Deuces Wild

Mom!

What happened?

Alley! Alley! Alley!

Oh, my God!

God, Alley!

Oh, God. God.

I warned you, Marco.|I f***in' warned you.

I told you|not to sell him drugs.

It was the summer of '58.

The year the Dodgers|left Brooklyn.

The summer|Dion and the Belmonts...

were blasting|out of every car radio...

and the summer|that I first fell in love.

It was the summer|Marco Vendetti...

came home from prison...

and the streets of Sunset Park|ran red with blood.

My brother Leon started a gang|called the Deuces...

after our brother Alley died.

Our job|was to protect the block.

-Leon.|-Hey, Fritzy.

-You need anything?|-I'll let you know, kid.

But it was a local mob guy|named Fritzy...

who really ran|the neighborhood.

He pretended to be|everybody's best friend.

Get yourself an ice cream.

But he was only in it|for himself.

Scooch. Center field.

On the corner of Sixth Street|and Second, the Deuces ruled.

Hey, Pops.|Grandson gettin' better?

He's good.

-Hey, what?|-Aw, it's horrible.

We hung out at a candy store|called Willie's...

where we ran bootleg cigarettes,|illegal fireworks...

and did a little bookmaking|on the side.

Hey, we had to make a livin'.

Aw, come on. They're playin'|like little girls here.

What, did he throw it|underhand?

Oh, Scooch. We're havin' fun.

Ah, the Dodgers lost again.

The usual, Scooch.

I told 'em. They ain't gonna|win in Los Angeles.

They shouldn't have left|Brooklyn.

Come on, I never seen 'em cry.

The last game,|they wept like a baby.

How are you?

Go on. F*** the Dodgers.

F*** Pee Wee, f*** Jackie,|and f*** the f***in' Duke.

Don't say that, Tommy! Don't|say, "F*** the f***in' Duke."

Hey, listen. Everybody knows|he signed your friggin' glove.

Get over it. They left.

I ain't rootin' for 'em|no more.

'cause you're|a fair-weather fan.

Oh, come on, now.|Let's go outside.

Let's go outside now.|I'll see ya later.

What's this?

Bridesmaid's dress.

Pink taffeta.|You like it, huh?

You know what I like you in.

Who's gettin' married?

My cousin Antoinelle,|out in Bayridge.

You're comin', right?

Another cousin gettin' hitched?|How many more are there?

People do get married, Leon.

It is somethin' people do,|you know.

Willie, is it suddenly|gettin' hot in here or what?

Oh, so what do you|want to do tonight?

-You know this f***in' kid?|-Who?

-This kid.|-Who's he?

Hey, a**hole.

You know whose turf this is?

This is Deuces turf.

You f***in' listenin' to me?

Ah, me deaf! Ah, me deaf!

-Shut the f*** up!|-I'm deaf!

-Leon.|-What?

Come here. There's a fight.

F***! F***!

What are you doin'?

This kid|was disrespectin' our turf.

I think he's one of them|Garfield boys or somethin'.

This ain't a Garfield boy.|He don't hang with no peewees.

This is Betty Ann's little|brother--her deaf brother.

Nate. Big guy. Go home.

You hit one person a year,|it's a deaf kid.

Well, how the f***|am I supposed to know?

His mother should hang a sign|around his neck or some sh*t.

Father Aldo, we're up here.

Father. Thanks, bud.

You missed a spot.

Hey, Father. You wanna|come up here and help me?

That's your penance.

I hear Marco Vendetti|is comin' home soon.

I thought you should know.

Give me your word|nothing's gonna get outta hand.

Give me some more|of that polish, Scooch.

You know the first thing I'm|gonna do when I get outta here?

I'm gonna get me|a nice cold beer...

a slice of sicilian,|a nice piece of ass...

and find that rat motherf***er|who sent me here.

I'm gonna slice his|motherfucking throat...

from ear to ear.

Mark the son of a b*tch.

Not bad, huh?

-It's not bad.|-It looks all right.

Who put this on the window?

Carnival. Not bad.|It's gonna be a good spot.

-A good spot, yeah.|-Make us some money.

-Make us some money, yeah.|-Philly Babes.

Get away from here.

-Where's Leon?|-What's it to ya?

He told Mikey Festo|he was gonna break his head...

if he rented out|the store over here.

-So?|-Let me ask you somethin'.

Since when|did he become the landlord?

Since yesterday.|You didn't read the paper?

Tell your brother|we're movin' in over here.

You or any of your guys...

try to stop any of my guys,|and you're dead.

Over my dead body are you gonna|move junk into this building.

Whoa.|Who said anything about junk?

We're talkin' about|a little numbers action...

some broads, Mario Lanza|on the jukebox. Relax.

Don't tell me to relax,|you son of a b*tch.

Watch your mouth,|you little prick.

Come on.

Go hang out|with the other girls.

There ya go, ya punks.

They're runnin'.

Squeal, pig!

How do you like them apples,|fat ass?

You boys all right?

Do I look like|I'm all right, you moron?

Get me outta here.

Help me get this guy|outta here.

Hey, Bobby.|Let's get outta here.

Beautiful.

It smells good in here, mom.

It's comin' from next door.

Well, what are we|supposed to eat?

I started to make|the cacciatore.

You know, it was|my Alley's favorite.

The onion made me cry.

What about makin'|my favorite, ma?

It's a dish called food.

I'm f***in' starving.

Watch that mouth!

What you talk like that|to me for?

-Hey, ma. What's goin' on?|-Nothin'. No dinner.

If you would take the money|we give you...

and spend it on food|instead of f***in' booze...

we would have|some f***in' supper!

No! You gotta buy food!

Hey! You're talkin'|to your mother like that!

Get outside.

Now!

I can't take it anymore.

Don't worry, ma.

I'm gonna go to the corner.|I'll get somethin' to eat.

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