(indistinct conversation)
Play one of the best new FPS shooters, search Steam for PROJECT WARLOCK
(people screaming)
(bicycle bell rings)
Norman!
DOMINGUEZ: Since when does Norman carry a gun?
BRIDGES: Since now.
I'm not going to jail, Bridges!
Norman...
I hear you, but, uh, look, here's the deal:
If you'd have done your job better,
we wouldn't have caught you,
but now that we did, we gotta take you in.
Just go away!
Son of a bitch!
He's just bad enough to actually hit somebody.
GIRL: So, you guys, it's totally true.
I talked to Emily Paulsen, who saw it in P.E.
Apparently, Sharon was just walking around flaunting it.
She's got like zero modesty.
She's got a tattoo?
Yeah, it's in the front.
It's way down low. It's a butterfly.
No way!
Do you know what a piece like this
would cost you in a store, son,
if you could buy one?
Sorry, dude, I only got four hun.
Sorry, dude, four hun.
(laughing)
Hmm, I'll tell you what.
You can owe it to me, all right?
But if you don't pay up,
(taunting): * I know where you live... *
Man, don't point that thing at me.
Relax, all right?
It's not loaded.
Just because Sharon Skomer gets a tattoo
doesn't mean that you guys have to get one.
(gunshot)
Oh, my God! Cassidy's been shot!
Thought it wasn't loaded?! Somebody help us!
All right,
nobody says anything, all right?
Get outta here. Go, go!
Norman?!
Damn it, don't do this, Norman!
You're gonna have to knock this off.
I don't want to have to hurt you.
(phone ringing)
Does Norman have your phone number?
Why not? Everybody else does.
Nash.
What?
Which one?
I'm on my way.
Nashman?
Cassidy's been shot. Let's go. What?!
You win. That's it.
I'm giving myself up.
(tires squealing)
(horn honking)
You can arrest me.
Bridges?
(tires squealing)
(woman singing over bluesy organ riff)
MAN (over P.A.): Dr. Pullman. Dr. Pullman, 2905.
Dr. Pullman, 2905.
This is taking too damn long.
What the hell are they doing in there?
Mr. and Mrs. Bridges? Yes.
Uh, would you come with me, please?
Sure.
Well, the bullet hit her here in the gluteus maximus,
which is the largest muscle in the buttocks,
and it stopped just short of the femur here.
And it was a little tricky getting it out.
Now if it had hit her here, it would've pierced her coccyx,
caused nerve damage and possible paralysis.
Your daughter
was lucky today.
She was very lucky.
Hi, baby.
Hi, Mom. We're here.
Hi, Daddy.
I talked to the doctor.
She said you're gonna be fine, just fine.
Daddy, I'm so scared.
BRIDGES: I know, baby.
I know.
Hey, little dude, what's happening?
What's your name?
Wait a minute. Let me guess.
It's Mister...
Albondigas.
No? Hmm, let's see.
Uh, Merriweather Bugeye Jamal Lewis.
No?
Uh, Shari Lewis?
Not Shari... Susan Lewis?
Uh, Lewis Lewis?
Martin and Lewis?
Martin and Lewis?!
Well, which one are you, Martin or Lewis?
(sighs)
Thank you very much.
You're very welcome.
Okay.
(laughs)
Uh, I got to go now.
Uh, hey listen, uh, you remember what we talked about, okay?
You be a good boy, all right?
Help your mom.
(sighs) How's she doing?
She's sore and scared.
The doctor says she's gonna be all right.
Oh, that's great. Anything I can do?
You're doing it, brother.
Listen, I'm gonna go,
but if you need me for anything...
No, I'll call. Don't worry.
All right. I'm gonna go see if I can find out who did this.
(goofy voice): You be good.
Inspector, I've got irate parents backed up for a block.
What am I supposed to tell them?
Nobody comes in or goes out until we're done.
How long do you expect it to take?
Till I find something, or I'm satisfied that I won't.
I'm absolutely mortified.
I've been here 18 years, and this has never...
You read about it happening in the public schools,
but it's an anomaly here, I can assure you.
Mr. Dunlap, every 90 minutes,
a child dies in this country from gunshot wounds.
As a matter of fact,
according to the latest statistics,
one in 12 children carry a gun
to school every single day,
so it's not an anomaly here or anywhere else anymore.
