All language subtitles for Suburban Girl_BDrip_en

Hobby of yours?

Let me guess, you're the author?

No. I just... I felt compelled, really.

I mean, you have to admit
it's a little unfair.

You know, you have all
the copies of that one book

and not a single copy of
the critically-acclaimed,

New York Times noteworthy Silent Day,
edited by yours truly.

So you're an editor at Gitlin & Stern?

Associate, actually. But yes.

Hopefully, if this book hits, I
will be promoted to full editor.

Then I'll get invited to
fabulous, upscale cocktail parties.

And guess who's gonna be my plus one?

You should take this
up with Archie Knox,

the editor-in-chief of
Stratharen Publishing.

- I know who Archie Knox is.
- Well, if you did,

you know Mr. Knox personally inspects
every single window display in Manhattan.

And if he sees your insignificant book

occupying his author's
significant space,

I guarantee you'll spend the
rest of your pitiful career

editing Teletubby books.

Put those books back!

Why not use a pen?

Maybe then you wouldn't
change your mind so much.

You know what? Hell with it. Taxi!

Chloe! I'm here!

- You are totally late.
- I know.

- I'm sorry, I was totally stuck in traffic.
- Uh-huh.

Do you have any idea what standing in front
of a library could do to my reputation?

You used to love libraries.
Remember in school?

I think you had sex in one.

Why are we here?

Because I'll never make full editor
until we start mixing with the oligarchs.

Okay.

And he is one of them.

- That's Archie Knox.
- He's cute.

He's a legend in my business.

My Aunt Hilda used to hang
out with him in the '70s.

She said that he was so charming,
dogs used to follow him around.

Makes sense. Dogs follow dogs.

Okay, everybody.

Tonight's my great pleasure to introduce

Mr. Archie Knox.

Mr. Knox has been Mickey
Lamm's editor for 25 years.

Without further ado, I'm going

to let him introduce his author.

Everybody, Mr. Archie Knox.

Make sure that you read this with food.

- Not on an empty stomach, okay?
- Thank you.

Is there anyone special
I can make it out to?

Oh, that's okay, you
don't have to sign it.

I'm not gonna read it anyway.

Well, I think that qualifies
you as the brightest person here.

Here you go.

- How about you?
- You could...

Stop flirting, Mickey. She's
much too pretty for you.

There he goes again.
He's stealing my groupies.

You can make it out to Brett.

Let me guess. Your novelist
father named you after

Brett Ashley in The Sun Also Rises.

My father's a doctor.

But yes, I was named
after that character.

My brother's named Ethan.

After Ethan Frome.

Well, as I always
say, better to be named

after a sensuous 1920s flapper than...

A tragic, desperate man with an
ugly scar across his forehead.

Exactly.

Now, Brett, what are you
doing here among the literati?

I work at Gitlin & Stern.

Really? You know, I knew Jake
Gitlin and Bob Stern years ago

before they killed each other in a duel.

- That's just industry lore.
- Not at all.

If memory serves, they were both on

horses and charged right at each other.

Used copies of Les Mis�rables as
weapons to bludgeon one another to death.

- I heard it was Brothers Karamazov.
- Impossible.

Gitlin and Stern were both Francophiles.

They would never use a Russian novel
as a murder weapon, it's too literal.

- Are you...
- Starving.

I will have the cr�pes
suzette. Thank you.

She's too young to be
having dessert first,

so would you bring her the ni�oise

salad and I'll have the steak frites.

Very good, Mr. Knox.

I apologize, that's so rude.

- Is that one of those...
- My BlackBerry.

It's reminding me that I should be
reading a manuscript right now.

- You don't have one?
- No.

It can fix your whole life.

Two ex-wives and a spiteful
daughter cannot be "fixed" by a

BoysenBerry.

Archie, darling!

Margaret. Margaret, I want
you to meet my friend Brett,

a rising star at Gitlin & Stern.

Archie.

I'm planning on throwing
a party for Mickey

when he wins the Pulitzer
Prize for fiction.

Isn't that a bit premature?

Margaret has predicted 35 of
the last 40 winners in fiction.

Thirty-six.

Maggie the Greek. By day,
a critic extraordinaire.

By night, a Park Avenue bookie.

I'll be calling you next month
to tell you all the details.

In the meantime, try to be a good boy

and don't keep the little
gazelle up past her bedtime.

Come on, darling.

Leon.

Wait, was that really
Margaret Paddleford?

No, it was Norman Mailer in a dress.

Have a Twizzler?

Anyway, the author's complaints

are making the process unbearable.

I mean, he's whining
about the cover art,

he's complaining about
our choice of release date.

He even hates his publicity photo,
which, incidentally, was retouched

to make him look like Dorian Gray.

Ask to be taken off the project.

I'm the one who brought
the manuscript in.

I can't bail now.

Malt ball?

I'm a diabetic.

Sorry.

Just standing in this place
is making my feet tingle.

You were about to offer some advice?

Well, when it comes to writers,
there's only one rule. Patience.

Of course, if that fails, I
know a very discreet hit-man

who would spread the body
parts all over Jersey.

Serves me right.

My Great Aunt Hilda once told me
never take a job whose sole purpose

is to make people feel imperfect.

Sage advice.

Hilda?

What did you say your last name was?

