"Million Dollar Babies" Screenplay written by Peter Layton


FADE UP

EXT. BIG CITY - DAY

Two bike couriers race past cars, buses, and pedestrians. JASON and ZIPPY,
both young, both suicidal, leap their bikes over a curb and scatter pigeons
everywhere as they clatter down stone steps and race to a water fountain. Just
ahead of Zippy, Jason hops up on the concrete pool ledge and skids to a stop.
As Zippy slams to a halt behind him, a grinning Jason looks at his watch.

JASON
Finally. Got bored waiting for you.

A sourly impressed Zippy raises his hand for the high five palm slap.

ZIPPY
Okay, Jason, pretty sick for an old man.

That’s a joke. The lean, sinewy Jason is in his early twenties. Zippy, all bleached
hair, tattoos, and body piercings, in his late teens. Zippy moves his hand to make
Jason miss on the high five salute.

ZIPPY
But nobody beats me twice. Go again.
Here to the Tower, balls out, kick ass
sprint.

JASON
Sorry, Zip, I’m meeting Brooke in ten.

ZIPPY
The tattoo shop? I’ll race you there.

Like reining back a horse, Zippy jerks his bike up, pops a wheelie on the ledge.

ZIPPY
I’ll have her pregnant by the time you
show up.

Jason bunny hops his mountain bike around 180 degrees, shakes his butt at Zippy.

JASON
Watch my ass closely. I’ll be signaling
lane changes with it.

EXT. SEEDY AREA - DAY
Hookers and drug-dealers work the street outside the TATTOO U tattoo shop.

INT. TATTOO SHOP - DAY
Nineteen year old BROOKE doesn’t look like a biker chick with the Sistine
Chapel tattooed on her back…she’s very pretty, with just one tiny rose etched on
her shoulder. She’s looking dubiously at HANNA, a middle-aged, heavy-set
woman, who drunkenly waves about a photo of a balding man.

HANNA
This here’s Eddie, my ex.

Kicking off her shoe, Hanna hoists and clumps her bare foot onto the counter.

HANNA
I want his face on my foot…so I can
step on him every day.

Sneaking a quick peek at the clock, Brooke looks at Hanna.

BROOKE
Uh, maybe you should think this over
a bit, okay?

Awkwardly, Hanna tugs her foot off the counter, stares at Brooke.

HANNA
You’re young, cute. Must go out with
tons of guys, right?

BROOKE
No, just one.

HANNA
Well, you pick the richest one. Trust me,
I know, I married poor.

Brooke just smiles, starts leading Hanna out to the door.

HANNA
Marry the money, honey. Love don’t
pay the bills.

EXT. CITY STREETS - DAY
It’s the Tour de France between Jason and Zippy on the streets, ripping through
traffic, barely avoiding honking, yelling road ragers trying to turn them into
pavement pizza. The light ahead turns yellow. Jason hesitates, then hits the
brakes. As he stops, Zippy screams past.

ZIPPY
Loser!

But as Zippy rips through crossing pedestrians and moving traffic, he spots two
uniformed bike cops on the other side watching him.

ZIPPY
Oh crap!

Making a sudden turn against one way traffic, Zippy pumps furiously, chased by
the bike cops. Laughing, Jason hollers after him.

JASON
Okay Zip! You won!

INT. TATTOO SHOP - DAY
Glancing up at a clock reading five to lunch hour, Brooke stifles a groan when a
street PUNK shambles in, obviously lost in a chemical fog. The kid looks about 15,
but is covered in tattoos.

PUNK
Hey…

Nervously, the punk looks all around, making sure the shop is empty. Brooke
reaches down behind the counter, holds ready a can of pepper spray.

BROOKE
Can I help you?

Swallowing, the punk checks the front, back, comes up closer to Brooke.

PUNK

Listen, uh, I wanna ‘nother mark.

One last final glance around, and the kid suddenly drops his pants. Brooke barely
restrains herself from whipping out and firing the pepper spray.

PUNK
It’s cool, it’s cool, I got cash and ID.
I wanna get marked here…

Pointing to the crotch area of his dirty, threadbare underwear, the punk smiles
dreamily, dully at a disgusted looking Brooke.

PUNK
See, I want totality…100 per cent
body art.

Arms folded, lips curled, Brooke shakes her head.

BROOKE
Kid, just go home. Go to bed and wake
up with the living.

The punk looks blankly at Brooke, then nods, hikes up his pants.

PUNK
Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t wanna
do little willy…

Leaning in close to Brooke, the punk tugs up his eyeball.

