Programma Televisivo: Dirt - 1x4
Hi.
I'm Don Konkey.
I'm a photographer.
I'm schizophrenic.
This is Lucy Spiller, the editor of Drrt Now Magazine.
She helps me figure out what's real.
My wall is naked.
I don't like it!
I got these really great photos of Prince Tyreese, the basketball star having sex with a stripper.
These are fantastic.
Lucy wanted to use the pictures to get Prince Tyreese to give her info on the missing R&B singer Aundre G.
Aundre G is dead.
You want a chance to crack it?
Yeah.
Don't make me regret it.
That's Willa McPherson.
Lucy gave her a hot lead on a breaking story.
But I was obviously wrong because I gave you the goddamn tip and you came back with dick!
She blew it.
I'm sorry.
This is Jack Dawson.
He's a big, big action star.
How do you keep the family together despite the pressures of a big Hollywood career?
Well, it is all about family, isn't it?
I am officially Jack Dawson's new interior decorator.
And that's Lucy's brother Leo.
Jack and Leo are sitting in a tree That's Holt McLaren and his girlfriend Julia Mallory.
Holt gave Lucy dirt on Kira Klay.
She OD'd and died.
When he found out, he got pissed off and crashed his car.
Holt's girlfriend got hurt real bad.
And when she went back to work on her sitcom, she didn't do so well.
Cut!
So they fired her.
Things are going pretty well for me, though.
After Kira died, she moved in with me.
Just take more pictures of me.
She used to come out in public with me all the time.
Now she's more of a home body...
which is cool, 'cause she's about to pop at any minute.
Lucy, it's your mother.
Weren't we supposed to meet at 5:00?
I have it in my book as 5:00.
We have a reservation.
You'd better be coming.
Hi, Mom.
Sorry I'm late.
Traffic was bad on Sunset.
Darling, this is Paul Westin.
Hi.
We met in church a few months ago.
Church?
What, did somebody die?
Paul, this is my daughter Lucy.
It's nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
I joined All Saints' in Beverly Hills.
I...like the music.
And what do you like?
Ah, your mother.
Paul's in real estate.
Um, parking lots, really.
Lucy, Paul and I are going on a cruise next week to the British Isles.
Nice.
We decided that a trip like that would be so much more special if we were celebrating something.
What are you celebrating?
We're getting married, Lucy.
The day after tomorrow, right here in the hotel.
I want you and your brother to give me away.
You're going to need a new dress.
So does Leo know about this?
Oh, yes.
Uh, he's doing the flowers.
Oh, excuse me.
Can I get a Tanqueray and tonic?
And 50 bucks if it's here before I turn around.
You're a brave man.
You've only just met Paul, darling.
Do you have to alienate him so soon?
The mark-up's on your desk.
Michelle wants to see you about the cover.
And you have a 9 am newsstand meeting.
Oh, here's your coffee.
That's not Spanish leather.
That's raw hide.
Use the color chip until you get it.
Oh, and cancel my plans with Felicia on Tuesday.
My mother's getting married.
Does Mom have a name?
Well...
I like Bitch-Face, but why don't we just stick with Dorothy?
Okay.
February 20th, Dorothy's wedding.
That can't be the date.
Well, yesterday was the 18th, today is the 19th, so...
Is there a problem?
Where's my coffee?
Leo, I swear to God I'm going to kill her.
Call me.
Your car's here.
Can you believe this whole car bullshit?
I can drive myself to the studio.
That's how they control you.
Especially the first day.
They do it for all the stars.
Are you going to be okay today?
I'm not an invalid.
I'm not saying you-- Look, I just love you, okay?
Hey, Holt?
I love you, too.
Kick ass today, okay?
I'll call you later.
Okay, everybody, change of plans.
We're dropping our three cover options.
Why?
We're almost there with hero pets.
You just answered your own question.
Also because of this.
Terry?
My source at People tells me they're running this photo on their next cover, with the headline "Let Us Live in Peace."
Supposed to be Aundre G in seclusion in the Virgin Islands.
Just in time for the release of his new CD.
What a coincidence.
Yeah, I think it's bullshit.
Widow G and Aundre's manager are making huge bucks off his new CDs.
My sources say that Aundre G was murdered.
Some sort of dispute with his manager Tweety McDaniel.
Yeah, Elliot?
I'll cover all the businesses in Saint Croix.
If he's there, someone's had to have seen him.
Good.
And, Adam, check out his girlfriend's relationship with Tweety.
Okay, I'll talk to the cops.
They don't usually keep an open Missing Persons file on someone who's "in seclusion."
I know someone at Repudiator Records.
Let me see what I can dig up on Tweety and Aundre's relationship.
Okay, I want the truth, guys.
And just as badly, I want to make People Magazine suffer.
So we have 12 hours.
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Oh, Lucy, um...
look, I'm really, really sorry about last week.
If I can make it up to you-- It's doubtful.
Oh.
Um, well, I can look into the shooting at his last concert if that-- Okay, Willa, here you go.
