LA Observed: Los Angeles media, politics and sense of place since 2003
Right of Way 42

EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER Ė NIGHT

The famous fishing pier neon sign blinks as the camera slowly PANS past it to a lonely bench along the deserted bike path. A figure emerges from the shadows -- itís our man Napolitano, illuminated by the flashing lights and a sad excuse for a street light flickering above his head.
He scans the horizon and sits down on the bench. In the b.g., waves CRASH against the shore. Napolitano yawns, stretches and, finally overtaken by the events of the long, strange day, begins to nod off. The RINGING of his cell phone startles him awake. He checks the number, answers it.

NAPOLITANO
Yeah?
VOICE
Big man shows. I am impressed.

Itís the electronically distorted voice of the kidnapper.

NAPOLITANO
Iím here. Where is Celeste?
VOICE
In good time, my good man.
NAPOLITANO
Just so you know, youíre starting to get on my nerves, friend.
VOICE
Words, words. You might be the mayor, but I am the king of this here situation. Do we have clarity, my man?
NAPOLITANO
Letís do this.
VOICE
Excellent suggestion. First thing I need is for you to take off one of your shoes and socks.
NAPOLITANO
I donít think so.
VOICE
For Celeste, bro.

 
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Eric Estrin