Hoodlum Page #5

Baker was working here.

Miss Baker, I thought you was in France.

Where is Pigfoot Mary?

- Give me 60 cents on 4-9.

60 cents on 4-9 straight.

- All right, I heard you.

No, you hold onto that, your

money ain't no good here.

I'm going to take care of that for you.

Oh, come on, now, Mary.

The governor pardon folks

quicker than you do.

- Mm-mm, and if you don't

quit macking me so hard,

I'm going to crush your spine.

- Woman,

now you're talking my language.

Now, give me some sugar, come on.

- Get out of here, you.

- That's all right, you're gonna want

to kiss me sometime later.

- Hello, Tiny.

Well, let's see what the good doctor

has in his little black bag.

Come on, now, give it over.

- Hey, what the hell

wrong with you coppers?

You ain't got no cause

to be beating up on him!

- Would you rather it be you?

Because we're here to serve.

- Please, please!

- What I thought.

All right, boys, get the bag.

- Okay!

- Well, maybe next time.

Toodle-oo.

- You okay?

Come on.

- Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, yeah!

- If you're complaining

now, don't fret yourself.

- What do you think you

should have done, huh?

Let that pickaxe-waving

devil just kill Bumpy?

- You done right, sweetheart.

The Lord knows there's a shortage

of eligible men in this town.

- Well, if it isn't Madame Queen.

- Speak your business.

- Stephanie St. Clair,

I have to inform you,

you're under arrest for violation

of city code section

1764, illegal gambling.

- You be careful, Captain.

- Likewise.

All right, boys, take her away.

- This morning, the Queen turned over

control of the bank to me.

Now, she asked me

to take every precaution available

to avoid shedding any blood.

- Well, how are we going to get people

to come back to work if we don't go

toe-to-toe with the son of a b*tch?

- Yeah!

- By being smart.

By using the old idea farm.

Vallie!

- Yes, sir?

- You in charge of the policy room, right?

- Right.

- Okay, I want you to go to

every controller's house.

You tell them, this building is protected.

- Done.

- Calvin?

- Yeah?

- We have to establish

new routes for the runners

when they collect the slips.

Whispers, Waldo, I want y'all

to beef up security on the premises.

- You got it, Bump.

- You know Dutch got that

cop Foley in his pocket,

and he's just as crooked as the letter S.

Now, he's gonna come

after them policy slips

the way he did me, and if he get 'em,

then you and the Queen

are going to be right back

in the joint and I know

you don't want that, so--

- That's you and me, we'll hide the slips

so none of these flatfoots can find them,

and when the number come

out at the end of the day,

we burn the slips.

- Excuse me, Mr. Johnson--

- Shut up, kid!

- Hey, hey, hey, let the kid speak.

What's on your mind, kid?

- Well, folks is confused, that's all.

I mean, all of them policy

slips is on white paper,

and if people want to play a number,

they just fill out a slip.

They don't know if they're playing

with the Queen's bank or Dutch's.

- What's your point, kid?

- Well, I think we should put

our slips on different paper.

- That's the most flum-a-dill

idea I ever heard of,

boy, you sniffin' that Shinola?

- Hold on there, Vallie, hold on.

This boy got a good idea.

What's your name?

- Tyrone, sir.

- All right, Tyrone, you're going

to change the color of

our slips to, say, green.

Waldo, I want you to go

down to the print shop.

You pick us up a bushel of green slips.

This way, everybody know

they're buying from us,

and the Queen's still carrying power.

- I know every hell in this

whole damn neighborhood,

let me run for you.

- All right, son, you done

came up with a good idea

for the day, let's just leave it at that.

- Yeah, run your ass around the corner.

- Laugh if you want to,

but even I know that if Dutch takes over,

that's all she wrote.

Besides, Red, you told me you started

running when you was 16.

Hell, I'm 17.

- Oh, no.

- Come on, Mr. Johnson, you can trust me.

- Okay, Tyrone.

But you better not frog up on me, boy.

You hear?

- No, sir.

- Well, Bumpy, you know we all with you.

You have the confidence that--

- Thats right, we're

right with you, Bumpy.

- It's your time, Bumpy.

- You look like a f***, what did you...

- Go to f***ing hell!

- I built a nice mahogany coffin,

mother of pearl inlay,

solid brass handles.

My son did a beautiful job

with the bullet wounds.

He looks like he died in his sleep.

Thank you, Mr. Johnson.

Thank heaven for Mr. Johnson.

That man has brought prosperity

back to this neighborhood.

You have my deepest

sympathies, Mrs. Anders.

- I scrubbed kitchen floors 20

years to give the boy a home.

- Tyrone was a fine young

man, and he died with honor.

- Honor?

He's dead, Mr. Johnson.

Where is the honor in that?

- I'm--

Sorry.

- People call you a hero.

You just a common thief.

You stole the only reason

I had to live.

- See that?

Every soul in Harlem played 235

because of this damn headline.

- Well, people are superstitious, Ill.

- Well, I don't know what we're

going to do after this one.

If we hit hard, this might be 80 grand.

- Now, Pigfoot told me that Dutch

changed his number to 236.

- We are not going to do that.

People play the number,

they expect to get paid when they hit.

We're just going to have to pay off.

- And that's the difference

between you and Dutch.

And that's why I love you.

- Oh, cut it out.

I sure wish I could find Miss Right.

Sh*t, I don't mean that, I'm

looking for Miss Right Now.

- Go on and make the pay offs, will you?

- Oh, you the boss, Bumpy, yeah,

I'm going to make the pay offs.

But you know what 235 means

in Madame Zora's dream book, don't you?

- No, what?

- Death.

- Yeah, well, when I see

him, I'm going to tell him

I changed his number for today.

- Yes, sir.

Good day, Miss Francine.

- Good day.

- Here you go, Mr. Johnson.

Enjoy.

- I love you.

What are you doing,

you know you don't even

like banana splits.

- I like your banana split.

- Hold on, hold on.

- What's wrong?

- Mr. Redmond?

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson?

- Do you see these almonds on my split?

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson, I see

them almonds on your split.

- Mr. Redmond, you know I

don't like almonds on my split.

- Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson, I know you

don't like almonds on your split.

- Did you put these almonds

on my split, Mr. Redmond?

- No, sir, Mr. Johnson.

- Then who did?

- Jimmy, the new boy.

- Jimmy?

Give me a few ticks.

- What's up, Bump?

- Oh, Bumpy, come on,

don't start anything.

- It's all right, Francine.

- Yeah, what can I do

for you, Mr. Johnson?

- Did Mr. Redmond tell you

I don't like almonds on my split, Jimmy?

- Oh, boy.

- Yes, he did, I must have made a mistake.

- Whoa, whoa, that's all

right, that's all right.

Just, why don't you

bring me some hot fudge?

- All right.

- See if you got any hot fudge back there.

- Bumpy, what is wrong with you?

- Nothing, Francine, I

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