Green 88!
That ends the first half of play...
... with the score: Cleveland 17, Los Angeles 10.
Let's go! Move!
Billy Cole!
The first half stunk!
Open the holes up! Get in there like pigs!
Billy Cole.
You've got a call on line 3.
Let's kick some butt. Let's get out of this town with a winner!
I hate Cleveland!
Hello?
Hello, William. This is Milo.
There's a lot of money on this game tonight.
You better start scoring some touchdowns.
Just do whatever it takes. Understood?
Or else you're history.
Welcome back with the second half. We're in Cleveland...
... for tonight's confrontation between the L.A. Stallions and Cleveland Cats.
I'm Vern Lundquist with Dick Butkus. And yes, friends...
... it really is that wet.
Vern, even though the Stallions trail 17-10...
...there walks a happy man, Sheldon Marcone, owner of the L.A. Stallions.
His team tops the Western Division at 6-2.
Sheldon is with Lynn Swann now.
-Let's go to them. - 29,256.
That's pretty poor attendance, even for a night like this, wouldn't you say?
I wouldn't say Lynn.
Perhaps you could explain the drop-off in attendance and TV ratings.
Are we witnessing the death of professional football?
No, all I think we're witnessing is the death of good journalism, Lynn.
Are there any heroes left in the game?
What game are you watching? Let's talk about heroes.
Billy Cole is having the game of his life out there tonight.
First and 10 at the Cleveland 47-yard line.
First and 10, 2 minutes left. It's probably L.A. 's final possession.
L.A. needs 7. A field goal will not do.
You've got to be thinking: "Get the ball to Billy Cole. "
The pass is complete to Billy Cole!
Ain't life a bitch?
Dude's trashed.
We should do something to him.
Do it.
This dude is really trashed.
Go on. Take his watch.
He's got a gun!
This is Hallenbeck Investigations. Leave your message at the beep.
Joe! Mike Matthews. I got a job for you.
Hold on a minute.
I thought you were in Vegas. I was going to leave a message.
You sound terrific.
I think I fucked a squirrel to death.
You still taking charity?
- What you got? - Stripper. Excuse me, exotic dancer.
Some weirdo 's hassling her and I'm booked solid. She's hot.
Rates 3 on my finger scale.
I'd cut off 3 fingers if God would let me fuck her.
Make her a one on your nose scale. Improve your looks.
Yeah, eat me.
So listen, I'm booked. You got plans?
I was going to smoke cigarettes.
-Could you postpone? - These are pretty good cigarettes.
It's 500 bucks, Joe.
I got to run some errands.
Meet you in your office in an hour.
Terrific. Comb your hair. I'll lend you a nice jacket...
Nobody likes you.
Everybody hates you.
You're going to lose.
Smile, you fuck.
Jimmy?
You still here?
Guess I am.
Help me!
Hey, Ray.
- What's with the girl, man? - Bitch won't blow me.
It's too early in the morning for that shit. Let her go, man.
She ain't coming up till she starts blowing.
Ray, she's going to drown, man.
Fuck you, loser!
Let her go, Ray.
Why are you here? It's a league party. You got kicked out, remember?
You bastard!
- Get out of here. - Pig!
You fuckhead!
Best arm in the National League. Remember that, you fat son of a bitch!
I thought you were in Las Vegas.
I was.
Where'd you sleep?
The office.
Furry Tom.
How much you lose?
I wasn't there to gamble.
How much?
I was doing a skip trace.
50 bucks.
What is this?
Darian drew a holiday picture.
Obviously, her teacher wants to see us.
Where is she?
Slept at a friend's.
Boys giving her a hard time about the braces?
Are you kidding? "Metal mouth" is the latest. Little bastards.
She'll be screwing them when she's 14.
Watch your mouth.
You let her wear so much makeup she looks...
...like a goddamn raccoon.
I thought she was a burglar. I almost shot her twice.
You're not funny, and all the girls at that school wear makeup.
I'm sure they don't put it on with a paint sprayer.
For your information, a lot of people think I'm very funny.
Go live with them.
Don't tempt me.
Who's the guy in the closet?
Excuse me?
Sometimes you forget I'm a detective.
There's all this steam in the shower, like somebody was just in there.
Only your hair is dry. So it must be somebody else we're talking about.
A male somebody. The toilet seat's up.
Since he's not under the bed...
...I figure you must have stuck him in the closet.
Who's in the closet?
Jesus Christ, nothing changes.
You're still a lunatic.
Will you tell me who it is?
You want me to open the closet, Joe?
