Cake (2019) s01e05 Episode Script

Surprise Me

1 (cash registers beeping) Mm, burr.
(groans) Eh! (upbeat electronic music) (eerie music) (keyboard clacking) (sighs) Stupid.
(sighs) (mutters) Nice.
Wonderful (droning music) (sighs) (muttering) (crunching) (eerie music) Thanks.
(exhales deeply) (droning music) (cell phone buzzes) (ominous musical sting) Fuck.
(upbeat funky music) (upbeat pop music) Ah! (sucks in breath) Blood.
(woman singing in foreign language) (tinny pop music) (grunting) Ah.
Sorry, no more.
Bad thumb make me stop.
Um Uh, sorry.
what is this? Uh, "Natalie and Jero"? New York Magazine says you're the best hand engraver in town.
New York Magazine is correct, but I need two thumbs.
Yeah, okay--but, you know-- but I--my name is Jerome.
Could you just add, like, two more letters on-- No.
No more letters.
You want buy or you want me to throw in garbage can, huh? I think it's kind of cute, don't you, Jero? Uh, I don't know.
It seems a little incomplete.
Maybe it means you incomplete man.
(chuckles) Uh, can I just try it on? Thank you.
Look nice next to hair and arm.
I love it.
I'm never taking it off ever.
(upbeat music) (bed creaking) (both moaning) (screams) (crowd cheering) Hmm.
Huh.
(high-pitched dramatic music) Top down, top down Rollin', rollin' Yeah (knocks on door) Uh (gasps) That's stupid.
(exhales deeply) (screams) (laughs) I know that little body.
(laughs) (both moan) Oh, no--oh, my God.
Oh.
-I'm so sorry.
-(chuckles nervously) - No.
- I'm so sorry.
(laughs) - I thought you were-- - I--I Is not215? That's 215.
(exhales and chuckles) -I'm so sorry.
-It's okay.
Well, welcome home.
(laughs) (deep breathing) (knocks on door) No.
(grunts) No, that's stupid.
Let's do the same.
(shrieks) (both laugh) Wait, wait, wait, let me look at you.
- (sighs) - (both moan) Oh, my God.
- I can eat you in one piece.
- I'm home, baby.
(both laugh) Ah! (knocks on door) Stupid.
Ah, there you are! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I'm sorry for your loss.
(gasps) No.
Adam.
(sobbing) Oh, my God.
(shoes clicking) (knocks on door gently) -I'm sorry, is this 216? That's 216.
Oh, that's 216? Oh, that's for them.
- Oh.
- Yeah.
My bad.
- Technically, I need that back.
- Okay.
Heh.
Oh, no, no, no.
This one is for you.
Oh, shoot! Oh, dear God.
(sobbing) Uh sorry for your loss.
(sobbing) Adam.
(shrieks) (gasping) Oh, my God.
I'm so sorry.
Ah.
(sobbing) - Good to see you.
- You too.
(chuckles) Num-num-num-num-num-num-num.
Num-num-num-num-num-num.
(chuckles) (hypnotic music) (upbeat electronic music) (bright pop music) Yeah, every time I've collaborated with somebody before, it's always just felt like a compromise.
But with Brother Tim, I don't know.
We just really click, and, yeah, it's like he's awakened this part of me that's been dormant for so long.
It's just like the opposite of a compromise, you know what I mean? Wow, it sounds so cool.
You know I'm just talking professionally, right? Of course.
Hey, do you think this needs some more pepper? Are you sure? 'Cause if I didn't know better, I would say you were feeling a littlea little something.
Oh, my God.
If I didn't know any better (mocking gibberish) Oh, is Jero a little jealous? (laughs) Of course not.
Little silly, spitting sweetly I will join you I love you.
You know that, right? (sentimental music) (birds squawking) (chuckles) (chuckles) That's what I thought, bitch.
Uh-huh.
(birds squawking) (gasps) Oh, no.
What's going on? You okay? Aw, your bracelet.
No bracelet.
Um, I don't know.
Did--did you, um I don't know, maybe it fell off while you were doing your gymnastics.
I think you were actually kind of further over there, yeah? Yeah, but I was over here doing handstands and Okay, uh I can't fucking believe this.
Well, maybe you should check your bag first.
What do you mean? Well, I don't know.
Maybe you took it off first before you did your whole routine.
Took it off? No.
I've never taken it off once.
Are you gonna help me? Oh.
Sure, sorry.
Of course.
Umwait, so you've--you've-- you've never taken it off? No, I've never taken it off ever.
You haven't taken it off once ever? I mean, it's fine if you have, but-- You know, what's with the third degree? I'm not giving you the third degree.
- You're not? - No.
Well, it sure feels like it.
Well, I'm giving you amnesty.
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I was kind of hoping you could tell me.
Let's see Okay, if you have something to say, just say it.
Here.
Look.
You were wearing your bracelet on this day? Wait, hold on.
Hold on.
You're lying, Natalie.
I can see your wrist very clearly.
No bracelet.
Stop accusing me.
You lied to me when you said you didn't have feelings for this guy, and then you lied just now to my face when I gave you the chance to come clean.
How am I supposed to trust you, Natalie? This is why you've been acting so distant for the past two months? How many times have I said, "Jerome, are you okay? "Jerome, is there anything I can do to help you? Jerome, what can I do to make you feel better?" You have a concern, you bring it up and we talk it through.
That's what adults do in situations like this.
- You don't just - (groans) Crawl into ayeah.
Heh.
Right here.
What are you showing me? The exit sign.
Okay, it's-- it's backwards.
So what does that tell you? This is a selfie.
When you take a selfie, it posts the mirror image.
So that is my right arm, and I wear my bracelet on my left arm.
