Original subtitles

Previously, on Ray Donovan...

Look familiar?

There, yeah. You had enough?

- Who the fuck was it? - It was Ma...

O'Malley. O'Malley.

Aah!

Jesus, Pop, will you stop?

I taped every fuckin' thing Jimmy ever said to me.

_

The shit on this tape is unbelievable.

Jimmy Sullivan'll give us anything we want.

Here to pick up a credit card.

Sandy... Patrick?

Me, O'Malley, and Doyle, we did this job, uh,

back in '77.

You know who else was on that job?

Your father.

- Mickey? - Hey, baby.

Oh, my God!

- It's so good to see you! - How are you?

Good to see you too.

- Muah! Take care of yourself! - All right, baby.

Aah!

Ohh...

- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --

Ray...

Ray.

Ray.

I'm here, Mom.

It hurts.

I know.

Please...

Hold me.

Mm...

- Mick, what're you doin'? - Motherfuck...

What you doin' up?

Mom wet herself.

Well, uh... I'll come up.

No, you won't. Why are you taking her money?

It's an investment opportunity, Ray-Ray.

Don't worry about it.

Oh, come on.

Looking so serious, huh?

Go back to bed.

It's gonna be fine, Ray-Ray.

... booted off the fucking rail in the fifth round,

was what happened, and he came back...

- Mick. - That's what he's supposed to do.

Hey, Jimmy.

- I gotcha... - Get me a beer first, will ya?

- Sure. - Yeah, one for, uh,

Mark and Arty too.

Okay.

Ah. Hey, Teddy.

- Three Miller Lites. - Yeah.

Mmm.

Oh, hey,

I have that 500 I owe you tomorrow.

Sure you will, Mick.

Ted, you callin' me a liar?

Thank you. Put it on my tab, huh?

Billy.

All right!

- Here ya go. - Okay, okay, fuck off you two,

come on.

Ohh...

Count it.

Jesus, fuck. Just tell me.

A grand.

You owe me five.

I know.

One out of five. Those are, um...

those are Denny Doyle numbers.

- What? - See, Denny Doyle,

he's battin' 200.

Now, you think he's gonna start again next year

- for the Sox? - I don't fuckin' know.

Well, I got a fuckin' crystal ball.

You see, Denny Doyle's not only not suitin' up next year

for the Sox, he's not suitin' up

for any fuckin' MLB team next year.

Do you know why?

- No. - Well, because, like you,

he's a one out of five guy.

Been a one out of five guy for nearly ten years.

After a while, you know, people...

they start losin' hope, you know?

Denny Doyle's always gonna hit 200.

And the management, well...

We don't like those kinda numbers.

Why don't you, uh, gimme your coke money.

Uh... what are you talkin' about?

Jesus Christ, you fuckin' cunt.

Gimme that money you took in today

from that bullshit fuckin' coke you sell those poor girls.

I swear to God,

you're better off deliverin' it to the Laundromat

and washin' your... your delicates with it.

Ah...

All right.

Here.

Gimme your gun.

- What? - Your gun.

Otherwise, look... I don't wanna do it,

but you see Mark and Arty over there?

Well, they're probably gonna come to your house later tonight.

They might break a few ribs.

Maybe your fingers too.

Oh.

Mark my words, Mick,

Denny Doyle will be sellin' used cars by Christmas.

Boys, let's go.

- Jimmy, listen... - Fuck off.

Sorry.

Mister?

Maybe just check.

Hey. Hey, you okay?

Let me help you, sweetheart.

You sure?

Easy.

Yeah.

Jimmy fuckin' Sullivan.

Who's this?

Just an old friend from the neighborhood, Jimmy.

An old friend who's thinkin'

maybe you wanna... buy some tapes.

Fine, motherfucker. Tell me where to meet you.

- Ray? - I need to find your father.

He's not pickin' up his phone.

- What's going on? - It's important, Molly.

Please.

Well, his driver always knows where he is.

Hold on.

You can go home now, Roberto.

