Vendeta

Anybody here?

It needs to be sold by Friday.

- But today’s Wednesday. - I know.

Well, I’ll call my associate who handles fast sales.

The flat’s worth six million.

- Agreed. - I’ll sell it for four.

- Four? - Half by Friday.

The rest within two weeks.

I’ve downloaded all their albums. I’ll burn them for you.

Thanks.

How did the history test go?

Fine, I think. I studied yesterday, so...

I’m screwed. I hope she’ll feel sorry for me and give me a “D.”

What if she goes to the cops?

I’ll just laugh in their faces then.

Are you stupid? How old are you, fatso?

Fourteen.

The cops can’t arrest you until you’re fifteen. Get going!

- Is it still far? - We’re almost there.

I told Dad I’d be home after 6.

You will. Hope you didn’t tell him though.

No. It’ll be a surprise.

- Is the photo shoot really here? - Yeah. I said it was an old factory.

But this is an absolute dump!

Hurry, fatso!

Try to relax. My uncle will kill me if you’re uptight.

You did tell him I’d never modelled before, didn’t you?

- Well... - Jerk!

What was I supposed to say? You would’ve lost the job.

I’m doing this for you. So you can make some money.

I’m sorry. But what if he can tell?

He won’t. I know a few tricks. Come on.

Voila!

This is it! My uncle’s favourite place.

- So you have to take an oath. - An oath?

- To keep this a secret. - Stop making fun of me, Tomas!

Repeat after me.

I swear.

Come on.

I swear.

To keep this place a secret.

To keep this place a secret.

Great. Now I’ll teach you how to model.

- It’s a crash course. - A crash course? - Yeah.

Lesson one is called “Posing and Smiling for the Camera.”

- Are you my teacher now? - This is the catwalk.

You’re a model. I’m a photographer.

Ladies and gentlemen, here comes one of our top models.

Her face, hair and body. Gorgeous. Need I say more?

Bravo! You see?

Great! My uncle will love it.

Show me.

- It cost five hundred. - So? You stole it from your Mum anyway.

That’s enough!

Bravo! Tell us something about yourself, please.

Stop it!

Don’t turn down a TV interview.

- What’s your name? - Hana Pochmanova.

- Age? - Fourteen.

What do you want to be?

Certainly not a model.

That’s a shame.

As soft as Moravcova’s tits.

You’ve touched them?

Just like everyone else.

- She let you do it? - Why not?

I walked up behind her and grabbed her tits like this.

Do you even know how to do it?

Like this.

I meant fucking, you idiot!

Of course I do.

- Got a rubber? - Yeah.

He should be here by now, shouldn’t he?

He sent me a text a while ago. He’s fifteen minutes late.

- Are you nervous? - A little.

- Can I see? - Sure.

Wow!

It’s beautiful. How much did it cost?

No idea. Dad gave it to me.

Why do you never wear this to school?

- Do you think I’m crazy? - You’d be the school’s Beauty Queen.

Put it on.

Now? I’ll freeze.

C’mon. You can wear something over it.

Where can I change here?

I don't know...

How about here?

Or over there.

Over there then.

But...

I’ll stay here.

I promise.

You’re gorgeous.

What’re you doing here?

I thought you might need help.

Thanks. I can do it myself.

Why? Are you shy in front of me?

- I’m getting dressed! - Am I stopping you?

Yes.

I’m just looking.

Would you prefer if I touched you?

My uncle.

Hi! We’re at that factory.

Gee. Sorry. OK. We’re coming.

Shit.

This is the wrong place.

What is it again?

- You said he was here. - He is.

Where’s his car then? I didn’t see it outside.

I don’t know. He must’ve parked on the other side.

Can I talk to him?

- Are you OK? - Can I talk to him?

Sure. Why not? He’s upstairs.

Two floors up.

Can you call him?

- Is everything OK? - Just call him!

Sure.

- But why? He’s upstairs. - You’re such an idiot.

Shit.

- Wait! Don’t be crazy! - Leave me alone.

- I’m not doing anything. How’ll you get home? - Don’t worry about it.

You don’t know the way. Let’s go back. I’ll take you home. I’m talking to you!

What would you say to me up there? That it was a joke? That I’m stupid?

- You won’t treat me like this! - That hurts!

We’re going back. Got it?

- Let me go! - Shut up, you bitch!

Hi, Mum!

I’m playing football with the guys. I’ll be home late.

I know I promised. But I won’t make it today.

- Help! - Shut up!

Shut up, you bitch!

- What’s wrong? - Shit. You said she’d want it.

You said you’d be tough and tape her with the phone.

- I know. - Then what’s wrong?

Nothing. I just thought she’d want it.

She changed her mind.

- How about going back home? - Shut the fuck up!

We can’t chicken out now.

We’ll record her with the phone. She won’t tell anyone. It’s perfect.

That’s it. High five.

- Won’t her Dad notice? - I don’t know.

We’ll get her a motel room. She’ll call home and pull herself together.

We might do her again.

No turning back now.

- OK. - Yeah.

We’re cool.

Move it, fatso!

- Give me twenty minutes. - Hang on! Why are you first?

Don’t you get it? Whose idea was this? Mine.

And who got the car? My brother would kill me if he found out!

- Fuck the car! - I’m going home now.

- What? - I have to be home by five.

What a load of shit!

- Sorry, guys. - You want to go home, fatso?

- Take off your pants. - Why?

So you can jerk off.

Take off your fucking pants!

Hurry, you fuck!

- What’re you doing? - Recording you on the phone.

Why?

Cause you’re a fucker who breaks promises.

- I’ll play it for the whole school in the morning. - Stop it. I’ll stay.

- What? - I’ll stay.

- I can’t hear you! - I’ll stay here!

Rock-paper-scissors.

Fine.

Scissors mean first fuck.

Yes!

Come on, fatso!

I swear. Try anything and you’ll be sorry.

I promise you’ll never forget this.

Who might that be?

Daddy.

Your daughter’s busy right now.

Goodbye.

I understand.

Really.

A horrific thing happened to your daughter.

But life goes on.

Find a hobby.

The boys have to live with this.

They failed their families. Their parents.

That’s their punishment.

If you’re interested, I know an excellent psychologist.

Listen, they come from good families.

They have excellent references.

We can’t ruin their lives. That won’t help anyone.

A word of advice.

Try and forgive them. Otherwise it’ll drive you mad.

Or should we send them to a borstal and turn them into criminals?

Here.

I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.

Last time you looked scared.

I still wasn’t sure back then.

And now?

I am.

I said it’d cost a fortune.

I know that.

I added up all the risks involved.

It’ll cost four million.