Original subtitles

What a day for American politics.

Former First Lady, governor of Illinois and

candidate for President of the United States,

Elaine Barrish Hammond, just minutes from addressing

the pack ballroom at the Cliff Hotel in Chicago,

there's not much you can say

about the governor that hasn't been said.

She's been called everything from a feminist liberal icon

to an opportunistic closet conservative--

Cold and ambitious,

to warm, charming, and unfairly maligned.

But no matter your opinion,

you have to admire what she has accomplished.

Democrat or Republican,

man or woman,

watching this room,

it is impossible not to feel a sense of history today.

That's the sound of the Hammond family

now entering the ballroom.

First is Douglas Hammond

with his girlfriend Anne.

Douglas taking a leadership role in his mother's campaign.

Some say he has quite a future

of his own in politics.

And of course,

directly behind them is Thomas,

referred to as T.J.

in Hammond circles.

Everyone kept waiting for his homosexuality

to be an issue,

but, nope, it never was.

The governor's mother

is now entering the room.

Always a fixture

in a Hammond campaign, dating back to both

of Bud Hammond's successful runs

for the presidency.

If you can't hear anything,

that's because Bud Hammond just entered the room.

Man, they love this guy.

Former President Hammond

got himself into a bit of trouble

in the last six months

calling directly into question

Garcetti's competency for the job.

Governor's theme song signaling her entrance.

This kind of enthusiasm

is usually reserved for her husband,

but it's not his name they're shouting now.

Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Okay, please.

Earlier today,

I called Senator Garcetti to congratulate him

on a tough and hard-fought primary...

...but a primary worthy

of the people of this party and of this great nation.

Although we were not successful in securing the nomination,

this campaign has had so many victories,

and I want to take a moment

to say something to the young women

and little girls who joined our cause.

Please, don't be discouraged by my loss.

As sure as I stand here,

and because I stand here,

one day, one of you

will be the President of the United States of America,

and that is a day

this woman plans on living to see.

Elaine, Elaine, Elaine...!

Mr. President, can you sign my pin?

Oh, you betcha.

Keep walking, Bud.

Oh... excuse me.

Why can't you run again, Mr. President?

Would if I could, honey.

I would if I could.

There have been some serious screwups

that have happened in this party's history,

but none, none as historic as this horseshit.

I need a drink.

Just give me two fingers

with a little Diet Coke.

I have to watch my figure.

Come on, you're a hottie, Grandma.

Oh, all you homos love me.

It's the rich, straight guys I'm worried about.

What retard with half a brain

thinks that Italian shit show is gonna win the general?

Florida, gone.

Texas, sayonara.

Arnie wants to make sure you're still good

sitting down with the majors in an hour.

If this party thinks we're lifting one finger

to help that douche get elected,

they've got another thing coming.

Enough, Bud. Don't feel bad, babe.

Garcetti had the press corps eating right off his nut sack.

Even in my prime, he'd have been a challenge.

I would've licked him for sure, but...

I said be quiet.

Can we have the room, please?

Now?

It's okay, Sam; If I wanted to

assassinate him, I would have done it years ago.

In his sleep.

I should have campaigned more.

They had me spending so much time

in North Carolina, you'd have thought

I was running for governor.

You know, I know,

given your epic levels of narcissism,

that it's impossible for you to fathom

this loss has nothing to do with you,

but imagine for a moment that it doesn't.

The country loves you, Bud.

They will always love you.

It's me they have mixed feelings about.

Now, now, sugar...

Please don't give me that crap

about how the people would love me if they just knew me.

It's been 20 years, okay?

They know me.

I hate campaigning.

It's an Olympic sport

in hypocrisy.

Fat smokers droning on and on

about their shitty medical coverage,

smiling when babies

with runny noses are shoved in my face,

and most of all, I hate lying.

I hate lying and telling people that things

are gonna get better when they never will.

You believe the lie,

and that is why you have won

every election you've ever been in,

and that's why Garcetti is going to win, too.

Bullshit. That man

is going to be elected president,

and if you don't get in line, you are going to be be iced out.

I left office with an 84% approval rating.

I am the most popular Democrat

since Kennedy had his brains splattered

across the Dallas concrete.

Baby, I am the meat in the Big Mac of this party, right?

The white, creamy center of its Oreo-freakin'-cookie,

and that greasy, Michael Corleone knockoff needs me

to win this son of a bitch.

Plain and simple.

You bastard.

It's the hardest moment of my professional life,

and you can't even pretend to make this easier for me?

You're asking me to eat shit.

Now, I held the highest office in the land,

an office only 41 men before me ever held.

I don't eat shit,

I serve it.

I'm going back to Springfield tonight.

You can use the room at the Four Seasons.

We'll still have the campaign jet but...

it's better if you hitch a ride with Carslen

or one of the other donors.

My office will work it out with yours.

And no need to worry about the state chairs.

I will take care of that this week.

Oh, and Bud...

...I want a divorce.

♪ Ooh, ee!

♪ Ha, ha, ha, ha

♪ Uh!

♪ Ooh, ooh ♪

♪ I done left you here

♪ Ooh, ooh ♪

♪ All by yourself

♪ Ooh, ooh ♪

♪ But it ain't my fault, baby

♪ Aw...

♪ You treated me like a fool

♪ And I'm telling you

♪ It ain't my fault, baby

♪ Oh, ah

♪ That you treated me so cruel

♪ But you know what?

♪ I ain't nobody's baby

♪ Get yourself a new one...

So, that was it-- after 32 years of marriage,

you were compelled to ask for a divorce

the night you conceded the nomination?

It's not news that journalists have accused me

of divorcing my husband for political gain,

it's just... they don't usually work

for the nation's leading paper, Ms. Berg.

When he was president, you stayed.

You left when you lost your shot at the presidency.