Here is an interview with a stripper who spent an evening with Prince Tyreese.
Prince Tyreese the basketball player?
No, Prince Tyreese the heir to the throne of Ireland.
Write it up, 800 words.
Have it on my desk in an hour.
My dad used to call these "one-eyed Jacks."
He used to make 'em for us on Sundays.
Oh, you need a fork.
Thanks, baby.
A little salt.
I have to go now.
If anything happens-- Well, you know-- You know how to reach me.
Oh, yeah, that's a good one.
Philip K.
Dick.
He's the best.
You'll like that one.
See you later?
Get in.
You lied to me.
My source at People told me that they're doing a cover story that says that Aundre G is alive and well, and drinking rum out of a coconut somewhere in the South Caribbean.
That's bullshit.
Prove it.
Why should I?
I don't know what this shit is all about, but I'm finished with it.
You know, I got something for you.
Prince Tyreese: NOTHIN' BUT BUTT!!! This is messed up.
You told me you gave me the negatives from those photos.
I did.
This is something different.
It's a little interview with your friend Stormy.
You know, she's quite eloquent for a stripper.
Blackmail is a crime.
Do you really think that Tweety should be allowed to drive around in a million-dollar Ferrari while Aundre G's head is vacuum-packed into a pickle jar?
I already told you everything I know.
You said it was enough.
But now because of the People story, I can't trust you.
I need facts.
I have a family.
So did Aundre G.
Where's the head?
Tweety said it was a collector's item.
Aundre's head?
Yeah.
That's all I know.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, _/Yellow Sub\_ Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::ITA-SA:: & _/Yellow Sub\_ Proudly Presents: Dirt - Season 01 Episode 04 - "What to Expect When You're Expecting" Tweety McDaniel, Repudiator Records.
What does he collect?
Collect?
He's got money.
It's got to be something.
Cars, hookers, stamps?
Ferraris.
He just bought two quarter horses...
And wine.
Wine.
He has over a thousand bottles.
Great.
Find out where he keeps them.
I need to see you today.
It's urgent.
Call me back.
Hi.
Hey.
So, not only is she getting married on three days' notice to some stranger, but she's doing it on the anniversary of Dad's death.
How sick is that?
Well, to be honest, I don't even know if she rembers.
She remembers the day I got a DUI when I was 20.
In her defense, Lucy, it was Christmas.
Listen, Dad's death was 25 years ago.
There's a lot of Valium under that bridge.
But it's just a day.
No, it'll never be "just a day" to me.
You don't have to go.
If I don't, she'll only hold it against me.
God love her.
All right, so why were you whispering this morning?
Are you seeing someone?
Not really.
No, come on.
Is it a man or a woman?
What am I saying?
You are so not bi.
You haven't been with a woman in years.
Six months.
Whatever.
Come on, you can't keep a secret from your big sister.
What?
Tell me the details.
Who?
What?
Where?
Nothing's going on.
You are lying.
It's so obvious.
I wonder how their tuna is here.
I can't believe you're not going to tell me about your latest conquest.
You always tell me.
This time I can't.
You can't?
Or you won't?
I can't.
And I don't want to.
Let's order.
So how's it going?
Well, my penmanship sucks and I was only half an hour early this morning, which I guess is still considered late.
On the bright side, her coffee was the perfect shade of shit, so I'm happy.
You're going to do fine...
just as long as you don't make the mistake the last guy did.
And what's that?
Get married.
What do you mean?
When the last guy was getting married, all his wedding prep interfered with his work.
She canned his ass after she caught him on the phone with his cater.
Shit.
Are you getting married?
I have to.
Because of...
the baby.
Don, there you are.
Oh.
Uh, hi, Lucy.
We had a 3:00 appointment.
I've been looking for you.
I...I had to go pee.
It's 3:50.
Sorry.
This is important.
I need you to take a picture today.
It's for the cover.
Aren't you going to wash your hands?
Are you okay?
Yeah, real good.
Good, because this is sensitive.
Aundre G the singer, he was murdered.
I need you to go to the Cabrillo Wine Vault in Sun Valley and check out Tweety McDaniel's collection.
You're looking for Aundre G's head.
Don, the manager thinks you're a photographer from Wine Spectator Magazine.
Mm-hmm.
Don, it's clean.
Your hand.
Mm, yeah.
Here we go.
Thank you, Lucy.
Okay, sweetie.
You wouldn't think a guy like Tweety McDaniel would give a shit about fine wine, but look at this.
He's got it all fixed up.
That's the front door.
I'll be back in a second.
Okay.
Damn.
Basketball star with a protitute isn't news.
That he wanted her to bang him in the ass with a strap-on, that's your lead.
Willa, I'm really starting to question your commitment.
My commitment?
Mm-hmm.
You know, I took some of those drugs that Garbo woman was selling so that she would trust me.
I don't even take aspirin.
I was sick all night from it.
Who the hell asked you to take drugs?
I just wanted you to know that I have the balls for the job.
The story didn't call for balls.
It called for brains.
Don't confuse the two.
Willa...
