All language subtitles for Voicemails.for.Isabelle.2026.1080p.10bit.WEBRip.6CH.x265.HEVC-PSA

I did it!

Holy shit!

It…

was…

awesome.

Start from the top!

I walked into school this morning.

And then I see Colin Corwin.

- Yeah!

Jill tastes like beef jerky.

I see you told everyone
how you begged me to suck face.

- Classy!
- Ooh!

Sorry, Jill, but I'm not
gonna be your boyfriend.

- Oh!
- Don't flatter yourself, Colin Corwin.

I regretted you the second
your sweaty slug lips touched mine.

Hey, Jill, does your sister taste
like beef jerky too,

or just… cancer?

Cold.

Fight!

Fight! Fight! Fight!

You're gonna be in so much trouble.

Mr. Corwin!

You cry like a little bitch.

He asked if I tasted like cancer?

That's it?

I'd rather have cancer
than cystic fibrosis.

Boys are just so embarrassing.

Well, congratulations. You're suspended.

Again.

Welcome to
the culinary motherland, San Francisco.

♪ I just gotta see it for myself ♪

♪ I'm in the corner
Watching you kiss her ♪

♪ Oh ♪

Turmeric.

Pistachio, fruit of the gods!

♪ Oh! ♪

♪ I'm giving it my all... ♪

Back away, girls! Out of the way!

We shoulda had boys.

You see, the antibiotics aren't working
as well as we'd hoped.

Hi.

Izzy, listen. It's Robyn.

- Ready?
- Ready!

Do you really need to go out?
It's your last New Year's with us.

I know.

It's also my last New Year's
with my friends.

- I know.
- Bye, love you!

- Be safe.
- Mwah! Bye!

- Love you.

You ready?

15 minutes to midnight, bitches!

I'm sorry. I have gotta go. I can't…

- I'm so sorry.
- No.

That was so fun.

- Sorry. Pardon me. Excuse me.

Three, two, one!

Happy New Year!

I have my knife skills test tomorrow,
and there's just no way for me

to make it in time and I am so, so sorry.

Holy sh…

Don't worry, my lad.

Pretty soon, you'll be headed
to the culinary motherland!

He thought it was gonna happen
in 2029, 30 years ago,

so if we can just…

Oh, you're looking at my eye.

- Your eye? What?
- Yeah. I look like Sloth from The Goonies.

- No, you don't.
- I know.

- No, you don't.
- Don't worry. It's…

It's just pink eye.

Well, I'm pretty sure
pink eye is, like, super contagious.

No, that's just a common misconception.

No, really, I think it is.

Fake news made up by Big Pharma.

Trust me.

Your eyes, on the other hand,
are super beautiful.

Your call
has been forwarded to voicemail.

And then he smears butt particles
all over my face.

My face is a butthole.

Call me tomorrow, please.

I'm up.

Bonjour!

Chef Bastien, who is your favorite chef?

Who is my favorite chef? That is easy.

It is ma mère.

She is so beautiful, she is dead.

Your performance on Top Chef
changed my life.

Ow.

Geoffrey! Eyes on your cake!

Get!

Look at me. Don't look at me.

Look at me.

Never look at me!

Did you just look at me?
Did you just make eye contact with me?

No, Chef.

Oh!

Maybe try saying "corner" next time.

- You okay?
- Yeah.

Eight hours deseeding
and slicing kumquats?!

Culinary waterboarding.

I can't even remember
the last time I actually made anything,

other than my brekkie burrito.

All I do is measure, deseed, slice,
and pray for the sweet release of death.

An AI robot could
do my job better than me.

You were built for this, my dude.

Let a mofo know.

I will let a mofo know I am homesick,

I'm almost out of savings,
and there's nowhere for me to go

unless a baker quits or retires or dies.

All right, fine, you crazy son of a bitch.

I will fly to San Fran
and murder one of the bakers with you.

How would we do it?

Well, obviously, we'd wrap
my oxygen cord around his neck.

Wow, you answered that so quickly.

Wait, speaking of lack
of oxygen to the brain,

I'm getting drinks
with Equinox Ethan tomorrow.

Isn't that the guy who thinks
that babies can breathe underwater?

He's neurospicy.

Have a little healthy self-love, my guy.

Eh…

You've gotta get on Hinge.

It's amazing.

Except for the part where you feel
like a hideous, unlovable troll

that might match with Ted Bundy.

I've never been drier.

I think I'd rather
just live vicariously through you.

Perfect.

- Hello?
- Yeah. I'm here.

- Hi.
- No…

I have to tell you something.
Don't freak out.

What?

Test results came back.

- Why didn't you call me?
- I literally just did.

They're, uh…
listing me for a lung transplant.

It's lookin' pretty dire.

They don't know
what they're talking about.

I mean, they've been wrong
every single step of the way.

You're fine, because…

Because you're a superhero.
Have they still not figured that out yet?

Yeah, I guess not.

- Tsk. I'm gonna come home.
- No.

- I'll look up flights now.
- No.

It's not because of the results.
I miss you. I need to see you.

You're gonna be home
in three weeks for turkey.

- For the weekend.
- If you do, I will kick you in the tit.

You'll never make baker if you fly home
every time they give us shit news.

- No, I'm...
- You are being so dramatic.

- I'm not being dramatic!
- This is not A Walk to Remember.

But is it A Fault in Our Stars?

Shailene would def play me in my biopic.

- But no.
- Okay, fine.

But I'll see you in three weeks. Turkey!

Jill?

Yes, my lad?

You're the most lovable person
I've ever known.

If you're a bird, I'm a bird, brother.

Call me tomorrow?

Night.

Good night.

Jill, look, I want
to be absolutely translucent.

- "Transparent"?
- That too.

Uh, listen,
I am down to, like, hang,

but not for anything, like, intense.

- Oh…
- But I am 100% committed to...

Penetration?

Yes!

Oh, my God, yes. Yeah.
We are, like, on the same wavelength.

We are just over here,
finishing each other's...

Minds!

I'm gonna take this.

Jill, honey,
you need to come home right now.

Call me when you get this.

Mom, I'm here.
What's going on? How is she?

Talk to me. What's going on?

- What are they saying?
- She crashed suddenly.

Okay.

Her oxygen levels dropped.

She didn't make it.

Izzy didn't make it.