It's a fair assumption that

politics had something to do with it.

You won a Pulitzer in your 20s

for covering his affairs, did you not?

I did.

I'm curious, what is it like

launching your career by stepping on the throat

of someone else's marriage?

His adultery was a story; I covered it.

No Pulitzers to speak of since, though?

No.

You went to work for the Garcetti campaign

immediately after your loss,

developing quite a rapport with

the president, then still Candidate Garcetti.

Hello, Atlanta!

Looking good!

How would you like to meet

the next President of the United States?

You know, I'm sure if you ask nicely,

we can get the senator here

to show off some of the dance moves he's been sporting lately.

Only if you join me, Elaine.

♪ I know a place

♪ Ah!

♪ Ain't nobody cryin'

♪ Ain't nobody

♪ Worried

♪ Ain't no...

Any truth to the rumor that you turned down

the veep position and asked for State?

I'm on record as saying

I did not want to be Secretary of State.

But you said yes.

I'm old-fashioned that way.

When the president asks you to serve, you serve.

♪ Ah!

♪ I'll take you there ♪

♪ Help me, y'all I'll take you... ♪

I'd like to express my gratitude to the Russian foreign minister

for this exquisite Chuvashian scarf. Spasibo.

Our goal this week is to prepare for the Tripartite

Energy Summit with the Chinese government.

There is much

our three countries have in common...

...and I have no doubt

that it will prove enlightening for all of us.

♪ I'll take you there ♪

Did you enjoy the ass grab, Viktor?

Good. Because the next time you touch me,

I'm gonna rip off your tiny, shriveled balls

and serve them to you in a cold borscht soup.

_

Da.

♪ I'll take you there... ♪

By most polls, if you ran today, you would win in a landslide,

defeating the last four presidents,

including your ex-husband.

Madame Secretary, you have to agree

the former President has struggled since your divorce.

Recently he's been

romantically linked to TV star Eva Flores.

A union that hasn't helped his descent into

political ignominy.

I'm telling you,

Eliot, I need to release another book.

In all due respect, Mr. President,

the timing just isn't right for you now.

I just wouldn't want to jeopardize your quote.

It's the best one a former President's

ever gotten for a, a memoir.

Yeah, well, maybe I'll write it anyway.

You know, there's a story to be told here

that the mainstream media's ignoring.

President Goombah Shitface

says he wants to be a different president than me,

then he goes and hires half my administration,

including my ex-wife, who who should be renamed

Secretary of Save His Greasy Dago Ass.

Can I get another Johnny Walker, please?

Now, who is that

gorgeous piece of tail at the bar?

Keeps looking over here. Looks familiar.

Eva Flores.

She's on that show where the doctors bang each other.

Uh, Hawaii Medical.

Excellent program.

Now that is one gifted woman.

I hear those breasts are insured by the network.

Get out of here.

How does that work?

Something happens to her, she gets hit by a car,

or a piano falls on her boobs or something,

they're covered.

Why don't you see

if she'll come over?

Hawaii, how are you?

Oh, you're so funny, Mr. President.

Call me Bud, darling.

Well, that's gonna be strange, but I'll try.

You're pretty sexy, Bud.

See? Not so hard.

I'd say it is.

So the rumors are true.

Tom...

bring the car around.

Oh! Oh, yeah!

Oh, yes, Mr. President.

Yes, Mr. President!

I haven't watched her show, but I hear she's very talented.

Have you seen him since the divorce?

Bud? No.

So tonight's the first time, huh?

Any residual feelings there?

If there were I wouldn't tell you.

What are you really after, Ms. Berg?

To follow the Secretary of State for the week

of her son's engagement party...

Spare me the bullshit.

We're off the record.

My office informed me that we were given a choice,

either I let you cover me the week

of Douglas's engagement,

or you were gonna run a piece

about my other son Thomas's difficulties with sobriety.

An empty threat.

Except that you managed to obtain a sealed document

regarding one night last December.

I did.

You're a newspaper.

That's news, and yet

you traded it for a week with me.

Which brings me to my original question.

What are you really after?

Like any good reporter, Madame Secretary,

I want the truth.

Why did you ask your ex-husband for a divorce

that night?

Was he too much political baggage

for you to recreate yourself in the face

of such a setback,

or did you just think your political career was over,

so you no longer had to tolerate his rampant infidelity?

Were you surprised at the public's reaction to the split?

That the President was suddenly despised

for the same repugnant sexual behavior

that the country used to find roguish and cute?

That you were suddenly beloved

after having been viewed for so long as a...

cold and calculating political animal?

And lastly, do you regret staying with him for so long?

Was it worth it

if you didn't get the grand prize,

the gold...

glittering tiara of the Presidency?

How'd it go?

Can you remember what my mother called her?

A bitch with a capital "C."

She undersold it.

And I should know,

being a card-carrying member of the club myself.

Madame Secretary,

Bolivian Embassy's office on the line.

They've been holding for 20 minutes.

Also Undersecretary Bradford and Secretary Rivera's office

are also on hold, they say it's important.

Tell Rivera's office to hold, the rest I'll call back.

Put that away.

Put it away. Are you certain there's no way

I can get out of the remainder of this?

Not unless you're cool with the world finding out

what happened with T.J., or with what he might do

once the world finds out. And when the Times or the Post

get a hold of the story, do we just give them

whatever they want, too?

Susan Berg despises you.

She's wanted a sit-down

since you sequestered her from Bud's White House.

Well, she finally figured out how to get one.

No one else of merit is going to chase this.

They're not. See you later?

Yeah.

Thomas is coming tonight, right?

Yeah, yeah, he wants to talk with you and dad

about the, uh, nightclub.

The nightclub? Oh, Christ.

I already told him you won't do it.

I won't. Hey, are you even

sure you want dad there tonight?

You know, if I'm finally gonna be in the same room

with Anne's parents,

and your father,

and his actress girlfriend,

I would rather not do that on the night

of the engagement party.

The Secretary dropped off.

He's gonna meet you at the White House now.

You're being called in.

What did they screw up this time?

I forgot what a flaming-bitch-on-wheels

that woman is.

Whatever feud exists, she started.

I mean, one little comment about her epitomizing

the death of feminism and they banned me

from the White House for six years.

I couldn't even go to the Easter Egg roll.

I love the Easter Egg roll.

Uh, hey,

just remember that you have the Secretary's salon tonight.

So you might want to go home and, uh,

change before that.

What's wrong with what I'm wearing?

I wear one outfit a day. I'm not Beyonce.

Yeah, no, it's fine. It's just, uh,

it's not incredibly salon-y, I guess.

Russ, exactly how many political salons have you been to?

Zero. Yeah, none. Yeah.

There you go. Good-bye.

My own candle. You blow it out...

Blow out the candle. Blow it out.

Blow it out. Somebody blow something quick.

Hey, we're celebrating.

My blog hit over

one million unique users this month.

So I made cupcakes.

That's great, Georgia.

You know, if you ever wanted to contribute,

it would be a complete honor.

I'd love to. I could share my favorite dating tips,

or, uh, revealing beauty secrets.

Uh, well, I should get back to work.

I'm filing my story on what

Eva Flores might be wearing

to the Hammond engagement party.

Better hurry before Woodward files it first.

You're going to the Secretary's salon tonight, right?

Yes, I am.

I'm sure it's pretty casual.

She is the journalistic equivalent of a weather girl.

Claws in.

She looks up to you.

Well, I don't trust her.

If Eve Harrington were an actual person today,

she would look like Georgia.

She would bake cupcakes, and she would have a blog.

And her little crush on you is growing irritating.

Don't worry, I got a crush on somebody else.

We're at work.

Babe, we live together. Everybody knows.

Yeah, well, you're a guy and my boss.

If we kiss at the office, you get high fives.

I get glares from people who think,

"That whore is sleeping with our editor."

I'm sorry.

It's this Barrish interview. It's got me in a mood.

She brought up the Pulitzer.

If the world only knew how insecure you actually are.

Alex Davies.

Gary, slow down.

All right, just hang on a second, let me, I got a pen.

All right, talk to me.

Something happened in Iran.

At approximately 0930 this morning,

Iran Standard Time,

the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence apprehended

three American journalists in Tehran.

The Iranian military moved them to a facility

where they were interrogated,

until they each signed a confession

admitting to spying

on behalf of the American government.

Now President Hakam's administration

has just released the names of the journalists,

all three of whom are of Iranian-American descent,

and made a statement promising a swift trial

within the next 48 hours.

Well, someone has to ask it...

are they actually spies?

No. They're innocent,

but with the signed admission and a sham trial,

they'll be convicted.

Hakam is promising the death penalty unless

President Garcetti negotiates for their release himself,

and in person.

You're kidding.

He wants the President of the United States

to fly to Iran and beg for their release?

What is he smoking?

How long have you all known about this?

Well, I, for one, am just finding out.

I'm sorry, Mr. Vice President.

We've only known for a few hours ourselves.

We were trying to handle this internally.

You were trying to handle a diplomatic crisis

with a hostile regime in a combustible region internally?

Well, we figured that you had your son's big engagement party

this week-- we didn't want to bother you...

That is so thoughtful of you, but seeing as how I am

the nation's leading diplomat,

I should probably be involved when there's a hostage crisis.

This is not a hostage crisis.

They are wrongfully detained prisoners.

They're innocent civilians being held against their will.

The American people aren't idiots.

I don't think that they're idiots.

You ran my campaign, Barry, I know what you think of them.

Elaine, you're right.

You should have been notified.

Both you and Fred.

I understand, Mr. President.

If there's anything you need...

I stand at the ready.

Not presently, Fred. Thank you.

Why would he do this?

I mean, he knows you're not going to capitulate.

That's what we're trying to figure out.

But with the expedited trial, we don't have much time.

I'd like to try some other contacts,

and call the journalists' families.

I'm assuming no one has done that.

Right. Figures.

Actually, there is one other thing.

We've prepared a statement for you to read to the press...

Hey, that's bullshit, all right? We release our own statements.

You are not your mother. That is the department's policy.

You cannot talk to me-- Douglas.

Listen, Elaine,

don't say anything you don't want to say, but we've got

the budget review coming next week,

I'm in the middle of a standoff

with the House Republicans on this EPA deal.

If you can keep the press calm on this one...

I'd appreciate it.

That's all.

I mean, could they be more incompetent?

If the American people really knew how this government ran,

there would be one big collective upchuck

the size of which FEMA would have to clean up.

We probably shouldn't start the press conference with that.

Where are we with the contacts?

Linus got off with his counterpart in Syria.

They don't know anything

Every time there is a fire

the administration tries to use your popularity...

I want the name of every foreign ambassador

who's currently in the U.S. You know what?

Let's just forget it-- let's forget the press conference.

If we don't draw a line in the sand with Harris

and the White House now...

You could've gotten yourself fired

for that kind of behavior in front of the President.

I'll call you back, Ron. He's not just a boss.

He's not your floor manager at Chili's,

he is the President of the United States.

And whether or not this administration is trading

on my popularity is not what matters now.

All that matters now

are the three scared, innocent people

sitting in a jail cell in Tehran,

wondering what the hell their country is doing to help them.

Are we clear? Yes.

Hakam may be an evil bastard, but he's not crazy.

He's on good terms with the Supreme Leader,

elections aren't for two years.

Why pick a fight with us now?

It doesn't make sense.

It's the Middle East, it's the diplomatic equivalent

of instructions from IKEA.

None of it makes any sense.

Go home, get ready for tonight.