There's a convention of bariatric surgeons at the W that ends tonight.
Find a Dr.
Kozar and ask him about Venus Smith.
Venus Smith had her stomach stapled?
I thought she was all about diet and exercise.
Yeah, well, confirm the story.
I may be able to use it next week.
Thanks, Lucy.
Hey.
Who said that?
Over here.
Aundre G?
Sure ain't Marie Antoinette.
I'm supposed to take a few pictures of you.
Knock yourself out.
Thanks.
My right side's, my best side.
Okay.
How do I look?
Pretty good...
You know, considering...
you have no body.
I guess that's it.
Uh, thanks.
Hey, hey, where are you going?
Oh, I got to get these pictures back to Lucy.
She's kind of, like, counting on them.
But you just got here.
Oh, come on, man.
Don't you want to hear me sing?
Sorry.
Whoa.
Excuse me.
Badgley Mischka.
What do you think, hmm?
I think I'm in the middle of my workday.
Well, here's what I'm thinking.
I'm going to be wearing Ralph Lauren and you always look so pretty in blue.
Mother.
I know.
You want to pick it out yourself, but I was in Beverly Hills...
Mother, you're getting remarried on the day that Dad died.
Yes.
Don't you think that's kind of strange?
Not really.
Your dad did as he chose that day.
Now, so am I.
You act like it's some kind of retribution.
How can you blame him?
It was a hostile act.
He did it at home.
There was no note, no explanation.
Why should I honor that day?
Um, because it's a pretty significant day to me.
Lucy, I took you to that doctor.
We talked about it ad infinitum.
We've read books.
What more could I do?
Well, you could try being a mother for once.
Listen, I'm sorry.
I've got so much work to do.
It's been his day for 25 years, Lucy.
I want it back.
Who the hell?
Nice office.
Mr.
McDaniel, um...
I'm sorry, do we have an appointment?
I've been hearing some shit about your magazine that...
just don't sit right with me.
Sorry to hear that.
See, I got people in my offices telling me some of your people been asking questions.
About?
About my boy Aundre G.
Anybody who knows me knows I dropped hundred of thousands of my own money looking for Aundre.
He was like a brother to me.
Well...
of course there's been some interest in the Aundre G story here.
You know, his disappearance, the new CD, but I can assure you, Mr.
McDaniel-- Tweety.
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.
Because some of them questions were kind of like...insulting.
I mean, it seemed like your magazine was looking to dis Tweety.
Well, we never set out to dis anybody, Tweety.
It's, uh, it's not what-- It's not what we do.
We just seek the truth.
That's all.
People be so quick to judge me.
They won't even let their kids spend the night at my house because I'm supposed to be some ghetto violent son-of-a-bitch.
But I can assure you...
my kids don't want for nothing.
See, Brent...that's your name, right?
Yes, it is.
Ain't nobody ever gave me nothing.
Except for God.
Yeah.
And I ain't going to let nobody take that from me.
Asthma's a killer, Brent.
You ought to stay clear of smoke.
Yeah.
My God, these are horrific.
I love them.
This is going to make a great cover story.
Yeah?
He's a nice guy.
Who?
Aundre.
Aundre G.
I don't like the way you're sounding.
Sorry, Lucy.
Don, you have to take your meds, honey.
I know you don't like them, but do you rember the hospital?
I don't need the hospital; I'm fine.
The last time I didn't know where you were, you were sleeping next to the freeway.
That guy hurt you.
Don, you have to take care of yourself.
Okay.
I have another job for you.
Okay.
God...
What is this?
It's dope.
You're yummy.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God, I'm going to puke.
Hey, don't worry.
It happens to everyone first time they smoke it.
Okay, listen up, everyone.
We're going to crash a cover on Aundre G's murder.
Check it out.
What do you have?
You can't put that on the cover, Lucy.
We're going to polybag it with an explicit warning label and run the headshot inside.
That is fantastic.
Isn't it?
All right, keep Barrow out of the loop.
He had a shit-fit last time.
This time we have photos.
The LAPD will be notified when we go to press.
Let's get to work.
The wall is locked.
Hi.
Where've you been?
What do you mean?
I've been home for three hours.
I was out.
Who with?
Garbo.
God, what's with the interrogation?
I thought we were going to have dinner to celebrate my first day.
Am I supposed to wait around for you all day?
No, I just thought we had plans.
We were out of weed, Jesus.
Did you eat already?
No.
How was work?
It was fine.
My stomach's bothering me a little.
Hey, you want a, you want a grilled cheese sandwich?
Okay.
I can't believe you'd do this to me.
I can't believe you're banging Jack Dawson.
Republican family man, super action, macho homo, Jack Dawson.
If I wanted you to know, I'd have told you.
Jesus Christ, Lucy.
Well, it's not like I'm going to publish these.
You know I wouldn't do that, right?
You had your own brother followed by the stalkerazzi, so don't act all indignant.
Oh, my God.
This isn't serious, is it?
Yes.
I love him and he loves me.
Why is that so hard to believe?
