Girls Night Out (Featuring Angelina Bellini)
Nov 28, 2014 15:41:32 GMT
Jack Owyns, Alice St. James, and 1 more like this
Post by Priscilla Price on Nov 28, 2014 15:41:32 GMT
INT. 5TH AVENUE TOWERS (PENTHOUSE) - MANHATTAN - EVENING
Our scene opens up inside of the 5th Avenue Towers in Manhattan, as Metro:PRO standout ANGELINA BELLINI steps out of the elevator. Angel double checks the apartment number on her phone before knocking on the door. She waits the socially acceptable appropriate amount of time before knocking again.
Her outfit is what she feels is appropriate for what Priscilla called a “girls night”-- a pair of black linen pants,topped with a blouse of red silk that is open to show a minimal amount of cleavage, with a black cardigan on top. Her hair was put up in a bun. It was a respectable look.
The door opens and standing there is fellow Metro:PRO competitor, and Angel’s tag team partner for Killshot #2, PRISCILLA PRICE.
Angel’s jaw drops when she sees what Priscilla is wearing:
Clearly there has been a miscommunication between the two as to what a “girls night” would entail.
Angel: Priscilla....
She stutters on her words. She leans in, looking both ways in the hallway before speaking again in a hushed tone. Her cheeks are starting to go a shade similar to her blouse.
Angel: Are you aware that your... Breasts are exposed?
Priscilla smiles, ushers Angel into her penthouse apartment.
Priscilla: I sure hope so.
Angel looks clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed without insulting her partner. She bites her bottom lip.
Priscilla: Oh honey, you are way too sexy for that outfit. Tonight, think of it like Christmas. You are a precious gift waiting to be unwrapped, so we have to make sure you have the right wrapping paper.
Angel looks down at her outfit, clearly confused at why it isn't acceptable
Angel: I unfastened the top button!
She points to her chest, eyes wide she nods as if this is pretty racy, at least in her mind.
Priscilla: You just make yourself at home. I have wine chilled in the kitchen. I am going to be back with a little something that is going to have the men crying over you tonight.
Priscilla disappears into her bedroom. A few moments later, she returns carrying the semblance of a dress with very little material. She hands it to Angel.
Priscilla: Here you go. Try this on.
Angel hesitantly takes the dress and retreats to the bathroom. As she does, her phone rings.
Priscilla (into the phone): Hey Marty..Yeah, she’s with me...yes, we’re going out….Will you stop worrying, I’m gonna take good care of her, show her a good time….Will you stop panicking like an overprotective uncle?
A moment later, with Priscilla still on the phone, Angel emerges.
Priscilla (into the phone): What’s the worse thing that can happen?
It’s now Priscilla’s jaw that drops.
Priscilla (into the phone): I gotta go, Marty.
Priscilla hangs up the phone. She smiles at her friend.
Priscilla: You are going to absolutely kill it out there tonight. You ready to have some fun?
Angel looks unsure.
Angel: I'm not sure about this Priscilla, don't you think I'm showing a little too much?
Priscilla: Oh Angel, you don’t know how sexy you look right now. Trust me, you are going turn every head in that club tonight. Place your trust in me, and let’s go let blow off some steam.
Priscilla grabs her purse, and leads the way out the door.
Priscilla: You have no idea what kind of day I had.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - NYC - EVENING
We pick up inside of the Marquee Night Club, packed, loud, jumping. Sex and music is in the air and the drinks are flowing.
At a premium booth in the V.I.P lounge, overlooking the dance floor, we find Priscilla and Angel.
Priscilla, with a shot in her hand, is handing Angel a shot of her own. Several more shot glasses filled with intoxicating liquid wait on the table.
Priscilla: Here you go, sister. Let’s drink up.
Angelina is still in shock at her surroundings-- the hot, chiseled men and scantily clad women all grinding on the dance floor, everyone drunk-- complete hedonism.
Angelina shakes her head as Priscilla tries to hand her the shot.
Angelina: Oh no, Priscilla-- I don’t drink.
Priscilla pouts.
Priscilla: Now Angel, if you and I are gonna be tag team partners, we need to look out for each other. Wouldn’t you agree?
Angelina: I would, but--
Priscilla: And so you wouldn’t dare let me drink alone, would you?
Angelina: It’s just that--
Priscilla: Just nothing, Angel. Let loose! Just for one night-- you just might like it.
Priscilla downs her shot. Angelina follows suit. She gags from the sour taste.
Angelina: Oh my, that tastes like poison!