Make sure you still have

a fiancée to have a party with this weekend.

Go on.

He has your sense of loyalty.

He hates how they treat you

and this department.

He hates losing.

That's not me, that's his father.

Sophia, what do you have for me?

This is yet another reprehensible act

by an authoritarian state. These journalists...

...have been wrongfully detained and are innocent of all charges.

The president is doing everything he can

to handle the matter swiftly and to get the journalists

released safely to the Swiss embassy,

our de facto embassy in Iran.

The situation in Iran adds to an already busy week

for the Secretary of State.

Her son Douglas's engagement is the must-attend event

in DC this weekend.

Former President Bud Hammond

and girlfriend, actress Eva Flores,

arrived in DC today,

where the star of the hit show Hawaii Medical...

If I had a rack like hers, I might still be getting laid.

You know, People magazine says

the show actually has them insured.

Hello, Mother. Hi, dearie.

T.J. Hey, Mama.

You're getting too skinny.

Hey, boys, hey, Jack, hey, Teddy, hey, Bobby.

You're not going to see Bud for the first time

in two years dressed like that, I hope.

Well, first of all, I'm divorced.

Secondly, I was involved in a diplomatic crisis all day.

I didn't have time for a costume change.

Oh. Are you two

really drinking already?

T.J. started it.

He said that you can't make margaritas with Jack Daniels.

Turns out you can.

Of course. And it's good.

Hey, I saw the attendee list.

Why is that bitch Susan Berg coming?

Because that bitch

is covering me this week.

Please do me the favor of not talking to her,

or if you must,

try not saying things like the country didn't elect me

because they didn't want to sleep with me.

It's true.

Hey, so I met the investors today.

I'd be one of the lead partners in DC.

I already told you, I am not giving you $100,000

to invest in a nightclub.

It's a restaurant and a nightclub,

and I don't need 100, I need 50.

I can get the other 50 from Dad.

What's this?

Well, I rummaged through your spare closet

and found something I thought you'd look killer in tonight.

Figured you wouldn't give yourself the time.

I can't fit into this.

You will.

I didn't get all the gay genes,

but I got the style one.

When did I wear this?

The state dinner for the Saudi royals when I was 15.

It's right after Dad's first affair leaked to the press.

You said you bought it because

it's always important to look your best

when you feel your worst.

Thomas... Susan Berg has the story.

She knows about last December.

She agreed not to run it if we let her cover me this week.

So we stopped her, but...

It's okay-- no, it-it's, it's okay.

Occupational hazard, right?

Comes with being a Hammond.

They only love us when they're not busy hating us.

Listen, about the nightclub...

talk to your father.

If he's in, I'm in.

Seriously? Yeah.

If.

That is awesome.

Oh, my God, wait till you see the business plan--

it's 50 pages.

It's got pictures, blueprints, and...

Hey, do you, you want me to help you with your hair?

Oh, no, I got it, sweetie.

The guy said, "Well, actually I prefer the pancake."

Beatrice, you get any younger, we're going

to have to make you

a flower girl at the wedding.

Beatrice,

Larry, so good to see you.

Exciting week.

Hello, lovebirds.

Mm! You look so beautiful.

Darling.

Bud.

Sugar.

Oh.

Goodness.

Uh, Elaine, this is Eva.

Elaine Barrish.

I'm a fan of your work.

Thank you, Madam Secretary.

I'm a fan of your work, too,

and I love your dress.

Thank you, it's an old one.

Saudi state dinner, October '97.

Yes.

Good times.

Shall we?

Yeah.

So glad you could join us, Ms. Berg.

Thanks for the invite, Madam Secretary.

You changed.

You did, too.

Please.

I know who you are, honey, don't waste your time.

They never let me talk on the record anyway.

I'm either too drunk or too honest... or God forbid, both.

We're, we're off the record.

Tonight is just for color.

Oh, just for color?

Well, tell me, do you have a boyfriend?

Um, yes, I do.

Is that right?

I always thought you were a lesbian.

Hmm, but you sure know how to throw yourself together,

unlike my daughter, but, then, she has strength of character,

and you're just a rotten little thing, makes a living

saying really smart, really nasty things about people.

But you've got a boyfriend.

How about that?

You must give one hell of a hummer, lady.

Ms. Berg,

I've read a few of your pieces on the president.

Now, what was it you called him--

the Fashion...?

Fashionista-in-Chief. The Fashionista-in-Chief.

You know, I like that line,

"He was elected a man of the people,

but he's just a man of the Prada."

Oh, they always dress us in Prada on the show, and

I always complain because my character Nurse Anna Alvares--

she could never afford that in real life.

It's just so not realistic.

And all the screwing

your characters do-- how realistic is that?

More wine, please.

I'm sorry, Mr. Ambassador, my Japanese

isn't too great.

I ask, you been to Japan recently?

Oh, not since the '80s.

My parents were born here, as was I.

We're thinking of going to Japan

for our honeymoon, Mr. Ambassador.

We were?

Well, you know, it's, it's on the list.

Why did you guys pick the zoo for your engagement party?

Oh, our family has always been big supporters

of the National, ever since we first moved to DC.

I used to take the boys there all the time.

They loved the elephants,

and this event is helping to fund

a new enclosure.

I think it was my mom

that loved the elephants.

You know, working with Anne

on the engagement party

has been a delight.

The sheer number of guests and the size of the venue

could overwhelm anyone, but she has been a dream.

You know, it's funny, she was so messy when she was little.

- Mom. - Oh, family secret.

Haven't seen that Anne.

I've only seen the perfect Anne, right?

Douglas,

Anne told me you're thinking of having the wedding

near us in Del Mar?

Uh, yeah, yeah, we, we, we were talking about that.

Really? Del Mar?

You didn't mention that.

It was just one idea that we've been tossing around.

