My name's Don Konkey. I take pictures.
That's my best friend, Lucy Spiller.
She's the editor of Dirt Now Magazine.
This is my girlfriend, Kira. She died of a drug overdose.
- We've been living together since. - Thanks, baby.
We became a family last week.
Oh, wow! It's a boy!
It's time for you to go back on your meds.
- I don't want to be alone again. - You won't be.
But then she had to go.
That's Lucy's brother, Leo. He's dating some guy secretly.
- You can't keep a secret. - Nothing's going on.
Lucy hates secrets. She sent me to follow him. Guess what?
He's dating married action hero Jack Dawson.
It is all about family.
Leo got really pissed off
when Lucy showed him my photos.
I can't believe you're banging Jack Dawson.
You had your own brother followed by the stalkerrazzi!
- Don't act indignant. - I'm not going to publish these.
Pretty sneaky, sis. This is Holt McLaren.
His first day on the set of his big movie went well.
- I'm fine! - His girlfriend, Julia, not so much.
This is Prince Tyreese, basketball star.
He's helping with the Aundre G story. People think he's dead.
- Tweety had his head... in a jar! - Lucy's one of them.
She asked me to find Aundre G and take some pictures.
Nice guy. Lonely.
Seemed like your magazine was looking to diss Tweety.
Now that we know he's off on some island somewhere,
we won't be doing any stories on him.
- I told you not to go with this story! - This is solid.
I don't know if I told you, but I'm a highly functional schizophrenic.
I'm doing much better, but I definitely miss my dead girlfriend.
Kira...
Thank God for the kids.
It's Hollywood's happiest couple telling everyone the secret
to their successful marriage.
You know, like tips on how they've managed to be successful
where others failed, suggestions for the bedroom,
how to keep things fresh.
How long have they been married?
A year and... two months.
Let's wait six months and do the story
where she catches him doing a face plant on her personal assistant.
What is the problem here? I need a cover. You need jobs.
Seems like the perfect match, no? This is Hollywood.
Someone is getting screwed and somebody out there
cannot wait to tell you about it. There's a cover out there somewhere.
It's not going to just walk through the front door!
♪ I wanna freeze things ♪
♪ Reads like a message ♪
♪ Wrote on a sun beam ♪
♪ Spun on a wire ♪
♪ What's behind you? ♪
Yeah. Oh, God.
Oh, Jesus.
Oh, yeah. Oh! Ah! That's it.
Oh, incredible.
Oh, dude. Oh, you're amazing.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Oh! Oh, God!
Get off of me, bitch.
♪ Dig in ♪
♪ Dig deep ♪
♪ Deserve what you reap ♪
♪ Don't you know the truth will set you free ♪
- Lucy? - Yeah?
Well, I didn't see my Venus Smith article and I was wondering if...
That's because I'm not running it.
I kinda got the impression it was going to go this week.
Where did you get that impression?
I guess I just kind of assumed...
Well, you know what happens when you assume.
Yes, it makes an ass out of you and me.
- No, it pisses me off. - Is it really just that arbitrary?
The short answer is, yes, it is. But I'll spell it out for you.
When I was done reading your piece, all I remembered was a typo.
It wasn't bad, but it was dull, and that's worse.
Where the hell is everybody?
What are you doing?
Trying to see how much we weigh as a couple.
I've lost nine and a half pounds.
What's your secret?
This isn't funny. People just don't lose weight for no reason.
- Honey, listen... - What? This just isn't normal.
- The blood test came back negative. - They should take more tests.
Hey, negative.
- How do we know? - The doctor says it's stress.
Just hear me out, all right?
I mean, with your new movie and... and the accident,
and taking care of me, that's a lot.
But I'm doing better now. So maybe I can take care of you.
Julia, what are you doing?
I'm just trying to relieve a little stress. Doctor's orders.
Julia, come on, just...
Julia...
Come on.
Julia, could you just stop?
- Look, I'm sorry. - Go to hell.
Julia, I'm just nervous about this damn movie tomorrow.
Julia!
Are you sure?
I'm quite familiar with the act from all angles.
And it was definitely a man?
- It was his trainer. - What's his name?
