DICK STEELE!
DICK STEELE
By: Chase Cross
Character By: Tobin Youngs and Chase Cross
INT. MODERN 70’s HOME, DAWN
A long, thick, precise line of coke is on a mirror. Reflected in it is a slick, unshaven face. DICK STEELE. It’s inside a bathroom. CHRIS, a mass of muscle, opens the door. He’s holding DICK’s coat.
Chris
Dick, come on, it’s not funny. The boss said you hafta go.
Maurice
Yeah man, I don’t want you ODing and having the police chomping my ass again.
Maurice is Mexican, slippery-looking, with chic clothes worn out from partying.
Dick
Who the fuck are you telling DICK STEELE what to do? Really.
Maurice
Hey, Dick, you’re my friend, right? I treat my friends right, you know that, but you gotta’ clear out, man. Don’t think I won’t make Chris send you out…You, you really need to stop doing so much of that shit.
Dick
I’ll be finished…
DICK pulls a golden coke-snorting device out of his pocket, and prepares for the hit.
Dick
…momentarily.
DICK snorts the entire line, looks into the mirror. He looks the picture of post-party health, well used and in a state of un-tired. He leaves the room, towards the front door.
Chris
Dick…hey Dick, you forgot your coat.
DICK slams Chris against the wall, hits him in the face with his elbow, and then snatches his coat away as CHRIS slides to the floor, his face bloodied.
Maurice
AWWWW, come on, I thought you was my friend, here. Why you gotta’ pull shit like that around here, ehhh? What the fuck’s the matter with you.
Dick
Nice party here. Really like the vibe.
Maurice
…ehh? What?
DICK presses MAURICE against the wall, pinning him there.
Dick
You talk to me like that again, I’ll make sure the next party you go to is your fuckin’ wake. You got that you greasy little taco-vender?
Maurice
Y-y-y-y-YEAH, I got…I got it. I got it.
Dick
All right. Sorry about the lamp.
DICK releases MAURICE and strolls to the front door.
Maurice
…Wait…what lamp are you talking about?
DICK, without breaking his step, tips over an expensive looking lamp, and exits.
EXT. MODERN SEVENTIES HOME, DAWN
DICK looks out over Los Angeles from the porch. Dawn commands the beaches. He gets into his Ferrari.
DICK lights a cigarette.
Starts the ignition. Pulls out and drives away.
TITLE SEQUENCE
EXT. LOS ANGELES, DAWN
INT. DICK’S APARTMENT, DAY
DICK enters. The place is an expensive hell-hole, well-used. He moves without showing any sign of the cocaine. As he rounds a corner, RICHARD STEELE is seen, sitting on the rumpled bed, cane in hand.
Richard
Hello, son.
Dick
…Good morning, sir.
Richard
At least you still have some respect for your elders, if for nothing else.
Dick
You mean nothing else you have respect for, you arrogant old fart.
Richard
Don’t you talk back to me like that, I can still hide you.
Dick
It’s my home. It isn’t in the goddamn Hamptons, but it is mine.
Richard
Oh, you pay for it?
Dick
Yes, I do.
Richard
With my money…
Dick
No.
Richard
That’s why you keep playing detective, don’t you? So at the very least it’s still your home.
Dick
Nah. I’m a detective because it’s easier than porn and I get to carry a gun.
Richard
Oh, for the love of God, don’t even bring that up again. The last time we talked was after that. Don’t even bring that up that up with me. Cecily would be spinning in her grave if she’d known.
Dick
I’m not sure she’d give a fuck, sir. She didn’t care much for me when she was alive.
Richard
How DARE you talk like that about your mother. Your mother loved you more than anything. She loved her family. She loved her life.
Dick
Saying it doesn’t make it true, sir. It doesn’t matter how many fuckin’ Jew lawyers write it down or say it over the phone or tell it to the newspapers.
Richard
If you want to go back to that, I’m not getting into it. She killed herself on accident. That’s what the note said. That’s what the coroner said. That’s what the police said. That’s what the inquiry said.
