Stephen Metcalfe - Writer & Director

NAILS THROUGH THE HAND

The sound of a dirge.
FADE IN ON:
A statue. Jesus, his arms outstretched, his face filled with sorrow. The hands are open. Wounds where the nails went in.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE. DAY
Establishing. MUSIC and CREDITS BEGIN as:
EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY
A sign - ANTONIO'S - written with a flourish. It's the restaurant of the moment; humming with an upscale lunch crowd. As one car is driven away by a valet, ANOTHER, a Cadillac Escalade, pulls to a stop. The head valet immediately steps up and pulls the passenger door open. A beautiful woman gets out; greets him by name. Around the car, a young valet opens the driver's door and a well dressed man gets out. The man and woman greet people who are waiting for them. The driver is given a ticket by the head valet. As the man and woman and their friends enter the restaurant, laughing and chatting, the young valet looks over to the head valet. The head valet almost imperceptibly nods. The young valet gets into the Escalade and drives it away. Another car pulls to the curb to takes it's place. The head valet smiles, opening the passenger door as -
EXT. PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
The Escalade comes around the building and into the parking lot.
IN THE CAR -
The valet gives the horn a quick beep.
A YOUNG MAN
with long greasy hair sits, back against a parked car, smoking a joint. He looks up at the sound of the horn. He stubs out his smoke and rises as -
THE ESCALADE
roars through the lot and then turns hard, tires squealing - and stops.
THE VALET
pulls the keys from the ignition and gets out. Starts across the lot. Greasy Hair is walking towards him. The valet tosses him the keys as they pass.
Greasy Hair moves to the Escalade, gets in, starts it up and peels out. He drives towards the back out of the lot. Out a rear entrance. Gone.
EXT. KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE - DAY
A rougher part of town. The Escalade makes its way down the street.
IN THE ESCALADE -
Greasy Hair has the radio turned to a rock station; has the music turned up loud. He drums the steering wheel to the beat of the music.
INT. RESTAURANT - DAY
The couple are sitting at a tale with their friends. Waiters hover. No one has a care in the world.
EXT. HARDWARE STORE - DAY
The Escalade parks in front of decrepit looking Hardware Store. Greasy Hair gets out. Enters.
INT. HARDWARE STORE - DAY
In the back of the store, a fat, grizzled old man sits on a stool behind a counter reading a girlie magazine. He looks up as Greasy Hair approaches. Greasy Hair wordlessly tosses him the keys to the Escalade. The old man snatches them out of the air. He looks at them, nods. He turns on his stool, opens a drawer behind him. It's filled with uncut car keys. Luxury car keys.
INT. RESTAURANT - DAY
Lunch is served. Spectacular stuff.
INT. HARDWARE STORE - DAY
The old man finishes cutting the key. He slaps the keys down on the counter. Greasy Hair looks up from the girlie magazine and grins. He takes the keys, turns and walks. He takes the girlie magazine too.
INT. RESTAURANT - DAY
The Escalade owner places a gold American Express card down on the bill. A waiter immediately sweeps it away.
INT./EXT. THE ESCALADE - MOVING - DAY
Greasy Hair driving, radio blaring, windows wide open, lighting up his roach. He tosses the book of matches into the passenger seat. Onto the girlie magazine.
EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY
The Escalade owner and his girlfriend have come out and are waiting. The Escalade owner is starting to look annoyed. The head valet is starting to look nervous.
EXT. PARKING LOT - DAY
The young valet is waiting. He looks up as Greasy Hair turns into the rear entrance of the lot. Greasy Hair drives up to him and stops, grinning.
VALET
Come on, come on.
Greasy Hair gets out. The valet gets in. He sniffs.
VALET (CONT'D)
You can smell the dope, man! And get this shit out of here!
He grabs the girlie mag and throws it out the window. He peels out. Greasy Hair looking petulant as he picks up his magazine.
EXT. RESTAURANT - DAY
The Escalade owner now decidedly pissed as his car comes around the building and to a stop in front of him. The young valet getting out. He has the windows open, the air conditioner on full blast.
IN THE PARKING LOT -
Greasy Hair sits with his magazine, having just rolled another joint. He searches for his matches. Can't find them.
OUT FRONT -
The head valet apologizes for the delay as he opens the car door for the woman. She gets in. CLOSE ON - The book of matches is on the carpet floor - done in the same flourish as the sign - ANTONIO'S. The door closes.
Annoyed, the owner gets in his side. The young valet nervously holding the door. The man turns off the air conditioning. The man puts the car in gear and drives off. The head valet and the younger valet glance at one another as MUSIC and CREDITS END.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. KNOXVILLE, TN. - NIGHT
From the Blue Mountains looking down into the valley. Lights of the city twinkling.
EXT. OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN. NIGHT.
Industrial area. A fenced-in junkyard on a deserted street. The carcasses of old cars and pick-up trucks everywhere.
The deep, bass-hum of engines. Two chopped Harleys come slowly up the street, through the open gates and into the yard. The engines are cut.
The two BIKERS in dirty denim, boots, and leathers sit on their bikes; silent, wary.
BIKER 1 is tall and lean, 30's. Long hair, unshaven face. A dirty bandaged cast on his left hand. He takes off sunglasses to reveal cold, hard eyes.
Biker 2 is a big man, prematurely grey, early 50's. He rolls the plug of tobacco in his cheek and spits. The two men look at each another. Neither speaks. Biker 2 suddenly turns as
NEAR THE GARAGE
A match flares. Illuminates the face of a black man, 40's. The black man lights his cigarette.