Got it?
Nash, check this out.
Whose locker is this?
Nobody's. It's unassigned.
Write this down.
Four-seven-eight, two-nine-three,
Colt .45, model 19-11.
Run with it, bubba.
Harve, see if you can get some prints on that.
Check with CI & I, and if you don't get anything,
call Mr. Dunlap here.
You do still have the Kid Print program
here at the school, right?
Yes, we have all our students' prints on file.
(phone ringing) Teachers, as well.
Good. You know what to do.
MAN (over phone): Forget about it. LEEK: Yep!
Nash.
NICK: Hello, son.
Nick. What-What's going on?
Where are you?
They want to know
if they should move your stuff out of the bedroom
before they jackhammer in there.
Who does?
The hard hats.
How's Cassidy?
Um, look, Cassidy's gonna be fine, Nick.
What hard hats?
The ones doing the seismic shoreup.
What? NICK: They said they
explained it all to you
in a waiver you signed before you moved in.
I don't know a damn thing about it.
Well, what do you want me to tell 'em?
Tell 'em, uh...
Uh, tell 'em...
Why don't you go home, man?
I got you covered here-- go on.
All right, look, hold that thought.
Nick, just stall 'em for me until I get there, all right?
Okay, good. Thanks.
I'll either be at my place or at Lisa's-- call me.
Thanks, bubba.
(rapid gunfire)
What do you think?
I like it, man.
Yeah? Check this out.
Smith and Wesson 6-29 Classic.
Mmm, mmm. Oh, yeah.
Don't let the fact that it's not automatic
toss you.
This baby pops a massive 440-grain slug at 1,200 FPS.
Look at this.
Interchangeable front sight, chambered cylinder,
heavy underlug, slab-sided to match the barrel's profile.
Handsome, yet practical.
You're thinking this baby-- monster-- must pack a hell of a kick, right?
Here.
Try it out.
Now I ask you, who's gonna mess with you,
you walk in with that on your hip?
(jackhammers pounding, machinery clattering)
What in the hell...?
Nick!
(jackhammer pounding)
Nick!
(jackhammer pounding)
(jackhammer clacking, powering down)
Nick!
I know you didn't mean to do that.
I'm Nash Bridges. I live here.
Ron Dart. I'm the foreman.
Well, uh, Ron, I-I didn't authorize
any of this to be done.
Well, wait a second.
I got a waiver right here.
Yeah, city owned property, heavy earthquake damage.
That's your signature, right?
(sighs)
That's the waiver I signed, right?
Yeah. Uh...
You want a copy? No, no. Thanks.
I get it, uh... uh... Nick!
Listen, I'm a San Francisco police inspector,
and my daughter was, uh, wounded
in a shooting incident this morning,
and I gotta tell you, your timing couldn't be worse for this.
Hey, I'm sorry to hear about your kid, but I got a job to do.
You want to fight city hall, have at it,
but I gotta keep working.
Here, son.
We're supposed to wear these.
This is a construction site.
This is not a construction site.
This is our home.
Look, you're welcome to stay,
if you think you can handle the noise and dust.
I'm up for it, if you are.
(work crew chattering, machinery clattering)
MAN: Hey, I'm on it right now!
(knocking)
Hi. How is she?
She's resting.
She's still pretty out of it.
Well, I'll just poke my head in; I won't disturb her.
No, she's in my room, Nick. Oh.
I thought that would be easier
than having her go up and down the stairs.
No, it's a good idea.
Good thinking. Yeah.
How are you doing, sweetheart?
I'm fine. How about you?
Well, when it rains, it pours.
They're doing a, uh, earthquake retrofit on my apartment,
so, uh, Nick and I are hoteling it for a couple of days.
Oh, that's silly, Nash.
Why don't you stay here?
Oh, that's all right, sweetheart.
Thanks anyway, but...
(crying)
Lisa... (crying)
(sobbing)
It's okay.
(sobbing)
(whispers): It's okay.
Somebody almost took our baby from us, Nash.
I know.
We almost lost her today.
We almost lost her. I know.
You know, you... you bring a child into the world,
and you sacrifice, you work so hard to raise her,
and you-you try to protect her because that's your job.
But it's not possible, is it?
You can't protect her because
you can't be there, everywhere, all the time.
You can't stop every stupid accident from happening.