But we're pretty partial

to it, seeing how it's where I grew up.

I just want to say a few words to the two lovebirds.

Now, ever since

Dougie was a little shit

running around the North Carolina

governor's mansion,

if I was going to pick

one of my boys

to end up a homosexual,

I'd have picked Dougie.

The boy was gay

as a spring dress.

Clothes had to be perfect,

the hair had to be perfect.

This is awesome.

M-Move it along, Dad.

And typical Dougie,

he went and found himself the perfect wife-to-be.

Anne, you're a treasure.

Welcome to the family.

Hear, hear.

Cheers.

Couldn't be more proud of you, son.

Hey, can I, can I talk to you guys for a second?

Yeah, sure.

Exc-Excuse us.

We're, we're just gonna...

Same guys that did Soho House.

I mean, it's-- look, if you just take

a look at these numbers on here, okay, we're talking

3,000 square feet of prime real estate.

In this market, we're getting it for a steal.

Here's the view

of the Capitol Dome from the patio.

That's why we're calling it The Dome.

Killer name, right?

No.

No?

Dad, what, y-y-you need to think about it...

I'm not doing it, neither is your mama.

She already said yes-- tell him. No.

I said if your father committed.

You're a goddamn liar. Hey, hey, hey,

now, don't you talk to your mother like that.

Giving a drug addict

that kind of money is like buying

a blind man a gorgeous hooker-- it's plain stupid.

I've been going to NA meetings.

And the drinking-- you're wasted right now, aren't you?

My problem was never alcohol. No, your problem

was looking for any excuse in the world to get messed up.

Three boarding schools,

two colleges... Bud.

Why don't you play the piano anymore?

People don't become concert pianists at 30, Dad,

it just doesn't happen.

It's what you love.

Now, I can speak to someone at Georgetown or GW,

I can get you a job on the staff.

I'm not going to be some lame-ass piano teacher.

You guys just want me to have a boring life.

After that stunt you pulled last December,

boring might do you some good.

Is that what it was to you-- a stunt?

No.

I hate this family.

- Oh, T.J. - All right, all right.

How am I ever supposed to do anything important

if nobody ever helps me?

Hey...

He worked on that speech for three months.

You could have at least heard him out.

Your mother was never gonna say yes to that bullshit idea.

She brought me here to be the bad guy.

Same reason she keeps you around.

You know... I've enjoyed the last year.

Yeah, without Mom

or the White House to hide behind,

people finally see you for what you really are--

a big joke.

Nice to see you haven't lost your touch with him.

You got a blind spot for T.J.

Always did.

He didn't choose our life,

and he doesn't have the strength to withstand it.

He's a ticking bomb, just like your daddy was.

You can't help him.

He has to want to help himself.

Isn't that what this was?

I tell you how good you look tonight?

Save your compliments for your girlfriend.

I miss you, sugar.

You miss me?

No. Don't believe you.

I don't care.

I'm not a perfect man, baby.

You always knew that.

I was 22 when I fell in love with you.

I had no idea what kind of person you were.

Come on, it was fun.

Helping the state, the nation.

And the problems we faced,

we faced together, like a family.

It's not my fault it's over, Bud.

You're... guinea boyfriend,

he's roasting you on this Iran thing.

You know, the White House can't reach Hakam, I heard.

Bullshit.

Hakam is a detestable son of a bitch

who'd prefer if Israel were a memory.

He thinks the Saudis are a bunch of greedy ragheads who want

to keep the Middle East in the Dark Ages.

But he wouldn't poke America in the eye

unless he knows he's got a deal and a handshake.

Now, I'm sure you're trying to figure out

why he's killing those journalists,

but the question you should be asking is:

Why the expedited trial?

Why is he moving so fast?

'Cause that only benefits one guy.

You're looking for the shot.

Garcetti already has the ball,

and he's just running the clock out.

Why would the president do that?

Why do we do anything?

You know, why did I ruin the best thing

that ever happened to me?

Because people are stupid and weak.

You know, my advice is stay out of this,

and if I'm right, you'll only make an enemy of your boss.

You know I can't do that.

All anybody ever talks about is your ambition.

They never talk about your heart.

And I... I don't know why they don't see it,

'cause it's all I ever saw.

That and, uh...

you were the foxiest piece of ass

I ever laid eyes on.

You still are.

Oh, that was wonderful.

This next one's for, uh,

my bro...

and his sweet-ass fiancée.

Love you guys.

Hey, man, you never sent a face pic,

so...

Damn.

You're...

Let's pretend I'm not.

Okay, this is gonna sound kind of weird, but I got

to tell you. Yeah, you've wanted to sleep with me

since I was a teenager in the White House.

Yeah. Well, if you shut the hell up, now is your big chance.

First she hijacked the engagement party,

and now she's just hijacking the wedding.

Look, there has to be a rule

against discussing my mother while I'm inside of you.

Okay, it is your fault, all right?

We weren't finished with the conversation,

and you wanted to start having sex.

She didn't hijack the engagement.

Oh, no? No.

We wanted 60 people at a club,

and we're having 300 people

at the zoo, because your mother likes elephants.

There's gonna be helicopters and...

metal detectors and paparazzi posing as busboys and... Yes.

There is a tsunami of bullshit

that comes with being in my family.

But don't you love me... more than you hate all that?

Mm-hmm.

Yeah? Mm-hmm.

And that's your mom.

I know. Get it.

Ask her where

the Japanese ambassador was at dinner.

Tell her it's racist. Hello?

Porchov. He's coming to the engagement party.

He's in New York early.

The Russian foreign minister?

Yes. We need to be in New York tomorrow morning.

Don't let him know we're coming.

Mom, that's in, like, six hours.

I know, sweetheart. Get cracking.

Mm-hmm?

Uh, I, um...

I have to go. You have to what?