Okay. What are they saying?

Jill, honey…

Mom, where is she?

She didn't make it, honey.

I'm here. Where is she?

Where is she?

- Jill, honey…
- Where is she?

- Jill.
- Izzy?

Izzy was dealt…

a bullshit hand.

But she never ever complained.

She was beyond that.

And she believed
in angels and fate.

In an "order" of things.

I think she would
have really loved Burning Man.

So, um… today,

rather than eviscerating this…

order of things that I don't understand,

um, I'm gonna try my best.

I'm gonna try my best
to make lemonade, like Izzy.

And Beyoncé.

Isabelle could have been alive
a thousand years ago,

or a thousand years from now,

but what are the chances
that in all of time, space, humanity,

she was alive with us, right?

With me.

How lucky are we?
And not only did she and I meet.

But…

But we got to eat pancakes.

We got to… wiggle out
our little baby teeth together.

We got to paint each other's toenails.

We got to be sisters.

We got to be sisters.

My brother in Christ.
We miss you on Whore Island.

My brother in Christ.
We miss you on Whore Island.

Don't forget.
You're more beautiful than Cinderella.

You smell like pine needles,
and you have a face like sunshine.

When I look at you, my heart is filled
with purple and pink fireworks.

Be ungovernable.

You gotta flop to fly.

We could open a chowder spot
and call it "Bisquey Business."

I just drank all of Mom's rosé
and DMed Jacob Elordi.

Maybe he'll think
I'm a Make-a-Wish kid.

Good night, lad. I love you.

Call me.

Who is that?

I don't know. I just got a new work cell.

Yo, Isabella!

It is I, your brother.

I'm sitting here at my bench.

I'm looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge.
It's a beautiful night.

I'm drinking champagne…

out of a brown paper bag,

and I am missing you.

Oh, my God, I hate this place.

Where are our weirdos, man?

You know, I thought SF was gonna be
full of rock-and-roll hippies in drag

who love pot and Journey and burritos.

But where the hell is the José's here?
Where are the…?

And whose dick do I have to suck

to get a breakfast taco around here?!

I love you, brother.

You are such a bitch for leaving
before I could tell you that.

We need to talk about boundaries.

- Good night, Arthur. See you tomorrow.
- Good night, see ya.

- Hey, Jill?
- Yeah?

You wanna grab a drink?

So, that was a sorta long-ass vacation
you took, Jill.

Oh, my sister sorta…

died.

- Dang.
- Yeah.

Jill, that is hella sad.

Thanks, yeah. So how have you been?

Amazing. Life is just… perfect.

Everything is working for me, Jill.
Everything is exactly where it should be.

How are you?

I'm done, Wes.

- With your cider, or…?
- With us.

What? We're just getting
to know each other.

You've been inside of me for six months.

Pastries, baking,
it's a chick thing, traditionally.

But that's so sexist, right?

Because I can do anything my mom can do.

I am trying to hold space
for your brokenness.

But I deserve secure attachment,

not someone who love bombs me
like I'm on The Bachelor,

and then the moment that I catch feels
brings me to Buffalo Wild Wings.

- You said you liked wings.
- I lied!

Excuse me, can I get one of those?
Thank you so much.

Cheers!

God, you're so beautiful.

You're like easily a 6.5.

Like, an SF 6.5, a Kansas ten.

- Do you want another shot?
- Can we get… one more of those?

I just wanna
hear you say it, Wes.

You don't know how to love.

That's… No. I don't think that... Britt.

- Britt, listen. Hey, stop.
- Stop.

I'm sorry. I can't claim to understand

all the ways that my trauma
has affected me,

but I know that…

I'm genuinely sorry.

You're strong.

You've been a bad boy.

- Don't touch my hair.
- Okay. Sorry.

Tell me everything's gonna be okay.

Everything's gonna be okay.

Hm?

Say it again.

No, I can't. I…

To be honest, I don't…

Between climate change
and the unraveling of democracy,

I don't really think that everything is…

- Tell me.
- Everything's gonna be okay.

Oh!

Sorry.

What's up, babe?

Hey.

So, I cannot stop thinking
about last night.

Oh!

Yeah. I got several noise complaints.

Did you?

What do you say tonight…

my bear claw goes in your croissant?

No.

No. No, you can't handle this.

No? Isn't…?

- Hey.
- I feel sick.

No, I'm sorry.

No, it's good. I'm good. We're good, 'kay?

- Okay.
- Jill.

I'm cool.

Cool as a kumquat.

You used me like a human dildo.

And you kicked me to the curb.

- What are you talking about?
- I'm talking about what you did.

- What I did? I...
- You're… You gaslit me.

And you're gonna regret it.

Um…

Fefe, I got you a triple-shot latte
to thank you.

Shh! That was the last time, Wes.

It's a felony.

Reading texts?

Hacking someone's texts for insider info
to sell commercial real estate?

- Yes, a felony.
- I don't...

In all 50 states.

Including Idaho,
where cannibalism is legal.

I'm out, Wes.

You're gonna have to stalk people
the same way as everyone else.

Instagram.

All right, no, I see the play.

I will pay you double

and then you can buy yourself
more sweater vests or Pokémon cards or...

Pokémon?

You know what?
I'm done being your little hacker boy.

So you can take your lattes
and your shiny teeth back upstairs.

Okay. All right. Understood.

I appreciate you, Fefe.

Uh, he's in a meeting right now.
Can I take a message?

Okay, sure. Just call back.

It's Felix!

Oh, my God. You went on that date
with the guy with the pink eye.

Yeah, that's me.

It's been weeks, I bet his eye's healed.

Maybe I should hit him up
for a second date?

No, that was a joke.
I'm actually on a… dick cleanse.

A D-tox, if you will.
Patiently awaiting my gay awakening.

- Did you know what you wanted?
- I'll have a mocha to go. Please. Thanks.

Ever been stood up?

- Oh, are you talking to me?
- I overheard your conversation.

Oh, great.

Have I been stood up?

Actually, no.

So… I still have that to look forward to.

Well, I have you beat, then.

I am currently being stood up.

- On a day date?
- Yeah.

Yikes.

Yikes is right.

Sorry.

Would you maybe want to join me?

Please. I don't think my fragile male ego
could handle another rejection today.

Um, what's your name?

