Romeo Is Bleeding Page #5

Yeah.

Sure.

Why not?

Jesus, Jack! I'm sorry.

You're under arrest.

Careful. He's got a gun.

Jack, you have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say will be held...

Are you kiddin'?

All right, take it easy on him.

Here's a letter from Martie and us.

What? Sorry.

"Dear Jack, what a pisser.

"Here we are,

fighting the bullshit for 15 years,

"and now we find out that

you're part of the bullshit.

"What can we tell you?

You broke our hearts, you dumbest of fucks.

"And we mean that sincerely.

"The boys."

The Monte Carlo?

Party's over, Jack.

Nice place.

You know what I think?

I think she's gonna kill you right here.

You know what she's doin' right now, Jack?

She's downtown

cuttin' herself the deal of the century.

She's gonna walk away scot-free.

Leave you to pay for it all.

Next week at this time,

you're gonna be nothin' but a memory.

If I were you,

I'd cut that deal first.

And in return for

Sergeant Grimaldi's cooperation,

he'll be expecting standard protection

taken for his own personal safety,

the procurement of a new identity

and relocation if necessary.

Congratulations, Mona. Like they say,

never underestimate

the value of cooperation.

What'd she do, f*** the judge?

It's all right, sir. Let him go.

Okay. All right.

You think you can get away with this?

They're slow, Jack.

They're fat and they're slow,

and I'm hungry.

I made the Don and now the Don is dead.

- Some dog'll dig him up.

- Next week.

I never liked you, Jack. You're filth.

Not even when I screwed you,

you poor, stupid f***.

It made me sick.

- You went crazy.

- Never.

- You said you did.

- I lied.

You never got to me. Not for a minute.

You're a dry f***, Jack.

That's what you are.

When I came, you know what

I was thinkin' about? My wife.

Too bad, Jack, 'cause you're never gonna

get a chance to do it to her again.

She's a dead woman,

just like you're a dead man.

So long, Jack.

F***!

Jack! Easy! Easy!

Jack.

No! Hey, whoa.

Well done, Jack.

Good shooting.

Well, in the end, things didn't

work out too badly for me after all.

Did they?

They gave me the police combat cross,

"For his act of self-defense,

one of extraordinary heroism,

"saving the lives of other officers."

They gave me a new residence.

They gave me a new identity.

Jim Daugherty.

May 1st.

That was five years ago to the day.

I guess this is where I came in

to tell you the story of an unlucky guy

who fell in love with a hole

in the ground.

A ghost hauntin' his own grave.

Celebratin' every six months

with the same party,

waitin' for the same guest

of honor to show.

Demarkov? Dead and buried.

Everything I had, finito.

Except that old voice in my head.

Some things you never let go of.

Of course, Natalie,

she wasn't the only guest invited.

Can't be a party without a crowd.

I don't remember much of 'em, really.

Don't remember what I said to 'em,

or what they said to me back.

Don't remember how I felt.

But once in a while, I do remember.

How they looked at me.

Well, I guess she's not gonna make it.

Always next time, though, right?

December 1st.

Nat?

Sometimes, she stays a little longer.

But not too often.

Maybe you think I'm ready to give up,

but that ain't how it is.

She could come walkin'

through that door any day.

'Cause even after all of this,

I bet she still loves me.

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