EXT. AN EMPTY STREET NIGHT
Everything is still — lamp lights pave the way in the
street. We hear the music reverb from a club nearby, Laura
Brangigan, Self Control is HEARD from the outside. MEN
talking in SPANISH is HEARD. Over all the noises, idle
engines are running.
CALLUM (V.O.)
Where do I begin? Lights, clubs,
flash. I mean, this is Miami. Yeah,
I ran a few jobs for a few people,
got a few dollars. This ain’t
nothing new. Malibu, I mean, I like
the drink, yeah – but going in a
club for a hit? I mean, there is a
lot of things in this world that I
won’t forget, won’t expect, but a
hit in a club, in this part of
town? It ain’t as bright as those
lights, that’s for sure.
EXT. PURPLE LIT CLUB ‘MALIBU CLUB’ NIGHT
A purple lit CLUB appears with the words, MALIBU CLUB in
bright purple — we hear FOOTSTEPS. The club gets closer, the
lights become faster, brighter and the music gets louder.
CUT TO BLACK.
EXT. STREET NIGHT
CALLUM
Look at this place, even if I make
the hit, everybody knows eachother
in this region, I’m the only one
that ain’t local, you’ll catch me
dead in alley real quick.
CALLUM JONES mid-twenties, slim build, American, walking the
ghetto streets of Miami at night, confused and lost, trying
to find his way back home. His footsteps in a song-like
rhythm, trying to feel a groove to keep him sane.
EXT. A SIDE ROAD CAFE NIGHT
CUBAN CHEF
What do these people expect?
Huh three course meal?
Joo want a sandwich and joo
complain? Fuck outta ‘ere.
CUBAN CHEF TWO
Easy hose, this ain’t like home,
this is America, people want flash,
pizzazz, you gotta seduce a little.
The CUBAN Chef’s are wearing a DIRTY apron — hands greasy,
mid thirties, big build and food over their clothing.
The CAFÉ becomes visible as CALLUM approaches, the billboard
LITTLE HAVANA is lit up with dimmed lights turning on and
off.
CUT TO:
EXT. A SIDE-ROAD CAFÉ NIGHT
CALLUM (O.S.)
Hey coffee, please.
CALLUM reaches into his pocket and takes out 70 cents —
PLACING it on the counter, splitting them up.
CALLUM (CONT’D)
There you are.
FLAMENCO JAZZ is playing on a small radio in the kitchen.
White fluorescent tubes light up the CAFÉ. — One CHEF is
working the coffee machine whilst the other is sitting on a
wooden chair smoking a cigarette.
CALLUM JONES (CONT’D)
You okay there? —
(pointing to CUBAN CHEF TWO)
CUBAN CHEF TWO
What’s it to you? —
(he nods his head)
CALLUM sighs and looks into the Cafe kitchen — reading a
sign with the text DISPLAYING ‘SUGAR MAN’.
His coffee is finished, it is in a small cup accompanied by a
small plate underneath. CUBAN CHEF ONE hands it to him on the
counter — spilling a small amount onto the plate.
CUBAN CHEF ONE (V.O.)
There, pobre hijo de puta.
Callum gets up to leave the counter-side with his coffee, he
beings to walk the streets — an idle, limousine-like car in
black turns it’s lights on and begins driving towards the
Cafe at a slow pace.
The Cuban chef can be seen exiting the Cafe and chasing
behind Callum, visibly shaking his hands and shouting.
CUBAN CHEF ONE
PEDA! JOO CAN’T TAKE THE CUP —
(pointedly, at the cup).
Is empty, huh?
The Cuban chef, visibly exhausted — hands on his knees
trying to catch a breath whilst looking at Callum.
CUT TO:
EXT. AN EMPTY STREET NIGHT
CALLUM
Sorry. I’m not quite used to Cuban
hospitality, I’m not local.
CUBAN CHEF ONE
Fuck you mean you not local man?
This Little Havana joo in, joo
heard?
Callum shaken — his original thoughts on the area were rough
enough, now with people realising he’s not local, it only
concerns him further. — The Cuban chef BEGINS walking back
to the CAFE but the car PULLS UP against the CURB. The DRIVER
and the CHEF can be SEEN talking.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. THE CAR NIGHT
DRIVER (V.O.)
