Original subtitles

[phone typing clicks]

SEB: [video] Hey, guys. It's Seb from Seb's Garage here.

So your truck's not blowing hot air and you're tired

of your scumbag mechanic dipping into your pocket?

[knocking]

SEB: Today, I'll be walking you through a few possible...

- Hey, watching a video on how to fix car, huh?

EVERETT: Oh, no, no, everything's fine.

I'm good. Everything's fine.

- I'm happy to help you any time. - Brother, help me with what?

- Fix your, uh, heat problem?

- No, it's fine. It's good, it's good. It's fine.

- Listen, you don't have to suffer in silence like this.

- I'm not suffering, I have a coat. I'm good.

- Yeah? - I'm good, yeah, honestly.

- You know... - Honestly.

- Hey! Even if you don't have money,

we can, uh, exchange things like old world, you know?

- No, no, I'm good, I'm good. - [sentimental music]

- Just pop up the hood. - I'm okay. It's fine, Amir.

- Pop it up! Open it up! - It's fine, Amir.

- Come on, come on! - It works. I'm fine, it's good.

- I just look, no touch. I promise!

- It's fine, Amir. Amir, it's fine.

- Pop it up. - I'm good.

- Pop it up! Pop it up! Pop it up!

- Amir! - Pop it up.

Pop it up, pop it up. - Amir? Amir!

- [repeating "Pop it up"] - I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm good.

Amir!

- [repeating "Pop it up"]

- Amir, I'm good! I'm fuckin' good!

I'm good, I'm good!

- [repeating "Pop it up" and banging on hood]

Pop it up.

- [hood clicks] - There!

Pssht, this guy.

EVERETT: Yo, what the fuck!

[vent blowing]

- Fuckin' guy fixed my heat!

[theme music, "Let's Ride" by Choclair]

?

TRISHA: [voice] You've reached Trisha Roosevelt.

If it's urgent, please reach me on my personal line.

And if not, I will be in touch soon.

- [beep] - Trish, what up?

Just at work, grindin' and shit. Uh...

- Pfft!

- Listen, that million-dollar contract

that you said that you were gonna give me,

I just wanted to call and see where we're at with that.

Uh, you said, and don't forget, I'm your guy.

Alright, call me back. Call me back, for real, alright?

[sighs] Is she fuckin' duckin'?

[line ringing]

[phone receiver clunking]

[phone beeping]

- [hangs up phone] - [beeping stops]

- Fuck!

ERIC: Oh, this van's a piece of shit.

- It's crazy, nobody think to ask Ricky about this one, man.

- Huh?

- I used to be a mechanic, brother!

You didn't know that? - Really?

- Yeah! [laughs] - Wow.

Ricky, no, I just wouldn't bother with that, Ricky.

- Augh! - [dramatic music]

- [both laugh] - Imagine!

- Stop fuckin' around. - Oh, help me, Eric!

Help me, Eric!

- Ricky, what the fuck? - Holy shit!

- Come on, bro. - AMIR: Eric!

What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy, man?

- He was fuckin' around with this shit.

- What did you do?! - I did nothing!

- Hours and hours of work! - [speaking in Spanish]

- Okay, okay, okay, Ricky, see?

- Yeah! [clapping]

That's why you're Amir. Top mechanic.

- Yes, that is why I am Amir,

and that is why I can pronounce this dead!

Ready for the morgue!

- Oh my God, Amir, just-- how about we cut the shit,

you tell me what it costs. What, it has to be, what, $100?

- $100?

Pretty convenient for you, huh? Tsk-tsk-tsk...

- Amir, fuck the sound effects, man.

What's it gonna cost? - Maybe 10 grand.

ERIC: 10 thousand?!

- It's dead, Jim! - What?

- You having money problems, maybe, uh...

you do favour for Amir...

Amir forgets and I fix van for free, hmm?

- What kind of favour are we talkin' about here?

- Small cash job, easy delivery.

- Brother...

- I do for nothing and, uh,

you go get something for yourself, huh?

[Ricky speaking in Spanish]

ERIC: What? What are you saying?

- Use your head a little bit! - Okay, okay, okay.

- That's for the heater earlier, man.

Appreciate that.

Just take.

Job's cancelled so you guys are good.

- Oh? - Okay.

- Nice, nice.

- You guys good? - Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Yeah, no, no, we're good. - Of course, man!

- You're good? - Yeah, I'm good, yeah.

The van good? - Uh... yeah!

Yeah, van's good. - Yeah!

- Okay. - Yeah, yeah, van's good.

Van's good, yeah, yeah, yeah. - Catch you at the crib, man.

- See you at the crib, yeah, yeah.

- Cool. Okay, Ricky. - You're good?

- I'm good, I'm good. - Yeah, we're good, we're good.

- See you at the crib, hm? [smelling loudly]

[ominous music]

- What does that mean?

EVERETT: Kinda... wish... I had...

Where... you at?

- Any word from Trisha?

- Sending her an email right now.

CARLA: Radio silence, eh? EVERETT: [sighs] Yeah.

- Good don't come without the bad.

And I have some good news.

Uh, Zenithon replied.

They want to meet

and they're sending Susan Li... today.

- What's the bad news?

- They want records we don't have.

- Like what?

- Access to our books, past and upcoming contracts, signed.

- Books? We got books. - [drawer opens]

- What fucking books? - I got books!

Here.

It's all there.

- Everett, this just says you paid your taxes once in 2016.

- I dunno.

- Hmm, that'll probably get you reported.

- Man, fuck that shit, man.

We'll catch up on taxes when we're up an M.

- Up an M...? Well, 950 after Trisha's cut.

- I still gotta get a hold of her to iron that shit out.

Could be more. - Like for... us? Or...

- No, Trisha could get more. We get less.

- What?

- We'll figure that shit out later.

Right now, all we need is a Telegen contract

with Trisha's signature,

Zenithon's fuckin' lickin' their chops.

We'll get it.

Please...

- Are you... sure Trisha's going to give us this contract?

- All we gotta do is come in the cheapest

and give her the biggest cut.

And with this contract, we're the only ones

that can give her an instant payout.

- But you're sure she's going to give us the contract?

- [gulps] Mm-hm!

- Okay, well, um...

What if...

she signed a bit... earlier?

[suspenseful music]

- What do you mean? - [suspenseful music]

- You know what I'm saying.

- What are you saying?

- You... you know what I'm saying.

- If you know I know what you're saying, just say it.

- You say it.

- It was your idea. You should say it.

- I actually need you to say it. - It was your idea. Say it.

- [sighs] Just...

forge...

- [suspenseful music] - You said it.

?

AMIR: Brother, drive all the way up 407.

- Oh, no, no, just tell me the address.

Lemme punch it in. - Yeah, brother, no address.

- What? - Only city!

- Okay, what is it? - Whitchurch-Stouffville.

- What? - Whitchurch-Stouffville.

- Stew...?

Brother, just type it, man.

Just type it, man. Type it, 'cause...

- Package over there.

- This is the package?

- Yeah. - This is huge!

- Yeah, your package. - What is this?!

It's not small, brother! What...?

Yo, we're delivering horses. What are we doin'?

Oh, Whitchurch-Stouffville, an hour away.

Are you mad? - Yeah.

Go here, meet guy here, huh?

Be back by 4 pm.

Or else! [chuckling menacingly]

ERIC: Oof!

- Hey, I kid, I kid! - Okay.

- Brother, back by 4?

I fix everything on truck.

Everett never find out.

No problem, ah?

- Amir, whose car is this, man? 'Cause I know you like to--

- Mine, brother.

- I'm not buyin' that, man. Whose car is this, man?

- Look, automatic starter, huh?

- [car alarm blaring] - That's an alarm.

Brother, the alarm.

REPORTER: [radio] In breaking news,

crime rates in the GTA are up a reported 25%,

particularly white-collar crimes.

In other news, a goose is--

- [radio switches to music] - Thanks.

- Shit hits the fan, you had the mouse.

Come on, Trisha, man.

Seriously.

[automatic dialling]

[phone ringing]

- What does that say?

CARLA: Holy fuck... Five years!

TRISHA: [voice] You've reached Trisha Roosevelt.

If it's urgent...

- She's gonna reach back out. Trust, trust, trust.

- Yeah? - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Fuck, maybe straighten this place out a little bit

before the meeting?

I'ma go grab some finger food from Reggie's

to butter Susan up.