So you still think I'm lying? (eerie electronic dance music) (frenetic electronic music) (funky electronic dance music) (hypnotic music) (funky electronic music) (gasps) Lately, I've been falling asleep everywhere at random times (snores) (gasps) (car horn honks) Except my bed at night, where I lay awake and wish I had someone to hold me, staring at my phone and listening to the construction men outside tearing up the street.
(metal clanks) (phone thuds) It's been two months of nighttime construction work and 2 1/2 years since anyone's told me they loved me.
My friends are the ones who dragged me to South Beach, saying that I never go out, that all I do is go to work, sit in traffic, watch TV, and smoke weed (inhales nosily) While I should be out with them (exhales) At the gym or LIV or Mansion or the Soho Beach House or wherever it is you meet men that isn't an app or a chance encounter.
Watch where you're going.
And I guess I agree with them.
Sorry.
But, still, it doesn't mean I have to go to the beach.
(tense electronic music) The beach is a place for young, beautiful people trying to show off and old weirdo people who've given up.
It's a place for tourists.
It's not a place for people like me who've lived here their whole lives and spent the entire night listening to the sounds of pavement being scraped and scrolling through phones.
(phone thuds) When I wake up, I have no idea how long I've been asleep for.
(gasps) My friends are facedown evening out their tans, and everyone else seems to have consciously turned away from me.
But instead of wondering what it is I'm even doing here, I try to just open myself up to the world, giving into whatever it is the universe has in store for me, whatever chance encounter it's figured out with my friends and decided to drop down next to me, which is when I spot him, sitting there in the sand right next to me.
I wasn't trying to snoop, but I saw him open up a dating app and couldn't help but be incredibly curious, desperate to see his taste in women.
But it doesn't take long before I realize that he's not really all that discerning, swiping right on every picture he sees, indicating, "Yes, I do like you.
Yes, I am interested.
" He never spends more than ten seconds on a photo.
All he does is look, like, and swipe, on and on.
And right as I'm about to get bored and turn away, I see him come across a familiar face, not to him, but to me, a face I've seen a bunch of times before in every mirror I've ever looked.
I stare at my digital self for a few seconds until I notice that, for the first time, he hasn't swiped right.
In fact, he hasn't swiped anywhere at all, his finger suspended in the air, his brain trying to make the necessary connections between neurons to decide whether, yes, he does like me, yes, he is interested.
And I stare and I wonder what's taking so long.
- Is it my picture? - (camera shutter clicks) Does he not find me attractive enough? I could almost hear his mind at work, his lightning-fast judgments assessing everything from my hair to my eyes to my chin, and I just can't understand it.
Do I look too much like a boy? Is the picture too goofy? It can't be worse than literally every other picture.
Why do they get a pass? Why don't I get a swipe? Why doesn't he want me? Is he just in a daze, wondering over and over and over again, "Could I see myself with this girl?" (slurping) And he waits and he thinks and he ponders it like a judge sentencing someone to death, running through a series of criteria buried deep in his DNA, criteria meant to further the population of our species.
And it's the wait that hurts me.
It's the hesitation.
It's the fact that he needs to be convinced.
It's the fact that he doesn't just look at me and immediately want me.
It's the fact that he would be totally okay never getting to know me.
(solemn music) And I think about all the other men with their high tech phones and dating apps that swipe.
I think about all the other men in Miami who have rejected me, swiping left and sending me to some strange abyss between the phone and the space around it.
I think about all my discarded digital profiles swiped into nonexistence, piling up into nothing.
And I think about all the women on the other side, the beautiful, gorgeous blondes on the right of the phone who go to the gym and Mansion and Soho Beach House, the women men want, the women they don't need to think about, the women they see and like and swipe while I wait and wonder what's wrong with me.
And of course, at my lowest of lows, he eventually does swipe right without making much of anything.
He just swipes as if to say, "Sure, okay, I guess I could be interested.
" And it doesn't make it worse, but it certainly doesn't make me feel better.
Because I know I'm not his first choice, and I never will be.
A few minutes later, my friends get up and their skin is pretty tan, I guess.
We get into the car and drive back over to Hialeah as I replay the entire minute in my head, confused why I should be so affected by something as meaningless as a complete stranger's opinion of me.
On the way, we decide to stop and get some drive-through and then pick up weed.
I hold my phone in my hand and wish I had someone to text.
My mind drifts back over to the last boy that told me he loved me and to the girl that he's probably holding onto right now.
The beach feels a million miles away.
When I get home, I'll be just in time to watch the construction workers peel back the metal slabs they placed on the street, revealing the wounds they tore into the ground.
(heavy scraping) (funky music) (hypnotic music) (tense electronic music) (waves whooshing) Hey.
Hey, Natalie? Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Hey, Natalie.
Natalie, look.
Look, I'm--I'm really sorry.
All right? I'm so sorry.
Look--hey, can we just look, I--I know--I know I'm incomplete in a lot of ways.
I know I have a lot of issues, but I think--I think I can work them out.
Look.
Hey, look.
This is--this is all just a misunderstanding.
It's not a misunderstanding.
It's a blessing.
- Hey, Natalie, I'm sorry.
- Don't touch me.
Don't follow me.
Don't call me.
Natalie! Natalie, I love you! Can we just ta-- Natalie, I'm sorry! (dramatic music) (insects chirping) (birds squawking) (detector squeaking) (dull beeping) (detector squeaking) (dull beeping) (dull beeping) (jewelry jingles) (detector squeaking) Top down, top down (Channel Tres' "Topdown") Yeah, top down, top down Rollin' with the top down, top down Rollin', rollin' Yeah, yeah Tell your man he better pipe down, pipe down Yeah See me rollin' with the top down, top down Yeah, yeah - Ooh - Yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah - (clear music) - Yes