You know this guy? Running after
him like you’re his bitch. Who you
working for?
A suspicious individual, seems to run the area, we will know
him as DRIVER for now. The words Sugar Man seem to correlate
back to him. He is a slim build white guy, unclear where he
is from. Wears a suit, blue to be specific.
CUBAN CHEF ONE
He nobody man, I’m tellin’ joo, he
nobody, I only work for you, you
know that boss.
CUT TO:
EXT. STREET NIGHT
The DRIVER looks at CALLUM through his windshield, watching
him walk down the street. He puts his car in gear and begins
strolling forward at a slow pace towards Callum.
CUBAN CHEF ONE (V.O.)
Boss! Where joo going?!
The DRIVER approaches Callum, stops the car and looks at him
CALLUM stops and looks behind his back to see the DRIVER
signalling at him.
CUT TO:
INT/EXT. THE CAR NIGHT
DRIVER
Where you from? My guy tells me you
aren’t local. You can’t just roll
in from wherever from, this Little
Havana.
CALLUM
Nah. He’s right, I’m not local. I’m
just doing some laundry, you can
say. I had to stop by for a coffee,
is that a problem?
CALLUM chuckles as he looks through his pockets for a lighter
bothered by the fact he can’t find it. The DRIVER watches
idly, the sound of rain pouring down on top of the car is
LOUD. The DRIVER, not pleased with the way CALLUM spoke to
him.
CALLUM (CONT’D)
Didn’t realise I couldn’t order a
coffee. Wait, ahh, seems as I lost
it, you got a lighter?
The DRIVER gives a cold gaze, menacing one, a deep stare into
the soul as he snorts cocaine from his pipe, he doesn’t take
an eye off CALLUM, one hand on the steering wheel, the other
his pipe.
CALLUM (CONT’D)
Pal, a lighter, would be nice.
DRIVER (O.S.)
Have your lighter.
CALLUM lights up his cigarette and begins to walk away from
the car. We see the DRIVERS face as CALLUM leaves, never
returning the lighter.
CUT TO:
EXT. PURPLE LIT CLUB ‘MALIBU CLUB’ NIGHT
MUSIC CUE: “MONEY FOR NOTHING” BY DIRE STRAITS
The club, illuminating it’s purple glow, the lettering MALIBU
CLUB gets stronger, brighter. CALLUM approaches the club for
what he is due to do. No bouncer in sight, free entry perhaps
The club features no windows, just purple lining and black
walls, the neon reflects off the ground
CALLUM walks towards the doors of the club and we see him
enter.
CUT TO:
INT. MALIBU CLUB MOMENTS LATER
Upon entry to the club, the features are prevalent, blue
glass-like flooring, with purple linings, the walls black,
again with the same purple linings – a bar is visible, tables
are visible and a large dancefloor in the heart of the club,
not too far from it was a wooden stage. Blonde rockets were
dressed in pouffy Lacroix dresses, slinky Alais and the men
in Armani power suits.
CALLUM
“I see them, walking around like
big shots and they don’t know shit.
Hell they don’t know someone is
getting whacked tonight.”
CALLUM approaches the bar, we see a bar-maid – the stools are
empty and the drinks are mounted on the wall behind.
CUT TO:
INT. MALIBU CLUB (BAR) MOMENTS LATER
BAR MAID
“What can I get you?”
CALLUM
“Frankie would do just fine.”
BAR MAID
“Oh I see, did Ross send you then?
If you’re looking for Frankie .. –
he’s just right by that sofa table.
You see him? —
(she points towards
the table)
He comes here a lot, fat slob. Hits
on every girl, seems to think he
can buy women. I spoke with Ross, I
think ever since Frankie started
running his keys outside of Havana
it’s been harming Ross’s region.”
CUT TO:
INT. MALIBU CLUB (FRANKIE’S TABLE) MOMENTS LATER
FRANKIE. The biggest of the bunch. He wore a BLACK SUIT
without a TIE and a white undershirt. He was surrounded by
members of his mob. All expenses were paid for by FRANKIE
himself.
CUT TO: