25th Hour Page #4

sipping on club soda,

selling whiskey to firemen

and cheering the Bronx Bombers.

Let's go, Yankees!

F*** this city and everyone in it.

From the rowhouses of Astoria

to the penthouses on Park Avenue.

From the projects in the Bronx

to the lofts in SoHo.

The tenements in Alphabet City

to the brownstones in Park Slope,

to the split-levels in Staten Island.

Let an earthquake crumble it.

Let the fires rage.

Let it burn to f***ing ash.

Then let the waters rise

and submerge this whole

rat-infested place.

No...

No, f*** you, Montgomery Brogan.

You had it all and you threw it away,

you dumb f***!

What do you think of Naturelle?

A good girl.

Your mother would've liked her.

- You trust her?

- Do I trust her?

- Why do I have to?

- You think I can?

- Where are you taking this?

- I dunno.

People are saying weird things.

I'm hearing stuff around.

Like, maybe she made

the phone call on me.

- Why would she do that?

- Maybe they got to her.

They find someone,

put the screws on you...

She loves you.

She'd never betray you.

I don't know. I don't know.

Everything's gotten so strange.

I look at these people around me.

I'm thinking, these are my friends?

I don't even know these people.

And Naturelle, even.

Do I really know her? I don't know.

It's all...

The only people I trust

are you, Jacob and Frank.

- The guys I grew up with.

- I miss those boys.

I know.

I'm meant to be meeting them.

They're waiting for me.

- I gotta get going.

- What about your food?

- I can't.

- OK. I'll see you in the morning.

No. No, why?

I'm taking the bus up.

Forget the bus. I'll drive you.

Take half as long.

Take... this.

They'll let you keep it.

When you was a kid, you slept

in that fireman's helmet.

You wanted to be just like Daddy.

I tell you about the fights

we had, naming you?

You wanted to name me James.

James Brogan Junior.

Good strong name.

- Your mother said it was boring.

- She liked Montgomery Clift.

A Place in the Sun.

Her favourite.

I'd say, "Clift, look what happened

to that poor f***."

Died way too young. Bad luck.

Bad luck.

I'm gonna go. OK?

See you soon, Pop.

Monty...

He'll work for me.

I'll have his job.

I gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.

Cocksucker.

How you doing?

- Good to see you.

- How you doing?

- Good.

- Come on in.

- Want a beer?

- Yeah.

Cool.

There you go. Cheers.

Jesus Christ!

Yeah.

New York Times says

the air's bad down here.

Yeah? F*** the Times.

I read the Post.

EP A says it's fine.

Somebody's lying.

Yeah.

- You gonna move?

- F*** that, man!

As much good money

as I paid for this place?

Hell, no.

Bin Laden could drop another

right next door, I ain't moving.

What do we say to him?

We say nothing.

He's going to hell for seven years.

What do we do, wish him luck?

Just get him drunk.

Make sure he has

one last good night.

- That's it.

- So you're up for this?

Yeah.

I don't know why he invited me.

What are you talking about, man?

We hardly see each other any more.

You and I

are his friends from the past.

Yeah, like his friends from the

present have done him much good!

I just... Just can't believe

he's going away for seven years.

- Someone turns him in and...

- Don't feed me that sh*t!

- What sh*t?

- Don't feed me that bullshit.

Yeah, he got caught. But hello,

Monty's a f***ing drug dealer!

Sh*t.

What, are you driving

a vintage Super B?

- No.

- No. He is.

Paid for by the misery

of other people.

He got caught. He'll be locked up.

I tell you something else.

You two are my best friends

in the whole world.

I love him like a brother

but he f***ing deserves it.

He deserves it.

What's he planning to do with Doyle?

How the f*** should I know?

Maybe leave him with Naturelle

or something.

They should at least

let him take Doyle with him.

What?

Let him take Doyle.

He wouldn't be so lonely.

You can't take a f***ing dog

to the hoosegow, Jake.

I'm just saying,

it'd be kinda nice if you could.

Yeah. It'd be nice.

Monty's tough. I think he'll be OK.

If it were me, I'd never last

a day. But Monty, he's different.

- Yeah? You believe that?

- Yeah.

- You don't f***ing get it, do you?

- What don't I get?

You want the simple version?

Guys who look like Monty

don't do well in prison, right?

He's got three choices.

None of them are good.

One, he can run.

Two, catch the bullet train.

- Bullet train?

- It's just what his choices are.

His third choice is prison,

that's it.

That's what he'll do. He'll go,

I'll see him when he gets out.

Maybe. I'll tell you what.

After tonight,

it's bye-bye, Monty.

What does that mean?

If he runs, he's gone.

He ain't coming home.

He pulls the trigger,

they close the casket, he's gone.

They lock him away, he's gone.

You'll never see him again.

- I'll see him again.

- You won't.

I'll visit him,

see him when he comes out...

This is such horse-sh*t.

This is so like you, Jake.

- You won't see him.

- Like me?

Exactly. You will never

see him again.

You think you'll kick back

with some beers, reminisce?

Old times, still gonna be friends.

It's over after tonight, Jake.

Wake the f*** up.

Let her go.

That's a good-looking girl

you got there. Them Spanish broads.

That's a scary look.

See the look he gave me?

Naturelle Riviera.

What a name.

You see the rack on that girl?

Take another angle, man.

- You can't f***ing touch her.

- No, no, no, no.

You're missing the point.

- She touched you.

- You're lying.

- Am I?

- Yeah.

That's sweet. You really trust her.

All I know is she's walking away.

Yeah. We just signed her release.

Probably having a big party tonight

over at Jimmy's Bronx Cafe.

Sure, why not?

Big celebration. She's got that whole

fancy apartment to herself now.

You thought she was with you

for your looks?

Shi-i-it.

Girl saw a pot of honey

and she licked it clean.

She's a real smart girl.

You, on the other hand...

You're supposed to be smart.

Got yourself a scholarship

to a fancy private school?

Not bad for a punk from Bay Ridge.

Then you get yourself thrown out

for dealing weed to rich kids.

What up with that?

You know what happens to

pretty boys like you in prison?

They're gonna love you.

Yeah, maybe.

But then again, ... maybe not.

Jeez, Your Honour, what can I say?

I messed up.

You know, my mother died.

I was so worried about my father,

I needed to help him out.

My head was turned.

I got hooked in with the wrong

people and I made a big mistake.

I really did,

but... it was my first time.

I'm sorry.

It will never, ever happen again.

Time served. Probation.

You don't read the papers much,

do you, smart guy?

In New York, we've got a wonderful

thing called the Rockefeller Laws.

Let me educate you.

You had a kilo in your sofa.

That kind of weight

makes it an A 1 felony.

first offence.

With that spread in sentencing,

judges get swayed by prosecutors.

If Mr Prosecutor's wife busted his

chops that morning, you're f***ed.

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