Previously on Dirt:
- How are you feeling today, Don? - Weird.
- "Weird" how? - Because I'm starting to feel normal.
Well, we'll keep an eye on those feelings of normalcy.
- Hey, Brent. - Spiller.
- You're... - Alive.
- Are you back for good? - Looks like it.
- You can't run those photos. - I wish I had other options, I do.
But I'm looking at a deadline here,
so unless you tell me what happened to Aundre G, you leave me no choice.
Tweety had his head, OK? In a jar.
Take my boy, Aundre G.
Y'all don't mind if he sits in a hand, do you?
Tweety loves church.
As you all know, I recently spent some time at St. Edmunds
after a rebuttal to one of my articles.
It is an incredible institution, which I'm sure,
so many of you have counted on. So Hollywood, please,
not that Botox and call girls aren't important...
...but if you could take half the money that you spend on that
and leave it here tonight, we could build this wing in a week.
Thank you so much.
There's some malnourished twins that seem to have rented
- a permanent stall in the ladies room. - Coke or vomit?
- Dealer's choice. - I love options.
Knock on the stall and see if you can borrow a cup of blow. Take a shooter.
- Lucy! - How are you?
- Fine, thanks. Good to see you. - Good to see you.
Farber, ease up on the Old Spice before you burn a hole in the ozone layer.
Well, I'm not sure, but I think an A-list heterosexual actor
just asked me if I'd like to go camping.
Somebody's about to go Brokeback.
Yeah, I'm sure that's what my parents took out a second mortgage for
- to get me through j-school. - Oh, come on, be a team player.
- There's no "I" in "blow job." - "I" in... What?
- Lucy! Look at you! - Hi.
Great night for the hospital, Lucy. You remember our son, Craig.
- I'm gonna get a drink. - Oh, of course.
- Hello. - Hello.
- Well, you look wonderful. - Thanks for showing up, Cassie.
Well, why wouldn't I? I've weathered much bigger storms
than your magazine's attempt to discredit me.
Well, you did give a hand-job to your campaign manager in a parking lot.
An egregious error in judgment, I admit.
But you'll be happy to know that we are in counseling
and we have recommitted to the marriage.
You know, Lucy, a marriage is not judged by the actions that one takes
in the good times, but rather how you step up during the moments of crisis.
I already heard that speech on ET.
Well, regardless, I'm willing to have Dirt come to a little photo-op
of the family around the breakfast table.
Wow. That would be riveting for my readers.
You know, before I left acting, you would have kissed my ass
in Macy's window to get an interview with me inside my home.
Well, now you're running for Senate, and Dirt doesn't back politicians.
- You have my number. - I sure do.
Such a shame about Julia Mallory. I always liked her.
Hey, get close to their son, Craig. Get a read on the happy couple.
Her husband looks like he's got a bomb strapped to his chest.
All right, I'll ice up a nipple and start chatting.
He may not want to talk, but I think his 18-year-old hormones
- might want to meet me for coffee. - Wow, somebody's growing up.
Hi, Lucy.
Hi, Prince.
Hey, Craig. I'm Willa.
I just heard your father telling someone what a gifted athlete you are.
Actually, my true gift lies in the oral arts.
Wow, that's smooth, you should write for Hallmark.
Not to worry. I don't do reporters.
I hope everyone at your magazine gets cancer and dies. Ciao.
Got another surgery next month coming up.
There's not a day that goes by I'm not in pain.
But, you know, what birth isn't painful, right?
I never meant for that to happen. I... It's not the way I do business.
- I'm truly sorry. - Between the drugs, the women
and all the other people I chose to hang out with,
it was just a matter of time before I lost everything I really cared about.
Tweety did me a favor.
Wow, it's amazing how you can feel that way.
Doors and windows open and shut all the time.
You of all people should know that, Lucy.
- Yeah, I try to keep mine locked. - Well, bad things didn't happen to you
and I because we're bad.
They happened because we weren't paying attention to what's important.
