Original subtitles

VOICE: MTV...

Ever heard of Black Nick Adam?

-What is that, a band?

-Motorcycle gang.

They run

the nitrous game out here.

-[sighing]

-They'll kill anyone

that gets in their way.

You know, it's funny,

I've actually met people

like that before.

-It's all right.

-[sobbing]

Tina here?

CHICKIE: You know, it looks bad.

You sneak into town,

-and I'm not aware.

-Come on!

-This is family.

-It's my brother.

My father was

a brother to you, too.

Don't you fuckin'

forget that.

Remember your first

and highest obligation.

Tina, is there any way

for us just to...

-to move past this?

-You left us nothing.

Nico "The Package" Bugliosi

was the only one.

Let's just say

I learned the hard way

-why he's called...

-What, The Package?

Did you know?

Help!

[screaming]

***

Donde esta Pilot?

STACY:

You're late.

You gonna get me another job

when they fire me?

Can I get an OJ

and a cheese Danish, please.

You think it's easy?

I can't just galivant

in and out as I please,

you know?

All right, relax.

-What do you have for us?

-Well, this is interesting.

I sure hope so.

I told you about

the nitrous, obviously.

Huge source of income.

Apparently my boys got into it

with some other crew.

Yeah, you told me this already.

Yes, but this Italian guy

from New York,

he's the real deal, apparently.

-What Italian guy?

-Hey, Roxy,

you're an informant for the ATF.

Nitrous isn't us.

Tell us about guns.

Hold on a second.

What happened

with this Italian guy?

ROXY: Territorial shit.

They tried to muscle in,

Macadams fought back,

it got a little ugly.

-You got a name?

-The Italian? Yeah.

Pike, he's my old man,

did a little digging.

Name's Dwight something.

He's also shaking down

some weed store.

Again, not our purview.

-Can we just focus on

what we're trying--

-HENDRICKS: Shit, wait.

This is the guy

the FBI told us about.

The mob capo who just

got released from jail.

I don't know who the fuck

you're talking about.

They sent around notice.

It was a while back, but yeah,

Dwight Manafilotti or something.

Okay, sure, but what does that

have to do with us?

Who knows? Either way,

we should alert the FBI.

I'm sure they'd love to hear

what he's been up to.

Thank you.

Gonna hit the head.

Be right back.

Okay, first of all,

your job is to get information

on Caolan Waltrip,

not bullshit Italians.

And I need you to cool

that situation down now.

-What do you mean?

-I mean talk to

your boyfriend, Carson Pike,

and get Waltrip

to back the fuck off.

And get me some shit on him.

Finances, accounts, businesses

he's laundering money through.

-Something I can

bring a prosecutor.

-How about I split some atoms

while I shit jelly beans

for you too? [scoffs]

I do like jelly beans.

Just get it done.

You really should eat something.

-I'm not hungry.

-Yeah, well...

vodka is more noticeable

than you think it is.

CHICKIE:

Totally out of control.

Completely off

the fucking reservation.

I know he's your friend,

Pop, but Jesus.

My friend? He's your godfather,

for fuck's sake.

He stood up for you

at your christening.

In the club, though?

No warning, no nothing.

Five hours it took to clean up.

-Who knew about this?

-About what?

About whatever was going on

between Nico and the daughter.

You know, Dwight came to

visit me in the hospital.

He was very, very agitated.

All I know is Nico

used to go over there.

But that was years ago.

Pete, if I can interject,

if any of us had any inkling,

any idea, we would have

took Nico out ourselves.

The bigger question is,

what do we do with Dwight?

Enough already. Take him out.

Him and his fucking daughter.

What'd you say? [grunts]

You all right?

-His daughter?

-[smack]

His fucking daughter?

What did his daughter do? Huh?

Nico...

Nico, that fucking cocksucker.

I'd have skinned him alive.

CHICKE:

I hear you...

But how much more disrespect

are we gonna take

-from this fucking Dwight?

