Tequila

Screenplay based on the novel Tequila by Jorge Majfud

EXT. MONTECITO HEIGHTS CEMETERY, LOS ANGELES – MORNING – PRESENT DAY

Fog clings to rows of headstones. RAQUEL (38, guarded, elegant in a worn way, like someone who dresses for a war she fights alone) kneels before a grave.

GUZMAN QUINONES

JUNE 29, 1974 — DECEMBER 13, 2013

RAQUEL (V.O.)

Only six people know that Guzman Quinones died in 1998. Only five know where he’s buried. None of us have ever been willing to say so. Until today.

Raquel touches the cold stone. Behind her, through the fog, a DARK SILHOUETTE in an overcoat stands motionless among the trees, watching.

She senses it. Turns. The figure is gone.

RAQUEL (V.O.) (CONT’D)

I know who was standing there. I’ve known him fifteen years. He never threatens a woman’s life. He doesn’t have to. He just wants you to know he’s still hunting.

She rises, walks fast between the graves, glancing back.

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EXT. TIMES SQUARE SUBWAY ENTRANCE, NEW YORK – DAY – LATER, WINTER

Crowds pour down the stairs. Raquel, bundled in a coat, stops cold.

Across the platform, ROQUE HERNANDEZ (40s, handsome in the way a blade is handsome, dressed too well for the subway) looks directly at her. Smiles. Doesn’t move.

The crowd swallows him.

RAQUEL (V.O.)

I left Los Angeles, then San Francisco, to put an ocean of highway between that ghost and me. I use my middle name now. I rent under other names. It didn’t matter. He always finds the frequency I broadcast on.

RAQUEL (V.O.) (CONT’D)

So today I’m going to explain everything — not because anyone asked, but because if I don’t, no one ever will. This is the truth about the summer of 1998. About the trip. About Guzman. About what we did to him, and what he did to us in return.

MAIN TITLE: TEQUILA

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