All language subtitles for Tulsa.King.S01E06.WEB.x264-TG

MTV...

Ever heard of Black Nick Adam?

- What is that, a band?
- Motorcycle gang.

They run the nitrous
game out here.

They'll kill anyone

that gets in their way.

You know, it's funny,

I've actually met
people like that before.

It's all right.

Tina here?

You know, it looks
bad. You sneak into town,

- and I'm not aware.
- Come on!

- This is family.
- It's my brother.

My father was a
brother to you, too.

Don't you fuckin' forget that.

Remember your first
and highest obligation.

Tina, is there any way

for us just to...

- to move past this?
- You left us nothing.

Nico "The Package"
Bugliosi was the only one.

Let's just say I
learned the hard way

- why he's called...
- What, The Package?

Did you know?

Help!

Donde esta Pilot?

You're late.

You gonna get me another
job when they fire me?

Can I get an OJ and a
cheese Danish, please.

You think it's easy?
I can't just galivant

in and out as I
please, you know?

All right, relax.

- What do you have for us?
- Well, this is interesting.

I sure hope so.

I told you about the
nitrous, obviously.

Huge source of income.

Apparently my boys got into
it with some other crew.

Yeah, you told me this already.

Yes, but this Italian guy

from New York, he's the
real deal, apparently.

- What Italian guy?
- Hey, Roxy,

you're an informant for the ATF.

Nitrous isn't us.
Tell us about guns.

Hold on a second.

What happened with
this Italian guy?

Territorial shit.

They tried to muscle in,

Macadams fought back,
it got a little ugly.

- You got a name?
- The Italian? Yeah.

Pike, he's my old man,
did a little digging.

Name's Dwight something.

He's also shaking
down some weed store.

Again, not our purview.

- Can we just focus on what we're trying...
- Shit, wait.

This is the guy the
FBI told us about.

The mob capo who just
got released from jail.

I don't know who the fuck
you're talking about.

They sent around notice. It
was a while back, but yeah,

Dwight Manafilotti or something.

Okay, sure, but what does
that have to do with us?

Who knows? Either way,
we should alert the FBI.

I'm sure they'd love to
hear what he's been up to.

Thank you.

Gonna hit the head.
Be right back.

Okay, first of all, your
job is to get information

on Caolan Waltrip,
not bullshit Italians.

And I need you to cool
that situation down now.

- What do you mean?
- I mean talk to

your boyfriend, Carson Pike,

and get Waltrip to
back the fuck off.

And get me some shit on him.

Finances, accounts, businesses
he's laundering money through.

- Something I can bring a prosecutor.
- How about I split some atoms

while I shit jelly beans
for you too?

I do like jelly beans.

Just get it done.

You really should eat something.

- I'm not hungry.
- Yeah, well...

vodka is more noticeable
than you think it is.

Totally
out of control.

Completely off the
fucking reservation.

I know he's your
friend, Pop, but Jesus.

My friend? He's your
godfather, for fuck's sake.

He stood up for you
at your christening.

In the club, though?

No warning, no nothing.

Five hours it took to clean up.

- Who knew about this?
- About what?

About whatever was going on
between Nico and the daughter.

You know, Dwight came to
visit me in the hospital.

He was very, very agitated.

All I know is Nico
used to go over there.

But that was years ago.

Pete, if I can interject, if
any of us had any inkling,

any idea, we would have
took Nico out ourselves.

The bigger question is,
what do we do with Dwight?

Enough already. Take him out.

Him and his fucking daughter.

What'd you say?

You all right?

His daughter?

His fucking daughter?

What did his daughter do? Huh?

Nico...

Nico, that fucking cocksucker.

I'd have skinned him alive.

I hear you...

But how much more
disrespect are we gonna take

- from this fucking Dwight?
- Dwight.

Dwight. Dwight. Dwight.
Worry about yourself.

If you were half the man he was,
this would have never happened.

Why do you make me treat
you like this? Huh?

What are you doing here? I
thought you went back to Tulsa.

I wanted to talk to you first.

Hey, excuse me.

Won't take long.

My God, is that
blood on your hands?

Let me just say
what I gotta say.

I don't think I want to hear it.

Let me talk.

Please.

He's gone.

Tell me you didn't do it.

Tell me that's not true.

It's true.

I was handling it in my own way.

And I handled it in mine.

Jesus Christ.

He's dead.

I've been around long
enough to realize

there's a line you do not cross
and expect to come back from.

He crossed it. He
scarred you for life.

And I took his life. And
you should have no guilt.

None. None.

Are you saying that
you feel nothing...

taking a life?

You know what I am.

And you know what I
would do if I found out.

This was justifiable vengeance.

Look at me.

I know I haven't
acted like one...

but I'm your father.

And I love you.

I don't know if you believe
that or not, but it's true.

Maybe you think I did this for
me because there's some code,

but no, it's so much
deeper than that.

It's a bond between father
and daughter, and it's...

It can't be explained, but
it's... but it's in the blood.

I wasted my life.

I know that.

And every bad thing
that happened to you

happened because I
bought into this lie.

Don't you see that
wherever you go...

something bad happens?

You just destroyed my life.

What do you think they're
going to do to us?

- They'll come after me.
- How do you know that?

I know Pete.

I know how he thinks,

He's bad, but not in that way.

Tina, they'll come for me.

You'll be safe.

Tyson, where you been?
I've been calling.

Long story. Armand
relayed a message to me.

I'll take that.

- What happened here?
- Impound.

Got hauled off. Spent
the night in jail.

They took my phone, which
is why I couldn't even

- get in contact with you.
- What did you get arrested for?

Working for you, apparently.

I'm gonna go see Donnie Shore.
You don't worry about it.

By the way, that phone had
all my contacts in it, man.

I'm talking all my contacts.

Not to mention some photos
of a very intimate nature,

- if you know what I'm...
- You got a password on it.

Yeah, but they're
good at hacking shit.

Hey, what the fuck is
up with your hand, man?

A dog bit me.
Let's go see Bodhi.

Shit.

You've reached
Bodhi. Leave a message.

Namaste.

Where are you, in
Tibet? Give me a call.

When you talked to the cops,
what did you say about me?

I didn't tell them shit.

- Is Bodhi in your contacts?
- Yeah, of course he is.

- Why?
- We talk. We say things.

Follow me.

Dwight Manfredi.
This is the guy,

the mob capo who
just got out of jail.

No, I remember his face.

I just don't know why we
need to involve the FBI.

I'm not involving them.

I'm just letting them
know what's going on.

- Professional courtesy.
- Hold on a second.

You really want them
to just blow into town

and take credit for our
whole investigation?

I mean, that's assuming
they don't just

fuck up the whole thing first.

Since when did you
become so territorial?

FBI, Agent
Ruiz speaking.

Oscar, Doug Hendricks with ATF.

Listen, I got something for you.

Easy, Rich.

Bring him in and bed him
when you're done, all right?

Can't believe you
started smoking again.

You were doing so good.

You the Surgeon General now?

Your boy Dwight,

would he be interested in
sitting down with Waltrip

if I could arrange it?

Is this an olive branch?

Of sorts.

Shit like what
happened that night

brings a lot of heat.
Heat costs money.

Well, I'll relay it. After
that, it's out of my hands.

How'd you hook up
with this guy anyway?

Just kind of bumped into
each other by accident.

All right. I'll
keep you posted.

Hello?

Hello?

Is anyone there?

Who was that?

Nobody. Probably
a salesperson.

Hey, how was New York?

Oh, fuck. Sorry.

You were there for
your brother's funeral.

It's okay. It's okay.

Let's just say New
York's over for me.

Looking like a man
who needs a drink.

How you doing, Babe?

I ain't sure how much more
of this bullshit I can stand.

- You and me both.
- Spoken to Bodhi?

No. You?

Yeah, some of our biker friends

snatched him up,
rattled his cage a bit.

- He all right?
- Yeah. Besides needing

a new pair of underwear,
I think he'll be fine.

I tried calling him. Nothing.
The shop's closed. Everything.

Armand reached out to me, says
his biker guy wants to talk.

Well...

Can't hurt to be
diplomatic, now can it?

We'll see.

Don't worry, baby,
everything'll be taken care of.

- Hello?
- Just was calling to check in.

Why? You said everything
was going to be okay.

Oh, it is. It is.

I didn't mean to upset you.

Someone called
earlier and hung up.

I'm sure it's nothing.

Did they say anything?

No.

Want me to send somebody over?

No, of course
not. Emory's here.

I'm sure it's fine.

If it happens again,
just let me know.

I will.

Thanks for checking in.

It's three o'clock
in the fucking morning.

I don't give a
fuck what time it is.

Dwight?

Is there some
stupid shit going on

that I should know about?

Look, I don't know what
you're talking about.

You want me to reach
out to the big guy?

- I'm talking to you, Goodie.
- Okay,

but I don't know anything
about your daughter.

If that's what this is about.

Why would you bring her up?

'Cause I assumed...

Look, Dwight, what do you need?

We go back a long way.

You can trust me.
What can I do?

A lot of people are going
to get hurt, Goodie.

Yeah, I can hear that.

So, how do we cool this down?

Not on the phone.

Get on the next flight out here.

I gotta run it by the big guy,
and then I'm coming by train.

There's not enough
value to get me to fly.

Just get out here.

Very clandestine.

- Who's that?
- You know Tyson, my driver.

Dwight, what are
you doing in Tulsa?

Seriously. I need to know.

- What? Why?
- Why?

Uh, first, somebody
tries to kill you.

That was a misunderstanding.

Then the nitrous dealing,
and then you're shaking down

some fucking weed guy?

First of all, turn the
attitude down a notch, please.

Second, who told you that?

It doesn't matter. I know.

Well, if you know, then
what are you asking me for?

Because the FBI
is all over this.

- What?
- There are wiretaps in New York.

You and a guy, Nico?
Something about your daughter.

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Really?

Get your hands caught
in a meat grinder?

Whatever you're
doing, you gotta stop.

Waltrip, whatever's
going on there,

I am asking you to
please back off. Okay?

- Relax.
- Relax?

You want me to...

If the FBI keeps
digging and finds out

about you and me, I am fucked.

I'm two years away
from my full pension.

You didn't do anything wrong.

It's not illegal to
have a social life.

A social life?

You know, it's generally
frowned upon for

a federal agent to consort
with a known felon.

I could get fired for
even talking to you.

How many times do
I tell you that?

Tell them we're in a
bowling league together.

You are a real
asshole, you know that?

It's genetic.

Seriously. I'm thinking
about taking off anyway.

So your troubles could be over.

- What does that mean?
- Tulsa.

It's been a shit show
since I got off the boat.

Not just for me,
but for everyone.

I'm gonna just pack it in
and go to Siberia. Move on.

Yeah. That'll solve everything.

Dwight, some people
live under a cloud.

That's you and me, okay?

It's gonna follow
you wherever you go.

My advice is find something
to give a shit about.

Stacy...

You want me to stay or go?

I'm taking this as a yes.

Bodhi.

Someone's pounding on your door.

- What?

Someone's pounding on your door.

Laurence Daggerman?

Yes. But I have a feeling
you already know that.

I'm Agent Oscar
Ruiz with the FBI.

I'd like to ask
you a few questions

about a Dwight Manfredi.

Any Dwight Manfredi,

or did you have a
particular one in mind?

- Anything?
- Nothing here.

Except t-shirts
and rolling paper.

Where the hell's all the weed?

Hey, boss. Found a
safe in the back.

Now he wants to talk?

What was wrong with last week?

Before he beat my
driver to death?

So what do we think?

I'm gonna go see Dwight,
I gotta book the Amtrak.

Well, can't hurt to sit
down and take a peek

at what he's got going on
out there while you're at it.

That's where I landed too.

What if it's a trap?

He's gonna kill a consigliere?

No, no. That's not
gonna solve it.

I don't know, Pop.

He's nuts.

Book your ticket.

Let's hear what he has to say.

As long as he keeps sending
envelopes full of cash...

I'm all ears.

Imagine
with me, if you will,

a man spends years
building a business

in his own community, his home.

Further imagine this man returns
home after a hard day's labor

to find a stranger in his
kitchen, an interloper.

And he is taking the food

from the very mouths
of the man's children.

Now, Mr. Manfredi,
you tell me...

what should be done
about this interloper?