Eisenberg.

Dear God! You're not related to...

- I'm her grand-niece.
- Hilda Eisenberg?

- Yes.
- I adored Hilda!

You know, the first time I met
her was at Bot�n's in Madrid.

It was Hemingway's favorite
restaurant, famous for its suckling pig,

and Hilda got incredibly drunk

and she bet me that she
could punt the pig carcass

across the entire length of
the dining room, which she did.

Won a hell of a lot of
pesetas. I used that in my book.

- You wrote a book?
- One.

Years ago. It's on Amazon's
endangered species list.

Dear Hilda. She was the most
beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Let me see your face.

I can see her in your eyes.

This is me.

You live in Hilda's old apartment?

- You've been here?
- Many, many nights, yeah.

Her parties were legendary.

Well, she left it in the family
and I have temporary custody.

I have a boyfriend.

I have a goldfish.

Well, then...

Is he in there? The boyfriend.

No. Actually, he's...

He's over there.

- Papaya King?
- Europe.

He's finding himself.

Why did he have to travel 3,000
miles to find himself without you?

What do I know?

Good night, Pumpkin.

Good night.

Hey.
- Good morning, Brett.

Uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

Okay, so what's the
cost difference between

a partial ocean view
and a full ocean view?

Excuse me?

Let me speak to my boss
and get back to you. Damn!

Why are you in my office?

I knew no one was gonna tell you,
but I'm not gonna get stuck with it.

- Am I fired?
- Just go up to your boss's office

and speak to Faye.
She'll explain everything.

- Who's Faye?
- Reservations, please.

Oh, it feels good. The
burn. The burn feels good.

Can you give me a hand here?

- You must be Katie.
- I'm Brett.

Oh, right. The one with the office.
Well, Brett, it's nice to meet you.

I'm your new boss, Faye Faulkner.

Yes. That Faulkner.

- What happened to Dorrie?
- Dorrie's dead.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

You see, Dorrie was the
victim of her own futile search

for something that no longer exists.

A great novelist.

Sorry about your office, by the way.

My assistant Jason needed some privacy

to make sure the
transition went smoothly,

but I'll be sure you get
it back in a week or so.

Sure. It's no problem.

In the meantime, just go about your work

until the evaluation process ends, hmm?

Okay.

Oh, wait. One more thing.

Faye Faulkner.

Jean-Claude.

It's a private invitation
to a Bergdorf sale tonight.

Forty off. Enjoy.

- What happened?
- Dorrie got fired.

Damn it. After I spent a year
kissing her cellulite-riddled ass.

Oh, the news gets even worse. She's
been replaced by Faye Faulkner.

Oh, God, no. My friend worked for Faye
over at Viking. She quit after a week.

Told me she'd rather work for Al Qaeda.

She's not wearing any underwear.

She probably slept her way over here.

Seaver, not every successful
woman uses sex to get ahead.

The pretty ones do. The ugly ones can't.

You should see the idiot
they put in my office.

I'm stuck in this cubicle.

Well, it's just Dorrie was the one
who hired me in the first place.

She even thought I could make
editor by the end of the year.

Now that she's gone every one of
my projects could be in jeopardy.

Well, let's see what develops
in the next few weeks.

No reason to panic yet. Okay?

- Okay. I love you, Daddy.
- Love you too, honey.

Some dude called for you.

What?

One of your calls got misdirected.
Some dude named Jughead,

or Archie. He left a voice mail.
I might have saved it. I don't...

Mail box 107. One new message.

It's Archie.

You sound hungry on
your outgoing message,

so I decided to cook you dinner tonight.

8:30. 159 East 61st Street.

See you then. Oh, don't
forget a chaperone.

Holy shit.

How do I look?

No chaperone?

I switched cars. I think I lost him.

How about a tour?

This is my daughter's room.

- She likes Coltrane?
- Only since she was three.

Who's that?

That's Milan Kundera.

I knew that.

- Master bedroom.
- No, thanks.

I'll be up soon, darling.

Don't be silly, I'm just
feeding a hungry child.

And the next day she was gone.

Dorrie was the closest
thing I ever had to a mentor.

So now you have to take your marching
orders from the likes of Faye Faulkner?

Well, she's a Brit, but claims to be related
to the quintessential American author.

Maybe I should change
my name to Brett Bront�.

Thank you.

You're not drinking?

I'm an alcoholic.

- You're not joking.
- No.

I'm sorry.

I did it again.

I'll have three years sober this May.

I'll be three years legal this May.

So...

Who's this On the Road fella of yours?

- Jed.
- Jed?

That's his name? Jed?

Does he make you happy?

Sure.

You know Dante's definition of hell?

Give me a minute.

"Proximity without intimacy. "

Dante never said that.

Of course he did.

Didn't he?

Well, I'll be damned.

You're right.

Don't forget this.

What is it?

To answer that question would make this
beautiful wrapping job I did superfluous.

No, no, wait until you're alone.

It'll be more dramatic that way.

Is this all some sort of experiment?

To see how long it takes
to seduce a young girl?

Seduce? Why would I want to do that?

Think about it. What
would the point of that be?

What would be the point of seducing you?

Stop by if you change your mind.

Any time of the night or day.

Surprise!

Ted!

God! When did you get back?