No.
No, you can't.
(sniffles)
You know, here we are, waiting to hear from colleges,
waiting to see if she's accepted, you know,
where she's gonna go, the next stage of her life.
(sniffles)
The next thing I know, the phone rings,
and some stranger's telling me my daughter's been shot.
It's all right, baby.
(Lisa sniffles)
God, Nash, what if she'd...
Don't even think it. (knocking)
Hey.
Come on in, Joe.
(crying) It's okay.
Sorry to bother you.
(clears throat)
It's okay, sweetheart, it's all right.
Here.
Thank you.
Hey, Lisa. How you holding up?
Oh, Joe, yeah, I'm good, I'm... I'm-I'm good.
(laughing) Hi.
Uh, Cassidy?
She's-She's real glad to be home.
I'll bet. Yeah.
Uh, could I borrow him for a second?
Sure. Okay.
Well, that, uh, Kid Print program paid off.
Uh, the shooter's name is Brian Van Pelt.
His, uh, classmates voted him "most likely to succeed."
However, the principal pinned him
as the "biggest pain in the butt."
What about the gun?
Yeah, well, they were part of a shipment that was hijacked
last year on the way to some wholesalers in town.
A couple of the guns
have surfaced in felonies,
and a couple more came up as evidence in that, uh,
gang slaying in Potrero Projects last month.
Did you get an address on the kid?
Russian Hill.
The old lady's loaded.
Apparently, the house makes the Spreckel's mansion look
like a Tinkertoy set.
Oh, hey, oh, I... I got my shot, dude.
Get out of my way. Set it up, man.
Put your hands on the table. Come on, Brad.
Back off, boys, and stay where I can see you.
Put your hands on the table.
What's going on here?
Stop this right now!
San Francisco Police Department, ma'am.
Your son's a suspect in a shooting.
Well, we'll see about that.
You just wait right there until I call my lawyer.
(sighs) I said wait!
Lady, your son's under arrest
for assault with a deadly weapon.
Now, you get out of my way,
or I'm gonna take you down for obstructing justice.
Is that clear?
It's clear.
Good.
MAN: Morelli, where's the report?
Joe... Yeah.
You want to take the young man on down to booking?
You got it. Keep walking.
I'm sure it was an accident.
Let me talk to the parents, I'll work it out.
You are talking to the parent.
Your son shot my daughter.
Fine.
How much?
You got to be kidding me.
I'm talking about what's
best for your daughter.
She gets nothing out of my son going to jail.
I know the best plastic surgeons in the city.
Whatever it takes, just give me a number.
I'm a rich woman, Inspector.
Don't be shy.
A hundred million dollars...
...wouldn't even begin to cover it.
Now I'm gonna suggest you put that away
before I misconstrue this as a bribe, okay?
What is this, the silent treatment?
Who sold you the gun, Brian?
What gun?
The one you shot my daughter with this morning.
Shouldn't I have a lawyer around here somewhere?
He's coming.
I don't have to say anything
until he gets here.
Let me run this down for you, Brian.
Your fancy pants lawyer's gonna come here,
and he's gonna tell you to keep your mouth shut,
that he'll do all the talking,
because that's what your mother pays him to do.
In fact, the more she pays him,
the more he's gonna talk.
And he's gonna talk and talk and talk and talk and talk.
In fact, he'll talk all the way through your trial.
He'll talk until he's blue in the face.
But I guarantee you one thing.
You're still gonna go to jail.
DOMINGUEZ: Look, Brian, um,
we just want to give you a chance
to do the right thing, you know?
Tell us what happened.
Uh, I think I'll wait.
I think our friend here could, uh,
do with a little bit of diesel treatment.
That's an excellent idea.
That's a good grip.
I'm not going anywhere.
Hi.
Hey, Nick. Son.
Hi, sweetheart.
Hi, Daddy. How you feeling?
My butt hurts. NICK: Hey.
So does mine.
Your little girl is one hell of a card player, Nash.
Yeah, tell me about it.
He lets me win.
I'll bet. I brought these for you.
Thought they might cheer you up.
(sniffing) Mmm, thank you.
Pretty, aren't they? Mm-hmm.
Nick, would you take those?
Sure. Thanks.
So, uh, I found out who shot you.
You did? Mm-hmm.