First of all, I want to
say that was almost poetic.

So bravo. As for what
should be done...

That's complicated, pal.

Oh? How so?

Well, there's a few
flaws in your allegory.

You mentioned that
your business started

in a man's community,
whatever the fuck that means.

But I detect, correct
me if I'm wrong,

a slight lilt in your voice,

kind of like the Lucky
Charms leprechaun

that tells me you're not
exactly a Native American.

This is not your home. This
definitely ain't my home.

And to quote Woody Guthrie,
who actually was from Oklahoma,

this land belongs to you and me.

If you, sir, had come
to me like a gentleman,

hat in hand, asked
my permission,

offered me a taste...

none of these unpleasantries

would have unfolded,
now would they?

Now, don't get me wrong,

because I have no intention
to continue selling nitrous,

because I'm going to
explore other options.

But if I change my mind,

and I mean this with
all due disrespect,

there's not a thing you...

Or anybody...

Is gonna do about it.

Nothing.

Sir, you're
overplaying your hand.

When I play my hand,
you won't see it coming.

And next time we meet,

pick a place with a
fucking air conditioner.

That's your idea of
cooling things down, huh?

No one said I was a diplomat.

Here's to the girl with
the little red shoes.

She spends my money and
she drinks my booze.

She lost her cherry,
but that's no sin

'cause she still got the
box that the fruit came in.

Dwight, what are we going to do
with this fucking Waltrip guy?

We can't go to war
with these bikers.

There's too many of
them. It's bad math.

So we got to rethink this
nitrous stream bullshit.

Check it out. I
got it. I got it.

We'll do nitrous animal
balloons for the kids.

- Always thinking.
- I'm always clicking, you know me.

- Yeah, okay, pal.
- It's going.

Dwight. Dwight.

- Where you been?
- Oh, just hanging around,

seeing old friends,
tending to the garden

and getting interrogated and
raided by the fucking FBI.

- Seriously?
- Yeah, I'm fucking serious.

Oh, and by the way, they
cleaned out the safe.

Took all my cash as
well as my product.

- What did I tell you?
- Too soon.

Mitch, you want
to do the honors?

Not really. But I got this.

- What's happening?
- Easy, pard. The last thing

I wanna do is run my hands
over your lumpy body.

I gotta pat you down.

For starters, it would
have been really thoughtful

if you'd have wiped
your hands first,

considering you just ate ribs.

Okay, that's not a wire.

He's clean. You owe me.

And second, are you
fucking kidding me, Dwight?

I don't know where you've been.

For all we know, you
could have flipped.

Do people who flip usually
lead off with the fact

that they were interrogated
and raided by the Feds?

No, they don't, but
what did you tell them?

The truth.

That we're business partners.

- Business partners?
- Yeah.

Because we are.

That's it? That's all you said?

That and something to the
effect that they can fuck off

and leave me alone,
but essentially, yes.

Why'd you say that?

Honestly, I don't
know why I didn't

call the FBI the day
you walked into my shop.

I probably should
have, but I didn't.

Christmas came early.

Stay there.

You're welcome.

What's that?

Everything you thought you lost.

I got a feeling these
guys were gonna raid,

so we put it all on ice.

Hey. Don't you fucking kiss me.

- Do you mind if I join you for dinner?
- Please do.

What's up, my man?

No forks?

Sweetheart.

- You can take that away.
- Not hungry?

Well, looks like my
date stood me up.

Usually he comes
clomping along here

around this time, and...

Oh, you mean Pilot. I'm
sorry, he's being put down.

Put down? Why?

The fines. He
keeps breaking out.

They've tried
everything, apparently.

We haven't met.
My name is Dwight.

- Spencer.
- Hey, Spencer.

Nice to meet you officially.
But I'm actually leaving.

- Today's my last day.
- Oh.

You have another job?

Not yet. Still looking.

You like horses?

I love horses. Why?

How you doing?

I'm looking to buy a horse.

It's a white... That's
him right there.

I'm sorry, signor.

Knocker's on his way.

That's the owner?

A knocker is a person that
gets rid of dead animals.

- Seriously?
- They shoot him, sir.

They make dog food,
glue, leather.

He's a good horse.
Stubborn, but good.

