Californication s02e11 Episode Script

Previously on Californication It's not a memoir.
It's a written account of my sexual relationship with you.
Written by me as a fuckin' novel.
Even I'm confused, and I stole the damn thing.
Holy guacamole! You hocked everything.
Is that it? I need to fess up, OK? It's part of the process.
Are you ready to have the time of your life? I'm king of fuck mountain! I don't want to do any more porn.
Really? If I can't actually be with you, Charlie, I'd kind of like the last person I had on-screen sex with to be you.
- Who are you? - Damien.
Call me "he who will kill you if you touch his daughter.
" - She's pretty awesome.
- She is.
Hi, you don't know me.
My name is Hank Moody.
I'm a writer.
I want to ask you a question about Lew Ashby.
Get the pen.
I hate when that happens.
You're an asshole! But we haven't even dated.
Just in time.
So, Lew, it's been real.
- Yikes.
We're gonna shake hands? - Yes, we are.
What the fuck? Life's just too fucking boring not to try.
You know, he throws these huge parties.
Yeah, I've heard.
Guest of honour never shows.
Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey.
Come on! Wake up! We got to get the kids to school already! Christ, Mia.
What are you doing? Did you fondle me? I don't know.
Do you feel fondled? I do a little bit.
Get off.
It's way too early for your shenanigans.
But not for this.
Our review in the Times.
I had to go to one of those old-man newsstands to get it.
- Why do they still have those, anyway? - What, old men or newsstands? - Let's read it together.
- No, thank you.
- I don't want to hear that shit.
- Of course you want to hear that shit.
Know how long it's been since you've had something published? All right.
Here it goes.
"At 17, Mia Cross has everything most girls want.
" Stop.
I told you I didn't want to hear it.
What are you even doing here anyway? I thought Lew gave you the speech.
The one about how special I am and how we'll always be friends? Yes, that one.
He did.
And I pretended to be sad.
He let me have my book party here this afternoon.
Oh, my God.
Oh, my God! Holy shit, shit, shit! "A strangely poignant coming-of-age story "written with the self-assurance of a much older writer.
"In the end, the book's true subject isn't sex but loneliness.
"It's hauntingly, hopelessly romantic in the best sense of the word.
" That's good, right? Well, I'll be dipped in dog shit.
Need anything? Are you sure? Good.
This may be the best review you've ever gotten.
You're not helping.
What do you want me to do? Have it laminated so you can carry it around in your wallet for the rest of your natural-born days? - Have you seen your old assistant? - She can go fuck herself.
Not all women are like that, you know.
Conniving, vicious, willing to walk all over a man to get what they want.
I forget.
Is that one of the things you guys did together? Take Daisy, for instance.
Jesus, not this shit again.
Yes, this again.
Tell you, man, being with her just It reminds me of everything that's simple and good in the world.
She's not returning your phone calls.
- Because she's got too much integrity.
- OK.
She knows Marcy's home from rehab.
She thinks we should cool it.
Take a breather.
Integrity.
That's a fine quality in a mistress.
Be careful.
What, I shouldn't say anything bad about her because next year we might all be sitting down to Seder with her? Not on my watch, Runkle.
You don't abandon a woman who stood by you thick and thin, 20 years, the minute she gets out of rehab.
No, you wait 90 days.
I looked that shit up.
That's the decent thing to do.
I know.
The Marce.
This place is so different in the light of day.
Not so ominous.
So what'd you think of the reading? Honestly, I could not be more surprised.
I know.
Who knew the little vixen could write? So, what surprised you was the basic goodness of it? Well, I haven't read the whole book.
I just heard the passage, so So good, not excellent? We have a question.
Fire away.
Mom says we're not old enough to stay for the party.
- Right.
- What do you think? So it's a trick question, bit of a hand grenade.
I'd kind of like to meet Lew Ashby.
Really? Here's a tip.
Don't give him one of your demos.
Come on, Mom.
Where's the trust? Let us live a little.
There's a rumour afloat that Roger Daltrey might show.
