluptuous. She’s stacked five feet high but
stomps around like eight feet of pure attitude--
ANGEL
I think the left one’s drooping a bit.
DIDI
Let me see.
Didi puts her glasses on her nose for a proper look--
DIDI (CONT’D)
The left one always did that.
ANGEL
Didi! It did not!
DIDI
Want me to show you on one of your old
videos?
Didi dangles a PIECE OF PAPER under Angel’s nose--
ANGEL
What’s this?
DIDI
Bill from that director. Jackass wants
two grand for those boots he claims
Roxette DuMonde boosted from his shoot.
ANGEL
(reading the bill)
Rhinestone-studded Hermès riding boots.
Ugh. Sounds gaudy as hell. Who would do
that to Hermès boots? Who would wear
them?
They look at each other, both knowing the answer:
ANGEL (CONT’D) DIDI

Porn stars. Porn stars.
Didi balls up the bill and tosses in the waste bin.

ANGEL
Roxette’s got a magpie’s eye: She sees
something shiny and she goes after it.
She loses interest just as fast.
The phone rings and Didi picks up--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Track her down so we can clear this up.
DIDI
(into phone)
Daring Angels... oh, hi!
(hands Angel the phone)
Sam’s on the phone for you, sweetie.
I’ll make some calls about Roxette in the
morning. Got a date tonight.
Didi blows Angel a kiss on her way out.
ANGEL
Sam, how are you?
SAM (ON PHONE)

Still making dirty movies, beautiful.
That’s why I’m calling. Need a favor.
ANGEL
Anything, you know that.
SAM (ON PHONE)

I’m shooting a movie with Jesse Black and
a girl just flaked on me. I only have
this location for a couple more hours.
Angel pulls up a booking calendar on her laptop--
ANGEL
Zandora Dior and Kyrie Li are out of town
featuring but there’s Sirena, Coco Latte--
SAM (ON PHONE)

Angel, listen--
ANGEL
And this new kid: Molly May. Total
knockout. Redhead upstairs and down--
SAM (ON PHONE)

Angel, Jesse specifically asked for you.
ANGEL
Sam, you know I’m retired.
SAM (ON PHONE)

I really need your magic here, Angel.
Jesse’s threatening to walk so I promised
him any girl he wants. And he wants
Angel Dare. Says you were his favorite
and he always wanted to work with you.
SMASH TO:
MONTAGE OF JESSE BLACK PORN SCENES
HD quality now, 16:9 and JESSE BLACK (21), with lean, bad-
boy architecture and a boyishly handsome face, fucks an
actress like a machine.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
If Marlon Brando did porn in the 50s,
with those smoldering good looks and all
that intensity, he’d have been Jesse
Black.
Cut to a NON-SEX SCENE as Jesse stumbles through his

dialogue with some painfully wooden acting--

All right, Jesse may not have Brando’s
acting chops but he’s still the hottest
thing going. Plus the kid’s anatomy is
legendary.
BACK TO:
INT. DARING ANGELS - CONTINUOUS
ANGEL
It’s pretty short notice.
SAM (ON PHONE)

I know. But there’s no anal. It’s just
a simple boy/girl scene with a facial
pop. I can give you fifteen hundred.
It’ll be just like old times.
ANGEL
I don’t even have a current test--
SAM (ON PHONE)

You can fax it to me when you get it.
And I’ll go two grand.
Angel doesn’t want to let an old friend down, weakening--

ANGEL
Sam...
SAM (ON PHONE)

Twenty-five hundred. Come on, make the
kid’s day, will ‘ya? I’ll put him on--
Angel doesn’t really want to talk to Jesse... Too late--
JESSE (ON PHONE)

Angel Dare?
ANGEL
In the flesh.
JESSE (ON PHONE)

Wow, I just can’t believe it’s really
you. You know I wore out, like, three
copies of Double Dare growing up.
Normally hearing about somebody who cut their teeth on

her movies might make her feel old. But Jesse’s voice
purrs with such raw sexuality all she feels is flattered--
ANGEL
Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, kid.
JESSE (ON PHONE)

So will you do it? Please say yes. I’ll
make it real good for you. I promise.
She looks at the mirror, her reflection blushing, ego

blasting off like a three-stage rocket--
ANGEL
What’s the address?
EXT. BEL AIR CANYON - LATER
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Lying here I had plenty of time to think
about all the warning signs I missed...
Angel’s Mini Cooper drives up winding roads in the shady

hills above Sunset, looking for an address.

Like Sam’s willingness to up the fee
before I ever got a chance to respond.
But Sam was one of the few good guys in
the business. I could trust him.
EXT. OLD MANSION - CONTINUOUS
Ostentatious but falling into disrepair.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
The mansion had seen better days, patched
here and there, like an aging mistress
with a plastic surgery fetish.
She drives up the curve of the drive. Lawn unkempt.

Pool dry and littered with windblown leaves.

I expected to see Norma Desmond burying
her pet chimp in the overgrown garden.
The Mini parks next to a ‘99 Corvette with “HAMRXXX”

vanity plates. There’s a brand-new Ferrari convertible
beside a well-detailed Bentley.
And that shitty BLUE HONDA Angel will soon call home.

Another missed sign: Nobody shoots porn
on this side of the hill.
Angel unloads her shoot bag, dragging it across the

drive, its little wheels CLICK-CLACKING on the stones--

Want more? There should have been power
cables snaking from generators. Crew
setting up lights and hauling cameras.
Giggling girls powdering implant scars...
With each CLICK-CLACK of those wheels, IMAGES of all

these production elements FADE IN AND OUT, ghosts of the
way things should be...
But aren’t.

Only I wasn’t exactly thinking straight,
in a hormonal fog with visions of putting
Jesse’s lean, young body through its
paces... walking crotch-first into a
trap.
INT. OLD MANSION - FOYER - CONTINUOUS
Deserted and dark, SHEETS DRAPED OVER FURNITURE add to

its haunted look. Angel enters an open door, her voice
echoing off the hollow cathedral ceilings--
ANGEL
Sam? Sam, are you in here?
SAM’S FARAWAY VOICE echoes back from somewhere upstairs--
SAM (O.S.)
Upstairs, Angel!
Angel climbs the stairs. The second story hallway spooky

and silent. Light from an OPEN DOOR at the far end--
ANGEL
Where the hell is everybody?
SAM (O.S.)
We were going late so I let a few guys
off the clock.
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Angel enters and the first thing she sees is a bed with a
bare MATTRESS COVERED IN PLASTIC.
ANGEL
What’s this?
SAM’s against a wall, pale and nervous. Angel instantly

knows something’s wrong and let’s out a little laugh
that’s mostly nervous surprise--
Before she can say anything, JESSE approaches, grinning

disarmingly. His bare chest glistens with sweat,
highlighting the symmetrical perfection of every muscle.
JESSE
Angel Dare... Wow. You look amazing.
Jesse strokes his semi-hard cock through leather jeans--
JESSE (CONT’D)
This is gonna be epic.
Then Jesse ABSOLUTELY FLATTENS ANGEL with a punch--
SMASH TO BLACK:
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM - LATER
Angel comes to when Jesse slaps her cheek. Hard. SHE’S

TIED TO THE BED. Her broken nose whistles with sharp,
panicked breaths.
Still a bit groggy, TWO OTHER FIGURES in the shadows

slowly come into focus--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I didn’t recognize these two and since
neither offered their names...
ONE MAN is a monied, neat and natty dresser. He’s always

got a cigarette going and when he speaks, his words are
exhaled through a veil of smoke--

I decided to call the silver-haired chain-
smoker wearing Versace and a diamond
Rolex “Tom.” He was clearly directing
this little scene.
THE OTHER MAN is built like an old-school wrestler: thick

necked, with more hair on his back than his head--

The bald guy working for him was “Harry”
because, well, I enjoyed the irony.
Jesse leans over her, still grinning that fucking grin,

still stroking his cock through his leather jeans.

You can guess which one was “Dick.”
She turns her head: SAM’s tied to a chair beside the bed--
SAM
I had no choice, Angel. I’m sor--
Harry cuffs Sam on the temple, shutting him up--
Tom stands over Angel. Even though Harry’s the brute,

there’s something about Tom that scares Angel more - an
undercurrent of icy menace that runs through his being.
“TOM”
Where’s the briefcase, Angel?
ANGEL
What briefca--
JESSE SLUGS ANGEL in the gut after a look from Tom. She
groans and would double over if she weren’t tied down.

I don’t know what you’re talking about!
Jesse clamps his hand over Angel’s mouth and she

struggles for air through nostrils clogged with dried
blood and a violently deviated septum.
SAM
Please, just tell them where it is!
Jesse lets go, Angel gasping and coughing--
ANGEL
I’m telling you the truth!
“TOM”
A girl came into your office earlier
today with the case. We know it’s not
there. Or at your home. So where is it?
CLOSE ON ANGEL: A dawning realization--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
And suddenly, I knew exactly what they
were talking about--
SMASH TO:
INT. DARING ANGELS - EARLIER THAT AFTERNOON
Hours before Angel gets that fateful call from Sam. Didi
brings a SKINNY GIRL into Angel’s office, LIA (19). In a
Lakers T-shirt, wobbling on ridiculously high heels, Lia
nervously clutches a SHOPPING BAG stuffed with clothes.
DIDI
Angel, this is Lia. She said she needs
to talk to you.
Lia sits across from Angel, her body language tense and
urgent; her big eyes evasive. Her scruffy looks and
dirty hair could be mistaken for junky chic.
Didi instinctively stays, quietly folding into a corner

as Lia fidgets until Angel finally breaks the silence--
ANGEL
You’re looking for work, Lia? Do you
have ID? I can’t even take test shots
without a drivers license--
LIA
I am not wanting work. I am wanting
Lenuta Vasilescu. We are friends as
children together in Brasov.
Lia’s Romanian accent is thick, made worse by the fact

she talking fast and nervous--
LIA (CONT’D)
In the movies she is Zandora Dior.
Angel smiles because Lia knows Zandora’s real name.
ANGEL
I’m afraid Zan-- Lenuta’s working out of
town...
CUT TO:
INT. EYE CANDY STRIP CLUB
Rapid, plinky octave changes as we SLOWLY PUSH THOUGH

smoke-machine mists to find ZANDORA DIOR spinning on the
center stage pole to 2 Chainz “Luv Dem Strippers.”
She’s exceptional, putting on an athletic show for the

patrons who reward her with A SHOWER OF FLUTTERING GREEN.
CUT TO:
INT. DARING ANGELS - CONTINUOUS
Lia looks ready to burst into tears.
LIA
When will she be back?
ANGEL
She flies back Sunday night.
LIA
Please, can I have her number?
ANGEL
I can’t give out a client’s number to
just anyone who walks in here. Even
childhood friends.
Lia shifts in her seat and looks ready to bolt.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
But I can get a message to her.
LIA
It’s... it’s private.
Angel slides a piece of STATIONARY toward Lia, and a pen.
ANGEL
Write your phone number and whatever else
you need to tell her. I’ll fax it to the
club Zandora’s booked at and she can call
you.
Lia thinks about this a second, then nods, scribbling a

message fast and hard in Romanian script. Whatever she’s
writing it’s clearly much more than just a phone number.
Angel feeds the page into her fax machine and Lia gets
up, nervously moving about the room, chewing on a nail
and looking out the window to the street below.
A chill stiffens Lia. She starts to shake like a wet

dog, one of those delicate breeds.
Something she sees outside terrifies her.
She looks at the fax machine slowly scanning her note.

When it’s done Lia rips the note from the machine and
folds it into a tiny square, stuffing it in a silver
metal BRIEFCASE hidden in her bag. It’s a cheap knock-
off of a Halliburton case, with a combo lock--

I remember the briefcase, mostly because
it didn’t seem like something Lia would
own. One of those metallic jobs that
always looks like it belongs hand-cuffed
to the wrist of some secret agent. I
also remember the combination: 666.
Lia looks nervously at the OFFICE DOOR and then sees

another door leading to an adjacent BATHROOM.
LIA
May I please use toilet?
Angel nods and Lia disappears behind the closed bathroom

door. Didi looks sympathetically at Angel--
DIDI
Honey, that child needs some help.
ANGEL
See how much we have in petty cash. I
don’t want her leaving here without money
for a meal, okay?
No sooner does Didi exit to reception than Angel hears

her yelling like a holy terror--
DIDI (O.S.)
Where do you two jackwipes think you’re
going!? Get your dick-skinners off me!
TWO GOONS burst in, Didi hot on their heels--
ANGEL
Sorry boys, but we don’t book male talent
here. Try Eros over on Sherman Way.
The wiry one with acne scars, WILSON, ignores her. Women
always intimidated Wilson. Bullying and terrorizing them
now somehow compensates for an adolescence filled with
rejection and humiliation. He gets off on it.
WILSON
Where’s Lia?
ANGEL
Just missed her.
DIDI
Seems like every other week we get losers
like you two in here. Pissed off,
looking for their girlfriends. Or their
mothers.
Wilson pulls a STRAIGHT-EDGE RAZOR, as skinny and mean as

he is, which he keeps in a holster under his jacket.
DIDI (CONT’D)
Also not the first time I’ve had some
asshole wave a knife in my face, either.
There’s a NOISE from behind the BATHROOM DOOR and Wilson

snaps his head towards the sound like a hungry predator--
WILSON
Just missed her, eh?
He signals to THE OTHER GOON who kicks the door in.
DIDI
It has a knob, you prick!
They both try cramming into the small space but find IT’S
EMPTY. The window’s open and Wilson pokes his head
through it, looking at an EMPTY ALLEY two stories down.
WILSON
Fuck! She went out the window.
DIDI
In those heels? I seriously doubt it.
Angel and Didi look in the bathroom: Lia’s HIGH HEELS sit
on the toilet seat beneath the open window. She’s gone.
DIDI (CONT’D)
Wouldn’t have thought the poor little
thing had it in her.
ANGEL
Must be pretty desperate to make that
jump.
She indicates the two goons as reason enough, as WILSON

looks out the office window to the street below--
WILSON
Nothing! She’s gone.
They disappear almost as quickly as they entered.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Hell, maybe she was a secret agent.
CUT TO:
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Harry produces a STAINLESS-STEEL PISTOL, noticeably small

in his meaty palms. It’s clearly designed for smaller
hands. A woman’s gun.
“TOM”
I know you know about Lia, Angel. And
the case. So once again: tell me where
my money is.
Tom looks at Harry, who uses the small pistol to shoot

Sam in the knee. BLAM! Sam howls in pain--
SAM
FOR GODSAKE ANGEL TELL THEM!
Sam spits the words out along with saliva and drool
running down his beard until his shouts devolve into a
soft mewling noise a wounded animal might make.
“TOM”
Now you know we’re serious, Angel.
Angel’s crying too, now. She notices that Jesse is no

longer grinning devilishly. He may act tough, but
clearly this level of violence unnerves him.
ANGEL
I don’t know anything about any money.
That girl, Lia, came then left when those
two guys showed up. That’s all I know.
“TOM”
She must have said something. What did
she want?
ANGEL
She wanted to get in touch with one of my
clients. Said they were friends as kids.
“TOM”
She wanted to catch up? Reminisce?
ANGEL
I don’t know.
“TOM”
Okay, which client?
Angel doesn’t reply.
“TOM” (CONT’D)
You’re thinking about being brave.
Don’t.
Still nothing.
Jesse...
Tom hands HIS CIGARETTE to Jesse, who parks it in the

corner of his smirk as he straddles Angel. When the
cherry’s red hot he lowers it to Angel’s BLINKING EYE.
Jesse’s earlier fear is gone. This, the sadistic prick,

enjoys. Close enough to SINGE HER EYE-LASH-- TISSSST!
ANGEL
Zandora Dior! It was Zandora Dior.
“TOM”
Good. Good... Now, let’s try again.
From the beginning--
Angel narrates a STYLIZED MONTAGE of Jesse’s brutality,

all in EXTREME CLOSE UP. The Raging Bull of beat-downs:
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I’d like to say I was brave, but they got
it out of me. All of it.
ECU: WHAM! A fist to the eye, force of the blow rippling

across skin in slow-motion waves, CRUNCH of the socket
fracturing; the slow purple bloom of contusion spreading
like spilt wine--

The note...
ECU: WHAM! Another fist and Angel’s CHEEK SWELLS, blood

vessels popping off like tiny red fireworks under skin--

The motel in Vegas that Zandora was
staying at...
ECU: WHAM! Her strawberry-pink LIPS ERUPT WITH BLOOD,

flesh split and mangled against teeth in painful slo-mo.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Everything. I’d have told them about the
time I stole three bucks from Sister Mary
Francis’s desk back in the second grade
if they’d asked.
PULL BACK: Angel’s face is a bloody horror-show.

