Hi, I'm Don Konkey.
I'm a photographer. I'm schizophrenic.
This is Lucy Spiller, the editor of Dirt Now Magazine.
She helps me figure out what's real.
My wall is naked! I don't like it!
I got photos of Prince Tyreese, the basketball star,
- having sex with a stripper. - Fantastic.
Lucy wanted to use the pictures to get Prince Tyreese to give her info
- on the missing R&B singer Aundre G. - Aundre G is dead.
- Want to crack it? - Yeah.
- Don't make me regret it. - That's Willa McPherson.
Lucy gave her a lead on a breaking story.
I was wrong. I gave you the tip and you came back with dick!
- She blew it. - I'm sorry.
This is Jack Dawson, he's a big action star.
How do you keep family together despite pressures
- of a Hollywood career? - It is all about family.
I am officially Jack Dawson's new interior decorator.
That's Lucy's brother Leo. ♪ Jack and Leo sitting in a tree ♪
Holt McLaren and his girlfriend, Julia Mallory.
Holt gave Lucy dirt on Kira Klay. She OD'd and died.
When he found out, he got pissed off and crashed his car.
Holt's girlfriend got hurt real bad.
When she went to work on her sitcom, she didn't do well.
- Cut! - So they fired her.
Things are going well for me, though.
After Kira died, she moved in with me.
- Take pictures of me. - She used to come out in public with me.
Now she's more of a homebody.
Which is cool, because she's about to pop at any minute.
Ah!
- - It's your mother.
Weren't we supposed to meet at 5:00? I have it in my book as 5:00.
We have a reservation. You'd better be coming.
Right over there.
Oh...
Hi, Mom. Sorry I'm late.
The traffic was bad on Sunset.
Darling, this is Paul Weston.
- Hi. - We met in church a few months ago.
Church? What, did somebody die?
- Paul, this is my daughter, Lucy. - It's nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
I joined All Saints in Beverly Hills.
I like the music.
- And what do you like? - Uh, your mother.
- Oh. -
- Paul's in real estate. - Parking lots, really.
Lucy, Paul and I are going on a cruise next week
- to the British Isles. - Nice.
We decided that a trip like that would be so much more special
- if we were celebrating something. - What are you celebrating?
We're getting married, Lucy.
Day after tomorrow. Right here in the hotel.
I want you and your brother to give me away.
You're gonna need a new dress.
- So does Leo knows about this? - Oh, yes. He's doing the flowers.
Oh, excuse me, could I get a Tanqueray and tonic?
And 50 bucks if it's here before I turn around.
You're a brave man.
You've only just met Paul, darling. Do you have to alienate him so soon?
The mock-up's on your desk.
Michelle wants to see you about the cover and you have a 9am meeting.
Oh, here's your coffee.
That's not Spanish Leather. That's Rawhide.
Use the color chip until you get it!
Oh, and cancel my plans with Felicia on Tuesday.
- My mother's getting married. - Does Mom have a name?
Well, I like Bitch Face, but why don't we stick with Dorothy?
OK, February 20th, Dorothy's wedding.
- That can't be the date. - Yesterday was the 18th,
today's the 19th, so...
- Is there a problem? - Where's my coffee?
Do it.
Leo, I swear to God, I'm going to kill her. Call me.
- - Your car's here.
Can you believe this whole car bullshit?
I can drive myself to the studio.
That's how they control you, especially the first day.
They do it for all the stars.
Are you going to be OK today?
- I'm not an invalid. - I'm not saying you...
Look, I just love you, OK?
Hey, Holt.
I love you too.
Kick ass today, OK?
I'll call you later.
OK, everybody, change of plans. We're dropping our three cover options.
We're almost there with "Hero Pets."
You just answered your own question. Also because of this. Terry?
My source at People tells me they're running this photo
with the headline, "Let us live in peace."
Supposed to be Aundre G in the Virgin Islands.
Just in time for the release of his new CD.
Yeah, I think it's bullshit. Widow G and Aundre's manager
are making huge bucks off these new CDs.
My sources say Aundre G was murdered,
some sort of dispute with his manager, Tweety McDaniel. Elliott?
I'll cover Saint Croix. Someone's had to have seen him.
And, Adam, check out his girlfriend's relationship with Tweety.
I'll talk to the cops. They don't keep
a missing-person's file on someone in seclusion.
I know someone at Repudiator Records. Let me see what I can dig up.
OK, I want the truth, guys.
And just as badly, I want to make People Magazine suffer.
- - So we have 12 hours.
Lucy, um, look, I'm really, really sorry about last week.
- If I can make it up to you... - It's doubtful.
Oh. Well, I can look into the shooting at his last concert if that...
OK, Willa. Here you go. Here's an interview with a stripper
who spent an evening with Prince Tyreese.
Prince Tyreese the basketball player?
No, Prince Tyreese the heir to the throne of Ireland.
Write it up, 800 words. Have it on my desk in an hour.
My dad used to call these "One-Eyed Jacks."
He used to make them for us on Sundays.
Oh, you need a fork.
Thanks, baby.
Little salt.
I have to go now.
But if anything happens, with, you know, you know how to reach me.
Oh, yeah. That's a good one. Philip K. Dick.
He's the best. You'll like that.
See you later?
Get in.
You lied to me.
My source at People told me
that they're doing a cover story that says
that Aundre G is alive and well
and drinking rum out of a coconut in the Caribbean.
- That's bullshit. - Prove it.
Why should I?
I don't know what this shit is all about, but I'm finished with it.
You know, I got something for you.
This is messed up.
You told me you gave me the negatives from those photos.
I did. This is different. It's an interview with your friend Stormy.
You know, she's quite eloquent, for a stripper.
Blackmail is a crime.
Do you think that Tweety should be allowed to drive around
in a million-dollar Ferrari while Aundre G's head is vacuum-packed into a pickle jar?
I already told you everything I know. You said it was enough.
Because of the People story, I can't trust you.
- I need facts. - I have a family.
So did Aundre G.
Where's the head?
Tweety said it was a collector's item.
- Aundre's head? - Yeah. That's all I know.
♪ Dig in, dig deep Deserve what you reap ♪
♪ Don't you know the truth will set you free ♪
Tweety McDaniel. Repudiator Records.
- What does he collect? - Collect?
He's got money. It's got to be something.
- Cars? Hookers? Stamps? - Ferraris.
He just bought two quarter horses and wine.
- Wine? - He has over 1,000 bottles.
Great. Find out where he keeps them.
I need to see you today. It's urgent. Call me back.
- Hi. - Hey.
Not only is she getting married on three-days' notice to some stranger,
but she's doing it on the anniversary of Dad's death.
- How sick is that? - I don't even know if she remembers.
She remembers the day I got a DUI when I was 20.
In her defense, Lucy, it was Christmas.
Dad's death was 25 years ago. A lot of Valium under that bridge.
It's just a day.
No, it'll never be just a day to me.
You don't have to go.
And if I don't, she'll only hold it against me.
God love her.
All right, so why were you whispering this morning?
- Are you seeing someone? - Not really.
Oh, come on, is it a man or woman? Oh, what am I saying?
You are not bi. You haven't been with a woman in years.
- Six months. - Whatever.
You can't keep a secret from your big sister.
- Tell me the details. Who, where? - Nothing's going on.
- You are lying. It's so obvious. - I wonder how the tuna is here?
I can't believe you're not gonna tell me about your latest conquest.
- You always tell me. - This time I can't.
You can't? Or you won't?
I can't.
And I don't want to.
Let's order.
So how's it going?
Well, my penmanship sucks, and I was only half an hour early this morning,
which I guess is still considered late.
Her coffee was the perfect shade of shit, so I'm happy.
You'll do fine as long as you don't make the mistake the last guy did.