Um, all I know is that he's red-headed
and has a March Of The Penguins bumper sticker on his van.
Suddenly I don't feel so special.
I didn't seek him out. OK, he seduced me.
I was there to do a job. He played me for a fool.
I want to expose his lying, cheating, trainer-blowing ass.
This just happened. Why don't you give it time to digest and...
Digest? Digest what? OK, a guy tells you that he loves you,
that you're the first guy he's ever been with or felt this way about.
Then you catch him with his dick in another guy's mouth?
If you tell me it's just sex, I'm cool with that.
You tell me you're falling in love,
that you want me to clear my schedule to be in New Zealand
while you shoot your picture, I'm thinking game on.
I understand, but as your sister...
I don't want to talk with my sister.
I want to talk with the editor of Dirt Now. Is she in?
You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into.
- I trust you. - This has nothing to do with trusting me.
You want to out one of the biggest action stars in the world.
I would try to protect you, but there are no guarantees.
Do you really want to take that risk?
You bet your ass I do.
Good, 'cause this is a great goddamn story.
Hey, little girl.
Yeah, you.
Hey, Diane.
Are you ready?
OK, Diane, I'm just gonna open your mouth
and then slide this tablet to the back of your throat.
Oh, yeah. Oh, you did very good, very good.
Because you don't want to get worms. They can make you feel real sick.
It's OK now.
What'cha doing?
Yeah?
OK.
Hi. I'm supposed to meet Jack for a late lunch.
I thought I punched the code in right. He gave it to me over the weekend.
We change that every week. He's out back by the pool.
Damn. I've got fabric samples in my car. Do you mind?
Yeah, make it quick.
You have incredible lips, you know that?
They're just like Kira's. Thick, the color of plums.
She used to
suck on her bottom lip when she was messed up.
Like a pacifier, you know, Just...
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. What's the matter, kitten?
Kira loved you.
It's Holt she didn't like.
That's because he never stuck his dick in her.
She didn't think he was good enough for you.
She loved you. I can totally see why.
She knew you never leaked the pregnancy to the press.
Kira told me she told you. OK?
She thought maybe you got drunk and told Holt and he leaked it.
She knew you wouldn't betray her like that.
She thought it was Holt.
No. Holt never knew.
And if he did, he'd never betray me.
Oh, Julia, Julia, come on.
This is Hollywood.
Betrayal should have its own star on the Walk of Fame.
Hey!
- What are you doing? - Shh! Shut up!
Oh, shit, you're real.
Get him!
Hey, hey, nice pool. I love the Greek urns.
The Romans, they stole all their culture from the Greeks.
You know, they liked it, so they just took it.
Sit your ass down.
We found this in his pocket.
- What? - "What?"
Get him out of here.
Ow! Ow! Ow!
When you're done with him, come get this piece of shit right here!
There you are. You got a second? Hello?
I said I need to speak with you.
You asked if I had a second, and I don't.
May I ask what's so important?
- Don's in jail. - I'm sorry?
- I've gotta go bail him out. - Wait, what? No, no, no.
Don does not work for Dirt Now. He's freelance.
We are under no obligation to him whatsoever.
Interference might be construed as fidelity...
I'm bailing him out as a friend. You know what friends are, Brent?
Will you let me finish? You're setting us up for a lawsuit.
He has our next cover pictures on him.
I don't care if he has pictures of Lindsay Lohan going down
on the ghost of Frank Sinatra! How he got them is my concern.
He got them by being the best photographer out there.
I know you're a busy woman, what with saving the planet
one drunken celebrity at a time, but there are amended statutes
you want to gloss over before you hang the magazine out to dry.
- Are you done? - Yes I am.
I'm gonna get my next cover.
Loved the friend angle. Almost had me on that one.
That's looking beautiful, Holt. You can take a break if you'd like.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Get the girls in, please.
Does that car bring back some memories. My dad had a '67 goat.
If I could lose my virginity all over again, it'd be in the back seat.
Who am I kidding? It'd be Bora Bora. Back seat's a close second.
- She's a beauty. - She's yours.
- What are you talking about? - I knew you liked it.
I talked to the agency. They'd be thrilled to have you in their car.
Shut up. Get the hell out of here. Thank you.
Holt, we're ready for you. Could you step in, please?
- Get in there. - Honey, you're gonna look at him.
Sweetheart, you are not looking at a loaf of white bread.
He's important. That makes you important.
That's it.
I am moist. Am I right, girls? Holt, these are gonna be gorgeous.
We will hold them till after the Fincher release.
Oh, my God. Seriously, who's with me on the moist? Anyone?
- Please. - OK.
Julia.
Hey, look who's here.
Hey, did you come to watch the shoot?
- Take one of us. - OK, very nice.
We need to get back to work, so could you please...
- She's pretty, isn't she, Holt? - Why don't you come and sit down?
You want to do us together? I bet you suck a mean dick.
- All right, sweetie. - Can I get a bottle of water?
Hey, you're missing his greatest asset. Here, honey, turn around.
He's got the best ass in the business.
- That's enough. - It's nothing next to his dick.
Julia, that's enough, please.
Which he won't screw me with anymore.
- Can I get that damn water? - Right here.
Why don't you make love to me anymore?
Do you not love me?
Have some water, come on.
- Holt, listen. Listen, Holt... -
- Julia, stop! - This is about Julia, listen...
- Listen! Holt! -
- Hey. Come here. - Holt! Listen to me.
More important than how she's behaving right now is how you handle it.
This could ruin her career. I know she's messed up from the painkillers.
- All right. - Let me do what you pay me to do.
You can handle this in private, away from the cameras. Go.
Hi, I need a limo to take Julia Mallory home.
I'm at the shoot. No, I need it now. Yeah, she needs to go straight home.
How much? No, Town Car's fine.
I just want to know, is that normal procedure?
I busted my ass on that piece.
Tell me if I'm wrong to be upset and I'll let it go.
Willa. You want my advice?
- Yeah, of course. - Grow a pair.
- Pardon? - Your piece got spiked.
Write another one. End of story. If you'll excuse me,
these celebrities aren't going to screw themselves.
Yeah, all right, Carlson. What happens at The Standard stays at The Standard, right?
Sir, excuse me.
Oh, yeah. I'll talk to you next week.
Can I help you? Uh, Nancy?!
She's talking to one of my associates now,
but not to worry, we'll be brief.
I don't know how I can help either of you gentlemen.
How do you know? We haven't asked you anything yet.
But to be perfectly honest,
I think you could be of a great help to us.
But then again, that just may be my overly optimistic nature.
- What do you want? - We would like to know
who gave up our boy in the Aundre G story.
I don't know.
This nigga, he's talking about... OK.
Now, you're gonna sit up here in your big-ass expensive office
in your $2,000 suit, and your five-buck tie
and look me in my black face
and you're going to tell me that you don't know shit? Come on, man.
You the man. You know every detail that happens in this office.
Am I right? Am I right?
- I think you're right. - Damn straight I'm right.
I'm the publisher. It's not necessary I know who the source of a story is.
- Hmm. You see that, Maurice? - Yeah, I saw it.
- He saw what? - You looked down when you said that.
- So what? - So you're lying.
You broke eye contact. When people lie, they look away. That's a big tell.
Oh, my God.
What do you gentlemen know about the free press?
Please, illuminate.
Confidentiality between the journalist
and his or her source is sacrosanct.
Shield laws give journalists the legal protection
to keep the identity of a source private,
even when police and prosecutors are threatening contempt and jail time.
Now, to betray that confidence is a breech of ethics so great,
it compromises the very foundation upon which
the whole of journalism is predicated.
Wow.
Thank you, sir, for educating two ignorant brothers
in journalistic ethics in the middle of your busy workday.
Oh, man.
Is that a real KC Haxton?
Haxton's the shit.
Oh, God!
- Don, are you OK? - Yeah.
- Do you have the film? - I think so.
Do you need to go to the bathroom to get it?
- No, it's not there. - Where then?
What's the quickest to remove it from his stomach?
We can send a tube down his throat
and reach in and grab it with a claw.
Or we can do it laparoscopically. It's a little more involved.
- What do you think, Don? - Claw.
- Will it damage the canister? - No.
Stomach acid, on the other hand, can break down just about anything.
