Pop Puiu!
Come on, I'm taking you home.
PREVIOUSLY ON "UMBRE"
I'm not Relu, ok?
Relu always lands on his feet.
Messing with us? With the Romanian Police?
Not even the Captain's like Relu.
We don't know who sold us out.
And now we're gonna walk right into the lion's den?
Blackmail'em, corner them, fuck their women!
I tell you everything I know.
I have a flat that's a stone's throw from here.
WHORE
This is our home.
This used to be our home.
Tick-tock, tick-tock...
Fuck my life!
Liar, liar...
You should've said you're on the rag.
Now you gotta give me a discount.
Those guys know their food, man. Quit scarfing down
your minced meat rolls and sausages...
And pork rinds and all that.
Start eating seafood. Doesn't get healthier than that.
You trawl for it in the Mediterranean, bring it over...
stick it in a pot.
Look, I've got these gorgeous clams I'm gonna make you.
First, you drop them in a pot.
You boil them till they're good and dead
and then you grab a large pan, sprinkle some salt on the bottom...
Bro, your breakfast needs some work.
It's not up to par.
Breakfast isn't our forte.
Then, what is?
- Weddings, christenings, receptions. - Not funerals?
Needs must.
Fratello, a business thrives on diversification.
- That's why we're taking this step... - Boss!
Speaking of funerals...
Ain't the vibe in here a bit frosty?
Fuck you, Relu, you mother-fucker.
Tell us, cuz - real talk.
Is the enemy lurking?
Nicu, man.
Let's hold off.
My mates from Spain came by last night to tell me they've started the clock.
Fratello, it's a bit late to hold off.
On the contrary. Now's the time to act.
Sabin.
I don't know... I'm not sure about this.
Pop Paul, are you tripping?
If you were sure about stuff,
you wouldn't be in the insurance racket, eh?
You work with probabilities, not certainties.
I heard that in a movie once and I stole it.
Anyways, it's in motion now. Got everybody on board.
No backing out of it now.
It's 'cause of the Domino principle.
Always forward.
Here we go.
Game on.
- Cheers, lads! - Finally, man!
I wait less for the eclipse!
When Sabin rolls around, it's like an eclipse all right!
That so?
Good thing yo' momma likes it when I eclipse her face with my dick!
- Cheers, man. - Where's Uncle Beefy?
Uncle Beefy!
Jeez, it's like watching paint dry.
- What the hell? Does he have a license? - Sure does, bro.
- Is it his first time in a car? - He's got it, bro.
Getting out's a problem too. Is he a cripple?
No, man!
Check it out, his foot's asleep.
- Look at him go. - He's like a pocket astronaut.
- Smoking from his helmet! - Uncle Beefy, are you ready?
This here's Paul, my insurance guy.
And that's Uncle Beefy, professional stuntman.
- Car and crash specialist. - Specialist, my ass.
I told Noodles, my trade's horses and fights.
Boxing, wrestling, saber, epee, foil.
- What horses? Horse, as in power? - Horse, as in the animal.
If he wanted a car guy, should've gone with Cyclops.
I told you, man, Cyclops broke his collar bone.
- And when he's fine, he's pricey. - Hold up, it ain't like that.
- This job's gotta be bang on to a tee. - Yeah, bro.
We need a total write-off, right? Speak up, man.
We need a total writeoff, if we're gonna get the 40 K.
Yeah, man, total write-off. You can do a total write-off, eh, pops?
I can do anything. I'm half titanium anyway.
- You should see him pull in magnets! - Hold on, pops, you just said
you knew about horses and wrestling.
- Do you see any horse about? - Maybe we should cancel.
- What? What did you say? - Speak up, I can't hear you.
- Maybe we should cancel. - No way, Jose! What are you on?
That ship's sailed. I rigged up the Range already.
Cost me a fortune. What now? Unless you're paying.
- Are you? Answer! Are you? - No.
Paul, man.
Look at me.
You...
...shut it.
Got it?
Atta boy.
Pops!
Do you feel up to this stunt?
Did you do the math, down to the millisecond?
What math? We aren't cooking up the atom bomb, eh?
I get in the car, step on it, ram it into that thing hard.
- The rest is up to chance. - God help us.
Pops, I'm sold. I say you've got this in the bag.
- Go on then, eh? - Let's go!
- Let's go. If we lose the light... - Yeah, pops.
- Then it gets tricky. - What's this about the light?
Nothing man, nonsense. He'll be fine.
He's got cataract in one eye. If it gets a little darker...
- It's not that he can't see, just... - Jeez, shut up. Stop talking.
- Just the UV rays. - Don't wanna know. Drop it. Let's go.
- Listen... - Eh?
If something happens to this guy, what's our move?
I've got some Aspirin on me. Pops!
Are you ready? Go for it!
- Way to go! - Yes!
Nice job.
He's not dead, right?
Come on, pops, what's the holdup?
Hello, ma'am.
Oncescu.
- Have you talked to the Director? - We were with her just now.
There's no smoking in the rooms.
