Odd Job (Un petit boulot) (Un petit boulot)

Hold on a sec.

I feel 20 coming.

Too bad I don't have it.

That's how it's done.

Reading coffee grounds?

No, pastis.

I see you losing big time and going home drunk.

I have a gift.

Got any doubts?

10 euros if I get the next one.

Enough already.

Three.

There you go. Pay up.

- I didn't bet. - What the hell?

- Pure luck. - 20 euros for the next one.

Two can play at this bullshit.

38.

50 euros.

Give me the next number plus the bonus.

All or nothing.

Wise ass.

If you want to lose...

23.

What is this crap?

And the bonus ball...

30.

Two-bit psychic.

- I'm outta here. - Wait!

Let me explain, Jeff.

Liquor makes him dumb.

One last round?

It's on me.

No, it's on Jeff.

Oh, yeah.

Pierrot!

Until I killed Karine Gardot,

that was my shadiest money-making scheme.

Before the factory closed, everything was easy.

So easy. I'd come home tired but satisfied.

Glad to see Cathy and take a nice shower.

Was I happy? No idea.

I paid no attention.

Life was easy, that's all.

Then things fell to pieces.

First, they trimmed the fat.

And when there was no fat left,

they chucked the carcasses and shut the factory.

Ours and others.

ODD JOB

My buddies and I went hunting for jobs.

Our bankers came hunting for money.

Cathy ended up having enough of our shitty lives.

She left.

I felt it coming. But what could I do?

No need to open the envelope.

Or no courage.

Tom lucked out.

Got a job at the gas station for a crap salary.

He helped me out often.

Jeff got mixed up in two-bit scams.

You want free cable? Half price for you.

I sold my screen.

I got some hot ones in my trunk.

No, I'm back into reading.

Wait until I get a job.

You'll be reading for a while. Dumb ass.

Things got tougher.

More and more layoffs.

We took on odd jobs.

Locals got poorer and poorer.

We were ready to take anything.

I want you to kill my wife.

Why me?

You're a nice guy.

You must be kidding.

The kind of guy who needs work

but won't blab, if you say no.

No girlfriend, so no pillow talk.

You're perfect for the job.

Life sucks nowadays and it won't get better.

No time to turn down work.

True, but... there's work and work.

I'm flattered nonetheless.

After 2 years without work,

it's nice meaning something to someone.

This is a job offer.

Pretty rare around here.

I get by.

Good for you.

I guess Tom steals beer for you because you have no change?

Lucky stiff, at least he found work.

Pumping gas for chicken feed.

But he's manager.

Climbing up the social ladder.

You must be green with envy.

All I'm offering is a job for 20,000 euros.

And to wipe out your poker debt.

That leaves you 10,000.

I get by, like I said.

That's great.

Everyone's happy.

The guy who repossessed your bike is happy.

The one who bought your TV is happy too.

Good thing you sold it: they cut your cable.

Only your asshole banker is upset.

And me.

I'm worried.

About what you owe me.

Gardot is always smiling.

That's why I like him.

Old-time thug who lends a hand.

Organizes backroom poker games. It's why I owe him money.

I won't kill her, Gardot. Sorry.

Like pasta?

Depends on the sauce.

It's a deal.

I'll kill your wife.

For the pasta, I'll have 3 cheese.

Carbonara.

Sorry, but why do her in?

Guys in my line can't have wives who cheat.

Mine cheats a lot.

I know for sure.

If I knew who he was, I'd have you waste him instead.

Give our marriage a second chance.

Carbonara for him and 3 cheese for me.

Perfect.

Saturday night I'll go to Deauville.

Go to the house, slip in the back door.

Whack her with the gun I'll give you.

Go home calmly.

- The door will be open? - Broken lock.

Even if you make noise, no one will hear.

Cheers.

Wrap your shoes in rags. No footprints.

And no gunpowder. Wash under your nails.

Keep on acting broke afterwards.

Start placing small bets at the racetrack.

I'll buy you some winning tickets till you reach 10,000.

Carbonara.

3 cheese.

Enjoy.

No problems?

I got it. It'll go fine.

Morally.

No problems morally?

Yes.

Good answer.

Or I'd have known you were lying.

I don't trust liars.

Jacques.

I have some great news.

The cops killed my assistant last night.

The job's yours.

About 1,500 a month.

Great!

Thanks.

- What happened? - He dealt drugs.

When he saw the cop car, he ran out with the alarm pistol.

He came across a cop who saw the gun and fired.

We'll be working together again!

Yesterday I'd have sobbed with relief.

Why take on this fucking hit?

Now I need a phony excuse to miss work on Saturday night.

I didn't realize hired killers needed to think.

Watch out for...

the cameras.

If you want to steal beer or even smoke

there are blind spots.

- Right, Mulot? - Come.

- Blind spot? - Like I said.

Huh?

Watch out here.

There's a camera.

- Where's the monitor? - There.

What?

You can smoke here too. There's no camera!

Deaf as a doorknob!

Is everything clear?

Except for Mulot...

How do you understand him?

I leave it to chance. He's a good kid.

Hey. I gotta take a leak.

- Got a driver now? - I'm no spring chicken.

I bought myself a new car.

Make sure I left it clean in there.

What's your problem?

- I have a favor to ask. - Yeah, what?

- Isn't Tom your buddy? - Yeah, why?

If you say no, don't tell him I asked. I could get fired.

Tuesday and Thursday I work till 8. I can't play soccer.

Micky who got iced covered for me if I left early.

We could do the same thing.

You're comprehensible when you want to be.

Go play soccer. Don't worry.

Great!

Just a second.

I need a favor too.

Saturday night I'm seeing someone.

Back before midnight.