All language subtitles for Hotel.cocaine.S01E01.MeGusta-1080.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

South Florida has always
been a smuggler's paradise.

During Prohibition, rum-runners
hauled illegal liquor

from the Caribbean islands
to the coast of Florida.

In the '60s, the hippies
discovered marijuana,

and smugglers flew
the fine Columbian

into Florida by the ton.

Then came the drug
that changed everything...

Cocaina.

Haul it up, boys!

The marijuana routes
became cocaine routes,

and the money hit Miami
like a tidal wave.

Cocaine profits changed
Miami's skyline overnight.

And with the money came...

Well, you can probably guess.

Over time, I would come
to learn a hard Miami lesson...

a lesson none of us
wanted to hear.

So, listen close
while you sniff that yayo,

pop a pill, fuck that person
who isn't a wife or husband.

Make sure you don't forget...

every pleasure has a price.

Holy shit!

Straight off the boat, baby.

The hottest pleasure palace
in Miami...

no, the whole damn world,

was a place that made Studio 54
look like a church picnic...

The Mutiny Club.

Fueling it all was cocaine.

Yayo, toot, blow,

sniff, sugar, bump, nose candy.

If you were
lucky enough to book a room,

you could stay at the hotel,

138 rooms, each
with its own individual theme.

If the walls
of this hotel could talk,

muchacho,
they'd tell an epic story.

But since they can't...

I guess it's up to me.

["

My name's Roman Compte,

and I'm the general manager
of The Mutiny Club and Hotel.

Guests came
from all over the world,

including the biggest
celebrities on the planet.

Mira, there's Liza Minelli.
She'll be up all night.

Is that John Lennon in the booth?

And over there is the president
of Bolivia and his generals.

The year was 1978,

and the cocaine wars of Miami
stopped at our entrance.

We were Switzerland,
neutral territory,

where drug dealers sent drinks
over to DEA agents

and avoided killing each other

because everyone
was having too much fun.

Roman... we're almost out of champagne.

Push the tequila.

Send the plane to pick up
a couple hundred cases of Dom.

Omar, smile.

Life is good.

Mr. Bonham... thought you left for tour.

And leave these gorgeous matinee girls?

No fucking way. Zeppelin can wait.

My job was to keep
everyone happy at the pleasure palace.

_

...especially my boss,
owner Burton Greenberg.

Rrrr... oman.

Very important guest
in the Lunar Dream suite...

a gentleman by the name
of Hunter Thompson.

- Perhaps you've heard of him?
- The journalist?

Oh, please, he's so much more than that.

He speaks truth to power,
just like I do.

And he...

He is interviewing me
for a piece in Rolling Stone.

We did it, buddy! We did it!

He's gonna immortalize The Mutiny.

- Wanna do a line?
- No, thanks. I'm on the job.

Ah, yeah. Speaking of your job...

Let's play "find the DEA agent
at the martini bar."

Got him? Good.

I know people don't get busted here,

but we don't want Hunter thinking

we got narcs in the club, okay?

Liza, I've got those bricks for you!

Zulio, how can I help?

I'll cut straight to the chase.

Ahh.

I wanna talk to you about Mr. Cabal.

And that's when I knew
the party was over.

Whoo!

Yeah.

- Hotel Cocaine.
- Yeah.

- Yeah, he's a mark.
- Whoo!

Whoo!

Yeah, he's a mark.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.MY-SUBS.com

You ready for more?

Ready for more!

Hola.

So...

when was the last time
you saw Nestor Cabal?

Not for many years.

He never comes to this hotel.

Why not?

Every other drug dealer in Miami does.

How should I know?

Why'd you never tell me
that your brother's

the biggest trafficker in Miami?

Look, we went our separate ways.

Is that why you changed
your name from Cabal to Compte?

No, actually.

The immigration agent misspelled it.

Let me give you some history.

Coke drop.

20 nautical miles
off the coast of South Beach.

See the dead guy? Tucker Thomas.

He's the fishing boat captain.
He's one of my informers...

killed, offloading
your brother's cocaine.

I'm sorry to hear that.

I'm gonna need you to re-establish
your connection with Nestor

so you can provide us
with intel about his operation.

Wait...

Are you insane?

No, I can't. I can't do this.

There's this guy, Chucho,
who hangs out here?

- You're not hearing me.
- He works for your brother.

Just feed him a line.

Tell him you wanna patch
things up with your brother.