I have to go. You have to go in?

Mm, I could wait for her call... Mm-hmm. Mm...

Also a great day for Bud Hammond and his girlfriend,

Eva Flores. They arrived today in DC,

for his son's engagement party.

Well, Eva's breasts arrived last night,

so...

The former president introduced

his ex-wife to his girlfriend this evening.

He's hoping that they don't kill each other, but actually,

he's really hoping there'll be a three-way,

but he'll settle for them not killing each other.

If I didn't know any better,

I'd say she was still in love with him.

The way she dressed up, kept avoiding his gaze.

I mean, honestly, it was like she

was a nervous schoolgirl around him.

They were married for over 30 years.

Is it that surprising she still

has feelings for him? No, it's not... surprising.

It's just sad.

When Elaine Barrish graduated law school,

she gave the valedictorian address

and got a standing ovation

for ten minutes.

I mean, ten minutes-- can you imagine that?

What happened to that girl?

And how did she decide to sit out

the next 20 years catering to a man

who repeatedly cheated on her?

You never told me, you know,

how you snagged the interview.

I'm not asking as your boss,

I'm asking as your boyfriend.

How'd you get it?

T.J. Hammond tried to kill himself.

I have a contact at GW Hospital.

Last December, they rushed T.J. to the E.R.,

under a pseudonym, for carbon monoxide poisoning.

They swept the police report

under the rug, but not the medical ones.

You told the Secretary's office you had the story.

I wasn't gonna write it.

But they didn't know that.

I feel creepy even telling you about it.

Why didn't you tell me?

Uh, because it's not news.

Or if it is, it's not news the Globe should be printing.

To print.

There's a difference.

And you just asked me to tell you as my boyfriend,

which I did.

But no one else can know.

Okay?

All right, fine.

If you got your hands on the medical file,

somebody else will.

You should've said something.

Uh, well, the next time I hear news that's disgusting

and exploitive, you'll be the first to know.

Good night.

Thank you.

I assume this trip is concerning the journalists?

Madam Secretary, I would never write anything that

would interfere with whatever high-level talks are happening.

You finally decided to acquire some journalistic ethics.

How nice for you.

Still the same breakfast-- steel-cut oats and blueberries.

You wouldn't remember, but I was in your pool for two years

during your ex-husband's first run for the presidency.

Before they put me on the DC desk. I remember.

You were just out of school,

you had a sister at Amherst,

and your mother was a former physician.

Yes.

Look, I know I wrote some tough things about you in the past... It may surprise you,

Ms. Berg, but I've actually never read your columns.

If I read half of what people wrote

about me, I wouldn't get out of bed in the morning.

I did read your book.

About the impending fourth wave of feminism.

Not bad.

No one read my book.

Well, maybe it was the title: When Bitches Rule.

I was trying to reclaim the word.

It might have impacted your sales.

After all, never call a bitch a bitch.

Us bitches hate that.

Um...

this just came in.

It's not good.

Here.

"The Iranian court has found the journalists guilty.

"President Hakam has set their execution

for 24 hours from now."

How do you do it?

Even people like me who have

criticized you really do... admire your resolve.

My usual answer is that I share the ethos

with most Americans.

If you work hard and give it everything you got,

tomorrow will be better than today.

And the truth?

Most of life is hell.

It's filled with failure and loss.

People disappoint you, dreams don't work out,

hearts get broken, innocent journalists die.

And the best moments of life, when everything comes together--

are few and fleeting.

But you'll never get to the next

great moment if you don't keep going.

So that's what I do.

I keep going.

Oh!

I'm out!

So, Viktor, what are you gonna take off next?

Please tell him, the U.S. Secretary of State is here,

and I need to see him.

Viktor, you goon, I know you're in there.

It's Elaine.

I need to talk to you. I'm serious.

Madam Secretary, translator not here.

Can't speak. See you at engagement.

You went to Cornell undergrad,

so quit with the whole "you don't understand me" crap.

Right now I need

your help. It's important.

What the hell is it, Elaine?

I need your help in getting in touch

with the Iranian Ambassador to the UN.

No way, cannot get involved.

I'm not asking you to get involved.

I'm asking you to get me in a room

with Ambassador Jobrani, who is in this city

and won't return my calls.

If my prime minister find out about this...

Oh, it's not your prime minister

you should be worried about, Viktor.

It's your wife.

You think I don't know who's in there?

I'm doing it,

not because you threaten.

Because you got balls... and I respect balls.

And a great ass.

Thank you.

Mr. Foreign Minister, I came as...

Mr. Ambassador, I didn't know you were coming.

I was just having tea with

my buddy Viktor here.

You've been impossible to reach.

Cell phone issues?

We cannot be talking, Madam Secretary.

We are, Amir.

Thank you, Viktor.

You owe me. Mm.

There is nothing you can do, Madam Secretary.

The wheels of this are in motion.

When those Americans are dead, then there's nothing I can do.

Now you and I go back, Amir.

I know you're a good man.

I also know you worked for Hakam

in the private sector, and you're close.

You either know why this is happening,

or you have a pretty good idea why.

Either way, I need to know what you know.

Hakam is sick.

Pancreatic cancer.

Before he dies, he wants to begin negotiations

to freeze Iran's nuclear program entirely.

He can't forge a treaty of real meaning

without the support of the ultraconservatives,

so he takes an aggressive action.

Either he kills some American spies,

or you agree to negotiate for their release on Iranian soil.

Both are clear wins that get him to the table.

My recommendation, Mr. President,

is that either you

or an emissary from this administration

meet with Hakam in Oman and release the hostages there.

But you're not going to do that, are you?

'Cause you already knew what he was up to,

and you're just letting it happen.

You've crossed some serious lines today, Elaine.

First the rogue mission to New York,

and now you accuse the president of this?

You were a lousy campaign manager, Barry.

