Private Listing

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🖋️ PRIVATE LISTING

A screenplay treatment for House.Roc Entertainment & Star 86 Studios
Written by: Filipa R. Abreu in Association with ChatGPT Noir Division + Gemini Industries

🌟 Editor's Note

Please be advised this content is for mature audiences. Regina Young and “Young Realty” are figments of the authors imagination. This is a Human-AI Hybrid Creation. Stay Creative :)

📍 SETTING:

Los Angeles, 1986.
A hot, hazy summer night

The phone rang once. Regina ears perked up with the possibility of a new client.

She stayed still for a long time, the receiver still resting between her fingers before she uttered a word. The phone was bone-white and heavy— a cord coiled like a cat’s tail, stretched across the lacquered side table she’d had imported from Milan. Next to it: a gold lighter, a lipstick-stained champagne glass, her golden rolodex and an ashtray with a single bud stubbed out at an angle. The back issue of House.Roc folded open to her own face.

“Young Realty,” she said, smooth as a sliding door - “Always Open.”

“This is Regina,”

There was no voice in return, just heavy breathing for what felt like hours…

“ Check your Mail.”

You are Currently reading L’Etranger - Brought to you by House.Roc Real Estate Entertainment

She stood for a moment in the stillness of her foyer, the receiver still warm in her hand.

She placed the receiver back into its cradle with the kind of care one usually saves for antique crystal.
Lit a clove cigarette from the gold lighter that had belonged to her first broker.
Inhaled deeply, until the edge of the moment softened, curled.

She opened the front door without hesitation.

No knock. No courier.
Just the morning edition of “L’Etranger” folded neatly on the step — and resting against it, an envelope.

Thick stock. Ivory tone. The kind used for inheritances, apologies, and affairs you want to forget.

She picked it up slowly.

No return address. No name. No seal.

Inside: a Polaroid. A mansion. A Home that hasn’t been sold in 39 years. Regina had her eyes on that property since she moved to LA as a young girl. The Home belonged to her favorite Movie Starlet, Jean Jane. She knew she had to have it.

On the back, typed in red:

“Private Listing. Come at 9 pm.”

Tucked behind the photo: a gold key.
Vintage. Cool in her hand.
Etched at the base with a single letter.

R.

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The beautiful Mansion was cool. Scented faintly with vetiver, smoke, and something floral she couldn’t name. The carpets were freshly cleaned but the cigarette smoke felts fresh, like someone had just lit it and left it…

The kitchen was grandiose. Cabinets of wood, counters of exquisite marble. But she kept walking…

She walked in slowly, letting her heels announce her. The door closed behind her without a sound.

She pictured herself as Jean Jane, the space still decorated like the photos she once saw in the magazines she used to devour.

This house was her Dream.

This Listing, a pursuit that could obliterate competition and make Regina a realtor who made history.

It was staged and kept exactly as the famous movie star had left it. It felt like walking into a set that had never been struck. Everything remained.
The mirror. The bed.
Even the vanity, lacquered and bare, like it had just been wiped by someone who still thought she might come back.

Hand notes, smudges on the mirror…clothes still hanging.

The dressing room was tucked just behind the closet — a small glass alcove with a vanity, a low stool, and a stack of boxes beneath the mirror.

Bellow the vanity, in a shallow drawer, sat a small box — dove gray, tied with a ribbon.

She knelt down. Untied it slowly.

Inside were scripts.
Half-sized. Personal copies.

Each one stamped in the top right corner:
JJ // FINAL // PRIVATE

She lifted one.

The title page was typed.
Glass Heart — 1971.
Jean Jane’s last film. The film she never promoted. Her handwriting, her tears smudged on the papers. Regina could not resist…

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Brought to you by House.Roc Real Estate Entertainment

Moonlight slices through the slats of a Venetian blind.
The room is silent. Almost too silent. Regina stands by the bed, holding the crinkled, typewritten script.

She runs her fingers over the cover page. Her hands tremble slightly. The script smells like dust and perfume.

” Here I am, before you, Naked with nothing but my lipstick on, yearning to be touched by you”- She reads out loud.

Without hesitation, Regina plays the part.

She unbuttons her blouse one clasp at a time, each release soft and practiced, like a routine she no longer thought about. The fabric slid off her shoulders and fell to the closet floor, folding in on itself without sound. She reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra, unfastened it with a quiet flick, and let the cool air settle against her skin.

Her skirt came next — unzipped, unwrapped, dropped.

She stood there barefoot, naked. The cream silk dress, that once belonged to the star, hung in front of her on the closet door, still waiting. Still unclaimed. Regina was ready…

“L’Etranger” is brought to you by “House.Roc Real Estate Entertainment” - Where Home is You and your 80’s Megalomaniac Dreams

Regina picks up an old lipstick and smudges it on her lips. The character starts penetrating her soul as she utters the words…

The thrill of embodying Jean Jane, of being a starlet herself…The thought of being caught flashes her mind but the desire to play the role is too infectious.

Naked and filled with desire, Regina admires herself in the mirror, skin soft. A song starts playing but regina cannot decipher if it’s coming from her own mind.

She enters the bathroom, dim lit. Smokey and sensual… a bath is drawn: filled with white rose petals, candles sprawled. Regina is puzzled. Fear sets in but is is diffused by her desire to play along.

Whoever called and invited her in, set the stage.

A phone rings…

TO BE CONTINUED….

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