No, how about this?
How about you go fuck yourself?

You have a young daughter.
Valeria, right?

What would happen if her father

was arrested for aiding and abetting

a drug trafficker here at The Mutiny?

- Aiding and abetting?
- I bet you a judge wouldn't

let you within five miles
of that little girl.

Look, I don't wanna see this happen

to a good guy like you.

I don't sell drugs.

Then your daughter ends up in
foster care with a new family.

Don't you fucking mention her!
You understand that?

Don't you ever fucking
mention her again.

You're not who I'm after.

But I'll do what I have to do.

Now, are you gonna help me out or not?

Omar... is Chucho here?

Table 12.

Ladies and gentlemen,

put your hands together

for the world-famous Mutiny Girls!

- Señor Ramirez.
- Hey, Roman.

_

_

Claro.

Can I have a word with you
in private, Chucho?

Get out. Go do a dance.

Gracias, señoritas.

Muchas gracias.

Gracias.

I need a meeting with your boss.

I don't have a boss.

Everyone knows who you work for.

You're looking to buy blow.

- I can take care of it.
- No.

Well, thank you, but...

I'd appreciate it if you could
set up a meeting.

_

It's just like I said.
I don't have a boss.

Nestor Cabal.

_

Get the fuck out of my face.

_

_

So, sometimes
you don't wanna do cocaine,

but a certain type
of customer will insist.

Refuse, your tips go down the drain.

Accept, and you're lying in bed
tossing and turning

listening to the birds chirp at dawn.

Janice, it's crazy.
I get offered all night long.

Here's the trick. The fake snort.

Lick your thumb and lean down
as though you're doing a line.

But press your thumb directly onto it.

Inhale just to the right of the thumb.

And voilà.

Then rub it off your thumb
beneath the table.

The customer's happy,
and you get to sleep on time.

- That's a good trick.
- Your turn.

- Hi, Roman!
- I'll be right back.

- Got a minute?
- Sure.

You know a Chucho?

Guy who takes table 12 all the time.

- Yeah, he's a fucking asshole.
- Yeah, that's him.

I need to find out where his boss lives.

He works for Nestor Cabal.
You know that, right?

That's who I'm looking for.

- What on earth do you want with him?
- I can't explain that right now.

Look, we both know
Chucho's sweet on you.

Can you try to get the address?

Please?

Don't worry.

I know how to play that asshole.

- Gail, honey...
- Oh, okay.

Okay, girls, let's get out there.

Remember, big smiles mean big tips.

Now, that's a nice toot.

All right.

What do you think
of the Lunar Dream suite?

It's pretty out of this world.

It's where I put
all my most cosmic guests.

It's kind of an homage to David Bowie...

- Oh.
- ...Ziggy Stardust,

- whichever you prefer.
- Yeah, I can see that, man.

Yeah, it's kind of like
Ground Control to Major Hunter.

Oh, yeah, I can see that, doctor, major.

Yeah, yeah. Um...

I can't tell you what
a privilege it is, Mr. Thompson,

that you are writing this
article about me and my hotel.

I mean, suffice to say,

you are, hands down,
my favorite writer of all time.

I mean, when you wrote,

"too weird to live, too rare to die,"

I don't know. It just kind of, like,

crystallized my own credo
since childhood,

and reading those words,
I began to see you as a...

as a spiritual brother of sorts.

One sec.

Ooh! Mmm!

That is some great fucking shit.

Hey, man.

I got some Orange Barrel Sunshine

Jerry Garcia left
last time he stayed here.

Shall we do a tab?

So, uh...

Would it be fair to say that
your family called the shots

in Nixon's re-election campaign?

Since I have nothing to do with them,

I wouldn't know. I voted for McGovern.

Oh, 'cause they, uh...

They also backed
the Florida Swamplands Act,

which effectively denuded
60,000 acres of, uh,

you know, endangered species preserve.

Okay. I have no part
in my family's business.

But for the record,
the only part of "denuding"

I've ever engaged in is that of humans.

So you didn't vote for your family

to back Anita Bryant's crusade
against homosexuals?

Of course not!

I fucking love homosexuals.

Ask Truman Capote. He couldn't
stop trying to get in my pants

the entire time he stayed here.
The Truman Capote.

Do you exploit immigrants
in your kitchen,

like your family does
in its hotels all over Florida?

"Exploit"?

Do you know how many quinceañeras

I've been to in the last five years?
Huh?