-Dwight.

Dwight. Dwight. Dwight.

Worry about yourself.

If you were half the man he was,

this would have never happened.

Why do you make me

treat you like this? Huh?

***

***

[bell chiming]

What are you doing here? I

thought you went back to Tulsa.

I wanted to talk to you first.

Hey, excuse me.

Won't take long.

My God,

is that blood on your hands?

Let me just say

what I gotta say.

I don't think I want to hear it.

Let me talk.

Please.

He's gone.

Tell me you didn't do it.

Tell me that's not true.

-[clattering]

-[choking]

It's true.

I was handling it in my own way.

And I handled it in mine.

TINA:

Jesus Christ.

He's dead.

I've been around

long enough to realize

there's a line you do not cross

and expect to come back from.

He crossed it.

He scarred you for life.

And I took his life.

And you should have no guilt.

None. None.

Are you saying that

you feel nothing...

taking a life?

DWIGHT:

You know what I am.

And you know what

I would do if I found out.

This was justifiable vengeance.

Look at me.

I know I haven't

acted like one...

but I'm your father.

And I love you.

I don't know if you believe

that or not, but it's true.

Maybe you think I did this for

me because there's some code,

but no,

it's so much deeper than that.

It's a bond between father

and daughter, and it's...

It can't be explained, but

it's-- but it's in the blood.

I wasted my life.

I know that.

And every bad thing

that happened to you

happened because

I bought into this lie.

Don't you see

that wherever you go...

something bad happens?

You just destroyed my life.

What do you think

they're going to do to us?

-They'll come after me.

-How do you know that?

I know Pete.

I know how he thinks,

He's bad, but not in that way.

Tina, they'll come for me.

You'll be safe.

[bell dings]

Tyson, where you been?

I've been calling.

Long story.

Armand relayed a message to me.

I'll take that.

-What happened here?

-Impound.

Got hauled off.

Spent the night in jail.

They took my phone,

which is why I couldn't even

-get in contact with you.

-What did you get arrested for?

Working for you, apparently.

I'm gonna go see Donnie Shore.

You don't worry about it.

By the way, that phone

had all my contacts in it, man.

I'm talking all my contacts.

Not to mention some photos

of a very intimate nature,

-if you know what I'm--

-You got a password on it.

Yeah, but they're good at

hacking shit.

Hey, what the fuck is up

with your hand, man?

A dog bit me.

Let's go see Bodhi.

Shit.

[phone ringing]

BODHI:

You've reached Bodhi.

Leave a message.

-Namaste.

-[phone beeps]

Where are you, in Tibet?

Give me a call.

When you talked to the cops,

what did you say about me?

I didn't tell them shit.

[Dwight sighs]

-Is Bodhi in your contacts?

-Yeah, of course he is.

-Why?

-Why?

-Why?

-We talk. We say things.

Follow me.

Dwight Manfredi.

This is the guy,

the mob capo

who just got out of jail.

No, I remember his face.

I just don't know

why we need to involve the FBI.

I'm not involving them.

I'm just letting them know

what's going on.

-Professional courtesy.

-Hold on a second.

You really want them

to just blow into town

and take credit for

our whole investigation?

I mean, that's assuming

they don't just

fuck up the whole thing first.

Since when did you become

so territorial?

[phone dialing]

RUIZ:

FBI, Agent Ruiz speaking.

Oscar, Doug Hendricks with ATF.

Listen, I got something for you.

Easy, Rich.

Bring him in and bed him

when you're done, all right?

Can't believe

you started smoking again.

You were doing so good.

You the Surgeon General now?

Your boy Dwight,

would he be interested in

sitting down with Waltrip

if I could arrange it?

Is this an olive branch?

Of sorts.

Shit like what

happened that night

brings a lot of heat.

Heat costs money.

Well, I'll relay it. After that,

it's out of my hands.

How'd you hook up

with this guy anyway?

Just kind of bumped

into each other by accident.