Two people can meet and actually fall in love.
Oh, Leo...
he's a movie star.
I have covered this kind of story a thousand times.
I'm not a story.
I'm your goddamn family.
Can you be happy for anybody?
I meet a terrific person and you diminish it like it's some piece of gossip.
Mom finally finds someone she can fall in love again with after 25 years and you shit all over that too.
All right, Leo-- Don't.
Just don't with the big sister act, okay?
God.
I'm embarrassed for us both.
Kira?
Baby?
Is this it?
Now don't worry.
You're going to be fine, okay?
I'm not going to go anywhere.
Okay.
Going to get your head up.
Okay?
You don't want your head on the floor, sweetheart.
Here you go.
Oh, it hurts.
It hurts!
No, don't.
Oh, it hurts!
It's okay.
Here we go.
Don't cry baby.
It's okay.
Certificate of death.
Steven J.
Spiller.
Dearest Lucy, I had a dream, which was not at all a dream...
I did this for you.
Someday you'll understand, Dad No!
So, then you became a bariatric surgeon.
Yeah, found my niche, never looked back.
I'm all about helping people, so...
So you think you got something to work with there?
Oh, yeah!
Yeah, wow.
I mean, this is going to make my thesis much more exciting.
Thank you.
Nice shoes.
They Kate Spade?
Yeah.
You know...
I've got a video of me performing surgery.
It's in my room.
Well, that might be helpful.
I also have a few questions about the types of patients you treat.
So...
Come on up.
I'd be happy to tell you anything you want to know.
Yeah?
Yeah, okay.
You're doing great, baby.
You're going to be fine!
Come on.
Come on.
Okay.
Just push!
Okay?
Push!
I can see something!
Here it comes!
Here it comes!
Look!
Look!
It's a boy!
What?
What?
What?
Oh, here's another one.
Yeah, some patients are very private about this surgery.
Sure I can't get you anything?
They like people to think all it took was a little exercise and will power.
If they were capable of self-control, I wouldn't be in business, now would I?
Here's to gluttony.
So, I imagine you treat celebrities.
Oh, they're the worst.
Come on, sit by me.
You can see better.
I can see fine, thanks.
I heard that Venus Smith got her stomach stapled.
I mean-- Come on.
Look, I didn't come up here to do anything.
That's a load of shit now, isn't it?
You don't think you're the first reporter to try to pry privileged client information from me, do you?
Sure you don't want a drink?
I'm not screwing you.
It's not your precious bloom that I'm interested in.
My feet?
Oh, God, they're so...
small and dainty and alabaster.
I'm guessing a perfect size 8.
You let me be who I have to be and I'll give you what you want.
Off the record, of course.
No touching.
Good.
Now dangle it.
Dangle it.
No, don't let it drop.
Oh yeah, you make me so hard.
Hold it up.
Hold the goddamn foot up!
Don't close your eyes.
Look at me.
Look at me!
Oh, yeah.
Please, please, please...
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
It's time for me to go, Don.
No.
I'm going to make you French toast.
And it's time for you to go back on your meds.
No, I don't want to go back on my meds.
They make me feel bad.
You have to.
I don't want to-- I love you.
I don't want to be alone again.
But you won't be.
Okay?
Tristan?
No, it's his son.
You're all he has.
Come here.
Bitter.
That's a good boy.
What happened?
I told you not to go with this story.
I don't work for you, Brent.
And this time, I had photographic evidence.
Really?
Because the cops showed up at the storage facility and, apparently...
there was no head to be found.
Oh.
I guess someone got tipped off.
No head, no confirmation that Aundre G is really dead or that the head is actually his.
I mean, the cops are going to be all over your boy Don.
This story is solid.
I ran the whole thing by legal.
So unless you brought muffins, I think that we're done here.
Beyond that, these photos...
they're smut.
I'm publishing them as just venal sensationalism.
This coming from a man who's never had a magazine subscription he could read with his pants on.
We don't even know if they're real.
Oh, they're real.
The guy had Aundre G's head in his wine cellar.
If the cops can't prove it, that's their problem.
Well...
I hope this sells, because, you know, the polybagging is going to blow your budget all to hell.
And, given that this is the forth week in a row you've gone over-budget, according to the terms of your contract, you just forfeited your annual bonus.
That's bullshit.
Polybagging is a production cost.
It's not on the editorial budget.
It is now.
What happened?
Kira.
Tristan.
Yeah.
This is a very special day for the Spiller family.
Twenty-five years ago, my mother's first husband, my father, hanged himself in our living room.
Ever since then, I have questioned the whole idea of love and commitment.
It's nice to see that my mother doesn't share the same doubt.
And neither does my brother, apparently.
Good for them, and I mean that.
To Mom and Paul.
May the truth never infringe upon your happiness.
Well, instead of being the day Dad killed himself, it'll now be the day you ruined Mom's wedding.
Well done.
At least I showed.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, _/Yellow Sub_ Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::Italian Subs Addicted:: [www.italiansubs.net] _/Yellow Sub\_ contact@yellowsubteam.com
I'm Don Konkey.