You sure, Mr. Sullivan?

Yeah.

Yeah, I'm sure.

A couple weeks ago,

Doyle here comes whinin' to me

that he's got a job all the way down to the Philly mint.

But I think...

"A fuckin' mint!"

So pay a few jokers off.

Turns out, they got these, uh,

fuckin' gold coins they minted for the Bicentennial.

Each worth near a thousand dollars

they're just gonna... melt down.

So I tell Doyle here

he's about to have the biggest fuckin' score of his life

three feet from his asshole!

And me and my partner, we drive 'em down next week.

Now, if a couple of guys were to blow out our tires,

take us unawares...

- Who's in the truck with you? - Colin Rooney.

Colin Rooney. He ain't in on it.

We gotta take care of him quick,

maybe, uh, what, shoot him in the leg?

- I don't know, somethin' like that. - No, no,

he's one of these, you know, hemo-philiactics.

- The fuck is that? - Well, he'll bleed to death.

You know, just give him a good beatin', and me too.

Oh, it'd be my pleasure.

Hey, hey, hey.

It's gotta be the real shit, though. All right?

Broken bones.

And then, before the cops and the ambulances arrive,

me and the truck, well...

we're in the fuckin' wind.

Oh, sure.

Hey. I got some good news.

What is it, Mick?

Come 'ere.

Okay, so, you and me

and little Daryll...

we're gonna be rich.

Does that sound all right?

I mean, is it okay with you?

What... what about you, little man?

Is that okay with you?

I mean, I tell you somethin'.

It is okay with me.

Yeah, it is. Come here, little Daryll.

Come here.

♪ I wanna take you ♪ ♪ And squeeze you ♪

♪ Till the passion starts to rise ♪

♪ I wanna take you to heaven... ♪

Hey, cocksucker.

- You got the boys ready? - Shh, shh, listen. Listen.

♪ You and me ♪

♪ Ain't no movie star ♪

♪ What we are ♪

- ♪ Is what we are ♪ - O'Malley, it's a fag song.

Do you even know what you're listenin' to?

- Yeah, it's Alice Cooper. - Not the fuckin' singer.

The system.

That's a fuckin' Absis 1.0 tonearm.

A Sumiko Amethyst cartridge.

The plinth is fucking custom-made.

Come here, sit.

Between the Tannoy Ardens.

Come on.

♪ And I tell you, babe ♪

♪ Well, that's enough for me... ♪

Dual concentric 15-inch pulp woofers,

fuckin' aluminum-magnesium tweeter.

That's what you're listenin' to, huh?

Hey.

- Hey, O'Malley. - Boys.

- What'd he say? - All fuckin' set.

- When? - Tuesday.

All right, Mickey's not suspicious or anything, is he?

Mickey fuckin' Donovan got his head so far up his ass

he ain't suspicious of shit.

Good. We need anything else?

No, we got the van all ready.

Get a couple shotguns, couple of sidearms.

Bring a crowbar along for the Rooney character.

Then, uh, the stuff to stop the truck

I can make at the hardware store,

nothing you need to worry about.

- Perfect. - Yeah.

- Should be an easy day. - Good.

- Okay, Mickey. - You good?

Always good.

Hey!

Get out of the truck!

- Come on, now. Hey. - Take it easy.

- Take it easy. - There we go.

- Keys for the back, please. - Okay.

Ooh...

Here are the keys.

- Will you look at that beautiful face. - Aw, come on, man.

All right, motherfucker.

Ohh... there you are.

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

Hands up!

Drop the weapon!

Don't do it!

Open fire!

You dumb son of a bitch!

Oh, fuck.

Drop the weapon!

Go fuck yourself, Mickey!

Last time... drop the gun!

- Don't be stupid. Get on the ground! - Drop it!

- Now! - Drop the gun!

Drop it!

Move in!

I got you covered, O'Malley.

Fuck you, O'Malley.

You look pretty good for a man who burned to death.

You look like shit for a rich fuck.