Priscilla hands Angel her drink-- some fruity concoction.
Priscilla: Here, wash it down with this.
Angelina is quick to drink up, to wash the shot aftertaste from her mouth. She smiles.
Angelina: Now this tastes good. This tastes like fruit punch!
Priscilla laughs. She calls over the waiter.
Priscilla: Sal, get us a couple more rounds of...fruit punch, and make sure there’s extra “coconut” in it, okay?
Angel blinks a few times as the alcohol starts to impact her balance.
Angelina: Is the room supposed to spin this way?
She takes a deep breath. She's not going to let it deter her from the real reason she agreed to meet up with Priscilla to begin with.
Angelina: Now, you did say you would tell me why you and Marty felt it necessary to interfere in my match with Damian last week. So please, explain.
Priscilla studies Angel for a moment, contemplating her approach.
Priscilla: Vladimir.
Angelina: Vladimir? Vishnevsky?
Priscilla: It was all his idea. He’s had it out for Damian since they’ve been in prison together; and he made it very clear that he was going to attack Damian, and I just couldn’t--
Priscilla pauses for effect.
Priscilla: I just couldn’t let him put the beating on Damian that he had planned.
Angelina: What?
Priscilla: I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but I still do care for Damian; and I know how Damian is, and he would have fought back, and if I wasn’t out there Vladimir wouldn’t have let up, and so I had to get out there and put Damian out of his misery-- make sure he didn’t sustain any more damage than was necessary. It’s a good thing the ref was out or you would’ve gotten disqualified.
Angelina: But-- but I had nothing to do with it.
Priscilla hands Angelina another drink.
Priscilla: This is a cruel, unfair business, Angel. The sooner you come to realize it, the better you’ll be for it.
Angelina: But that’s not fair competition. This is supposed to be a sport, and I--
Priscilla: Angel, trust me. This is a sport, and the better person will win-- but this sport is unlike any in the world. It’s vicious. It’s cutthroat-- so much so that nobody even gives it a second thought when there’s foul play. Many have tried to oppose it and buck the trend-- many like Damian-- but look how he wound up.
Angelina absorbs what Priscilla is saying-- at least, to the best of her ability, given the rum flowing through her system.
Angelina: No. I can’t do that. I cannot accept that this sport that I love is so...so corrupt, so polluted. I can never be like that.
Priscilla: Angel, I love your optimism, and your sense of right and wrong. It’s endearing-- really, it is. But I think you should brace yourself. That same love and passion you have for this sport-- when you are in the thick of it and your adrenaline is running and you’re face to face with someone who you know will do whatever it takes to win at all costs, you just might find yourself with a change of heart.
Angelina: Never.
Priscilla smiles.
Priscilla: Okay, never. Nevermind all of that right now. It’s time you and I hit the dance floor.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - DANCE FLOOR - NYC - SHORTLY THEREAFTER
The base is booming. The lights are shining. The room is spinning. And the dance floor is packed. Bodies grinding against bodies. Everyone working up a sweat, showing off their stuff.
Angelina and Priscilla are in the zone, getting down, all smiles, having the time of their lives. They are flocked by men, all looking to be close to them. Angelina is feeling no pain.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - BAR AREA - NYC - SHORTLY THEREAFTER
Priscilla is at the bar, ordering more drinks. She observes Angelina from afar, still on the dance floor, grinding with some suave gentleman, really getting into it.
Priscilla is loving what she sees.
The suave gentleman, grinding Angelina from behind, whispers Angelina’s ear. Angelina, clearly drunk, giggles, and turns to face him.
He grabs her by the hand and leads her through the crowd toward the front entrance.
Priscilla, observing this from the bar, lifts her drink in salute.
Priscilla: That’s my girl.
CUT TO:
EXT. MARQUEE CLUB - NYC - CONTINUOUS
The suave gentleman exits the club, hand in hand with Angel. He hails down a cab. She is all over him, and completely tanked.
Just as a cab pulls up, black Cadillac pulls behind it. As the suave gentleman ushers Angel into the cab, the doors from the Cadillac open, and out step MARTY SUNSHINE and VLADIMIR VISHNEVSKY.
Marty’s heart is racing by what he sees. He races toward the cab.
Marty: No!!!!
As the cab door is closing, he catches it-- just in time, and peers inside.
CUT TO:
INT. TAXI CAB - CONTINUOUS
Angelina and this suave gentleman are in the back at the cab, looking at Marty, who stands outside of the cab, peering at them through the open door.