Tyler Riordan.

Jill Shaw.

- Lady Shaw.
- Thanks.

Tyler Riordan sounds so familiar.
Are you a tech founder?

Not smart enough.

Actor?

Hmph! Not pretty enough.

Oh, you're not pretty enough?

Okay. So you're an influencer.

The irony is palpable.

Wait.

You have the, um, dating podcast.

You're the dating guy.

Hi! Nice to meet you, Tyler Riordan.

Oh, my God.

Tyler, my phone died, and I had
to find my way back from the East Bay.

I completely raw-dogged it with my mind.

No worries. I ran into a friend.

- Yes.
- Mm-hmm.

Well, nice to see you, friend.
Have a seat.

No, no, no. We can get another table.

No, no, no, please. Please sit.

Um, I'm just gonna grab my stuff.

Nice to meet you, ma'am.

Take your seat. I've warmed it up for you.

- I'm so sorry. I'm just gonna… Yeah.
- Yeah.

Cool. Bye.

Jill!

Hi.

I figured I could let you leave.
Then I'd have to go home,

get on Craigslist, and write a post
on Missed Connections. Very early 2000s.

Or I could just run out on my date,

chase you down the street,
and ask you for your number,

which now that I say it out loud…

uh, maybe Craigslist was the move.

I'm swearing off men, remember?

- The whole D-tox thing, so…
- Yes. D-toxing. Right.

I can't.

- Nice to meet you.
- Well, how about I give you my number?

Okay.

Izzy?

You're not gonna believe this.

It was some Notting Hill,
frickin' Bridget Jones shit.

Please get ready.

You know what he was?

He was Bri-hi-ti-hish

from foggy London town.

Actually, I don't know if he was
from London, but I'm gonna pause

so that you can finish masturbating.

Good work, Wes.

Thank you, sir.

- Close her up.
- You got it.

All right.

Jill.

Hey, psst!

Fuck you.

Line up!

I have a little bit of a puzzle.

Zella, Bastien à la crème.

What are the ingredients?

All-purpose flour, almond flour,
powdered and granulated sugar, whole egg,

cream, unsalted butter,
vanilla bean, and salt, Chef.

Did you say "human hair"?

No, I did not, Chef.

That puts me
in a real snickerdoodle.

Oh, now, wait a second.

Kirby, why do I see

one of your radioactive
Chucky-doll pubes in my tart?

That is not mine.

That's not yours?

Right there, on the little titty… part.

- No.
- No?

Oh, did Little Orphan Annie
come into my kitchen last night

and shed her ginger ass on this tart?

I don't know.

- You don't know?
- Mm-mm.

It was so unhinged, my dude.

But…

there is a silver lining.

Or shall I say a ginger lining?

Damn, Jilleth. I know. Too soon.

Look, I take no pleasure in saying this,

but the baker position is now open!

Finally!

But what are the qualifications
to host a podcast?

- Qualifications?
- Yes.

- There are none.
- Really?

- Thought so.
- I'm virtually skill-less.

I just think that the dating game
has gotten somewhat toxic.

I don't know, it's going great for me.

Haven't been murdered yet.

Well, the night is young.

Tell me about your work, Chef.

Well, I don't want
to flex on you too hard, but, uh…

I am the kumquat girl of Flâner.

- Oh, wow.
- Yeah.

- I'm impressed.
- Mm-hm.

Though I'm not entirely sure
what a kumquat is.

They're like very tiny,
very annoying oranges.

- Ah.
- And I am their leader.

Yes. Wait.

Flâner? Isn't that the fellow
from Top Chef?

Chef Bastien. I'm currently in a battle
to the death to become his new baker,

in the hopes that, one day,
I do actually get to bake.

Well, take no prisoners, kumquat girl.

- Thank you so much.
- Thank you.

Of course.

So how are the fish and chips
compared to back home?

Not bad, actually.

Yeah? I've never been to England.

It's amazing.

I'll have to take you.

Mm!

Okay, you gotta go.

- You have to go. Get up.
- What?

- Now?
- Yep, right now.

- Okay.
- That's all your stuff. Yep. Come on!

- Was it something that I did?
- Hurry!

- No. Go!
- No problem.

Well, I had a great time.

- Bye.
- Bye.

Come on.

I didn't think I could do it,
but I did it!

Come on. Call.

Please record your message.

Hello, Izzy.

I would like to tell you something,

that it was very, very, very,
very, very, very close,

but I kept it in my pants,

because my body is a sacred temple,

and my vagina is a secret garden.

I… I am Jillothene Shaw!

Resistor of desires of the flesh,
almighty tamer of sexual demons!

I am Jill!

I left my wallet.

Help.

I promise I barely heard anything.

Oh, my God.

I do have one question though.

What was that about a secret garden?

God damn it.

I left my wallet.

- No! No, Jill, no!
- Oh, my God.

God, lock your door, Jill.

You don't lock your door?

- Promise I barely heard anything.
- Oh, God.

They're probably hooking up right now.
They're definitely hooking up.

Well, whatever.

He probably has terrible teeth.

No text. Hm.

Okay.

Don't be crazy. You're being crazy.

Ladies, save yourself the heartache.

If he's not texting you,
he doesn't want to talk to you.

Truth is so important. We all need to get…

What?

Check.

Good night, Izzy.

Good night, lad.

I love you.

I love you too.

Okay, you know as best man
that you have to give a speech, right?

He didn't.

- Oh, come on. I knew that.
- No idea.

I knew that.
You guys think so little of me.

We do not. We think very highly of you,
but I should write it.

And after much deliberation…

- Yeah?
- …we're giving you a plus-one.

- Yes!
- But…

You do not get to bring an influencer
whose actual name you do not know.

I knew her name.

- You didn't know her name.
- Not at all.

You're talking about Lu, right?

Lonestar Lu?

- Lonestar Lu was her handle.
- Mm-hm.

Her name was Keilani.

I mean, that's just confusing branding.

- Bye.
- Go.

- Beat it.
- Really?

- Yes.
- You can't sit with us.

- You cannot.
- Are you serious?

Oh, look, open table.
Just for you.

Okay, fine.

- Fine. I'm walking over here.
- Fine.

- Bye.
- I'll enjoy my tacos alone.

Yeah, enjoy.

- You know what your problem is?
- Huh?

