01x04 - 100 dollars a half hour

[bunniefuu]

This story is inspired by real events.

The people and events shown
are made up for artistic purposes.

Any similarity to reality
is purely coincidental.

Yes?

I'm looking for
Ms. María de los Ángeles Ortega.

Is that you?

Yes. Who's asking?

I'm with the Public Records Office.

And I came to deliver a notice.

Ma'am.

I'm waiting, Sally.

Just spit it out.

He told me he was divorced.

Divorce isn't even legal
in those banana republics.

Any second grader knows that.

That visa we got him is worth jack sh*t.

I wanted to get into the boxing business,
but to do that you need a good fighter.

Someone promising.

Not someone who's washed-up.

Ringo is not washed-up.

His hand's been hurting.

I still remember the first Mustang Ranch.

The trailer. You remember?

Those shitty cops would come
from Lyon County,

and we'd drive the trailer
to Storey County.

Just a game of cat and mouse.

And what was the nickname
those damn truck drivers

gave our first two girls?

Sodom and Gomorrah.

Mmm.

I drove them all the way from Mexico
in my cab.

Both uglier than a monkey's armpit.

But we got along fine.

You with the girls,

-and me with the clients.
-Joe…

-Each to his own.
-Joe…

To each his own.

-Where are you going with all of this?
-Sally.

Leave Bonavena to me.

I brought him here.

I decide when he goes.

You stay out of it.

I'm already in, Joe.

Fifty-fifty, remember?

If you read the contract,
you'll see that I'm Ringo's manager.

We'll talk about that when I…
…get back from Sicily.

Right now, the meeting with the Bonannos
is more important than anything else.

I plan to visit my brother.

I want him to see

what little Giuseppe has made of himself.

Bring back some good coffee.

I will.

I'll be here for the grand reopening.

Until then,

just make sure that Bonavena

and that turkey friend of his
don't f*ck things up anymore, huh?

Same goes for Sister Gretzky.

Capisce?

Capisce.

IV. A HUNDRED DOLLARS
FOR THIRTY MINUTES

Good day, Sister.

Need a ride somewhere?

No, no, thanks.

I'm headed nearby.

Are you sure?

I'm fine, really. Thank you.

What? What is this?

What are you doing? No! No!

No, let me go. Let me go!

Help! Help!

b*stard! Let me go!

Let me go!

You're going to burn in hell!

Let me out of here!

Make sure
they don't have the votes, Sister.

Let's go for a ride.

You son of a b*tch!

Oh, my God!

Let me out! Let me out of here!
Let me out!

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Muhammad Ali

has just refused to be inducted
in the United States Armed Forces.

Just no comment on boxing,
religion, induction.

No comments on the weather. Nothing.

- For the press?
- No comment on the press.

All I have to say is no comment.

Do you like Houston?

- What a shithead.
- …one is Black.

…are you satisfied with…

Canasta.

This is too easy, Oscar, eh?

I'm getting tired of creaming you, hmm?

I think the Black guy's right.

Why should he go fight a w*r in a country
so many kilometers away,

on another continent?

Because that's his duty to his country.

His country?

The Yankees hate the Blacks.
What country are you talking about?

That's why they're sending them to w*r,
to get them k*lled, just like the Latinos.

Enough with that. They're f*cking
imperialist sons of b*tches.

Ali isn't going because he's afraid.
He's sh1tting himself.

He's made up that he's not going
because, blah, blah, blah, he disagrees.

But the truth is, he's scared.

You know what you are, Titi?

A know-nothing
who just parrots Yankee discourse,

just like all the baboons here.

I a hundred times prefer to be a baboon
than a f*cking Peronist like you.

Watch it, Oscar.

You're in my house.
You know what we think here.

If Dad heard you say that,
he'd die all over again.

That shirt is mine.

-Hmm?
-Take it off. That shirt is mine.

You want your shirt?

Take your shirt.

Take your f*cking shirt.

You know what you can do with this shirt?
Take your shirt.

You don't live here, idiot.

You're here because you're a jerk
who got kicked out by his wife.

Titi.

-What, Mom?
-You're anxious, honey.

-Did you hear him? I didn't insult him.
-You called him "a f*cking Peronist."

You started it,
like you're starting fights with everyone.

And you know exactly what I'm saying.

Look at you.

Go, and do what you have to do.

You owe me five grand.

"PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND ME,
MY LIFE IS LIKE A MOVIE:

THERE ARE GOOD GUYS
AND BAD GUYS.

APPARENTLY, I'M A BAD GUY".

Excuse me, miss, is this 9B?

You're an idiot, you know.

Yeah, I know.

What were you thinking?

You made us feel like fools.

All of us. Me, Tito, everyone.

Do it again,
and I'll run you over with my car.

-You hear me?
-Loud and clear.

Someone here has something to say to you.

Dad, you're a jerk.

I know, sweetheart.

That's why I'm here, to say I'm sorry.

How much did they pay you
for that f*cking act?

That's it?

Buenos Aires
New York

BONAVENA vs THE CANADIAN

Come here!

- Stop, Oscar!
- Shh.

Tito, relax, eh? Tonight's my treat.

I'll keep the beast tucked away tonight.
Don't worry, he won't bite.

Enough, Oscar.

Are you still confused
about the Casanova?

Tonight's a win. We're celebrating.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

- Yeah, champ.
- Cheers!

- Cheers!
- As they say here.

He's learned something.

- To the champ.
- To the champ.

"Champ," I don't know about that yet,

but with the news I just received,
maybe soon.

What news, Tito?

They want to take the title from Ali.

Ah, but that's a mess.
I wanted to fight him.

Stop, because I'm not done.

