Show: Dirt - 1x5
My name's Don Conkey.
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.
But you won't be.
But then she had to go.
That's Lucy's brother, Leo.
He's dating some guy secretly.
Come on, you can't keep a secret from your big sister.
Nothing's going on.
Lucy hates secrets.
She sent me to follow him, and guess what?
He's dating married action hero Jack Dawson.
It-- it is all about family, isn't it?
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 stalkerazzi, so don't act all indignant.
It's not like I'm 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, the basketball star.
He's helping Lucy with the Aundre G story.
Some 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.
Seems like your magazine was looking to dis Tweety.
Now that we know he's off on some island somewhere, we won't be doing any stories on him.
Glad to hear that.
I told you not to go with this story.
This story is solid.
I don't know if I told you this, 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.
Meaning?
You know, like tips on how they've managedto be successful where others have failed, suggestions for the bedroom, uh, how to keep things fresh.
And 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, okay?
It's not going to just walk through the front door!
Oh, yeah.
Ah!
That's it.
Unh!
Unh, incredible.
Oh, dude!
Oh, you're amazing.
Oh...oh, God.
Oh, God!
Get off of me, bitch.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, Yellow Sub Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::ITA-SA:: & _/Yellow Sub\_ Proudly Presents: Dirt - Season 01 Episode 05 - "You Don't Know Jack" Uh, Lucy, I-- Yeah?
Well, I didn't see my Venus Smith article and I was just wondering-- That's because I'm not running it.
Well, I kind of got the impression it was going to go this week.
Really?
Where did you get that impression?
I guess I just kind of assumed-- Yeah, well, you know what happens when you assume.
Yes, it makes an ASS out of U-M-E.
No, it pisses me off.
So 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.
What are you doing?
Trying to see how much we weigh as a couple.
I've lost 91/2 pounds.
What's your secret?
Come on, this isn't funny.
People just don't lose weight for no reason.
Honey, listen.
Come on, this just isn't normal.
The blood test came back negative.
Then maybe they should take more tests.
Neg-a-tive.
H-- how do we know?
The doctor says it's probably just 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?
I'm sorry.
Go to hell.
Julia, it's not you.
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.
Okay?
He seduced me.
I was there to do a job.
He played me for a fool.
Lucy, I want to expose his lying, cheating, trainer-blowing ass.
Okay, well, this just happened, so why don't you give it a little time to digest it.
Digest?
Digest what?
Okay, 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, two days later, 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 think you're falling in love, that you want me to clear my schedule for a month to be in New Zealand while you shoot your next picture, I'm thinking, game on.
Now, honey, I understand.
But as your sister-- I don't want to talk with my sister, okay?
I want to talk with the editor of Dirt Now.
Is she in or isn't she?
You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into.
I trust you.
No, no.
This has nothing to do with trusting me.
You want to out one of the biggest action stars in the world.
I sure as hell will try to protect you, but there are no guarantees.
Do you really want to take that risk?
You bet your ass I do.
Good, because this is a great Goddamn story.
Hey, little girl.
Yeah, you.
Hey, Diane.
Are you ready?
Okay, Diane.
I'm just going to open your mouth and then slide this tablet to the back of your throat.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, you did very good.
Very good.
'Cause you don't want to get worms.
They can make you feel real sick.
It's okay now.
Whatcha doing?
Yeah?
Okay.
Hi.
I'm supposed to meet Jack for a late lunch.
I thought I had punched the code in right.
He gave it to me over the weekend.
Yeah, 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?
Hmm?
Kira loved you.
It's Holt she didn't like.
That's 'cause 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'd never leak the pregnancy to the press.
Kira told me she told you.
She thought maybe you-- 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.
You know, the Romans, they stole all the culture from the Greeks.
You know, they liked it, so they just took it.
Oh!
Sit your-- Found this in his pocket.
What? "
What?"
Get him out of here!
When you're done with him, come get this piece of shit right here.
There you are.
You got a second?
Hello?
I just said I need to speak with you.
No, you asked me if I had a second and, obviously, I don't.
Uh, may I ask what's so important that you can't give me a second here?
Don's in jail.
Uh, I'm sorry?
Yeah, I'd better go bail him out.
What?