You're a rotten Chief of Staff.

And you're an even worse liar.

I'd like a moment alone with the president.

Give us a minute.

Yes... we knew.

Harris, Samson, a few others.

We knew about it, but we didn't agree to it.

I'm supposed to believe you now?

After you've used my office to quiet the press.

I'm sorry about that.

You don't have to believe me, but it's the truth.

Hakam floated the idea to us through one of his contacts.

We floated back a hard no.

Two weeks later, he's doing it anyway.

If you knew this was a means toward negotiation,

why not meet a few demands

and save the lives of those American journalists?

When we ran against each other,

you were the one who said I was an idiot

for even suggesting that we sit down with Iran.

I would look foolish under these circumstances

doing the same thing.

And I lost.

Be glad you did.

I was a dog chasing a car, and I caught a bus.

The economy's in freefall,

I can't pass one piece of legislation through Congress.

I go on TV to try to communicate a vision,

and America collectively turns me off

to watch drunk housewives and singing competitions.

I have been here before.

I have stood in this office

when Bud faced darker hours than these,

and I'm telling you-- now is not the time to be discouraged.

Now is the time to lead.

I'm not your ex-husband, Elaine.

The goal is a nuclear treaty with Iran.

This isn't how I wanted to get it.

I tried to stop it.

But I'm gonna take it.

Now, you, uh...

go focus on your son's party.

There's nothing more you can do here.

It's not enough to have the courage of your convictions.

You have to have the courage of others', too.

Those were your words during our last debate.

The voters believed you.

I believed you.

Some days, sir,

it would be nice to be working for the man who beat me.

The only thing I hate worse than being wrong about something

is your father being right about...

It's out.

How long?

Ten minutes.

Oh, my God.

"According to files obtained exclusively

"by journalist Georgia Gibbons,

"the Washington Globe has just learned

"that Thomas James Hammond,

"son of former President Donald Hammond

"and Secretary of State Elaine Barrish, was taken

"to George Washington Hospital last December

after an apparent suicide attempt."

Oh, my God, Tommy.

Tommy?!

Tommy...

"Thomas was admitted to the emergency room..."

Somebody help me!

"...at 11:15 p.m. on December 22,

under the pseudonym of Aaron Reed..."

Call an ambulance!

"...and treated immediately

for high levels of carbon monoxide poisoning."

What are you doing? Help me, please!

"The report is the latest unfortunate event

in the troubled life of the former first son."

Where's your brother?

I've been trying him. Find him. Now.

Yeah.

Our time together is done. Get out.

Madam Secretary, I can assure you,

I had nothing to do with this.

I don't care. Get out.

I wasn't even aware there was anyone

at my paper even looking into it.

Really, I am as upset as you are.

You couldn't possibly be as upset as I am.

Was it your child you found barely alive?

Was it?!

No. It seems

the story missed a few details.

But what do you care?

To you people, my son has always been

just another drug-addicted cautionary tale,

responsible for all of his own misfortunes.

But he was the first openly gay child of a president.

You will never know the vitriol,

the evil he suffered

when he came out-- against his will--

as a boy in the White House.

And yet, you trade on his pain and suffering

to coerce me into this interview.

Where is that in this story? Huh?

Where in there

does it say what kind of person you are?

The only good news I've gotten all week

is that I don't have to share the same space with you anymore.

Now get the hell out!

Hi. It's me.

I need to see you.

Right away.

The Washington Globe reports exclusively tonight

that T.J. Hammond,

son of Secretary of State Elaine Barrish and

former President Bud Hammond, was admitted

to Washington General Hospital on December 22, 2011,

after a failed suicide attempt.

Damn! That sucks, yo.

Medical records obtained by the Globe indicate

he was unconscious upon admittance.

You better now? Much. Give me the usual.

And he was treated for hypoxia,

which is a condition caused by carbon monoxide poisoning,

fueling assumptions that this was indeed a suicide attempt.

He was also admitted under the alias of Aaron Reed.

Your mom? Your mom is hot.

You got to give me her autograph.

I need a picture of her in one of them bad-ass Chanel suits.

I want her to put,

"To Omar, my finest black sweet meat.

Love, Elaine."

Yeah. I mean, she don't got to put, "love."

She can just put "xo."

Oh, it's my bro.

He keeps calling. I gotta get this.

Hey.

Yeah, hey. There you are.

I've been trying to get a hold of you.

Did you, um...?

Did you see it yet?

Yeah. It's all bullshit.

Don't worry about it.

Hey, where are you now?

I'm with my sponsor.

Worry about your party, bro.

I'm all good, I swear.

I love you.

Did you reach him?

Uh, yeah, yeah, I just talked to him.

He, uh... he says he's with his sponsor.

I-I know. He's lying.

Look,

I'm supposed to pick up my tux with Anne in a half-hour,

but I'm gonna track him down, and I will call you back

when I'm with him, all right? Where are you?

I'm following a lead.

And Douglas?

Yeah?

You are a good brother... and a good son.

I'll call you.

Thanks for coming.

I'm having one of the worst days of my life and...

you're still the one person who can make me feel

like everything is going to be okay...

even when it's not.

Come here, sugar.

Congrats, Georgia, we're so happy for you.

Oh, hey, Susan.

I'm sure you're pretty upset

over the whole Hammond suicide story.

I'm really sorry if it stepped on your Barrish piece,

but I had a source come forward

and I, I just-- I had to run with it.

Of all the industries available to you,

looking the way you do--

porn, reality hosting-- you chose journalism.

Why? You don't care about its history.

You have no sense of regard for what we do

or who's come before you, just like you have no regard

for the life on the other end of that piece.

You're not mad I ran that story.

You're just mad it cost you one... bitch.

You're gonna regret you ever posted this.

Oh, and, uh, Georgia...

never call a bitch a bitch.