Do you know a guy by the name of Brian Van Pelt?
Brian Van Pelt?!
Mm-hmm. Whoa.
MAN: Knock, knock.
BRIDGES: Oh.
Hi. Yeah, listen, uh, just, uh, give 'em to him.
Nick, would you take those and, uh, put 'em in some water?
No problem. Thank you.
Uh, there you go. Hey, Cass.
Hi. What's going on?
How you doing, Princess?
Better. Yeah?
Now that you're here. Good...
MAN: Good.
CASSIDY: Oh, um, Freddie, this is
my dad and my grandfather.
Dad, Grandpa, this is Freddie.
Hello, sir. Hi, Freddie.
How are you?
Uh, Freddie, didn't you use
to be the, uh, car detailing guy?
I was, I was, yeah.
Now he manages the Dragonfly.
You know, that hot new club in town.
Uh-huh. How'd that happen?
I've learned not to question
why some things happen in life; they just do.
NICK: That's true.
FREDDIE: Wow.
You look great. Thanks.
Feeling good? Yeah? Mm-hmm.
Uh, well,
I guess we better put these in some water, huh?
Yeah, I guess so.
(door bell jangles)
Check this out, my man.
Russian?
KGB.
800 rounds per minute, unbelievable muzzle velocity.
Great for shooting
through steel doors or hard heads.
How much?
Two grand a pop.
You're living dangerously, you know that?
The West Street Gang's at war with these guys.
What do you think's gonna happen when Striker finds out
you're arming the Asians with machineguns?
Well, let's see.
He'll come to me and want the same thing.
Only I'll sell him something bigger,
badder, more expensive.
(clicks tongue)
Sides mean nothing.
Product is the basis for all alliances.
Remember that.
Guns are due tomorrow afternoon, 5:00.
Pier 17. Same deal.
Pay the man in the green shirt, take the guns to the warehouse.
(Bridges whistling happily)
Oh, bubba...
you're not looking so good.
What happened?
You have trouble sleeping last night?
(sighs)
Where's my lawyer?
BRIDGES: Oh, uh...
there's a problem with that.
Uh, we lost your paperwork,
and, uh, well, he thinks
you were transferred to city jail.
But, don't worry, he'll catch up with you.
In about a day or two, you know.
I could call him.
(picks up phone receiver)
Get you out today.
Who sold you the gun?
Quick.
Quick?
I don't know his real name.
Oh, yeah? Well, where can we find, uh, Mr. Quick?
Potrero Projects.
There's a ball diamond there.
Deals out of the trunk of his car.
Well, what kind of car would that be?
I don't know.
It's red.
Red. It's a red car. BRIDGES: Red car.
Let's go look for a red car.
BRIAN: It's a Z28 Camaro.
I'll call Mommy.
Hey, Nashman, next Christmas,
I'm getting you some of those heated sheepskins.
My butt's getting cold.
Wow.
Red car?
No, red dress.
LEEK (laughing): Yeah, right color, wrong model.
MAN: Lookin' good, baby! Ow!
(shouting catcall)
(sighs) Harve, what do you got?
Nada.
The next Mrs. Cortez just walked by, but that's about it.
Keep 'em peeled.
Always.
So, uh, Freddie comes in
with these flowers, and...?
Did you see that bouquet?
It was huge. Mm-hmm.
He gives it to Cassidy,
and suddenly, she's feeling better now that he's here.
Yeah, yeah.
And that's the problem, huh?
Oh. It used to be your job.
Mm.
Look, Cassidy's
getting ready to leave the nest, okay?
She's transferring her affections
to somebody her own age.
It's... It's natural.
(clicks tongue)
All right, look at it this way--
in a couple years, she'll come around, man.
She'll be taking care of you
just like you're taking care of Nick.
It's beautiful.
Oh, now that's comforting.
Well, I'm here to help.
And that is a beautiful car.
Hey, hey, what up, Quickster?
Got action, Harve.
Nash.
Yeah, I got him.
Harve, you're hooked up with the black-and-whites.
Don't let 'em get antsy.
MAN: Give me a break!
WOMAN: Luisa, good eye. Good eye, Luisa.
Let's see what you got.
QUICK: A whole mess of firepower, man.
MAN: Hey, how much for that one, esse? Buck and a quarter.
Yeah, okay.
Cops, man. Chill.