All right.

I'll keep you posted.

[phone ringing]

Hello?

Hello?

Is anyone there?

Who was that?

Nobody.

Probably a salesperson.

[country music

playing on jukebox]

Hey, how was New York?

Oh, fuck. Sorry.

You were there

for your brother's funeral.

It's okay. It's okay.

Let's just say

New York's over for me.

Looking like

a man who needs a drink.

How you doing, Babe?

I ain't sure how much more

of this bullshit I can stand.

-You and me both.

-Spoken to Bodhi?

No. You?

Yeah, some of our biker friends

snatched him up,

rattled his cage a bit.

-He all right?

-Yeah. Besides needing

a new pair of underwear,

I think he'll be fine.

I tried calling him. Nothing.

The shop's closed. Everything.

Armand reached out to me, says

his biker guy wants to talk.

Well...

Can't hurt to be diplomatic,

now can it?

We'll see.

TV: Don't worry, baby,

everything'll be taken care of.

[phone ringing]

[overlapping voices on TV]

[phone ringing]

-Hello?

-Just was calling to check in.

Why? You said everything

was going to be okay.

Oh, it is. It is.

I didn't mean to upset you.

Someone called earlier

and hung up.

I'm sure it's nothing.

DWIGHT:

Did they say anything?

No.

Want me to send somebody over?

TINA:

No, of course not. Emory's here.

I'm sure it's fine.

If it happens again,

just let me know.

TINA:

I will.

Thanks for checking in.

[phone ringing]

GOODIE:

It's three o'clock

in the fucking morning.

DWIGHT:

I don't give a fuck

what time it is.

Dwight?

Is there

some stupid shit going on

that I should know about?

Look, I don't know what

you're talking about.

You want me to reach out

to the big guy?

-I'm talking to you, Goodie.

-GOODIE: Okay,

but I don't know

anything about your daughter.

If that's what this is about.

Why would you bring her up?

'Cause I assumed--

Look, Dwight, what do you need?

We go back a long way.

You can trust me.

What can I do?

A lot of people are

going to get hurt, Goodie.

GOODIE:

Yeah, I can hear that.

So, how do we cool this down?

Not on the phone.

Get on the next flight out here.

I gotta run it by the big guy,

and then I'm coming by train.

There's not enough value

to get me to fly.

Just get out here.

["Midnight Rider"

by Waylon Jennings]

* I gotta run

to keep from hidin' *

* I'm bound

to keep on a-ridin' *

* I got one more

silver dollar *

* I ain't gonna

let 'em catch me, no *

* I ain't gonna let 'em catch *

* A midnight rider... *

DWIGHT:

Very clandestine.

-Who's that?

-You know Tyson, my driver.

Dwight, what are

you doing in Tulsa?

Seriously. I need to know.

-What? Why?

-Why?

Uh, first,

somebody tries to kill you.

That was a misunderstanding.

Then the nitrous dealing,

and then you're shaking down

some fucking weed guy?

First of all, turn the attitude

down a notch, please.

Second, who told you that?

It doesn't matter. I know.

Well, if you know, then

what are you asking me for?

Because the FBI

is all over this.

-What?

-There are wiretaps in New York.

You and a guy, Nico?

Something about your daughter.

-I don't know

what you're talking about.

-Really?

Get your hands caught

in a meat grinder?

Whatever you're doing,

you gotta stop.

Waltrip,

whatever's going on there,

I am asking you

to please back off. Okay?

-Relax.

-Relax?

You want me to--

If the FBI keeps digging

and finds out

about you and me, I am fucked.

I'm two years away

from my full pension.

You didn't do anything wrong.

It's not illegal

to have a social life.

A social life?

You know, it's generally

frowned upon for

a federal agent to consort

with a known felon.

I could get fired

for even talking to you.

How many times

do I tell you that?

Tell them we're in

a bowling league together.

[both chuckling]

You are a real asshole,

you know that?

It's genetic.