He keeps running away.

- How much is he giving you?
- The knocker?

We pay him, signor.

You pay him. Okay.

How about I give you
$300 for the horse

- To take this animal?
- Yeah.

Well, that's plenty,
sir. Thank you.

There's a guy named
Armand. He got a trailer.

Now, he's gonna come around
here, pick this horse up.

This girl... Young lady, sorry.

- Spencer.
- Hi.

She's gonna make sure
everything goes smoothly

and hang out with the horse.

You got my number if
there's a problem, right?

- You got it.
- Okay.

Pilot...

Can I ask you, sir, a question?

Why this horse? He's
old, he's stupid.

Not good for anything anymore.

He kept you on your toes.

- Yeah?
- Hey, it's me.

Listen, I have an idea.

- Okay.
- Help me take down Waltrip.

- Help how?
- We can set him up.

You tell him you want
to buy some guns.

He's got an arsenal.
He'll be fucking gone.

Listen, I'd like to help
you out, but I can't do it.

I'm not a rat. I'm not
about to start now.

You do realize you could be
looking at another fucking 25?

- I can't.
- You can't or you won't?

- We done here?
- That's it?

You're seriously not
going to help me out?

I can't.

All right.

Well, good luck then.

Yeah, good luck to you, too.

Wait
until they close.

Late, quiet. No one
will be on the street.

Any particular message?

Well, I usually find
a few rounds from

a Remington twelve
gauge to be as

definitive a statement as any.

What did I miss?

Where the fuck
did you come from?

I clocked out early.
We're slow today.

What happened with
the grease ball?

He talked, I listened, and
now I'm going to interject.

He's mafia, though, New York.

Isn't that dangerous?

You know, you...

might like to teach
your girl some manners.

What the fuck?

Mind your fucking business.

Scorcher.

This is a working
ranch, not daycare.

I don't board pets.

They were gonna make him
into glue, for Christ's sake.

Ah, you city boys.

You love the sausage,
hate seeing how it's made.

Those are just the
facts of life on a farm.

Everybody's gotta
pull their weight.

- And when they don't...
- Sausage.

Hey, nobody loves horses more
than I do. They're my life.

But there's an order to
things, how they work.

I'm running a business here.

Well, isn't the
purpose of business...

Are you ever even going
to ride the damn thing?

I don't know. I've never
been on a carousel, but,

give me a lesson or two...

Now, by the way, that young
lady, her name is Spencer.

She's going to take
care of the horse.

Brush it, feed it, change
its shoes, whatever.

I will give you one week

while you make
proper arrangements.

And don't even think of
asking for an extension.

Manny! Put him
over by the silo.

There's plenty of
grass over there.

By the way, did you ever
find out who burned that car?

That's an ongoing investigation.

Mm-hmm.

One week.

Thank you.

One week.

Fucker.

Maybe it's time to renovate.

It's time to light a match.

You ever think about
taking on a partner?

Well, I'd consider it

if I ever met anybody
dumb enough to do it.

Dwight Manfredi. How you doing?

- You serious?
- Could be.

I ran a club in New
York in the '80s.

What you need's some live music,

some dancers. Food's
pretty good here.

You just need a little push.

Music wise, I do a
little playing myself.

Okay. You're the house
band. No problem.

Anyway, think about
it. No pressure.

Maybe a little bit. I
got a feeling about this.

I think we'd be good partners.

- Put it on the back burner.
- All right.

How you doing, buddy?

I'll go park.
I'll be up in a minute.

Darren!

- You okay?
- Uh-huh.

You got a gun, get it!

Don't move, Babe, stay!

Fuck!

He's done.

Fuck.

Well... I thought it over.

You got yourself a partner.

Good to hear it.

You dropped me and the boys off,

- some guy attacked him.
- It could be a warning.

Is there something
you're not telling me?

So, what do you
think of the veal?

I was in prison for
a long, long time.

So everything tastes good to me.

There he is. The General.

- You got any intel?
- He gets his weed

from the Indians, some
cowboy runs the bar,

and the Black kid
drives him around,

it's like the fuckin'
Village People.

You killed Carson Pike? I
could arrest you right now.

He's not gonna be
controllable for much longer.