BLACK SCREEN
SLOAN (V.O.)
Funny thing about having it all.
Sometimes it feels a lot like
having nothing at all.
FADE IN:
EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD –- NIGHT
Super: VALENTINE’S WEEKEND – WORLD PREMIERE
Searchlights rake across the sky. Hollywood Boulevard is
sealed off and transformed into a gleaming romantic fantasy.
Heart-shaped arches line the Red Carpet while drone cameras
hover above.
The EL CAPITAN THEATRE marquee glows in gold and pink:
“VALENTINE’S WEEKEND” Starring SLOAN SINCLAIR
A black LIMO glides to a stop at the curb. The crowd screams.
Flashbulbs erupt. The rear door opens. A leg steps out in a
silver slit gown. Then—
SLOAN SINCLAIR (Late 20s), movie goddess incarnate emerges.
Calm, luminous, and practiced. She stands, drinks it in with
a mega-watt smile.
She pauses to scan the crowd, then uses her perfect smile and
her perfect wave to charm them all.
TAMRA REYNOLDS (30s), her publicist, emerges from the
sidelines and flawlessly slides next to Sloan, clipboard in
hand.
TAMRA
Okay, deep breath. Time to go be
everything they think you are.
Sloan smiles, slips her arm into Tamra’s.
SLOAN
Just find me some champagne.
They step into the roar of the press. Music thumps louder.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Red Carpet Revelations
EXT. RED CARPET –- CONTINUOUS
PHOTOGRAPHERS
Sloan! Over the shoulder! Big
smile!
She strikes a fluid pose — left profile, slight turn, micro-
wink.
Tamra trails behind her, touching up Sloan’s hair, a brush
held like a weapon.
TAMRA
Moët’s to your left. Chanel wants
you in front of the roses. Variety
is stage right, anyone says “Oscar
buzz,” just smile.
SLOAN
I’m fairly certain our buddy Oscar
has out a No-Contact Order on me.
They move along the carpet. Sloan waves, winks, twirls.
REPORTER 1
Sloan! Was that your real laugh in
the wedding scene?
SLOAN
That depends — was it funny?
REPORTER 2
Do you believe in love at first
sight?
SLOAN
I should, it seems to happen to me
a lot.
A camera drone drifts down for a slow aerial shot. Sloan
plucks a champagne flute from the Moet table and holds it
like a goddess at a feast.
FAN (O.S.)
Sloan! Sloan, I flew from Ohio!
She turns, locks eyes with the fan — genuine smile, a heart-
finger gesture.
SLOAN
Then this is for you.
She toasts the girl. Tamra pulls her aside for a quick
breath.
TAMRA
Two more sponsors, one Variety
interview, then we vanish into the
theater like ghosts. You got it?
SLOAN
Yeah. I got it.
She turns and walks toward the final backdrop — a tunnel of
roses and LED hearts. Behind her, flashes continue like
lightning.
From behind—
JORDAN (O.S.)
You’ve done this before.
She turns.
JORDAN MASON (30s), stylish, earnest, a journalist with charm
and purpose. He holds a microphone between them.
SLOAN
Hello there, Jordan. Depends what
you mean by “this.”
JORDAN
You’re the star of the night,
Sloan. How are you feeling, who are
you wearing, and what will you be
stealing from the craft table?
She considers him for half a beat.
SLOAN
Ah, the hard-hitting questions.
Well, I feel ever grateful to be
here, I’m wearing Valentino, and
I’m loading up on the Red
Twizzlers.
JORDAN
Bold choices. Sloan, we must’ve
done at least a dozen of these red
carpets together, does it ever
become blasé or boring?
SLOAN
Only in trying to come up with
something new to say, I suppose.
Tamra winces. Jordan searches for a response.
JORDAN
And there she is folks, America’s
Sweetheart, Sloan Sinclair!
Tamra takes Sloan by the elbow and eases her towards the last
stop on the red carpet. A waiter carrying a tray of full
champagne glasses passes them. Sloan finishes the glass she
is carrying and trades it for a full one from the tray.
EXT. FINAL PHOTO ARCH / THEATER ENTRANCE –- MOMENTS LATER
Sloan slows just before the last stretch. Her smile flickers.
Just a hint.
TAMRA
(whispering)
What is it?
SLOAN
Nothing. Just feels like...
everyone wants to believe this
dress fixes everything.
TAMRA
Let’s hope it does for another
ninety minutes.
Sloan pulls it together. One more breath. She steps under the
arch. Photographers fire in rapid succession.
She smiles. Head high. Game face on.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
Career Crossroads at the El Capitan
INT. EL CAPITAN THEATER –- LOBBY –- CONTINUOUS
They walk into a velvet wonderland. Floral displays.
Champagne trays. A fountain shaped like a heart spraying rose-
scented mist.
Sloan drinks some more champagne, surveying the massive room.
Actors, directors, streaming executives, lifestyle
influencers, and too-tan producers who keep touching her
elbow mid-sentence.
She takes a moment, away from the roar, and silently cringes
at the large monitor on the wall that is playing a slick,
upbeat segment on a loop spinning the sanitized story of her
career:
— As a kid on a red carpet, giving an adorably over-rehearsed
answer.
— Hugging a sitcom castmate at a Disney Channel wrap party.
— Receiving a Teen Choice Award with glittering tears.
— In slow-mo, twirling in a rom-com wedding dress on screen.
— Standing by a billboard of herself, massive smile front and
center.
ENTERTAINMENT HOST (V.O. ON VIDEO)
She grew up in front of America’s
eyes. From child star to Rom-Com
royalty, Sloan Sinclair has done it
all — with charm, class, and never
a single misstep.
Sloan stares blankly at the video, unblinking.
A YOUNG DIRECTOR (30s, clean-cut, eager) slips in front of
them.
YOUNG DIRECTOR
Sloan! So good to see you again.
You crushed VALENTINE’S WEEKEND!
SLOAN
(beaming)
Thank you.
YOUNG DIRECTOR
I’ve got something I think you’ll
love. Sweet, clever, grounded —
more of what you do best. Think THE
HOLIDAY meets CHRISTMAS IN VERMONT.
Lifetime’s already circling.
SLOAN
That sounds lovely.
YOUNG DIRECTOR
We’d shoot upstate in November.
Cozy sweaters. Big moments. Great
demo.
SLOAN
Send it to my agent.
YOUNG DIRECTOR
Absolutely, I have Blake on speed
dial. You’re magic in this lane,
Sloan. Nobody does wholesome like
you.
He taps his glass to hers and disappears.
TAMRA
Damn, you really can act.
(beat)
Let me guess. You get to fall in
love, wear flannel, and cry in a
barn.
SLOAN
At least twice.
TAMRA
You should ask for a goat in your
next contract.
SLOAN
I’m not sure I want the barn
anymore.
TAMRA
Then talk to Blake about it.
Sloan gives her a look.
TAMRA (CONT'D)
Ah, speak of the devil.
Sloan looks up as, BLAKE HARDIN (Late 40s) approaches from
the bar.
BLAKE
Hey Kiddo. You’ve been doing great.
I think we’re going to have some
good reviews hitting as soon as the
embargo is lifted.
SLOAN
That’s great, Blake. But what about
WINDOWED? I’ve been trying to talk
to you about it for a couple of
days.
BLAKE
Windowed? Refresh my memory.
SLOAN
The script I sent you two weeks
ago. The one that Adrian Trent is
casting.
BLAKE
Oh. Yeah, Windowed. I passed.
SLOAN
You passed? I wanted that, Blake.
BLAKE
Sloan, its not for you. Its not
your brand. The nudity alone is-
SLOAN
It’s not about the nudity, Blake.
It’s about the grief. I know that
woman. I am that woman. Everything
else I do for you is the costume.
BLAKE
It’s raw. It’s intimate. It’s
career poison. You don’t need to
prove anything.
SLOAN
You didn’t ask me if I wanted it.
BLAKE
I know what keeps your name on the
call sheet, what keeps your name on
that marquee, and what keeps the
money train rolling. Why set a
match to all of that?
Standing behind Sloan, Tamra gestures for Blake to “soften.”
BLAKE (CONT'D)
Look, there’s another Rom-Com at
Paramount. Seven-figure quote.
David Kwan is attached to direct,
and we’re circling Timothee
Chalamet for the male lead. It’s
packaged.
SLOAN
I don’t want that, Blake. Not right
now. I really want to do Windowed.
It’s important to me.
BLAKE
You’re a business, Sloan. A big
one. I’m protecting that. Windowed
is scale with a bonus. You want to
trade a jet for a bicycle.
SLOAN
You didn’t even let me say yes or
no.
BLAKE
I said no. That’s my job.
Sloan and Blake look at each for a long beat. Tamra fidgets
like someone who would like to be anywhere else.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
We’ll talk in the morning.
SLOAN
No. We’ll talk when you listen.
Sloan turns and walks out quickly back onto the Red Carpet
with Tamra right behind her.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance","Showbiz"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Breaking Free
EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD -- CONTINUOUS
The pair continue a quick pace past all the reporters who are
packing up their gear. One or two notice the star of the show
storming out. Sloan grabs her third glass of champagne.
TAMRA
He’s just trying to protect you,
Sloan.
SLOAN
From what? A role I wanted? I
didn’t ask for that kind of
protection!
TAMRA
You okay?
SLOAN
I’m tired of being safe.
(beat)
Did you bring your car? I have to
get out of here.
TAMRA
It’s in the alley. Are you sure you
want to do this? The press is bound
to notice that you’ve left.
Sloan stares across the party. A poster of her from
VALENTINE’S WEEKEND smiles back at her.
SLOAN
Yeah... I do. If anyone asks just
tell them I came down with a bug.
EXT. ALLEY BEHIND EL CAPITAN –- CONTINUOUS
Cars are lining the alley with valets running here and there.
Sloan and Tamra approach a sensible looking VOLVO.
Sloan drains her glass with one long gulp, and throws it
down, breaking it. Tamra hands Sloan the keys.
SLOAN
I need to move. I’ll call you when
I land somewhere.
TAMRA
Don’t land in jail.
SLOAN
I promise nothing.
They hug. Sloan climbs into the Volvo and speeds off.
EXT. LOS ANGELES –- VARIOUS –- NIGHT
She flies down Sunset, takes Mulholland too hard, winds
through Hollywood like a woman trying to outrun her own name.
Music blasts, the air whipping through her hair feeling thick
and electric.
The Volvo screeches to a halt beside a taco stand. Sloan hops
out, slips the gown off to reveal a sports bra and running
shorts. She leaves the gown with an old woman sitting on a
bench, grabs a hoodie from the back seat, and takes off
again.
Her phone buzzes on the passenger seat - texts from Blake and
Tamra lighting up the screen. She tosses it aside without
looking.
EXT. VAN NUYS BOULEVARD -– NIGHT -- LATER
Sloan is now proceeding at a reasonable pace, listening to a
dreamy slow song on the radio as she drives aimlessly through
the Valley. The endless commercial sprawl - 24-hour donut
shops, check-cashing places, laundromats - slides by.
She comes to a red light and stops. In the sudden stillness,
her eyes lock onto a beacon of possibility. Or desperation:
THE BLUE CAGE – AMATEUR NIGHT – $200 prize – TONIGHT
The words seem to pulse in time with the idle of the car. She
stares, the dreamy music from the radio now feeling like a
distant score in this moment. The light turns a luminous
green, but her foot remains heavy on the brake. The phone
buzzes again. She ignores it.
She looks at the sign. At the black door. At the shadowed
figures laughing outside. Sloan breathes once. Twice. And
then pulls into the parking lot.
EXT. THE BLUE CAGE -– PARKING LOT –- CONTINUOUS
Sloan parks the car and turns it off. She sits with her hands
on the wheel and looks at her reflection in the rear view
mirror. She looks up at the pink and blue neon sign.
Sloan stares at the door. The sign.
A laugh escapes her lips, a small, incredulous thing.
SLOAN
Fuck it.
She grabs the hoodie from the passenger seat, pulls it on,
and walks purposefully towards the door.
TITLE: THE BLUE CAGE
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Morning After Mayhem
INT. SLOAN’S HOUSE -- BEDROOM -- MORNING
Sloan wakes up flat on her back as her bedroom is flooded
with Los Angeles sunlight, harsh and bright. She squints
against the light and blinks at the ceiling. Rubbing her
eyes, she sits up and swings her sock-covered feet to the
floor.
She looks down. Dressed in her underwear and last night’s
hoodie. Her phone is in the bed next to her. She picks it up
and sees dozens of missed texts and a handful of missed phone
calls.
INT. SLOAN'S HOUSE -– KITCHEN –- MORNING
A stark, modern kitchen. Too clean. Looks more like a
magazine spread than a place where people live and cook.
Sloan shuffles in. She moves like every step is a calculated
risk against a pounding headache. She bypasses the state-of-
the-art coffee machine - its way too complicated for her
current state. Instead she goes to the fridge.
She opens the door. The hum of the appliance is deafening in
the silence.
The fridge is nearly empty. A few bottles of expensive
electrolyte water. A wilting bundle of kale. Some condiments.
The light glows on her tired face. She just stands there,
holding the door, letting the cold air wash over her.
She closes the door with a soft thud. The room is quiet
again. She turns to head to the coffee maker but freezes and
stops cold. Her breath catches. Staring back at her from the
counter, next to an unopened bottle of electrolyte water:
— A small, gold-plated PLASTIC TROPHY.
— A wad of crumpled CASH.
— A napkin stamped with the logo of some place called The
Blue Cage.
Sloan walks over and stares at them like they were pieces of
a crime scene. She picks up the trophy and looks at it more
closely. There is a small plate attached to its base which
reads:
WINNER - AMATEUR NIGHT - 1ST PLACE.
She sets it down carefully. Then she picks up the cash and
thumbs through it without counting.
She then sets the money down and picks up her phone and hits
a button.
SLOAN
Lena, hey. Look, can you come over?
I might have done something stupid.
(beat)
No...more stupid than usual.
INT. SLOAN'S HOUSE -– KITCHEN –- 15 MINUTES LATER
LENA (Late 20s) is standing in her nightshirt and fuzzy
slippers holding a coffee while looking at the trophy and the
cash.
LENA
You did what?
SLOAN
I think I stripped.
LENA
You think you stripped?
SLOAN
Last night. In a club. It’s...
fuzzy.
LENA
Did someone slip you something?
SLOAN
No. I just had a few glasses of
champagne at the premiere. And then
I think I remember some tequila
shots at this place. Plus, I was
just super-pissed.
LENA
At Blake?
SLOAN
And everything else.
LENA
So you thought the solution to all
your problems was to show your tits
to some truckers in Van Nuys?
Lena picks up the trophy and looks at it closely, picks at
the name plate. Then looks down at the cash.
LENA (CONT'D)
Well, shit. You won.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
Reflections at The Blue Cage
EXT. THE BLUE CAGE -- PARKING LOT -- DAY
An old NISSAN MAXIMA comes to a stop in the middle of the
parking lot. Lena sits in the driver’s seat looking blankly
at the club. Sloan looks around as if trying to remember last
night.
LENA
The Blue Cage. Huh.
SLOAN
I think it looked bigger at night.
LENA
Did it look less hopeless?
Sloan gets out of the car cautiously, and then starts heading
for the entrance. Lena follows behind.
SLOAN
Let’s get inside. Quick.
LENA
What? You think the paparazzi are
scoping out the Blue Cage on a
Wednesday morning?
INT. THE BLUE CAGE – FRONT BAR – CONTINUOUS
Lena and Sloan step inside. A bartender is wiping down
glasses. A mop is leaning against the edge of the stage.
Everything looks smaller and sadder than Sloan sort of
remembers.
A man, RICK (50s), emerges from a room behind the bar
carrying a tray of glasses.
RICK
Hey, there she is. Sloan, right?
SLOAN
You remember my name?
RICK
You said it like three times.
LENA
(to Sloan)
You used your real name?
SLOAN
I was drunk.
LENA
You’re a celebrity.
RICK
I’m Rick, the manager. You were
good. Still want that spot Friday
night?
Sloan opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.
He gestures to a corkboard above the bar - rows of Polaroids
thumbtacked and curling at the edges.
RICK (CONT'D)
Winner’s wall. You’re up top.
Lena gets there first. Then stops.
LENA
Oh... Wow.
Sloan stops beside her. The photo is grainy, but there is no
mistaking it. She is standing center stage, completely
topless, the cheap gold trophy in one hand. Face flushed and
eyes wild. Her mouth is open mid-laugh, as if she’d just been
told a dirty secret and couldn't hold it in.
Underneath the photo, scrawled in thick Sharpie:
SLOAN - 1ST PLACE - 5/27
Sloan just stares at it. Lena gives a long, low whistle.
LENA (CONT'D)
Well, so much for anonymous.
(beat)
But hey, your tits look good. No
wonder you won.
SLOAN (V.O.)
I couldn’t stop looking at that
photo. Because that girl up there?
(beat)
She looked alive. For the first
time in a very long time... she
looked happy.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
7 -
Dusk Decisions
INT. DINER -- DAY
Lena and Sloan sit in a booth by a window. Sloan is sitting
with her back to the street, hood down now, no makeup. The
trophy is in her tote bag next to her.
LENA
Still?
(beat)
He said “Still coming back on
Friday?”
Sloan blinks, distracted.
SLOAN
What?
Lena nods toward the trophy in the tote.
LENA
You really told that guy you’d come
back Friday?
Sloan doesn't answer and just keeps looking at the photo on
her phone she had snapped of the Polaroid.
SLOAN
(quietly, almost to
herself)
Look how happy I am. And I don’t
even remember it.
LENA
Hopefully no one else remembers it.
We took down your name.
(MORE)
LENA (CONT'D)
(beat)
Have you told Blake?
SLOAN
Blake’s whole job is making sure
nothing like this ever happens.
LENA
So, that's a ‘no.’
SLOAN
It’s a ‘no.’
Sloan sets the phone down on its face.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
I mean...what would I even say?
“Hey Blake, I got drunk and took my
top off in a dive bar and someone
took a Polaroid, and now I’m
considering doing it again.”
Lena picks up the sugar packets and starts building a tiny
house.
LENA
You should pitch that as your next
indie.
EXT. DINER -- DUSK
Sloan and Lena exit the Diner and stand quietly for a moment.
The sky is now soft pink as the sun has dipped behind the
buildings. Across the street, The Blue Cage’s sign flickers
to life.
Lena follows Sloan’s gaze across the street to the strip
club.
LENA
You’re not seriously thinking of
going back Friday night?
Sloan smiles slowly and then leans in.
SLOAN
Not me, baby.
(beat)
We.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Breaking Free
EXT. STUDIO BACKLOT -- DAY
A fake cul-de-sac of identical houses baking under sun lamps
and production rigs. Sloan is sitting in a fold-out chair
just off camera.
Blake arrives up between takes and Sloan sees him before he
sees her. He is dressed in a slick blazer, sunglasses, and a
Bluetooth in one ear. As he approaches her, Sloan takes a
drink from her water bottle, which is labeled “SLOAN” in big
letters.
SLOAN
I figured I’d see you eventually.
BLAKE
I wanted to give you space after
the other night.
SLOAN
So this is you giving me space?
Showing up on set in the middle of
filming the big Apple Festival
scene?
BLAKE
I came to talk. You’ve been with me
since you were what, ten?
SLOAN
Nine.
BLAKE
I’ve protected you, built something
bulletproof.
She looks at the set, at the fake snow being piped onto the
sidewalk.
SLOAN
As you said, Blake, you’ve built a
brand. Not a person.
BLAKE
That brand gets you six million per
picture, five magazine covers a
year, and more offers than your
team can even read.
SLOAN
I appreciate what you’ve done,
Blake. I do. But I’m not twelve
anymore. I want to do work that
matters to me.
He crouches a little, lowering his voice.
BLAKE
You’ve got a fan base, Sloan. Girls
who literally grew up with you.
They watch what you wear, how you
speak, what you tweet. Do you think
they want to see you doing bathtub
monologues with your tits out?
Sloan doesn’t blink. She pulls out her phone and opens her
camera roll and holds it out to him.
He stares at the image. A long beat. His mouth opens, then
closes.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
Is that you? Are those your...
your...
SLOAN
Tits, Blake. The word you’re
looking for is tits. And yes, those
are mine.
He stares at the screen. Then at her.
BLAKE
Were you drunk?
SLOAN
Drunk enough to go up there. Sober
enough to win.
She puts the phone away.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
I didn’t plan it. But I don’t
regret it either.
Blake stands up straight again, visibly uncomfortable.
BLAKE
You realize if this ever leaks...
SLOAN
I’ve already taken care of it. But
even if it did, then you and Tamra
can spin it, like you always do.
He shakes his head.
BLAKE
This isn’t a bad haircut or a
breakup. This is... different.
SLOAN
Yeah, that's kind of the point.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Five minutes.
Sloan stands and brushes imaginary lint off her dress.
SLOAN
Anything else?
BLAKE
(shaking his head)
We’ll talk later. I’m working on
setting up a general Friday night
with Netflix on some pay-or-play
deals.
SLOAN
Can’t do it, Blake. I already have
plans for Friday.
BLAKE
Plans? What plans? We don’t have
anything booked.
SLOAN
Yeah, I know. Personal plans.
BLAKE
Sloan... we need this deal.
She walks back toward the set and into the falling fake snow
without replying.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Incognito at The Blue Cage
EXT. THE BLUE CAGE -- PARKING LOT -- FRIDAY AT DUSK
A hot breeze cuts across oil-stained asphalt. The flickering
sign overhead reads:
THE BLUE CAGE — EST. 1986
The “C” buzzes faintly. A stream of wanderers enter from the
sidewalk punctuated by cigarette smoke, nervous laughter and
cheap late-night perfume.
Lena’s Maxima pulls into the parking lot. Lena kills the
engine. Sloan tightens her hoodie up and slides on a pair of
dark sunglasses. She grabs a bag next to her. A deep exhale.
LENA
You know, it doesn't look quite as
tragic when the sun goes down.
They step out and start walking towards the club.
LENA (CONT'D)
Why are you doing this? Aren’t you
afraid someone will recognize you?
SLOAN
I have a really nice wig and some
flamboyant makeup. Plus, who would
think in a million years that Sloan
Sinclair would even be in a place
like this?
LENA
Yeah, you’d have to be crazy to
want to come here. Right?
Near the entrance stands DIESEL (30s) — silent, tall, and
built like a human tank. His tight black t-shirt with the
Blue Cage logo only makes his already massive arms look even
bigger.
A sign behind him reads:
-NO PHONES. CASH ONLY. BE KIND.-
He immediately notices Sloan approaching.
DIESEL
Welcome back.
LENA
(to Sloan)
Is there anyone that doesn’t know
you here?
He unhooks the velvet rope, and makes eye contact with Lena.
DIESEL
ID?
LENA
I’m here for her emotional support.
(hands him ID)
Fully certified... or certifiable.
Take your pick.
He opens the door. They step inside.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Entering The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- FOYER –- CONTINUOUS
As the heavy door closes behind them, Sloan and Lena step
into the foyer, a liminal space between street and sanctuary.
Dim red light glows above. Posters line the walls.
A junior BOUNCER (early 20s) mans the podium holding a stack
of neoprene phone pouches, wristbands, and a logbook.
Diesel enters behind them. His presence fills the space.
DIESEL
Phones.
A couple of guys in front of Sloan and Lena hand theirs over.
The bouncer clicks them into black locking sleeves.
LENA
What is this — Fort Knox?
DIESEL
Something like that.
Diesel nods to the bouncer, who allows Sloan and Lena to keep
their phones.
BOUNCER
Blue wristband for the floor,
silver mean you’re known.
He fastens the bands — blue for Lena, silver for Sloan.
Lena squints at a FRAMED SIGN bolted to the wall. It reads:
HOUSE RULES:
– BE KIND.
– NO PHOTOS. NO VIDEO.
– RESPECT THE DANCERS.
– TIPS UP FRONT.
– NO TOUCHING UNLESS INVITED.
– IF DIESEL MOVES, SO DO YOU.
LENA
I like rules that rhyme.
DIESEL
They don’t do that, but they do
land.
The junior bouncer taps a button. The inner door clicks.
DIESEL (CONT'D)
(to Sloan)
Welcome home. My name’s Diesel. If
you need anything, if anyone is
bothering you, just signal me.
Sloan meets his eyes for half a second then steps through.
Lena follows. The music swells as the door opens to the main
floor.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
A Night at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– SOUND BOOTH / DJ PLATFORM -– CONTINUOUS
A narrow catwalk leads to a metal-framed booth overhead. From
here, JUNO (20s) sees everything and comments on it all.
She’s the club’s MC and DJ — headphones cocked, nails
glittering. She flips a switch with a dancer’s flair.
JUNO (INTO MIC)
Friday night, freaks and fire
starters. I want you to tip tonight
like its the only language left.
And remember, we see all.
Below her, a raised stage dominates the main room, which is
filled with a lot of tables, ringed by a horseshoe of booths.
A very pretty girl, TARA (20s) in sequins and shadow is
dancing on the stage with most of the tables and booths
already filled.
Beside her in the booth, Rick checks levels on an old-school
mixing board, with wires draping out like veins.
JUNO (CONT'D)
This crowd’s got twitchy hands.
Let’s keep'em busy.
Down at the bar, KAI(40s) tosses a lime wedge into a shaker
without looking. He glances up at a monitor linked to the
booth. He gives Rick a thumbs-up.
JUNO (CONT'D)
Cue Tara’s notes. Let'em ride under
the floor mix.
Rick taps a key — a slow two-note motif plays under the booth
speaker. A soft pulse, like something waiting to begin.
JUNO (CONT'D)
That’s foreplay, baby.
The stage lights swell. Juno looks down and notices Sloan and
Lena approaching.
JUNO (CONT'D)
Well, well, well... look who
crawled out of the Polaroid.
SLOAN
You were here that night?
JUNO
I was the one yelling the loudest.
I’m Juno.
She high-fives Lena.
JUNO (CONT'D)
You sticking around this time,
champ?
SLOAN
Yeah, I think I am. Weekends
anyway. I have a day job.
Rick walks up and joins them, clipboard in hand.
RICK
Hey, its our Tuesday night champ.
SLOAN
Still want me on the schedule?
He looked her up and down, not sleazy, just assessing.
RICK
You sober?
She nodded.
SLOAN
This time.
RICK
Good, sober pays better.
(checks his clipboard)
Get back to the dressing room. Vee
will show you around and slide you
into the rotation. Have you settled
on a name?
SLOAN
Put me down as “Eden.”
RICK
(nodding while writing)
Nice.
While Rick and Juno continue to speak with Sloan about her
music, Lena wanders off towards the bar.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– BAR AREA -– CONTINUOUS
The bar glows — wide and horseshoe-shaped, glassware glinting
in club light.
Kai, sleeves rolled, moves like a jazz drummer — tossing ice,
catching shakers, flipping bottles with one hand while
checking the monitor with the other. The bar is full, but
he’s working alone.
Lena stands off to the side, arms crossed, watching the
floor, the bar, the flow.
KAI
If you’re here to apply, now’s the
interview.
LENA
I’m just observing.
KAI
That’s what I told Rick five years
ago. I’m Kai and this is my domain.
LENA
You always work solo on a Friday?
KAI
Only when I scare off the assistant
bartenders.
Rick passes behind the bar — clipboard in hand, nodding at
Kai, then scanning the floor. He and Lena share a short
glance.
RICK
You again. You were with her the
other day.
LENA
Just spectating.
He disappears into the crowd.
Kai hands Lena a soda. She watches the rhythm of it all —
dancers prepping, drinks landing, the floor spinning like
gears in a machine.
LENA (CONT'D)
This is a vibe.
Sloan motions for Lena to follow her to the dressing room.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Slice of Life"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Witty Banter at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- GREG’S BOOTH -– MOMENTS LATER
A soft amber bulb glows from a desk lamp over a corner booth
lined with paperbacks, notebooks, and a hand-painted sign:
THE DOCTOR IS IN
GREG (50s, sharp, dry wit, ex-hippie professor energy) sips
whiskey beside a stack of worn books — Anaïs Nin, Nietzsche,
The Joy of Cooking, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle
Maintenance.
His gray hair is long and drawn back into a ponytail, which
goes perfectly with his tweed jacket, blue jeans and cowboy
boots. His booth feels like its own dimension.
Across from him, CHESS (20s, piercings, punk confidence) has
one foot up and is painting her nails black.
CHESS
If they put me on after Nina again,
I’m throwing a heel.
GREG
Try not to hit anyone literate,
Chess.
CHESS
No promises.
Sloan and Lena approach. Greg raises his glass while flashing
a smile and looking at them over the glasses perched on his
nose.
GREG
Allow me to introduce myself, I’m
Dr. Gregory Hopkins, professor of
poetry and literature at UCLA. But
everyone here just calls me Greg.
SLOAN
Call me Eden. This is Lena.
Lena gives a little wave.
GREG
“From fairest creatures we desire
increase...”
(beat)
William Shakespeare. Sonnet I.
Sloan doesn’t blink.
SLOAN
“But beauty’s rose might never
die...”, unless she hides it in a
strip club.
Greg laughs - delighted.
GREG
Finally, someone who doesn’t just
smile and nod when I quote
Shakespeare.
Greg raises his glass again.
GREG (CONT'D)
To secret roses... and second acts.
Lena eyes the books.
LENA
You read all these or just stack
them for effect?
GREG
Both. They’re mostly there to
filter the conversation.
LENA
What kind of doctor are you?
GREG
Philosopher-bartender with a minor
in glitter psychology.
CHESS
Don’t worry, he’s a gentleman.
Mostly. And if he’s not then Vee
threatens to wax him.
GREG
Voluntarily, if she’d only ask.
Sloan grins, then moves on toward backstage.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Transformation in the Blue Cage
INT. BLUE CAGE –- DRESSING ROOM –- CONTINUOUS
The dressing room is a battered shrine to beauty and
survival. A wall of mirrors glows with exposed bulbs, a few
flickering or humming. Beneath them are cluttered counters,
open makeup kits, discarded lashes, energy drinks, and
curling irons hissing in their holsters. The chairs are
mismatched - ripped vinyl, duct-taped legs, wheels that’s
don’t roll.
Lockers line the back wall, some plain, others decorated with
glitter stickers, Polaroids, and sharpie warnings about
stolen lashes. A faded Chippendales calendar hangs crooked
beside a torn poster that reads “YOU ARE ART.”
Pink string lights crisscross above. The air smells like
vanilla, sweat, and old perfume. A sagging velvet couch near
the corner serves as both nap zone and therapy chair. On the
end table: a communal bottle of hairspray and a flickering
candle set beneath a prayer card from Saint Jude.
Sloan stands in the doorway, scanning the room.
VEE (40s, calm, commands the room like a den mother)
rhinestones a stage bra with surgical focus.
NINA (20s, flirty chaos) sings off-key while drawing
eyeliner.
Tara (20s, serious, athletic, law student by day) does a
perfect split on a folding chair while scrolling a contracts
lecture on her phone.
RUBY (20s), adjusts the straps on her top.
SABLE (30s, elegant, the star dancer, older than most)
applies lipstick like she’s painting a target.
Vee snips a loose thread from a dancer’s strap.
VEE
Threads are like lies. Snip'em
before they unravel.
Vee sees Sloan and approaches and shakes her hand.
VEE (CONT'D)
My name is Vee. If you need
anything or have any questions,
just ask. Your locker is the third
from the end. Share the outlet, not
the lashes.
SLOAN
Got it.
NINA
Hi, I’m Nina. You got a stage name?
SLOAN
Eden.
NINA
Cute. Is that Biblical or
botanical?
SLOAN
Yes.
Sloan moves to her spot. Everyone returns to their rhythms,
but they’re watching her — discreetly.
TARA
What did you do before this?
SLOAN
I’ve acted some.
TARA
Huh.
Nina passes Sloan a lip gloss.
NINA
That color looks good on nervous
girls.
SLOAN
Am I that obvious?
NINA
Only to women. You know, you have
this weird, like, familiar vibe.
Like a teacher I had in high school
or something. It’s kind of bugging
me.
SLOAN
I get that a lot. Must have one of
those faces.
The door opens again. Chess strolls in, still barefoot, nails
drying.
CHESS
I swear, if Greg quotes Baudelaire
at me one more time...
Sable finally looks up. Eyes Sloan.
SABLE
If you’re nervous, now’s the time
to say so. We don’t do pep talks
once the glitter hits your sweat.
Nina and Ruby decide now is the time to be scarce, and stand
and leave the dressing room together. Tara keeps reading her
law school assignment on her phone, but she’s paying
attention.
SLOAN
I’m not nervous.
Sable finally turns and makes full eye contact.
SABLE
Yet you breathe like someone
walking into traffic.
(beat)
You’re her, right? The one from
that baking-in-Vermont bullshit.
SLOAN
I’m not sure what I want to admit.
SABLE
This isn’t a soundstage,
sweetheart. No one yells cut and
you get a do-over. No special
effects. If you fall, you fall
hard.
(beat)
And if you shine...IF you shine.
It’s all you.
They hold eye contact. Sable gets up and walks out, heels
clicking.
VEE
(to Sloan)
Don’t take it personal. Sable just
likes to see if the new girls are
made of flesh or frosting.
SLOAN
What am I?
Vee swivels toward her, gives her a once-over like she’s
reading a wine label.
VEE
Hmmm. Girl, you look like crème
brûlée. Fancy on top, fire
underneath, and liable to burn a
man if he digs too deep.
Sloan settles into her dressing table and begins her
transformation. She pulls out a chestnut-brown wig from her
bag, shaking it out. She methodically pins her own blonde
hair flat and slips the wig on, adjusting it until it’s
perfect.
Then the makeup. Not the soft, glowing makeup for the red
carpet. This is sharper. Darker eyeliner, smokier eyeshadow,
a bold color she’d never be allowed to wear as “Sloan.”
She changes into her stage costume - strappy, glittering,
leaving little to the imagination. She looks at herself in
the brightly lit mirror. She tilts her head, studying the
unfamiliar face.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Slice of Life"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Performance and Preparation
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- MAIN FLOOR –- CONTINUOUS
The room pulses. Deep bass beats shake low through the bones.
Colored lights drift across skin and velvet and glass.
Onstage, Nina dances like she’s walking a tightrope —
graceful chaos. She slides down the pole into a split, spins
with flair, and keeps it playful.
JUNO (O.S.)
That’s Nina, people. She likes big
tips and clean boundaries, so don’t
disappoint her.
Crowd energy builds. Cheers, claps — not rowdy, but reverent.
A young TRUCKER near the rail lifts his phone, trying to
sneak a shot. FLASH. Diesel is there in two steps.
DIESEL
Phone.
The trucker freezes, then slowly hands it over. Diesel drops
it into a neoprene pouch, clicks it shut, and pulls out a
black sharpie.
He marks the guy’s wristband with an X.
DIESEL (CONT'D)
That’s a strike. Next one, you’re
done.
TRUCKER
It was just—
DIESEL
Doesn’t matter.
He leans in slightly.
DIESEL (CONT'D)
If you’re here to take, you’re in
the wrong church.
He steps back. Doesn’t yell or explain. Just returns to his
post, watching. Nina doesn’t miss a beat — smiles, spins,
lands hard and fast. Applause rises.
Rick circles the floor, low-key and calm, glancing toward
Diesel and then back to the booth. Checks the monitors.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- BAR –- CONTINUOUS
Lena is sipping her soda at the bar, nervously watching the
stage. From her periphery, a woman approaches and slides onto
the stool next to her. Lena glances over, ready to dismiss a
stranger.
The woman is stunning in a dangerous, club-ready way. Brown
hair, intense eyes, a confident posture. Lena gives a polite,
non-committal smile and starts to turn back.
STRANGER
Buy a girl a drink?
Lena freezes. She knows that voice. Her eyes widen as she
does a double-take, scanning the woman’s face.
LENA
(whispering)
Holy shit.
SLOAN
(a slow smile)
Took you a second.
LENA
I was looking for you, I wasn’t
looking for... this. Sloan--
SLOAN
Eden. My name is Eden.
A new kind of smile spreads across her face - one that “Sloan
Sinclair” never wore.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
I think I’m going to throw up, then
dance, then throw up again.
LENA
That is the proper order.
(beat)
Look — you don’t owe anybody
anything up there. If it feels
wrong, pull back. If it feels
right... lean into it.
They exchange a small smile.
SLOAN
(nervously)
There’s a lot of people in here.
LENA
Relax. I just did a mental census.
Based on the flannel and work
boots, I’d say your fanbase in here
tonight is approximately zero.
These guys’ idea of a Christmas
movie is DIE HARD.
(beat)
You got this, Eden.
Sloan breathes out. Deep.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Slice of Life"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Stepping into the Spotlight
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- STAGE WINGS –- CONTINUOUS
A hum of anticipation fills the space. Music pulses softly
from the main room.
Sloan slides through the curtain. Vee steps up behind her,
paper towel in hand.
VEE
Chalk dust. Keeps your grip clean.
Hands sweat when the heart does.
SLOAN
Thanks.
She adjusts Sloan’s shoulder strap, tugs it into place like a
ritual.
VEE
This place loves the brave. Not the
reckless. The brave.
Tara walks by, gives Sloan a slow, approving nod.
TARA
Crush it.
Sloan smiles — tight but real.
From across the room, Sable watches. She crosses over,
deliberate.
SABLE
Don’t try to be me.
SLOAN
I’m not. I’m being Eden.
Sable stares at her for a moment — then nods.
SABLE
Okay, “Eden.” Show us what you got.
She walks away.
VEE
(softly)
That’s as close to a blessing as
she gives.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- STAGE WINGS / SOUND BOOTH -– MOMENTS
LATER
Sloan stands just behind the curtain. Bare feet on cool
floor. Breath steady now.
A soft pulse of BLUE LIGHT spills out across the stage, slow
and moody — almost aquatic. The house quiets instinctively.
In the booth, Juno lowers her mic close, voice slow and deep.
JUNO (INTO MIC)
Some dancers steal the spotlight,
and some dancers become the reason
we built the damn thing.
She glances toward the curtain, watching Eden’s silhouette.
JUNO (INTO MIC) (CONT'D)
Blue Cagers, lean into it... say
hello to Eden!
The curtain parts.
A SPOTLIGHT cuts in — soft, warm, not harsh.
Sloan steps forward with determination and no hesitation. She
walks barefoot to center stage like she’s walking a tightrope
in a thunderstorm.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Sloan's Triumphant Debut
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- MAIN STAGE –- CONTINUOUS
The room fades to darkness — except for the soft blue glow
surrounding Sloan.
She moves deliberately, every step like silk on tile. She
grips the pole, then lets go, choosing her own gravity. She
circles once, low and slow — teasing tension, not begging for
it.
She lowers herself to the floor, threads her body like water
through the stage’s center, never rushing. A back arch. A
slow roll of the hips. A crawl that’s not for them — it’s for
her.
She climbs the pole — not high — just enough to be watched.
Hands grip. Legs lock. She hangs. Holds. Then drops into a
smooth landing, back to her knees.
A beat of silence. She looks out over the crowd. Then—
She reaches behind her neck.
Unfastens the top and pulls it off.
Some cheers breaks out in the room, but many in the audience
are hushed, captivated by what they see on the stage. Every
eye is on her — and she’s finally in control of what they
see.
Sable, watching from the wings, leans forward slightly. A
dancer recognizes something real. Kai stops pouring and looks
up. Juno dials the mix tighter — syncing the beat to Sloan’s
breath.
Sloan rises — half-clothed now, fully in command. She lets
the rhythm flow through her, curves into it, spins once. No
tricks. No excess.
She stops center stage, shoulders back, head high, her body
bare and bright in the spotlight. The SPOTLIGHT cuts and
leaves the stage in the DARK.
A beat. Then — APPLAUSE AND CHEERING.
Just off the stage, Vee and Chess stand in stunned silence.
Vee exhales like she’s been underwater.
CHESS
Holy shit.
Greg, from his booth, raises his glass and scribbles a new
line in his notebook.
Sloan exits the stage, not rushing — just radiating. She
breathes hard, a joyful, triumphant look on her face.
BLUE CAGE CUSTOMER #1
She kind of looks like that
actress? What’s her name. You know?
BLUE CAGE CUSTOMER #2
Sure, and I’m Ryan Gosling.
BLUE CAGE CUSTOMER #1
But, her eyes and...
BLUE CAGE CUSTOMER #2
Dude, she just got her tits out at
the Blue Cage in Van Nuys. Let it
go.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– BACKSTAGE WINGS -– MOMENTS LATER
Sloan slips behind the curtain, still catching her breath,
skin glowing, chest bare, eyes alive. She clutches a towel
handed to her by Chess without a word.
Vee is there, cool as ever, arms folded, but her smile is
wide.
VEE
That... was a home run.
Sloan wraps the towel around her shoulders.
SLOAN
Am I shaking?
VEE
A little. That just means you felt
it.
CHESS
Her first Friday and she does that?
Rude.
She smacks Sloan’s ass playfully, and heads to the stage.
CHESS (CONT'D)
Welcome to varsity, Eden.
Tara gives her a subtle nod as she walks past — athlete to
athlete. Sable steps into view and makes eye contact with
Sloan and holds it for a beat. Then nods.
SABLE
Huh.
She disappears back into the dressing room. Lena steps
through the curtain, wide-eyed.
LENA
You’re... kind of amazing at that.
Sloan beams a big grin to Lena as they hug.
FADE TO BLACK.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Performance"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Morning Confessions
INT. LENA’S APARTMENT –- KITCHEN/LIVING AREA -– MORNING
Cozy, cluttered, and unmistakably lived-in. The kitchen is
small but full of warmth - hand towels with wine stains, a
fridge plastered with magnets and takeout menus, a chipped
ceramic bowl full of clementines.
Mismatched mugs hang above the sink, and an old boombox plays
soft jazz form the corner. There’s an ashtray on the
windowsill, and sunlight filters through gauzy curtains that
haven’t been washed in a while, but still catch the light
just right.
Lena, barefoot in a long tee, flips pancakes like a
prizefighter. Sloan sits at the kitchen table in sweats and a
hoodie, her hair still in a post-stage bun.
LENA
You know, you didn’t have to strip
your top off.
SLOAN
I really did though.
LENA
And the crowd — what was that? Like
church with dollar bills?
SLOAN
It felt like flying.
LENA
So... is it out of your system?
SLOAN
Not even close.
LENA
Thought you might say that.
Sloan stirs her coffee.
SLOAN
I’m going back next week.
LENA
Of course you are.
They sit in quiet for a moment as Lena pours syrup and
coffee.
LENA (CONT'D)
You know that you’re playing with
fire doing this? A wig will only
hide America’s Sweetheart for so
long.
Sloan simply nods.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
A Chance Encounter
INT. STUDIO BACKLOT -– DAY
Sloan is walking across the backlot talking with JAKE SCOTT,
the assistant director of her movie.
ADRIAN TRENT (30s-40s) exits a production bungalow with a few
execs. Casual. Black boots. Rolled sleeves. Clipboard in one
hand, coffee in the other.
Adrian sees Jake and gives him a wave and approaches.
JAKE
Adrian, hey, how have you been?
ADRIAN
I can’t complain. I know who this
is, Jake, but want to introduce me?
JAKE
You guys have never met?
SLOAN
Not officially.
JAKE
Sloan Sinclair, meet Adrian Trent.
Adrian smiles and shakes Sloan’s hand. She smiles back.
ADRIAN
Pleasure. I’ve been watching your
face on holiday posters all week.
SLOAN
Yeah, sorry about that.
(beat)
I read Windowed. It’s amazing.
ADRIAN
Oh? Thanks.
SLOAN
Twice. Told my agent to chase it.
ADRIAN
I was told you passed.
SLOAN
My agent passed. I didn’t.
ADRIAN
Ah. I wouldn’t have pictured you
really wanting something like this.
SLOAN
I want it. I know that role.
JAKE
I hate to break this up. But its
time for us to get back to the set,
Sloan.
ADRIAN
It was nice meeting you, Sloan,
SLOAN
You too.
As Sloan walks away, she glances back. So does Adrian.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
Behind the Curtain at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– BAR AREA -- EARLY EVENING
Sloan enters the club. It’s quiet before opening. She freezes
a moment, watching:
Lena is behind the bar, apron tied awkwardly, pouring vodka
into a jigger with the precision of someone new at this. Kai
leans beside her, arms crossed, amused.
SLOAN
Did you get a job?
LENA
I figured if I’m gonna be here
every damn night, might as well get
paid.
KAI
And trained. Very loosely.
LENA
Can I make you something?
SLOAN
You’re gonna burn this place down.
Sloan walks off toward the dressing room. Kai leans to Lena.
KAI
She always like this?
LENA
Since she was twelve.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- DRESSING ROOM -- NIGHT
Sloan enters the room just as Sable is heading out. She
abruptly passes Sloan without a word or an acknowledgement.
Sloan leans near Vee, who's fixing a dramatic winged
eyeliner.
SLOAN
What’s Sable’s deal? Did I do
something to make her mad?
VEE
No. She’s afraid you’re just here
slumming. You know, she used to
act. Indies, couple good auditions.
SLOAN
Why didn’t it work out?
VEE
Wrong agent. Wrong timing. Who
knows?
(beat)
Hollywood’s a meat grinder for
girls who don’t smile the right way
on cue.
Sloan glances toward Sable again.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- MAIN STAGE –- CONTINUOUS
The club hums low and electric. A new track drops — slow and
dirty.
JUNO (V.O.)
Blue Cagers, time to drop to your
knees and worship the
incomparable... Sable.
She owns it the moment she steps out — tall, poised, in jet-
black velvet and glittered thigh-highs. Her movement is
liquid: slow shoulder rolls, long extensions, legs carving
the air like calligraphy.
She grips the pole once — not to swing, but to lean. One boot
planted, one leg stretched back impossibly far. Her eyes scan
the room like a challenge.
Sloan stands frozen in the wings, utterly transfixed.
Sable drops into a controlled split, hair flipping in time
with the beat. She makes no effort to smile. She rises in one
smooth motion. A turn, a body wave, and then stillness — a
direct challenge to the crowd.
The crowd doesn’t just cheer. They worship.
Sloan watches, motionless.
SLOAN
Jesus.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- STAGE –- LATER
Juno at the mic, center spotlight.
JUNO (V.O.)
If you were a sinner and wanted
forgiveness, this next girl’s your
redemption. Give it up for Eden!
Applause as Sloan takes the stage.
Juno watches her with shining eyes, mouthing along with
Sloan’s choreography.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR -- CONTINUOUS
As Sloan dances on stage, Juno walks over to Lena behind the
bar.
JUNO
I’ve seen all her movies. Even that
one where she’s a teen lawyer with
amnesia?
LENA
She doesn’t even remember making
that one.
JUNO
Oooo, now that’s method acting!
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
Tensions on the Set
EXT. STUDIO BACKLOT –- DAY
A fake snowy street. Sloan stands in a sparkly red coat,
cradling a stuffed dog.
DIRECTOR
A little more sparkle, Sloan.
You’re in love with Christmas.
She forces a tight smile.
Blake steps in, a tense look on his face, and pulls her
aside.
BLAKE
Paramount just moved up their start
date. We need to lock that in
quickly.
SLOAN
I saw Adrian Trent the other day.
Blake exhales.
BLAKE
Sloan, we’re not having this
conversation again.
SLOAN
You skimmed the script and passed
on it.
BLAKE
Because it’s not right for your
image. We’re not doing grief porn
on the indie circuit.
SLOAN
It’s not your image. It’s mine.
BLAKE
Which I’ve been managing for over
fifteen years. You think you get to
throw that out because you’re
bored?
SLOAN
I’m not bored. I’m suffocating.
BLAKE
Then take a vacation. Don’t light
your career on fire because you
liked one script.
SLOAN
I want you to call him. Just ask
for an audition.
BLAKE
You don’t audition. Not anymore.
That was settled.
SLOAN
Yeah. By you.
They stare at each other across a chasm of silence. She turns
and walks back toward the set — the fake snow falling again.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Reflections in The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- KITCHEN -- EVENING
Sloan sits beside Lena, munching fries.
Diesel walks in soaked from rain. Sloan tosses him a towel.
He catches it one-handed. Nods.
Lena watches Diesel for a second longer than necessary.
Kai enters carrying a tray of just washed glasses and sets
them down on the table. Sloan stands and heads to the
dressing room. Kai watches her go.
KAI
So how did you two even happen?
She’s Hollywood royalty. You’re...
not.
Lena looks down at her phone, swiping left.
LENA
We were twelve. Foster care.
Kai stops what he’s doing.
KAI
No kidding.
LENA
Six miserable months in the same
group home. We were the quiet ones.
We had a pact: I’d do her homework
if she’d teach me to cry on cue.
Seemed like a fair trade.
KAI
How did Sloan end up there? I
thought she grew up as a child
star?
LENA
Her mom was a mess. An addict. She
would drag Sloan to auditions for
the cash, and then blow it all.
When she finally flamed out for
good, Sloan got dumped into the
system.
KAI
So how is it you two stayed
together?
LENA
That’s where Blake enters the
picture. He had been her agent for
a couple years already. He showed
up one day, didn’t like what he
saw. He didn’t just get her out, he
got us both out. Pulled some
strings and set us up with a proper
sponsor family. Made sure we were
safe, fed... had a shot.
She looks out at Sloan walking through the curtains.
LENA (CONT'D)
He was always in the background,
the one really in charge. For the
last fifteen years, every roof over
our heads, every meal... it all
leads back to a decision he made in
a social worker’s office. He didn’t
just build her career. He built her
life. Our lives.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Eden's Descent
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN STAGE -- CONTINUOUS
The music that kicks in isn’t sultry or dreamy. It’s a raw,
grinding ELECTRONIC TRACK with a punishing, industrial beat.
The lights aren’t soft blue; they’re stark red and white,
cutting through the haze.
Sloan doesn’t glide to the center. She stalks there. Her
posture isn’t inviting; it’s confrontational.
And then she moves.
This isn’t the water-silk flow of her first night. This is
geometry and violence. Her body becomes a series of sharp
angles and jarring isolations. She GRIPS the pole not for
elegance, but for leverage, using it to launch herself into a
furious spin that ends in a hard, percussive LANDING.
Every movement is an exorcism. The crowd, usually rowdy, is
mesmerized into a strange silence.
Sable is in the wings. She stops adjusting her strap, her
eyes locked on Sloan. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across
her face.
At the bar, Kai stops polishing a glass. Lena watches, her
knuckles white as she grips the bar top.
Sloan finishes on her knees, chest heaving from this
emotional purge. One hand slaps the stage floor - a final,
definitive statement.
The room ERUPTS. Sloan rises, her face a mask of grim
satisfaction. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t bow. She just
turns and walks off the stage, leaving the energy vibrating
in the air behind her.
JUNO (O.S.)
Alright... feel that. That’s Eden.
Sloan passes a stunned Nina in the wings.
NINA
Holy shit, Eden. What the fuck did
that pole ever do to you?
INT. BLAKE’S OFFICE - DAY
Blake is sitting at his office reading a script, when he
looks up and notices Tamra walking by his door.
BLAKE
Tamra.
She stops and sticks her head into his office.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
Have you heard much from Sloan
lately?
TAMRA
Now that you mention it, not
really. She hasn’t even been
posting on her socials.
BLAKE
Reach out to her. She hasn’t been
acting like herself.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Confessions in the Booth
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- GREG’S BOOTH –- NIGHT
Greg is back in his booth with the low lamp casting its usual
glow on his stacked paperbacks, a chipped scotch glass
sweating rings onto a coaster that reads “Knowledge Is Power
(And So Is Glitter)”.
Sloan lounges in one corner. Sable, in a silk robe, slides
into the opposite side with two tequila shots. Greg sits
between them like a campfire philosopher, ponytail loose,
tweed jacket draped over the seat.
GREG
This is why tenure exists — so a
man can spend Friday nights
learning from artists and not get
fired for it.
SABLE
(raising her glass)
To better philosophy.
SLOAN
To stripping and scholarship.
They all clink and drink. A pause.
SABLE
(eying the book in Greg’s
lap)
What are we dissecting tonight?
He holds up the book.
GREG
Sharon Olds. Brutal honesty in
elegant language.
(beat)
(MORE)
GREG (CONT'D)
It reminded me of your last dance,
Sloan. That was poetry of
embodiment.
SLOAN
(small laugh)
You really don’t see us as just
dancers, do you?
GREG
I see dancers. But I also see
storytellers, warriors, comedians,
psychologists. You get men to feel
things in thirty seconds that I
can’t manage in a semester.
They glance around. The booth is crowded with empty glasses,
lipstick-kissed napkins, books with bent spines, and energy.
SABLE
For the record... I like this
booth.
SLOAN
Same. It’s like... a confessional.
With better music.
GREG
Well then... confess something.
They share a glance. Then:
SLOAN
I think I was dying a little in my
other life. Slowly, quietly. And
this place reminded me I was still
breathing.
GREG
(softly, reverently)
Now that’s art right there.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Whispers and Aspirations
INT. COFFEE SHOP -- NIGHT
Jordan is sitting in a booth talk to another journalist about
the latest events in Hollywood. The two are laughing and
shooting the breeze.
JOURNALIST
I heard a weird one today. Some
blogger swears he saw Sinclair
hanging around outside a strip club
in the Valley. Can you imagine?
Jordan takes a sip of his coffee, but looks interested.
JORDAN
Which club?
JOURNALIST
Who knows? The Blue something?
Probably just some lookalike trying
to get famous.
Jordan makes a note on his phone. Looks intrigued.
JORDAN
Yeah, probably. Probably.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- SIDE STAGE STORAGE AREA –- NIGHT
Dim and quiet, with only the distant thump of bass. The hum
of the lights outside is distant here. Rick is coiling cables
from the night’s set. Sloan sits on an old stool, robe on,
still catching her breath between performances.