But every time they asked about that
fucking case I had nothing to give them.
“TOM”
The money, Angel. Where’s my money?
ANGEL
Please... Please...
“TOM”
You and Sam have been friends for a long
time, yes? He’s a nice guy? A family
man? Someone you care about?
Tom looks at Harry again, who shoves that gun into Sam’s
mouth so hard the FRONT SIGHT CHIPS A TOOTH.
I won’t ask again, Angel.
Angel shakes her head. Tom looks a bit sad, then nods to
Harry, who pulls the trigger. The back of Sam’s head
BLOWS OUT, blood splattering everywhere.
ANGEL SCREAMS. Screams and screams until her voice

breaks and she goes silent. Just lays there. Broken.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Call it shock or overload or whatever, my
brain had decided enough was enough. It
simply put on a hat, picked up two
suitcases and fucked off to parts
unknown.
“HARRY”
I don’t think she knows, boss.
“TOM”
Yeah, you may be right.
(re: Sam’s body)
Take care of that.
Harry wipes the gun clean of prints with Sam’s shirt and
drops it in the body’s lap. Tom lights another cigarette
on his way out of the room, turning to Jesse--
She’s all yours, Jesse. Get rid of her
when you’re done.
Jesse grins, UNZIPS his leather jeans then licks a salty

tear away from Angel’s cheek as he mounts her--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
My hot date with Jesse was just getting
started, as he raped me then. I blacked
out, but when he was done, I do remember
he complained I was a disappointment.
We pull up and away, leaving before we see anything--
CUT TO:
INT. CIVIC TRUNK - NIGHT (LATER)
It’s dark. The car’s in motion, Angel bumping and

sliding with every pothole and turn in the road.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I figured it was over until Jesse gagged
me and tossed me in this trunk. I don’t
know how long we drove... I was still in
and out.
This scene intermittently FADES TO BLACK SILENCE then

back again to indicate Angel falling in and out of
consciousness.
BRAKE LIGHTS PUMP, bathing the trunk in their blood-red

glow. Another turn as Angel rolls with it.
THE CAR STOPS and the engine shuts off, ticking and
pinging as it cools. Angel hears the door open outside
and then THE TRUNK LID POPS OPEN--
JESSE stands over her, under the jaundiced light of that

flickering lamp. One hand holds his cock through his
jeans. The other holds a LARGE PISTOL. He’s nervous.

There was Jesse, pretending he was in
some gangster rap video, aiming his gun
in a way that’s pretty much useless if
you want to hit anything.
Jesse points the gun - sideways - like he’s seen on tv.

Then he finally managed to fumble out a
line I figure he’d been going over in his
head the whole drive--
JESSE
End of the line, bitch.
The gun jumps as he punctuates the line with TWO BLIND

SHOTS - both wide - punching into the trunk liner mere
inches from Angel’s head.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
First two shots missed. Pretty sure
Jesse had his eyes closed the whole time.
But I lay there like he’d hit me.
Jesse slams the trunk shut and we’re back in DARKNESS.

BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!
THREE BRIGHT HOLES punch through the trunk lid, tendrils

of smoke curling in yellow beams of light--

Ironically two of his next three shots
found their mark. One grazed my thigh
with a burning that was the most pain I’d
ever felt. A spot it held on the charts
until a second later when the next shot
went through my shoulder.
Angel lays there in the dark, moaning quietly. Outside

we hear JESSE DRIVE OFF in another car, tires squealing--

I laid there. Bleeding. Waiting to die.
That’s pretty much where you came in--
INT. CIVIC TRUNK - LATE NIGHT/EARLY MORNING (PRESENT)
Another CRANK of the jack and the latch gives one final
METAL GROAN before POPPING OPEN, lid flying up.
EXT. FURNITURE WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
Angel painfully crawls out of the Civic. Blood oozes

from two bullet wounds.
Aside from lights on the freeway a mile away, the only

thing that moves are bits of paper the wind pushes across
the blacktop. All the buildings are dark.
Angel limps towards THE WAREHOUSE. Boarded, chained up

and covered in graffiti, it’s long out-of-business.
She finds an overturned shopping cart full of TRASH BAGS.

Empties one, nearly vomiting again when the stench of
weeks-old garbage hits her. She pulls the bag over her
as a makeshift poncho.
She wanders until she finds a PAY PHONE. Miracle of

miracles, it has a dial-tone and she punches 9-1-1.
EMERGENCY DISPATCHER
911, what is your emergency?
ANGEL
Help... I’ve been shot. I’m at...
Angel wipes away grime on the phone’s ID plate--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
15839 Valley Boulevard. It’s a pay
phone.
EMERGENCY DISPATCHER
I’ve got an ambulance on the way, okay
ma’am? Please stay put.
ANGEL
Not going anywhere...
Fighting to stay conscious, Angel punches in a number by

memory--
DIDI (VOICEMAIL)
I can’t answer the phone, but leave your
message, dirty words and all, and I’ll be
sure to call you back. <BEEP!>
Angel doesn’t even know where to begin, so she hangs up.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I couldn’t think of anyone else to call.
Then a name filtered through the pain:
Malloy. Daring Angel’s new security man.
She punches Malloy’s number in and as it RINGS--

Malloy’s a former cop I heard quit the
LAPD under less-than-ideal circumstances.
But he came recommended and we needed
someone to escort our models to gigs -
Lot of creeps out there and a guy like
Malloy keeps them away from my girls.
MALLOY (ON PHONE)

Malloy.
Relieved to hear a familiar voice Angel starts rambling--
ANGEL
Malloy... it’s Angel... I--
MALLOY
I’ll call you right back.
CLICK! He hung up. Angel just stares at the receiver--
ANGEL
What the hell?
As soon as she replaces it on the hook the PHONE RINGS,

startling her--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Malloy? What the hell?
INTERCUT WITH:
INT. HALLWAY - SAME
MALLOY’s solidly built. Rough good looks. A taciturn,

John Wayne-type. He steps closer to camera, cellphone to
his ear. There’s movement over his shoulder, FIGURES in
the background out of focus.
ANGEL
I’ve been shot! I have no idea where I
am but I called an ambulance and--
MALLOY
Stop. Listen: You have to hide from the
ambulance. I’ll come get you instead.
ANGEL
What? Why?
Those figures in the background sharpen: They’re

uniformed cops and detectives. Malloy’s in a POLICE
STATION, so he lowers his voice for this next part--
MALLOY
Because if they take you to a hospital,
you’ll be arrested for Sam’s murder.
CLOSE ON: Angel is rocked by this--
EXT. FURNITURE WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - FIVE MINUTES LATER
A lone AMBULANCE rolls quietly by, STROBING EMERGENCY

LIGHTS flashing long, dancing shadows everywhere.
It stops at the PAY PHONE, spotlight scanning the area.

An EMT gets out, looking for a gunshot victim, flashing
her Maglight around. But there’s nobody there--
EMT
(to driver)
Must have been a prank.
She climbs back in and the ambulance drives off--

ANGEL peeks from behind a DUMPSTER, watching it leave,

wondering if she made a mistake by listening to Malloy...
HEADLIGHTS WASH OVER HER as a big, black SUV roars up.

MALLOY gets out.
ANGEL
Malloy...
All the torture, pain and fatigue comes crashing over her
and ANGEL PASSES OUT in his arms. Malloy gently lifts
her into the back of the SUV--
FADE TO BLACK:
PRE-LAP:
MALLOY (O.S.)
Angel... Angel...
INT. S&M TORTURE DUNGEON - LATER
Angel wakes in a bright room which, based on the exam

table she’s on, appears at first to be A DOCTOR’S OFFICE.
Her trash bag has been replaced by a hospital johnny.
Malloy stands there. He doesn’t quite smile, but his

grimace is close, suggesting he was worried about her.
Angel’s woozy but notices the table has FUR-LINED

RESTRAINTS. Seeing a RACK OF WHIPS she tries to sit up--
ANGEL
Where the hell am I?
MALLOY
Lie down. It was this or Tijuana.
A statuesque blonde, ULKA (29), enters wearing a skin-

tight white latex nurse’s uniform. Red crosses over her
nipples. Fetish wear.
ANGEL
You brought me to a dominatrix?
It’s clear Malloy interrupted Ulka in the middle of a

“session.”
MALLOY
This is Ulka. She’ll fix you up.
Ulka washes up at a metal sink and slips on surgical

gloves. She has a slight German accent--
ULKA
Don’t worry. I’m very good. And much
cleaner than TJ.
Like a well-stocked emergency trauma center, Ulka

prepares a tray of instruments with practiced skill.
ANGEL
You’re telling me Ilsa the She-Wolf of
the SS has done this before?
ULKA
It’s Ulka. And I’ve done it many times.
Ulka peels back the johnny to examine Angel’s ragged

bullet holes. Sees the bruises on Angel’s inner thighs
and knows she’s been raped. Ulka looks up at Malloy--
ULKA (CONT’D)
We’re fine here.
Malloy hesitates before realizing Ulka doesn’t want him

around. After he exits, Ulka swabs her wounds with
Betadine. It stings and Angel gasps--
ULKA (CONT’D)
Not the worst I’ve ever treated but
you’re very lucky. That, or the man who
shot you is very stupid.
ANGEL
A little of both, I think.
(beat)
How did you know it was a man?
ULKA
Who else does such things to a woman?
Ulka hands her a couple of LARGE PILLS--
ULKA (CONT’D)
This is going to hurt and I don’t have
anaesthetic. It’s counterproductive in
my line. But these will help with the
pain.
Angel swallows them with the water Ulka hands her.
ULKA (CONT’D)
You’re going to be okay.
The way she assures her, Angel knows Ulka’s not just
referring to the physical damage she’s suffered.
ANGEL
Yeah.
Ulka looks at Angel’s face, scrutinizing her as though

appreciating a piece of fine art--
ULKA
Hm... One more thing.
A SHARP CRACK! Ulka expertly resets Angel’s broken nose.
INT. S&M TORTURE DUNGEON - MORNING (LATER)
Angel wakes, stiff and sore all over. Lifts the johnny
to find she’s been neatly SUTURED AND BANDAGED.
She slides off the table. Finds A FULL-LENGTH MIRROR,

unable to turn away from her own reflection in a moment
reminiscent of the earlier scene in Angel’s office--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
For a second, I thought I was wearing a
Halloween mask. When I realized it was
my face, my earlier worries about less
than perfectly perky breasts seemed so
small and far away.
Her nose is taped, tender to the touch but the purple

under each eye is already starting to fade.

Then I knew what I wanted: To find the
men who did this to me. The men who
murdered Sam right before my eyes.
Angel stares right at her reflection -- eye-to-eye:
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I’m going to find them. And I’m going to
kill each and every last one of them.
Ulka enters with bags from Target and McDonalds. She’s

dressed more casually now - no more fetish-wear.
ULKA
Good, you’re finally awake.
ANGEL
How long was I out?
ULKA
Almost three days. Those tranquilizers I
gave you were from Mexico. Very strong.
ANGEL
Three days? No wonder I’m starving.
Anticipating this, Ulka tosses her the McDonalds. Angel

digs in to breakfast while Ulka checks her bandages--
ULKA
These look good. You’ll be sore and
there will be some scarring, naturally.
(re: Target bags)
Malloy bought you some things. He’s
parked out back.
Angel pulls out JEANS which she slips into under her
hospital johnny. They fit perfectly. The soft denim
makes Angel feel better. Normal. Halfway human again.
Finds A BRA in a bag. Holds it to her chest, surprised--
ANGEL
I don’t think the last six guys who
actually touched my breasts could have
guessed my bra size. But Malloy, who I
barely know, got it right.
ULKA
Malloy’s a pretty observant guy.
Thoughtful, even.
ANGEL
Is he... a client of yours?
ULKA
(laughs)
Malloy’s hardly the submissive type.
ANGEL
Yeah, I guess not.
Ulka examines Angel’s face. RIPS THE TAPE from her nose--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
OW! Jee-zus.
ULKA
Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.
(slight smile)
Old habits, you know.
EXT. ALLEY - MORNING (MOMENTS LATER)
Ulka and Angel exit to find Malloy waiting by his SUV.

He smirks at her (Malloy rarely, if ever, smiles).
ANGEL
Malloy.
MALLOY
Angel.
Like I said: taciturn. They stand there a moment, not

saying anything. Then Malloy fits a BALL CAP over
Angel’s head and slips a pair of LARGE SUNGLASSES on her
face. Angel notes he’s careful of her nose.
ANGEL
I look that bad, huh?
Malloy lights a cigarette with a battered Zippo.
MALLOY
We need to be careful about who sees you.
You’re on the LAPD’s most-wanted.
ULKA
Replace her bandages in a day or so. And
keep her out of trouble, Malloy. Don’t
need you messing up all my good work.
EXT./INT. MALLOY’S SUV - MORNING (LATER)
Malloy drives Angel through Los Angeles.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
As I filled in Malloy I felt I was being
listened to more intently than ever
before. I told him everything, starting
with Lia and the briefcase and ending
with the part where he showed up to
scrape my ass off the sidewalk.
Malloy processes everything she’s just told him, then he

crushes out his cigarette in the ashtray. After a beat--
MALLOY
Do you own a Sig-Sauer P-238?
ANGEL
Yes. Why?
MALLOY
Before I got your call, the police hauled
me and Didi in. They got an anonymous
tip and uniforms found Sam’s body in your
car abandoned over by the Van Nuys
airport. One in the knee. One in the
head. Tortured, then executed. They
recovered the Sig in a nearby dumpster.
SMASH TO:
INT. OLD MANSION - FLASHBACK
“Harry” holds that small gun - A SIG P-238 - in his hand.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I remembered thinking that gun looked
small for Harry. That’s because it was a
lady’s gun. My gun.
CUT TO:
INT./EXT. MALLOY’S SUV - CONTINUOUS
ANGEL
You think I’m stupid enough to kill Sam
with my registered firearm, then leave it
and my car behind with Sam’s body in it?
MALLOY
No. And you don’t strike me as the type
to coldly execute a friend, either.
Stopped at a RED LIGHT Malloy lights another cigarette.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I figure it’s a set up. But the LAPD
won’t care. They hate a mystery and with
your gun, they like you as the shooter.
ANGEL
That’s ridiculous!
MALLOY
It gets worse: The police searched your
office, Angel - found pictures of young
girls on your computer. Real young.
ANGEL
What!?
MALLOY
Working theory is you and Sam were
running a kiddie-porn ring and Sam got
nervous. Wanted out. So you killed him.
Angel screams, pounding her fists on the dash.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Angel--
Now Angel unleashes all her anger on Malloy. The first

punch catches him off-guard, his cigarette flying. The
rest land angrily on his shoulder. He just takes it.
THE LIGHT TURNS GREEN. Impatient drivers honk as Angel

flails. Finally Malloy grabs her wrist mid-swing--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Stop.
ANGEL
Jesus... Those assholes really fucked me.
(slumps in her seat)
Does Didi know you found me?
MALLOY
Haven’t told her yet.
ANGEL
You don’t think she’s mixed up in this--
MALLOY
Didi’s clean. But I want to hold off
letting her in on everything.
ANGEL
She needs to know I’m okay.
MALLOY
Police are probably watching her, waiting
for you to surface. For now, the less
she knows, the better for you both.
Angel lets this sink in, watching BILLBOARDS roll past.