I'll do it. Then we'll both know you're fucking psycho!
Is that what you want?
No.
Thank you.
That door stays shut.
What I'm going to do...
...is count to 3.
Then I'll put a bullet in that door.
You can stop me anytime by telling the truth.
Call your shrink, Joe. Call him and tell him you're fucking losing it.
Truth is a beautiful thing.
Two...
How dare you come into this house and...
- Look, Joe... - Keeping her warm for me, Mike?
Easy. Don't do nothing dumb.
How was she?
On your finger scale, how was my wife?
It just happened, Joe.
Yeah, sure, I know.
Just happened.
It could happen to anybody.
It was an accident, right?
You tripped, slipped on the floor, and accidentally stuck your dick in my wife.
"Oops, I'm so sorry, Mrs. H. I guess this just isn't my week. "
Joe, put the gun down, please.
Oh, yeah, the gun.
You're right.
I think I am losing it.
Get out of here.
Head or gut, Mike?
Joe, how long we been friends?
Roughly till you started banging my wife.
Head or gut?
Gut.
Got that address for me?
The surveillance job.
You still want the job?
500 bucks is 500 bucks, Mike.
I guess you're right.
Throw a shot into her?
Get the fuck out of here. Go shit in your own yard.
Joe!
Over here.
Somebody wired the car.
Who the fuck did this?
Mr. Rogers.
How the hell should I know?
You told the cops?
I told them Mike came by to farm out a surveillance job.
That's all?
You didn't mention...
No. I didn't mention it.
You knew, didn't you?
I suspected.
Oh damn, why didn't you say something?
What would I say, Sarah?
"Fuck you, Sarah"?
Yeah, or anything to get a rise out of you.
Like "You're a lying bitch, Sarah," or "I'll spit in your face. "
Want me to spit on you?
- It would show you had some pride left. - Fresh out, honey.
Fuck you, Joe. You're never around. I was Ionely!
Buy a dog.
I'm not the one who hates you. You're the one who hates you.
And I get to live with myself 24 hours a day.
Alex, the astronaut.
Last time I saw you drink straight vodka was because you cheated on Cory.
Why don't you pour me another?
You didn't.
You got to be crazy, cheating on her.
I got to be something, Harp. Because all I do is lose friends...
...drink and nail anything with a heartbeat.
Just stay on that side of the bar.
Should I pay now?
No, you should not pay now. Put the money away.
Sit down.
You don't think the cops can help you?
Sure. After I'm dead, they'll perform the autopsy.
Guess you can't wait that long.
Guess not.
This the only music they play in this joint?
I hate this funk shit.
I may charge you extra.
What'd you expect?
The Four Freshmen.
Pat Boone.
What are you, my father?
Yeah, I'm your father. Put some clothes on.
You're hilarious.
Stand by that speaker. You'll scream...
"...Play that funky music, white boy! "
The screaming part I believe.
Hello, handsome.
Who's the stiff over there?
That's nobody.
It's my turn to dance. Shit.
Let's bring out a woman who's always in the mood.
Put your hands together for the lovely and talented Miss Cory!
You're nobody.
Shh, don't tell anyone.
That's what Cory says, she says you're nobody.
Nobody's raining on your parade. I'm keeping an eye on her.
Are you some kind of bodyguard?
Something like that.
Got a match?
No.
Is Cory in some kind of trouble?
I don't know. You tell me.
She didn't mention anything to me.
Does that piss you off?
Maybe.
Don't sweat it.
Women have secrets.
Water's wet, the sky's blue, women have secrets. Who gives a fuck?
Want a beer?
So she just hired you? What, you're in the book or something?
She hired my buddy, Mike. I'm filling in.
Where's this Mike?
He died.
I'm sorry to hear that.
He was an asshole.
Hey, look, I don't know who the fuck you are or what's going on, but Cory's my girl.
If she's in some kind of trouble, I want to know about it.
Confidential, big boy.
Why don't you tell me anyway?
Nope.
Man, you couldn't protect a cup of warm piss.
Why don't you just hit me?
Excuse me?
Chickenshit. Bust me in the chops. An old guy like me can't hurt you.
You know who I am?
James Alexander Dix. Quarterback for the L.A. Stallions, '89-'90.
Banned from the league on gambling charges.
Allegations of drug abuse.
Another tragic tale of wasted youth.
Now you started to piss me off!
It's about fucking time.
Joe Hallenbeck...
...private detective.
You're a lowlife.
At least I didn't shit my talent away on coke.
Spilled my warm cup of piss.
- Get your shit. Let's go. - What's the matter with you?