Cientos.

Hundreds.

_

Whether you're a busboy or a manager...

_

My real family.

Not like those fucking fascists

with whom I happen to share a last name.

Then give me some dirt, Goddamn it.

I mean, help me take
those scumbags down.

Oh.

I...

You should try this shit.

It's 96% pure.

Wow.

- That's far out.
- Uh-huh.

How if we get a room and go upstairs?

I'd love to, but we're fully booked.

- Mm.
- What about tomorrow afternoon?

No, I have to work tomorrow.

I could visit you at work,

get to know each other a little better.

And do what? Fuck in a broom closet?

You have a broom closet?

You never paid me no mind before.

Just tell me where you'll be tomorrow,

and I'll be there.

Om Shanti.

Janice, where's Roman?

Hold that thought.

I don't know.

- You okay?
- No, I'm not okay.

This is a disaster, Janice,
a fucking disaster.

Hunter Thompson wants dirt
on my family's business.

- So?
- So...

- So, what do I do?
- Well, maybe he won't find out.

Dear God, Janice.

He's the greatest
investigative journalist

of our generation.
Of course he's gonna find out.

Remember when I applied
for a job at this hotel?

- Mm-hmm.
- I had a past...

not one I was terribly proud of.

Come on, Janice.

Head Nurse brought blow jobs
into the mainstream.

Head Nurse broke sexual barriers.

It's been my experience,
the truth always comes out in the end.

Maybe it's better to get ahead it.

Janice, my blossom.

You're really not being
helpful right now.

Hi!

_

Busy, Papa.

Mm.

_

Mm.

_

Your lunch is in the fridge.
Don't forget to take it.

I won't, thank you.

You didn't finish
your homework last night?

I did. I'm just studying for a test.

- What about?
- The American Revolution

and all the reasons
we hated the British.

Good. Well, give me one reason.

Well, they taxed us
when they shouldn't have.

See, all Americans care about is money.

_

I already know all about that.

_

Well, Castro isn't on the test.

Besides, who cares about Castro?

We're in America now.

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

_

Hey, what's wrong with you?

Hmm?

_

_

It's okay.

No, it's not.

_

Listen, we lost Mom in Cuba.

And I just wanna forget about it.

You can never forget your heritage

any more than you could ever
forget your mother.

I just wish she were here.

Me, too.

She'd be so proud of you...

...of how beautiful
and intelligent you are.

You look so much like her.

And you know that Marisol

could never replace your mother,

but she loves you,

and she's proud of you.

She always takes your side.

We're a family now.

_

_

Yeah.

Ven acá.

♪ When your day is done ♪

Who are you?

Ramon Compte, here to see Nestor Cabal.

He is clear to go in.

Okay.

Gracias.

Don't move.

_

Got your friend, Janice,
to play a little trick?

Just here to see your boss.

_

_

_

Eh?

Chucho!

_

That's my brother.

You look good, brother.

You, too.

Come, let's...

_

You must be doing well.

_

Far cry from the detention camp

they put us in
when we first got to Miami.

The house we grew up in.

Yeah.

Not bad.

You know, usually,
when a man becomes successful,

his family comes out like rats,

begging for crumbs.

But you...

How long has it been?

It's a long time. But...

I'm not here to beg.

Why are you here?

Look, I've seen your man,
Chucho, at my hotel.

Gathering intelligence, I'm guessing.

I could feed him information.

I know every player at the club.

When we came from Cuba,

we had nothing.

I found a way out.

And you abandoned me.

I didn't wanna kill people
so I could sell drugs, no.

And that's changed?

All that's changed is
I'm offering to help you

so you could help Valeria.

What's wrong with Valeria?
What happened to her?

She's fine. She's... She's very bright.

She'll be going to college soon,

and I won't be able afford it.

I can hardly afford her high school

and our mortgage on top.

_

_

_

_

I might be willing to help you...

for her sake.

But you're gonna have
to prove something.

What's that?

That I can trust you.

Come to my screening room.

I'm showing a movie.

This is Roberto.

A fucking stellar employee,
has worked for me for like...

_

Five years, maybe longer.

I trusted him...

almost as much as I trust Chucho.

And then he sold me out

to a bunch of fucking Haitians
who stole 400 keys...

which they now wanna sell back to me.

Isn't that right, Roberto?

It's hard to trust people
in this business.

Money does that.