Wait a-- No, no, no, no.
No.
Don does not work for Dirt Now.
He's freelance.
We are of no obligation to him whatsoever.
Any interference on our part might be construed as fidelity-- I'm bailing him out as a friend.
You know what friends are, don't you Brent?
Oh, 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 and Paris Hilton going down on a 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, Spiller-- what, with saving the planet one drunken celebrity at a time-- but there are amended statutes you might want to gloss over before you hang the magazine out to dry.
You done?
Yes, I am.
Good.
I'm going to get my next cover.
Love the "friend" angle.
You almost had me on that one.
It's looking really beautiful, Holt.
You can take a break, if you'd like.
For a minute.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Get the girls in, please.
Does that car bring back some memories.
My dad had a '67 goat.
Yeah, it's nice, huh?
If I could lose my virginity all over again, it'd be in the back seat.
Now, who am I kidding?
It would be in Bora Bora.
But that back seat's a close second.
She's a beauty.
She's yours.
What are you talking about?
I knew you liked it, so I talked to the agency and they said they would be thrilled to have you tooling around town in one of their cars.
Shut up.
Get the hell out of here.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
My darlings are ready for you, so step in, please.
Get in there.
Honey, you're going to look at him.
And, 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 going to be gorgeous.
We will definitely hold them till after the Fincher release.
Oh, my God, seriously.
Who's with me on the moist?
Anyone?
Please.
Okay.
Julia.
Hey, look who's here.
Hey, did you come to watch the shoot?
Take one of us.
Okay, very nice.
But we need to get back to work, so could you please...
She's pretty, isn't she?
Yes, she is.
Why-- so why don't you come and sit down?
You want to do us together?
I bet you suck a mean dick.
Julia.
Okay.
All right.
Sweetie-- Can I get a bottle of water over here?
Hey, you're missing his greatest asset.
Here, honey, turn around.
He's got the best ass in the business.
Julia, that's enough.
It's nothing, though, next to his dick.
Julia, that's enough.
Please.
Which he won't screw me with anymore.
Come here.
Can I get that damn water?
Right here.
Why don't you make love to me anymore?
Do you not love me?
Sweetheart, come on.
Holt, listen.
Listen.
Holt.
Hey, this is about Julia.
Listen.
Sweetie, stop.
Listen.
Hey, hey.
Listen.
Listen to me.
More important than how she's behaving right now is how you handle it.
This could ruin her career if we don't handle it properly.
I know she's messed up on the pain-killers and it's not her fault, but you've got to be smart here.
All right.
Holt...
let me do what you pay me to do.
All right!
You can handle this in private, away from the cameras.
Go.
Hi.
Yeah, I need a limo to take Julia Mallory home.
I'm at the photo 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.
I mean, tell me if I'm wrong to be upset and to let it go, it's just that-- Willa, you want my advice?
Yeah, of course.
Grow a pair.
Pardon?
Tough shit.
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.
Yeah, what happens at The Standard stays at The Standard, right?
Oh, yeah.
I'll-- I'll talk to you next week.
Can I help you?
Uh, Nancy?
Yeah, your assistant, she's talking to one of my associates right now.
But not to worry.
We'll be brief.
Uh...
To be honest, I don't know how I can be of help to either one of you gentlemen.
But how do you know?
We haven't asked you anything yet.
But to be perfectly honest, I think that 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 that you said you weren't going to run.
I don't know.
This nigga, he's something, dude.
Okay, now you're going to sit up here in your big-ass, expensive office, in your $2,000 suit, and your five-buck tie, and that punk-ass haircut, and you're going to 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, don't you?
Am I right?
Am I right?
Am I right?
I think you're right.
You're damn straight I'm right.
I'm the publisher.
It's not necessary that I know who the source of a story is.
Mm-hmm.
You see that, Maurice?
Yeah, I saw it.
You s-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.
Yeah.
That's a big tell, my friend.
Oh, my God.
What do you, uh-- 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 breach 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.
Oh, Don.
Are you okay?
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 and safest way to remove it from his stomach?
Well, we can send a tube down his throat, and then reach in and grab it with a claw, or we can do it laparoscopically.
It's a little more involved.
We make an incision-- What do you think, Don?