You're sad-boy deadly.

- Yeah.
- It's your eyes.

Every girl thinks you're a wounded puppy,
and you have no idea how gorgeous you are.

- But you're not sad. He's not sad.
- Mm-mm. No, he's not.

- And he knows exactly how gorgeous he is.
- What?

You think I'm gorgeous, Breeds?

You think he's gorgeous?

- Wait.
- I mean…

Now he has two phones to use for evil.

Oh, great.

No. Okay, so this random girl has been
leaving voicemails on my new work cell,

and they're for her sister.

- And they're, like, kinda hilarious.
- Wait.

How does she not know
that her sister changed her number?

- Text her.
- I thought I did.

I'm gonna just see what's happening
with the douchecaster real quick.

- Douchecaster?
- Douchecaster?

Guess who's officially being ghosted
by a Hitch wannabe.

I am.

And I am never gonna make baker

because, um, I boned the competition

and now he's out to destroy my life,
which rocks.

Um, so, yeah.

I'm, uh…

I'm just calling you to ask…

how…

am I supposed to do this without you?

We were supposed to die together.

We made a deal.

Like Noah and Allie in The Notebook.

"You're a bird, I'm a bird," you whore.

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

Okay, I'll stop.

You're in a better place.

Probably slurping face with Heath Ledger
as we speak, huh?

But I miss you.

My lad.

Every minute…

of every single day.

This party sucks without you.

Call me?

Isabelle's dead. They're…

They're voicemails for her dead sister.

- What?
- What?

- Oh, my God, that's heartbreaking.
- Uh…

You gotta tell her.

- Now you're a sicko.
- No, no, no, do not tell her.

She's healing. This is her way of healing.

Just stop listening to her
like a creeper, then.

Yeah, maybe stop
listening to her like a creeper, then.

You tell him you no longer want to invest
in something that isn't going anywhere.

You shut your whore mouth when you talk!

- Wes.
- Hey! Hey, Jim.

Red River closed?

- Yes, sir.
- Very nice.

What's next?

Hey, is Donovan still slipping
on that San Fran spot?

He goes, "Jill, this is exciting."

I shit you not,
those were his final words to me.

He has no… soul!

I must protect womankind!

Well, guess what?

Love, Not Actually has
a live podcast taping… tomorrow!

And I know, if you were here,
I know what you would say.

You would say,

in the immortal words of our queen,

Michelle Obama, esquire,

"When they go low…"

- "We go high."
- "…we go lower!"

Okay.

Excited for the… show.

Thank you.

Oh! I'm so... Did I step on your foot?
I'm so sorry about that. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

- So sorry.
- No, it's okay.

Is that okay?

Perfect.

Thank you all for coming.

Looking gorgeous as ever, I see.

And we're going live.

Hi there.

Well…

What should we talk about, ladies?

I am at your disposal.

- Now, who wants to kick us off?
- Oh, my God.

Me!

Yes, in the Giants hat.

Thank you.

Hey, Tyler. I'm a huge fan.

My favorite episode is the one
about dating with accountability.

It's a good one, right?
But I had a quick question about that.

Accountability, that's only expected

of us lovelorn, pathetic,
desperate ladies, correct?

Fellas get a free pass
to, say, I don't know,

like, hypothetically speaking,

talk about bringing you home to England,
get you naked, vanish out of thin air

without even a text saying,
"I'm alive, but no thank you"?

Um, well, uh,
this pod is designed for, uh, women

to navigate the perils
of the dating world.

Oh!

Okay, well, thanks to you, Tyler,

I've come face-to-face
with the perils of the dating world!

Here's my little bit
of "proactive dating advice"

to you ladies.

If it looks like a duck

and it swims like a duck,

it's probably just a bargain-bin,
Hugh Grant fuckboy with a podcast.

So…

I'm gonna just, um… see myself out.

I'll give this to you.
Thank you, excuse me. I'm sorry.

Well, um…

What is testimony without a test?

What is accountability without an account?

I'm sorry. I'm… Excuse me.

Uh, communication is key.

Proactive dating isn't about perfection.

It's about progress.

What?

"If it looks like a duck
and swims like a duck,

it's probably just a Hugh Can't
with a podcast."

At first it got very, very quiet,
and then they were like…

Wow.

Another one bites the dust.

Oh, there's this, um,
cute deli at the bus stop

at my bench at Battery Spencer.

I got my salami on sourdough
with spicy mustard.

Mmm-mmm.

You're gonna tell me
that this is dumb, but whatever.

I have this…

stupid fantasy that…

someone's gonna come and sit down
next to me like I'm Meg Ryan.

And we start talking
about our days and the weather,

which makes no sense,
'cause it's always foggy.

Maybe I offer him half my sandwich…

and we lock eyes and it happens.
We just know.

In our bones, like how birds know
when a storm is coming.

How do they do that?

And we can't even play it cool,

because there's nothing cool
about what we feel.

It's desperate and all-consuming
and really scary,

but we're in it together.

That could happen, right?

Says the girl
who can't even get a text back.

I'm sharing this with you, my lad.

Sorry, is this… Is this seat taken?

It's beautiful.

Mm-hm.

- I'm Wes.
- Hm!

I'm Jill.

Jill.

Nice to meet you, Jill.

Well, enjoy the view.

Uh… wait.

Um…

I have to tell you something.

You have to tell me something?

Um, I… I am here… uh, in San Francisco…

for, um…

for, uh… for work,

and I…

I just…

just get…

- I wanted to get a few recs from a local.
- Oh!

Did you just have a stroke?

Do you smell burnt toast?

Gosh. I don't know.
I'm not a local, by the way.

I've been here a year,
so I guess, technically,

but I have not cracked the code
of this city.

God damn it,
she's a tough nut to crack. Sorry.

Well, what's your favorite thing
to do here?

You're looking at it.

Wow. Then I'm off to a good start, huh?

Jeez.

What?

You're rolling in here with all this like…

What is that?

That is why I have to bid you
good night and good luck.

I'm closed for business.

Not that I even had any business,
or that men…

Men are not my business. Zero judgment.

Love and light to the girlies
selling feet pics online.

I tried, but someone said
my toes look like ugly fingers,

so I chop… fruit now.

- Should we start over?
- Yes, please.

Okay, I'm Wes.