Seems every third one features some young girl selling a
fantasy of sex. And half of those look underage.
ANGEL
Why are you doing all this? Why hang
your ass over the edge to help me?
Malloy just drives, saying nothing for a long beat--

MALLOY
When no one else would, you gave me a
second chance. And I don’t like having
to owe anybody.
ANGEL
Okay, so what now?
MALLOY
Police are watching your home and office
so you’ll stay at my place while I drive
to Vegas to find Zandora. Maybe she has
a line on Lia and this briefcase.
ANGEL
If you’re going to talk to Zandora I’m
going with you.
MALLOY
I don’t need you in my way. This isn’t
about revenge, Angel. I’m helping you to
clear your name. That’s all.
ANGEL
Hey, I gave them Zandora’s name. I put
her in danger. And I don’t like having
to owe anybody, either. So I’m coming.
Malloy drives in silence, realizing he’s stuck with her.
EXTREME CLOSE UP:
We hear it before we see it: the HUM OF ELECTRICITY

surging through a LIGHT BULB hot with incandescence--
EXT. LAS VEGAS - ESTABLISHING - DAY (LATER)
It’s one of several in the Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas

sign that burns day and night as Malloy’s SUV flies past.
They drive through the Strip and its glitzy gambling

palaces. Past old school Vegas. To the edges of the
city dotted with all-you-can-eat restaurants, strip clubs
like EYE CANDY, and dozens of small motels.
EXT. SILVER SPUR MOTEL - CONTINUOUS
A bubble-gum pink stucco U curled around a parking lot.
ANGEL (O.S.)
Pull in there - the Silver Sperm.
EXT./INT. MALLOY’S SUV - CONTINUOUS
Malloy raises an eyebrow as if to say: What?
ANGEL
That’s what all the girls call it. It’s
basically a dorm for out-of-town
strippers.
Malloy passes a Lexus with “ZANDORA” vanity plates, then

parks as far from the street as possible. They sit
there, watching two STRIPPERS fresh from McCarran pull
Louis Vuitton gig bags on wheels to the front office.
Malloy pulls two pairs of LATEX GLOVES from the console.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Are you serious?
Clearly he is as Malloy slips his on. So Angel does too.
EXT. SILVER SPUR MOTEL - MOMENTS LATER
Angel and Malloy quietly walk towards Zandora’s Lexus

parked in front of a first floor MOTEL ROOM--
SMASH TO:
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM - FLASHBACK
Angel remembers being tied to that bed, beaten, telling

them where Zandora was staying--
ANGEL
The Silver Spur in Vegas. Room 102!
BACK TO:
EXT. SILVER SPUR MOTEL - SAME
They hear YELLING behind the door. Malloy pulls A GUN--
MALLOY
You up for this?
Angel can only nod as Malloy KICKS THE DOOR OPEN--

INT. ZANDORA’S MOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
They surprise WILSON, who has ZANDORA tied to a chair.
Barely alive, Zandora’s a mess - tortured by Wilson’s

straight-razor... and a nearby STEAM IRON.
WILSON
Who the hell are you?
Malloy gestures with the gun, stepping inside. He

doesn’t see MOVEMENT behind the door but Angel does.
Before she can say anything the door slams into Malloy’s
shoulder and HIS PISTOL GOES FLYING--
The OTHER GOON who was with Wilson at Daring Angels hits
Malloy. With a frightening economy of movement they
exchange powerful blows and counter-punches.
MALLOY
Angel! The gun!
Wilson moves for the pistol but Angel gets there first,
nervously pointing it at Wilson.
ANGEL
Don’t...
That STEAM IRON hisses menacingly. So does Wilson--
WILSON
You gonna shoot me?
Wilson’s razor tenses until she thumbs back the hammer,

trying not to shake--
ANGEL
You gonna try me?
Wilson lowers his blade. Malloy and the goon waltz in a

tight circle, knocking a bedside table, LAMP falling,
throwing strange flickering shadows around the room.
There’s no clever movie banter. No refs. No ring. This

is a street fight. Primal. Dirty. And quick.
Malloy sweeps a leg under the goon and they both tumble
to the floor, grappling - each trying to gain a brutal
advantage on the other. The goon bites Malloy. Malloy
painfully digs his thumb in the goon’s eye-socket.
That IRON continues to hiss as the violence boils over

and Zandora gurgles out shallow breaths.
Malloy smashes the overturned table with his foot. Grabs

a BROKEN TABLE LEG and cracks the goon across the temple.
Blood pours. Another blow and the goon collapses - dead.
The act stuns Angel with its ferocity. WILSON RUNS FOR
THE DOOR. A second too late she pulls the trigger, gun
jumping in her hands. The bullet smashes into the door -
too wide - and Wilson gets away.
MALLOY
Shit! Stay with Zandora!
Malloy grabs the gun from Angel and runs after Wilson.
The broken lamp flickers and the iron continues to
angrily hiss as Angel rushes to Zandora, untying her--
ANGEL
Zandora? Can you hear me?
Zandora responds to Angel’s voice but her eyes can’t

focus, one pupil blown black with blood.
ZANDORA
Totul miroase a pâine proaspata... Mama,
ai coace pâine?
Her breathing slows to hiccups of air with increasingly

long pauses in-between. That she endured such intense
torture - without talking - isn’t lost on Angel--
ANGEL
Lenuta... It’s me, Angel. I’m so sorry.
One final, soft hiccup. Then nothing. Malloy returns.
MALLOY
I lost him.
Malloy checks Zandora’s pulse. Angel fastens onto the

reality of the situation. The blood... She has an urge
to vomit--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Not going to get sick on me, are you?
Malloy’s still chaffed Angel forced herself on this trip

and wants to remind her she’s out of her element. This
pisses Angel off so she swallows her rising gorge--
ANGEL
We need to call 911.
Malloy rifles through Zandora’s clothes and her gig bag.

MALLOY
Cops are probably on their way after
someone reported that gunshot. Means we
have maybe a minute to find the fax and
get the hell out of here.
This sinks through to Angel and she helps Malloy look--
ANGEL
It’s not here.
They can hear the distant wail of a SIREN--
MALLOY
We have to go.
INT. MALLOY’S SUV - MOMENTS LATER
Malloy drives, leaving the Silver Spur behind them as an

LVPD PATROL CAR speeds past the other way. Angel looks
at Malloy as he calmly fishes out a cigarette.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I couldn’t get over how calm Malloy was,
when I was falling apart inside. The
mechanical way he killed that guy.
Reacting to Zandora’s broken body without
a trace of emotion.
Malloy’s coolness pisses her off. Still shaken from the

experience, she looks at her TREMBLING HAND--

Cold. Detached. Inhuman. I wondered if
I had what it takes to get my revenge.
Angel shivers even though it’s 99° outside, Malloy clicks

on the heater, angling the vents in her direction. Angel
clenches her fist until the shakes stop.
MALLOY
What was the name of the place Zandora
was dancing? Where you sent her the fax?
EXT. EYE CANDY STRIP CLUB - DAY (LATER)
Fancy by strip club standards, a valet out front, plenty

of glitzy cars in front of a multi-level venue of
flashing neon. Basically Disneyland with tits.
Malloy pulls up into the self-park lot around the side.
MALLOY
I’m going to see if I can talk to the
manager. That fax might still be saved
in their machine.
Angel opens her door but Malloy reaches over to CLOSE IT--
ANGEL
Come on. You’re not about to tell me to
wait in the car, are you, Malloy? Like
I’m your fucking dog?
MALLOY
I don’t like when people do that to dogs.
(beat)
But you’re Angel Dare. Famous porn star
wanted for murder. We can’t take the
chance somebody in there recognizes you
so you’re staying put.
Angel pouts, silently acknowledging Malloy’s logic, but

not exactly happy about it either. He gets out--
ANGEL
At least crack a window.
She watches Malloy talk up a perky blonde HOSTESS. Angel

can’t help notice the girl’s flawless skin and amazing
figure as she laughs when Malloy flirts with her.

One minute I’m pissed at Malloy for
treating me like some “girl.”
The Hostess leads Malloy into the club BY THE ARM and
Angel’s angry with herself for even caring--

Next I’m jealous he’s flirting with some
chick just to get information to help me.
After a beat, MALLOY RETURNS and hands Angel a paper

filled with Lia’s tight ROMANIAN SCRAWL--
MALLOY
Don’t know what use it’ll be though
unless we can get it translated.
SMASH TO:
CLOSE UP: 727 AIRLINER - ENGINE SCREAMING IN MID-FLIGHT--
EXT. BURBANK - NIGHT (ESTABLISHING)
The JUMBO JET THUNDERS overhead, soaring 100 feet over

traffic on Hollywood Way, landing at Bob Hope Airport.
EXT. MALLOY’S NEIGHBORHOOD - CONTINUOUS
Not far from the airport, lights from flights coming and
going in the background. Malloy’s SUV prowls down sleepy
streets, having driven back from Vegas straight through.
Malloy parks, then leads Angel quietly through a BACK

ALLEY and a neighbor’s garden, slipping in the back door
of his apartment, a 50s-era BUNGALOW--
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
Spartan. IKEA decor and blank walls. There’s a desk

with a laptop - the most modern thing in here.
ANGEL
I know some Romanian girls in the biz who
might be able to help with this fax.
Angel snoops around while Malloy rearranges cushions on

the couch. Mail on the desk is mostly bills. A small
shelf is stacked with second-hand paperbacks with titles
by John D. MacDonald, Donald Westlake and Lawrence Block.
She does find one unexpected item: A FRAMED PHOTO of a

smiling 16-year-old girl in braces -- clearly MALLOY’S
DAUGHTER. Angel realizes it’s the first piece of
personal information she’s ever uncovered about the guy.
MALLOY
What we really need to do is find that
briefcase. And their money.
ANGEL
What makes you think they haven’t already
found it by now?
MALLOY
Because they wouldn’t have gone after
Zandora if they had.
Still talking, Malloy disappears into the BEDROOM--

MALLOY (CONT’D)
That means it’s still out there.
ANGEL
And Lia.
He comes back with an armful of bed linens and a pillow.
MALLOY
We need to find her or the case.
Angel watches as he makes up the couch for her.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
This is about money. If we can get that,
we have leverage on the guys who did this
to you. Bait to lure them out.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Most guys have me in their place and in
five minutes are putting the moves on me.
She catches her DISTORTED REFLECTION in the curve of a

chrome desk lamp, her swelling and bruises amplified in
its fun-house mirror, along with her insecurities--

I didn’t get a gay vibe from Malloy, so I
figured I still must look pretty fugly.
MALLOY
Remote’s there if you wanna watch tv.
I’ll be just down the hall.
ANGEL
‘Night Malloy. And thanks.
He hesitates a second before he disappears into his

bedroom and CLOSES THE DOOR.
She stares at the door a beat. Pads quietly down the

hall... reaches to knock... then chickens out and climbs
into bed.
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - NEXT MORNING
The smell of coffee wakes Angel. Malloy hands her a mug.

She tries to drink but the hot coffee scalds her healing
lip. She adjusts the angle of attack on the mug until
she’s able to enjoy a sip. Tasting it, she realizes--
ANGEL
Black, two sugars. How is it you know
how I take my coffee and which cut of
jeans I prefer or my bra size, yet I
barely know anything about you?
Malloy has no good response. Instead--
MALLOY
I called Didi. She’s on her way over so
you might want to shower.
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - LATER
Angel gets out of the shower. Towels off. Pleasantly

surprised that Malloy set out a NEW TOOTHBRUSH for her
beside his own grooming products. She smiles as she
strips off the wrapping.
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - LATER
DIDI SITS ON THE COUCH with Malloy. She nearly upends

the coffee table jumping up to hug Angel--
DIDI
Oh my god!
She crushes against Angel who lets out a pained breath.

Didi pulls back and gets her first good look at Angel--
DIDI (CONT’D)
Holy shit.
Didi wants to touch Angel’s bruised cheek, but realizes

it probably hurts. Instead she brushes back Angel’s long
hair to reveal more bruises.
Like a protective mama bear, Didi cradles Angel’s head

against her bosom as she sobs.
The rising emotional quotient in the room makes Malloy

uncomfortable, so he moves to the window and peeks
through the blinds -- HE SPIES AN UNMARKED LAPD CAR.
MALLOY
The police followed you, Didi.
Didi comes to the window and watches DETECTIVE ERLICHMAN

get out of the car.
DIDI
That’s the same asshole who grilled me
about Angel.
MALLOY
Yeah, he questioned me, too. Used to
know him. Name’s Erlichman.
Angel joins them. Sandy-haired and lanky, Erlichman

looks more Iowa farmer than LA cop in his ill-fitting
suit as he checks the address on Malloy’s building--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Decent enough cop, but he hears hooves,
he’s not thinking zebras. He’ll run down
the simplest, most logical suspect.
Right now, that’s you, Angel.
They watch Erlichman scan the names on the row of

mailboxes before walking up the steps toward the door--
ANGEL
He knows I’m here.
MALLOY
If he thought you were here, he’d have
brought a SWAT team with him.
ANGEL
Really? I rate a SWAT team?
MALLOY
Okay, maybe not. But he definitely
wouldn’t show up alone.
A KNOCK. Angel panics but Malloy calmly puts a finger to

his lips then indicates Angel should hide in the BEDROOM.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
(whispering)
And don’t close the door all the way.
Angel does as she’s told, then Malloy opens the door--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Hello, Frank.
ERLICHMAN
Malloy. May I come in?
Malloy steps aside to let Erlichman pass. The detective

scans over the apartment.
Erlichman looks down the hall: the BEDROOM DOOR HALF

OPEN, and considers checking it out--
INSIDE MALLOY’S BEDROOM:
Angel’s frozen against the door frame, just out of sight,

heart pounding so hard she’s afraid Erlichman will hear.
But he doesn’t. Detective Erlichman approaches Didi--
ERLICHMAN (CONT’D)
May I ask what you’re doing here, Ms.
Kellick?
DIDI
No, you may not.
MALLOY
She hired me to look into Angel Dare’s
situation... unofficially, of course.
ERLICHMAN
You’re not a cop anymore.
MALLOY
This territorial pissing? Or are you
afraid I might turn up something you
can’t.
Erlichman’s about to say something but holds back. You

can tell he likes Malloy - they used to be friends.
ERLICHMAN
Leave this to the professionals, Malloy.
Ms. Kellick, your friend Angel’s in
serious trouble. Best thing she can do
is turn herself in.
Erlichman eyeballs Didi, trying to intimidate her. Didi

gives as good as she gets. Better, even. Erlichman
shakes his head and walks to the door--
ERLICHMAN (CONT’D)
Not kidding, Malloy. Stay out of this.
Erlichman exits. After a beat, Angel exits the bedroom.
DIDI
Somebody wanna tell me what the hell’s
going on here?
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - LATER (TIME CUT)
Didi and Angel are cuddled up on the couch, Malloy

smoking cigarettes in a nearby chair.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Malloy gave Didi the CliffsNotes while
Didi hung on to me like someone was going
to try and take me away--
DIDI
Give me a cigarette, Malloy.
ANGEL
Thought you quit.
DIDI
Fuck that.
She lights up and enjoys a drag as she thinks--
DIDI (CONT’D)
After that girl Lia came in, I couldn’t
help thinking I recognized her.
(off Malloy’s quizzical look)
I have a head for porn. Used to have the
body for it, too.
A hopeless flirt, Didi can’t help flash Malloy a smile--
DIDI (CONT’D)
I’m certain I’ve seen Lia in videos
before. Can’t remember what she went by,
or the title - some super-low-budget
amateur line that had “teen” in it.
ANGEL
Great. That narrows it down.
DIDI
It was a real boring title, like Horny
Teens or Dirty Teens. Very generic.
Malloy, you got internet here?
Malloy nods over at his LAPTOP. Didi stubs out her

cigarette and he opens his browser--
DIDI (CONT’D)
Go to slutfinder.com and do a search for
“teen.”
MALLOY
Just what I need: The Feds monitoring me
for surfing underage porn.
ANGEL
Teen doesn’t have anything to do with
age, Malloy. Just means girls with no
implants and an amateur look.
MALLOY
Me, I like real women. Grown-ups.
DIDI
Something we can discuss later, honey.
Get Angel off and maybe I’ll do the same
for you.
The screen fills with pictures ranging from sweetly

erotic to serious hardcore/fetish stuff. An animated
.gif with a banner reads: TEEN TWATS CRAVE YOUR SPUNK!
MALLOY
Jesus.
ANGEL
It’s just pussy. Not gonna bite you.
MALLOY
I like dirty movies as much as the next
guy. But look at this girl with
ponytails. She’s like 16! Still has
braces on her teeth.
DIDI
Yeah, and she paid to look that way.
Guys love it. It’s a better investment
than implants.
(elbows him away)
Here, let me in there.
Malloy lets Didi take over the search and lights a

cigarette. Angel seems perturbed by the way he reacted.
DIDI (CONT’D)
It wasn’t Dirty Teens, it was Naughty
Teens. This is her--
Didi shows them a CLIP from a movie: Naughty Teens 17. A

3-inch window plays a scene in a SEX DUNGEON as Lia is
“chained” to a wall and lightly whipped.
Lia tries to act like she loves it but her heart not
really in it, as she lazily plays along...
The camera pulls back to find JESSE BLACK whipping her--
ANGEL
Son of a bitch.
Didi hits pause, video freezing on Jesse’s cocksure grin--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Malloy, show Didi the fax.
Didi unfolds the paper, scrutinizing it.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
We need someone who speaks Romanian.
MALLOY
Someone who can keep quiet about it, too.
ANGEL
What about Honey Westlake?
DIDI
Only time Honey keeps quiet is when she’s
got a dick in her mouth.
ANGEL
Tabitha Moore... She’s Romanian, right?
DIDI
Tabby’s a good kid. Let me try and track
her down.
Didi makes a call while Angel quietly confronts Malloy--
ANGEL
(re: computer)
You really have a problem with all this?
MALLOY
I don’t know... Some of these girls look
as young as my daughter. Sure as hell
don’t want a bunch of old men jerking off
to her. I mean, those girls have
fathers, too.
Bringing fathers into it riles Angel--
SMASH TO:
INT./EXT. GINA MORETTI’S HOUSE - FLASHBACK (YEARS AGO)
This is all done MOS: Home for Thanksgiving, ANGEL

STORMS OUT OF THE HOUSE, holding her fractured jaw.
In the b.g. GINA’S MOTHER weeps, dinner ruined. This is

the last anyone will ever see of “Gina Moretti.”
GINA’S FATHER chases his daughter from his house, yelling

until flecks of spittle fly. He SLAMS THE DOOR and we--
CUT TO:
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - BACK TO PRESENT
ANGEL
Those girls are all legal, consenting
adults. The one with the braces? She’s
twenty-five. Raising a little boy by
herself. And maybe he’ll need braces for
real one day.
MALLOY
I get it: it’s a job. But don’t tell me
something called Teen Nympho Cheerleaders
isn’t supposed to get guys off on the
idea of banging high school girls.
That’s like a step away from statutory
rape.
ANGEL
God, what are you, the Thought Police?
That’s a pretty big step, Malloy. You
need to understand it’s all just fantasy.
Whether their daddies like it, or not.
Didi comes back to them after her call--
DIDI
Tabby’s working over at the Rawkus stages
today. I can go see her--
Malloy takes the fax away from Didi--
MALLOY
You’ve got cops following you, Didi.
Which keeps them busy and away from us.
So I’ll--
Angel takes the fax away from Malloy--

ANGEL
We’ll go see Tabby.
MALLOY
Okay, I realize I’d be out-voted here.
But you can’t go out looking like that.
ANGEL
Like what?
MALLOY
Like Angel Dare. You’re going to need a
disguise.
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - LATER (TIME CUT)
Malloy found a few items for Angel in his wardrobe. She

wears baggy camo pants, belt barely keeping them up.
Didi wraps ACE bandages around Angel’s torso, filling in

her curves and giving her a thicker, more masculine form.
DIDI
Bet you’re glad you never got that boob
job, huh Angel? They’d never stay down.
ANGEL
Just go easy with those, will you? I’d
still like to be able to breathe.
She pulls on a t-shirt. Malloy checks her out - not

baggy or anonymous enough so he adds a Lakers jersey.
MALLOY
It’s big on you but I think it works.
Didi, she look a little more masculine?
DIDI
Hell, I’d fuck you, Angel.
Angel looks in a mirror, grabbing a fistful of her long,

cherry-chocolate curls.
ANGEL
I don’t see how we keep disguising this
with just a ball cap, though, do you?
MALLOY
That’s the part I held off mentioning--
EXT./INT. NOHO BARBER SHOP - LATER
A weirdly proportioned SIGN depicts scissors hovering

behind the small, disembodied head of what looks like a
child with a moustache. Angel and Malloy approach, her
hair stuffed up under her hat. Another sign: CERRADO.
ANGEL
You sure about this? It looks closed.
MALLOY
He’s expecting us. So quit stalling.
Angel cautiously steps inside, like a little kid in a

doctor’s office, knowing she’s in for a shot.
The BARBER’s an ancient gnome with a shiny bald head.

