[Laura Holt breezes through the suite doors....]
BERNICE: You're not going to believe this!
LAURA: The Cardinals just won a Series and I'm working with Bozo
the clown. I'll believe anything. [looks around] Where
are all the clients?
BERNICE: Clients? What clients? The only face I've seen today
is yours.
LAURA: A slight dip.
BERNICE: Into what? The abyss? We're quieter than a morgue. I
bet County has more people on the slabs than we've seen in here
for weeks.
LAURA: You're exaggerating.
BERNICE: Murphy said there's probably more life over there too.
LAURA: I'll remind him of that the next time he complains about
getting autopsy reports. Boy, did he pick the right time to go
on vacation. [checks her mail] So what am I not gonna believe?
BERNICE: Charlotte Knight's on her way.
LAURA [curious]: Charlotte Knight is coming here?
[Suite doors open. An immaculately dressed Steele enters. He
catches Laura's words]
STEELE [surprised]: Charlotte Knight is coming here?
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: We need to talk. [beat]
We'll use your office. [beat] We'll use my office.
[They stare at each other]
LAURA: This is silly. We'll use your office.
STEELE: Lead on Miss Holt.
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: After you.
STEELE: See Laura? We're such a good team. Guess what I'm thinking
right now. This very second.
LAURA: If you want a cheap thrill, buy a copy of 'Bedside Babes'.
STEELE: Charlotte Knight's zip-less encounters and now `Bedside
Babes' too? [winks] Your reading habits would make a convict
blush.
LAURA: You should know. [crosses arms] What did you want
to talk to me about?
STEELE: Charlotte Knight.
LAURA: Yes?
STEELE: Well y'see, [paces] when we were investigating
Mitchell Knight's death and I had to get hold of those tapes .
. .
[Intercom buzzes. Laura strides over to answer it]
LAURA: Yes Bernice?
BERNICE: Charlotte Knight's here.
LAURA: Show her in please. [releases the intercom button]
STEELE: Now?
LAURA: Yes now. [straightens clothing] If I don't get a
case soon, your standard of living will drop.
STEELE: But I was going to tell you about getting the tapes and
the strawberries and . . . never mind. [Walks over to his chair.
Laura stands beside him]
LAURA: What strawberries?
[The door opens revealing a curvaceous blonde with a perfectly
coiffed cap of permed hair and a dress that's well. She's nearly
wearing a white one]
CHARLOTTE [pointed glance at Steele]: So nice to see you
again.
STEELE [theatrically waves an arm]: Please take a seat.
[watches as she does so] How can I be of service?
CHARLOTTE: Oooh yes Mr Steele. I'd love you to service me.
LAURA: Errrr . . . Mrs Knight, how can we help?
CHARLOTTE [ignores Laura]: I need you Mr Steele. Desperately.
More than I've ever needed any man in my entire life.
[Laura and Steele exchange a shocked glance]
LAURA: I think . . . uh, that is, we know that you've been through
a tough time recently. Mitchell's murder, the discovery that your
. . . muse Tony was . . .
STEELE: A rat. Wonderfully educated but a rat nonetheless. And
worse, a dirty rat. A dirty rat who . . .
LAURA [grits teeth]: Thank you Mr Steele for that insightful
reminder. [treacly smile to Charlotte] As I was saying
. . .
CHARLOTTE [raises voice]: I desperately, desperately, desperately
need . . . .
STEELE [helpfully]: A thesaurus?
CHARLOTTE: You, Mr Steele.
STEELE: Yes, well. I gathered that.
LAURA: So did I.
CHARLOTTE: I need your agency to find me another ghost-writer.
LAURA: But everyone knows you didn't write the books.
CHARLOTTE: It's called a 'comeback'. And this city loves a comeback.
I can still be Charlotte Knight, mistress of erotica, queen of
sensuality as long as someone else is writing my books.
LAURA: You want us find a writer of provocative literature? Of
x-rated material? I really don't think . . . .