Claw.
Me too.
Will it damage the canister?
No.
Stomach acid, on the other hand, can break down just about anything, given enough time.
How the hell did you swallow a film canister?
Can I be home by 6?
Please?
That is so cute!
You'd 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 said that she didn't sleep with the contestant until after he won on American Dream.
What's the big deal?
She pretty much already said that.
Yeah, but he's not the only contestant she slept with.
Why now?
Another one of them is coming forward.
She wants to do a sort of mea culpa and beat him to the punch.
And why you?
Well, her publicist and I have a relationship.
No, it's a professional relationship.
Have it to me by noon tomorrow.
Okay.
Hey.
Hi.
I need to see you tonight.
I can't.
I got-- I gotta see Julia.
I think you're going to want to hear what I have to say.
My house, 8:30.
God, you are so beautiful.
It's okay, baby bird.
You're all right.
You're all right.
There.
That better?
Okay.
Just relax...
Enjoy the ride.
* Twinkle, twinkle little star.
* * How I 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 if came from, is pretty damn good.
I think we were lucky.
I think the one with his hands down your pants is a keeper.
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 even know it's you.
Sweet.
Thank you.
Come here.
Do you want to stay at my house?
Why?
Are you going to nurse me back to heal?
I guess you're right.
It's never really been my calling.
Remember when I was eight and had chicken pox?
You stood in the doorway of my bedroom and threw a box of Saltines at me, and then told Mom and Dad you'd fed me lunch.
Technically, that was 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, Will.
She needs to clear the air.
It's a big scoop.
You were my first thought.
Figured if I was going to do a solid for a reporter, it may as well be a hottie.
I owe you, Scott.
Big time.
See you tonight?
Il Misto, 7:30.
Yes.
Yes!
Hello, Gibson.
I just heard the damnedest story...
so ludicrous, I had to come tell you in person.
I heard my magazine went and bailed out some psychotic photographer.
Now...
I thought, what kind of idiot risked 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?
Uh, 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'll pull in.
And besides, you always told me scared money doesn't make money.
Neither does stupid money.
What's a few million to you?
You just made that clear in your throat.
Don Conkey had this week's cover sitting inside of him.
It was business.
It was really good business.
Okay.
What's the cover?
Photos of Jack Dawson fondling another guy's nutsack.
Jack Dawson?
Well, 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.
No, actually, I think it's a pretty good time to talk about my raise.
Have a seat, sweet pea.
There you are.
Hi!
Hi.
You look amazing.
Oh, thank you.
Scott, party of two.
Follow me.
Um, where's Selena?
Oh, 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.
Plenty of time, right?
A bottle of the Santa Margherita.
Sure.
Pino Grigio's okay?
Scott.
I need this story.
Sure...
after we catch up.
I mean, what's the rush?
Right?
Do you want me to call Luce, tell her to cool her heels or something?
Your company reps Venus Smith, right?
Yeah.
She's a top-feeder.
Well, I just happen to know the doctor who stapled her stomach.
There's-- there's no proof that she actually had that-- Don't screw with me, Scott.
It's not speculative.
I know.
I've talked with him.
I have his story.
Now, you have Selena in my office tomorrow morning, or I'm running it.
And then I'll have "Luce" call your boss and tell him how 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.
You 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?
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.
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 okay 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.
Of course, if you're going to 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 at 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-outer.
No, this is a full-on, fight-for-your-life, kill-or-be-killed...
hero-gets-the-girl action movie.
Could you guys please just tell me what the hell it is you want?
It's simple, really.
We want to make you dinner.
Eh, Maurice, don't burn that garlic.
I'm not.
If you burn the garlic, you know you'll ruin the whole dish.
See, when you pan-roast garlic you're turning a starch into a sugar, and 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.
Eh, you got fennel?
What?
You got fennel, you asshole?
I-- I don't know!
I don't cook much.
No?
Oh, man.
Then you are in for a treat, man.
A home-cooked meal.
And 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 going to prepare for your dinner?
Your dick.
Wh-- You're joking.
Oh...
God, no!
No!
God!
That is a nice-size cock for a white boy.
Oh, G-- You might have some leftover-- Oh, what do you want?
Please!
Jesus Christ!