- Or, or, um, I could fan out some meat sticks

around a bowl of crackers-- charcuterie.

- Reggie's.

- Just don't fuck around over there!

- Don't worry, he'll be quick, he'll be quick. Maybe just...

Maybe... print that shit just in case.

- If shit hits the fan, you printed it!

- No, I didn't.

[printer whirring]

- [phone beeps] - Call Trisha.

[line ringing]

TRISHA: [voice] You've reached Trisha Roosevelt.

If it's urgent... - Fuck!

- [phone beeps] - Call Reggie.

[phone ringing]

REGGIE: Fuck off!

Miyute, mi say ya money no good here, so!

- Respect, general. - EVERETT: [phone] Yo, Reggie.

- What you want?

- Yeah, I'm just comin' to pick up some finger food for a guest.

I just need two pounds of BBQ chicken

with some festival on it. - We done, it's out.

EVERETT: Come on, bro!

- Brother, mi have X amount of wings

and mi run out of flour already, so [indistinct].

- Alright, run the chicken, two pound, white meat.

- Two chicken? Alright. - Alright, I'll be there in 20.

- And look how ya nyam, nyam, nyam on somethin', dawg.

RICARDO: Why you always gotta talk to me like

I gotta know something, man? Huh?

All I have in this world is my balls and my word!

And I don't break them for anybody!

- Not for anybody! - [laughter]

- That's it, man. Allan Pasino.

- Who? - Allan Pasino.

You don't believe me?

- Oh, Al Pacino, Al Pacino. - Al?

- Al, Al. - Al!

- 'Al' tell you later! - [laughter]

- Look at that, Eric. - What's that?

- Cookies. - Put it back. Put it back.

- I'm going to try a little. - Ricky, we're almost there.

Put it back. Ricky! - I'm going to bite, Eric.

- Leave it. - No. Eric!

- Leave it! Ricky, put it down. - Oh, no! Oh!

- Ricky, put it down! - Eric, it's close!

- Oh my God, whatever. - It's very close!

- Whatever, man. You're just...

you're joking yourself at this point.

- They taste like shit, man.

- Put it back, bro. We're almost there. Put it back.

- Oh, man, I'm fuckin' tired, bro.

- Bop, bop, bop! - Yo, yo, yo, I'm drivin', bro!

I'm drivin'! - I'm Mini Manny Pacquiao!

- I'm drivin', I'm drivin', man!

- [laughs] Oh, man. Mini Manny Pacquiao!

- This guy's crazy. Wait, Amir's not Italian.

- Why he have the Italian gloves?

- Why would he have Italian gloves?

Lemme see the cookies, lemme see the cookies.

- This one here? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

There's a label on it, no? Okay, lemme see.

- [indistinct] - [laughs]

-"Nonna's Wedding Cookies"?

That's someone's grandma. That's "grandma" in Italian.

Whose car is this?!

[suspenseful music]

ERIC: [echoey voice] Whose car is this?

[reggae music playing]

- Yo, Reggie, come nuh, bredda!

Man, I called 20 minutes before I came here!

- Yo, just cool it now, Ev. Soon follow, yeah?

- Dawg, I gotta make moves.

CHICO: Relax, mon. Enjoy de wait.

- I can't. I got a meeting, man.

- Try the patty. - What, are they free?

- Just for friends and family.

- Oh, shit, yeah.

That doesn't include me.

Holy crumbs, guy.

Yo, quick wipes.

- Sah-jam?

- Yes. Uh, Susan Li?

- Yes.

- [clears throat]

- Oh?

- [laughs nervously]

CARLA: We're-- we're just waiting on Everett.

He should be back any minute.

With refreshments.

- Can you point me to the restroom?

- Ugh!

[eerie music]

?

ERIC: Brother, Amir,

now this is starting to feel suspect.

Where am I? What am I doin' here?

What's goin' on, bro?

AMIR: [phone] Brother, come on!

Sometimes Amir fix car for customer far away.

I offer drop-off. That's all! Come on!

- Well, does the customer live in a shipping yard?

- [phone hangs up] - Amir?

Fuckin' guy, brother!

[knocking]

- Yo, what kinds of mans Amir sendin' me, bro?

This guy's getting' messy!

