Sneaky Pete

Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?

You remember the night we stole his car?

It was after junior prom?

Do I... Do I remember?

Yeah, do you remember?

I still have a scar on my ass

where my dad lost hold of his belt mid swing.

- Caught me with the buckle. - Bullshit.

- Which part? - The scar.

I think I would have noticed that.

Well, maybe if, you know, we ever got to be naked

with the lights on,

or in a bed, even.

Hey, you think that your dad was pissed because you took the car

or pissed because you took it to be with me?

I think he thought I would die in this car.

That or... Or kill somebody else.

I don't know, man.

Maybe he just watched too many greaser films.

I wonder what he would say if he knew

I got to drive this baby full time after my mom die

in a... in a Cutlass Sierra.

I believe they call that irony.

I gotta get home.

You gonna be okay?

I'm always okay.

God damn it, Shannon.

Grandma, is everything okay?

No, Taylor, it's... It's me, Pete.

Christ.

Every time I see this number, I think something bad happened,

you know, Grandpa had another stroke or something.

Taylor, look the reason why I'm calling

is that I... I feel bad about the way

we left things this afternoon,

and I was just wondering if buying you a beer would be,

you know, an acceptable apology.

Foreign or domestic?

Ah, the ravishing Karolina.

Have I told you the palace I would build for us in Mumbai?

I saw a show last week

made it seem like Mumbai is all billionaires

and trash pickers.

You say that like it's a bad thing.

Well...

I take it you prefer the worker's paradise of your youth?

All I remember of Warsaw is people standing in line.

Ah, Mr. Mukherjee.

Nice of you to find the time to return to our tables.

You see, Wali, this country is not yet lost to the Kardashians.

There are still some here who know how to show some respect.

This way.

Where's my main man Eddie?

Family emergency, I'm afraid.

Sorry to hear.

- Hope you'll give him my best. - Of course I will.

Okay. We'll get you sorted out with chips.

And of course...

Pappy Van Winkle.

A lovely gesture...

but I'm afraid my trainer has made me promise to abstain.

You see, if I let myself get fat,

then the girls will only want me for my money.

Well, I'll leave you to your game then, huh?

For the whiskey.

Don't tell me your margins are such

that you can afford to buy liquor that never gets drunk.

So for the last couple of months,

I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You know, like, "What's he gonna do when he finds out?"

- Right? - Cut off yourdick.

Yeah, and so when you put the...

The hood over my head and I couldn't breathe...

You thought your nightmare was coming true.

Yeah. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I don't deserve it.

Oh, that's bullshit, man.

You didn't betray anybody.

She's the one who broke her promises, not you.

That's between her and her cuckold husband.

You don't owe him shit. You don't owe him anything.

- Well... - You ever even met the guy?

Oh, no, no. I'd feel even more like a shit heel.

Not to mention, what if he reads it on me, right?

No, no. Way harder to look inside someone else's head than you think.

Anyways, the point is is that

without being aware of my situation,

You couldn't have known how I would have reacted

to being renditioned or whatever, you know?

So I just wanted to apologize for the way I reacted, okay?

All right.

I appreciate it, Pete. I do. Look...

But if anyone should be apologizing, it's me.

- What? - Yeah. No, I...

Grandma always says I got this problem

with impulse control.

Probably what's holding me back from making rank,

even more than the test-taking stuff.

Got these...

Got these strategies I'm supposed to use.

Like, stop and think,

or, um, emotional regulation, like that.

It's way harder in the moment to do it.

- It's hard. - You know?

I gotta hit the head.

Never leave your shit in this bar.

- Just a little taste of the ear? - I don't like that.

- Tongue in the ear? - No, I don't...

No?

Fuck you.

- You okay to drive? - A-okay.

Hold on just a second. I gotta open your door.

Here.

- Hey, Taylor. - Uh-huh?

You got a flat tire.

- What? - You got a flat tire.

Yeah, looks like you ran over a nail or something.

- Fuck. - Hey, give me the keys.

I'll go in the trunk and get the spare and the jack.

That's not a nail. The hole's too long and flat.

- Fuckin' knife cut. - Yeah, whatever.

- Give me the keys... - Hey!

- What are you doing? - Hey, assholes!

Fuck you talking to, man?

-I'm talking to the only assholes I see. - We know you're a cop.

That badge you dying to pull out your back pocket

- don't entitle you to talk which way. - Give us one second, pal.

- Taylor. - Get your fuckin' hand off me, Pete.

You wanna come take a look at something for me? Hmm?

You wanna tell me how this got over here?

You seriously threatening to bust us over weed in 20-motherfucking-16?

You'll know when I'm threatening you.

I'm just asking how your roach came by my car

and what you might know about how my tire came to be flat.

- Guys. - Well, I'm stumped, Officer.

Tell you what. If you Agatha Christie yourself to the bottom of this,

you come back here and tell me who done it.

Meanwhile, why don't you take that roach

and shove it up your ass?

- Shove it up my ass? - Yeah. Right up in there.

Just give me a sec to move my dick out the way.

How about instead I go talk to your foster mom,

see how she feels about buying me a new set of whitewalls?

- Fuck makes you think I was in foster care? - Just playing the odds.

Tell you what. I can't help with the tire thing,

but I'd be happy to help you solve the case of the busted headlight.

No, no, no! Taylor! Taylor!

No, no, no! Taylor!

Stop it! Taylor! Taylor! Taylor!

Fuck you!

You really expect me to believe you stuck it out with eight nine?

Call me on the flop or the turn.

Bullshit. I'm all in.

That is $19,000.

Sir?

Call.

It's a straight, ten high.

Trip sevens. Straight takes it.

Unless it's a bluff,

never make a bet that can only be called by hands that beat you.

Second lesson:

Call on every street-chasin' bullshit,

suck out by hitting the nuts on the river.

If you want me to fold, my friend, you'll have to bet more.

- Ain't your friend. - And yet you've given me so much money.

You keep him around so you can run your mouth,

not have to worry about getting stomped?

Seems to work so far.

Yeah. Except we all have to check our straps at the door.

So what if something pops off in here?

'Cause hand-to-hand,

I will put an old-fashioned country ass-whuppin'

on any curry-stinkin' slumdog bitchboy that ever lived.

Calm down.

Go for a walk, Hector. Cool off.

Fuck that. I'm fine.

Tweaked my back this morning at the gym.

My preference would be to walk you out,

but I don't have to.

Mr. Mukherjee, my apologies for his behavior.

I can promise you it won't happen again.

I'll talk to him. Ladies and gentlemen,

I apologize for the disruption.

What I tell you about bringing that street shit in here?

Motherfucker gets under my skin.

It doesn't give you the right to disrespect my place.

You're right man. That's my bad.

Okay, so it's squashed. I got your word.

Squashed? Ain't shit squashed.

But I promise I'll handle it on the outside.

No.

What you mean, "No"?

I mean, you wanna shoot somebody,

every time you take a bad beat,

then you can go back to throwing bones

in the alley with your corner boys.

I'm sorry, Vince.

I respect you. I respect your place.

But you hold your stress in too long, it rots out your insides.

So I am gonna get my payback on that red dot motherfucker.

He can't stay in here forever.