What do you want?
You, uh-- Oh, God!
You know what this shit is?
No.
This is going to 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.
And then we're going to simmer it with some tomato and some fennel, if you had some.
What do you want?
I want you to stop asking me dumb-ass questions and tell me what I came here for.
Ty-- Tyreese.
T-- Tyreese.
It's Tyreese.
We friends?
Yes, we're friends.
Thank you.
Yeah.
You need to season this butcher block.
It's drying out.
So that wasn't so bad, was it?
No, it was good.
Hey, thanks for the heads-up.
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?
No.
You're the first.
Wow, you're tough.
Come on, 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 eyes-- Yes, yes, and...
definitely yeah.
You're a moron.
And you're a nine.
Only a nine?
Well, if you want to be a ten, it's really simple.
Okay, enlighten me.
Shut up.
Good night, Holt.
Yeah, could have been.
Oh, man.
Shit, dawg.
Again?
Yeah, man.
You can't be beatin' me at my own game, now.
Maybe you should stick to the internet.
Fool, you should have seen me last night down by the airport.
Nigga was cleanin' up.
Well, that must have been with a broom, 'cause I ain't seeing none of that here.
He got a point.
Give me them cards, man.
My niggas.
Mind if I sit in on a couple hands?
Shit, man.
Your money'll feel just as good in my pocket as these punks'.
I wanna sit next to my boy.
You down with that, Prince?
Yeah, Tweet.
Of course, man.
All right, whose deal?
Shit, you holdin' the cards, nigga.
Yeah.
Oh, man.
Holy shit.
This must be your lucky night, boy.
That's how he did it.
Cool.
Can somebody open the window, man?
It's hot in here.
So, Prince, how's the knee, man?
It's good, Tweet.
You know, it's just a little strain.
That's good.
You gotta take care of that shit, man.
You can't play no basketball if your knees are gone.
Am I right?
True.
You in or out?
Listen, I got a little 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 everyday walking around.
Playing with your kids.
Hell...
You can't even handle your business if your legs don't work.
Take the anterior cruciate.
Yeah, when that bitch pops...
That's a world of hurt.
Add to that the medial collateral...
Shit, 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.
You fall on the court, knee on knee, boom!
Most likely, yeah, you walk away from those all right.
Four to six weeks...
you're back covering Shaq's ass.
But say a pipe or a baseball bat...
Now those are different.
Some injuries...
are permanent.
Take my boy, Aundre G.
You don't mind if he sits in a hand, do ya?
No, I'm good.
I got a call.
Cops were all up in my shit.
It worked out good, though.
Give me a chance to have some quality time with Mr.
G.
Give me some creative space.
Tweet.
No, Tweety.
Come on, man...
Tweety, no, man.
Mama!
Don't be such a bitch, Prince.
Have some dignity, nigga.
You scared, Prince?
Go to church.
Tweety does.
Tweety loves church.
Prince Tyreese Attacked!
Worthless piece of shit!
Listen to me!
They-- they came to my house.
They were gonna 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 gonna live.
I did the same thing you would have done if they threatened to cut your dick off.
You're a riot, Brent.
How do you even live with yourself?
Excuse me?
You blackmailed a man to get a story.
Then threatened to ruin him.
And then when the shitstorm that you created comes to fruition, it's-- it's me who's the asshole?
Where are you in all of this?
I sure as hell am not the one who gave up a source.
Give me a-- You know what I remember, when I first brought you in as the editor of both 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, before anything else, 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 gonna run that she's screwing him.
Every pit stain, every ounce of cellulite, every photograph that makes her look semi-retarded will be splashed full-color in the pages of our magazine.
And that's just off the top of my head.
Wait until I give it some real thought.
Now you've got 20 minutes to get her contestant-nailing ass over here before we make her a pin-up girl for every STD known to man, and then some.
Lucy, I'm...
I'm gonna run this story.
Cover inset.
Thank you.
No, thank you.
You don't know Jack!
He friendly?
Sure.
Bye.
Bye.
Bye.
You're gonna wanna see this.
Your friend, Leo.
Turns out he's Lucy Spiller's brother.