The World Boxing Association
is organizing a tournament

with the eight best-ranked boxers
to take the vacant number one spot.

And you're one of the eight.

You're lying.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

- So how does it work?
- First, there are four fights.

You have to go to Germany
to fight the European champion.

This is you and the German.

And here, three more fights.

From those four first fights,

there are four winners
and two more fights.

Are you following?

Tito, make it simple for me.
How many do I have to fight?

-Three.
-Three.

Oscar, if you win the next three matches,
the heavyweight title is yours.

What do you say?

Hey! We have to cheers again.

- Cheers.
- Three fights is nothing.

- Get training, Oscar.
- After this glass, I'll go run.

You have some left, right?

Ali's cousins.

Oh, dear God, what a baboon.

Don't be a show-off.

Do you wanna dance?

I'm too drunk, Ringo.

Eh, drunk is okay, is okay.

What about this?

Ah, leave it, leave it, leave it.

-Cheers.
-Cheers.

Here you go.

That was a lot of whiskey.

Yeah.

Mmm?

Upsy-daisy.

-Easy, easy.
-Mmm.

No, pull.

Pull.

Pull.

Throw them away, Ringo.

I can't dance in those
silly… …old lady shoes.

Look at my feet.

I'm hot.

That's better.

Joe?

Is that you?

Ringo. Got a minute?

It's really nice,
what you're doing for Sally.

You gave her back something she had lost.

Last time I saw her this happy was

twelve years ago.

When I started working here.

Sally had this friend.

They'd go out dancing and stuff.

Good guy.

Early one morning, I get the call.

The two of them had crashed.

We couldn't wait
for the ambulance to come.

I was the one who had to pull her leg
out of the wreck.

The skin was so burned.
It wasn't gonna heal.

See that?

That's on Sally now.

Vinnie, it was just a few drinks.

Don't be so dramatic.

Look, Ringo.

I think you're a good guy.

But Sally's my boss.

My friend.

She's like a mother to me.

And a grandmother to my son.

Can I trust you?

What happened?

His neck.

I left him outside and…

The other dogs…

I can't do it.

It's okay.

I'm leaving.
I'm about to get on the plane.

RINGO ON HIS WAY TO GERMANY

I'm going to Germany, well trained,
at a phenomenal weight, 94 kilos.

I think I'll be that weight
when I fight the German.

No worries. I'll be world champion.

Cheer from here, and I'll give you
something to cheer for there.

Good evening, congratulations,
and bye-bye.

…46, 47, 48.

Good!

That's it. Very good. To the body.

If you're going to miss, miss now.
Let's go.

-Good. Well done.
-Good.

Good, Titi, good.

-Did you like it?
-It seems like he can box, eh?

What an as*h*le.

Take lots of photos, okay?

It's a good thing
I'm the most handsome boxer in Argentina.

-What about Carlos?
-No, he's a wild Indian. Don't compare us.

Look at this skin. Look at this face.

Italian blood.

-You know all the girls are after you.
-Well, tell them to get in front of me.

Unless they like it from behind.
I don't know.

Nothing's been written about preferences.

Ringo, a message for Argentina?

Yes, yes. For the Argentinean Consul
here in Germany,

thank you for the plaque you gave me

and for permission to leave the country
in case of issues with the police.

-Why?
-If I k*ll the German.

He was training all day.

Yes, he looks confident.

We're at the hotel now.

What's going on with you?

That painting is driving me crazy.

This painting?

No, the other one.

There.

Done.

Both.

It starts tomorrow.

At 5:00.

-Better?
-Mm-hmm.

Stop screwing around, Oscar.

What's going on?

Okay, bye.

Tito brought me to this sh*thole town.

Germans don't even train here.

We should've gone to Frankfurt.

- Who's going to see me here?
- What do you mean?

Radio stations came, TV. We're here.

The fight is being covered, I know that.

But what about the lead-up?

Didn't you teach me that?

Hey. Get changed, I'm starving.

Coming.

Look, this time it had to be like this.

What do you want to happen here?
People go to bed at 6:00 p.m.

Even your opponent goes to bed then.

Okay, get dressed
because I'm starving too.

What's with him now?

I dunno, something about the press.
Don't worry, I know him.

Let's go. They're going to
give away our reservation.

Psst.

Oscar, are we eating or not?

Go ahead. Pedro and I will meet you later.

How did you sleep last night?

Did you see stars?

BONAVENA vs THE GERMAN

- Fall. Good!
- Good, Oscar, good!

A few hits from Ringo on the weak side.

Even though his blows
aren't enough to knock him out…

"You are hereby informed,

regarding the annulation of the marriage

between María de los Ángeles Ortega

and Oscar Natalio Bonavena,

that took place at bridal salon on"…

This isn't needed anymore.

Marriage annulled.

And?

Did you imagine Reno would be like this?

I imagined I'd make more money.

Oh, poor thing, he has no dough.

Dough?

That's what you say
when someone has no money.

Ringo Bonavena
will never have money problems.

How much do girls earn at the Mustang?

Are you going to become a hooker?

I can put this guy to work.

A hundred dollars for 30 minutes.
Orgies, $500.

And half of it goes to the Mustang.

You work a hundred girls a night…

plus the drinks, the machines,
and the poker…

And now they're getting 40 more girls.

What a business Sally built, eh?

And Sally has eyes for you.

What are you saying?

She could be my mother.

But she isn't.

What's that?

We have to celebrate,
now that we're no longer married.

People celebrate that too, don't they?

A divorce party.

I won't have that sh*t.

It's nothing.

First, open your mouth.

Slowly lick it against your palate.

It's like licking a key.

Tonight is my last dance at the Mustang!

Naked!