Suave Gentleman: Hey grandpa, this cab’s taken.
Marty: Shut up, Rico--
The suave gentleman is confused, looks to Angel.
Suave Gentleman: How’d he know my name is Rico? Who is this guy?
Angel is drunk-- a giddy drunk.
Angelina: Uncle Martyyyy!!!
Marty: Angelina, what are you doing? And what are you wearing!?! Get out of the cab!
Angelina pouts.
Rico: Beat it-- uncle Marty.
Marty chuckles. His temper is running short. He turns his head for a moment away from the cab.
A moment later, Vladimir steps into Marty’s place, reaches into the cab, and pulls Rico out by the neck.
CUT TO:
EXT. MARQUEE CLUB - NYC - CONTINUOUS
Vladimir has Rico by the neck, and flings him against a trio of garbage cans aligned on the curb.
Marty swings around to the other side of the cab, opens the door, and gently helps the drunken Angelina out of the cab.
As he does so, Priscilla exits the club. Marty looks at her from the street, shaking his head.
Angel slumps onto Marty's shoulder for support.
Marty: Do you mind Explaining this? You were supposed to loosen her up not make her loose to every scum in New York City!
Priscilla shrugs then gives him a charismatic smile.
Priscilla : Marty, she was finally having a good time for once. You should be thanking me, it won't take much to mold her. Like you asked.
Marty pinches the bridge of his nose as Valadimir returns to the group, cracking his neck and brushing some blood from his knuckles on his pants. Obviously not his own. Marty gently guides Angel to him.
Marty: Here, hold this a second
Marty walks closer to Priscilla
Marty: Don't your realize that if she had left with that guy you realize the repercussions. For me?!
Priscilla: Don't you think you're overexaggerating a bit?
Priscilla shrugs. With a sigh Marty steps closer, leaning in to talk to her.
Marty: If her father knew, It would mean very bad things for me, and in return you.
Priscilla : You were always too much of a worrier Marty
He rolls his eyes and leans in to speak quietly, As does, Priscilla's eyes go a little wider.
Priscilla : Really? Interesting...
Her smile widens as he continues to speak quietly, she looks over at Angel hanging off of Vladimir and you can tell that the wheels are turning in the mind of the metropolitan mistress.
Priscilla : Don't worry Marty, everything will work out just fine. Trust me.
FADE TO BLACK
Our scene opens up inside of the 5th Avenue Towers in Manhattan, as Metro:PRO standout ANGELINA BELLINI steps out of the elevator. Angel double checks the apartment number on her phone before knocking on the door. She waits the socially acceptable appropriate amount of time before knocking again.
Her outfit is what she feels is appropriate for what Priscilla called a “girls night”-- a pair of black linen pants,topped with a blouse of red silk that is open to show a minimal amount of cleavage, with a black cardigan on top. Her hair was put up in a bun. It was a respectable look.
The door opens and standing there is fellow Metro:PRO competitor, and Angel’s tag team partner for Killshot #2, PRISCILLA PRICE.
Angel’s jaw drops when she sees what Priscilla is wearing:
Clearly there has been a miscommunication between the two as to what a “girls night” would entail.
Angel: Priscilla....
She stutters on her words. She leans in, looking both ways in the hallway before speaking again in a hushed tone. Her cheeks are starting to go a shade similar to her blouse.
Angel: Are you aware that your... Breasts are exposed?
Priscilla smiles, ushers Angel into her penthouse apartment.
Priscilla: I sure hope so.
Angel looks clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed without insulting her partner. She bites her bottom lip.
Priscilla: Oh honey, you are way too sexy for that outfit. Tonight, think of it like Christmas. You are a precious gift waiting to be unwrapped, so we have to make sure you have the right wrapping paper.
Angel looks down at her outfit, clearly confused at why it isn't acceptable
Angel: I unfastened the top button!
She points to her chest, eyes wide she nods as if this is pretty racy, at least in her mind.
Priscilla: You just make yourself at home. I have wine chilled in the kitchen. I am going to be back with a little something that is going to have the men crying over you tonight.
Priscilla disappears into her bedroom. A few moments later, she returns carrying the semblance of a dress with very little material. She hands it to Angel.
Priscilla: Here you go. Try this on.
Angel hesitantly takes the dress and retreats to the bathroom. As she does, her phone rings.
Priscilla (into the phone): Hey Marty..Yeah, she’s with me...yes, we’re going out….Will you stop worrying, I’m gonna take good care of her, show her a good time….Will you stop panicking like an overprotective uncle?
