Blow
Diego nods.
GEORGE (CONT’D) Alright.
This is too much for Inez to handle. She starts screaming machine gun Spanish. Something about a “lousy two-hundred and fifty-thousand dollars,” and how Diego is “such a coward” to give away all his money. Diego is embarrassed but tries to remain calm.
DIEGO You will watch what you say. Especially around George. He is my brother and he speaks as good Spanish as you.
But Inez is wild. She starts in again, a log of “Putos (SOB’s)”, and “Cojones” and “Maricones (gay/sissys).” Even Cesar is uncomfortable. Diego stands.
DIEGO (CONT’D) Okay. That’s enough.
INEZ Get your hands off me.
Inez takes a swing at Diego and catches him full across the face. Time stops in the room. Question. What will Diego do? Answer: SMACK! Diego swings back and a full scale is on. Cesar continues the conversation. It’s surreal. As if Diego and Inez weren’t beating the shit out of each other right in front of them.
CESAR Do you have pictures of your kids?
STEVENS What?
CESAR I’ll need to see them. Also need their names and the names of their schools. We are trusting you with ninety million dollars worth of coca, Mr. Stevens. Without your children, there is no deal.
Stevens thinks about it. Kids as collateral. Inez and Diego are still duking it out. But Diego finally gets the upper hand and drags her into the bedroom.
STEVENS Fine. So if that’s all, I’ll be leaving now.
Cesar walks him to the door.
CESAR Don’t forget the pictures.
Diego calls from the other room.
DIEGO (O.S.) George. George, come in here.
INT. LA BELLE MER – BEDROOM – LATER
Diego has put Inez in the bathroom and is holding the door closed. She pounds and kicks and screams in frustration, but he pays no attention.
DIEGO What’s the matter, George?
GEORGE What’s the matter? We’re moving three hundred fucking kilos and we’re making dogshit.
DIEGO A million dollars for our first run is not bad, George.
GEORGE It is bad. It’s chump change. We might as well be hauling suitcases across the border. We’re getting screwed.
DIEGO I know.
GEORGE And what happens when these guys stop paying? Sooner or later, these guys are going to cut us out. Then where are we?
DIEGO That’s my George, always thinking.
The door is yanked open to reveal Inez. She is in a rage. Diego slams it in her face.
DIEGO (CONT’D) This is only part of the business, George. A very small part. Don’t worry, there is so much more to do. Which reminds me, I need a favor from you. I must go to Colombia.
GEORGE What is it, George? Because I have to get home. I’ve got a parole officer waiting for me.
DIEGO I need you to go to Miami.
EXT. VENETIAN KING APTS. – MIAMI – 1977 – DAY
George gets out of a taxi to find SEVERAL COLOMBIAN MEN hanging around outside an apartment. He checks the address and moves over to the men.
GEORGE I’m George. Friend of Diego’s?
The Colombian men are not impressed. They grab George and pull him inside.
INT. VENETIAN KING APTS. – CONTINUOUS
George is pinned against the wall and the Colombian men all start screaming at him in Spanish. There seems to be a problem. A man, ALESSANDRO, steps forward. He is the one who speaks English.
ALESSANDRO QUIET! Callate! Where’s Diego?
GEORGE I don’t know. He sent me. I’m George.
ALESSANDRO Oh, I see. George. Well, that explains everything. Open your mouth, George.
George’s puzzled look is replaced by a gun barrel in his face. Alessandro presses it against George’s front teeth.
ALESSANDRO (CONT’D) Now, you listen to me. Are you hearing me?
George nods.
ALESSANDRO (CONT’D) You see this?
He indicates two duffel bags stuffed with fifty kilos of cocaine.
ALESSANDRO (CONT’D) I’ve been holding this shit for him for three weeks. You tell Diego I don’t appreciate it. You tell him I want my money by Friday. Can you do that?
GEORGE Um-hmm.
INT. JUNG HOUSE – GEORGE’S ROOM – DAY
George sits on his bed, reading. Two duffel bags are tucked away in the closet. Ermine pokes her head in.
ERMINE You have a phone call.
George picks up the phone.
DIEGO (O.S.) George.
GEORGE
Jesus Christ, Diego, where are you? It’s been eleven days and these guys want their fucking money.
DIEGO (O.S.) Bad news, George. I’m in Colombia.
GEORGE Well, you better get here fast. I’m sitting on…
George notices Ermine is loitering in the hallway, eavesdropping.
GEORGE (CONT’D) Hi, Mom.
George acknowledges her before shutting the door in her face.
GEORGE (CONT’D) I’m sitting on fifty fucking keys. Get your ass up here.
INT. CARCEL DE VARONES – MEDELLIN, COLOMBIA – CONTINUOUS
It’s a South American prison. Diego is on the pay phone.
DIEGO It’s a little hard to get away right now. I’m afraid you’re on your own.
INT. FOREAL’S HOUSE – MANHATTAN BEACH – 1977 – NIGHT
George and Derek sit in the living room with MR. T, a hippie ish looking professor. On the table sits various paraphernalia. Scales, beakers, test tubes, and a hot box. George and Derek watch as Mr. T scoops some of George’s cocaine and sets it onto the two-inch metal plate.
MR. T What we’re doing is measuring the purity. Pure coke melts out a hundred and eighty-five, a hundred and ninety degrees. Cutting agents melt much lower. About a hundred degrees. Quality product starts melting at a hundred and forty degrees. That’s what I’m hoping for.
Mr. T turns the dial. 120. 130. 140.
MR. T (CONT’D) Good.
150. 160.
MR. T (CONT’D) Jesus Christ.
170. 180.
MR. T (CONT’D) Holy fucking Mary! Jesus, fuck me running! Where did you get this shit!
At one-hundred and eighty-seven degrees, the white powder dribbles off the hotplate and melts away.
MR. T (CONT’D) Damn! Can I do a fucking line?!
Mr. T puts his nose in the powder. George pulls Foreal aside.
GEORGE What did I tell you?
DEREK It’s great and everything, but what am I going to do with all this?
GEORGE Sell it?
DIEGO Jesus Christ, George, I don’t see you in two years, and you show up at my door with a hundred and ten pounds of cocaine?
GEORGE Just sell it, Derek.
DEREK Alright, but it’s gonna take me a year.
INT. THE WHIPPING POST – MANHATTAN BEACH – 1977 – NIGHT
Money everywhere. All over the floor, the counters, the chairs, and even in the sinks. George and Derek count the money patiently, writing the dollar amount in yellow high lighter on the top of each stack, before wrapping it with a rubber band.
DIEGO Thirty-six hours. I can’t believe it. Everything is gone in thirty-six hours.
GEORGE I think it’s fair to say you underestimated the market there, Derek.
DIEGO Touche.
GEORGE But to the victor belong the spoils.
George divides the money. There’s a hell of a lot.
GEORGE (CONT’D) Half a million for you. Half a million for me. One-point-three five for the Colombians.
DEREK Nice doing business with you, George.
GEORGE Not bad for a weekend’s work, huh?
