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You'll be all right.

Jimmy Klum, you mean?

F***, no.

Jimmy Klum is a b*tch.

Listen, I know

everybody around here,

and Jimmy Klum's b*tch ass

ain't breaking into sh*t.

Now, his wife's brother

is a whole different story.

Who's his wife's brother?

They call him Gator

for some dumb-ass reason.

Lives down by

the Rayville watershed.

Fronts as a boat mechanic,

can't fix sh*t.

But the word is he's

cooking up that meth.

Hey, if I was you, I'd be real

careful around him, Broker.

He ain't true, you hear me?

The sheriff know about him?

Know about him?

Man, him and Sheriff Keith

got it all figured out.

You see, Gator snitches for Keith,

throws him all the small

fish, makes his job easy.

In turn, Sheriff looks the other

direction whenever Gator wants to cook.

Some bullshit.

Yeah, thanks for

the history lesson.

Listen, I grew up

around these rednecks,

and I think you ought to know

who you're f***ing with.

And in case you got any interest,

Gator eats breakfast nearly every

day at Lions caf, just like me.

Now, he don't look

like much or nothing,

but you remember what I told you,

he ain't true.

Crazy, waiting to happen.

Hey, where are you?

They set the meet at this f***ing

crayfish shack off Creek Road.

You know I'm allergic

to this sh*t, right?

Just get it done,

all right, Sheryl?

The guy they're sending,

Cyrus Hanks.

Are you f***ing kidding me? I know him.

He's a f***ing animal, Gator.

He's a f***ing stone-cold killer.

Look, don't worry about any of that.

Just make it happen.

Look at you.

Nice place, Cyrus.

Yeah, well, let's just say I'm

comfortable around fat people.

They eat the way

gamblers play the slots,

they're f***ing oblivious

to everything around them.

Plus, I love these f***ing things.

Are you hungry?

No, I'm fine.

Sweetheart, black coffee

with a little honey.

So, what's it going to take

to find this rat f***?

You know where he is, yeah?

Him and his kid.

And to get him,

you want what, exactly?

I don't want anything for the narc.

He's a gift.

Oh, he's a gift? He's a gift.

Since when does a meth

whore give away gifts?

I've spent the last couple of years

putting together

the right equipment,

perfect partner, perfect location.

All we need is distribution, that's

the main thing we're after...

You got me f***ing fooled, Sheryl.

'Cause underneath this

beautiful tweaker body,

you're a f***ing genius.

Where's the narc?

Do we have a deal?

Where is the narc?

Do we have a deal, Cyrus?

Come over here.

You got five seconds before I drill

your f***ing skull into this table

and then into the floor,

you understand me?

Don't you f*** with me, Sheryl.

All right.

Where is the f***ing narc?

Bye!

Bye.

Hi.

What are you doing?

Cleaning.

Cleaning?

Yeah.

It's filthy in there.

Well, I'm glad you noticed.

What are you doing here?

I came to tell you that I dealt

with Broker, the girl's father.

I want you to stay away from him.

Hey, you got something for me?

Cassie, I'm trying

to tell you something.

Do not go near Broker anymore.

Got it.

Okay.

Well, I'm not holding, so I'm

sorry, I can't help you.

You're not holding?

Uh-huh.

Well, I think

that's f***ing bullshit.

Cassie, why don't you

just clean yourself up?

That's f***ing bullshit!

Take a f***ing shower.

Then what the f*** are you doing here?

Eat a sandwich or something.

You take a f***ing shower,

Gator, look at you!

Cassie, just pull

yourself together.

I'm sick of this sh*t.

Hey, hey, hey.

Shh! Teddy is sleeping.

You wake him up, it's gonna be...

Don't worry.

I'm not gonna make

any noise, I'm leaving.

No more. I'm done.

No more, Cassie.

Yo, Gator.

How is it hanging, man?

Why?

Listen, man, I need a favor.

A favor?

Look, Jimmy, you know that I already

keep your garbage business going.

Man, I need you to stop

giving that sh*t to my wife.

All right? Look at her, man.

She's falling to pieces.

Maybe you should do a

better job taking care of her.

Yeah.

You sleeping?

Like a baby.

What have you got?

Gator Bodine. I sniffed around

like you asked. A couple of arrests.

No convictions.

You want details?

No, don't bother.

But there is something,

Broker.

Sheryl Marie Mott, ex-biker

groupie from Shreveport.

Busted twice for smuggling

dope into Angola.

One of those times was to

your old pal, Danny T.

All of a sudden, Danny T's skank

is hanging out in Rayville.

Really?

Send me a picture, would you?

Yeah, first thing at my desk,

I'll email you Mott's file.

Thanks, man.

So, this guy Cyrus,

you know him?

Yeah, I know him.

Mmm-hmm.

Did you f*** him?

Ugh.

Oh, sh*t.

F***!

This should be interesting.

We've never been properly

introduced, you and me.

Is that what this is,

an introduction?

Yeah, that's right.

Well, I won't ask your name.

I personally believe your reputation

is the most important thing.

To some people.

Yeah.

Maybe it should be for you, too.

You've worked up a pretty

bad rep around here,

beating up that poor kids

father in front of him.

It pissed off some of the locals.

And his daughter beat up Jimmy's kid.

Can you believe that?

Now, what kind of parent would teach

a kid to do something like that?

Look, I don't want

any more problems.

Okay.

Anything else you're

thinking hard about?

'Cause I can smell

the wood burning.

If someone has an issue

with me, keep it there.

I don't want my kid involved.

Involved?

I'm a little lost.

Well, let's get you found.

See the house,

the house where we're living,

the house that was broken

into by some pathetic coward

who stole a little girl's toys,

the cat, slashed a tire.

See, that's my f***ing house.

Anyone who comes around again

will find me standing in it.

Okay.

Well, I think you're reaching.

Just connecting dots

that are not there.

You're on notice, Bodine.

Hey, you should tell

your little girl to be brave.

She's got nothing to worry about

with such a tough daddy around.

Nice meeting you.

Finish your breakfast.

What the f***

were you doin', Gator?

F***er is making it personal.

Yeah, well, we're on.

It's happening tonight.

Luther?

Hello, there.

Hey, boy.

Put the kitty down.

Get up really slow.

Luther?

Luther?

Got you.

Hey, Broker.

My old f***ing Broker.

How you doing, man?

Can you hear me?

Huh?

You in there?

Do you hear me?

Do you hear me now?

Bet you do.

That's the tricky thing with this

rebar, especially the nine gauge.

You swing it too hard, too fast,

just takes your whole

f***ing head off, man.

It's a very delicate operation.

Hey, you did all right,

though, Lew.

Gator'd be pissed if we did

something really f***ing stupid.

He must be pissed at

you two quite a lot.

That's funny.

You're a funny guy, Broker.

You're a really funny f***ing guy.

You smart-ass motherf***er.

F***ing wise-ass.

How do you like that, huh?

Everybody had you

figured for a cop, Broker.

You walk like a cop,

you fight like a cop,

you even smell like a f***ing cop.

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