Seriously. I'm thinking

about taking off anyway.

So your troubles could be over.

-What does that mean?

-Tulsa.

It's been a shit show

since I got off the boat.

Not just for me,

but for everyone.

I'm gonna just pack it in

and go to Siberia. Move on.

Yeah. That'll solve everything.

Dwight, some people

live under a cloud.

That's you and me, okay?

It's gonna follow you

wherever you go.

My advice is find something

to give a shit about.

Stacy...

You want me to stay or go?

I'm taking this as a yes.

***

[knocking on door]

Bodhi.

Someone's pounding on your door.

-[knocking on door]

-What?

Someone's pounding on your door.

AGENT:

Laurence Daggerman?

Yes. But I have a feeling

you already know that.

I'm Agent Oscar Ruiz

with the FBI.

I'd like to ask you

a few questions

about a Dwight Manfredi.

Any Dwight Manfredi,

or did you have

a particular one in mind?

[clattering]

-Anything?

-AGENT: Nothing here.

Except t-shirts

and rolling paper.

Where the hell's all the weed?

[indistinct radio chatter]

Hey, boss.

Found a safe in the back.

CHICKIE:

Now he wants to talk?

What was wrong with last week?

Before he beat

my driver to death?

GOODIE:

So what do we think?

I'm gonna go see Dwight,

I gotta book the Amtrak.

Well, can't hurt to sit down

and take a peek

at what he's got going on

out there while you're at it.

That's where I landed too.

What if it's a trap?

He's gonna kill a consigliere?

No, no.

That's not gonna solve it.

I don't know, Pop.

He's nuts.

Book your ticket.

Let's hear what he has to say.

As long as he keeps sending

envelopes full of cash...

I'm all ears.

WALTRIP:

Imagine with me, if you will,

a man spends years

building a business

in his own community, his home.

Further imagine this man returns

home after a hard day's labor

to find a stranger

in his kitchen, an interloper.

And he is taking the food

from the very mouths

of the man's children.

Now, Mr. Manfredi,

you tell me...

what should be done

about this interloper?

First of all, I want to say

that was almost poetic.

So bravo.

As for what should be done...

That's complicated, pal.

Oh? How so?

Well, there's a few flaws

in your allegory.

You mentioned

that your business started

in a man's community,

whatever the fuck that means.

But I detect,

correct me if I'm wrong,

a slight lilt in your voice,

kind of like

the Lucky Charms leprechaun

that tells me you're

not exactly a Native American.

This is not your home.

This definitely ain't my home.

And to quote Woody Guthrie,

who actually was from Oklahoma,

this land belongs to you and me.

If you, sir, had come

to me like a gentleman,

hat in hand,

asked my permission,

offered me a taste...

none of these unpleasantries

would have unfolded,

now would they?

Now, don't get me wrong,

because I have no intention

to continue selling nitrous,

because I'm going

to explore other options.

But if I change my mind,

and I mean this

with all due disrespect,

there's not a thing you...

Or anybody...

Is gonna do about it.

Nothing.

Sir, you're

overplaying your hand.

When I play my hand,

you won't see it coming.

And next time we meet,

pick a place with

a fucking air conditioner.

That's your idea of

cooling things down, huh?

No one said

I was a diplomat.

[country music

playing on jukebox]

Here's to the girl

with the little red shoes.

She spends my money

and she drinks my booze.

She lost her cherry,

but that's no sin

'cause she still got the box

that the fruit came in.

Dwight, what are we going to do

with this fucking Waltrip guy?

We can't go

to war with these bikers.

There's too many of them.

It's bad math.

So we got to rethink

this nitrous stream bullshit.

Check it out.

I got it. I got it.

We'll do nitrous

animal balloons for the kids.

-Always thinking.

-I'm always clicking,

you know me.

-Yeah, okay, pal.

-It's going.

MANNY:

Dwight. Dwight.

-Where you been?