Rick tosses a rag onto a crate, then turns and leans against
the wall.
RICK
Can I ask you something?
SLOAN
Shoot.
RICK
Why did you come in here in the
first place?
Sloan doesn’t answer.
RICK (CONT'D)
You weren’t that drunk. You weren’t
lost. You came here in here like
you’d already made the decision.
(beat)
So... why?
SLOAN
Because I was angry. I spent all
day on a set pretending my biggest
problem was which Vermont baker to
kiss, while the script I actually
cared about - a script about real
loss, the kind I actually
understand - was sitting in a trash
can on my agent’s desk
Rick watches her a beat. Then—
RICK
All right, that’s fair and explains
that first night. But why do you
keep coming back?
SLOAN
I couldn’t go back to the red
carpets and the fake smiles.
(beat)
Up there on that stage... it’s the
only place I feel like I’m not
lying.
RICK
This script you wanted... is the
part still open?
SLOAN
As far as I know.
RICK
Then go audition.
SLOAN
Blake would never—
RICK
I didn’t say “ask permission.” I
said go. If it’s yours, take it.
(pointing out to the main
floor)
That’s what you do when you’re on
this stage, what makes that stage
any different?
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
Chaos and Control at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– MAIN FLOOR -- LATER
A packed crowd. Music bumping. Sloan and Nina on stage mid-
set, working the crowd, bathed in glittering light. The
atmosphere is rowdy but festive.
Suddenly — SHOUTS erupt near the bar.
A DRUNK CUSTOMER, mid-30s, ripped and belligerent, SHOVES a
smaller bouncer hard into a table. Bottles crash. Screams
ring out. The drunk customer charges forward—red-faced,
wild—toward the stage.
NINA
(alarmed)
Uh... Eden?
SLOAN
I see him. I just don’t see—
Diesel appears. He doesn’t rush. He arrives. From the
shadows. One second the drunk is two steps from the stage—
CRACK. Diesel delivers a single open-palm strike to the chest
— precision and force — the drunk FLIES backward, crashing
into a row of chairs.
Silence.
DIESEL
(low)
Stay down... or I will put you
down. Your choice.
The drunk groans briefly and then passes out cold.
NINA
(alarmed)
Eden, are you okay?
Sloan nods, breathless. Behind them, a commotion in the crowd
...
THROUGH THE CHAOS - A PHONE LENS ZOOMS IN, hunting.
It glides past swinging arms, past Diesel’s broad back, and
finds its target: Sloan, frozen on stage. The lens FOCUSES. A
single CLICK.
The phone drops away, vanishing into the sea of bodies.
From the DJ booth mic, Juno’s voice BLARES—
JUNO (V.O.)
And the winner by knockout—AND
STILL UNDEFEATED—DIE-SEL!!
The chant erupts on cue:
CROWD
DIE-SEL! DIE-SEL! DIE-SEL!
Lena rushes up from behind the bar, checks on Sloan and Nina.
LENA
(breathless)
Thanks. Again.
Diesel gives her a small nod. Doesn’t smile. His eyes hold
hers for a moment longer than usual... He turns to help the
other bouncer up.
DIESEL
You good?
BOUNCER
Yeah. Thanks, man.
Sloan leans over to Nina, grinning.
SLOAN
I love this place.
NINA
(fanning herself)
Is it hot in here, or is it just
Diesel?
SLOAN
(smirking)
It’s always Diesel.
Juno takes the mic as the lights come down for a set change.
JUNO (INTO MIC)
For the record—anyone else thinking
of stepping out of line tonight,
remember this: we don’t tolerate
creeps. Our 6-foot-3 velvet hammer
takes them out.
Another round of applause. Juno blows a kiss toward Diesel,
who is already resetting chairs like nothing happened.
Genres:
["Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Unexpected Audition
INT. ADRIAN’S OFFICE –- DAY
A modest production office tucked in a converted warehouse on
the studio lot. Storyboards on corkboards. A whiteboard
scrawled with character arcs. A soft ring from the front
buzzer. Adrian glances up from his laptop.
INTERCOM (V.O.)
Sloan Sinclair to see you.
A brief look of stunned confusion crosses his face.
ADRIAN
Show her in.
Adrian straightens. He wasn’t expecting her. Door opens.
Sloan steps inside, composed but electric.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
(pleasantly surprised)
Sloan, this is unexpected.
SLOAN
I want to read for Claire.
Adrian blinks, caught off guard.
ADRIAN
(studies her)
You mean... you want to do a
general meeting?
SLOAN
No. I want to audition. Right now
if you’ve got the pages.
ADRIAN
You don’t usually audition. And
this role, it’s... exposing, in
many ways.
(beat)
What makes you that kind of
exposure is something you can do?
SLOAN
(slight smile)
Let’s just say I’ve had some recent
experience with... exposure.
ADRIAN
(eyebrows lift)
Really? Because the last thing I
saw you in...
SLOAN
This would be... different.
He studies her. This isn’t diva energy. It’s hunger. A deep
burning need. He stands slowly and crosses to a cabinet.
Pulls out a thin packet of sides. He hands it to her.
Sloan doesn’t sit. She opens the packet, takes a breath, and -
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
You want me to say yes. You want
the word so you can own it - hang
it like a medal on your chest. “She
said she loves me.” As if that
means you were good to me. As if
that erases everything.
ADRIAN (IN CHARACTER)
(reading from script)
You think I don’t care?
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
You care that I’m still here, that
I didn’t leave. But you don’t care
why. You don’t give a damn why.
Her voice shakes - but it’s steel.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
I stayed because I was scared. I
stayed because I thought if I kept
giving pieces of myself, you’d
finally feel full enough to stop
taking.
A long, breathless pause.
Sloan leans forward. Quiet now. Devastating.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
But love isn’t subtraction... and
you never once added anything to
me.
She gets up. Stands in front of him for a beat.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
I’m done auditioning for affection.
A long pause. Adrian simply stares up at Sloan with his jaw
open.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
So... how was that?
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Celebration and Reflection at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR -- DAY
Lena is washing glasses behind the bar while Kai is emptying
bags of ice into a cooler on the floor. They both glance up
when the door opens and Sloan walks in looking beat.
LENA
Well?
Sloan locks eyes with her for a moment, her face betraying
nothing. But a wry smile starts to form on the side of her
mouth.
LENA (CONT'D)
Yeah? Are you serious?
Lena jumps into Sloan’s arms while Rick emerges from the back
to see what the commotion is about. Sloan is beaming.
RICK
We got it?
KAI
(grinning big)
Hell yes, we got the part!
Rick and Kai high-five each other while Sloan and Lena are
hugging.
INT. BLUE CAGE –- GREG’S BOOTH –- LATER
Greg sits with Sloan and Lena, a half-drunk bourbon in hand
as they celebrate the day’s events. Diesel is across the
floor resetting stools. The club is between sets, quiet but
alive.
SLOAN
Has anyone ever actually seen
Diesel run?
LENA
Or blink?
GREG
Not run. Not blink. I once saw him
nod. That was a big day.
SLOAN
He’s like a legend in here.
GREG
Because he is one.
(leans in
conspiratorially)
Few years back, guy comes in high
and pissed, waving a knife. He gets
behind the bar before anyone clocks
him. Aimed for Ruby. Would’ve been
bad.
(beat)
Then Diesel shows up.
LENA
Out of nowhere?
GREG
Always. He steps in, takes the
knife to the side — doesn’t flinch.
Just drops the guy like a sack of
laundry.
SLOAN
(wide-eyed)
What happened after?
GREG
Stitched himself up with bar tape
and a paper towel. Kept working
like it was Tuesday.
LENA
Bullshit.
GREG
Ask Chess. Ask Rick. He still has
the scar — just don’t expect him to
show it.
SLOAN
So what do we do? Just know he’s
always watching?
GREG
He’s not just a bouncer. He’s the
soul of the place. You don’t see
him coming until you need him. And
then he’s just... there.
They all look over at Diesel. Sure enough, he’s glancing
their way, one eyebrow raised like he KNOWS he’s being
discussed.
GREG (CONT'D)
Honestly, I sleep better knowing he
exists.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Crossroads of Ambition
INT. BLAKE’S OFFICE –- DAY
Sloan enters coffee in hand. Blake is behind his desk, phone
to his ear.
BLAKE
I’ll call you back.
He hangs up. Studies her.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
You’ve been off the grid.
SLOAN
I’ve been busy.
BLAKE
With what, exactly?
TAMRA (O.S.)
She got the part.
Blake turns. Tamra steps in behind Sloan, professional and
calm.
BLAKE
What part?
SLOAN
The lead in Windowed.
Silence.
BLAKE
That’s not possible. We passed.
SLOAN
No... we didn’t. You did.
TAMRA
She read for Trent. She nailed it.
BLAKE
And no one thought to loop me in?
Do you have any idea what you’ve
just done? You walked away from a
seven-figure, pay-or-play deal, a
film that was a sure thing - for
this? The budget for this is less
than your standard quote!
SLOAN
It’s not about you.
BLAKE
It’s not just me. It’s the careers
of everyone in this agency who
works for you. It’s the signal
you’re sending to every studio in
town - that Sloan Sinclair is now a
gamble. You were an investment. Now
you’re a question mark. And you
went behind my back to do it.
SLOAN
I went around you. There’s a
difference.
BLAKE
Jesus, Sloan. We talked about this.
That script is a risk. The nudity,
the tone, the press...
SLOAN
It’s not your risk to take.
TAMRA
Blake, lets not make this a...
BLAKE
You told me that you trust me to
manage your brand.
SLOAN
I did, until you started trying to
manage me.
A beat.
BLAKE
And I’m supposed to just accept
that?
SLOAN
No. You don’t have to accept it.
But you don’t get to stop me.
She turns to go.
BLAKE
You’re making a mistake.
SLOAN
(stops, but doesn’t turn
back)
Maybe. But at least it’ll be my
mistake.
She exits. Tamra and Blake stand in silence.
TAMRA
I saw a clip, Blake. She earned it.
BLAKE
(quietly)
Yeah. That’s what scares me.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Casting Controversy: Can Sloan Sinclair Transition to Drama?
INT. ENTERTAINMENT NEWS STUDIO –- NIGHT
Graphics fly across the screen: ET HOLLYWOOD TONIGHT —
spinning gold letters, dramatic swoosh.
ENTERTAINMENT REPORTER (V.O.)
In what some are calling the
casting curveball of the year,
indie auteur Adrian Trent has
confirmed that Sloan Sinclair will
star in his next film, Windowed — a
dark, intimate drama about grief,
memory, and identity.
Cut to Sloan’s glamorous red carpet footage. Flashbulbs. A
slow-motion hair toss.
ENTERTAINMENT REPORTER (V.O.)
Yes, THAT Sloan Sinclair. Known for
her glossy holiday hits and rom-com
box office charm, Sinclair is
taking a sharp turn from snowflakes
and sugar cookies into full-blown
art house territory.
Cut to an industry panel. A STUDIO EXECUTIVE (mid-50s) gives
a diplomatic smile.
STUDIO EXECUTIVE
I mean, she’s... talented. But
Adrian’s material is heavy. It’s
not... sprinkles and sparkle. It’s
pain. It’s subtlety.
Cut to an influencer podcast clip. Two stylish hosts exchange
a skeptical glance.
PODCAST HOST 1
What’s he doing? Like, is this a
stunt?
PODCAST HOST 2
Or did Sloan Sinclair suddenly turn
into Jodie Foster and nobody told
us?
Cut to a quiet Hollywood restaurant — paparazzi footage.
Blake Hardin is approached leaving the valet stand.
PHOTOGRAPHER (O.S.)
Blake! Is it true your client’s
starring in Windowed?
Blake forces a smile.
BLAKE
You’ll have to ask Adrian Trent
about that. Not my call.
He climbs into the back of a waiting car. The smile fades
slightly as the door closes.
Cut to a still of Adrian — brooding, artistic, black-and-
white.
ENTERTAINMENT REPORTER (V.O.)
Adrian Trent, known for his
boundary-pushing scripts and
intimate direction, has remained
silent on the backlash. But with
filming set to begin next month,
the real question remains...
Cut to a split-screen of Sloan in Cozy Christmas 4 and the
words CAN SHE PULL IT OFF? in gold letters.
ENTERTAINMENT REPORTER (V.O.)
Can Sloan Sinclair act? Or is
Adrian about to learn the hard way
that not every star shines off the
red carpet?
Genres:
["Drama","Showbiz"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Secrets and Authenticity
INT. JORDAN’S OFFICE -– NIGHT
A dark, cluttered cubicle at TMZ. Monitors glow. Half a bag
of sunflower seeds, a half-drunk coffee. Headlines scroll
across the screen.
ON MONITOR: “SLOAN SINCLAIR LANDS LEAD IN ADRIAN TRENT’S
WINDOWED”
Jordan leans back, arms folded, watching the video loop.
JORDAN
(low, to himself)
What are you doing, Sloan?
He clicks over to an anonymous tip submission. A blurry still
image — outside a club. Woman in a dark wig. Could be anyone.
But... it could be her.
He opens another tab. Message board post: “Saw Sloan
Sinclair’s brunette twin at a club in Van Nuys. Wild.”
Another post: “Blue Cage. You didn’t hear it from me.”
Jordan smirks. Not out of amusement — curiosity. The kind
that turns into obsession.
He leans closer to the screen.
JORDAN (CONT'D)
You’ve suddenly become interesting,
Sloan.
He grabs a pen and scrawls two words across a yellow legal
pad:
THE BLUE CAGE
He circles it. Twice.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– DRESSING ROOM –- NIGHT
Sloan is mid-prep for her night on the floor. The club is
buzzing.
Sable walks in, makeup already perfect. She moves with
intention, and stops at Sloan’s station.
SABLE
Heard the big news. You’re moving
on up.
SLOAN
I got the role, yeah. We start
shooting next week.
SABLE
Congrats. You must be thrilled.
SLOAN
You don’t sound all that thrilled.
Sable shrugs.
SABLE
I’ve just seen it before. Some
starlet swings through, plays at
being on of us. Does her little
method vacation, then vanishes back
into champagne and security gates.
SLOAN
You think that’s what I’m doing?
SABLE
I think I’ve had more names come
through here than you’ve had red
carpets. And most of them didn’t
even learn our names. So yeah, I’m
wondering. Are you Eden now, or was
this just rehearsal?
Sloan meets her stare.
SLOAN
This place... you, Vee, Juno. This
is the only place I’ve felt like a
human being in months. I didn’t
come here to pretend. I came here
to breathe.
SABLE
Well... that’s not nothing.
She turns to go, then pauses — voice low.
SABLE (CONT'D)
You dance better when you’re pissed
off, by the way.
Sable walks out. And for the first time - maybe - she smiles.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
The Unflappable Guardian
INT. BLUE CAGE – NIGHT – MAIN FLOOR
The place is packed and pulsing. Music plays low between
sets. Diesel moves calmly through the crowd, eyes scanning
like radar.
At the bar, a DRUNK CUSTOMER wildly gestures with a full pint
— and SPLASH — half the beer goes flying. Right into DIESEL’S
shirt.
DRUNK CUSTOMER
(slurring)
My bad, big man—
Diesel doesn’t flinch. He just looks down at the soaked
shirt. Then up at Kai behind the bar.
DIESEL
Kai. Shirt.
Kai, already reaching for the emergency stash, tosses Diesel
a folded BLACK STAFF TEE. Diesel catches it midair.
Then right there on the floor, surrounded by a club full of
regulars, dancers, and stunned onlookers—
Diesel pulls off his soaked shirt.
It peels away slow and tight across his broad shoulders,
revealing a torso that looks sculpted by divine contract —
cut, massive, perfect under the glimmering club lights.
He takes the clean bar towel and calmly wipes his chest,
arms, and neck. Unhurried. Efficient. Deadly hot. A hush
falls over the room.
JUNO
Jesus Christ, Diesel...
VEE
Should we put a hundred in his
waistband?
SLOAN
(to Lena)
I need you to say something first.
Just so I know we’re still alive.
LENA
No promises.
Diesel slides into the clean shirt. Black cotton stretches
across that unholy canvas of muscle.
The girls dissolve into laughter. Diesel disappears into the
crowd again — silent, unbothered. He’s already watching the
next problem.
Genres:
["Drama","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
A Pact for Authenticity
INT. SOUNDSTAGE -- WINDOWED SET -- MORNING
SOUND: A single, distant hum of a work light. The vast
soundstage is a cathedral of shadows and half-built sets. The
faux-living room is the only island of light.
Adrian, dressed in a practical, worn-in jacket, steps through
the giant stage door. He carries a thermos and a worn leather
binder.
He stops. He isn’t alone.
On the central sofa, in her character’s clothes, bathed in
the glow of a single practical lamp, sits Sloan. She’s deep
into her script, a pencil behind her ear, a coffee cup at her
feet. She looks up, slightly startled.
SLOAN
Oh. Hi.
ADRIAN
(recovering from surprise)
I didn’t think anyone else knew how
to find this place before sunrise.
SLOAN
Habit. The only quiet you get on a
rom-com is the ten minutes before
they realize the star has arrived.
Adrian smiles, approaches the set. It feels like walking into
a real, sleeping place.
ADRIAN
What’s the verdict? Does it feel
right?
Sloan runs her hand over the couch’s fabric.
SLOAN
It feels lived in. That’s half the
battle, isn’t it? Most sets feel
like... waiting rooms.
Adrian nods, impressed. He walks around, checking the angles,
touching a prop book on the shelf.
ADRIAN
My last film... we built a lawyer’s
office. Beautiful. Oak, green
glass, the whole thing. Looked
perfect on the monitor.
He turns to her.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
The studio saw the first cut. They
said it was “too cold.” They had a
set decorator ship in a box of...
knick-knacks. Fake family photos, a
stupid mug that said ‘#1 Dad’...
He shakes his head, a quiet fury there.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
They pasted a personality on it
because they were scared of the
silence. Scared of the space. They
think audiences need to be told how
to feel every second.
