Money Monster Page #7

for eight hours a day.

So could you please just tell me

what the hell is going on here,

because you're really

starting to freak me out.

I'm gonna ask again.

What is your relationship

to Kyle Budwell, ma'am?

Why don't you take a wild guess.

Powell.

Okay, I'll clear a path.

I should've taken that bet after all,

you sack of sh*t.

This is really impressive, Lee.

I mean, talk about market influence.

Do you want to know

why that sh*t didn't work, a**hole?

Because even you don't buy

your own bullshit.

You believe in money.

You don't believe in people.

Lee, they tracked down his girlfriend.

They don't believe in you, either.

His pregnant girlfriend.

- You got to be f***ing joking.

- No, no joke, Lee.

Uh-uh.

Quant.

Quantitative analytics.

Look, I have no idea

what you're saying right now.

Does anybody there speak English?

F***.

I need the other number

for the guy in Moscow.

Yeah, but he gave me another name.

This one's based out of Seoul.

God damn it. Goodloe.

- Sh*t.

- I've got it.

Go get me a phone number.

I'm gonna find a translator.

Amy! Amy! Amy!

Bring your security pass and come with me.

Hurts, doesn't it?

Got your fancy education.

Got your millions in the bank.

Think you got it all made.

You're not such a hot sh*t right now, huh?

You want to sit here

and take stock of our lives, Kyle?

How about we compare scores, hmm?

How about we do that?

Touchscreen. Sh*t, the touchscreen.

All right. We got Kyle and we got Lee.

Let's start with the obvious. Money.

I got some. You don't, I gather.

So, that's a point for me.

Where you going with this, Lee?

But then there's family.

I'm divorced three times.

What about you? You got a wife?

Hmm?

Girlfriend, then?

Sacajawea, Lee.

You got a girlfriend? That's nice.

The magic of young love.

I think we can both agree

that's a point for you,

since the first number on my speed-dial

is an escort service.

- You don't know anything about me.

- I don't need to know about you!

I know about me.

Seven years, three years, 14 months.

The marriages, they get shorter

and they get shorter,

but settlements, they get larger and larger.

Lee?

Look at me, Lee.

Sacajawea.

Hey, Kyle, you see her?

That's Patty, my director,

and she wants me to shut up.

Well, now, she's sick of me, too.

And that's why she took a job

across the street and didn't tell me.

People talk.

They all leave sooner or later, Kyle.

That's just how it works.

So trust me, that's gonna be a point for you.

What about kids?

You got a kid?

Hmm?

One on the way, maybe?

Yeah? She's expecting. It's a blessing.

I have one myself.

She must be six or seven. I have no idea.

I send a check.

Mazel tov on the bundle of joy.

I think we can both agree

that's another f***ing point for you.

So, now, look at this.

Kyle. Oh, my God.

We just got started and you're already ahead.

Just... Just stay wide, Jim.

So let me ask you something, Kyle.

What about your life is so much shittier

than the rest of ours

that you get to

throw in the towel early, hmm?

I want to know.

You got a decent job.

You got two hands and two feet.

You got a goddamn kid on the way!

So before you blow me to kingdom come,

I want you to answer one question.

What makes you such a giant f***ing failure

compared to everybody else?

You really gonna stand there

in your $1,000 suit

and compare scores with me?

Huh?

My honest job pays me $14 an hour,

you cocksucker.

So let's start there.

You know how far $14 an hour

gets you here in New York? Huh?

You know how much of that is left

after I pay my rent and all my f***ing bills?

I keep paddling as hard as I can

just to stay above water.

It takes everything I got!

And that's before the kid gets here.

How the hell am I gonna supposed to

support him, huh?

How am I gonna take care of him?

You'll take great care of him.

He gets to grow up being the kid

whose old man blew himself up on live TV.

- God damn it, Lee.

- He's the goddamn Father of the Year!

Don't you f***ing say

another word about my son

or I'll end this right f***ing now.

You hear me?

- All right.

- You hear me?

You want your brains splattered

all over downtown, Lee, huh?

Mr. Budwell!

Mr. Budwell.

Yeah?

Mr. Budwell, please stand by.

Stand by for what?

Stand by for what?

Hi, Molly. I'm Marcus Powell. Come with me.

You think I don't know what you're doing?

I know what you're doing!

Lee, we're gonna put his girlfriend

onscreen so you can talk to her.

It's all a big stall.

And you're gonna keep

your mouth shut until then.

You hear me?

Sitting up there, trying to figure out

how to keep me

from pulling this f***ing trigger, huh?

Well, this stupid f***'s

gonna make me shoot him in his head,

and there's nothing

you can do about it, lady!

Just remember our only

goal is to get him to put the weapon down.

Jerking me around all f***ing day.

Okay, Matty, go ahead.

- Okay.

- Get in there.

Your 10 minutes were up a long time ago.

Hey. Hey!

You f***ing crazy?

What the f*** are you doing?

Kyle? Are you there?

Okay, circle around, circle around

so you get that girl on camera.

- Kyle? Kyle?

- Molly.

- Can he see me?

- Yeah, I can see you.

- Yeah, he can see you.

- Yeah.

- He's not... Kyle. Kyle?

- Molly.

Yeah, Molly, where are you?

- Are you here? Where is she?

- Kyle?

- Is she outside?

- Can he hear me?

- Molly?

- Kyle.

Yeah?

What are you doing here?

- What am I doing here?

- Yeah.

Kyle, what are you doing here?

Why... I thought you were working today.

God.

You are the dumbest son of a b*tch

on the planet, you know that?

They told me about the money, Kyle.

You are so f***ing stupid.

That was everything we had.

That was every last cent.

You are such a f***ing failure, Kyle,

you know that?

You have always been such a f***ing failure.

- You sat down in the basement all night...

- Molly, just...

...reading your f***ing books, thinking you

are some kind of a smart guy, but you aren't.

You f***ing aren't.

And now you go and you do this?

You blow all your mother's money

like some kind of a halfwit

and then you come in here

with a f***ing bomb?

Turn it off, for Christ's sake!

You hardly even know

how to use a screwdriver!

That is how useless you are

around the house!

And now you're going

and you're building f***ing bombs?

Since when did you become

such a man all of a sudden?

But you're not a man.

- You're a b*tch. That's what you are.

- Turn it off.

You hear me, Kyle? You are a b*tch.

You cry when we f***, you pasty little b*tch!

Get the f*** off me, motherf***er!

- Don't you f***ing touch her. Hey!

- I am seven months' pregnant!

And f*** you, too, Kyle!

This is all your f***ing fault!

Why don't you just get it over with

and shoot yourself in the head already,

you chickenshit!

Come on. Just pull the f***ing trigger!

Pull the f***ing...

Hey.

Kyle.

Back off, guys. Back off a little bit.

Give us some room. Little bit.

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