-Oh, just hanging around,

seeing old friends,

tending to the garden

and getting interrogated

and raided by the fucking FBI.

-Seriously?

-Yeah, I'm fucking serious.

Oh, and by the way,

they cleaned out the safe.

Took all my cash

as well as my product.

-What did I tell you?

-Too soon.

Mitch, you want

to do the honors?

Not really. But I got this.

-What's happening?

-Easy, pard. The last thing

I wanna do is run my hands

over your lumpy body.

I gotta pat you down.

For starters, it would have

been really thoughtful

if you'd have

wiped your hands first,

considering you just ate ribs.

Okay, that's not a wire.

He's clean. You owe me.

And second, are you

fucking kidding me, Dwight?

I don't know where you've been.

For all we know,

you could have flipped.

Do people who flip

usually lead off with the fact

that they were interrogated

and raided by the Feds?

No, they don't,

but what did you tell them?

The truth.

That we're business partners.

-Business partners?

-Yeah.

Because we are.

That's it? That's all you said?

That and something to the effect

that they can fuck off

and leave me alone,

but essentially, yes.

Why'd you say that?

Honestly,

I don't know why I didn't

call the FBI the day

you walked into my shop.

I probably should have,

but I didn't.

Christmas came early.

Stay there.

You're welcome.

What's that?

[drill whirring]

Everything you thought you lost.

I got a feeling

these guys were gonna raid,

so we put it all on ice.

Hey. Don't you fucking kiss me.

[all laughing]

-Do you mind

if I join you for dinner?

-Please do.

* I'm just a good old boy... *

TYSON:

What's up, my man?

BODHI: No forks?

Sweetheart.

-You can take that away.

-Not hungry?

Well, looks like

my date stood me up.

Usually he comes

clomping along here

around this time, and...

Oh, you mean Pilot.

I'm sorry, he's being put down.

Put down? Why?

The fines.

He keeps breaking out.

They've tried everything,

apparently.

We haven't met.

My name is Dwight.

-SPENCER: Spencer.

-Hey, Spencer.

Nice to meet you officially.

But I'm actually leaving.

-Today's my last day.

-Oh.

You have another job?

Not yet.

Still looking.

You like horses?

I love horses. Why?

[horse whinnies]

How you doing?

I'm looking to buy a horse.

It's a white--

That's him right there.

STABLEHAND:

I'm sorry, signor.

Knocker's on his way.

That's the owner?

A knocker is a person

that gets rid of dead animals.

-Seriously?

-They shoot him, sir.

They make dog food,

glue, leather.

He's a good horse.

Stubborn, but good.

He keeps running away.

-How much is he giving you?

-The knocker?

[chuckles] We pay him, signor.

You pay him. Okay.

How about I give you

$300 for the horse

-To take this animal?

-Yeah.

Well, that's plenty, sir.

Thank you.

There's a guy named Armand.

He got a trailer.

Now, he's gonna come around

here, pick this horse up.

This girl-- Young lady, sorry.

-Spencer.

-Hi.

She's gonna make sure

everything goes smoothly

and hang out with the horse.

You got my number

if there's a problem, right?

-You got it.

-Okay.

-[horse whickers]

-[chuckles] Pilot...

Can I ask you, sir, a question?

Why this horse?

He's old, he's stupid.

Not good for anything anymore.

He kept you on your toes.

[phone ringing]

-Yeah?

-STACY: Hey, it's me.

Listen, I have an idea.

-Okay.

-STACY: Help me

take down Waltrip.

-Help how?

-STACY: We can set him up.

You tell him

you want to buy some guns.

He's got an arsenal.

He'll be fucking gone.

Listen, I'd like to help you

out, but I can't do it.

I'm not a rat.

I'm not about to start now.

You do realize you could be

looking at another fucking 25?

-I can't.

-You can't or you won't?

-We done here?

-STACY: That's it?

You're seriously

not going to help me out?

I can't.

All right.

Well, good luck then.