I'm a photographer.
I'm schizophrenic.
This is Lucy Spiller, the editor of Drrt Now Magazine.
She helps me figure out what's real.
My wall is naked.
I don't like it!
I got these really great photos of Prince Tyreese, the basketball star having sex with a stripper.
These are fantastic.
Lucy wanted to use the pictures to get Prince Tyreese to give her info on the missing R&B singer Aundre G.
Aundre G is dead.
You want a chance to crack it?
Yeah.
Don't make me regret it.
That's Willa McPherson.
Lucy gave her a hot lead on a breaking story.
But I was obviously wrong because I gave you the goddamn tip and you came back with dick!
She blew it.
I'm sorry.
This is Jack Dawson.
He's a big, big action star.
How do you keep the family together despite the pressures of a big Hollywood career?
Well, it is all about family, isn't it?
I am officially Jack Dawson's new interior decorator.
And that's Lucy's brother Leo.
Jack and Leo are sitting in a tree That's Holt McLaren and his girlfriend Julia Mallory.
Holt gave Lucy dirt on Kira Klay.
She OD'd and died.
When he found out, he got pissed off and crashed his car.
Holt's girlfriend got hurt real bad.
And when she went back to work on her sitcom, she didn't do so well.
Cut!
So they fired her.
Things are going pretty well for me, though.
After Kira died, she moved in with me.
Just take more pictures of me.
She used to come out in public with me all the time.
Now she's more of a home body...
which is cool, 'cause she's about to pop at any minute.
Lucy, it's your mother.
Weren't we supposed to meet at 5:00?
I have it in my book as 5:00.
We have a reservation.
You'd better be coming.
Hi, Mom.
Sorry I'm late.
Traffic was bad on Sunset.
Darling, this is Paul Westin.
Hi.
We met in church a few months ago.
Church?
What, did somebody die?
Paul, this is my daughter Lucy.
It's nice to meet you.
Nice to meet you.
I joined All Saints' in Beverly Hills.
I...like the music.
And what do you like?
Ah, your mother.
Paul's in real estate.
Um, parking lots, really.
Lucy, Paul and I are going on a cruise next week to the British Isles.
Nice.
We decided that a trip like that would be so much more special if we were celebrating something.
What are you celebrating?
We're getting married, Lucy.
The day after tomorrow, right here in the hotel.
I want you and your brother to give me away.
You're going to need a new dress.
So does Leo know about this?
Oh, yes.
Uh, he's doing the flowers.
Oh, excuse me.
Can I get a Tanqueray and tonic?
And 50 bucks if it's here before I turn around.
You're a brave man.
You've only just met Paul, darling.
Do you have to alienate him so soon?
The mark-up's on your desk.
Michelle wants to see you about the cover.
And you have a 9 am newsstand meeting.
Oh, here's your coffee.
That's not Spanish leather.
That's raw hide.
Use the color chip until you get it.
Oh, and cancel my plans with Felicia on Tuesday.
My mother's getting married.
Does Mom have a name?
Well...
I like Bitch-Face, but why don't we just stick with Dorothy?
Okay.
February 20th, Dorothy's wedding.
That can't be the date.
Well, yesterday was the 18th, today is the 19th, so...
Is there a problem?
Where's my coffee?
Leo, I swear to God I'm going to kill her.
Call me.
Your car's here.
Can you believe this whole car bullshit?
I can drive myself to the studio.
That's how they control you.
Especially the first day.
They do it for all the stars.
Are you going to be okay today?
I'm not an invalid.
I'm not saying you-- Look, I just love you, okay?
Hey, Holt?
I love you, too.
Kick ass today, okay?
I'll call you later.
Okay, everybody, change of plans.
We're dropping our three cover options.
Why?
We're almost there with hero pets.
You just answered your own question.
Also because of this.
Terry?
My source at People tells me they're running this photo on their next cover, with the headline "Let Us Live in Peace."
Supposed to be Aundre G in seclusion in the Virgin Islands.
Just in time for the release of his new CD.
What a coincidence.
Yeah, I think it's bullshit.
Widow G and Aundre's manager are making huge bucks off his new CDs.
My sources say that Aundre G was murdered.
Some sort of dispute with his manager Tweety McDaniel.
Yeah, Elliot?
I'll cover all the businesses in Saint Croix.
If he's there, someone's had to have seen him.
Good.
And, Adam, check out his girlfriend's relationship with Tweety.
Okay, I'll talk to the cops.
They don't usually keep an open Missing Persons file on someone who's "in seclusion."
I know someone at Repudiator Records.
Let me see what I can dig up on Tweety and Aundre's relationship.
Okay, I want the truth, guys.
And just as badly, I want to make People Magazine suffer.
So we have 12 hours.
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Excuse me.
Sorry.
Oh, Lucy, um...
look, I'm really, really sorry about last week.
If I can make it up to you-- It's doubtful.
Oh.
Um, well, I can look into the shooting at his last concert if that-- Okay, Willa, here you go.