Man, they jumped the gun.
Five-O. Five-O.
Outta here. Let's go!
(siren blares)
(tire screeching)
(engine racing)
(horns honking)
(sirens blaring)
(truck horn honking)
(siren stops, electricity crackles)
Don't move! Stay in the car!
(groaning)
Who do we call, 911 or the coroner?
Call PG & E.
What you got there, Nash?
This guy Quick, his real name was Howard Temple.
Did a stretch in Soledad,
and he knew his way around the Q.
I don't understand.
If the guy is dead, that's end of story, right?
Nope. I found a bag of money
under his front seat of his car,
and a pay stub from Gage's Gun Shop
on York Street in the Mission.
Call Judge Pinter and get a search warrant, will you?
I want to see what this guy Gage is all about.
You got it.
Some goof freshman was showing off a piece I sold him.
Piece goes off, shoots some chick in the ass.
Chick's father happens to be this cop.
Cop pulls my prints off the piece.
Had to do something.
What'd you have to do?
Give 'em Quick.
I had to.
Cop was out for my blood.
I mean, come on.
Guy's careless, dealing out of the trunk of his car,
a bunch of lowlifes-- please.
Just a matter of time before he got busted anyways.
"Why?" you ask.
Because...
I can do twice what he was doing.
I can get more per piece,
and, baby, I definitely got a better clientele.
This all equals a better situation for you.
You think you can fill Quick's shoes?
Piece of cake.
So the cops grab you, you give up Quick.
They grab Quick.
What if he decides to talk, huh?
What then?
Guess I'll just run the business for you while you're gone.
Just kidding.
I've got half a mind to let you run with it,
half a mind to knock you down.
(phone rings)
Hello.
Be right there.
Cops are at the store.
We'll talk some more.
In the meantime,
you might want to polish the naive kid act.
It's beginning to tarnish.
(indistinct police radio communication)
Who's in charge here?
That would be me.
Inspector Bridges, SIU.
And you are?
Timothy Gage.
This is my shop.
Uh, Mr. Gage, we have reason to believe
one of your employees has been running
stolen weapons out of here.
Who?
The name's Quick.
Is that what he told you?
BRIDGES: Unfortunately,
he didn't tell us much of anything at all.
He's dead.
Murdered?
Now why would you think that?
Was he? DOMINGUEZ: As a matter of fact,
he died in a car crash
running away from us.
Now, why do you suppose he was running away from us?
Beats me.
You're wasting your time here.
Eh, what can I tell you.
It comes with the job.
Yeah, well...
just put the place back together when you're done.
You can do that, can't you?
You know, I don't really like that guy.
I don't know him, but I don't like him.
Dot your "I"s and cross your "T"s, gentleman.
We lock this guy up...
I don't want any hiccups.
Just like old times, huh, Nash?
What is?
Oh, you, me, Lisa, Cassidy, back under one roof.
What are you talking about?
We never lived under one roof.
Details, son, details.
Home cooking... a woman's touch could spoil a man.
Mmm-hmm.
Well, don't get too used to it.
'Cause, after tomorrow,
it's back to being the odd couple for you and me.
Oh, excuse me, Cassidy wants some aspirins.
I'll take 'em to her.
You probably have to go to work.
Don't you?
Nah, not really.
(door opens)
Hi, sweetheart.
Where's Freddie?
He's on his break.
Union rules, you know.
You're very funny, Daddy.
We don't get many moments like this anymore, do we?
No.
(gentle laugh)
(sighs)
Yesterday...
when I heard you'd been shot,
when I saw you at the hospital...
you looked so... small.
So...
It scared me so much.
Your mom, too.
Is that why you've been so overprotective about Freddie?
Don't worry, Dad. I mean,
it's not like I'm gonna have his baby or anything.
Yet.
(scoffs) Oh... well...
that's... comforting.
You know, Dad, I've been thinking.
What?
I don't want to go to college next year.
What?
I think I want to wait.
And do what?
Well, there's some significant environmental work
going on around here--
you know, the old-growth forests-- and I thought
it might be interesting to do that for a while,
before I go to college.
(sighs)
Honey, I-I, think that's, uh, great that you're...
Daddy, you're not gonna talk me out of it.
I'm not trying to talk you out of anything.
I just don't think that you should be making
those kind of life-altering decisions
while you're in this condition.