BLACK MAN
You're late.
Biker 2 laughs nervously.
BIKER 2
Didn't see you there in the dark, man. Shoulda smiled or something.
BLACK MAN
They gettin' nervous in there.
BIKER 1
Good.
He lifts dusty saddlebags to his shoulder.
EXT. GARAGE. EVENING.
Dark. Creepy. Greasy. Water drips from a leaky pipe into an oil slick puddle. The BLACK MAN, all cocky street-strut, in an Italian cut suit and shined loafers, comes around the side of the garage, followed by the bikers.
BIKER 2
Why you walking like that, you got a bum hip?
(Laughing, to Biker 1)
Nigger thinks he's dressed nice.
BLACK MAN
Only thing you know about clothes, Opie, is you ain't got none.
Biker 2 laughs. The black man opens a corrugated steel door.
BIKER 1
You first.
The black man shrugs. Enters.
INT. GARAGE - NIGHT
The three men step into the dimly lit vault of the garage. They move slowly forward. The bikers not liking the feel of it. And they suddenly freeze as headlights go on - highbeams aimed blindingly into their eyes.
BLACK MAN
(shading his eyes)
Come on, dog, turn that off.
The headlights lights go to dim. Three young men in jeans and T-shirts step out from behind the raised hood of a stock car. Nothing funny about them. Sullen country faces. Bad teeth. Pale skin that looks like it's never seen the sun. Biker 2 forces a grin.
BIKER 2
How ya'll doin'? Anybody got a beer?
The three men just stare.
BIKER 1
How about names then?
BLACK MAN
Sure they got names, this is Bubba, this is Dick and this is Hairy.
Bubba with a jaw full of snuff. Dick with a strange eye that won't stay still. Hairy, itching all over.
BLACK MAN
We all friends now?
BUBBA
(to Biker 1)
Happened to your arm, boy?
BIKER 1
Broke it.
BUBBA
How?
BIKER 1
Tire iron.
DICK
(giggling)
That wasn't very smart.
BIKER 1
That's what I told the guy with the tire iron.
Biker 1 tosses his saddlebags forward. Hairy moves forward, grabs them, opens them. They're filled with cash. Hairy turns and tosses the saddlebags to Bubba. Bubba looks at the money quickly, then nods to Dick.
BUBBA
Show'm.
Dick moves to tarp covered something - whips the tarp back. It's the Escalade from the restaurant.
BIKER 1
(unimpressed)
That's it?
Bubba nods again. Hairy moves on to a floor-to-ceiling cabinet. It's the length of the wall. He swings open big doors - shelves are filled with auto parts.
HAIRY
That more like it?
Biker 2 moves to the Escalade for a better look.
BIKER 2
Whoo, this is nice.
(getting in to the car)
How many of these babies you gotta steal to get an inventory like that?
Bubba is silent.
IN THE CAR -
Biker 2 sitting there like he's in a showroom and about to buy the damn thing. And now he sees something near the gear shift - THE BOOK OF MATCHES.
BIKER 2
Must be a lot of lawyers and dot.com dorks bicycling to work, huh?
He picks up the matches.
BLACK MAN
(To Bubba: the money)
My commission comes out of that, I believe was the arrangement.
Bubba just stares. Hairy giggling; scratching himself inside his pants.
BUBBA
We decided to change all that.
Hairy quickly pulls a sawed off shot gun from the convertible. Aims it at Biker 1. Dick's hand comes up; there's a .45 automatic in it. He puts it through the car window, presses it against Biker 2's temple.
BIKER 2
Aw, come on, brother, we had a deal.
DICK
Y'know, y'can't hit nothing with a .45 less you're about this close... and then - whooo! - look out!
Biker 2's eyes --- he's a dead man and he knows it.
BIKER 1
Hey.
Dick turns his head, his gun still aimed at Biker 2.
BIKER 1 (CONT'D)
Don't shoot him in the car, huh? You'll mess the seats.
A moment. Dick laughs. And then everyone is laughing - damn, this is funny. Bubba suddenly turns to Dick, no longer laughing.
BUBBA
Do him!
Dick's finger tightening on the trigger. The cast on Biker 1's hand explodes. Dick reels and falls.
HAIRY (CONT'D)
Arrggghhh!
Raising his shotgun, he hurriedly fires at Biker 1 - and blows a hole in the auto-parts behind him. Biker 1's turns and his hand explodes again - Hairy falls, losing the shotgun.
Bubba is drawing a weapon; fumbling - aiming at Biker 1, about to shoot when - WHAM! Using a car muffler like a baseball bat, the black man takes him down.
Hairy, wounded, gropes with a bloody hand for the shotgun that's on the floor, only inches away - and freezes as a pistol barrel is put to his head.
Biker 1 turns, stands over him, the gun that was concealed in the cast on his hand revealed.
BIKER 1
Go ahead. Grab it.
Hairy slowly pulls his hand back.
BIKER 1 (CONT'D)
You're not as stupid as you look. Tilden, you okay?
The Black Man - his name is TILDEN ELLIS - is standing over Bubba. He tosses the muffler aside.
TILDEN
Fine, Tom.
(and then, to Bubba:)
Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. You figured that out yet? You got the right to remain silent -
The litany continues. Biker 1, who is TBI agent TOM HILL, turns and stares across the garage towards Biker 2 - GENE RIZZO. Gene still sits in the front seat of the Escalade, motionless.
TOM
Gene?
Gene shakes his head.