Shut up! Get in the cage.
It's cool.
Let's hear it for Miss Cory!
I didn't vote for you, you son of a bitch.
So I'm a lowlife.
That's him. He was with her.
Take him out of here and kill him.
There's no contract on him.
Then do it for free. You just do it elsewhere.
Alex, the pediatrician.
If I were a cat, I'd purr.
Behave!
Come back to my place with me. I'll give you your birthday present.
- Does it look like that? - Do you want it?
- What is it? Give me a hint. - A hint?
How'd you like to get your old job back?
Go on. Get in there!
Wrong place, wrong time. Nothing personal.
That's what you think. Last night I fucked your wife.
You did? How did you know it was my wife?
She said her husband looked like a pimp with a hat.
Oh, you're real cool, for a guy about to take a bullet.
After fucking your wife, I'll take two.
What's this about you getting me my old job back?
Where the hell is he?
The detective?
What kind of trouble you in?
Trouble? I'm not in trouble. Some creep's threatening me.
- Let's wait inside and wait for Hallenbeck. - What am I, chopped liver?
Hallenbeck's a bum. What's he going to do? Light a match and reathe on them?
If the creep shows up, I'll bitch-slap him.
I'll follow you home. Get in your car.
You'll "bitch-slap" him?
Yeah. Bitch-slap him.
Where you want it? In the chest? Or the head?
That's what your wife said.
Hey, will you stop with the wife shit!
Ask me how fat she is.
Fuck you!
How fat is she?
So fat I had to roll her in flour and look for the wet spot.
To fuck her, you slap her thigh and ride the wave in.
I'm not saying she's fat.
Her high school picture was an aerial photograph.
You bastard!
And then some.
Fuck!
Cory, don't get out your car!
Can't you fucking drive?
Let's get the fuck out of here!
Back up!
Back up.
Leather pants.
Yeah.
What's something like that run?
650.
650 dollars?
Yeah.
They're pants?
Yeah.
You wear them?
Yes.
They don't have a TV in them or something?
Nope.
I am very old.
Something stinks in here.
My God, it's this statement. It's bullshit. Hallenbeck's hiding something.
How do you know?
Because I know how his fucking mind works! Every lie has 80%...
...truth to it. I mean, it's scary.
We looking at the same guy?
What are you looking at?
I see a guy who just slept in his clothes.
That's what everybody sees.
- There's more? - A lot more.
A long time ago, he saved the President's life.
Her story about a weirdo hassling her was bullshit?
I don't know what she was into, but that was a professional hit.
Gangland style.
I figure Mike was working for her, same as me.
He got scared.
Very scared.
Bails out, dumps it in my lap.
He bailed too late.
They're scraping him off my stucco.
If Mike knew this was dangerous, why did he just hand it to you and not say anything?
He was fucking my wife.
I die. He gets the wife.
Free to go. Pick up your gun at the property desk.
You took all day.
Hey Joe, I got a call from the Bel Air P.D.
Senator Baynard has been getting obscene phone calls.
I'd better not find out it's you.
Anything else, lieutenant?
Yeah, there's a new invention out: it's called the razor.
Too risky. I might start thinking about you and slash my wrists.
- He got a beef with Baynard? - The senator got him fired.
What was he, a cop?
Secret Service?
And Baynard had you fired?
How come?
None of your business.
What are you doing here?
I knocked out four of his teeth.
Ever play ball? You got a good build.
You a fag?
No, I'm just trying to break the ice.
I like ice. Leave it the fuck alone.
You're a lot of fun to be with.
Fuck you.
So what's the next move, ace? Where do we go from here?
I'm going home.
It would seem my job is done.
Fuck you, your job is done. We saw Cory get murdered.
You want your ass shot off, be my guest.
You die, I take your $600 pants.
650.
You look familiar. Do I know you?
You might. People recognize me.
"Cue Ball" Morton! Used to sell hash in Boyle Heights.
No, I played football. Jimmy Dix, L.A. Stallions.
- What position? - Forget it.
Football. Free agents ruined the goddamn game!
You know, we may run into a few more of your fans. Want my sunglasses?
- Fuck you. - Snappy comeback.
Where did Cory live?
Harper Apartments, on Melrose. Why?
Think I'll look around there.
I'll come with you.
The fuck, you are. Have a nice night, junior.
- I know where the extra key is. - I won't need a key.
And you're not worried about the security system either.
It's pretty high-tech. I put it in myself.
But you probably know how to circumvent.
Circumvent?
It's called vocabulary.
- Read much? - My subscription to Jugs Magazine just ran out.