STEELE: Now-now Miss Holt. Let's not be too hasty. [ignores
Laura's glare] Please proceed Mrs Knight. The Remington Steele
agency prides itself on being open to all proposals.
CHARLOTTE: Likewise Mr Steele [leans forward exposing more
cleavage] I love being open.
[Laura and Steele exchange a glance]
LAURA: Unfortunately, the logistics . . .
CHARLOTTE [ignores Laura]: While your assistant . . . .
LAURA: Associate!
CHARLOTTE: . . . is looking for my writer, we can pick up where
we left off that day in my apartment. Mmmmm. [huskily]
Don't you just love strawberries Mr Steele? The feeling of a big,
ripe, juicy one in your mouth and then . . . . .
LAURA & STEELE [in impassioned unison]: We can't take
the case! [Their mutual vehemence comes as a surprise. They
stare at each other]
CHARLOTTE: Mr Steele, Miss Holt, people say "can't"
to me all the time [blasé] "Charlotte, I can't
hold out much longer", "Charlotte, we can't do it here",
"Charlotte, you can't advertise in a Swinger's magazine"
If I listened, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. I get what
I want, when I want it. [ogles Steele] And how I want it.
STEELE [cocks eyebrow]: An admirable sentiment but . .
.
CHARLOTTE: I'll need to see a sample of the ghost-writer's work.
I'll advance you $5,000 now [waves check in the air] and
$15,000 when the case is over.
LAURA: I'm sorry but . . . .
CHARLOTTE [ignores Laura]: How would you feel if you weren't
Remington Steele anymore?
STEELE [on Laura's look]: Your point is moot. My name is
on the door for all to see.
CHARLOTTE: Yes, you're Remington Steele. However, I was plain
Charlotte Webb before I met Mitchell. A nothing. A nobody. The
closest I got to celebrity was buying 'Soap Opera Digest'. But
then I became Charlotte Knight famous writer of passion, desire
. . .
STEELE: Velvet thighs.
CHARLOTTE: Huh?
LAURA: Private joke.
STEELE: Very private, eh Miss Holt?
[Their eyes lock. Laura looks away]
CHARLOTTE: Mr Steele, don't you see that being Charlotte Knight
is all I know now?
STEELE: The professional and [glances at Laura] personal
rewards of your identity? [beat] I can empathise.
CHARLOTTE: Good. Because when people think of Charlotte Knight,
they think of this [pulls out a paperback from her purse and
reads] "Her face flushed as his hot mouth descended on
hers. She moved up against him. His large . . . "
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: Mrs Knight!
CHARLOTTE: " . . . hands circled her waist, spanning it before
steadily moving upwards towards her . . . "
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: Mrs Knight!
CHARLOTTE: " . . . shoulders. She tangled her hands in his
thick black hair. Oh god, how she loved him! Her caressing hands
relished the feel of his rippling torso before moving down to
his . . . "
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: We'll take the case!
CHARLOTTE: " . . . belt."
LAURA & STEELE [in unison]: His belt!?
CHARLOTTE [snaps book shut and glances at Steele]: I always
get what I want. [stands up, smoothes her dress over her hips,
then glides towards the door. As she reaches it, she turns]
Good day. [pulls the door shut behind her]
CUT TO BLACK:
FADE IN:
STEELE: Can I help?
LAURA [adjusts her glasses]: Depends. Do you know a synonym
for for . . .
STEELE: For?
LAURA: Uh, uh never mind.
STEELE: Is that the part where the manly but sensitive hero and
his lovely associate are working late at his apartment, when suddenly
she removes her, um, glasses -- and an ordinary evening turns
into a night of . . . .
LAURA [vacantly]: Unbridled pleasure. Sighs of ecstasy.
Fulfilment.
STEELE: My very thoughts.
LAURA: Mine too.
STEELE [stunned]: Really? [swiftly recovers] Beautiful
night, eh Laura? Full moon, romantic setting, an imported vintage
Bordeaux Chateau Margaux 1972 to be exact two people sharing the
splendour of . . . .