And, uh…

I'm visiting.

I'm Jill.

And I'm boy sober.

Oh, okay.

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

Oh, uh…

Do you think…

you could just point me
in the direction of some breakfast tacos?

- It ain't José's, but it ain't half-bad.
- What?

- You know José's?
- Oh, yeah.

- José's is my favorite.
- José's is my favorite.

So you really are from Tejas, huh?

Yes, ma'am.

So, could you just give me
like an opening line

or a thesis statement?

You don't need help from a stranger.
These are your best friends.

I'm not sure that I believe
in the whole, uh, marriage thing.

Ah, so let me guess.

Your parents are divorced.

- Very, very astute.
- Am I right?

Yeah, they probably would be
if my mom were still alive.

I am so sorry.

No, it's… I was little.

- Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.
- No, it's okay. It's really okay.

You don't want a first line from me.

I've been told that
I suffer from a severe case of TMI.

No great speech started with a filter.

Um…

What are their names?

Breeda and Andy.

- Breeda and Andy.
- Mm-hm.

"You have made a believer out of me."

Holy shit.

- See? I knew it.
- Well, don't say it if it's not true.

You don't wanna kick off their union
in a bed of lies.

- Cross my heart and hope to die.
- Don't hope that.

I won't. I...

I won't hope that.

- Thank you.
- So, uh, real estate, huh?

- Yeah, yeah.
- Do you have a fancy metal nameplate?

- Why else would I be doing this?
- Living the corporate daddy dream.

Yeah, that's right.
I mean, it has its perks.

But, uh, I got my eye on something.
I'm playing the long game.

What kind of something?

Let's just say, I keep my cards close.

What about you?

What's the dream?

I'm living the "it's a good day if I'm not
being publicly humiliated…" dream.

- That can't be the dream!
- Well, dreams are so short-sighted.

When you're a little kid,
you only know three jobs, right?

There's, like, police officer,
school teacher, and chef.

- Mission accomplished.
- Except no.

I'm what they call a "prep cook."

And as Chef says,

we are barely one step
above the janitorial staff and pedophiles.

Sounds like you gotta take
your prep cook skills elsewhere.

- Mm.
- Come on. If you build it, they will come.

- Trust me, I'd love to start my own thing.
- What's stopping you?

I don't know, just any money at all,
or brand reputation,

business plan, house specialty.

Oh, come on, you got a specialty.

Even my mom had a specialty.

- It was cornbread chicken pot pie.
- Oh!

A woman after my own heart.
Do you know the recipe?

No, I wish.

It was legendary.

I mean, people still talk about it.

I wish I, uh… I wish I could remember.

I'll bet your taste buds do.

All right, the suspense is killing me.
If you could put one thing on your menu,

what would it be?

You think I'm gonna share
my culinary secrets with a stranger?

I'll tell you what,
I'm here for two weeks.

Why don't we try
to crack this SF nut together?

As fellow Texas expats,

I feel obligated to tell you
that I am girl sober,

so I will not make out with you.

Even if you beg me, I won't do it.
Scout's honor.

I don't know what happened, Chef.
I rolled it out last night,

and I put it in the fridge.

Apparently not.

- You've set us all back!
- We could grate it.

Whoa.

Or…

It's… I accidentally froze
my butter in culinary school,

and grating it
made the dough even flakier.

You're still talking?

What is this? The Alpha Gamma prep girls?

- Right?
- Michelin-star joke, Chef.

"It makes it extra flaky."

Hey.

I never asked for your help.

I sold the spot.

- You did?
- Yeah.

What a star! We have to celebrate.

After you. How was your day?

Uh…

Chef Bastien
was feeling particularly evil.

He didn't use a single 'quat.

He literally poured them out
into the trash can

while maintaining eye contact with me.

It was kumquat carnage.

He's hazing you, Jill.

I don't know if I'm built for this.

What, this Flâner gig?

This…

This dream.

Ignore me and my existential dread.

It's your last day,
and I am ready to giggle.

Welcome to Golden Gate Giggles.

I'm your tour guide, Walter,

and we're so glad you chose us,
Golden Gate Giggles.

How about a joke?

Sure.

Why did the hipster refuse…

"Why did the hipster refuse
to cross the Golden Gate Bridge?"

Why?

Because it was too mainstream.

Pause for laughs.

It's my first day today.

- Crushing it, Walter.
- Let's start out with some funny facts.

Sure.

Ha!

San Francisco is where
they invented blue jeans,

and the electric…

- I can't do this.
- You're doing fine.

- Just take a deep breath.
- I quit.

- You can't. We got 2 hours left.
- Let me off!

- Nope. Sit down and take a breath.
- Open the door!

- I need this job!
- Open the door!

- Let me off!
- This is why I don't have kids.

Let me off!

Hey, boss. We paid for giggles.

Not my department.

We gonna get a refund?

What are you doing?

Uh…

Uh, what's up, guys?

I'm Wes.

So, where's everybody from?

Uh, other than New Jersey.

Look, kid, you gotta sit down. Now.

Uh, I know. I'm sorry. I just…
We came for giggles, right?

- Yeah.
- Let's get some giggles in here.

Uh, up ahead, we've got
the world-famous…

squiggle street.

On your right, we have, uh, the house

where Robin Williams brought a donkey
into the party in Mrs. Doubtfire.

Out in the bay, you see it?
That is Alcatraz,

the famous prison that is known
for hosting legendary criminals

like Al Capone and, um, Sean Connery.

Okay, look, child, you're gonna have
to sit down now or I will kick you off.

- Last thing. On your left…
- Seriously?

…is the delectable Flâner.
I don't want to embarrass her,

but we are actually in the presence

of one of San Francisco's
most talented up-and-coming chefs.

She taught Chef Bastien
everything he knows because she...

she is most definitely built for this.

Okay, Romeo, show's over.

- I'm going. I just have one more thing.
- I know you are. No, you don't.

- Let's go. And you're done.
- ♪ I left my heart ♪

- Off! Uh-huh. All right.
- ♪ In San Francisco ♪

I just need to finish!

- ♪ High on a hill ♪
- Dude!

♪ She calls to me ♪

- Let go!
- ♪ When I come home to you ♪

- All right. Fine.
- ♪ San Francisco! ♪

♪ Your golden sun ♪

♪ Will shine ♪

♪ For me ♪

I guess the scouts have no honor, huh?