Get in the car.
How did she afford a place like this? This joint must run a fortune.
- Tell me about it. I pay the rent. - Ain't that charming.
She sounds like a real special girl.
What else you pay for? Clothes? Car?
It wasn't like that. Cory could've had rich guys. Me, she loved.
Love? Forget about it then.
- You don't believe in love. - Yeah, I believe in love. I believe in cancer.
- Both diseases? - Something like that.
I want to meet the bitch that fucked you up.
Your show, ace.
- Security system? - Yeah, I circumvented it.
Don't touch anything. Don't leave a mess for the cops.
Oh, my God.
- You vacuum, I'll dust. - Stay put.
Go, Tarzan.
Who's this guy with Cory?
Shelly Marcone. Owns the L.A. Stallions.
They dated. Treated her like shit. And she left.
Where you going?
Bathroom. Want to come? Doc said I shouldn't lift anything heavy.
No, I'll pass.
10 to 1, this is what they were looking for.
- That's Marcone. - Yeah, I know who he is.
- I don't know who this is. - Senator Baynard.
And the assholes with him?
His bodyguards. He always has protection.
Copy of a phone bill.
What's this number?
Baynard's home number.
You know his number?
So I called him a couple times. Shut the fuck up.
What does all this mean?
I don't know, junior. If we're lucky...
...maybe enough blackmail evidence to put the two most powerful men in California away for a long time.
Why would Cory blackmail them?
- She was fucking Marcone... - Dating, not fucking.
Whatever. She heard or saw something. The point is...
- She was blackmailing them. - She hires Mike.
She got evidence to use on them. Now we have the evidence.
What we got, junior, is Marcone and Baynard by the nuts.
And that is why I love America.
- Hello? - Hey, Calvin?
Shelly Marcone. How you doing this evening?
I'd prefer you didn 't use my name.
A trifle skittish. If I didn 't know better...
... I'd say you were contemplating something shady.
Get to the good stuff.
I'll fast-forward it.
Don't!
Fast-forward eats the fucking tape!
- I'm supposed to know that? - It eats the tape!
Your car ate our only evidence?
- This fucking car sucks. - Shut the fuck up!
If this is ruined, I'll crush your nuts. Oh, look at this!
If this is ruined, I swear...
Fast-forward eats the tape.
So, this is my birthday present.
What?
Cory was blackmailing Marcone. But she wasn't trying to get cash.
She was trying to get my job back.
She's dead because of me.
Where you going?
Home. I don't feel too hot.
Come on, I'll take you.
Come on, I'll give you a ride.
No, I'll take Cory's car. I got the key.
I thought that was Cory's car at the bar!
Cory had two cars.
Get out of the car!
What's your trip?
- What is it? - C-4.
Plastic explosive.
They wired the ignition to Mike's car. I figured they'd do the same with hers.
Lucky for you they wired the wrong car.
Leave this for the cops to analyze.
You're putting that in the trunk?
No, let's leave it in the street for the neighborhood kids to play with.
Good evening, gentlemen.
Where's the gun, humbug?
- Bit late for a stroll, don't you think. - Yeah, you girls should get home.
Streetlights are on.
Shut up, fuckface.
I'm fuckface. He's asshole.
Jake.
Apprise Rodney Dangerfield here of his situation.
Perhaps we can dispense with the funny games now, yes?
- You want the envelope, right? - The envelope, very smart.
See, Jake? Here's a man who knows when a situation is untenable.
Good word.
You like that word?
You do have that envelope?
We better give up. We're dealing with a couple of geniuses here.
Leave him the fuck alone.
Leave him alone? Whatever you say.
Jake attacks his job with a certain exuberance.
Shit, we're being beat up by the inventor of Scrabble.
He's still happy, kick him again.
All right!
You want the hooker's envelope?
She wasn't a hooker.
Shut the fuck up!
Where is it?
In the trunk.
Give me the keys.
Slow and easy.
Give them to Jake.
Dumb bastard, you gonna pay for that.
Jake, open the trunk.
Son of a bitch!
You alive?
I don't know yet.
That's C-4?
Yeah. That, or a hell of a factory recall.
Dead guys don't make bad jokes, do they?
No.
Shit, we're alive.
Yeah. You're right.
Get out of here.
Go, go, come on!
You sure?
Out of here. I'll take the heat for this.
You positive?
This is a police matter, you damn son of a bitch!
And I'm sick and tired of sweeping up your dead bodies!
Next time I see your ugly mug...
...I'll put a bullet in it! You got it?
I just wanted to shake your hand.