- Eric, who's this guy, man? What's happening?

- This guy's got fuckin' mans sleepin'

on the mission and shit, bro? - Mission?

- Uncle! Can I play my recorder now, Uncle?

- Yo, relax for now, bro. - Doesn't he have school?

- Yo, what are you, a fuckin' guidance counsellor?

Yo, stop askin' me dumb shit.

Get up out this truck.

Let's do this fuckin' mission before we get booked, eh?

- We're on a mission? - [knocks on door]

Let's go! Wakey wakey!

Let's go! Time to get the bag!

[suspenseful music]

[Susan sighs]

- I'm pretty booked up today-- - [spit hits Carla]

- And we're running behind schedule.

- Shall we begin? - Uh... yeah.

Everett just texted me. He'll be along in a minute.

Uh, I just think we should wait a little bit longer.

So, uh... how was the drive up?

- I'm not here for talking.

- [gulps] - [dramatic music]

REGGIE: [indistinct]

- Wicked. Two pound BBQ chicken?

- Hold on. Wrong order dis.

Who di bumbo... Tsk!

- Oh, God...

- Yo, Delroy, what kinda system y'all runnin', mi G?

DELROY: [from kitchen] That a stew chicken you say!

- Some bloodclaat bwoy! - What?

- Me say "two chicken." Two!

Me not say nuttin' about no stew!

- It's fine, brother. I'll take it. It's cool.

- No! No, no, no.

Ya order chicken wing, ya gon' get chicken wing.

- It's fine, I'll take it. I'll take it.

I'll take the stew chicken. It's cool.

- Alright. - Thank you, bro, thank you.

- Wait...

Walk with dis, too. - What's this?

- Somebody order some jerk wings.

But dem ah tek too long fi pick it up, so...

- Oh, taking too long? Okay, yeah, oh, sweet.

What are the spice levels on this?

- Yuh tun soft? - [dramatic music]

- [laughs] It na spicy, man. You good.

- Yeah, I appreciate that, man. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

- Yo, Reggie, ah mi wings dat?

- Easy now, dawg! You in and out my shop

every day an' night ah just nyam up mi food.

Yuh too greedy!

- I'm here, man, every day fi support de new business.

- Support wha?

Look pon all de patty crumb ya just sprinkle pon mi floor

after me just sweep up!

- I saw you gwan... - [indistinct arguing]

- After nyam nyam after free patty

me just give you?

- [indistinct]

- Oh, so Sean did say sometin' 'bout me?

[indistinct arguing]

- Family tink dis... - [arguing continues]

- Alright, guys.

[arguing continues]

- Get de broom, mon! Get me a broom!

- [playing "Hot Cross Buns" on recorder]

- Yeah, it's fantastic, man!

ERIC: Yeah, it's good, it's good.

- Fantastic, yeah, he's... - Yeah.

- Talented, wow.

- Bro, you're not fuckin' lyin' to me, are you?

Bro, liars get fuckin' decked, bro!

- Bro, no, no, no, he's okay! - Fantastic, man, wow!

- Insane, bro.

- Yeah, go! Go! Yeah! [clapping]

- Okay, stop playing. - [continues playing]

- Okay, that's fine. - Yo, stop playing now, relax!

Yo, open up the trailer, bro.

- Yeah, open it, open it, open it.

[suspenseful music]

?

PRINCE: That's a sick whip.

[door opens and closes in the background]

- I need to see some sort of statements that--

- Hey, Susan, sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

[chair wheels rolling]

EVERETT: Oof.

Sorry I'm late.

Everett Saunders, owner of Shazam.

Sorry I'm late. It's a pleasure to meet you.

- Everett, I take punctuality very seriously.

- Yeah...

- You're late to your own meeting.

Are you like this with all your clients?

- Uh, no. No, no, no, no, no. I also, uh...

don't get jerk wings for all my clients.

Smells good. Jamaican.

[recorder tooting in background]

PRINCE: Bro, you can't be serious!

He set me a whip with a fuckin' tracker?

- Tracker?

- Oh, bro, okay, lemme think, lemme think, lemme think.

Alright, yo, we gotta strip this shit.

Quick time.

- Eric? Look at that.

The cat is, like, washing the window.

- Yo, this guy's takin' out the tracker.

