Chapter 1: Cocaine or Dildo
Summary:
The launch of the luxury cruise begins. Guests include a group of sorority girls celebrating their senior year (Chanel Oberlin, London Tipton, Trina Vega), a college football team with an inner rivalry (Rafe Cameron, Nate Jacobs, Kyle Scheible), a brat pack preparing for European music festivals and film screenings (Charli xcx, Troye Sivan, Julia Fox), borderline unhinged influencers with big personalities (HRH Collection, Trisha Paytas, TheWizardLiz), celebrities, billionaires devoid of empathy, Real Housewives, and a surprise stowaway (LovelyPeaches.) The crew members, lead by Kate Chastain, navigate the bustling egos, the intermingling between crew and guests that threatens to ensue, and the fine line between luxury and drug fueled chaos.
Chapter Text
EPISODE 1: COCAINE OR DILDO
EXT. BEACH - MORNING
A blazing sun rises over the calm, crystalline ocean. The SS GILDED WAVES cruise ship is docked right in front of THREE REPUBLICAN MOMS.
They lounge on beach chairs, pristine in their red-white-and-blue swimwear from Dillards, sun visors, and oversized sunglasses. They're the NO MONEY FOR NORDSTROM MOMS: LEANNE, KELLY, and CHERYL.
KELLY
Oh my goodness she looks so washed up. I heard she's trying another transformation.
LEANNE
Surgical?
KELLY
Worse. Spiritual.
CHERYL
It's always those liberals thinking they're so high and mighty fixing what they call "mistakes." Like Donna's daughter, trying to start fresh. Shedding their scaly snake skin. But the funny thing about skin is it remembers. It scars. No matter how much you sandblast it...like Donna.
LEANNE
You can't sandblast your soul.
KELLY
Amen to that sister!
Just as they sip their drinks — SPLASH. A BODY FALLS FROM THE TOP OF THE FRAME.
Face-first into the ocean, just yards away from them. The sound is visceral. Flesh slapping water, a dead thud beneath the splash. Their eyes go wide and they scream.
CLOSE UP: A baggie of cocaine falls out of the corpse's pocket.
KELLY
(shrieking)
Oh my God!!
CHERYL
(terrified)
Jesus Christ Almighty!
LEANNE
(high and mighty)
LADIES! DO NOT USE OUR LORD'S NAME IN VAIN!
CHERYL
(defensive)
I'm sorry I was in SHOCK Leanne. That is a DEAD. BODY.
LEANNE
(pissed off)
THIS IS NOT WHAT I PAID FOR! WHERE IS THAT GOSH DARN MANAGER!
A dildo comes soaring off the boat and hits Leanne in the face. Leanne screams in tantrum mode.
Kelly just keeps screaming in horror. We ZOOM into her mouth like it's an endless ocean.
And it turns into an ENDLESS OCEAN. Then a COSMIC PORTAL. Then we see the SKY.
EXT. PORT OF MONTE CARLO – DAY
2 WEEKS AGO.
Panning down from the sky, we see The SS Gilded Waves, the most extravagant cruise ship ever built, looms over the dock. A floating palace dripping in old money excess, influencer delusion, and corporate greed. The top decks boast infinity pools filled with Fiji water.
Two stewards in their last year of college stand outside waiting for the people to arrive.
MICAH DIAZ, sun-kissed, with the easy, flirtatious energy of a Florida surfer who looks like he belongs in a thirst trap more than a uniform. He's a semi-rich pretty boy who's parents got him this gig but is also an influencer. His uniform is unbuttoned just enough to suggest thirst-trap potential.
KAI BRATLOW-TWIST, half-Asian, slim, and wired with an awkward charm, stands awkwardly, nervously adjusting his uniform. He's the not so rich anxious twink who needs the money.
MICAH
Here can you hold this man?
KAI
Uh yeah.
Micah hands Kai his tray of champagne and Kai tries to balance both. Kai gulps as Micah pops another button, looking at Micah's chest and then nervously looking away. Kai desperately tries not to drop the tray of champagne.
A fanfare plays, a chorus of violins and auto-tuned TikTok sounds, as passengers prepare to board. Kai almost drops the tray.
MICAH
Thanks.
Micah takes his tray back. The two guys turn forwards.
CHANEL OBERLIN steps out of a gold-trimmed Rolls Royce, wearing a diamond-encrusted life vest. Just in case. A BELLBOY who's somehow even more nervous than Kai tries to help her.
CHANEL
(to a bellboy)
Touch my bags and I'll make sure your grandkids are still in debt.
Chanel flirtatiously looks at Micah and takes a glass of champagne. Micah looks back and nudges Kai.
LONDON TIPTON follows, draped in Louis Vuitton luggage, struggling to understand the concept of "steerage."
LONDON
So... where's my dad's suite? And also, the law is something you get to break when you're rich, right? Wait where's Trina?
CHANEL
She couldn't afford first class.
LONDON
But she lives in Hollywood?
SECOND-CLASS BOARDING
Elsewhere on the ship, TRINA VEGA steps onto the gangway like she's making a Broadway entrance, arms outstretched, eyes gleaming.
TRINA
(to absolutely no one)
Ladies and gentlemen, the star of the show has ARRIVED!
Silence.
Trina clears her throat. A couple of crew members glance at her in mild confusion. She narrows her eyes.
TRINA
Fine. You don't appreciate talent. But you will.
She stomps onboard.
BACK AT FIRST CLASS BOARDING:
TANYA MCQUOID stumbles behind, clutching a bottle of Chardonnay like a rosary.
TANYA
(slurring)
I don't know what's happening, but I love boats. Are there gays on this one? They always plan the best murders, uh, I mean parties.
TRISHA PAYTAS is live-streaming as she walks up the gangway, wearing a Titanic-era cosplay dress but in neon pink.
TRISHA
(crying, mid-stream,)
Oh my god, this is literally like Titanic but, like—I'm so scared of water, you guys—
LADY RAVEN, a pop sensation, glides through dramatically.
HRH COLLECTION (ALEXANDRA PEARCE) storms through, screaming into her phone. She is wearing an oversized designer blazer, huge sunglasses, and carrying a ridiculous amount of jewelry on her arms.
She is clutching her tiny, fluffy white dog, MING, stuffed inside a luxury designer tote. Ming's wide, slightly confused eyes dart around, as if silently begging for help.
Her ASSISTANT is pushing her baby LILETTE BIJOU JONBENET PEARCE in a stroller.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming)
THIS BOAT IS FULL OF BROKE PEOPLE! I NEED SECURITY! GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU BROKE LITTLE RATS! I swear, everyone here is a little broke rat.
The bellboy looks visibly nervous as she walks by swinging around her emotional support brush. Ming lets out the tiniest snort. HRH Collection gasps.
HRH COLLECTION
SEE?! EVEN MING THINKS YOU'RE BROKE!
THEWIZARDLIZ enters in a black fur coat, swiping at peasants like they're mere dust.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(to the same bellboy)
You breathe near me, you're FIRED. This is my boundary.
ANDREW TATE is escorted in, surrounded by a HORDE OF BALD HENCHMEN and VAGUE EASTERN EUROPEAN WOMEN.
ANDREW
(sneering at a woman in 3rd class)
If you can't afford first class, you DESERVE to be poor. The world is a game of chess. I AM A KING.
The WOMAN rolls her eyes and walks away.
ELON MUSK is trying to buy the boat mid-boarding.
ELON
(tweeting mid-stride)
"Just bought the ocean. It's mid."
A party bus full of college football players pulls up. NATE JACOBS and RAFE CAMERON are already fist-fighting for no reason.
NATE
(shoving Rafe)
YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BE A PSYCHO, BRO.
RAFE
YOU WANNA SEE PSYCHO?! I'LL SHOW YOU PSYCHO.
DENISE HEMPHILL storms into frame in full fake-police swagger: aviators, badge lanyard, chunky boots, and a taser she definitely already fired by accident.
DENISE
(shouting)
Uh uh! Not today! I just got this wig set and I am not dodging punches.
She swings her nightstick with righteous force. She cracks it once in the air for punctuation. The boys board the ship.
TRACKING SHOT: A stewardess near the gangway, CAYETANA GRAJERA PANDO, runs up. She is dressed in a crisp employee uniform with dreams of wearing something more, willing to do anything to do so.
CAYETANA
Sorry I'm late.
MICAH
No worries princess. I was late too.
Kai clears his throat way too quiet for anyone to hear.
KYLE SCHEIBLE, the human embodiment of pretentious indifference, straggles behind like he's being forced to attend a social event he's morally opposed to.
KYLE
(scoffing)
This whole thing is, like, a grotesque display of late-stage capitalism.
Kai hesitantly steps forward.
KAI
Sir, you can't smoke—
Kyle blows a puff of smoke directly into the air, completely ignoring Kai.
He pulls out a dog-eared copy of Infinite Jest from his pocket, flipping it open casually as he drags his suitcase behind him with minimal effort.
Cayetana overhears him. She watches him with intrigue. Because Cayetana is not just an employee. She wants to be rich. She wants to be in first class. She wants a life filled with luxury, wealth, and the kind of carelessness only the rich are allowed to have. And Kyle, despite his whole "I hate wealth" aesthetic, still comes from money. He is exactly the kind of person who doesn't care about privilege because he's never had to. And that? That is attractive.
Kyle glances at her, barely looking up from his book.
KYLE
David Foster Wallace would've thought this whole thing was hilarious.
She swoons. Kyle smirks, flicking his cigarette to the ground before walking aboard.
A few moments later, ROSS LYNCH strolls in. He's dressed like a man who just came from a surf photoshoot and didn't have time to change.
Cayetana approaches him.
CAYETANA
Welcome to the Gilded Waves. First time on a luxury cruise?
Ross grins.
ROSS
Nah, but it's the first time I've been on one where I'm not getting stalked by teenage girls. Feels good.
He walks up the ramp, oblivious to the fact that half the influencers onboard have already started thirst-tweeting about him.
EXT. THE SECOND CLASS DECK - DAY
SMOKECHEDDATHEASSGETTA enters.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(hyping himself up)
Y'all, I'm about to drop a HOT track on this cruise. It's called "Titanic But Make It Trap."
QUEN BLACKWELL is filming a TikTok and dancing her way onto the ship with ALEX CONSANI, both dressed like fashion baddies.
QUEN
I'M ON A BOAT, BITCHES! WATCH ME WERK—
Quen almost trips but keeps dancing. A RANDOM PASSENGER walks by Alex with shock.
RANDOM PASSENGER
Oh my God is that Hunter Schafer?
ALEX
It's the fact that you guys think I'm Jules from Euphoria like bitch do you not know we're the same person?
Quen suddenly gasps, pointing.
QUEN
OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THAT OLD MAN. HE LOOKS LIKE A MYSTERIOUS MILLIONAIRE WITH A SECRET.
Alex turns dramatically.
ALEX
Wait, I wanna marry him.
The MYSTERIOUS MILLIONAIRE (a confused elderly passenger) slowly shuffles away.
Alex sighs, pulling Quen onto the ship with her.
ALEX
Okay, whatever, let's just slay.
QUEN
I'm gonna find a rich husband and gaslight him immediately.
CHLOE FERRY from Geordie Shore storms onto the shore with her rhinestone suitcase.
CHLOE
(losing her mind for no reason, eyes wild)
I AM SO FOOKIN' ANGRY RIGHT NOW!
PEARL steps onto the ship with a crazed look in her eyes, wearing a makeshift costume of old Hollywood glamour. She is talking to no one.
PEARL
(dramatically, to an imaginary audience)
No! I'm a star! Please, I'm a star!
Denise Hemphill eyes her warily.
PEARL
(whispering, to herself)
I'll be famous. They'll all see. THEY'LL ALL SEE.
Pearl boards, humming an off-key show tune, and accidentally walks into Chanel Oberlin, who shrieks in disgust. Chanel storms up to the security guard, who unbeknownst to her is Denise.
CHANEL
(to the back of Denise's head, not knowing it's Denise)
I was literally just touched by a poor person. And not even a normal poor person. Like, a psychotic poor person.
Denise turns around.
DENISE
(turning around slowly)
Hold up. Chanel Oberlin?! What are you doing here white girl?
CHANEL
(freezing)
Denise?! What the fuck are you doing here after rubbing uglies with my man!
TERRI JOE floats onto the ship like a Southern Baptist Grim Reaper, clutching a Bible and a Red Solo Cup full of Dr. Pepper. She stares everyone down, immediately clocking the sin in the air. She won a church raffle to go on this cruise, but to her this is a missionary.
TERRI JOE
(pointing at Lady Raven)
Devil-worshippin' harlot hussy!
(to Elon Musk, squinting)
I don't trust you. Something ain't right. You look like an alien. And not one of God's.
She makes direct eye contact with TheWizardLiz, who refuses to look away. They stare in mutual battle mode, as if they're two ancient gods about to destroy the planet with sheer willpower.
TERRI JOE
Repent.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Get out, you are a clown.
Neither backs down.
INT. THE LOWER DECK - DAY
CHIP GIRL, one of the stewards, and her daughter LUCY, a little girl with existential wisdom, watch them board. Chip Girl puts a bag of chips on her head.
CHIP GIRL
I'm so crazy.
LUCY
(sighing)
What are they doing? Why are they like... ruining their lives? They can't do this. They just gotta work it through.
MARY ZHENG, the Guest Services Manager, walks around.
MARY
(throwing her hands up)
I know how to make fire, but nobody gives a fuck about that in the new era!
EXT. FIRST-CLASS DECK
AZEALIA BANKS arrives alone, dressed like a villain from an unreleased Matrix sequel, already typing furiously on her phone. The cruise staff doesn't even check her ticket. They know better.
AZEALIA
(to no one in particular)
If I get bed bugs on this raggedy-ass boat, I will personally set it on fire.
She storms up the gangway. Terri Joe rolls up to her.
TERRI JOE
(to Azealia Banks)
Demon spawn of Beelzebub himself!
AZEALIA
Bitch fuck off.
Behind her, CHARLI XCX and TROYE SIVAN arrive together, both wearing oversized sunglasses, both looking like they were ripped straight from the pages of a Balenciaga ad.
Charli hands her passport to the staff without looking at them.
CHARLI
So, like, is there a DJ on this thing? I need to know before I get locked in the middle of the ocean with these freaks.
Troye looks around, taking in the horrifying display of unchecked wealth and influencer delusion. He nudges Charli.
TROYE
Why do I feel like someone is going to die on this ship?
Charli shrugs, unbothered.
CHARLI
Yeah, but that's, like, kinda the vibe, no?
They both walk onboard.
A single leather-gloved hand emerges from the window, followed by a flash of glitter, latex, and avant-garde confusion.
It's JULIA FOX, stepping out of the car like she's walking the Met Gala carpet, even though this is literally just a boat. Her outfit is somehow made entirely out of recycled cruise tickets and melted-down security cameras, sculpted into an uncomfortably structured corset. She strides toward the gangway, sunglasses perched low on her nose.
Micah clears his throat.
MICAH
Welcome aboard the Gilded Waves. May I see your ticket?
Julia laughs softly, shaking her head.
JULIA
Oh, babe, I don't do tickets.
She keeps walking.
Kai and Micah are too stunned to stop her, watching her walk away. Kai knows that's Julia Fox.
A moment later, LovelyPeaches appears from nowhere, leaning toward Micah with a smirk.
LOVELYPEACHES
She just ate you up.
Before Micah can even process what just happened, PARIS HILTON steps out of her limo. She is glowing, radiant, effortlessly perfect, as if she has been bathed in golden light from birth. She lowers her oversized diamond-studded sunglasses, taking a slow, glamorous look at the ship. Then, she tilts her head and flips her hair.
PARIS
That's hot.
Kai stumbles forward, flustered.
KAI
Ms. Hilton, welcome aboard—
Paris waves a perfectly manicured hand and picks up her glass of champagne.
PARIS
I know.
She waltzes up the gangway like she personally owns the entire ocean. The ship practically bows to her presence.
Paris and Julia Fox make eye contact briefly. A long pause. Then, Julia nods approvingly.
JULIA
Wow. That was so editorial.
Paris flips her hair again.
PARIS
Duh.
A LUXURY STRETCH LIMO PULLS UP.
The doors swing open like the gates of hell, and stepping out, one-by-one, in slow motion, are:
BRANDI GLANVILLE (The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) – already tipsy, adjusting her massive sunglasses, ready to fight someone within the hour.
KANDI BURRUSS (The Real Housewives of Atlanta) – calm, collected, but internally ready to read everyone for filth.
NENE LEAKES (The Real Housewives of Atlanta) – iconic, immediately judging everyone.
TAMRA JUDGE (The Real Housewives of Orange County) – carrying enough drama to sink the ship herself.
LISA RINNA (The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills) – louder than the ship's foghorn, swinging her oversized designer bag, ready to stir up drama before the boat even departs.
SHEREE WHITFIELD (The Real Housewives of Atlanta) – serving high fashion and side-eyes, sipping from a custom water bottle labeled "Who Gon' Check Me, Boo?" as she scopes out her next frenemy.
Lisa immediately does a dramatic hair flip, wearing oversized sunglasses, a skintight animal-print jumpsuit, and carrying a bedazzled bag that says "OWN IT."
She poses like she's about to step onto a runway, even though she is literally just walking onto a boat.
LISA
(striking a pose)
HELLOOOOOOOOOO, SHIP OF WHORES!!!
The entire group turns.
Kandi puts her sunglasses down, deadpan.
KANDI
Girl, what?
Lisa does a full spin, basking in the attention.
LISA
I just feel like this is gonna be such a BEAUTIFUL trip! Right?! Right?!
KAI
Welcome to the SS Gilded Waves, ladies. May I—
Brandi cuts him off, dramatically waving her hand.
BRANDI
Where's the alcohol?
Kai holds out the champagne tray. Brandi and Lisa take one. Lisa drinks it and tosses it aside.
Tamra scoffs.
TAMRA
Jesus, Brandi. It's not even noon.
Brandi gives her the fakest smile in existence.
BRANDI
Aw. That's cute. Like your relevance.
Kandi chokes on a laugh. Sheree is in the back on the phone.
SHEREE
I'm sitting here and I'm about to tear the fuck up because I am not happy. I am not happy that you would do this to my mother.
KANDI
Oh, this trip is gonna be a mess.
NENE
Uh Uh. Not the career shade honey! To Sheree getting married again!
Nene looks behind to see Sheree still on the phone.
SHEREE
(on the phone)
When I say I am beyond pissed off. I'm not fucking playing. I'm fucking livid. Girl this is your business.
(hangs up)
That bitch ain't never coming in this motherfucker again!
The CEO of UnitedHealthcare, BRIAN THOMPSON, walks up the ramp, looking exactly like the kind of man who profits off of other people's suffering. He pulls out his phone and calls his assistant.
BRIAN
(on the phone)
Yeah, just make sure that claim doesn't go through. I don't care if she needs the surgery, tell her to start a GoFundMe.
He laughs and hangs up. A LIFELESS WAITRESS hands him a flute of champagne.
LIFELESS WAITRESS
Welcome aboard, Mr. Thompson.
Brian takes a sip and grimaces.
BRIAN
This tastes like someone poured it out of a can.
She smiles passive aggressively.
LIFELESS WAITRESS
That's because it was.
BRIAN
That is so unsanitary.
Brian scoffs and keeps walking.
From a few feet away, LUIGI MANGIONE watches him closely, adjusting the sleeves of his security uniform. He keeps his expression blank, but his eyes track Brian's every move. Luigi adjusts the ID badge hanging from his neck, listing him as part of the ship's security team. He checks the gun tucked inside his waistband.
BACK IN SECOND CLASS.
MATT RIFE struts onto the ship, scanning the crowd.
MATT
Oh, man. I've got, like, ten solid minutes of cruise ship material already.
A couple of people laugh. He smirks, doing the math in his head about whether this gig will get him canceled or get him a Netflix special.
MATT
Hey, quick question, is this boat, like, full of billionaires and deranged influencers, or—
He stops as he sees Andrew Tate, Elon Musk, and the WizardLiz all arguing about who is the most powerful person on the ship.
MATT
Oh. Got it.
He steps onboard, already drafting a stand-up set in his head.
CAPTAIN
(over PA system)
Ladies and gentlemen, this is a final boarding call. Welcome aboard SS Gilded Waves. Thank you all so much for attending the launch of our ultra-luxury cruise. Please note that our VIP passengers in first class will be dining on gold-infused caviar tonight, while third-class passengers will be given a single saltine cracker and a strong suggestion to stop being poor. Just kidding! There is no third class. Enjoy your stay!
LOVELYPEACHES runs up and tries to board.
The other SECURITY GUARD stops her immediately.
SECURITY GUARD
Ma'am, this is a luxury cruise. You don't have a reservation.
LovelyPeaches stares at him, confused, like she didn't just climb over a security fence to get here.
LOVELYPEACHES
Umm... I live here.
The guard squints at her.
SECURITY GUARD
You... live on the cruise ship?
LOVELYPEACHES
Yeah. Since birth.
She tries to walk past him, completely unfazed. The security guard steps in front of her, blocking her path.
SECURITY GUARD
Ma'am, you're not allowed on this ship.
LovelyPeaches slowly processes this information.
Then, she takes a deep breath... and SHRIEKS at full volume.
LOVELYPEACHES
THIS SHIP IS RACIST!!!
The entire dock goes silent for a beat.
The security guard panics. They are not equipped to deal with this kind of PR nightmare. The security guard whispers frantically into his earpiece to the assistant manager MARY ZHENG, then looks up, sweating.
SECURITY GUARD
What do I do?
MARY (V.O.)
Just give her a room. Just... put her somewhere far away from the other guests.
LovelyPeaches smirks in victory and sprints onto the ship and she cackles and giggles.
The last arrival arrives from a black car. The door opens, and LOTTIE MATTHEWS steps out. She is serene, effortlessly composed, radiating an aura of both peace and quiet unease. She adjusts her flowing, earth-toned designer wrap dress, her eyes scanning the ship like she's assessing its energy.
MICAH
Uh... welcome aboard, Ms. Matthews.
Lottie gives a soft, knowing smile, tilting her head slightly.
LOTTIE
(softly)
This ship... it has a pulse.
Micah blinks, unsure how to respond.
Lottie reaches out, gently touching the metal railing of the ship as if she's feeling its energy.
She closes her eyes briefly, breathing deeply.
MICAH
(under his breath)
Nutjob.
But Kai watches her. He understands her for some reason.
LOTTIE
(low, almost to herself)
Lets give It what it wants.
Lottie smiles, eerily calm.
INT. SHIP HALLWAY
LUCY, the tiny child with the wisdom of an ancient monk, walks around with the energy of someone who's seen too much for her age. She immediately clocks the vibes and lets out a deep sigh, the kind only a 7-year-old burdened by the weight of the world can make.
She walks past Trina Vega screaming at a crew member and past Azealia Banks threatening to throw HRH Collection overboard, before shaking her head.
She tugs at Troye Sivan's sleeve.
LUCY
(calmly, to Troye)
What are they doing? Why are they like... ruining their lives?
Troye, mid-flirt with Ross Lynch, looks down at her in confusion.
TROYE
Uh. Being rich?
Lucy sighs again. She's seen enough.
She walks away and finds the only sane people on the ship: Chips Girl and Mary Zheng.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GRAND BALLROOM – FIRST DINNER
The Grand Ballroom is an over-the-top display of class disparity. At the center of the room, an enormous chandelier hangs precariously, dripping in gold and probably worth more than the GDP of several countries.
At the front of the room, a long table is reserved for the ultra-elite—first-class guests, influencers, and billionaires who think they own the ocean itself. Due to some disorganization, some second-class guests are sitting at the table.
LovelyPeaches sits at the table as well and refuses to leave. DAVID ZASLAV, the fat cunt who bought HBO and ruined everything, stands behind her with his arms crossed, waiting for his seat. An ANNOYED WAITER tries to diffuse the situation.
ANNOYED WAITER
Ma'am, you are not first class.
LovelyPeaches swats him away and he tries to move her but she is planted in her seat, acting like a dumb animal who doesn't understand while eating with her hands. The waiter gives up and walks away.
Seated together at the head of the table are Andrew Tate, Elon Musk, and Brian Thompson.
ANDREW
The problem with society is that men aren't allowed to be men anymore. This boat? Full of weaklings. I could take control of this whole thing in under an hour.
ELON
Yeah, I've been thinking of launching my own cruise line. Fully self-sustaining. Would only allow verified accounts onboard.
BRIAN
Oh, absolutely. Have you considered making it a private healthcare vessel? Charge people for lifeboats? I mean, why should rescue be free?
Luigi Mangione watches Brian Thompson from the shadows, gripping a steak knife a little too tightly.
We move down the table to see HRH Collection, TheWizardLiz, and Trisha Paytas.
HRH COLLECTION
I literally can't believe I have to sit at the same table as you broke little rats. If you're not a CEO or a dictator, why are you even here?
THEWIZARDLIZ
Silence. You are a peasant in the grand scheme of life. I will not be engaging.
TRISHA
(crying)
Oh my god, you guys, I literally just realized this is exactly like the Titanic. Am I Rose? Am I, like... gonna die?!
Trisha sobs into a $400 napkin while Lady Raven remains completely unbothered, sipping her champagne.
Brian looks at Ming sticking out of HRH Collection's purse in disgust. Ming is just minding his own business.
BRIAN
Excuse me, but this is a fancy dinner. Can you get that dog out of here? Why did you bring your mangy mutt anyways?
HRH COLLECTION
Are you joking?! ARE YOU JOKING?! YOU UGLY FUCKING CUNT! WHY IS THE FUCKING SUN OUT TODAY? WHY DID IT GET DARK TONIGHT? WHY IS THIS WHITE? LIKE THESE KINDS OF COMMENTS, YOU JUST RUIN MY DAY LIKE ARE YOU THAT THICK LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHY DID I BRING MY DOG? UMM BECAUSE I AM LIVING AND THROUGH TIME HAIR GROWS! DON'T FUCKING RUN UP ON ME. DON'T. THAT'S HOW YOU GET YOURSELF HURT. I'M GONNA FUCKING SWING ON YOU. SO IRRITATING
(to Ming in a baby voice)
Right Ming? How can they tell me that I can't just bring my puppy dog to eat a salad and leave! Because adoodadhadhdafucking couldn't do it! That's what they said! They said we cannot do and do. But I told them I would do it. Cuz you're my pookie poo! You're my little angel.
(back to Brian yelling)
YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING COME UP TO ME BITCH AND TELL ME TO GET MY DOG OUTSIDE? IT'S FUCKING MING! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!
BRIAN
(taunting)
What is that your emotional support dog or something?
HRH COLLECTION
(exasperated)
You are so fucking evil. Why would you say that? I just wanna know why would you say that. Like don't speak to me! If you have a fucking problem, I don't know, just call the fucking cops I'd so much rather that! Don't speak to me. I came here to relax. I want you to leave me the motherfuck alone. That's it!
* * *
We move down more, seated together are Azealia Banks, Chanel Oberlin, London Tipton, and Paris Hilton.
AZEALIA
This steak is disgusting. Who do I have to fight to get a meal on this boat that doesn't taste like a White woman's Instagram recipe?
CHANEL
How about you fight your own career first?
AZEALIA
I will get you killed on this boat, sweetheart.
London Tipton claps excitedly.
LONDON
Yay! I love guilt!
Chanel throws her bread roll at London's forehead.
Paris smiles, flipping her hair.
PARIS
Jealousy is a disease. Get well soon.
Paris leans in toward London.
PARIS
Okay, babe, what's the vibe of this boat? I need to know if I should be, like, worried about getting Titanic'd.
London waves a hand dismissively.
LONDON
Oh, no, we're fine. If something happens, Daddy will send a helicopter for me.
Paris nods thoughtfully.
PARIS
That's hot.
Chanel waves over the Annoyed Waiter.
CHANEL
EXCUSE ME?! THIS CHAMPAGNE IS ROOM TEMPERATURE!
The Annoyed Waiter groans and rolls his eyes and walks over.
* * *
We move down to Ross Lynch and Matt Rife eating quietly, down to Trina Vega, SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta, and LovelyPeaches.
Ross is talking to a waiter like a normal person, while Matt is mentally writing a joke about how this entire cruise feels like a setup for a documentary about influencer failure.
SMOKECHEDDA
Yo, so like, is this free food? Or are we supposed to, like, tip the ocean?
TRINA
(to the waiter)
EXCUSE ME, CAN I HAVE A WHOLE CHICKEN? AND A SPOTLIGHT?
LOVELYPEACHES
I feel like I'm gonna fight someone tonight. Just for fun.
Matt Rife silently sips his drink, debating whether this cruise is his career's final resting place.
* * *
AT THE STAFF TABLE
Lucy, Chips Girl, and Mary Zheng sit in the smallest, least decorated section of the dining hall, eating what is essentially stale bread and mashed peas.
CHIPS GIRL
These people are actually insane.
LUCY
I don't understand why they do this to themselves. They could just... not.
MARY
I say we wait until one of the rich people gets murdered and take their suite.
The three clink glasses of tap water.
CAPTAIN
(over the intercom)
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your first dinner aboard the SS Gilded Waves. Please enjoy your meal!
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
* * *
Charli XCX leans over to Troye Sivan. Lady Raven sips her wine casually. Quen and Alex converse.
CHARLI
Wait... is this wine giving brat?
TROYE
Oh my god.
QUEN
Y'all, this room is giving survivor's guilt.
ALEX
Did you pray today? Did you pray today?
And then, Julia Fox makes her entrance.
She waltzes into the dining hall like she's about to deliver a TED Talk on the collapse of civilization. She doesn't walk to the first-class table so much as float toward it, her heels clicking dramatically against the marble floor.
HRH Collection is mid-rant about how this ship is full of broke rats, and Julia nods thoughtfully, as if taking notes for an art piece.
She slides into an empty chair between Charli XCX, Troye Sivan, and Lady Raven.
JULIA
(sipping champagne)
Wow. This is like... really decadent. It's giving... end-stage capitalism.
CHARLI XCX
It is, right?
JULIA
Yeah, I mean, this feels historical. Like, if the Titanic had, like, a reboot. But make it, like, editorial.
Lady Raven, who has not spoken a single word all evening, finally turns to her.
LADY RAVEN
Are you a seer?
Julia just smirks knowingly and sips her champagne.
Across the room, Chanel Oberlin grimaces in disgust.
CHANEL
Why does she sound like a voice-over from an A24 film?
AZEALIA
Because she is one.
Chanel tosses her napkin onto the table and dramatically stands up.
CHANEL
I need to go throw up somewhere expensive.
* * *
At a table separate long table from the influencers, billionaires, and unhinged socialites, a rowdy group of college football players sits hunched over plates stacked with steak and potatoes.
They are on this cruise for the coach's annual "Leadership Summit" designed to make them "better men"—but in reality, it's just a paid vacation for their coaches and an excuse to let them terrorize a floating city with their unchecked egos.
At the center of the chaos, Nate leans forward aggressively, face already red, while Rafe, who has been drinking since noon, slouches back in his chair with the smug confidence of a man who has absolutely nothing to lose.
NATE
You're such a joke, bro. You don't even deserve to be on this team.
RAFE
(laughs, taking a swig of his drink)
Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you're the head coach now.
The other football players watch with a mix of amusement and discomfort, knowing that these two have thrown punches over less.
One of them, JORDAN, the peacemaker who always ends up in the middle of everything, leans in, trying to defuse the situation.
JORDAN
Come on, man, we're supposed to be here for "leadership training."
NATE
(mocking)
Yeah, okay, what exactly are we leading when we have a cokehead on our team?
Rafe grins, clearly unfazed.
RAFE
You're just mad because my stats are better than yours.
NATE
Oh yeah? How many scholarship offers did you get, Rafe? Huh? 'Cause I got four.
RAFE
(laughing)
That's cute. How many of those schools knew you were a psycho with daddy issues?
Nate lunges across the table, grabbing Rafe by the collar.
The table explodes into chaos. Players scramble to pull them apart, but Nate and Rafe are full-on wrestling on the table now, knocking over plates, drinks, and an entire breadbasket.
Another waiter, LUKE ABERCROMBIE, rushes forward, horrified.
LUKE
Sir, please! This is a formal dinner!
The COACH, a toxic masculinity macho man in his mid-40s, doesn't even look up from his drink.
COACH
Let 'em get it out of their system.
Meanwhile, across the room, Chanel Oberlin watches with disgust.
CHANEL
Can someone get these Neanderthals out of my sight?
Azealia Banks, without looking up, takes a sip of her drink.
AZEALIA
They should just kill each other already.
ALEX
(giggling under her breath)
Or fuck.
Kyle Scheible gets up to escape the loud football players. He's not even a football player. He just joined the team to go on this trip to get out of school. He finds a spot near HRH Collection.
HRH Collection eyes Kyle's book with disgust.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my God. Are you seriously reading a book? That's so broke.
Kyle doesn't even look up.
KYLE
The real flex is having a rich dad and still choosing to be a Marxist.
HRH Collection chokes on her drink.
HRH COLLECTION
I cannot stand this communist bullshit. Did you know BLM is Marxism!
Suddenly, a booming voice crackles over the ballroom's speakers. This is basically the head of the ship. KATE CHASTAIN.
KATE (V.O.)
Gentlemen. If you continue to behave like animals, I will personally throw you overboard. And I mean that.
The entire room falls silent for a moment.
Nate and Rafe freeze mid-grapple, still locked in a wrestling match over a plate of filet mignon.
Nate glares at the ceiling, as if he can fight the disembodied voice of the captain himself.
Rafe, still smirking, leans back and adjusts his shirt like nothing happened.
RAFE
Fine. I was done with him anyway.
The football team slowly sits back down, adjusting their clothes like they weren't just brawling in the middle of a luxury dinner.
Across the room, TheWizardLiz shakes her head in disappointment.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Men are such clowns.
A beat.
LovelyPeaches throws her entire steak.
* * *
We move to the table of The Real Housewives.
Brandi Glanville leans forward, swirling her wine glass, eyes locked onto Lisa Rinna.
BRANDI
(smirking)
Let's talk about the husband.
Lisa Rinna looks up from her drink, her entire face shifting into pure rage.
LISA
(raging)
Don't bring up my husband.
Lisa Rinna SUDDENLY SLAMS HER WINE GLASS INTO THE TABLE, SHATTERING IT. Some housewives SCREAM. Lisa LUNGES AT BRANDI.
LISA
YOU DON'T BRING UP MY HUSBAND!!!
Nene Leakes puts her fork down, fully invested.
NENE
Oooooh, chile, here we go.
Kandi Burruss takes a sip of her drink, waiting for the explosion.
Tamra Judge smirks, enjoying the tension.
TAMRA
Brandi, you're about to get your ass beat.
Brandi shrugs, unfazed. Lisa grabs a butter knife off the table, waving it wildly.
NENE
OH, SHE DONE LOST HER MIND!!!
LISA
I'LL CUT A BITCH!!!
The waiters finally pry her away, dragging her back into her seat.
Sheree laughs wryly.
SHEREE
You guys are killing me.
Brandi takes a slow sip of her wine.
BRANDI
I'm just saying... if it wasn't true, you wouldn't be this mad.
Lisa tries to lunge AGAIN, but Kandi SLAMS her hand on the table.
KANDI
ENOUGH.
A pause.
The table goes silent. Even Lisa freezes.
Kandi leans in, her voice low, intense.
KANDI
We're on a boat. In public.
She glances around dramatically.
Lisa flips her hair, adjusting her posture.
LISA
Fine. I won't kill her. Tonight.
Brandi laughs, raising her glass.
BRANDI
Cheers, bitches.
They clink glasses as if Lisa hadn't just tried to commit assault with a butter knife.
* * *
Lottie sits at her own little table, watching everything unfold with eerie stillness.
LOTTIE
(low, unsettling)
It's happening again.
The lifeless waitress, hearing this, pauses.
LIFELESS WAITRESS
I'm sorry... what?
Lottie slowly looks up at her.
She smiles—calm, serene, but deeply unnerving.
LOTTIE
The ship. The people. The energy.
She traces the rim of her glass.
LOTTIE
(softly)
They don't realize it yet.
* * *
At the next table, Terri Joe sits ramrod straight, her Bible clutched so tightly her knuckles are turning white. She's glaring at everyone around her like they are agents of Satan.
Pearl, who has been silently smiling for the past fifteen minutes, sits across from her, rocking slightly in her chair, looking like she's either going to start crying or commit a murder.
Tanya McQuoid, drunk off God-knows-how-many glasses of wine, twirls her straw in her daiquiri and stares blankly at her plate. She is not fully present.
And finally, Chloe Ferry, who has already spilled her drink twice, is talking loudly over everyone and gesturing wildly, her acrylic nails threatening to take out someone's eye.
CHLOE
I shoulda kept my moof closed!
Terri Joe, who has been side-eyeing Pearl since the moment she sat down, clears her throat dramatically.
TERRI JOE
Now listen here, missy. I can just tell by lookin' at you that you have a demon in your spirit.
Pearl, still smiling, tilts her head like a malfunctioning animatronic.
PEARL
Why do you say that?
TERRI JOE
Because you're sittin' there all quiet... and you're givin' me the devil's eyes.
Pearl's smile widens unsettlingly.
PEARL
You think I have the devil in me?
She lets out a small, breathy giggle, then picks up a butter knife and begins scraping it back and forth on her plate slowly.
PEARL
Oh, that's funny... 'cause sometimes, I think I do too.
Terri Joe makes the sign of the cross so fast she almost sprains her wrist.
TERRI JOE
Lord, deliver us from the horrors of this demon child.
Pearl keeps scraping the knife across the plate.
SCRAAAAAPE. SCRAAAAPE.
Meanwhile, Tanya McQuoid is halfway through her fourth daiquiri and staring at nothing.
TANYA
(suddenly)
I just realized something.
Everyone turns to her.
TANYA
(squinting)
This ship... is too nice.
TERRI JOE
What in tarnation are you talkin' about, lady?
Tanya gestures dramatically with her straw.
TANYA
It's just... too fancy. It's got, like, that... overcompensation vibe. You know, like when a man with a small...you know... buys a big car?
Chloe Ferry, who has not been paying attention at all, suddenly slams her drink down.
CHLOE
OH MY GOD, YEAH! THIS BOAT IS A PROPER LIAR!
Everyone stares at her.
TERRI JOE
A... what?
CHLOE
A LIAR! Like, it's tryin' too hard! Somethin' is off! I SWEAR IT!
She pounds her fist on the table, knocking over an entire bottle of wine. The waiter watching from afar physically winces. Tanya leans in close to Chloe, nodding seriously.
TANYA
You get it.
They clink glasses.
Terri Joe shakes her head aggressively, gripping her Bible even tighter.
TERRI JOE
I don't know what kinda satanic nonsense I done walked into, but I'm tellin' y'all right now. If this boat sinks, it's 'cause God is cleansin' the filth off this here planet.
Pearl giggles.
PEARL
I hope it does.
Terri Joe gasps so hard she nearly passes out.
The annoyed waiter slowly approaches, trembling.
ANNOYED WAITER
Uh, ladies... any dessert?
Pearl tilts her head even further, unsettlingly calm.
PEARL
Do you have pie?
WAITER
Yes, we have apple, peach—
PEARL
I want the peach one.
LovelyPeaches, who is seated at a different table, suddenly whips her head around.
LOVELYPEACHES
What?
Pearl giggles again, twirling her fork between her fingers.
The waiter steps backward cautiously and leaves.
* * *
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – BRIDGE – CAPTAIN'S OFFICE
A well-appointed room adjacent to the Bridge, featuring navigation charts, a polished desk, and understated nautical décor. The soft hum of equipment underscores the ship's steady voyage.
A NERVOUS STEWARD stands in front of him, fidgeting with his cap.
NERVOUS STEWARD
Uh, Captain... we may have a situation.
We finally meet the CAPTAIN. He sits at the head of the bridge, reclined in his leather chair with the energy of a man who has seen far too much bullshit to be impressed by anything.
CAPTAIN
Bring it to Kate.
He runs to guest services frantically.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GUEST SERVICES - KATE'S OFFICE
KATE CHASTAIN, no-nonsense, immaculate, poised, and holding a clipboard like it's a weapon. A glass of something strong sits beside her on the control panel, because navigating this ship full of lunatics requires more than just nautical skill—it requires a high tolerance for nonsense. Because of her personality, the captain has given her a PA system to make any necessary announcements.
Kate raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from her drink.
NERVOUS STEWARD
Uh, Kate... we may have a situation.
KATE
Oh my god these fucking influencers. Just one?
NERVOUS STEWARD
Well... we've already had two fights in the ballroom. Security had to pull Nate Jacobs off Rafe Cameron. Again.
Kate takes a slow sip of her drink.
KATE
(sarcastically)
Huh. Never would have seen that coming.
NERVOUS STEWARD
And there's... a woman throwing dinner rolls at people's heads.
KATE
(smirking)
Chanel Oberlin?
NERVOUS STEWARD
LovelyPeaches.
Kate lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples.
KATE
I've served Leonardo DiCaprio. I didn't get into yachting to serve Snooki and her escort friends cheeseburgers.
NERVOUS STEWARD
And someone—uh, a Julia Fox—has been making cryptic comments about how this ship feels like "the Titanic reboot."
KATE
Okay, well, she's not wrong.
Kate finally leans forward, pressing a button on the intercom.
KATE
(over intercom)
Attention, passengers of the SS Gilded Waves. I would like to personally remind you that we are in the middle of the goddamn ocean. That means no fighting, no throwing things at people's heads, and no predicting maritime disasters out loud. If you die, we are legally required to fill out paperwork, and that is my personal nightmare. So please, for the love of expensive booze and my own sanity, act like functioning adults. That is all.
She clicks off the intercom and immediately downs the rest of her drink.
NERVOUS STEWARD
Do you want us to actually do anything about the situation?
Kate thinks for a moment, then waves a dismissive hand.
KATE
Eh. Let it simmer for a bit. We'll see who makes it through dinner. Once this cruise isn't filled with engagement bait and we're back to the normal rich people, things will be a lot fucking easier.
She kicks her feet back up on the console, completely unbothered.
* * *
INT. SS GILDED WAVES - STAFF KITCHEN
The annoyed waiter enters and throws his smock down.
ANNOYED WAITER
I'm fucking over this job.
The annoyed waiter storms to the break room. The lifeless waitress looks up at him and pops her bubblegum and then goes back onto her phone.
Luigi, on his break eating, sits next to LUKE ABERCROMBIE, a chronically crackheaded waiter, is mid-rant, speaking at 1.5x speed like a human podcast on fast-forward.
LUKE
What the fuck was that about?
Luigi barely looks up, still focused on his gun.
LUKE
ANYWAYS, one time I lived in a haunted Airbnb and I didn't realize until like three days in when all my socks started disappearing only from my left foot.
Luigi blinks slowly.
LUIGI
What the fuck are you talking about?
LUKE
Dude. I don't even know.
Luke takes an enormous gulp from a cracked Monster Energy can and starts vibrating slightly.
LUIGI
How many of those have you had today?
Luke counts on his fingers but gets distracted halfway through.
LUKE
Idk, like... some? But it's fine, I can totally handle it, my body is, like, 90% caffeine and bad decisions at this point. Like if I ever stopped drinking energy drinks I think my organs would just implode.
Luigi rubs his temples.
LUIGI
I should kill you instead.
LUKE
Okay, first of all, wow. Homophobic. Second of all, what's with the gun, huh? Huh?? WHO YOU KILLING, LUIGI??
LUIGI
You ask too many questions.
LUKE
Okay, but like, you can tell me. I'm a safe space.
LUIGI
You? A safe space?
LUKE
Yeah, babe. I'm basically a human therapy dog, except instead of helping people, I make their anxiety worse.
LIFELESS WAITRESS
My break is over.
She leaves.
Luigi sighs, rubbing his forehead like he has an actual migraine forming.
LUIGI
I'm taking care of some business. Maybe tonight. You didn't hear anything.
Luke leans in dramatically and gasps.
LUKE
Are you killing someone?
Luigi stares at him.
LUKE
Oh my god, you are. Babe, that's so hot of you.
Luigi leans back in his chair, slightly unnerved.
LUIGI
...You're weird.
LUKE
THANK YOU. I've been saying that!!
Luke suddenly grabs his phone, flips the camera on, and starts filming a chaotic vlog with zero warning.
LUKE
(to camera)
WHAT'S UP Y'ALL, I'M ON A CRUISE WITH MURDEROUS INTENTIONS, THE GAYS ARE THRIVING, THE ENERGY DRINKS ARE FLOWING, AND I THINK I'M ABOUT TO UNCOVER A CONSPIRACY THEORY. LET'S GET INTO IT.
Luigi grabs Luke's phone and tosses it across the room.
LUIGI
ARE YOU CRAZY?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!
Luke grins like this is a compliment.
LUKE
Aw. That's so sweet. Okay but like hypothetically speaking, if you were like, say, I don't know, planning something highly illegal, would you like, I don't know, maybe need an assistant? Like not even in like a serial killer crime way, just in like a supportive bestie way??
Luigi doesn't look up, still polishing the blade.
LUIGI
No. I have one target. One. That's it.
Luke leans forward aggressively, jittery from what is clearly an unholy combination of caffeine, anxiety, and sheer chaotic energy.
LUKE
Okaaaaay but like let's circle back to that 'cause you didn't say never, you just said no. And no is temporary but never is forever, you feel me?
(beat)
So you are trying to kill someone!!
LUIGI
I didn't say that.
LUKE
You didn't not say it.
Luigi grits his teeth.
LUIGI
It's one person. And trust me, he deserves it.
Luke gasps like a housewife on a reality show.
LUKE
Oooooh, wait, is this like a Batman thing? Are you like, a vigilante assassin? Because that's, like, lowkey sexy.
Luigi stares at him, fully regretting every decision that led him to this conversation.
LUIGI
It's not sexy.
LUKE
I mean, like, respectfully, it kinda is.
Luke leans forward, still vibrating.
LUKE
So like... can I help?
Luigi looks up.
LUIGI
...You know what? Maybe.
Luke gasps dramatically.
LUKE
WAIT REALLY?? OH MY GOD, THIS IS JUST LIKE THE TIME I ACCIDENTALLY GOT INVOLVED IN A PYRAMID SCHEME BUT WITH, LIKE, MURDER.
Luigi groans, instantly regretting this.
LUKE
Like, honestly, slay.
LUIGI
...Don't say that.
LUKE
What? It's a compliment. So who are we slaying?
Cayetana casually enters, cutting him off.
CAYETANA
I've covered up a murder before.
A beat.
Luke suddenly freezes mid-vibration, eyes going wide.
LUKE
Wait. What?
Luigi slowly turns to face her.
Cayetana leans against the counter, completely unbothered, adjusting her uniform like she just dropped the weather forecast instead of a felony confession.
CAYETANA
I hid the murder weapon. Got away with it.
Luke gasps like a reality TV contestant who just heard the biggest tea of their life.
LUKE
OH MY GOD—SLAY.
LUIGI
(ignoring Luke)
...You covered up a murder?
CAYETANA
Not mine.
She flicks a piece of lint off her sleeve, her voice eerily calm.
CAYETANA
It was the man I loved. I went into the ocean and got it for him.
Luke places a shaky hand over his chest, dramatically gasping.
LUKE
Oh my god. That's literally so romantic. Like in Britney's music video.
Luigi glares at him.
LUIGI
It's literally not.
Cayetana ignores both of them, stepping closer, studying Luigi's gun and the knife he's been polishing.
CAYETANA
So. Who's the target?
Luigi narrows his eyes.
LUIGI
Why do you care?
Cayetana tilts her head slightly, like she's evaluating him.
CAYETANA
Because you clearly have no idea what you're doing. You need me if you wanna get away with it.
Luke chokes on his Monster Energy drink.
LUKE
Babe. Drag him.
LUIGI
I know exactly what I'm doing.
Cayetana raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
CAYETANA
Oh, really? And when's the last time you covered up a crime scene and made sure it didn't lead back to you?
Luigi pauses.
LUKE
(leaning in)
Babe, she got you there.
LUIGI
STOP CALLING ME BABE.
LUKE
Okay but like bestie, listen—
Cayetana waves a hand dismissively, bringing the conversation back on track.
CAYETANA
Look. If you really want to pull this off, you need someone who knows how to clean up after.
She gives him a knowing look.
CAYETANA
Lucky for you, I do. You don't have to trust me. But if you want to succeed, you're going to need help.
LUKE
She's right. You wouldn't wanna get caught in like a McDonalds or something.
LUIGI
Fine.
Cayetana nods.
Luke fist pumps.
LUKE
OH MY GOD WE'RE DOING MURDER.
LUIGI
Stop saying that.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GRAND BALLROOM – THE SOIRÉE
The ballroom has been transformed into an opulent, over-the-top party straight out of a fever dream.
At the front of the room, Lady Raven stands on stage, cloaked in black velvet and sheer drama, bathed in dim blue lighting. She grips the microphone with deliberate intensity, her voice a deep, haunting wail that echoes through the hall.
Her song is a slow, eerie ballad, something that feels like it should be played during a sacrificial ritual under a blood moon.
LADY RAVEN
(singing, eyes closed)
"The tide is coming... the end is near..."
For a moment, everyone is entranced.
Even the richest, drunkest, most oblivious passengers pause, half-seduced, half-disturbed by her voice.
At a corner table, SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA takes a long, slow drag from a blunt, exhaling smoke like he's conducting his own personal music video.
He watches Lady Raven sing, nodding sagely.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Yo, this lowkey slaps.
The housewives strut into the ballroom like it's a Bravo reunion special. They are loud, fabulous, and already a little tipsy.
Lisa Rinna pauses dramatically, taking in the scene.
LISA
Oh my god. Is this a funeral or a party?
Brandi snorts, sipping her wine.
BRANDI
Maybe both.
Tamra points at Lady Raven.
TAMRA
Why is she singing like she's summoning Satan?
Nene Leakes crosses her arms, unimpressed.
NENE
Chile, if I wanted to be depressed, I'd look at my tax return.
Kandi Burruss sips her drink, watching the performance with deep suspicion.
KANDI
I don't trust this. She's singing like she knows something we don't.
* * *
At a table near the edge of the dance floor, Rafe Cameron, Charli XCX, and Azealia Banks are huddled together, whispering intensely.
RAFE
Yo, is this shit good or, like, good good?
Azealia Banks, already halfway through chopping up a line on a compact mirror, snorts loudly.
AZEALIA
Bitch, this is rich people cocaine. Of course it's good.
CHARLI XCX
(buzzing)
This feels like one of those nights where I make a bad decision that turns into a good song.
RAFE
Same, except replace "good song" with "criminal record."
AZEALIA
Oh, I like you white boy twink.
RAFE
What the fuck does that mean?
They all lean down and snort in unison like some cursed Wall Street ritual.
Rafe leans back in his chair, eyes wide.
RAFE
Holy fuck. I can see sound.
CHARLI
Vibe shift initiated.
Troye Sivan, lounging at the bar like a sensual cryptid, uncaps a bottle of poppers and takes a deep inhale. His pupils immediately dilate.
TROYE
Ohhhhhh my GOD.
Ross Lynch, sipping a whiskey neat, watches curiously.
ROSS
Dude. What even is that?
Troye turns to him with serene intensity.
TROYE
Babe. It's freedom.
Ross raises an eyebrow.
ROSS
Okay but like... is it legal?
Troye laughs and takes another hit.
TROYE
Literally? No. Spiritually? Yes.
Ross hesitates, but Troye leans in close, eyes glinting mischievously.
TROYE
It's legal in LA technically. C'mon. Try it. It'll make your brain feel like a neon sign.
Ross considers for a moment. He's already two drinks deep, and peer pressure is a hell of a drug. He grabs the bottle and takes a deep inhale.
A beat.
ROSS
Oh my god, I think my spine just left my body.
TROYE
Exactly.
They both dissolve into laughter, leaning against each other for support.
Meanwhile, across the room, Julia Fox watches them approvingly from a distance, sipping champagne.
JULIA
(lazily)
Wow. That's so editorial.
As Lady Raven holds a dramatic final note, suddenly—
BAM!
The microphone stand is yanked away.
The lights shift violently, and now, standing center stage in a glittering, ill-advised cocktail dress, is Trina Vega.
The band falters, confused. Lady Raven steps back slowly, eyes narrowing in silent, dignified rage.
Trina does not care.
TRINA
(singing, eyes wild)
"CHICAGO! CHICAGO! IT'S A CITY THAT'S EXCITING!"
Some of the audience collectively recoils, but some of the audience is vibing for real.
Terri Joe makes the sign of the cross.
Trina is giving it everything. Her arms flail dramatically. Her vocals defy all known musical laws.
Despite the chaotic energy radiating from the stage, London Tipton is in her own world. She flings hundred-dollar bills into the air at Trina like she's in a rap video, screaming joyfully.
LONDON
YAY ME!!!
The waitstaff quietly collect the money, knowing it's their only hope of fair compensation.
At the bar, HRH COLLECTION is having a full-blown meltdown. She shakes a glass of champagne in the annoyed waiter's face, her voice shrill, manic, and fueled by unchecked rage.
HRH COLLECTION
This tastes poor. What the fuck is this?!
The waiter, who has been dealing with unhinged rich people all night, does not blink.
ANNOYED WAITER
It's Dom Pérignon, ma'am.
HRH COLLECTION
NO IT'S NOT. It's fucking sparkling piss. I could make better champagne by squeezing a water bottle over a diamond.
The annoyed waiter leaves, knowing this woman is beyond reason.
Nearby, LovelyPeaches has taken offense to something the ship's pianist did.
No one is entirely sure what happened.
All they know is that one moment, the pianist was playing background jazz, and the next, Peaches was trying to physically fight him.
LOVELYPEACHES
BITCH, YOU THOUGHT YOU WAS BEETHOVEN?! FUCKING FRAUD!
She lunges toward the piano, knocking over the sheet music. The pianist ducks, terrified.
Meanwhile, Tanya McQuoid is still staring at a painting of the ocean, completely disconnected from reality. She furrows her brow.
TANYA
(to herself)
That wave... looks familiar.
She gasps softly, stepping closer.
TANYA
Oh my god.
A beat.
TANYA
Did I fuck a sailor in a past life?
* * *
At the bar, Matt Rife is mid-rant, slightly tipsy, talking way too loud.
He's fully convinced that he's being hilarious.
MATT
Okay, but like, why do we have to tip waiters? Like, why don't they tip us for putting up with their bad service?
Across from him, Quen Blackwell slowly blinks. She sets her drink down.
QUEN
Matt. Babe. You wanna die on this boat?
Matt chuckles, shaking his head.
MATT
See, that's what I like about you, you get my humor—
QUEN
I don't.
MATT
No, no, no, see—
QUEN
Matt, shut the fuck up before someone yeets you off the side of this ship.
Matt closes his mouth. He takes a sip of his drink, rethinking his life choices.
Alex Consani struts over to Quen with drinks. She is wearing an oversized silk scarf over her head, huge sunglasses, and a bodysuit.
ALEX
So why nobody else dressed like a slut tonight?
MATT
What about me?
ALEX
Well....
QUEN
Bitch, I love you.
Alex adjusts her scarf, unbothered.
ALEX
I love me too.
They both start twerking to "Chicago" by Trina Vega.
ALEX
THIS IS A BOP GIRL!
TRINA
(singing, thrashing dramatically)
"IT'S A CITY THAT'S EXCITING IT'S A CITY THAT'S INVITING IT'S A CITY FOR A WOMAN JUST LIKE MEEEEE!"
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my god, this is so off-pitch I think I just lost money.
Terri Joe mutters a prayer.
TERRI JOE
Lord, smite this woman before she curses the entire ship.
At the side of the stage, Pearl stands eerily still, hands clasped, her head slightly tilted, watching Trina like a cat watching a wounded bird. She blinks slowly. She smiles. Then, with the grace of a sociopathic ballerina, she steps onto the stage.
Trina doesn't notice. Pearl tilts her head even further—too far. Unsettlingly far. Then— BAM!
Pearl shoves Trina with both hands. Trina goes flying. A piercing, dramatic shriek rips through the ballroom as Trina topples off the stage, limbs flailing like a broken marionette.
TRINA
(mid-fall, still singing)
"CHICAGOOOOOOOO"
She crashes into a table, knocking over plates, glasses, and a tower of champagne flutes.
Silence.
Sheree looks around clapping.
SHEREE
Definitely I thought it was fun. I liked the beat. So...
Then—Pearl starts dancing.
She moves like she's in a silent film, fluid, haunting, her hands twisting in eerie, elegant shapes.
Her feet glide unnaturally across the stage like she's floating, her body jerking in strange yet mesmerizing ways.
Rafe Cameron, mid-cocaine hit, whispers to Charli XCX.
RAFE
I think I just saw God.
CHARLI XCX
That's just the drugs, babe.
ALEX
Nah. She's serving.
MATT
What is this, the audition round for America's Next Top Breakdown?
A beat.
The room goes silent.
Pearl freezes mid-spin. Her face contorts. Her eyes fill with instant, burning tears. Her lower lip quivers.
Then—
She bursts into full-blown, guttural sobs. She drops to her knees on stage, clutching her chest like she's just been stabbed through the heart.
PEARL
NO!!! NO, I'M A STAR!
HRH Collection rolls her eyes.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my god, here we go.
PEARL
(screaming, clawing at the floor)
I'M A STAR! PLEASE! I'M A STAR!
She sobs hysterically, tears streaking her heavily powdered face, her voice hitting a pitch that makes a few guests visibly recoil.
Tanya McQuoid gasps, clasping her hands to her chest.
TANYA
Oh no... I think she's me.
Back in the chaos, Trina Vega, still collapsed on the floor from being pushed offstage, lifts her head, furious.
TRINA
Oh, so now she gets sympathy?! I FELL ON A TABLE.
But no one is listening.
Luigi and Denise rush onto the stage, like they're trying to approach a wounded animal that might attack.
DENISE
(shouting)
OH HELL NO.
Pearl whips her head toward Denise, her expression suddenly eerily calm, like a switch has flipped.
PEARL
(softly)
Do you believe in me?
DENISE
Girl, if it means you'll stop acting crazy then yes.
PEARL
What about you handsome?
LUIGI
Uhhh...
Pearl's face immediately contorts back into devastation.
PEARL
NOOOOOO! PLEASE, I'M A STAR!
She flails dramatically, making it insanely difficult for them to pick her up.
DENISE
Girl, if you claw me one more time!
The audience watches in a mix of horror and secondhand embarrassment as the guards drag her, kicking and screaming, off the stage.
LovelyPeaches takes this moment to throw a glass at the piano player.
Through the chaos of it all, Micah grabs a bottle of champagne from behind the bar.
KAI
(to Micah)
What are you doing?
Micah just smirks and sneaks off.
London Tipton, still tossing money into the air, briefly pauses.
LONDON
(cheerfully)
YAY PEARL!
Pearl clutches at the curtains, desperately grabbing onto them as she's hauled toward the exit. Her wails echo through the ballroom.
PEARL
(tears streaming)
I COULD HAVE BEEN GREAT!
LUIGI
(awkwardly)
Yeah, uh-huh.
PEARL
SHOULD'VE BEEN ME!
She disappears through the exit, her sobs still audible from the hallway.
A single bread roll rolls across the floor.
Then, without missing a beat—
LOVELYPEACHES
OKAY NOW THAT THAT'S OVER, YOU STILL GOT ME FUCKED UP!!!
She lunges at the pianist and decks him.
* * *
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – THE DECK – NIGHT
Lottie Matthews sits at a window, quietly watching the madness unfold.
The deck is eerily quiet compared to the inside. The ocean is vast, endless, dark. The moonlight reflects off the waves, creating an unsettling glow.
Sitting alone on a lounge chair, completely detached from the ship's chaos, reading a battered copy of Infinite Jest is Kyle.
Lottie approaches slowly. Kyle doesn't look up. He turns a page, smirking to himself.
KYLE
(scoffing, to himself)
God, Foster Wallace was a genius.
Lottie looks at him interested.
LOTTIE
Why aren't you at the party?
KYLE
(smirking)
God, people are so brainwashed by modern distractions. I don't even have a phone anymore.
Lottie slowly turns her head to him.
LOTTIE
You're holding one right now. What would happen if you just put the book down?
Kyle shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
LOTTIE
It's just a book.
She looks out at the ocean.
LOTTIE
It's waking up. You feel it now, don't you? It's here with us now. I think you're the only other one here who could hear it Kyle. The others can't quiet their minds.
Lottie closes her eyes for a brief moment, as if listening.
Then—she simply turns and walks away, leaving Kyle sitting there, gripping the chair like it's the only thing anchoring him to reality.
The camera TRAVELS to the ocean where waves SWIRL like a portal.
The ocean ROARS.
* * *
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GRAND BALLROOM – THE SOIRÉE
At a corner booth, Chloe Ferry turns her head and freezes. Her eyes widen. Her face twists into pure, unfiltered rage. She leaps to her feet, sending her chair skidding backward.Her jaw drops. And she ROARS.
Because across the room, she spots her GEORDIE BOYFRIEND making out with ANOTHER GIRL.
CHLOE
OH MY FOOKIN' GOD!
Everyone stops and turns.
Rafe, mid-cocaine hit, looks up.
RAFE
Yo, what?
Chloe marches toward the table like an unhinged general heading into battle.
The boyfriend, still wrapped around the other girl, suddenly looks up—
And sees his life flash before his eyes.
CHLOE
YA FOOKIN' CHEATIN' BASTARD!
GEORDIE BOYFRIEND
Chloe, babe, it's not what it looks like—
CHLOE
NOT WHAT IT FOOKIN' LOOKS LIKE?! YA TONGUE'S HALFWAY DOWN 'ER THROAT, YA SCRUFFY LITTLE SLAG!
The room collectively gasps.
HRH Collection leans forward, eating this drama like a Michelin-star meal.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh, this I like.
Chanel claps her hands together in delight.
CHANEL
Finally, something entertaining.
Chloe grabs a nearby glass of champagne and THROWS IT IN HER BOYFRIEND'S FACE.
He yelps, drenched.
GEORDIE BOYFRIEND
Chloe, babe—
CHLOE
DON'T BABE ME, YA FOOKIN' SNAKE!
And then—
With one swift motion, Chloe grabs the edge of a GLASS TABLE and FLIPS IT OVER COMPLETELY. Glasses shatter. Plates crash. Cutlery goes flying. People scream.
Chanel Oberlin gasps dramatically.
CHANEL
Oh my god, she's a barbarian.
HRH Collection grins.
Her boyfriend stumbles back, horrified. The other girl scrambles away. Chloe flips her hair and grabs another drink—THROWS THAT ONE TOO.
From opposite corners of the room, Luke, Luigi, and Chip Girl converge.
Luke skids to a stop in front of Chloe, completely out of breath from sprinting across the ballroom.
LUKE
Okay, okay, okay—EVERYBODY CHILL THE FUCK OUT.
CHLOE
I'M GONNA KILL 'IM!
Her boyfriend is cowering behind a chair.
LUKE
Okay, valid, but also, like, no?
Chloe grabs another drink.
LUKE
NO! BABE, LET'S NOT DO THAT.
CHLOE
WHY NOT?!
LUKE
BECAUSE. BECAUSE... UHHH... I WILL GIVE YOU FREE DRINKS FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT.
Chloe pauses.
CHLOE
All of 'em?
LUKE
Every. Single. One.
A beat.
She squints, weighing the options.
She slowly lowers the drink.
CHLOE
Okay. But if he breathes in my direction, I'll rip 'is throat out.
LUKE
Awesome! Great talk! Love this journey for us!
Luke turns to the boyfriend, who is still hiding behind a chair.
LUKE
Bro, run.
The boyfriend scrambles out of the ballroom.
Luke turns back to Chloe, smiling nervously.
LUKE
Okay! Crisis averted! Nobody got murdered! That's a win in my book!
Chloe crosses her arms.
CHLOE
I still want my free drinks.
Luke nods aggressively.
LUKE
I will literally personally pour them myself.
Chloe tosses her hair dramatically and storms off toward the bar.
Luke lets out a long, exhausted breath.
* * *
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – THE DECK – NIGHT
Cayetana walks out onto the deck and snatches up a half-empty Dom Pérignon bottle, examines the label, then pours the rest into her own glass like she's taste-testing it for a yacht-owning husband she does not have yet.
She notices Kyle Scheible is slouched in a deck chair, legs stretched out, reading a book like he's in an indie film no one asked for, but also looking kinda confused after what Lottie just said.
CAYETANA
Are you okay sir?
Kyle blinks up at her, eyes unfocused, like he's just now noticing his surroundings.
KYLE
(scoffing, deflecting)
Sir? Call me Kyle. And yeah, totally. Just... existentially vibing, y'know?
Cayetana tilts her head, studying him like a rich husband she's deciding whether to invest her time in.
CAYETANA
I don't know. You're sitting there like some tortured intellectual who just uncovered the meaning of life and hated it.
Kyle huffs a small laugh, flipping a page.
KYLE
Nah, I'm just reading.
CAYETANA
You sure you're just reading?
Kyle blinks, caught off guard.
KYLE
What else would I be doing?
Cayetana studies him, then shrugs, smirking.
CAYETANA
Escaping.
Kyle laughs, but it's a little too forced.
He leans back, stretching, brushing it off.
KYLE
I mean, who cares? It's a cruise. I'm here for the free food and to escape the shackles of a capitalistic technology obsessed society, not parties.
Cayetana raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but also smirking.
CAYETANA
Liar.
Kyle raises a hand in mock surrender.
KYLE
You don't even know me.
Cayetana grins, finishing her champagne.
CAYETANA
I don't have to.
KYLE
Wait—why are you even out here?
Cayetana pauses, looking over her shoulder.
CAYETANA
Working.
Kyle narrows his eyes.
KYLE
You don't really seem like someone who works.
Cayetana grins.
CAYETANA
I don't. I just convince people I do.
* * *
INT. SHIP HALLWAY - NIGHT
From the hallway, Pearl's muffled screams still echo.
PEARL (O.S.)
I'M A STAR! LET ME BACK ON STAGE!
Luigi arrives at the scene, rubbing his temples, already over it.
Chip Girl, standing beside him, casually crunching on her chips, sighs.
CHIP GIRL
Okay, I can't believe I have to deal with this.
LUIGI
(under his breath)
I'm here for revenge.
A beat.
Chip Girl slowly turns to look at him.
CHIP GIRL
Okay, not unpacking that right now.
They round the corner and find Pearl clinging to a decorative pillar like a feral raccoon, sobbing.
A frazzled security guard is trying to pry her off, failing miserably.
PEARL
YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND! I WAS BORN FOR THIS!
Chip Girl shoves a handful of chips into her mouth and sighs.
CHIP GIRL
Pearl, sweetie. It's over. The Tony Awards aren't calling.
Pearl lets out a piercing wail.
PEARL
BUT THEY COULD!!!
Chip Girl rubs her forehead.
CHIP GIRL
I know sweetie.
Pearl lets go of the pillar just to dramatically collapse to the floor.
She grabs Luigi's sleeve.
PEARL
(whispering, devastated)
Do you think I was good?
Luigi stares at her blankly.
LUIGI
Yes.
At that exact moment, Trina Vega appears, crawling out of nowhere, still bruised and devastated from being shoved off stage.
She locks eyes with Pearl.
A long, dramatic beat.
Then—
TRINA
This... isn't over.
PEARL
Yes, it is.
TRINA
No, it's not.
PEARL
Yes. It is.
Chips Girl slowly turns to Luigi.
CHIP GIRL
I will literally pay you to throw them both overboard.
Luigi considers it. Instead, he separates the girls.
LUIGI
Alright that's enough ladies.
Pearl sniffles.
PEARL
Can I still be famous?
LUIGI
Not legally.
Chips Girl grabs Trina by the arm, dragging her away before she can start another Broadway-themed meltdown.
Trina screams dramatically.
TRINA
I WILL RISE AGAIN!
Pearl collapses into a chair, exhausted.
Chip Girl finishes her bag of chips and puts it on her head and does a peace sign.
CHIP GIRL
(sticking her tongue out)
I'm so crazy.
(sighing exasperatedly)
I need a new job.
Luigi turns, expression unreadable.
LUIGI
I need a murder weapon.
Chip Girl nods.
CHIP GIRL
Yeah, okay, same vibe.
They walk off.
* * *
Back at the center of the ballroom, a loud, chaotic argument is reaching critical mass.
On one side: Trisha Paytas, Julia Fox, and TheWizardLiz.
On the other: Andrew Tate.
ANDREW
The problem is, women don't understand that men are superior.
Julia Fox tilts her head, takes a slow sip of champagne, and stares at him like he's an exhibit in a zoo.
JULIA
That's, like, the most basic thing I've ever heard. You sound like a dude who just discovered Reddit yesterday.
Trisha Paytas, already fired up, throws her hands up.
TRISHA
Literally the dumbest person I have ever met.
Andrew Tate smirks like he thinks he's winning.
ANDREW
That's because you're a woman. You're emotional. I operate in logic.
TheWizardLiz leans forward, slowly, like a panther about to rip out his throat.
THEWIZARDLIZ
You have the IQ of a rotting orange.
ANDREW
You're proving my point. Women are too emotional to hold power.
JULIA
No, babe, I think you're just too much of a dumb misogynistic man to process reality.
TRISHA
Like literally, how do you even exist? Like, did God just give up halfway through?
THEWIZARDLIZ
You are a clown. Get out.
Out of nowhere, TERRI JOE wheels herself into the conversation, clutching her Bible like it's a weapon.
TERRI JOE
(excited)
Now, wait a minute! Hold on now! I agree with him!
The entire table pauses. Julia Fox slowly blinks.
JULIA
What?
Trisha Paytas' jaw drops.
TRISHA
WHAT?!
THEWIZARDLIZ
Oh my god. You're a pick-me for Jesus.
Terri Joe gasps dramatically, clutching her chest.
TERRI JOE
I ain't NO pick-me, y'all are just a bunch of HARLOT HUSSIES AND HOMOSEXUALS.
Andrew Tate nods approvingly, as if he has found his one ally.
ANDREW
Exactly. She gets it.
Terri Joe whirls around, suddenly furious.
TERRI JOE
WAIT, NO! I AIN'T SAYIN' I LIKE YOU! YOU'RE A LUSTFUL, BALD-HEADED DEMON!
Andrew raises an eyebrow.
ANDREW
Bald-headed demon?
TERRI JOE
YOU AIN'T GOT NO HAIR 'CAUSE GOD SMOTE IT OFF!
At a nearby table, Rafe Cameron and Nate Jacobs are at each other's throats again.
NATE
You're a cokehead loser.
RAFE
Okay, and? You're a psychopath in khakis.
NATE
You literally murder people.
RAFE
Oh, like you don't???
Nate leans forward aggressively.
NATE
You wanna take this outside?
Rafe grins, slamming his drink down.
RAFE
I'll take this off the ship.
NATE
I'm the quarterback!
Jordan runs up to diffuse the situation again.
JORDAN
Guys, can we not get kicked off a literal boat?
* * *
Charli xcx, Paris Hilton, and London Tipton are deep in their own world as "365" by Charli xcx plays over the speakers now.
They are absolutely thriving, dancing in their own bratty little bubble while the world around them burns.
LONDON
Who's the richest girl on this boat?!
CHARLI XCX
YOU, BITCH!!!
LONDON
YAY ME!!!
CHARLI XCX
That's brat!
PARIS
That's hot!
LONDON
I feel so powerful.
Paris nods. London does a little spin, nearly knocking over a waiter.
PARIS
Because you are.
Charli XCX, barely keeping her balance, gestures wildly at them.
CHARLI XCX
Okay, but, like... no one on this boat is, like, serving like we are.
Paris flips her hair again.
PARIS
No one ever is.
Paris pulls out her phone, snapping selfies.
PARIS
We should take a picture.
Charli grabs London dramatically.
CHARLI XCX
WAIT. I have a vision.
London gasps.
LONDON
A vision?!
Charli nods aggressively.
CHARLI XCX
We all put sunglasses on.
Paris gasps.
PARIS
That's hot.
London screams.
LONDON
YAY THAT'S BRAT.
The Brat Circle™ is flourishing, drenched in delusion, wealth, and alcohol.
HRH Collection, eyes WILD, hair flying, fueled by rage and possibly pure caffeine, CHARGES toward the Brat Circle. In one swift motion, she snatches London's sunglasses off. London lets out an ear-piercing scream.
Charli gasps.
Paris clutches her chest like she just witnessed a crime against humanity.
HRH Collection, holding the sunglasses in the air like a trophy, screams at the top of her lungs.
HRH COLLECTION
THAT'S NOT THE VIBE! STOP!
London Tipton, who has never known true suffering until this moment, stands there, wide-eyed, in pure horror.
She blinks rapidly, trying to process what just happened. Then, she starts hyperventilating.
LONDON
WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. DO.
HRH Collection shoves the sunglasses in her face.
HRH COLLECTION
This is so not the vibe.
Charli XCX, still recovering, grabs Paris' arm.
CHARLI XCX
She's crazy.
Paris Hilton nods solemnly.
PARIS
That was violence.
London snatches the sunglasses back, clutching them to her chest like they're her firstborn child.
LONDON
DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN.
HRH Collection rolls her eyes aggressively.
HRH COLLECTION
You're embarrassing yourselves. Like, be serious. Be for real.
London flips her hair aggressively.
LONDON
You're just jealous because you're not brat.
HRH Collection lets out a feral screech.
HRH COLLECTION
STOP. SAYING. BRAT.
She turns, storming away, but not before grabbing a waiter's drink off a tray and throwing it at the floor in frustration.
The glass shatters. The room gasps. A pause.
Then, London puts her sunglasses back on. She flips her hair.
LONDON
Yay me.
Charli cheers. Paris clinks glasses with them. The Brat Circle™ is restored.
Luke walks past the broken glass.
LUKE
Oh my God why do rich people love breaking glass so much.
A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM RIPS THROUGH THE BALLROOM.
Pearl bursts through like a rejected Phanton of the Opera character.
Her hair is wild. Her makeup is smeared. Her dress is slightly torn from struggling against security. Her eyes lock on the stage.
Lady Raven is there, in all her mystical, dramatic glory, performing another hauntingly ethereal song.
The audience is entranced.
And Pearl sees red.
PEARL
(screaming)
NOOOOOOOOOO!
She sprints toward the stage. The crowd gasps.
Lady Raven, completely unbothered, keeps singing.
As Pearl climbs onto the stage, she SHRIEKS like a banshee and lunges at Lady Raven, hands outstretched.
PEARL
GET OFF! IT'S MY SHOW!
She tries to shove Lady Raven. But Lady Raven... doesn't move. Pearl shoves harder. Nothing. Lady Raven remains eerily still, eyes half-closed, voice unwavering. She is untouchable.
Pearl lets out a frustrated scream.
PEARL
WHY WON'T YOU FALL?!
Mary Zheng, the assistant manager and unshakable force of nature, has arrived. Mary yanks her back with the strength of a woman who has zero tolerance for this bullshit.
Pearl flails wildly.
PEARL
LET ME DANCE!
MARY
NO.
Mary drags her off the stage like she's escorting a drunk uncle out of a wedding.
Pearl kicks her feet dramatically.
PEARL
I'M A STAAAAAAAAAR!!!
MARY
(not even slightly amused)
Not tonight, babe.
Lady Raven continues singing, completely undisturbed.
Pearl is hauled off-stage, sobbing.
Mary Zheng looks up at the crowd.
MARY
(sarcastic)
Okay. Who's next?
* * *
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – SECRET ROOM BELOW DECK – NIGHT
The air is thick with bad decisions, questionable morals, and the unmistakable scent of wealth and entitlement.
A group of college students have gathered in a dimly lit, secretive lounge area below deck.
Seated in a loose circle, passing around bottles of expensive alcohol and engaging in illegal substances, are Chanel Oberlin, Trina Vega, London Tipton, Nate Jacobs, Rafe Cameron, SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta, and that random football player Jordan.
The vibe is reckless, chaotic, and dripping with rich-people privilege.
Chanel Oberlin, perched in the center like a dictator, swirls a martini dramatically before smirking at the group.
A beat.
CHANEL
We are going to play a game called Cocaine or Dildo.
A hushed silence falls over the room.
London Tipton gasps.
LONDON
Yay!
TRINA
(blurts)
I love dildos!
The room stares at her.
RAFE
What?
Trina flips her hair aggressively, recovering.
TRINA
I mean—I'm not playing.
CHANEL
Oh, you're playing.
Trina crosses her arms, pouting.
TRINA
Fine. But I better win.
Nate Jacobs leans back, exhaling slowly.
NATE
How the fuck do you even play this?
Chanel leans in dramatically.
CHANEL
It's simple. I give you a choice: Cocaine... or Dildo.
Trina scoffs, flipping her hair.
TRINA
Okay, but like—who chooses dildo?
Chanel smirks.
CHANEL
That depends on how much cocaine... or what I'm handing you as a dildo.
The group gasps.
SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta bursts out laughing, fully unhinged.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Nah, this is actually evil.
Jordan gulps, suddenly regretting his choices in life.
JORDAN
Dude.
LONDON
(confused, still clapping)
Oh my god! I love games!
Chanel downs the rest of her drink.
CHANEL
Okay. Who's first?
* * *
ROUND ONE: NATE JACOBS
Nate, arms crossed, exuding toxic masculinity, glares at Chanel.
NATE
This is stupid.
Chanel smirks.
CHANEL
Oh, don't be scared, you untethered angry wildebeast.
Nate huffs.
NATE
Fine. Whatever. Let's go.
Chanel leans in, grinning.
CHANEL
Okay. Your choice: one gram of cocaine... or a vibrating toothbrush.
NATE
Are you fucking kidding me?
Rafe Cameron, already hyped from his last cocaine hit, is wheezing.
RAFE
Bro, pick the toothbrush.
NATE
NO.
CHANEL
So... cocaine?
A pause.
NATE
(through gritted teeth)
Yes.
CHANEL
(clapping her hands)
See? It's fun!
* * *
ROUND TWO: LONDON TIPTON
London flips her hair, smiling.
LONDON
Ooooh, me next!
Chanel raises an eyebrow.
CHANEL
Okay. Half a gram of cocaine... or a diamond-encrusted eggplant sculpture.
London gasps.
LONDON
Wait. That sounds cute.
Chanel grins.
CHANEL
Oh, it's huge.
London giggles.
LONDON
Yay! I pick the eggplant!
A beat.
Everyone stares at her.
Rafe snorts.
RAFE
What the fuck.
Chanel smirks.
CHANEL
We love a girl who knows what she wants.
London tries to take a bite out of it.
* * *
ROUND THREE: JORDAN
Jordan shifts uncomfortably.
JORDAN
Uh... I'm not sure about this.
Rafe slaps his back.
RAFE
Bro, c'mon. Don't be a bitch.
Chanel leans in.
CHANEL
Alright, random boring football man who's name I don't care to know. One tiny bump of cocaine... or a still-frozen hotdog.
Jordan visibly tenses.
JORDAN
A what?
SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta loses his mind laughing.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Bro. That's a set-up.
JORDAN
This is so messed up.
Chanel tilts her head innocently.
CHANEL
So... what's it gonna be talking pumpkin?
A long, painful silence.
Jordan gulps.
JORDAN
The coke.
The group cheers.
Trina Vega claps, relieved.
TRINA
Thank god. I thought you were about to be weird.
* * *
ROUND FOUR: SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Chanel grins deviously.
CHANEL
Okay, SoundCloud organutang. Your turn.
SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta leans back, exhaling smoke.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Aight. Hit me.
Chanel pauses dramatically.
CHANEL
Your choice... A full eight ball of coke... or a vintage Tickle Me Elmo.
The room gasps.
SmokeChedda nods slowly, considering.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Damn. That's actually deep.
TRINA
NO IT ISN'T.
London gasps.
LONDON
Wait! I used to have one of those!
RAFE
Dude, you have to pick the Elmo.
NATE
The fuck he does.
Chanel smirks.
CHANEL
So. What's it gonna be?
A tense pause.
SmokeChedda closes his eyes.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
I pick... Elmo.
The room erupts.
RAFE
BRO WHAT?!
JORDAN
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!
SmokeChedda opens his eyes, looking dead serious.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Listen. I've had coke. I ain't never had Elmo.
A long, stunned silence.
London starts clapping.
LONDON
Yay!
Chanel picks up her martini, unfazed.
CHANEL
I love this game.
* * *
ROUND FIVE: TRINA VEGA AND RAFE CAMERON
Chanel Oberlin, perched like a chaotic god overseeing the night's degeneracy, takes a slow sip of her drink and smirks.
She sets her eyes on Trina Vega and Rafe Cameron.
CHANEL
Alright. Next round.
Trina Vega sits up straight, desperate to reclaim attention after her disastrous night.
Rafe Cameron, wired out of his mind, leans back, wiping his nose like he's starring in a failed Scorsese film.
Chanel grins, eyes twinkling with evil.
CHANEL
Trina and Rafe.
The room leans in.
Trina flips her hair, trying to look unfazed.
Chanel smirks, letting the tension build.
CHANEL
Your choices are: both of you take a line of cocaine...Or...
(leans in)
Trina's finger. Rafe's dick.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(choking on his blunt)
NAH. THIS AIN'T REAL.
NATE
(leaning forward)
What the actual fuck is wrong with you?
Chanel leans back, sipping her drink, unbothered.
CHANEL
Oh, relax pissy spacek. It's just a game.
Trina turns bright red, looking completely horrified.
TRINA
WHAT THE HELL?!?!
Rafe, high and chaotic, is actually considering it.
RAFE
Okay, but like—what do you mean by that?
TRINA
ARE YOU SERIOUS?!
Rafe shrugs.
RAFE
I'm just asking questions.
Chanel raises an eyebrow.
CHANEL
I mean exactly what I said. She would finger you. Duh.
TRINA
NO. Absolutely NOT. I will LITERALLY do ANYTHING else.
Rafe snorts, rolling his eyes.
RAFE
Relax, it's not like I wanna do it either.
Trina glares at him.
TRINA
Wow. Rude.
Chanel sips her drink.
CHANEL
So what's it gonna be? Cocaine or Dildo?
Trina, horrified, disgusted, and scandalized, groans.
TRINA
COCAINE. I PICK COCAINE.
Rafe nods.
RAFE
Coke. Obviously. The devil I know.
CHANEL
See? You two would make such a cute couple.
Trina lets out a guttural scream.
London claps excitedly.
LONDON
Yay!
Rafe leans forward, grinning at Trina.
RAFE
Yo, what if I actually picked the other one?
Trina lunges at him.
TRINA
I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!
* * *
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – CORRIDOR NEAR MAIN BALLROOM – NIGHT
The corridor is quiet, dimly lit, luxurious, decorated with nautical-themed paintings and ornate fixtures.
Pearl, disheveled, mascara streaked down her cheeks, hair a wild mess, is walking slowly through the ship's corridor. Her face is still contorted in a mixture of heartbreak, rage, and humiliation. She's muttering softly to herself, reliving the trauma of tonight's events.
She turns a corner and immediately freezes.
Standing casually, chatting and laughing carelessly with a small group of friends just outside the ballroom entrance is Matt Rife—the very man who mocked and humiliated her earlier.
Pearl's eyes narrow instantly. Matt Rife, oblivious, continues laughing, sipping champagne, fully unaware of Pearl's menacing glare.
She turns around and keeps walking, and then spots something nearby—a large, ornamental brass maritime sculpture, shaped like a heavy anchor, mounted decoratively onto the corridor wall.
Her eyes widen, suddenly cold, calculating.She approaches it slowly, cautiously glancing left and right to ensure no one's watching. Then, with determination, she reaches up and carefully lifts it off the hooks. It's heavier than she thought, but manageable. She holds it in both hands, testing its weight, grip tightening.
She glances back at Matt again, now laughing louder, completely unconcerned. Pearl's breathing grows heavy, rapid, almost unhinged.
PEARL
(whispering)
Let's see who the real star is.
CUT TO BLACK.
Chapter 2: Dirty
Summary:
When a poolside disaster leaves first-class guests screaming, things get dirty in more ways than one. Martinis, thoughts, plays, fights, sex, filth, and actual dirt. Oh and the iconic song "Dirrty" by Christina Aguilera.
Chapter Text
EPISODE 2: DIRTY
INT. MAIN HALLWAY - NIGHT
KAI follows MICAH down the hallway, stress written all over his face as Micah carries a stolen bottle of expensive alcohol.
KAI
(nervously and hushed)
What are you doing?!
MICAH
Relax dude.
KAI
Micah—Micah, where are you going?
MICAH
You need to chill the fuck out.
Micah doesn't look back. Just keeps confidently strutting down the hall, both arms full of top-shelf stolen liquor, the clinking bottles sounding like an omen.
CUT TO:
INT. BELOW DECK – SECRET ROOM – SAME TIME
In slow motion, CHANEL OBERLIN laughs as JORDAN has to do another line of cocaine. The whole group around all looks drugged out, manic, feeling the effects of the cocaine but still having hella fun. SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA is cuddling with Elmo cradled like a baby.
CUT TO:
INT. UPPER HALLWAY – NIGHT
PEARL walks slowly, like a bride approaching her big moment... She spots an axe on the wall under glass that says break in case of emergency while holding the brass sculpture shaped like a heavy anchor. Her eyes are glassy. Her jaw clenched.
Ahead, MATT RIFE flirts with a random guest, laughing.
Pearl's breath grows heavier.
CUT TO:
INT. GRAND BALLROOM – DANCE FLOOR – NIGHT
CHARLI XCX, JULIA FOX, and TROYE SIVAN are possessed, dancing like Dionysian sprites under pulsing lights.
Troye twirls. Charli flips her hair. Julia spins like she's in a slow-motion fashion film about grief.
Someone in the background vomits into a champagne bucket.
CUT TO:
INT. LOWER HALLWAY – NIGHT
CAYETANA GRAJERA-PANDO walks beside KYLE SCHIEBLE, her heels clicking softly. He's still holding that worn copy of Infinite Jest. They both move slowly, talking, but we can't hear their voices—only the music.
They turn a corner.
And the door to the secret room creaks open.
CUT TO:
INT. BALLROOM BAR – NIGHT
CHLOE FERRY stands against the wall, arms crossed, eyes burning into her CHEATING GEORDIE BOYFRIEND who's nervously chatting with a girl at the buffet table.
Beside her, TRISHA PAYTAS sips rosé with silent, quivering rage as ANDREW TATE gestures wildly to his posse across the room.
Behind the bar, LUKE ABERCROMBIE pours Chloe her sixth free drink.
Chloe doesn't even blink.
CUT TO:
INT. VIP LOUNGE – NIGHT
LUIGI MANGIONE stands still. Silent. Watchful. His gaze locked onto BRIAN THOMPSON, who is laughing jovially with DAVID ZASLAV and ELON MUSK.
Luigi's jaw is clenched. His knuckles white. His eye twitches just slightly.
CUT TO:
INT. GRAND BALLROOM – NIGHT – SLOW MOTION
In SLOW MOTION, HRH COLLECTION is mid-scream, her face twisted into feral rage as she lunges toward LISA RINNA, who is mid-twirl, dramatically waving a feathered boa like she's on Dancing With the Stars: Hell Edition.
Champagne sloshes from HRH's glass. Their arms flail wildly.
Across from them— KANDI BURRUSS sits unbothered, perched like a queen with her drink delicately balanced in her hand. Her iconic expression: calm. Unimpressed. Slightly annoyed. Totally aware. She sips. She watches.
HRH COLLECTION
(voice slowed like a demon)
YOU FUCKING BIRDCAGE WANNABE!!!
LISA
(in slow-mo, tossing her boa)
OWN IT, BABY!!!
CUT TO:
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – TOP DECK – NIGHT
The wind howls gently.
The moon hangs heavy.
LOTTIE MATTHEWS stands at the edge of the deck, arms out in a perfect Titanic pose, her flowy linen outfit billowing like she's either communing with the spirits or shooting a music video for Florence + The Machine.
She is still. Calm. Serene. A statue carved by divine madness.
A deep inhale.
LOTTIE
The wilderness hears us.
TERRI JOE slowly wheels up behind her with spite in her eyes.
TERRI JOE
(under her breath)
Sinner harlot whore.
CUT TO:
INT. SECURITY CONTROL CENTER
KATE CHASTAIN is talking to the SURVEILLANCE OFFICER about something. It looks serious. Neither of them see Micah and Kai walking past the security camera, but Micah knows better anyways. You can't even see the bottle of alcohol he's holding.
PUSH INTO:
INT. LOWER HALLWAY - NIGHT
Kai continues to follow Micah like an anxious little shadow, arms crossed over his chest, trying so hard to keep it together.
KAI
Micah. Micah. What the hell are you doing?
Micah doesn't even turn around. He walks with the ease of someone who's never been held accountable in his life.
KAI
You're stealing. You literally stole that from the bar.
MICAH
(patronizing, mocking)
Awwww. That's so sad. Who cares dude?
INT. LOWER HALLWAY – NIGHT – OPPOSITE SIDE
Cayetana strides down the hall with purpose, wielding a mop like it's a designer handbag. Her posture is elegant, almost regal—despite wearing rubber gloves and dragging a janitor's cart behind her.
Behind her, at a safe but interested distance, Kyle ambles like he's on a silent pilgrimage through someone else's working-class fever dream. He walks hands in pockets, head tilted, like he's trying to turn her into a poem.
KYLE
So like... do you ever feel like your job is a metaphor for the futility of existence?
Cayetana doesn't break stride.
CAYETANA
No. I feel like my job is underpaid.
KYLE
You wanna make out?
She stops, turns, and smiles.
INT. SECRET ROOM BELOW DECK – NIGHT
The chaos is somehow louder now, sweatier, more unhinged.
RAFE CAMERON is shirtless, jumping in a circle like a jungle cat on Adderall, banging his chest.
NATE JACOBS is sitting with his head back against the wall, eyes half-lidded, fingers twitching, squeezing a beer bottle with masculine aggression.
TRINA VEGA is dancing around the circle.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA is freestyle mumbling to himself.
JORDAN looks like he's about to throw up.
LONDON TIPTON is trying to put a tiara on a literal sex toy shaped like a jewel-encrusted dolphin.
And CHANEL OBERLIN is still somehow in control, perched in her faux-throne, swirling a martini.
INT. LOWER DECK HALLWAY – NIGHT
Micah slows slightly and glances back.
MICAH
You don't have to come, you know. I'm just looking for a place to down this.
KAI
I'm... just making sure you don't get like in trouble or something.
INT. LOWER DECK MAZE-LIKE HALLWAY – NIGHT – DIFFERENT ANGLE
Cayetana and Kyle walk down a different hallway, echoing footsteps bouncing off the metal walls. Cayetana wipes her hands on a stolen silk hand towel monogrammed with the Hilton logo. She tosses it into her cart like it's trash, then fixes her hair in the reflective paneling of the hallway.
The corridor flickers with low fluorescent lighting. There's a turn every few feet. They can't see what's ahead. Or who's coming.
KYLE
So... are you like, the ship's Cinderella or something?
CAYETANA
Yeah and I'm just waiting for my prince.
KYLE
(laughs softly)
No, I just meant—you're always like, darting around with random crap
like it's symbolic or something. It's very... proletariat chic.
Cayetana's smile fades just slightly as she processes the pseudo-intellectual bullshit. She doesn't get it. But she wants to. She shifts the tray to her hip like she's posing for a Vogue editorial.
CAYETANA
Right. Yeah. No, totally. Super proletarian. I'm doing... Marxist minimalism this week.
Kyle squints at her, suspicious and lowkey impressed.
KYLE
You just made that up.
CAYETANA
(quickly)
No I didn't. I saw it in The Cut.
She didn't. She's bluffing. Kyle shrugs and keeps walking beside her, trying to play it cool.
KYLE
Okay but like... why are you even working on this cruise?
CAYETANA
I don't want to. I have to. My mom's a maid for rich people, so she got me this job.
Kyle snorts, amused.
KYLE
Yeah. You totally seem like someone who'd marry for emotional fulfillment and not property rights.
She punches his arm lightly with her free hand.
CAYETANA
Shut up. I believe in love.
(beat)
...But I'm also not an idiot.
Kyle smirks at Cayetana, and suddenly reaches out and grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling her in fast.
She gasps as Kyle kisses her. She smirks into the kiss, almost like she's trying to swallow his richness. And while still in the heat of it, he blindly reaches behind her, grabs the door handle, and—
The door swings open into the SECRET ROOM BELOW DECK.
CHANEL
(chuckling bitchily)
Oh what is this? Cinderella: Dirty Yacht Edition?
Trina makes a gagging noise. London claps once.
LONDON
Aww so romantic. Yay kissing!
From the HALLWAY - Micah and Kai round the corner, just in time to witness Kyle and Cayetana kissing in the open doorway like they're staging a poorly lit indie film.
Micah bursts out laughing, elbowing Kai. Kai's eyes widen.
MICAH
Ayo! Get it Cayetana!
(to Kai)
Not the janitor getting her back blown by the existentialist fuckboy.
Cayetana pulls back from the kiss embarrassed that everyone just witnessed it. Kyle doesn't really care and just smirks very subtly and effortlessly at everyone.
CAYETANA
What even are you guys doing down here?
CHANEL
We're playing "Cocaine or Dildo." Wanna play?
TRINA
(aghast, gesturing dramatically)
What?! We're gonna play with... them?
She gestures toward Micah and Kai, who've just barely stepped into the room and are looking around like they just walked into a deleted scene from Euphoria: Sea Edition. Both of them stare at Chanel intrigued, attracted.
CHANEL
(rolling her eyes)
Oh shut up, Trina. You're not even in first class. Honestly, I think the help should stay.
She turns her gaze, laser-focused now, right on Micah.
CHANEL
(biting her lip)
Besides... you're a snack. And I haven't had a good dicking in ages.
MICAH
(smirking)
I'm down.
KAI
Oh no. Absolutely not.
MICAH
Oh come on!
KAI
We are not doing cocaine on the clock! I am not doing this.
MICAH
Loosen up dude.
KAI
I've never even done coke... or used a dildo. I've never even done drugs!
MICAH
Shocker. You're an innocent little virgin.
CHANEL
(turning to Kai, fake-sweet)
It's okay, sweetheart. You can sit in the corner and cry about your moral compass.
MICAH
(leans in close, teasing)
Come on, Kai. Just one round. You're already here. What's the worst that could happen?
CHANEL
You have no idea how hot repressed chaos is.
KAI
(mumbling)
...Fine. One round.
Everyone turns to Cayetana, who has been standing awkwardly behind Kyle, trying to disappear into the wall.
CHANEL
What about you, Miss Housekeeping? You playing too, or just here for the free show?
CAYETANA
Oh—I don't— I wasn't—
CHANEL
Oh, come on. Don't be boring. Even Virgin Mary over here caved.
KYLE
(smirking, not helping)
No pressure. Unless you want it.
CHANEL
(to Cayetana)
So... you in? Or do you need to go fold towels and cry about your credit score?
Cayetana is half-mortified, half-thrilled.
CAYETANA
(trying to laugh it off)
No, yeah. I'll... I'll play.
She glances at Kyle, who just shrugs like none of this matters to him. Which somehow makes it hotter.
CHANEL
We'll start with Kyle.
She turns to him, cocking her head with a mischievous smile, like she already knows he's going to pretend he's above it all—and do it anyway.
CHANEL
Okay, sad-boy Wes Anderson background character... your choice:
(beat)
A bump of cocaine or...a used, unwashed mechanical toothbrush
formerly owned by a German billionaire with questionable hygiene.
KYLE
(chuckling dryly)
Honestly? That's probably cleaner than half the girls I've dated.
He grabs the cocaine without hesitation and snorts it with practiced ease. Cayetana watches intrigued yet nervous.
CHANEL
(flirtatiously)
Okay... your turn, what's your name?
MICAH
Micah.
Chanel leans in with the most intense seduction in her eyes as she looks him up and down in a way that makes someone even as confident as him gulp a little nervously.
CHANEL
Micah. A line of coke off my thigh... or a 24-karat gold-plated double-ended glass dildo.
He pauses dramatically, then nods toward her.
MICAH
Thigh me.
CHANEL
Good boy.
TRINA
(rolling her eyes)
Oh my god, get a room.
Chanel leans back smugly as Micah does his line off of her thigh. Kai watches wide eyed, both intrigued and feeling like he's looking at something he shouldn't.
Then she swivels her attention toward Cayetana, who suddenly becomes very, very small in her seat.
CHANEL
(sugarcoated menace)
And now... you.
CAYETANA
(nervously)
Okay...
CHANEL
A hit of coke from the rim of a Fabergé egg...or a vibrating crystal butt plug?
Cayetana glances at Kyle—he's watching with vague, idle interest. The pressure mounts.
CHANEL
Hurry up bitch!
CAYETANA
...I'll take the egg.
Everyone claps as Cayetana carefully takes the hit, trying to stay composed.
CHANEL
And now...
(turns dramatically)
The moment we've all been waiting for.
She zeroes in on Kai, who is now very visibly sweating. She smirks.
CHANEL
The virgin. Don't worry, we'll pop your little party cherry nice and easy.
Your choice is... your very first line of coke or...you tongue kiss the tip
of a candy cane dildo for ten seconds while making eye contact with
SmokeChedda.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(raising both eyebrows)
Say less.
Kai gulps. He hates not being in control, but he hates the idea of humiliating himself even more.
KAI
...I'll do the coke.
Everyone bursts into applause and laughter. Kai does his first line ever. His entire body tenses like he just swallowed a live wire.
Chanel sits back like she's on her throne watching her jesters perform for her and smirks as she watches the group of coked out people, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, drunk not on alcohol—but on control. She slowly sips from her martini glass, ice clinking gently. She watches her kingdom.
KAI
(panicking)
Oh my god. Oh my god. Is it kicking in? Am I dying? Can you OD from one molecule?
TRINA
Yes.
RAFE
No.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
Maybe.
CHANEL'S POV: Everything feels slightly distorted. Faces warp with laughter, bodies sway with erratic grace. Everyone looks ridiculous. Perfect.
Chanel looks at Trina. Trina flings her arms out dramatically.
TRINA
I'm gonna call this city SHE-CAGO!
Chanel turns her head. London is spinning slowly in a chair, holding a spoon.
LONDON
(giggling)
Is this the PRNDL?
Chanel tilts her head up. SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta is shirtless for no reason now, standing on top of a table.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(slurring)
I just wanna say... y'all are so beautiful. Like, I don't say that enough. But fr... y'all my homies for real even though we just met y'all fam. Skeet! Skrrt!
Chanel spins her chair over a little. In a corner, Cayetana sits next to Kyle, practically clinging to his aura. Her smile is just a little too wide, her laugh just a little too practiced. But her eyes are scanning the room like a girl who's playing chess in stilettos.
KYLE
You know this whole thing is grotesque, right?
CAYETANA
Of course. That's what makes it luxury.
She casually flips her hair, tucks her knockoff clutch under her arm, and speaks in a tone that screams I studied the Rich Girl Handbook in a broom closet.
CAYETANA
Besides, how often do you get to experience generational wealth without having to marry into it?
Kyle smirks. She glows under his attention.
KYLE
You're not like the rest of them.
CAYETANA
(coyly)
I'm better. I had to earn my delusion.
Her eyes land on Rafe and Nate, who shockingly aren't currently trying to kill each other.
Nate, arms still crossed but slightly relaxed now, mutters something low to Rafe.
RAFE
Wait... you actually listen to him when you work out?
NATE
(slight nod)
Only the first album. The rest is mid.
RAFE
(tilting his head)
Okay wait that's kinda valid.
A tense silence. They both take a sip of their drinks at the same time.
Then...
RAFE
You wanna go throw champagne bottles off the back of the ship later?
Chanel turns to the other side of the room to see Kai, curled up in the corner, hugging his knees and visibly sweating.
Suddenly, Micah swaggers over, casually plopping down next to him like they're just chillin' at a pool party and not in the middle of an underground drug-fueled fever dream.
MICAH
(smiling)
Dude. You good?
KAI
(snapping to attention)
I think I'm dying. I shouldn't have done this. I'm a cruise employee. I signed a contract. I had to give them my social security number. Oh my god what if I lose my job? What if I lose my job and then I can't move to California and then I have to move back in with my parents and then I become a cautionary tale they tell at job training videos like don't do what Kai did because Kai's a drugged out slut and now he lives in a Target parking lot-
Micah puts a hand on his shoulder. Kai gasps, freezes like a deer in hot-boy headlights.
MICAH
Hey man. Look at me. Just breathe and chill the fuck out.
Kai looks at Micah. And it makes everything worse.
Micah, sun-kissed and smug, stares at him with the relaxed energy of someone who's never known consequences. His grip is firm but gentle. He leans in, lowering his voice just enough to make it sound like a secret.
MICAH
You're not gonna lose anything. You're just... feeling too much.
KAI
I don't know what's happening.
Micah chuckles and claps a hand on his back.
MICAH
You're fine. This is just, like... the part where your inner child meets your inner slut.
KAI
From cocaine?
Chanel, lounging like a queen drunk on chaos and couture, crooks a perfectly manicured finger in Micah's direction.
CHANEL
Micah. Come here, I'm bored.
Micah glances down at Kai, still curled up like a scared little hamster on his first cocaine trip.
He crouches slightly, hands on his knees, smiling down at him like a camp counselor about to abandon a child in the woods.
MICAH
Sorry, duty calls. You gonna be okay?
He pats Kai's shoulder like he just told him to walk it off after a gunshot wound, then turns and strolls toward Chanel, adjusting his shirt to show more collarbone with a smirk.
Chanel pulls Micah in by the collar and crashes her lips against his. They make out hungrily, ferociously, uninhibited. From across the room, Kai watches wide eyed with his jaw dropped.
Chanel opens her eyes mid-kiss and turns slightly, locking eyes with Kai from across the room. Her gaze is smug. She knows he's watching. A smirk curls across her lips as she deepens the kiss with Micah—a performance now. A twisted power move. Kai freezes.
It's unclear what her look means.
Is it: "Watch this virgin. Let me soil your innocent eyes"?
Or: "I know you want this."
As Chanel spins them, now facing the room, Kai catches a full view of Micah's face, tilted back in cinematic bliss.
Micah's eyes are closed, basking. Kai's mouth falls open slightly. He can't stop watching.
Then, Micah's eyes slowly open. They lock with Kai's. Effortless. Eyes half-lidded. A breath of a smirk, barely there. Like it's all a game.
It's a different kind of smirk, but just as inscrutable
Is it: "Yo dude look at me making out with this hot girl."
Or: "I know you want this."
Kai doesn't know what it means, but his body reacts before his brain can catch up. Flushed and flustered, Kai grabs the nearest decorative throw pillow and places it on his lap with shaky hands. He clutches it like a lifeline, trying to look casual.
His eyes flicker down but then look back up at Micah. That same infuriating, unreadable smirk remains on his face—masculine, soft around the edges, a little smug, a little playful. Micah finally closes his eyes again, slowly turning his attention back to Chanel.
But Kai can't. He watches the way Micah's hand curls into Chanel's waist, how effortlessly confident he is, how he makes being wanted look so... easy.
Micah's hand slides lower, just a little, fingers ghosting the hem of Chanel's dress. She giggles into his mouth, and Kai nearly chokes on air.
SLOW ZOOM IN on Kai's wide eyes.
***
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF QUARTERS – MORNING
A shrill, obnoxious alarm blares from a cracked phone on the nightstand.
The room is dim and humid, the early morning sun barely sneaking through a porthole.
Kai is sprawled on top of the sheets, limbs tangled, one sock half-off. The alarm keeps screaming. Kai does not move. He's dead to the world—eyes shut, face pale, lips slightly parted. A faint sheen of sweat coats his forehead. The comedown is in full effect.
His eyelids finally flutter. A groggy, agonized groan escapes his throat.
His hand fumbles blindly for the phone, knocking it to the floor. The alarm keeps going. He flails over the side of the bed Suddenly— THUMP. Kai rolls off the top bunk and CRASHES to the floor.
KAI
(yelping)
OH MY GOD!
He grabs it, and silences it with a trembling thumb, and blinks at the screen. 7:42 AM. His shift started at 7:00.
KAI
(panicking)
Oh shit. Oh god. I'm gonna get fired. I'm gonna fucking die.
His reflection in the mirror stops him cold. The nausea hits—a wave of dizziness, a dry mouth, a pounding migraine in his temple. He braces himself against the sink, breathing through his mouth, gripping the edge like it's the only thing keeping him upright.
KAI
Okay. Okay. Breathe. You're fine. You're just... You did drugs. That's what happens. You're... Oh my god.
He gags slightly, then fumbles for mouthwash. There is none. He grabs a Tic Tac from a drawer and crunches it violently.
Below him, Micah stirs in the bottom bunk, half-buried in a very fluffy blanket and wearing nothing but Calvin Klein boxers. He stretches and yawns like it's a Sunday morning.
MICAH
Good morning.
Kai's hands shake as he yanks his shirt on backward.
KAI
Fucking hell-
MICAH
Woah! Didn't take you for the type to cuss.
KAI
We are so late! How are you this calm?! We are gonna get fired! We're gonna get screamed at! We're gonna get decapitated by Kate!
MICAH
(grinning)
Nah. Kate likes me.
Micah sniffs his shirt, shrugs, and throws it on anyway.
***
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
The room is overly bright, clinically clean, and radiating tension.
KATE CHASTAIN stands at the front like a military general hiding behind a designer pair of sunglasses. She doesn't raise her voice. She doesn't need to.
KATE
Alright, I know none of you signed up for a cruise of the damned, but we're going to at least look professional while we spiral.
LUKE ABERCROMBIE, half-asleep, is sipping from a can of Monster that he's hidden inside a coffee mug.
LUKE
This meeting is literally a hate crime.
LIFELESS WAITRESS
I'm fucking over it already.
MARY ZHENG, perched casually on the edge of a counter, checks her phone and lets out a dry laugh.
MARY
Girl just say you're hungover.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – HALLWAY – MORNING
Kai, disheveled and frantic, sprints down the corridor, nearly colliding with a housekeeping cart. His uniform is half-tucked, and panic is etched across his face.
KAI
(under his breath)
Oh god, oh god, oh god...
Micah, in stark contrast, saunters leisurely several paces behind. His uniform is crisp, hair perfectly tousled, and he exudes an air of unbothered confidence.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
Luke, sitting backwards in his chair, is chugging from a Red Bull and taking notes on his phone in emoji.
LUKE
Bro I saw a guy playing blackjack with a lobster at like 3 AM. He almost fell off board too.
MARY
Oh my god, what if he actually did?
KATE
If someone dies, we're not clocking out early. Now shut up—
CHIP GIRL
I slept great! I did, like, four Sudoku puzzles before bed and dreamt about tater tots.
LUIGI MANGIONE, stoic and unreadable, stands silently near the wall, arms crossed.
Suddenly— The door creaks open.
ENTER Cayetana, trying to glide in with the poise of someone who definitely did not just spend the last six minutes sprinting in heels.
She's breathless, but she still manages to hold her chin high like she's walking into a Vogue interview and not a disciplinary meeting.
CAYETANA
Sorry I'm late. I was assisting a guest with a... personal wardrobe malfunction. Egyptian cotton. Crisis. Major.
KATE
(flatly)
Was the guest your reflection?
A beat. The room is dead silent.
Cayetana flashes a tight smile, trying not to visibly implode.
CAYETANA
Haha. No. I was just being helpful.
Kate narrows her eyes like she's about to verbally skin someone alive.
KATE
Let me be clear. I don't care if you were covering a spill, saving a child, or exorcising a demon in the boiler room—if you're not five minutes early, you're late. And if you're late, you better have a damn good reason or at least bring me a mimosa.
Kate sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.
KATE
I'm running a floating luxury prison filled with emotionally unstable influencers and coked-up nepotism babies, and I need some of you to act like adults.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GUEST CABIN – SAME TIME
TANYA MCQUOID lies sprawled across a lavish bed, snoring softly. An eye mask rests crookedly on her forehead, and an empty wine glass teeters on the nightstand.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
Cayetana lowers her eyes, face burning, but still trying to maintain composure.
Kate finally moves on.
KATE
Today's priority: clean up last night's glitter hurricane, avoid lawsuits, and if you see any bodily fluids do not engage. Just radio it in and let Mary gaslight someone else into cleaning it.
MARY
(sipping iced coffee)
Already done.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – HALLWAY NEAR GUEST LOUNGE – MORNING
Kai, breathless, half-running and half-tripping in his cruise staff uniform, barrels around a corner.
Micah, a full thirty steps behind, strolls like he's walking a Milan runway. Shirt tucked, smirk loaded.
They turn into a common corridor and nearly crash into QUEN BLACKWELL and ALEX CONSANI, seated at a small table with oat milk lattes in hand, dressed like fashion-forward anarchists on vacation.
QUEN
(loudly and goofy)
When Godli XCX calls, we answer!
ALEX
That's so Julia.
Kai stammers something that resembles a greeting and darts past, barely making eye contact. Quen watches him go.
QUEN
I think Twinkskie is a cute baby name.
ALEX
I wanna be a little twink. I wanna be a bottom. Because you hoes are getting hunky boyfriend and pasta dinner. Where's my pasta dinner?
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
Kate continues to debrief.
KATE
And yes, I am aware of the crazy bitch that managed to sneak onto the boat yesterday during boarding.
INT. SOMEWHERE ON THE SHIP – LOVELYPEACHES' POV
A distorted, blurry shot from Peaches' Instagram Live: her in a filthy pink crop top, twerking at a lifeboat station.
LOVELYPEACHES
(staring directly into her phone)
What would you do if... when you... okay so he said yes... would go...Ummm...ummm...I would say GOD BLESS HIM! And to work on his vocabulary.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
ANNOYED WAITER rolls his eyes.
ANNOYED WAITER
Yeah I tried to get her to move, but like...she looked unsanitary. And she was too fat.
LUIGI
(to no one in particular)
This is why late-stage capitalism needs to collapse.
MARY
(sweetly)
Let her stay. She's good for morale. And chaos.
KATE
(raising an eyebrow)
So is syphilis. Doesn't mean I want it sleeping two floors down.
SMASH CUT TO:
LOVELYPEACHES in a clawfoot bathtub filled with champagne, absolutely naked, holding a half-eaten rotisserie chicken and singing the "Charmed" theme song at full volume.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – STAFF BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING
Kai BURSTS through the door, panting like he just escaped a hostage situation. He tries to look composed, but he's sweating through his shirt.
KAI
(small voice)
Hi. Sorry. Sorrysorrysorrysorry.
He scurries to the back of the room and sits next to Chip Girl, who's drawing hearts on her notes.
A beat later—
Micah strolls in. He's perfectly groomed, iced coffee in hand, not a care in the world.
MICAH
(smiling)
Morning, everyone.
Kate's gaze hardens.
KATE
(sarcastically)
Congratulations. You're the last one here and the first one I suspect of stealing my patience. Please, enlighten us with your excuse.
MICAH
(shrugging)
Just making sure Kai didn't get lost.
KATE
(dryly)
How considerate. Now sit down before I push you off the stern.
Micah gives her a two-finger salute and slides into his seat like he owns the ship.
KATE
Now. We've got a bunch of influencers and celebrities and high powered billionaires running around because my boss thought it'd be a good idea for marketing. So keep the drinks coming, and the cameras off. Do not engage unless spoken to. Do not correct them when they ask if the omelet is gluten-free. Just say yes. Even if it's literally made of flour. Smile, nod, and let them believe they invented water. Do your jobs. I don't care if your ex just walked on board with a new nose and a richer boyfriend—serve the shrimp, clean the puke, pretend you didn't see anything. If a fight breaks out, film it discreetly for security logs. And if any guest says the word "cancelled," you walk away.
MARY
(to herself)
God I love this job.
KATE
Our plan today is simple: Keep the guests drunk, distracted, and docile. Smile. Even if someone throws a martini in your face. Mary, you're on chaos control. That includes Peaches.
MARY
(sipping iced coffee)
Say less.
KATE
Now I don't want to hear about anyone vomiting glitter, hooking up with the guests, or developing a parasocial relationship with an influencer. I don't care how hot they are or how many followers they have. Luke, this includes you. No more trying to get your "Shirtless Near Death Experience on a Yacht" vlog monetized. It's giving lawsuit.
LUKE
(to himself)
I was literally doing that for the plot...
KATE
(loudly)
And someone keep Peaches away from the lifeboats!
QUICK CUT OF: LovelyPeaches, outside on the deck, licking a lifeboat.
Cayetana's phone buzzes quietly in her back pocket.
TEXT FROM KYLE: "fun last night. u up?"
She blinks. Then types.
CAYETANA: "obviously."
LIFELESS WAITRESS
I really hope one of the passengers left their coke laying out.
***
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – FIRST CLASS DINING ROOM – MORNING
Golden light spills through towering glass windows. The dining room is excessive: chandeliers like upside-down fountains, white linens starched into submission, and a harpist playing Billie Eilish for some reason.
Servers flit between tables like scared hummingbirds. Mimosas are flowing. The air is thick with money, perfume, and passive-aggression.
SEATED TABLE 1 ARE: CHARLI XCX, TROYE SIVAN, and JULIA FOX like it's a press junket from hell.
TROYE
(pouring syrup on a croissant)
I don't know how to explain it. I just feel like... sex should have vibe lighting.
JULIA
(seriously)
That's literally so anti-capitalist.
Everyone nods.
MEANWHILE, at the breakfast buffet line: HRH COLLECTION is yelling. LISA RINNA is fake crying. NENE LEAKES is watching like she's filming a confessional in her head.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming)
DON'T FUCKING SPEAK TO ME, LISA. YOU'RE A FUCKING WICKED WITCH AND A RAT AND A NARCISSIST AND I'M GONNA HAVE A FUCKING HEART ATTACK!
LISA
Why are you attacking me? I was literally just talking about the eggs.
HRH COLLECTION
(throwing her napkin)
SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP. I WILL LITERALLY CALL SECURITY. I AM GOD'S FAVORITE.
LISA
(pouting)
I'm not the villain here. I just think everyone should be honest. Like if your aura is fucked, you should say that.
Nene sips her coffee.
NENE
Chile...
HRH COLLECTION
(to Nene)
IF YOU EVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN I'LL SUE YOU FOR LOUD BREATHING!
NENE
Now why am I in it? Now see how I get thrown in stuff. I ain't even do nothing.
HRH COLLECTION
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? NO I AM NOT MEAN. I DON'T COME FOR PEOPLE THEY COME FOR ME AND I'M SUPPOSED TO SIT DOWN AND TAKE IT? FUCK NO BITCH I WILL FUCKING COME SWINGING I AM NOT A MEAN PERSON I AM VERY NICE! AND I AM VERY SANE. YOU ARE CRAZY. I AM NOT A BULLY I TALK ABOUT ME. DO YOU EVER SEE ME SITTING HERE BASHING AN INDIVIDUAL PERSON ONLY WHEN THEY DO IT TO ME FIRST. I WILL ALWAYS DO THAT DON'T FUCK WITH ME THIS BITCH LISA SHE IS SO UN-SELF AWARE SHE THOUGHT I'LL JUST TAKE MY BIG HEAD HAHAHA WE ALL KNOW SOMETHING.
She turns to the server behind the omelet station, eyes wild. KANDI BURRUSS holds her mimosa trying not to laugh.
HRH COLLECTION
And you better not put mushrooms in it unless you want to see what I do when I finally snap.
NENE
(under her breath, to Kandi across the room)
Girl she already did snap.
HRH Collection walks away.
KANDI
The bitch is crazy. She's psycho.
AT ANOTHER TABLE sits: ANDREW TATE, DAVID ZASLAV, and ELON MUSK seated like the Axis of Evil.
ANDREW
Eggs are beta. Real men eat steak at 8am.
ELON
(mumbling to himself)
Gonna fire everyone in this dining room and replace them with humanoid waiters.
He tweets it. BRIAN THOMPSON joins them while on the phone.
BRIAN'S ASSISTANT (V.O.)
We're playing with people's lives here.
BRIAN
I don't give a fuck!
Brian hangs up and turns to LIFELESS WAITRESS.
BRIAN
Coffee. No cream.
ANDREW
Based.
ELON
You know what would be cool? If we turned this ship into a satellite. Like... just launched the whole thing.
DAVID
Huh?
ELON
We're gonna replace servers with robots powered by Twitter engagement. It'll be like Tesla but for feelings.
BRIAN
As long as it kills pensions, I'm in.
ANDREW
(muttering)
Mimosas emasculate the modern man.
A server quietly backs away before Elon can ask them to pitch in on Neuralink.
Suddenly, CHLOE FERRY stands up and SLAMS her mimosa down.
CHLOE
I'm getting MUGGED OFF. I SWEAR I'M NOT DRUNK!
Everyone looks. Even the harpist stops playing.
From across the room, the college sorority girls CHANEL OBERLIN, LONDON TIPTON, and TRINA VEGA are seated.
CHANEL
(to London)
What's mugged off?
LONDON
I think it's like when you lose your luggage?
London sips her fifth glass of champagne like orange juice. Trina Vega is doing vocal warmups. SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA is at their table scarfing down eggs.
CHANEL
(through gritted teeth to Trina)
What is he doing here?
TRINA
He's like famous.
Tanya McQuoid arrives late, disoriented, clutching a sequined robe around herself.
TANYA
Do you have... um... Oreo cookie cake? And a screwdriver? Not the tool. The drink. Or both?
LUKE
No Miss but I would literally murder someone for an Oreo cookie cake too.
TANYA
(disappointed)
Oh... okay...
She sits at the nearest empty seat, which happens to be beside Troye Sivan, who looks at her like she's a ghost only he can see. Tanya stares blankly at her water glass.
TANYA
I had a dream that I was being chased through a casino by a dolphin. I think it was a metaphor. Or a prophecy.
TROYE
That's... really beautiful.
JULIA
It's giving reincarnation trauma. I relate. I did this art exhibit on death. RIP Julia Fox. I extracted the blood with a syringe and used the syringe to paint on the silk. It wasn't as bad as it seems. I love the way blood bleeds onto fabrics. I think the color is mesmerizing. I chose the silk because it's so feminine in that it is delicate but at the same time it's so strong and hard to tear through. I feel like blood is so precious and it's only right that it be displayed on a fabric which is just as precious. I've always been fascinated with death. I've had a few near death experiences. In one particular instance, I saw the infamous tunnel of light and felt my spirit elevate from my human body and shoot into space. I guess I've always wondered where I was going. I've always been curious. Subconsciously putting myself in dangerous situations. Perhaps because I would like to revisit that place.
TANYA
(sliding off her heels under the table)
Oh... My feet are bleeding. But I think that's just part of the process.
JULIA
Pain is transformation. The body sheds what no longer serves it. I once walked barefoot through a Dior store after being spiritually reborn in the dressing room.
At ANOTHER TABLE sits the group of online influencers and icons: PARIS HILTON, TRISHA PAYTAS, THEWIZARDLIZ, and AZEALIA BANKS.
TRISHA
I just feel like... I give so much, you know? And like, nobody gives back. Except maybe... Jesus. But even He ghosted me.
PARIS
That's hot.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Trisha, stop crying. Real queens do not weep over peasants. They elevate. You are a goddess. Act like it.
TRISHA
(still weeping)
Okay.
AZEALIA
Girl, if you cry one more time I'm gonna remix your tears into a house track and call it Pity Party (feat. Delusion).
Just then—HRH Collection storms over, hairbrush in hand like a weapon. Her iced coffee sloshes with each step. Her eyes scan the table like a predator hunting vibes.
HRH COLLECTION
(through gritted teeth)
I'm here. These fucking people are psychotic. That dining room is full of broke losers who don't even moisturize. If one more person breathes near me, I'm jumping overboard.
She slams her purse down into the empty chair and sits like she owns the ship.
PARIS
Sliving.
TRISHA
Alex, do you ever just... feel like you're not meant for Earth?
HRH COLLECTION
Trisha, shut up. You don't even belong on this planet. You belong in a children's YouTube video about cupcakes that gets demonetized for being mentally unstable.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(raising her hand like a judge)
Trisha, she's projecting. You are divine. But you do need to stop trauma-dumping at brunch.
TRISHA
I'm literally not trying to trauma-dump. I'm just like... explaining how I had a psychic connection to the waitress because she brought me orange juice without me even asking.
AZEALIA
Y'all are all high on your own delusion. I'm here for the check and the bloodbath. I swear if one of these rich nerds like Elon fucking coughs on me, I'm throwing him overboard. That nasty bitch Grimes can come collect his fatty remains.
HRH Collection jabs her straw into her iced coffee like she's stabbing an enemy.
HRH COLLECTION
That's not even that dramatic. I literally went on this cruise to get away from the judgmental bitches who think they're better than me because they waited till marriage to get fucked.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Enough. Everyone breathe. This is a power table. We do not bicker. We do not whine. We set the tone.
TRISHA
Wait so why are we on this cruise again?
AZEALIA
They want us on some fucking reality show because we're like "unhinged pop culture icons" or whatever?
TRISHA
Well if it's anything like Celebrity Big Brother no thank you. Worst experience of my life.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Wait... Is this David Zaslav's reality show? Yeah I'm not being on that. He is a clown.
HRH COLLECTION
(snarling)
I'm not here to be edited into some little rat storyline, okay? If they try to make me look crazy on TV, I will sue. I'm not like these little broke bitches who want exposure.
THEWIZARDLIZ
Let them film. The real ones know who the puppets are and who's pulling the strings.
TRISHA
Wait... is this one of those like... experimental social media cruises? Are we being pranked?
AZEALIA
If a single producer tries to make me do a TikTok dance next to a crypto bro, I'm pushing them off the side of the boat. I don't care if it's a child. I've fought children before.
HRH COLLECTION
(to Azealia)
You're literally insane.
AZEALIA
Bitch you're insane. Typical white woman jealous of the power of black women's sexuality feeling threatened and victimized by the fact that her whole fan base is fat.
HRH COLLECTION
I AM NOT FAT! I AM VERY SKINNY. CALORIE IN CALORIE OUT!
THEWIZARDLIZ
Let's all just remember: if you have to scream to be heard, you're already irrelevant.
AZEALIA
(turning on her)
Girl, don't zen-bitch me. I will snatch that boundary wig right off your scalp.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my God! I need a fucking Starbucks.
THEWIZARDLIZ
But girl... the boycott.
HRH Collection turns her head slowly like a psychotic rage filled cartoon character.
HRH COLLECTION
Get the fuck off of my page! I will drink Starbucks! Yes I will! I care about America okay I'm over you I'm over you I'm not getting involved in international politics right now. I care about the United States and the fact that it's going down-fucking-hill! You have never posted about that and all of a sudden you think that you're some fucking international fucking uh political scientist get the fuck off my page that was actually my degree, not that it matters cuz it's a worthless degree but shut up! I will drink a Starbucks if I like like to and the moment that you start caring about America maybe I'll listen to your fucking dumb ass who thinks they're smart and they're not!
AZEALIA
(cackling, borderline feral)
I agree with you though, like they don't even like black people.
THEWIZARDLIZ
You are both so fucking delusional.
HRH COLLECTION
(snarling)
You know what's delusional? Caring about foreign conflict when our own country is LITERALLY DYING. You think you're above me because you read books? Go meditate in a fucking Whole Foods parking lot.
AZEALIA
(eyes wide, pointing her knife)
This is why the aliens are circling, bro. Y'all are the reason.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(smoothly, standing to leave)
I'm going to do my morning affirmations. None of you exist to me until you vibrate higher.
HRH COLLECTION
(shrieking after her)
I HOPE YOU VIBRATE YOURSELF INTO A FUCKING COMA!
TRISHA
I don't know, I boycotted McDonald's for a couple months and my husband is Jewish.
HRH COLLECTION
To be honest if I wanted to have my birthday at fucking McDonalds I would you know I don't give a fuck like if I wanted McDonalds I would do that and I would fucking put that picture up.
TRISHA
Yeah but like we were boycotting it for like political reasons.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming now)
I'm SICK of this fake woke shit!! All of you are BROKE and R*T*RDED and I'm OVER IT. I'm a GOOD person! I'm NICE!! I DON'T NEED THIS!!!
HRH Collection shoves back her chair with enough force to nearly knock over Paris' mimosa.
PARIS
(quietly)
That's not hot.
HRH COLLECTION
(spitting rage, walking off)
I'M A FUCKING STARBUCKS DRINKING, MCDONALD'S-EATING, AMERICAN PATRIOT AND GOD LOVES ME MORE THAN YOU—I'M DONE!!
She storms away from the table in full meltdown. She finds a TABLE with the NO MONEY FOR NORDSTROMS MOMS: CHERYL, LEANNE, AND KELLY.
HRH COLLECTION
(under her breath)
My people.
She swans over.
HRH COLLECTION
(dramatically, placing down her iced coffee)
Oh my GOD. I just left the most toxic table of brain-dead communist fucking rats I've ever seen. I can't even drink a Starbucks without getting lectured on fucking... geopolitics.
One of the moms nods solemnly.
CHERYL
That's how it starts. They cancel your coffee, then they cancel Jesus.
ALL THE MOMS
No money for Nordstroms!
CHERYL
Leanne why?
LEANNE
Because they caved. No money for Nordstroms.
CHERYL
We're boycotting.
KELLY
(on the phone)
Yes I do. I was actually a former employee for a number of years and I've been shopping at Nordstrom for 30 years and because of your decision to drop Ivanka Trump, I will no longer shop at your store nor will my husband or our 9 children or our 8 grandchildren.
CHERYL
Going to Dillards to buy all sorts of things!
Luke approaches this table to take their order.
LUKE
Um... would you like the avocado toast?
HRH COLLECTION
Do I look like someone who eats avocados? Do you know how many calories are in an avocado?
LUKE
(walking away)
A simple no would have sufficed...
Enter: TERRI JOE.
Wheeling toward the table in her mobility scooter like she's entering a WWE ring, purse swinging, hair curled to heaven, rage in her eyes and Jesus on her lips.
TERRI JOE
Did y'all say you're Christians?! I need to know right now. Are y'all women of the Lord or a bunch
of jezebel harlot hussies?
The Nordstrom Moms turn with the reverence of women who once left church early to catch a Hobby Lobby sale.
CHERYL
Of course we are. We're in a Bible study group called God and Dillards.
TERRI JOE
Praise the Lamb!
HRH COLLECTION
Wait are you like... a pastor or just really fucking religious?
TERRI JOE
I am a vessel of Christ and a lifelong enemy of homosexuals and harlot hussies. And what I see on this boat is a sea of sin. I have never seen so much Sodom and Gomorrah in one place since that time I got shot in the kneecaps at New Orleans Pride.
She parks the scooter like it's a Cadillac and turns off the engine with flair, letting it beep dramatically as she settles at the head of the table like she owns the boat.
TERRI JOE
(to HRH Collection, eyes narrowed)
You look familiar. Ain't you the girl on the internet who said God loves you more than a virgin?
HRH COLLECTION
Yes, because He does.
TERRI JOE
(blinks slowly)
You're going to hell.
HRH COLLECTION
You're going to hell! Wheelchair.
TERRI JOE
I am in this chair because I was SHOT by a bunch of homosexuals while protesting pride month,
you stupid bitch.
HRH COLLECTION
Well maybe He was trying to humble you.
CHERYL
We support Ivanka.
TERRI JOE
(nodding)
As you should. That woman is biblical.
KELLY
(to herself)
Let go and let God...
Back at Chanel, London, Trina, and SmokeCheddaThaAssGetta's table:
TRINA
(ignoring everyone)
I'm doing my one woman show! Trina: The Musical. Chicago. All original songs. It was a hit at Hollywood Arts.
CHANEL
Oh my god. Can't wait to miss that.
TRINA
You don't deserve to see it anyway.
CHANEL
Okay can we talk about something that actually matters?
TRINA
(to Chanel)
Your butt is a hate crime.
CHANEL
You are lucky this table isn't long enough for me to reach over and strangle you bitch!
London just smiles while buttering her English muffin.
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(grinning)
Y'all ever wonder why like... soup got no bones? Like you ever think about that?
CHANEL
Jesus Christ.
LONDON
Oooh, I love soup! Especially the one with the little alphabets. I use it to spell "daddy"
when I'm sad.
CHANEL
Anyways, what do you all think of Micah?
TRINA
The towel boy?
CHANEL
Well, after surviving the most catastrophic, tacky, mean-spirited Thanksgiving I've ever experienced with my ex-boyfriend Chad Radwell and the most awful, patronizing gaggle of a family in America, I think I need to date down a tax bracket. And after being with Micah last night with his amazing hand and his hot mouth, I think I'm finally ready to
move on!
LONDON
(blinking)
But... Micah's a towel boy?
CHANEL
Whatever hooker! His family is rich. They're just not as rich as mine. He's just working here for like... his resume I guess. His family's still loaded. Like, country club loaded. I did a background check. His dad owns an "eco-yacht" company.
LONDON
(leaning in, fascinated)
So it's like... he's poor on purpose?
CHANEL
Kinda. It's like poverty cosplay. It's kind of hot.
TRINA
I auditioned to be a towel girl once for a Hallmark movie. They said I was too... "loud."
CHANEL
Shut up Trina!
Trina scoffs.
***
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – POOL DECK – DAY
Sun gleams off the glistening surface of the infinity pool. Micah and Kai are by the towel stand, folding and restocking towels under a comically oversized umbrella. Micah is shirtless, of course, sunglasses on, looking like a cologne ad. Kai, fully uniformed, is folding the towels. Kai looks at Micah nervously.
MICAH
(grinning, tossing a towel onto the cart)
You know, if you wanna get a girl like Chanel, you've gotta be more... I don't know, confident.
Kai blinks.
KAI
(stammering)
I—uh... what?
Micah leans casually against the railing, sunglasses perched cockily on his nose, soaking in the morning sun like it owes him rent.
MICAH
Last night? You kept staring. And I don't blame you. Girl's hot. Crazy, but hot.
Kai nearly drops the stack of towels in his hands.
KAI
Oh. Right. Yeah. Totally. Hot.
MICAH
If you want, I could, like... give you some pointers.
Kai just stares. Micah mistakes it for eagerness.
MICAH
(flashing a boyish smirk)
For one, don't look like you're gonna pass out every time someone touches you. Girls like confidence man. You gotta act like you kissed someone before. I mean Chanel is obviously into me, but maybe you can get with that London girl. Or the desperate one who was singing off key all night.
KAI
Trina?
MICAH
Yeah her.
He laughs to himself, like it's a generous suggestion.
KAI
Okay.
Micah stretches, unintentionally flexing. Kai stares.
MICAH
You should make a move before that pink haired rapper does. Clock's ticking, virgin.
Kai swallows hard and turns away, clutching the towel cart like it's the only thing tethering him to Earth. He nods like he agrees, but his eyes are still glued to Micah's arms and his pits.
Micah turns away distracted by something else now. Kai looks at Micah, almost like the sun was just taken away from him. Like his attention means something.
KAI
I- uh, I don't even know how to flirt.
Micah doesn't hear him at first.
KAI
(louder)
Like, I wouldn't even know what to say. If I... wanted to flirt with someone.
Micah turns back, eyebrow raised, but still grinning that lazy, cocky grin.
MICAH
Dude you're overthinking it. Flirting's just... vibes. Like, you don't say things. You suggest them.
KAI
Suggest... what?
MICAH
Everything.
He tosses his phone on the counter and leans against the towel shelf like he's about to teach a masterclass in seduction, the human embodiment of a half-assed TED Talk.
MICAH
Okay. So like, there's this look I do.
Micah demonstrates, narrowing his eyes a little, raising one eyebrow, lips just barely parted.
MICAH
Not too much. Just enough to make them wonder if you're thinking about kissing them... or just imagining them naked. You gotta live in that confusion. That's the magic.
Kai swallows hard. Micah steps closer, casually folding a towel with one hand like this is all just a normal Tuesday.
MICAH
Or like, this one time, I was in Cabo. There was this girl. Model, obvi. I leaned in while she was talking, nodded like I was listening - wasn't - and then I said... "That's wild... so fucking dope. I've never met a girl like you before. You have a really pretty mouth by the way."
He shrugs like this line is scientifically peer-reviewed.
MICAH
She kissed me in the infinity pool ten minutes later.
Kai is visibly short-circuiting.
KAI
(quietly)
That... works?
MICAH
(grinning)
Dude. I don't even believe half the shit I say. But if you say it with conviction? That's all that matters.
Kai exhales, stunned and mildly terrified. Micah leans in.
MICAH
But the most important thing, man.
(drops his voice)
Use the voice. Drop it low. Soft. Slow. Like you're telling a secret.
Micah looks at Kai and puts his hand on Kai's shoulder.
MICAH
People love secrets.
Kai's breath hitches. He almost drops the towel.
Micah pats Kai's shoulder once and turns back to the towels like nothing happened. Like he didn't just detonate a nuclear bomb in Kai's brain.
Kai watches him, chest rising too fast, eyes wide and confused and hungry. He clutches the towel. This time, with both hands.
Mary storms by breaking the tension.
MARY
Oh my God if I have to cater to one more fucking Zionist!
Kai watches Micah, looking unscrutable. Kai squeezes a towel, wringing the water out as Micah lifts a folding pool chair.
CLOSE IN on his bicep.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. SS GILDED WAVES – GYM – DAY
Close in on Nate's biceps. NATE JACOBS is at the bench press, slamming weights like he's lifting his unresolved issues. Sweat drips. Rage simmers.
The gym glows like a fitness influencer's fever dream—mirror walls, LED strip lights, and house music vibrating through the floors. It's part Equinox, part frat house, part crime scene waiting to happen.
RAFE CAMERON stands nearby, pacing like a caged pit bull with a vendetta.
RAFE
Let's go, Jacobs. That weight's looking a little light.
NATE
(gritting his teeth)
Shut the fuck up. You're not even lifting bro, you're pacing around like a coked-up toddler.
RAFE
(smiling)
Your form says "Daddy never hugged me."
NATE
(sitting up, seething)
Better that than "Daddy bought me a boat so I'd stop killing small animals."
JORDAN stands awkwardly near the dumbbells. His eyes dart between them like he's watching the prequel to a crime doc.
KYLE SCHEIBLE is sprawled on a yoga mat in the corner, headphones in, still reading that damn book, not moving. He removes one AirPod and looks up like a feral cat disturbed from a nap.
KYLE
(quietly to himself)
This place is so performative.
RAFE
Alright. Who invited Nietzsche Barbie to the team?
KYLE
(sitting up, unfazed)
I'm here for the journey. Not the destination. Also I needed an excuse to skip Econ.
RAFE
(whipping around)
Why is he here?
FOOTBALL PLAYER #1
He's technically on the team now.
JORDAN
He hasn't touched a football since he got here.
NATE
(smirking)
Bro's never lifted a day in his life but somehow has abs.
KYLE
Sweat is capitalism's cologne.
RAFE
I swear to God—
JORDAN
Okay! Okay. Team building idea. We do a ropes course later. Maybe a little sauna time. Y'all ever cried in a sauna? Shit's spiritual.
RAFE
If I cry, it'll be because Nate's face makes me lose faith in evolution.
NATE
Try me, you spoiled methhead Ken doll.
JORDAN
Woah woah woah!
Rafe lunges toward him. Jordan jumps between them like a human barrier made of fear and good intentions.
COACH comes charging over like a roid-raging stepdad at a Little League game.
COACH
THAT'S IT! BREAK IT UP!!
Rafe's still breathing like a bull in a rage cage. Nate looks smug, which only pisses Rafe off more. Nate mutters something under his breath. Rafe twitches like he's about to snap again.
COACH
NO. I'm done. This isn't a team, it's a goddamn reality show with CTE! You think this is what a team looks like? Huh? Two punks trying to murder each other in front of the elliptical machine?
KYLE
I thought you wanted them to get it out of their system.
Coach flashes a seething glare at Kyle, who doesn't notice.
RAFE
He started it.
COACH
I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHO STARTED IT! You wanna play ball at the next level? Then act like it. That means sacrifice. That means control. That means knowing that the guy beside you on that line is more important than your fucking ego. You think some recruiter is gonna watch you swing at your own teammate and say, "Wow, what a leader!" NO! They're gonna say, "That's a liability with a side of assault charges!" You think Ray Lewis got to the Hall of Fame by acting like a pissed-off frat boy with a superiority complex?
KYLE
Actually he—
COACH
SHUT UP, KYLE. Right now, you two don't look like teammates. You look like two caged dogs foaming at the mouth. And you two need a little bit of couples therapy. So until you two can get your shit together and get along, I'm making you roommates.
RAFE & NATE
(in unison, horrified)
WHAT?!
COACH
That's right. One cabin. One bunk. One shared toilet. Until you sort this shit out and start acting like teammates.
RAFE
I had a suite! With a minibar!
NATE
I had a fucking balcony!
COACH
Now you have each other. Congratulations. You're officially on roommate rehab. Don't make me duct tape you together next.
RAFE
You can't be serious.
COACH
Oh I'm dead serious. You want to act like alpha dogs? Then you're gonna share a kennel. You'll wake up together, you'll fall asleep together, until you finally fucking understand each other.
Nate and Rafe look at each other with angry dominance.
***
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – POOL DECK – AFTERNOON
The pool is officially open. Sun blazing, music pulsing, rich chaos in full swing. Tourists and TikTokers scatter across lounge chairs like glittering debris. Influencers pose with inflatable swans. A champagne-fueled conga line spills into the shallow end. This isn't a pool—it's a spectacle.
The POOL BAR is bustling. Staff whirl around making smoothies, spiking some, pretending not to notice others.
Micah, still shirtless, now in designer swim trunks, casually leans on the smoothie counter like it's a photo shoot. He takes a sip of something obnoxiously green while scrolling TikTok.
Kai, in uniform, dressed perfectly, mans the smoothie blender with the nervous intensity of someone trying to defuse a bomb.
MICAH
(grinning to Kai)
Smile, baby. You're in paradise.
Kai shyly smiles. Micah hops up to the lifeguard stand to start his lifeguard roles, because of course as a steward, they have him on lifeguard duties too.
Behind them, Mary struts past in oversized sunglasses and a clipboard, power-walking like she's running a startup and an FBI sting at the same time.
MARY
(into headset)
Okay, so we've got five influencers who don't know how to swim, one girl demanding "raw water," and HRH just screamed at a child because their floatie looked broke.
She breezes by.
AT A POOLSIDE LOUNGE CHAIR, Cayetana is pretending to be rich, applying bronzer with the urgency of someone faking an entire lifestyle. She has a Chanel towel she definitely didn't pay for and is talking to Paris Hilton.
CAYETANA
I'm just trying to create my own fairytale.
PARIS
That's hot. Sliving babe.
A MASSIVE SPLASH interrupts everything—Rafe cannonballs into the pool, soaking everyone nearby.
RAFE
WOOOO! YEAH BABY! SUCK MY DICK!
Nate, sitting on the pool's edge trying to look stoic, watches with simmering rage.
NATE
(under breath)
I'm gonna drown him in the hot tub.
JORDAN
We're already on probation for the gym incident. Just... try to get along?
Nate towers over Jordan, who is like 6 inches shorter than him.
NATE
How about you don't tell me what to do?
Jordan gulps and nods.
ON THE POOL DECK: MATT RIFE is leaning against the smoothie bar, shirtless, oiled up like a rotisserie chicken, flashing his veneers at a pretty INFLUENCER GIRL sipping a pink drink and pretending to laugh at his joke.
MATT
(grinning)
You know you're intimidatingly hot, right? Like, if I asked for your number I'd expect a waiver form and a disclaimer: 'This influencer is not responsible for emotional damage.'
IN THE DISTANCE, standing under the shade of a striped cabana, PEARL watches him like a hawk. Her expression is calm—too calm. Like a pageant queen at a funeral. One hand clutches her parasol. The other grips a rusty fork from the breakfast buffet.
Pearl starts walking. The camera follows her in slow motion—like a horror movie shot in technicolor.
MATT
(still flirting)
You know? I'm gonna get you a drink. You want a drink?
Matt walks away to the bar. Pearl arrives at the Influencer Girl.
PEARL
(to her, sweetly)
Don't worry. He'll never love you darling. Not the way you deserve. Not the way he pretends he could. He's just... rehearsing.
Influencer Girl looks at Pearl with bombastic side eye.
INFLUENCER GIRL
Um.
Pearl turns to glare at Matt at the bar.
PEARL
(looking at Matt)
You're not special. You're just loud.
HRH Collection stomps into frame in six-inch wedge sandals, oversized sunglasses, and a rhinestoned God Hates Broke People kaftan. She's holding a half-melted smoothie and already yelling into her emotional support hairbrush like it's a mic.
HRH COLLECTION
(outraged)
I hate the beach. I don't want to see sand. I don't want to smell sand. I don't want to be near people who have even thought about sand. It makes me feel like a beached whale! The beach makes me feel fat.
She dramatically pulls a chair six inches to the left like that's going to change the axis of the Earth.
CHLOE
(confused)
But babe... this isn't the beach. It's a pool.
HRH COLLECTION
(turning to her slowly, venomously)
Oh my god. Are you actually stupid? You think just because I can't see the fucking ocean that I'm not having a beach experience right now? There are umbrellas. There are wet people. There are children with goggles. This is triggering.
CHLOE
(defensive)
I was just saying—
HRH COLLECTION
(interrupting)
Stop interrupting me. Oh my god. You're giving me lifeguard energy right now. It's disgusting. Get away from me.
CHLOE
OY! DON'T GET LOUD WITH ME!
Past loud children with floaties, past the smoothie bar where Matt Rife is mid-cringe pickup line, past Pearl staring daggers into his soul while muttering something about razors and musical theater...
And then—
THE CAMERA LANDS ON:
London Tipton, Chanel Oberlin, and Julia Fox reclining in custom swimwear, sipping coconut water like it's holy wine. The air around them feels cooler. Richer. More curated.
London lounges with one leg perfectly extended, taking a mirror selfie on a gold phone.
LONDON
(cheerfully oblivious)
I love the pool! It's like... a really expensive bathtub you don't have to clean yourself.
CHANEL
(reading the room like it owes her money)
Honestly, if HRH doesn't shut up, I'm going to drown her in a mimosa.
JULIA
(philosophically, dreamlike)
Pools are a metaphor for the illusion of control. We immerse ourselves in something dangerous, yet artificial. It's how we cope with the ocean's existential violence.
LONDON
Yay pools!
The CAMERA travels and sways to the housewives, like a ticking grandfather clock. A soft breeze rustles the designer kaftans and Botox-smooth brows of the Housewives.
Brandi Glanville, Lisa Rinna, Kandi Burruss, Tamra Judge, Shereé Whitfield, and Nene Leakes—seated on pristine white loungers like a coven of glamorously venomous sea witches.
Lifeless Waitress walks up to them.
SHEREE
Hi, can I get a coconut daiquiri?
Lifeless Waitress half-heartedly nods and walks away before Brandi can order.
BRANDI
Oh my god?! Bitch! The service here is abysmal. She is giving me a headache.
SHEREE
Like whatever happened to customer service? Whatever happened to hello, how are you, my name is?
TAMRA
This is why I just got my Xanax refilled.
KANDI
Y'all act like this is the Four Seasons. It's a boat. Chill.
BRANDI
It's a luxury cruise Kandi.
LISA
I haven't had a Diet Coke in two hours. I'm not well, bitch.
NENE
Don't start with the Diet Coke, Lisa. You know that's not what's wrong with you.
LISA
(stirring her drink like she's conjuring spirits)
Honestly... this reminds me of Camille's birthday party in Malibu. When she had that gluten-free piñata and nobody knew what to do with it.
KANDI
(sipping)
Speaking of birthdays... y'all remember when I brought a birthday present to Kim's birthday party on her birthday with a birthday present?
LISA
(smirking)
Let me guess. She lost her mind?
KANDI
Girl, she smashed my head with a champagne glass.
LISA
Oh please. At least they're not serving the same mini crab cakes from that party in Calabasas.
BRANDI
Don't you dare bring up that party. I still have PTSD from the shrimp tower collapsing into the light installation. Honestly, it's like they've never hosted a gala before. Who uses baroque-style candelabras for a minimalist theme?
SHEREE
It's called contrasting aesthetics, Brandi. It's supposed to be ironic.
TAMRA
It's not ironic, it's ignorant. Next, you'll tell me using rococo table runners at a Bauhaus banquet is chic.
KANDI
And don't get me started on the food. A molecular gastronomy station right next to the vintage Bordeaux? The fumes alone could curdle the wine.
SHEREE
No, no, no—because WHY were they even doing Brutalist seafood?! What even was that?
TAMRA
It wasn't Brutalist, babe. It was Coastal Mid-Century Gothic. Which doesn't make sense inland.
NENE
Girl, it was giving haunted beach house. Not cute. Not timeless. Just... confusing.
KANDI
And don't even get me started on that wallpaper. I looked at it too long and got vertigo.
LISA
You know what it was? It was Restoration Hardware trying to cosplay as Damien Hirst.
TAMRA
Exactly! Like, you can't just throw a deconstructed ceviche next to a brass flamingo statue and call it elevated.
LISA
That's better than pairing Rococo-inspired balustrades with a Brutalist buffet. At a fucking seaside soirée?
The conversation is peaking in snippy retorts and icy glares. Lisa turns to Tanya McQuoid, who's been blissfully unaware, cucumber slices over her eyes and sipping a mimosa.
LISA
You wouldn't pair Rococo-inspired balustrades with a Brutalist buffet at a seaside soirée, right?
TANYA
(removing the cucumbers, confused)
I'm sorry, what?
LISA
A Rococo-inspired balustrades with a Brutalist buffet?
TANYA
Oh I'd love a cocoa pastry with butter! Where did you get one?
The other housewives exchange looks of disbelief and amusement as they realize Tanya is not on the same page, and likely not even the same book.
BRANDI
What's the dirt on Gretchen anyways?
Suddenly. LovelyPeaches bursts onto the scene, her laughter piercing the calm like a siren. With wild eyes and an even wilder grin, she starts jumping up and down maniacally.
LOVELYPEACHES
(bursting onto the pool deck)
HEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEE!
She sprints into frame, flailing her arms, before launching into a chaotic, erratic jump-dance—her flip-flops slapping the floor with each hop like gunfire.
She suddenly yanks her shirt up, FLASHING the entire first-class pool lounge, while jumping up and down.
GUESTS SCREAM. Brandi drops her mimosa. Luke cackles.
LUKE
(sputtering through laughter)
Did she just—bro—is that a whole nipple?!
Kai looks on in bewilderment, first shocked, then unable to hold back a laugh as he looks to Micah, who doesn't even know what's going on. He's talking to a guest.
Guests GASP.
TheWizardLiz drops her green juice.
LISA
(shouting)
What the ACTUAL hell?!
NENE
Whew chile, the ghetto! Right here in First Class.
Azealia Banks laughs at the bar.
AZEALIA
(cracking up)
NAH. WAIT. This is art. She got her titties out like it's Mardi Gras for methheads. I'm LIVING.
The whole football team watches from the pool.
NATE
...What the fuck.
RAFE
(joking)
Yo... I think I'm in love.
Then—without warning—LovelyPeaches drops to the ground, yanks her shorts down to her ankles, and immediately starts TWERKING, clapping her cheeks like a jackhammer on a brick wall.
QUEN
OH MY GOD!
ALEX
I thought this was a classy party!
SMOKECHEDDATHAASSGETTA
(from the hot tub, filming on his phone)
YOOOOOOOOO!!! Ay yo the cheeks got BOUNCE! Bro this finna be my album cover, no cap!
INFLUENCER GIRL
(eyes wide, horrified)
Oh my god...
LOVELYPEACHES
YEAH BITCHES! THIS WHAT THEY MEAN BY ASSUMPTIONS!! ASS. SUM. SHUNS!!!
MATT
(chuckling, turning to Influencer Girl)
I haven't seen an ass move like that since my ex tried to 'twerk out' her postpartum depression.
The Influencer Girl turns slowly, eyes narrowing.
INFLUENCER GIRL
(disgusted)
...What the fuck?
She grabs her drink and walks away without another word, leaving Matt standing there like a rejected fraternity pledge.
HRH COLLECTION
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?! I DID NOT PAY FOR FIRST CLASS TO BE ASSAULTED BY NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.
HRH Collection stands up and screams.
INT. SECURITY CONTROL CENTER
A wall of SECURITY CAMERA FEEDS flickers on multiple monitors. Kate Chastain, arms crossed, stares blankly at the screen showing LovelyPeaches mid-twerk, her ass moving like a sentient creature, as rich guests flee like pigeons from a Roman fountain. The Surveillance Officer's jaw drops.
KATE
Fuck, are you kidding me?
She sighs, grabs her walkie-talkie, and clicks it calmly.
KATE
(into walkie)
Mary, we have a situation. That crazy bitch is streaking at the Infinity Pool.
TRAVEL TO:
INT. LOWER DECK – CREW LOUNGE – SAME TIME
Mary Zheng, lounging with her feet up, watching a true crime documentary on her phone, sits up as the walkie crackles to life.
MARY
(into walkie)
Copy that.
TRAVEL TO:
INT. SECURITY OFFICE – EAST WING
Denise Hemphill picks up her walkie while eating mozzarella sticks.
MARY (V.O.)
Booty cheeks are clapping. I repeat booty cheeks are clapping. Report to the pool.
DENISE
Oh hell no!
She gets up and starts running
SNAP TO:
INT. SECURITY OFFICE - WEST WING
Luigi Mangione, reading The Wretched of the Earth in one hand and polishing his security badge with the other, stops and hears his walkie. He tucks the book under his arm and power-walks out of frame.
FAST-CUT MONTAGE – HYPER-STYLIZED:
– Mary strutting down a hallway, heels clicking like a countdown.
– Luigi moving through the kitchen, ducking a falling plate of shrimp.
– Denise power-walking past confused guests.
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – POOL DECK – AFTERNOON
LovelyPeaches lets out a guttural, animalistic SCREAM like she's summoning a demon or chasing one.
Then—
SPLASH!
She hurls herself FULLY NUDE into the pristine, glistening pool like a feral cannonball.
WATER ERUPTS, drenching every poor soul who was just trying to tan, flirt, or sip a $18 smoothie in peace.
This finally catches the attention of Micah, as he gets drenched.
MICAH
Oh shit!
Micah blows his whistle.
The guests scream in horror. Trina clutches her soaking Fazini boots. Kyle is conveniently reading as far away from everyone as possible.
TRINA
WHAT THE HELL! I AM SO UPSET!!
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming)
WHAT THE FUCK?! OH MY GOD MY HAIR EXTENSIONS! IF THIS WATER TOUCHES MY BAG, I WILL BURN THIS BOAT TO THE FUCKING GROUND!! YOU ROACH INFESTED LITTLE RAT ASS FUCKING UGLY CUNT!
CHANEL
You just flashed your fungal cooch and then baptized us in plague water?! YOU'RE LITERALLY THE BLACK DEATH!!
The football team and everyone else in the pool scrambles to get out.
RAFE
(backing up)
What the actual fuck?! Is the water—brown now??
NATE
(disgusted, wiping his face)
Nah. I'm done. This is a biohazard.
HRH Collection STORMS toward the pool like a heat-seeking missile in Chanel platforms, drenched in fury, iced coffee, and filtered rage. Her emotional support hairbrush is clutched like a weapon.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming at the top of her lungs)
YOU DISGUSTING, DEMONIC, BATHROOM FLOOR GREMLIN! YOU ARE THE FUCKING MOST EVIL NASTY SCUM OF THE FUCKING UNIVERSE! YOU RUINED MY DAY, YOU RUINED MY MOMENT, YOU'RE A CUNT, YOU'RE A BITCH, AND YOU'RE NASTY ALSO.
LovelyPeaches just shakes like she's having an exorcism and then starts crying.
LOVELYPEACHES
(unhinged)
WHYYY! WHYYYYY! WHYYYY! OH MY GOD HOLLY?! FUCK YOU!
HRH COLLECTION
OH SHUT THE FUCK UP!! YOU ARE A WALKING BACTERIA FARM! A BIOLOGICAL FUCKING ATTACK! I HOPE YOU SLIP ON THE TILE AND LAND IN HELL, BITCH!
She spins around, eyes now blazing, stomping toward the towel stand where Kai and Micah are standing frozen in horror, clutching towels like they're life rafts.
HRH COLLECTION
(pointing a manicured claw)
ARE YOU GONNA DO SOMETHING?! Or are you just gonna stand there looking like two wet they/them Q-Tips at a gender reveal party?! THERE'S A FUCKING FILTHY FUCKING LICE INFESTED BUM SITTING IN THE POOL!! I AM COVERED IN VAGINAL TAP WATER!! DO! SOMETHING!!
Kai just stares dumbfounded and stammers. Nothing could have prepared him for this.
MICAH
Honestly, I'm not really equipped to handle this situation, but security should be coming.
HRH COLLECTION
You useless FUCKING CUNTS!
Suddenly—CAMERA WHIP-PANS to the deck stairs, where a squad emerges:
Mary Zheng, already mid-eye roll, walkie still in hand.
Luigi Mangione, jaw tight, eyes dark, slow purposeful stride like a man calculating someone's downfall.
Denise Hemphill busting past panicked guests, nightstick twirling like a majorette baton.
They descend like a crew of corporate hitmen, all in black polos, each one looking more done than the last.
Brian Thompson, drenched, red-faced, and holding what used to be a $900 linen resort shirt, STORMS UP.
BRIAN
(outraged, soaked)
I'm calling the health department!
MARY
No need for that, we are taking care of it sir.
Luigi stares at him with seething yet contained anger.
MARY
(to the security guards)
So what do we do. Horse tranquilizer? Pull her out with a giant net?
DENISE
Girl, you think they provide us with horse tranquilizers? They don't even let me carry a gun yet even though I held one at Quantico and when I replaced the police force at Wallace University.
LUIGI
Let's just do the fucking net.
MARY
(walkie to Chip Girl)
Can you bring a burger with some Xanax sprinkled in it?
CUT TO:
INT. BELOW DECK – STORAGE ROOM – SAME TIME
Chip Girl is in the supply room balancing a bag of chips on her head and wearing a pool noodle as a belt and sticking googly eyes onto a mop while restocking.
CHIP GIRL
Omg yes!! Like a dog treat! Got it. Should I add pickles or no?
INTERCUT TO: POOL - DAY
MARY
No pickles. She looks like a pickle-thrower.
Luigi is already unfurling a net like he's about to capture a sea monster.
DENISE
Oh hell no! It smell like booty in here!
LovelyPeaches suddenly lets out another ungodly scream and dives underwater like a feral mermaid.
LUIGI
We might have to go in there.
DENISE
Oh hell no! I ain't going in there! I am SECURITY, not SEA-CURITY.
Luigi rolls his eyes. Him and Denise toss the net in and wrap her up. LovelyPeaches is now wrapped up like a feral animal in a massive net, soaked and screeching, one tit still flopped out as they struggle to keep her contained.
Just then, Chip Girl arrives trotting toward them, beaming, holding a burger on a silver tray with sparkly sunglasses and zero urgency. Mary hands it to LovelyPeaches who jumps out of the pool and snatches it and starts devouring it so sloppily.
As the team begins rolling LovelyPeaches away, still cackling, still soaked, still occasionally biting at the air like a rabid raccoon, Mary turns to the assembled, dripping, horrified guests.
MARY
(cheerfully, like a flight attendant after turbulence)
Hi, everyone! So sorry for that brief... aquatic exorcism incident. The pool will now be closed for the next hour for deep, industrial-level cleaning. We recommend you all take this time to shower before this evening's activities. Thoroughly. Maybe twice.
She turns and gestures with two fingers to Cayetana, who's sunbathing next to Paris Hilton, sipping something neon and garnished with gold flakes.
Cayetana groans dramatically, peels herself off the lounger, and grabs a mop with all the enthusiasm of a royal being asked to clean her own yacht.
***
MONTAGE – POST-PEACHES PANIC CLEAN-UP
INT. NENE'S BATHROOM
Nene Leakes in a luxury marble shower, fully dressed, clutching a bottle of soap like it's holy water.
NENE
(angrily scrubbing)
So nasty and so RUDE!
INT. CHANEL'S BATHROOM
Chanel Oberlin in her suite, screeching as THREE STAFFERS spray her with disinfectant like she's a biohazard.
INT. RAFE'S BATHROOM
Rafe Cameron, shirtless, slamming his entire body against the shower wall like it personally betrayed him.
RAFE
(yelling at the water)
YOU'RE NOT HOT ENOUGH! IT STILL SMELLS LIKE HER!
INT. BRIAN'S BATHROOM
Brian scrubbing under his nails while furiously voice-dictating into his phone.
BRIAN
(note-to-self tone)
Class-action. Public indecency. Biological contamination. Sue everyone. Especially the burger girl.
INT. LIZ'S BATHROOM
Soothing meditative music plays from a Bose speaker.
TheWizardLiz, meditating under a freezing cold waterfall shower like it's an act of spiritual rebirth. She steps out and puts her robe on and looks at herself in the mirror.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(calmly chanting)
You are the main character. You are not tainted. She is the sickness. You are the cure.
She takes a deep breath. IN.... and OUTTTT.
INT. HRH COLLECTION'S BATHROOM
The camera CRASH ZOOMS into HRH COLLECTION screaming while setting her phone down. She hits record.
HRH COLLECTION
(calm and sweet)
Hey guys. What's up?
Then she switches up, starting with some fast talking complaining.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my God so I was literally attacked today. I was literally attacked today. And not by a person, not by a terrorist—worse. By a beached fucking whale. A literal psychotic swamp creature! I was sitting there, minding my FUCKING BUSINESS, when this ugly FUCKING CUNT— like— literal SEA MONSTER! Flashed her entire ROACH INFESTED PUSSY. And then you know what she did? You know what she fucking did? She fucking jumped into the pool. She jumped into the fucking pool like a FUCKING HIPPO AND GOT HER NASTY HOMELESS BITCH ASS FUCKING STANK ASS WATER ALL OVER ME. LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!
She grabs an expensive human sponge and lathers it with soap.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming while furiously scrubbing herself)
That was so fucking VILE! This is fucking NASTY! So disgusting!
She throws a scented candle across the room. It shatters against the wall.
HRH COLLECTION
You let that beached whale of a psychotic roach-woman do her little STUNT in front of ME?! In front of me?! Ugly. UGLY FUCKING CUNT. That is what that was. I'm never going on this fucking cruise line again. Now... if you'll excuse me, I have to go take the shower of a FUCKING LIFETIME.
She presses the stop recording button and SCREAMS as she steps into the shower.
HRH COLLECTION (O.S.)
FUCKING ASSHOLES!
INT. STAFF QUARTERS - KAI & MICAH'S ROOM – AFTERNOON
The door creaks open. Kai sits stiffly on the floor, still slightly damp from the LovelyPeaches Incident, knees together, hands clasped like he's trying to meditate his way into another dimension. He can't sit on his bed, because he doesn't wanna infest it. But he also is such a people pleaser that of course he let Micah shower first.
The CAMERA glides past him—a slow, elegant PAN toward the bathroom.
INT. KAI & MICAH'S BATHROOM – CONTINUOUS
SLOW MOTION: Steam curls around the frame like fog on a mountaintop. The shower runs.
Micah, glistening, golden, and completely unbothered by the trauma of the past hour, flips his head back dramatically under the stream of water. His abs catch the light like a Calvin Klein ad filtered through God's lens flare. He lathers conditioner through his hair in slow motion, closing his eyes as though he's in a cologne commercial titled VANITY: For Men Who Love Mirrors.
A droplet trails slowly down his back.
END SLOW MOTION
The water shuts off. He steps out, casual and confident, grabbing a towel with one hand like he's done this in front of an audience a hundred times.
Micah fluffs his wet hair in the mirror, admiring himself with an affectionate smirk. He tilts his head. Adjusts his jawline. Smiles at his own reflection. Finger guns into the mirror.
He pulls out his phone to take a mirror selfie. He frames himself so that it cuts off right at his pelvis, right before what the viewers really want. SNAP. He looks at it.
MICAH
So fucking hot.
He posts it to OnlyFans. Then he wraps the towel around his waist, unlocks the bathroom door, and opens it with a satisfying whoosh.
REVEAL: Kai looking down at his hands, criss cross applesauce twiddling his thumbs.
Back to Micah, smirking.
MICAH
(grinning)
Your turn, roomie.
Kai blinks up at him, gets up, and goes into the bathroom.
INT. STAFF CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
A tired, fluorescent-lit meeting room tucked behind the luxury veneer of the ship. A crusty whiteboard, a half-dead plant, and a tray of uneaten croissants. Around the table: Kate, Mary, Luigi, Denise, the NERVOUS STEWARD, Chip Girl, and the Annoyed Waiter. Everyone is still damp, emotionally or otherwise.
ANNOYED WAITER
Can't we just throw her overboard?
KATE
As much as I would love to do that, we cannot throw her overboard. That would be a lawsuit.
Lawsuits are fucking headaches, I do not want to deal with that.
DENISE
That girl needs to be put in HORNY JAIL.
MARY
So we're putting her in horny jail? Great. Love that. Do we have a horny cruise jail?
Kate holds the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath.
KATE
You know what? We're porting in Barcelona tomorrow. And as we all know... cruise regulations are very clear. If you don't make it back to the ship on time... we leave you.
MARY
(grinning)
So what you're saying is... if she just happens to miss the boat—
KATE
Then the problem solves itself.
DENISE
(sits back, impressed)
Okaaay, Kate.
LUIGI
(darkly amused)
Barcelona's a beautiful place to get abandoned.
KATE
(nodding)
We'll just make sure she has all the time in the world to enjoy it.
***
INT. SS GILDED WAVES - GRAND BALLROOM - NIGHT
The Captain's Gala Dinner is in full swing. Glittering chandeliers rain light over the crowd. First-class guests swirl wine and pretend they aren't clocking each other's outfits for later judgment.
At the head table, the CAPTAIN (50s) over it, borderline dead inside—lifts his champagne like it physically pains him.
CAPTAIN
(deadpan)
On behalf of the SS Gilded Waves... welcome. Thank you on behalf of... our Facebook team? I don't know, for being our first exclusive guests on the ship. In exchange for your promo or donations or whatever you gave us, we hope you enjoy your time here.
Polite applause. He downs the glass in one gulp, eyes darting toward the exit.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES - KITCHEN - NIGHT
Steam clouds the air. Plates stack high like a game of culinary Jenga. Staff darts between counters.
Luke Abercrombie, leans against the kitchen door frame, dodging chefs with the agility of someone who's done this while hungover before.
He's mid-routine, entertaining a frazzled busboy and a pastry assistant as they wait for the next service wave.
LUKE
(in exaggerated British accent, mocking the Captain)
"Ah yes, welcome to the Gilded Prison! Your cabin comes with a complimentary existential breakdown and a view of your wasted potential. Cheers!"
The BUSBOY laughs too loudly, dropping a spoon.
Enter CHEF GORDON RAMSAY, a furious storm cloud in chef whites, instantly clocking Luke.
CHEF GORDON
Oi! What is this, open mic night at the fucking Ritz?!
Luke stiffens, arms immediately behind his back like a guilty schoolboy.
LUKE
No, Chef. Of course not, Chef. Just... keeping morale high, Chef.
CHEF GORDON
Morale?! Morale doesn't plate the halibut! Morale doesn't stop the risotto from turning to cement! Morale is not on the bloody menu! Get your arse back to the floor. Move like you've got a purpose or I'll make you part of the main course.
LUKE
Yes, Chef! On my way, Chef!
Luke zips off with cartoonish speed, nearly crashing into a swinging door, a rogue champagne tower, and a passing sous-chef all at once.
CHEF GORDON
HANDS! I NEED HANDS!
INT. SS GILDED WAVES - GRAND DINING ROOM - NIGHT
Trisha Paytas talks to a waiter.
TRISHA
I'd like a dirty martini! Thank you!
Trina Vega storms the stage like she owns the ship.
TRINA
Well, if you're not gonna talk.
She grabs the microphone from The Captain and clears her throat dramatically, striking a Broadway pose as the string quartet awkwardly tapers off behind her.
TRINA
I am thrilled—beyond thrilled, really—to announce my critically anticipated, internationally snubbed, one-woman musical extravaganza: TRINA!
Gasps of confusion ripple through the ballroom. Trina signals frantically to the staff.
The Nervous Steward, already overwhelmed with balancing champagne trays, scrambles to pull crumpled flyers from under his arm and starts passing them out to bewildered guests.
NERVOUS STEWARD
(under his breath, panicked)
Please take one please take one please take one—
Chanel, seated at a prime table, crosses her arms and rolls her eyes so hard it's practically a core workout.
CHANEL
Oh my god. What fresh hell is this.
London claps enthusiastically with both hands over her head.
LONDON
Yay me! Yay Trina!
Trina holds the mic like it's a Tony Award.
TRINA
And for those of you worried about seating, don't! There's only one seat you need to worry about: the edge of it!
The guests exchange bewildered glances as the Nervous Steward continues passing out crooked flyers that read, in glitter marker:
TRINA! THE TRINA VEGA CHICAGO EXPIERENCE
No relation to Chicago.
No refunds.
CUT TO: Chanel frowning at the flyer, disgusted.
CHANEL
She spelled "experience" wrong.
The Captain sinks lower in his chair, already regretting everything.
TRINA
(passionately into the mic)
It's the story of a young, bright, stunning woman—based on myself, obviously—who moves to Chicago, determined to take the city by storm. She's talented, she's gorgeous, she's unstoppable...
Just then—gasps ripple through the ballroom.
The camera WHIPS to the entrance as Julia Fox makes her entrance, gliding in like a fever dream in a barely-there, avant-garde ensemble that looks like it was crafted out of melted glass and existential despair.
Gasps. Phones come out. Whispers snake through the room.
Julia smirks, eating up the attention like she designed this moment (because she did).
JULIA
(low, sultry)
Sorry I'm late. I was doing something extremely iconic.
She locks eyes with the Captain, who visibly perks up in his chair. Julia stalks straight toward him like a jaguar that ate all the men in her path and still has room for dessert.
JULIA
You're the one driving this thing, right?
The Captain, exhausted but not blind, manages a tired, intrigued smirk.
CAPTAIN
(flat)
Ma'am, this is a maritime vessel.
JULIA FOX
(smiling like he just proposed)
Mmm. Sexy.
The room is buzzing. Trina, still clutching the mic, tries to reclaim attention.
CUT BACK TO: Trina, absolutely seething, clutching the mic like she's considering using it as a weapon.
TRINA
(snarling under her breath)
I am so upset.
Trina storms to her seat with Chanel and London.
Julia gracefully detaches from the Captain's chair, leaving him dazed in her wake. She slinks across the ballroom floor like she's floating, toward a table already glittering with chaotic icons.
The whole table watches her approach like they're witnessing a comet about to collide with Earth.
Julia lowers herself into the seat like she's descending onto a throne of relevance.
JULIA
Captain was cute, but I'd never. I learned my lesson dating powerful men. Trust me.
CHARLI XCX
That's brat.
PARIS
Wait—who was it last time? Was it the Prime Minister or the hedge fund guy?
JULIA
It was Kanye.
ALEX
It's the way "Down The Drain" is unironically better than anything he released queen. I'm a bitch I'm a girl I'm a MOTHER I'M A WHORE!
TROYE
Iconic behavior.
QUEN
Girl... girl. GIRL.
ALEX
Serving federal indictment couture.
The camera lingers on the table, basking in their scandalized, thrilled energy as Julia reclines in her chair like she just set the whole room on fire and is fanning the flames.
CUT TO: Chanel, watching them with disdain across the ballroom.
CHANEL
(under her breath, venomous)
Please. You'd think she cured cancer the way they're reacting.
CAMERA SWEEPS across the decadent ballroom, finding Chloe Ferry plopping herself down between Tanya McQuoid and LOTTIE MATTHEWS. Chloe beams like she's at her local pub and not under a million-dollar chandelier. Tanya, as always, seems a little dissociated but at least present. Lottie sits poised, otherworldly as ever, like she's waiting for the wilderness to whisper.
The Annoyed Waiter approaches the table with his usual dead-eyed disdain.
CHLOE
Do you have kebabs on the menu, like, or chicken dippers? No? That's mental. I'm starving.
The surrounding FIRST-CLASS DINERS visibly flinch, clutching their pearl necklaces, literal and figurative. A few appalled glances shoot toward Chloe, scandalized at the very notion of greasy finger food amid haute cuisine.
ANNOYED WAITER
We have foie gras... and a sea urchin espuma.
CHLOE
OI? What the fook is an espuma? Is it like mayo?
The Annoyed Waiter's soul briefly leaves his body.
Next to her, Tanya gently lifts her gaze, blinking like she's coming back from a daydream.
TANYA
(hazy, hopeful)
Um... do you have Oreo cookie cake for dessert?
Beat.
The Annoyed Waiter's left eye twitches.
ANNOYED WAITER
No.
TANYA
(disappointed, but still polite)
Oh. Okay.
LOTTIE
(calm, ominous)
We don't get to decide. The menu chooses.
Chloe nods as if this is the most profound thing she's ever heard.
CHLOE
Dead on, babe.
The waiter departs, leaving the table in a strange, surreal bubble of greasy cravings and spiritual mysticism.
CAMERA PANS the captain's dinner table, opulent and grotesque in its display of wealth.
Elon Musk sits at the center, not because anyone wanted him there, but because men like him assume they belong there. Elon, trying to appear casual, leans forward with a faux-charming smile, swirling his wine like it's a STEM experiment.
ELON
(smoothly, pitching like he's on a TED stage)
So imagine this—floating spaceports. Yeah. Massive platforms in international waters. Launching rockets straight into orbit, bypassing land-based regulations. Access to Mars becomes a weekend getaway.
The table around him—FIRST CLASS GUESTS, assorted billionaires and influencers—either nod, baffled, or pretend to understand while sneaking glances at their phones.
CAMERA SHIFTS to the bar where Azealia Banks lounges, perched like a queen who came only for the gladiator games. She sips her drink lazily, not even pretending to listen as Elon drones on.
Her eyes flick to him. Their history flickers in her gaze.
Elon locks eyes with her, and for a moment, his corporate mask slips—but he catches himself, smoothing it back on like a glitching android.
ELON
Have we met?
Azealia slowly lowers her drink, eyes raking him up and down with wicked glee.
AZEALIA
Remember me, Elon? No? You sure? I remember your kitchen, boo.
CAMERA cuts to a few influencers at the table side-eyeing each other. Azealia turns back to her drink like she's already over it, pulling out her phone and typing furiously.
AZEALIA'S TWEET DRAFT: "These corny rich folks giving Titanic-tease on this boat. Yawn."
She hits post without a second thought.
AZEALIA
No, no, let's talk about it. Remember your house party? Yeah. With that dirty bitch Grimy. The one where your fridge broke down and your little crypto bro friends were sweating through their Fashion Nova suits? I had to leave early 'cause your house smelled like mildew and male failure. And now you're up here, selling "floating spaceports." Honey, float a Swiffer through your kitchen first. You out here trying to colonize Mars but can't even colonize a Clorox wipe.
Gasps ripple through the table. Troye nearly spits his drink.
ALEX
Wait, is this live-stream safe?! Am I about to get sued? I don't care.
Her phone's comments explode in real time:
"AZEALIA ATE ELON LIKE LUNCH 💀"
"This is better than the Met Gala carpet"
"Musk is malfunctioning 😭😭😭"
AROSS THE ROOM: Kyle, deadpan and too-cool-to-care, watches the whole thing unfold.
KYLE
I mean, this is why I don't believe in billionaires.
CUT TO: Rafe, surprisingly well put together for once. His hair is slicked back, wearing a navy suit that looks like it belongs to someone else's father, but he's making it work. He leans slightly into a conversation with some yacht-club-adjacent first-class men, clearly in his element.
RAFE
Oh yeah, starboard side currents can be unpredictable, but it's all about pressure systems. Grew up around boats, you start feeling the swells before they happen.
The older men nod, impressed. Rafe lifts his glass with a crooked, wolfish grin.
RAFE
Besides, you can't trust a compass after three shots of Patrón, right?
They laugh a little too hard, eager to stay on Rafe's good side, without quite knowing why.
Across the table, Nate sits rigid in his chair. His suit is pressed to military precision, tie knotted like a noose. He barely engages.
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES - POOL DECK - NIGHT
The pool deck glistens under the moonlight, damp from the earlier chaos. Cayetana is diligently scrubbing the last of the sun loungers, brows furrowed in quiet frustration. A COUPLE DECKHANDS mop the slick floor with half-hearted effort.
JACKSON SCOTT, deckhand, shirtless, abs gleaming like he applied baby oil for the occasion, leans lazily on a mop like it's a stripper pole. He gives it a slow, suggestive swirl just to entertain himself.
JACKSON
(complaining, half to himself)
This is actually insane. This is, like, not in my job description. I signed up for sunsets and single moms, not biohazards in the shallow end.
Just then, Kyle wanders onto the deck, skipping the rest of the Captain's Dinner. He lights a joint with the kind of languid nonchalance that comes from a lifetime of never being held accountable. He takes a long drag, exhaling into the humid air. Jackson eyes the joint like it's the most interesting thing he's seen all day.
JACKSON
Bro, you sharing?
Kyle lazily passes the joint to Jackson without breaking his deadpan stare at the sky.
KYLE
Smoke is a metaphor for life. It rises, it dissipates, it means nothing.
Jackson exhales a perfect smoke ring. One of the other deckhands watches in exasperation as Jackson promptly stops mopping entirely.
DAWN DUGUIN, another deckhand, stares at him, her uniform perfect, her dirty blonde hair tied up just enough to look professional but messy enough to show she's hard at work.
DAWN
Jackson, can you maybe not get high while we're sanitizing Peaches' diseases off this deck?
JACKSON
Relax. The THC kills the germs.
DAWN
If we drown in Peaches' pussy juice, I will personally make sure you get fired.
Kyle lounges against a railing, blissfully indifferent to the labor around him. Jackson flashes a wink at Cayetana.
JACKSON
Don't worry, I'm a certified lifeguard, babe. I'll save you first.
CAYETANA
That's reassuring, considering you barely saved yourself from detention at crew training.
DAWN
Everyone grab a fucking mop. Now.
JACKSON
You sound jealous, Dawn. You want a private show? I'll even waive the tip.
DAWN
Yeah? How about I tip this dirty-ass bucket over your head? Would that boost morale?
Dawn yanks the mop out of his hand mid-spin and slams it into the bucket of dirty water. Jackson smirks wider, like her rage only fuels him.
JACKSON
Feisty. I like that. Almost makes me want to do some actual work.
DAWN
Oh, you will do some actual work. Because if you think I'm dragging your pretty-boy corpse out of the water when this ship sinks from your incompetence, you've got another thing coming.
INT. SS GILDED WAVES - GRAND DINING ROOM - NIGHT
The dinner is in full swing. Silverware clinks, crystal glasses shimmer. The Captain sits at the head table, stiff, gazing out vacantly over the chaos he pretends not to care about.
Suddenly, from beneath the pristine white tablecloth, a shape emerges.
It's LovelyPeaches, soaked, wild-eyed, face smudged with frosting, crawling out from under the Captain's table like she's clawing her way out of hell.
LOVELYPEACHES
(laughing maniacally)
HAAHAHA!! For the LIKES, bitch!!
She grabs a large slice of cake from the dessert platter, smearing it across her face in wild, grotesque strokes like war paint.
Guests SHRIEK.
The Captain blinks once. Dry. Deadpan. Just sips his wine. Peaches throws her arms in the air like she's won the Super Bowl.
LOVELYPEACHES
Take my fucking picture!! Do it!! EEEHEEHEEE! HOLLY?! ARE YOU ON THIS SHIP?!
A CAMERAMAN, confused and maybe a little afraid, instinctively flashes a shot. Peaches poses, sticking her tongue out with the smeared cake sliding down her chin.
Nearby, HRH Collection looks personally violated.
HRH COLLECTION
(pure venom)
Oh my God, it's that beached whale again.
THEWIZARDLIZ
This is a violation of my boundaries on a molecular level.
CHANEL
Oh, what fresh hell is this?! Someone call pest control!
Peaches turns, locking eyes with Chanel, and lets out a banshee screech.
LOVELYPEACHES
WHO WANTS FROSTING, BABYYYYYYY!!!!!
She flings a glob of cake across the room like a grenade. SPLAT — it hits Trina Vega square in the chest.
TRINA
I AM SO UPSET! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!
Trina tackles Peaches.
Gasps and screams echo through the dining hall.
They go down in a heap of frosting and chair legs, CRASHING to the floor in a chaotic brawl.
GUEST (O.S.)
(screaming)
Oh my God!!
Peaches turns back to the Captain, crawling across the table now, knocking over fine china, slathering herself with cake like a toddler on a sugar rampage.
LOVELYPEACHES
I'm the main character nowwwww!!
TRINA
(yanking at Peaches' weave)
HOW! DARE! YOU! RUIN! MY! OUTFIT!
At the head table, the Captain simply refills his wine glass with numbed precision.
CAPTAIN
(flat, deadpan)
This is why I delegate.
Trina shrieks right behind him while clawing at a giggling LovelyPeaches.
***
EXT. SS GILDED WAVES – Y2K ROOFTOP PARTY – NIGHT
Strobe lights flash like lightning across the ocean sky. The camera pans upward past the ship's sleek, sparkling architecture until it lands on the ROOFTOP DECK, transformed into a neon-lit fever dream of excess.
Paris Hilton is in full Y2K doll mode at the DJ booth, wearing pink Chanel headphones and spinning like it's the last episode of The Simple Life.
PARIS
(into mic, cool and detached)
Who's still sliving tonight after that pool mishap?!
The crowd cheers.
PARIS
That's hot!
She launches into the iconic opening of "Dirrty" by Christina Aguilera and the crowd erupts. Guests are already tipsy, glittering under the LED lights, dripping in designer fabrics and debauchery.
Alex Consani and Quen Blackwell are twerking on each other.
QUEN
I put the 'GAG' in global warming, bitch!!
ALEX
I'm a communist baddie with IBS, BABE!!! Don't TEST ME!!
They switch positions mid-dance, knocking into a random influencer who stumbles back in horror.
QUEN
CALL THE COPS, I'm unhinged and ready to FIGHT GOD!!!
ALEX
I WANT A HUNKY BOYFRIEND AND A PASTA DINNER!!
QUEN
I AM MOTHER AND I AM FEEDING MY CHILDREN!!
NEXT TO THEML Charli xcx, Troye Sivan, and Julia Fox dominate the dance floor, looking like they stepped out of a 2002 fever dream.
Charli wears a baby pink fuzzy halter, a clashing plaid brat green mini, and platform Skechers with silver lip gloss and Y2K glitter tears under her eyes.
Troye is shirtless under a mesh rhinestone tank, with slick silver pants, a fuzzy cropped jacket, and glitter in his chest hair.
Julia is in a cut-up Ed Hardy dress, clear stripper heels, and blue-tinted sunglasses worn indoors. Her lip gloss is blinding.
CHARLI
OH my god Julia, your outfit is literally so cunty. I LOVE IT.
JULIA
I made it from a landfill in New Jersey. It was giving post-consumer regret... now it's giving third-eye activation.
Suddenly— Paris Hilton transitions out of "Dirrty" by Christina Aguilera...straight into "I'm A Slave 4 U" by Britney Spears. The synth hits like a hotbox of lip gloss and sin.
CHARLI
(throwing her hands in the air)
AAAAAH!!! YES!!! BRITNEY IS BRAT!!
TROYE
(cackling)
I'm literally ovulating from this bassline!
JULIA
(giggling, holding her sunglasses on while twerking)
This is what I was meant to do! SOMEONE GIVE ME A LOLLIPOP AND A TAX EVASION CHARGE!
CHARLI
(screaming over the music)
Let's go Down the Drain, Julia!!
TROYE
(grabbing both their hands)
I'm everywhere. I'm so Julia right now!!
JULIA
I'm a bitch, I'm a girl, I'm a mother, I'm a whore!
Suddenly, the CAMERA SPINS above them like they're going Down the Drain, a disorienting CIRCULAR AERIAL SHOT, glitter reflecting off their bodies as they swirl like Y2K saints summoned by a MySpace spell.
The pool lights flicker below, the bassline ripples through the ship, and it's as if the entire world is swirling down with them.
They scream-laugh and collapse into each other, messy and euphoric, perfectly chaotic.
The Y2K lights strobe like a fever dream. Smoke swirls. The music pulses. The crowd is drunk on nostalgia, heat, and vodka Red Bulls. Y2K fashion is in full force.
🎶 "I'm a slave for you..." 🎶
CUT TO: Kai weaves through the chaos, clipboard in hand, wearing the official cruise staff polo—tucked in, of course. He's clearing cups and checking wristbands.
A CONFUSED OLDER GUEST walks up.
CONFUSED OLDER GUEST
(shouts)
It's not bingo night tonight?
KAI
(shouting over music)
No!
CONFUSED OLDER GUEST
Oh... Well where's the bathroom. I'm not gonna make it back to my room.
Kai points him in the direction of the bathroom and that's when he sees it:
KAI'S POV: Micah and Chanel in the middle of the crowd, bathed in the sweaty pink glow of the lights. They're grinding in sync—Chanel in a rhinestone halter and low-rise mini, Micah in low-slung jeans, shirt unbuttoned, glitter on his abs.
As the chorus hits, Chanel throws her arms around Micah's neck. They both stick out their tongues, almost touching—then closer, closer...
CLOSE UP: SLOW MOTION, glittery, almost surreal image of Micah and Chanel's tongues, nearly grazing, then intertwining for the briefest second. Saliva glints like diamonds in the strobe lights.
BACK TO KAI: His breath hitches. He blinks, tries to look away. But he can't.
🎶 "I cannot hold it, I cannot control it..." 🎶
EXT. DIRT PATCH – LOWER DECK – NIGHT
A dimly lit patch of ship turf meant for recreational sports is now a makeshift battleground. Somewhere between a training ground and a proving ground, it's lit by a couple overhead lights buzzing with moths. The distant thump of the rooftop party bass echoes faintly. A few football players are hanging out down here. The rest snuck into the party. But they'll all be up there soon.
Rafe and Nate are mid-body slam, tackling each other into the dirt with the kind of aggression that feels personal. They grunt, grab, twist—each hit louder than it needs to be. Jordan is monitoring, making sure they don't actually start attacking each other. Rafe grabs Nate's jersey and yanks him back down. Nate flips him, slamming him hard enough to stir dust.
NATE
Dude you're fucking playing dirty!
RAFE
What, you scared of a little grit, golden boy?
Off to the side, Kyle lounges against a railing, arms crossed, cigarette tucked behind his ear he won't actually smoke. He watches them with a blank stare that drips with superiority, the rolls his eyes effortlessly to Cayetana. She mops near a water cooler that nobody uses. She glances at Kyle.
EXT. UPPER DECK BALCONY – SAME TIME
Lottie Matthews stands alone at the railing. Barefoot. In a white silk slip. Face calm, but her eyes—unblinking—track the chaos below. She watches the boys like a ghost looking at their own funeral.
A breeze lifts her hair slightly. The sound cuts out for a beat. All we hear is the low hum of something... otherworldly. Inevitable. She tilts her head.
LOTTIE
(soft, to no one)
They always fight before the storm.
She walks backward into the shadows.
INT. CHANEL'S FIRST-CLASS SUITE – NIGHT
Chanel and Micah stumble in mid-makeout, lips locked, hands roaming. Soon enough, Micah's shirt is long gone. Chanel's glitter-stained heels click against the marble floor as she pulls him toward the bed.
She shoves him backward onto the bed, crawling on top in slow, deliberate movements like a lioness ready to feast.
CHANEL
(teasing)
You're so fucking dirty.
MICAH
You're gonna get me fired.
She yanks his pants off. He yanks hers off.
INT. KAI AND MICAH'S ROOM – MIDNIGHT
Dimly lit. Kai lays in bed now in his sleeping clothes, an oversized t-shirt and some flannel sweatpants. He mindlessly scrolls through his phone, dead-eyed.
He opens Instagram. Switches to his finsta account: @anxioustwink
He hesitates. Then types.
SEARCH: micah diaz
Micah's profile appears instantly—100K followers, a shirtless profile picture of him half-out the pool, grinning like a himbo god. Shirtless thumbnails fill the screen.
Kai stares. He scrolls. Slowly. Every image more obnoxiously hot than the last.
Micah on a bike at sunset. Micah holding pizza in swim trunks. Micah in a slick green suit. Micah in a wetsuit with another guy, both laughing. Micah pouring water at a fancy dinner. Micah shirtless again. And again. And again.
Kai opens Micah's most recent post.
micahdiaz: Summer body isn't complete yet...
It's a photo of Micah lifting his shirt in a tight pink polo, abs glowing under the floodlights. The crown logo on his chest, the hint of a navy blue underwear waistband peaking out. The flirty smirk on his face. The kind of picture posted without shame.
Kai stares.
A long beat.
Then, his fingers start impulsively typing under the post.
@anxioustwink: LET ME LICK I'D LICK THE SWEAT OFF OF YOUR ABS MAKE IT SO FUCKING DIRTY I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING
He stares at it for a beat. The camera zooms in on Kai's face and then on his thumb over the post button.
A sudden rush of adrenaline hits him like a wave of cold water. His eyes widen. He hits POST.
He locks his phone. Tosses it aside like it might burn him. Then lays back, heart racing, staring at the ceiling in panicked silence.
A beat.
He's panting, looking like he's about to have a panic attack, somewhere between dread and exhilaration. Then he smirks.
CUT TO BLACK.
DING. A notification.
Chapter 3: Thirst
Summary:
New arrivals on the ship spice things up, including the illustrious Addison Rae, a male influencers on a boyz trip (Tayson Madkour, Gabriel Jayne, Grant Marshall), Joe Goldberg's collateral damage (Peach Salinger, Sherry Conrad, Lady Phoebe), the rest of the sorority girls (Hailee Matthews, Abby Littman, Mari Ibarra), and a reunited couple (Alexis Rose & Ted Mullens). Passengers grapple with their thirst for approval, fame, dick, validation, and overpriced designer water, as they approach their first port in Barcelona where locals prepare to celebrate the Body of Christ.
Chapter Text
EPISODE 3: THIRST
NOTIFICATION SOUND: DING
INT. KAI AND MICAH'S ROOM - NIGHT
A notification banner slides down the top of the screen:
micahdiaz pinned your comment: "LET ME LICK I'D LICK THE SWEAT OFF OF YOUR ABS MAKE IT SO FUCKING DIRTY I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING"
micahdiaz replied: "@anxioustwink pin of shame"
KAI BRATLOW-TWIST stares at his phone with a subtly crazy look of an adrenaline rush. He looks around the empty room, as if someone might have seen what just happened. Then, impulsively, like a man possessed, he starts typing. Slowly, a smirk creeps across his face. Like this is the craziest thing he's ever done.
ON SCREEN:
anxioustwink: @micahdiaz you can pin me down 😍
He stares at the words. Then, with a wicked little grin curling his lips, he taps send. The comment posts.
He lays back and clutches his phone to his heart, his breath heaving with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
Then, slowly, his free hand slides under the waistband of his flannel sweatpants. He closes his eyes, intoxicated, focused on his imagination, breath heaving.
DING.
Kai startles hard, eyes snapping open, breath caught in his throat. Almost like a jump scare.
For a split second, he looks toward the door, afraid Micah might be back. Then he fumbles for his phone, bringing it back in front of his face.
ON SCREEN:
micahdiaz liked your comment: "@micahdiaz you can pin me down 😍"
THE CAMERA TILTS SLOWLY FROM UNDER HIS CHIN TO THE TOP OF HIS FACE.
For a fleeting second, he looks feral. It catches the crazed glimmer in his eye, his parted lips damp with heavy breathing.
His chest heaves under his oversized T-shirt. He lets out a tiny, breathless laugh.
He looks back down at his flannel sweatpants. He lifts his t-shirt up just a little and then slowly slides his hand back under the waistband. Fingers spread wide, palm pressing flush against himself. He moves in lazy, teasing circles at first — a torturous slow burn. His breaths come out shaky as he gradually adds more pressure and more speed to it. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.
The movements grow firmer, more insistent, building tension like a climbing wave. Kai's eyelids flutter, mouth falling open just enough to let out a faint, breathless moan.
He looks at the door, trying to hold a moan back, but he can't. He lets another out, soft at first, then a little louder, turning into quiet, desperate gasps.
The pressure builds. His back arches slightly against the mattress. His breath quickens, turns ragged. His moans become sharper, edged with urgency. Faster. Harder. He stops caring. His entire body tenses.
A strangled, suppressed moan tears from his throat as he climaxes, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut in a rush of release.
Kai lies there, spent, chest rising and falling.
After catching his breath, his eyes flick across the room landing on Micah's pile of dirty clothes.
He reaches out, slow and deliberate, for a pair of Micah's boxer briefs at the very bottom of the pile. A worn, navy pair.
Kai brings them to his face and sniffs quickly, sharp and instinctive. A quiet, shuddering breath escapes him. Then, his eyes dart toward the door, paranoid. He wipes his stomach and hand with the soft, worn boxers like he's cleaning himself after a holy ritual — except it's soaked in sin. He sniffs them again. Then he slides the boxers right back to where he first found them.
He looks at the door one last time and then smiles to himself and chuckles like a little demon twink.
INTRO THEME PLAYS
INT. KAI AND MICAH'S ROOM - LATER THAT NIGHT
MICAH DIAZ lies on the bottom bunk, one leg kicked out over the edge, bare foot dangling lazily, still slightly damp from a shower.
FROM THE TOP BUNK: Kai lies on his stomach, chin resting on folded arms. He's looking down. At Micah's foot.
KAI'S POV: His eyes trace over the arch, the ankle bone, the faint remnants of a tan line. His breath catches just slightly. Something about it, the casual intimacy, the access, stirs something deep and dangerous inside him. Micah's foot flexes a little in his sleep.
Kai blinks hard, pulling back. He presses his lips together, jaw tight, face flushed in the dark. He looks away for a moment, then back again — just once more.
Then, Kai falls asleep.
DREAM – INT. EUCHARISTIC GYM – TWILIGHT GLOW
A soft gold haze fills the room. We pan across TAYSON MADKOUR, a hot upcoming passenger. Shirtless, in slow motion.
He dips his fingers into a bowl of water... and gently washes Kai's feet.
Then, Tayson offers him a banana. His smile is so sweet it's devastating.
TAYSON
Do you see every man and wanna worship them like a God?
He peels the banana. Slowly. Reverently. Like communion.
Kai takes it. Bites.
Immediately, the pool room floods with water. Holy water? Saltwater? Kai doesn't know, but it's rising fast. Tayson doesn't panic.
Tayson lifts one pristine white Nike and sets it gently on Kai's chest.
TAYSON
Repent.
He reaches for Kai's face, tilts it up, and-
INT. KAI AND MICAH'S ROOM - MORNING
Kai jolts awake, sprawled messily across his bed, tangled in sheets, gasping.
Then, he reaches for his phone.
CLOSE ON SCREEN: He opens Instagram. That first little circle at the top belongs to no other than @taysonmadkour. He clicks.
It's a mirror selfie: Tayson in a tank top, grey sweats slung low, AirPods in, standing in front of his suitcase in a minimalist bathroom.
The text over the story reads:
"cruise bound boys!"
✈️🛳️💀
Kai stares at it like it's a vision. He screenshots.
CRACKLE.
The loud, staticky blast of a walkie-talkie shatters the silence. Kai jumps.
KATE (V.O.)
(to Micah and Kai)
Morning, gentlemen. So. Turns out our esteemed captain managed to forget to mention that we're making a quick port stop this morning. Yeah. Apparently some of the new passengers couldn't make the first port, but some of them still wanted the experience of boarding and being on board before we stop at Barcelona. So we're picking them up at El Port De La Selva.
Kai listens from the top bunk while looking at Micah's pile of dirty clothes. Micah just yawns and wakes up, barely registering what Kate said.
***
EXT. EL PORT DE LA SELVA – MORNING
The SS Gilded Waves looms in the morning haze, slowly maneuvering toward the dock at El Port de la Selva.
On deck, organized chaos. A crew of deckhands "works together," but it's less teamwork, more dysfunction.
DAWN DUGUIN is aggressively yanking on a rope, gritting her teeth like she's defusing a bomb. She jerks the rope hard.
DAWN
FUCK.
She does not let go.
Nearby, JACKSON SKATE is leaning seductively against the railing, shirtless, gold chain glinting in the sun. He's pretending to assist, holding a rope with exactly zero tension on it.
A group of FIRST-CLASS WOMEN on the upper deck watch him with thirsty eyes.
JACKSON
(smirking at them, full charm)
Ladies, we dockin' smooth today just for you.
The women giggle. Aaron tosses them a wink, then fake-strains on the rope like he's really working. He poses mid-pull like he's in a fitness calendar shoot.
DAWN
(snarling at him)
Oh my god, Jackson, pull the actual rope.
JACKSON
Honey, I'm pulling what matters.
He gestures to the gazes of the ogling women.
And then NICK COGS, early 20s, enters frame. Golden retriever energy in human form, sweat glistening across his forehead. Nick is genuinely working. Muscles flexing, he's heaving another line across the deck with actual effort. His uniform is slightly crooked, like he got dressed mid-sprint, but he's smiling through it all.
NICK
Hey, hey. Let's not sink the ship before breakfast, yeah?
He flashes Dawn a warm smile as he throws the line to a dockworker below.
NICK
(to dockworker)
Heads up, brother!
The rope lands cleanly. The DOCKWORKER gives him a thumbs up.
Nick wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, breathing heavy but energized, like a guy who loves a little chaos.
NICK
(to himself, muttering)
How is it the world's falling apart and I still gotta dock this thing...
Dawn shoots him a sideways look. Begrudgingly impressed.
DAWN
Nick, if we get this done without anyone dying, first drink's on me.
NICK
You're on. Make it a double.
JACKSON
Make mine a triple. For emotional labor.
DAWN
You're not doing any fucking labor!
Jackson grins, unbothered.
Nick pulls another rope with his full weight. The ship nudges into place at the dock, surprisingly smooth. Nick throws his arms up, victorious.
Jackson immediately takes credit, raising his rope like a trophy.
JACKSON
No need to thank me, ladies.
The First-Class women cheer and clap as if they've just watched the Olympics.
DAWN
(under her breath)
Fucking himbos.
They move to secure the lines properly as the new passengers wait at the dock.
EXT. MAIN DECK – MORNING
KATE CHASTAIN leads the charge. Walkie clipped to her hip, face set to resting judgmental bitch. She's flanked by her team of stewards, carrying trays of champagne as they march toward the boarding ramp.
Kai, Micah, CAYETANA GRAJERA PANDO, and TAYLOR JEWEL, 21, a fourth steward and Cayetana's roommate, follow, having taken this job to escape her feelings for a boy. She struts like a fucking icon. Tray of champagne perched elegantly in her manicured hand, she walks with unapologetic main character energy, like this is her runway and she's the headline act.
EXT. BOARDING RAMP – MORNING — CONTINUOUS
The stewards line up at the ramp, trays of champagne glistening in the sun.
Up on the upper deck, the deckhands are still finishing the last docking tasks, or in Jackson's case, not finishing anything. He leans casually against the railing, shirtless, muscles flexing in the sun as he adjusts his sunglasses. Taylor's eyes lock on the scene like a heat-seeking missile.
TAYLOR
Oh my God, why did they have to hire the literal hottest guys to work on this ship with.
CAYETANA
You should've been there when we played Cocaine or Dildo.
TAYLOR
You played Cocaine or Dildo without me?!
CAYETANA
(defensive, quick)
It was the first night! I didn't even have your number yet! I didn't even know what I was getting myself into.
Taylor gasps in mock betrayal, clutching her tray like she's about to drop dead from FOMO.
TAYLOR
(coyly)
Whatever. You can make it up to me when we dock in Barcelona since you know all the hot spots. That is, if they let us... God I'm just glad they got me front of house for boarding this time. They had me folding fucking napkins in Monte Carlo.
CAYETANA
Yeah they really fucked up. You're the more charming one.
Taylor's eyes drift back up to the deckhands, shamelessly drinking them in.
TAYLOR
(to Cayetana)
Okay, but seriously... if we get stranded at sea, I am not mad about the breeding stock. Those deckhands can deck this cooch.
Kai, standing just a step away, overhears the comment. His gaze flickers up and it's like time slows.
KAI'S POV: Jackson, gleaming like a human thirst trap, flexes lazily as he "secures" a line, his grin pure mischief, sweat dripping down his abs in a way that feels both accidental and deeply intentional.
Beside him, Nick tosses a heavy rope with genuine effort, muscles flexing under his slightly askew uniform. His sun-kissed skin glows, his boyish, lopsided smile flashing as he wipes sweat off his brow.
Kai's breath catches in his throat. His lips part, blinking like he's been hit by a heatwave.
TAYLOR
(to Cayetana)
Honestly, drown me now.
(sighs dramatically)
It is a good thing I packed some Plan Bs.
Kai swallows hard. His gaze lingers on Nick just a second too long, then drifts back to Jackson, then to Nick again, like his brain can't decide where to land. Then he looks back at Micah and Micah nods at him too effortlessly.
The first of the new passengers steps up to the ramp: a DILF
Taylor's jaw drops immediately.
TAYLOR
(under her breath, sharp to Cayetana)
Dibs.
Kai's eyes flicker over to.
Kate steps in with ruthless precision.
Taylor watches him go, eyes practically devouring him.
Before she can keep thirsting, a lively group of Spanish-speaking passengers step up to the boarding point, chatting animatedly. Without missing a beat, Cayetana steps forward with practiced elegance, shifting into perfect Spanish.
CAYETANA
Bienvenidos a bordo del Gilded Waves.
The passengers beam as Cayetana offers them champagne flutes with a graceful flourish.
Behind them, what looks like a couple arrives.
BROOKS KENNEDY emerges first. Tailored linen suit. Loafers so soft they look illegal. He adjusts his cufflinks with the faintest smirk of inherited disdain.
From the other side of the car, MARGOT MILLS steps out. Effortlessly cool in sunglasses and cigarette pants, she doesn't flinch at the commotion, after having survived a mass murder by ordering a cheeseburger.
BROOKS
(low, sardonic)
Remind me why you agreed to this?
MARGOT
(without looking at him)
Because you paid me an obscene amount of money.
KATE
Mr. Kennedy, your suite is fully prepared. We've stocked it with the vintage Krug, 1985 per your request.
MARGOT
(sarcastically)
No amuse-bouche shaped like anchors?
Margot takes a champagne glass and flicks her cigarette to the ground.
A new couple approaches the ramp.
ALEXIS ROSE leads the way, hair perfect, sunglasses oversized, designer weekender slung casually over her shoulder. She radiates effortless jet-set glow, as if boarding luxury vessels is just her average Tuesday.
Beside her, TED MULLENS, warm, wholesome. Khaki shorts, cruise-themed short-sleeve shirt with palm fronds, and an earnest, slightly overenthusiastic smile.
ALEXIS
Oh my god, Ted, this is like... so much cuter than the pirate rehab cruise I went on with that Australian rugby team.
TED
I mean, yeah! This is amazing. And so much safer, too. I think. Probably. I mean...unless there's, like, a norovirus outbreak or—
Alexis waves him off, already halfway distracted by the promise of champagne. Alexis steps up to the stewards with breezy charm.
ALEXIS
Hi! Alexis Rose. Like, "A Little Bit Alexis," if you've heard of it. And this is my boyfriend Ted. We're celebrating a reunion-slash-work-break-slash-cute little couples' escape from existential burnout.
Ted gives an earnest, two-handed little wave.
TED
(cheerful)
Hi! Huge fans of boats. And turtles. And, uh—luxury, apparently.
Micah presents them both with champagne flutes, his model-perfect smirk firmly in place.
Alexis accepts her flute with flair, raising it slightly like she's toasting an invisible camera.
ALEXIS
(cheerful, automatic)
Love that for us.
They step aboard, disappearing into the gleaming interior.
TAYLOR
Okay, no, like, I want them to adopt me.
MARK ZUCKERBURG arrives pulling out a phone and starts photographing everything: the champagne tray, the staff, the horizon. He's collecting texture maps for the Metaverse.
CANDACE OWENS, meanwhile, strides with bombastic confidence, a woman on a mission to argue with everyone on board before they've even left port. Designer luggage rolls behind her, pristine white power suit radiating menace.
TAYLOR
(low to Cayetana)
Oh my god. Cancel culture boarding at once.
MARK
The ocean is an immersive 360° blue experience.
Zuckerberg stops dead at the base of the ramp, blinking like he's booting up.
MARK
Is this the... physical entrance?
KAI
Y-yes?
Candace barrels past him, not waiting for anyone to announce her.
CANDACE
Yeah I wasn't gonna be arriving in Monte-fucking-Carlo.
Micah, without missing a beat, flashes his influencer-perfect grin and offers her a flute. She snatches the flute and keeps walking like she owns the ship.
MARK
Do you have a sugar-free, gluten-free, data-encrypted option?
Kai blinks. He's not sure if it's a joke or a genuine request. He panics and nods.
KAI
Sure. I'll, um, upload it to the cloud for you.
Mark stares at him blankly for one more horrifying second, then accepts a flute. He raises it stiffly. His attempt at a toast.
MARK
To community guidelines.
TAYLOR
(under her breath)
What the actual fuck is happening.
Enter: BETH STOLARCZYK, dressed in full rhinestone cruise chic: a glitzy white sundress, oversized sunglasses, and a bedazzled tote that says GUILTY PLEASURE.
Beth steps onto the ramp like she just quit another season of The Challenge. She waves at no one in particular.
BETH
(sunny, loud)
Hellooooo, vacation sluts!
KAI
Welcome aboard Miss Stolarz-uh-Stolarczyk?
BETH
You got it!
Beth shoots finger guns, grabs her champagne, and boards the ship. She goes back onto her phone, mispronouncing Jonna.
BETH
(into phone)
Jihnnae is cheating on her husband with MJ.
As Beth Stolarczyk disappears into the ship, still gossiping furiously into her phone, a slight hush of recognition ripples through the stewards.
Then Kai, Cayetana, and Taylor all freeze in unison, instinctively straightening their posture, clutching their champagne trays a little tighter.
Because stepping onto the ramp, in flawless sun-kissed slow motion, is:
ADDISON RAE. Hair perfect. Skin radiant. Designer mini dress catching the light like it was algorithmically engineered for engagement. A viral goddess descending from the algorithmic heavens.
CAYETANA
(whispers, breathless)
Oh my god.
TAYLOR
(stunned)
It's Addison. Fucking. Rae.
MICAH
Should I pretend I don't know her? Or is that hotter?
KAI
(blurting, too loud)
I love your music. Please release Chords That Cry!
Addison, already halfway up the ramp, pauses. Her smile turns warm and practiced, a perfect blend of oops charm and ruthless media training.
ADDISON
(giggling, earnest)
Aw, you're so sweet!
Taylor jumps in, dazzling smile at full wattage, extending a champagne flute. Addison takes the champagne, perfectly posed, and gives the stewards a tiny shimmy of her shoulders and then walks on the ship.
Micah's eyes follow her, his jaw dropped. Kai chuckles, never having seen Micah starstruck before.
The sun catches the glint of gold jewelry and dangerously expensive sunglasses as the next trio approaches the ramp.
First in the lead: PEACH SALINGER, radiating in an effortless silk slip dress, a designer scarf casually draped over her shoulder like she's prepared to strangle someone with it later.
Trailing her, SHERRY CONRAD in a black and white slip off the shoulder dress, carrying a recycled tote bag with "Caged: A Radical Couples Therapy Technique" stamped in giant font across the front, her own bestselling book cover.
And just a step behind them, like a slightly confused but charming royal butterfly: LADY PHOEBE. She's wearing a vintage-inspired pink tweed set, cropped jacket with chunky gold buttons, matching mini skirt skimming her toned legs. In one hand, she dangles glittering designer stilettos, clearly preferring to board barefoot.
Peach approaches first, eyes flicking over the stewards like she's inspecting fruit at a subpar farmers' market.
PEACH
Where's the pear water? You do have pear water, right?
Micah offers her a flute of champagne.
MICAH
It's imported.
PEACH
(picking up the glass, dry)
From a bottle or a landfill?
She takes the glass anyway, because alcohol is still alcohol.
Phoebe's bare feet pad lightly up the ramp, her expression dreamy, like she might forget why she's here at any moment.
LADY PHOEBE
It's so nice to let the toes out, isn't it? Honestly, shoes are just prisons for feet.
Micah offers her a champagne flute. She accepts it with a bright, slightly dazed smile.
LADY PHOEBE
Oh, bubbles! What a treat.
Phoebe takes the champagne flute with both hands, like it's a sacred relic.
Next up, Sherry smiles like this is her personal brand collab, holding her phone up.
SHERRY
(to the staff, upbeat)
Good energy! Keep it up for the Instagram Story, please.
Peach puts her hand on Sherry's arm and pushes it down.
PEACH
(through our teeth)
We are trying to catch a serial killer.
SHERRY
But he doesn't know that.
PEACH
Well if he sees us all together he's gonna know something is up. We're not supposed to know each other.
SHERRY
Okay well, as long as I'm the only one posting on my story, he's not gonna see that we're all together.
The shadow of another luxury car sweeps over the ramp. The door swings open like the curtain rising on an unhinged stage play.
DEVON DEVEREAUX steps out first, all radiant, psychotic sunshine. She wears a diaphanous white caftan that flutters in the breeze like she's about to lead a meditation circle, not dodge international arrest warrants. Her neck dangles a string of crystals heavy enough to choke a lesser woman. Her smile beams like she's found inner peace through a dozen corpses.
Following behind her, JOSEPH MURPHY glides out of the car barefoot, in loose white linen pants and an open robe, chest bared to the gods of pseudo-spiritual carnage. His hair is messy but intentional, like he just finished a sun salutation over a pile of fresh bones.
DEVON
Do you smell that? It's the ocean. Salt. Minerals. The breath of Gaia herself.
JOSEPH
And the souls of the damned, cleansing in the tide.
They share a beat of blissful, psychotic connection.
Kate intercepts with professional polish, though her eyes flicker warily.
KATE
Miss Devereaux, Mr. Murphy. Welcome aboard Gilded Waves. We're honored to have your wellness expertise with us.
Devon inhales deeply, as if she's snorting the very essence of the yacht lifestyle.
DEVON
It's so important to nourish the soul. Thank you for holding this space for us.
Kate leads them inside to:
INT. MAIN LOBBY – CONTINUOUS
Devon and Joseph step into the gleaming atrium of Gilded Waves, sunlight refracting through chandeliers like a divine spotlight. The polished marble floor glows under their bare feet and linen sandals.
DEVON
Do you have any employees we can kill?
KATE
I'm sorry, what?
Devon lets out a breezy, effortless laugh, waving her hand like she's clearing bad energy.
DEVON
Just kidding! Never mind.
(to Joseph)
I guess it's not that kind of boat.
EXT. BOARDING RAMP - MORNING
Out steps MR. JASON FISHER. Linen suit, effortlessly draped. No tie. Silk pocket square, crisp as a blade. He looks up to see Nick and Jackson cleaning the deck.
He strolls toward the ramp like he owns the ship, because men like him always do, even when they don't. Then walks up to Kai and Micah, takes a glass of champagne from Micah.
MR. FISHER
(to Micah)
You ever done print work?
MICAH
What's print work?
MR. FISHER
Modeling.
MICAH
Oh, no. Mostly lifestyle content.
Mr. Jason Fisher looks Micah up and down and then boards the ship.
Meanwhile, the next group arrives. Three guys on an "Influencer Boyz Trip" roll up from an Uber Lux.
GRANT MARSHALL appears first like he's already mid-livestream, shirt half-unbuttoned, a jawline carved by capitalism itself. He's on TikTok live as they strut toward the ramp.
GRANT
(aloud to camera)
Let's GO, kings! We are out here on the launch of the fuckin' Gilded Waves — drop a boat emoji if you wish you were us right now!
Micah stares inscrutably.
Behind him, GABRIEL JAYNE ambles along, wearing a mesh lace shirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, not that it would've mattered. He yanks it over his head mid-stride like it's second nature, slinging it over his shoulder.
GABRIEL
Jesus it's fucking hot outside.
Kai, Cayetana, and Taylor all stare at Gabriel's body.
Trailing just behind, TAYSON MADKOUR — clean-cut, charming, and almost dangerously boy-next-door. His cross necklace rests subtly on his chest, glinting between toned pecs. He carries a sleek overnight bag and flashes an innocent, easy smile, the kind that racks up thirst likes.
KAI'S POV: The sun hits him just right. That necklace over those pecs. That smile.
Gabriel and Grant take the champagne and look at Tayson. Tayson shrugs and accepts the champagne from Kai's tray.
CLOSE ON: His eyes lock with Kai's for a split second.
Kai grips his champagne tray a little tighter, like he needs something to anchor him to earth.
TAYSON
Jesus turned water into wine, right?
GABRIEL
Exactly, bro. It's biblical.
TAYSON
(teasing, with a grin)
You boys better behave. Not tryna get banned from international waters.
GABRIEL
(to Tayson, playful nudge)
No promises, pretty boy.
The boys disappear onto the boat. Kai exhales.
Lastly, out steps: MARI IBARRA and ABBY LITTMAN. The kind of girls who weaponize side-eyes like they're military-grade.
Mari clutches a sleek, minimal black suitcase and wears a clean, effortless travel outfit with athletic sharpness. She barely acknowledges the family members dropping her off, except for a perfunctory hug and an eye-roll at whatever parting advice they're giving. She's survived worse. The wilderness.
MARI
(deadpan)
Yeah, yeah. Hydrate. Sunscreen. Don't get eaten. Got it.
She slings her bag over her shoulder and strides toward the ramp like she owns it.
Abby's behind her, sunglasses oversized, shorts cut-off, energy loud but deflective. She drags a scuffed suitcase, kicking it when it tips over like it personally betrayed her.
ABBY
(to herself, loud enough for Mari to hear)
Love that for me. Starting my journey with a suitcase that hates me.
MARI
Fucking gravity.
Mari eyes the flute like she's seen worse substances in the woods.
MARI
Sure. Why not.
She takes the glass, barely a nod of thanks, and ascends the ramp.
Abby takes one too and smiles at Taylor.
Behind them, a blood curdling scream of excitement is heard. Here comes the actual last passenger.
HAILEE MARIE MATTHEWS runs up behind them in bright sunglasses, sky-high wedges, a cropped military jacket over a rhinestone bikini top, and a fluffy pink suitcase with one broken wheel.
HAILEE
OH MY GOD! YOU FUCKING BITCHES! YOU FUCKING BITCHES I LOVE YOU!
She pulls them both into a hug, almost spilling their champagne on herself.
HAILEE
(pulling out her phone)
Okay wait, can you guys get in this pic real quick? I need at least one pre-cruise thirst trap before I go full feral.
She angles her body, does three poses in one second, then turns to the boarding flute.
HAILEE
(to Kai)
Yes, hi! I'll take, like, six.
KAI
Uh-
Hailee grabs as many glasses as she can manage against her bosom. She looks at Micah and sways flirtatiously. Micah looks back confused.
HAILEE
(to Micah)
I don't have time.
(to the girls)
Let's go bitches. I brought a different pair of sunglasses for every vibe shift.
The three of them ascend together.
INT. MAIN FOYER – CONTINUOUS
Mari steps into the space, barely impressed, as Abby follows behind. CHANEL OBERLIN walks up to her. LONDON TIPTON and TRINA VEGA straggle behind.
CHANEL
Oh my God finally!
(under her breath)
Don't ever leave me alone with those two again.
MARI
I had to visit family! They're still not over me almost getting eaten.
CHANEL
Ugh lucky. My family literally disowned me and almost let me get convicted for a series of serial murders that I didn't even commit.
Hailee immediately runs towards London, arms flailing like she's doing interpretive dance, her suitcase wobbling and doing backflips.
HAILEE
OH MY GODDDD LONDONNNNN!!!
LONDON
YAY HAILEE!!!
The two embrace in a hug. London claps.
LONDON
Yaaay Mari! Yaaay Abby!
CHANEL
(to Hailee)
Okay, Britney Spears' court-appointed wardrobe stylist, can you not scream in marble?
HAILEE
Oh my God hi Chanel! Sorry we're late. We can't all afford first class like you.
CHANEL
Trina's in second class and she was on time.
HAILEE
'Nell girl. You know I had to finish splicing glow-in-the-dark proteins into a colony of horny zebrafish for my summer internship. Took, like, forty-eight extra hours and three emotional support Red Bulls. And then, I had to like finish flash-chroming a serotonin analog for my biochem final that my teacher let me turn in late cuz my roommate washed my ADHD meds in the laundry again. If I'd left it on the hot plate I'd be boarding this ship with no eyebrows.
ABBY
Okay Hailee, literally none of us know what any of that means.
INT. GRAND BALLROOM – BREAKFAST SERVICE – MORNING
The clinking of cutlery and murmuring of hungover guests fills the cavernous ballroom. Waiters weave between tables carrying towers of pastries and silver pots of coffee.
Suddenly, the crackle of the loudspeaker cuts through the noise.
CAPTAIN (V.O.)
Good morning, passengers aboard the Gilded Waves. This is your captain speaking. We are approximately two hours out from the beautiful shores of Barcelona.
Across the room, HRH COLLECTION freezes mid-bite of her buttered croissant. Her eyes go wide. She SLAMS her mimosa down, nearly shattering the glass.
HRH COLLECTION
(gasping)
Oh my God. Oh my God. Is that—?
She grabs the nearest waiter by the collar — it's the ANNOYED WAITER, who looks like he's two seconds from quitting.
HRH COLLECTION
GET ME MY CAMERA. GET ME MY CAMERA RIGHT NOW.
ANNOYED WAITER
I'm literally just here to bring you ketchup.
HRH COLLECTION
DON'T FUCKING TALK BACK TO ME YOU PEASANT LITTLE FUCKING BITCH BOY RAT!
HRH Collection runs up to Candace.
CANDACE
I assume you're not here to debate me.
HRH COLLECTION
Finally someone normal and sane on this ship! I have been surrounded by woke reta-
HARD CUT: KYLE SCHEIBLE walks past the entrance to reveal: Beth Stolarczyk enters the breakfast room.
The camera drifts past her, catching a new table — a cluster of REAL HOUSEWIVES in full glam, sunglasses indoors, diamonds blinding, sipping mimosas like it's oxygen.
SHEREÉ
Barcelona, baby! We're about to shut. It. DOWN.
BRANDI
Wait. Wait...why are we on this cruise again? Are we doing another season of Ultimate Girls Trip?
NENE
Girl. No. As if Andy would let me back on after I ended his ass.
KANDI
It's Shereé's bachelorette Brandi.
BRANDI
Wait, seriously? I thought that was a joke.
SHEREÉ
(offended)
Excuse me?! No joke here. The man is real. The ring is real. The commitment? Also... real.
Shereé flashes a massive, borderline obscene engagement ring that could knock someone unconscious, even though the housewives have probably seen it before.
LISA
Money can't buy you class... but it can buy you a bigger diamond, honey!
They all CACKLE. Except Shereé, who maintains a proud, dignified smile like a beauty pageant winner.
Beth clocks the Housewives immediately — like a heat-seeking missile. She pivots, heels clicking, and heads straight for them. Before anyone else can react, Shereé lifts her mimosa in greeting, playing hostess.
SHEREÉ
Beth! Baby!
Beth beams, sliding her sunglasses down just enough to make eye contact, finger guns flying.
BETH
Vacation sluts! Reporting for duty.
The Housewives exchange confused glances. Shereé stands to embrace her like an old friend.
SHEREÉ
Beth almost made it onto The Traitors with me.
BETH
(to lifeless waitress)
Sweetheart, just keep these coming, yeah?
She spins to the Housewives, grinning like a shark in rhinestones.
BETH
Okay, catch me up. Who's divorced, who's scandalized, and which one of you is secretly hooking up with the massage therapist, is the personal trainer hot, do any of you know Jihnnae? Cuz she's cheating on her husband with MJ.
***
AT ANOTHER TABLE: Ted and Alexis, overlook the ocean. They're trying to enjoy an romantic breakfast amid the surrounding chaos.
TED
So, apparently, there's a marine biology tour in Barcelona where you can actually snorkel with rescued sea turtles! I mean, how cool is that?
ALEXIS
Yeah... okay, love that for you. But, like, is there a way to snorkel but not get my hair wet? Because the humidity situation in Barcelona is already like, kind of major?
TED
(chuckling, adorably earnest)
Well, technically, snorkeling is kind of all about getting in the water, babe.
ALEXIS
Ew, Ted.
Suddenly TANYA MCQUOID staggers into frame, holding a half-spilled mimosa and wearing a silky robe over a swimsuit, as if she just wandered in from a pool party that didn't exist. Her eyes are glazed but twinkling in that signature, sedated way.
TANYA
Ohhh... oh wow. Wowwwww. You two are just... the most beautiful couple on this whole damn boat.
TED
(embarrassed, flustered smile)
Oh! Uh, thank you—
Tanya sets her drink down on their table without asking and plops into the empty chair, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder like a faded movie starlet at a casino buffet.
TANYA
God, I love love. It's like... it's like two souls colliding in a beautiful, fiery trainwreck of passion. You know, I fell in love with a sommelier in Santorini. We drank like, four bottles of rosé in one night and then he disappeared into the Aegean Sea. Like... poof.
ALEXIS
Aww you poor thing!
Ted looks on awkwardly and nervously chuckles.
TANYA
And then I fell in love again. Like, really fell in love. In Sicily. We did the whole thing. Yachts, motorcycles, making love under the Mediterranean sun... It was gorgeous, until he hired a bunch of gays to murder me!
ALEXIS
(startled, blinking)
Sorry—what?
TANYA
Yeah. A coven of homicidal gays. Literal killers. They trapped me on this super chic yacht. And then... I found the gun. The one they were gonna use to kill me. I picked it up, and I was shaking, and I was crying, and I just started firing. Boom. Boom. Boom-boom-boom. I shot every last one of those gays. In their tiny little designer outfits. My assistant was on the vacation with me and she had a crush on this guy we met, but he was fucking his uncle.
ALEXIS
Oh my God?! Ew?
TANYA
And then I- I fell off the side of the boat. And then...
(beat, smile creeping in)
The sea cradled me like a mother. Like a beautiful, salty mother. I floated there, face up to the heavens, and I thought: This is it. Tanya McQuoid, billionaire heiress, dies fabulously at sea. Just like... like when I tried to throw my mother's ashes into the water. Oh mother. Oh mother mother mother. My mother told me I would never be a ballerina and that was when I was skinny. She loved the ocean so much. And she tried to be a good mother even though she had no maternal skills. But then...
(snaps fingers)
I survived. Can you believe it? I washed up on shore like a drunk mermaid at a destination wedding. These two lovely girls found me and thought I was toast! But... and... I think I was... officially dead for like... two and a half minutes. But... but something brought me back and... and I was like I have to go on this White Lotus luxury cruise. Because... because he thinks I'm dead. My ex-husband. Because they... the authorities thought that he should think that I'm dead. And they're on this cruise with me, but I don't know who they are yet, but they think Greg could be at one of these ports. And that lady over there, Lady Raven, she uh- she helped catch a serial killer at one of her music shows and- and she's gonna try and do it again when we go to Rome!
At another table, LADY RAVEN waves to her followers on Instagram live.
TED
(supportively)
That's, uh... an incredible story.
ALEXIS
Honestly? Something super similar happened to me off the coast of Bali.
TANYA
I remember, I was like...these gays! They're trying to murder me!
ALEXIS
My brother David is gay!
TANYA
Oh! I love the gays! Just not these ones. Because they tried to kill me so they could take my money and decorate their houses. Did he ever try to murder you?
ALEXIS
I mean he did say, "YOU GET MURDERED FIRST FOR ONCE!" to me when we had to stay in these cheap motels after some guy at my dad's company like embezzled all our money away. But that's where I met Ted!
TANYA
Oh that's just so amazing. My ex-husband wasn't even there so he could have an alibi! Gregory. Oh Greg. He was like a rat deserting me on that ship getting those gays to do his dirty work for him. And... and I thought he loved me! But he was just a big meanie!
Tanya starts dramatically sobbing. Ted looks at Alexis adorably nervous. Then Tanya stares at Alexis, inspired, and suddenly GRABS her hand.
TANYA
We both deserve a man who won't try to push us off a yacht in the middle of international waters.
TED
Oh don't worry. I would never try to push Alexis off a boat.
ALEXIS
Aww Ted!
Ted raises his orange juice in a timid toast.
***
AT ANOTHER TABLE: Chanel, Mari, London, Abby, Hailee, and Trina sit at a table mid-conversation.
HAILEE
Wait? I missed a Y2K themed party? WHY DO I FUCKING MISS EVERYTHING! MY LIFE FUCKING SUCKS. I had like the perfect outfit for it too.
ABBY
Calm down bitch there's gonna be another one.
MARI
(grinning)
Dibs on the hottest Spanish soccer player we run into.
CHANEL
Dibs imply competition. I don't compete. I win.
She flips her hair with surgical precision.
HAILEE
I don't leave the country unless at least three Barça starters volunteer to use me as the cross-bar. Somebody book the stadium. Mommy's in heat.
ABBY
(desperate to change the topic)
Wait so what else did we miss?
LONDON
We played cocaine or dildo.
HAILEE
Wait. You played cocaine or dildo without me? You fucking bitch.
MARI
Whatever, I prefer weed and cheeseburgers anyways.
ABBY
Mood.
Abby holds her breakfast croissant and twirls it around awkwardly before taking a bite.
CHANEL
Oh my God Abby, remember when Miss Bean 2.0 had to scrub your bulimia vomit off the carpet with a barbie toothbrush?
ABBY
It was not bulimia vomit. I was fucking wasted.
LONDON
Ohhh! Can we get matching fans? Like theatrical fans?
She starts miming exaggerated fanning.
MARI
You already have enough air up there, but sure.
The conversation screeches to a halt as Brooks Kennedy glides past their table, accompanied by the effortlessly cool Margot Mills.
CHANEL
Oh my God is that a fucking Kennedy?
The girls turn around.
HAILEE
He could fill my bagel with his cream cheese.
Hailee picks up a sausage from her plate and inserts it into her bagel while delusionally thinking she's making eye contact with Brooks when he's not even looking in their direction.
ABBY
I'd sell feet pics to that man for a yacht.
MARI
We're literally on the ocean and you guys still can't satisfy your thirst?
TRINA
That is a man who could pay off my student loans before they exist!
CHANEL
Well, get in line. I will gut you whores for a chance at that.
LONDON
What about your towel boy?
ABBY
Who the fuck is towel boy?
HAILEE
Wait you fucked a towel boy? Chanel! I didn't know you had it in you to fuck the poor!
CHANEL
He's not fucking poor!
HAILEE
Okay, whatever you say chica.
TRINA
Yeah, I thought you said you needed to date down a tax bracket. Plus, he's like 35.
CHANEL
You just said he could pay off your student loans.
TRINA
I was joking?!
MARI
(snickering)
No you weren't.
TRINA
(betrayed gasp)
Excuse me! I would never date someone just for their money.
Beat. The girls stare at her.
TRINA
Umm I would date someone for opportunity. He's not gonna get me a record deal.
MARI
But his money could.
***
AT THE BUFFET, TRISHA PAYTAS stacks her plate like she's building a shrine to gluttony: pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, three kinds of pastries, and inexplicably, a scoop of mashed potatoes from last night's dinner.
ACROSS THE ROOM, Tanya McQuoid spots her. She's still seated at Ted and Alexis' table, her posture a combination of slouched and dazed, as if gravity itself is confused by her.
TANYA
(excited, waving her napkin like a flag)
Ohhh! Ohhh! Trisha! Trisha sweetie! Over here, angel! Come sit with us!
TRISHA
(cheerful, hauling her food mountain)
Oh my god, hi! Okay wait let me just get one more cinnamon roll. I need it. I need it.
She grabs three more cinnamon rolls, precariously piles them on top of the already swaying tower of breakfast food, and hustles over, giggling.
As she takes a seat, a single sausage patty plops off her plate and rolls across the floor like a rogue hockey puck.
TRISHA
(mouth half-full, ranting)
You guys, I swear to god, I'm about to fire my publicist. Like, for real. I can't with her anymore.
TED
(offering, bright-eyed)
Well, actually, Alexis here owns her own PR company now!
He beams at Alexis like he just nominated her for an award. Alexis flips her hair and does a nervous little shimmy.
TANYA
Oh, sometimes I think I should have invested in that Belinda girl's company...
TRISHA
She tried to force me, like force me, to sign on to this trashy reality show with Azealia Banks and that girl from YouTube, what's her name, um, the one that screams about homeless people and nonbinaries? I was nonbinary for a bit!
ALEXIS
(shaking her head dramatically)
Oh my god, no no no no no. That's like a PR nightmare for you. You've dealt with enough drama in your career, trust me I know.
INT. STAFF OFFICE - LATE MORNING
And speaking of PR nightmares, Kate watches the footage of LovelyPeaches at the pool.
KATE
This is a fucking...
Then she hears the sound of footsteps.
INT. STAFF HALLWAY — CONTINUOUS
Micah and Kai are walking briskly past the crew offices.
Micah scrolls his phone lazily.
Kai is clutching a stack of towels, nervously glancing at Micah's phone to see if he's checking his Instagram.
KATE (O.S.)
Gentlemen.
They both freeze. Kate leans against the doorway of her office, holding a tablet like it's a loaded weapon.
KATE
Can you both come in here real quick?
They follow Kate into —
INT. STAFF OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
She sets the tablet down, steepling her fingers.
KATE
Okay, so you two were obviously present for... that health code violation disaster that happened yesterday at the pool.
Kai looks at Micah, nervously.
KAI
Is this about HRH Collection?
KATE
No. No. That bitch complains about everything.
(exhales)
When we dock at Barcelona, you boys are in charge of babysitting LovelyPeaches.
KAI
Wait... what?
KATE
Keep her occupied, make sure she doesn't cause any disturbances.
MICAH
Wait what? This totally goes beyond my paygrade and area of expertise.
KATE
The job description requires doing what needs to be done. You are on a cruise ship. Part of the job is doing things that aren't in the job description.
MICAH
Can't one of the security guards do it? I mean I've never babysat a... crackhead before.
KATE
You've never babysat a crackhead? Micah you look like you're in a frat.
MICAH
Yeah but I never babysat anyone who was blacked out.
KATE
Look, security has to stay on the boat. We can't have them meandering Barcelona. You two however, are not needed while we're docked. I don't care who your dad is. Nothing here is above your pay grade here. You do what you're told. What needs to be done. Got it?
MICAH
(perking up)
Wait, we get to explore Barcelona?
KATE
Just try to make sure she doesn't do anything fucking illegal or too unhinged. And if she happens to get lost...
She nods at Kai and Micah, hoping they catch her drift. Micah nods, catching her drift. Kai looks nervous as fuck.
***
EXT. GILDED WAVES — POOL DECK — NOON
Grant, Gabriel, and Tayson have staked out prime real estate by the infinity pool.
Grant holds his phone up for a selfie.
GRANT
Alright, boys. Look sexy. Show off those muscles.
Tayson chuckles, rolling his eyes but playing along as he throws his most charming smile at the camera. Gabriel bites his lower lip looking like the sexiest douche. Grant smolders.
Click! Click!
Grant snaps a couple selfies, first horizontal, second vertical: the three of them, sun-drenched, glistening, ripped abs flexed just right.
Grant uploads the second one straight to his Instagram story.
ON GRANT'S PHONE INSTAGRAM STORY :
Caption: "WATER you doing today? I'm on a yacht..."
A few feet away, Tayson props his phone up against a champagne bucket and records a quick TikTok.
The COMMENT he's responding to flashes on screen:
"I wanna mix ur spit into a chowder, dry ur sweat into a powder and do lines of u all night"
Tayson runs a hand through his hair, while eating his Dip 'N' Dots. He chews and looks at the camera, just blinking, looking subtly shocked but curving his lips just enough to look amused.
He ends the video with a hung smile.
He types the caption across the screen:
"crazy comment 💀"
Post.
Meanwhile, in the bubbling jacuzzi, Gabriel lounges like a Roman god reborn on social media. His phone held at a precise angle, he lip-syncs along to his own song blasting from a waterproof speaker.
GABRIEL
(lip-syncing)
🎶 "Suffocate me with your touch, baby drown me in your love..." 🎶
His camera pans down from his smirking face to his tight-fitting swim trunks, riding dangerously low over his hips.
He hits Post without hesitation.
A notification instantly pings on his phone.
First comment:
"LOWER! LOWER!"
He smirks, satisfied.
Meanwhile, Grant crops the photo he just took so that their swimsuits are out of shot so it looks like they're naked. He posts it on Twitter with the same "WATER you doing I'm on a yacht" caption, linking his OnlyFans for the full picture.
Tayson pops another spoonful of Dip 'N' Dots into his mouth, eyes still on his screen.
TAYSON
(grinning at his phone)
Okay, low-key though... they're wild in the comments today.
GRANT
That's because they know we're international, bro. We're global content now.
TAYSON
It's wild though. Like... today's Corpus Christi and people are out here commenting thirst traps like we're not literally supposed to be honoring the Body of Christ right now.
GRANT
I fucked a girl from Corpus Christi once.
TAYSON
Nah bro! It's a fuckin' holiday but nobody knows that anymore.
GABRIEL
What is it? Like... Christian Cinco de Mayo?
TAYSON
No bro. It's when we celebrate the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. The bread and the wine? Body and blood. It's actually kinda beautiful. Kinda reminds me of when I gave up the za for lent and felt cleansed. Like this whole sacred mystery — sacrifice, devotion... And it's huge in Barcelona man. They're gonna have like flower carpets, sick music, a floating egg.
GRANT
(incredulous)
A floating egg?
TAYSON
Yeah dude. A floating egg.
(he points to the sun dramatically)
Like literally... this time of day, 62 days ago. The sky went dark, bro.
GABRIEL
(baffled but entertained)
Wait... what?
TAYSON
Yeah, when God made that time portal shit happen. just like it says in Luke. Noon hit and the sun stopped shining. Jesus on the cross. Sacrifice. Suffering. Sky went dark. Whole world fell off. And it happened on Good Friday of all days.
Tayson looks up to the sky signifying a flashback memory.
The blue summer sky FADES INTO the eclipse sky on his flashback.
FLASHBACK TO: TAYSON'S BACKYARD - APRIL
Tayson looks up at the sky in wonder at the eclipse on Good Friday. He mouths "woah."
TAYSON'S POV: The Good Friday eclipse sky fades back into the current summer sky.
BACK TO THE POOL: Tayson looks back at Gabriel and Grant.
TAYSON
I'm just saying... when God starts playing with the sun again, you pay attention.
Gabriel and Grant look at each other while Tayson pulls out his phone again.
TAYSON
(looking at his phone)
Yo, someone just said they'd drink my bathwater.
Grant elbows him, playful but with a little push.
GRANT
Dude, you're sitting on a goldmine.
TAYSON
Goldmine of what?
GRANT
Goldmine of thirst. Your comment section is basically a support group for the terminally horny.
Gabriel lets out an easy laugh, running his fingers through his damp hair, flicking water droplets off.
GABRIEL
Yeah, bro, they want you bad. You're like their cute little gym crush who prays for them after leg day.
Tayson chuckles, shaking his head, a little bashful. Grant looks at his OnlyFans.
GRANT
Fuck yeah. Two new subscriptions. Drinks on me tonight boys!
TAYSON
On YouTube?
GRANT
No dude. On OnlyFans.
GABRIEL
Since when do you have an OnlyFans?
GRANT
Since like last year.
(off their looks)
Wait. You guys don't have OnlyFans?
GABRIEL
No dude.
(beat)
If they wanna see it, they gotta work for it.
Grant tries to hide his eye roll.
GRANT
Well I don't actually show my junk. I just make people think I'm gonna show my junk.
GABRIEL
(laughs)
That's fucked up.
GRANT
It's smart. It's not like I'm the only one doing it either.
Grant lifts his phone again, like a man possessed by engagement metrics.
GRANT
It's called suspense, boys. Keeps the engagement alive.
Grant leans back smugly, swiping through the flood of thirsty DMs.
GRANT
And these fucking gay guys? So fucking easy to milk their money. Post something suggestive on Twitter, send them to your OnlyFans, and put some suggestive caption with the eggplant emoji, and they'll be desperate enough to subscribe. Even if nothing is there. They'll hold onto that hope that I might finally let it slip. That I'm just building up to it. But I just fucking bought the yacht of my dreams at 22. I don't need to let it slip.
(beat, with performative charm)
They love a little tease. You don't even gotta give 'em much. Easiest bag of my life.
Tayson, caught between amusement and mild moral crisis, furrows his brow.
TAYSON
Isn't that kinda like... exploitative?
GRANT
It's called providing value, bro. It's still exclusive content at the end of the day. I'm quenching their thirst, giving them a little sip. I'm just not giving them the whole Evian water bottle.
(motions to his crotch)
Emotional supply, demand's unlimited.
GABRIEL
I just think queer baiting is wrong man.
GRANT
What about those fruity ass outfits you always wear?
Gabriel flips off Grant playfully and purses out his lips and does a hip thrusting dance.
GABRIEL
Just because I have bomb style doesn't mean I'm gay.
Tayson chuckles.
Just then, ADDISON RAE, CHARLI XCX, JULIA FOX, and TROYE SIVAN strut down to the rooftop pool. The boys all turn around, fixated on Addison.
GRANT
Yo. Is that Addison fucking Rae?
Addison giggles to Troye about something, with her arm around him.
GRANT
Who's the fucking toothpick?
Gabriel chuckles under his breath, amused by Grant's territorial instinct.
GABRIEL
(to Grant, teasing)
Relax. He's gay dude. That's Troye Sivan.
GRANT
(snarling a little)
Funny how you know that.
ON THE OTHER SIDE: Hailee, Mari, London, Chanel, Trina and Abby lounge by the pool. Hailee jolts up like a possessed jack-in-the-box immediately, watching Charli sit down.
HAILEE
Oh my God is that Charli xcx?! OH MY GOD SHE'S ON THE FUCKING BOAT WITH US?! Oh my God I know we're seeing her tonight at the festival but I didn't know she was gonna be on the same fucking boat as us!
LONDON
Yeah I danced with her and Paris on the first night!
HAILEE
Oh my God, shut the fuck up, London! Charli XCX breathed the same air as you and you didn't even think to call me immediately? Are you joking right now?! Oh my god girl you HAVE TO GET ME IN WITH HER. CHARLI IS LITERALLY MY FUCKING SPIRIT ANIMAL OH MY GOD! You guys do know that without her music, I would've killed myself, right?
MARI
Yes we are all well aware.
HAILEE
Oh my God this is divine intervention. You remember freshman year when Charli XCX didn't even hang out with me even though I know she would've fucked with my vibe? I have to go introduce myself.
Hailee pounces up. Abby grabs her shoulder, despite being basically half as tall.
ABBY
Down girl. You don't wanna get arrested again.
HAILEE
You're right. I've gotta play it cool this time. Stage like an accidental running into her this time. Do you guys think she remembers me?
CHANEL
Maybe.
HAILEE
She inspired my bad girl era. You know I finally forgave her after letting me get dragged off the stage. Brat was a fucking cultural reset. I had to.
BACK AT THE JACUZZI, Grant watches Addison lay down a towel to sunbathe.
GRANT
(under his breath to the boys)
Watch this.
Grant approaches Addison like they're old friends from back home. All swagger and faux familiarity.
GRANT
Addison! Addison Rae!
Addison smiles up at him.
ADDISON
(sweetly)
Hi! Sorry... have we met?
GRANT
Yeah, at that hype house launch party.
He offers his hand like he's sealing a business deal and offering himself for a fuck.
GRANT
Grant Marshall.
ADDISON
(smiling, breezy)
Ohhh okay! Did you want a picture with me?
GRANT
Yeah. Yeah, totally.
He confidently thinks this is mutual recognition.
Addison glances around and catches sight of Kai, passing by awkwardly with a pile of dirty towels.
ADDISON
(to Kai, sweetly)
Excuse me! Could you take our picture?
Kai freezes. A pop princess and a hot guy?
KAI
(awkwardly)
Uh—yeah. Of course.
Grant hands Kai his phone like he's handing off a priceless artifact.
Grant positions himself next to Addison. Addison flashes her flawless smile, completely in her element.
But as Kai adjusts the angle, his gaze lingers.
KAI'S POV THROUGH THE CAMERA: We see Grant's shirtless, glistening torso. Droplets of pool water bead and run down the ridges of his abs, catching the sunlight like diamonds. His chest rises and falls, flexing ever so slightly as he squares his shoulders.
Kai snaps the photo. Click.
Grant immediately leans over, checking the screen like his life depends on it.
GRANT
Can you do one more? Horizontal? For the grid.
Kai nods stiffly, doing as told. His hands fumble slightly over the case, adjusting the angle. He swallows, trying to steady his breath.
As he tilts the phone to landscape mode...
KAI'S POV THROUGH THE CAMERA: Grant angles his body toward Addison, his posture casual but every muscle strategically flexed like he's auditioning for a cologne commercial. His skin, still wet from the pool, glistens under the midday sun.
Kai's focus slides from Grant's sculpted torso to the cocky little smirk at the corner of his lips.
Grant catches Kai's lingering gaze through the lens and smirks harder, like he knows exactly what's happening.
Click.
Kai lowers the phone, blinking hard again as if clearing static from his brain.
Grant steps in, way into Kai's personal space. He leans in closer, like he's sharing a secret just for him.
GRANT
(low, smooth)
My name's Grant Marshall, by the way. If you wanna follow my Twitter.
Kai's lips part slightly, caught off guard, blinking like he's processing the proximity in slow motion. Before he can even form a response, Grant flashes him a wink, plucks the phone out of Kai's hand, spins around, and strides back toward Gabriel and Tayson.
GRANT
(to himself)
Easy money.
As he rejoins Gabriel and Tayson, he's already thumbing furiously at his phone, crafting the post.
ON GRANT'S PHONE — INSTAGRAM DRAFT:
He uploads the photo Kai took for the grid and tags: @addisonraee
He types the caption across the screen: Kicking off summer in style with friends 🛳️☀️ SS Gilded Waves about to be iconic. 🌊🔥
Then, he thinks. Eyes narrowed. It can't just be Addison, no. It's gotta look like he's with a squad.
He scrolls back through his camera roll, thumbs to the first poolside selfie with Gabriel and Tayson from earlier, and then another selfie from boarding. Adds them to the end of the carousel.
He swipes through the carousel again and smirks. Perfectly staged, like he's not just with her, he's with a crew.
He hits Post.
Fresh likes flood in, notifications popping like fireworks.
— 🔥🔥🔥
— Bro u kno her???
— Wtf is this lineup lmao
— Grind recognized 👏
Grant's grin widens, dopamine spike hitting him like champagne bubbles.
ACROSS THE DECK, Addison struts back to her lounger. Julia side eyes Addison. Addison shrugs and lifts her chin playfully.
ADDISON
What? He was kinda cute.
Julia's expression deadpans, razor sharp, no hesitation, in full mother bear mode.
JULIA
Stay away from him.
***
INT. INDOOR BAR — NOON
Dim lighting, gold fixtures, chilled martini glasses. Peach Salinger, Lady Phoebe, and Sherry Conrad lounge at a plush corner booth, drinks in hand, framed like a deranged glossy magazine spread.
Peach stirs her martini with clinical precision, eyes hard with purpose.
PEACH
Joseph fucking Goldberg. He shot me. Twice. Then staged my suicide like it was just another moody day in the Hamptons.
She sips, unfazed. Ice in her veins.
SHERRY
(sipping rosé, chipper)
Okay, but like — you're looking amazing for someone who technically died.
PHOEBE
(nods, encouraging)
Yeah, and you're still, like, totally glowy? Is that collagen or just vengeance?
Peach dead-eyes them both, unamused.
SHERRY
(supportive, casual)
Honestly, as someone who was locked in a glass cage by that sick fuck, I respect it. I can't believe he made me and Cary think it was all Love Quinn!
PEACH
That's what he does. But I saw straight through him immediately, even if you two didn't. My poor dear deceased friend Beck sure didn't.
PHOEBE
Also, technically, he did murder a lot of my friends. Which is, like, very uncool.
PEACH
He ruined my life. And my reputation. Like how sick do you have to be to kill someone, stage it as a suicide, and out them in the process?
Peach eyes them, tightening her grip on her martini glass.
PEACH
I'm going to kill him.
PHOEBE
(breezy)
Oh my God, fun! Like a scavenger hunt! But, like... with murder.
SHERRY
See, this is why I packed my self-defense keychain and a taser. Never go on a luxury cruise without both.
PHOEBE
Oh my God, I can't wait to see Barcelona though! I haven't been since I was like 11.
SHERRY
Oh my God, same girl! I've never been. I've only been to Madrid.
PEACH
Okay, can we focus? This isn't a girl's trip. This is a manhunt.
PHOEBE
Can't it be both?
Peach sighs deeply, draining the last of her martini.
PEACH
Fine. But the second I see him, we're done with bottomless mimosas.
SHERRY
Okay, but like... can we at least finish brunch first?
Phoebe eagerly nods. Then, Phoebe's gaze locks onto a HOT TATTOOED BARTENDER, tattoos snaking down both arms, sun-kissed skin, jawline sharp enough to slice prosciutto.
Without hesitation, she waves him over like she's hailing a yacht.
The bartender cracks a grin, strolling over like he's used to this energy from drunk heiresses.
HOT TATTOOED BARTENDER
What'll it be?
PHOEBE
Surprise me! But make it something that says, like... "I have trauma, but I'm still flirty."
He smirks, nodding like that is not the first time he's gotten this request. He moves off to prepare the drink.
PEACH
Really?
PHOEBE
What?
SHERRY
Besides, if we're going to track down a psychotic stalker murderer, we might as well be hydrated.
PHOEBE
And, like, slightly buzzed.
The hot bartender returns, setting down Phoebe's drink with a flourish — a sparkling pink cocktail, garnished with edible flowers and a slice of flaming orange peel.
HOT TATTOOED BARTENDER
I call this one: The Emotional Damage.
Phoebe claps at it.
PHOEBE
Yay! Thank you darling!
She takes a sip and lets out an exaggerated, delighted sigh.
PHOEBE
Mmh! That is delightful!
Mr. Fisher walks past this, eyeing the hot tattooed bartender. He walks out of the bar.
EXT. GILDED WAVES - HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Mr. Fisher walks past the gym,
SLOW MOTION, MR. FISHER'S POV: ROSS LYNCH pumps weights, lifting his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face.
Across from him, Ted Mullens, golden retriever energy intact, attempts a deadlift, cheeks flushed, forehead shining with effort.
Mr. Fisher walks past another door and peers in. The ship's personal trainer and fitness instructor DYLAN FOX leads a cult-like crossfit class for the No Money For Nordstrom Moms.
DYLAN
(loud, charismatic, barking like a preacher)
Pain is just weakness leaving the yacht, QUEENS!
The women, hypnotized, copy his every move, panting and sweating, desperate to impress him.
DYLAN
That's right y'all! Hydrate those spirits, let's GO!
Dylan's shirt is already discarded, sweat streaming down his sculpted torso as he claps his hands and shouts over the pounding music.
EXT. POOL DECK - AFTERNOON
Mr. Fisher walks out..
RAFE CAMERON, NATE JACOBS, JORDAN, and the rest of the FOOTBALL TEAM have turned the infinity pool into their personal water war zone. They're roughhousing, cannonballing, and splashing like unsupervised dogs.
RAFE
Let's fuuuckin' goooo!
Rafe jumps in.
RAFE
(screaming)
Eat chlorine, bitch!
He tackles Jordan into the water, but accidentally hits his nose underwater and it starts bleeding.
FOOTBALL PLAYER
Dude your nose.
Rafe puts his hand under his nose and sees the blood.
RAFE
Oh shit.
Rafe hops out of the pool and heads inside.
POV PAN TO: LIFEGUARD STAND where Micah sits perched up top, sunglasses on, sweat dripping from his sunkissed skin. He holds the red flotation device across his lap like a prop in an erotic Baywatch remake.
POV PAN TO: KYLE SCHIEBLE stretched out shirtless in a lounge chair, wearing linen pants and reading. He licks his finger before turning the page, oblivious to the eyes on him.
POV PAN TO: Jackson, the shirtless deckhand with the abs of a Roman statue pretends to be polishing the rails.
Beth Stolarczyk, glittering like a Vegas slot machine, is especially entertained.
BETH
(flirting shamelessly)
Oh my god, you are dangerous.
Jackson leans in, flashing his professional heartbreaker grin. Beth squeals, loving every second, tossing her hair like she's 22 again.
POV PAN TO: HOT TUB — ADJACENT
Grant, Gabriel, and Tayson soak like self-appointed poolside royalty. Grant sits on the edge of the hot tub, just his feet in the water and adjusts his junk under his swimsuit.
Tayson rests his head back, eyes closed, letting the steam swirl around his cute, sweat-slicked face.
GABRIEL
Jesus still died for us, right? Even the horny ones?
TAYSON
(grinning back, but sincere)
Especially the horny ones. That's what grace is.
Then Grant splashes a little water at him.
GRANT
Okay Pastor Pecs, chill out before I start confessing stuff I don't even feel guilty for.
GABRIEL
(nudging Tayson, teasing)
You gonna baptize us in the hot tub?
TAYSON
Only if y'all repent for your lust.
Over a WIDE SHOT OF THE ENTIRE ROOFTOP POOL, we hear a slow, satisfied breath. The camera turns away, as if we're the person watching.
END POV SHOT.
CUT BACK TO: Tayson, Gabriel, and Grant.
GABRIEL
So what is this dancing egg thing?
TAYSON
They take an egg and make it dance. Like, literally. It floats on the stream of water and spins around.
HRH Collection overhears their conversation while walking by and eavesdrops with her good ear.
GRANT
You're telling me Jesus died, rose again, and now we make an egg do TikTok ballet?
TAYSON
Bro. The egg is a metaphor. It's like purity man. Like the Body of Christ. But also rebirth. It's on a dope fountain too. This whole thing is cuz it's 60 days after Easter.
GRANT
But like... why?
TAYSON
Because it's the feast, dude. The egg dances because life keeps going. It's fragile, it's weird, it's holy. The resurrection wasn't the end of the story. It was the start of the party. And it's pretty dope there's like a bunch of eggs around Barcelona just floating on water for the holiday man.
HRH Collection runs up.
HRH COLLECTION
Wait, today is a Christian holiday with Easter eggs?
TAYSON
Yeah it's-
HRH COLLECTION
OH MY GOD I LOVE EASTER EGG HUNTS! I HAVE TO GET LILLETTE BIJOU JONBENET FROM THE DAYCARE. I GOTTA FIND KATE.
HRH Collection shuffles away like that video where she runs to her oven squealing. The boys look at each other.
INT. SHIP HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS
HRH Collection charges through the glossy interior of the ship. Her heels clack at a manic pace as she storms down the hallway, whipping her phone out with one hand and nearly dropping it.
HRH COLLECTION
(shouting)
KATE?! Where the FUCK is Kate?!
She turns a corner, startling Cayetana and CHIP GIRL.
HRH COLLECTION
Do we have marshmallow peeps on this ship?!
CHIP GIRL
Umm I- we can get some in Barcelona maybe?
HRH Collection keeps storming.
INT. STAFF OFFICE – CONTINUOUS
Kate looks up from her tablet mid-email, stunned.
KATE
(under her breath)
Oh God...
(trying to be perky)
Yes?
HRH COLLECTION
Kate. Today is, like, a Christian holiday in Barcelona or something. Jesus has returned again apparently. But there's eggs, dancing ones floating in fountains or whatever. It's giving pastel couture. It's basically Easter. You have to put on an Easter egg hunt.
KATE
I mean... scavenger hunts are the best part of the job. It's like a creative outlet for me. I'll get my team on it.
HRH COLLECTION
(squealing)
YAYYY! Oh my God, thank you Jesus!
HRH Collection leaves the office.
We see Rafe around the corner with a handkerchief over his bloody nose. He smirks like he just got an idea.
***
EXT. OUTDOOR PROMENADE DECK – CREW HANGOUT AREA - NOON
Elsewhere on the ship, Kai scurries along the promenade, carrying a pile of clean towels.
SLOW MOTION — KAI'S POV: Nick Cogs is flopped on a shaded lounge chair mid-break. He takes a long sip from a vanilla milkshake. As Nick pulls the cup away, a fat drip of milkshake trails off the edge, splattering across his thumb.
Nick glances at it, casual. Then he lifts his thumb to his lips and sucks it clean.
Kai stares, mouth parted slightly, frozen like a gay deer in the headlights. Kai's breath catches. His eyes widen, pupils dilating as his mind floods with depraved visions. He can't help it.
In his brain, it's not a milkshake. It's something else. Way dirtier. Way thicker.
Nick pulls his finger from his mouth with a satisfying pop. Kai nearly drops the towels.
KAI
(whispered)
Shit.
Nick glances up mid-sip.
NICK
Oh hey. I don't think we've officially met. You're one of the stews right?
Nick wipes a little milkshake off his bottom lip with his thumb. Kai watches the thumb glide across that soft, glistening lip.
KAI
Yeah- yeah. Umm-
Kai fails to catch all the towels. Nick sets his milkshake aside and immediately gets up.
NICK
Here, let me help.
Nick kneels down, helping gather the scattered towels without hesitation. Kai swallows hard, forcing his brain to reboot.
KAI
I'm Kai.
Nick's eyes sparkle with genuine warmth, maybe a little too friendly, or maybe Kai is just reading into it like the boy crazy virgin he is.
NICK
(sipping)
Sick. I'm Nick.
KAI
(way too quiet, like he doesn't wanna be heard)
That rhymed.
NICK
(unable to hear)
What?
Kai looks up at him as if to communicate "I was just talking to myself." Nick gets it.
Nick holds his hand out. Kai nervously reaches his hand out. Nick gives him a firm, friendly shake. Like a good, decent golden retriever of a man.
NICK
Well, nice to meet you, buddy.
KAI
Y-yeah. You too... Buddy.
CRACKLE. His walkie bursts to life with the sharp bark of a deck supervisor. Kai jumps, as he jumps at every unexpected sound like the anxious little twink he is.
BOSUN (V.O.)
(over walkie)
Nick, we're fifteen out from docking. Make your way down to the bow. You're on fenders and lines.
Nick winces mid-sip, reluctantly lowers the milkshake from his mouth.
NICK
(into walkie, casual)
Copy that.
He sighs quietly, then glances at Kai, flashing a crooked grin. That good-natured "it is what it is" vibe.
NICK
Ah, the glamorous life.
Nick grabs his milkshake, and gives a casual, charming little raise of the cup like a toast.
NICK
Stay cool out here, yeah?
Nick starts walking off toward his station, sipping that straw.
KAI
(to himself)
I'll try.
Kai, still clutching the stack of towels, spins on his heel, scurrying away into the:
INT. SHIP HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
Kate appears from around the corner, giving Kai a jump scare, almost dropping the towels again. Kate misses the entire mini anxiety attack, as she was looking the other way. She sees Kai like two seconds later.
KATE
Oh perfect timing. I was just about to walkie you. Walk with me.
Kai follows Kate while carrying the stack of towels.
KATE
Here, I can take those. We're fifteen minutes from docking. So it's time to deal with the LovelyPeaches situation. She's still locked in the brig downstairs, still knocked out on Xanax.
Kate seamlessly hands off the stack of towels to an IRRELEVANT STEWARD.
KATE
(to Steward)
Thank you!
(back to Kai)
So what I want you two to do is just... give her a "little tour of Barcelona."
KAI
But I've never been to Barcelona.
Kate rolls her eyes.
KATE
That's not what I... okay look. If she happens to get arrested, or happens to get lost, that's great for us because our biggest problem won't be a problem anymore.
KAI
But... isn't that like... wrong?
KATE
Kai, she's not even a passenger on the ship. She just scared some pussy security guard into letting her on, who if I have anything to say about it is fired. It's simple. You get her off the boat. You keep her distracted. Feed her sangria if you have to. Just keep her away from the passengers, and for the love of god, keep her away from HRH Collection.
KAI
It's just that— I don't really know how to deal with— Are you sure you wanna trust me with this?
Kate stares at Kai for a beat.
KATE
Yes.
Ahead, Chip Girl bounces down the hall, chaotic energy radiating off her like static electricity.
KATE
Chip Girl! Can you show Kai where we're holding our lovely unannounced guest?
CHIP GIRL
Oh my god, totally! I literally just walked past her. She's still in the brig, like...
(mimes snoring, head lolled back)
Out cold. Xanax nap, ten out of ten.
KATE
Perfect. I'll walkie Micah to meet you there.
(into walkie)
Micah, we're about to dock.
Kate walks away.
Chip Girl and Kai walk into the elevator. They turn around and face the doors.
CHIP GIRL
(pulling her phone out)
This is her TikTok. She stitched a baby announcement with a video of her peeing in a Taco Bell cup.
The ELEVATOR DOOR CLOSES on the horror on Kai's face.
INT. SHIP BRIG - NOON
LOVELYPEACHES lies sprawled on the cot, snoring.
KAI
(whispering)
Can't we just.. leave her here if she's sleeping.
LovelyPeaches stirs awake.
CHIP GIRL
(looking at her watch)
Well, in about 15 seconds, the Xanax is about to wear off.
LovelyPeaches slowly rises, looking around confused like she's just woken up from a blackout in a Chuck E. Cheese ball pit. Then she sees Kai and Chip Girl.
LOVELYPEACHES
(crazy, panicked)
PLEASE! STOP THIS MADNESS. What do you WANT from me?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?! PLEASE!!
CHIP GIRL
We're gonna go see Barcelona! Yeah!
LOVELYPEACHES
I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!
Chip Girl slowly opens the cell door.
LovelyPeaches reaches for Kai's ankle, giggling maniacally.
KAI
(stumbling backward)
OH MY GOD?!
She BELCHES like a DYING FOGHORN.
EXT. BARCELONA OCEAN - EARLY AFTERNOON
The FOGHORN blows out.
***
EXT. DOCKING RAMP – EARLY AFTERNOON
The Gilded Waves eases into port, sunlight spilling across the Mediterranean horizon.
Deckhands call out orders as the ropes are readied. A crowd of passengers begins gathering, eager for dry land and overpriced tapas.
CHIP GIRL
Good luck.
Chip Girl scurries away.
Kai stands at the edge of the gangway, trying to look composed but visibly sweating through his uniform. One hand grips the handle of a walkie-talkie. The other nervously wrings the hem of his shirt.
Beside him, LovelyPeaches spins in slow, chaotic circles like a demonic ballerina, occasionally SHRIEKING at nothing and licking the air like she's tasting ghosts.
Kai glances over to the deck.
KAI'S POV – THE DECK BELOW: Nick's shirt lifts just enough to reveal a taut sliver of lower abs, V-line sharp and teasing. He adjusts the waistband of his shorts casually — a simple motion, but to Kai it's basically softcore pornography.
WHIP PAN TO: LovelyPeaches holding a crawfish and making weird faces like she's communicating with it and is gonna eat it raw. Then she starts screaming at the crawfish.
LOVELYPEACHES
(starting to giggle)
HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!
PAN TO: Nick hoists a thick rope over one shoulder, muscles flexing, sweat sparkling on his skin like he was born to shimmer in Mediterranean light.
Jackson, still shirtless, pretends to be helping, striking casual poses that show off his V-line. He flirts with a MILF while barely touching the rope he's meant to be coiling.
KAI'S POV: The camera whip pans back to LovelyPeaches on the floor now screaming and crying.
WIDE SHOT — PORT DOCK: The gangplank is being lowered. Ropes THUD against the dock. Dockhands shout to one another. Nick is now squatting to tie something down.
A CREW MEMBER walks by eating a churro. Peaches locks on.
LOVELYPEACHES
(pointing)
IS THAT A DILDO?!
She screams laughing. Kai jolts. Still no Micah.
INTENSE ZOOM — Nick pulling a rope taut, hips flexed, calf muscle twitching.
WHIP PAN TO: LovelyPeaches pulling a banana from her bra and holding it up.
LOVELYPEACHES
NICKI MINAJ IS THE QUEEN OF RAP!
KATE (V.O.)
(over intercom)
Passengers disembarking for Barcelona, please proceed in an orderly fashion. Don't forget your wristbands, your IDs, and our fun little Barcelona Corpus Christi Easter egg scavenger hunt this evening at 6pm!
The gangway has descended. The ship is docked. Passengers begin trickling out.
Kai stands near the end of the ramp, tense as fuck.
Behind him: LovelyPeaches, now fully upright, is eating a banana like it's a dick. Eye contact with a horrified couple. She licks the tip slowly, seductively... then bites the entire thing off.
Kai looks horrified. He flinches when a chunk of banana lands near his shoes. He looks around desperately — where the fuck is Micah?
Just then, Trisha Paytas waddles past in a pink sparkly caftan, her purse stuffed with snacks and at least three cinnamon rolls. She's filming a YouTube video:
TRISHA
Okay you guys, so we're in Barcelona. I'm gonna do a full tapas mukbang! Ahh so excited!
HRH Collection trails behind Trisha, screeching into her phone to an unknown assistant holding her Chanel of plastic water bottles: a giant Essentia + water bottle.
HRH COLLECTION
If you don't get the right fucking water bottle for me!
(pause)
THE CHANEL WATER BOTTLE!
LovelyPeaches SNATCHES the Essentia+ water bottle from HRH's hand in a single chaotic motion, then SLAPS HERSELF in the face with it.
LOVELYPEACHES
(crazed, sobbing)
PLEASE! HAVE MERCY!
KAI
(shakily)
I'm—I'm so sorry—Peaches please—just give the bottle back, okay? You don't need to—
HRH COLLECTION
I don't want it back now! It probably has her feces all over it!
HRH Collection pulls Kai by his shirt and leans in menacingly.
HRH COLLECTION
You better learn how to do your fucking job or else.
She releases Kai and Kai exhales for air. LovelyPeaches keeps hitting herself across the cheek with the waterbottle.
LOVELYPEACHES
(crying and screaming)
PLEASE STOP! AHHHH! AHHHHHH!
HRH Collection storms off. Kai tries to compose himself but he's trembling, breathing too hard.
Kai's breath catches. His mouth falls open. He forgets what he's doing.
ROSS LYNCH strolls off the gangway, tank top sticking to his chest, biting into a peach and licking the juice from his fingers.
Kai's legs buckle slightly.
LOVELYPEACHES (O.S.)
EEEHEHAHAHHAHAHADHS OOOOHHHH!
Kai blinks. Too late.
LOVELYPEACHES tears off like a crackhead banshee in platform flip-flops. She sprints off the gangway, past the security ropes, and into the crowd.
KAI
Oh fuck me.
EXT. BARCELONA PIER — CONTINUOUS
A small, confused Spanish street vendor is restocking their display of hand-painted fans and novelty hats.
LovelyPeaches appears, camera up, iPhone livestreaming.
LOVELYPEACHES
(into her phone)
Y'all this my new BEST FRIENDDD. She sellin' pussy fans and taco hats!
She throws an arm around the vendor like they've known each other since middle school. Kai runs towards her. She puts on an egg hat, cockeyed, and screams.
LOVELYPEACHES
I'M A JESUS NOW. LOOK AT ME. CALL ME MISS RESURRECTION ON THIS EASTER EGG PUSSY HEEEHEEHEEHEEE!
KAI
Uh... Umm... Look Peaches! It's that girl from Charmed!
LOVELYPEACHES
(head turning immediately)
Where?!
Kai points back towards the port. LovelyPeaches runs towards it. Kai snatches the hat and gives it back to the shop owner.
KAI
(mouthing to the shop owner)
Lo siento.
The three influencer boyz descend from the ship. Grant wears an unbuttoned tropical shirt, chest out, gold chain glinting like a thirst trap sent from capitalism. Gabriel struts behind him in a white mesh shirt. Tayson rocks a gray tank top. He's lowkey adjusting his shorts like they shrunk in the dryer.
Kai sees them immediately.
KAI'S POV: Grant flicking his shirt open slightly. Gabriel yawning and stretching. Tayson scratching the back of his neck with that golden retriever smile.
The camera pans down to their feet, where LovelyPeaches, ever so delusional, is on the floor rolling around in front of the three boys, on Instagram live.
LOVELYPEACHES
OH MY GOD! AHHHH!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!! CHARMED IS MY LIFE!!
LovelyPeaches continues screaming unintelligibly. The boys look down, mildly confused.
GRANT
Yo what the fuck.
They step around her. She's looking at some woman in the distance who very vaguely resembles someone from Charmed.
Peaches continues screaming incoherently, filming up their shorts with reckless abandon.
Kai looks nervously at the port exit.
Peaches' screaming gets louder and louder as she rolls on the floor even more. Passengers and people outside start looking at her.
A TOURIST MOM pulls her child closer.
The HOUSEWIVES step around her disgusted.
NENE
Chile... not this again.
Kai looks down at Peaches screaming and rolling around, then up at the port, then down again, then up at the port, in a panic.
Then finally — Micah appears, fresh from the ship gym, glistening with just enough sweat to suggest he's not totally heartless. Tight tee hugging his biceps. Water bottle in hand. Hair perfect. Smug. Late.
MICAH
Sorry. Just had to get a quick pump in.
Micah looks down at LovelyPeaches. A random middle schooler runs up to LovelyPeaches with her iPhone.
RANDOM MIDDLE SCHOOLER
Can you say hi to my friend Linda!
LOVELYPEACHES
Hi Linda!
ACROSS THE STREET
HRH Collection is already at a bodega screaming, as she picks up a AQUA CARPACITA water bottle. She's holding it, reading it, looking at the design and label.
HRH COLLECTION
BITCH! YOU'RE A FUCKING WATER BOTTLE! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH! LIKE CAN I PLEASE READ ALL THIS STUPID SHIT ON HERE. LIKE I WOULD NEVER BUY THIS. IT'S A FUCKING SHIT SHOW. MAKE IT FUGLY BY LIKE WRITING ALL THIS STUPID SHIT ON IT. It's a fucking water bottle. It's so fucking pretentious. Just put your fucking ugly logo and that's it! Nobody's gonna real all that bullshit no one cares it's fucking water! THEY'RE ONLY GONNA BUY IT IF IT'S CUTE DECENT PRICED WATER THAT'S IT! THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE IT'S FUCKING WATER!
The BODEGA CASHIER looks at her confused.
PAN TO: MATT RIFE. He throws on aviators like a man hoping the Spanish sun doesn't recognize him.
Behind him, PEARL is watching. From twenty feet away, she follows him. Her eyes are locked on Matt with absolute malice. She doesn't blink. Doesn't breathe. Just watches.
Then— TAP. TAP. TAP-TAP-TAP.
A street mime begins tap dancing a few feet away, drawing a small circle of tourists.
Pearl steps forward and begins to tap. And it's... joyful. Unhinged, yes — but joyful.
CAMERA PANS across the crowd from Pearl, still giddily spinning in her final curtsy beside the mime, soaking in imaginary applause like sun rays.
From the side of the frame, Mari, Chanel, Trina, Abby, Hailee, and London strut into view.
We PUSH IN on them:
HAILEE
Barcelona bitches!
Mari glances sideways at Pearl, still twirling with outstretched arms like she's headlining So You Think You Can Snap.
MARI
Okay. That's either performance art or a mental break.
CHANEL
Same thing.
LONDON
Yay! Street theater!
TRINA
I hope she fucking trips and falls for fucking pushing me off the stage.
ABBY
She pushed you off a stage?
HAILEE
Babe that's fucked.
MARI
(whispers to Abby)
That's kinda funny.
TRINA
Yeah, I was performing my original song "Chicago" as a preview for my one woman show "Trina" that I'm putting on at the ship's theater and she pushed me off! Can you believe that?
MARI
(to Chanel)
Yes.
Abby smirks and winks at them.
LONDON
Do you think they have, like, fashion tapas?
CHANEL
What the hell is a fashion tapa?
LONDON
Like... little outfits! Tiny couture! Like for dolls, but edible.
HAILEE
Oh my god I would devour a Balenciaga bomba. Like imagine a cute little purse shaped potato ball. I'd go feral. Oh my god and speaking of balls-
TRINA
Can we please focus? I didn't come all the way to Spain to not be noticed.
CHANEL
God forbid.
MARI
(to herself)
And I thought the wilderness was chaos.
They girls walk out of the shot, REVEALING: Trisha Paytas and Tanya McQuoid discovering a glorious Spanish food truck, shimmering in the midday sun like a holy relic.
Trisha is already dual-wielding a sangria and a paper tray overflowing with aioli-drenched potatoes.
TRISHA
(mid-bite)
Oh my god. Oh my god. Why does it taste better here? It's like... spiritual mayonnaise.
TANYA
Is this heaven? Is this... what heaven tastes like?
She sniffs the air, looking glassy-eyed and on the brink of tears.
TANYA
(tearing up)
I think my mother used to make potatoes like this, but then she forgot how to cook because she said love gave her hives.
TRISHA
(mouth full)
That's so valid.
TANYA
I feel like... like I'm being held. By the food. Like it knows I've suffered.
TRISHA
Girl, SAME.
TANYA
It's wrapping around me like a potato hug. Mmh. I wanna take a bath in this aioli.
As Trisha and Tanya continue their sacred communion with carbs, a voice cuts through the Barcelona breeze like a shriek from a possessed valley girl banshee.
HRH COLLECTION
(off-screen, shouting)
WAIT?! THERE'S POTATOES?! I LOVE POTATOES!
WHIP PAN TO REVEAL: HRH Collection, unhinged as ever, stomping toward the food truck.
HRH COLLECTION
(in her nice girl ordering voice)
Hi, can I have some potatoes?
FOOD TRUCK VENDOR
Sí, claro... papas bravas?
HRH COLLECTION
(nodding violently)
Yes! Yes. All of it. I want all the potatoes.
She turns back to Trisha and Tanya like she's just been anointed.
HRH COLLECTION
(pure glee)
Oh my god I'm so happy right now. I feel like God just blessed me. I love potatoes so much!
AZEALIA BANKS strides into frame from the opposite direction wearing some hex beads and a blood red shirt, mid-eye roll. She slows just slightly as she passes the food truck chaos. She scoffs loud enough for God and all of Barcelona to hear.
AZEALIA
(under her breath but not really)
White bitches losing their minds over potatoes. Fuckin' famine-core behavior.
HRH Collection's whole body stiffens. The air goes tense. She turns around angrily.
HRH COLLECTION
WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?
AZEALIA
Aww. You didn't hear me? Lemme say it again louder for the culture— WHITE BITCHES LOSING THEIR SHIT OVER A FUCKING SPUD!
HRH COLLECTION
You're a fucking loser and a snob for saying that! Do you know how fucking crazy you are to do that? You're acting like, 'Oh my god, she's eating a potato, she has problems.' I don't see the problem. I think eating a baked potato is actually really great. It's fucking real food. It's filling. It's low in calories. Like go fuck yourself. Who the fuck do you think you are? See, to me it is sinful to make fun of food. Like how would you like to not have food. I'm sure someone out there would LOVE TO HAVE A FUCKING POTATO. You fucking bitch! Psycho!
AZEALIA
Don't you have a famine to go die in?
HRH COLLECTION
I'M NOT EVEN IRISH. THAT'S RACIST YOU KNOW. TO ASSUME MY RACE! Go eat your nasty processed food, okay? And I will sit here and be creative in my head, and think about what foods are good and going to fill me up and are low in calories.
AZEALIA
Then write it in your food diary, bitch. It's giving Fat Lizzo. I hate you fat HRH Collection!
HRH COLLECTION
EXCUSE ME, I AM NOT FAT RIGHT NOW. I'M SO SKINNY RIGHT NOW. AND THIS IS A HOLY WEEK. This is literally the 60 day anniversary of Christ's resurrection and you're showing up in hex beads and goat blood or whatever the fuck that outfit is made of. You literally did a spell on someone last year. You're the devil. I rebuke you in the name of the Lord! You need God. You need Jesus. You need potatoes and peace. And a restraining order.
AZEALIA
You need a laxative and a shut the fuck up.
HRH COLLECTION
(screaming)
YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU'RE GOING TO HELL. STRAIGHT TO HELL.
AZEALIA
Are you ready to die Alexandra Pearce?!
Azealia walks away.
HRH COLLECTION
Fucking bitch! That pissed me off so much. Anyways, I love eating baked potatoes like plain. But this is so good too.
THE CAMERA PANS to Charli XCX, Troye Sivan, Addison Rae, and Julia Fox strut past the potato girlies.
The CAMERA TRACKS alongside them.
Behind them, there are Corpus Christi celebrations around them. A canopy of gold cloth sways above a gleaming monstrance held aloft. A brass band plays a triumphant marcha religiosa, rich with majesty and awe, the kind of music that sounds like the sun breaking open the sky.
None of the girls really notice. Or rather — they do, but only as vibe.
CHARLI
I love Barcelona.
ADDISON
(spotting a vendor cart of rosaries)
Wait. Are these like... vintage accessories or religious?
CHARLI
Why not both?
TROYE
(holding up a little gold monstrance keychain)
Is this a prop or am I going to hell?
JULIA
Yes.
A LOCAL WOMAN passes, throwing flower petals onto the cobblestone path.
Addison snaps a selfie beside it, angling to get the flower trail in the frame.
Then, Addison spots a thrift shop with aggressively colorful merchandise and GASPS.
ADDISON
Oh my god, wait. I need a little fan. Like one of those clacky ones.
They duck into the thrift shop.
INT. THRIFT SHOP – CONTINUOUS
The bell above the door tinkles as the quartet enters a dimly lit vintage thrift shop tucked between a tapas bar and a record store. The air smells like leather, patchouli, and a whiff of mothball bisexuality.
Spanish Semana Santa music blares faintly from a battered radio in the corner — a ghostly, processional march of drums and trumpets. The kind of music you'd hear at a funeral. Or a crucifixion. Almost as they went back in time to 62 days ago.
CHARLI
(taking off her sunglasses)
Okay this place is giving... curated decay. I'm obsessed.
JULIA
We love sustainable fashion. We hate the system.
Julia beelines for a rack of oversized blazers like she's been possessed by a Milanese art professor ghost.
TROYE
(browsing the racks)
Okay but wait. European thrift shops go hard. I once found a silk tank top that said "God is a Bottom."
Troye, meanwhile, stops dead at a faded black tee with hand-drawn art. He holds it up.
ON THE SHIRT: Two men in a watercolor painting, very clearly mid-blowjob, under the words "YO AMO EL CARIÑO" (I love affection).
TROYE
Okay wait—this is actually iconic.
CHARLI
Oh my god. Buy it. That's your new stage costume.
TROYE
(to shopkeeper)
Hola, um... how much is the gay sex shirt?
Charli holds up a red shirt that says "obedient child."
CHARLI
I'm gonna buy this ironically and then wear it non-ironically. That's called brand evolution.
Addison finds a tiny bull plushie and holds it like it's a newborn.
ADDISON
Can I name him? I'm naming him Lil Beefy. He's my Spanish son.
Charli twirls in front of a cracked mirror wearing a fake Dior corset and a child's communion veil as a cape. Troye holds up a red silk bolero jacket, clearly into it.
Addison finds a huge clack fan covered in sequins and rhinestones and SNAPS it open with gleeful force.
ADDISON
OH MY GOD. It clacks. It clacks.
Julia runs her fingers across a row of crucifixes — some antique, some plastic, all vaguely cursed.
JULIA
(softly, hypnotized)
These people are obsessed with death. I love it.
TROYE
Wait, is it offensive to be, like, slutty during Jesus week here?
CHARLI
No babe. He died for our sins. I'm just... honoring him by committing some. I headlined Primavera here, we're totally fine. Plus today is all about honoring the body anyways.
JULIA
(earnest, eyes fixed on a statue of Jesus)
He was hot though, right? Like if you separate the trauma.
Troye nods.
Charli is scrolling through tweets because she's started releasing her songs in Dolby Atmos on Apple Music and sees:
@ xcxsource: Due to unknown circumstances, a possible Dolby Atmos mix mistake, the bridge on "Backseat" by Charli xcx has been stripped of Carly Rae Jepsen's vocals on Apple Music.
CHARLI
Also why the fuck is Dolby Atmos cutting out Carly's voice in the bridge of Backseat? Like it's never done that before.
TROYE
It's probably because of that weird portal shit that happened.
JULIA
Yeah, there's like whole conspiracy theories around it. They think it happened when Katy Perry went to space.
TROYE
Oh yeah and that's why they think everyone's coming out as gay now.
CHARLI
I'm gonna cry. Not Carly getting erased.
ADDISON
She is the bridge.
TROYE
It's okay. Spotify listeners can still hear her.
CHARLI
Whatever, I'm not letting that interfere with the festival. It's gonna be brat summer all over again.
ADDISON
Okay wait, what if we got matching crucifix necklaces but made it camp?
They all nod like that's the most respectful idea they've ever had. Troye holds up the shirt in front of him in the mirror.
TROYE
Cunt.
They all laugh, snapping selfies as Troye heads to the counter with his graphic gay sex shirt, Julia clutches a fur, Addison pets a velvet purse like it's sentient, and Charli already has three jackets she refuses to try on.
EXT. BARCELONA SIDE STREET – MOMENTS LATER
They walk out of the store. Troye adds "Barcelonussy with the girlies 🇪🇸" to his Instagram story. Addison walks slightly behind, cradling Lil Beefy, already whispering affirmations to him like he's a brand deal. The doors swing shut.
THE CAMERA PANS ACROSS THE COBBLESTONE ALLEY to Rafe Cameron, Kyle Schieble, Nate Jacobs, Jordan, and the rest of the football team stride past in a loose pack.
RAFE
God, I fuckin' love Europe. It's like... ancient chaos.
KYLE
(scoffing, pointing at a souvenir stand with little Gaudí buildings)
This is all commercialized bullshit. Barcelona's a fucking theme park now.
RAFE
Stop being a buzzkill.
KYLE
I'm just saying if I wanted to be shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists in cargo shorts I'd go to Venice Beach.
RAFE
Bro, you're literally in H&M socks. Relax.
Kyle rolls his eyes.
RAFE
Alright, I got an idea. We throw a party, like a rooftop party, find some fucking local DJ, and we call it Rafecelona. I overheard Kate talking about some egg shit, cuz it's some Christian fuckin' holiday today, so we have a Rafecelona Easter Egg Hunt, but each egg has something fucked up inside. Some candy. Some truths. Some dares. Some drugs. Some Drunk Jenga shit.
NATE
That doesn't even fucking make sense.
RAFE
(knocking on his skull)
Maybe if you stopped hitting your fucking head.
NATE
Don't start with me.
RAFE
You crack the egg, you do what's inside. No skipping. No pussying out. If you get the acid one, that's your cross to bear. Come on, I packed a bunch of good shit.
JORDAN
I mean... I could be down.
They round a corner, heading deeper into the city — toward rooftop debauchery and inevitable international scandal — just as Julia Fox watches them pass.
JULIA
I could break every one of them...
TROYE
Are you talking about the football guys or the mannequins?
JULIA
Yes.
ADDISON
Wait, so what do you guys think of that guy who like came up to me?
JULIA
You mean that tacky move where he pretended like he knew you?
ADDISON
He was manifesting! Confidence is sexy!
CHARLI
Babes, you do not want another Bryce Hall on your hands, do you?
CAMERA TRACKS: Rafe puts his hands on Jordan's shoulders and jumps up and down like an overenergized hype beast.
On his last hop as they walk on by, we PUSH INTO:
EXT. BEACH BAR – BARCELONA – AFTERNOON
Grant, Gabriel, and Tayson walk in across from the sidewalk like they're filming an ad campaign: effortless, sun-kissed, slow-motion smiles. Grant pauses, adjusting his open shirt like it's a second skin, immediately scoping out the room.
The last 30 seconds of "Aquamarine" by Addison Rae are playing quietly in the background. None of the boys know it's by her. They'd be the type to be like "ADDISON RAE MAKES MUSIC NOW?"
TAYSON
Yo, you think they got a cold plunge in Barcelona?
GRANT
Okay, content first or shots first? Actually, trick question, they're the same thing.
Grant whips out his phone, seamlessly transitioning into influencer mode.
GRANT
(pretending to film on his phone)
Barcelona, are you ready for us? This place is about to be iconic. Drop a palm-tree emoji if you wanna see Tayson do body shots off Gabriel!
TAYSON
Dude, my mom follows you!
GRANT
Exactly. She'll hype us up.
Gabriel smirks, pulling Tayson into a playful headlock as they step deeper into the bar.
GABRIEL
Relax, pretty boy. Your mom probably loves me.
TAYSON
I'm not doing body shots off another guy! That's sinful dawg!
GRANT
Oh come on bro, relax. It's called queerbaiting, remember? And it's good for your brand. Trust me, you drop some slightly fruity content, views go up, money comes in, and everyone else will just chalk it up to "boys being boys."
TAYSON
That's just not what I do man.
GABRIEL
(smacking Tayson's back)
C'mon, Saint Gym Bro. You know Jesus would've turned water into shots if it was summer break.
TAYSON
Yeah, but today's about honoring His body so maybe let's not film a thirst trap with my belly button and happy trail out, okay?
GRANT
Yo that sounds kinda gay.
TAYSON
The body of Christ is not gay!
GRANT
(to bartender)
Three shots of Patron please.
TAYSON
(to the bartender)
Two shots of Patron. You got anything non-alcoholic?
The bartender doesn't flinch, already pushing the two shots forward.
BARTENDER
Virgin sangria?
TAYSON
Boom. Christ coded.
The bartender comes back with Tayson's drink. The trio clinks their drinks together. Gabriel and Grant down the shots. Tayson immediately winces, shaking his head like a wet puppy.
THE CAMERA TRAVELS ACROSS THE STREET:
ALEX CONSANI and QUEN BLACKWELL are skipping down the street vlogging.
QUEN
Justice for the clown bitches! Viva la clitterati!
ALEX
Girl! The Euros is Euronating. Let's go buy hot dogs.
QUEN
AND THE RENAISSANCE HAS BEGUN! THE QUENAISSANCE! THE GAG! THE CHUPA CHUP APOCALYPSE!
ALEX
Did you pray today? IT'S A GORGEOUS DAY TO BE A BADDIE OUT HERE TODAY.
TOURIST #1
(quietly, to their partner)
Are they famous?
TOURIST #2
Probably. Or on drugs. Or both.
They twirl into traffic, Alex pretending to faint from spiritual overstimulation, and Quen catching her like they're in a telenovela. Horns blare. A garbage truck honks. They cross onto the other side of the street.
PUSH IN AS THEY WALK PAST:
EXT. BARCELONA – TAPAS PATIO – AFTERNOON
The Housewives and Beth glammed up and already two pitchers into sangria, their laughter cutting through the street noise like a Bravo trailer.
SHEREÉ
I swear to God if this sangria doesn't come with a ring in it, I'm suing Spain.
BRANDI
(slurring slightly)
Wait. Are we still mad at Lisa or are we pretending to like her again?
LISA
(twirling her straw)
I'm present, babe. I can hear you.
NENE
I'm just here so my edges can absorb the culture.
BETH
(to waitress)
Excuse me, hi—do you have anything that pairs well with piping hot tea? I just found out Jehnnae is cheating on her husband with MJ.
Just as the Housewives dissolve into drunken cackles—
TERRI JOE enters in a long church-lady dress, kitten heels clacking with purpose, and clutching a well-worn Bible like it's both a weapon and a prop, ROLLS across the cobblestones in a beat-up wheelchair she absolutely does not need.
She's sweating. Preaching. Judging.
TERRI JOE
(in a thick Southern drawl, loudly to no one and everyone)
The Lord is not your little European boyfriend! He is a righteous God! And He saw what y'all did last night with them tequila sodomites!!
People at nearby tables pause mid-sip. One woman drops her croqueta.
TERRI JOE
(pointing at two gay men kissing behind the bar)
UH-UH! LIPS OFF! Y'ALL GONNA BURN!
She throws a handful of mints at a lesbian couple holding hands.
TERRI JOE
Here's somethin' to cleanse your soul and your breath.
NENE
(to the group, calmly sipping)
Girl....
TERRI JOE
(turning sharply, eyes locking on Nene)
I rebuke the spirit of Botox and Bravo. Come back to God while there's still time!
NENE
And I rebuke that Dollar Tree wheelchair. Get up and walk, baby.
A beat. Terri Joe freezes. Everyone stares.
Then, dramatic as hell, she stands up slowly.
TERRI JOE
I'm HEALED!
TAMRA
(sipping sangria, casually)
Okay but like... not to make this about me, but I totally had a pool baptism last year. Swear to God. My pastor came over and dunked me right in the deep end. I had a spray tan and extensions in and everything — it was really spiritual.
SHEREÉ
Girl, you got baptized in a chlorine cocktail.
TAMRA
Yeah well it worked, because ever since then, I've only blacked out twice. That's growth.
BRANDI
Wait, I thought that was a wet t-shirt contest?
LISA
(murmuring into her drink)
Baptized in chlorine, reborn in tequila.
NENE
(raising her glass)
To the Body of Christ and hot messes. Both live on this patio today.
The sangria pitcher tips over slightly from how hard Beth is laughing. A couple of olives roll onto the cobblestones.
TERRI JOE
(eyes wide, pointing at the pitcher)
THAT is the blood of the Lamb, spilled in vain for your drunken fornications!
TAMRA
(smiling, raising her glass)
And yet... He keeps refilling it. God is so good.
A CAMERA WHIP-FAST-TRACKS across sunlit cobblestones, breezes past a barking dog, a scooter, a man selling sunglasses.
EXT. PRIVATE ROOFTOP – BARCELONA – AFTERNOON
The billionaire boys lounge like overfed sharks, overlooking the city like hungry vultures. Thirsty for power.
ANDREW TATE, BRIAN THOMPSON, MARK ZUCKERBERG, ELON MUSK, and DAVID ZASLAV are seated like it's The Last Supper for psycho straight men.
A drone hovers nearby, unmarked. Filming.
A WAITER approaches with a tray of olives and cold towels.
WAITER
(sunny, polite)
Excuse me, señores—would you like a refresher towel?
ANDREW
(rolling his eyes)
Do I look like I need a fucking wet nap, Alejandro?
The WAITER leaves.
ANDREW
You know what I like about Spain? No one here has the balls to tell me to shut the fuck up.
BRIAN
That's because they're poor. Poor people don't have voices; they have complaints.
ANDREW
Every man needs a sword, a villa, and a woman who doesn't talk. That's infrastructure. You know what this city needs? Discipline. Not a single man in sight.
He drains his scotch like it's the blood of a poor person.
A WAITRESS nervously returns with a fresh bottle.
BRIAN
(to waitress, dismissive)
Pour faster, please. Our time actually matters.
She nods, trembling.
DAVID
(to waitress)
And don't look me directly in the eye. It's distracting. I have a wife.
ANDREW
(creepily flirting)
I don't.
The waitress quickly finishes pouring and scurries away as the CAMERA FALLS DOWN TO:
EXT. BARCELONA – HILLTOP VISTA NEAR PARK GÜELL – AFTERNOON
THEWIZARDLIZ walks on a sun-drenched overlook
She steps into the center of the shot. A pigeon flutters by in a perfect slow-motion moment.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(turning to her assistant)
Make sure the lighting doesn't flatten my aura. If I don't look radiant, we'll reshoot in Sitges.
Her ASSISTANT presses record. TheWizardLiz walks by holding a snow cone.
THEWIZARDLIZ
(passing, calmly but lethal)
Validation melts faster than that cone, sweetheart. I'd invest in self-worth instead. You're going to be thirsty for a man who won't even give you a drop of water? Honey, that's embarrassing.
EXT. HOTEL W – BARCELONA – AFTERNOON
PARIS HILTON emerges from a black SUV in a rhinestone-studded mesh cover-up over a tiny, glittering two-piece that looks like it was engineered in the lab of Y2K nostalgia. A living artifact and a legend reborn.
She pauses on the pavement, eyes lifting to the HOTEL W signage.
PARIS
(murmuring to herself, smirking)
Same beach. Same bitch.
Flashes of 2011 flicker across her mind — a chaos montage of paparazzi bulbs, champagne pops, and her Motorcycle Team photocall where she posed like a pop culture fever dream on two wheels.
EXT. BARCELONA CLIFFSIDE OUTLOOK – AFTERNOON
Far from the chaos of tapas patios and sangria-soaked Housewives, the CAMERA GLIDES over the Mediterranean. A faint church bell echoes in the distance. A single palm frond blows across the frame, as if moved by something unseen.
LOTTIE MATTHEWS stands alone at a lookout point above the city, the bustling streets far below. She's barefoot on a stone ledge, hair loose in the wind, arms wrapped loosely around herself.
She stares out at the endless blue, eyes glassy but focused — not lost, but listening.
Below, faint brass music begins to rise. A Corpus Christi procession weaves through the narrow alleys: children in white robes tossing flower petals, men hoisting gilded monstrances aloft beneath velvet canopies, clouds of incense swirling through sunlight. The music doesn't reach her directly, but she feels it in her chest — golden, reverent, almost warm.
A CHILD walks past with a Eucharist pendant and looks up at her like she's some kind of saint or vision.
Lottie doesn't notice. She's whispering softly to herself.
LOTTIE
(whispered)
The veil is thinnest at the hour of surrender. The body is lifted. The spirit slips through. And then... the hunger starts again.
She places her palm on a nearby stone wall, eyes fluttering shut.
FLASH – A VISION:
- A BLOOD-SMEARED HAND lifts from snow, fingers twitching, alive.
- A white gown, limbs trembling as hands reach to pull her upward, out of frame — like an ascension.
- A deer, burned and flickering. Then not. Then whole again.
- Two girls standing across from each other in a snow-covered circle.
A VOICE
(echoing in her head)
"There were two realities. One where we never left that forest. One where we did."
A THIRD FLASH – QUICKER:
- A ceremonial knife held aloft in candlelight.
- A girl opening her eyes.
- A mouth gasping.
- Lottie's bare feet stepping into a stream of blood-red water.
BACK TO LOTTIE — she gasps, clutching her chest, breath stolen. Her knees nearly give out. She steadies herself.
Wind rips through her hair. Church bells ring from the Gothic Quarter, echoing with eerie precision.
She whispers softly, with clarity that doesn't belong to the moment:
LOTTIE
(whispered)
It wasn't just Him. We rise too.
She closes her eyes again. She exhales like she's just woken from somewhere deep. She turns from the ledge, and begins to walk back down the hill. Barefoot.
SMASH CUT TO:
EXT. BARCELONA – SIDEWALK CAFÉ – AFTERNOON
Sunlight flickers through the umbrella-covered tables. A waiter sets down three espresso martinis with the flair of someone who's too hot to care.
Lady Phoebe, in heart-shaped sunglasses, is trying on a second pair over the first. Sherry snaps selfies with her drink, already halfway gone, and Peach Salinger sits perfectly still, polishing a very real, very sharp pocket knife beneath the table like she's prepping for Easter and an assassination.
SHERRY
I still can't believe I fell for his bullshit story about Love Quinn.
PEACH
(half patronizing)
It's okay, not a lot of people can see through that type of man's bullshit. It takes a special kind of intelligence to do so.
A CHURCH BELL rings in the distance.
SHERRY
(checking her phone)
What time is it in L.A.? I feel like this is when my aura gets weird.
LADY PHOEBE
(tilting her head, double sunglasses on)
Are they doing, like, a Catholic Coachella? I feel like I should be clapping. The flowers are so pretty!
WIDE SHOT — a procession marches in the distance...
CAMERA QUICK TRAVELS TO:
EXT. MONTJUÏC HILLSIDE – WELLNESS VISTA
Monastery bells toll solemnly in the distance. A winding private path, flanked by tall cypress trees and terraced gardens, leads up to an exclusive "off-site healing retreat" on the edge of the city.
Soft flute music floats in the background. A monk-like VOICE leads a meditation over speakers.
VOICE (V.O.)
...inhale light, exhale fear... you are not your trauma... you are your transformation...
MATCH CUT TO:
EXT. CEREMONIAL PLATFORM – CONTINUOUS
Devon Devereaux, barefoot in a linen jumpsuit that costs more than a Barcelona apartment, stands on a concrete platform overlooking the sea. Her arms outstretched, face upturned like a psychotic prophet receiving WiFi from the divine.
DEVON
(intoning)
Barcelona is the perfect place for a rebirth. This land was built on the bones of saints. We are just... repurposing it.
Camera pans to Joseph Murphy, shirtless in white linen pants, lighting palo santo with alarming sensuality.
JOSEPH
Yes I can feel the symbolic death. To letting go. To cutting ties... from the past. From the ego. From the legal system.
He smirks. Devon watches him, serene.
DEVON
It's not hiding. It's integration. We're not fugitives. We're facilitators.
She opens a velvet box on the altar. Inside: a glistening hunting knife and a thumb-sized bottle labeled "shadow serum."
JOSEPH
Tonight, we perform the Rite of the Severed Self.
(beat)
You ready, love?
DEVON
Always.
She gently kisses his third eye.
JOSEPH
(whispering)
Let's kill the part of us that doubts.
Devon breathes in the incense.
DEVON
(to herself)
This is the only church I need.
Devon looks up at the Montjuïc Hillside.
EXT. SAGRADA FAMILIA CHURCH
SHOW PUSH IN: on LOCHLAN RATLIFF's face — tilted upward, eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, flickering between innocence and having seen too much. We don't know what he's staring at yet.
The camera gradually PULLS OUT and PANS UP, revealing what he sees:
A stone tableau of The Adoration of Magi, kneeling, gifts in hand, carved into the facade of the basilica like ghosts from a world that still believed in salvation.
The Three Wise Men. Gazing at the Christ child with offerings. Frozen in devotion.
He looks left. His gaze drifts away from the Magi and sees a fourth stone figure, slightly removed from the rest. Not part of the gift-bearing trio. Just kneeling, hands clasped, head tilted down.
Lochlan swallows and just stands there, frozen, staring up at the towering façade of the ancient church like it might swallow him whole. His hands are in his pockets.
FLASHES in his mind:
- Water flooding his vision.
- Hands pulling him back.
- His own reflection—distorted.
- Four hooded monks around him.
PIPER RATLIFF walks into frame beside him, glancing up at the church, wearing a flowing white blouse.
PIPER
It's time.
Lochlan nods, slowly. Then turn around and walk towards SAXON RATLIFF and VICTORIA RATLIFF. Saxon is drinking a cheap Naked protein smoothie, overcoming a hangover. Victoria is still dressed in the clothing she made sure she got to keep with a giant ass suitcase.
VICTORIA
Let's get this over with.
Saxon groans as his stomach turns. The Ratliffs turn to leave.
EXT. BARCELONA BEACH – AFTERNOON
A postcard-perfect stretch of Mediterranean shoreline. Umbrellas flutter. Families lounge. Couples sunbathe. The air hums with lazy contentment.
Micah and Kai walk down the boardwalk, half in the shade.
MICAH
Hey, at least we get to see Barcelona.
KAI
But at what cost?
Micah chuckles, not looking away from his phone.
MICAH
Come on. This is basically a vacation.
KAI
We're babysitting someone three years older than us.
MICAH
Better than being trapped on the boat babysitting her.
KAI
I guess it is kinda cool... being out of the country.
MICAH
There ya go. That's the spirit man.
Behind them, a sudden guttural scream shatters the beach serenity.
LOVELYPEACHES (O.S.)
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
They both turn.
REVEAL: LovelyPeaches now completely naked, sprinting across the sand, phone in hand, filming her own shadow like it's the most compelling cinema of 2025.
LOVELYPEACHES
HEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEE! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!
THROUGH HER PHONE SCREEN: We see a family of four sitting on a beach towel.
The mother looks up at Peaches with disgust, holding her oblivious child son.
The child daughter wears sunglasses, but you can see her judging Peaches through them.
The dad lays down with his eyes closed, but as soon as he hears the screech his eyes shoot open and he looks up.
CAMERA WHIP PANS to Kai and Micah.
MICAH
Oh shit.
CUT TO: LovelyPeaches continuing to run down the beach filming everyone as she screams and giggles.
CUT TO: Micah and Kai SPRINTING after her.
A SPANISH LIFEGUARD blows a whistle furiously in the distance, sprinting toward the commotion. Nearby beachgoers scatter like birds.
Peaches flings a handful of sand in the air like confetti. They both look up just in time to see Peaches wade chest-deep into the surf.
Micah lunges forward and manages to grab a towel off a lounge chair.
MICAH
Peaches, cover your bits, yeah? Let's be classy!
He throws the towel over her like a lasso.
Peaches screams again, high-pitched and possessed. Tourists gape. A toddler starts crying.
KAI
I'm so sorry everyone. I mean uh- Lo siento... tout le monde. Wait... how do you say everyone in Spanish?
MICAH
I don't know.
KAI
Aren't you Mexican?
MICAH
Do you know how to say it in... whatever part Asian you are?
Kai sheepishly looks down. He doesn't.
The Spanish lifeguard finally reaches them. LovelyPeaches screams in his face, leaving him stunned and BOLTS again. She disappears down the boardwalk, howling. They take off after her again.
The CAMERA DOLLIES FAST across the chaos, feet slapping against pavement, screams echoing between sun-bleached buildings.
She sprints down the boardwalk, naked as sin, gripping her phone in one hand.
As they get close, Peaches suddenly WHIPS around, arms out like a broken marionette. She contorts her face weirdly, jolting her jaw and rolling her eyes up while looking angry and goofy. She flails her arms violently smacking Kai's arm as he approaches. He SCREAMS, flinching.
Micah freezes. Peaches makes a guttural goblin sound—
LOVELYPEACHES
GGGGHHHHHGHGHGHHHAAAAAAAAAAA HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!!!
She SWATS at Micah like a furious toddler and darts back through the crowd. Her face contorts like she's possessed by eight different demons, then she SWATS wildly at the air. Both boys SHRIEK and stumble back.
LOCAL MOM
(screaming, covering her child's eyes)
¡Jesucristo!
The CAMERA SWOOPS LOW AND FAST past cobblestone alleys and panicked tourists as LovelyPeaches streaks through the Gothic Quarter.
Her phone is still streaming. Comments fly by onscreen:
- "PEACHES WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"
- "LMFAOOOO HELPPP?!"
- "GET IN THE WATER!"
LOVELYPEACHES
LIAR LIAR STD ON FIRE!!! ITCHING AND BURNING!
They chase her past a group of unimpressed Real Housewives sipping Aperol Spritzes.
NENE
Mm-mm.
EXT. CARRER DE LA PI – FLORAL CARPET PATHWAY – CONTINUOUS
A hushed reverence fills the narrow alley. Tourists and locals walk gently, awed, stepping carefully around the elaborate floral carpets stretched across the cobblestones. Intricate patterns in rose petals, coffee grounds, lavender, and bright yellow sawdust form images of saints, doves..
A soft classical string quartet echoes from a nearby cloister. Then gradually we hear SCREAMING IN THE DISTANCE.
LovelyPeaches BURSTS into the alley, still completely naked, still live-streaming, still giggling demonically.
CAMERA WHIP-PANS as Peaches slams through the delicate petals, sprinting across the sacred carpets like a possessed garden fairy.
The live comments fly:
- "GIRL NO NOT THE FLOWERS"
- "PEACHES YOU'RE IN SPAIN RN STOP"
- "that poor old lady in the background is crying omg"
Peaches leaps over a motif of the Virgin Mary, spins midair, and lands with a messy butterfly jump into a carpet made entirely of pink carnations. Petals explode around her.
FLORAL VOLUNTEER
¡Sacrilegio!
She lies down spread eagle in the petals, kicking her legs in a flower angel motion, like she's on a snow day in hell.
Just then, Micah and Kai skid into frame, eyes wide in horror.
LovelyPeaches stands up and twirls in the shredded petals, haloed in sunlight and flower debris, like a feral fertility goddess.
LOVELYPEACHES
(pointing at Micah and Kai)
AHHHHH!!! THEY'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!!!
MICAH
What?!
KAI
N-no! No we're not!
LovelyPeaches bolts off.
EXT. CATHEDRAL OF BARCELONA – AFTERNOON
Golden light spills over the Gothic spires, casting long shadows across a square alive with color and reverence. The Corpus Christi procession snakes through the plaza. Children in angel costumes, priests in gold-threaded vestments, and giants led by costumed drummers and incense bearers.
A dancing egg bobs gently in a nearby fountain, surrounded by camera-wielding tourists and beaming grandparents.
A small CHILD scatters lavender petals. An OLD WOMAN kneels, whispering prayers in Catalan. A line of NUNS sings a soft hymn as they carry Eucharistic bread beneath a golden canopy.
LovelyPeaches stumbles into frame, completely naked except for a shawl she stole off a patio chair.
She gazes up, eyes wide, lip quivering.
CAMERA PUSHES IN:
Before her: the solemn statue of Saint Eulalia, patron martyr of Barcelona. Stone lashes across her back. Expression stoic. Eternal suffering etched into every chisel mark. The sculpture is draped in garlands for the feast. A single red carnation has been delicately placed at the base of her stone feet.
LOVELYPEACHES
(wailing)
WHYYYYYYYY?! WHYYYY?!?!?!?
A flock of doves flutters away.
A TOURIST drops a fanta.
A PRIEST frowns.
A GROUP OF ALTER BOYS pass with candles. One of them yelps. Another drops a thurible with a clang.
The bells fade into silence. A final puff of incense drifts through the air like the last breath of sanity.
LovelyPeaches stops wailing and randomly decides to take a nap in front of the statue.
Kai stands awkwardly nearby, holding a sad, balled-up pile of her clothes.
Micah, still catching his breath, unfurls a beach towel from his backpack and drapes it over Peaches' sleeping form.
KAI
(to crowd)
Lo siento. Elle est... muy loco.
The crowd stares.
EXT. CATHEDRAL OF BARCELONA – MOMENTS LATER
The crowd has mostly dispersed. LovelyPeaches snores softly, curled on the cathedral steps like a demented baby angel. She's wrapped in a cruise ship towel like a makeshift shroud. Micah adjusts his sunglasses, still holding her shoes like a cursed relic.
MICAH
Okay, I'm tapping out. I'm gonna check into my Airbnb.
KAI
What?
MICAH
Yeah. My parents got me one. It's sick.
KAI
Wait, you're just... leaving?
MICAH
You heard Kate."If she happens to get lost..."
KAI
But- Are we gonna take her there?
MICAH
Not unless I wanna pay that $100 cleaning fee.
KAI
But like what if she wakes up and... does something? Again?
Micah glances back, already scrolling his phone.
MICAH
Then she's Barcelona's problem.
(beat)
You wanna come?
KAI
Uh- I-
Kai looks at LovelyPeaches like she's his responsibility.
MICAH
Alright. ¡Adiós, bro!
Kai sits next to the sleeping LovelyPeaches, awkwardly.
INT. BARCELONA AIRBNB – 15 MINUTES LATER
A coded keypad BEEPS. The door swings open and Micah glides in.
The loft is peak Insta-aesthetic: exposed-brick walls, sun-bleached timber beams, a Juliet balcony looking out on terracotta roofs. Every corner screams "soft-boy Mediterranean mood board."
He kicks the door shut and peels off his tee. He notices himself in a mirror, automatically flexes... then drops it, shrugging.
He drifts to the kitchenette, opens the SMEG fridge: two sparkling waters and a complimentary manchego wedge. He laughs once through his nose.
MICAH
Gains on cheese. Sick.
BOTTLED WATER hisses open. He takes a long pull, leans on the counter, stares at nothing.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection takes a seat on the floor and sets her phone down to film, holding an EVIAN WATER BOTTLE.
HRH COLLECTION
Um I love Evian bottles. I HATE the new ones. I couldn't even find it. I don't wanna purchase it anyway like I'm actually PISSED I had to purchase an ugly water bottle. Like—seriously—I'm so mad. I wanna like return these because I don't even want them in my house or hotel or whatever.
INT. BARCELONA AIRBNB – BATHROOM - INTERCUT
Micah steps into the cool-tiled bathroom. He flicks on the light and opens the shower curtain. He runs a hand across his chest, sticky from the Barcelona heat.
Then, he catches sight of himself in the mirror — shirtless, flushed, glistening from the summer heat, giving his abs that lowkey gleam.
MICAH
(smiling to himself)
Shit... looks good though.
He shrugs and leaves the bathroom.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK - INTERCUT
HRH Collection struts down the cobblestones in platform Crocs, rhinestoned sunglasses, and holding an Evian bottle like she's a sommelier reviewing fine wine. She's talking directly into her phone, voice loud enough to echo off the cathedral walls.
HRH COLLECTION
Okay this is a classic water bottle. Evian. And if you notice about this bottle it's like the vintagey one. Okay look—
(spins it)
It still has the vintagey, original like... when did it—Evian start like—sixties? Seventies? I don't even fucking know. Probably forties. Who fucking knows.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Digging through his duffel, Micah yanks out a loose white Miami Surf tank, slips it over his shoulders, smooths the hem. He grabs the ring light and phone tripod, pacing the loft like a cinematographer.
Tries the couch—meh.
Kitchen—bad lighting.
Then he notices the sliding balcony door, where early sunlight pours in at a slant, catching the edges of his jawline.
He clicks the ring light to low warm, props the tripod just so. Flips to selfie cam. Tilts his chin. The Barcelona rooftops and palm trees blur gently behind him.
He taps "Go LIVE", and just like that, the afternoon quiet is replaced by a scroll of usernames, emojis, and that addictive flood of instant attention.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR – LATE AFTERNOON
Kai sits on a stone bench in a quiet alley, back against a sun-warmed wall. The kind of spot you'd find accidentally and never forget.
He watches LovelyPeaches sitting against a wall answering questions on Instagram live.
LOVELYPEACHES
(answering a fan question)
I try to pee as little as I can because that shit burns so bad... like it's actually really painful for me, so I try not to go. I try to avoid going as much as possible.
Kai glances over, dead-eyed. She doesn't notice.
LOVELYPEACHES
But one thing about me... I drink a lot of fluids. Like I love Powerades. I love lemonade. I love juices.
Kai sighs and looks back at his phone. Suddenly, a ping.
Notification: "@micah_diaz is now LIVE."
LOVELYPEACHES (O.S.)
I love drinks. Like I actually drink more than I eat. I drink all the sugary drinks in the world like...
ON KAI'S PHONE: Micah is leaning on the counter talking.
MICAH
So apparently it's some Christian holiday today. I had no idea man.
PUSH INTO:
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Micah, in his tank top and sweat-glow, leans casually against the marble counter, phone propped perfectly beside a half-drunk Topo Chico.
MICAH
I guess it's like Easter's two-month anniversary or something. Yeah there's a bunch of loyal worshippers walking down the street right now.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - KAI'S POV
Kai types:
@anxioustwink: I'll be your loyal worshipper.
MICAH
(on live)
Anxious said I'll be your loyal worshipper.
Micah looks at the phone screen in a way that makes Kai feel like he's actually looking at him.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Micah looks at the comment from @anxioustwink and then sees more comments filtering in.
@screamingwithoutthes: waiting to be baptized in Micah's sweat rn 🙏
@william395: please command us daddy
@touchinggrassisoverrated: BAPTIZE ME DADDY
MICAH
Yo William said please command us daddy.
(reads comment)
"You made us thirsty last night."
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
We see HRH Collection holding the water bottle, holding the water bottle in one hand and talking with her other hand.
HRH COLLECTION
Okay so this I love it it's like the it's like the vintagey one. You know like the new ones that are plain there's no glacier on it and there's no like it's like printed on the bottle it's like Evian and it's like really minimal and there's no like mountains and there's no pink like it's just ugly right? You guys know what i'm talking about it's fucking ugly so I found this one which it's like a new-ish version but there's like an ugly minimal version I fucking hate.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Micah's on battle with SOME GIRL on TikTok live now. Micah's grinning, flushed, leaning back as his screen lights up with comments like a slot machine of thirst.
MICAH
We got a lot of loyal worshippers in here. They all obey me.
GIRL HE'S LIVE WITH
Obey you is insane.
MICAH
Nah, for real—y'all been real good this live.
(reading)
"Yes, we do it all for you, Master Micah."
(laughs)
I'm weak.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection still rants about the water bottle.
HRH COLLECTION
It's just like they phoned it in it's like they bought a generic water bottle they put their like signature blue top on it and then they just like printed Evian on the front. I don't want like like the store to reorder them because they are shit like no. Like oh my god. They should let me be the buyer for every fucking store on the planet.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - KAI'S POV
Kai types.
@anxioustwink: Until the popcorn kernel stuck in the back of my throat turn into creamed corn.
MICAH
(cracks up)
How do you come up with this shit?
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection yells at the water bottle.
HRH COLLECTION
It's like the rudest thing I've ever seen in my life like have some more like pride in your in your water bottle for real.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
MICAH
Y'all been behaving real good. That's why you get a reward.
@wo7fa: Can I be the plebe that licks his feet while he worships Micah.
MICAH
(laughs, shaking head)
You need to behave.
@ jaydenrules: Y'all are crazy.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - INTERCUT
Kai types.
@anxioustwink: We need to get collateral on Jayden so he can't leave the cult.
MICAH
(bursts out laughing)
YO WHAT THE FUCK. Y'all are killing me. I haven't had this much fun on live in a hot second. "Collateral so he can't leave the cult" is crazy.
Kai smiles at his phone, like "he thinks I'm funny."
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Micah laughs, adjusts his tank top, and leans in close to the camera. More comments flood in.
- Can I worship your armpits please lord.
- SHOW US THE FULL V
MICAH
(laughing)
Yo I'm being objectified—what's going on. The comments are crazy tonight. You guys are so creative tonight.
- Take off your shirt.
- TAKEITOFFTAKEITOFFTAKEITOFF
- AB REVEAL
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - INTERCUT
Kai is glued to his phone, wide eyed, feral, thirsty. He types quickly
@anxioustwink: PLEASE AB REVEAL PLEASE TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA - INTERCUT
Micah grips the hem of his tank top—
- JUST SHOW SO I CAN FINISH.
- MICAH IS GONNA MARRY ME.
MICAH
Alright, alright listen. If we get a hundred comments that say "abs," I'll take the shirt off.
The entire comment section floods with people saying Abs, abs, or ABS.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection holds the water bottle, shaking it in her hand.
HRH COLLECTION
Okay to be honest I want to- I'm gonna try these with you. Evian, I already know- I don't want to say it, it's so disgusting. I'm not gonna say what it tastes like because you're gonna like- a lot of people out there this is just like- this is not a family show obviously— and you guys are just like- just really- ugh I can't say it- Okay I'm gonna- I might say it...
HRH Collection grimaces at the touch and laughs a little.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - KAI'S POV
The entire comment section says "Abs" at this point.
MICAH
(laughing)
BRO! The whole chat just says abs bro!
Micah bashfully grabs the collar of his shirt and covers his mouth, his face is kinda red. He lifts the hem and then puts it back down.
Across the screen it says TOP COMMENT: "Abs x 100"
MICAH
Alright, that's enough I guess.
He slowly pulls the tank top up, over his stomach, over his chest, revealing glistening abs and tan lines. He tosses the shirt aside.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - INTERCUT
Kai stares at his phone. He grabs a hoodie from his bag and folds it quickly over his lap because, well, he's hard now. He looks around nervously. The viewers rise and the comments go by too fast.
- THE ABS HAVE BEEN DELIVERED
- take off your pants next.
- Show wh0le next.
- I only need 2 minutes and a hair tie.
- I only need 30 seconds.
- Pour milk down your chest.
- Pole now!
- CLEAN UP TIME!
- Play pink pony club.
- Play "Pony" by Ginuwine NOW.
- PLEASE LEAVE IT OFF!
Kai types quickly.
@anxioustwink: PLAY KISS IT BETTER
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA — INTERCUT
Micah scrolls through the chaos of emojis, song titles, and horny declarations, half-laughing, half-sighing. His bare chest rises and falls with amusement and ego.
MICAH
(reading)
"Play Kiss It Better?"
He casually lifts his Topo Chico for a sip, but his lips linger on the bottle just a second too long. A gentle kiss to the can. Micah types it into his phone.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection opens the water bottle and fixes her hair.
HRH COLLECTION
I hate this water like if even if I'm parched as fuck like it's hard to drink.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA — INTERCUT
Micah finds the song and presses it on his Spotify. "Kiss it Better" by Rihanna starts playing. Micah starts bobbing his head to it a few seconds after it starts.
MICAH
Ooh this is a good song.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - INTERCUT
Kai smiles a little bit, almost as if he feels like he's been seen... by a song request. His legs shake slightly. He hugs the hoodie tighter over his lap.
BACK ON SCREEN: Micah leans into the counter. The guitar riff drops. His fingers drum the marble. His body subtly rolls with the beat.
Kai bites his fist. Giddy. Feral. Delusional. Worshipping.
INT. AIRBNB — LOFT AREA — INTERCUT
Micah's hips sway lightly, his hand grazing his waistband just enough to keep the chat frothing. The comment stream's a vertical avalanche of thirst and chaos.
ON SCREEN — NEW COMMENT FLASHES:
- put us on the floor real quick
MICAH
(brows raised)
Bro... what do you guys think this is?
- Yeah put us on the floor. We're ready.
Micah's shoulders shake with laughter, but his expression shifts into mock-authoritative.
MICAH
You guys wanna be on the floor?
(leans toward the screen)
Chat... will you behave if I put you on the floor?
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - KAI'S POV
Kai types quickly.
@anxioustwink: Yes. Put us on the floor. We will be so good for you, Master Micah Daddy.
More comments follow:
- Alright Micah. More removing, less talking.
- Kiss it better baby 🥵🥵🥵
- Down below we go!
MICAH
Down below we go is crazy bro.
Micah lifts his arm up to scratch his neck.
Kai looks at his armpit. We hear him gasp and type.
@anxioustwink: SNIFFS
MICAH
Wait chat, you guys wanna go down here?
Micah adjusts the camera. The angle shifts—lower, tilted up—suddenly we're looking straight up at him from below his waistline, his abs sharp, his drink clutched like a trophy, and his expression smug.
MICAH
Guys, everyone comment "please put me on the floor."
Micah slowly lowers the phone toward the ground, his bare torso still in frame from above. The camera tilts — now facing UP from the marble floor — a dizzying, submissive view of him in golden-hour glory.
Kai is the first one to comment it.
@anxioustwink: please put me on the floor 🧎🏻♂️🥺
An influx of comments follow.
- please put me on the floor, daddy Micah 🙇♀️
- pls i'm literally begging
- put me DOWN sir 🙏
- I'm on my knees already
MICAH
Chat y'all wanna go on the floor? Down here?
He raises an eyebrow and slowly lowers the camera, giving a teasing low-angle view of his torso, abs glistening.
MICAH
(teasing)
You guys sure you can handle it?
A comment flies up:
- WE CAN BEHAVE MASTER 🙏 JUST PUT US DOWN THERE.
Micah bites his lip dramatically.
MICAH
Aight. You earned it.
He finally plants the phone on the floor. From this new angle—low, centered on his body towering over the camera—he smirks, grabs his Topo Chico, and takes a slow, icy sip. And now there's a view of him from the crotch up.
EXT. BARCELONA – DIFFERENT BLOCK – INTERCUT
HRH Collection takes a sip of the Evian water bottle. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
HRH COLLECTION
Oh my God. It's like salty okay? I'm just gonna leave it at that.
She wildly gestures her hands.
EXT. BARCELONA – OUTDOOR CORRIDOR - INTERCUT
Kai sits on his knees looking up at his phone. Fixated on the bulge. Micah leans back, towering above the camera now resting on the floor.
Micah's smirk twitches. He lifts the can, takes a deep sip, and then he smirks through the sip, keeping the liquid in his mouth as he gets an impulsive and mischievous idea. All the attention he's been receiving got him feeling himself.
Micah leans over and SPITS the drink straight onto the camera.
SPLAT. Topo Chico water splashes down the lens, glistening like sweat and sin. The sound of the liquid dripping on the phone trickles. A rope of spit dribbles from his mouth. Gleaming.
CLOSE ON KAI'S FACE. Mouth parted. Eyes wide. He lets out a gasp.
He frantically yanks his hoodie into his lap, pulling it taut over his jeans like a drowning man reaching for a life raft. His chest heaves. He's gone red, from face to neck.
KAI'S POV: The clear stream turns white mid-air, hitting the lens hard. It blurs everything. The sounds of it dripping.
SPLIT SCREEN: HRH Collection continues to grimace at the taste of the Evian water.
HRH COLLECTION
What is like a disgusting thing that's like sal-
SPLAT. THE SPIT LANDS RIGHT ON THE LENS. The screen becomes a blurry, thick, milky white wash. And it looks exactly like-
CUT TO WHITE.
charli xcx (Guest) on Chapter 3 Fri 08 Aug 2025 02:25AM UTC
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