Here is an interview with a stripper who spent an evening with Prince Tyreese.
Prince Tyreese the basketball player?
No, Prince Tyreese the heir to the throne of Ireland.
Write it up, 800 words.
Have it on my desk in an hour.
My dad used to call these "one-eyed Jacks."
He used to make 'em for us on Sundays.
Oh, you need a fork.
Thanks, baby.
A little salt.
I have to go now.
If anything happens-- Well, you know-- You know how to reach me.
Oh, yeah, that's a good one.
Philip K.
Dick.
He's the best.
You'll like that one.
See you later?
Get in.
You lied to me.
My source at People told me that they're doing a cover story that says that Aundre G is alive and well, and drinking rum out of a coconut somewhere in the South Caribbean.
That's bullshit.
Prove it.
Why should I?
I don't know what this shit is all about, but I'm finished with it.
You know, I got something for you.
Prince Tyreese: NOTHIN' BUT BUTT!!! This is messed up.
You told me you gave me the negatives from those photos.
I did.
This is something different.
It's a little interview with your friend Stormy.
You know, she's quite eloquent for a stripper.
Blackmail is a crime.
Do you really think that Tweety should be allowed to drive around in a million-dollar Ferrari while Aundre G's head is vacuum-packed into a pickle jar?
I already told you everything I know.
You said it was enough.
But now because of the People story, I can't trust you.
I need facts.
I have a family.
So did Aundre G.
Where's the head?
Tweety said it was a collector's item.
Aundre's head?
Yeah.
That's all I know.
Synchro: Metalmarco, Pasbel, _/Yellow Sub\_ Transcript : Sub-Way SynchFix: Metalmarco ::ITA-SA:: & _/Yellow Sub\_ Proudly Presents: Dirt - Season 01 Episode 04 - "What to Expect When You're Expecting" Tweety McDaniel, Repudiator Records.
What does he collect?
Collect?
He's got money.
It's got to be something.
Cars, hookers, stamps?
Ferraris.
He just bought two quarter horses...
And wine.
Wine.
He has over a thousand bottles.
Great.
Find out where he keeps them.
I need to see you today.
It's urgent.
Call me back.
Hi.
Hey.
So, not only is she getting married on three days' notice to some stranger, but she's doing it on the anniversary of Dad's death.
How sick is that?
Well, to be honest, I don't even know if she rembers.
She remembers the day I got a DUI when I was 20.
In her defense, Lucy, it was Christmas.
Listen, Dad's death was 25 years ago.
There's a lot of Valium under that bridge.
But it's just a day.
No, it'll never be "just a day" to me.
You don't have to go.
If I don't, she'll only hold it against me.
God love her.
All right, so why were you whispering this morning?
Are you seeing someone?
Not really.
No, come on.
Is it a man or a woman?
What am I saying?
You are so not bi.
You haven't been with a woman in years.
Six months.
Whatever.
Come on, you can't keep a secret from your big sister.
What?
Tell me the details.
Who?
What?
Where?
Nothing's going on.
You are lying.
It's so obvious.
I wonder how their tuna is here.
I can't believe you're not going to tell me about your latest conquest.
You always tell me.
This time I can't.
You can't?
Or you won't?
I can't.
And I don't want to.
Let's order.
So how's it going?
Well, my penmanship sucks and I was only half an hour early this morning, which I guess is still considered late.
On the bright side, her coffee was the perfect shade of shit, so I'm happy.
You're going to do fine...
just as long as you don't make the mistake the last guy did.
And what's that?
Get married.
What do you mean?
When the last guy was getting married, all his wedding prep interfered with his work.
She canned his ass after she caught him on the phone with his cater.
Shit.
Are you getting married?
I have to.
Because of...
the baby.
Don, there you are.
Oh.
Uh, hi, Lucy.
We had a 3:00 appointment.
I've been looking for you.
I...I had to go pee.
It's 3:50.
Sorry.
This is important.
I need you to take a picture today.
It's for the cover.
Aren't you going to wash your hands?
Are you okay?
Yeah, real good.
Good, because this is sensitive.
Aundre G the singer, he was murdered.
I need you to go to the Cabrillo Wine Vault in Sun Valley and check out Tweety McDaniel's collection.
You're looking for Aundre G's head.
Don, the manager thinks you're a photographer from Wine Spectator Magazine.
Mm-hmm.
Don, it's clean.
Your hand.
Mm, yeah.
Here we go.
Thank you, Lucy.
Okay, sweetie.
You wouldn't think a guy like Tweety McDaniel would give a shit about fine wine, but look at this.
He's got it all fixed up.
That's the front door.
I'll be back in a second.
Okay.
Damn.
Basketball star with a protitute isn't news.
That he wanted her to bang him in the ass with a strap-on, that's your lead.
Willa, I'm really starting to question your commitment.
My commitment?
Mm-hmm.
You know, I took some of those drugs that Garbo woman was selling so that she would trust me.
I don't even take aspirin.
I was sick all night from it.
Who the hell asked you to take drugs?