OK, we'll stay for a little bit, just a little while, OK? All right.
Have fun, children.
Long live rock 'n' roll.
I think that was a good decision.
Solid parenting.
Club soda with a twist.
Alcohol is still OK for me, right? You do what you have to do.
People who live in fear need to be chemically altered.
OK.
So what am I so afraid of, then? How the fuck should I know? But you've been scarfing those things like the stress-eater Mama Runkle raised you to be.
Hey, there's Dani.
- I need to talk to her.
She's on my list.
- No, no.
No fucking way, OK? Her we do not forgive, nor do we ask her forgiveness.
You can't tell me who I can and cannot make amends to.
Yes.
Yes, I can.
We, as a family, do not forgive her.
All the bad shit that's happened to us, she started it.
She's the cause of it.
She's the Outbreak monkey.
Did you see that girl with the spicy shrimp rolls go through there? OK.
Upstairs, people.
You just do the drugs upstairs.
For fuck's sake, there's children present, so move it on up, OK? Mother Mary.
That wouldn't happen to be cocaine there, would it? Cocaine, meth.
I think this is heroin.
Some people really have problems, you know? I had to remortgage our house to send her to Passages.
You know what I'm saying? Next time let me know.
I know people.
I can hook you up, arrange a little discount.
Next time? Yeah, there's always a next time.
You keep working those steps, baby girl.
Got a little something that David Crosby once told me.
A little pot, it's not cheating.
I deeply and profoundly love myself.
I deeply and profoundly love myself.
Hey, there he is.
Not so fast, you.
Look who's here.
It's Annika Staley.
From Rolling Stone magazine.
Hello.
Pleasure to see you again.
How are the toe cramps? Annika has an interesting theory about the book that she's been sharing with us.
A literary theory? None for me, thank you.
Well, I was just saying how, when I reread the book, it just became completely obvious to me that your fingerprints are all over it.
My fingerprints? My stylistic fingerprints, my style.
No, come on.
Her style's much more fluid than yours.
I mean you.
Your personality, your tics, that sense of humour of yours, you know.
- Come on.
It's you, isn't it? - Excuse me? The guy in the book.
It's a memoir.
It's obviously based on some real person.
I see no reason to assume something like that nowadays.
How about all these people passing off their novels as true stories just because nobody gives a fuck about fiction anymore? - I find that fascinating.
- Yeah, that's totally boring.
- Not to me.
- But a sexy older man who seduces a teenage girl, - not knowing she's a teenager - No.
Is that what this thing's about? I got to get me a copy.
Come on.
Admit it.
You guys obviously had some kind of a relationship, right? Annika, I think you're working a little too hard tonight.
How about we go meet Zakk Wylde? Who's Zakk Wylde? Excuse us.
I have to throw this chick out of my party.
Come on.
What the fuck are you doing? You think this is funny? So she maybe writes a little blurb about us.
So what? It's not like they're gonna make you go live in France with Roman Polanski.
It'll just be one of those hypothetical "Guess which washed-up novelist?" things.
Yeah.
I don't think Karen is ever gonna look at it that way.
She'll get over it.
Eventually.
And it could be great publicity for your book about Ashby.
Not everybody that picks up a pen sweats blood for publicity.
You've got to disabuse Annika of this perspective.
She believes what she believes.
And it's your own damn fault.
You shouldn't have given her such a mind-blowing orgasm.
What? That's what this is about? I didn't call her back? There was no repeat performance? No.
I mean that that's what tipped her off.
She said that the real-life fucking seemed a lot like the fucking in the book.
- What? - Minus the punching, of course.
So you may want to get some new moves now.
If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go enjoy my party.
I think I may be over my thing with older men.
I mean, ever since I started meditating Don't say anything.
Oh, my God.
I'm more in touch with the emotions of the people around me.
I'm not so ego-focused.
Well, you sound like Well, OK.
That's good, sweetie.
That's progress, right? That's why you went there.
Did Hank say anything to you about Charlie getting up to any weird shit while I was away? No.
What? Well, you know, he's stress-eating, and he's not pawing at me or pressuring me for sex.
