HOT STREAK FADE IN: EXT. WEEKLY-RATE MOTEL - DAY A digital pharmacy sign across the boulevard reads 116°. It is 11:08 A.M. Heat shimmers above a row of cars whose windshields wear silver shades like surgical dressings. An ice machine rattles beneath a handwritten sign: NO ICE. FULTON REYES, 52, comes down the motel stairs carrying a three-legged terrier under one arm. His left knee makes the last step a negotiation. The terrier, SKIP, wears a blue cooling vest and the expression of a landlord. Fulton sets him in the narrow shade beside a vending machine. Skip noses toward the sunlight. FULTON Hold it. Inspection. Fulton presses his palm against the exposed pavement. Holds it there a beat too long, then wipes his hand on his shorts. FULTON Failed. The cooling vest is dry. He empties the last of his water over it while a TOURIST wrestles a suitcase toward the office. TOURIST That dog is spoiled. FULTON That dog has better judgment. Skip starts licking water off the concrete. Fulton lifts him before he reaches a cigarette butt. The OFFICE WINDOW slides open. The CLERK holds up a pink slip. CLERK Fulton. Friday. FULTON I know what day it is. CLERK It's Tuesday. Friday's when you owe me. FULTON Then we've both got good news. CLERK Don't make me change the lock. FULTON Hurts the door more than me. The clerk doesn't smile. Fulton drops the performance. FULTON Friday. I heard you. His phone vibrates. A message from MAYA: Dinner before I leave? Thursday or Friday. Just you. No presents. Her contact picture shows her outside a courthouse, laughing at somebody beyond the frame. Fulton types: Wouldn't miss it. A notification drops over the message: BLACKJACK BONUS HOURS — TODAY ONLY. A bus approaches. Fulton shifts Skip against his ribs and hurries toward the stop, his bad leg trailing. EXT. BUS STOP - CONTINUOUS At the curb, Fulton fishes for fare. Two quarters and a battered Italian soccer program emerge from his pocket. The program opens at a team photograph dated 2002. A younger Fulton stands in the back row, both knees straight. A folded hundred-dollar bill rests between the pages. FULTON You're not bus money. The bus hisses to a stop. DRIVER You getting on? Fulton looks at the fare display, then back toward the motel. The clerk has closed the window. FULTON Fifty cents and an accurate Italian insult. DRIVER Two dollars. Skip squirms. Fulton starts to lower him, feels the pavement through his own thin shoe, and pulls the dog back up. FULTON We'll get the next one. The doors close. Exhaust washes over them. Fulton returns to the shade and sits on a low wall. His knee won't bend until he helps it with his free hand. He dismisses the casino notification and sends Maya his reply. Then he opens a walking route to the casino. FULTON Mile and a half. Skip rests his chin on Fulton's forearm. FULTON Easy for you to say. Fulton stands with the dog still in his arms. INT. CASINO BLACKJACK PIT - DAY A smaller casino with delusions of Rome. Plastic columns. A fountain with no water. Air-conditioning worth worshipping. Skip lies on a folded towel beneath Fulton's chair. A cocktail waitress places a shallow dish of water beside him. FULTON Thank you, Angela. ANGELA That's for him. FULTON I can read a room. He has twenty dollars in chips. The DEALER turns a six. Fulton looks at his eleven, then checks both pockets as though an investment partner might have appeared in one. DEALER You can double for less. FULTON That's also the title of my autobiography. He puts in the last twenty-dollar bill from his wallet. The dealer gives him a three. FULTON Little aggressive with the comedy there. The dealer turns over a ten, draws a five. Twenty-one. Fulton stares at the empty betting circle. Beneath the table, Skip laps his water. The old soccer program comes out. Fulton opens it to the emergency hundred. A woman's hand places a photograph over the bill. A silver BUGATTI in a glass pavilion above Las Vegas. TEMPEST (O.S.) I wouldn't. TEMPEST VALE, 50, sits beside him in a graphite power wheelchair. Elegant linen. No jewelry except a watch that looks useful. Fulton doesn't look at her immediately. He straightens a bent corner of the photograph. FULTON Fifteen years, you still criticize my investments. TEMPEST Your investments are always little rectangles you lose. He finally turns. FULTON Hello, Tempest. TEMPEST Fulton. Skip stands, sniffs her wheel, then puts a forepaw against her shoe. Tempest lets him smell her hand. TEMPEST Who's this? FULTON Management. TEMPEST He's understaffed. Fulton picks up the photograph. FULTON That's not a production