- Sir. There's no smoking in the room. - Which part can't I smoke in?
The whole room.
Come on, pops, put the joint... the cig out.
It's the Alzheimer's. He's decent, really.
When the Alzheimer's clears up?
Ten years I've been working here. You don't think I can tell
a nutter from a jerk?
He's both.
Don't bother.
Pop Puiu?
I had the looks, the smarts.
- Had the girls lining up, you know? - Wow.
So there I was, on the 2 Mai beach.
You wouldn't know this, but to go to 2 Mai back then
you had to be a rebel.
And the music I'd listen to was... like, anti-establishment.
What was it? Zeppelin?
- Pistols, Doors, that sort? - Nah, that was for the white trash.
We were rocking to Simon & Garfunkel, Beach Boys...
- The higher-brow stuff. - Crappier, you mean?
I mean better. Anyway, never mind, not your bag.
I was there with... hey, still with me?
- Yes. - I was...
I was there with three women.
Three. On the beach. All knockouts.
But I really liked one of them. Had these...
- Let's say she was a lot like yo' mom. - And did you bone her?
A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell.
- Got it? - So you didn't.
Right. OK. So, there I was, with these three girls...
...when, all of a sudden, three men show up.
The skeevy Lipovan type, in their 40's or 50's.
And one of them goes, "We want a go at these women too."
- Were they whores? - Jesus, of course they weren't whores.
Oh, right, 'cause they listened to Beach Boys.
But that's what they figured, see?
So - they saw three beautiful girls on the beach,
with just one boy - one man - me - between them - so, naturally,
they figured that might be the case...
So, how much did you make?
Chuckie, man, I'd never... how can you think that?!
- So, what did you do? - I protected them, that's what.
- Naturally, right? - You fought those guys off?!
- Did you put them in a Kimura lock? - Did I what?
- It's jiu-jitsu. The Kimura lock. - No need to show me.
- I used my most formidable weapon. - The nunchucks?
The bokken! Wowee!
Yes?
Oh. Hold on a sec.
Kid, all you need is up here.
I talked my way out of it.
I'll be right back.
- Yes, I'm here... - Wow, Seb, you're the man!
- Uhum... - You're the real OG, Seb!
Sorry, I wasn't...
- I'm not used to... - Eh, don't worry about it.
I can't stay for lunch, sorry.
- All right. - I just got this call and...
- ...it's really out of my hands. - Chuckie, food's ready!
No worries, I understand.
I was really looking forward to it. Chuckie was too, I think, but, oh well.
- What about me? - I'll leave some cash for maintenance.
- And the power bill, gas too, I think. - You don't have to just now.
Please. No way. I insist.
It's a man's job, to provide, right?
Among other much more en-jo-ya-ble...
...things.
What the hell? I must've...
I thought I took some out from the ATM yesterday - but, whatever.
Take this now and I'll bring the rest later.
Ciao! Ciao, Chuckie!
Gina? Walk me out?
Yes.
Come in!
- I'm here. - Mhm.
How about a coffee? Or something to eat?
Me? No, I'm not hungry.
Sure? You've got a long day ahead of you.
Hm?
You're sure you're not hungry?
I should get going. It's late.
Which car is it?
The Opel.
It's all gassed up.
Cluj. 118, Dr. Marineci Street.
- Near the train station. Green house. - I know it. Been there.
Where is it?
In the trunk.
And try to get there ASAP, we're a week late as it is.
Take the highway, OK?
Got it.
Then... I'm off.
Did you drown anyone else today?
Not today.
How's the new place?
- It's OK. - Do you like it?
It's OK.
- So you're not really a fan. - It's OK.
Can you please put the phone down?
Did you like our place better?
Sometimes I did. Sometimes, I didn't.
Well, when did you like it?
When it was fun.
So... when didn't you?
When it stopped being fun.
How would you feel about me moving in with you and your mom in the new flat?
That would be cool.
- But you'd have to talk to Seb first. - Who?
- Sebastian, the owner of the flat. - What business is it of his?
He comes round sometimes. Might not like the idea.
What do you mean, he comes round? To pick up the rent?
I guess.
How often does he come round?
Like, two or three times a week.
He picks up the rent two, three times a week?!
Pretty much.
What does this Sebastian guy look like?
He's younger than you, big on sweaters.
- And wears perfume to boot. - Sweet Jesus!
Oh, and he listens to Beach Boys.
- He listens to what? - Old-people music.
What about your mom?
How is she around him?
What do you mean, how?
Does she laugh when he's there?
- Yeah, she laughs. - She does, huh?
So, this guy's a hoot, huh?
- Not really. - So why's your mom laughing, then?
Why don't you ask her?
Why can't you string two ideas together on your own?
What more do you want? I've answered your questions.
- Do you wanna know if they're boning? - What did you just say?!
Why are you getting so worked up? Not my fault, is it?
Why are you drowning kids in the pool?
Hm?
What are you doing here?
Relu...
Oops, that's right.
Wouldn't wanna scratch Seb's floorboards.