Daddy, I made up my mind already.
(sighs)
I'm thinking we talk about this tomorrow.
Good night, sweetheart.
Good night, Dad.
Good morning. Good morning.
I'm not used to waking up to this.
This is like a major household thing happening here.
Yeah, well, with any luck,
Freddie will make your daughter an honest woman
and you can wake up every morning
to huevos rancheros, gourmet style.
(laughing)
At least you haven't lost your sense of humor.
I just did.
FREDDIE: Morning.
Good morning.
I just got here, sir.
Mmm-hmm, is that right?
Well, I get done with work around 5:00,
then normally, I work on my novel for a couple of hours.
Cassidy didn't tell me you were writing a book.
Novel-- I still got a long way to go.
Listen, I got to run.
Ciao. Ciao.
So, uh, Lisa...
Yes.
What would be the house rules around here for male visitors?
Come on, Nash, you think
I'd let somebody sleep here with Cassidy?
One would hope not, not under my roof.
We're not under your roof, son.
Uh, and that's another thing.
She's decided that she's not going to college.
I know. We've been discussing it.
Oh, we have?
Well, when were we going to tell me?
I didn't want to worry you.
Me, worried?
Do I look worried?
You are a little red in the face.
Well, you would be, too,
if your daughter was going to give up college
and go and live among the damn trees.
(phone rings)
Nash.
Give me 15 minutes.
Bon appetit.
Ciao.
(siren wails)
Hello, Nashman, we got a carjacker here.
Pulls a gun on the driver.
The driver pulls his gun,
ends up dead, 16 years old.
BRIDGES: Guns are us, huh? Mm-hmm.
DOMINGUEZ: Inspector on the scene
ran the serial number of the driver's gun.
Turns up, it's from the same lot
that we're hunting, so he gave us a call.
Okay, now you've piqued my interest.
Our dead guy's number two.
His buddy over here, Spike, says they bought the gun
from some hotshot dealer
from a private school on the hill.
So I show him a six-pack.
Guess who he fingers?
Brian Van Pelt. Mm-hmm.
Looks like our shooter's also a seller.
What do you want to bet Gage sold him the guns?
I'd bet the bank.
How's that get us closer to getting Gage?
The kid'll give him to us,
if I don't kill him first.
Come on, let's go.
(chambers clicking)
(grunting, crashing)
(clattering in distance)
(panting)
(gunshot)
BRIDGES: Police! Freeze!
Got it.
Drop the gun, Brian. Drop it right now.
What happened?
You heard what I said, drop it!
(gun thuds)
You lived.
You played me for a fool.
Almost got you killed.
DOMINGUEZ: You know a Nathaniel Allen,
aka Striker?
No, huh.
BRIDGES: He was the guy that ran
the West Street gang.
What you do to piss those boys off?
Nothing. I never saw those guys before in my life.
Did you sell guns to them?
No way, man.
Do you know Timothy Gage?
Have you seen him since you told us about Quick?
I'm trying to help you, Brian,
but...
What? I say we cut this guy loose.
As much as I'd like to kill him myself,
I think we got somebody out there that'll do it for us.
No-no-no-no-no-no-no-- you can't let me go.
The hell I can't.
Unless you start talking.
(door bell jangles)
If I were you, I'd keep my hands right there
on top of the counter where we can see them, okay?
Put that gun down.
You know, Joe, when I was a kid,
I used to be fascinated with guns.
BB guns, cap guns...
You have a gun when you were a kid?
Yeah, yeah... had a pellet gun once.
Killed a rattlesnake.
BRIDGES: Really? Mm.
You know, back then, it wasn't easy
to get your hands on a gun.
On a real gun.
Not like it is today.
(gun chamber clicks)
Russian.
You know, after car wrecks,
you know what the leading cause
of death is for young people
between the ages of ten and 20?
Let me guess: MTV?
(chuckles)
Close.
Gunshot wounds.
My daughter...
was shot with a gun that came
from you, Gage.
You know it, and I know it.
Do you know what that makes me feel like doing right now?
(cocks gun)
The same thing that you sent Striker
to do to Brian Van Pelt.
Hey.
Cuff him, Joe.
Gladly.
Put your hands on your head.
GAGE: What's the charge?
Too numerous to mention.