Just a couple of hours ago.

Well, why didn't you tell me? I
could have met you at the airport.

Well, I wanted to surprise you.

You did.

I had to make sure you
were being a virtuous,

God-fearing,

woman

while I was on the front.

Know what I really missed?

Your grilled cheese.

It's Archie.

I left a little present for
you at your favorite book store.

Hope you don't mind.

Jed, I...

- I think there's someone else.
- Huh?

There's someone else!

Jesus, B, there's no one else.

Okay, look, I might have hooked
up with a chick in Sweden,

but I swear it was temporary insanity.
I was reading too much Strindberg...

Jed, for once in your
life, listen to me.

Okay? I'm telling you
that I met someone else.

Quit fooling around.
I really missed you...

No, you didn't.

In six months I got one postcard.

From Sweden.

Now I know why.

Come on, Brett, you can't
just dump me like this.

Look how romantic I'm being?

- Come on, give me a chance.
- I gave you a chance!

And you know what you did?

You went to Europe without me.

Will you at least put me up for
a few weeks? Till I find a place?

On the couch.

For me or you?

You ready?

Did Van Gogh have one ear?

I just need to get my
bag. I'll be a second.

You're pretty chipper
for a girl in mourning.

Mourning? Over Jed?

Give me a little more credit than that.

Oh, really? I thought
for sure you'd be upset.

Is that the only decent excuse
for a visit? Relationship trauma?

Well, you guys have been
together for over a year.

Six months of which he spent in Europe

suffering from a peculiar
form of Stockholm syndrome.

Yeah.

Why? Don't you think we
should've stayed together?

Well, how I felt about
Jed is totally irrelevant.

Even more so now that you
two are no longer an item.

You know, I think I've met someone
else. He's a little bit older.

That fast, huh?

- He's an editor.
- Hey! Here they are.

He used to be friendly with Aunt Hilda.

He is really more of a friend, though.

Have I ever told you
that you've perfected

the art of parental non-interference?

Well, the Hippocratic oath is
very clear. "First, do no harm. "

Especially to daughters.

So, what else do we absolutely,
positively have to have?

- Oh! A pair of Gucci shoes.
- Oh! How about a shower curtain?

Even better.

Now, you promise me that you're gonna
have your building super put those up.

With or without batteries?

- I love you.
- I love you too, honey.

What is it, honey?

I just miss you, Daddy. That's all.

I know.

Shut up.

Well, what have we here?

Looky what I got.

A final copy of the Jane
Shanning book you edited.

No way! I've been
reading so much lately,

I almost forgot I was an associate.

Hey, guys.

What's the matter?

No acknowledgment.

Six months editing a book on
penguins and I get nothing.

Don't feel bad. An
author I once worked with

passed me over for his dental hygienist.

Maybe I can cheer you up. I got tickets

to a movie premiere
tonight. Any interest?

Thanks, but Archie and I are going
to the Berkshires for the weekend.

What, is he too cheap to
pony up for the Hamptons?

Archie detests the Hamptons.

He says sitting on the LIE
is suburban chemotherapy.

This is top priority. Faye wants
a reader's report by Monday.

Have a terrific weekend.

Especially you. I haven't
met you. What is your name?

It doesn't matter. I
like the whole denim,

plain-Jane thing. You into pornography?

Oh! I need coffee. Stat.

How's the book? Almost
as bad as your music.

Faye's giving me everything
she doesn't want to read.

Mafia wars, Victorian epics,
Bridget Jones knock-offs.

If I get a celebrity bio,
I'm gonna drink bleach.

Want me to make some calls?

I'm kidding.

- I'm kidding.
- You're not funny.

I think you're just jealous of my hat.

- Hey, Arch?
- Yes, doll?

- Who were you on the phone with?
- Elizabeth.

You told me that your daughter
refuses to speak to you.

I left her a message.

That's not what I mean.

Why today, while peeing in the
bathroom at Rooster's Burgers,

did you suddenly have
the urge to call her?

Because it's her birthday.

Maybe you should think
about getting her a gift.

- Already did.
- What'd you get her?

A BoysenBerry.

You know, you never
told me, not exactly,

why she won't talk to you.

Bless that girl, I think she
would have forgiven me anything.

The cheating, the
drinking, even the divorce.

But there's one thing she
would never forgive me for.

And that's that I didn't
fight for her love.

I ran.

I think if I had just
tried to get custody,

no matter how fruitless
it might have been,

everything would be different now.

Thanks for telling me, Archie.

Number 51, your order's ready.

I'll get the food.

What's the matter, kiddo?

I think I'm having a
work-related panic attack.

You want my help?

No.

- Okay.
- Please?

These are all for Faye?

Mostly.

I've actually read a lot of them.

I just couldn't make a decision
if they were good or bad.

So I re-read them and
then I got more confused.

Now I can't reject anything at all.

Well, it's perfectly natural to doubt

your judgment about
doubting your judgment.

Let's see what you're reading.

"They did good rowing,
Dave and Michelle.

"When she was pregnant with
Carl, he'd hit her once.

"Her body always assailed
him with ambivalence,

"wanting to possess it and yet repelled.

"Her marbled belly, her
engorged breasts had shamed him

"the way they tipped
him into revulsion. "

You read this whole thing?

Twice?

