Focus Page #7

I have a guy.

He cracked your encryption.

He found a back door into your server.

It was actually pretty easy.

You should probably fire your IT guy.

No! You used my login. My password.

- Computer tries every possible combination.

- Bullshit!

This generates a new password

every 15 minutes.

It never leaves my sight.

- How did you get it?

- Who the f*** cares, man? It's done.

Okay.

Tell me!

- I want to know how!

- Let her go!

- How, how, how?

- Let her go!

- How?

- All right. It was her!

It was her. All right? It was her!

It was her.

It was her.

But she didn't know.

She didn't know anything.

Okay.

Your security was tight.

It was tighter than I expected.

I thoughtl could break the key,

butl couldn't.

Then I saw Jess at the party.

And when I found out

that the two of you were together...

...I knew she was my in.

So I used her.

And I've been using her.

You see, there's a science

to getting people to trust you.

With women, it's all about emotion.

Connection.

That you feel the emotion...

...as strongly as they do.

They've been dreaming about that sh*t

ever since they were little girls.

With her, it was shared history.

A friendly face. Set her off balance.

Helps diffuse aggression.

You've lost so much weight!

Start discussing emotional sh*t.

They're disarmed.

Now they're open.

You know you got them...

...when they start

to unconsciously mimic you.

A head nod.

A hand gesture. It means you're in sync.

Sociologists refer to it

as the Gauchais Reaction.

And then you move in for the kill.

You tell them how they've changed you.

I'm different, Jess.

Changed how you see the world.

Then you close.

A talisman.

A gift that says:

You've always been in my thoughts.

The necklace had a

wireless keylogger in it.

All I needed was for

her to enter your room.

And when she did that, I had what I needed.

Picked up on your keystrokes.

I logged in to your computer as you...

...and downloaded everything

about the EXR.

I'm sorry.

But it was not her fault.

She had no idea.

She got fooled.

So why don't we let her go?

And me and you can do

whatever the f*** you need to do.

I think he's lost his mind.

What's funny?

More bullshit.

What is so funny?

More lies.

What the f*** is so funny?

What's so funny?

Garriga's not my boyfriend.

- What?

- I hardly even know him.

She's just a race skank.

What's a race skank?

- But I saw you...

- No.

You saw what I wanted you to see.

You taught me that, remember?

She's been driving me crazy.

Hanging around, flirting, teasing.

The minute I try to get her up to my room:

- But I have a headache.

- Cramps.

That time of the month.

It's like a crime scene.

I have Scrabble in my room.

A headache.

A period. Right?

The world's longest period.

She's never even been in my room.

- What?

- We're so screwed.

What the f***?

I was trying to...

What the f***, Jess?

I was trying to steal his watch.

- This watch?

- You're not still doing watches.

It's a Piaget Emperador.

It's worth 200 grand.

I'd been on him for a week.

I was waiting for my chance.

And then you showed up.

- You are so much better than watches, Jess.

- It's what I am good at and I like it.

Okay, no, no, no. When you came

to my hotel, he had roughed you up.

No. He had roughed me up.

She was stealing from him.

He caught me charging

Garriga's creditline...

- ...and scared the sh*t out of me.

- This is really f***ing unbelievable.

You did all of this to make me jealous?

No. Some of it was payback

for New Orleans, but...

Yeah, to make you jealous.

I cannot believe you lied to me.

- You can't believe I lied?

- Can't believe it.

- You can't believe I lied?

- I can't believe it.

- That's so rich from you. So rich.

- That's what you wanna say to me?

- Yeah, because there's always a job.

- Be sure. I just tried to save your life.

By lying! Because you're

always lying, Nicky!

I don't know when you're telling the truth.

And now we're dead.

F***.

She's right.

You're right.

Heh. Here's the thing about lying.

Here's the problem:

Fucks up all your options.

Paints you into a corner.

What the f*** you talking about?

You out of your mind?

And then you're forced

to do some really dumb sh*t.

- You wanna die?

- Well, if I die, I wanna die telling the truth.

And if I lie, I wanna lie

like normal people lie.

I want my wife to say, "Hey, honey.

Do I look fat in these jeans?"

And I wanna say:

"No, sweetie. You look terrific.

You should wear those."

That's how I wanna lie.

But this...

If I'm done...

...I'm gonna tell the truth.

So, Mr. Garriga,

I'm gonna tell you the truth.

And you are not gonna like it at all.

About a year ago,

I pick up the phone...

- What the f*** are you doing?

- Nicky?

I couldn't take another f***ing word.

You're next, honey.

- No! Are you crazy?

- Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

What the hell were you thinking?

F*** you.

Now somebody's hurt.

You know what?

I have nothing to do with this.

Look at me. Look at me. It's okay.

This is your mess.

You clean it up. And keep me out of it.

I don't know what to do. Please...

Please, please, stay with me.

Stay with me. Stay with me.

No, no, no. No. Look at me.

Look at me. Look at me. It's fine.

Nicky, look at me. Look at my eyes.

I love you, okay? I love you.

Please. Please, don't do this. Please.

Please.

I trust you.

You cannot leave me again.

Please, do not leave me again.

Please.

What the f***?

You want him to f***ing die?

What kind of a piker are you,

for chrissakes?

Sh*t! Didn't he tell you

I was on the inside?

Jesus.

You must be terrified.

It's gonna be okay. He is not gonna die.

Do you hear me? He is not gonna die.

Probably.

You see, you shoot between the third

and the fourth rib...

...just about eleven o'clock

off the left nipple. Here.

- Hold pressure on that. Hold pressure on it.

- Okay.

That misses the heart

and the major arteries.

It does, however, puncture the lung.

Let me in.

There we go.

Is this Toledo Panic Button?

Maybe you're not

such a piker after all.

Left untreated, you got about 10 minutes...

...before you drown in your own blood.

But you patch it up...

...you account for the cavity pressure.

- Agh.

- God.

And then...

There we are. There we go.

There we go.

There's my boy.

- Jesus.

- There's my boy.

- Agh!

- Are you okay?

- Jesus.

- Here. Hold on to that. Hold on to that.

Keep your eye on that. If he can't breathe,

you pull the plunger again.

- Okay?

- Okay.

Good Lord, I cannot believe

that you made me shoot you.

And then for what? So that you can make

cow eyes at some race skank!

- She is not a race skank!

- I'm not a race skank!

You die with the lie, Mellow...

...and you still just might.

F*** you. Don't call me "Mellow."

Jesus Christ.

You're his dad?

In the loosest f***ing possible terms.

I'm Bucky, by the way.

You know, I like you, honey.

You can take a punch. Ha-ha.

- God.

- And there it is.

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