I'm your brother.

You turned your back on me once.

How do I know you won't do it again?

_

Kill him.

Prove I can trust you.

No, this is your fight, not mine.

_

_

Come on, bro.

Good.

My brother.

Like the Titanic, America's
heading for an iceberg

because of soul-crushing
capitalists like the Greenbergs.

Look, Burton would agree with you.

He's on your side.

He's a puppet.

Helping his family keep
the glitterati docile

while the American dream is raped

and sold into slavery.

I mean, look at them.

Mindless, cum-soaked hedonists.

Oblivious.

Lighten up, Hunter.

Have a drink.

Okay.

Hey, do I know you?

Here it comes.

Holy shit!

Head Nurse.
You're Janice Nichols.

Hot damn!

I love your film.

Heard Jimmy Carter watches it
when Rosalynn isn't looking.

I did that film against my will.

That was slavery, not this.

I work here because I love it.

And despite his nuttiness,

Burton's trying to do good
in this world.

Maybe if you weren't
so fucked up, you'd see it.

Hmm.

Roman, we got a fucking problem.

Blackbeard and his crew
are fighting with Del Mobre

- over table 14 again.
- Call Security.

Roman, come dance with me.

Not now.

What you got, kemosabe?

Some Haitians stole Hestor's shipment.

He's gonna buy it back.

Buy it back?

Yeah, that's their game.

They steal the perico,
ransom it back.

And your brother's gonna show up

with a whole bunch of money
and get the cocaine?

Yeah.

Well, did he tell you where, when?

Is this the American way?

To use innocent citizens
to rat on their relatives?

Sounds more like Cuba to me.

My wife's Latin,
in case you didn't know.

Most Cubans are muy bueno.

And others are like your brother...

greedy motherfuckers
who ruined this place,

turned it into a war zone.

So, if I gotta use you to get to him,

consider it your pledge of allegiance.

Where? When?

Tomorrow night.

Little Haiti. Miami Place and 67.

You didn't give me a chance
to take your pants off.

_

Something's wrong.

Um...

I'm fine.

Hey.

What's going on?

Tell me.

Tell me.

The other night, a DEA agent

asked me to dig up
information on my brother.

You told him no, right?

Marisol, I had no choice.

But that's crazy.

Your brother is a very dangerous man.

You've told me this yourself.

They threatened to arrest me
and take Valeria away

if I don't cooperate.

- Arrest you for what?
- Nothing.

They can fabricate anything.
It's bullshit.

Mi amor,
if your brother finds out

you're talking to the DEA,
what do you think he'd do?

_

You told them we'd pay the ransom?

I spoke to that Haitian
motherfucker, Baptiste.

He wanna meet us tonight at midnight.

Okay.

How come you never told me?

Told you what?

Roman's your brother.

He wrote me off.

He hasn't been in my life for years.

Isn't it strange...

he just comes all of a sudden
to ask for a handout?

He needs the money
for his kid's college.

_

_

There's something else going on, Nestor.

I remember you once told me,

"Never trust in a person
who's broken your faith."

_

_

Om Shanti, Shanti.

Om Shanti, Shanti.

Hi, Burton. It's me... You...

It's us.

We need to talk.

As you well know,

Daddy done a bad thing.

And the question on the table is...

do you narc yourself out
to Hunter Thompson?

I mean, is it your karma to go to jail?

I mean, just 'cause the Vanderbilts

and the Rockefellers and your family

didn't pay for their sins,
doesn't mean you don't have to.

But you're innocent.

You know your intentions
are pure, but do you?

Do you know that, Burton?

Now, I'm gonna come clean
and face the consequences,

whatever they may be.

Yeah.

Om Shanti, Shanti.

Thank you, Burton.

I fucking love you, man.

Mr. Thompson?

Mr. Thompson?

Hello?

Mr. Thompson?

Hunter!

What the fuck are you doing?

Oh. I'm sorry.
I thought you were asleep.

You got the dirt I asked you for?

Yes.

Yes, I did, sir.

Great dirt. Uh... best dirt.

Then hand it over.

Yeah.

What the fuck is this?

The loan documents I signed
to gain control of this property

and build The Mutiny.

If you look carefully
at the co-guarantor signature,

that of my father,

you'll see that it's forged...

by me.

I forged his signature

to build this hotel under his nose

and the nose of my cunt of a sister.

If you do this article on them,
they'll retaliate.

