The Escort Page #3

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- Yeah, he was in here earlier.

He wouldn't show his nuts.

- That's a tell.

- What?

How is that a tell?

- 'Cause you didn't do it.

- You know...

Just--just get the lady

her drink, please.

Look, I know you have to have

your guard up doing what you do,

but I'm a decent guy,

I swear.

I just lost my job

working at this newspaper,

and I'm trying to land

this gig at this magazine.

All I want to do is tell

an interesting story,

and I think you have one.

Yeah?

What story would that be?

You know, you're

a Stanford-educated, uh...

- Escort. Yeah.

- Sure.

We--we can take

that angle if you want.

All right, buddy, look.

I'm not interested

in being your hooker

with a heart of gold

or being some pity piece

about how the system

failed me

or whatever bullshit angle

you're taking.

Look, I'm not out

to make you look bad.

Just let me follow you

around for,

like, a week or two.

You won't even

notice I'm there.

No.

Final answer, sorry.

Wait, just--here, just...

You asked for a card

the other day.

Take that in case

you change your mind.

Think about it.

You f***ed that one up, huh?

I'm so into you, baby.

I'm getting wet just thinking

about what you're gonna do.

- F***, come here.

Ah.

Oh, jeez.

Hey, hey,

I said no kissing.

- I'm not gonna say it again.

- Come on, baby.

I can be your boyfriend.

Oh, come on.

Stop it.

It's over, a**hole.

Don't be such a goddamn b*tch.

No, stop, stop,

stop, stop, stop.

I'm getting what I paid for.

Shh, shh, shh.

I'll kill you,

you f***ing whore!

Dad. Hey.

Um, I need a bit of a favor.

Babe, I swear to God,

I can't f***ing do this anymore.

Why, what happened?

Oh, I'm fine, I'm just,

like, a little bit rattled.

F***ing scumbag.

What, he try to stick it

in that beautiful ass again?

No, he's just a...

just drunk, coked-out bullshit.

Still think my ass is beautiful?

It's a dangerous world

out there.

You ever think about getting

back with Sebastian?

Hell, no.

I--I don't want a pimp.

It makes it feel way too real.

Plus, that f***er

took half my money,

and I did all the work.

Well, what happened tonight

would not happen

if you had someone there

with you.

That's all I'm saying.

Yeah.

Maybe.

Hey, you find

a parking spot okay?

I actually walked here.

I don't have a car.

You don't have

a car in LA?

Yeah, or any other city.

I don't have a car.

Speaking of, nice one.

- I like it.

- Thanks.

Is that, like,

an environmental issue or...

No, my life's just pretty

contained to this area,

so I don't need a car.

- So what made you come around?

- Does it matter?

You seemed really desperate

and pathetic.

Just be glad

I'm letting you do this.

Oh. A charity case.

I'll take it.

So are you

from around here or...

Shouldn't you have something

to write this down with?

No, I just prefer

to listen.

Oh, God, are you, like,

one of those waiters

who doesn't write

anything down

and then fucks

the order all up?

Uh, no, I'm like

one of those waiters

who doesn't write anything down

and gets it all right.

By the way, no names,

places, pictures,

nothing that can tie me

to this article,

or I will rip

your balls off.

I don't even know

your real name.

- Where are we going, anyway?

- I have an 11:
00.

In the morning?

Hey, Ruth,

I'm so sorry I'm late.

Oh, no problem, Natalie.

Jared's waiting in the kitchen.

- Okay.

- Did you hear that, Natalie?

Jared's waiting

in the kitchen, Natalie.

- And who's this?

- Oh, hi, I'm Mitch.

A friend from out of town.

He has nothing to do today

because he has no friends.

[whispers]

Also, he's a little slow.

Do you mind if he hangs out here

for the hour?

Oh, bless his heart.

Of course, come in.

Thanks.

Hey, this is weird.

- Who's Jared?

- Her ten-year-old son.

She's paying you to have sex

with her ten-year-old son?

This is--you know what?

I can't do this.

Shut up.

Pretend you don't exist.

I thought I could do it.

I can't.

And shut the door.

For the record,

I'm not comfortable with this.

Great, so what do all

these equations have in common?

So why do you tutor

when you're pulling in

over 1,000 bucks a night?

Escorts have family members

that ask questions too.

Believe it or not,

I actually enjoy teaching.

You know, my tutor

was a 300-pound guy

whose breath

smelled like salami.

Lovely.

How'd you get into this

in the first place?

- Don't do that.

- Do what?

Don't ask questions.

I--how am I supposed

to do my job then?

Just don't make it feel like

an interview, you know?

Let's just be friends.

You do have friends, right?

Yeah, and I ask them questions

when I want to know things.

God, I can already tell

you're gonna be

so f***ing annoying.

Onion, two carrots,

two cups of adzuki beans

My baby, she knows

how to keep that figure lean

That was cute, babe.

Well, there's more

where that came from.

- Oh, yeah?

- Yeah.

- That was for you.

- Oh, yeah?

Hey, guys,

please stop having sex.

We have company.

- Hi, babe.

- Hey, babe.

Mmm, hey!

Dominick, Dana,

this is Mitch.

- Mitch, my friends.

- Hey.

Hey, how you guys doing?

- Good.

- Hey, man.

What'd you think of my song?

Oh, it was, uh...inspiring.

Rock on.

Dominick's gonna be

the next Bob Dylan

or John Mayer.

- Bruno Mars or something.

- Certainly a wide range.

Mm-hmm.

Hey, thanks, man.

Appreciate that.

Means a lot.

You guys should totally

stay for lunch.

Yeah.

- Sh*t, we just ate.

- Yeah, really full.

Which is unfortunate,

'cause this all

looks delicious, but...

So the nice car,

the downtown loft.

Is this all you,

or did your parents

have money

when you were growing up?

They help you out?

What's--what's going on here?

Single mom,

high school teacher.

- What about your dad?

- Never met him.

I'm still having trouble kind of

wrapping my head around you.

I mean, you went

to a great school

and got a great education.

You're not awful-looking.

I just don't understand.

Look, come on,

you gotta give me something.

After graduation,

I had to get a job

that paid enough

to put a dent

in my student loans.

This checked off

all the boxes.

Okay, well,

there are plenty of normal jobs

that pay well, right?

Yeah, not like this.

Once I hit a certain number,

I'll call it quits.

I've got some ideas

of what I want to do,

but for now, this is it.

Number--what kind of number

are we talking about?

Last year, I made

213,000 tax-free.

I figure at that rate,

another 2 1/2 years

and I'll have the flexibility

to do what I want.

Holy sh*t.

Got to get ready.

Don't be so shocked.

So tell me about yourself.

Who is Mitchell Cooper?

Can't we just be,

like, friends

and, like, hang out

and chill and not ask questions?

Hey, a**hole.

I don't sound like that.

What do you want to know?

I don't know, anything,

whatever.

Just people

with normal lives fascinate me.

Normal, is that what

you think of me?

Mm, I don't know.

Uh, let's see.

Well, I--I worked

at The Los Angeles Review.

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