How the hell did you swallow a film canister?
Can I be home by 6:00? Please?
That is so cute.
You better not be planning your wedding shit on my dime.
I'm on my lunch, and it's actually baby shit.
No more tuna fish. The smell makes me sick.
- Excuse me, Lucy? - Yeah?
- Selena Torres wants to talk. - About what?
Her side of the scandal. She didn't sleep with the contestant
until after he won American Dream.
She pretty much already said that.
But he's not the only contestant she slept with.
- Why now? - Another one of them is coming forward.
She wants to beat him to the punch.
And why you?
Her publicist and I have a relationship.
No, it's a professional relationship.
- Have it to me by noon tomorrow. - OK.
- Hey. - Hi.
- I need to see you tonight. - I can't. I gotta see Julia.
You're going to want to hear what I have to say.
My house, 8:30.
God, you are so beautiful.
It's OK, baby bird.
- You're all right. You're all right. -
There. All better?
OK.
Just relax and enjoy the ride.
♪ Twinkle, twinkle little star ♪
♪ How I wonder ♪
♪ Wonder ♪
♪ Up above the world so high ♪
♪ Like a diamond in the sky ♪
♪ Twinkle, twinkle little star ♪
♪ How I wonder what you are ♪
You know who you remind me of?
No.
Bobby Meserve.
Who's that?
He's the first boy I kissed.
Boys had kissed me before.
But he was the first boy I kissed.
He was so...
...so pretty.
I like the way you look at me.
I love them. What else you got?
This is all of it, which, considering where it came from, is pretty damn good.
I think the one with his hands down your pants is a keeper.
Wow.
- What is it? - You can really see it's me.
Not for long. Photoshop the shit out of his face.
Not a problem.
When Danielle's done, Mom won't know it's you.
- Sweet. - Thank you.
Come here. Do you wanna stay at my house?
Why? Are you going to nurse me back to health?
You're right. That's never really been my calling.
Remember when I had chickenpox?
You stood in the doorway of my bedroom, threw a box of saltines at me.
- Told Mom and Dad you fed me lunch. - Technically, true.
I was not much of a cook, either. The offer still stands.
I know.
Get out of here.
Scott, I love you, I love you, I love you!
No problem, she needs to clear the air. It's a big scoop.
I figured if I was gonna do a solid for a reporter, may as well be a hottie.
- I owe you, Scott. Big time. - See you tonight?
il Misto. 7:30.
Yes!
Hello, Gibson.
I just heard the damnedest story.
It was so ludicrous, I had to tell you in person.
I heard my magazine bailed out some psychotic photographer.
Now, I thought, what kind of idiot
would risk my holdings, not to mention their entire career,
over some addled pap who nabs the occasional sagging tit
or rumpled ass of some future Hollywood Square?
Do you mind if I speak frankly?
Oh, by all means.
Why do you give a shit? Have you seen the sell-through?
Fifty-nine percent. People Magazine would suck your dick for those numbers.
Lucy, you haven't answered my question yet.
- Am I going to get...? - Sued? Yeah, most likely.
But that price tag is going to pale compared to what you pull in.
Besides, you always told me, scared money doesn't make money.
Neither does stupid money.
What's a few million to you? You made that clearing your throat.
Don Konkey had this week's cover sitting inside of him.
It was business. It was really good business.
OK. What's the cover?
Photos of Jack Dawson fondling another guy's nut sac.
- Jack Dawson? - Mm-hmm.
That's not your average Hollywood fag story, I'll give you that.
Oh, Lucy.
Well, I guess I came all this way for nothing.
Actually, I think it's a pretty good time to talk about my raise.
Have a seat, sweet pea.
- There you are. - Hi! Hey.
- You look amazing. - Oh, thank you.
- Scott, party of two. - Follow me.
Um, where's Selena?
I didn't think we needed her here at this juncture.
What do you mean?
I have to have this on my editor's desk by noon tomorrow.
Relax, Will, let's have some nice Italian food, some wine.
There's plenty of time, right?
A bottle of the Santa Margherita, please.
Pinot Grigio's OK?
- Scott, I need this story. - Sure, after we catch up.
What's the rush, right?
Want me to call Luce, tell her to cool her heels?
Your company reps Venus Smith, right?
Yeah. She's a top feeder.
I happen to know the doctor who stapled her stomach.
There's no proof that she actually had that surgery...
Don't screw with me, Scott. It's not speculative. I know.
I talked with him. I have his story.
Now, you have Selena in my office tomorrow morning, or I'm running it.
Then I'll have "Luce" call your boss and tell him it was all preventable.
- You're full of shit. - Try me.
- Your wine. - Thank you.
It's on him.
Dad, I think it's time.
I know.
People, Us, OK, Star, everyone's going full bore
- on your girlfriend's episode today. - It's her pain meds.
We're adjusting the prescription.
Know what might help sell that?
If you look the press in the eye when you feed them that bullshit.
What the hell am I doing here?
We're covering it as "Julia Mallory's
courageous battle with addiction."
And how she's doing better thanks to her hot-ass boyfriend, Holt McLaren.
Am I supposed to thank you?
Mm-hmm, yes. But not for that.
Hello?
What the hell are you guys doing here?
Well, if it isn't Mr. Ethics. I hope you brought your appetite.
- Jack Dawson's gay? - Mm-hmm.
And how do you know that?
Because I have pictures of him and an unidentified man
frolicking by his pool. We're running it on tomorrow's cover.
Holy shit.
So unless America is suddenly OK with their action hero
taking it up the ass, I think that pretty much opens the path
for you getting the lead in Hard Charger.
If you're gonna be the next big action hero,
you're going to have to bulk up.
No, I'm a vegetarian.
Then you're in for a treat.
We're the top of the food chain. We can eat whatever we want.
What about its pain and suffering?
I didn't feel a thing.
If God didn't want us to eat the weak,
then why did he make them so delicious?
Besides, this isn't some indie bullshit where you play a tortured,
love-struck, down-and-outter. No, this is a full-on,
fight for your life, kill-or-be killed,
hero-gets-the-girl action movie.
Could you guys tell me what the hell you want?
It's simple, really. We want to make you dinner.
- Maurice, don't burn that garlic. - I'm not.
If you burn the garlic, you ruin the dish.
See, when you pan-roast garlic, you're turning a starch into a sugar.
Then it makes it really sweet, but then if you burn it,
it makes it too bitter.
So it just takes a little bit of heat to render its sweetness.
Hey, you got fennel?
- What? - You got fennel, asshole?
I don't know. I don't cook much.
Man, then you are in for a treat, man. A home-cooked meal?
Maurice, he is an incredible cook. He studied in Italy for two years.
- Two and a half. - My bad.
Do you know what Maurice is gonna prepare for your dinner?
Your dick.
You're joking.
-Oh, -God! No! No!
God! Oh!
That is a nice-sized cock for a white boy. You might have some leftovers.
What do you want? Please! Jesus Christ, what do you want?
You, uh...
- Oh, God! - You know what this shit is?
This is gonna cauterize you so that you don't bleed to death
while you're enjoying your dick dinner.
You see, first Maurice is going to chop off your dick,
and then he's going to slice it into bite-sized pieces
to make it easier to chew.
Then we're gonna simmer it with some tomato,
- and some fennel... - What do you want?!
I want you to stop asking me dumb-ass questions
and tell me what I came here for.
Tyreese. Tyreese.
It's Tyreese.
- The Prince? - Yes. The Prince.
Shh. Shh. Thank you.
You need to season this butcher block. It's drying out.
That wasn't so bad, was it?
No, it was good.
- Hey, thanks for the heads-up. - Mm-hm.
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?
- No, you're the first. - Wow, you're tough.
You're on the verge of owning this town
and that's the best you can do, some generic compliment?
What exactly is beautiful about me? Be specific.
Is it my... my face?
Is it my ass? My...
Yes, and definitely, yeah.
- You're a moron. - And you're a nine.
- Oh. Only a nine? - Mm.
If you want to be a ten, it's really simple.
OK, enlighten me.
Shut up.
Good night, Holt.
Yeah, could have been.
Aw, man! Shit, dawg. Again?
Yeah, man, you can't be beating me at my own game, now.
You should stick to the Internet.
You should have seen me last night by the airport.