LAURA [excitedly]: I've got it! Tracy and Travis go to
a hotel for an afternoon of unbridled pleasure. We need moans,
[scribbling furiously] we need sighs of ecstasy, we need
rapture, we need desire, we need fulfilment . . . .
STEELE: Seems a shame to waste it on Tracy and Travis. [mutters
to himself] All that passion flowing from a pencil and none
of it in my direction.
LAURA [still scribbling]: . . . and after that Travis turns
down the lights and then they they they [slams notepad on the
table] I hate this! [sighs] What would Murphy say if
he could see me now?
STEELE: I slept with you [on Laura's look] . . . . in a
car. And now we're writing hot and steamy literature together.
What would Murphy say indeed? [tugs ear] Remind me to gloat
when he returns.
LAURA: This is a mess.
STEELE: Nonsense. After we drew a blank, your assuming the mantle
of secret ghost-writer was an excellent idea. After all, my immaculate
reputation was at stake.
LAURA [dryly]: Mustn't blemish your reputation, eh Mr Steele?
STEELE: Such selflessness to the cause Miss Holt no wonder I hired
you. [sips his wine] Hmm. Why does business slow down whenever
Charlotte Knight rears her head?
LAURA: Talking of rearing heads, how did you get her to give you
those tapes?
STEELE: Beg your pardon?
LAURA: The tapes. The tapes of Mitchell Knight that we listened
to a couple of weeks ago. How did you get her to give them to
you?
STEELE: Are you asking out of professional curiosity? Or something
else?
LAURA: Wouldn't you like to know? [yawns] Charlotte Knight.
A widow hah! Bet it won't be long before another man's eating
her strawberries. The way she was fawning all over you,
I thought she was going to cover herself in Reddi-Whip and march
you into a cheap motel.
STEELE: What a ghastly thought.
LAURA: You and the queen of erotica?
STEELE: Me in a cheap motel. [beat] I take it you're not
her biggest fan anymore?
LAURA [shrugs]: Finding out that she didn't write the books
and the way she . . .
STEELE: Yes? [piercing gaze] The way she . . . .?
LAURA: Forget it. Doesn't matter. [deep breath] This case
has a strange feel of déjà vu about it.
STEELE: Does it? [places his wine on the table] Shall we
press on?
LAURA: By all means, let's press on.
STEELE: What say you read that last bit to me?
LAURA [throws pad to him]: Read it yourself. And to yourself.
I wrote it, I don't need to hear it.
STEELE: Okay. [picks up the pad] "Travis reached behind
her . . . "
LAURA: Hey! We had a deal. [points her pencil at him] That's
not fair!
STEELE [grins]: All's fair in love and lust Miss Holt.
[turns a page then reads mechanically] " . . . and
with a quick snap of his fingers, sent the lacy bra down her arms.
Laughing wildly, she straightened up and flung it behind her.
His hands . . . " [pauses. Stares at Laura]
LAURA: If you open your eyes any wider, they'll fall out. What's
wrong?
STEELE: She flung the bra behind her, eh? Y'know, beneath her
methodical exterior, this 'Tracy' of yours is a very passionate
creature. [gets up and sits a little closer to Laura] Is
she, perchance, inspired by anyone we know?
LAURA [quiet smile]: Professional curiosity? Or something
else?
STEELE: Mmm yes. [scans her face] She's truly something
else.
LAURA: Tracy? Or . . . someone else?
STEELE: Wouldn't you like to know?
LAURA [points]: Don't play coy with me. It doesn't go with
the dimmed lights, the roaring fire, the soft music and the strawberries.
STEELE: Noticed all that, did you? [as if on cue, the music
suddenly stops]
LAURA: I am a licensed private detective.
STEELE: Don't sell yourself short Laura. You're so much more than
that.
[The ensuing silence fires the atmosphere. Still holding the
pad, Steele moves closer and slowly lowers his head . . . lower
. . . lower . . . almost there . . . and then . . . .]
