Barbara's Scripts
Scene from Shadow's Way

INT. BED CHAMBER

A soft, yellow pallor outlines dark, massive furniture sprawled out in the opulence of thick carpet and rich draperies.

JOHN FIGGURANT, 52, dozes peacefully in a plush wing back chair.   His handsome, aristocratic features and  silk smoking jacket give off a refined aura that sharply contrasts with the cheap brassy blond standing in the doorway.

TRIXIE
(cocky Brooklyn accent)

Your Excellency, Trixie's here!

John awakens with a start.

JOHN
(deep Southern drawl)

How dare you come like this!

She sets the bag at the foot of the bed.

TRIXIE

What?  No spiritual direction for one
of the strays in your flock?

She plops on the bed beside the bag, kicks off a shoe, seductively sticks out her leg, and wiggles her toes.

She then holds up a jar of olives, smiles knowingly, and laughs lasciviously.

Votive candles flicker from a small corner altar.

A look of panic covers John’s face. 

JOHN

I’ll hear confessions between nine and
ten in the morning.

She gets up in his face.

TRIXIE

You confess, you fucking hypocrite.

Organ music from a Latin High Mass plays.