- What's that? - Get married.
- What do you mean? - Last guy was getting married.
Wedding prep interfered with work.
Canned him after she caught him on the phone with his caterer.
- Are you getting married? - I have to. Because of the baby.
- Don, there you are. - Oh, hi, Lucy.
We had a 3:00 appointment. I've been looking for you.
I had to go pee.
- It's 3:50. - Sorry.
This is important. I need you to take a picture today.
It's for the cover.
Aren't you going to wash your hands?
- Are you OK? - Yeah, real good.
Good, because this is sensitive.
Aundre G, the singer, he was murdered.
I need you to go to the Cabrillo Wine Vault
and check out Tweety McDaniel's collection.
You're looking for Aundre G's head.
Don, the manager thinks you're a photographer
- from Wine Spectator Magazine. - Mm-hmm.
Don, it's clean... your hand.
- Mmm. Yeah. - Here you go.
- Thank you, Lucy. - OK, sweetie.
You wouldn't think Tweety McDaniel would give a shit about fine wine,
but look at this, he's got it all fixed up.
- - That's the front door.
- I'll be back in a sec. - OK.
Damn.
Basketball star with a prostitute isn't news.
He wanted her to bang him in the ass with a strap-on, that's your lead.
Willa, I'm really starting to question your commitment.
- My commitment? - Mm-hmm.
You know, I took some of those drugs that Garbo woman was selling
so that she would trust me.
I don't even take aspirin. I was sick all night from it!
Who asked you to take drugs?
I just wanted you to know that I have the balls for the job.
The story didn't call for balls. It called for brains.
Don't confuse the two.
Willa, there's a convention of bariatric surgeons at the W
that ends tonight. Find a Dr. Kozar and ask him about Venus Smith.
Venus Smith had her stomach stapled?
I thought she was all about diet and exercise.
Yeah, well, confirm the story. I may be able to use it next week.
Thanks, Lucy.
Hey.
- Who said that? - Over here.
Wow!
Aundre G?
Sure ain't Marie-Antoinette.
Hmm...
I'm supposed to take a few pictures of you.
- Knock yourself out. - Thanks.
My right side's my best side.
OK.
How do I look?
Pretty good, you know, considering...
...you have no body.
I guess that's it. Thanks.
Hey, hey, where you going?
Oh, I gotta get these pictures back to Lucy. She's counting on them.
But you just got here!
Come on, man, Don't you want to hear me sing?
I'm sorry.
- Whoa. - Excuse me!
Badgley Mischka. What do you think?
I'm in the middle of my work day.
Well, here's what I'm thinking. I'm going to be wearing Ralph Lauren,
and you always look so pretty in blue.
- Mother... - You want to pick it out yourself,
- but I was in Beverly Hills... - Mother!
You're getting re-married on the day that Dad died.
Yes.
Don't you think that's kinda strange?
Not really.
Your Dad did as he chose that day. Now so am I.
You act like it's some kind of retribution.
How can you blame him?
It was a hostile act. He did it at home.
There was no note, no explanation.
Why should I honor that day?
Because it's a pretty significant day to me.
Lucy, I took you to that doctor. We talked about it ad infinitum.
We read books. What more could I do?
Well, you could try being a mother for once.
I'm sorry, I've got so much work to do.
It's been his day for 25 years, Lucy. I want it back.
Who the hell?
Nice office.
Mr. McDaniel. I'm sorry, did we have an appointment?
I been hearing some shit about your magazine
- that just don't sit right with me. - Sorry to hear that.
I got people at my offices telling me your people been asking questions.
- About? - About my boy, Aundre G.
See, anybody who knows me, knows I dropped hundreds of thousands
of my own money looking for Aundre. He's like a brother.
Well, of course there's been some interest in the Aundre G story here,
you know, his disappearance, the new CD.
- I can assure you, Mr. McDaniel... - Tweety.
Now that we know he's on some island, we won't be doing any stories on him.