That tabloid bitch.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, Yellow Sub Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::Italian Subs Addicted:: [www.italiansubs.net] _/Yellow Sub\_ contact@yellowsubteam.com
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.
But you won't be.
But then she had to go.
That's Lucy's brother, Leo.
He's dating some guy secretly.
Come on, you can't keep a secret from your big sister.
Nothing's going on.
Lucy hates secrets.
She sent me to follow him, and guess what?
He's dating married action hero Jack Dawson.
It-- it is all about family, isn't it?
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 stalkerazzi, so don't act all indignant.
It's not like I'm 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, the basketball star.
He's helping Lucy with the Aundre G story.
Some 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.
Seems like your magazine was looking to dis Tweety.
Now that we know he's off on some island somewhere, we won't be doing any stories on him.
Glad to hear that.
I told you not to go with this story.
This story is solid.
I don't know if I told you this, 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.
Meaning?
You know, like tips on how they've managedto be successful where others have failed, suggestions for the bedroom, uh, how to keep things fresh.
And 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, okay?
It's not going to just walk through the front door!
Oh, yeah.
Ah!
That's it.
Unh!
Unh, incredible.
Oh, dude!
Oh, you're amazing.
Oh...oh, God.
Oh, God!
Get off of me, bitch.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, Yellow Sub Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::ITA-SA:: & _/Yellow Sub\_ Proudly Presents: Dirt - Season 01 Episode 05 - "You Don't Know Jack" Uh, Lucy, I-- Yeah?
Well, I didn't see my Venus Smith article and I was just wondering-- That's because I'm not running it.
Well, I kind of got the impression it was going to go this week.
Really?
Where did you get that impression?
I guess I just kind of assumed-- Yeah, well, you know what happens when you assume.
Yes, it makes an ASS out of U-M-E.
No, it pisses me off.
So 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.
What are you doing?
Trying to see how much we weigh as a couple.
I've lost 91/2 pounds.
What's your secret?
Come on, this isn't funny.
People just don't lose weight for no reason.
Honey, listen.
Come on, this just isn't normal.
The blood test came back negative.
Then maybe they should take more tests.
Neg-a-tive.
H-- how do we know?
The doctor says it's probably just 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?
I'm sorry.
Go to hell.
Julia, it's not you.
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.
Okay?
He seduced me.
I was there to do a job.
He played me for a fool.
Lucy, I want to expose his lying, cheating, trainer-blowing ass.
Okay, well, this just happened, so why don't you give it a little time to digest it.
Digest?
Digest what?
Okay, 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, two days later, 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 think you're falling in love, that you want me to clear my schedule for a month to be in New Zealand while you shoot your next picture, I'm thinking, game on.
Now, honey, I understand.
But as your sister-- I don't want to talk with my sister, okay?
I want to talk with the editor of Dirt Now.
Is she in or isn't she?
You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into.
I trust you.
No, no.
This has nothing to do with trusting me.
You want to out one of the biggest action stars in the world.
I sure as hell will try to protect you, but there are no guarantees.
Do you really want to take that risk?
You bet your ass I do.
Good, because this is a great Goddamn story.
Hey, little girl.
Yeah, you.
Hey, Diane.
Are you ready?
Okay, Diane.
I'm just going to open your mouth and then slide this tablet to the back of your throat.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, you did very good.
Very good.
'Cause you don't want to get worms.
They can make you feel real sick.
It's okay now.
Whatcha doing?
Yeah?
Okay.
Hi.
I'm supposed to meet Jack for a late lunch.
I thought I had punched the code in right.
He gave it to me over the weekend.
Yeah, 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?
Hmm?
Kira loved you.
It's Holt she didn't like.
That's 'cause 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'd never leak the pregnancy to the press.
Kira told me she told you.
She thought maybe you-- 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.
You know, the Romans, they stole all the culture from the Greeks.
You know, they liked it, so they just took it.
Oh!
Sit your-- Found this in his pocket.
What? "
What?"
Get him out of here!
When you're done with him, come get this piece of shit right here.
There you are.
You got a second?
Hello?
I just said I need to speak with you.
No, you asked me if I had a second and, obviously, I don't.
Uh, may I ask what's so important that you can't give me a second here?
Don's in jail.
Uh, I'm sorry?
Yeah, I'd better go bail him out.
