Man About Town Page #4

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to this crap night after night!

I don't understand why!

Anthony needs to do

the right thing!

Oh, come on!

I am taking him over to her house

to talk this out with her parents!

Anthony,

open this door now!

Leave the kid alone!

You're driving me nuts!

Get down those stairs

and get out in that car right now!

You stay out of this!

My mother never forgave my father

for letting the failure of his career

destroy his happiness at home.

She never forgave him

for putting a wall up

between himself

and his two sons.

You only care about Jack!

My father never forgave me

for not being thin and focused,

combative and determined

like Anthony.

Between you

and your father...

And for the rest of her life,

he never forgave my mother

for killing Anthony.

Why the hell should I

have to forgive Nina?

- You've got about a hundred calls.

- David Lilly?

No, but I did figure out

who Barbi Ling is.

She writes freelance hatchet pieces

for the L.A. Voice.

Most of them are

maJor players in town.

She did the Sherry Lansing piece.

- Figures.

- It gets worse.

She's a screenwriter

and was a stand-up comic.

You know, one of them

Comedy Store wanna-bes?

She submitted ten scripts

within the last five years.

We reJected them all.

She couldn't make it in this town

and decided to tear down

the people who did, right?

It gets worse.

Would you stop saying that, please?

You sound like a bit player

on a Dick Wolf show.

She sold a full profile to the L.A. Voice.

The one last week was

Just a teaser.

She's doing a whole thing

on you, Jack...

the evolution of the agency,

the stealing of clients.

Please tell me that's not true.

- I can't.

- Jack.

We need you in your office.

Right now.

Jack, it's important.

Phil called.

He wants to sit down with you

or he's threatened

to leave the agency.

You need to have lunch with him.

I'm not sitting down with Phil.

Nina called me, too.

She's destroyed.

You need to see her.

I'm worried about her.

Then you see her.

Hey, get this Ling

on the phone, will ya?

Jack, you need to do something.

He will leave the agency.

Jack, here's how bad

I want you to have lunch with Phil.

Are you ready?

I will sign your cousin Andrew's no-talent,

acne-scarred daughter.

Okay?

- Call him.

- Jack, Barbi Ling on line 3.

Barbi Ling, how are you?

I'm fine, Mr. Giamoro.

What can I do for you?

Well, I think that you

and I should sit down

and have a meal together.

Why? Do I sound hungry?

In fact, when you called,

I was having a meal.

Well, if you're like me,

eventually you'll have another one.

Listen to me, Barbi.

I promise you,

you need me close on this, okay?

Profiles need information.

I can get you to who

you need to get to

so you can get

this thing done right.

Are we done?

Barbi, I'm being nice now.

This is the nice Jack

that you're talking to.

I know.

And I'm so very lucky.

Oh, look!

My food's here.

Fun meeting you,

nice Jack.

I'm not good with the word "no."

I never have been.

I worked at the world-famous

Cameron Merrick Agency.

Morty, Arlene and I

all started in the mailroom together.

We were young and hungry

and had the power

of determination.

Once I found the business,

I knew I was gonna succeed.

I saw myself

succeeding so clearly

that it became

a moment in time

that I had but simply

to wait and prepare for.

Like a bus scheduled into the station

at a preordained moment,

I moved forward with confidence

that my day would surely arrive.

And when the time came

to make a play,

I made a play.

As our bosses before us had done,

we formed a new group,

took most of our clients,

and left the agency.

But first we copied all their secrets

so we'd have something to blackmail them with

if they ever came after us.

It was ruthless and bold,

a mailroom coup,

a time-honored

show business tradition.

Change is coming around again now.

I can feel it.

Dad?

Dad?

Goddamn it!

Hi.

Is he gonna be okay?

He's banged up.

He's got a couple

fractured ribs.

Pretty bad cut

on his back.

He's gonna

need to see a dentist.

His teeth are pretty bad.

It's not a problem, Jack.

I've got the best guy

in Beverly Hills.

And Jack, the best thing about it is,

you won't feel a thing.

This guy will have you

on so much dope.

You're gonna love this guy.

Wait a minute!

He's not a dentist!

He's a comedy writer!

This guy's a comedy writer!

Okay, we better up that dosage, please.

Thank you.

Who let...

Who let the whore in?

You're a whore!

She broke the bonds

of our matrimony!

You screwed my biggest client!

Why couldn't you screw Garry Marshall?

He's about to retire!

You had to screw

a working client!

That's good!

I'll be in the waiting room.

Morty, he's here!

Morty!

Okay, good.

Did you tell Arlene?

- Yeah, she knows.

- Okay.

I'm here.

Where's Fineberg?

He's on his way.

- Okay.

- Okay.

Nobody mentions the teeth.

Okay?

Come on.

Come on, come on.

Talk about his quick recovery.

Talk about how good he looks.

- Come on.

- He likes that.

Okay, quick! Thank you.

Everybody upbeat? Okay.

So, how you doing, Jack?

How you think I'm doing?

I look like a goddamn xylophone!

Jack, Kevin Sands is

the best in the business.

He does all the big names.

You were in

so much pain and so wild.

He did the best he could.

I look like Tom Cruise's retarded cousin.

Jack, what did the cops say?

Did they find anything?

No. Guy got away.

They have no idea who he was.

Well, the important thing

is that you're back, right?

Yep, I'm back!

All right, I'll see you guys.

Maria?

Have you seen my Journal?

Maria!

My home was broken into

and it was stolen.

I haven't had an entry

in three weeks.

So, what's your plan?

I don't know.

You don't know?

You haven't been to

class for three weeks

and now you

don't have a Journal,

after you didn't want me

to read it anyway,

and when I ask you

what your plan is,

you say...

"I don't know."

Do you think I'm lying?

I've had a very

difficult few weeks.

Which, of course,

you did not write about.

Mr. Giamoro, tell me honestly.

Why don't you drop out?

I mean, why are you here?

To taunt me?

It's not my way to drop out.

Yes, yes, yes.

But why are you here in this class?

I don't know.

I Just had an idea.

Why don't you write about that?

Or would that be too much bother?

You don't have the right

to talk to me that way.

Great! Write about that!

Write about how

you cannot stand me,

how you'd like to pop me

right in the kisser,

how you'd like to

punch me on the snoot!

Write about it in

great color and detail!

Am I hitting a little

nerve here, Jackie?

Fill those pages!

Go out!

Get a new Journal and fill the pages!

Write about it.

Yes?

Okay.

Thank you.

I miss that time in my life,

when I was fearless,

when the ground

was mine and I stood it,

when I was bullheaded like my dad,

and I was always right.

Mr. Giamoro,

I have told you before

that you cannot

make these outbursts.

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