Us bitches hate that.

Your boyfriend knew about it.

He had to approve it before I could post it.

I warned you this kind of thing could happen,

that it could get out. Well, then you come to me

and you tell me.

Why, so you can tell me to stop it?

Uh, yeah. That is exactly the kind of conflict

of interest I cannot have in my life.

W-W-What are we, a-a newspaper

or a gossip site?

We're a dying institution.

50 years from now, people are gonna talk about newspapers

the way we talk about rotary phones or disco.

Did you give Georgia the story?

No, y-you asked me not to tell anyone.

Are you sleeping with her?

Yeah, okay, you-you're, you are paranoid and...

Seriously, is this what hanging out

with Elaine Barrish does to you?

Are you sleeping with her?

I'm not going to answer that question.

You just did.

I-I screwed up, I know.

I... I screwed up.

Susan, we have been together for two years.

I had to beg you to move in with me.

When friends ask if we're getting married,

you say no with-without even looking at me, you say,

"I don't believe in it and Alex failed at it twice.

That's why I picked him."

Name one time that you've spent as much energy

on something for us as you have on this Barrish piece.

Even now, I mean, I-I can't,

I can't tell if you're more upset that I slept with Georgia

or that I gave her the story. Wow,

for a second I thought I was gonna get

the "I'm sorry I hurt you" speech.

Let's be clear.

I am definitely more upset that you stuck your dick

in another woman than I am about the story.

You know that I'm sorry.

You don't make it easy,

you don't make it easy to love you.

It's not supposed to be easy, you asshole.

Easy is Georgia.

Easy is where you can spend the night

while I'm moving out.

I think we broke a couple of mattress springs.

Oh, that was for sure top ten.

Oh, not even close.

Unlike you...

I'm out of practice.

How's T.J. doing?

I tried calling him, but he won't take my calls.

Not now.

Dougie's looking for him.

I don't know, Bud, we can't just make him go to rehab--

we tried that twice--

and we can't give him money for another failed venture.

I don't know what to do.

I must be the highest-ranking codependent in the country.

It was so much simpler when they were boys just, you know,

yelling at us about the Secret Service detail

or how come they weren't allowed to learn to drive

on the road like regular 16-year-olds.

Yeah, it was simpler.

Man, we had some good times.

Some fun times.

I'd like to propose to the president

that he send you to Iran

as a last-ditch effort to negotiate for these journalists.

Hakam may not go for it,

but it's, it's worth a try.

Thought you'd never ask.

What?

I figured you'd come to me.

It's not like President Sinatra's

lifting a GD finger.

Besides, I know Hakam, I know the players on the ground,

and the Iranian people love me.

They called me President Khoob-- that means "the good President."

Is that what this was about?

The "I missed you, sugar" and "You're still

the foxiest piece of ass I ever saw."

It was just bullshit?

I meant every word of it; I always do.

No, you just wanted me to get Garcetti

to send you to Iran so you could get back in the game,

and I fell for it?

I am the best person to get those journalists back,

and you know it.

Shit.

I mean, you weren't pissed

because I wanted you to ask me.

You were pissed because I thought of it first.

And I wasn't playing you any more than you were playing me.

Did we sleep together because of politics?

Sure, but it was also about

love.

Always about both with us, baby, that's our story.

Now, we were made for each other.

Now, we were made to fight for this country together,

and we're not done fighting, not by a long shot.

You are crazy.

I love you, sugar,

and if you think for a second

I'm giving up on us,

then you don't know me

and you never did.

We are done.

Do you hear me?

Done!

Asshole.

Thank you.

That's my girl.

Oh, God.

Oh.

Excuse me.

Um...

Hello, Madam Secretary.

Did Douglas call?

No, but I have a list of others,

including Susan Berg, who's tried you several times.

Get her back.

I'll hold.

Thank you for seeing me.

I, uh, I wanted to apologize.

I found out the story was my fault.

I inadvertently leaked it.

I told my editor, who I'm sleeping with.

He told the other woman he's also sleeping with--

a fellow journalist.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Genuinely.

Yeah, thought you'd appreciate the irony.

That may be the meanest thing you've said about me.

Oh, you haven't read my columns; they were pretty mean.

I may have read a few of your columns.

For years, I wrote about you

being an affront to women because you stayed

with your husband.

Like most, I-I believed it was because

of your political ambitions.

Then, when I went to pack tonight,

it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

I stayed because I loved him.

I know.

So why'd you finally leave?

Because after 30 years--

in that moment, exhausted from the campaign--

I finally had the strength to.

I never answer

the question because there is no article,

no book that can explain the complexities

of a single marriage.

I'm gonna give you a headline

that should supplant

the whirlwind currently surrounding my son.

We'll be postponing

the engagement a few days.

Bud is going to Iran.

The president is sending him? The president

hasn't agreed to it, but he will.

I'm meeting him in an hour, and I'm giving him a choice...

Either he sends my ex-husband or he accepts my resignation.

Now, you've just heard that

from a very high-level source at State.

I want to be on that plane.

Oh, Ms. Berg. If it goes awry, it'll be

background for my piece on you,

but if the current Secretary of State sends her ex-husband

to rescue a bunch of hostages in Iran

and it works, I want that story.

I-I need that story.

We'll be in touch.

Beautiful creatures, aren't they?

Majestic, fearsome

but still gentle.

They move slower

than most animals, but they travel just as far.

But that isn't what I love most about them.

They are a matriarchal society,

and when the males reach their mating age,

the females kick them the hell out of the herd.

Russ, it's me.

Okay, write this down exactly as I say it.

High-level sources at the State Department are confirming

that Secretary of State Elaine Barrish

will recommend to President Garcetti...

Can you keep a secret, Clark?

That's my job, Madam Secretary.

I'm gonna run for president again,

and this time...

I'm gonna win.

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