Including the 50-page description of

the blizzard that covered all of Dublin.

It's shit.

It's by a writer who wants
to be the next James Joyce.

- What if he is the next Joyce?
- He ain't.

I can't just say that. I mean,

Faye wants me to write reader's reports.

You're an associate. Why
are you writing reports?

Okay. I want you to
grab a pad, Eisenberg.

I want you to take a memo and I
want you to write this verbatim.

This writer wants to be
the next James Joyce, comma,

maybe he is, comma,

but I can't get past the first chapter.

Period.

That's it?

And then what do I do
when Faye complains?

Tell her that writing reports is
not an efficient use of your time.

It's not an efficient use of your time.

Next batter.

Secrets Will Rise by Steven Freeberg.

I'll be up all night.

Now, that is sexy.

- Come on!
- No!

There's nothing wrong
with your judgment.

Alcoholic. Diabetic.

More than twice your age.

And you still are really
considering moving in with this guy?

I know, it's nuts,

but when I'm with him I feel like...

Like a better version
of myself, you know?

Funnier, smarter, sexier.

So you gonna bring him
home to meet your dad?

Why not? They can talk about
retirement plans and golf.

What if he just starts
making out with your mother?

Or has a stroke.

Just keels over in the
middle of Thanksgiving dinner?

Don't let her scare you off.
Older men are a great bet.

Assuming, of course, you can
ignore the ex-wives and bratty kids.

Did anyone ask for your opinion?

- No.
- Down.

Anyway, I have a hunch there's
nothing I can say to stop this madness.

Well, you know what they say.

"Tell a girl she can't
have something... "

- "She wants it even more. "
- "She wants it even more. "

Snooping already?

Who are they?

Every woman I've seriously
dated for the last 25 years.

Collecting them all in one book?

It's a little self-congratulatory,
don't you think?

Lauren, an ex-girlfriend of
mine, put this together for me.

I can't ever imagine being
secure enough to do that.

There's a strange phenomenon here.

As you get older, the
women keep getting younger.

Oh.

That's Lauren. Right there.

- That's Lauren Hutton.
- Most certainly is.

Here's Elizabeth's mother. Here.

- Your first wife?
- Yeah. We met at Princeton.

I was a professor, faking my
way through a class on Borges.

And she came into my office one day
and said she knew that I was a fake,

but was in love with me nonetheless,
and I married her three months later.

What makes you think I want to
hear about your flock of women?

First of all, it's not
a flock, it's a gaggle.

And second of all, this is my
life we're talking about here.

I see.

I got you something.

Oh, I hope it's what I want.

You might need these.

Oh, you're so mean.

"Thanks for letting me
share your home, XO, Brett. "

XO.

The two-letter cop-out
for those who are too

afraid to use the
four-letter alternative.

Just open it.

Great Scott!

I've entered the 21st century!

I think it needs a Valium.

I sent you a text message.

- Click the wheel on the right twice.
- Here?

Yes.

What do I do now?

Read it.

Really?

On the stairs?

- These notes are great.
- Thank you.

But the reader's reports you wrote

before were a lot more thorough.

Reports don't seem like an
efficient use of my time.

I guess notes are fine.

Now, I've just completed my
overview of Dorrie's acquisitions.

And it seems there's a book she

bought for you called Peanut Butter...

Peanut Butter Blues,
by Leonard Putterman.

That's a pet project of mine.

That's quite an advance for a story
about people with arachnophobia.

Arachibutyrophobia.

- I beg your pardon?
- Arachibutyrophobia.

Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders.

Arachibutyrophobia is the
fear of peanut butter sticking

to the roof of your mouth.

The book could strike a nerve.

Yeah.

Do yourself a favor. Finish
it up quickly and move on.

- Understood?
- Yes.

Did Archie tell you to say that?

That's what he used to tell me to say.

"Reports don't seem like an
efficient use of my time. "

You going my way?

Hey, guess who called me today?

- I don't know. Who?
- Elizabeth.

The first time in two years. Man,

she must have really loved that gift.

- I guess so.
- You know what I was thinking?

I would get us all tickets to
go to the Jackson Browne concert.

- What do you think?
- Who?

Funny, that's exactly what she said.

You know, Archie, if you want to
take your daughter to a concert,

maybe you should ask
her who she wants to see.

Look, I know this is awkward.
You being the same age and all.

But I thought if you would come with us,

maybe I wouldn't bungle
the whole evening.

You know what I'm saying?

I don't think that's such a good idea.

Hey.

- I don't get it.
- Go on. Try it on.

What's wrong with what I'm wearing?

It's... It's perfectly fine.

"Perfectly fine?"

My friend just won the Pulitzer Prize.

Would you indulge me?

I like what I'm wearing.

My father bought me this dress. I
spent three pay checks on my shoes.

He's infantilizing you a bit, just
a little bit. I mean, it's a little...

...asexual.

You'd prefer a crotchless teddy?

Look, that dress says, and
very lucidly, I might add,

that you're an associate
editor from a small imprint

who just got off the bus
from Cherry Hill, New Jersey.

Don't make fun of my family.

How could I make fun of
people I've never met?

Archie, why are you picking on me?

- Look at this dress!
- I see it!

Where is Brett?

Where did she go? What
did you do with her?