Ben told me what you did for the President. I respect that.
Thanks.
Hey, ugly.
Looks like our evidence got blown up.
We might have to get more.
Just won't let go.
You're like a dog with a Frisbee.
My girl's dead.
Her killers are at Spago's eating chicken Marsala.
And their goat cheese pizza.
It ain't right.
No, it ain't right.
This ain't no game, Flash.
Real guns.
Real bullets.
It's dangerous.
Danger's my middle name.
Mine's Cornelius.
You tell anybody, I'll kill you.
Ever watch Soul Train?
Shut the fuck up.
We start tomorrow.
In the meantime, I'd like to go home and see my family.
Your family, huh?
You got kids?
- A little girl. - Does she like you?
No, not too much.
She likes Prince. Go figure.
I like Prince.
An actual house.
I was thinking of a cave with skulls and shit.
Feel like I been rode hard and put away wet.
What does that mean?
It's horse talk.
Brothers ride horses now?
Cars are too hard to steal.
Do you wear a little cowboy hat?
I'm really good, man.
Maybe I could take your daughter. What's she like?
She's thirteen years old. Even look at her funny...
...I'll stick an umbrella up your ass and open it.
Why aren't you in bed?
Darian's watching TV.
- I can see that. - She's pissed at you bigtime.
What happened to your face?
My God! It speaks.
Nothing happened to my face. It always looks like this.
What's wrong with his face?
His nose is too pointy. His eyes are beady.
His ears are too big. He needs a shave.
I am peeing in my pants, you're so funny.
This is my daughter, Darian.
My name is Jimmy.
Why's that number on back of your head?
Is it a license plate in case it's stolen?
No, it's a football thing. It's my high school number.
When's graduation?
You want to be alone, don't you.
I'll be in the kitchen.
Over here.
She has your winning personality.
You get used to it.
I got some ice cream. Want some?
Leave me alone! I hate you!
She's pissed because I wouldn't let her date her friend Tommy.
I only missed the best party of the year.
Why didn't you let her go?
Because she's thirteen years old, jerk-off.
- Want some ice cream? - I'm not talking to you.
That's a shame. I'll miss all the pleasant things you always say to me.
"Dad, I hate you. "
It's chocolate chip, your favorite.
I don't care.
You're an asshole.
You know how I hate to waste food.
Want to abuse me some more? Shock me.
I hardly ever hear the word "asshole. "
- Bet you get it all the time! - That's enough!
- Will you ground me some more? - You got it.
Yes, sir, asshole.
- You're grounded. - Leave me alone!
He thinks he's fucking Ward Cleaver.
You want to talk like a trash-mouth? You want to sound like your mother? Go ahead!
I have to hear this shit all day long, do I have to get it from you too?
Hey, joe, why don't you go easy on the girl?
Don't tell me how to talk to my kid.
So come on, let me hear all the really juicy dirty words.
You're such a fuckup.
You're my daughter and you're in my house. You will respect me, you got that?
- Don't call me a fuckup. - Why shouldn't I?
Mom calls you that all the time!
She called me a fuckup?
When?
On the phone with Uncle Jay.
I'm a fuckup, but Uncle Jay? There's a real standup guy!
The guy cheats on his taxes. I'm surprised he's not doing time.
Ask your mother why Mr. Wonderful is not in jail for tax evasion.
Because he doesn't fuck up.
Darian.
Go to bed.
For $50 you could pay a guy to pull her fingernails out one by one.
Anything that much fun I think I'd rather do myself.
I don't know about you, but I could use a drink.
Shit! That's you?
You were Ward Cleaver.
I was a regular Boy Scout.
You and the President.
Damn, hanging with the Man!
It looks like one of those cardboard cutout things you see in Venice Beach.
I once had my picture taken with Don Johnson.
- Still got the picture? - I threw it away.
You going to get a divorce?
Shit, I don't know.
You don't like women much, do you, Joe?
I liked the guy she was fucking.
He was my best friend.
He was a scumbag private detective.
All private detectives are scumbags.
Yeah, but that scumbug tried to get you killed.
Friends can't be perfect.
I wish the sky wasn't blue.
I wish water wasn't wet.
And I wish I didn't still love my wife.
Life sucks.
To Alex, the accountant.
Your accountant's name is Alex?
No.
But he could have been.
Alex was my son.
I used to be married.
One Sunday, I'm away in Miami.
She couldn't go. She was 8 months pregnant.
Walking down La Brea Boulevard...
...out of nowhere a truck jumped a curb.
Never knew what hit her.
She died.