PUNK
Do my lids?

Throwing her hands up, Brooke lets out a scream of frustration.

BROOKE
That’s it! I’ve had it! I can’t stand
the freaks and geeks anymore!

The door of a back office opens. The large, shaven, tattooed head of HUGO the
boss sticks out, listens to Brooke lecturing the dazed kid.

BROOKE
What about your future? How are you
going to get a job looking like a pizza
covered road map? Who’ll marry a
walking movie poster? Huh…well?

Brooke stops at the sound of sardonic, mocking clapping from Hugo.

HUGO
Nice throne speech, your Highness.
Now do the work.

Eyes blazing, Brooke marches up to Hugo.

BROOKE
Hugo, look at him…

Brooke jerks a thumb back at the semi-conscious punk.

BROOKE
Fifteen, maybe sixteen, screwing up his
life quickly and early. We can’t…

Hugo puts up a silencing hand.

HUGO

Hey, Mother Theresa…it’s not your
problem.

BROOKE
But he’s--

HUGO
Got real money and fake ID. Guess which
wins in here? Sugar, you’re not painting
portraits, or sculpting, or doing great art,
you’re dyeing flesh for cash. Comprende?

At that moment, the door opens and in walks Jason, wearing his bike helmet and
shades. One look at Brooke tells him it’s been a deep fried bitch of a day already.

JASON
Hi.

Jason gets a long lingering look and welcoming smile…from Hugo, not the angry
and upset Brooke.

HUGO
Hi, Jason. You’re looking very fit.

JASON
Uh, thanks. I’ll…wait outside.

Grabbing her purse, Brooke glares at Hugo, points at the punk.

BROOKE
I’m not doing him.

HUGO
Think it over, sugar. And come back
with the proper attitude. If not…

Shrugging, Hugo sweeps his hand towards the door.

HUGO
…then don’t come back.

As Brooke glares at Hugo, the phone rings. Neither makes a move towards it.
This is a showdown, a contest of wills. Hugo tilts his head warningly. On the
fourth ring, Brooke sullenly snatches the phone up, spits out the name.

BROOKE
Tattoo U.

Bad news. Brooke looks shocked, then ill.

BROOKE
What? What! No! Jason! Jason!

Jason comes rushing in, up to a sickened Brooke, clutching her stomach.

BROOKE
It’s Donny next door. Oh God…

Hand to mouth, Brooke shoves the phone to Jason, rushes off to the back.

INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - DAY
Cell phone in hand, DONNY, bearded, thick glasses, philosophy-student- for-
life type, watches cheap furniture and meager possessions being piled up outside
the door of the apartment across the hall.

DONNY
I don’t know. I was studying, when I
heard all this noise. Man, this isn’t legal
without an eviction notice.

The landlord, PAULY, harassed looking, downcast, beaten down by life, steps
out of the door, looks sourly at Donny.

PAULY
You talking to them?

Taking the phone, Pauly sighs unhappily.

PAULY
Sorry, but the new owners are crazy.
Miss the rent by a day and they’re
screaming at me to evict you. They hate
you, they hate me, what can I do?

INT. TATTOO SHOP - DAY
Stunned, almost on the verge of tears, Jason clutches the phone like he’s trying
to strangle it to death.

JASON
But we’ll have the rent in two days!
Both our paydays are on the second
this month, it’s not our fault.

Jason grimaces as he hears Brooke retching in the back washroom.

JASON
For God’s sakes, Brooke’s dad passed
away last month. She’s been sick ever
since. You can’t—

A long, unsatisfactory reply leaves Jason shaking his head.

JASON
Ah, screw it. Let me talk to Donny.

Toilet flushing noisily behind her, an ashen-faced Brooke approaches Hugo.

BROOKE
Hugo, please, you gotta give me—

HUGO
Sorry, sugar, save your breath. I can’t.

BROOKE
But…we’re getting evicted.
Hugo gives an exaggerated sigh and big shrug.

HUGO
And people are starving in Africa.
Look at it from that perspective.
That’s how I stay sane.


EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
A shaken Brooke and Jason stand in front of a 99 cent Pizza place, eyeing the long
line-up. Neither looks hungry, especially after checking out the card-board and
tomato sauce pizzas in the window.

JASON
Donny will store our stuff for a few
days, maybe we can crash at Zippy’s
for tonight.

BROOKE
Then what?

JASON
Then we start looking. What else?

Brooke shakes her head sadly, wearily. Jason holds her, nuzzles her.