- Well, thank God, right? - Well, he seems restless.
Well, honey, what about you? I have inner peace, baby.
I see what's important.
And by being loyal and faithful to Charlie, I attract that same shit back into my life.
That's how the universe works.
I'm very proud of you.
- You like that? - Yes, I do.
- Oh, yeah, come on.
- It's progress.
Hey, not that way.
Come.
Why? Are there drugs that way? I'm strong.
I can handle it.
No.
I'm not strong.
Come on, let's go.
- What? It's just Lew Ashby.
- Well, right.
I don't want to, like, fan the flames.
What? He burns for you? Shit.
I missed a lot, didn't I? No, you did not.
He's like a toddler, you know.
He sees something shiny in his midst, and he kind of wants it.
You are shiny.
Of course he does.
- Oh, my God.
- What? Oh, my God! - Look! Look! - What? I've been trying to give them space.
It's Damien and Becca.
- Where? - Right there! Not everyone is freakishly tall! OK.
Can you see? That's sweet, isn't it? - Not really so sweet, no.
- Why not? Because isn't that the Becca right there? - That would be.
- Oh, my God.
Take it.
Bec! Come here.
No.
Oh, God.
I'm the best me I can possible be.
I'm the best me I can possible be.
I tell you, I'm just fresh out of answers.
Maybe Marcy's right.
Maybe we all just need to surrender to some higher power, just be clear and let go.
Fuck that.
You sound like Julian.
Maybe Julian's onto something.
Guy gets more pussy than either one of us.
Either one of us? Who are you fucking besides your wife and a porn star? Mind if I join you guys? - Yes.
- No.
Pull up a chair.
You've always had a unique ability to talk sense into this man.
Don't mind if I do.
So, what compromising position has he gotten himself into this time? It seems that his new career in porn is not enough for him.
He also has to marry the porn star, save her from her road to ruin.
Apparently he's never seen Star 80.
What about Marcy? - What about Marcy? - Here's a thought.
Maybe the two people in this conversation who have never been married should shut the fuck up and not pass judgment on the one who has.
Here's a thought right back at you.
Maybe Marcy's not the problem.
I never said she was.
"Damn my coke addict of a wife," I've heard you say on several occasions.
It seems to me you've travelled a long road to end up right back where you were nine months ago, in thrall to some much younger woman who allows you to feel like you're completely in control, a master of the universe, if you will.
Or in his case, a masturbator of the universe, if you will.
Who knows? Maybe it's your destiny, Charlie Runkle.
Maybe you were born to dominate.
Oh, no.
In which case, my advice to you is embrace it, be who you are, let your freak flag fly.
Interesting.
Becca, come on, sweetie.
Just let me in.
Come on.
What the hell? Somebody better not be doing coke in there.
- Sorry.
- It's Becca.
Is she OK? She found that asshole boyfriend of hers making out with another girl.
Becca.
It's Lew Ashby.
Well, that's just gonna do it.
Becca, I know things are feeling pretty shitty right now crappy, whatever.
But in two weeks, Slipknot's at the Forum, and if you open up this door, let your mother in the bathroom, you're there, backstage.
You're at the frickin' sound check, OK? You know what? That's really sweet, but my daughter cannot be bribed.
Not you.
Him.
OK.
I'm really sorry.
She's going through some stuff, so It's recently come to my attention that men cannot be trusted.
Truer words have never been spoken.
Can you provide any assurance that you'll follow through on this extravagant promise? Can you provide any assurance you're actually gonna let your mother into the bathroom? No.
I guess we have no choice but to trust each other.
Look.
It's gonna take that dude 15 years before he realises what he's missing.
He's missing a lot, because you're fucking magic.
If that's too long to wait, I can get Lemmy from Motorhead to cut off his cheeks with a straight razor.
Totally up to you.
Good? Shake it off, princess.
She's all yours.
- Thank you.
- You're welcome.
Hey, you.
What'd he say? I'll never tell.
Come here.
So, I guess I'm the biggest loser of all time.
Not even close.
Trusting someone does not make you into a loser, OK, cos you took a leap.
Into a brick wall.
And that's why it hurts so much.
And all you can do is let it hurt.
Hey! Hey! Look who I found! Daisy.
- Hi, baby.
- So this is Daisy.
Yeah.
Daisy, Hank.
Hank, Daisy.
You see that? Everybody really does come to Lew Ashby's.
Have you seen the entire house, all the nooks and crannies? - I could give you a guided tour.
- No.
You're not squirreling her away.
No.
I just found her.
- So, what's the haps? - Nothing much.
Just same old, same old.
Next guided tour leaving in 30 seconds.
Come on, we can talk about your work.
I'm not a big fan of porn myself, but I was, don't get me wrong, in my formative years.
Daisy, what? You came here all alone? No, she came with Ronny.
Where the fuck did he just get off to? - Ronny! - Ronny.
Well, I'm not with Ronny.
He was coming tonight.
Thought it'd be fun to tag along, so Thought you guys might be here.
I know Lew Ashby's parties are really famous.
Ronny! Oi, oi.
How did I know I'd find you here? Runkle, how you doing? Hank Moody, Ronny Praeger, the very gifted auteur behind Vaginatown.
I'm honoured.
I'm a big fan.
What is next for you, A Cockwork Orange, or perhaps A Sit-on-my-Face Odyssey? That's actually not too fucking bad.
We've been talking about that, haven't we, sweet tits? - We've decided on Network.
- Network.
No.
What are you talking about? Daisy? She didn't tell you? Daisy is getting out of porn.
You are? Daisy's here, porn's over there.
You know, I'm giving it some thought.
- No.
- Yeah.
What kind of shit-for-brains agent gave you that advice? That's terrible advice! When you've got 100%% USDA choice beef like that slappin' about, you don't let it get to the freezer.
Hey, just back off, buddy, would you? OK? The decision's been made.
Daisy doesn't want to do any more porn.
And maybe you should get your paws off her, give her a little space.
What the fuck do you care where his paws are? I don't think a girl should be handled like that against her will.
- It's fine.
- It's fine? It's fine he touches you? It's fine you're out on a date with him? It's fine that he's planning the rest of your life for you? What? I mean, what about us? What? Excuse me? - Professionally speaking.
- Charlie, you look like you need a refill.
You look dry.
- I think I should go.
- No.
No.
No one's going anywhere, not till this skinny little porno ho tells me what he meant just now.
- Charlie? - Nothing.
OK, you know what? All right, fine.
I'm sorry, Marcy, but after all the shit we've been through, you know, pretending is pointless.
This is too much fucking work.
You know, it's too much mess, too much craziness.
I want to get a divorce.
I'm gonna be with Daisy.
There.
I said it out loud, can't take it back.
You fucked my man.
Marcy, I Marcy You bitch! Did you see that? You fucking whore! What are you doing? You can't stop a girl fight.
You might accidentally hit one of them.
Asshole.
You just had to go there, didn't you? No, go ahead.
You do the honours.
- Sure? - Yeah.
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Errol Flynn used to swing from that thing.
What, no props for saving your life? Come on.
Hey, Lew.
Great party.
You taking off? The night is young.
We'll talk.
Bye, Annika Staley.
I used to know that girl.
What'd you do to her? I don't want to go into the exact details, but I did solve that little problem you were having.
You solved it just like that? Yes, I did.
I told Annika that I was the sexy older man that Mia's been banging.
- You know, the one from the book.
- But you haven't even read the book.
That's what you take me for, right, like a functional illiterate? I read the little fucker.
Not your best work.
Not my best work? Girls talk a lot after sex.
Don't get down on yourself.
You hadn't written one for a while.
I'm sure the next one's gonna be a lot better.
You have to squeeze one out of the chamber, let the good stuff come through.
Well, thank you, and for the other.
Whatever, you know? No offence, but I'm a much bigger story.
"Crazy record producer who lives alone in big, empty house "with a taste for underage women.
" Writes itself.
