Rise of the phoenix

This is the final draft of my first full play for Advanced Writing for Theatre

Blaze is sitting on a bed in a prison cell, chewing on her already bitten nails. Frankie arrives from stage right and leans up against the bars.

Frankie: Hem hem!

Blaze jumps and turns to face Frankie

Blaze: Frankie! What the….., how did you get in?

Frankie: Eh, I learnt from the best. Plus I had my taser and some of your toys. Come on, let’s get out of here.

She pulls a handful of keys from the pocket of her leather jacket and tries each one in the cell door lock until she finds the one that opens the door.

Blaze: So lemme get this straight. You sweet talked your way in here, t kicked ass, and now you’re helping me escape prison.

Frankie: Yep. You’re my friend and friends don’t leave each other behind.

Blaze: (Grinning) Atta girl.

Blaze darts out of the cell and she and Frankie walk upstage.

Blaze: What’s goona happen now though? Where we gonna go?

Frankie: Fancy Bhutan?

Blaze: Where?

Frankie: One of the best places in the world to be a criminal on the run from their own countries authorities. And it’s land locked too.

Blaze: But how we gonna get there? (Glances at Frankie suspiciously, though her mouth is curving into a smile) You don’t have any fake passports on you do you?

Frankie glances down, though the beginnings of a grin is beginning to bloom on her face

Frankie: Not exactly. Let’s just say I know a woman who’s good at pulling plan B’s from thin air.

Blaze: You mean you know a hacker. Aside from me. How?!

Frankie shrugs, smiling mischievously

Frankie: I’m a lawyer. Or I was. I meet interesting people.

Blaze throws her head back and laughs

Lights dim

Lights go up revealing Frankie, sitting behind a tidy old fashioned wooden desk, reading a book in Dzongkha. As if realising that she has company she lowers the book, peers at the audience then bookmarks it and sets it to one side.

Frankie: (Sighs). So I suppose you’re wondering why what happened to send Blaze and I to Bhutan. Well, it’s quite long story, and it’s not going to be an easy one to tell. I mean how exactly does one go about telling a stranger everything that lead to…this. From going from the most miserable part of my life to the happiest, and wow. What has Blaze done to get me to admit that? I’m stuck with her, in a strange country, thousands of miles away from my old life, I’m happier than I’ve ever been and I’m admitting it. Huh.

She sighs again, leans back in her chair and shakes her head, an expression of wonder on her face.

Frankie: Oh, better get to it. It started, well….it all started, when I was working for a law firm.

Farage and Malick it was called. I’d just started a full time job as one of its legal

representatives and, this women came marching up to me just as I was heading

back from my lunch break.

She chuckles and shakes her head.

Frankie: She was like an inferno trapped inside a human body. As soon as she got close

she started snarling. Asking if I knew anything about what was going on inside the

company, the cover-ups, the frauds. I have to admit I laughed in her face, I mean, I

was convinced that Farage and Malick was a good, ethical company filled with

brilliant, kind people. I told her that, and said that what she was saying was… to be

candid, rather ridiculous. Well that….she stopped snarling and tilted her head, those,

frankly gorgeous dark eyes staring at me as though, well, not to be cliché, but as

though she was trying to see into my soul. It was rather disturbing.

From stage right appears Blaze, carrying an i-pad and some files which she places inside draws behind Frankie.

Blaze: Sup’ Frankie. What cha’ talking about?

Frankie: In a voice filled with humour. How we met.

Blaze turns around laughing loudly and walks to sit on Frankie’s desk to the right of her

Blaze: Oh honey that was the beginning of the best part of my life. How far d’ya get?

Frankie: Only as far as you staring at me like a creeper.

Blaze: I was tryna’ work you out. See if you were telling the truth. Do you want me to continue?

Frankie: No, I got this. So um, the woman….

Blaze: Aka me.

Frankie: Blaze! Buzz off!

Blaze holds up her hands in surrender.