Glad to hear that.
Some of them questions were kinda like... insulting.
I mean, it seemed like your magazine was looking to diss Tweety.
Well, we never set out to diss anybody, Tweety.
That's... that's not what...
That's not what we do.
We just seek the truth. That's all.
People be so quick to judge me.
They won't let their kids spend the night at my house,
because I'm supposed to be some violent son of a bitch.
But I can assure you, my kids don't want for nothing.
See, Brent... That's your name, right?
Yes, it is.
Ain't nobody ever gave me nothing, except for God.
Yeah.
And I ain't going to let nobody take that from me.
Asthma's a killer, Brent.
- You ought to stay clear of smoke. - Yeah.
My God, these are horrific. I love them!
This is going to make a great cover story.
- Yeah. He's a nice guy. - Who?
Aundre. Aundre G.
- I don't like how you're sounding. - Sorry, Lucy.
Don, you have to take your meds, honey.
I know you don't like them, but remember the hospital?
I don't need the hospital. I'm fine.
Last time, you were sleeping next to the freeway.
That guy hurt you!
Don, you have to take care of yourself.
OK.
I have another job for you.
OK.
♪ I must have made you up inside ♪
♪ Created another perfect crime ♪
♪ Moving forward in my mind ♪
♪ Help the box inside the ♪
♪ Now I believe you aren't what you say you are ♪
♪ Now I believe in you aren't what you say you are ♪
♪ I didn't know you ♪
♪ Now I believe in you aren't what you say you are ♪
♪ Now I believe ♪
What is this?
It's dope.
You're yummy.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God, I'm gonna puke.
Don't worry, happens to everyone the first time they smoke it.
OK, listen up, everyone.
We're going crash a cover on Aundre G's murder.
Check it out.
- - What is that?
You can't put that on the cover, Lucy.
We're going to polybag it with an "explicit" warning label,
- and run the head shot inside. - That is fantastic.
Isn't it? Keep Barrow out of the loop.
He had a shit fit last time. This time, we have photos.
The LAPD will be notified when we go to press. Get to work.
The wall is locked.
- Hi. - Where you been?
What do you mean?
I've been home for three hours.
- I was out. - Who with?
Garbo. God, what's with the interrogation?
I thought we were going to have dinner, celebrate my first day.
Am I supposed to wait around for you all day?
No. I just thought we had plans.
We were out of weed. Jesus.
- Did you eat already? - No.
- How was work? - It was fine.
My stomach's bothering me a little.
Hey, you want a grilled-cheese sandwich?
OK.
I can't believe you'd do this to me.
I can't believe you're banging Jack Dawson.
Republican family man, super action macho homo Jack Dawson.
If I wanted you to know, I'd have told you.
Well, it's not like I'm going to publish these.
You know I wouldn't do that, right?
You had your own brother followed by the stalkerrazzi.
So don't act all indignant.
Oh, my God. This isn't serious, is it?
Yes. I love him and he loves me. Why is that so hard to believe?
Two people can meet and actually fall in love.
Oh, Leo, he's a movie star. I have covered this kind of story...
I'm not a story. I'm your goddamn family.
Can you be happy for anybody? I meet a terrific person
and you diminish it like it's some piece of gossip.
Mom finds someone she can fall in love again with and you shit on that.
- Right, Leo... - Just don't with the big sister act.
God, you know, I'm embarrassed for us both.
Kira? Baby?
Is this it?
Don't worry, you're gonna be fine, OK?
- I'm not gonna go anywhere! - OK.
Shit. Ow!
Gotta get your head up. OK? You don't want your head on the floor.
- OK, here you go. - It hurts!
- Oh, shh... - Oh, it hurts!
Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh. It's OK.
Don't cry, baby. It's OK.
No!
So then you became a bariatric surgeon.
I found my niche. Never looked back.
I'm all about helping people, so...
You think you got something to work with there?
Oh, yeah, yeah, wow.