He looks at Sloan, dead serious.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
This film... this set... it’s my
answer to that. No knick-knacks. No
pandering. Just the truth. The
silence. The space.
SLOAN
That’s why you never really
considered me. At first. You
thought I was just another knick-
knack.
ADRIAN
I thought you were what they’d send
in to warm the place up. To make it
more palatable.
SLOAN
And now?
He allows a small, genuine smile.
ADRIAN
Now I think you might be the one
who helps me burn it down.
The distant sound of a ROLLING DOOR opening echoes through
the stage. The first trucks are arriving.
Adrian takes a last look around the set. At Sloan, already in
place, already living in it.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
Let’s go give them something real
to shoot.
He offers her a hand up from the couch. Not because she needs
it, but as a pact. She takes it.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Revealing Truths
INT. SOUNDSTAGE –- WINDOWED SET -– NIGHT -- LATER
The same scene as before. The only sound is that of the
lights. Adrian and Sloan sit at the faux kitchen table, the
honesty of their previous conversation hanging in the air
between them. He hands her a bottled water like its an award.
ADRIAN
You earned it. That was a hell of a
first day.
Sloan offers a tired but genuine smile. She looks around the
set, her eyes lingering on the details.
SLOAN
It’s strange. To feel so at home in
a place that isn’t real.
ADRIAN
Maybe that’s the point. A safe
place to feel unsafe things.
Sloan nods, her smile fading into something more
contemplative. She picks at the label on her water bottle. A
long beat of comfortable silence.
SLOAN
This isn’t my only job.
Adrian looks up, curious. He says nothing, just waits.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
I mean, it is now. For this shoot.
But normally... I have a night job.
ADRIAN
I thought you were basically
finished shooting on that new
Christmas movie.
SLOAN
We are. I meant something else.
Something less... respectable.
She takes a breath, looks him directly in the eye. She’s
testing him.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
I dance. At a place in Van Nuys
called the Blue Cage.
She watches for his reaction - the flicker of surprise,
judgment, anything. It doesn’t come. He just listens.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Blake doesn’t know. It’s the one
place where no one wants a piece of
me. They just want the performance.
The fantasy. It’s... simple.
ADRIAN
Why are you telling me?
SLOAN
Because you built this.
(gestures to the set)
Because you said my performance
felt like someone remembering who
they were before the world got too
loud. That’s what the Cage is for
me. My silence. My... unraveling in
a ballgown, I guess.
Adrian absorbs this. He looks down at his script binder, then
back at her. His expression is one of understanding, not
pity.
ADRIAN
Okay.
SLOAN
Okay? That’s it? You’re not going
to tell me it’s a terrible risk?
That I could get recognized?
ADRIAN
I’m sure it is. And you could. But
I’m not your agent. I’m the guy who
wrote a movie about a woman
searching for a quiet truth in a
loud, ugly world. And it sounds to
me like you went out and built one
for yourself.
Sloan stares at him, her guard completely down now. She looks
almost shocked by his lack of judgment.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
(softly)
I get it, Sloan. I can actually see
why you’d need that. To control the
gaze for a few hours. To be the one
holding the lamp.
The metaphor from their earlier conversation hangs between
them. A profound connection.
SLOAN
(barely a whisper)
Thank you.
ADRIAN
For what?
SLOAN
For not making me feel like I have
to explain it. Or defend it.
They sit in the quiet hum of the stage. The faux kitchen
feels more real than it should. Adrian checks his watch.
ADRIAN
You should get some rest. We do it
all again tomorrow.
Sloan nods, standing. She feels lighter
SLOAN
See you in the morning, Adrian.
ADRIAN
Goodnight, Sloan.
She walks off the set, leaving him alone in the manufactured
warmth of the lights. He looks around the set, seeing it
differently now. Not just a set, but a reflection of the
woman who brought it to life.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
Nerves and Laughter at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- DRESSING ROOM -- EVENING
Sloan is kneeling next to a new dancer at the club, VELVET
(early 20s), helping her fasten a clasp behind her neck.
VELVET
I’m gonna forget everything the
second I get out there.
SLOAN
That’s okay, that’s when the magic
happens.
Across the room, Vee watches with quiet approval, arms
crossed and a towel over one shoulder.
VEE
(to Velvet)
Take a breath, hun. Just remember
your name and walk like its your
stage.
(beat)
Because it is.
Velvet nods. Still scared but a little steadier. Juno’s voice
crackles over the intercom:
JUNO (V.O.)
Alright babies, we’re open. Let’s
melt some hearts and empty some
wallets.
Laughter from around the room.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN FLOOR -- CONTINUOUS
Chess adjusts her boots sitting in Greg’s Booth while Nina
applies some lipstick behind her.
At the bar, Kai stacks shot glasses like dominoes while Lena
tries to keep up.
Tara is hunched over a thick Property Law textbook at a side
table, glittered makeup half-done, legal pad full of
scribbles.
She looks up, frustrated, holding her head.
TARA
Ugh. This rule is insane. Who the
hell cares what happens to land a
hundred years from now?
Greg, seated nearby with his nose in a worn copy of Bleak
House, doesn’t look up.
GREG
The dead care. And unfortunately,
they wrote the laws.
Tara spins toward him.
TARA
Wait — you know the Rule Against
Perpetuities?
GREG
"An interest must vest, if at all,
no later than twenty-one years
after some life in being at the
creation of the interest."
(beat)
Tried to explain it to a girl at a
wedding once. She left with the DJ.
Tara stares.
TARA
That’s... shockingly correct.
Kai appears with a tray of clean glasses.
KAI
Every time he says that phrase,
someone drops a drink.
GREG
The Rule is cursed. Like Sable’s
first marriage.
SABLE (O.S.)
Hey!
TARA
This is stupid. I should just drop
out and start a pole-themed
podcast.
KAI
You'd be the first stripper-lawyer
with merch.
Greg closes his book and finally looks at her.
GREG
Listen. The rule makes no sense.
It’s a legal zombie. Just learn the
formula, regurgitate it, and move
on.
TARA
So the same approach I take with
country boys in the champagne room?
KAI
Exactly.
Tara smirks, scribbles something down.
TARA
Okay. “No future interests for
unborn robot heirs.” Got it.
Greg raises his cup.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
A Moment of Vulnerability
INT. SOUNDSTAGE -– WINDOWED SET –- DAY
The crew is lit in soft quiet. A period bathroom has been
constructed in stunning detail. Lit candles, pale tile,
flowered curtain pulled back. Steam floats.
Sloan, in robe and slippers, stands beside the tub. She's
already wearing flesh-toned bikini bottoms under the robe.
Her hair is pinned up.
Adrian, calm but focused, approaches with quiet respect.
ADRIAN
You want the set cleared?
SLOAN
(puzzled)
Why would I?
ADRIAN
You’re about to shoot the first
nude scene of your career. I
thought a skeleton crew might make
you feel more... comfortable.
Sloan unties the robe.
SLOAN
(slight smile)
I think I can handle it.
She drops the robe. The room doesn’t move.
She steps into the water. Sits. Steam curls around her
shoulders. Someone calls "quiet on set." The clapper snaps.
The camera rolls.
ASSISTANT DIRECTOR (O.S.)
Windowed. Scene 5A. Take one.
A long pause. And then:
ASSISTANT DIRECTROR (O.S.)
Action.
INT. WINDOWED -– CLAIRE’S BATHROOM –- NIGHT
Claire Maddox (Sloan) is naked in the bathtub. She stares
ahead, unfocused, unmoving. Water ripples around her. A small
tape recorder is sitting on a stool next to the tub, and
Claire is holding a microphone connected to it by a wire.
Then, she speaks into the microphone:
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
They said it was his heart. A tiny
tear in the wall of his left
ventricle. Something no one could
see, until it failed.
She lifts her fingers out of the water, studies them.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
That’s what he gets for running
marathons. Clean eating, the daily
supplements. A heart of gold,
literally.
She turns a looks at the recorder as she continues.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
We were married two years, eight
months, twelve days. I counted
once, when I still thought the
number mattered.
She sinks a little deeper in the water. Her voice stays calm
— too calm.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
They ask if I want to say goodbye.
A big part of me wants to say no.
But I nod.
She glances up. Eyes welling.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
Because there’s a version of me...
that's strong. She does the thing,
touches his cheek. Takes the ring
and hugs his mother.
Tears begin falling now.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE) (CONT'D)
But this me... this version...she’s
just wondering... if his last
thought... was of me... or was he
just trying to breathe?
Long silence. Water stills. Claire leans her head back and
closes her eyes.
The crew is stone silent. No one calls cut. Even Adrian
doesn’t breathe.
Sloan opens her eyes. Looks toward the camera...toward
Adrian.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Was that... okay?
Adrian stares, mesmerized. A beat too late, he remembers to
speak.
ADRIAN
CUT!
(beat)
That was... that was the movie.
A female PA rushes a robe to Sloan as she gets out of the
tub. Once wrapped up, Sloan moves to go to her dressing room,
but stops, and heads over to Adrian.
SLOAN
Have you recast that bartender part
that opened up yesterday?
ADRIAN
No, I just haven’t had the chance.
I was planning on getting to that.
SLOAN
Do me a favor, don’t fill it just
yet. I might have somebody for it.
Adrian nods and shrugs his shoulders.
ADRIAN
After that? Yeah, you’ve earned it.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
A Chance Encounter
INT. SABLE'S APARTMENT –- LATE AFTERNOON
A small but clean apartment. Records stacked near a vintage
player. Light filters through sheer curtains. Sable is at her
kitchen counter, eating noodles from the pot.
A knock.
She frowns, crosses the room. Opens the door — it’s Sloan, a
little breathless, holding a manila envelope.
SABLE
You lost?
SLOAN
Nope. I found something.
Sable steps aside. Sloan enters.
She looks around — noticing books of poetry on the shelf, a
ballet poster taped to the wall. This isn’t just some party
girl’s place. There’s depth here.
Sloan hands her the envelope.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Adrian Trent — the director of the
movie I’m doing. He’s giving me a
say in some casting.
(beat)
There’s a bar scene with a small
part. It’s one scene, one setup for
one striking woman behind the bar.
(smiling)
I told him I had someone in mind.
SABLE
(skeptical)
You trying to get me to be your
body double or something?
SLOAN
No. I’m trying to give you
something real. You’ve got
presence. You hold a room. I want
people to see what I see.
Sable sets down her fork. Picks up the envelope. Doesn’t open
it yet.
SABLE
You serious?
SLOAN
Comes with a paycheck, a union
voucher, and SAG eligibility. Vee
said you tried acting before and
walked away from it.
SABLE
Tried, yeah. Crashed harder.
SLOAN
Try again.
SABLE
You do know I’ve never really
acted.
SLOAN
Not true. I see more creative
ability from you every night than
I’ve seen with most of the actors
I’ve worked with over the years.
Beat. Sable looks at her — really looks at her.
SABLE
You’re full of surprises, Eden.
SLOAN
It’s Sloan. But Eden says hi.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Toasting to Belonging
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- BEHIND THE BAR –- NIGHT
The club is alive. Dancers are mid-routine. Lights pulse.
Laughter mixes with the bass. Lena is drying glasses. Kai is
stacking mixers. Both watch the stage as Chess finishes a
set.
KAI
Haven’t seen Sloan much lately.
Lena doesn’t answer right away. She wipes a lipstick print
from a martini glass, her eyes still on the stage.
LENA
She’s shooting days and nights now.
Big emotional scenes. The heavy
stuff.
KAI
She still coming back?
Lena pauses.
LENA
She always comes back.
Kai glances at her.
KAI
But you don’t wait on her.
Lena smiles at that. Sets the glass down.
LENA
Why would I? I work here.
KAI
I remember when you didn’t.
LENA
Yeah. I was the girl clutching her
purse like the walls had teeth.
KAI
We all looked like that our first
week.
Lena takes in the room. The crowd. The girls. Rick at the DJ
booth. Greg scribbling in a notebook. Diesel towering near
the door. It’s wild and weird and messy — and it’s hers.
LENA
I came here for Sloan. But I stay
for all of this.
(beat)
It’s loud and it’s raw and it
smells like tequila with a glitter
chaser...but it’s honest.
She turns back to Kai and meets his gaze.
LENA (CONT'D)
Nobody’s pretending here, even when
we are.
Kai looks at her for a long beat.
KAI
You’re one of us now.
Lena blinks at that. Doesn’t deny it.
LENA
Damn right I am.
They clink glasses in a toast and each down a tequila shot
and turn back to the crowd as a new beat drops.
Genres:
["Drama","Slice of Life"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Whispers in the Dark
INT. PRIVATE SCREENING ROOM –- NIGHT
Dim lighting. A few PRODUCERS, AGENTS, and CAST MEMBERS
murmur in rows of plush leather chairs. A new indie film is
playing on screen — one of Blake’s lesser clients. It’s not
bad, but no one’s really watching.
Blake sits mid-row, nursing a glass of scotch. Next to him,
Tamra, scrolls on her phone, it’s glow reflected in her
glasses.
On-screen, an actress delivers an overwrought line.
TAMRA
(quiet, deadpan)
This is why God invented editors.
Blake snorts softly. Tamra leans closer, her tone shifting.
TAMRA (CONT'D)
I’ve been hearing things.
BLAKE
Always a comfort.
TAMRA
No, serious ones. Valley-based.
Strip club-based.
That gets his attention.
BLAKE
A client?
TAMRA
Our favorite one... Sloan.
Blake turns his head. The film is forgotten.
BLAKE
What kind of things?
TAMRA
People have seen someone who looks
like her — going in and out of a
place in Van Nuys.
(beat)
Same spot... night after night. Her
name keeps coming up.
BLAKE
You think it’s just a lookalike?
TAMRA
I used to. Now I’m not so certain.
She shows him something on her phone — a blurry shot. Nothing
definitive. Just enough to rattle.
TAMRA (CONT'D)
The club’s called The Blue Cage.
BLAKE
Never heard of it.
TAMRA
Exactly.
A beat passes.
BLAKE
She wouldn’t.
TAMRA
Wouldn’t she?
They both go quiet as a louder scene plays on-screen. The
audience chuckles — but Blake and Tamra do not.
Blake leans back slowly. His eyes stay fixed on the screen,
but he’s somewhere else — remembering.
FLASH MEMORY: Sloan, months ago, holding up a blurry pic of a
POLAROID with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I didn’t plan
it. But I don’t regret it either.”
Back to present.
BLAKE
If it’s true...we get ahead of it.
We spin it. Damage control, not
confession.
TAMRA
What if she doesn’t want to spin?
Blake exhales. No answer.
Genres:
["Drama","Mystery","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Grief and Gossip
INT. SOUNDSTAGE -- WINDOWED SET –- SMALL DIVE BAR -- NIGHT
Low lighting. Warm amber glow. A dusty jukebox hums something
sad. Sloan as Claire Maddox sits alone at the end of the bar,
swirling her untouched drink.
Behind the bar, JAX (played by Sable) polishes a glass. She’s
no-nonsense, sharp-eyed, grounded in a way Claire hasn’t felt
in weeks.
Jax watches Claire for a moment, then approaches.
SABLE (AS JAX)
You know that drink costs the same
whether you sip it or just stare it
into therapy.
Claire gives a faint, almost-smile.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
Do you offer refunds for broken
hearts?
SABLE (AS JAX)
Nah. But I got a buy-one-get-one on
quiet company and terrible advice.
Claire chuckles, but her eyes are glassy. She’s trying not to
break.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
He died three weeks ago. No signs,
no warnings...just a knock on the
door and a bag of condolences.
Jax nods, quietly setting the glass down.
SABLE (AS JAX)
That’s the trouble with time. It
never stops. It just trips,
faceplants, and then pretends that
nothing happened.
They sit in silence for a beat. The jukebox changes songs.
SABLE (AS JAX) (CONT'D)
He love you?
Claire looks at her.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
Yes.
SABLE (AS JAX)
Then you got something most people
only lie about. That’s not nothing.
Claire breathes in — not a full breath, but deeper than
before.
Jax returns to polishing. Claire finally lifts the glass.
She takes a sip.
ASSISTANT DIRECTROR (O.S.)
And... cut!
Sloan runs round the bar and gives Sable a big hug.
SLOAN
Look at you! Kicking ass and taking
names!
Adrian walks over and smiles at Sable and Sloan.
ADRIAN
Sable, that was amazing. That’s a
hell of a performance on short
notice.
(to Sloan)
What can’t you do? I just need to
get you to cast all my movies.
INT. JORDAN’S APARTMENT -- NIGHT
Jordan is sitting at his kitchen table in his dimly lit
apartment working on his laptop. The light from the screen
casts a glow on his face.
We can see his screen while he’s scrolling through blurry
social media posts from a “Van Nuys Gossip” account. One post
has photo of a woman from behind, wearing a hoodie and
getting in a car near The Blue Cage.
The caption reads: IS THIS WHO I THINK IT IS? The comments
are a mix of “NO WAY” and “lol definitely not.”
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
A Bittersweet Wrap
INT. SOUNDSTAGE –- WINDOWED SET -– NIGHT
A stark, elegant set. Rain lashes against a fake window.
Inside, Sloan (as Claire Maddox) kneels beside a hospital
bed, whispering something inaudible.
The camera glides in slowly. We only hear her breath —
trembling but steady.
SLOAN (AS CLAIRE)
I never stopped waiting for you.
Even when I moved on, I waited.
(beat)
You don’t get to take that from me.
She lays a hand over the empty bed. Her shoulders fall. The
silence is unbearable — and then complete.
Adrian lets it breathe.
ADRIAN (O.S.)
Cut.
A silence. Then —
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
That’s a wrap on Windowed.
Applause erupts from crew, camera ops, grips, even the gaffer
clapping from atop a ladder.
Sloan stays seated, stunned. It’s done. Claire Maddox is
gone, but part of her remains inside.
Adrian approaches slowly.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
You gave me the movie.
Sloan rises.
They don’t hug. They don’t kiss. But something passes between
them — gratitude, admiration, and something deeper. Something
unspoken.
Sable claps from the side, proud and unsentimental. A few
crew members high-five her.
The PA shouts toward base camp.