I just wanted you to know that I have the balls for the job.
The story didn't call for balls.
It called for brains.
Don't confuse the two.
Willa...
There's a convention of bariatric surgeons at the W that ends tonight.
Find a Dr.
Kozar and ask him about Venus Smith.
Venus Smith had her stomach stapled?
I thought she was all about diet and exercise.
Yeah, well, confirm the story.
I may be able to use it next week.
Thanks, Lucy.
Hey.
Who said that?
Over here.
Aundre G?
Sure ain't Marie Antoinette.
I'm supposed to take a few pictures of you.
Knock yourself out.
Thanks.
My right side's, my best side.
Okay.
How do I look?
Pretty good...
You know, considering...
you have no body.
I guess that's it.
Uh, thanks.
Hey, hey, where are you going?
Oh, I got to get these pictures back to Lucy.
She's kind of, like, counting on them.
But you just got here.
Oh, come on, man.
Don't you want to hear me sing?
Sorry.
Whoa.
Excuse me.
Badgley Mischka.
What do you think, hmm?
I think I'm in the middle of my workday.
Well, here's what I'm thinking.
I'm going to be wearing Ralph Lauren and you always look so pretty in blue.
Mother.
I know.
You want to pick it out yourself, but I was in Beverly Hills...
Mother, you're getting remarried on the day that Dad died.
Yes.
Don't you think that's kind of strange?
Not really.
Your dad did as he chose that day.
Now, so am I.
You act like it's some kind of retribution.
How can you blame him?
It was a hostile act.
He did it at home.
There was no note, no explanation.
Why should I honor that day?
Um, because it's a pretty significant day to me.
Lucy, I took you to that doctor.
We talked about it ad infinitum.
We've read books.
What more could I do?
Well, you could try being a mother for once.
Listen, I'm sorry.
I've got so much work to do.
It's been his day for 25 years, Lucy.
I want it back.
Who the hell?
Nice office.
Mr.
McDaniel, um...
I'm sorry, do we have an appointment?
I've been hearing some shit about your magazine that...
just don't sit right with me.
Sorry to hear that.
See, I got people in my offices telling me some of your people been asking questions.
About?
About my boy Aundre G.
Anybody who knows me knows I dropped hundred of thousands of my own money looking for Aundre.
He was like a brother to me.
Well...
of course there's been some interest in the Aundre G story here.
You know, his disappearance, the new CD, but I can assure you, Mr.
McDaniel-- Tweety.
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.
Because some of them questions were kind of like...insulting.
I mean, it seemed like your magazine was looking to dis Tweety.
Well, we never set out to dis anybody, Tweety.
It's, uh, it's not what-- It's not what we do.
We just seek the truth.
That's all.
People be so quick to judge me.
They won't even let their kids spend the night at my house because I'm supposed to be some ghetto violent son-of-a-bitch.
But I can assure you...
my kids don't want for nothing.
See, Brent...that's your name, right?
Yes, it is.
Ain't nobody ever gave me nothing.
Except for God.
Yeah.
And I ain't going to let nobody take that from me.
Asthma's a killer, Brent.
You ought to stay clear of smoke.
Yeah.
My God, these are horrific.
I love them.
This is going to make a great cover story.
Yeah?
He's a nice guy.
Who?
Aundre.
Aundre G.
I don't like the way you're sounding.
Sorry, Lucy.
Don, you have to take your meds, honey.
I know you don't like them, but do you rember the hospital?
I don't need the hospital; I'm fine.
The last time I didn't know where you were, you were sleeping next to the freeway.
That guy hurt you.
Don, you have to take care of yourself.
Okay.
I have another job for you.
Okay.
God...
What is this?
It's dope.
You're yummy.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God, I'm going to puke.
Hey, don't worry.
It happens to everyone first time they smoke it.
Okay, listen up, everyone.
We're going to crash a cover on Aundre G's murder.
Check it out.
What do you have?
You can't put that on the cover, Lucy.
We're going to polybag it with an explicit warning label and run the headshot inside.
That is fantastic.
Isn't it?
All right, keep Barrow out of the loop.
He had a shit-fit last time.
This time we have photos.
The LAPD will be notified when we go to press.
Let's get to work.
The wall is locked.
Hi.
Where've you been?
What do you mean?
I've been home for three hours.
I was out.
Who with?
Garbo.
God, what's with the interrogation?
I thought we were going to have dinner to celebrate my first day.
Am I supposed to wait around for you all day?
No, I just thought we had plans.
We were out of weed, Jesus.
Did you eat already?
No.
How was work?
It was fine.
My stomach's bothering me a little.
Hey, you want a, you want a grilled cheese sandwich?
Okay.
I can't believe you'd do this to me.
I can't believe you're banging Jack Dawson.
Republican family man, super action, macho homo, Jack Dawson.
If I wanted you to know, I'd have told you.
Jesus Christ, Lucy.
Well, it's not like I'm going to publish these.
You know I wouldn't do that, right?
You had your own brother followed by the stalkerazzi, so don't act all indignant.