I want my Brett back.

Archie, darling, come in, come in!

You remember Brett.

Well, yes, of course. Hello, dear.

Good evening, Miss Paddleford.

Stunning dress!

Perhaps next time you'd
like to wear open-toes.

It's so much more appropriate
with d�collet�. Don't you think?

Archie, you have to
come with me immediately.

One of your secret admirers is here
and she insists that she meet you,

or her life will be empty.

I think she likes you.

Sid, there's someone I
want you to meet. Sidney!

Hey, there.
- Hi.

Can I get you something?

Yeah. I'm looking for a drink that I can
completely make a fool of myself with.

Coming right up.

I'm scared.
- But just think, Mickey.

Now you are among the
likes of men like Steinbeck

and Updike and Bellow.

Did you guys know that Pulitzer winners'
life expectancy is extremely high?

Did you know that Mickey used to send
a hooker to the home of all the critics

on the eve of the
publication of his books?

Did you guys know that
Archie fucked my boss?

- What?
- Uh-oh.

Yeah! No, that's right.

Archie Knox and the
fabulous Faye Faulkner.

You know, really, though,
I mean, they must have made

a smashing couple. Sound and Fury.

But what I don't understand is why
he didn't feel the need to tell me.

Do you think you're
channeling the spirit

of Zelda Fitzgerald tonight, my dear?

Better than the spirit of Miss Havisham.

Wasn't it William Blake who said that
a proper woman should never be seen

eating or drinking?

It was Byron.

Now if you'll all excuse me,

the jailbait needs to
school her boyfriend.

How could you not tell me?

Because I knew how much
you enjoyed your work

and I didn't want to ruin it for you.

Oh! All this time...

All this time she knew and I didn't.

Do you have any idea
how humiliating that is?

- Why are you so...
- Upset?

Okay. What if your CEO got fired

and then you find out that
he was replaced by someone

smarter than you, someone

better looking than you, someone

younger than you, who's
got a bigger dick than you?

And then you find out

he slept with me.

Wouldn't you feel the
least bit threatened?

Oh, sorry, that's right.
You're Archie Knox.

Editor-in-chief of
Stratharen Publishing!

This man who needs to
just be this enigma, who...

No, no. To be just.

What does justice have to do with it?

No, no, no, no. You said "to just be. "

That's wrong. That's
splitting the infinitive.

Good editors don't split the infinitive.

It's "to be just. "

Are you correcting my grammar right now?

I'm trying to make you better.

Oh!

What if I don't want to be better?

Well, then you'll be an
associate editor forever.

Where are you going?

To the bathroom.

No, don't worry.

No, no, seriously. I'm potty trained.

Don't be a fool, Archie.
Marry that little hussy.

I feel like a bimbo.

Bimbo is masculine.

Bimba would be more accurate.

Can't we just speak like
regular people for once?

What kinds of things
do regular people say?

They say things like,

"I'm sorry, babe. I should
have told you about Faye. "

I'm sorry, babe. I should
have told you about Faye.

Damn right, you should have.

From now on, full disclosure.

I promise.

No more veiled, ironic insults
masquerading as conversation.

That's history. From now on, I'll be
as humorless as a Hollywood sitcom.

- Don't stop being you.
- Never.

So, how'd my performance go
over with the Bloomsbury group?

Oh, you were the talk of the party.

Margaret said nobody's made a splash
there like that since your Aunt Hilda.

She'd be proud, wouldn't she?

Not as proud as me.

Can't we listen to anything
other than Badly Drawn Boy?

No talking in the library.

Come on. I'll even listen
to jazz or Bob Dylan.

For the last time, I'm
preparing for the concert,

and I want Elizabeth to think that

she's got a, you know, hip dad. So...

I can't take it anymore.

Be honest.

You're hyper-editing.

I know.

You're treating it like
it's some kind of a test.

- It is a test.
- You're thinking about Faye.

You ought to be thinking
about the author.

- Mr. Putterman?
- Yeah.

Arch, I need to know if you
think I'll ever be good at this.

You have no idea how
smart you really are.

Now I can afford to make some promises.

Let's leave here, go home
and make love all night.

You can't walk out on Citizen Kane.

That's cinematic blasphemy.

Oh. Well,

take me home, get me naked and
I'll show you blasphemy, Sire.

- What is with you?
- I don't know.

It just must be something you do to me.

Sorry.

Hello? Hi, Daddy.

No, I'm at the movies right
now. Can I call you tomorrow?

Okay. Love you, too. Bye.

You haven't told him about us, have you?

Of course I have.

Brett?

Jed! Hi!

What's the matter? You didn't
take your Ritalin this morning?

- Jed, this is Archie.
- Oh, no need for an introduction.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.
- You, too.

I'd like you to meet my new lady, Petal.

It's great to meet you, Petal.

She's much prettier than you said.

You're much prettier than he said.

He's never mentioned you.

That's a great ensemble you got there.

Did you convert to existentialism?

Oh, Petal hooked me up with
her stylist on her TV show.

TV show?

I'm on hiatus right now doing a play in

the Village about the life of Eva Braun.

You were born to play that role.

She's taking me to the Emmys next week.

- Well, it was good to
see you. We should go.

Yeah. Nice meeting you.