JASON
Hey, we both have jobs now, some
money coming in. Things will get
better…especially after lunch.

BROOKE
Yeah. Uh, except…

Brooke pantomimes opening her purse upside down and shaking out nothing.

JASON
Huh. Me too.

Looking around Jason spots an ATM bank machine across the street. He heads
off to it. Brooke mutters sourly to herself.

BROOKE
Being poor really sucks.

A couple of old rubbies and street punks in line nod silently. Brooke watches
Jason get his money at the ATM machine across the street, but as he starts to
come back, he stops dead, staring stunned at the receipt slip.

BROOKE
Oh no…

Jason motions urgently for Brooke to come over. She rushes up to him.

BROOKE
What? We’re short? We have at
least forty, don’t we?

Jason hands the bank account statement slip to Brooke. One look, her eyes pop.

BROOKE
What?!

The bank statement reads “Withdraw $20.00 from Savings. Account Balance -
$1,000,040.03.”. A million bucks in their account. Brooke stares at Jason.

BROOKE
This a joke. You’re kidding, right?

JASON
No. This is our account.

Brooke rushes up to the ATM bank machine, slips in her card, hits the 4 number
password, and quickly enters the commands.

BROOKE
Jason, this isn’t funny. I mean, this’d
be a really cruel joke.

The card pops out, a twenty falls down, and slowly, the account receipt slips out.
Brooke snatches it up, gazes at it.

BROOKE
Oh my God…

The account balance now reads $1,000,020.03. Open-mouthed, Jason and Brooke
stare at each other. Jason laughs weakly.

JASON
Well, the 20 bucks is ours for sure…

Suddenly, decisively, Brooke slips the card back in, hits the numbers.

JASON
Hey, hey! Whaddya you doing?

BROOKE
Guess. Christmas has come early!

Jason gasps as Brooke selects $200, the maximum withdrawal.

JASON
Hey! We can’t afford that!

BROOKE
The hell we can’t. We’ve got a million
bucks in here!

Brooke’s excited, a little too loud. A nearby stranger glances over. As the
money plops out, she lowers her voice, urgent, tense.

BROOKE
Jason, I’ve been praying for this, I lit
the candles, and my friend Theresa,
who’s totally--

JASON
Psychotic.

BROOKE
--psychic, she foretold this. She said—

JASON
Brooke, calm down, listen. Obviously
the bank screwed up big time. We’ll
tell them and--

BROOKE
No!

JASON
Listen, when we tell them about their
mistake…

As Jason speaks, we CUT to a scene where Jason and Brooke are in a bank
manager’s office, showing him the bank account statement.

JASON (V/O)
…they’ll give us a reward.

A smiling bank manager hands Jason and Brooke a cheque, shakes their hands.
The scene changes as Brooke speaks.

BROOKE (V/O)
Like hell they will.

In Brooke’s scenario, the bank manager is scowling, dismissing them brusquely
from his office.

BROOKE (V/O)
We’re nothing, a hundred buck account,
they could care less about us.

We CUT back to Jason and Brooke whispering tensely in front of the ATM.

JASON
No, but they care about bad publicity.
We could go to the papers with this.

We CUT to a newspaper photo of a grinning Jason and Brooke with the million
dollar bank account receipt. A headline reads “Bank’s Million Dollar Screw-up ”.

JASON (V/O)
A reward keeps us happy and quiet.

The newspaper article changes as Brooke speaks.

BROOKE (V/O)
You know what the paper would say?
“Dumbass Kids Give Up One Million.”

The headline reads exactly that. In the photo, Jason and Brooke hold their heads
in their hands in utter despair. We CUT back to Jason and Brooke at the ATM.
Brooke takes Jason’s hands, holds them tightly, staring into his eyes.

BROOKE
This is once in a lifetime, God smiling
down at us.

JASON
But we can’t. The bank will…

BROOKE
What if we could? And get away with it?

Looking away, Jason bites his lip, shakes his head doubtfully.

BROOKE
All our hopes and dreams would come true.

We CUT to Jason working with exotic race bikes in “Jason’s Big Wheels”,
Jason breaking the ribbon winning a race, Brooke painting in a huge studio.

BROOKE (V/O)
Well? If we could do it, would you?

We CUT back to Brooke and Jason at the ATM. Jason lets out a troubled sigh.

JASON
But if we get caught…we go to jail.
No, I go to jail. Every guy-girl crime,
the guy always gets it.

FADE to a courtroom where virginal Brooke points an accusing finger at Jason.