Malloy speaks to him in Spanish and the man smiles,
indicating Angel should sit. He runs his fingers through
Angel’s luxurious hair, tsk-tsking sadly.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I told him you were hiding out from an
abusive boyfriend.
The barber sighs as he thumbs on ELECTRIC CLIPPERS and

begins plowing through Angel’s hair. ANGEL QUIETLY WEEPS
as her luscious locks fall away in chunks.
Her tears have nothing to do with a haircut. This is

about what Jesse and those men did. All they took.
Malloy seems to know it, too - makes him uncomfortable.

Even the barber senses it, flipping the clippers off--
BARBER
(in Spanish)
[You want me to stop?]
Angel blinks away her tears, determined not to cry--
ANGEL
No, keep going.
EXT. NOHO BARBER SHOP - LATER
Angel exits into the sunlight and puts her shades on.
The barber also BLEACHED HER HAIR, Angel running her
fingers through the shock of blonde he left up top.
MALLOY
You okay?
ANGEL
Do I look okay?
MALLOY
You look like a skinny gay guy.
Angel throws her shades and cap on, not amused.
ANGEL
Terrific. I guess as long as I don’t
look like Angel Dare, we’re in business.
EXT./INT. RAWKUS PRODUCTIONS - DAY (LATER)
A SECURITY GUARD waves Malloy’s SUV into a gated lot.

Malloy and Angel enter a small SOUNDSTAGE. Actors and
crew pass but nobody recognizes Angel dressed as a man.
NORTH DALLAS SQUIRTY SET:
Crew move behind flats dressed like a LOCKER ROOM.
ANGEL
That’s Tabby over there.
TABITHA MOORE, wearing knee-socks, a cheerleader’s skirt

and little else, is on her knees before a circle of half-
naked guys in mismatched football gear and team uniforms.
Off-camera, a NAKED ACTOR strokes himself to stay hard.

He brushes past Malloy on his way to set with the others.
Malloy awkwardly steps aside, avoiding looking.
Angel, finally in her element, enjoys his discomfort--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Not gonna get sick on me, are you?
If Malloy realizes Angel’s repeating the line he gave her

back in Zandora’s room, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Three things people don’t want to see get
made: Laws. Sausages. And porn.
Malloy tries to ignore her. She sees his nose wrinkle.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Big difference between porn on tv and
live on set is the smell. A potent mix
of ass and banana-flavored lube.
DIRECTOR (O.S.)
And cut! Okay that’s lunch.
Lights flick off and actors file off set. Slipping on a

flimsy gown, Tabitha passes Malloy and Angel--
MALLOY
Tabitha Moore?
TABITHA MOORE
Da?
MALLOY
I’m a friend of Didi Kellick.
TABITHA MOORE
Sure, she said you’d drop by. Come.
She leads them to a MAKE UP TABLE.
MALLOY
I have this note but it’s written in
Romanian. We were hoping you could tell
us what it says.
TABITHA MOORE
No problem. Give to me.
(she takes the note)
Angel Dare.
Angel FREEZES. Heart stopped--
MALLOY
What?
TABITHA MOORE
You helping Angel for Didi, da? And this
may help?
Angel sighs, relieved Tabby didn’t recognize her. To be

safe, she turns away, toward the make-up table.
MALLOY
Yes. We hope.
TABITHA MOORE
I believe nothing of this bullshit about
Angel. She’s no murderer.
Angel eyes shiny and colorful COSMETICS: Mascara. Nail

polish. Eyeliners. She looks at her butch haircut.
TABITHA MOORE (CONT’D)

Now me. I fuck somebody up. You do
wrong at me, I do double back at you.
This is way I come from. But Angel is
too good for that.
Craving something feminine, Angel pockets a RED LIPSTICK.
TABITHA MOORE (CONT’D)

This girl Lia was mixed up with some very
bad men--
CUT TO:
EXT. LAX - DAY (FLASHBACK)
A Romanian Airways 747 taxis to the gate--
LIA (NARRATION)
Dear Lenuta, remember me, Lia Albu? I
need help. I am in terrible trouble...
INT. LAX - INTERNATIONAL ARRIVALS GATE - CONTINUOUS
SIX GIGGLING YOUNG ROMANIAN WOMEN go through customs, all

happy to be in America. LIA’S one of them, but hardly
recognizable: skin healthy; hair clean and brushed. She
percolates with life.
LIA (NARRATION)
I was lured to America by promises of
good work as an au pair for wealthy
Beverly Hills families.
A SMILING MAN holds a sign in Romanian script.
EXT. LAX - PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
“Smiley” leads the girls into a Mercedes van. As each

climbs in, they hand him their PASSPORTS--
EXT./INT. MERCEDES VAN - CONTINUOUS
Smiley drives them into the San Fernando Valley along the
101 as the girls snap photos with cell phones.
LIA (NARRATION)
We were promised the American dream.
They pass the SHERMAN OAKS FASHION SQUARE. A LANKY

BRUNETTE squeals the one word in English they all know:
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE
Bloomies!
INT. DARK UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
The van rolls down the ramp into shadows...
LIA (NARRATION)
But this was all a lie by evil men.
Doors open and the girls are surprised to find WILSON,

HARRY, and several other men waiting for them. Wilson
roughly herds them out. Girls scream as they’re menaced.
LIA (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

They tell us we owe them money for our
tickets to America. Demand we work to
pay them back.
Luggage and phones are confiscated. One girl resists, so

Harry SLAMS HER against the van so hard he nearly breaks
her arm. Their nightmare’s only beginning.
Last thing Lia sees as she’s forced into an ELEVATOR is

Wilson paying Smiley with a METAL BRIEFCASE.
INT. DINGY APARTMENT - BEDROOM - MANY WEEKS LATER
Empty but for two mattresses Lia shares with four other
girls, all wearing ratty track pants and t-shirts. Any
life they had in them has been terrorized out of them.
This is the dark side of pornography and prostitution.
LIA (NARRATION)
They beat us and put drugs in us. Force
us to make dirty movies. To have sex
with men... Or worse.
Lia’s lost weight. Aged ten years. Distant and slack-

faced, eyes glazed with heroin, she’d cry if she hadn’t
run out of tears weeks ago.

But I am smart. I make one man, Wilson,
think I love him.
The door opens: WILSON tosses another girl into the room.

But I tricked him.
With some difficulty, Lia conjures up a bright smile for

Wilson and he smiles back. He treated the other girl
roughly, but with Lia he gently holds out his hand--
INT. LIVING ROOM (FARMHOUSE SET) - CONTINUOUS
A makeshift PORN SET for some farmer’s daughter fantasy.

Walls painted with a pastoral landscape, dressed with hay
bales and a hitching post. Racks of short, sexy gingham
outfits. Cases with camera gear. Make-up. Wigs.
As Wilson’s “girlfriend,” Lia has freedom to move around,

cleaning up as she watches Wilson and the goon (the one
Malloy killed) at a kitchen table loading cash into a
BRIEFCASE. A laptop in the b.g. shows security footage.
LIA (NARRATION)
I stole money and ran away.
Lia finds a PRINT OUT of passport images of SIX GIRLS. A

list of the next women Wilson and his friends are buying.
She recognizes one - ANA ALBU - with a horrified look--

I find out these men have my little
sister Ana on a list of new girls they’re
bringing to America.
Lia quickly folds the list and slips it into her pants.

I cannot go home. And I cannot call the
police or these men will run and maybe
take Ana with them.
She watches the cash pile up in the case, wheels

spinning, terrified of what fate lays ahead for Ana.

I beg you - please meet me at the food
court at Sherman Oaks mall on Monday.
Noon. I can do nothing, but I will give
you money to save Ana from this hell.
CUT TO:
EXT. RAWKUS PRODUCTIONS - LATER (BACK TO PRESENT)
Malloy and Angel exit with some other production crew.

Angel fingers the bulge in her pocket belonging to that
LIPSTICK she swiped. Wonders if Malloy saw her take it.
ANGEL
Can we bring this to the cops?
MALLOY
We don’t really have anything.
ANGEL
We have human trafficking! Forced
prostitution. Slavery.
MALLOY
No, we have a story told by a girl we
can’t find. She doesn’t name names--
ANGEL
What about Jesse? Lia worked with him.
MALLOY
In what appears to be a legit porn movie.
The cops bring Jesse in to talk, he
brings his lawyer and we’ll get nowhere.
Angel thought the fax was going to solve everything.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I know you’re upset, but this isn’t a
smoking gun. We need Lia. And the case.
ANGEL
Tomorrow at the mall. That’s where Lia
will be.
MALLOY
And so will we.
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - BATHROOM - NIGHT (LATER)
The bandages binding her chest are piled on the counter.
Angel’s dressed in one of Malloy’s old shirts. She holds

the shirt to her nose and takes a whiff. She can’t help
but sniff his BOTTLE OF COLOGNE next. She likes how he
smells. And she likes smelling like him.
The bruises and swelling have gone down since Ulka’s.

Even with her new cut Angel looks a little more feminine.
She likes that, too.
Finally she takes out that LIPSTICK she stole. Carefully

and expertly applies it, checking herself out. May seem
silly but just that glossy touch of red makes Angel come
alive. She feels sexy again. Real.
MALLOY (O.C.)
Dinner’s here, Angel...
Malloy’s voice almost startles her.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Malloy... I wanted to slug him and fuck
him and get away from him and be rescued
by him - all at once.
Checks the mirror again only now she feels strangely self-
conscious about wearing lipstick, quickly wiping it away--
INT. MALLOY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT (LATER)
TAKE-OUT on the kitchen counter. Cross-legged on the

floor, Angel picks at her half-eaten dinner. An open
bottle of wine sits between them on the coffee table.
ANGEL
So you were a cop?
MALLOY
You know I was.
ANGEL
About the only thing I do know about you.
In typical Malloy fashion, he says nothing. But Angel’s

not easily discouraged. She needs to know more about
this guy.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
But you quit?
MALLOY
I left. Yes.
ANGEL
And you were married.
MALLOY
Briefly. I made some bad choices with
women when I was younger.
Angel follows his gaze to the PHOTO OF THE GIRL--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
My daughter was the only good thing that
came of it.
He exhales sharply, his expression souring--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Only the ex dangles child-support over my
head anytime I want to see her.
Threatens to take away my visitation
rights.
(beat)
Everything’s always about money.
ANGEL
Think you’re making a bad choice with me?
MALLOY
I’m not sure.
Malloy lets that hang there a moment before he gets up--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I’ve done some things I regret, Angel.
But I feel good about helping you. I
feel like a cop again. Like one of the
good guys for a change.
ANGEL
Got news for you, Malloy: You’re already
a good guy.
Malloy does his best imitation of a smile--
MALLOY
Right then, I’m off to bed.
He heads down the hall. Angel realizes this time he

leaves his BEDROOM DOOR OPEN just a bit--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
The other night if Malloy had left the
door open like that, I definitely would
have taken it as an invitation.
Angel makes up the couch. Every few seconds she glances

back to see if the door’s still open. It is.

And while I always felt sex to be as
comforting as some find chocolate, now
all those sensations bring me is
uncertainty. Thanks a lot, Jesse.
She fluffs a pillow with increasing frustration, then

collapses on the couch. Turns off the table lamp.

Besides, sex can ruin things and right
now I need a good friend more than I need
a good fuck. At least that’s what I told
myself.
She digs out that LIPSTICK, staring at the red gloss like
some totem of femininity. A lost god to pray to.

I also told myself I would wear lipstick
when I got the men who destroyed my life.
EXT./INT. AMERICAN STORAGE BUILDING - MORNING
At the corner of Beverly and Virgil is a 14-story Art

Deco tower built in the 1920s as a glorious repository
for people’s overflow belongings.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Before we tried to find Lia at the mall,
I asked Malloy to take me by my storage
place, where I had squirreled away some
cash for a rainy day. Told him I needed
to do this by myself.
The FREIGHT ELEVATOR cranks slowly up each floor. Its

only occupant is Angel. It opens on an upper floor--

I rented it under a fake name. Paid cash
each month.
Angel walks down spooky halls to HER UNIT and unlocks the
big combo lock. There’s BOXES of winter clothes and
photos. Old furniture. A SHELF with dusty knickknacks.

Most stuff was from before I moved west.
Angel slashes an UPHOLSTERED CHAIR with a box-cutter.

Inside is a neatly wrapped brick of $5000 IN CASH. This
goes into a small OVERNIGHT BAG she brought.

Everything in here represented my old
life as Gina Moretti. Except one thing--
She opens a rusty TOOL BOX. Lifting the tray she reveals
a 9MM PISTOL hidden on the bottom. Loaded. The gun goes
into the bag and she covers it with some clothes.
About to leave, she sees a TEDDY BEAR staring at her from

that shelf with its one good eye. At the last second she
stuffs it into the bag, too.
Though if asked, she probably couldn’t tell you why.
EXT./INT. SHERMAN OAKS FASHION SQUARE - DAY (LATER)
A vast palace of light. The American Consumer’s wet

dream.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I hate malls. They’re like strip clubs
for women.
Angel and Malloy head toward the DINING TERRACE. Women

pass in groups and solo, most with shopping bags.

All tease and sparkle and the empty
promise that if you just drop enough
cash, somehow you’ll be fulfilled.
Angel shoulders her OVERNIGHT BAG as Malloy scans the

shoppers in the food court.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Doesn’t look like she’s here yet.
MALLOY
We’re early. Get something to eat so you
blend in. Grab a seat over there so you
can see the whole court.
ANGEL
Where are you going?
MALLOY
I’ll hang back here and keep an eye out.
INT. FASHION SQUARE - DINING TERRACE - LATER (TIME CUT)
Angel makes a pretense of eating a bowl of ramen. She’s

not interested in the food; she’s watching out for Lia.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I scoped every woman who fit Lia’s
description, just in case.
Two passing women scowl at Angel. She blows them a kiss--

A few thought I was some dude on the
make.
A SKINNY BLONDE move through the crowd in stiletto heels.

Malloy watches Angel track her: could this be Lia? Angel
shakes her head at Malloy - not her.
Malloy moves to a SUNGLASS KIOSK trying on various pairs

and checking himself in the mirror. Angel laughs,
thinking he looks ridiculous in cat’s eye frames.
Then she sees WILSON in the crowd behind Malloy--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Son of a bitch...
Wilson spies on Malloy, recognizing him from the motel.

He doesn’t recognize Angel, though, disguised as a man.
Angel checks her overnight bag as she crosses to Malloy:

Under the teddy bear is her 9MM PISTOL.
About thirty feet away Malloy makes eye contact, giving

her a slight but noticeable shake of his head: DON’T.
Heeding his signal Angel peels off into the crowd.