Dick
Right. I forgot. Which part was when you married that fuckin’ cooz Martha?
Richard
You never forgave me. I’ve forgiven every stupid, childish thing you’ve ever done, but you never have forgiven me for that.
Dick
Later.
Richard
What? Where are you going?
Dick
To play detective. You’re starting to cramp my fucking style. You ever come by here again I’ll kill you.
DICK moves to the door.
Richard
You can’t run from me forever, boy. You’ve got to grow up sooner or later. And I’ll be there for it. You’ll see.
DICK pauses at the door.
Dick
Asshole.
He leaves.
INT. DICK’S OFFICE, DAY
DICK enters. The office is tiny, squalid. The furnishings were once new and expensive, now covered with dust and the debris of long nights. OFFICER HENRY, black, lanky and stylishly unstylish, is sitting, browsing through DICK’s files.
Dick
I really need to start to locking my doors.
Henry
Hi there, Mr. Dick STEELE. Just thought I’d stop by, make sure you keeping yo’self outta’ trouble.
Dick
Am I?
Henry
Are you what?
Dick
In trouble ya’ pig-motherfucker.
Henry
Oh, somehow I think you will be. Don’t ask how. How come you’re here so early.
Dick
How about you show me a warrant?
Henry
Dick, we’ve known each other long time. We’re amigos, right?
Dick
You keep your hand in that file cabinet, I’ll sue the department.
Henry
You’d never get before a judge. Your rap sheet is a fucking foot and half longer than mine.
Dick
That’s because you don’t get caught, Henry. You’re the fuzz, I’m the fuckin’ mustache.
Henry
I got a call from a guy named Maurice. Says you fucked up one of his guys, broke a lamp.
Dick
Maybe Maurice is a filthy lowlife hustler who likes to make up stories.
Henry
You know, eventually I’m a’ just going to have to shut down your little operation here. I just know it.
Dick
What about me getting into trouble? It’s not for the Maurice thing, is it?
Henry
Ohhh, well, I only know what I’m told, and they don’t tell me shit most of the time.
Dick
You’re starting to make me want to plug you. Can you figure out why?
Henry
Downtown. To-night. Mann the Man’s gonna’ pull some shit and put it on you.
Dick
And he told you this himself?
Henry
A heh-heh, oh, noooo, I’ve just got a way when it comes to hearing things. I’m a popular kind of guy, ya’ dig?
Dick
Don’t I know it.
Henry
That’s right, and you best not be forgetting it when Mr. Mann’s putting the hurt on and asking you who spoiled the surprise. As far as you’re concerned, we ain’t even talkin’ right now. Ya’ dig?
Dick
I can dig it. You know I ain’t a snitch for nobody.
Henry
Lotta’ guys have said that, just before Mann put the Meathook to work on ‘em.
Dick
You actually think that motherfucker’s real?
Henry
I’m not one to speculate, but it seems to me if he’s gotta’ a name, he’s gotta’ be real, right?
Dick
Ever hear a’ Santa Clause?
Henry
Weren’t no Santa Clause at my house, Dick. That’s why I’m the law now.
Dick
Right. I’m going to assume you’ll be leaving now.
Henry
You don’t like talkin’ to me?
Dick
No, no, I love talkin’ to you Henry, it’s just if I break your jaw, we won’t be able to have these nice conversations anymore.
Henry
No need, peckerhead, no need. Just watch yourself, okay? I do mean that.
Dick
Thank you for the tip. If I pay my taxes next year, I’ll tell ‘em to put it towards your salary.
Henry
Haha. Take care, Dick.
Dick
Oh, Henry?
Henry
Yes, sir?
Dick
I think somebody keyed your ride.
Henry
You mother fucker!
Dick
Goodbye, Henry.
HENRY leaves disgruntled. DICK opens his file cabinet and pulls out a liquor bottle, pouring himself a shot. He looks around at the office clutter, finally resting on a photo. Vietnam. Dirty, smiling faces, laden with weaponry, are gathered in some jungle. A younger DICK is smiling too.