Oh, my God.
This isn't serious, is it?
Yes.
I love him and he loves me.
Why is that so hard to believe?
Two people can meet and actually fall in love.
Oh, Leo...
he's a movie star.
I have covered this kind of story a thousand times.
I'm not a story.
I'm your goddamn family.
Can you be happy for anybody?
I meet a terrific person and you diminish it like it's some piece of gossip.
Mom finally finds someone she can fall in love again with after 25 years and you shit all over that too.
All right, Leo-- Don't.
Just don't with the big sister act, okay?
God.
I'm embarrassed for us both.
Kira?
Baby?
Is this it?
Now don't worry.
You're going to be fine, okay?
I'm not going to go anywhere.
Okay.
Going to get your head up.
Okay?
You don't want your head on the floor, sweetheart.
Here you go.
Oh, it hurts.
It hurts!
No, don't.
Oh, it hurts!
It's okay.
Here we go.
Don't cry baby.
It's okay.
Certificate of death.
Steven J.
Spiller.
Dearest Lucy, I had a dream, which was not at all a dream...
I did this for you.
Someday you'll understand, Dad No!
So, then you became a bariatric surgeon.
Yeah, found my niche, never looked back.
I'm all about helping people, so...
So you think you got something to work with there?
Oh, yeah!
Yeah, wow.
I mean, this is going to make my thesis much more exciting.
Thank you.
Nice shoes.
They Kate Spade?
Yeah.
You know...
I've got a video of me performing surgery.
It's in my room.
Well, that might be helpful.
I also have a few questions about the types of patients you treat.
So...
Come on up.
I'd be happy to tell you anything you want to know.
Yeah?
Yeah, okay.
You're doing great, baby.
You're going to be fine!
Come on.
Come on.
Okay.
Just push!
Okay?
Push!
I can see something!
Here it comes!
Here it comes!
Look!
Look!
It's a boy!
What?
What?
What?
Oh, here's another one.
Yeah, some patients are very private about this surgery.
Sure I can't get you anything?
They like people to think all it took was a little exercise and will power.
If they were capable of self-control, I wouldn't be in business, now would I?
Here's to gluttony.
So, I imagine you treat celebrities.
Oh, they're the worst.
Come on, sit by me.
You can see better.
I can see fine, thanks.
I heard that Venus Smith got her stomach stapled.
I mean-- Come on.
Look, I didn't come up here to do anything.
That's a load of shit now, isn't it?
You don't think you're the first reporter to try to pry privileged client information from me, do you?
Sure you don't want a drink?
I'm not screwing you.
It's not your precious bloom that I'm interested in.
My feet?
Oh, God, they're so...
small and dainty and alabaster.
I'm guessing a perfect size 8.
You let me be who I have to be and I'll give you what you want.
Off the record, of course.
No touching.
Good.
Now dangle it.
Dangle it.
No, don't let it drop.
Oh yeah, you make me so hard.
Hold it up.
Hold the goddamn foot up!
Don't close your eyes.
Look at me.
Look at me!
Oh, yeah.
Please, please, please...
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
It's time for me to go, Don.
No.
I'm going to make you French toast.
And it's time for you to go back on your meds.
No, I don't want to go back on my meds.
They make me feel bad.
You have to.
I don't want to-- I love you.
I don't want to be alone again.
But you won't be.
Okay?
Tristan?
No, it's his son.
You're all he has.
Come here.
Bitter.
That's a good boy.
What happened?
I told you not to go with this story.
I don't work for you, Brent.
And this time, I had photographic evidence.
Really?
Because the cops showed up at the storage facility and, apparently...
there was no head to be found.
Oh.
I guess someone got tipped off.
No head, no confirmation that Aundre G is really dead or that the head is actually his.
I mean, the cops are going to be all over your boy Don.
This story is solid.
I ran the whole thing by legal.
So unless you brought muffins, I think that we're done here.
Beyond that, these photos...
they're smut.
I'm publishing them as just venal sensationalism.
This coming from a man who's never had a magazine subscription he could read with his pants on.
We don't even know if they're real.
Oh, they're real.
The guy had Aundre G's head in his wine cellar.
If the cops can't prove it, that's their problem.
Well...
I hope this sells, because, you know, the polybagging is going to blow your budget all to hell.
And, given that this is the forth week in a row you've gone over-budget, according to the terms of your contract, you just forfeited your annual bonus.
That's bullshit.
Polybagging is a production cost.
It's not on the editorial budget.
It is now.
What happened?
Kira.
Tristan.
Yeah.
This is a very special day for the Spiller family.
Twenty-five years ago, my mother's first husband, my father, hanged himself in our living room.
Ever since then, I have questioned the whole idea of love and commitment.
It's nice to see that my mother doesn't share the same doubt.
And neither does my brother, apparently.
Good for them, and I mean that.
To Mom and Paul.
May the truth never infringe upon your happiness.
Well, instead of being the day Dad killed himself, it'll now be the day you ruined Mom's wedding.
Well done.
At least I showed.
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