Well, that's 'cause I didn't have the benefit

of havin' my face moisturized

by convicts comin' on it day and night.

Sandy.

Yeah.

You're the spittin' image of your grandfather.

Fuck you, Jim.

Who do we have over here?

Aw, jeez.

It's your half-breed, right?

It's Claudette's kid.

Wow. All grown up.

Stupid fuck.

Always told you to keep your pecker in your pants,

and you never listen.

And now, look what you got over there.

What's that supposed to mean?

Means I want you to come over here

and shine my fuckin' shoes.

This guy.

You always had the knack of saying

the nastiest fuckin' things.

Mick, I'm not... I'm not as patient

as I was when we were kids,

so spare me all the fuckin' Donovan gobshite.

What you're doin' now, Jimmy,

is laborin' under a misapprehension.

- Oh, is that right? - Yeah.

You think you're talkin' to the person I was.

But that man is dead.

He didn't die easy, Jim.

Came in parts.

But it all started with the heist,

when the heist went bad and you set me up for prison.

You were a pain in the ass, all right?

You were always fuckin' up jobs.

I did everybody a favor

gettin' your, uh, loser ass off the street.

When I come back home,

my poor wife is dead, my boy hates me.

My sweet little girl jumped to her death.

All my dreams fucked.

But that pain did to me

what flame does to wood...

everything unnecessary burned away.

And what's left, Jimmy,

is hardened.

What are you doin' here?

Did he tell you who he's meetin' with?

No.

- Did he take anybody in with him? - No.

Shit.

What's going on?

My father's back.

♪ I just close my eyes and I'm with you ♪

♪ And all that I so want to give you ♪

♪ It's only a heartbeat away ♪

Where's Mickey?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

- Who are you? - Ray Donovan.

Do you know where my father is?

- Your mother lookin' for him? - No, I am.

Okay. Okay, kid.

Jim.

Jim.

♪ Keeping me warm night and day ♪

It's, uh, Mickey Donovan's kid down there.

♪ Miles and miles of empty space in between us ♪

♪ Telephone can't take the place ♪

♪ Of your smile ♪

- You know me? - Yeah, you're Jim Sullivan.

Mick's your father, huh?

That, uh, that knife for him?

♪ Hold out and do like I do... ♪

Come, sit down.

Why don't you give him a Pepsi?

Come on.

Up at the bar with the men.

So why you wanna kill your father?

W-What'd he do, he beat your mom?

You hungry?

Hey, Ted, why don't you give him a hot dog?

Yeah.

What'd you say your name was again?

Ray.

Ray.

Here.

Take this, Ray.

Look, I know.

I know about your mother.

And about that fuckin' monkey your father goes with.

Listen, kid.

No boy should kill his own father.

♪ When I need love ♪

Ray.

Did your father kill those people?

I think so.

- I'm calling the police. - You can't do that, Molly.

Three people have been murdered.

I know.

Why did you say your father was dead?

- Molly... - You fucking lied.

Molly, please. Wait.

- It's not what you think. - I'm calling the police.

If you do that, your father will be dead by the morning.

I'm sorry I lied to you.

But if you wanna get your father back,

you gotta trust me.

You... you were in there a long time.

Yeah.

What did she ask you?

About those cops. Ha.

She was all about those cops.

What... what'd you tell her?

Just told her the same fuckin' thing,

that we were at the Jonathan Walker Hanson concert

and, you know, the next day we went and got married.

Did... did you tell her that I was with you

at the marriage bureau?

Yeah.

Good.

I hope she contacts me.

Tell you how this is gonna work.

Sandy's gonna sit with the tapes,

and you're gonna get 'em back soon as we come to terms.

Terms? Fuck you, Mick.

You're gonna make it right, Jimmy.

I-I don't know about you, you know,

but I-I only travel forward in time.

If I'd gotten my fair share,

I'd be the billionaire now.

I didn't take that gold, plant it in the ground,

grow a goddamn tree that grew apples made of money.