- Tracker?! - Shh, shut the fuck up, man!

[recorder tooting continues]

ERIC: [echoey voice] Whose car is this?

AMIR: [echoey voice] Small cash job, easy delivery.

PRINCE: [echoey voice] We gotta ship this, quick times!

Let's do this before we get booked!

- Ah!

[recorder tooting continues]

- Yeah, yeah, bro, we're out, we're out.

Oh! Oh, shit, fuck, sorry!

You're good? - Yeah.

- Sorry, sorry.

- You guys are gettin' fuckin' jumpy, eh?

- No, no, no. - Steppin' on my nephew and shit?

- It's just Amir wanted us back by 4,

so we just gotta get going. You wanna, uh, hook it?

- How you expect me to load this shit

back in shit by myself, bro?

- You got your... nephew. He's right there, he's good.

- Look, we're not going anywhere until we get

this mission complete.

Comprende?

?

- Oof!

Fuck, bro, see that shit?

- Phew!

- Susan, look, I'm a man that likes to look forward

and forget about the past, so we don't really

concern ourselves with, um, with past...

- [exhales] - ...accounting records.

Uh, we're more so focused on tomorrow's move.

- Phew. Yeah, sure. We can look past the books.

- [sound of spit] - May I have some filtered water?

- Um, is tap okay? Heh!

[eerie music]

- No. - Okay.

- But just an NOA will do for now.

- Okay, yeah, NOA.

- Uh... notice of assessment!

Heh, like when we do our... taxes.

- Oh, yeah, yeah, taxes. Yeah, we do that.

Yeah, we do taxes. Yeah, we...

Uh, we'll get the NOA going.

- You should have them already.

- Uh, we do!

- And for that 15-year contract with Telegen

you mentioned over email,

we need to see proof of work for upcoming jobs.

EVERETT: Yeah.

- Need to be signed contracts, nothing pending.

- Yeah, no worries. We got it, uh, right here, actually.

Uh, it's in Carla's folder.

She's gonna slide it over to you.

- Boss, heh, you know, it's...

you're the boss, so you should do it.

- Well, you know, yeah, 'cause you're the secretary,

so you should deal with the papers and stuff.

- Honour's all yours, boss.

- Well, you know, you're closer, so I just--

- Guys, please! - [sound of spit]

- Yeah. Um, I'm gonna just grab Carla's pen,

and slide that over to you.

Here's your pen back.

[dramatic music]

- [grumbles]

EVERETT: Yeah, that's the contract.

PRINCE: You never saw me.

- Yeah. - You never saw my nephew.

- Nope. - You never saw that car.

You definitely never seen anything go into this container.

- No. Didn't see nuttin'. - Yeah.

- Remember-- - Oh?

- I seen your face, fucker. Chico!

Yo, music class is over, man!

Stop fuckin' baitin' out the crime scene.

- Alright, dip! - Oh, yeah, yeah.

ERIC: Come on, Ricky.

Ricky!

- Stop doing that. That's disrespectful!

What do they teach you in school?

- Eric, you know what?

I think that guy is stealing the car.

- You don't know shit. You ain't seen shit.

- I see him, man. He take the trailer,

he take the tracker.

- The trailer?!

- Eric, you said unhook it!

- Oh, fuck!

- Oh, shit! Oh, shit! - Eric, you are driving.

Drive! Drive faster!

ERIC: I'm fuckin' going as fast as I can go!

- Huh, Trisha. We worked together before.

- Oh, nice.

- Does she know you're trying to sell the company with us?

- [Carla spits out water] - Um... no.

Uh, no, she didn't-- uh, we don't wanna

ruin the surprise until it's all official.

But, um, where does a contract like this put Shazam at,

selling-price-wise?

- Well, nowhere until I call Trisha to confirm.

EVERETT: Oh, shit.

- And Carla, I see you're the one who signed off on these papers?

- Yes, she did. - Well, Everett and I.

- Well, I walked in on her already doing it.

She's so proactive.

She just, like, takes the steering wheel and shit.

So, I said, "Good job!" - [laughs] Yeah, I was like,

"Oh my God, Everett, we make such a great team."

- Yeah, but I just love when she goes ahead

and just signs shit by herself.

