Hard Eight Monologues

Professional gambler Sydney teaches John the tricks of the trade. John does well until he falls for cocktail waitress Clementine.

What I mean - what I believe… is that you killed his father… like the stories I heard go. Now, if somebody killed my father… I would feel the need to do something. The stories I heard - you know, stories get around - is that you used to be a hard-ass. You were a hard-ass and you took his dad out, Sydney. So you think - what? You can just walk through this life… without being punished for it? Shit, man. I know all those guys you know. Floyd Gondolli, Jimmy Gator, Mumbles O'Malley. They like to sit around in Clifton's and talk, talk, talk. They love to tell stories. You can sit there and look at me sideways all you want. You probably think I'm some kind of asshole or something… but I'm not a killer… like you. You walk around like you're Mr. Cool, Mr. Wisdom… but you're not. You're just some old hood. The other night in the bar, you asking me a question… like do I do parking lot security? Well, the answer is no! I'm trusted security inside the casino. I'm trusted with security, and I don't fuck it up.

Don't! Don't! Don't fuckin' do that! You understand? I can see right through that shit! You look at me as some idiot, huh? I know you do. I know you. You old guys, you old hoods... you think you're so fuckin' above it... so high and mighty. What am I to you? Some loser? Not with a gun in my hand. Not with the facts I know. Bottom line, Sydney. No matter how hard you try... you're not his father.

You know the first thing they should've taught you at hooker school? You get the money up front!

Never ignore a man's courtesy.

Good that you have such a sturdy sense of responsibility.

I have the money to give you right now, in this moment. I will give you all that I have. Maybe before you were gonna kill me. Maybe. I don't know. I know John, and I love him like he was my own child. But I can tell you this: I don't want to die. I killed his father. I can tell you what it was. This is not an excuse. I'm not begging for clemency. All that matters, I do not wish to sacrifice my life for John's well-being. But I will sacrifice this money for mine because you have asked me. Because after this, I will have done all I can for John and for myself. I'm going to ask you with all the heart and sincerety that I have, please do not put a bullet in me. And, please, don't tell John what I've done. I trust that once I gave you this money, you and I will take separate paths and that this negotiation will settle everything. That is my hope. I don't wanna die.

Tell me something. Are you required to flirt, to behave as you do toward that table of men over there? Maybe... it's some part of your job?

I have a friend in Los Angeles. Someone… maybe someone who can help. I can make a call for you, tell him you're a friend, so on and so forth, and we can work this thing out here. I think if you need help paying for your mother's funeral, we can work it out. I want you to see that my reasons for doing this are not selfish, only this: I'd hope that you would do the same for me.

It's always good to meet a new friend. I'll see you later.