By the way, promise to tell your
mom and dad qu� pasa for me, okay?

Aren't her parents the greatest?

Yeah. Yeah, they are. Take care.

Daddy, I'm not sure if I
belong in this job anymore.

I feel like I'm getting
worse instead of better.

You keep talking about whether
you're good at this or not.

The real question is, do you enjoy it?

I might hate it.

Well, what about your
dream of becoming an editor?

Conquering the publishing world?

I can barely conquer my laundry.

Oh, my God.

I didn't even look at the
time. Daddy, I gotta go.

Is everything okay, honey?

- It's totally fine. I
love you. Bye. Love you too.

Hey.

I'm so sorry!

I was working on the Putterman book and

I completely lost
track of time. Let's go.

Hey. Oh, Archie, come on, don't
be angry with me. I'm sorry.

- Where's Elizabeth?
- She's not here.

Oh. She's late. You wanna
just wait out here for her?

Come on, Brett. Wake up.

She's not coming. She blew me off!

Can't you wrap your little
brain around that idea?

But Archie, did you check your phone?

- She probably left you a message.
- Stop coddling me.

We know there's no message.
There was no message from her,

there was no message from you either.

The difference is that she has me
for an excuse. What's your excuse?

- I told you, I was working on my book.
- No, no, no, no, no.

You've got to stop and
think that when you are late

that tells people that you don't
care, that they can't count on you.

You have to stop and think about
the people you're affecting.

When you should be thinking about
Putterman, you think about Faye.

When you should be thinking about
me, you think about Putterman...

Damn it, Archie, I'm not your daughter!

Yeah, you know what? I
screwed up, I was late.

But you can't blame me
for being a shitty father!

You're right, I am a shitty father.

What was I thinking?

It was so awful.

He wouldn't speak to me all
last night or this morning.

So, Archie is acting like the
self-absorbed jerk that I warned you he was.

I'm ashamed to admit it,

but I think Archie's starting
to make me feel older than I am.

Do you know that I can't even remember
the last time I went to a club?

Or that I watched a movie on Lifetime
instead of a Hitler documentary?

I don't even get proofed anymore.

- What's next, a senior
- citizen discount?

Thank you.

Is it possible that I've been
wrong about Archie all this time?

That his attraction to me isn't
about sleeping with a younger woman,

but it's really about safety?

He's already lived my life.

There's nothing unexpected about me.

There's no problem that I can bring home

that he doesn't have
the right answer to.

He thinks he has the right answer to.

But it works both ways
because I want those answers.

I need those answers.

So he's like this cheat
sheet for your life?

Is that a good thing?

You really shouldn't pose philosophical

questions to graduates of FIT.

Oh, my God. Honey.

Someone is reading your book.

I don't believe it.

Key, please.

Thank you.

Arch! Arch!

Do you know that as we speak,

a woman's eyes are moving over my
precarious, profound punctuation

and my sensible, subtle sentences?

Don't you just love alliteration?

Arch? Do you hear me?

I made a mark on the world.

And I plan to celebrate by
poisoning you with my shrimp scampi!

So come on down and let
the rapprochement begin.

You must be Archie's daughter.

Elizabeth, right?

You have his smile.

His teeth are veneered.

Oh, well...

Maybe I'll see you around sometime.

Arch.

Who is she?

Who is she?

My way out.

So, you dating anyone?

No one special.

Whatever happened to that older guy
you told me about? The big shot editor?

- I had to get rid of him.
- Ah.

Probably for the best.

Your brother's down. Alone this time.

I guess he broke up
with the cosmetologist.

Why is it "probably for the best?"

What?

When I said I got rid of him, you
said it was "probably for the best. "

Why?

I just want to know if there's
something from my childhood.

Something I'm unaware of that's
the key to my life with men.

You know, like a relationship Rosebud.

You finally saw Citizen Kane?

Yeah, Arch...

Stop changing the subject.
Answer my question.

Well, yeah... Listen, if
it's all the same, I...

I'd just soon buy you a sled.

Hi, Mom.
- Hello, honey.

- What's the matter?
- Nothing's the matter.

What do you think? We had it repainted.

- What color is it?
- Alabaster.

No one can even tell the difference.

It looks much better.

Hey.

Hey, Ethan.

Dad's got cancer.

Well, it was really very easy to hide.

Up until this past month,
I didn't even feel sick.

Plus I didn't really want it
to interfere with your lives.

You mean, my life.

Because, evidently, I wasn't
grown up enough to handle it.

I can't believe you told him first!

What does it matter who found out first?

Because it's not right to
keep secrets from family.

You're one to talk.

What's that supposed to mean?

I talked to Jed.

He told me all about this Eddie
Albert guy you've been shacked up with.

All right. Let's knock
it off, kids, huh?

Dad, how much longer?

We can take it.

I made your favorite,
honey. Soft-shell crabs.

Dad is dying and the only thing
you can think to talk about

is alabaster paint and soft-shell crab?

What is wrong with this family?

We gotta eat.

I brought sushi and you're gonna eat it.

So, what can I do to
cheer you up, my love?

You could leave.

My newest, brilliant work of creation.

- It's cute.
- It's yours.

- Try it on.
- Maybe another time.

- I would love to see it on a regular body.
- Regular body?

- Is this your idea of cheering me up?
- What? I bought you sushi.

