Dom Hemingway Page #2

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like the old days.

I never called you Ivan

Anatoli in the old days.

Well, you will now.

Do you hunt, Dom?

No, I don't, Ivan.

I only use a gun to

hold up a place,

or threaten someone, or rob 'em,

or pistol-whip 'em, or scare 'em.

- But, no, no hunting.

- Shame.

It is the sport of princes.

Well, I'm a peasant at heart.

A petty serf with nice

hair and a strong liver.

I'll eat what you hunt,

unless it's rabbit.

Rabbits are pets. I don't eat pets.

Oh, these French rabbits are

something else, though, Dom.

I think you'll like 'em.

They taste like a revolution.

If that's an advert,

I'm not sure it's working.

It's good to see you, Dom.

Dom Hemingway is free!

Dom Hemingway is free!

Dom Hemingway is free!

You look good, Dom, you really do.

Well, what can I say?

I'm an handsome f***er.

I see you've retained your vanity

and your sense of humour.

Lefty was right.

- Lefty?

- Yeah, Lefty, he was right.

- Who's Lefty?

- Who's Lefty?

You serious, Dom?

You blind?

You lost your eyesight in prison?

What?

Lefty! Lefty, your best friend,

Dickie, with one f***ing hand.

You lost your hand?

Yeah, 'course.

You lost your bloody hand?

Yes, Dom.

Why do you think I'm wearing

this black glove all the time?

I thought it was a fashion

statement or something.

Fashion statement?

I've been in f***ing prison

12 years. I missed a few things.

I thought it was the latest

fashion. I don't know!

You always were a bit of a clothes fag.

You lost your f***ing hand?

It was shot off three

years ago during a job.

How do I not know that?

They found his fingers strewn

all over the high street.

F***ing hell, Dickie. I'm sorry.

I'm good, Dom. It's all good.

Yeah, Dickie's a good soldier.

Mmm, tough guy.

Stand-up man.

So are you, Dom.

The most stand-up man

I have ever met.

- Dom is that.

- Yeah.

Well, a rat is a rat

and a teat is a tit.

Still, others would have broken.

Those are others,

not Dom Hemingway.

- No, not you.

- Not me.

You've done all right for yourself

the last 12 years, Mr Fontaine.

Ivan, please.

Ivan. You've done all

right for yourself.

The art, the house.

Or estate. This is an estate, right?

That's what they call it. It's very nice.

It's a villa, Dom, a holiday home.

But thank you, thank you.

I appreciate it.

Is Ivan short for Ivana?

No, just Ivan.

Could be Ivana, though, right?

It's Ivan, Ivan

Anatolivich Fontanov.

Ivan, sorry. Ivan. Sorry.

It's OK.

I could have ratted.

I could have mentioned your name.

I could have said Ivana Anatoli

Fontaine was the leader of the group.

Maybe you are tired

from your trip, Dom?

I kept my mouth shut and

I sat in that tiny cell

while my wife died of cancer in the

arms of some other f***ing bloke.

I've heard about

that and I'm sorry.

- Sorry?

- I'm sorry.

- Try 12 years.

- I'm sorry, Dom...

12 f***ing years. Missed

my Evelyn growing up.

I said I'm sorry.

- Words are easy.

- And it's all I have.

- You have something else.

- You are due and you will be paid.

- Plus interest.

- Plus interest.

Plus a present.

- Present?

- For being so quiet.

Those girls were a present.

Did you like them, Dom, huh'?

The coke and the girls,

that was a present.

Oh, you really think two birds and a

bit of blow are a worthy present?

- After what I done for you?

- I was not suggesting...

Cos that don't even come close

to a present, not even close.

It's not even a stocking stuffer,

barely an opening act.

Barely a f***ing appetiser,

barely an amuse-bouche.

It's nothing. It's nothing but a bit

of confetti in my ticker-tape parade,

and I want the full f***ing parade.

My ticker-tape parade, Ivana.

I want the f***ing band.

I want the f***ing float.

I want the parade, the float,

the band and what you owe me.

What you owe me

is what I f***ing want!

I said, you'll get what is yours.

Plus a f***ing present!

- A real present.

- OK, Dom...

Let's say, your girlfriend.

The one with the bicycle.

What's her name?

Paolina? I want her.

Don't be crazy, Dom.

I'm not crazy.

I want her, naked,

like she likes it,

with a little red

bow on her clitoris

- for me to untie with my teeth.

- Enough. The joke is over.

- I think you should sober up, OK?

- Joke's on you, Ivana.

- Go rest. We'll see you at dinner.

- Ivana Anal-toli.

I have been nothing but polite.

Polite? Polite! Aren't

you the bee's knees?

C*nt.

F***er.

C*nt.

You don't want me to get rough.

Trust me, don't go there.

Don't presuppose to

know what I want.

You don't threaten me,

not with that girl's name.

Not with that little

girl's name, Ivana.

Ivana. Ivana? Ivana?

You don't scare me.

You don't f***ing

scare me, Anal-toli.

I've seen death. I've seen evil.

I've seen fire. I've seen rain.

I've seen lonely days

I thought would never end.

You don't f***ing scare me.

I eye-f*** you. I throat-f*** you!

- Dom!

- Shut it, Dickie!

You one-armed f***. You freak.

You one-armed f***ing f*** freak!

No one's talking to you! No

one's ever talking to you!

I'm f***ing bored.

I'm f***ing drunk.

I'm f***ing drunk and

I'm f***ing bored.

I said what I wanted to say.

I said it and you heard it.

Now I'm gonna take a nap.

I'll see you wanks at dinner.

And no f***ing rabbit.

Dom, you up?

It's 6:
30, it's dinner.

Dom, mate!

Dom?

Jesus Christ.

Dom! Dom!

- Dom, are you f***ing mad?

- I screwed it up, Dickie.

I screwed everything up.

Really? Cos I thought you

were just mentally retarded.

Like those boys with the

bowl cuts on the telethons.

- Dickie, I'm a mess. Look at me.

- I'm trying not to.

I'm pathetic, I don't belong here.

I'm a monster. I'm a dinosaur.

- Don't forget nudist, Dom. Don't forget

that! - I ought to be thrown away.

Sent to a leper colony, forgotten

about, left to rot with the maggots.

Jesus, Dom, you've got to

get control of yourself.

You've got to beg

forgiveness of him.

- You've got to put on trousers.

- I've been locked up for so long, Dickie.

I see the light, the air.

It's been so long since

I breathed clean air.

I look at the clouds, I go nuts.

You mix in the whisky, you mix

in the p*ssy, I go crazy.

I'm a crazy man.

I'm a f***ing nutter!

- I mean, I'm afraid to see my own daughter.

- Really?

But not too afraid to insult one of

the most dangerous men in Europe.

Unfortunately, you had

the brass for that one.

He's gonna kill me. I insulted

him in his own villa.

- He'll forgive you.

- He's gonna f***ing kill me, Dickie.

He's gonna make Blinis out of

me balls and no one will care.

- Fontaine's not gonna kill you.

- He could.

No one would give a toss,

not even me own daughter.

I would give a toss. She would too.

12 years, Dickie, 12 years for

that money and I just blew it.

You apologise to him.

You be a gentleman and

he'll be a gentleman.

It'll be all right.

Yeah? You promise?

Yes. But you don't insult his girl.

You don't call him f***ing Ivana,

you don't call him Anal-toli

and you don't let him

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