Harlem Nights

- I got Mr Raymond's cigarettes. - Go on in the back.

Kid, give me my cigarettes.

Wait, wait, wait! Hold it.

What's this kid doing here? Get out before I kick your little ass.

You ain't kicking shit.

Don't worry about him. He runs errands for me.

I don't care who he is or what he does. Kids bring me bad luck.

The bet is fading. Stop talking and shoot the dice. You're fucking up the game.

I ain't shooting shit. I told you kids bring me bad luck. I can't stand them.

Now, get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass.

You ain't whupping shit. Shoot the dice, you snaggle-toothed motherfucker.

All right, I'm going to shoot.

But I'd better not crap. That's all I know, I'd better not crap.

Come on, 6. I've been waiting all night. Baby needs shoes, new clothes.

- And you need some teeth. - Shoot the goddamn dice, man!

I'm going to shoot the damn dice. I'll send every one of you home broke.

Come on, 6, with your bad ass. Come on!

Craps!

What are you doing with this kid in here? Didn't I say they're bad luck?

What's that sign say? 'Ray's Place'. That's me. This is my place.

I have in here whoever I want.

You lost. So pass the dice, or buy them from this motherfucker.

- And I ain't selling. - I ain't buying.

I'm going to shoot this again and you're going to get this kid out of here.

What the fuck is wrong with you? Man, look, you shot, you lost.

We'd have paid you if you won, but you lost.

Now, go home and brush that tooth.

You think that's funny?

I told you I couldn't stand kids in the room.

- They're bad luck. You wouldn't listen. - I'm listening.

Listen to this.

I want back all the money I lost tonight plus what you took in.

Do you understand me, you smooth-talking son of a bitch?

Tell that old frog-faced dude to go out there and bring back the money.

Tell him, or I'll stick your ass, and I'm going to stick him,

and I'll stick this little Yankee ass, bad-luck motherfucker standing here.

Then you'll have to stick us because I ain't giving you shit.

Wait! Before you do, I just want to tell you one thing.

Tell me what, punk? What the fuck do you want to tell me?

What do you want to tell me?

- It slips my mind. - Slips your mind?

Holy shit!

Goddamn. I guess he does have bad luck with kids.

He was going to stab us, so I shot him.

Bennie, Slim, Moses, would you help get this dead motherfucker out, please?

The game's over for tonight. I'm taking this boy home to his mother.

My mama's dead.

- Well, your daddy. - My father's dead, too.

- Did you kill them? - No, they're just dead.

Give me that pistol. Where do you stay?

- I don't live nowhere. - You can stay with me for a while.

I wouldn't trust him in the house.

- He's all right. Give me five! - I ain't giving you shit.

He's one hell of a motherfucker.

Come on.

- I'll clean up. - Please.

So you shot him. How about some ice cream?

CLUB SUGAR RA Y

- Ray, look. Tommy is coming. - Where?

- Over there. - Oh, shit!

- Mr Smalls, good evening. - My man. How are you doing, brother?

- Thank you. - Do you want me to kick his ass?

No, don't kick his ass. Thank you, Roberto.

It looks like the competition has stopped by to check us out.

That's Tommy Smalls. He runs the Pitty Pat Club.

I know that's Smalls, but who's that girl with him? She is beautiful.

Wait a minute. Don't mess around with her.

That's the mistress of a famous gangster named Bugsy Calhoune.

That's Calhoune's girl?

I heard about her.

What would a woman that fine want with a fat, nasty, greasy,

fat, stank, bloated,

cheesy-backed, twelve-sandwich-eating bastard like him?

Maybe she likes fat guys. Want to check them out?

I think I will.

Just check her out. I mean, don't fuck with her. You'll get in trouble.

- May I be of some assistance? - No, no. Not at all, Mr Quick.

We're just enjoying the night out.

- You boys ain't open tonight? - We wanted a change of atmosphere.

I'm sure you understand that, Mr Quick.

My name is Quick.

My name is Dominique La Rue, Mr Quick.

- Charmed to make your acquaintance. - La Rue, that's a French name, right?

Creole. Born and raised in Louisiana.

Is that right?

- Tommy Smalls. - Sugar Ray.

How's the laugh? I don't believe we've met.

- Dominique La Rue. - Tommy, would you like a table?

Please. Thank you very much.

Curtis! Get Mr Smalls and his party one of our best tables.

You got it, sir. Right this way.

- Didn't I ask you not to mess with her? - I just said hi.

I know, but you got a way of saying hi. Just check them out.

All right. I'm cool.

Ray, I think you'd better go over to Bennie's crap table.

- People are complaining about him. - Why?

- His glasses. - I got them yesterday.

I know, but he won't wear them. He says he don't need to.

No more bets. The dice are coming out. Let them roll.

- The point is four. - It was seven, man!

I'm sorry, forgive me. That's a seven. Pay everybody. All right.

Dice coming out. Get your bets down. All right, shake them up.

- Five is the point. - Five? That is a nine, man!

I've got something in my eye.

- Get it out, you blind motherfucker! - No more 'motherfuckers', you hear?

We're going to shoot the dice now. Get your bets down.

- Eleven. - What's the matter with you?

That's six, man!

- Don't scream. - What are you doing?

- How's it going, Bennie? - Real good.

Wally, take over for Bennie. I want to speak to him.

Gentlemen, enjoy the game.

- How's it going? - Real good.

I'm getting complaints.

That's them suckers losing their money. I'm Bennie 'Snake Eyes' Wilson.

I can call the dice before they roll. Done it for 40 years.

I know, Snake Eyes, but put on your glasses.

- I don't need no glasses. - I know. Just do me a favour.

- Yes, there you go. You look good. - I don't feel no different.

Well, let's try it.

- Enjoy the game, gentlemen. - Fuck you all, man.

It doesn't make sense, Bugs.

What's that, Tony? What doesn't make sense?

Business isn't great, but the crowd is the same the last two weeks,

yet we're not clearing what we used to.

It makes sense. Smalls is skimming off the top.

- He doesn't have the balls. - Don't underestimate Tommy.

He's got huge balls, big fucking huge balls.

But he's stupid.

All told, he beat me for five grand last month. Check.

Smalls wouldn't do that. I hand-picked him myself.

You made a mistake with him. A big mistake.

You hand-picked him?

I guess that makes you kind of responsible.

- Tell me about Sugar Ray's. - I figure he's pulling in 10, 15 a week.

- Does he run it alone? - His son's with him. His name's Quick.

Checkmate.

Is that right?

I think we should have Mr Cantone pay Mr Sugar Ray a visit.

Kind of feel him out.

We have to get rid of his establishment. It's hurting my business.

- It's done. I'll call Cantone right now. - Wait a minute.

About Tommy Smalls. You brought him to me, so the money I lost is your fault.

Come here.

Put your hand on the edge.

Nobody steals from me.

The next time you bring somebody crooked in, I'm going to fucking kill you.

- Understand? - Yes.

Let Joey take a look at it.

- Joey, is it broke? - Yes, it's broke pretty good.

- How's your right hand? OK? - It's OK.

Good. I want you to take care of Smalls as soon as possible.

Take care of your bad hand first,

then take your good hand and cut Tommy's throat

from here...

...to here.

700 at the bar, 1,300 at the crap tables.

- What did we do on the door? - About 300.

- Vera hasn't brought the girl's money. - Go tell Vera to bring her ass in here.

What is wrong with her, Sugar?

- What's with Tommy Smalls? - I don't know. I put Romeo on him.

Nothing much, he had a few drinks,

dropped 200 at the crap table, made a phone call and left.

- Don't worry. - I'm not worried, just a little concerned.

Calhoune's number-one boy drops by to snoop a little bit.

That makes me uncomfortable. You guys keep your eyes out, OK?

Vera, you know we tally up at 4 o'clock. What is your problem?

Kiss my ass. I have to watch my girls until the last trick is gone.

I won't ask a customer to roll over so I can punch a goddamn clock.

This is your place, but I am in charge of the girls. Just kiss my ass.

Sugar, stop doing that. Don't do that.

- How did we do tonight? - We made 200.

200? You girls have been back there all night. How come only 200?

Kiss my ass. I say nothing when the crap tables and the bar are short.

That's because just the girls come up short.

- Calm down, Vera. - Kiss my ass. What's Quick saying?

- You're in charge of the girls, right? - I am in charge of the girls.

- Are you in charge of the girls? - I am.

The girls are always coming up short.

Even when the place is packed the girls come up short.

Either you or them have a problem with arithmetic.

Are you saying I'm stealing?

The man didn't say that. Sit down and shut up.

You shut up, Bennie. I'd tell you to kiss my ass, but you're too blind to find it.

Fuck you, bitch.

- Me and you got to step out back. - It was a misunderstanding.

No, it ain't no misunderstanding. Quick just accused me of stealing.

If you want to defend Quick, then we can all be fighting tonight.

Bring your ass, nigger. Come on.

Bring your ass. Get up and come on.

All right, bitch, you want to fight? We'll fight, then.

You fat motherfucker, I'm tired of your shit!

I'm going to beat the shit out of your ass.

Don't hold me, Sugar. No, Sugar, let me go!

- Just scaring her a little. Don't hold me! - You fucking with a heavyweight.

Treating me like I'm some kind of dog. I'll kick his ass.

Come on. Come on!

Come on. Don't you want to talk?

You've insulted me and I've got to kick your ass.

And afterwards I don't want no hard feelings.