What's this?
Look, I see a hint.
- "Washing machine". - You zip it.
Why don't you let him talk?
Look at the brains on him, he can already read at 14.
Way to go, genius. We'll make an astronaut of you yet.
- All you'll be wearing is sweaters. - Astronauts don't wear sweaters.
Eh! You will.
- What if I don't wanna? - I'll chase you down, make you wear'em.
- Chase me down in outer space? - Uhum.
- In what? - A very bad mood.
- Go on, go to your room. - I'm hungry.
It'll keep till later.
Doesn't this Seb guy own a wrench, a hammer, anything?
Stop it, Relu.
Cut it out!
What's all that about?
- That? - Uhum.
That's a washer. Like Einstein said.
What's that washer about?
Uhm...
Didn't you say to get you a washer for a housewarming gift?
What?
You said you wanted a washer for a housewarming gift...
...when we sold our old house.
Right... so?
I sold the house.
You did what?
I sold the house.
It fetched 100 grand.
It's in an account in your name.
The PIN is the year you were born.
How could you sell the house?
Well... Like we talked about.
But, don't worry if you wanna keep living at Seb's.
Or with Seb.
That's life.
But at least you'll have a nest egg, for rainy days.
And don't fret about the washer. I used my own money to get it.
Your housewarming gift.
Go, go!
- That's it, get him! - Go on, Sabin!
Go! Hit him, Cristian!
Keep your arms up, Cristi! Punch his body!
Way to go, man!
- Hey, hey! - Stop!
Use your fists, lad, for fuck's sake!
- Or go fuck yourself, you mofo! - Boss, let's go!
Come on, bro, stay on him!
- That's it! - Good one! Fuck, yeah!
Sabin lad, listen here, your strength
ain't in your fist, it's in your shoulder.
And when you hit from the shoulder, you put your hip in, too. BANG!
- Hip-shoulder-fist! - You really roughed him up, bro!
'Course he did! Did you see him plow into the guy?
- Slammed him like a freight train. - For fuck's sake, he's always
going for the clinch, the fucker, instead of throwing punches!
Lame-ass fuckwit! I'mma show him!
Mother-fucking shithead!
- Boss! Come on! - Go, Cristi!
Hit him! Hit him!
Belly, head! Elbows up, Cristi! Good!
What's going on? We didn't throw in the towel!
What the fuck is this? He's good to go on!
I don't give a fuck, I won by TKO!
- But he's not hurt! - Go home, man!
What are you playing at, man?
- He's totally fine, guys, see? - I'm fine, yo, I can keep.
Who the hell is that?!
- Who's this guy? Who are you? - Now he's hurt.
Who's that guy?
Boss! What are you doing here?
Came to do the cha cha cha.
- The what? - The cha cha cha.
- What's he doing? - What is this?!
- Maestro! Bang a gong! - Boss...
Dickwad, if you go easy, I'll bash your skull in.
Otherwise, I'll just kick your ass.
- Give him a thrashing, Sabin! - Fuck him up, Sabin!
Go, Sabin!
Let's do this, boss!
What's this guy playing at?
Keep your eyes on him! Punch!
Stop! One...
Two...
Three... four... five...
Six... seven... eight...
Out!
I take it you drove the Range into an early grave?
Yes... It was me.
See you pansies in the showers.
How's tricks, dickwad?
You pounded me like cheap meat, boss.
Look at it this way: I didn't pound you. I taught you.
Taught me what? To quit boxing and take up figure skating?
How much will you get off that Range con?
- Boss, I... - How much?
3 or 4 grand.
Yeah, I know, I'm dumb.
Dickwad, there's good news and bad.
The bad news is you're dumb.
The good news is you're not that dumb.
You risk getting popped over 3-4 thousand euros?
When the cops are on our ass as it is?
And you know it's not for cracking seeds in the schoolyard, either.
- Yeah. - Great.
And if they nab you, pretty boy, who might you drag down with you?
We can't have that.
Yeah. I know. I'm dumb.
You were dumb. Not anymore.
Am I right?
Who wants a candy?
Who wants a candy? Who? Who? Who?
Who wants a candy?
I do.
Not this time.
You don't deserve it.
Fill-up?
- Fill-up? - No.
- Is the green Opel yours? - Why?
I blocked you in. I'll pay up and be out of your hair.
It's not mine.
Sir, your change!
- Do those doors lock? - What? What for?
- Yes, they lock. - Then, lock them.
Now!
Hey!
Mother-fucker!
Police.
You're under arrest.
Weed, for fuck's sake?
Boss!
- Tell me, Remi. Is it done? - Dunzo.
- But it's small-time. - Meaning?
Weed. Some 10 kilos' worth.
What the fuck?!
That's it, boss. Nothing more.
What's our next move, boss?
What now, boss?
FILE
PSYCH EVAL - ANDRONACHE EMILIAN: DEPRESSIVE NEUROSIS,
BIPOLAR DISORDER, DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER, OCD
MUSIC BOOKSHOP
"REJECTED!"
Stop!