DICK knocks back the shot, and is about to pour another when he stops. There’s a pensive pause.
Dick
Asshole.
DICK throws his jacket on and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
EXT. STREETS OF LOS ANGELES, DAY
There’s menace on the streets of Los Angeles. Not the cheap, ordinary kind; the dime a dozen pimps and prostitutes, the dealers and the deal-ees. It’s much more ominous and quiet. The streets seem to be buzzing at only a few decibel levels more than usual, and DICK STEELE can feel it as he pushes his Ferrari to a wretched hive of scum and villainy…A cheap strip club called “Fortune.”
INT. FORTUNE STRIP CLUB, DAY
DICK STEELE enters the room, the dim lights barely penetrating the haze of cigarette smoke. A dancer is going through a tired routine. None of the audience notices. A HOSTESS moves through the nonexistent crowd. She passes DICK, who slaps her on the ass.
The HOSTESS covers surprise with a practiced smile.
Dick
What else is shakin’, babe?
Hostess
Depends. How much ya’ got on ya’?
Dick
Later, maybe. Right now I’m looking for Ruthie.
Hostess
She’s in back. You got an appointment.
Dick
Just tell her it’s an old friend from Kansas. Tell her to get out here.
Hostess
Be back in a second.
DICK watches her go, paying due attention to the wiggly walk she serves up along with the drinks. He heads for the bar. A street tough, BARNEY, is sitting down the row from him. DICK is oblivious. The BARTENDER moves to DICK.
Bartender
You been here before?
Dick
Just gimme’ a scotch.
Bartender
Hey, whatever you want, pal.
Dick
‘as what I thought. Just keep it full until I tell ya’ to stop.
The BARTENDER pours a shot, sliding it to DICK. DICK turns to look at the dancer.
BARNEY eyes DICK, trying to look like he’s being subtle.
DICK notices BARNEY out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t take action.
RUTHIE approaches, half in costume, flustered.
Ruthie
God damn you, Dick, I told you I didn’t want to see you again.
Dick
I thought I told you that as long as you’re workin’ at a tittie bar, I can see you whenever I damn well please, can’t I?
Ruthie
You’re a bastard, Dick. I knew it when I met you, but I was stupid then. I’m smarter now. I know better.
Dick
Then why you here, baby? You think…that I don’t know how you feel? I’ve met a million girls just like you, and if I don’t die or go queer, I’ll meet a million more. But just so you don’t worry your…pretty little head, I’m not lookin’ for company. I just need some information.
Ruthie
Fuck you.
Dick
Already done that, babe.
Ruthie
Forget it. I’m not going to talk to you.
Dick
Now now…no need to be sore. It’s not like we didn’t have a good time, right, babe?
Ruthie
You stop calling me babe right now or I’ll get your jerk-ass tossed. And just so you know, I was better off in Iowa than I ever was with you.
Dick
Awww, you’re hurting my feelings, sugar doll. If you couldn’t play the game, you shouldn’t have sat down at the table in the first place.
Ruthie
I was young…I…I didn’t have anything here. I thought I’d do anything to get away from that animal piece of shit…I only regret that I did.
Dick
It’s not like anyone ever made you do anything.
Ruthie
That’s bullshit. Jesus, you say you’ve got me figured out? The only thing you’ve got figured out is what your dick is for.
Dick
Not much else I need to know.
Ruthie
Yeah…that’s what you think. You know someone’s fixin’ to frame ya’?
Dick
Mann the Man, right? I know that much. It’s the what and the why of it I came to bother you for.
Ruthie
I only know what guys tell me. Most ‘times they don’t say much until they’ve already gotten’ what they wanted. You were like that too.
Dick
Well at least I ain’t any worse.
Ruthie
Look, Mann the Man’s brother…they see he’s that “Pent House Killer,” guy. He’s been on the run ever since he busted out of jail. I think maybe the Man is going to pin it on you.