It's a good thing I wasn't a Boy Scout.

Yeah, all right!

Ah, ta-da!

Blue crab and corn fritters
with smoked jalapeño aioli.

- Wow.
- Voilà!

- This is insane.
- Yay.

- What?
- Is it good?

Are you kidding me?
Chef Bastien is an idiot.

He is sitting on a gold mine.

How did you even learn how to do this?

Um…

My sister was stuck at home
a lot as a kid.

She was really sick.

And the kitchen was our happy place.

We were like two little mad scientists.

We always thought we were
on the verge of discovering something

the world had never seen.

My sister…

Isabelle, she died.

In November. She had cystic fibrosis.

I'm so sorry, Jill.

She was just the love of my life. No big.

- I bet she's proud of you.
- Uh…

I was much cooler as a kid.
I peaked at like 12.

I would do the craziest shit
just to come home with a story for her.

I would've tried crack
if it made her laugh.

And now, I think I might be
a little bit dead inside.

Jill…

you couldn't be less dead inside.

What you need to do

is you need to get out there

and try crack.

Come with me…

to Breeda and Andy's wedding.

Hm.

Okay.

I'll ask my overlord.

All right.

Ready for the main course?

There's more?

- I… This was already so impressive.
- Come on!

How could you make more? I don't even…

- Shut up.
- You can't top this.

Okay.

Is that chicken pot pie?

With cornbread crust.

You made this for me?

Yeah. I mean, I have no idea
if it's anything like your mom's.

It was a full-blown experiment,
but we will see.

All right.

Uh…

I'm gonna go… Just…
I'm gonna prep dessert, okay?

- Sorry.
- No. Sorry.

- Yeah… I just have to go to the bathroom.
- Okay.

All right. You okay?

- Yep.
- Okay.

- Sorry. Uh…
- Oh, no. Okay.

Okay.

Just say it. Just say the words.

Just say it.

Jill. Hey, Jill. I've been…

I've been getting your voicemails.
I've been getting…

Oh, shit.

Jill.

Uh…

I, um…

No, it's okay.

It's totally okay.

Um…

Want to just watch Top Chef?

I took a date-based ganache.
I shaped it into a small sphere,

and I coated it
in a cocoa-infused beignet dough before…

Jill, I've been getting your voicemails.

I like the surprise
in the middle. It's nice.

I went with
a bombolone-style donut.

I worked in fresh orange and lemon zest,
fried it off,

and finished it
with a passionfruit cream filling.

The texture's great.

Dessert tacos.

Dessert tacos?

When Izzy was super sick,
they tried to get her to eat,

and she'd throw everything up
except her favorite.

Dessert tacos. And that is my specialty.

Magic: The Gathering.

The card game?

Actually, they're not just cards.
They're actually collectible.

They're really valuable.

But, um, my mom, uh…

she would buy them for me,

and she bought me my first pack, and…

I just need the Alpha Black Lotus
to complete the Power Nine.

It's one of the rarest cards in the world.

That's what I've been… working towards.

Wow.

And I think I may have found one on eBay.

- Really?
- Yeah.

So…

I gotta confess,
I was actually gonna ghost you

for not having the full… Power Nine.

So now I don't have to.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Okay, wow. Still in the game.

Still in the game.

I'll see you at home.

Yeah.

Safe flight.

Thanks.

Last breath of freedom
till you're chained for life.

- Hey!
- Yay!

Oh! We are excited to meet Jill.

Yeah, we are.

Oh, no.

I knew it.

What happened, Wes?

Nothing. Nothing.

We're just hanging out.

All right, I admit that things
have gotten a little intense.

Intense? You're the one
that flew to another city for this girl.

No, I flew to another city for work.

- Oh, for work.
- Oh, yes, of course.

- It was a work trip.
- Work trip, and...

All I'm saying is once in a while, Wes,

someone comes along
that changes the whole game.

Yeah, don't be so busy scoring
that you miss it.

Wow.

- That was good. So good.
- That was nice.

- Copyright that.
- Every single time.

Wait a minute. Wait. You didn't tell us
what happened with the voicemails.

- You didn't tell her?
- O.M. God.

I'm going to.

- Liar, liar!
- Guys, look.

Oh, my God, this is like a sick reboot
of You've Got Mail.

Tom Hanks is America's sweetheart!

You are not Tom Hanks!

I might slap him.

- Violence is never...
- Slap him.

- Hey! Hey!
- Wes, tell her the truth.

- I'm going to.
- Okay? Yes.

- Tell her the truth, Wes.
- I will! In person.

I swear on my mom.

- Well, now we can't say anything.
- Yeah.

Good evening, everyone. I'm Wes.

Andy's younger, dreamier cousin.

- Lies.
- If not by blood.

Our mothers were best friends.

And Breeda is the older sister
that I never had.

Aww.

So I tried to warn 'em both
that marriage is Russian roulette, okay?

- Should we go over the divorce rate?
- No.

Okay, suffice it to say,
I wouldn't consider myself a romantic.

Aw.

But, um…

did you know that these two
weren't even supposed to meet?

Andy's alarm randomly didn't go off.

This man has never been late
to anything in his entire life.

And he missed his dentist appointment.
And he loves the dentist.

- It's true.
- I do.

They made him wait for an hour,
and he was about to walk out,

when Breeda walked in.

Aww.

If that alarm had gone off
when it was supposed to,

these two would never have met,
and we would not be here tonight.

I don't know about gambling on forever,

but I do know this.

You're proof

that sometimes

life rigs things in our favor.

To Breeda and Andy.

Yeah!

You made a believer out of me.

- I am so proud of you.
- Couldn't have done it without you, coach.

That was beautiful.

- Your hands are so cold.
- I know.

What?

Wait, let's warm you up.

Jeez.

Thanks.

- Can I top you off?
- Yes, please.

Thanks.

- There she is.
- Oh, my God! Jill!

Oh, wow. I am so starstruck.

Oh, my God!

Can I get one more
and a whiskey on the rocks?

- Yes.
- Thank you for being here. You're so cute.

- Congrats!
- Enjoy. Thank you!

- Oh, my God.
- Look who decided to show up!

- Oh, my God, are you okay?
- I'm so sorry.