- It's not the real story, though.
- It's a story.
It's a version of the truth.
The extended dance mix.
So, problem solved.
Marcy's gonna come back with us, and I'm gonna put all the alcohol under lock and key.
That's good.
No, I have a bottle stashed I know where all your bottles are stashed.
Yeah.
Damn it.
So, Lew, it was a truly disastrous party.
- It was, wasn't it? Thank you.
- Thank you.
But you know what? I underestimated you.
Me? In the heat of battle, you shone through, your true colours.
High praise.
I better leave on that note.
Thanks for coming.
Thanks for having me.
See you.
What was that all about? I'll never tell.
More secrets, huh? I know.
Well, you know, it's such an effort.
I have to retain my aura of mystery.
It's no effort.
- Good night.
- Good night.
- Hey! - Thought I'd be fashionably late.
- You came.
- I was invited, right? Yes, but I never thought you'd actually show.
- Wait right here.
Lew's three feet away.
- No.
Wait a minute.
Lew? Yeah, Lew.
And what if I didn't come to see Lew? Then you're not making any sense, woman.
I can't lie, Hank Moody.
I think you stirred something up in me.
Memories.
Misty, watercoloured ones.
Look around, lady.
All this is for you.
All of it.
The crazy fucking house, the party, everything.
- Really? - Yeah.
I already have a house.
It's a totally soulless one.
This is a real house.
It's old and broken and battered cos shit happens here.
Real shit.
Yeah.
Looks like some real shit happened here.
Ignore that.
Things fall apart.
They break.
That's life.
I see.
So, life has to be sad and broken, haunted? Yes.
I don't buy it.
This place looks awful.
It looks like somebody died here.
Somebody almost did, but not tonight.
Just wait here.
Stay put.
Hey, Lew! Lew! Oh, yeah.
I forgot about that.
Yes? - Out.
Everybody out, please.
Thank you.
- Hey.
Wait.
What the fuck are you doing? Don't go.
- Thank you.
- What the f - She's here.
- She who? - She who? - Janie, you asshole.
She came.
- No way.
- Yes way.
- Get your ass downstairs right now.
- No.
I mean, no way.
- No fucking way I'm going down there.
- Did you not hear me? You.
You go talk to her.
You want me to talk to her? What is this, fifth grade? Look, I can't, I mean, not after all this time, after all the shit that I pulled.
I don't know.
According to her, you're not such a bad boy.
You know, you love music a little too much, blah, blah, blah.
- She said that shit? - Yeah.
Maybe she really does love me.
Why? Because it's a big fucking lie because I did all kinds of bad shit to her.
I fucked around constantly.
I crashed a car into her house.
I, you know Shit, once I even made her get an abortion.
- You made her? - Well, it's not like I did it myself or anything.
- It's just - What? I was kind of fucking this other girl at the same time.
- While she was pregnant? - Sure.
- Only you didn't know that.
- No, I knew.
I just I was scared shitless, so - Kind of like you are right now? - Yeah.
Sit down, Ratso Rizzo, you're making me nervous.
Come on.
Have a seat.
I'm only gonna say this once, so I want you to listen, all right? No matter what you did, don't give up.
Do not give up.
Why? Because if she loves you, she'll forgive you.
- You really believe that? - I have to.
Otherwise there's no point.
There is no life without love.
None worth having, anyway.
Fuck it.
You're right.
All right.
I need to do this.
It's gonna suck.
How do I look? - Like a big douchebag - Thank you.
A very, very sexy douchebag.
Just let me grab my jacket.
All right.
Fix my hair.
There you go.
- You got it.
- Hang on.
What? You're gonna do that now? OK, hurry up.
Chill out.
Do you want one? Just go ahead.
You first.
- Whoa! - Come on.
Come on.
You good? Fortified? - Let's go.
- Let's go.
What? Lew.
Lew! Lew! Shit.
Lew.
Where's your fucking pen? I got it.
I got it.
There you go.
That's good, right? Lew! Lew! Lew! Lew! Lew! Rip: DevilsBackbone