Dick
So the brother can come back?
Ruthie
Somethin’ like that. Say…umm…you got a girlfriend or somethin’?
Dick
Now why would I go and do a stupid fucking thing like that?
Ruthie
Is that what I was. Was I a stupid thing?
Dick
You weren’t a stupid thing.
RUTHIE looks like she hopes its true.
Dick
But you were stupid. Comin’ out here with that little “abused orphan,” sob story, thinking anybody’d care. Nobody cares. Shit, I didn’t care.
Ruthie
I figured that out since you’ve left. Figured I had to stop carin’ too.
A pregnant pause.
Dick
‘couple a days after you left, Ron said he’d do five grand apiece for another “Kansas Cornholer’s.” Told me to tell you that. He thought maybe more money’d bring you back.
Ruthie
I know…he called me. I couldn’t do it anymore. Every time, it was like Wesley and Iowa all over again.
Dick
But not with me.
Ruthie
……No. Not with you. But it couldn’t be just you and me.
Another pause, shorter and worse.
Dick
I gotta’ go, babe. I’ll see ya’ around…all of ya’.
Ruthie
Wait…you…wanna’ talk later or something? Maybe catch up a little…talk about old times?
Dick
I’m not the talking type, Ruthie. By the way…
For a moment she believes in him.
Dick
…you look like hell. Get some sun.
DICK leaves a dejected RUTHIE. On the way out, he passes the HOSTESS, who gives him a wink. He’s got more important things to do.
BARNEY gets up from the bar and follows DICK out.
DICK gets into his Ferrari and heads out.
BARNEY pursues in an Impala.
EXT. LOS ANGELES STREETS, DAY
DICK sees him in the rear view mirror, and speeds up.
BARNEY continues the pursuit, matching DICK’s speed.
The chase is on. The Ferrari makes good time, but a traffic light stops the getaway. When DICK turns to look for the Ford, it’s not there. DICK drives onward, through Los Angeles, up into the swanky suburbs. Nice houses and white picket fences, then comes a whitewashed, angular monster; an edifice to excess.
DICK gets out of his car. RON emerges from a sliding glass door; tinted to maintain privacy. RON is a wealthy casual, a slick ponytail and thick glasses say dweeb, but the Rolex says otherwise.
Ron
DICK? Hey, DICK! Jesus, is that you?
Dick
I’ve known you too long for that Ron. How you doin’?
Ron
Super, super…’Can’t see why you’re here, though. It wouldn’t be for a job would it?
Dick
Not really, Ron. Just ran into Ruthie, actually.
Ron
Oh………How is Ruthie?
Dick
She’s alright. ‘Wouldn’t touch her if you paid me, but she’s alright.
Ron
I can pay a lot, Dick. We really should’ve done another “Kansas Cornholer’s.” I mean, in all seriousness, if I was gonna’ up and fuckin’ die tomorrow, that’s the one thing I’d leave behind. You, uhhh…ever think about doin’ a sequel.
Dick
No. And, I…gotta’ lot goin’ on, Ron, so I’d like to just get to the sharp, bloody point.
Ron
‘as alright…just thought you might want to sit down for a while, talk about old times.
Dick
I done enough of that for today…You know Mann the Man right?
The word stops the conversation. Ron is suddenly, painfully lacking in confidence. This is thin ice.
Ron
You came to talk to me about that?
Dick
As a matter of fact, I did, Ronnie. Ya’ see, I know you’re connected…wired i and I was kind of wandering what you’ve heard, round these parts.
Ron
I ain’t heard nothing, Dick. Nothing you don’t know already.
RON tries to beat a retreat. DICK turns him around.
Dick
Try me.
Ron
There’s a lot of talk about you…lotta’ talk. Guy came in here yesterday, told me they were coming for you. Told me they were gonna’ pin something on you. That’s all I know. They told me to steer clear of you.
Dick
Ron. Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?
Ron
Well, Jesus, you came here lookin’ like business…I figured you know.