Malloy angles a rack of MIRRORED SHADES so he can see
Wilson. Malloy knew he was there the whole time.
Angel watches Malloy head into a HIGH END BOUTIQUE,

looking through stacks of overpriced Italian jeans.
Wilson slips into the store behind him, wary of a pair of
SECURITY GUARDS making their rounds.
Malloy wheels on Wilson, pushing him up against a rack of

clothes. Angel tenses, her hand on the pistol. But
Wilson knows better than to start something in public.
CLOSE UP: While they exchange heated words Malloy palms a

SECURITY TAG he took from a pair of jeans and slips it
into Wilson’s jacket pocket without him noticing.
Malloy hastily exits the store. When Wilson follows,

ALARMS SOUND, alerting the two guards. Wilson tries to
push through them but they force him back into the store.
Angel catches up to Malloy--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
If Lia showed, that weasel probably
scared her off.
MALLOY
Maybe...
He throws a glance behind him to check they’re not being

followed. He walks faster and Angel keeps up--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Either way, this meet’s blown.
INT. FASHION SQUARE - PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
They keep a brisk pace weaving between parked cars.
MALLOY
Maybe they already found Lia.
ANGEL
If they had, then why would Wilson show
up here? That guy knows Zandora’s
dead... if they got Lia, too, there
wouldn’t be a meet, right?
MALLOY
No, you’re right...
WHEELS SCREECH and Malloy turns, hand to the gun under

his jacket. But it’s only two women in a BMW.
Angel smiles at Malloy, who’s getting jumpy. They head

over to the SUV parked at the far end. About to open the
door for her, Malloy fishes his keys out of his jacket--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I just thought of another reason Lia
wouldn’t show up--
He never finishes: WHAM! he’s hit from behind, flattened

against the car so hard the safety glass spider-webs.
HARRY, the henchman who shot Sam in cold blood, pummels

Malloy with a series of QUICK JABS to his kidneys that
leaves him gasping.
Malloy jerks his pistol free but Harry slaps it away,

skittering across the ground. Malloy ducks Harry’s left
cross, which DESTROYS THE SIDE-VIEW MIRROR. If it hurt
Harry he doesn’t seem to notice.
Malloy launches himself at Harry. They close on each

other, trading blows, Malloy getting the worst of it.
Harry holds Malloy up by the collar of his jacket like a
rag doll, punching him repeatedly. He won’t last long.
ANGEL
HEY!
Harry stops, turning to see ANGEL POINTING HER 9MM.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Malloy uncoils a
powerful fist that hits Harry across the temple and the
big man crumples to the concrete, unconscious.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
You okay?
Malloy drops to his knees, sucking painful breaths--
MALLOY
Not really, no.
Malloy retrieves his pistol while Angel stands there, gun

in hand, pointed at Harry on the ground at her feet.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Let’s go before anyone else--
(realizes what she’s about to
do...)
Angel... Think for a second--
Angel is thinking, though. Remembering--
SMASH TO:
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM (FLASHBACK)
Harry roughly jams Angel’s Sig-Sauer into Sam’s mouth

then blows the back of his head out, blood splattering--
BACK TO:
INT. FASHION SQUARE - PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Angel PULLS THE TRIGGER. The FIRST SHOT kills Harry and
surprises Malloy.
But it was something Angel needed to do. The NEXT TWO

SHOTS are just something Angel wants to do. Before
there’s another, Malloy grabs the gun--
MALLOY
We need to go... NOW.
He hustles her into the SUV and speeds off with a squeal--
MALLOY
I told you once before I didn’t think you
were the sort to execute someone in cold
blood. Guess I was wrong.
ANGEL
Pull over.
Malloy pulls to the curb as Angel opens her door and

pukes noodles in the gutter. After a few dry heaves she
closes the door and Malloy eases back into traffic.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Do cold-blooded killers puke like that?
MALLOY
All the time.
EXT. MALLOY’S NEIGHBORHOOD - LATER
Sticking to his usual security procedure, Malloy drives

past HIS BUNGALOW to park down the block. Exiting the
vehicle, he pats his jacket pocket, concerned.
ANGEL
What is it?
MALLOY
Think I lost my wallet back in the
parking gara--
CRACK! The glass by Malloy’s head SHATTERS. More shots

from unseen shooters riddle the door as Malloy throws it
open, shielded behind it as pebbles of broken glass rain--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Get-in-Get-in!
Angel crawls onto the back seat floorboards. She looks

up to see MALLOY HAS COLLAPSED ON THE DRIVERS SEAT.
Blood runs down the upholstery--
ANGEL
Jesus, Malloy! You’re hit!
Malloy only grunts. Using the front seat for leverage,

Angel struggles to haul Malloy to the passenger side.
Angel squeezes behind the wheel and jams the key into the
ignition. She backs up as the hood explodes with
gunshots, windshield collapsing under withering fire.
Unable to look over the dash for fear of getting shot,

Angel keeps driving in reverse, using the SUV’s fish-eyed
BACK-UP CAMERA to “see” as she awkwardly steers.
Wilson and a HEAVY-SET THUG parked down the street pepper

the SUV with bullets as it flies past them.
Going backwards, the SUV takes a curve, bouncing off

several parked cars.
Angel peeks up over the dash to discover WILSON CHASING

AFTER THEM - his car grill-to-grill with the SUV as the
Thug fires out the window at her.
She ducks back down and yanks the wheel in time to avoid
an ONCOMING CAR that almost clips them in the 5” screen.
The SUV hits a rise where Hollywood Way meets CHANDLER

BOULEVARD: two two-lane streets with a tree-lined bike
path dividing them. Angel pulls a 180°, grinding into
drive before pointing the SUV westbound on the bike path.
WILSON’S CAR FOLLOWS on the right, weaving in and out of

the two-way traffic to stay with her. Angel sounds the
horn, forcing a CYCLIST off the path and into the shrubs.
Driving like it’s a fighter jet instead of a Chevy, she

threads A BUSY INTERSECTION, narrowly missing oncoming
cars as she fishtails through traffic, Malloy’s limp body
sliding onto the floor.
Angel steers into the spin and Wilson stays right on her
as they race through a RESIDENTIAL AREA. The bike path
widens to a restricted lane for the ORANGE LINE METRO.
Wilson tries to pull ahead. Angel won’t let him, so he

repeatedly RAMS THE SUV instead, swapping paint as he
tries to run her off the road.
TWO BUSES AHEAD - one east bound; one west bound.
Angel guns the SUV through the impossible gap between

them as they pass one another. Sparks fly and a COMMUTER
inches from the action mouths “Oh fuck” as Angel passes.
Wilson’s right behind her but he misjudges the gap and

his CAR CLIPS ONE BUS. He spins out, T-boning an
overpass support for the Hollywood Freeway above them.
INT. S&M TORTURE DUNGEON - LATER
Malloy’s on the exam table. His shirt has been cut away.
Angel holds a cloth to a wound on his side gushing blood.
Ulka enters, rousted from the middle of another session--
ULKA (O.S.)
Seriously? It’s getting so a girl can’t
shove a whip up a guy’s ass without you
two interrupting.
She’s all-business as she swings an exam lamp around--
ANGEL
Is it bad? It looks bad.
ULKA
It’s through and through.
MALLOY
Too bad. Know how much you would have
enjoyed poking around in there.
ULKA
Lot of nice tissue damage, but I don’t
think it nicked any vessels.
(calmly, to Angel)
Only moderately bad.
(then, noticing)
Oh, I like the new cut.
Ulka opens a suture kit--
ULKA (CONT’D)
Now for my favorite part: Lie back, this
is definitely going to hurt.
INT. S&M TORTURE DUNGEON - LATER (TIME CUT)
Malloy is bandaged and lying back on the exam table.

He’s in a lot of pain, but is through the worst of it.
ULKA
He’ll be sore but it should heal up
nicely.
Angel peels off hundreds from her stack of $5000, handing

them to Ulka. When Angel hands over another fistful of
bills, Ulka’s confused--
ANGEL
Car’s totalled. Was hoping you could
help with that.
Ulka considers the money a beat. Holds up a SET OF KEYS--
ULKA
One scratch on her, and I’ll hurt you.
Not in any pleasurable way, either.
PRE-LAP:
The throaty growl of a finely-tuned muscle car engine--
EXT./INT. ‘69 OLDS 442 - DAY
Detroit heavy metal and exactly the car you’d expect a

dominatrix to drive. On the dash is a little “Gimp”
bobble-head doll.
Ulka watches them take off.
EXT./INT. PALMVIEW MOTEL - EARLY EVENING (LATER)
An anonymous, out of the way place. The Olds is parked

around back of one of the rooms. A housekeeper pushes
her cart past, Angel peering out behind a curtain--
ANGEL
Earlier you told me you thought of
another reason Lia might not show up.
Malloy slips into new pants Angel bought at Target;

flexing one side of his body hurts like hell.
MALLOY
Yeah...
Angel helps him with his new shirt, careful of his wound--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Maybe the reason she never showed is
because she’s already dead.
EXT./INT. LA COUNTY MORGUE - NIGHT (LATER)
After hours and the place has the sort of shadows and
spookiness you’d expect from a house of the dead.
Malloy shakes hands with a friendly MORGUE ATTENDANT,

palming him a $100 bill like he was a maitre ‘d--
MORGUE ATTENDANT
So you want to see all the Jane Does that
came through in the past few days?
MALLOY
If you wouldn’t mind.
MORGUE ATTENDANT
Always knew you had a dark side, Malloy.
He grabs a clipboard and leads them to a row of COLD

STORAGE DRAWERS--
MORGUE ATTENDANT (CONT’D)

Jane Doe number one--
Opens the door and out slides a BODY IN A BAG. He unzips

it on A WOMAN IN HER 30s - Y-incision from an autopsy
across her chest. Angel shakes her head: It’s not Lia.
MORGUE ATTENDANT (CONT’D)

Okay, this one they fished out of Pedro.
He opens another drawer to reveal a BLOATED AND GREY

FORM. The grotesque condition of the corpse makes it
hard to identify but finally Angel shakes her head.
MALLOY
We don’t have to do this...
ANGEL
I’m fine. Let’s keep moving.
The attendant opens the drawer and unzips the bag: LIA
stares up at Angel with milky, lifeless eyes.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
That’s her.
The attendant turns Lia’s head, the other side of her

face a horror-show of purple contusions. Lia died ugly.
MORGUE ATTENDANT
(reading clipboard)
Okayyy... Struck by a Metro bus three
days ago on Victory and Vesper.
ANGEL
Right around the corner from my office.
MORGUE ATTENDANT
DOA on the scene.
Malloy pulls the attendant aside, offering another $200--
MALLOY
She have any personal effects?
INT. LA COUNTY MORGUE - MOMENTS LATER
The attendant dumps a box on an exam table, spilling

items wrapped in plastic. Malloy sorts through them--
MALLOY
Police find a silver metal briefcase?
MORGUE ATTENDANT
Just what you see here One shopping bag.
Two tops. Two skirts. Assorted make
up... one pair rhinestone boots--
Angel reacts, pulling a clear plastic bag containing

thigh-high RIDING BOOTS bedazzled with rhinestones--
ANGEL
Hermès riding boots--
MORGUE ATTENDANT
Yeah, that’s what it says here.
ANGEL
Gaudy as hell.
Angel removes the boots from the bag, puzzled to see them
with Lia, looking at Malloy with a jolt of realization--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I know where the briefcase is.
INT. DARING ANGELS - NIGHT (LATER)
Silvery light’s projected through the blinds. THE PLACE

HAS BEEN RANSACKED - first by Wilson and his thugs; later
by the LAPD. Cabinets empty - papers everywhere. Where
once were computers now there’s just a tangle of black
cables.
Angel steps over broken photo frames. Glass crunches

underfoot. She stoops to pick up her BROKEN MUG, symbol
of her shattered former-life.
A sob catches in her throat, but she won’t let it come

out. She’s done crying because of these assholes.
Instead Angel picks up one of the PHOTOS off the floor--
ANGEL
Roxette DuMonde.
CUT TO:
THE ROXETTE DUMONDE MONTAGE:
- Sia’s piano version of “Chandelier” slowly plays as

PHOTOS OF ROXETTE pile up. High-end fashion magazine
stuff. Tom Ford... Gucci... Prada. Eventually some
nudes. Tasteful black & whites. The standard shot with
Terry Richardson. One’s a recent photo with those boots.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
A teenaged model and spoiled party girl
with a habit of landing on Page Six.
- A SEX TAPE. A TMZ Exclusive shot with a grainy, low-

light filter that gives Roxette eerily vacant eyes.

Then came the drugs and the inevitable
sex tape. Roxette bottomed out at
twenty.
- Tabloid headlines “Roxette DuMonde ODs - Clinically

Dead for Two Minutes...”

After a stint in rehab she did a spread
for Penthouse and then porn became the
next logical career move.
CUT TO:
INT. DARING ANGELS - MORNING (FLASHBACK)
It’s the morning of Angel’s run-in with Jesse Black.

There’s no audio for dialogue - Angel narrates instead--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Roxette showed up at my offices that
morning before Lia. Knew she was getting
called on the carpet for swiping those
boots.
ROXETTE enters Angel’s office, hauling her Chanel shoot

bag. She looks frayed, like she just woke from a long
night out. Feigns she’s about to puke--

First thing she did was ask to use the
bathroom.
INT. DARING ANGELS - BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Roxette pulls the STOLEN BOOTS from her bag. Looks

around for a place to stash them but there’s only a sink
and toilet in the tiny room. Looks up to CEILING TILES--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Roxette claimed she never took the boots
and when she showed us her shoot bag,
they weren’t in there.
Unsteady, Roxette stands on the toilet seat and pushes

back one tile, revealing a SPACE above the dropped-
ceiling - the boots go in and she slides the tile back.

She must have hidden the boots in my
bathroom, thinking she’d get them later.
INT. DARING ANGELS - BATHROOM - LATER (TIME CUT)
Still in flashback, now LIA ENTERS, panicked like a

trapped animal. Opens the window: steep two-story drop.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Later, Lia escaped out the same bathroom,
only she knew she might get caught so she
must have tried hiding the case, too.
Climbing up on the toilet as Roxette did, Lia slides back

that same ceiling tile and the BOOTS drop out.

And surprise, she found Roxette’s stolen
boots. Figuring she wouldn’t get far in
those heels of hers, Lia apparently
swapped them out.
Lia stashes the case in the space previously occupied by

the boots. She slips out of her wobbly heels exchanging
them for the much sturdier stack-heeled boots.
She climbs out the window and drops to the alley below
just as Wilson breaks in to see she’s not there - HER
HEELS left on the toilet seat.
CUT TO:
INT. DARING ANGELS - BATHROOM - PRESENT
Angel opens the door and hits the light. She has the
boots in the personal effects bag, which she hands to
Malloy as she climbs up and slides the tile back--
But there’s nothing in the empty crawl space above.
ANGEL
Damn. No case. Roxette must have come
back looking for her boots and found it
instead.
MALLOY
So let’s find Roxette.
ANGEL
Easier said than done. She’s a meth
addict. Goes silent for weeks, holed up
at one address or another until the drugs
run out.
MALLOY
Jesus. Whatever money’s in that case,
she probably smoked by now.
ANGEL
Gimme your phone.
Malloy hands it over and Angel punches in a number--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I asked Didi to ask around for Roxette’s
whereabouts. Maybe we can find her
before she manages to blow it all--
DIDI (ON PHONE)

(voice shaky, worn)
Hello...?
ANGEL
Didi, hey, it’s Angel, I--
DIDI (ON PHONE)

Angel, before you say anything, I got a
couple dickless wonders over here with
guns who like to rough up old ladies.
Angel’s horrified to hear SOUNDS OF A SCUFFLE in the

background and Didi shouting--
DIDI (ON PHONE) (CONT’D)

Hit me again, you little shit. Ain’t
gonna make you grow a dick!
More scuffling, then a familiar voice purrs on the line--
JESSE (ON PHONE)

Hey, Angel...
That voice cuts Angel like an icy knife--
ANGEL
Jesse! If you hurt her--
INTERCUT:
TIGHT ON: JESSE. Signature grin. In the background TWO

MEN wearing Ed Hardy hold DIDI by the arms.
JESSE
If you want her to live, you need to get
your ass over to her house now. Alone.
One of “his boys” clicks back the hammer of a gun,

pressed to Didi’s head to emphasize the point--
ANGEL
If their marksmanship is anything like
yours, Jesse, Didi’s got no worries.
Jesse’s face clouds - he wants to hit back with a clever

retort but all he can conjure is rage--
JESSE
Get your ass over here, bitch!
EXT. STUDIO CITY SUBURB - NIGHT (LATER)
Angel drives Ulka’s Olds slowly down a quiet street that

dead-ends in a cul-de-sac--
INT./EXT. OLDS 442 - CONTINUOUS
Angel points out ONE HOUSE with a Prius in the drive.
There’s a yellow HUMMER parked behind it.
ANGEL
That’s Didi’s place there, with the
Prius. Don’t know who that belongs to
but I can guess.
But Malloy spots something up ahead--
MALLOY
Keep driving.
Angel looks over at Malloy but doesn’t question him,

parking in the round of the cul-de-sac at the far end.
EXT. STUDIO CITY SUBURB - CONTINUOUS
Malloy approaches an UNMARKED POLICE CAR by the curb

(different from the one we saw Erlichman drive). The
passenger door hangs open; interior lights on. Odd...
MALLOY
Looks like Didi still has a tail.
Inside, a POLICE RADIO squawks chatter but the car’s

empty. Malloy closes the door.
ANGEL
So where are the cops who were watching
her?
EXT./INT. DIDI’S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
The front door is open slightly. Malloy has his pistol

out and Angel has her 9mm.
The floor’s littered with shattered porcelain tchotchkes.