Blaze: Okay, I’m going, I’m going.

Blaze hops off the desk and saunters out of the room as Frankie huffs and buries her head in her hands. After a few seconds Frankie pulls her hands away and sits up, brushing her fringe out of her eyes.

Frankie: As I was saying, the woman introduced herself, as Blaze, then sat down next to me, pulled out her laptop, and….pretty much yanked the carpet out from underneath my feet.

Lights dim

Act Two

Frankie is reclining on a sun lounger in a bikini. She is holding her book in one hand and a large fruit smoothie in the other. From offstage comes the sound of a train passing and Frankie jumps slightly, spilling some of the smoothie onto the floor.

Frankie: (Taking off her large sunglasses and leaning over to peer at the mess she has made) Damn. Well Turnbull this is what you get for letting Blaze choose where you’re going to live.

Blaze: (From off stage) Excuse me, I heard that.

Frankie: Shut up Blaze!

Blaze: Ooooh. As you wish then, your Majesty.

Frankie: Well at least it’s better than a tiny little flat in Cardiff. And I thought it was so classy when I got it, although in all fairness I was a young working class woman who had recently graduated, so I suppose that flat was a luxury.

She carefully leans over the other side of the sun lounger to place her drink and book on the floor before sitting back up.

Frankie: So I guess you all want to know what happened for Blaze to yank the rug out from under my feet.

Blaze Well, I knew someone who had been scammed by Farage and Malick. You see Farage and Malick dealt with insurance claims and the mum of a friend of mine had given a lot of money to her insurers in case something happened to her and there was no one to take care of Jack, the son. They thought that the money would never be needed but then….there was a car crash. Jack, survived, only just….but his mum, Jesus I’ve seen the photos. You could hardly recognise her as a member of the human race, never mind as a mum and a friend.

Frankie: Blaze! I thought I told you to buzz off

Blaze: I did. But now I’m back cause I don’t think it’s fair that you get to tell my part of the story

Frankie: Urgh! Fine.

Blaze plonks herself down on the ground next to Frankie’s sun lounger

Blaze: Jack came to me for help after, you’ve already told them what the insurance company was called right?

Frankie: Yes.

Blaze: Okay. So when the terrible two told Jack and his lawyer that they couldn’t have the insurance money, Jack, came to me for assistance. I hacked into the security cameras of Farage and Malick, and fortunately they had a camera in the room that they brought Jack into, with sound! Not that I’m complaining but why did they have sound?

Frankie: (Shrugs) Saved the company from having to employ people who could lip read I suppose. And Farage and Malick could….well (mockingly) look back on the good times. I mean Jesus, the way they spoke to the boy and his lawyer….they bullied them! They told them that they couldn’t have the money because Jack’s mum had failed to keep up with her policy premiums. The lawyer, Jack’s lawyer asked for proof of this,

Blaze: Thank goodness too otherwise we would have committed even more crimes. I know I’m good…but stealing thousands of pounds from under a bank’s nose right after committing other crimes (sucks in breath), little bit dicey. Jack’s lawyer must’a reckoned that something fishy was going on and Malick produced signed and dated copies of the insurance agreement regarding policy premiums and a signed and dated letter to Jack’s mum telling her that her insurance policy premiums had gone up. If she didn’t pay Jack would never receive her life insurance money.

Frankie: Bastard.

Blaze: Preach to the choir sista’. Thing was though, Jack’s mum was killed before she could receive the letter.

Frankie: Which was a little to convenient don’t you think….oh Jesus…you don’t think they had anything to do with her death do you?

Blaze stands up and begins to pace across the stage

Blaze: It was a car crash. Her car collided into another car, Jack’s mum was killed and the other driver landed up in a coma. It’s possible. I mean Farage and Malick had the money and the power to intimidate people.

Frankie: (Chuckles bitterly) Blaze, they don’t need power and money to scare people.

Blaze: But it helps. As you said, they were the bedrock of the local community before everything went (mimes explosion).

Frankie: But… that means. Shit! (Stands up and makes to run off stage)

Blaze: Woah where are you going?

Frankie: I need to make some calls. If the other driver murdered Jack’s mum

Blaze: Oh crap. Uhh, never mind calling anyone. Let me get my laptop.

Blaze runs offstage and Frankie sighs, returning to her sun lounger

Frankie: After Blaze had said her piece I went back to my office. I needed to think. The video that Blaze showed me couldn’t have been faked, which meant that Farage and Malick really had bullied a grieving young man and told him that he couldn’t have the money that was rightfully owed to him. Yet I had no proof of the illegality of their activities apart from Blaze’s say so and a digitized copy of a letter that could have been faked and I have to admit that I was more ready to believe whatever Farage and Malick said to excuse their actions than Blaze’s accusations.

Blaze runs back on stage with a laptop and chair

Blaze: I got it!

She plonks the chair down next to the sun lounger, sits down and opens the laptop

Frankie: I wasn’t exactly a wonderful person then but I loved my job and not just because of the pay and I liked Farage and Malick, or at least I liked the façade that they put on whenever they were in public. That’s the funny thing though isn’t it with abusers. When they’ve got you alone and cornered they’re cruel and terrifying but once they’ve done what they like with you they revert back to the way they’ve always behaved in public with such speed that it’s jarring.

Blaze: Frankie…

Frankie: Yes I know I’m rambling but there is a point to it.

Blaze: I wasn’t going to say that. I was gonna ask if you wanted a hug.

Frankie: In a minute.

Blaze: B t w, what was the name of the hospital that our murder suspect landed up in?

Frankie: Cardiff hospital. Speaking of hospitals and hacking….Blaze somehow managed to get a hold of my email address and sent me a bunch of files, nearly breaking my computer in the process of course

Blaze: You needed a new one anyway.

Blaze begins typing furiously

Frankie: (Rolling her eyes). And well, she sent them so many bloody times that I just had to take a look.

Blaze: Okay I’m in the hospitals data base. Wow, a lot of people are having cosmetic surgery. They do realise that’s not good for them right?

Frankie: Probably not, or if they do they care more about looking good. Do you need the man’s name?

Blaze: Oh I think I can remember the name of the man who almost killed one of my friends. Wait a sec, I need to get a note pad.

Blaze puts the laptop down and bounds off stage left

Frankie: They were interviews, all filmed by a tripod camera, of about twenty of Farage and Malick’s victims. At least six of them looked as though they weren’t even eighteen yet and thirteen of them stated that they were refugees. (Frankie barks out a harsh note of laughter) Farage and Malick prided itself on giving assistance to vulnerable people and these people certainly were. Only three of them had the money to challenge Farage and Malick and only one said that he’d actually got close to winning the case before his lawyer pretty much ditched him.

Blaze skips in from stage right holding a large notepad and pen. She puts them down on the floor beside her chair, goes to sit down then noticing Frankie’s distressed body language, freezes.

Blaze: Frankie…

Frankie: Please just….I don’t think I can do this.

Blaze darts to Frankie’s side and take her hands

Blaze: Yes you can. Your one of the strongest people I know.

Frankie chuckles mirthlessly

Blaze: Okay how about, um…..you lawyer types love being questioned right. So how about we make this a test. I ask you stuff about what happened, and for every answer you give I’ll buy you a book of your choice. Alright?

Frankie: Yes, alright.

Blaze: So, question one. What did you do after you’d seen the interviews?

Frankie: The next day I stormed into Farage’s office with a memory stick containing your files and screamed at him.

Blaze: Okay, good. What then?

Frankie: I screamed until my voice was hoarse, and then I stopped and we just looked at each other. He stared at me for a few moments, his face slack with shock, then, his phone rang. (Pause) The noise was like a trigger for him, he dived across his desk, his eyes wild and savage and grabbed me by the head. I won’t tell you what happened immediately afterwards, it’s still too painful, both literally and metaphorically. I’ve still got the bruises!

Blaze: Well what do you think the cream I gave you is for? You’re meant to rub it on the bruised area to get rid of the bruises. After he hurt you, what did he do?

Frankie bends down and picks up her drink, taking a few sips before putting it back

Frankie: Once he was done with me….he picked me up…I remember cringing at his touch and forced me to walk with him to his car. He pushed me in to the back seat and drove….to my house. My house! That lump of slime knew where I lived, without even having to look it up on his Satnav! Jesus. Knowing he could just turn up to my house anytime he liked and…hurt me again was just…I don’t think I have any words to describe the fear I felt. He told me…..when he parked in my drive, he told me that I was to resign from the firm and never speak of what I said to him again. He said that he was doing a kindness by not firing me. As if. And that (she starts to cry and Blaze wraps an arm around her)…..if any word got out….about what I had told him or what he had done to me…..he and Farage….they would find me no matter where I went….and hurt me, they would make what Malick did to me in his office seem like nothing.

She turns away from the audience and sobs into Blaze’s shoulder.

Blaze: Shhh, shhh, alright, it’s okay. You done good bestie.

Blaze’s laptop dings once and Blaze turns towards it

Blaze: Ah ha! Got you!

Blaze reaches out with one leg and manages to push the laptop towards her. As soon as it is in reach she picks it up eagerly and begins reading.

Frankie: What have you found?

Blaze: Geraint Jones. The third car crash victim. Oh, he is in a nasty state. He musta been paid an awful amount of money, if he’s responsible for the crash.

Frankie: Or Farage and Malick were able to scare him as much as they scared me. I mean…when Farage dropped me off at my home and threatened me…I believed him. I believed the look in his eyes and the cruel curl of his lips. I believed with every atom of my body that he meant what he said, every word of it.

Blaze: So landing in a coma may have been a pleasant alternative to whatever those two piles of shit may have had planned if Mr Jones didn’t do exactly what they ordered him to do.

Frankie: He’s in a coma!

Blaze: Eh, it won’t make a difference. I can still find out if he’s guilty or not. Gimme a few seconds and I’ll find out if he’s got a criminal record.

Frankie: (Taking a deep breath) Well, I might as well get on with the story.

Blaze: You don’t have to.

Frankie: Yes I do! I need to heal and this might be the only way of doing it. (Takes another deep breath). I scurried out of the car and waited by my door until he finally drove away then let myself in and blocked up every possible entrance to my abode. I know it’s an irrational thing to do but my God I was so scared that Malick would decide he hadn’t had enough….that he’d turn around and try and break into my house for more.

Blaze: And I’ve found Mr Jones. Hmm, arrested and found guilty arson, assault, mugging and two counts of robbery. So murder wouldn’t be a stretch for him. But....I know he’s in a coma but surely, a guy like him…the police would suspect foul play.

Frankie: Unless they were in Malick and Farage’s pockets the whole time.

Act Three

Frankie and Blaze are resting on a sofa in a small living room. Blaze is typing on her laptop while Frankie is peering over her shoulder at the screen. As they notice the audience is watching them, Blaze puts down the laptop and sticks her feet up on the coffee table in front of her.

Blaze: Okay, so Mr Jones was wired a whole lotta money two days before the crash. I checked the details and according to this document the account that the money was wired from belonged to a Mr Satyr. But Mr Satyr doesn’t exist. The address is listed as 101, Desborough Lane, Butetown, Cardiff.

Frankie: But that’s

Blaze: The address of Farage and Malick’s company.

Frankie: And they were the only ones with access to the money.

Blaze: Alright, lemme write this down, real quick. Can you go out and buy a burner phone please?

Frankie: What for?

Blaze: I know one police officer that I can trust. He’s in Bridgend but he has the chief’s ear. I’m not letting Mr Jones get away with hurting my friend.

Frankie: I agree, we shouldn’t let him get away. But we’re criminals Blaze. Why would anyone, never mind a police officer, believe what we have to say?

Blaze: Because he’s kind of a vigilante on the side. He alternates between putting domestic abusers either in intensive care or the mortuary. So he doesn’t have any reason to judge us. Besides, this…makes sense and why would we lie about something like this?

Frankie: Alright. Alright. (She stands up) I’ll see you in five minutes.

Frankie exits stage left

Blaze: So what musta been a few hours after Malick McDirtbag had left I kinda broke into Blaze’s place and nearly gave her a heart attack. In fact she tried to hit me with a law encyclopaedia. Fortunately I have the reflexes of a slender mongoose otherwise she woulda knocked me out with that monster. As soon as she realised that the person she was attempting to put into the A & E ward was none other than her dear friend Blaze she started crying.

Frankie walks on stage right, holding a package.

Frankie: Hey we weren’t friends then.

Blaze: That was quick.

Frankie: Yusef’s moved his stall. And who gave you permission to tell my story?

Blaze looks at the ground, shuffling awkwardly.

Blaze: Sorry Frankie. I just…this is my story as well and….god damnit I’m proud of what we did! I wish you never had to suffer at those bastards hands but I’m proud of the fact that we took them down! I want to just…stand on a roof and yell out that Frankie Turnbull and Blaze Driscoll took down the CEO’s of a world famous law firm.

Frankie walks upstage, drops the package and runs her hands through her hair

Blaze: Have I upset you? I’m sorry I didn’t…

Frankie: (Holding out a hand for silence) No, no. I’m not upset I just…you’re right. This is your story as well so you should be allowed to contribute in the telling of it. But we’re sharing.

Blaze: Cool. Toss me the phone would ya? (Frankie picks up the package, walks over to Blaze and gives it to her before sitting down next to her). Anyway Frankie started crying and soon she was yelling as well, telling me all about the brave but kinda stupid thing she had done, it’s disgusting ramifications and how her life was basically ruined. Well I couldn’t argue with her there but, I had a plan. Revenge! Illegal revenge. Of course little miss follow the rules was absolutely horrified when I suggested it, but…

Frankie: I knew that no court, no judge or lawyer would ever be able to punish Malick. He was too powerful in terms of reputation, connections and money. I’d never stand a chance. Besides it was my word against his and who was gonna believe a virtually unknown twenty two year old woman over a fifty year old CEO and bedrock of the local community? So I said I’d think about it. I needed to assess whether it would be better to just run away and forget about what had happened than risk going to jail for the rest of my life.

Blaze: So I asked if she wanted me to go somewhere else in the house. So you know, she’d have some privacy but also some security if the satyr from hell came back. Believe me I don’t need to be the size of Dwayne the Rock to destroy people.

Frankie: So I said yes. Strangely, having Blaze around made me feel safer

Blaze: Awww

Frankie: If only because she has a stay-away-from-me-unless-you-want-me-to-cause-about-as-much-havoc-as-a-hurricane aura about her.

Blaze: Gee thanks. Alright I’m gonna give my friend a call. Really hope he hasn’t changed his number.

Blaze walks behind the sofa, dials and puts the mobile to her right ear.

Frankie: That was a compliment! Anyway after thinking about things, really thinking about what I wanted, I realised that there was no way I could just up and run. No matter where I went or what I did I would always be afraid, always looking over my shoulder expecting Malick and Farage to pop up. So I had no choice. If I wanted to live past that day, live, not just survive, happy and relaxed, I had to go along with Blaze’s plan, or at least a part of it. I didn’t want any of Farage and Malick’s employee’s to get caught in the crossfire, as far as I was aware they were mostly decent people who had no idea what was going on.

Blaze: Which was bullshit. Oh hey Andras, one sec, I mean alright the newbies and low level staff didn’t have a clue. But the people who handled the claims, the experienced lawyers, Farage and Malick’s secretaries, hell all the paper pushers in the company knew what was going on. Um…do you want the long or the short version?

Blaze exits stage right

Frankie: I decided to ignore that. I didn’t want to think about it, so we got talking about how we could take down Malick and Farage. Malick would get the worst punishment, obviously, but what kind of punishment? Murder was tempting, as was castrating them both and doing a Girl with the Dragon Tattoo on Malick.

Blaze: (From offstage). Which was a really good idea.

Frankie: But neither of us fancied the jail term attached. So then Blaze…

Blaze enters stage right still on the phone

Blaze: Genius that I am, suggested death by antifreeze. Ha! A little hypocritical coming from someone who throws people off buildings! Not that they don’t deserve going splat on the pavement. Although there was one problem. Antifreeze is as slow to act as it is painful, and believe me it is very painful. So poisoning Malick and Farage at work was out, meaning that we’d have to go to their houses. Yes I am listening to you Andra.

Frankie: Of course this terrified me. The fear was completely illogical of course, as long as Blaze made sure that Farage and Malick stayed in work we’d be fine. We still ended up holding hands as we broke in though. Not that I’m complaining.

Blaze: Okay good…. I’m helping Frankie tell her story.

Pause

Blaze: Alright.

Pause

Blaze: Yeah I know. But like you said it’s probable.

Pause

Blaze: Well I know, well not personally know but I’ve done research on him, I know a prosecutor skilled enough to make the charges stick.

Pause

Blaze: No he’s basically incorruptible.

Pause

Blaze: Okay. I’ll call you in a week. Good luck, and thanks. (She drops the phone onto the floor and stomps on it) Andras is gonna look into it but he think that the chances of getting a prosecution are slim.

Frankie: Damn.

Blaze: Yeah. When we broke to their houses I sent in a small droid I had made to scope out the houses. I’m not a fan of Big Brother and I’d hate to find out what kinda viewers Malick and Farage would be. Once the coast was clear, we snuck in and poured anti-freeze into their respective fruit juices. We didn’t need much, only two ounces each, actually it only takes an ounce to kill an adult man but….Frankie wanted to be sure it would work. (She walks around the sofa and takes Frankie’s hand)

Frankie: Which in retrospect was highly embarrassing. I mean how could I, a lawyer, have allowed myself to succumb to such illogical thoughts?

Blaze: Oh come on honey. It’s okay to admit that fear got the better of you. At least you kicked fear’s ass like a queen.

Frankie: To prevent you from rotting in jail. You see….when the police investigated the murders of Malick and Farage, they went around the law firm asking questions about anyone who might have a grudge against them strong enough to turn murderous. Of course, that opened a whole can of worms once the police applied enough pressure. Soon stories were coming out about how Farage and Malick and co had lied, cheated and bullied the firm’s customers out of their hard earned money. But, as the police dug deeper, they found out about me. They didn’t care that Malick had assaulted then threatened me….all they cared about was that I had the strongest motive.

Frankie: I’m a lawyer and a woman but it was only then, in that dingy claustrophobic interrogation room that I realised the true extent of suffering that assault victims go through. They acted like I had the assault coming. I didn’t confess to murder of course, nor did I tell them anything about Blaze. And that (she chuckles harshly), that infuriated them. They had no evidence to support their accusations but I think they were just about ready to toss me into a cell for the night when…

Blaze: I swanned in and confessed to murder.

Frankie: You know what happened next. Blaze lied so that I could walk free and was found guilty of homicide on two counts. She was sentenced to life in jail and a week later I broke her out and smuggled her to Bhutan. But despite how messy things became, one really good thing came out of it. By murdering those creepy swindlers we set off a chain reaction which allowed their victims to finally get the justice and treatment that they deserved all along, and that gave me the confidence to set up a law firm, here in Bhutan. Blaze helped me get justice for the crimes committed against me, now I want to help others do the same.

Blaze: Really, that was the best thing about the whole murder experience? Tut, tut. Lawyers.

Lights dim.

Published 5th December 2017