(handcuffs click) However...
a little birdie told me that, uh,
you have a couple big shipments coming in.
Well, we need to know where, and when.
I can beat this.
You think so, huh?
I know so.
Let's "know so" out here.
(door bell jangles) We'll see.
(hip-hop music playing)
Picturesque, isn't it?
I prefer Pacific Heights.
You never been down here before?
They got some great restaurants down here.
Hey, homes.
Hi there.
See that bar right up
the street there?
Why don't you have Little Man
meet us there in about 15 minutes.
You know Little Man, don't you? Striker's second.
You must have me confused with someone else.
(chuckles)
We'll see.
(indistinct chatter, music playing)
What's your juice?
I couldn't get a latte, could I?
A non-fat, half-caf, no foam?
No.
Water will be just fine.
Now, Timothy, you look like a scotch man.
Bring a bottle of your best scotch
for our friend here.
Tim.
So, uh, Little Man wasn't too happy
when he heard about what happened to Striker.
I'll say. Boy, I thought he was going to blow his stack.
Especially when we told him about that part about you setting him up.
Hmm, yeah.
DOMINGUEZ: Gee, that's a nice watch.
Hey!
You must be doing pretty good.
It's for you.
Oh, for me?
Yello?
Well, hey, there, Little Man, how you doing?
Long time no see.
Well, uh, I'm just sitting down here
at the bar with my partner, Joe Dominquez.
Hey, how you doing?
And, uh, your old buddy, Timothy Gage.
DOMINGUEZ: Say hi...
Eh, I guess he's got something on his mind right now.
Uh, listen, um, well, the thing is,
we're sitting down here,
we're having a little celebration drink,
and, uh-- but the problem is,
Joe and I are real busy, we got all this paperwork to do.
So we're going to have to take off.
But, uh, Timothy'll be here
and I'm sure that he'd love to see you.
Sure.
Come on down, toss a couple back.
Bye-bye.
Huh.
You know what they'll do to me?
I think I have a good idea.
Why don't you drink up; it'll hurt a lot less.
Joe...
Hmm? we got to go.
You're right, we got to go.
See you.
Okay!
GAGE: Okay! Okay, okay.
Wait a minute.
That's four "okay's."
Was that four? Yeah.
Huh. Must be official. He's ready to deal.
BRIDGES: Where and when, bubba?
5:00, Pier 17.
The man in the green shirt is Kaminsky.
Who's the buyer?
Asian gang out of Chinatown.
Excellent.
I hope your daughter
realizes what she started.
What was that?
I said I hope your daughter real...
He probably shouldn't have said that, huh?
(patrons clamoring)
MAN: Hey, take that stuff outside, man!
Hello?
(a la Ricky Ricardo): Lucy, I'm home.
NICK: In here, son.
Hey, Nick.
She's asleep, huh? Yeah.
Here, help me count this here.
What the hell'd you do, Nick?
Go out and rob a bank while I was gone?
Went to the track,
and I had five winners out of seven picks.
(chuckling) Damn, that's awesome.
Freddie gave me a few tips, you know.
Used to work in Las Vegas, you know.
He was a hell of a handicapper.
(laughs)
Hi. Thought I heard you.
Oh, hey. Whoa!
Look at you. You look great.
Thank you. I have a date. Oh, yeah?
Mm-hmm. Anybody I know?
Oop, sorry. None of my business.
LISA: It's nobody I know. Blind date.
Oh, by the way,
the earthquake guys called,
they said they're all done-- for now, anyway.
We can go home, Nick. Before you go,
Cassidy has something she wants to show you.
She has had her dinner.
Her medication's by the bed.
She has my beeper number, and I won't be late.
Damn, if I was half that organized...
You two would've combusted a long time ago.
Whoa!
You got into Berkeley? Mm-hmm.
That's great, sweetheart.
(laughs)
That's terrific.
And I'm going.
A year from this fall.
I already called to ask if I could defer,
and they said yes.
Are you mad?
Disappointed.
But I'm, I'm, still--
you... you got accepted to Berkeley.
That's, that's great.
Thanks.
Cassidy...
Listen, I, I...
I know we don't always see
eye to eye on things, but...
what I've wanted,
what your... your mother and I
have always wanted for you is for you to be happy.
That's all.
I love you, Daddy.
I love you, too, brat.
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