I'll go to jail,
and they'll fill this room

with bamboo furniture.

Just the kind Nixon likes.

- You're a criminal.
- Yes, I am.

A parasite.

Attached to the bloated abdomen

of your family's ill-gotten wealth.

Sucking their blood to fuel
your dreams of paradise.

Oh, my God, you're such a good writer.

But yeah, I'm a parasite.

So, you thought, by showing me this,

I'd just bail on my article?

No.

I want you to write about
what this place stands for,

what I'm trying to do here,

why people love it
and need it in times like these,

times of war, political divide, racism,

poverty and pollution.

We need to forget our troubles,
if only for a minute.

Well, you know, yeah.

You got balls showing me this.

I know.

And I like balls.

You got any of that acid
Jerry Garcia left you?

Why, yes.

Yes, I do, sir.

Coming right up.

Let's go.

All right, ladies. Huddle up.

Now... we're going to establish
our perimeter

at Miami Place and 66th,
right next to 67th, obviously.

We've already discussed
operational details, so...

Any questions?

I have an observation.

You have old M16s. They have Mac 10s.

You're outgunned.

GI Joe.

Look, we've got plenty of firepower.

Plus, once these drug dealers
see an army of DEA agents

swooping down on them,
they're gonna roll right over.

I've seen it a thousand times.

So, what's your tactical
intelligence for this area?

And what's the field of coverage?

What's their comm situation?

What if they have snipers offsite?

I've already got my men
cruising the field of coverage,

from 55th all the way to 69th.

- Trust me, it's under control.
- Trust you.

Yeah, you seem pretty confident
when it's my ass on the line.

You know, when you're right,
you're right.

It is your ass on the line.

Now go to your brother's.

- Let's do this.
- Let's go.

Move out.

We deliver the money in two suitcases.

Can you believe

how much I gotta pay
to get my shit back?

Those Haitians...

they got another thing coming.

You steal from me, you pay a price.

Rio 7, we're in position
with eyes on the scene.

Copy.

We see two vehicles approaching.

One just turned onto 65th.
Gray sedan with a white top.

Hey, 304, what do you see?

One individual exiting
the vehicle could be our suspect.

All units, ready to engage.

Hit it.

Wasn't that 67th?

- Isn't that the meet?
- Oh, we switched it.

You know Chucho,
smells a rat everywhere.

That's why he's hanging back.

Come on,

let's go, let's go! Go, go, go, go!

What the fuck?!

We've been royally jerked off!

Fuck this!

Come on, let's go!

Come on, let's go, let's go!

That motherfucker.

I don't see anything on this side.

The fuck is this?

Just keep walking.

_

I'm Nestor Cabal.

Mmm. Bring the money?

I have the money.

But yayo first.

Mm-mm, mm-mm. Money first.

No, no, no, no, no. Yayo first.

Then I call a guy
who delivers the money.

- Fuck you!
- No, man.

Fuck you.

Great. Blow my brains out.
You won't see a fucking dime.

Hey, man. Blah, blah, hubba-hubba.

I don't know what the fuck
you're saying, man,

I just want my fucking shit, okay?

Give me my fucking shit!

_

The money.

Half.

And here...

Fuck you, rat.

Motherfucker!

Sorry, Chucho.

Chucho?

Chucho!

- He's hit.
- He's bleeding out.

We gotta get him to a fucking hospital!

Come on. Let's go.

Mmm! Fuck me, man.

So, what happened with Hunter?

Um, I don't know.

I haven't seen him since we dosed

that Orange Barrel.

How much did you take?

Oh, you know...

quite a bit.

_

_

Don't you fucking die on me,
Chucho. Look at me.

_

_

I'm going! I'm going!

Chucho!

Chucho!

Burton.

Baby.

I get it now.

You, the place.

Amazing.

I'm gonna write a book about it...

you, the hotel, the whole fucking credo.

Hunter! You don't know
how happy this makes me!

I love you, man!

As if we're soul mates.

We are! We always have been.

So... so...

You'll forget about the article?

Oh, fuck no.

I already handed it in.

Rolling Stone is gonna
put it on the cover.

Your family's fucked.

Isn't that great, soul mate?

Yeah. Yeah, yeah.

He's fucking bleeding out!

_

He's trying to say something.

You better tell him not to talk.
Save his strength.

_

Stay calm, Chucho, look at me.
Stay with me.

Come on, hurry. Let's go.

_