Down to the Felt

Hey.

- Close your eyes. - Come on.

Close...

...your eyes.

Paulie, your father knew when to fold.

Well, I'll tell you something, Georgie.

I'm not my father.

Paul, $40,000?

The down payment on the house?

Uh, you know what?

I, I can't, I can't do this anymore.

Paulie, it's Seamus. What the hell is going on?

I got Jimmy Good Hair breathing down my neck

about the bet you got for tonight's game.

Call me, or get your ass over here.

This message is for Paul Murphy.

This is the Columbus Collection Agency

regarding an outstanding balance on your account.

Please contact us to discuss payment options

to avoid further action.

We're done! That's it!

If, if you want your shit,

it'll be in the dumpster, on fire,

just like your life!

Hey, Paulie, it's Burt.

Hey, I hope you're on your way, man.

Marcy's looking for you.

And I don't think

it's about a raise.

-Hey, Paulie. -Burt.

So you got any money left to bet the game this weekend?

How do you--

I'm sorry, man.

Couldn't resist. Word got out fast.

-It was a bad beat? -Oh, God, in the history

- of bad beat. - Murphy.

Nice of you to make it in on time.

Oh, no, you didn't. Again.

-I, uh-- Traffic. -You know,

maybe I should play poker.

I can read you like a fuckin' book, Murphy.

When you win, you're early, and when you lose, you're late.

I think that's called a "tell." Do I have that right?

You know, Marcy, I gotta tell you, your father's pep talks

were far more effective. Can I please just get to work?

You have to be the unluckiest son of a bitch I know.

God knows what my father saw in you.

I was just starting to think the same thing about you.

- Hey, Paulie. Lettuce is here. - You're goddamn right it is.

Come have a good look, Marcy, 'cause you're about to see

how a bet pays off.

Mexican lettuce. It's got no legs.

Un-fucking-believable.

Okay, you know what?

Let me just get on the phone with Santos

and fix this, okay? He fucked us.

You're not calling anyone.

Santos didn't fuck us.

He fucked you, and then you fucked us.

-Okay, Marcy, just give me-- -No, Paul. I am sick and tired

of you treating my family's business like

your own fucking line of credit at the casino.

It's the goddamn peaches all over again!

That wasn't my fault. They put 'em on the wrong truck.

- Oh. -And besides, your dad gave me a pass on that.

Oh, yeah, I remember. And I also remember thinking

that he should have fired your dumb ass.

But for some reason, my father loved you.

Maybe because you ate with him, drank with him,

-played cards with him-- -Yeah, or maybe he wishes

I was running this place, but,

hey, you got the right last name.

You know, before my father died,

he made me promise to keep you on,

and I did. Out of respect.

But I never promised how long.

Working here for as long as you have

is probably the best fucking run you'll ever have.

But now it's over.

Pack your shit and go.

Oh, and take all the lettuce you want.

Sanfillipo's gift for your years of disservice.

Maybe stay away from football this weekend.

What the fuck?

Oh, fuck!

Seamus.

Mr. Four-of-a-kind.

-You heard. -Yeah.

The Greek won't shut up about it.

Keeps talking about how he's gonna open up

a second location with your money.

Well, it was a bad beat.

Yeah.

You know what goes along with a bad beat?

Bad luck.

Come on. Let's get inside.

All right.

You still got ten large

riding on the Knicks game with Jimmy Good Hair.

You want me to call it off, right?

No. No, no, no. Leave it.

Are you sure?

Yeah. I'm sure.

-Oh, Christ. -Wh-- what?

Your old man knew when to fold and--

How many times do I have to hear

what my old man would have done?

You know what?

-Double it. Double it. -Oh, Paulie, come on.

-Double it. Double it, Seamus! -You are in the woods here.

-You just lost 40 grand to the Greek. -Okay, you don't wanna do it,

-that's fine. There's other bookies in this town. -You wanna go another 20

-with Jimmy Good Hair? -I can go to another bookie.

You gonna do it or not?

I shouldn't.

I hope you know what you're doing.

You know what? I don't.

Are you gonna do it or not?

Thank you.

And, uh, now I have a favor to ask.

Oh, jeez.

You got fucking balls, kid. I'll give you that much.

I need a place to stay.

Just for a couple of days. Come on, Seamus.

-Just for a couple of days. -Nah, until

it turns into a couple of weeks.

No. You ain't staying here.

Well, where am I supposed to go?

Dreams really do come true.

My adult son moving back in with me.

-Good to see you too, Ma. -Yeah.

Smoking again, huh?

It started back on today.

Coincidence?

You should quit, Angie.

Those things are gonna kill you.

When?

Oh.

Wow.

Mm.

Ah.

Jordan. Jesus, that guy was money in the bank.

-Yeah, now you got LeBron. -Nah, nah.

Jordan was with the Bulls for 13 years.

I like commitment.

What, uh, no Pamela Anderson?

Ah, no, this lady made me take it down.

Thought I was gonna jerk my youth away.

Oh, don't be disgusting.

You could see her nipple, for God's sake.

- Who do you think changed his sheets back then?

And I ain't gonna start changing 'em now.

I don't know what you did to that nice girl Jeanette.

-Wynette, Ma. Wynette. -Whatever.

- I don't know what you did to get tossed out...

...but if you start pulling that same crap under my roof, mister,

you're gonna get a room at the Y.

Capiche?

All right, buddy. Always good to see you, Angie.

Yeah, always good to see you, Seamus.

And don't be a stranger. Come by anytime you want.

If you want a cookie, you better get one now.

I'm gonna put 'em away.

You be a good boy.

Paulie, shut the door. You're letting the air out.

What are you doing?

Looking for a seven-letter word for "bothered."

Starts with an A.

"Annoyed."

An...

Perfect.

Ma, where's your bread?

I still have to work 20 hours a week at the bakery.

You think I wanna come home and make more bread?

Stop bothering me.

There's a loaf of store-bought in the box.

Yeah, yeah, I know.

What happened?

-I thought you didn't want me to bother you. -Yeah, well,

that ship sailed the day you were born.

Why'd you get fired?

-Marcy Sanfillipo's had it out for me forever. -Oh, Paulie...

-Ever since her dad died. -...what did you do?

-Why's it always got to be something I did? -Look, you can say

what you want about Marcy Sanfillipo,

but you and I both know she wouldn't fire you for no reason.

-Did you steal money? -Ma!

-Well, then what did you do? -I had a chance to make a sweet deal

-and it went south. -You gambled.

Okay, yeah. Here we go.

Yeah, Ma. That's right.

Everything I do is a bet.

Everything I do is a gamble.

It was a good deal.

Oh, God.

"A good deal."

You know how many times I heard that from your father?

God rest his soul.

The car we didn't need.

The extra fridge out in the garage