Nigga was cleaning up.
Must've been with a broom, 'cause I ain't seen none of that here.
Oh...
- He's got a point. - Gimme them cards.
My niggas. Mind if I sit in for a couple hands?
Shit, man, your money feels just as good in my pocket as these punks'.
Wanna sit next to my boy. Down with that, Prince?
Yeah, Tweet. Of course, man.
All right, whose deal?
Shit, you're holding the cards, nigga.
Yeah.
Man! Again!
Man, this must be your lucky night, boy.
Can someone open a window? It's hot in here.
Prince, how's the knee, man?
It's good, Tweet. You know, just a little strain.
Good. You gotta take care of that shit, man.
You can't play no basketball if your knees are gone. Right?
True.
You in or out?
- I got physical rehab tomorrow. - You can't win and run.
Sit down, baby, hang out. Come on, sit down. Sit down.
Yes, knees are very, very important.
Never mind basketball. Just every day walking around.
Playing with your kids. Hell...
...you can't even handle your business if your legs don't work.
Take the anterior cruciate.
Man, when that bitch pops... Whoo! That's a world of hurt.
Add to that the medial collateral.
Shit, then we're talking major damage.
Now, if done just...
...right, I mean, say it was deliberate,
chances are that nigga never gonna stand upright again,
never mind play no basketball.
A lot depends on how it happens.
A fall on the court, knee on knee, boom...
Most likely you'll walk away from those.
Four to six weeks, you're back covering Shaq's ass.
But say a pipe or baseball bat...
Now those are different.
And some injuries are permanent.
Take my boy, Aundre G.
Y'all don't mind if he sits in a hand, do you?
Naw, he good.
I got a call.
Cops were all up in my shit.
Worked out good though.
Gimme a chance to have some quality time with Mr. G.
Give me some creative space.
Tweety! Nah, Tweety, come on, man!
Tweety, naw, man...
Mama!
Don't be such a bitch, Prince.
Have some dignity, nigga.
You scared, Prince?
Go to church.
Tweety does. Tweety loves church.
- Worthless piece of shit! - No, listen to me!
They... They came to my house.
They were going to cut my dick off and feed it to me.
- You gave up a source. - They were going to kill me.
He's done. They don't even know if he's going to live.
I did the same thing you'd have done if they threatened to cut your dick off.
You're a riot. How do you even live with yourself?
Excuse me? You blackmail a man to get a story,
then threaten to ruin him, and then when the shit storm that you created
comes to fruition, it's me who's the asshole?
- Where are you in all of this? - I'm not the one who gave up a source.
Oh, give me a...
Know what I remember when I brought you in as editor of Dirt and Now?
You moved into Pembroke's old office
and he had that beautiful antique mirror, remember that?
My God, it was worth thousands.
First thing you did was have that taken down.
- So? - So maybe it's time to put it back up.
Is that what you think?
That you can just shit all over me and this magazine?
This is Dirt Now.
We've outsold every other weekly two weeks running,
and we're about to make it a third.
So you listen to me, you insignificant piece of shit.
You're giving me this story because if you don't,
Dirt Now will have a camera up your client's ass
every second of every day.
If she so much as blinks at another contestant,
we're going to run that she's screwing him.
Every pit stain, every ounce of cellulite, every photograph
that makes her look retarded, will be splashed, full-color,
in the pages of our magazine, and that's off the top of my head.
Wait until I give it some real thought.
You've got 20 minutes to get her contestant-nailing ass over here
before I make her a pin-up girl for every STD known to man.
- Lucy, I'm... - I'm gonna run this story.
- Cover in-set. - Thank you.
No. Thank you.
♪ Please don't fight with me and fold your arms ♪
♪ Like it's the end ♪
♪ Can you smell the sweetness of the soil and snow? ♪
♪ In the wind ♪
♪ So we're lost out here on the plains ♪
Be gentle.
- Is he friendly? - Sure.
Bye.
- Bye. - Bye.
You're gonna want to see this.
Your friend, Leo?
Turns out he's Lucy Spiller's brother.
- That tabloid bitch? - Mm-hmm.
♪ The silence ♪
♪ The cold, the dark and the silence ♪