- Is that why the book? - Everyone was talking about my loss
of a basketball career like it was the loss of my God-given gift.
The people in my life are my God-given gift.
This book is my making amends.
I'll send you a copy.
Prince? Is that you?
Hi, Boots. What's up?
Oh, man! You gotta give that nigga his due.
When he does something, he does it all the way.
She's Tweety's property.
And the one constant with people who associate with Tweety
is one day it'll be their turn.
- Take care, Lucy. - You, too.
So the obvious conclusion is that he got her pregnant
while they were away in Africa filming.
Meanwhile, his wife, seven months pregnant with their third,
sat back in Ojai gaining weight like it was a contest.
It's nicely played, but it's not him.
He had a vasectomy two weeks before the shoot.
- Yeah, but how do we know that? - Because his urologist
doesn't pay his secretary enough.
All right, guys, what do we know about Tweety McDaniel?
He's violent and he chopped off Aundre G's head.
Thanks, scoop. All right, looks like Alan's gonna be in charge
- of all things obvious. - You did it. Yeah.
- Naomi? - Lil' Boots is his biggest client,
she was at the fundraiser last night.
She's gone platinum twice since her move from hip-hop to R&B.
And she has an incredible voice.
Did you know that "Naomi" spelled backward is "I moan"?
Wow. Did you know I'm a brown belt and can kick your nuts
up into your throat so deep that you'll be able to wash them when you gargle?
- Did you know you're immature? - Did you know that?
Why don't you two see what you can dig up on Tweety?
It's kind of a non-story. I mean, why now?
Because I like screwing with him.
You don't call people back?
My cell's kind of not been working very well.
Think it has anything to do with it being a six-year-old piece of shit?
I want you to do some snooping around our would-be senator's house.
- Do some surveillance. - What, the Hopes? What's the story?
Cassie Hope is addicted to drama. It's her norm. She can't function without it.
So you want me to sit out front of the Hopes' house and just kind of wait?
Are you sure there's not a, you know, a flower show or panda birth
- I could attend instead? - Looks like somebody had
their irony shots today. Come on, that Craig kid's a loose cannon.
Probably knows all that shit we wrote about his mom is true.
- Just give it 24 hours. - OK.
- Can I take my photograph now? - Oh, Don.
All right.
It's a lot lighter than last time.
All right.
That's quite a scrap book you got going on there, Donny.
Barrow.
So, what's this I hear about you snooping around Tweety McDaniel?
You really want to know? I know how hard it is for you to keep a secret.
Maybe you should have used that tongue when Julia Mallory attacked you.
Oh, my God, you could have hacked her to pieces.
- Well, this is fun. - So is this your way of punishing me
for screwing up the magazine when you were in the hospital?
Humiliating me by pushing me to the periphery?
- I mean, I did the best I could. - I know you did. That's the problem.
You really did do the best you could.
Nicely done.
Brent, what do you want me to say? It doesn't matter.
No, what you're saying is I don't matter.
Yeah, but in a much nicer way.
Come on, we've already had this conversation.
You're right here in front of the neighbors.
It doesn't matter, Mom! You've said that a million times already!
Nice!
Nice.
Lucy, I'll never doubt you again.
Why do you always get to do what you want to do?
- I will be back... - You're ridiculous, Mom.
I love you, Mom!
Great! Later, Mom!
Bye, Mom!
Hey! Hold up a sec!
Hey, hey, hey...
Hey, hey, you OK?
Who the hell are you?
I'm a photographer... for a magazine.
The lady I work for, she'd be really interested in what you have to say.
It's what I do.
Hey, she does that all the time, man.
I don't even have to do anything anymore.
You want a... you want a real story?
Sure.
I got to eat here more often.
We thought you'd like the salad.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
It was a joke. Salad's green and money's green and...
Ho with an axe to grind.
- Is she willing to talk? - I don't know. Call her and ask.
I want six orders of the chicken piccata to go.
No skimping on the capers, please don't drown it in lemon.
And put it on Barbie and Dane Cook's tab.
Very well, sir.
Mr. Proteau! Are you disappointed your bid
for cable giant Andromeda Entertainment was rejected?
Do you think this has anything to do with your unconventional lifestyle?
I like women. I like going to parties.
The women in my life walk in through the front door and leave the same way.
I inherited 50 million dollars when I was 20.
In 14 years, I have turned it into two and a half billion.
That is the true fruit of my labor.
The deal fell through because they would like to keep ownership domestic.
Simple. Thank you.
They have separate bedrooms.
They haven't slept together in years. It's all bullshit.
I'd like to see that.
- I have something better. - Yeah?
Yep. I think you're going to want to see their wine cellar.
Go ahead.
This is a sex dungeon.
Yep.
So secret, they don't even know that I know it's here.
Wow.
Yeah, when I was six, I heard them down here.
And they thought I was asleep.
It scared the shit out of me.
I'll bet. Wow.
They never saw me.
This is going to be an incredible story.
Yeah.
But you'll never tell it.
Let me out of this, you freak!
What do you want?
"What do I want?" "What do I want?"
Man...
If I could answer that question... question...
You know, I guess it would be what we all want, really.
You know... peace on earth,
good will towards men. Yes!
You shouldn't be upset.
It's what I do.
How old were you when Tweety raped you?
Seventeen... the first time.
What was your relationship like before that?
Relationship? People don't have relationships with Tweety.
Just because a dog wags its tail from time to time
doesn't mean that it won't tear your throat out given half a chance.
Were you ever sexual with him prior to the rape?
Everybody who gets into business with Tweety gets that way with him.
No matter. Women and men.
Wow. Was it ever consensual?
About as consensual as sex after a beating down can be.
He did what he did 17 years ago and I got my baby girl, Alisha, to prove it.
And why are you willing to come forward now?
You print that I'm thinking about suing him, he'll settle.
- Meaning? - He's got a whole lot more to lose now.
Yeah, but a rape 17 years after the fact and back child support
aren't exactly what's needed to bring this man to his knees.
Sweetheart, ain't nothing going to bring Tweety McDaniel to his knees.
That's your fight.
Right now, I'd be willing to settle for just a little justice.
- What do you want? - Hi, I'm Brent Barrow.
The publisher of Dirt Now magazine.
I spoke to your lawyer, he said to come on by.
- Adam Proteau? - None other.
Don't be hurt. They think Jon Favreau is going to stop by.
Come.
Don, Don...
If I don't sterilize these burns with vinegar,
the infection could set in.
And what kind of host would I be if I were to let that happen?
What in God's name...? What is going on? Who is he?
Please!
Please, your son invited me in, and then he knocked me out!
- Craig? - He's a liar!
He's a paparazzi, Mom! Hit him! Hit him!
Yeah? Then how the hell do you explain how I got in here?
Look at my chest. Look at my shoulders. Look at my back!
Your son invited me in here,
and then he hit me over the back of the head.
- Mom. - And then when I wake up,
- I'm in this thing. - Mom.
Mom. He's lying, OK? He was snooping around, all right?
- No, no, no. No, no, no! - He saw...
I'm sorry, Mom! All right? I'm sorry!
I did this for you! All right? He wanted me to talk about you,
to lie about you and try to ruin you!
I was trying to protect you, Mama!
- Mama, I was trying to protect you. - Oh, God.
Baby, baby, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
Maybe later.
- Is there something wrong? - No, no, no. Not at all.
I... I was...
I want to talk to you about Dirt Now magazine.
Let me see your penis.
- You're kidding, right? - No.
Great. You're a psycho. OK.
Well, thanks, for, you know, everything.
You are Brent Barrow, the publisher of Dirt Now magazine,
average newsstand first two months of operation, 1,113,285,
total ad pages during that time period, 385.
Your total circulation at the time of your editor's stabbing
was 1,486,360,
your ad sales currently are up 36 percent.
Your sell-through is 39 percent, your rate base is one point four million.
Your editor is Lucy Spiller,
and Gibson Horne, your owner,
has been quietly entertaining offers for your magazine
ever since your editor's unfortunate occurrence.
- Is that right? - And you're here to convince me
to buy your magazine. But I must know,
what's in it for Brent Barrow?
- May I? - Yes.
- Thank you. - But first...
Really?
Nice.
Small men, they are angry, not to be trusted.
I am six and a three quarters when erect.
Average penis size worldwide is five and one quarter.
You have beaten me in length, but I have defeated you in width.
I think he's thicker also.
Let's talk business.
I'll call you back.
Hey, Lucy, there's a Tweety McDaniels here to see... There they are.
- Alex, wait outside. - Harsh...
You know what I like about Russians? They're always in a good mood.
- What do you want? - Mind if I take a seat?
Oh, you won't be here that long.
The photos of you don't do you justice. You are a very beautiful woman.
- That, and busy. - I'm with you on that, baby.
I mean, there are just so many hours, right?
I don't think you got any idea what a dangerous neighborhood you inhabit.
Yeah, I'm thinking of getting a dog.
I like you, you know that? I really do.
And I pray to God that what happened to that poor, unfortunate woman
who left your offices earlier today... doesn't happen to you.
- What did you do to her? - What was her name again?
Sherri, right? Yeah, that's it, Sherri.
Seems after Sherri left your offices, some thugs, ruthless animals,
not like you and me, with no regard for the sanctity of life,
- beat her like a bad dog. - Is she alive?
That's up to you.
First Prince and now Sherri.
I'm beginning to think you're bad luck.
Yeah, I got him... I got him right here, Gib.
No, he's sitting right across from me.
Magazine and radio.
Yeah. Yeah, here, here... here he is.
Excuse me, would you...?
Gibson! Long time, no see.
- Try not to touch me, OK? - OK.
How long have you known about this place?
Since I was six.
Craig.
I need you to go upstairs to call Dale
and tell him that you're not feeling well,
and that he does not need to pick you up for lacrosse practice.
OK, Mama.
What do we do?
Let me go.
I won't say a word, I promise.
Oh, yes, a promise from a pap.
That's worth its weight in dog shit.
Where have I seen you before?
Who gives a rat's ass where you saw him? Could be anywhere. They're like flies.
- I can't do this! - What are you suggesting that we do?
- Just turn him in? - Oh, please.
Turn in your own flesh and blood? Is that what you're saying?
I love my son every bit as much as you, so don't get all self-righteous.
Call the police, tell them you caught me trespassing.
Tell them you were scared.
You have every right to beat me unconscious and tie me up.
Just don't press charges, and everybody's OK. OK?
Yes, great, we're just going to walk the police down to our private S&M dungeon,
and let them escort you out of here.
My political career, it's gonna be over before it even starts.
Maybe we shouldn't think about your career
and focus instead on what's best for our son.
My career is what's best for our son!
A working mother, a good home, the right college is what's best for our son,
and that sure as shit is not going to happen on your
lousy direct-to-video residuals.
You know our couch upstairs produces more change
than this man's last two flops combined.
Well, maybe if she kept her dick in her pants
and didn't get caught fondling her campaign manager's balls...
- Are you kidding me? - And maybe if you'd get it up
more than twice a year, I wouldn't have to...
That's not fair! I'm diabetic and you know it!
Well, I'm sick! I'm hurt and I'm bleeding.
I have a medical condition, which if left unattended,
I could have a seizure and die.
You don't want that on your hands.
You're both textbook codependents.
Cassie, your narcissism is on a Greek god level.
And Bill, Bill, you should start an enablers' workshop.
Please, please let me go.
I swear. You know, I'm harmless.
Lucy.
Lucy Spiller.
I knew I knew you from somewhere.
This is my third message, and it's a simple one, sweetie.
Get a new goddamn cell phone. Call me.
- Hi. What did the police ask you? - Hey.
Well, not much. Seems dealing with Tweety is nothing new.
I seems he's not just a thorn in your side.
What do you mean, my side? This is a Dirt story.
Well, no offense, but no it's not.
Our readers don't care about Tweety McDaniel.
They want to read about Lindsay Lohan's latest implosion
or whose ass is getting a beating from gravity. I just...
- It's reckless. - Willa, OK, I like you.
Not as much as these shoes, but I don't care how you feel.
Lucy, excuse me. You might want to take this.
She says it's Tweety McDaniel's daughter.
- Do you have children, Don? - No.
I have a little brother.
He's grown now.
It's hard always knowing what to do. Always feeling like you're failing them.
- Failing everyone. - Not this mantra.
Bill, you're depressed.
- Have you talked to anyone? - Who hasn't he talked to?
I had the friggin' Dalai Lama over here.
I see a woman. Dr. Shalba. She can help.
- You suffer from depression? - I'm schizophrenic.
- Depression sort of goes hand in hand. - Sure.
I got it pretty bad. I tried to kill my friend.
No.
I almost died myself, wandering out in the desert.
Dr. Shalba saved me. Dr. Shalba and my friend.
You know who suffers from depression? Me.
I've tried everything I can think of to help you snap out of this... disease.
- Cass, this isn't about you. - Oh, yes, it is! It is about all of us.
You think it's hard living with it? You should try sleeping with it
or talking with it or having any semblance of a normal life with it.
Everything is buried under this shroud of constant misery.
Are you blaming me for this? For Craig?
I'm just saying that your being submissive down here was fun
way back when, but your being submissive up there, and to this disease,
- it's killing us. - I love my son.
And I'd do anything not to harm him.
My little brother, the one who's grown now,
I loved him so much.
I tried. Sometimes things break in such a way,
the pieces just don't go back together.
You gotta learn to accept and love the pieces that are left.
- I understand about Craig. - No, you don't.
Nobody understands but Bill and me.
The schools, the teachers, the therapists...
All they see is pathology.
They don't see the beauty...
...and the kindness.
People only fear what they don't understand.
And they don't understand our Craig.
Hey, sleepy boy.
OK, family meeting upstairs, and we'll figure out how to right this.
- Excuse us, Don. - Of course.
Come on, buddy.
That was some nap.
Tweety got Mama pregnant when she was 17.
I see him in the studio, but that's it.
How long have you been the voice of Lil' Boots?
I've been lip-synching all her music since she switched over
- to R&B two years ago. - She never sings any of her own songs?
When she was hardcore, but that career never went nowhere.
She wanted to switch over. Girl couldn't carry a tune
if you strapped it on her back.
Someone told Tweety about me singing gospel in church one day.
He had me come in, lay down some tracks.
And that's the last time Lil' Boots ever opened her mouth
- except to say thank you for a check. - All right. Thank you.
You're gonna pay for my mama's hospital bills, right?
- Of course we will. - Thank you.
You won't leave here without protection.
Yeah.
Hey, Gib, you just made one hell of a deal.
Oh, Gib, Gib, Gib. Before you go... Listen, before you go public,
could I be the one to tell Spiller?
Gib, you've just helped make this the happiest day...
...of my life.
I know.
OK. All right.
Your buzzards and my buzzards should have the principles hammered out
by the end of the week. I insist we celebrate. Ciao.
Oh, my God.
I can't wait to see the look on Spiller's face.
Don...
God, this is really hard.
May I please go now?
Don, I'm very sorry.
Let me go. Please.
There's no other way.
We have to kill you.
- He's going to kill me! He knows! - Where are you?
I'm in the hotel room you sent me to. He just called.
You're going to be OK. Kenny, my purse!
- Let me speak to your bodyguard. - She wants to speak to you.
I got one in the hallway, one in the lobby and two in the room.
Nobody's gonna put a hand on this girl.
I'm on my way.