What?
Wait a-- No, no, no, no.
No.
Don does not work for Dirt Now.
He's freelance.
We are of no obligation to him whatsoever.
Any interference on our part might be construed as fidelity-- I'm bailing him out as a friend.
You know what friends are, don't you Brent?
Oh, 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 and Paris Hilton going down on a 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, Spiller-- what, with saving the planet one drunken celebrity at a time-- but there are amended statutes you might want to gloss over before you hang the magazine out to dry.
You done?
Yes, I am.
Good.
I'm going to get my next cover.
Love the "friend" angle.
You almost had me on that one.
It's looking really beautiful, Holt.
You can take a break, if you'd like.
For a minute.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Get the girls in, please.
Does that car bring back some memories.
My dad had a '67 goat.
Yeah, it's nice, huh?
If I could lose my virginity all over again, it'd be in the back seat.
Now, who am I kidding?
It would be in Bora Bora.
But that back seat's a close second.
She's a beauty.
She's yours.
What are you talking about?
I knew you liked it, so I talked to the agency and they said they would be thrilled to have you tooling around town in one of their cars.
Shut up.
Get the hell out of here.
Thank you.
You're welcome.
My darlings are ready for you, so step in, please.
Get in there.
Honey, you're going to look at him.
And, 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 going to be gorgeous.
We will definitely hold them till after the Fincher release.
Oh, my God, seriously.
Who's with me on the moist?
Anyone?
Please.
Okay.
Julia.
Hey, look who's here.
Hey, did you come to watch the shoot?
Take one of us.
Okay, very nice.
But we need to get back to work, so could you please...
She's pretty, isn't she?
Yes, she is.
Why-- so why don't you come and sit down?
You want to do us together?
I bet you suck a mean dick.
Julia.
Okay.
All right.
Sweetie-- Can I get a bottle of water over here?
Hey, you're missing his greatest asset.
Here, honey, turn around.
He's got the best ass in the business.
Julia, that's enough.
It's nothing, though, next to his dick.
Julia, that's enough.
Please.
Which he won't screw me with anymore.
Come here.
Can I get that damn water?
Right here.
Why don't you make love to me anymore?
Do you not love me?
Sweetheart, come on.
Holt, listen.
Listen.
Holt.
Hey, this is about Julia.
Listen.
Sweetie, stop.
Listen.
Hey, hey.
Listen.
Listen to me.
More important than how she's behaving right now is how you handle it.
This could ruin her career if we don't handle it properly.
I know she's messed up on the pain-killers and it's not her fault, but you've got to be smart here.
All right.
Holt...
let me do what you pay me to do.
All right!
You can handle this in private, away from the cameras.
Go.
Hi.
Yeah, I need a limo to take Julia Mallory home.
I'm at the photo 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.
I mean, tell me if I'm wrong to be upset and to let it go, it's just that-- Willa, you want my advice?
Yeah, of course.
Grow a pair.
Pardon?
Tough shit.
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.
Yeah, what happens at The Standard stays at The Standard, right?
Oh, yeah.
I'll-- I'll talk to you next week.
Can I help you?
Uh, Nancy?
Yeah, your assistant, she's talking to one of my associates right now.
But not to worry.
We'll be brief.
Uh...
To be honest, I don't know how I can be of help to either one of you gentlemen.
But how do you know?
We haven't asked you anything yet.
But to be perfectly honest, I think that 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 that you said you weren't going to run.
I don't know.
This nigga, he's something, dude.
Okay, now you're going to sit up here in your big-ass, expensive office, in your $2,000 suit, and your five-buck tie, and that punk-ass haircut, and you're going to 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, don't you?
Am I right?
Am I right?
Am I right?
I think you're right.
You're damn straight I'm right.
I'm the publisher.
It's not necessary that I know who the source of a story is.
Mm-hmm.
You see that, Maurice?
Yeah, I saw it.
You s-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.
Yeah.
That's a big tell, my friend.
Oh, my God.
What do you, uh-- 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 breach 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.
Oh, Don.
Are you okay?
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 and safest way to remove it from his stomach?
Well, we can send a tube down his throat, and then reach in and grab it with a claw, or we can do it laparoscopically.