Angel picks up a SMALL HEADLESS DOG. Looks over at
display shelves on the wall that have toppled, a row of
BULLET HOLES stitched along the wall through them.
Malloy sees an EMPTY SHOE lying next to the remains of a

broken penguin. Not far is the shoeless-foot of a
PLAINCLOTHES COP. Top of his head is missing, too.
ANGEL
What--
With a finger to his lips, Malloy follows a wild line of

bullet holes that tore up the walls down a HALLWAY--
ONE OF JESSE’S “BOYS” lays face down. Holes through his

back. A SUPPRESSED MAC-10 submachine gun nearby -
clearly responsible of all the mayhem here.
Farther down the hall Malloy finds A SECOND PLAINCLOTHES

COP dead in another doorway.
INT. DIDI’S HOUSE - BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Angel enters behind Malloy. The place looks like the

last scene from The Wild Bunch. Bullet holes everywhere.
Bed linens shredded. Chunks of plaster blasted from the
walls.
And another of Jesse’s boys is on the floor, heaving out

dying breaths, gun far out of reach. His eyes move from
Angel to Malloy. Angel to Malloy. Trying to process
everything. A blood trail leads to an adjacent BATHROOM--
ANGEL
Didi!?
DIDI
Angel... that you?
(ragged cough)
You missed the party...
INT. DIDI’S HOUSE - BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Didi crouches by the toilet looking deathly pale, dried

blood crusting lips that are turning blue. One hand
drips bright crimson into the bowl.
DIDI
When those two cops showed up, Jesse’s
friends panicked and everything started
popping off like the Fourth of July...
She holds up what’s left of her hand, MANGLED AND RED--

DIDI (CONT’D)
Will you look at this? One of those
little pricks shot me in my Goddamn hand.
Angel comes to her side--
ANGEL
No, no, no, no... Oh my God, no!
DIDI
Don’t look in the toilet. I puked.
(realizes...)
Hey, you cut off all your hair.
(frowns disapprovingly)
Makes you look too butch.
ANGEL
Come on, Didi, let’s get you out of here--
DIDI
Aaah... I can’t.
She looks down at her stomach, oozing blood so dark it’s

nearly black.
DIDI (CONT’D)
Shot me a couple other places, too.
ANGEL
Malloy! We need an ambulance!
DIDI
Don’t bother, Malloy. It’ll just jam you
up. You know I’m not gonna make it.
Malloy nods, confirming Didi’s diagnosis. Angel cries.
DIDI (CONT’D)
Aw, cut it out, Angel. I didn’t mean it
about your hair.
Angel wipes away tears, trying to be brave and failing.
ANGEL
Jesse?
Didi nods at A SMASHED BATHROOM WINDOW above the toilet--
DIDI
When the shooting started the coward
scrambled out that window like the farmer
caught him corn-holing his daughter.
(beat)
(MORE)
DIDI (CONT'D)
He was on me about that case... Didn’t
tell me how but apparently Roxette found
it. I kept my mouth shut though. Told
‘em good luck finding her... there are
dozens of smoke holes she could be
flopping in.
Didi winks at Angel, waving her close--
DIDI (CONT’D)
Only I found out which one... She’s
shacked up with Thick Vic. You two
should go after her. And get those
assholes for me, will you?
(coughs)
I’ll just sit here a while longer.
Didi kisses Angel then gives her a wink as she pushes her
towards the door, which Malloy solemnly closes behind
them as they exit.
Heading out the house, Angel angrily wipes a tear away.

Fuck. Just when she told herself she was done crying...
Angel walks just out of focus: she’ll be damned if she’s

going to let anyone see her cry.
EXT./INT. TAYLOR SIMONE’S HOME - NIGHT (LATER)
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Thick Vic was a former porn star who used
to deal drugs to actors in the biz.
After he became his own best customer he
started suffering “performance issues”
and dropped out to deal full-time.
Angel and Malloy approach a very Brady home, lawn strewn

with an assortment of pink animal figures.

Now I’d heard he was mooching off Taylor
Simone, another industry has-been.
The door opens before they ring the bell: There’s TAYLOR
SIMONE (40s), Barbie doll proportions and a face frozen
after too many surgeries. Pomeranians yap at her feet.
TAYLOR SIMONE
You here for that girl?
ANGEL
We were looking for Vic.
TAYLOR SIMONE
He went to get some help to get that
psycho bitch out of my bathroom--
Holding a cocktail in one pink manicured claw and a

cigarette the other, she gestures inside, down the hall
where you can hear WATER RUNNING--
TAYLOR SIMONE (CONT’D)

If he doesn’t get back soon I’m gonna
call the cops to haul her skinny ass out
of here. She’s upsetting my babies.
The dogs keep yapping as Taylor breaks into sobs, leaning

on the doorway (and another hit of vodka) for support.
TAYLOR SIMONE (CONT’D)

I told him not to bring girls here no
more. It’s my house!
Malloy enters, playing the role of the sensitive male--
MALLOY
That’s terrible.
Malloy leads Taylor inside by the shoulder. Pomeranians

nip at his heels as he gestures for Angel to follow--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
You invite him to live here under your
roof. The least he can do is treat you
with some respect.
TAYLOR SIMONE
Exactly! Is that too much to ask?
MALLOY
Of course not.
Steering Taylor to the couch, Malloy nods down THE HALL,

and Angel heads for that bathroom door--
CLOSE UP: THE BRIEFCASE
Its dull metal briefly gleams like Excalibur through

steamy, fairy-tale mists.
SLOWLY PULL BACK through the swirling mists to reveal a

BLOODY HANDPRINT on the finish. Back farther until we
see we’re not in Avalon; the case sits on the counter of--
INT. TAYLOR SIMONE’S HOME - BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS
Taylor’s taste for pink continues. ROXETTE DUMONDE

huddles in the tub under the shower, naked and mumbling
to herself as she scrubs a RAGGED BULLET WOUND with a
toothbrush. Streamers of blood spiral down the drain.
Angel sticks her head in after knocking lightly--
ANGEL
Roxette? It’s Angel. Angel Dare.
Roxette dreamily looks up, imagining THE FAINT CHIRP of

scrambled electronic surveillance in her head--
ROXETTE
I think I got all of the transmitter
out... I’m not sure, though. Nowadays
they make them so they can rebuild
themselves, so you can’t be too careful.
Angel sees the blood oozing but Roxette feels no pain--
ANGEL
Who did this to you, Roxette?
ROXETTE
Some guys my dad hired to track me.
Roxette keeps scrubbing as she talks--
ROXETTE (CONT’D)
Tried to snatch me when I left your
office last night to get my boots back.
I ran but they put this in me.
Roxette hands Angel a BLOODY CLUMP of toilet paper.

Angel unwraps the “transmitter” - a PANCAKED BULLET
Roxette dug out of her leg. But for just a second we
hear that faint electronic chatter Roxette imagines.
ANGEL
You’ve been shot, Roxette.
If that made any sense, Roxette doesn’t act like it.
ROXETTE
Just don’t tell my dad you saw me, okay,
or he’ll try to put another transmitter
in me. Swear to me.
Angel looks at THE CASE on the counter. She just wants

to get out of here fast.
ANGEL
I swear.
Roxette settles back into the tub, continuing to scrub

away. Angel hesitates, then takes the briefcase with
her. Either Roxette doesn’t notice or just doesn’t care.
Angel closes the door behind her.
INT. TAYLOR SIMONE’S HOME - CONTINUOUS
Malloy’s trapped, pressed against one end of the couch

while a boozy Taylor tries to unbutton his fly and one of
her Pomeranians humps his leg--
TAYLOR SIMONE
Come on, don’t be shy...
Angel exits the bathroom and Malloy leaps up--
MALLOY
What too you so long?
THICK VIC enters with two friends dressed like bikers.

The dogs start yapping again.
THICK VIC
What the hell is this?
Taylor’s up, spilling her drink with each wild gesture--
TAYLOR SIMONE
Get your shit and get the hell out. Got
me a new boyfriend now... someone who
respects me, you junkie piece of shit.
She tries to grasp onto Malloy but he steps out of range

as she clumsily claws the air with those pink talons.
THICK VIC
Lying whore! You told me you were too
sore from your last surgery and now I
find you banging some guy behind my back?
TAYLOR SIMONE
Maybe if you had something else between
your legs than that roadkill snake of
yours I wouldn’t need other guys!
THICK VIC
I got no problem getting it up for
Roxette.
Taylor launches herself at Thick Vic and the two bikers

try to pull them off of each other. The dogs go wild.
Angel and Malloy quickly sneak out amid the chaos--
PRE-LAP:
MALLOY (O.S.)
A hundred and eighty thousand...
INT. PALMVIEW MOTEL ROOM - AFTER MIDNIGHT (LATER)
Start out on the STACKS OF CASH Angel and Malloy have

emptied on the bed beside the open case.
ANGEL
That’s what I got, too. Doesn’t seem
like much, does it? I mean after
everything, it hardly seems worth it.
Malloy piles the cash back into the case, closes it and
lies back, wincing in pain. He sets his gun and
cigarettes on the table beside the bed, closing his eyes
for a much-needed rest.
Still on the bedspread is Lia’s original note and the

LIST of girls, which Angel unfolds. Lia’s sister - ANA
ALBU - smiles up at Angel in her passport photo--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I could use a shower.
She grabs THE CASE AND HER OVERNIGHT BAG--
INT. MOTEL BATHROOM - LATER
Angel wipes her hand across a fogged mirror. Freshly

showered, she shakes her shock of blonde hair dry.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I felt human again.
That TEDDY BEAR stares at her with one unblinking plastic

eye from her open bag on the counter by the case.

But for what I intended to do next, I
needed to look all woman.
She uses her fingers to comb her spiky bangs over her
forehead, looking more feminine. Applies the lipstick
she swiped from Tabby. Pulls the BOOTS from the bag.
INT. MOTEL ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Angel exits the bathroom wearing nothing but the boots

and the lipstick.
Malloy sits up on the edge of the bed, watching her set

the BRIEFCASE in the closet and toss her bag in a chair.
MALLOY
Angel...
He wants to protest but she doesn’t let him... closing

in... Confident again. Feminine again. Wild.
Any words of resistance from Malloy are lost in a hungry

kiss. Then his big, strong hands are on her and she
shivers at his touch, having wanted this for so long...
Angel unzips his jeans. Malloy breaks away, trying to

say something but Angel kisses him again, hard.
She knows what he’s going to say - she’s heard it from

plenty of guys who can’t get past the porn star thing,
worried they won’t “measure up” to other guys. Without a
word she lets Malloy know he has nothing to worry about.
Raw lust building, her hand glides down to open his

pants, sensing his body vibrating with leashed desire.
She unleashes him--
INT. MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT/EARLY MORNING (LATER)
Blue neon light filters through curtained windows,

casting the room in its supernatural glow.
Angel and Malloy lay together, bodies sugared with drying

sweat and fluids. It’s the first real human contact
Angel’s had in days and it soothes her.
Malloy lights a cigarette. The orange glow of the cherry

warms over his face, competing with that blue glow.
MALLOY
Maybe we should just say fuck it and get
out of town.
ANGEL
You asking me to run away with you?
MALLOY
We go to Mexico. A hundred and eighty
grand’s not much but it goes a long way
down there.
ANGEL
I can’t. They still have to get what’s
coming to them.
Malloy sucks on the cigarette, orange light warming over

them again.
MALLOY
Men like that never get what’s coming to
them, Angel.
(beat)
I once told you I did things I regret...
Malloy exhales A VEIL OF SMOKE. Keen eyes might notice

visual similarities to “Tom” during Angel’s torture.
MALLOY (CONT’D)
After my wife left me and took our
daughter, I didn’t date for a long time.
Then I met someone on the job. A pro.
Angel’s surprised a cop like Malloy would date a hooker

but says nothing. Malloy senses this and quickly adds--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
She never took a dime from me. Her pimp
found out she was dating a cop and tried
to use her against me. When she refused,
he killed her. Guy was connected.
Greased all the right wheels and walked.
She was just another dead hooker to him,
but to me...
Sensing his profound sadness Angel leans in, tempted to

kiss him... to hold him... something--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
I couldn’t think of anything else but
what I was going to do to him. It ate me
up. I drank. I lost my badge. I lost
everything. It was like being in love,
that same purity... Only it was hate.
Malloy looks like he might cry. Another drag on the

cigarette and he loses that look in its warm embrace--
MALLOY (CONT’D)
Took me three long years but I got him.
Drove him out to the desert and made him
sorry for what he did. When it was
over... when I finally watched him take
his last breath I didn’t feel any
different. I still missed her. And I
still hated him. My life became so
consumed with vengeance that when the job
was done I had nothing left. No purpose
anymore.
(looks at Angel)
I just don’t want you to have to go
through that, too.
ANGEL
I know you’re right. I do. But I can’t
walk away from this. Not yet. Not until
it’s done. Maybe after...
Angel realizes just then she’s really fallen for Malloy--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
After for sure.
Disappointed, Malloy nods his head, stubbing out the

cigarette. That blue light wraps around them again.
MALLOY
Okay, Angel.
(smiles faintly)
If that’s the way you want it.
Angel climbs on top of Malloy, kissing him--
ANGEL
I’ll show you the way I want it...
INT. MOTEL ROOM - THE WEE SMALL HOURS (LATER STILL)
CLOSE ON: Angel asleep. The deepest sleep she’s had

since this whole ordeal began.
The WAIL OF A SIREN rouses her. Sounds close. Being LA,

she expects it to fade away. But it doesn’t. Sounds
like it’s right outside the motel...
She turns over to find MALLOY’S NOT LAYING BESIDE HER.
She gets up and looks in the bathroom: Lights off. Empty.

Looks at the BEDSIDE TABLE, where Malloy left his gun and
his cigarettes. Both gone.
Looks at the chair: OVERNIGHT BAG still where she put it.
Slides open the closet: The briefcase is gone.
EXT. ALLEY NEAR MOTEL - MOMENTS LATER
Gawkers, police and ambulances at the edge of A CORDON.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Malloy once told me everything was about
money.
THE CRIME SCENE: MALLOY face up, dead on the pavement.

Two in the chest. That familiar BRIEFCASE nearby. Damn.

I should have listened to him.
PULL BACK AND INTERCUT WITH:
INT./EXT. OLDS 442 - SAME
We’ve been watching through Angel’s eyes. She’s behind

the wheel parked beyond the cordon.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Maybe he saw all that cash and got
stupid. Or maybe the whole time he was
just playing me: after the money for
himself.
From under the brim of her cap: a soul-torn look, as

Angel stares at the body of the man she trusted - the man
who betrayed her.

I like to think a part of him was
actually torn in the end. That his offer
to run away to Mexico was real. At least
for a moment. Guess I’ll never know.
She watches DETECTIVE ERLICHMAN lean over Malloy’s body,

looking into the dead eyes of his friend.

I wanted to feel sad. To mourn for this
man who saved me and and betrayed me.
Erlichman lays THE CASE on the hood of a cruiser.

But all I felt was a giddy, weightless
sense of purpose.
Erlichman opens the case: There’s no money. The case is

stuffed with motel towels and toiletries. Sitting on top
is Angel’s TEDDY BEAR with eyes as lifeless as Malloy’s.
ANGEL’S OVERNIGHT BAG
sits on the seat beside her, open so we can see all those
STACKS OF CASH she transferred out of the case earlier.

Sam was gone. Didi. Now Malloy. I had
absolutely no one left. Nothing to lose.
Angel drops the transmission into drive and rumbles off.

Stripped down to fighting weight, there’s
nothing standing between me and what I
knew I needed to do now.
At the last second ERLICHMAN LOOKS UP, tracking the

engine noise. But Angel’s already gone--
EXT. LOS ANGELES - DAWN (ESTABLISHING)
Sunrise in the city of angels. Our Angel...
EXT./INT. VAN NUYS HOME DEPOT - EARLY MORNING
In the lot is the OLDS looking out of place next to the

contractors’ vans and trucks parked there at this hour.
Inside, we track along as items are pulled off the shelf

and tossed inside a CART: A pick. A shovel. A folding
lawn chair. Zip ties. Duct tape. Plastic sheeting.
Angel’s shopping list for revenge...
EXT. VIXEN VIDEO PRODUCTIONS - DAY
Jesse’s black Ferrari pulls into the North Hollywood

production office’s parking lot and he jumps out.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I staked out all the spots I knew Jesse
might show.
REVERSE ANGLE: ACROSS THE STREET Angel sits in the Olds.