STEELE: Ouch! [springs back] Bloody hell!
LAURA: What?
STEELE: Your pencil. [rubs stomach] I think I've lost a
rib.
LAURA [looks at the pencil still in her hand]: I'm sorry.
Does it hurt?
STEELE: Yes. Don't just sit there Miss Holt kiss it better.
LAURA [playfully pushes him]: You'll live.
STEELE: Tsk, tsk, tsk. I could have lead poisoning for all you
know. Now [sidles up to her] where were we?
LAURA: You were reading.
STEELE: Is that all I was doing?
LAURA [evenly]: Yes.
STEELE: Ah. Reading, eh? [returns attention to pad] "
. . . his hands immediately covered her . . . [stops. Mouth
gapes open]
LAURA [defensive]: What's the matter with you? The ghost-writer
has to write like Charlotte Knight and she doesn't write thrillers.
STEELE [scanning the page]: On the contrary! . . . . Mmmm
. . . Oooh . . . Good lord! . . . Mmmmm . . . My-my-my! . . .
. Ooooooooh . . .
LAURA: For heaven's sake! Get a tissue you're drooling. It's disgusting.
STEELE: Mmm [spellbound] Yes it is. Totally disgusting.
LAURA: Not that! [whacks the pad] You!
STEELE: Me?! But Laura, I'm moved!
LAURA: Well move it somewhere else.
STEELE: Spoilsport. [looks down at pad] I should be paying
Charlotte Knight $20,000 rather than the other way around. She
definitely got the fuzzy end of the lollipop. [automatically]
Marilyn Monroe as Sugar Kane Kowalczyk to Tony Curtis. 'Some Like
It Hot' - United Artists, 1959.
LAURA: Huh?
STEELE: Oh no. NO! You've never seen 'Some Like It Hot'? The quintessential
role-reversal comedy? Two men fleeing the mob dress up like women
and hide out in an all-girl orchestra?
LAURA [chewing on the end of her pencil]: Come to think
of it, that might liven up chapter two. [beat] What am
I saying! I don't want to write hot and steamy novels.
STEELE: And deprive your fans of all this? [reads exaggeratedly]
"More Travis, more! Oh yes, oh God, oh baby! Right there!
Don't stop, don't stop!" [wiggles eyebrows]
LAURA [embarrassed]: Give me that! [snatches pad]
Might I remind you that the deal was, I write you edit. And you
do not read anything I write aloud.
STEELE [smirks]: Oh, was that the deal? Not to worry, very
soon you'll be back to reading your guilty pleasures instead of
writing them.
LAURA [groans]: I hate you for finding out.
STEELE: One woman; so much mystery. So many layers.
LAURA [jokily]: It's just a business suit.
STEELE: Hmmm. So many layers.
[Their eyes meet. Beat]
LAURA: I think we should get back to the dirty business at hand
now. Remember, as soon as I receive that check . . .
STEELE: I know, I know. We'll end your promising career. Poor
Charlotte. She'll be devastated when she learns that her secret
ghost-writer has become a born-again Christian.
LAURA: Amen to that.
STEELE: Pity. Y'know, 'hot and steamy' wouldn't have been such
a bad sideline. Feasibility studies and business plans stress
diversification as a good commercial strategy.
LAURA [shocked]: What?
STEELE [shrugs]: I read that somewhere.
LAURA [amazed]: You're . . . wonderfully twisted.
STEELE: And you have such stimulating . . . [fills their glasses]
hidden talents. A toast?
LAURA: What shall we drink to? And please, don't say 'us'.
STEELE: To $20,000?
LAURA: I'll drink to that.
STEELE: Thank you Tracy.
LAURA: You're welcome Travis.
[They smile warmly at each other and clink glasses]
STEELE: Chin-chin. [sips, then looks at her mischievously]
More Travis, more! Oh yes, oh God, oh baby! Right there! Don't
stop, don't stop!
LAURA: Oh shut up!! [whacks him with a cushion as he collapses
with laughter]
FADE OUT: