All language subtitles for -Tulsa.King.S03E02.The.Fifty

I know you.

Not like you're going to.

I got the call from Quiet Ray. It's time.

What you're doing now

out in Tulsa.

It's time to share.

An old girlfriend of mine--

her and her father are having

a problem with their distillery.

It's being strong-armed by a guy named Dunmire.

That son of a bitch is the tyrant of Tulsa.

Let me handle him.

One of your fucking idiots

pulled some weird shit

with my man in the fucking weed shop,

put a gun in his face.

Because your man shot his best friend.

You get what you were owed?

That's not the point.

Actually, it is.

But when I shook Dunmire's hand,

I tied my own.

When I partner with someone,

their enemy is my enemy.

So, what do you say?

Dunmire will react.

- Oh! No! Wait. - Get in there!

It's beyond a bad way to go out.

You think this punk

had something to do with this, alone?

What the fuck was his name?

Cole?

Yeah. Cole.

I don't know.

But I do know that boy don't take a piss

without his daddy telling him whose lawn.

Man, I've made some threats in my life,

like "I'll burn your house down with you in it,"

but it was just idle bullshit.

This is sick.

Dixie Mafia boys don't fuck around.

Like we do?

Excuse me.

Pardon me. Excuse me.

Excuse me. Pardon me.

- Hey, sorry I'm late. - Good...

- What the hell is that? - Eh...

- That's a horseshoe. - I know it's a horseshoe.

He wasn't a fucking jockey, you idiot.

They're running the Georgia Classic.

This is all they had.

A-And listen, uh, not to change the subject,

but, uh, we got a problem.

Armand's gone on a fucking tear,

doing amends with that AA bullshit.

And that little backstabbing weasel talking amends

is him talking about shit he shouldn't.

And I'm telling you, if New York hears about the distillery--

Enough with the New York. Where's Armand now?

Radio silence. Little shit's gone off the grid.

Well, you can't have him stringing along.

- You got to pick him up. - Of course.

What were you thinking? Seriously?

Why don't you take this outside and bury it?

It's embarrassing, man.

It could've been pink.

You don't feel foolish?

A little bit.

Margaret.

You look beautiful.

And of course, you do, too, Joanne.

Yeah. Yep, yep.

There's a big crowd here. I didn't expect that.

Mm, well, Montague was popular.

Family goes way back. Generations.

Shall we pay our respects?

- What? - It's just that ever since

I saw my brother in the box, it's hard for me to get close.

Maybe it's subconscious.

I get it.

Shit. Dunmire.

The balls on this guy.

Tough way to go out.

It hurts just to burn your finger.

Imagine your whole body.

Manfredi, right?

You know me?

Yes, I know who you are.

And I concur. It is a genuine tragedy.

I heard you and their family were pretty tight.

Close.

That's not your concern.

No, but you are.

I'm not the type of man that you want to fuck with.

We have that in common.

And if you think you're gonna do to me

what you did to your friend over there,

it's gonna be really

fucking difficult.

That's slanderous talk, Dwight.

Unless it isn't.

Now, what's stopping me

from shutting that distillery down again?

So, I'm gonna make you an offer,

take it off your hands.

- Not interested. - I'll give you three times

what you paid that dead man.

Three times?

Still... not interested.

This business requires sound judgement.

Not the foul hand of a bottom-feeder.

You ain't no distiller, Manfredi.

What are you doing here?

Get out of here. Leave!

I know it was you, you bastard!

I know you don't mean that, darling.

Hey.

Don't fucking touch her.

That'll cost you, cowboy.

Let's go.

Oh. You want me to do that?

I know how to do this.

- Oh, yeah? All right. Okay. - Yeah.

Cigar at eight o'clock in the morning?

Hey.

Did you get the goods on Dunmire?

Yeah, I was up all night.

I found the title for the distillery.

- Yeah? And the P&Ls? - Yeah.

This guy hasn't made a profit for ten years.

What about the back stock?

Maybe 100 grand of the 12-year.

Which they couldn't sell, either, you know?

'Cause there's no distributor.

Did you happen to know it's illegal

for a distiller to sell direct?

- Yeah, I did know. - No, you didn't.

- Yeah, I fucking knew. - No, you didn't, Joanne.

Come on. Alway-- "I always know everything."

You don't know everything.

Well, anyway, we're stuck with

all these cases that we can't put on the shelves,

plus, a lot of new enemies, so what's going on?

Maybe we take the money that Dunmire offered

- Mm. - and we build

our own distillery.

Mm-mmm. No, there's no way. No way.

I don't have enough time. I'm too ancient.

Plus, this guy offered me triple for what I paid

after I insulted the hell out of him,

so it tells me it's got to be worth more.

That's what it tells me. What do you think?

Tells me we should've gone into the funeral parlor business.

- Funny. - Coffee?

Why not? Take a shot at it.

That poor man.

This is tragic.

Yeah. Mitch, who's the guy in the hat?

Insurance adjuster.

- Mm. - Said a log

rolled out of the fire, caught the rug.

- Mm-hmm. - Human error.

Yeah, give me a break.

Well?

They're not gonna pay.

Dunmire's got the whole county in his pocket.

Cops, fire inspector, that asshole,

the goddamn governor. Pathetic.

Yeah, but he couldn't buy your father.

Look at the results.

Cleo, can I ask you to, like,

dig down, memory-wise?

Dunmire-- I don't think he cared about buying the distillery,

but he was willing to pay three times the amount,

which is food for thought.

I'm curious--

I'm just asking--

do you know something that we don't know?

Damn.

Whoa.

These ain't bodies.

My dad's 50-year.

Came of age this spring.

50-year-old bourbon made by a master distiller?

It doesn't get any rarer

- than this. - Nope.

My father made this with his father and grandfather,

and this vintage was the best of the best.

Bit of a legend in these parts.

Dunmire suspected it existed,

just didn't know where it was stashed.

That's planning ahead.

I only just found out about it when my dad's lawyer

sent me his will.

You know, a 50-year-old bourbon

can go for five grand a bottle.

What do you say you have in here, a hundred barrels?

- Two hundred. - Two hundred?

And there's a 150 bottles per barrel, so that's...

- Big money. - $150 million, to be exact.

Holy shit.

Yeah, you can say that again. $150 million.

Okay.

Here we are.

Uh-huh.

Cooker and fermenter.

That there is the still.

I remember the grain handler used to be out back.

Lot of fond memories behind that thing.

I suggest shutting up, Mitch.

Good idea, Mitch.

And this is where the magic happens.

Well, happened.

Uh, broken conveyor.

I don't know what half that junk is.

These are the bottling lines.

Well, what used to be

the bottling lines, damn rats.

Shuttered distillery 101:

barrels to bungholes to not bottling.

Bungholes?

- That sounds dirty. - Did you say "bunghole"?

Boss don't like the word "bunghole."

I don't like the word "bunghole."

You got ladies here. A little respect.

A bunghole is a circular incision bored

into a sealed barrel to allow for the release of its contents.

That's all. Moving on.

Dwight, look.

Weed is up tenfold, and the casino twice that.

Do we really need some mold-infested firetrap?

There's history here.

This is where it all started, Bodhi.

You know, you got booze, moonshine,

most likely started by the Italians.

The hard stuff,

wasn't that English, Scottish, Irish?

The Italians brought breadsticks.

I just don't get it.

If it was so profitable, why-why did it go broke?

Dunmire killed the competition,

made sure every other distributor wouldn't touch us.

But he was sitting on some bread, though, right?

My father was eccentric.

He agreed to sell the distillery but not our home or legacy.

He'd rather see the 50 stay buried than in Dunmire's hands.

So Dunmire fucked it.

And we unfuck it.

Ah, the grand unfuckening.

Yeah, there you go.

Why don't we get this stuff into bottles,

put the bottles on the shelf

and put the cash in the bank

before Dunmire and his guys get wise?

Distribution?

I got that. Don't worry about it.

Anybody know a good plumber?

I dabble in crypto and weed,

but plungers, not so much.

Hell y'all looking at me for?

Oh, y'all serious?

Y-Y'all know Pops not about to be doing

- these type of schemes anymore. - It's not a scheme.

It's a legit business, Tyson.

No bullets. Real enterprise.

Talk to your father.

Cleo, out of all the local distributors,

who would you say is the friendliest?

Walden Eustice.

One more time?

Walden Eustice.

Walden?

Is there anyone in this state with a normal name?

Like Dwight?

Would anyone else like to share?

Welcome, son.

Hello. Uh, my name is Goodie,

and I'm looking for an alcoholic.

A beady-eyed, Lollipop Guild- looking motherfucker.

Uh, well, uh, Al-Anon meetings

are on Wednesdays.

No, no, no. This is the right fucking place.

Hello, Goodie.

His name is Armand.

A weaselly piece of shit.

And I know he's been coming here, shooting his mouth off,

saying things he shouldn't,

pissing off the wrong people.

This skid mark lost his wife...

...his kids.

He broke into the count room

of an associate's casino

and stole a half a million bucks.

He tried to whack our boss.

Can you imagine this drunken shit-burger

with loaded gun in hand?

What? No, people, come on.

What?

And I thought this was a safe space.

Anyway,

point being, he's AWOL.

So, if you see this friggin' dope...

...please ask him to return to the fold.

Got a little proposition for you, Pop, all right?

Dwight got a little, uh,

plumbing issue over at his new business.

The new business where the previous owner

burned up in his own home?

But that's not his fault, though, you know?

He ain't got nothing to do with that.

- Come on, now. - I didn't say it was, all right?

But I got a pretty good idea whose fault it was,

and I don't want to have anything to do with him, either.

But it's paying. Probably more than what you're making

with that little old plunger.

Dwight ain't even got nothing to do with it.

It's Joanne. She's running things now.

It's her name on that distillery license.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

And why is that?

No, I'm sorry, son, but no.

All right? Getting blown up once is enough for me. I'm good.

Yeah, I told them you would say no, I mean...

I'll see you Sunday.

See you Sunday.

He didn't want to stay to say hi to his mama?

He asked me to do some work

on Dwight Manfredi's new distillery.

I think you should do it.

Well, that's a change of tune.

Yeah, maybe.

But I'm more worried about our son

than Dwight Manfredi.

Take this job.

Means you can keep an eye on him.

Yes, ma'am.

Are you Walden?

That'd be right.

- Can I help you? - Yeah.

I'm Dwight Manfredi, and we're representing

this Montague bourbon,

which we consider the best in the state.

- Right, Mitch? - Right.

Yeah, I know the 12-year very well.

So, then you know

that it's top-shelf.

I'm sorry, fellas, but, uh,

my shelves are full, uh, top and bottom,

and I don't broker in boutique batch anymore.

Oh, that's funny, 'cause up until three years ago,

you were Montague's only distributor.

Markets change, you know?

The people-- they want hard seltzer, mezcal,

gluten-free.

- Gluten-free? - Well, looks to me

like people are mostly happy

with what Dunmire has to offer.

Well, Dunmire's a great brand.

What are you so worried about?

He reach out to you?

- H-He's a... - He's what?

A serious man?

He tell you about us?

I-I don't know...

Look, fellas, I got to live here.

Mm. Everybody's got to live somewhere, right?

Bigfoot, come here. You still like that "psychology" stuff?

- I do. - Give it a shot with Walden.

Hello.

Walden, is it? Like the pond.

Yeah, I guess, yeah.

I'd like to talk about how you're feeling now.

What? What? What I'm fee... Uh, I'm feeling scared.

Maybe a bit hopeless?

I don't want to get hurt.

Oh. You think

I'm trying to hurt you.

Walden.

I know you got problems. I get that.

But we're gonna help you out with this "Dun-meer" guy.

- "Dun-mire." - Whatever.

And you're gonna help us get distribution

for our bourbon, right?

Right.

Walden, you don't mind

if we take a few samples on the way out?

Of course. Whatever you would like.

Just... help yourselves.

"Dun-meer"?

- "Dun-mire." - "Dun-mire." Whatever.

Mitch?

Not who you were expecting?

What do you want, Cole?

I'm sorry for the misunderstanding

at the memorial.

I didn't mean for that to happen.

Then you shouldn't have fucking been there.

Come on, Cleo.

It's always been you and me, since grade school.

Just leave.

Now, what the hell does Mitch have that I don't?

A conscience?

Well, I had nothing to do with your father's death.

A tragedy, it was, but it weren't me.

No?

Tulsa's a small town, Cole.

Your guys were shooting their mouths off

about the Dunmires "teaching Montague a lesson."

Words, Cleo.

Just words.

Here's a few more words.

You're gonna pay for this.

There's more than one way to pay off a debt.

And I swear to you...

...on all daddies living and dead...

...that you won't regret it.

Me and you?

I'd rather be dead.

Now get the fuck off my property.

The last I checked, ain't your property anymore.

It's Dwight Manfredi's.

But it won't be his for much longer, either.

Overcompensating, are we?

Where the fuck's Dwight?

Oh, you got yourself a new hobby.

That's nice. Yeah, it's good.

Keep yourself occupied, it's good,

except you forgot to tell your partner, fuckin' me.

Get why you cut out New York, but me?

I mean, what'd you think--

I wasn't gonna fucking hear about this, Dwight?

Calm down, Bill, okay?

Didn't I just give you a call?

I heard things, rumors, before the call, Dwight.

Look, you got to trust me.

Trust you?

I trust you like I trust a fucking rattlesnake.

- A snake? - You called me because

you need fucking backup for this Geek Squad of yours.

- Right? - That's not why you're here.

- You sure? - Yeah.

Dunmire? Let me tell you something.

Dunmire makes that fucking chow mein-eating Ming look

like a fucking tooth fairy.

He's fucking connected, Dwight.

Dixie fucking Mafia. It is no fucking joke.

What kind of crew you got here?

You don't even have one Italian.

You got a kid who's more concerned about his sneakers

than he is finding a drop,

and that-that... that Kumbaya stoner,

he put a gun in my guy's face, in his face!

It's a bad look,

a bad fucking look.

We need distribution.

I don't take orders from him, I'm certainly not gonna take

- orders from you, sweetheart. - Hey, Joanne is part of this.

When she speaks, it's me speaking.

Joanne, speak.

You got trucks for your laundry business.

We're gonna use 'em to put liquor on shelves.

And, no, this is not sharing with New York City.

This is straight-up Tulsa-K.C.

What's my cut?

You got to put bottles on the shelf, man.

You got to work for your money. This don't come free.

Fifty percent.

No. It's too much.

You're pushing it.

- Oh, yeah? - Yeah.

What happened to fifty-fifty, Dwight?

That was for the weed, not the booze.

Here, let me give you something you might understand.

How about 100% of 25%,

not including deliveries?

Fifteen percent if you do volume.

Under that, it's a sliding scale.

Fifteen percent? What is this, a fucking joke, 15%?

We found this opportunity,

we paid for it, and we're working for it.

What the hell's the matter with you?

You know, come to think of it, 15's too much.

I'm thinking seven and a half.

Seven and a half? What, is that what you weighed at birth?

Take it or fucking leave it.

I get back to yous.

He'll take it.

Yeah?

Bill, it's Vince.

Just checking in.

Why?

Things slowed down around here.

Just wondering,

you know, any opportunities in K.C.?

Well, I could use a bit of old school

about now.

Manfredi's running a sloppy operation.

- The weed? - No. Booze.

Coz, I got your back. I'm ready to earn.

I'm going crazy over here. Fucking

Gen X, Gen Z, Gen "go fuck yourself"

telling me about lactose intolerance.

All right, let me see what I can do.

All right? Keep your buzzer on.

- Why do you hate us? - 'Cause you order

the melanzana with no cheese.

It's not natural.

Two cannolis, sir?

Whoa. Oh.

The cavalry has arrived.

Oh, man. I knew you'd come through for us, Pops.

Look at you. This-- Uh, Joanne.

- Joanne, this is my pops. - Ms. Manfredi, pleasure.

- Heard a lot about you. - Nice to meet you.

You got a good kid here.

- Well, he has his moments. - Mm-hmm.

- So let's get this going. - Yeah, let's do it.

Right up here.

Good luck on that, big fella.

So, what, are you gonna kiss and make up?

- Negative. - Dwight said--

No guns. I'm aware.

There are some fates worse than a bullet.

Of course there are.

Mirroring his phone, hacking his online identity.

I'll see everything he sees,

know everything he knows.

Every doom scroll, I'll be there.

Every key stroke, I'll be there.

Lost Postmates, Pornhub handy--

Ugh. I don't want to be there.

I will control every aspect of his life.

I will make him suffer so much,

he'll wish I did pull that trigger.

Hey, uh,

Bill says I got to make peace, so, uh,

how's about no fucking gun in my face no more?

Bygones.

Sounds good, whatever Bill says.

I mean...

one should never aspire to shoot their coworker, right?

All right.

For real, don't do anything stupid.

Did you not just hear my plan?

- Dad. - Busy.

I just got a call from Walden Eustice,

the distributor.

I know who Walden Eustice is.

Know, Manfredi was there.

And Mitch Keller.

What are they selling?

They said it was back stock, 12-Year.

No, but it gets worse.

Bevilaqua was at the Montague distillery.

Well, that's not not smart.

Bevilaqua-- he's got transpo and soldiers.

That's right.

He can do the selling.

Now, you want me to have a word?

Nah, nah.

Ah, keep it closer to home.

Someone Manfredi cares about.

They'll never know who hit 'em.

Jeremiah.

What to uh,

what do I owe the pleasure?

Pleasure's mine, sir.

Mine and your other visitor.

Look, I called right away, soon as he left.

Why does he think you're in play?

He-he doesn't.

I-I'm not.

Well, you're the only person the man paid a visit to.

I am not doing business with him.

I swear.

And you never will.

Whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Hey! Hold on! No.

- Whoa! - Grace, grab a bin!

And that is a bunghole.

Ladies and gentlemen,

a toast to the 50.

Cent'Anni!

Why's all this shit so important to you, son?

The fancy car,

the silly glasses.

I mean, you didn't-you didn't grow up

with labels and things.

Couldn't even afford it, though, Pop.

Or we made a choice

to prioritize what's real.

That wasn't, you know, disrespect to you and Mom

or nothing like that. I never wanted for anything,

but now I do.

These labels show me that I'm on the come-up in the world.

That I'm somebody now.

You think those shades say you're somebody?

You here, ain't you?

I mean, you a part of something for real now.

I'm here

because your mother doesn't recognize you anymore.

No matter how loud you think

some labels are screaming out your name.

I got to hand it to you, Dwight.

A distillery.

Can't accuse you of having idle hands.

Yeah, well,

boredom's a sin.

Is that why you're running for governor,

because you're bored?

Boredom's more of a curse.

I'm running because

I want to help the good people of Oklahoma.

You...

You better get a better, uh, what do you call it,

a speech writer,

because this sincere bit

is a bad fit there, Thresher.

Why am I here, Dwight?

- Bourbon trail? - Mm-mmm.

Surely you didn't go through all this trouble to fix me a drink.

No.

"Campaign." It's interesting.

You don't approve?

No, I do approve, but I'm putting you on notice.

Ah-ha.

Oh, here we go.

Don't I have to win first before the corruption starts?

'Course you're gonna win because you were born

with a big horseshoe way up your ass.

And perhaps you'll be cordial enough

when you win to pick up my phone calls

and maybe throw a favor my way, right?

A favor?

- Mm. - Huh.

You know, I hear

Jeremiah Dunmire's not too pleased

with your new enterprise.

Having a politician in your pocket--

is that your way of telling him to fuck off?

Oh, man.

If you know what's good for you--

and I know you don't--

we're gonna pick up

exactly where we left off.

Partners.

Don't I have to win first before the threats start?

No, I'm not threatening.

Listen, I'm proud of you.

Running for office with all those skeletons in your closet,

and the biggest one being...

me.

And I got the key to that closet.

Good luck there.

Ciao.

Hey, partner?

Mm.

Fuck yourself.

Back at you, gov.

Thanks for the drink.

- I ain't hungry. - You sure?

No, I'm just being decent.

Your chili sucks.

Them's fighting words.

Well, that's the only kind of words I know.

I wasn't-- Don't start.

- I was just helping you up. - Ah, good night, Cleo.

If I was you, I'd order

- some pizza. - Yeah. Yeah.

- Yeah. - Get good rest, Babe.

- You good? - Yeah, I'm good. I'm good.

You sure it's okay-- me crashing here?

Of course it's okay.

As long as you can handle

a nice little dose of crazy.

Oh! Motherf--

Huh?

Is it done?

It was dark.

Thought he had a gun.

Come here.

Come here.

Well, let me see what you did.

I'm sorry.

Let me see it in the light, there.

Ooh, that's good.

Now I need a hospital, huh?

Dad.

No!

Don't! Don't! Don't...

I got a feeling this shit's all about to get worse.

You don't have to stay.

If I was a betting man, which I am,

I'd say it's probably best that you didn't.

I'm the only one left, Mitch.

Last Montague standing.

Never even had cousins.

Around these parts, that's a little weird.

Mm. That's who we were.

Are.

Weird.

This ain't your fight.

Kind of is.

My father's fucked-up legacy is my fucked-up legacy.

I can't let him be forgotten.

I think that's what he'd want.

You know what he wouldn't want?

I can take a good goddamn guess.

- Skipper? - Yeah.

You find Armand?

- No, but I spoke to his wife. - How's Clara?

I don't know how the little douchebag did it,

but, uh, the "amends" shit worked.

She's letting him see the kids.

Well, mystery solved.

Little road trip to the Rockies, that's nice.

You know what, get her some flow--

Look who I'm talking to. You're not getting

anyone any flowers anymore.

Just get her some chocolate. Can't screw that up.

You're not gonna let that go, are you?

You know I'm not.

Bigfoot.

I'll stay.

It's all right. I got this.

Guess this means you rejected my offer.

Squandered opportunities, Mr. Manfredi.

Squandered opportunities.

Why don't we have a seat so I can tell you

all the reasons I dislike you?

Hmm?

Come on, girl.

Come on back in. Dance with me.

I don't want to dance with you. I've been working all night.

Just leave me the fuck alone.

I know you want to be with me.

Just go home.

Jace, stop.

You're hurting me.

Was he anything to you?

Not anymore.

Aah!

What's your name?

Cole.

You okay?

I am now.

It is tedious.

What is?

Your flagrant disrespect

for the way things is done around here.

Place my kin have called home since before you were

a misguided, filthy impulse on your daddy's night off.

Your kin should have taught you manners.

They taught me honor.

So, given your intrusion...

...I am obligated to destroy

everything you have built

and everyone you love,

piece by piece, limb by limb,

for my

and my descendants' sake.

Hmm.

Let me give you the facts of life.

When it comes to money-- hey,

money's money. Who cares?

But when it comes to my people, and you hurt them...

...I will snatch away your meaningless existence

and everything that you

and your descendants built.

And the thing is, I'm gonna have fun doing it.

- Big talk. - No.

It's honest talk.

I mean, let's face it, you come in here,

into my place, thinking you're gonna make some kind

of "fuck you" statement.

But that ain't it, is it?

Not really.

You're here because for the first time,

maybe forever,

you're scared.

Your empire is in danger, Dunmire.

You have sway in Oklahoma,

maybe three surrounding states.

Whatever. Who gives a shit?

But... I'm gonna take it from you.

All of it. Every bit.

Then ten more, then 20 more,

then the whole goddamn country

on the back of what you

and your kin built.

You see,

I'm just getting started.

Well...

Every man must do two things alone, Manfredi.

Got to do his own believing,

even if that leads to hell,

and he's got to do his own dying.

I'll be watching both.