This is hard for us, too, Don. We're not murderers.
We love our son. California law says he could be tried as an adult.
We can't take that chance. Craig already has two strikes against him. He...
He beat a girl badly. She was a teenager.
- He thought that she stole his bike. - She did.
But this is assault, kidnapping, torture...
Your son is a sociopath, and you're not helping him.
You broke into our home, ranting and raving,
we were terrified, Bill shot you, end of story.
- I have to shoot him? - We discussed this, Bill.
Are you going to take a more active role in this family, or not?
If you shoot me, my boss, Lucy Spiller,
she'll be all over you.
If you think she's gonna believe this little bullshit,
then, you know, you're as nuts as your son.
She'll haunt you until she finds the truth,
and when she does, you're all gonna go to jail for murder.
- I'll shoot him. - Not now, honey, please. Don's right.
We should think this over for a minute.
I can't believe this. You're going to pussy out? I hate this family.
Honey, we aren't saying we're not going to kill Don,
we're just going to think it through a little.
Look at him.
You can't save him.
You shut up! All right? You shut up!
- He's broke, right, and you know it. - Give me the gun! You're the psycho!
- He's broke. - Give me the gun!
- No! - I know! You know, too! You know...
- Shut up! - Stop!
- No, stop it. - Gimme the gun, Dad! Gimme the gun!
- Give him the gun, Bill! - Cassie!
Give it to him. Let him have it. See what he does! See what the pieces do!
No, Craig, give Mama the gun. Craig, give Mama the gun.
- I'm doing this for us! - Watch.
They're the psychos!
Watch. See? See the pieces?
Craig!
Craig.
I have the bullets.
Give me the gun.
Daddy! I'm so sorry.
I don't want to be bad anymore.
- It's too late. - No, it's not.
What do you want? Money? Position? Anything. Anything.
Please, please, he's my baby.
Please, please don't take my baby.
Anything! Just let us go, just let us go! Anything, anything!
Because... he's not bad.
It's me.
It's me, I'm bad. I'm bad.
It's me.
When he was six years old, he would give me a hundred kisses before bed.
Cassie... Cassie!
- He's not bad... - Stop it, it's over.
Honey, it's over.
Come on.
Just leave us, please.
I'm sorry for your loss.
- What is it? Are you OK? - I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I don't think I can go through with this. He knows.
You don't have to. You don't have to.
All right? It's OK, sweetheart.
What's happening? I have asthma.
- My inhaler is in the next room. - Where?
My bag.
- Son of a bitch. - That's Daddy's girl.
Funny thing about some security firms.
Ain't real big on background checks.
I'm sorry. He said he'd kill my mother.
Her mama thought she gonna blackmail Tweety.
Like I would ever pay out that skank bitch.
- A little something? - No.
Come on, it'll take that edge off you.
Why don't you fellows make a run for me. It's gonna be a long night.
See this little girl right here?
Oh, you should hear the spirit move through her, I'm telling you.
Then why is she lip-syncing instead of making her own CDs?
Look at her, bitch.
Voice like an angel.
Face like a rhino.
Don't be eyeballing your daddy like that, baby.
Unless you want some of what your mama got.
Oh, we're partying now, huh?
Just like home, baby.
Don't look at her. All eyes on Tweety.
I'm the one who's going to deliver you.
Not the little pig.
Tweety's in love
Sit down, baby, sit down, sit down.
Look at that face, look at that face. She mad now.
Alisha...
I got love for you, baby. I do.
It's your mama, saying shit that ain't true.
Rape? Rape?
Money, looks,
why would I ever have to resort to that?
Your mama, she came.
She came willing and often.
In fact, she told me, "Don't worry, baby, I'm on birth control."
Thought she gonna hold Tweety hostage for support.
Bam! Shit backfired.
Your mama didn't want you no more... no more than I did.
Liar!
- No! Don't! No! - Alisha!
No!
Hey, Lucy.
You know, I'm going home.
There's nothing happening here.