- I hate sushi!
- Honey, I...

I saw Archie last night.

You did?

I'll tell you all about it as
soon as you try this slip on.

- How are we friends?
- 'Cause you pay me so well?

He was having dinner at Balthazar.

- Was he with someone?
- Couldn't tell.

The point is, Brett, he's obviously
well enough to be seen in public

and, you know,

maybe it's time for you, too, babe.

Honey. Your break-up
diet is working wonders.

Hello? Is that you, Brett?

- Faye?
- Listen, I don't have time to talk.

Binky Urban's having a
cocktail party I have to go to.

So I need you to deal with Cas Coyote.

He'll be waiting for you
at Michael's at 10:00.

10:00 tonight?

Yes, he and his best friend, Jack
Daniels, are touring the East Coast.

They managed to slip in a few
meetings before heading off to Europe.

It's your job to
guarantee Gitlin & Stern

the exclusive first look
to his rock 'n' roll memoir.

- Understand?
- Faye, I'm really not feeling well.

- I don't think I'm the person...
- Bloody hell!

Then stick a few Vicodin up your ass.

Look, darling.

You're not shagging our favorite ex
anymore. So no more special treatment.

Oh, and I won't reimburse
you more than $300,

so no beluga and no Cristal.

That's champagne and caviar,
in case you were wondering.

Thank you.

Excuse me, I'm looking for Cas Coyote.

Mr. Coyote?

Sure, sweetheart. Who
shall I make it out to?

Oh! No, I'm... I'm Brett Eisenberg.

From Gitlin & Stern.

- Where's Faye?
- She's...

She's having a little problem with...

With what?

Herpes.

Let's eat.

Two orders of beluga caviar.
Two bottles of Cristal.

And for the young lady?

I'll... I'll have a cr�me br�l�e.

So, Mr. Coyote.

Why don't you tell me about the memoir?

What it's about, how you see it?

Basically, I am seeking

an initial print run of half a
million copies at an SRP of $24.95.

Obviously, I'd want no
books on consignment,

plus a guarantee for a firm sale.

Absolutely. I mean, it's even
more reasons to go with us.

Our subsidiary rights department is

considered the best in the business.

And our relationship with
Hollywood is also incredible.

We have a direct department that...

Not a film sale!

A firm sale, firm! You do
know what that is, don't you?

Of course. That's what
our legal department does.

She's a flunky, Cas. A little
paper-pusher they sent over here

to buy us dinner and jerk you off.

Look, it's not my job
to negotiate deals.

I help authors find their voice.

- Let's split, honey.
- Please, no, wait.

I'm sorry if I upset you. I'm
just a little under the weather.

I'm sorry I was late, honey.

Traffic was a terror.

Hey, Cas Coyote.

Archie Knox!

I'm flattered you
remember me. Remember you?

Honey, this is the guy who
introduced me to Charles Bukowski.

Your chiropractor?

- Anyway, you mind if I join you?
- Sit.

Congratulations are in order if
you're breaking bread with Brett.

Looks like you're planning
to sign with Gitlin & Stern?

Well, we haven't actually
settled on anything yet.

Well, you better hurry.

You have before you the
savviest editrix in this town.

I've tried to hire
her myself for the last

couple of years and she turned me down.

You know why? She says I'm a letch.

Archie, you are a letch!

Something to eat, Mr. Knox?

Well, why don't you just ask Jacques to
whip up whatever he's in the mood for.

Make sure you put this
on my personal account.

And cancel

whatever the young lady ordered and
bring her a bowl of chicken soup.

Why do you think your Dad
didn't tell you he was sick?

He didn't think I could handle it.

You were right. No matter
how hard he tries, he just...

He can't stop treating
me like a little girl.

Oh, no. He was trying to be noble. He
didn't want to put you through that.

How are you doing on the drinking?

I'm doing pretty good, actually.

I'm taking that pill that makes
you puke when you drink and

went back to AA for a
little refresher course.

You know what they give you when
you mark your sobriety, don't you?

A plastic poker chip.

I wonder what they give
you at Gamblers Anonymous.

You screwed it all up, Arch.

That's my raison d'�tre, baby.

But if it makes you feel better,
I was miserable without you.

And you should see Mickey.

Like his parents got divorced.

Well, the important thing is
that he doesn't blame himself.

Hey.

You want to

sleep over my place?

In the guest room?

I didn't catch that.

Yes.

Go away.

Go away?

Methinks me lady has flipped her lid.

You used to always want my input.

Well, I realized I was relying
way too much on your judgment.

I rely on your judgment.

I ask you to look over
my work from time to time.

You don't need my help, though. If
I wasn't here, you'd be just fine.

Oh, really? You planning
on going somewhere?

Move the dialog to
the bottom of the page.

It will create more suspense
for the chapter break.

Psst!

You love me. Don't even try to deny it.

- Hi, Dad.
- Hello, baby.

- Well, nice to meet you, Archie.
Nice to meet you, Robert. Bob.

- Was the crab a little off?
- Oh, no, no.

- What vintage were they?
- I thought they tasted fine.

Me, too. It was very crabby. Arch?

Well, I do appreciate the attempt

you've all made at avoiding the obvious.

It was a worthy effort. But let's

cut to the chase, shall we?