Yeah, good luck to you, too.

[barking]

[country music

playing on jukebox]

WALTRIP:

Wait until they close.

Late, quiet.

No one will be on the street.

Any particular message?

Well, I usually find

a few rounds from

a Remington

twelve gauge to be as

definitive a statement as any.

What did I miss?

PIKE:

Where the fuck

did you come from?

I clocked out early.

We're slow today.

What happened

with the grease ball?

He talked, I listened,

and now I'm going to interject.

He's mafia, though, New York.

Isn't that dangerous?

You know, you...

might like to teach

your girl some manners.

What the fuck?

Mind your fucking business.

[horse nickering]

Scorcher.

This is a working ranch,

not daycare.

I don't board pets.

They were gonna make him

into glue, for Christ's sake.

Ah, you city boys.

You love the sausage,

hate seeing how it's made.

Those are just

the facts of life on a farm.

Everybody's gotta

pull their weight.

-And when they don't...

-Sausage.

Hey, nobody loves horses more

than I do. They're my life.

But there's an order

to things, how they work.

I'm running a business here.

Well, isn't the purpose

of business...

[scoffs]

Are you ever even

going to ride the damn thing?

I don't know. I've never been

on a carousel, but,

give me a lesson or two...

Now, by the way, that young

lady, her name is Spencer.

She's going

to take care of the horse.

Brush it, feed it,

change its shoes, whatever.

I will give you one week

while you make

proper arrangements.

And don't even think

of asking for an extension.

Manny!

Put him over by the silo.

There's plenty

of grass over there.

By the way, did you ever

find out who burned that car?

That's an ongoing investigation.

Mm-hmm.

One week.

Thank you.

["Streamline Train"

by Van Morrison]

* Oh, that mean old fireman *

* Good old engineer *

* Mean old freight train *

* Took my girl from here,

I'm gonna... *

Fucker.

Maybe it's time to renovate.

It's time to light a match.

You ever think about

taking on a partner?

Well, I'd consider it

if I ever met anybody

dumb enough to do it.

Dwight Manfredi. How you doing?

-You serious?

-Could be.

I ran a club in New York

in the '80s.

What you need's some live music,

some dancers.

Food's pretty good here.

You just need a little push.

Music wise,

I do a little playing myself.

Okay. You're the house band.

No problem.

Anyway, think about it.

No pressure.

Maybe a little bit.

I got a feeling about this.

I think we'd be good partners.

-Put it on the back burner.

-All right.

How you doing, buddy?

* Gonna leave in the morning *

* Baby on that

streamline train *

* Well, there's only

one thing, Mama *

* Keep your mind off this man *

EMORY:

I'll go park.

I'll be up in a minute.

[car alarm chirping]

[loud smack]

[grunting]

-[bone snapping]

-[Emory screaming]

* Went down

to the station *

* Acting like a child *

* Had to call

my baby *

* Say what train

do I ride? *

* I'm gonna leave

in the morning *

* Baby on that

streamline train, yeah *

[gunshot]

Darren!

-You okay?

-Uh-huh.

[gunshot]

[gunshot]

You got a gun, get it!

[gunshot]

Don't move, Babe, stay!

[gunshot]

Fuck!

[gunshot]

[gunshots]

He's done.

Fuck.

Well... I thought it over.

You got yourself a partner.

["Streamline Train"

by Van Morrison]

Good to hear it.

* Now that mean old fireman *

* Good old engineer... *

You dropped me

and the boys off,

-some guy attacked him.

-It could be a warning.

Is there something

you're not telling me?

So, what do you think

of the veal?

I was in prison

for a long, long time.

So everything tastes good to me.

There he is.

The General.

-CHICKIE: You got any intel?

-He gets his weed

from the Indians,

some cowboy runs the bar,

and the Black kid

drives him around,

it's like the fuckin'

Village People.

You killed Carson Pike?

I could arrest you right now.

He's not gonna be

controllable for much longer.

***