PA
Wrap beers and wrap pizza in
fifteen!
Adrian leans closer to Sloan.
ADRIAN
So what does Claire Maddox do on
her day off?
Sloan smiles - a slow, private grin.
SLOAN
She gets her girls.
(beat)
They saved her.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
A Day of Fun and Freedom
EXT. THE BLUE CAGE –- PARKING LOT -- MORNING
The parking lot is quiet and the club is dark. A few cars are
parked in the lot with several women milling about chatting
with each other.
Juno, Lena, Vee, Sable, Tara, Nina, Ruby, Chess, and a few
other dancers gather in casual wear — sweats, sunglasses,
coffee cups.
JUNO
Why are we even here this early?
LENA
Sloan said she needed to see all of
us.
VEE
This better not be a cleanup day. I
didn’t do glitter duty last time.
Suddenly, a sleek black stretch limo pulls up next to the
ladies.
Sloan steps out — relaxed, cool, designer hoodie and shades —
like she’s about to kidnap them for brunch.
SLOAN
Morning, ladies. Club’s out of
commission while they fix the water
leak. So I figured...let’s have
some fun on me.
She opens the limo door wide.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Spa. Lunch. Shopping. And then?
Something a little wild. Let’s go.
They exchange stunned glances — then pile into the limo.
INT. SPA -- DAY
Juno submerged in a hydrotherapy tub, eyes closed, blissed
out.
Sloan and Lena side-by-side in massage chairs, both laughing
through face masks.
Vee in a steam room, towel turban on, recounting a story with
animated hand gestures to two other dancers.
EXT. BEVERLY HILLS RESTAURANT -- DAY
Rooftop café. Wind in their hair. Big sunglasses. Mimosa
clinks.
Vee and Juno battling over fries, mock-dueling with forks.
Sloan mid-laugh as Lena tries to teach Tara how to use
chopsticks.
The whole crew cheers as the waiter delivers a ridiculous
dessert tower.
INT. BEVERLY HILLS BOUTIQUE -- DAY
Sloan and Sable emerge in very different takes on the same
dress — crowd votes by applause.
Lena holds up glitter heels. Vee nods sagely: “For church.”
Sloan secretly buys something edgy and hands it to Vee in a
discreet bag.
INT. MALE STRIP CLUB –- NIGHT
A booming club. Shirtless men on platforms. Spotlights and
glitter cannons. The reverse fantasy in full swing.
Sloan and the girls take a VIP booth. Drinks in hand.
Screaming. Throwing bills.
Juno grades the performers like a dance coach.
Vee absolutely tips the most.
Tara loses it over a cowboy act.
Lena just sips and smiles — but when the fireman starts
undressing, even she lets out a whistle.
SLOAN
All right, I regret nothing.
Laughter, high-fives, and a rain of dollar bills.
INT. LIMO -– LATE NIGHT
The limo rolls through LA. They’re sprawled across seats in
silk robes, surrounded by designer bags, looking both radiant
and exhausted.
LENA
Okay... that was insane.
JUNO
I think my purse is full of
glitter.
VEE
I’m marrying the fireman. I
decided.
SLOAN
You deserve the best.
Lena leans her head on Sloan’s shoulder. The music fades
gently as the limo vanishes into the city.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Confrontation at The Blue Cage
EXT. VAN NUYS BOULEVARD NEAR THE BLUE CAGE -- NIGHT
We see Sloan drive by in Lena’s Nissan. The camera pulls back
to reveal Jordan sitting in his own car across the street,
sipping coffee. He watches her car go by, then makes a note.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR AREA -- NIGHT
The club is in full swing. Sloan, dressed as Eden, is sitting
at the bar chatting with Lena, relaxed and in her element.
Blake and Tamra enter. Diesel eyes them immediately while
they scan the club, hoping not to find exactly what they
find.
They spot Sloan, although it took them a good long look to
pierce the Eden disguise. Sloan’s face falls, which causes
Lena to look up.
LENA
Oh, shit.
BLAKE
(low, furious whisper)
So, it’s true. This is what you’re
throwing it all away for? A dive
bar in Van Nuys?
SLOAN
It’s not a dive bar. And I’m not
throwing anything away. I’m
building something you can’t put a
price on.
BLAKE
I actually can put a price on it! A
pretty big price. It’s seven
million dollars and a three-picture
deal! That’s the price of
this...mid-life crisis.
Blake’s eyes dart to Lena, who is standing close by, watching
him warily. His fury finds a new, personal target.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
(to Lena, venomous)
And you. I can’t believe you let
her do this. I pulled you both out
of that hellhole for this?
SLOAN
Don’t you talk to her. Don’t you
dare. She didn’t “let me” do
anything. She’s the only one who
ever helped me breathe!
Diesel steps closer, observing the argument.
TAMRA
(slightly more measured)
Sloan, the rumors are starting to
swirl. We came here to get ahead of
it. We can still manage this.
SLOAN
(to Blake, ignoring Tamra)
There’s nothing to manage. This is
my life, not a PR problem.
BLAKE
(shaking his head)
I’ve spent fifteen years building a
brand. You’re tearing it down in
fifteen weeks. You walk out of here
with me right now, we go back to my
office, and we start fixing this.
(MORE)
BLAKE (CONT'D)
Right now. If you stay here, in
this... costume... then we’re done.
A long pause as Blake and Sloan stare at each other. Sloan
crosses her arms and digs in. Blake turns and walks out,
leaving a stunned silence. Tamra hesitates, gives Sloan a
last, complicated look - part worry, part sympathy - and
follows him.
Sloan is left standing alone in the middle of the club. The
vibrant energy is gone, replaced by a stunned, heavy silence.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Trust and Rhythm
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– DRESSING ROOM -- LATER
Sable stands at the mirror adjusting her hair. Sloan enters,
coming up behind her, robe half-open, stage heels already on,
her eyes burning with a furious intensity.
SABLE
Hey, are you okay?
SLOAN
What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.
Sable’s eyes narrow and she gives Sloan a good look-over.
SABLE
You don’t look fine. Sure you want
to go through with this?
Sloan steps beside her. Their reflections meet.
SLOAN
When we started messing around with
this during breaks...I don’t think
I knew what we were building.
SABLE
I did.
(beat)
I just wasn’t sure if you could
finish it.
Sloan nods.
SLOAN
You taught me to finish it. Let’s
finish it.
They share a long look in the mirror. No smile. Just clarity.
Sable stands, grabs her robe, turns to the door.
SABLE
Let’s give’em something they’ll
never forget.
SLOAN
They don’t even know what’s coming.
They step out together, stage lights leaking under the
curtain.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN FLOOR -- CONTINUOUS
JUNO
Alright, folks — eyes to the stage.
Eden and Sable have something to
say.
(pause, grinning)
But they don’t use words.
Lights shift. The track kicks in. Something rhythmic. Sultry.
Driven.
Sable takes the stage first — control, precision, a feline
glide. Then Sloan — confident, magnetic, just a half-step
behind, by design.
It’s not about seduction. It’s not even about power. It’s
about trust. And rhythm. And the art of two women telling one
story with their bodies.
They circle. They mirror. They drop and rise.
They clash — briefly — and resolve it in movement.
On beat, Sable drops to her knees. Sloan walks behind her…
then sits on her lap. They both turn and look at the crowd —
still. Holding that pose.
Blackout. Applause explodes.
Sloan and Sable vanish backstage.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study","Performance"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Magic Hour Connection
EXT. SLOAN’S BACKYARD –- POOLSIDE –- DUSK
Magic hour. The sky glows lavender-orange. The last sunlight
dances on the surface of a still pool. Twinkling garden
lights flicker on. A Bluetooth speaker hums low from the
deck.
Sloan sits poolside on a chaise, barefoot in a sundress, a
glass of wine in hand. Her hair is tied up loosely.
Adrian sits cross-legged on a lounge chair across from her,
sleeves rolled, flip-flops discarded. They’re surrounded by
calm and the faint buzz of crickets waking up.
A rough cut of WINDOWED is playing on a laptop on the table.
She smiles faintly. The wine glass rests against her thigh.
SLOAN
You know you’re the first person
I’ve ever worked with that actually
listened to me?
ADRIAN
Then everyone before me must’ve
been an idiot. You have a lot to
say.
She looks at him — eyes soft, heart wide open.
A warm breeze moves between them. Her dress ripples slightly.
The sun dips behind the trees.
SLOAN
I don’t want to perform right now.
ADRIAN
Then don’t.
She gets up slowly and walks toward him — barefoot on the
stone. She stops beside his chair.
SLOAN
I just want this to be real.
She leans down and kisses him. A long slow kiss.
He stands, guiding her hands into his. They walk together to
the edge of the pool. No rush. No words.
She steps down onto the poolside mat. He follows.
They sit. Foreheads together.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Stay with me.
ADRIAN
I’m not going anywhere.
They kiss again — deeper now. Her fingers curl into his
shirt. His hands rest against the small of her back.
Genres:
["Romance","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
The Price of Scandal
INT. TMZ EDITING BAY –- DAY
Dim fluorescent lights. Late night. Empty chairs and glowing
monitors.
Jordan sits alone in front of a screen, watching the final
cut: Sloan Sinclair on stage as Eden in a dark photo, the one
captured when Diesel was distracted by the drunk. The footage
is stylized, slowed, edited for maximum humiliation.
He hits PAUSE.
Other photos are shown of Sloan going into and out of the
club.
He exhales. Not satisfied. Uneasy.
JORDAN
She’s not a trainwreck. This isn’t
Britney shaving her head.
He pulls out his phone. Scrolls to the email draft with the
footage links. His thumb hovers over SEND.
A voice cuts through the silence.
EDITOR (O.S.)
Tell me that’s not a change of
heart I see.
Jordan turns. His EDITOR (50s, no-nonsense) stands in the
doorway with coffee and a smirk.
JORDAN
I’m just... thinking it through.
EDITOR
That’s your problem. You’re not
paid to think. You’re paid to drop
bombs.
JORDAN
She’s gonna get crushed. And for
what? Dancing?
EDITOR
You think we make the story? No,
Jordan. We hold up the mirror. And
if the audience wants blood, we
give them a good angle.
Jordan looks back at the screen. Sloan, frozen.
JORDAN
There’s no scandal here. Just a
woman being human.
EDITOR
Then maybe you’re in the wrong line
of work.
Beat.
EDITOR (CONT'D)
Post it. Or I’ll find someone who
will.
Jordan hesitates another beat.
Then...
He presses SEND.
INT. BLAKE’S OFFICE -– EVENING
Dimly lit. Papers and tablets scatter the desk. Tamra sits
scrolling her phone. Blake paces behind her, mid-
conversation.
TAMRA
(suddenly still)
...Oh my god.
BLAKE
What?
Tamra turns her phone around. On it: a TMZ headline with a
blurred but unmistakable topless photo of Sloan onstage at
The Blue Cage.
TAMRA
You need to see this.
Blake stares at the image, then slowly sits.
BLAKE
Oh my god... they got her.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Revelations and Despair
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- EVENING
TV over the bar flashes the same image. Greg, Lena, Kai, and
Juno freeze as the story unfolds.
TV REPORTER (V.O.)
Rumors swirl tonight that beloved
actress Sloan Sinclair may be
moonlighting under a different name
at an LA strip club.
Juno drops her drink. Lena’s face drains of color. Greg
whispers under his breath.
GREG
No...
KAI
(quietly)
Sloan?
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- DRESSING ROOM -– SAME TIME
Sloan, alone, sits with her phone buzzing on the counter. She
unlocks it — texts, emails, news alerts flood in.
Then she sees it. Her own face. Her body. Her past made
public.
She stares. Breath catches. Eyes blur.
She stands, grabs her bag, and storms out.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- MAIN ROOM –- CONTINUOUS
The bar TV is on, volume up. An entertainment segment is mid-
broadcast.
ON SCREEN: Blurred footage. Headlines. “SLOAN SINCLAIR SECRET
LIFE?” and “ACTRESS BY DAY… STRIPPER BY NIGHT?”
Juno stands behind the DJ booth, frozen. Kai stares at the
screen mid-pour. Rick is halfway to the dressing room. Greg
looks over his glasses. Lena covers her mouth in shock.
Sloan BURSTS from the hallway, still in her dressing room
clothes, shaken. Red-eyed. Trembling.
Everyone turns as she rushes across the floor.
RICK
Sloan—
But she’s already past them. She doesn’t stop.
JUNO
Oh my God...
LENA
Sloan, wait—
She slams through the exit, the door rattling shut behind
her.
Silence. Everyone stares at each other. The TV keeps playing.
EXT. THE BLUE CAGE PARKING LOT –- MOMENTS LATER
Sloan bursts through the side door. Diesel walks in and is
too surprised to stop her.
DIESEL
Sloan! What’s going on?
SLOAN
Don’t. Please don’t.
Lena bursts out of the door after her, breathless.
LENA
Sloan, wait—
SLOAN
(panicked)
I can’t. I just... I can’t.
She jumps into her car and peels out of the lot.
LENA
Sloan!!
Lena turns to Diesel with a look of desperation.
LENA (CONT'D)
Diesel, we have to find her!
Diesel takes Lena around the shoulders and guides her back
inside.
DIESEL
Come on. We’ll get her back.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
47 -
Descent into Isolation
INT. SLOAN’S CAR -- NIGHT
The world outside is a blur of streetlights and rain. Inside
the car, it’s a tomb.
Sloan drives, white-knuckled. Her phone is on the passenger
seat, lit up like a strobe light - dozens of notifications
pop up every second.
The radio is on, low. A TALK SHOW HOST’S voice, slick and
amused.
TALK SHOW HOST (V.O.)
...and the internet is losing its
collective mind over these photos
of America’s Sweetheart, Sloan
Sinclair, who apparently has a
secret talent for...pole dancing?
The big question: method acting for
a new role, or a spectacular public
meltdown?
Sloan’s face is a mask of horror. She JAMS the power button
on the radio. Silence. The only sound is the SWISH of tires
on wet asphalt and the relentless BUZZING of her phone.
She glances at it. A text from an unknown number flashes:
TEXT
How much for a private dance, slut?
She flinches as if struck. Her breath hitches. She pulls over
abruptly, tires screeching against the curb in a deserted
industrial area.
She kills the engine. The silence is deafening. She picks up
the phone. Her hands are trembling so badly she can barely
unlock it.
She opens a social media app. Her own name is the top
trending topic worldwide. The preview image is the grainy,
topless photo from the Blue Cage.
She scrolls through the comments. A montage of cruelty
flashes by.
-I knew she was trash.
-So much for being a role model.
-This is what happens when child stars grow up.
She drops the phone like it’s burned her. It clatters to the
floor mat.
She stares at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The
woman staring back is pale and terrified. A single tear
traces a path through her makeup.
She rests her forehead on the steering wheel. Her body is
wracked by a single, silent, shuddering sob.
EXT. DESERT MOTEL -- NIGHT
Sloan’s car sits outside a lone, low-slung motel, its
flickering VACANCY sign a tiny beacon in a vast dark sea of
desert. The wind whispers through the Joshua trees, their
twisted shapes like skeletons against the night sky.
Tightening her hoodie, Sloan walks from the car into the
motel office. She pays cash and signs in under a false name
and takes her key. The desk clerk doesn’t even look up as she
takes the key and walks out.
INT. MOTEL ROOM -- NIGHT
Sloan trudges into the room, tossing her backpack on the
chair. She drops the keys on the table and makes her way to
the bed. She takes off one shoe and before she can remove the
other she decides to lay back and close her eyes for a
minute. She falls asleep.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN STAGE -– LATER THAT NIGHT
Lena sits cross-legged on the empty stage, the same spot
Sloan danced from so many times. Her phone glows in her hand.
She pulls up a photo: the Polaroid of Sloan from Amateur
Night. She stares at it. Then taps “Send.”
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Emergence from Shadows
INT. MOTEL ROOM -- DAY
A cheap, boxy room. Faded floral bedspread. Thin curtains
filter harsh daylight. The air smells of stale cigarettes and
industrial cleaner. An empty mini-bottle of vodka sits on the
nightstand.
Sloan is curled on the bed, still in the hoodie and jeans she
fled in. She looks drained, her makeup smudged. She stares at
a small, fuzzy TV mounted on the wall.
It’s tuned to a trashy entertainment news show. The hosts are
having a field day.
HOST #1 (ON TV)
...and still no sign of Sloan
Sinclair since these explosive
photos surfaced last night. Her
publicist has issued a “no
comment,” and sources close to the
star say they are, and I quote,
“extremely concerned for her well-
being.”
HOST #2 (ON TV)
Wouldn’t you be? To go from
Hollywood royalty to ... well,
this? It’s a spectacular fall from
grace. The question is: is this a
career-ender?
The screen shows a grainy paparazzi shot of Sloan driving
away from the premiere, then cuts back to the pic of her on
stage.
Sloan flinches. On top of everything else, she’s now a
missing person. A headline on the bottom third of the screen
reads: “FRIENDS FEAR FOR SLOAN’S SAFETY.”
Her burner phone sits next to the vodka bottle. It lights up
with a call from “UNKNOWN”. She lets it go to voicemail.
A beat. Then the phone plays the new voicemail out loud on
the speaker. It’s Blake. He sounds strained,
uncharacteristically emotional.
BLAKE (V.O.)
(filtered)
Kiddo... it’s me. Wherever you are,
just... call someone. Call me, call
Lena, call a damn lawyer, I don’t
care. This is... this is a mess,
but it’s a mess we can clean up. We
always do. Just... let us know
you’re okay.
A beep ends the message.
Sloan’s face crumples. The phone BUZZES again. A text from
Lena. Not words this time.
It’s the photo. The Polaroid from the Blue Cage wall. Sloan,
trophy in hand, face flushed with unbridled, real,
unforgettable joy.
Sloan stares at the image on the tiny screen. Her eyes shift
to her own pale, terrified reflection in the motel’s dark TV
screen.
She holds the phone up, placing the image of her joyful self
directly beside her reflection. She stares at the two
versions of herself. Her breathing steadies. Her jaw
tightens.