It's a little more involved.
We make an incision-- What do you think, Don?
Claw.
Me too.
Will it damage the canister?
No.
Stomach acid, on the other hand, can break down just about anything, given enough time.
How the hell did you swallow a film canister?
Can I be home by 6?
Please?
That is so cute!
You'd 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 said that she didn't sleep with the contestant until after he won on American Dream.
What's the big deal?
She pretty much already said that.
Yeah, but he's not the only contestant she slept with.
Why now?
Another one of them is coming forward.
She wants to do a sort of mea culpa and beat him to the punch.
And why you?
Well, her publicist and I have a relationship.
No, it's a professional relationship.
Have it to me by noon tomorrow.
Okay.
Hey.
Hi.
I need to see you tonight.
I can't.
I got-- I gotta see Julia.
I think you're going to want to hear what I have to say.
My house, 8:30.
God, you are so beautiful.
It's okay, baby bird.
You're all right.
You're all right.
There.
That better?
Okay.
Just relax...
Enjoy the ride.
* Twinkle, twinkle little star.
* * How I 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 if came from, is pretty damn good.
I think we were lucky.
I think the one with his hands down your pants is a keeper.
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 even know it's you.
Sweet.
Thank you.
Come here.
Do you want to stay at my house?
Why?
Are you going to nurse me back to heal?
I guess you're right.
It's never really been my calling.
Remember when I was eight and had chicken pox?
You stood in the doorway of my bedroom and threw a box of Saltines at me, and then told Mom and Dad you'd fed me lunch.
Technically, that was 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, Will.
She needs to clear the air.
It's a big scoop.
You were my first thought.
Figured if I was going to do a solid for a reporter, it may as well be a hottie.
I owe you, Scott.
Big time.
See you tonight?
Il Misto, 7:30.
Yes.
Yes!
Hello, Gibson.
I just heard the damnedest story...
so ludicrous, I had to come tell you in person.
I heard my magazine went and bailed out some psychotic photographer.
Now...
I thought, what kind of idiot risked 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?
Uh, 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'll pull in.
And besides, you always told me scared money doesn't make money.
Neither does stupid money.
What's a few million to you?
You just made that clear in your throat.
Don Conkey had this week's cover sitting inside of him.
It was business.
It was really good business.
Okay.
What's the cover?
Photos of Jack Dawson fondling another guy's nutsack.
Jack Dawson?
Well, 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.
No, actually, I think it's a pretty good time to talk about my raise.
Have a seat, sweet pea.
There you are.
Hi!
Hi.
You look amazing.
Oh, thank you.
Scott, party of two.
Follow me.
Um, where's Selena?
Oh, 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.
Plenty of time, right?
A bottle of the Santa Margherita.
Sure.
Pino Grigio's okay?
Scott.
I need this story.
Sure...
after we catch up.
I mean, what's the rush?
Right?
Do you want me to call Luce, tell her to cool her heels or something?
Your company reps Venus Smith, right?
Yeah.
She's a top-feeder.
Well, I just happen to know the doctor who stapled her stomach.
There's-- there's no proof that she actually had that-- Don't screw with me, Scott.
It's not speculative.
I know.
I've talked with him.
I have his story.
Now, you have Selena in my office tomorrow morning, or I'm running it.
And then I'll have "Luce" call your boss and tell him how 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.
You 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?
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.
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 okay 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.
Of course, if you're going to 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 at 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-outer.
No, this is a full-on, fight-for-your-life, kill-or-be-killed...
hero-gets-the-girl action movie.
Could you guys please just tell me what the hell it is you want?
It's simple, really.
We want to make you dinner.
Eh, Maurice, don't burn that garlic.
I'm not.
If you burn the garlic, you know you'll ruin the whole dish.
See, when you pan-roast garlic you're turning a starch into a sugar, and 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.
Eh, you got fennel?
What?
You got fennel, you asshole?
I-- I don't know!
I don't cook much.
No?
Oh, man.
Then you are in for a treat, man.
A home-cooked meal.
And 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 going to prepare for your dinner?
Your dick.
Wh-- You're joking.
Oh...
God, no!
No!
God!
That is a nice-size cock for a white boy.
Oh, G-- You might have some leftover-- Oh, what do you want?