After the third place, I got lucky.
She watches JESSE EXIT the office with a friend - a

muscular man -- Jesse’s PERSONAL TRAINER. Jesse spies a
speck of dirt on the cherished Ferrari and rubs it off
before they drive away and Angel follows.
EXT. SHERMAN OAKS GYM - LATER
Ferrari’s out front. Angel in the Olds down the street.

Through an all-glass front Angel watches Jesse work out.
EXT. HEALTH FOOD CAFE - LATER
Jesse and his trainer dine al fresco, joined by THREE

BLONDES built like greyhounds with implants--
A GUNSHOT! A WATER GLASS EXPLODES! Screaming diners

duck as ANOTHER SHOT hits Jesse in the shoulder, blood
flying. A THIRD hits him square in the chest--
Terrified, a dying Jesse watches ANGEL BOLDLY WALK TO HIS

TABLE, firing with each step: BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!BLAM!
Total. Fucking. BADASS.
Hot, smoking brass rains from the ejector as ANGEL

MERCILESSLY SHOOTS JESSE until her gun clicks empty--
SMASH TO:
EXT. STREET ACROSS FROM CAFE - CONTINUOUS
Angel shooting Jesse was only fantasy, as she continues

to watch them eat lunch from a distance.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
It took every ounce of restraint not to
just walk up and blow that bastard away.
Jesse’s trainer pays the check and leaves with two of the
blondes. Jesse and the third blonde walk to the Ferrari.
Leaning on the hood she kisses and pulls him on top of

her. JESSE FREAKS, yanking her up, clearly worried more
about scratching the finish than getting laid. He
hustles her into the car where she goes down on him.
EXT. COFFEE SHOP - LATER
Jesse and the blonde stop off for non-fat soy lattes.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Jesse never seemed to be alone for long.
The blonde departs and not five seconds later Angel

watches Jesse hit on a lush and full-figured LATINA.
EXT. PARKING LOT OUTSIDE BED, BATH AND BEYOND - LATER
Jesse dry-humps the Latina in his car. Angel, slightly

disgusted, watches from the Olds parked on the street.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
And the caliber of tail this guy was
getting was unbelievable.
The Latina exits the car, adjusting her skirt as Jesse

drives off.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Enjoy it while it lasts, asshole.
EXT. JESSE’S HOUSE - DUSK (LATER)
The Ferrari winds up the roads of West Hills, an upscale

San Fernando Valley neighborhood. Jesse pulls into the
drive of a darkened two-story house with sweeping views.
Angel pulls up on the street opposite his drive.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
First time Jesse was alone all day. I
might not get this chance again...
Angel watches Jesse exit, her big 455 cubic-inch engine

idling. She looks guiltily at that BOBBLE-HEADED GIMP
DOLL--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Damn. Ulka’s going to kill me.
ON JESSE: He pops the trunk (in the front of the rear-

engine Ferrari) and gets his workout bag--
HEADLIGHTS FLARE. AN ENGINE ROARS--
The 442 barrels up the drive SMASHING into his Ferrari!
JESSE
What the fuck!?
The Olds backs up: That Italian carbon fiber didn’t fare
well against good ‘ol U.S. of A. steel and chrome.
Jesse shades his eyes from the HIGH BEAMS of the 442,
trying to figure out who did this to his favorite toy.
JESSE (CONT’D)
You’ve got an ass-whupping coming to you
mother fu--
Silhouetted against the bright lights, ANGEL CLOSES,

Jesse unable to get a good look at her.
ANGEL
What’s the matter... I’m not your
favorite anymore, Jesse?
Jesse pauses, recognizing the voice, giving Angel the

moment she needs: She chops down on Jesse’s head with the
butt of her gun, expecting it to drop him.
JESSE
Ah! What the fuck!
It doesn’t drop him but it hurts like hell, blood pouring

through Jesse’s fingers from a scalp wound--
JESSE (CONT’D)
You fucking bi--
Angel clubs Jesse again, holding the gun by the barrel

and swinging it like a hammer this time--
FADE TO BLACK:
EXT. OLDS 442 - NIGHT
Headlights probe a dark void, finding juniper bushes and

patches of chaparral as the tires crunch over hardpan.
The car comes to a dusty halt. Angel opens the trunk to

reveal JESSE, hands and feet zip-tied, trying to scream
through his gag.
ANGEL
Stop complaining. This is the Taj Mahal
compared to the trunk you dumped me in.
She wrestles Jesse out of the trunk. It’s not easy. He

squirms. He struggles. He swears. But in the end he
lands on the hard desert floor with a puff of dust--
EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - CONTINUOUS
Jesse finds he’s in the middle of nowhere: vast, starlit

emptiness in every direction. A COYOTE HOWLS, echoing
off the indigo backbone of the distant San Gabriels.
Jesse jumps when that PICK AND SHOVEL land beside him
with a ominous CLANK.
EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - NIGHT/EARLY MORNING (LATER)
Stripped to her t-shirt, Angel digs A GRAVE in the hard

and unwilling ground, silhouetted by the headlights.
Jesse, still gagged, is tied to that lawn chair, watching

her. His personal items are in a pile nearby. Wallet.
Keys. CELLPHONE. He tries to stretch his foot to reach
the phone but it’s impossible - he’s tied down securely.
Four feet down Angel climbs out and walks over, Jesse’s
eyes never leaving that PISTOL tucked in her jeans. She
rips the gag from his mouth--
JESSE
You’re never going to get away with this!
ANGEL
Yes. I will.
Angel drinks from a nearby water bottle--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
You watched me dig your grave. There’s
no one out here but us. No one to rescue
you.
Jesse deflates - of course he knows all that.
JESSE
What do you want?
She comes over. Plants the shovel in the pile of dirt at

Jesse’s feet and leans on the handle, glaring at him--
ANGEL
Start with the case of money Lia stole.
The one I now have.
Jesse looks at that hole.
JESSE
It belongs to my uncle, Alan Ridgeway.
He invests in things: Restaurants. Real
estate. Clubs. Dirty movies.
ANGEL
Ridgeway... do I know him?
JESSE
You two have met--
CUT TO:
INT. OLD MANSION - BEDROOM (FLASHBACK)
ALAN RIDGEWAY is “TOM”, staring down at us with that cold

look of detachment on his face, the way someone regards a
bug they just stepped on--
BACK TO:
EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - CONTINUOUS
JESSE
He was the guy calling the shots the day--
ANGEL
You mean the day you beat me, raped me,
shot me and left me for dead? Keep
talking... What’s the money for?
JESSE
We buy girls. The money was to pay for a
new shipment. My uncle’s man, Wilson,
was supposed to bring it to the pick-up,
only that little cunt--
WHACK! Angel clocks Jesse in the head with the shovel.
ANGEL
Lia. Her name was Lia.
JESSE
Fuck! All right, Lia, his little
“girlfriend” got under his skin.
(MORE)
JESSE (CONT'D)
Stole the case and escaped when his pants
were down.
ANGEL
Tell me about this pick-up.
JESSE
Untie me first.
ANGEL
Not until you tell me everything.
Angel smiles, straddling him in the chair. But she’s not

going to beat him the way he did her - she has other
methods, purring like Jesse once did to her:
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I’ll make it real good for you, Jesse. I
promise.
CLOSE UP now, everything from a low angle and back-lit by

the Olds. Jesse’s confused: on one hand, this is oddly
erotic to him; on the other, he’s fucking terrified--
JESSE
Every six months or so we get a new
shipment. These guys my uncle knows have
a whole scam going, flying them in from
overseas. We buy girls from them.
Angel pulls out the LIST of girls--
ANGEL
Girls like these? Let me guess, they’re
promised jobs, only when they get here,
they’re kidnapped. Sold into
prostitution? Forced to make movies?
She leans forward, pressing against him as she questions

him, chair tipping back, Jesse off-balance--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Is that what you do to them, Jesse?
JESSE
Yes. Then we sell the used-up ones--
ANGEL
Used-up?
JESSE
The ones who don’t look so good anymore.
Ones with HIV or Hep C. Or are too
strung out to earn their keep.
Angel stands and THE CHAIR TIPS ALL THE WAY OVER. Jesse
bangs his head on the ground.
JESSE (CONT’D)
Jesus!
ANGEL
What happens to them?
Jesse can’t help but smile that smart-assed grin of his--
JESSE
They get to go frolic and play in
beautiful green fields with the other
little kitties and doggies and whores--
ANGEL KICKS JESSE so hard he and the chair fly back into
the hole--
JESSE (CONT’D)
Fucking bitch! You want to know what
happens? We sell ‘em for cheap down in
Mexico. Maybe they make tacos out of
them, how do I know? All I know is
they’re a bunch of useless old skags.
ANGEL
Old skags? What are they, nineteen?
We’re not fucking disposable, Jesse.
JESSE
You wanted me to tell you and I told you.
We make money off them. A lot of money.
Angel starts shoveling dirt on top of Jesse. He coughs

and gags and blinks away dirt-stained tears--
JESSE (CONT’D)
Hey, it’s not me. My uncle does this!
Get me out of here! I can’t breathe!
ANGEL
Where are the girls, Jesse?
She piles on another shovelful. JESSE PISSES HIMSELF,

suddenly concerned with appearances--
JESSE
Oh god... don’t let me go like this.
She keeps piling on the dirt--
ANGEL
Where do you keep them?
JESSE
My uncle owns this apartment complex off
Tujunga out past Vanowen. Real out of
the way.
Angel nods and Jesse thinks he’s got his reprieve...

until Angel keeps shoveling dirt in--
JESSE (CONT’D)
I told you want you want! I never meant
to hurt you. I just wanted to have a
little fun. It was Ridgeway. He made me
do it. Planned the whole thing. He’s
the one you want, not me.
ANGEL
Don’t worry. I’ll get him, too.
Jesse begins to cry as Angel holds up HER GUN, mimicking

the sideways aim Jesse used on her earlier--
JESSE
Angel, please! Please don’t do this!
Please...
Angel smirks as she slowly turns the pistol right-side

up, aiming correctly--
ANGEL
What was that stupid line you said to me,
Jesse? Oh yeah: End of the line, bitch.
Angel’s FIRST SHOT blows away Jesse’s pride and manhood.

His one asset. HE HOWLS AND HOWLS LIKE A GUT-SHOT DOG.
She lets him squirm and suffer. Then TWO MORE SHOTS
center mass shut him the fuck up. Jesse dies, his last
howl clipped mid-stream, sighing out one final breath.
EXT. MOJAVE DESERT - DAWN (LATER)
We start high above the Olds and JESSE’S FILLED-IN GRAVE.

ANGEL (NARRATION)
All that digging left me too tired to
dance on Jesse’s grave, so I sat there
for a while, trying to savor the moment.
Come down beside ANGEL sitting on the ground, leaning

against the side of the car, watching the sun rise.

Malloy was right. Killing Jesse did
nothing to fill my vengeance-shaped hole.
(beat)
Only he got one thing wrong...
She pulls that LIST out again, smoothing it out so she

can see THE FACES OF SIX WOMEN in the morning light.

I still do have a purpose.
EXT./INT. OLDS 442 - MORNING (LATER)
Angel heads back south towards Los Angeles along SR 14.
EXT./INT. NORTH HOLLYWOOD APARTMENT COMPLEX - DAY
The Olds is parked in front of a three-story tower in

avocado green. In disrepair, the place stands out on a
block of nice and neat apartments, patches of mismatched
grey stucco give the tower a speckled, diseased look.
The windows have been BLACKED OUT WITH FOIL, to stop

prying eyes looking in. Or out. Curious, too, are the
SECURITY BARS on the upper floors.
A TRUCK RUMBLES past on the street, vibrations making the

GIMP shake its little bobble head at Angel. If he could
talk, he’d tell her: “This is a bad idea, Angel.”
But she’s not listening. Angel gets out and walks along
the property. A chain-link fence cuts off the sidewalk
from a weedy courtyard, too high to climb. There’s an
underground parking entrance but it’s also gated.
She walks around the side, a narrow space between a

neighboring building. There’s a series of GRIMY WINDOWS
set near the ground looking in on the underground garage.
Angel looks around, then smashes one window with the gun--
INT. DARK UNDERGROUND PARKING GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
Angel squeezes through the broken window and drops into

realm of shadows. We recognize the place from Lia’s
flashback, where she and the other girls were first
menaced by Wilson and Harry.
She finds an ELEVATOR and presses the call button. The

doors open - it’s empty. She doesn’t notice a SECURITY
CAMERA tucked in the corner, watching her--
SECURITY CAMERA P.O.V.:
Grainy black-and-white video as Angel steps into the

elevator.
INT. NORTH HOLLYWOOD APARTMENT COMPLEX - CONTINUOUS
The elevator opens on the main floor. There’s an entry

that looks out into that weedy courtyard but the doors
are CHAINED AND PADLOCKED. Angel takes the elevator to--
THE SECOND FLOOR:
Angel steps out into the hall. It’s quiet and empty. A
little spooky, too - one overhead light flickers and hums
with a faulty fluorescent bulb.
There are a half-dozen units on this level, each one

padlocked. Angel rounds the corner and finds--
WILSON
Hey, Angel. Nice haircut.
Surprised, Angel tries to raise her pistol but Wilson’s

faster, juicing her with a police-issue STUN GUN. ZZZAP!
INT. SEX DUNGEON STAGE - SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Angel comes to. She’s in a bedroom painted to look like

a MEDIEVAL DUNGEON, walls like stone and mortar. Various
torture machines and whips and collars on racks.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I’d been out for hours. Took a moment
but I recognized where I was: this was
the set of the Naughty Teens video I saw
Lia in.
Her cuffs have been removed and she’s strapped on a prop

“torture rack” -- painted 2x4s and leather tie downs.
Wilson comes in holding Angel’s pistol.
WILSON
So you’re all tough now, huh? Little
girl with a big, bad gun, that it?
He sets the gun aside and strips off his trench coat,
laying it on a nearby chair. He still wears his razor.
ANGEL
New shipment of girls coming?
Wilson stops, impressed by Angel’s question--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Jesse can be a real chatterbox when you
point a gun at his balls.
WILSON
We already bought them. Thanks to you
for bringing our money.
Wilson gestures to Angel’s OVERNIGHT BAG, retrieved from

the Olds and sitting on a counter.
WILSON (CONT’D)
Tonight, the old girls will be on their
way south. And you’ll join them.
He sits down beside Angel, unfolding his razor--
WILSON (CONT’D)
You’re supposed to look used and abused
when we dump you with the Mexicans.
Guess I have work extra hard to break you
in, huh?
He caresses her cheek with the flat of the blade--
WILSON (CONT’D)
Where is that idiot Jesse by the way?
ANGEL
Last I saw him he was screaming in a
shallow grave out past Lancaster with his
dick shot off.
Wilson laughs a bit, then realizes she’s serious.
WILSON
Never liked that kid. But Ridgeway’s got
a soft spot for his incompetent nephew.
He’s not going to like hearing he’s dead.
He uses his razor to cut away Angel’s Lakers jersey--
WILSON (CONT’D)
You may not make it to Mexico after all.
Slipping his razor in its holster he tears her jeans off

and climbs on top, kissing her - sloppy and inexpertly -
like a teenager, while Angel tries to UNDO ONE STRAP--
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Make enough porn movies and you’ll get
tied up at least once on camera. Usually
the guys doing the tying are pros but
Wilson was a lousy rigger. I just need
to keep him distracted--
Angel surprises Wilson by passionately kissing him back--
WILSON
Like that, huh bitch? Thought you would.
Wilson isn’t paying any attention as Angel slips her hand

free of the restraint. She reaches for THE RAZOR... Gets
it. Flicks it open against Wilson’s throat: HE FREEZES.
ANGEL
Get the fuck off me.
Angel sits up and quickly slashes the binding on her

other wrist. Wilson reaches for THE PISTOL he set aside
but Angel slashes his arm and she gets the gun instead--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Back against that wall, asshole.
There are working manacles bolted to the wall as part of

the torture stage and Angel cuffs Wilson.
WILSON
Fucking bitch, I’m bleeding to death!
Angel takes a BALL GAG from the rack of torture

implements and fits it tightly over Wilson’s mouth.
Clothes in shreds, she slips on his trench coat. Inside

its deep pockets she finds Wilson’s stun gun and KEYS--
INT. LIVING ROOM (FARMHOUSE SET) - CONTINUOUS
Angel exits the bedroom feeling a little like Dorothy

back from Oz. It’s where we saw Lia with Wilson earlier.
Camera gear. Costumes. Make-up and WIGS. She exits--
INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Empty. She moves to another apartment. After listening

to the padlocked door she unlocks it with Wilson’s keys--
INT. LIVING ROOM (PRISON SET) - CONTINUOUS
Another movie set with little wooden cells.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
Each one of these apartments had been
converted into studio sets for porn
movies. Each a different fantasy.
She moves toward the back and flicks on the light in a

bedroom to reveal another set: a LITTLE GIRL’S ROOM with
cotton candy pink canopy bed and plush toys everywhere.
INT. APARTMENT - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Angel pads down the hall to open another locked door--
INT. EMPTY TWO-BEDROOM APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
Bare of furniture or set-dressing. There’s more camera

cases and boxes. Another rack of costumes and clothes.
Angel figures it’s empty until she hears a NOISE behind

the bedroom door. Gripping the pistol tightly--
ANGEL
Hello...?
The door opens slightly and two huge eyes peer out at
her. A 20-YEAR-OLD GIRL timidly steps out, skinny to the
point of malnourishment. Another girl peeks behind her.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Hi.
No reaction. Angel shoves the gun into her coat pocket.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Either of you speak English?
Still nothing from the girls, just staring at her. Then--
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE (O.S.)

I do... Some...
A tall, LANKY BRUNETTE comes out. She was at LAX with

Lia, but we hardly recognize her. There are FIVE GIRLS
packed into the bedroom -- they all came over with Lia.
ANGEL
I’m here to get you out. Do you
understand?
The Romanian Girl nods, but really doesn’t believe Angel.

She and the others figured they’d die here eventually.
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Is there anyone else here?
The brunette points to the BACK BEDROOM. This one also

has a PADLOCK on it. Angel unlocks it, light falling on
the faces of SIX VERY YOUNG, VERY SCARED GIRLS. Unlike
the other girls, these women have a healthier look.
One’s a dead-ringer for Lia - her little sister, ANA

ALBU. Ana smiles at Angel through a drugged-out stupor.
They’re all high as kites, with fresh NEEDLE MARKS.
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE
Drugs... to keep us quiet. Easier to
deal with at first when we still have
some fire in us...
The Romanian Girl shows Angel her own needle-marked arm.
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE (CONT’D)

After a while it makes no difference.
Naked under her coat, Angel slips on a vinyl miniskirt

from the costume rack. Hardly ideal but there’s not much
to choose from. A bustier replaces the shirt Wilson
ruined. Lastly, she steps into thigh-high boots.
ANGEL
Anyone else here?
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE
There was one other.
ANGEL
Lia...
ROMANIAN BRUNETTE
Yes! She is okay?
ANGEL
(hesitates...)
She got free.
INT. SEX DUNGEON STAGE - MOMENTS LATER
Wilson’s chained to the wall but trying to pry the

manacles free. Angel slips the ball gag off--
WILSON
--gonnafuckingkillyou!
ANGEL
Ridgeway... where is he?
WILSON
Fuck you, bitch--
Angel grabs him by the hair as she presses the razor to

WILSON’S CROTCH. He stops struggling.
ANGEL
Does it look like I’m fucking around?
WILSON
OkayOkay! Ridgeway has a joint, out near
the Van Nuys airport, across the
tracks... Sneaky Pete’s!
His eyes widen when THE GIRLS file in after Angel to find
their tormentor and captor chained up. Though the words
whispered between them are foreign, their rage comes
through loud and clear.
ANGEL
Not your biggest fans... Wonder why?
Hot coals of murder burn in the Romanian brunette’s eyes.

They’re ready to tear Wilson apart and he knows it.
WILSON
Hey, wait--
Angel fits the ball gag back into Wilson’s mouth before
handing THE RAZOR to the Romanian brunette--
ANGEL
He’s all yours, ladies.
The brunette FLICKS THE RAZOR OPEN.
Panicked, Wilson hyperventilates behind his gag. Angel

exits and over her shoulder we see the girls surround and
close on Wilson like hungry wolves.
We can’t see what happens but Wilson’s screams, muffled

by the gag, come out as impotent squeaks.
INT. LIVING ROOM (HIGH SCHOOL LOCKER ROOM SET) - SAME
Angel picks up a cherry red WIG and fits it on her head.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I realized the whole time I’d been going
about this the wrong way. I tried to be
some movie tough guy. Malloy with tits.
Adjusts the wig... then her cleavage.

I knew now there was only one way to get
to Ridgeway.
As the finishing touch, Angel applies GLOSSY RED

LIPSTICK. Her warpaint--

A girl’s gotta use her natural skills...
CUT TO:
CLOSE UP: A HOT PINK GIRL FROLICS AROUND A STRIPPER-POLE--
EXT. SNEAKY PETE’S - - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT (LATER)
She’s an ANIMATED NEON SIGN, forever dancing above the

parking lot of this sketchy, run-down joint. LIGHTNING
FLASHES in the distance - a rare LA thunderstorm brewing.
PARKING LOT: A hard rain falls. Neon reflects off the

wet asphalt, rain collecting in puddles of molten pink.
KLIP-KLOP-KLIP-KLOP... We hear Angel’s boots CLOCKING ON

THE BLACKTOP before the camera finds her, following close
behind. She marches with determination, approaching a
familiar BENTLEY parked out front in a handicapped spot.
ANGEL (NARRATION)
I recognized the Bentley from the Bel Air
mansion Sam lured me to. Ridgeway’s.
ANGEL KEYS THE CAR-- SKREEEEEE! Curls of hand-rubbed

paint spiral off as Angel enters--
INT. SNEAKY PETE’S - CONTINUOUS
The place is pretty dead. A STRIPPER lazily gyrates on-

stage as a handful of middle-aged men lay dollar bills on
the rail.
Angel sees ALAN RIDGEWAY at a table. He seems bored,

more interested in his phone instead of the topless
dancer. The song ends--
DJ
Give it up for Amber... Amber, gentlemen,
show her some love.
Angel struts over the DJ BOOTH. The oily MANAGER, with a

ponytail and tattooed sleeves, drinks a beer--
MANAGER
Looking for work?
ANGEL
(baby-dolling it)
I know it’s late but I was hoping you’d
let me audition tonight. If I impress,
maybe I can get some shifts this weekend?
The manager eyes Angel up and down--
MANAGER
Okay, sugar. It’s a slow night. You can
go next. G-strings on stage. Full nude
in the champagne room. Any extras are up
to you.
Angel shrugs out of her overcoat, laying her bag down.
DJ
Something you want to dance to?
She flips through CDs, pulling AC/DC’s Highway to Hell--
ANGEL
Track eight, please.
DJ
Old school. Nice. Got a name, doll?
She looks over her shoulder to RIDGEWAY AT THE BAR--
ANGEL
Vendetta. My name’s Vendetta.
DJ
Cool. You’re on now--
(into mic)
Gentlemen, we have a smoking hot treat
for you tonight, a show-stopping little
lady ready to shake that money-maker.
Boys, get ready to meet Vendetta!
CENTER STAGE:
The lights dim as Angel takes the stage.
A BLACK VOID--
Then the first electric chords of AC/DC’s “If You Want

Blood (You’ve Got It)” powers through the amps.
A SINGLE CRIMSON SPOT DROPS ON ANGEL AT THE POLE--
She slowly struts around the pole. Been a while since

she’s had to do this but by the time the drums kick in...
ANGEL GOES TO WORK--
Her impressive moves - Nadia Comaneci channeling Bob

Fosse - wake up the sleepy club. This is Angel Dare.
And this is why she’s a star.
She drops to her knees, stalks forward on the stage like

a caged tiger... rolls on her back and pops up, bouncing
her ass in Ridgeway’s direction.
Patrons lay money on the rail, clapping and hooting as

Angel works up a sweat.
RIDGEWAY wasn’t paying attention earlier but now he can’t

look away. He moves to the rail and lays a twenty at her
feet.
Angel smiles then pivots. Tosses her bustier and grabs

the pole for some serious anti-grav antics--
BON SCOTT (SINGING)

“Blood on the rocks... Blood on
streets... Blood in the skyyyy... Blood
on the sheets...”
Dismounting like an Olympian she drops into a split-V

then slowly... rises.... up... to her feet in an
impossible display of muscle control--
BON SCOTT (SINGING) (CONT’D)

“If you want blood, you got it...”
ANGEL LOCKS EYES WITH RIDGEWAY, POINTING AT HIM ACROSS

THE VOID as she perfectly lip syncs Bon Scott’s lyrics--
ANGEL/BON SCOTT
“I want you to bleeeeed for me--”
The song fades with a shower of green and applause--

Angel steps off stage and slips into her overcoat.
MANAGER
(clapping)
You can start Friday.
Angel ignores him and heads to the back, laying

Ridgeway’s twenty on the bar for the BARTENDER--
ANGEL
Water.
Angel drinks it down, sweat glistening as she turns and

looks Ridgeway right in the eye--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Care to get to know me better?
Angel nods in the direction of the CHAMPAGNE ROOM--
RIDGEWAY
Cut the hard sell. I own the place.
ANGEL
Oh. Sorry, boss. You didn’t look like
the sort who comes to a place like this.
RIDGEWAY
Yeah? What sort do I look like?
ANGEL
Sophisticated. Someone with taste.
RIDGEWAY
You’re still working me.
ANGEL
Maybe. But if I owned a place like this,
I’d want to make sure all the merchandise
is top shelf.
Angel lets her coat fall open, exposing her curves--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Take it for a test spin.
The bartender looks at Ridgeway like: If you don’t, I

will. Ridgeway is seriously considering that test drive--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Come on... One song’s not gonna kill you.
INT. CHAMPAGNE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Angel closes the curtain behind them as the next song

begins. Ridgeway takes a seat around a stripper pole.
Angel shrugs out of her coat and gently plants a boot
between his legs.
Ridgeway runs his hand up Angel’s thigh as she leans

in... his fingertips trace along her bustier, moving
around her hips, her back... feeling THE PISTOL she has
tucked in her g-string--
RIDGEWAY
What the fuck?
CLICK! Before he knows what’s happening, Angel cuffs

Ridgeway’s wrists around the pole.
RIDGEWAY (CONT’D)
Hey! HEY!!
The bartender and manager rush in and freeze: They’re

staring down the barrel of Angel’s cocked pistol. She
doesn’t say a word, her don’t-fuck-with-me gaze never
leaving Ridgeway’s stare. The two wisely back out.
RIDGEWAY (CONT’D)
Who the fuck do you think you are, you
dumb bitch? What the hell is this?
Angel tosses her wig off. It takes a moment but Ridgeway

realizes who he’s dealing with. And it scares him, only
he doesn’t want to let her know that.
RIDGEWAY (CONT’D)
Angel Dare...
ANGEL
Still alive and kickin’. You know, you
could use better men on your payroll,
Alan. Ever consider hiring a woman?
RIDGEWAY
Okay, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you
had it in you. Clearly I was wrong.
Angel ignores Ridgeway’s prattle--
ANGEL
Oh no, you don’t really like women,
though, do you Alan? At least, only
women you can kidnap. Torture. Pimp
out, throw on film, or toss on a stage.
(MORE)
ANGEL (CONT'D)
That’s about all you think we’re good
for, isn’t it? Just use ‘em up and move
on to the next. A fucking rock star.
RIDGEWAY
Is this about money? Because I have
money. A lot of money--
ANGEL
Now who’s the dumb bitch? This was never
about money. It’s about Sam...
Zandora... Lia... Didi...
(sad beat)
Malloy.
RIDGEWAY
You mean that burnt-out ex-cop you had
helping you?
(laughs)
My guys tracked you two down to that
motel and who do they catch trying to
sneak out in the middle of the night with
the case? Your boyfriend.
He laughs, but it’s mostly bravado. Still, Angel doesn’t

want to hear it, pressing the gun to his temple, hard.
Ridgeway stops laughing and reaches down deep for this--
RIDGEWAY (CONT’D)
So you’re going to shoot me now? Okay,
go ahead. Throw your life away. Yeah,
sure, I’m a piece of shit. I’m a
criminal. I should be in jail.
(rattles his cuffs)
But this is straight-up murder, Angel.
By the time you get out of prison you’ll
be a dried-up hag. You’ll spend your
last, grey days rotting away in the old
porn star’s home with all the other has-
beens. So why not? Pull that trigger...
Angel lowers the gun and Ridgeway relaxes. He smiles

arrogantly, thinking he talked her out of killing him.
He’s got money... lawyers... he’s not cooked yet...
But Angel grabs a roll of GRIP TAPE she took from the
apartment, unspooling it. Ridgeway’s not certain what’s
about to happen next, but he’s no longer smiling--
ANGEL
Never said I was going to shoot you,
Alan. You don’t deserve to have it over
so quickly. Not for what you’ve done.
Angel slaps a strip over Ridgeway’s mouth. He tries to

talk but she unwinds more tape around his head--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Those women... the countless lives you
and your asshole pals destroyed.
She wraps tape around Ridgeway’s head like he’s a mummy,

covering his mouth... his nose...
ANGEL (CONT’D)
Your power over them is gone. And you’re
done deciding what happens to me.
Ridgeway squirms and bucks, unable to breathe. He

strains against the cuffs, hands trying to reach the tape
to pull it off but only clawing at the air...
ANGEL (CONT’D)
You don’t write my story. I do. You
don’t get say if I’m beautiful. I do.
You don’t get to say if I’m strong. I
do.
Ridgeway’s neck turns bright red to purple. His eyes

bug, ready to pop from his skull, veins throbbing as he
slowly suffocates until he slumps forward - DEAD.
Angel struts out of the curtains from the Champagne Room.

The place has gone quiet. Music’s stopped. Strippers
stand on stage, confused. The bartender’s unsure of what
to do while the manager’s on the phone to 911.
Angel shoots out the mirror on stage--
ANGEL
This place is out of business. Everybody
get out.
The manager seems confused for a beat until she points

the gun at him, looking quite eager to blow him away--
ANGEL (CONT’D)
I mean now, sugar.
The place empties out fast. Angel moves over to the DJ

station and puts on some music: AC/DC’s “Night Prowler.”
She pulls a BOTTLE OF BOURBON from behind the bar and

pours herself a shot as we hear distant POLICE SIRENS...
EXT. SNEAKY PETE’S - CONTINUOUS
Angel exits into the night. Two POLICE CRUISERS pull

into the lot as armed cops pour out.
MANAGER
There! That’s her over there!
Angel tosses her gun on the asphalt as the cops close in,
weapons drawn as they force her to the ground and cuff
her. Hauling her to her feet, Angel only smiles--
COP
I don’t know what you’re smiling about.
ANGEL
You know a Detective Erlichman? Call
him. He’s gonna want to talk to me.
COP
Yeah? And why would he want to do that?
ANGEL
Because... I’m Angel Dare.
FADE TO BLACK:
THE END

Money Shot - Symons

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Money Shot - Symons

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Screenplay by Kel Symons

Based on the novel by Christa Faust

Revised First Draft

A wasteland in Southern California’s Inland Empire. A

EXT. FURNITURE WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS

PUSH IN on a shitty BLUE HONDA CIVIC parked under one

CLOSER: ON THE TRUNK. More movement inside.

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

CLOSER: THREE BULLET HOLES punched through the lid. PUSH

INT. CIVIC TRUNK - CONTINUOUS

Dusty beams of amber reveal a landscape of shadows.

We make out curves of flesh - a NAKED WOMAN. We find a

Angel works to slip free of the rope tying her hands

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

VHS AUDITION TAPE:

Lit like an old Polaroid, we meet 20-year-old ANGEL DARE,

She begins confidently unbuttoning her top--

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

MONTAGE OF ANGEL DARE PORN SCENES

A SLOW-MO girl-on-girl scene with Angel-- 90’s-quality

CUT TO: Angel, fucked from behind, eyes locked on us--

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

INT. CIVIC TRUNK - (PRESENT)

She pounds her fist on the lid of the trunk, SCREAMING.

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

Each CRANK extends it a little further, METAL GROANING--

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

Another CRANK. And another. This may take a while...

INT. DARING ANGELS - LATE AFTERNOON (EARLIER THAT DAY)

Looks like any talent agency except for the framed

The camera finds ANGEL CHECKING OUT HER BODY in a full-

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

She checks the droop and bounce of each breast.

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

DIDI (50s) enters, Angel’s feisty office manager and Mom

A porn star back in the Deep Throat days, now Didi’s

Didi puts her glasses on her nose for a proper look--

Didi dangles a PIECE OF PAPER under Angel’s nose--

They look at each other, both knowing the answer:

ANGEL (CONT’D) DIDI

Didi balls up the bill and tosses in the waste bin.

The phone rings and Didi picks up--

Didi blows Angel a kiss on her way out.

SAM (ON PHONE)

SAM (ON PHONE)

Angel pulls up a booking calendar on her laptop--

SAM (ON PHONE)

SAM (ON PHONE)

SAM (ON PHONE)

MONTAGE OF JESSE BLACK PORN SCENES

Cut to a NON-SEX SCENE as Jesse stumbles through his

ANGEL (NARRATION) (CONT’D)

INT. DARING ANGELS - CONTINUOUS

SAM (ON PHONE)

SAM (ON PHONE)

Angel doesn’t want to let an old friend down, weakening--

SAM (ON PHONE)

Angel doesn’t really want to talk to Jesse... Too late--

JESSE (ON PHONE)

JESSE (ON PHONE)

Normally hearing about somebody who cut their teeth on

JESSE (ON PHONE)