Blood and Wine Page #4

- Reagan didn't know what he was talking about.

- Bush.

- What?

- Bush said that, not Reagan.

Bullshit. It was Reagan.

Bush was "Read my lips. "

- What did you just do?

- I like to take a photo of the goods.

Avoids any disagreement on the sale.

- You got me in the picture.

- Did I?

Give me the photograph.

We'll tear it up

when we have the money.

There's no such thing

as honor among thieves. It's a myth.

- What's this?

- I thought it over.

I can't move that. I'm on parole.

I'm known. You're not.

So you'll fly to New York, catch a cab,

take a walk, find an address.

Pas de problme,

as they say in Bordeaux.

In other words,

you're too chickenshit to do it yourself.

Maybe I am.

You're right. I am.

I don't fly economy.

Telephone.

- Hello.

- Hey, I got the note. F*** the Reeses.

I'll pick you up in an hour.

We're booked on a 10:15 flight to New York.

Papi, tell me you love me.

Chica.

You'll see.

Where are you going to this time?

Napa. I got a problem with a supplier.

Goddamn California boutique wineries.

They're all owned by lawyers.

- Oh, I was looking for those.

- Tom and Lucy Garcia?

They're agents. They're going to

New York to see a wholesaler.

First class?

Yes. Sometimes you gotta

keep up relationships.

Apparently not with me.

Don't you have physical therapy tonight?

Oh, you didn't notice.

The bandage is off.

Did I come home too early?

Look, I got an idea.

Sit down at your desk and write out

all your complaints.

Then when I get back, we can have one

of those nice, long fights you like so much.

But right now

I gotta catch a plane.

So give me the goddamn tickets!

- That is my suitcase!

- I'll FedEx it to ya.

- You're gonna talk to me!

- You already broke your leg on these stairs once, Suzanne.

- I don't want it to happen again.

- I tripped on one of your damn golf balls!

- I wasn't drunk!

- You were plastered!

I put Terry's life insurance into that store,

and you spent it on your girlfriends...

while my checks bounced!

I let you mortgage my house!

Eight years I worked my cock off in that

store for you- 12-hour days, one-day weekends!

Don't you tell me I didn't try!

All right, give me the keys.

- You are gonna talk to me.

- Give me the keys.

Wasting my life!

I don't wanna hurt you!

No! No!

No! Aaah!

You bastard!

What's going on?

- What happened?

- We're leaving.

- Mom-Jesus Christ!

- No! Don't go in there!

- Mom?

- Don't go in there!

I'm gonna f***ing kill him.

- I won't wait for you!

- Wait for me!

- Is he dead?

- Not enough.

- My wallet!

- What?

- Oh, my God, my wallet.

- Where is it?

- Look in my bag!

- Just pull over!

- I can drive! I taught you to drive!

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