She picks up the phone. Her hands are steady now. She types a
simple, two-word reply to Lena:
SLOAN (TEXTING)
Still alive.
She sends it. The message is a stark, black-and-white fact on
the screen. It’s an answer to everyone’s fear. It’s a
statement of survival. And it’s a threat.
She doesn’t wait for a reply. She gets off the bed, picks up
the empty vodka bottle, and tosses it in the trash. She
splashes water on her face in the tiny, dirty bathroom, not
recognizing the woman in the mirror.
She is done hiding. She walks out of the motel room, leaving
the door unlocked behind her, ready to face the storm.
Genres:
["Drama","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Rebuilding in the Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– LATE AFTERNOON
The club is closed, dark, and silent. The only light comes
from the EXIT signs and the faint, ghostly glow of the beer
coolers behind the bar. The chairs are upended on tables. The
stage is dark.
It feels like a cathedral after the congregation has left.
The SIDE DOOR creaks open. Sloan steps inside.
Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. Her hair is a mess. She’s
still wearing the same hoodie and jeans from the motel, now
looking slept-in and wrinkled. Her movements are heavy
She pauses just inside the door, breathing in the familiar
scent of stale beer, disinfectant and glitter.
She expects silence. Emptiness.
Then, a soft SCRAPE from the main floor.
Lena is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the worn stage,
her back to the door. A single phone provides a pool of
light, illuminating the Polaroid of Sloan from Amateur Night,
which rests of the stage beside her.
She doesn’t turn around.
LENA
(quietly)
Took you long enough.
Sloan freezes. Her voice is a hoarse whisper.
SLOAN
How did you know?
Lena finally turns. Her face is full of relief and a deep,
weary empathy. She holds up her phone, showing the two-word
text.
LENA
“Still alive” doesn’t mean “I’m
okay.” It means “I’m not dead yet.”
She gestures around the empty club.
LENA (CONT'D)
And this is the only place that’s
made you feel alive in months.
Sloan’s tough facade shatters. A sob escapes her. She
stumbles forward, her boots echoing in the hollow space. She
doesn’t make it to the stage. Her legs give out and she sinks
to her knees on the dirty floor, right in the middle of the
empty room.
SLOAN
I fucked it up, Lena. I fucked all
of it up.
Lena climbs off the stage and walks over. She doesn’t hug her
yet. She just sits on the floor facing her, like a mirror of
their first real talk.
LENA
Which part? The part where you
finally did something for yourself?
Or the part where a scumbag sold a
photo?
SLOAN
(shaking her head, tears
falling)
All of it. My career...it’s over.
Blake’s probably shredding
contracts right now. The Christmas
Queen is a...a joke.
(her voice drops to a
devastated whisper)
And I brought it here. I poisoned
this place. My shitstorm is all
over the news and it’s got this
place’s name all over it. I ruined
the one good, real thing I had.
This is her deepest fear. She didn’t just crash her own life;
she dragged her sanctuary down with her.
Lena listens, letting her get it all out. Then she scoots
closer.
LENA
Look at me. You didn’t ruin this
place. You ARE this place. You
think Rick is scared of a little
bad press? Or Diesel? Or Vee?
They’ve survived worse than TMZ.
(she picks up the
Polaroid, holding it out)
This girl? The one who said “fuck
it” and walked in here? She didn’t
poison anything. She reminded
everyone in this building what it
looks like to be free. You think
that picture is embarrassing? It’s
the most powerful thing that’s
happened in here in years.
Sloan looks at the photo, then at Lena, truly hearing her for
the first time.
LENA (CONT'D)
You didn’t fuck up your life. You
just finally started living it. And
living it is messy.
Lena finally opens her arms. Sloan collapses into them, the
sobs coming in earnest now. She cries for everything lost and
everything she’s afraid she’s broken. Lena holds her tight,
there on the floor of the empty club.
SLOAN
(muffled into Lena’s
shoulder)
I don’t know what to do.
LENA
(softly)
Yeah, you do. You’re already doing
it. You came home.
They stay like that for a long moment, two friends in the
dark. The silence is no longer isolating. It’s shared.
Then the main door clicks open. Diesel stands silhouetted in
the frame. He takes in the scene. Sloan on the floor, crying
in Lena’s arms. He doesn’t speak. He just gives Lena a
single, slow nod.
He pulls the door quietly shut behind him, leaving them
alone. Standing guard.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -– DRESSING ROOM -- LATER
The club is still closed, dark. The only light spills from
the cracked door of the dressing room.
Inside, Sloan is on her knees with roll of gaffer tape. She’s
meticulously re-wrapping the handle of a worn-out hair dryer.
A simple, tangible problem with a simple, tangible solution.
Lena watches from the doorway, sipping a glass of water. She
doesn’t offer to help.
Sloan finishes the wrap, tests the grip. Nods to herself. She
places the dryer back on the cluttered vanity.
Her eyes drift to the “Winner’s Wall” visible out in the main
room. The Polaroid of her, laughing and free, seems to glow
in the dark.
LENA
You gonna take it down?
Sloan considers it for a long moment. Then she shakes her
head.
She stands, brushes off her knees. She looks around the room -
not with despair, but with purpose.
SLOAN
Vee’s gonna need help with
inventory. The new glitter shipment
is a mess.
Lena hides a smile behind her glass.
LENA
The world’s most overqualified
stock girl.
SLOAN
(a faint, real smile)
Got to start somewhere.
She moves past Lena, out into the main room. She doesn’t head
for the exit. She heads for the storage closet.
Lena’s smile widens. She pulls out her phone and sends a
quick text:
LENA (TEXT TO GROUP CHAT)
Stand down. She’s back, and she’s
organizing the glitter.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
The Weight of Protection
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR AREA -- DAY
The club is empty, a church between services. Silent, still,
with dust motes dancing in the slivers of daylight. Chairs
are stacked on tables.
Lena is behind the bar, restocking glassware with a quiet
clink. The side door CREAKS open. Blake steps in, squinting.
He looks out of place in his tailored suit.
He spots Lena. Hesitates. Then he walks toward the bar, his
footsteps echoing. Lena watches him approach.
Blake stops at the bar. He doesn’t speak. He slowly, almost
awkwardly, reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder. A
firm, steady, paternal hold. It lasts for two full seconds.
Lena meets his eyes. Her stern facade softens. A small,
understanding smile touches her lips. She gives a single,
slow nod. Blake’s hand drops. He nods back.
He turns and scans the room. The main lights are off, the
vast place swallowed in shadow. A single, warm pool of light
spills from the desk lamp in GREG’S BOOTH.
Sloan sits there, surrounded by the fortress of stacked
paperbacks, absorbed in a book. She is bathed in the amber
glow.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- GREG’S BOOTH -- CONTINUOUS
Blake walks over, his figure moving from darkness into the
edge of her light. He slides into the booth opposite her.
BLAKE
So... is this a strip club or a
book club?
Sloan looks up from a worn copy of Zen and the Art of
Motorcycle Maintenance. Her face calm in the warm light. She
places the book face-down on the table.
SLOAN
Greg... this is his booth... he
says they’re the same thing. Just
different kinds of fantasy.
BLAKE
(glancing at the title)
Any good?
SLOAN
Greg says it’s about everything
except motorcycle maintenance. I’m
starting to see what he meant.
Beat.
BLAKE
I shouldn’t have walked out on you.
SLOAN
Which part bothered you more? The
stripping or the disobedience?
BLAKE
The location. A back alley in Van
Nuys in no place for a...
He stops.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
...for someone I’ve spent fifteen
years trying to years trying to
protect.
Sloan just looks at him, letting the statement hang in the
dusty air between them. Then, quietly:
SLOAN
What did you think of Windowed?
BLAKE
I haven’t seen it.
SLOAN
You haven’t...? You’ve had a copy
for over a week.
BLAKE
I know.
SLOAN
Then why not?
BLAKE
(a dry, hollow laugh)
I couldn’t bring myself to watch
the reason my carefully crafted
plan for you went up in flames.
SLOAN
It wasn’t the reason, Blake. It was
the result.
Sloan stands and picks up the book. She starts to walk
towards the back. Blake watches her go. He slowly stands to
leave. Then she stops. Doesn’t turn around.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
Blake. Watch it. Please.
He doesn’t respond for a beat. Then, a single nod to her
back. He turns and walks out. Lena watches him go from the
bar, her smile now faded into a look of concern.
Sloan remains with her back to the empty room, listening to
the door click shut.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- VARIOUS -- THE CLIMB BEGINS
- Sloan, sleeves rolled up, is sorting through boxes of
sequins and feathers with Vee.
- Sloan, in the corner of Greg’s booth, not talking, just
listening to him debate Nietzsche with a very confused
Velvet.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
Media Frenzy and Personal Bonds
INT. TV NEWS MONTAGE -- VARIOUS
A collage of media reports. Fast-paced, slightly chaotic.
ENTERTAINMENT REPORTER (V.O.)
While some fans are rallying behind
actress Sloan Sinclair, others
are...less forgiving.
Cut to a news panel show.
PANELIST #1
She lied to everyone. That’s not
empowerment, that’s deception.
PANELIST #2
She didn’t owe you her personal
life. Grow up.
Cut to a gossip site headline on screen:
“Paramount Replaces Sloan Sinclair with Sadie West in
Upcoming Holiday Rom-Com.”
PODCAST HOST (V.O.)
Look, she might be talented, but
she’s toxic now. No studio wants
controversy in a Santa hat.
Cut to another headline:
“Major Retail Brand Ends Partnership with Sinclair Amid
Controversy.”
Back to a news anchor holding a tablet.
NEWS ANCHOR
And in a now-deleted thread, a
former crew member claims Sloan was
“emotionally unstable” on set last
fall.
Cut to Sloan watching alone, grim-faced. Her phone buzzes
with notifications.
TAMRA (TEXT)
We’ll respond soon. Don’t do
anything yet.
INT. ADRIAN’S CAR -- MOVING -- NIGHT
Adrian is in a tense video call with a STUDIO SUIT and
Leslie, a PR REP.
LESLIE
Adrian, be reasonable. The festival
buzz is fragile. A simple statement
- “We support Ms. Sinclair but the
project comes first” - gives us
breathing room.
STUDIO SUIT
We’re not asking you to cut her.
We’re asking you to let us protect
your film. Our film.
ADRIAN
No.
LESLIE
This isn’t the time for artistic
stubbornness.
ADRIAN
It’s exactly the time. That
“performance” you’re all so scared
of is the performance that’s
getting us that buzz. You want to
cut the heart out of this movie to
save its skin.
STUDIO SUIT
The media is in a feeding frenzy!
ADRIAN
Let them feed. I’m not issuing a
statement. I’m not doing reshoots.
Sloan Sinclair is the best thing
that ever happened to this part,
and I’m not throwing her to the
wolves because some blogger got a
cheat shot.
He leans into his phone, his voice dropping.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
We are sticking with our lead. All
the way. That’s the only statement
you’ll get from me.
He reaches out and terminates the call.
INT. LENA'S HOUSE -- KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM –- NIGHT
Sloan sits on the couch in a robe, scrolling her phone. Lena
is standing at the sink in a faded HELLO KITTY t-shirt
washing dishes.
A knock.
Lena opens the door. Adrian stands there — hoodie, messenger
bag, concerned eyes. They hold each other’s gaze for a beat.
He steps in as Lena moves to the side. She goes to fridge and
grabs a beer. Hands it to Adrian and goes back to washing
dishes at the sink.
ADRIAN
(to Sloan)
I figured you’d be spiraling.
SLOAN
There’s talk Windowed won’t make
the festivals.
ADRIAN
That’s bullshit.
SLOAN
They’re saying no one wants
controversy.
ADRIAN
And I’m saying we’re already
confirmed for Telluride and
Toronto. And Venice wants us if we
can finish post by July.
A long beat. Sloan lets herself believe it.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
They’re not scared of you. You made
the film better. You ARE the film.
Sloan nods, swallowing a wave of emotion.
SLOAN
I just... needed to hear that from
you.
ADRIAN
Then I should’ve come sooner.
They sit. Quiet. Close.
ADRIAN (CONT'D)
We’re still in this. You and me.
Genres:
["Drama","Entertainment"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Reflections in The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR -- AFTERNOON
Sloan runs a rag over the bar for Kai, a silent offer of help
that he accepts with a nod. Her phone lights up with a trade
headline: “TRENT’S ‘WINDOWED’ LANDS COVETED TELLURIDE SLOT.”
She reads it. A slow breath in. A slow breath out. She
doesn’t celebrate. She just puts the phone away and gets back
to work wiping the mirrors down in the women’s restroom.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- DRESSING ROOM -- NIGHT
Sloan is sorting through a rack of feather boas. Vee watches
her, arms crossed.
VEE
You know, your locker’s still
there. Your spot in the rotation is
open.
SLOAN
(doesn’t look up)
I’m good here.
VEE
Nobody here judges you, girl.
They’re all too busy worrying
somebody’s gonna judge them.
SLOAN
It’s not that. I just...I need to
remember why I came here.
Vee nods, understanding. She tosses Sloan a roll of gaffer
tape.
VEE
Then make yourself useful. Tara’s
boot strap is about to snap. Again.
Sloan manages a small, real smile. This is a language she
understands.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- BACK BAR STORAGE NOOK –- NIGHT
Quiet. Away from the noise.
Tara sits on a crate with a laptop balanced on her knee and a
legal pad full of notes beside her. She’s highlighting lines
in an old contracts textbook, earbuds dangling unused from
her collar.
Sloan walks by with a refill bucket. Stops and watches her a
second.
SLOAN
What are you studying?
TARA
Contracts. Third semester law
school. Tonight it’s landlord -
tenant hell.
SLOAN
Did you ever think about working at
an agency?
TARA
Like... like a talent agency?
SLOAN
I could probably get you in. An
internship, maybe even some
shadowing. You’d learn a lot.
Tara blinks, stunned.
TARA
Are you serious?
SLOAN
You’re going somewhere. I just
figured I might help you skip a few
steps.
TARA
Oh my God. Yeah. Yes, please.
SLOAN
Okay. I’ll talk to someone this
week.
Sloan walks off. Tara sits still for a moment. Then grins to
herself.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
Cheers and Tears at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- BEHIND THE BAR –- AFTERNOON
Before opening hours. Sunlight filters in through the boarded
windows. A rare quiet moment.
Lena is hunched over her laptop at the far end of the bar,
chewing on a pen cap. Her hoodie is up, hair in a messy bun.
She stares at the screen with intense concentration.
The screen shows:
“California Responsible Beverage Service Training Portal –
Final Quiz”
Kai walks behind the bar with a box of clean glassware. He
clocked the screen hours ago.
KAI
You take that test any slower and
it’s gonna time YOU out.
LENA
I’m just making sure I pass. They
can suspend your certification if
you screw it up.
KAI
Lena, it’s 12 questions and one of
them is literally “Should you serve
a drink to someone who is asleep?”
LENA
Not if they’re LIGHTLY asleep.
That’s the trick question.
Kai smirks.
KAI
I’ve poured drinks through a crowd
surfer’s legs. You’re fine.
Lena clicks the final answer and waits. The screen spins…
“✅ Congratulations! You have passed your RBS Training Exam.”
LENA
YES.
She fist pumps quietly. A beat of satisfaction. Kai clinks a
clean rocks glass down in front of her.
KAI
Now let’s see if you can cut a lime
without bleeding.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- BAR AREA -- EVENING
Sloan is nervous, pacing. Adrian sits with his hands together
on the bar as if praying. The first reviews for Windowed are
due out today.
Lena is at the bar, refreshing her laptop. Suddenly, she
GASPS. She doesn’t say anything. She just turns the screen
around for Sloan and Adrian.
On it we can see the New York Times homepage. The headline is
visible: “A Star is Unbound: Sloan Sinclair’s Daring
Reinvention.”
Sloan walks over, slowly, and reads the first line:
SLOAN
“Sometimes, a scandal isn’t a
downfall; it’s an origin story...”
She looks up at Lena, her eyes wide. Lena’s fac breaks into a
massive, tearful grin.
Genres:
["Drama","Character Study"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
A Night of Reflection and Celebration
INT. GREG’S BOOTH –- LATE NIGHT
The club is quiet. Music low, crowd thinning. Sloan sits
across from Greg in his usual booth — the safe harbor. Her
eyes are tired, but calm. She nurses tea, not tequila.
SLOAN
(softly)
I don’t think I ever said thank
you. For that night. For going
looking.
Greg shrugs, like it was nothing.
GREG
You’re not the first lost girl to
leave this place in pain.
(pause)
But you might be the first one to
come back stronger.
She watches him.
SLOAN
Why do you do it, Greg? Why this
place? Why us?
Greg takes a beat. He looks out at the stage, now dark. Then
back at her.
GREG
I had a daughter once.
(bracing)
Smart as hell. Funny. Could’ve been
anything.
He takes a drink of tea. Swallows hard.
GREG (CONT'D)
But she got in with the wrong
crowd. Pills. Then worse. One day
she ran off. Months went by.
(beat)
Then we got the call.
Sloan doesn't speak. She just listens.
GREG (CONT'D)
I used to think I failed her
because I didn’t protect her. Now I
think... maybe I just didn’t
prepare her. Didn’t give her enough
truth. Enough armor.
He looks around the club.
GREG (CONT'D)
So now I try to hand out a little
armor. Where I can. To whoever’s
willing to take it.
Sloan swallows, moved.
SLOAN
That’s why you care so much.
GREG
(nods)
I couldn’t save her. But maybe I
can help someone else walk out of
here with both feet on the ground.
A little bruised, maybe. But not
broken.
They sit in silence for a moment.
GREG (CONT'D)
And I meant what I said before,
Sloan. You're not just a survivor.
You're a fuse. You lit something in
this place.
Sloan looks down. A little overwhelmed. But grateful. They
clink mugs — tea, not whiskey. A quiet, sacred toast.
Greg reaches into his satchel and pulls out a folded piece of
lined notebook paper.
GREG (CONT'D)
I wrote something. Figured you
earned a new one.
Sloan takes it and reads silently.
GREG (V.O.)
“The girl from the screen walked
off the edge of it and landed here -
in glitter, and grit, and gravity.