I worked. I worked my ass off every day

to build what I built.

You don't know the man I'd be if you hadn't fucked me over.

Sandy, take off.

You don't hear from me in two hours,

call the Globe and send 'em the tapes.

Actually, I hope I don't hear from you.

Go fuck yourselves.

Why'd you do it, Jimmy? For what?

Was it jealousy?

Jealousy. That sounds right.

What the fuck are you talkin' about?

You tried to steal from me, Mick.

Do a job with my men.

Rip off, uh, trucks that I had a deal with?

Huh? And then not cut me in on fuckin' anything?

You got exactly what you had comin' to you,

you fuckin' deluded fuck.

But I'll...

I'll give you a million.

I'll give you a million bucks in cash tonight.

- A million? - What'd you say... a million?

- Yeah, that's right. - Fuck you.

No, no, no, wait a minute, Pop.

Stay out of this, son.

One out of what, a billion?

The gold itself is worth...

near 20.

And that was 40 fuckin' years ago.

And what with compounded interest on...

on that a-fuckin'-lone...

Compounded interest.

Compounded interest on stolen gold?

Mick, have you ever even read a Wall Street Journal?

Look it up. Look it up on the internets.

How much would $20 million compounded

be worth in 40 years?

For like a home loan?

Whatever.

Jeez. Fuckin' idiots.

Okay, four percent over 40 years...

$20 million... would be $100 million, Pop.

You owe me $100 million.

Fuck you!

Ohh!

I could kill you and walk away.

I'm a ghost.

He survived the explosion.

Yeah.

And then what, just...

put his thumb up and hitchhiked away?

Way he tells it, he ran into the woods,

stole some clothes and a car, and drove back to the city.

Can I get you anything else?

The check.

So what does he want with my dad?

Money.

With Mick, it's usually about money.

How much?

How much has he got?

Well, if he wants more than $50,000,

he's gonna have to go through Gerald.

Who's that?

He's my dad's transfer agent.

Yeah, this is Sandy Patrick.

Card number 5477, 2781,

5200, 6529.

Yeah.

Can you text me purchase alerts, please?

No, the number you have on file is fine.

We good?

Do me a favor.

Buy a round for everyone in the place

and add a hundred bucks for yourself.

Thanks, pal.

_

You fucking kidding me?

Just tell me a fuckin' number

so I can figure out

whether I'd rather die or pay it.

My number...

My number's half of everything you fuckin' got.

That's my number.

We were playin' poker this time at O'Neil's.

You'll remember this.

Mick had a good run, then the heat left him.

He got himself dealt out and he walked away.

That was before he lost it all, you know?

He had promised his wife money to pay the bills.

I don't remember that.

You don't remember payin' the bills, Mick,

'cause, um, before you left,

you hired two black hookers who fed you some sob story

and you gave them the money you'd promised your wife.

Well, that was stupid.

And maybe I... I always was a little too soft at it.

There it is... you're the guy

who would fuck over the people he loves the most

and call it soft-hearted.

At least someone cruel lets you know where you stand.

But a piece of shit...

who's righteous, thinks he's good?

Fuck me.

Daryll...

maybe you should wait out in the car.

Five percent.

Fifty.

Ten. Tops.

Twenty.

You even know how much that is?

Twenty fuckin' percent.

Hello?

Yes, Mr. Sullivan.

- Yes... - I'm dead.

So I gotta put it in my son Terry's name.

Terence Donovan.

You say Terry?

He's the eldest.

- Terry, Pop? - Trust me, Daryll.

I'm gonna take care of all my boys.

You'll each get your share.

Are you done?

Yeah. Terence Donovan.

Terence Donovan.

Terence.

Hi.

I need you to go stake out Sandy's house.

Aunt Sandy?

Now?

Yeah, now.

McSorley's.

What for?

Mick kidnapped Jim Sullivan.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Slow down, lady.

I gotta go, Bunch.

Gimme the phone.

Gimme the phone.

What are you doing, Sandy?

