Harlem Nights Page #3

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- How is everybody doing?

- Fine. You ready for next week?

Ready? Yeah.

I'm ready.

I'm betting a lot of money on you.

Well...

...you get ready to be a rich n*gger.

You see, 'cause...

...come next week...

...l'm knocking somebody

the f*** out.

- You understand what I'm saying?

- I understand now.

It took a while, but I got it.

Well, you people enjoy your meal.

Come on, babies.

Take care, Champ.

That n*gger's going to kill that white boy.

I saw him fight 33 rounds.

A lot of people think

that white boy got a shot.

He's got a shot. In his ass.

We'll make a killing with those odds.

All the white people

will bet on that white boy.

Gambling is where it's at. If we move,

we should concentrate on that.

Give up the joy houses and after-hours

spots. Concentrate on gambling.

About this move,

we're jumping the gun.

Smalls comes here and a cop

visits the apartment. So we pack up?

- We don't know if he's with Calhoune.

- It could all be coincidence.

Leaving New York

is the last thing we should do.

I ain't afraid of Smalls or Calhoune.

That's because you're young and full

of vigour and life... and a little ignorant.

Calhoune can kill you

by snapping his f***ing fingers.

Oh, man, f*** Calhoune.

You know, you have to slow down.

We're in the very small leagues here.

Very small.

It's a big world outside Sugar Hill.

You know nothing about it.

I do know this, when the majors want

to play where you're playing, you move.

That's bullshit. Why should we build

the market up for somebody else?

It's all illegal anyway. I'm not afraid

of Calhoune. I have a gun, too.

You got a gun, he's got one.

His boys and his cops got guns.

He has judges on his payroll.

Don't you feel a little uncomfortable?

You are a bad motherf***er. But that's

a hundred guns against your gun.

That's got to change something

in your mind.

It's not how many people you shoot,

it's who you shoot.

I got to go to the bathroom.

Are you still worrying about the club?

No, I'm thinking about Quick.

He's so damn hot-headed.

Everything I say to him means nothing.

Baby.

He's young. He's going to calm down.

He's... confused or something.

He's so damn ambitious.

Baby, you know...

- There's nothing wrong with ambition.

- It is in the wrong circles.

Sugar Ray.

Are we going to talk

about your son all night?

Or are you going to make love to me?

Why don't we make love...

...and talk about my son

in the morning?

Well...

What if we made love all night...

...and then made love all morning?

And all afternoon?

What if we made love real hard

for 35 minutes

and drop off

into a deep coma-like sleep?

Meet me halfway.

I'll give it a shot.

I knew it. I knew it!

That girl the other night mailed me this.

'Dear Mr Quick, I couldn't help but

acknowledge our mutual attraction.'

'Perhaps we should have dinner

and talk. Please respond, EV2-0304.'

'Truly, Miss Dominique La Rue.'

See, that girl had nothing to do

with that cop.

She made Smalls bring her here

so she could meet me.

- I said not to mess with her.

- She came after me.

We don't know if she's still

with Calhoune. I can find out.

- Where did she get that French name?

- She's Creole.

Don't mess with Creole women.

They can put a root on your ass.

- What's a root?

- It's a voodoo curse Creole girls do.

- Get out of here.

- No, he's not lying. He's serious.

- What's his name who had that curse?

- Wallace Wallcott.

He was messing around with a Creole

girl, and she put voodoo on him.

His dick shrunk

to the size of a cocktail weenie.

No, that's bullshit.

You got to get out of the jungle

with that witchcraft jazz.

I don't like it.

I just want to know if she's still with

Calhoune. Witchcraft is your thing.

They bury your drawers in the yard

so you can't go out.

Yeah!

Your drawers in the yard?

Hey, Sugar.

What was the number today?

3-0-4.

That's the third time

they slapped my number.

Somebody better take care of it.

You'll take care of my money.

- What's wrong with him?

- He lost a number.

So is she still with him?

I don't know. She wouldn't talk on

the phone. We're doing good tonight.

We're doing great. Look.

Damn...!

Until a couple of seconds ago.

- Who's that?

- The cop who came by my house.

Hey, Ray. The candy man.

Hello, Sergeant Cantone.

I'd like you to meet a friend, Mr Quick.

- Quick like in 'fast'?

- Quick like in 'quick to whip ass'.

You mean like 'you might

get your ass whipped quick'?

I haven't had my ass whipped in a while.

Probably been like 1911.

- When the doctor slapped your ass.

- That's the last time. I'm looking for him.

Well, stick around.

I'm kind of mad at you, Ray.

- Why are you mad at me?

- You lied to me.

You said you were in the candy

business. It was you I was looking for.

Are you going to take me in for that?

No, I ain't going to arrest you.

I want to talk business with you.

Where can we talk?

- My office.

- Where's your office?

Here's the deal. I got a call from a friend

by the name of Bugsy Calhoune.

He said you were sitting

on a goldmine here.

Now, don't get me wrong...

...there's always

going to be after-hour places.

We generally leave them alone,

but you guys are doing

10,000-15,000 a week.

That's a lot of money.

To be perfectly honest, Mr Calhoune

and myself want some of it.

How much money are you talking about,

you maggot motherf***er?

You guys are doing 15,000.

Let's say our cut is 10,000.

You're robbing us, you son of a b*tch.

No, no. You're robbing the system, Ray.

What do you want, sympathy from me?

You're criminals, for Christ's sake!

It's a pretty fair deal.

I wanted more.

But Bugsy said it was fair.

He's a real softy, Bugsy.

If it was up to me, I'd give you jigs

just enough money to function.

When I see you guys with the fancy

suits and cars and nice houses,

and I'm living in a f***ing hovel!

I mean, that bothers me.

So have we got a deal or what?

Can we get back to you?

No, I'll get back to you.

Ray, would you mind

if I take a box of chocolate hearts?

- It's my wife's birthday.

- Help yourself. Anyhing you want.

Thanks.

Round everyone up.

Be at my house in an hour.

We can't let him come here

and do this. Don't run from him.

We've got to, but before we do

we're going to kick him in the nuts.

Calhoune can kiss my ass. I won't

give him sh*t. We ought to relocate.

A lot of you got families

and can't easily relocate.

From your complaints, I know you can't

live on a third of what you earn now.

I have a plan

where we can all make heavy money.

If everything works out the way I plan,

you'll have $50,000 each.

With that, you can relocate.

Go legit if you want to,

open your own business.

How are we going

to make $50,000 each?

Everybody knows

the big fight is this week.

There will be 3/4 of a million dollars

in the booking houses by Friday.

Calhoune's going to make

a lot of money.

He owns all the booking houses

except ours.

How do we make $50,000?

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