OVER BLACK 1 1 Quietly thumping dance music, the din of a lively party. Guests are greeted. They're excited, upbeat, talking over each other. VOICE #1 (O.S.) Marta, Kiri, oh my god hi, hi, hi. VOICE #3 (O.S.) Luuuiis! VOICE #2 (O.S.) Hello, sir. VOICE #3 (O.S.) (cont'd) How long's it been? INT. APARTMENT BUILDING HALLWAY - NIGHT 2 2 An exhausted man’s face, panting. This is DETECTIVE, 30s, handsome, scruffy. He struggles, carrying a heavy MICROWAVE toward the party. VOICE #1 (O.S.) Do I spy copious amounts of booze? You spoil me. VOICE #2 (O.S.) Obviously, let’s party! VOICE #3 (O.S.) Oh my god, it was December, at Malik's. Detective stops near the partygoers, who remain offscreen. The thumping bass is louder now. They are louder. DETECTIVE Excuse me. (straining to be heard) Excuse me. Any of you want a microwave? The pawn shop's clos— They cackle, shutting him down. They continue: VOICE #2 (O.S.) Wait, is Ella here yet? I have to see her immediately. VOICE #1 (O.S.) Malik's, that’s right! Oh, yeah, she’s right inside, come, come. Detective lives opposite. He fights to balance the microwave and open his door. 2. INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS 3 3 Detective staggers in, shuts the door with his back, immediately ditching the microwave on the floor. Voices outside are now muffled, indistinct. Their door closes, too. Only pulsing bass remains. Detective's studio apartment is sparse, yet messy. A couple dead plants, a mattress on the floor, and a cheap folding table & lone chair. On the table is a browned, HALF EATEN APPLE, empty takeout containers, scrunched paper towels, and a LAPTOP. With his last ounce of energy, Detective takes his phone out and dials. DETECTIVE Can you come over? He hears a response, then hangs up. INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - LATER 4 4 It's dark. Reverberating bass persists - slower, quieter. The door unlocks. Backlit by the hall, a silhouette figure slips inside. BANG! A foot hits the microwave. We hear a sharp inhale through gritted teeth. WOMAN (whispered) Shit. This is TRISH, 40s, heavy on the makeup, light on the clothes. CLOSE ON: THE FOOT OF THE BED - Trish's feet step into frame, her heels come off. CAMERA TRUCKS RIGHT - following her next step as her mini-skirt falls to the floor. Another step - her top. She slides into bed with Detective. TRISH (tenderly) Hey, baby, I’m here. Are you awake? He groans. 2. 3. TRISH (cont'd) Should I start? DETECTIVE Yeah. She snuggles close, spooning him. TRISH I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you. You're doing so well. Everyone says they had a great time with you, and they miss you. They can’t wait to see you again. Everything’s gonna be ok, ya know? Everything’s gonna be ok. I’m here. I’m here for you. You’re doing so well. I love you. I’m so, so proud of— INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - LATER 5 5 Silence. Detective is the big spoon. Trish's eyes open. TRISH Mmm. What’s this poking me, huh? She reaches behind to feel him under the covers. He stirs. TRISH (cont'd) You awake? Wanna have fun? DETECTIVE (sleepily) No, I... you know I don’t. Thats not... She retracts her hand. TRISH I know, baby, ok, go back to sleep. I’ve gotta go anyway. She gets up, flicks the light on, and hovers over the table - her eyes searching. TRISH (cont'd) Um. Where is it? No response. She grabs the HALF EATEN APPLE and throws it at Detective. He moans. TRISH (cont'd) Wake up sleepy fuck. Where is it? 3. 4. DETECTIVE Table. Upturning everything on the table: TRISH No, no it’s not. Where is it? DETECTIVE Ah, shit. Sorry, I forgot, I don't have enough. I shouldn't have called. Furious, she dresses. TRISH Are you fucking kidding? I told you. I told you. What did I tell you? This is the one fucking thing... She yanks his pants off the floor, rifling through them. Finds a few dollars. TRISH (cont'd) This all you got? She stuffs them in her bra, finishes dressing. DETECTIVE Please, Shel—uh Trish, that's all I got, I need it for— TRISH —You need? You need? You think I don’t need this? You think I’m, what, a fucking charity? I look like a charity to you? She bolts to the door. TRISH (cont'd) We're done. Don't call me again. DETECTIVE Im sorry, you know I am, I'll pay you ba— Lights flick off, the door slams. Darkness. Silence. Detective sits with his shame for a moment. He pulls on an unwashed t-shirt from the floor. 4. 5. FOCUS ON TABLE AND CHAIR. Bare footsteps approach, Detective slumps into his seat. He opens the laptop, illuminating his face. We don’t see the screen. He pauses, then begins scrolling. He stops, exhales through his nose. He types, clicks a couple times, closes the laptop. INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - DAY 6 6 Detective is brushing his teeth and hurriedly searching for breakfast. He finds a takeout container in the fridge, checks it - moldy. Cabinet - nothing. Re-checks the fridge, hoping to see something different. Pauses for a moment. Pulls out a half-full JAR OF MAYONNAISE. He spits toothpaste into the sink, grabs a spoonful of mayo, brings it to his lips. What choice does he have? He puts it in his mouth. Disgusting. He swallows. He digs out a second spoonful. INT. OFFICE - DAY 7 7 A cramped, bland office, next to a window, SAM - 50s, dorky, fast talking and endlessly jovial - sits bolt-upright across a small desk from Detective. On the desk is a DESK PHONE and SMALL PLANT. Sam carefully wipes the leaves with a cloth. SAM Just a couple more: What makes you particularly suited to being an operations manager? DETECTIVE Uh... As you know from my resume, I was a detective for about 10 years. But what isn’t on there is that my case... uh, clearance rate, was higher than the average for the state. So— SAM —Oh, very impressive, detective. I bet you used to walk around with your head held high. 5. 6. DETECTIVE Well... the numbers, they’re good for the department, sure. But there's too many that don't... (trailing off) And nothing's... nothing's worth... He’s lost in thought. The lights fade, theatrically, until Detective is spot-lit. Minor-key instrumental music slowly fades in. INT. A BLACK VOID 8 8 Music continues. Complete blackness, no discernible detail except the floor, which has scuff marks. A ballerina dances in plain white leotard. MICHELLE, 20s, beautiful, strong. She eventually slows to a stop, looking increasingly lost & scared. She speaks - her voice half her own and half Sam’s. MICHELLE Where are you? SAM (O.S.) Where are you? Her fear explodes. MICHELLE (cont'd) (screaming) WHERE ARE YOU? SAM (O.S.) (cont'd) (calm) Where are you? Half-way through this line of dialogue, just the visual cuts. INT. OFFICE - DAY 9 9 Music & dialogue continue. Detective's face, lost in thought. We hear the tail end of Michelle/Sam. Sam remains almost artificially pleasant, smiling - now pruning the plant with small gardening shears. SAM Hello? You with us? 6. 7. DETECTIVE (partly lost in thought) Do you smell perfume? SAM Beg your pardon? If this is some sort of prank or whatever, I — don’t get me wrong, I love pranks — now's just not a good time - got a job to fill ASAP and all that. Music stops. Detective becomes fully present. DETECTIVE Sorry, I— SAM —You know what, don’t bother. Clearly this isn’t going to work out. Sam is spritzing the plant with water. DETECTIVE Wait— SAM —No, no. No waiting - if you could just please leave - thanks so much. DETECTIVE (simmering) Hold on a second, you gotta gimme— SAM —Decision’s made, I'm afraid. Oh, that rhymes. Detective stands, staring daggers at Sam. Detective’s eyes the SMALL PLANT. Abruptly shoves his hand in, and rips the plant out by the roots. Soil, leaves and roots rain down on the desk. Sam is unfazed. Detective smooshes the contents of his hand into his own face, rubbing soil all over, until his hand is empty. Sam calmly brushes soil from his DESK PHONE, picks up, presses a button. 7. 8. SAM (cont'd) Security, hi! How are you? Please can you come help this gentleman find the exit? Detective huffs to the door, like a teenager. DETECTIVE Fine, fine, I’m leaving. Fucking...fucking operations manager. Detective exits. Sam picks up a SMALL TRASH CAN, and starts wiping plant detritus into it. A peaceful moment later: BANG! BANG! Detective is outside, hitting the window. DETECTIVE (cont'd) For what? For plastic utensils? Yeah, so important. Sam gives a genuinely polite wave. Detective bangs in response. We hear a woman's raspy voice: WOMAN (O.S.) Not worth it, handsome. EXT. OFFICE PARKING LOT - DAY 10 10 Detective turns from the window to address the woman. DETECTIVE Excuse me? We see IDA, 30s, dressed in flowing/slightly bohemian attire. She has VIVID BLUE NAIL POLISH, and is holding a loop of HOSEPIPE behind her back - hiding it from Detective. IDA I heard some of these companies, man. You scratch one little thing, they sue the life outta ya. Not worth it. DETECTIVE (sarcastically) Thanks for the advice, have a nice day. 8. 9. He blows past Ida and heads to his car. I/E. DETECTIVE'S CAR - DAY 11 11 Detective is in the driver's seat of an angular, early '90s sedan. He exhales with purpose, but fails to breathe out the stress of the morning. He turns the key. It won't start. His face says "you gotta be kidding me." He tries again - nothing. One last time - nope. Resigned, he stares into space. KNOCK KNOCK! He's startled by Ida, tapping on his window. She's without hosepipe. IDA Car trouble? DETECTIVE Fuck, Jesus, lady, you trying to give me a heart attack? Car's fine, thanks. He turns the key again. Nada. IDA I know my way around an engine pretty good, but...seems like you're all set. Later, alligator. She briskly strides away. Detective quickly opens his car, juts one foot out onto the floor and pokes his head above the door, calling after her. DETECTIVE Excuse me, hey! Uh, yeah, sorry, I actually could use a hand. Ida stops in her tracks. She waits. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Please. Ida spins to face him. IDA Oh, look, he does have manners. She saunters playfully back to the car. 9. 10. IDA (cont'd) Well, mister, the trouble with your engine is... you're all outta gas. Detective, incredulous, drops back into his seat to check the dash, only to see she's correct. DETECTIVE Wait, how could you tell? From the sound or something? IDA How could I tell? How could you not tell? You should get your eyes checked, my man. Anyway, you need a ride or something? DETECTIVE I don't even know, I don't even have any cash for a can of gas. IDA Oh damn. Pretty good at getting yourself in a pickle, huh. Ok, I tell ya what. You keep me company the rest of the day, and I'll give you a hundred bucks. How does that sound? DETECTIVE (suspicious) What do you mean? IDA Obviously it sounds sketchy, but don't worry — I'm a writer. I pay people for their time, get to know 'em, and it gives me inspiration. DETECTIVE Wow, that's... honestly great. But I'm not gonna be much help with that kinda thing. I don't really have any stories to tell. Nothing that isn't... stupid and sad. IDA Sad's perfect. Let's go. Detective sizes Ida up for a moment, trying to figure out if she's full of shit. 10. 11. I/E. IDA'S CAR - DAY 12 12 Ida's driving, Detective sits shotgun. It's a '70s station wagon, with wood siding. It's messy with trash and junk. IDA No shit, a detective? Well, mister law man, please keep your eyes on the road. Stuff in this car could get a lady in trouble. Awkward silence. IDA (cont'd) I'm just playing, I'm as good as gold. Anyway, so, like, you really quit a solid-ass job like that to go interview at a fuckin' what, a paper cup place? The minor-key music from earlier rises. Sounds of the car and the street start to fade. Detective becomes lost in thought. DETECTIVE Yeah, real solid... bliss... You've got... INT. A BLACK VOID 13 13 Music continues. CLOSE UP: MICHELLE'S FACE - the same scared look. DOLLY OUT TO MEDIUM CLOSE UP. She jolts, her expression now shock and pain. DOLLY OUT TO MEDIUM. She's pulling ream after ream of RED FABRIC from her abdomen. DOLLY OUT TO MEDIUM WIDE. She slowly kneels, then lays on the floor, closing her eyes. DOLLY OUT TO FULL. She is motionless. Street sounds fade in. FADE TO BLACK. FADE IN: 11. 12. I/E. IDA'S CAR - DAY 14 14 Street sounds continue. Music continues, fading out through the following. The car is parked. Detective slowly coming back to the present: DETECTIVE Where are we? Ida sneaks a pic of Detective, then stashes her phone before he sees. IDA Hey, there you are. Thank god. You were in cloud cuckoo the last couple miles. She opens the door, steps out, and snaps her fingers at him. IDA (cont'd) Hey, you with me? Sleep with your eyes open or what? DETECTIVE Uh. IDA We're at your place. I mean, this is the address you gave - hope you're not trying any funny business, mister. While Detective's still slowly rousing, Ida shuts the car door. INT - DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - DAY 15 15 Ida closes the apartment door behind her, takes one step inside, and - BANG! Her foot hits the microwave. IDA Ah! Mother fuck... DETECTIVE Sorry, I gotta move that. IDA Nah, here seems great. So you throwin' this out, or you just like to eat the very last second before you leave? 12. 13. DETECTIVE Trying to pawn it. Hoping to get, like, twenty bucks? You want it? IDA For twenty? Sure! DETECTIVE Really? She squats next to the microwave, running her hand along the top like a brand new car. IDA This baby? You kidding? Hell yeah I want it. What is this a '57 spinmaster? My dad had one of these. DETECTIVE Ok, ok, you're very funny, you know that? I need to lay down. IDA You ok? Looking a little pale. DETECTIVE Yeah, just need to eat or sleep. He crumbles onto his bed. IDA You poor thing. Alright, get some rest, I'll go get us takeout. She kneels next to him and strokes his hair. She starts heading out. Before the door is fully closed, she pauses for thought. She comes back, kneeling next to him again. Cautiously, she reaches down into his pants. He stirs slightly, eyes still closed. He pushes her hand away. DETECTIVE I said no already. Ida retracts her hand, now holding KEYS. IDA (softly) Shh. Just borrowing these. She creeps out the door. 13. 14. CLOSE ON: DETECTIVE'S FACE - sleeping. The light shifts, getting warmer. A hand enters frame and gently jostles him awake. It's Michelle. MICHELLE Hey, sleepy head. He wakes, sees her, smiles. She helps him to his feet. The apartment is altered: a warm glow, candles, house plants, the cheap folding table and chair replaced by a decent set. MONTAGE Michelle and Detective over a few hours together. They're in love: dancing, playing, making out, cuddling, reading in bed. END MONTAGE Detective is sat at the table, dinner ready. Michelle is a few feet away, sitting in the windowsill. They hear keys in the door. Ida tiptoes in, carrying a couple bags of alcohol and food. The apartment is back to normal. The candles are in place but blown out. The plants are dead. Michelle is still in the windowsill, almost entirely in shadow. Ida doesn't see her — nothing seems amiss. IDA Hey, sleepy head. Ida unpacks takeout containers, beers, a bottle of whiskey. She finds a couple glasses for the table. DETECTIVE Hey, I thought maybe you bailed. IDA Man, you're giving me so much material. No way I'd ditch you. Besides, you're cute. Like a lil' ragamuffin puppy at the pound. DETECTIVE That supposed to be a compliment? Detective's phone vibrates, he answers. 14. 15. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Hello... Yeah, that's me... Yeah... You're kidding... How much?... Great, thanks. He hangs up. Ida heaves the microwave next to the table as a makeshift chair, and squats down on it. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Paper plate pricks towed my car. IDA Yeesh, sorry. She pours them both a whiskey. IDA (cont'd) Ok, let's forget all this shit. Hope ya like chow mein, by the way. She raises her glass. IDA (cont'd) To the paper plate pricks! Detective raises his glass. CLOSE ON: THE TWO GLASSES COME TOGETHER FORCEFULLY AND SMASH TO PIECES. INT - DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT 16 16 Hours later. Food's eaten. Beer cans are empty. They're sitting in the same spots, shitfaced. Detective is more animated, upbeat. DETECTIVE Oh my god, just get to the point already! What was so bad about it. IDA Alright, alright. Ida stands up, wincing. IDA (cont'd) My ass. Fuckin' microwave. She hobbles to the bed, sitting with her back to the wall. Detective joins her. 15. 16. IDA (cont'd) Just wanted an appropriate setting for this. Ok, cutting to the chase. I was trying to turn the heat up, get us closer to the main event. I pull his dick out, and... I literally blow on it. DETECTIVE No way. IDA Like candles on a fucking birthday cake. Oh my god, I did that for, like, forever before he finally says something like "what are you doing?" DETECTIVE A blow job, heard of it? IDA I swear on my life. He tried to explain what I should be doing, but now I was in my head, worried about what was gonna be said at school. Thankfully, I never heard a peep. We hooked up about a week later and the whole thing was pretty unremarkable, but it happened ya know, and that was that. Ok, your turn. DETECTIVE Uh, I don't really— IDA Hey. No fucking way - especially not now. Deal's a deal. DETECTIVE Ok, but you're gonna be disappointed. She was my sweetheart. She was my whole life. So, yeah, we had our first time. It was maybe awkward. Nothing really funny. IDA Oh. How long did you guys date for. 16. 17. DETECTIVE There's a question. Long time. You know, somehow she had this whole full life, all this experience - that she shared with me. Art, literature, ballet. She was even the one that taught me to drive. She was just endlessly giving. So kind. Pure. A pure soul. Don't know what she saw in me, but we were in love. We got engaged... then... something happened... After that, I almost drowned in the gutter. But, stupidly, I thought maybe I can save people from the pain I'm in. Not as a detective, turns out. Pain is... daily. The worst moments of people's lives. Every day. It's brutal... it's a fucking tapestry... of anguish. Which I just kept threading myself through. Then I realized I did fall into the gutter. I did drown. That a good enough anecdote for ya? Ida is moved, she shifts over and hugs him. IDA I'm sorry. Detective closes his eyes a moment - he needed this - but he does not hug her back. DETECTIVE Don't be. You got what you came for. I should've just told you that in the parking lot. Ida backs out of the hug. DETECTIVE (cont'd) We could've saved the whole charade where you pretend to give a shit. IDA Hey. That's not fair. I'm not a sociopath. Of course I care. In fact, you know what, I'm not going to write about any of this. It's just between us. I give you my word. She starts hunting in her pockets, but can't quite get her hands in while seated. She stands, and digs out $100. 17. 18. IDA (cont'd) You should still have this, though. Deal's a deal, man. DETECTIVE Nah, it's ok, I don't need it. IDA After what you told me you had for breakfast, there's no way you're not taking this. She puts the cash on the table. IDA (cont'd) I'm just gonna leave it here, ok? She heads to the door, bumping into the refrigerator on the way. She lingers. IDA (cont'd) I'm sorry. Really. I should't have barged into your life like this. I'm gonna bounce. You get some rest. I would like it if you called me, though. As a friend. If you want to. DETECTIVE First of all, there's no fucking way you're driving in this condition. And I'm sorry too. I know I can be a bit of a sourpuss sometimes. IDA Sometimes! DETECTIVE Yeah, alright. He stands, and rubs his eyes. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Come. You can have the bed. I'll... He looks around a second. There's nowhere else to sleep. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Fuck. Do you mind if we, you know, share the bed, but, you know, just as— 18. 19. IDA —friends? Sure, thank you. And you're right, I would totally get into a wreck right now. DETECTIVE Alright, look, I'm about to pass out. I'm just gonna... He lays down on the bed and moves as far over to the side as he can, pressing himself against the wall. Ida gets into bed next to him, checks her phone, sends a quick text, then lays still, soaking him in. The lights dim on their own. She closes her eyes. FADE TO BLACK. FADE IN: INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - LATER 17 17 They now sleep facing each other. Ida gradually wakes. She brings a hand to his face, and caresses his cheek. IDA Hey...wake up. With his eyes still closed: DETECTIVE I'm awake. IDA Can I kiss you? DETECTIVE Of course. His eyes remain closed. Ida moves in and kisses him gently. They make out. Detective opens his eyes, and a moment later he abruptly pulls away. DETECTIVE (cont'd) Shit. Sorry. I thought you were...uh...sorry. We here a woman's voice respond - it is not Ida. WOMAN (O.S.) What? What do you mean? 19. 20. CLOSE UP ON: MICHELLE'S FACE MICHELLE Baby, it's me. Are you ok? DETECTIVE Yeah I'm good. Sorry, I must've been— Michelle strokes Detective's cheek, the same way Ida did. MICHELLE —It's ok, baby, go back to sleep. Detective relaxes. Michelle leans in. They kiss tenderly. He closes his eyes with a faint smile. The lights dim. FADE TO BLACK. We hear the sizzling of frying food. FADE IN: INT. DETECTIVE'S APARTMENT - DAY 19 19 CLOSE ON: DETECTIVE'S FACE - he wakes. DETECTIVE Mmm. That smells amazing. Ida's tending a pan on the stove. IDA It's just eggs. And coffee. You didn't have a pot, so I got two coffees from across the street. Detective slowly rises, rubbing his hand over his face. He shuffles over to squat on the microwave. There are two TAKEOUT COFFEE CUPS on the table, and the $100. Detective stares intensely at Ida. DETECTIVE Can I ask you a question? IDA That is a question. 20.