A moment later, with Priscilla still on the phone, Angel emerges.
Priscilla (into the phone): What’s the worse thing that can happen?
It’s now Priscilla’s jaw that drops.
Priscilla (into the phone): I gotta go, Marty.
Priscilla hangs up the phone. She smiles at her friend.
Priscilla: You are going to absolutely kill it out there tonight. You ready to have some fun?
Angel looks unsure.
Angel: I'm not sure about this Priscilla, don't you think I'm showing a little too much?
Priscilla: Oh Angel, you don’t know how sexy you look right now. Trust me, you are going turn every head in that club tonight. Place your trust in me, and let’s go let blow off some steam.
Priscilla grabs her purse, and leads the way out the door.
Priscilla: You have no idea what kind of day I had.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - NYC - EVENING
We pick up inside of the Marquee Night Club, packed, loud, jumping. Sex and music is in the air and the drinks are flowing.
At a premium booth in the V.I.P lounge, overlooking the dance floor, we find Priscilla and Angel.
Priscilla, with a shot in her hand, is handing Angel a shot of her own. Several more shot glasses filled with intoxicating liquid wait on the table.
Priscilla: Here you go, sister. Let’s drink up.
Angelina is still in shock at her surroundings-- the hot, chiseled men and scantily clad women all grinding on the dance floor, everyone drunk-- complete hedonism.
Angelina shakes her head as Priscilla tries to hand her the shot.
Angelina: Oh no, Priscilla-- I don’t drink.
Priscilla pouts.
Priscilla: Now Angel, if you and I are gonna be tag team partners, we need to look out for each other. Wouldn’t you agree?
Angelina: I would, but--
Priscilla: And so you wouldn’t dare let me drink alone, would you?
Angelina: It’s just that--
Priscilla: Just nothing, Angel. Let loose! Just for one night-- you just might like it.
Priscilla downs her shot. Angelina follows suit. She gags from the sour taste.
Angelina: Oh my, that tastes like poison!
Priscilla hands Angel her drink-- some fruity concoction.
Priscilla: Here, wash it down with this.
Angelina is quick to drink up, to wash the shot aftertaste from her mouth. She smiles.
Angelina: Now this tastes good. This tastes like fruit punch!
Priscilla laughs. She calls over the waiter.
Priscilla: Sal, get us a couple more rounds of...fruit punch, and make sure there’s extra “coconut” in it, okay?
Angel blinks a few times as the alcohol starts to impact her balance.
Angelina: Is the room supposed to spin this way?
She takes a deep breath. She's not going to let it deter her from the real reason she agreed to meet up with Priscilla to begin with.
Angelina: Now, you did say you would tell me why you and Marty felt it necessary to interfere in my match with Damian last week. So please, explain.
Priscilla studies Angel for a moment, contemplating her approach.
Priscilla: Vladimir.
Angelina: Vladimir? Vishnevsky?
Priscilla: It was all his idea. He’s had it out for Damian since they’ve been in prison together; and he made it very clear that he was going to attack Damian, and I just couldn’t--
Priscilla pauses for effect.
Priscilla: I just couldn’t let him put the beating on Damian that he had planned.
Angelina: What?
Priscilla: I know, I know, it sounds crazy, but I still do care for Damian; and I know how Damian is, and he would have fought back, and if I wasn’t out there Vladimir wouldn’t have let up, and so I had to get out there and put Damian out of his misery-- make sure he didn’t sustain any more damage than was necessary. It’s a good thing the ref was out or you would’ve gotten disqualified.
Angelina: But-- but I had nothing to do with it.
Priscilla hands Angelina another drink.
Priscilla: This is a cruel, unfair business, Angel. The sooner you come to realize it, the better you’ll be for it.
Angelina: But that’s not fair competition. This is supposed to be a sport, and I--
Priscilla: Angel, trust me. This is a sport, and the better person will win-- but this sport is unlike any in the world. It’s vicious. It’s cutthroat-- so much so that nobody even gives it a second thought when there’s foul play. Many have tried to oppose it and buck the trend-- many like Damian-- but look how he wound up.
Angelina absorbs what Priscilla is saying-- at least, to the best of her ability, given the rum flowing through her system.
Angelina: No. I can’t do that. I cannot accept that this sport that I love is so...so corrupt, so polluted. I can never be like that.