- Ray? - Where's Mick?

Fuck you!

You know how this ends.

Do I?

Just tell me where he is.

I'm not gonna ask you again, Sandy.

You don't scare me, Ray.

Fuck yourself!

Where can I find your father's transfer agent?

_

Should I go inside?

Not yet.

Hey, Ter.

Hey, uh...

S-Smitty got picked up by the black lady cop.

When?

A f-few hours ago.

- He still there? - No, no, I...

I picked him up, took him home.

How's he doin'?

Uh, he seems fine.

All right.

Oh, I-I got your car.

Can you bring it to me? I'll text you an address.

All right.

Hey, that's him. That's him.

- What are you doing? - I've known him my whole life.

I can talk to him.

Shit.

Hey, Mr. Moskovitz.

Miss Sullivan.

Has my father called you?

You know I can't disclose that.

Is that his ransom in that briefcase?

- I can't disclose that. - Please listen to me.

These people are murderers, okay?

It doesn't matter if you give them what they want.

They'll still kill him.

- Let's take you home now. - No, please!

Stop it!

Hey, stop it!

Get your fucking hands off me.

Get in the car.

- Ahh! - Oh, God.

Fuck.

No, no, no, no, no!

No, no!

What the fuck, Ray?

Where are you going?

Terry'll drive you home.

She's not here.

What the fuck happened to you?

Long story.

What's that for?

Call the fire department.

- What? - Is this Sandra Patrick?

Who the fuck is this?

Ms. Patrick, this is the Medford Fire Department

calling to report an incident at your house.

What did you say?

Hey.

Um... are you the, uh...

I'm the transfer agent.

Oh.

Your boy's got the papers.

Oh...

Oh, no.

Jesus.

Where is he, Sandy?

You torched my fuckin' house?

Where is he?

You son of a bitch!

What'd he promise you?

Half the take? Fuckin' condo in Boca?

Fuck you, Raymond.

How do you think that's gonna work out for ya, huh?

Have any of Mick's fuckin' harebrained schemes

ever paid out the way he promised they would?

He was doin' this for you.

He was...

leaving you and your brothers a legacy.

Legacy.

Mick's already left us his fuckin' legacy.

Remember?

You were there.

My mother's funeral. My sister Bridget.

Father O'Connor, Cormac.

That's Mick's fuckin' legacy.

Trail of bodies and broken fuckin' lives.

You wanna be a part a that?

Smitty?

Y-you okay?

That cop questioned me.

What?

She questioned me for hours. She showed me photos.

She knows a lot.

Well, what did you tell her?

I told her the fucking story

that we were at your boyfriend's fucking concert

with his fucking boy band.

Why did you do it?

I don't know.

That's bullshit.

I don't.

- That's bullshit. - I don't, I...

I'm so afraid I'm like my father.

Oh, so you act like him?

You don't get to use that as an excuse.

No, it's not an excuse.

I promise you, I had it worse than you,

but I would never use my fuckin' childhood

as an excuse to hurt you.

Fuck this.

Daryll, answer the fuckin' phone.

It's your father.

Leave a message.

Sandy.

What the fuck did you do?

What?

What the fuck did you do?

I-I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, Mick.

You fucked me all over again?

Hey, hey, I'm just sittin' here.

I'm not a fuckin' magician.

I'll kill him, Ray.

I'll fuckin' kill him. You know I will.

Get away from the door.

Now, move over there.

I'm gonna make it right before I go.

You're gonna believe in me again, son.

It's me!

Oh, I'm back!

Out early for good behavior.

You should have killed him.

He would have shot you.

I'm not talkin' about tonight.

I'm talkin' about when you came in that bar

carrying a kitchen knife

longer than your skinny little arm.

Remember?

I could see it then.

You actually had it in ya.

And with a knife, no less.

So fuckin' personal.

Thanks.

I wonder, Ray, if you still got it in you now.

Aren't you gonna say hello to your father, Ray-Ray?

Aren't ya?

- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --

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