In the Weeds Page #6

- I didn't mean to...

- Give me your hand.

Call during the day.

You call my wife,

I'll f***ing kill you.

You busy?

Packed.

Me too.

Oh, my God.

He's here!

What?

I had to cover my face with

my bag so he wouldn't see me.

Okay, okay.

Honey.

- What are you doing at the bar?

- It's happening, Katie.

- What's happening?

- Things are flying.

Oh, really?

Tell me at the table.

They're flying me tomorrow

first class to L.A., okay?

I got a limo picking me up

in the morning.

Billy friggin' Corgan

wants to produce "Baby Blue. "

Billy Corgan

from Smashing Pumpkins?

Hello!

Oh, my God.

It is happening.

Oh, honey, I knew it would.

I am so happy for you.

You want to catch

a flick after work?

Sure.

Let's do something cheery.

How about "Taxi Driver"?

Perfect.

Oh, my God.

It's him.

What do I do?

Well, call him.

That's generally how

these things work, right?

This is it right here.

This is the moment of truth.

My whole future riding

on one lousy quarter.

You got a quarter

I could borrow?

Hey, break legs.

Let's eat!

Wait, wait, wait.

Katie, Katie, please.

Before we eat.

I love you.

Before we go in there,

I want to give you something.

Really?

Oh, boy.

Oh, my God.

Right here?

Yeah.

Right here.

Those are the keys

to my apartment.

Yeah.

I will never,

ever forget you, sweetheart.

What?

Katie.

Surprise!

No.

So sorry.

Am I disturbing tea time?

Can you check on the desserts

for Simon's table?

They're not out yet?

No, and I'm not going

back in there.

No problem.

Fine.

I'll do it.

Might as well put on an apron

and cook the goddamn food.

'Cause nothing seems to get done

around here without me!

Nobody cares.

Okay, I can go down maybe 50.

That's the absolute lowest

I can go.

Otherwise I'm practically

giving it away.

This place is my home.

The staff, my family.

I mean, this isn't just

dollars and cents to me.

Adam. I got it.

I got it.

- What?

- I got it, dude.

I just talked to my agent.

I booked a gig!

Why the lovefest?

Oh, my God.

Marlon got the gig.

- He booked it.

- It's about time.

Did someone just get a big tip?

Our little boyfriend's

gonna be a movie star.

- Yeah.

- No sh*t!

- Damn!

- Good for you.

Congratulations.

What are you still doing here?

Take off the apron and get out.

Well, I can't.

I still have tables.

Who are you trying to kid?

You don't have a conscience.

Get out of here.

I'll cover you. Go get drunk.

We'll get sh*t-faced after work.

All right.

Deal, deal.

Oh, whoa, whoa.

You won't be needing this.

Thank you.

Lucky bastard.

There's hope.

But what are the odds of two

of us getting out of this dump?

A million to one.

That was a rhetorical question,

all right?

- Hey.

- Hi.

So it's such great news, huh?

Oh, my God.

Marlon?

- He heard the words.

- What words?

He had four words

that he wanted to hear.

"You got the part. "

I got six.

Six magical words.

"I want to produce your play. "

You'll hear them, too.

Yeah.

What makes you so sure?

I know these things.

Do you know, I think I'd start

crying right there on the spot?

I'd break down and weep

like a baby.

I've heard them in my head

a million times.

I've fantasized about them.

But never once have I actually

heard them out loud.

I want to produce your play.

Oh, God.

That was good.

I want to produce your play.

Could those words be any sexier?

I want to produce your play.

Okay.

I need a cigarette.

Do you want to go out back?

Yeah.

Come on.

Hey, can you cover my station?

No, not if you're going outside.

Okay, we won't.

Can you get Martha's, too?

Oh, yeah.

I got nothing better to do.

Thanks.

Do you know that I dated Alice

for over two years,

and not once did she read

one of my plays?

- In here?

- Yeah.

So, she wanted me to be

on Wall Street.

Oh, you strike me

as the Wall Street type.

I might not be

totally fulfilled.

At least I wouldn't be

doing this.

No, you'd be on some rooftop

polishing your semiautomatic.

Hmm.

At least I wouldn't

be polishing silverware.

Do you know,

if you'd told me six years ago

that I'd still be saying,

"Can I get you some fresh pepper

with that?"

I would have gotten back on the

bus, and I would have gone home.

Can I ask you a question?

Yeah.

When you make it

as a playwright.

Okay.

Let's say you're married.

Do you think you'd leave

your wife and kid

for some teenage floozy

named Storm?

Huh?

What was that?

Turn off the f***ing light!

Excuse us.

How about those desserts

for my big table?

When will Simon's desserts

be ready?

Okay, could everyone

please just back off?

Shh, shh, shh, shh.

Okay.

We have to compose ourselves.

- Okay?

- Okay.

- Okay, I'm composed.

- Mm-hmm.

- Are you composed?

- Definitely. Yeah.

# For I don't know

what I was thinking #

# And I didn't know

what I had found #

# But automatic blues #

What was that for?

Consider it a show of support

for your writing career.

Well, I'd like to direct

one day, too.

Really?

Well, one show of support

at a time.

Where have you been?

Simon's desserts

still haven't come.

Step on it.

Come on.

Is that Simon's table?

I need it now.

Hey, I'm completely

backed up here.

When Simon's table is ready,

you'll get it.

- It's a f***ing madhouse.

- Tell me about it.

"'Cause when you have a cold,

only your left nostril runs. "

I love that.

"Week 48.

The grunts you make

when you bowl. "

It would take some wrangling.

You know, flowers, chocolates,

week in St. Bart's.

I mean, she'd make me pay.

But she'd capitulate, you know?

Maybe I should just

bite the bullet and do it.

And finally,

last but not least...

"Week 52.

The way a ring looks

around your finger. "

Mmm.

That was good.

I'm full.

What?

No.

I mean, eat.

But I'm not hungry.

Keep eating.

I feel sick.

It'll pass.

Well, after you and Sasha

broke up,

she left the door open, right?

He didn't tell you?

Tell me what?

Sasha's engaged.

Some doctor.

Dermatologist.

Jesus.

You're okay with it?

Yeah, wouldn't trade it

for the world.

Do you love her?

Do I love her?

You know Anne.

She's an incredible woman.

She's smart.

Funny.

She's sexy.

I don't like the way

you're acting, Harold.

Let's just get the check

and go.

What are you doing?

But, Harold,

you're lactose intolerant.

Excuse me, please.

I adore you.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me!

I think we have a problem.

Here you go.

I need a word, pronto.

Is there a problem?

No, no.

Everything's fine.

- Where is this man's ring?

- It's in his crme brle.

- But it's not there.

- It's not there.

I finished my poem, and I would

like to propose to Margaret.

It must be there,

because I put it there myself.

Okay. Okay.

Think.

Who else has gotten

crme brles at your tables?

No one. That's the only one

I've served all night.

You know how slow the kitchen's

been. No one ex-

Except...

Oh, my God.

Gentlemen, it seems we have

a little mix-up.

Let me just get you

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