Dick
I did. That’s not why I’m mad.
Ron
Oh fuck, Dick, please, not now…
Dick
I’m mad because you lied to me. You’re lucky we’re friends.
DICK turns his back to Ron, looks out over Los Angeles.
Ron
Hey, yeah were friends…You know, if you want to come inside-
DICK turns around and punches RON in the face. RON staggers backward.
Ron
GAHHH, sonofaBITCH…ahhh…Why the fuck you do that?
Dick
Well, uhh…normally I’d gut ya’ for talkin’ bullshit like that. But since we’re friends, I thought I’d just wing ya’.
Ron
Ahhh, that smarts. Ow. Couldn’t ya’ have just asked a little nicer?
Dick
I’m Dick FUCKIN’ Steele, I don’t got time for nice.
Ron (breathing heavily)
Ya’ never did…This guy, this guy came to my house, told me to tell you about some thing going on. Downtown tonight. Said to tell you they were going to get you…pin something on you, I dunno. It was weird.
Dick
Why didn’t you fuckin’ call me Ron?
Ron
I…I didn’t know what to do. I mean, if some guy I knew was talking shit about ya’ or somethin’, yeah, I’d let you know but…this was weird. I mean, he WANTED you to know. I figured it was probably asshole you roughed up, some guy trying to track ya’ down, make ya’ walk the street at noon or somethin’.
DICK turns to face RON squarely. Decisions are being made here.
Ron
Hey, that’s all I know, that’s all he told me…You want any kind of help, just tell me. We’re friends, right?
Dick
Yeah…Fuckin’ A-migos.
DICK slaps RON heartily on the back, causing RON to lurch forward.
Ron
Owww…so…what are you going to do?
Dick
Well…I think I’m gonna’ go swing by the police station and straighten this goddamn mess out. Talk to Henry Roundtree, see where he fits in here.
Ron
Sounds…sounds good, Dick.
Dick
Yeah…yeah. I’ll see ya’ around Ron.
DICK turns and walks towards his car. BARNEY’s car can be seen in the background in a tense immobility, waiting to continue the chase.
Ron
So, uhhh, hey, you’ll call right? We’re still friends, huh?
DICK doesn’t notice; he sees BARNEY’s car.
Ron
HEY! Dick Long ever comin’ back?
Dick
It’s Steele, Ron.
DICK gets in his Ferrari, pulls out his illegal parking space, as if to enter the road.
Dick
Dick fucking Steel.
DICK slams on the gas, the car pointed at BARNEY’s Impala.
The Impala jumps to live, but not in time. The Ferrari crashes into the Impala, pinning it inside the parallel park situation.
DICK emerges from the vehicle, naturally having only the most superficial damage. He pulls out a Wildley .45 Magnum and approaches the wrecked Impala.
BARNEY tries with futility to extricate himself from the wreck.
DICK wrenches him from the car, hurling him to the ground.
BARNEY is severely injured, unable to put up a fight.
Dick
Who the fuck are you?
BARNEY coughs up a small amount of blood, tries to steady himself on the ground.
Dick
WHO ARE YOU?
No response. DICK kicks BARNEY in the midsection. BARNEY keels over, bare able to remain conscious.
Ron
DICK! DICK! What the FUCK is that…why…why’d you have to go and…oh my god…
He sees the man on the ground, DICK over him holding his handgun.
Ron
That…that’s the guy! That’s him, the one I told ya’ about!
Dick
Shut your goddamn suck hole, Ron.
Dick Steele is a script I wrote after me and Tobin Youngs created the character (base on Tobin's bitchin' costume). This is the rough draft, and obviously there are problems, but it's pretty good for something that really doesn't require much effort to write. Hell, all I have to do is think "badass," and the stuff comes out. Plus, it's a great outlet for my misanthropic nihilism. Enjoy!
PS: I'm testing the waters for some kind of Star Wars outing on Thursday 19th, to mark the final chapter in madness of George Lucas. Anyone interested?