This is gonna make my thesis much more exciting.
Thank you.
Nice shoes.
- Oh... - Kate Spade?
Uh, yeah.
You know, I've got a video of me performing surgery.
It's in my room.
Oh, um, well, that might be helpful.
I also have a few questions about the types of patients you treat.
Well, come on up. I'll be happy to tell you anything you want to know.
- Yeah? - Yeah, OK.
You're doing great, baby. It's gonna be fine!
Come on, come on. Oh, whoa!
OK, just push! OK? Push!
- Ooh! -
- I can see something! -
Here it comes! Here it comes!
Oh, wow!
Look, look, it's a boy!
What, what?
Oh! Here's another one.
Yeah, some patients are very private about this surgery.
Sure I can't get you anything?
They like people to think all it took was a little exercise and willpower.
But if they were capable of self-control,
I wouldn't be in business, now would I?
Here's to gluttony.
So I imagine you treat celebrities.
Oh, they're the worst.
Come and sit by me. You can see better.
I can see fine, thanks.
I heard Venus Smith got her stomach stapled, I mean...
Come on!
Look, I didn't come up here to do anything.
That's a load of shit, now, isn't it?
You don't think you're the first reporter
to try to pry privileged client information from me, do you?
- Sure you don't want a drink? - I'm not screwing you.
It's not your precious bloom that I'm interested in.
My feet?
Oh, God, they're so...
...small and dainty, alabaster.
I'm guessing a perfect size 8.
You let me be who I have to be, and I'll give you what you want.
Off the record, of course.
No touching.
Good.
Now dangle it. Dangle it.
No, no, don't, don't let it drop, don't let it drop.
Oh, yeah...
Oh, yeah, you make me so hard.
Hold it up.
Hold the goddamned foot up!
Yeah, yeah.
Oh, don't close your eyes. Look at me, look at me, look at me!
Oh, yeah. Please, please, please,
please, please, please, please, please, yeah.
Oh! Uh!
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Oh...
It's time for me to go, Don.
No.
I'm going to make you French toast.
It's time for you to go back on your meds.
No, I don't want to go back on my meds. They make me feel bad.
You have to.
I don't want to, I...
I love you.
I don't want to be alone again.
You won't be. OK?
Tristan?
No. It's his son.
You're all he has.
Come here.
Bitter.
That's a good boy.
What happened? Huh?
What happened?
Shh, shh, shh...
- I told you not to go with this. - I don't work for you, Brent.
And this time I had photographic evidence.
Really? Because the cops showed up at the storage facility
and apparently there was no head to be found.
Oh, I guess someone got tipped off.
No confirmation that Aundre G is dead or that the head is actually his.
The cops are gonna be all over Don.
This story is solid. I ran the whole thing by legal.
Unless you brought muffins, I think that we're done here.
Well, beyond that, these photos... are smut.
Publishing them is just venal sensationalism.
From a man who's never had a magazine he could read with his pants on.
- We don't know if they're real. - Oh, they're real.
The guy had Aundre G's head in his wine cellar.
If the cops can't prove it, that's their problem.
Well... I hope this sells, because, you know,
the polybagging is going to blow your budget all to hell.
Given that this is the fourth week in a row you've gone over budget,
according to the terms of your contract, you forfeited your bonus.
That's bullshit. Polybagging is a production cost.
It's not on the editorial budget.
It is now.
Kira?
Oh...
Tristan.
Shh.
Yeah.
This is a very special day for the Spiller family.
Twenty-five years ago, my mother's first husband,
my father, hanged himself in our living room.
Ever since then,
I have questioned the whole idea of love and commitment.
It's nice to see that my mother doesn't share the same doubt.
And neither does my brother, apparently.
Good for them. And I mean that.
To Mom and Paul,
may the truth never infringe upon your happiness.
Well, instead of being the day Dad killed himself,
it'll now be the day you ruined Mom's wedding.
Well done.
At least I showed.