JASON (V/O)
The girl just cries in front of the judge,
“he made me do it, I was scared.”.

CUT back to an exasperated Brooke shaking her head at Jason.

BROOKE
Oh Jason, we’re not robbing a bank,
we’re just…uh…

From close behind, a MAN’s voice makes them both jump.

MAN
Hey!

Jason and Brooke snap around to see a MAN waiting impatiently for the ATM.

MAN
You finished or what?

JASON
Yeah, sorry.

They step aside to let the man use the machine. Brooke whispers excitedly in
Jason’s ear.

BROOKE
Maybe it isn’t a bank mistake. What
if somehow it’s really ours?

JASON
Yeah, right. Somebody put a…

A wide-eyed Jason suddenly stops.

JASON
Oh for…now I get it! Of course!
Looking to the sky, Jason smacks his forehead.

JASON
Brooke, this is one of those stupid TV
shows! A hidden camera one!

Looking about everywhere, Jason abruptly points at the ATM machine, where the
man is just finishing his transaction.

JASON
That’s where the camera is. See, they
know everybody always checks their
balance right after.

Right on cue, the man’s bank account receipt pops up. Jason nudges Brooke.

JASON
Watch this…

The man glances at the receipt blankly, pockets it, and walks off. Jason blinks,
shakes his head dazedly.

JASON
Wait, that…that’s not right.
Her hand trembling, Brooke holds the receipt under Jason’s eyes.

BROOKE
This is our ticket out. A new life.
Jason just shakes his head.

BROOKE
Look, the bank’s just two blocks away.
We’ll go there right now!

JASON
And do what?

BROOKE
Get our million. Come on!

EXT. CITY STREETS - DAY
A jazzed up Brooke almost skips down the sidewalk, dragging the reluctant Jason
behind.

JASON
Brooke, they’re not Regis. They won’t
hand you a million in cash.

BROOKE
I know, I know! Shut up and let me
think of something!

The sight of the bank building before them stops Brooke. It suddenly looks very
imposing and menacing. She lets out a long breath.

BROOKE
Okay, now I’m kind of scared.

They stand awkwardly, fidgeting, then Jason looks at his watch.

JASON
We’re wasting our lunch hour.
Brooke abruptly grabs Jason, tugs him forward.

BROOKE
We’re doing this.

INT. BANK - DAY
Not too crowded for lunch time, a small line-up waiting for a handful of tellers.
Glancing uneasily at the wall mounted video cameras, Jason and Brooke join the
line, four customers away. Holding each other close, they talk quietly.

JASON
I’m thinking more and more maybe
we should just tell them.

BROOKE
I’m thinking more and more you should
just shut up.

Brooke’s face suddenly lights up. She whispers urgently in Jason’s ear.

BROOKE
Bank transfers! Banks move big money
all the time, right?

Jason nods, grunts affirmatively.

BROOKE
So we say we’re working for some big
company, this is a corporate account,
and they’re transferring the money…

Brooke stares at Jason, wearing his bike courier uniform.

BROOKE
…and you’re delivering it, you’re the
bike courier carrying the order.

JASON
Yeah, right, a million by bike. And to
who, what company?

Brooke hesitates, unable to answer. The line moves one customer closer to the
tellers. They’re fourth in line. Brooke sighs reflectively.

BROOKE
The problem is taking the money out.
If we could move it somewhere, like
to a different account somewhere…

Despite himself, Jason nods, speaks slowly, reluctantly.

JASON
Well, if we open another account here…
under a different name…that’s not
stealing the money, just moving it.

Jason’s voice trails off. It is stealing and he knows it.

BROOKE
My God, Jason, that might work!
But…won’t they ask for ID?

Jason shrugs uncertainly. The line moves once more. They’re third in line now.
Smiling sweetly, Brooke taps a BUSINESSMAN on his shoulder.

BROOKE
Excuse me. Do you know if we need
ID to open up a new account here?

The impatient, harried looking businessman snorts slightly.

BUSINESSMAN
Miss, you need every piece of ID known
to man. They care about money…

Looking at his watch, the businessman grimaces.

BUSINESSMAN
…unless you’re in a goddamned hurry.

Then they care less.

BROOKE
Uh, thanks…

The line shuffles forward again. Now it’s only the businessman before them and
the tellers. Jason exhales sadly.

JASON
Ah, we can’t do this. Let’s just go.

Jason turns to go, but is yanked back by Brooke, who whispers fiercely.