We thought we saw her in magazines
and movies. But we didn’t.
(beat)
We see her now.”
Sloan folds the page slowly, pressing her palm over it.
GREG
You don’t owe anyone an
explanation, Sloan.
SLOAN
I know.
GREG
But if you feel like giving
one...that poem says what I’d say.
She nods. Quiet thanks.
He returns to his chess board. She sinks deeper into the
booth, absorbing the peace.
INT. SLOAN’S HOUSE -- BEDROOM –- EARLY MORNING
Muted winter light seeps through gauzy curtains. Sloan lies
in bed, tangled in sheets, one arm draped over her face.
Her phone BUZZES on the nightstand. She groans, blindly grabs
it, squints at the screen:
TAMRA (TEXT)
Turn on the damn TV.
Then another.
BLAKE (TEXT)
Hope you own something gold.
And another.
LENA (TEXT)
HOLY. SHIT. OSCARS.
She sits up, heart pounding. Reaches for the remote.
INT. SLOAN’S HOUSE -- LIVING ROOM -– MOMENTS LATER
Sloan, barefoot in an oversized T-shirt, stands in front of
the television. Her eyes scan the broadcast. A FEMALE HOST
finishes reading the latest nomination...
HOST (ON TV)
And for Best Actress in a Leading
Role...Sloan Sinclair, Windowed.
Sloan’s hand covers her mouth. She doesn't move. Just stares.
Then the next announcement — Best Director. Adrian Trent.
Best Picture. Windowed.
She’s shaking now. Smiling through it. Her phone rings. It’s
Adrian.
SLOAN
(still in disbelief)
Hello?
ADRIAN (V.O.)
We’re going to the big show!
Sloan leans her head back, breathless.
SLOAN
I think I’m gonna throw up.
ADRIAN (V.O.)
Just don’t do it on the red carpet.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Nightlife and New Beginnings
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN FLOOR -- NIGHT
Diesel walks a perimeter. Bouncer presence — calm,
commanding.
A couple frat boys get rowdy by the stage. He steps in, no
words. Just a stare. They melt into their seats.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE - GREG’S BOOTH - CONTINUOUS
Greg is playing checkers with Velvet in full sparkles. She’s
clearly winning.
GREG
You know, I was once the Arkansas
state champion.
VELVET
So was my Nana. Still whooped my
ass.
They laugh. She king’s one of her pieces with flair.
INT. BLAKE HARDIN’S AGENCY –- CONFERENCE LOBBY –- DAY
Glass walls, brutalist architecture softened by polished
branding. Tara stands at reception in a neatly pressed blazer
and jeans. Nervous but proud. She clutches a leather
portfolio.
A DOOR OPENS — Sloan steps out, followed by Blake in business-
casual.
SLOAN
Blake, meet your new intern.
TARA
(offering a hand)
Tara. I brought my own contracts.
Blake shakes her hand, surprised — but amused.
BLAKE
Jesus Christ. She wasn’t kidding.
SLOAN
She never is.
BLAKE
Welcome to the circus, I hope you
can juggle.
INT. PRIVATE FITTING ROOM –- BOUTIQUE –- DAY
A pristine, minimalist space. A full-length mirror. A single,
breathtaking GOWN in obsidian black hangs on Sloan. Blake and
Tamra stand off to the side while a FITTER is writing in a
notebook.
TAMRA
(to the Fitter)
We need about a half-inch off the
shoulder line. It’s cutting into
her trapezius.
The Fitter nods, making a note while walking to her
workstation in the next room. Tamra’s phone buzzes. She
exits, leaving Sloan and Blake alone.
Sloan stands on a low platform in the gown. It’s
architectural, powerful, a far cry from the romantic fluff
she used to wear. She meets Blake’s eyes in the reflection.
A long, heavy silence. The unspoken history hangs between
them.
BLAKE
I finally watched Windowed.
Sloan doesn’t turn around, but her posture tightens slightly.
SLOAN
And?
BLAKE
It’s not a good performance, Sloan.
She finally turns to face him, a flash of defiance in her
eyes. He holds up a hand.
BLAKE (CONT'D)
It’s a great one. Maybe the best
I’ve seen this year.
(MORE)
BLAKE (CONT'D)
(he lets that hang)
You were right. I was wrong.
This is the closest Blake Hardin will ever come to a full
apology. Sloan accepts it with a slow nod.
SLOAN
You weren’t wrong to be scared. You
were wrong to think the answer was
to keep me in a smaller box.
BLAKE
That box paid for this dress.
SLOAN
I know. And I am... grateful. For
all of it. For the twelve-year-old
girl who just wanted to act. You
built her an empire.
She takes a step down, towards him, her voice softening but
no less firm.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
But you tried to keep the woman she
became locked in the little girl’s
room. I couldn’t let you do that.
Blake looks at her, really looks at her. Not as an asset, but
as a person he’s known for over half her life.
BLAKE
I was trying to protect you.
SLOAN
I know. But you can’t protect me
from me. Not anymore.
He nods, slowly. It’s a surrender, and an acknowledgment.
BLAKE
For what’s worth... I’m proud of
you. Not of the... Polaroid. But of
the performance that came after.
You fought for something real. And
you won.
This is everything Sloan needed to hear from him. Not an
apology for the past, but a validation of her present.
SLOAN
(quietly)
Thank you, Blake.
He gives her a small, rare, genuine smile. Just then the
Fitter comes back into the room.
BLAKE
Now get back on that platform. That
dress isn’t going to tailor itself.
And that Oscar isn’t going to win
itself.
Sloan turns back to the mirror. The ghost of a smile plays on
her lips. The reflection shows them both, standing side-by-
side.
Genres:
["Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
Red Carpet Anticipation
EXT. DOLBY THEATRE -- LATE AFTERNOON
It’s the Academy Awards and Hollywood is ready for its close-
up. It’s all there - the Red Carpet, the cameras, the
photographers, the crazed fans in the gallery, and winding
towards it is a long line of limousines.
INT. LIMO –- LATE AFTERNOON -- CONTINUOUS
A long, sleek black SUV glides through chaotic traffic,
nearing the Dolby Theatre.
Inside: Sloan sits between Adrian and Tamra. Across from
them: Blake, Diesel, and Tara. Everyone’s dressed to destroy.
The interior is plush but quiet — the sound of distant
screaming fans and flashing bulbs filters in through the
tinted glass.
A tense stillness. Then:
SLOAN
(small smile)
Anyone else feel like we stole this
car?
Light chuckles.
ADRIAN
Only you could win Amateur Night
and the Oscars in the same year.
TAMRA
We should put that on the FYC
posters.
BLAKE
No one’s putting that on a poster.
TARA
(quietly, with awe)
You walked through fire.
DIESEL
And made it hotter.
Sloan and Tara both turn slowly.
SLOAN
Wait... did Diesel just speak?
TARA
I thought he only growled and
lifted heavy things.
DIESEL
Don’t get used to it.
Everyone laughs — even Blake smirks.
DRIVER (V.O.)
One minute out.
Blake straightens his tie. Tamra checks her lipstick. Tara
exhales. Diesel adjusts his cuffs. Sloan takes a breath and
locks eyes with Adrian.
The limo slows. Flashes light up the interior. Sloan reaches
for the door... And opens it to the roar of the crowd.
Genres:
["Drama","Comedy"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
Red Carpet Revelations
EXT. DOLBY THEATRE –- RED CARPET -- CONTINUOUS
Chaos. Glamour. Flashbulbs. Screaming fans. Barricades.
Drones overhead.
A tide of fame in high heels and tuxedos flows past a line of
screaming press and blinking cameras.
Sloan steps out of the limo into a white-hot storm of noise
and light. Her obsidian gown stuns. Her smile is real.
Adrian joins her, smooth in a tailored tux. Diesel, in
sunglasses and a very large tux, follows protectively.
A line of photographers scream her name —
PHOTOGS
SLOAN! THIS WAY! ADRIAN! TO THE
LEFT! SLOAN, SHOW US THE DRESS!
She turns, poses. Head high. Hair slicked back. Power.
Red carpet reporter #1, mic outstretched.
REPORTER #1
Sloan! You’ve gone from Queen of
the Christmas Rom-Com, to a
scandal, to leading a prestige film
that’s getting Oscar buzz. How does
it feel?
SLOAN
It’s kind of perfect, actually.
They laugh. She glances at Adrian. He gives a small smile,
lets her lead. She turns, stepping further down the carpet.
Tamra and Blake walk behind together. They flank Sloan for a
press shot.
Not far behind them, Tara appears — hair pinned up, stunning
in a tailored black dress suit, sensible heels, press badge
around her neck.
She’s slightly out of place — and completely in it. She
flashes a modest grin and disappears behind the rope line,
clipboard in hand.
Blake watches her go, amused and mildly impressed.
BLAKE
She might be dangerous in five
years.
TAMRA
Try three.
Jordan emerges from the line of press — clean-cut in a black
suit, holding his mic and tablet. He’s a little sheepish.
JORDAN
Sloan Sinclair, can we talk for a
minute?
She pauses. Her team tenses — Diesel is already moving
forward.
SLOAN
(to Diesel)
It’s okay.
Diesel slows.
She steps to Jordan. Not smiling, but not hostile.
JORDAN
So... this blew up bigger than I
expected.
SLOAN
Yeah. Did you ever stop to think
what this might have done to me?
JORDAN
You gonna sue me?
SLOAN
No. You didn’t ruin me.
Accidentally, you set me free.
JORDAN
Well...you win.
SLOAN
Damn right I do.
Sloan starts to turn away, but then quickly pivots back to
Jordan.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
But you don’t get any credit for
how this turned out. It could have
just as easily been devastating to
me.
(beat)
I just don’t have time for revenge
this week.
She walks away, not looking back. Adrian joins her.
ADRIAN
Was that who I think it was?
SLOAN
Yep.
ADRIAN
You didn’t slap him?
SLOAN
It’s Oscar night. We don’t slap
anyone, we just glide right by.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
58 -
Empowerment on the Red Carpet
EXT. OSCARS RED CARPET –- NETWORK INTERVIEW PLATFORM –- NIGHT
A small, gleaming elevated stage just steps from the Dolby
Theatre doors. Gold statuettes along the railing. Logos
everywhere.
A polished NETWORK HOST — late 40s, affable, rehearsed,
slightly starstruck — smiles as Sloan and Adrian step into
frame.
HOST
Ladies and gentlemen — it’s the
couple of the hour! Sloan Sinclair
and Adrian Trent! She’s nominated
for Best Actress and he’s got
nominations for Best Original
Screenplay and Best Director for
Windowed.
Applause from nearby press.
HOST (CONT'D)
Sloan, you’ve had quite the year. A
holiday movie, a scandal, a
dramatic turn — and now...an Oscar
nomination. What does this night
mean to you?
Sloan pauses. Composed, radiant.
SLOAN
It means I stopped asking
permission. And the world didn’t
end.
HOST
A lot of people are curious about
the title, “Windowed.” It’s
intriguing. Can you tell us what it
means?
Sloan glances at Adrian, who nods for her to take it.
SLOAN
It’s about what we do with our
pain. We build walls to hide
behind. To look strong. The
film...it’s about a woman who
decides to stop building walls. She
becomes a window instead. Lets
herself be truly seen, even when
its terrifying.
(smiles)
I think that’s a journey a lot of
people understand.
HOST
(visibly impressed)
Well, you’ve certainly won the
carpet. Final thoughts before
heading inside?
Sloan looks directly into the camera.
SLOAN
For anyone who feels like they’ve
been told to stay in their lane...
Make a new lane, and then dance
down it.
Applause off-camera. The host grins wide.
HOST
We’ll see you inside.
Sloan and Adrian descend the steps - arm in arm - and
disappear into the theater.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
Oscar Night Triumphs
INT. DOLBY THEATRE –- NIGHT
Montage-style editing begins. The ceremony is mid-stream.
We skip through technical awards, musical numbers, awkward
banter. Until—
ONSTAGE: PRESENTERS STEP UP
PRESENTER (FEMALE STAR)
And the Oscar for Best Original
Screenplay goes to...
(drums, cutaways)
Adrian Trent – Windowed!
Thunderous applause. Adrian turns to Sloan — stunned, moved —
then hugs her, kisses her forehead, and makes his way to the
stage.
CUT TO: THE BLUE
CAGE
The place explodes. Glasses raised, screams, hugs. Juno slams
her hand on the bar. Vee and Tara cheer. Greg claps like it’s
his graduation day.
BACK TO THE
DOLBY
Adrian takes the Oscar from the presenter and holds it high.
LATER — BEST ACTRESS CATEGORY
Tension builds. Montage of nominee clips. Sloan appears in
her bathtub monologue from Windowed, raw and vulnerable.
PRESENTER (VETERAN ACTOR)
And the Oscar goes to...
(long, dramatic pause)
Sloan Sinclair – Windowed.
The room ERUPTS.
Blake jumps to his feet, arms raised. Tamra is already
crying. Tara is full-body-shaking excited.
CUT TO: THE BLUE
CAGE
Chaos. Screams. Champagne sprayed. Someone knocks over a
chair. Vee hugs Greg. Chess starts crying. Juno grabs the
remote and turns up the volume.
BACK TO DOLBY –
STAGE
Sloan sits in a seat for a long beat. She closes her eyes
briefly. Her eyes open and she sees Adrian’s smiling face.
She stands and pulls him in for a deep hug.
Sloan gracefully climbs the steps to the podium as the room
continues cheering. She is handed the Oscar by the actor. She
stares at it for a moment, then turns to face the audience
and flashes a real smile.
SLOAN
...and I want to thank the people
who found me when I got lost. You
know who you are. You gave me a
stage when I had nowhere else to
stand.
She holds the Oscar high.
SLOAN (CONT'D)
This is for the girl who said “fuck
it” and walked into a strip club on
a Tuesday night.
CUT TO: THE BLUE
CAGE
Everyone’s still screaming.
SLOAN (ON TV) (CONT'D)
If you want to be at the real Oscar
party tonight... I’ll see you at
the Blue Cage.
JUNO (SHOUTING AT THE TV)
SHE SAID IT! SHE SAID THE THING!
Genres:
["Drama","Celebrity","Redemption"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
Celebration and Reflection at The Blue Cage
INT. THE BLUE CAGE –- NIGHT –- OSCAR NIGHT AFTERPARTY
The place is electric. Music thumps. Glitter moves through
the air. A wide tracking shot glides across the floor — all
hips and laughter and half-drunk wonder.
A BANNER overhead flutters slightly from the bass:
“THE REAL OSCAR PARTY – WELCOME HOME, SLOAN”
At the bar, two trophies sit side by side:
One is sleek and gold. The other is cheap, plastic, pink —
chipped at the base. Sloan’s Oscar, and her Amateur Night
trophy.
TRACK THROUGH THE ROOM
Kai pours four shots for a couple of Marvel actors. One of
them fumbles a bill and knocks over a shaker. Kai doesn’t
blink.
Blake and Rick are sitting at the end of the bar trading war
stories and laughs over a couple of drinks.
Chess drags a stunned indie filmmaker, who’s clearly never
seen a real woman before, out onto the floor for a dance.
Greg is holding court at his booth, books stacked around him.
Adrian and a famous, Oscar-winning actress are sitting in the
booth drinking champagne.
GREG
So, what it’s like to lose the Best
Actress Oscar to a stripper?
FAMOUS ACTRESS
It’s marvelous. It’s actually about
time.
ADRIAN
I’ll drink to that.
TO THE DJ BOOTH
Juno is in full sparkle — shades on indoors, a bedazzled mic
in hand.
TO THE STAGE
Vee is onstage, barefoot, drink in hand. She watches as Tara
and Tamra are standing at the pole, laughing as Tamra
awkwardly tries a spin.
OVER TO LENA & DIESEL
She’s fixing his tie. It’s crooked again. She’s teasing him —
he lets her.
LENA
C’mon, tough guy. Smile. We made
it.
He doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t stop her either.
TO THE BAR –- SLOAN
She’s out of her heels now. Still in the dress, barefoot.
Glass in hand. Just watching.
Rick appears beside her, same as he did the night she walked
in.
RICK
You remember the first night?
SLOAN
Not really. Tequila’s a hell of a
thing.
She clinks his glass.
SLOAN (V.O.)
I used to think I had everything...
and nothing at all. Like I was
living someone else’s idea of me.
America's sweetheart. Always
smiling. Always safe.
The camera swoops back — capturing the madness:
- Sable pulls Adrian to the dance floor
SLOAN (V.O.)
But then I got lost. And I didn’t
know who I was without the script.
Without the spotlight. So I went
looking. For something — anything —
that felt like mine.
- Juno screams something unintelligible from the booth
– Greg is dancing with the famous actress
SLOAN (V.O.)
What I found wasn’t just heat or
freedom or risk... I found people
who saw me — even when I didn’t.
Who didn’t care about my brand. Or
my image. Just... me.
– Vee pours a round for the dancers like a victorious general
SLOAN (V.O.)
There’s no villain in this story.
Just fear. And the choice to stop
listening to it. The leak? That was
just noise. But the silence that
followed... that’s where I heard
them... all of them.
– Sable and Adrian are dancing on the main floor. Sloan comes
up and taps Sable on the shoulder. She laughs and gives Sloan
a hug, whispers something to her. Sloan takes Adrián's hand
and pulls him into an embrace. They smile at each other and
finally kiss. Then they begin a slow dance among the chaos
surrounding them.
INT. THE BLUE CAGE -- MAIN FLOOR -- LATER
We track from the stage... to the bar... to the booth... to
the dressing room hallway... to the lockers... and finally:
Sloan, in sweats, barefoot, Oscar in one hand, fries in the
other, sits on stage. She watches her family celebrate in
front of her. A slight, content smile plays on her lips.
After a moment, she turns to the camera.
SLOAN
(to the camera)
It’s not about what you lose when
you step off the pedestal. It’s
about what you gain when you
finally touch the ground.
(beat)
It’s the journey, man. It’s life.
And the friends you make along the
way.
She smiles wryly and gives a small shrug. She then takes
another fry and eats it.
FADE OUT