Fade up on:
A crown of ancient design: Sumerian, or some great middle-eastern civilization. Crafted of fine silver and studded with jewels. Where garnets and crystal have been used in the past, the ancient artisan who crafted this used diamonds and rubies.
Cross fade to:
Now a highway, plated with rain and studded with taillights. We see a HITCHHIKER: the kind with dirty blonde hair and bad skin. Gonna be a big somebody someday--in her tank-top and tight jeans--carrying her life in a tote bag that she's had since she was a kid growing up in a piss-ant town. Duffel-bagging it to New York or Los Angeles.... ANYWHERE to get her away of where she is now. Big dreamer--big sucker.
Now we see a limousine--Bentley or Rolls Royce--gray and silent. It glides to a stop beside her and the driver gestures to the now open door in back.
Inside is poorly lit and
smoke-filled. It seems occupied by a CLOUD with gray silk pants and a single
cherry eye. The vehicle resumes its progress without a mummer. Hitchhiker
rubs her arms: to dry them or warm them.
Thanks. I didn't think anyone was going to stop.
Especially not a limo. You must be, like, one
of those philanthropists or something.
I must be.
Sure, or you wouldn't have stopped.
How far are you going?
I'm going all the way to La-La land.
Youíre an actor, ainít ya?
You look like a famous guy.
Do I know you?
The actorís profession is
to lie for money
while looking his best.
What's your point?
Sabine, a drink.
Suddenly we are aware
of another passenger--SABINE--dark warm red. A woman in maroon velvet,
garnets and gold, honey tan skin, soft brown hair in soft warm curls, deep
brown eyes and full red lips. A drink we have never seen prepared is slipped
into our hitchhiker's hands. The ice clinks against the glass sides
in response to the limo's sway.
Sabine slides over to
We stopped to give you a ride
out of the cold and wet
into the safe and dry.
An uncomfortable pause,
as hitch decides what to make of her hosts. An opportunity to make conversation
though. Sabine's garnet jewelry makes an excellent topic.
Those are garnets, ainít they?
My mama told me that young women,
such as yourself an' me,
should wear bright shiny things,
like sapphires and diamonds.
Garnets are for older women.
Older women? Did you hear that, Quinn?
Older women. She's absolutely adorable.
Please, Quinn, let me keep her.
She shies back, hurt,
then glances at hitch. The limo swerves and some of hitch's drink sloshes
from its low-ball onto her lap. Nervous laughter from hitch as she rubs
the wet (newly wet anyway) spot on her thigh.
Derek! What was that?
The partition slides away
to show the driver, DEREK: young and duty-bound. He glances from the road
to the rear-view mirror to offer his report. His eyes are swift and hungry.
He could tell you what was engraved on your school ring if he passed you
on the street
Sorry, sir. A young man in a Mercedes cut us off.
A puff of smoke from Quinn.
Never trust anyone under forty
who drives a car worth forty thousand.
Hitch giggles and gestures
to her surroundings.
I'm sure this ain't cheap.
He isn't driving.
But he's a young guy, right?
I mean, you're not older
I suppose you could say, age is a relative thing.
You have to ask, if a person is born again,
do you determine age from their birthday
or from their "born-again" day?
Now the hitch-hiker is
indignant as she slams her drink on the nearest flat surface. More
of her drunk sloshes from its glass.
Look, buddy! I don't know what your deal is--
if you're some kind of rich sick-o who thinks
he can do what he wants just 'cause he's rich--
but no guy in a silk suit, riding around in a limo,
with a coffin nail in one hand, and a whore
putting red-label in the other is a Born Again Christian!
A whore! A woman of the night!
Sabine finishes her laughing
as Quinn clears his throat.
I didn't say Born Again Christian.
I said "born again".
I respect little differences.
They separate us from ordinary people.
Hitch looks around and
coughs nervously. Sabine licks her lips and grins. Hitch has committed
a social faux pas and doesn't know her way out of the situation. Quinn
leans forward into the light and we see his face for the first time. The
bone structure says Italian--Roman nose--but his hair is blonde, almost
gray, and his eyes are cold, glittering things. He resembles not a cloud,
but more a mist, or morning frost. He's a predator through and through--much
like Sabine. You can tell these two aren't afraid to kill; but, they both
use very different methods.
Drink up, girls....
And now Derek the driver slides up the partition and thinks how much it looks like rising water in the re-view mirror.
Fade to white: Roll credits