car. TEMPEST Year 2000. Development prototype. Recommissioned to running order. FULTON Where is it? TEMPEST Top of the Wynn. He looks at her. FULTON Stealing a car off a skyscraper is technically stealing a building first. TEMPEST Then start with the elevator. She slides a prepaid phone onto the felt. The dealer looks from one to the other. DEALER Sir, if you're not playing-- FULTON We're discussing a building. Tempest gives the dealer an apologetic smile and none to Fulton. TEMPEST Los Angeles. Seventy-two hours. Intact. Five hundred fifty thousand. Fulton puts the photograph down very carefully. FULTON For driving. TEMPEST For delivering. FULTON Half before. TEMPEST Half into neutral escrow at verified pickup. Balance at delivery. FULTON That's not half before. TEMPEST It's not a salary. He studies her face, searching for something she declines to supply. FULTON No. TEMPEST You haven't asked whose car. FULTON I'm improving. Tempest turns her chair away from the table. TEMPEST Congratulations to Maya. Fulton's hand closes over the phone before she can leave. FULTON How do you know about my daughter? The dealer takes a discreet step back. TEMPEST She made a public announcement. FULTON You went looking. TEMPEST Yes. FULTON You don't use her name to sell me something. TEMPEST Then don't buy it. She reverses neatly out of the space. Fulton stays seated. TEMPEST Stanford Law. She must have worked very hard. FULTON She did. TEMPEST Tell her I said congratulations. Tempest leaves. Fulton watches until she disappears among the slot machines. The dealer nods toward the hundred. DEALER Changing that? Fulton folds the bill back inside the program. FULTON No. INT. FULTON'S MOTEL ROOM - NIGHT The air conditioner chatters beneath a curtain pinned shut with a fork. Skip sleeps in front of it, his vest spread over a chair. On Fulton's phone, MAYA REYES, 25, speaks into her own camera. MAYA (ON PHONE) I know public-interest work isn't generally how you become a yacht person. I don't want to be a yacht person. She laughs at someone off-camera. MAYA (ON PHONE) A small kayak, maybe. That's between me and the scholarship committee. Fulton smiles. Behind her is a cramped apartment full of books. MAYA (ON PHONE) Anyway. Stanford. This fall. Thank you to everybody who helped me get here. The video ends. Fulton props his phone against a cereal box and starts recording. FULTON Hey, counselor. Look at you. Stanford. Your old man-- He stops. Deletes it. He tries again, sitting straighter. FULTON I don't want you worrying about the money. I've got something-- He deletes that one too. Across the room, the Bugatti photograph rests beneath a condensation ring. Fulton reaches for the prepaid phone. INT. DOTTIE'S GARAGE - DAY An old downtown parking structure converted into an ecosystem. A hearse shares space with a pink ice-cream truck. Cats occupy expensive bucket seats. An EMU watches from behind a gate. DOTTIE CHANCE, 74, emerges from beneath a car wearing rhinestone reading glasses. DOTTIE Jesus. Time was cruel but thorough. FULTON Nice to see you too. DOTTIE I was talking to your knee. She hugs him hard enough to make him grunt. Skip inspects her chin. DOTTIE And this one's got the face you used to have. TITO MALDONADO, 67, polishes a tow truck with an embroidered cloth. THE CONFESSIONAL is painted across its doors. PIXEL, 29, sits at a folding table surrounded by monitors. He wears fingerless gloves in the hottest city in America. PIXEL Before we start, nobody says real names near the hardware. DOTTIE Pixel, that's Tito. Tito, that's Fulton. I'm Dottie. PIXEL Great. Like the beginning of Alien, when everybody ignores quarantine. TITO In Alien they had a union job. Tempest waits beside a wall covered with building plans and vendor schedules. Fulton notices a photograph tucked behind one sheet: a younger Tempest leaning against a red Ferrari. She moves the sheet over it. TEMPEST You said you wanted to see the operation. FULTON I was hoping there'd be one. Dottie opens the gate to retrieve a bucket. The emu steps through before she can stop it. DOTTIE Nancy. Boundaries. FULTON You named an emu Nancy? DOTTIE Nancy Pelosi. She counts votes and eats screws. Tempest brings up an image of the exhibition pavilion. TEMPEST Public display closes tomorrow at six. Gala starts at eight. The prototype goes downstairs for a private presentation. FULTON How'd it get upstairs? PIXEL A secured freight lift. The pavilion isn't really the fortress. The route is. FULTON Routes are better. Tito pulls a toy flatbed across the table. A model sports car rides on it.