Never Die Alone Page #3

He asked only one thing-- that you|take care of the expenses of his burial.

Of course, you'll be notified|when we release the body.

Now, ordinarily, in a homicide...

we're supposed to fill out|a police report...

turn over personal effects|to the authorities.

But, you know, that--|that can get complicated.

Of course.

Very well. I'm glad we got this|straightened out.

What do we say if someone|gives us a present?

- Thank you, daddy.|- That's right, baby.

All right, sugar.|Now it's your turn.

Yeah, you like that, huh?

Don't give you no cavities either.

Save some money on those dentist bills.

You know what I'm sayin'?

Daddy got somethin' hard|for both of y'all, but it ain't candy.

You wanna see?

- Who the f*** is that?|- This important.

Sh*t.|It better be important.

Be right back, baby.

- Rockie, what's up, man?|- I just got word from the hospital.

- David passed 1 0 past 7:00.|- That's good.

Somebody took him there,|left him in the car.

Now, what if David talked?

- Who?|- A white kid.

White kid.

Well, make some calls|and handle it for me.

It's Mom. How'd your big job interview go?

Did you get it?

It's Nancy.|We're still on for tonight, right?

Give me a call, okay? Bye.

Mr. Paskoff,|this is Phillip Waters, Sun-Telegram.

I hope I didn't give you the wrong|impression in our meeting today.

Your writing samples are top-notch...

and I'm genuinely interested in seeing what|kind of story you can come up with for us.

I'll see you on Friday.

The Autobiography of a King.

Chapter One. "The Getaway."

Today|is the first day of the rest of my life.

I copped my stash from Moon. Now it's time|to wave good-bye to that motherf***er.

I was gonna stick around|till Mother's Day.

I figured some of my b*tches would have|some extra cash for a n*gger, you know...

along with those government checks.

But that stupid b*tch Edna|f***ed that up.

Had to make the phone call,|screaming her f***in' head off.

Well, you know, sh*t happens.

Anyway, plan's still on track.

Been long months of footwork for Moon,|slowly gainin' his trust.

It finally paid off. Had him front me|a half a brick on consignment.

Dummy.

What the f***|was that n*gger thinkin'?

Definitely not|what I was thinkin;

- You know--|- Hold-- Hold it!

- I got it. I got it.|- Moon will be lookin' for a n*gger.

No doubt about that. And I'm sure|the pigs is gonna be on my ass too...

thanks to my little, uh,|misunderstanding with Edna.

But f*** you, and good luck|tryin'to find me.

Everything's been|buildin'up to this point--

gettin' outta this hellhole|and reinventin' myself.

L.A., here I come.

Whoever said there was no such thing|as a second chance in life...

was a stupid motherf***er.

This is America.

All you need is a dream|and the will to make it happen.

It feels good havin' a clean slate.

Got the world on the half-shell|with lemon and hot sauce.

Folks out here better get ready,|'cause they ain't gonna know what the fu--

- Hello. Nancy.|- You're still there? Do you know what tonight is?

I know it's our anniversary. You are not|gonna believe what I experienced today.

You're still at work.|You don't hear me complaining.

Because I'm waiting for you|to f***in' pick me up!

- You know what? I don't wanna hear it.|- I'm sorry.

I'll explain it all when I get there. Plea--

Good-bye!

- Rockie, you heard anything?|- Not a word.

Jesus Christ.|Ain't this a b*tch? Goddamn!

This sh*t--|This sh*t is f***ed up.

I got plans, me and the twins, to go hear|this singer I'm thinkin'about signing...

and all this sh*t with Mike--

- So how you wanna play it, boss?|- If that bastard Mike...

is breathin' out there anywhere...

I want him taken care of.

And the white boy witness motherf***er--|I want him taken care of too.

I cannot have this sh*t come back|and bite me in my goddamn ass.

Everything I've worked for-- everything--|can come tumblin' down on our f***in' heads.

Sh*t. You runnin' sh*t. Handle it.

This is Mike.|Leave a message. I'll get back to you.

- You didn't go to the police?|- Please, Nancy, keep it down.

No, I will not keep it down.

A pimp bled to death|in that-- that thing...

and you're acting like everything's|just fine and dandy.

I can't explain it.

If you just could've been there.|He had this... nobility.

- ''Nobility''?|- I need to find out why this man died.

- For my story.|- Your story.

Do-- Do you even hear|what you're saying?

This is not a rap video|or a Quentin Tarantino movie, Paul.

This is real life, your life.

Your whole slumming thing,|you staying uptown in that hellhole...

when you could be living|down here with me--

- I've put up with it.|- That's a cheap shot, Nancy.

What? ''Slumming''?|I'm sorry. I forgot.

You're a serious artist injecting|yourself into an exotic milieu...

for research purposes.|Isn't that how you once put it?

So, what, is, um--|Is dating me a part of your research?

Call me when you get a life.

Snatched up a little crib near the beach.

Figured I'd check sh*t out for a few days...

before settin'up shop,|see if I could make some connections.

I made a connection, all right.

So, you ready to go again?

Are you?

Yeah.

Her name was Janet.

I ain't been in Cali but 24 hours...

and already copped me a white broad|look like a motherfuckin' movie star...

or TV anyway.

The show is called Surf Beat.

My character's Pepper.

She's the scatterbrained|but lovable associate...

at the Zuma Beach Detective Agency.

Gotta be serious money in that.

Oh, it's not as good as it sounds, sweetie.

It's just cable and...|it's only reoccurring.

Oh! Watch out,|watch out, watch out!

- Those are the new shoes you got.|- I know.

Can we go back to the hotel|and do some more blow?

Oh, damn, David.

This is strong.|Maybe you oughta cut it.

The stupid b*tch|ain't even know the difference...

between coke and heroin.

F***. It's all I had, and I didn't|have the heart to tell her.

Oh, well, she'd find out eventually.

They always do.

Within a few weeks,|business was boomin!

Everybody wanted what I had to offer.

I ain't even have to act|like it was coke no more. As for Janet--

Cut! Cut, cut, cut. Geez!

- Let's do another one.|- She wasn't doin' too hot.

What's the matter, honey? You just|can't seem to get any energy goin' here.

Hey! We need you for the shot.

- She still had her job though.|- A**hole.

Yo. Janet had it bad,|but I took care of her.

After all, she was really good about|hookin' me up with her coworkers.

Sometimes I'd get|a kick out of just watchin' the show...

and wonderin' if the rest of the world|could tell which members of the cast were strung out.

Just lookin' at the motherfuckers|made me laugh...

'cause I knew I could bring|their whole world crumblin' down...

whenever I felt like pullin' the string.

- You're a f***in' a**hole.|- Yeah, but you can't live without me.

Oh, really?

I used to think that you livin' in L.A.|for too long would give you a big head.

- Thank God, I was wrong.|- But what would you do without me?

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