- Are you all right?
- Sorry.

Jill! Hey, Jill! Jill, wait!

Why is my sister's number
connected to your phone, Wes?

Okay, it's... It's a crazy story.

I… I got a work phone,

and then I inherited
your sister's phone number.

- What are you talking about? How?
- After she died.

But my sister died in November.

So, you've been getting my…

voicemails this entire time?

I was going to tell you. I just…
Things kept happening.

- And I...
- What did you hear?

Wes, what did you hear?

My bench?

You knew that I was gonna be at my bench.

You knew about José's, about my fantasy.

You knew about my sister.
You knew everything?

You knew everything.

- Oh, my God, I'm gonna die.
- Just… Jill.

- No. I knew it.
- Jill.

- Hold on.
- I knew that this was too good to be true.

- No, Jill.
- It was too perfect, I was too happy.

And I'm not... I'm not that lucky.

- I was gonna tell you.
- Take this.

I promise. I…

I know how much you loved Isabelle, and...

No, you do not!

You wouldn't know anything about that.

You're right.

I don't.

You deserve someone
that can love you like that, and…

I don't know how.

That's crazy.

So you heard all my voicemails,

and you still don't get it.

Those voicemails
are not a plea to the universe,

"God, send me somebody to love me!"

I don't need a man.

What I need is my little sister back.

Wait.

No, no, no, no.

No, that's…

Please, no!

Mettez-vous en rang!

Line up!

Prep piggies.

Yes, Chef!

The time has come to see which of you,

if any,

has what it takes to bake.

Le soufflé.

- I just have a quick question...
- Begin!

Vingt et une minutes.
"Twenty-one minutes."

Fuck you.

Quatorze minutes.

"Fourteen minutes."

No.

Help me, brother. Pears, plums.
Dragon fruit with chocolate?

Chocolate crème? That's boring.
What would you do?

What would you do?

Fruit…

of the gods.

Pistache. Pistache and…

Raspberry coulis.

Oh, my God, that's perfect.

Oh!

Oh, so sorry.
I didn't hear you say "corner,"

Kumquat.

Okay.

Oh!

One minute.

What in the world are you doing?

And three, two, one.

Time!

Very good. Très bien.

Le moment de vérité.

"The moment of truth."

Hm.

It's everything
you've ever taught me, Chef.

Enjoy.

- You do me great honor.
- Thank you, Chef.

Yes.

Soufflé pancakes
with flambé kumquats,

cream chantilly,
and ground pistachios, Chef.

Being a baker
is about precision.

Consistency.

Being a baker is not
about desperate, frantic experimentation.

Congratulations, young man.

Me?

Me? What?

Yes!

Yeah!

This is a joke, right?

This is a funny little ha-ha,
little hee-hee joke, no?

- No.
- You barely tasted that.

And why might that be?

Maybe because…

Uh… no.

It's raw?

But you knew that, didn't you?

Did you also know
that while you're busy out there,

pretending to be Timothée Chalamet,

he's been sticking pubes in tarts
and butter in freezers?

And you know what? Did you ever consider

that the girl with the dead sister might
be the one who wants to cry during sex?!

So, sugar tits, look at me.

I did not leave my home
and my beautiful family

to waste this one wild and precious life

working for the goddamn
Temu Gordon Ramsay.

You finished…

fourth on Top Chef!

It was third!

And you can drop
the bad Lumière impression

because we all know
that you're from Wisconsin.

And that your name…

No!

…is Gilbert!

It's actually Gilbert.

Who's coming with me?

Who's coming with me?

♪ Happy birthday to me ♪

Surprise!

Oh, my God.

I went full Jilly Maguire.

You told 'em to come with you, didn't you?

Yeah. Yeah, I did.

No one came with you, did they?

No. No, they did not.

Cowards.

Not really. Where are they
supposed to come to?

I have nothing built.

I have nothing to offer anyone.

Maybe this isn't who I am anymore.

And I just need to accept it.
I need to grow up.

It's time to grow up.
It's time to get a job in accounting.

- Honey, you're not good at math.
- So bad.

Maybe I'm good now.

I haven't counted in a long time.

Okay. Um…

We, uh, got something for you.

We found it in the garage.

I feel like I'm letting her down.

Honey.

You are her hero.

Maybe her hero just wants to go back home.

Well, then your home
will be waiting for you.

Always.

Sweetheart, there's, uh,
something else in there.

What?

What is... What is this?

Izzy's college fund.

No, I'm not… I can't take that.

It's not much, but we know
she'd want you to have it.

You could use it to come back home,
get a new apartment,

maybe a job in accounting.

Or you could use it to give 'em hell.

What would Izzy say?

- No.

- I suck.

Oh, my God.

Hi, sir. Are you interested
in trying one of…

Hi.

- Wow.
- Hi.

Hey.

Uh, can we get the Ube All Day nachos?

Yes.

Thank you.

Oh, my God!

Shit, it's on fire!

So sorry.

I can't make your dessert nachos…

anymore.

I hate you.

I'm so sorry.

You've taught her to hate.

Stupid.

We're closed!

I said we're closed!

- Zella, what are you doing here?
- Shit.

Short circuit?

I guess.

Probably overloaded the battery.

Need to beef up the power system.

Why are you pre-making chips?
Everything needs to be served hot.

Well, I don't have time
to make fresh chips every single order.

Seems like you do.

Which brings me to why,
in all that's holy,

are you parked in the Marina?

The Marina's pretty,
and there's lots of joggers and...

Preppy tech bros and Karens
and vegan Alo clones?

Everyone hates the Marina.

The Marina hates itself.

It's basically LA.

Let's pretend this little soft opening…

extra soft, flaccid opening
never happened.

We move the truck
to our grand reopening at Hippie Hill.

"We"?

You asked who was with you, right?

Yeah.

I'm with you, okay?

I'm with you.

Why?

You're good.

And so am I.

And if you can't join 'em, beat 'em.

- Hi.
- Jill.

You're home.

Hi, honey.

Yeah. Okay, perfect.

Okay.

Mm.

I ate. I just wanted
to come say hi to you.

- Hi.
- Hi.

How are you?

Will you talk to me?

We never see you anymore.

Wes, you spend every night at José's.

- She's not at José's.
- I know that.

- Do you know that?
- I… know that.