Please!
Jesus Christ!
What do you want?
You, uh-- Oh, God!
You know what this shit is?
No.
This is going to 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.
And then we're going to simmer it with some tomato and some fennel, if you had some.
What do you want?
I want you to stop asking me dumb-ass questions and tell me what I came here for.
Ty-- Tyreese.
T-- Tyreese.
It's Tyreese.
We friends?
Yes, we're friends.
Thank you.
Yeah.
You need to season this butcher block.
It's drying out.
So that wasn't so bad, was it?
No, it was good.
Hey, thanks for the heads-up.
Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?
No.
You're the first.
Wow, you're tough.
Come on, 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 eyes-- Yes, yes, and...
definitely yeah.
You're a moron.
And you're a nine.
Only a nine?
Well, if you want to be a ten, it's really simple.
Okay, enlighten me.
Shut up.
Good night, Holt.
Yeah, could have been.
Oh, man.
Shit, dawg.
Again?
Yeah, man.
You can't be beatin' me at my own game, now.
Maybe you should stick to the internet.
Fool, you should have seen me last night down by the airport.
Nigga was cleanin' up.
Well, that must have been with a broom, 'cause I ain't seeing none of that here.
He got a point.
Give me them cards, man.
My niggas.
Mind if I sit in on a couple hands?
Shit, man.
Your money'll feel just as good in my pocket as these punks'.
I wanna sit next to my boy.
You down with that, Prince?
Yeah, Tweet.
Of course, man.
All right, whose deal?
Shit, you holdin' the cards, nigga.
Yeah.
Oh, man.
Holy shit.
This must be your lucky night, boy.
That's how he did it.
Cool.
Can somebody open the window, man?
It's hot in here.
So, Prince, how's the knee, man?
It's good, Tweet.
You know, it's just a little strain.
That's good.
You gotta take care of that shit, man.
You can't play no basketball if your knees are gone.
Am I right?
True.
You in or out?
Listen, I got a little 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 everyday walking around.
Playing with your kids.
Hell...
You can't even handle your business if your legs don't work.
Take the anterior cruciate.
Yeah, when that bitch pops...
That's a world of hurt.
Add to that the medial collateral...
Shit, 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.
You fall on the court, knee on knee, boom!
Most likely, yeah, you walk away from those all right.
Four to six weeks...
you're back covering Shaq's ass.
But say a pipe or a baseball bat...
Now those are different.
Some injuries...
are permanent.
Take my boy, Aundre G.
You don't mind if he sits in a hand, do ya?
No, I'm good.
I got a call.
Cops were all up in my shit.
It worked out good, though.
Give me a chance to have some quality time with Mr.
G.
Give me some creative space.
Tweet.
No, Tweety.
Come on, man...
Tweety, no, man.
Mama!
Don't be such a bitch, Prince.
Have some dignity, nigga.
You scared, Prince?
Go to church.
Tweety does.
Tweety loves church.
Prince Tyreese Attacked!
Worthless piece of shit!
Listen to me!
They-- they came to my house.
They were gonna 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 gonna live.
I did the same thing you would have done if they threatened to cut your dick off.
You're a riot, Brent.
How do you even live with yourself?
Excuse me?
You blackmailed a man to get a story.
Then threatened to ruin him.
And then when the shitstorm that you created comes to fruition, it's-- it's me who's the asshole?
Where are you in all of this?
I sure as hell am not the one who gave up a source.
Give me a-- You know what I remember, when I first brought you in as the editor of both 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, before anything else, 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 gonna run that she's screwing him.
Every pit stain, every ounce of cellulite, every photograph that makes her look semi-retarded will be splashed full-color in the pages of our magazine.
And that's just off the top of my head.
Wait until I give it some real thought.
Now you've got 20 minutes to get her contestant-nailing ass over here before we make her a pin-up girl for every STD known to man, and then some.
Lucy, I'm...
I'm gonna run this story.
Cover inset.
Thank you.
No, thank you.
You don't know Jack!
He friendly?
Sure.
Bye.
Bye.
Bye.
You're gonna wanna see this.
Your friend, Leo.
Turns out he's Lucy Spiller's brother.
That tabloid bitch.
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