Mob Rules Page #5

Easy, man, easy. Easy!

Don't f*** with Oprah.

Look, man.

This doesn't

have to get messy.

You say you work hard for your money.

You can make more.

Nah. Thing is,

this kind of thing

always gets messy, mate.

- You no have appointment.

- See?

I've got my f***ing

appointment right here.

You're f***ing kidding

me, aren't you?

It's all right.

I got this.

Mama-san...

we're not here for you.

Now sit the f*** down.

And you over there.

Huh-uh.

- Uh!

- Just do it.

I know you.

I mean, I know you're

a North London nigga,

but who pointed you at me?

Who sent you here

to f*** with me?

What did they

tell you, eh?

That you can make a little

name for yourself,

come over here

and make it big stateside?

So you cowboyed up

with your mate Tonto here

and you thought you'd

give it a f***ing go?

Let me tell you

a little secret.

Every f***er thinks they're

John Wayne out here.

What did he tell you,

big fella?

Did he tell you

I'd be easy?

You should hit me while

I'm having a massage with my lady?

While I'm unprotected?

Bet he didn't tell you

that I own this f***ing place, did he?

- F*** this sh*t.

- Hey.

My friend, I wouldn't

do that if I were you.

Then I guess I'm lucky

you're not me.

You better f***ing know how to tango,

you gonna touch me like that.

She's from Brooklyn, man.

What can I tell you?

Didn't you check the b*tch?

He doesn't wear a gun, so why

should I think she does?

Besides, she's

practically naked.

You gave your b*tch a gun?

Do I look like the kind of man

who'd give his woman a gun?

Chilli, tell this fool

I didn't give you that gun.

Whoa whoa.

Who you calling your b*tch?

I didn't call you a b*tch.

He called you a b*tch.

I didn't say sh*t.

I wanna know who you're

calling your b*tch.

I did not call you

a b*tch.

He called you a... do you know what?

Shoot the b*tch.

You'll be saving me

50 grand a month.

What do you mean,

save you 50 grand a month?

What with the penthouse

and the Gucci this and the Prada that

and the Louis Vuitton

and the Ca-f***ing-valli.

I have to learn Italian

just to figure out

what you're doing

with my f***ing money.

Well, maybe I'm trying

to give you some f***ing class.

Class? Darling,

you think it's classy

to put a poodle

in a $1,500 bag.

She's a Lhasa apso.

Maybe I should

move in with you

and that b*tch wife of yours

and save on the rent.

I f***ing told you already...

do not talk about my wife.

Enough of this

Dr. Phil sh*t!

Okay.

Chilli, put the gun down.

Put the f***ing gun down.

Him first.

All right,

take it easy.

Okay?

What the f*** is

wrong with you?

You told me this

motherf***er was easy.

I never said he was easy.

Nah.

This is bullshit.

You just gonna

let them shoot me?

He was never

gonna shoot you.

- You didn't know that.

- Yeah well, I know it now, don't I?

We'll be doing him a favor if I put

a bullet between his eyes.

I'm not even worth

$200,000 to you?

Could we have this

conversation later, please?

Thank you.

This sh*t isn't working.

Time for plan B.

I ain't got a plan B.

Well, my plan is

we let this f***er know that

we'll do whatever it takes.

Man, you let

an 85-lb 12-year-old

and an ex-stripper

get a drop on you.

I'm 16.

Shut up!

Keep it up, Lucy Liu,

and you're gonna miss the prom.

Oh, this is bollocks.

Now that you've had

your little domestic,

do you mind if I check your

girl for any more weapons?

Satisfied?

You know about me,

don't you?

You knew coming in here

I was never gonna

give it up easy.

Right?

So that begs the question,

what are you really

here for?

What?

Now you know.

Drive!

Where's Reggie?

Just drive the f***ing car!

- He's still in there!

- Drive, will you, man?! Reggie's dead!

Reggie's... he's dead.

It's been 10 f***ing years.

What took you so long?

10 years today.

F***ing hell.

All these years,

I thought I put all this

sh*t behind me forever.

Well, forever came today.

My brother died

making you rich.

- That's what you believe?

- That's what I know.

So what is this?

You come here to kill me?

This is retribution,

is it?

Why now, Anton?

Patience is a virtue.

Mine's running out.

I bet you had this all

worked out, didn't you?

Had it all planned.

Like Reggie would.

In the end,

plans are just a gauge

of what went wrong.

See, me and Reggie

only wanted to make

enough to open a club.

Bosh!

We're in

before anyone can see.

Why am I the Indian?

Because the f***ing

cowboys always win.

- All right.

- Yeah.

So who's

the getaway driver?

I've got someone...

someone I trust.

- Really?

- Yeah.

The guard has to cross

the entire length

of the building.

He has to unlock the cage,

go up the stairs into the room

with the security monitors.

If he grabs a cup of tea...

that's four minutes until Shank

and his men drive away

until we can be seen...

Then the getaway car

pulls right up

to the door

and waits.

The door's not reinforced.

We jimmy the f***ing lock...

bosh, we're in.

Then we went over

to the old Red Lion for a few bevvies.

And there was this one

bird in particular.

You know, she was having

a few words with me.

This bird at the bar says,

"It's all right, darling.

I'm already coming

home with you."

I said, "No no no no.

This drink's for me."

What was that?

Frank. Frank.

We got a problem down here.

Wait here.

I see movement

on the right.

F***!

- Where?

- On the right! On the right!

Don't see 'em!

I see 'em.

I see 'em over there.

Hold up!

Wait for Frank.

I f***ed up.

It was supposed

to be easy.

All right, listen.

We are not done yet.

Let me tell you,

either we leave

here together

or we make our stand

right here together.

- Okay?

- Miles Davis.

How many f***ing times do we

gotta have this conversation?

There wouldn't be

a Miles Davis

if it wasn't

for Charlie Parker.

Yeah.

Well, it is my funeral.

Listen, Reg.

The car's just outside.

Come on,

we can make it.

You gotta go.

Go. Go on.

Listen, they're over

there by the door.

It's never personal.

It's the first rule, remember?

It's your f***ing rule!

This looks very

f***ing personal to me.

You should have

f***ing told me!

I'll give you 50 grand.

- 50 grand?

- Yeah.

Pounds or dollars?

Man.

F***ing look at you.

You're so much like him you've even got

the Reggie swagger.

"Cool," he used to say,

"like a Miles Davis riff."

Reggie never would've

wanted this for you.

- Or for Marley.

- Oy. Sh*t-note.

Enough.

It's worth 50 grand just

to see this f***ing bullet

- go through your f***ing head!

- Pounds.

It's Reggie's cut.

I never touched it.

I know what he told you,

but Reggie was full of sh*t.

He said there was

500, 800,

$1 million

in the bag.

But when I opened it, there was a

hundred thou and some cash and change

and some little bits of paper and some

bonds I couldn't do anything with.

There was even a couple

of f***ing IOUs.

Everything I've got here,

I made.

I used my money to make sure

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