BROOKE
No, I’m sick and tired of us being poor.
Yanking his hand away, Jason glares at Brooke.

JASON
And what? That’s my fault?

Suddenly, the businessman steps forward to a teller, leaving the pale and nervous
Jason and Brooke at the head of the line. Jason takes Brooke’s hand again.

JASON
Sorry, Brooke, I’m just rattled. You
have any last minute plans?

Brooke swallows nervously, shakes her head slightly.

JASON
Then I say we leave it, don’t touch it.
Maybe they’ll never find out.

BROOKE
A million missing? They’ll find it.

Engrossed in their muttered conversation, neither notice MELANIE, the teller,
motioning them forward.

JASON
Who knows? Banks move billions around
the world every day. Maybe--

MELANIE
Next.

Like deer caught in headlights, a frozen Jason and Brooke stare at Melanie.

MELANIE
You’re next.

Jason and Brooke hesitate. Behind the bank counter, Melanie’s hand drops down,
rests beside an alarm button. Brooke tentatively approaches Melanie, who’s
eyeing Jason hovering behind, wearing his bike helmet and shades.

BROOKE
Um, we’d like to, uh…well, you see…

JASON
We’d like to check our account.

Brooke tenses, flicks a glance over at Jason, then speaks quickly to Melanie.

BROOKE
No, we don’t. Uh, excuse us.

Watched by Melanie, Brooke leads Jason off to a corner of the bank.

BROOKE
What are you doing?

JASON
Brooke, we have no idea how long that
money’s been in there. Let’s find out
when it showed up. With that.

Jason points to an Account Update ATM machine by the door.

JASON
That way, the teller won’t know.

Brooke nods, then smiles slightly, weakly.

BROOKE
Good idea. Why didn’t you think of it
a minute earlier?

Still watching Jason and Brooke, Melanie then glances over to an office in the
corner. The one with BANK SECURITY on its door. She places a little
“Next Teller Please” sign up on her counter.

INT. SECURITY OFFICE - DAY
ANDRE FORBES, beefy, hard-eyed, and “ex-cop” written all over him, stares
at his computer screen in utter horror. Cell phone to ear, he’s whipping rapidly
past dormant bank accounts, all with piddling little amounts in them.

FORBES
I…still don’t see it.

The voice on the phone is dangerously flat.

VOICE
You sit there in your little office in
your nice blue suit…

Forbes snaps to attention, glances at his blue suit, then outside to the crowded
city street.

VOICE
…telling me you’ve lost a million
dollars?

FORBES
It’s in the dead accounts…somewhere.
Nobody ever checks them, I swear. My
plan’s fool-proof.

VOICE
But you’re not bullet-proof. So you
find our money.

The voice disconnects, just as Melanie knocks and opens the door. She pauses at
the sight of the pale, distressed Forbes.

MELANIE
Mr. Forbes, are you all right? Oh…
God, yes, I heard today, about…the
downsizing. I’m so sorry. You got
a good package?

FORBES
Yeah, a real nice package. Fancy
wrapping, big pink ribbon, just not
not much inside. Not after 11 years.
Now, what’s the problem?

INT. BANK - DAY

At the ATM machine, Jason watches intently as Brooke punches in the numbers.
The printed account statement pops out. Both grab it, study it.

JASON
Geez, it came in today, this morning.

BROOKE
The bank closes at 3. That’s when
they’ll check the books and find it.

INT. SECURITY OFFICE - DAY
Popping aspirin, Forbes turns to a bank of TVs showing the bank interiors from
various surveillance cameras. Melanie points to a small image of Jason and
Brooke deep in discussion by the ATM.

MELANIE
Those two are up to something.

INT. BANK - DAY
Neither Jason or Brooke notice that two wall-mounted video cameras have tilted
down towards them. They’re arguing in fierce whispers.

JASON
There’s no way we can do this. Even
if I wanted to, it just can’t be done.

BROOKE
Look, it got in our account without them
noticing, it can get out the same way.
I got an idea…

INT. SECURITY OFFICE - DAY
Studying the televised image of Brooke and Jason, Forbes mops his brow and
gives a sour grunt.

FORBES
Classic…the guy’s hiding his identity
and talking the girl into it. You said they
were all jumpy and nervous?

MELANIE
Very.

FORBES
Druggies. Either high or looking for it.
Ah…got their courage back …

Forbes leans forward, studying the black and white image. Jason and Brooke have
gotten back in line again. Forbes presses a button to follow with the camera. He
glances at the red recording light on a VCR.