It's a bunch of young agents and it's at a restaurant. What makes you think they're well mannered? JESS Bobby, this is a plumb gig. She turns to look at him and reacts to his horrifying appearance. They're young and rich and well mannered. What kind of bachelor party? JESS The easy kind. BOBBY (swallowing utter contempt) So, what kind of gig is this? JESS Easy night.
BEEBEEP PAID MAC
Bobby watches with cultivated patience as she applies tasteless amounts of make-up from a Mac case the size of a tackle box. Her ridiculously long legs are garnished with candy-apple porn star sky high heels. She's wearing slutty lingerie covered by a bland terry cloth bathrobe. What's worse is she's decked out like a whore. The pretty that makes a woman a full-time job. BOBBY Honey? JESS (O.S.) (O.S.) Where were you? He finds her in the bedroom. The apartment is Z-Gallery, with a few accents of Bobby's HAWAIIANA. JESSICA'S HOUSE - CONTINUOUS He lets himself in, searching for his girlfriend. He bounds up the stairs to the upper unit. JESSICA'S HOUSE - BLACKBURN - LOS ANGELES - NIGHT Bobby pulls up in front of the quaint Spanish Colonial two-flat. Ricky checks his pager, still furtively scanning the street. RICKY Cause if you don't know the number, I can page you with the number so you'll have the number. RICKY Of course I don't want you to bring it up to him.
RICKY I wouldn't keep bugging you, but you said he said he would have a job for us. RICKY How am I being shitty? BOBBY Don't be shitty.
You said if you didn't have a winning record- BOBBY Don't be shitty. RICKY Did Max mention anything about any jobs? BOBBY What about boxing? RICKY What about it? BOBBY What are you saying? RICKY You said if you didn't have a winning record after eleven fights, you'd talk to Max. Ricky smooths out his running suit and steals an instinctive cautionary look, scanning all the blind spots for predators. The light of the corner liquor store and a menthol cigarette billboard make up for the broken street lamps. RICKY'S APARTMENT - YUCCA CORRIDOR - NIGHT The opening SCORE dies away as Ricky sits beside Bobby. The Strip lights are first flickering to life. They drive down the palm tree lined stretch of road bordering Beverly Hills. It lands, still flaming, at the base of a 'No Smoking in the Canyon' sign. He finally ignites the whole book of matches in frustration, lights up, then tosses it out. The T-top is out, and Ricky struggles to light his cigarette in the wind. A Hawaiian mini warrior mask hangs from the rear view. The car is not in great shape, but in its day ruled the road. Bobby drives a black Special Edition 1979 Trans Am with the gold Firebird stenciled across the hood. Both their faces are swollen, verging on the grotesque. BOBBY'S CAR - COLDWATER CANYON - LOS ANGELES - SUNSET Bobby drives Ricky home through the winding twists of LA's landmark canyon. The crowd rises to its feet in appreciation of this rare level of competition in the lower strata of the heavyweight division. Neither man is holding back, and the punches all find purchase in the swelling faces of their opponent. Immediately the two fighters unload a relentless barrage of POWER PUNCHES.
They are drawn together to start the bout by a bell and a hand gesture as the REFEREE backs away. SPORTSMAN'S LODGE - SAN FERNANDO VALLEY - DAY A large crowd has gathered to watch two WHITE BOXERS square off in a temporary ring in the center of a converted banquet hall.
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