I just love José's.

No one loves José's that much.

José doesn't love José's that much.

I love José's that much.

Jill's doing really well. If it helps.

- She got a food truck.
- How do you know?

Obviously, I follow her on Instagram.
She's adorable.

You don't ever peek?

I think she's had enough
of me peeking into her life.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I hope she got her voicemails back.

What?

She posted about losing
all of her voicemails from Isabelle.

It was a while ago.

She was asking if anyone
knew how to recover them.

Voicemails?

They're encrypted.

Probably already wiped.

Even if they're not,
you'd have to hack into a telecom server,

which is how you end up on a watch list.

Why don't you try getting your sales
the old-fashioned way, Wes? By selling.

No, Felix, it's not for a sale, man.

It's for a girl.

And I did everything wrong.

But this feels like one thing…

I don't know, maybe the only thing
that I can do right.

Magic: The Gathering?

What do you think I am? A loser?

That, Felix, is an Alpha Edition
Black Lotus card.

That's the most valuable thing I own.

If anyone can do this, it's you.

Wes!

Maybe you should just… call her?

No. She wouldn't answer.

Then…

leave her a voicemail.

You've reached Jill,
and you know the drill.

Hey, Jill. Uh, it's Wes.

Been a minute.

Um…

I saw your food truck is popping off.

I'm so proud of you.

I… If I can say that. Um…

I just…

I wanted to let you know that,
uh, I got a new work number,

so you can continue to leave voicemails.

Um, I paid for the line
to the end of next year.

And I can extend it longer too.

Um, as long as you want.

And no one will be listening.

Just Izzy.

You probably have plans tonight, um,

but I was thinking
of ringing in the New Year at José's.

You know, who needs a midnight kiss
when you can smash a taco? Am I right?

That, um…

Sorry, that sounded better in my head. Uh…

I don't even know if you're in town.

So, um…

Happy New Year, Jill.

- Intervention.
- What?

- Intervention!
- What are you...

- You stood us up! Again.
- Mm-hm!

No cousin of mine is spending
New Year's alone, crying to Taylor Swift.

I don't cry to Taylor Swift.

- The whole block can hear!
- They're complaining again.

- Okay, well, I have plans tonight, so…
- No more tacos!

Yes, tacos!

I miss the old Wes!

I'm sorry. The old Wes can't come
to the phone right now.

- Why? Oh…
- Oh, no. Don't you dare.

- Because he's dead.
- Get your ass in the shower!

My God, you need a shower.
We are going to the party.

- No!
- Yes!

Okay. Very mature.

No!

I'm Postmating champagne.

- Very nice.
- Wait.

Look what you made me do!

I was thinking
of ringing in the New Year at José's.

You know, who needs a midnight kiss
when you can smash a taco? Am I right?

What?

Thirty minutes.

Whoo!

Whoo.

What was it about her, Wes?

She had no filter to speak of.

Hm.

Her cheeks were always full of food,

like a…

sexy chipmunk.

And…

- Do you guys know what a kumquat is?
- Nope.

A small citrus fruit
native to Southeast Asia.

Yeah.

That was weird.

And her laugh.

It was, um…

Yeah.

I am broken.

And she was the dream.

Have you told her that?

She is home for the holidays.

No, it's too late.

You said it, Breeds,
like, she's not there.

Why would she be? She…

I don't deserve that.

Maybe sometimes life rigs things
in our favor.

What?

Oh, my God.

Hello?

Hello? I think I have the wrong number.

I'm trying to reach my big brother, Jill,

who has an interview today.
Maybe you've heard of her?

My brother, Jill, who macked
on Colin Corwin then whupped his ass.

My brother that is the hottest,
bravest, baddest bitch on the block.

Condoms wear her for protection.

"Simba, remember who you are."

That was not my best.

I've got a good feeling
about this one, Jilly.

It's okay if you're scared.
I'm right there with you.

You feel that?

That's me, brother.

Get out there.

This is the part where you run, Wes.

- Run!
- You have 15 minutes.

- Okay. Run?
- Now. Go.

- I should go?
- Yes, go.

- Love you.
- Oh, there he goes.

Oh, shit! Whoa!

Get out of the street!

Sorry!

Just... Just looking for somebody.
I'll just be one second.

- Hi.
- Wait. Jill. Um…

I gotta tell you something.

I love you.

In a very uncool, desperate,
all-consuming kind of way.

But it wasn't from the moment
that I saw you.

It was… before then.

And…

I'm scared.

And I…

I don't really have
the tools for this. But…

you make me feel brave.

You make me feel everything.

I know that you don't need a man, Jill.

But I sure as hell need you.

That was good. Really good.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

- I feel like Meg Ryan.
- Mm.

Well, then that would make me Tom...

Oh, sorry!

I told you, I said I was leaving. Okay.

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

- Lo siento.
- Thank you.

Hello.

Oh, sorry. Just give me one sec.

I'm gonna go take my break, okay?

- Do it up.
- Okay.

Next.

Your call
has been forwarded to voicemail.

Hey, Isabelle.

This is Wes.

I wanted to ask for your blessing.

I'm gonna ask Jill to move in with me.

Or here, so…

I mean, I guess I'm actually
gonna ask if I can move to her.

Um…

I know that I can never replace you, but…

I promise to watch
every episode of Top Chef.

Even after I've seen 'em all.

And, yes, I promise to partake
in all the Robyn dance parties.

I am…

sorry I never got to meet you.

I always wanted a little sister.

So if there's any way
that you could just, like, give me a sign.

Hey, Izz.

I'll be really quick.

I'll let you get back to margaritas
with Grandpa and Elvis, but I…

I just wanted to let you know
that this is my last voicemail.

And I wanted to tell you
not to worry about me, okay?

I'm gonna be all right.

This Wes kid…

I think he's a bird like us.

I mean, he can't fry an egg,

and he acts all cool,

but he's actually
a Magic: The Gathering nerd.

And he says that he can't dance.
I… I'm working on it.

But yeah, I just wanted to call
and say that…

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God, Izz, it's our song.
It's Robyn! It's Robyn!

Like a dove with a sign
that says, "Yes, Wes."

- It's Robyn!
- Ooh... I gotta go.

It's Robyn!

Bitch really loves Robyn.

Well played.

You ready?

I love you, Isabelle.