Robert, how old are you?

Fifty-seven.

And I'm 50.

So, that makes me younger than Robert.

So, everybody feeling
good about that right now?

I am very relieved.

Grow up, Ethan.

How old were you when
Brett was in third grade?

Brett skipped the third grade.

Well played.

Honey? Why don't you come
and help me with the coffee?

- Yeah.
- I made sponge cake. Sugar free.

He's very charming.

Very handsome.

Clearly, very successful.

I don't need a recap of his resume.

I want to know if you like him.

What's not to like? He's very charming.

We need more cream.

Can't you find kids your
own age to play with?

Take as much time as you need.
- I will.

But don't forget that I need you, too.

More than I've ever
needed anybody before.

Because you may not think
so, but you're different.

From all the rest?

Brett? Honey. Wake up.

What is it? What's wrong?
Why are you out of bed?

Honey...

Archie's in the hospital.

His friend Mickey called
a little while ago.

They brought him in late last night.

Severe front-to-back abdominal
pain, high fever, rapid pulse.

If I had to guess, I'd say
it was an acute pancreatitis.

He's a diabetic.

Brett...

Is Archie alcoholic?

Yeah.

Look, you know I don't like
to get involved in your life.

But this is the reason I don't...

That I'm worried about this
relationship with this man.

If Archie isn't going
to take care of himself,

someone else will.

I don't want

you to have to spend your life that way.

Where is he?

Manhattan Hospital.
Come on, get dressed.

- I'll drive you back to the city.
- No, Dad. Are you crazy?

Well, Mickey didn't exactly
sound like a crisis manager.

He's a Pulitzer Prize-winning author.

Yeah.

And you're Brett Eisenberg, MD.

MD?

My Daughter.

Excuse me. I'm looking
for Archie Knox's room.

The Knox suite is right behind you.

Thank you.

Just a minute, miss. Sorry to bug you.

But your father hasn't filled out
his dinner menu yet. Would you mind?

- He's not my father.
- Excuse me?

I said he's not my father!

He's my boyfriend. I have sex with him!

Either way, he eats, right?

Right. Sorry.

He's my boyfriend. I have sex with him!

Great. It's the cast of Cocoon.

- Hi, Mickey.
- Hey.

- Oh, Mickey, your
hugging hasn't improved.

Lack of practice.

- I think I'll go steal some drugs.
- Get me something good.

What are they feeding you?

I had asked for the antidote
to you, but it was back-ordered.

Here.

Am I ordering for two?

I have to get back home.

If you leave, I'm gonna
put that in my book.

Oh, no. You are not
writing a book about us.

Most women would be flattered.

Being a muse is demeaning.

Did you know that Renoir only used
to paint women he thought were dumb?

I told you that.

How's your old man?

Which one?

Were you drinking, Archie?

Is that why you're here?

Actually, I've been drinking all along.

I wish you would have let me
come to your father's funeral.

I could have wiped your tears.
I'm really very good at that.

I'll be okay. I promise.

I love you, babe. I'm
here if you need me.

I know. Thanks.

Need a push?

No, thanks.

I know I'm not Dad,

but if you ever need to talk
to anyone about anything,

I could try and manufacture
something that sounds lucid.

The only thing that I can't bear...

It's killing me.

Is the thought that he was
worried about me when he died.

He wasn't worried.

How do you know?

I was here the morning that Dad

got the phone call from Mickey.

I don't understand.

Well, after he hung up the phone, I...

You know, I told him I would
gladly assassinate Archie,

if that's what he wanted.

Like a dying wish kind
of vendetta-like thing.

- That's very comforting.
- Yeah.

Anyway, he said, "Thanks,

"but I think Brett can
take care of herself. "

He really said that?

Oh, yeah. That's straight from
the mouth of Robert Eisenberg,

MD.

MD.

My Dad.

Thanks for offering to
kill someone for me, Ethan.

Anytime.

I don't think you wanna go.

Why do I feel like I'm
about to enter an Ibsen play?

You're too skinny to play Hedda Gabler.

You look beautiful.

So, how's your mom doing?

She's okay.

Honestly, I think she's relieved.

It was hard for her.
Watching him suffer.

Is that for me?

It's the rest of your things. I had
a Chinese laundry wash it all for you.

I hope that means they folded my
socks into those neat, little cubes.

Definitely.

Do you have your BlackBerry with you?

Of course.

Would you take it out?

I don't think you did it
right. I'm not getting anything.

Let me try this again.

Read it.

I'm sorry, Archie.

You shouldn't be drinking soda.

- Why not?
- Because of your blood sugar.

No, not why shouldn't
I be drinking a soda.

Why won't you marry me?

- Are you asking me to explain?
- Yes. I am.

Because when I look at you,

I see a teacher.

But when you look at
me, you see a student.

Because you like to run away.

It's part of who you are.

Because, in the end,

a girl can't grow up
until she loses a father

and leaves an Archie.

You'll always have your pick of women.

You know that.

Can't you at least pretend that the idea

of me with somebody
else is hard for you?

Is this a consolation prize?

No.

Should I open it now?

Maybe you should wait.

You know, it's more dramatic that way.

Does it have a happy ending?

We deserved one.

Goodbye, Archie.

Goodbye, Pumpkin.