Priscilla: Angel, I love your optimism, and your sense of right and wrong. It’s endearing-- really, it is. But I think you should brace yourself. That same love and passion you have for this sport-- when you are in the thick of it and your adrenaline is running and you’re face to face with someone who you know will do whatever it takes to win at all costs, you just might find yourself with a change of heart.
Angelina: Never.
Priscilla smiles.
Priscilla: Okay, never. Nevermind all of that right now. It’s time you and I hit the dance floor.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - DANCE FLOOR - NYC - SHORTLY THEREAFTER
The base is booming. The lights are shining. The room is spinning. And the dance floor is packed. Bodies grinding against bodies. Everyone working up a sweat, showing off their stuff.
Angelina and Priscilla are in the zone, getting down, all smiles, having the time of their lives. They are flocked by men, all looking to be close to them. Angelina is feeling no pain.
CUT TO:
INT. MARQUEE NIGHT CLUB - BAR AREA - NYC - SHORTLY THEREAFTER
Priscilla is at the bar, ordering more drinks. She observes Angelina from afar, still on the dance floor, grinding with some suave gentleman, really getting into it.
Priscilla is loving what she sees.
The suave gentleman, grinding Angelina from behind, whispers Angelina’s ear. Angelina, clearly drunk, giggles, and turns to face him.
He grabs her by the hand and leads her through the crowd toward the front entrance.
Priscilla, observing this from the bar, lifts her drink in salute.
Priscilla: That’s my girl.
CUT TO:
EXT. MARQUEE CLUB - NYC - CONTINUOUS
The suave gentleman exits the club, hand in hand with Angel. He hails down a cab. She is all over him, and completely tanked.
Just as a cab pulls up, black Cadillac pulls behind it. As the suave gentleman ushers Angel into the cab, the doors from the Cadillac open, and out step MARTY SUNSHINE and VLADIMIR VISHNEVSKY.
Marty’s heart is racing by what he sees. He races toward the cab.
Marty: No!!!!
As the cab door is closing, he catches it-- just in time, and peers inside.
CUT TO:
INT. TAXI CAB - CONTINUOUS
Angelina and this suave gentleman are in the back at the cab, looking at Marty, who stands outside of the cab, peering at them through the open door.
Suave Gentleman: Hey grandpa, this cab’s taken.
Marty: Shut up, Rico--
The suave gentleman is confused, looks to Angel.
Suave Gentleman: How’d he know my name is Rico? Who is this guy?
Angel is drunk-- a giddy drunk.
Angelina: Uncle Martyyyy!!!
Marty: Angelina, what are you doing? And what are you wearing!?! Get out of the cab!
Angelina pouts.
Rico: Beat it-- uncle Marty.
Marty chuckles. His temper is running short. He turns his head for a moment away from the cab.
A moment later, Vladimir steps into Marty’s place, reaches into the cab, and pulls Rico out by the neck.
CUT TO:
EXT. MARQUEE CLUB - NYC - CONTINUOUS
Vladimir has Rico by the neck, and flings him against a trio of garbage cans aligned on the curb.
Marty swings around to the other side of the cab, opens the door, and gently helps the drunken Angelina out of the cab.
As he does so, Priscilla exits the club. Marty looks at her from the street, shaking his head.
Angel slumps onto Marty's shoulder for support.
Marty: Do you mind Explaining this? You were supposed to loosen her up not make her loose to every scum in New York City!
Priscilla shrugs then gives him a charismatic smile.
Priscilla : Marty, she was finally having a good time for once. You should be thanking me, it won't take much to mold her. Like you asked.
Marty pinches the bridge of his nose as Valadimir returns to the group, cracking his neck and brushing some blood from his knuckles on his pants. Obviously not his own. Marty gently guides Angel to him.
Marty: Here, hold this a second
Marty walks closer to Priscilla
Marty: Don't your realize that if she had left with that guy you realize the repercussions. For me?!
Priscilla: Don't you think you're overexaggerating a bit?
Priscilla shrugs. With a sigh Marty steps closer, leaning in to talk to her.
Marty: If her father knew, It would mean very bad things for me, and in return you.
Priscilla : You were always too much of a worrier Marty
He rolls his eyes and leans in to speak quietly, As does, Priscilla's eyes go a little wider.
Priscilla : Really? Interesting...
Her smile widens as he continues to speak quietly, she looks over at Angel hanging off of Vladimir and you can tell that the wheels are turning in the mind of the metropolitan mistress.
Priscilla : Don't worry Marty, everything will work out just fine. Trust me.
FADE TO BLACK