- [exhales] Holy pepper! - [sound of spit]

- That spice level is criminal!

- Yeah, I can... I can taste it.

Lemme get tap water for myself.

- I don't see nothing. - Hmm.

- And I no say nothing, too.

But if the police coming to me and telling me

I have to go back to Cuba,

you goin' to come with me, okay, Eric?

- Ricky? - With me.

- Ricky?

I tell you something.

I no see nothing, okay?

I no say nothing, okay?

Trailer?

[indistinct], gone, poof.

- [laughs] - Yeah?

- Okay, Eric.

[phone buzzing]

- Holy fuck, this guy's blowin' up my line.

VOICEMAIL: You have 11 unread voice messages.

AMIR: [phone] Brother, please, where are you? 3:50 pm now.

Come on! Call me! - [phone beeps]

AMIR: Eric, Eric, 4:15 now. Still no sign!

Listen, don't come to garage. Go side of building.

Call me first. - [phone beeps]

AMIR: Bah, bring car! Fuck!

- Get off my phone, bro.

RICARDO: You know what my father tell me?

Never trust anybody with an accent.

ERIC: That's actually a little racist.

- Holy fucking shit.

She's going to call Trisha and find out

we forged her signature.

- Relax! By the time she gets a hold of Trisha,

we'll have the real signature. - Bullshit!

She hasn't answered you all fucking day.

- Just chill out. She will. Alright? I'm not worried.

[blinds rustling]

- Of course you're not worried.

You didn't forge a fucking signature.

- Yeah, I guess you're right. I didn't, that was you.

AMIR: Hey! CARLA: [gasps]

AMIR: Either of you, uh, hear from Eric?

- No, why? - [sighs] Nothing.

- Everything good? - Yes. But her, why so jumpy?

- Jumpy? She's not jumpy. No, she's good.

- Oh. - She's good, she's normal.

She's good, right? Right?

Right? Where you goin'?

- To jail!

- [laughs] What did you two do?

- Nothing! - Ah!

- What did you do?

- Nothing!

ERIC: Oh, come on, bro, drive up.

- Fuck, Eric, man, I'm so hungry, I'm going to eat this.

- Why you keep eating them if they're nasty?

- I don't know, man. But you know what?

When you hungry, you hungry!

There's nothing you can do, Eric.

- Just put it back. We're right here.

- Ah, "Put it back, man! Put it back!

"My name is Eric! Put it back!"

- What the fuck you just say to me?

Say that shit again, nigga!

See, you've gone too far now!

I told you leave the cookies, bro!

- I can't see shit! - I told you!

- [indistinct shouting] - Get out!

Get out! - The fuck, man?

MAN: What the fuck is goin' on?

Hey! Who is this?! This isn't no mechanic.

- No! [laughs] This is top mechanic!

Please!

- Okay, guys, this is what happens when you bring your car

to Amir's Auto Shop! - No, no!

- Let's see, 500 clicks on my fucking car!

And who the fuck is this?!

- Eric, I'm starting to no hear now, man!

I can't hear! - Is that coke?

Both of you, get the fuck outta my truck!

Jesus!

- Brother, please. No worries! Amir fix price!

Zero dollars! Boom, poof, huh?

- What are you, a fuckin' magician?

I don't know what kind of business

you criminals are running here, but you're fucked.

[phone beeps]

- My fucking keys!

[dramatic music]

[engine starts]

[car drives away]

- You fucked me! - I what? Excuse me?

- You fucked me!

- You made us drive a stolen car, brother.

- To help you steal another car.

- Idiots! - We never fuck you, man! Never!

- You good?

- Yeah, I'm good. You good? - I'm good.

- Fantastic, man.

- He good?

- He's good.

? I'm chasing a thing I can't grab ?

? But somehow I know that it's real ?

? If I ain't put shit in my songs ?

? Wouldn't know how they say how I feel ?

? Been on the road a little bit ?

? Young nigga chasing them meals ?

? Emailing me for my soul ?

? They tryna lock me in that deal ?

? I ain't go for it I know that I'm pushing ?

? I know that I'm gone ?

? I'm back in this shit ?

? I just got 10k off of my latest lil song ?

? I wonder if they see the talent ?

? I wonder if they hear the songs ?

? The case when I'm gone... ?

?

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