House of Lies (2012–2016): Season 2, Episode 3 - Man-Date - full transcript

Marty and Clyde attempt to woo the business of new Las Vegas casino king, Michael Carlson, a maverick self-made millionaire who notoriously hates consultants. Meanwhile, Jeannie tries to assess how big a threat Tamara is by suggesting the two of them enjoy a spa day together. Monica makes an unlikely connection with her personal vegan chef, Tessa.

Previously on House of Lies...

Viva Las Vegas, baby!

You know you've been banned
from all betting areas? You need to leave.

Marty's b-school friend, Tamara.

Well, if you've been doing
reading, then I'll shut up.

Uh, would you?
Because that would be great.


So, you're in town
consulting with Pincus, right?

We're gonna build
a better goddamn casino.

Our guy in Washington...

that the restrictions
to online gambling

are about to go bye-bye.

Thanks, but no, thanks.

She blew the deal

and showed up
to the fucking party?

Cat claw noise.

What do you propose
we do now?

My dude Carlson
is the new king of Vegas.

Look, I'm not implying that
you guys don't know Carlson.

We're seriously tight.

Carlson, Carlson.

(choral music playing)

♪ Turn on the record player...

Can I just say, uh,
you really look like a dick.

Huh? No.

Come on, let's be fair.

Would you stop pushing?
Let's be fair.

♪ True as the stardust
in your eyes... ♪

Wait, let me fix that.

You look like a dick
with a mustache.

DOUG: Ha, ha.
And a hat.

Ooh, Tamara.

All right, let's keep
it down, all right?

It's working,
isn't it?

I haven't been thrown
out yet, so...


What? No, not Doug Guggenheim.

You say your name
is Guggenheim all the time.

Would you shut up,
Clyde? God. You brag about it.

♪ True as the stardust
in your eyes... ♪

Oh, my God, that was
a close one, huh, boss?

Don't call me boss.
Huh? Why not?

I mean, well, with
this new promotion,

you are now
technically my boss.

The promotion was horseshit.

It is not.
I was always your boss.

Okay, boss, you got it.

It doesn't even matter,
my friends.

Will you please
stop pushing me?

...because it is
Marty and I

on a man date with

the Douchebag Twins

Let's break this down.

You need Marty, the big dog,
to impress them

with his bespoke suits
and his fancy ideas,

and they need to--
I don't know--

relate to someone
on more of a douchebag level,

so who could we get?

It's so sad the way you try
to besmirch my accomplishments.

So sad you consider this
an accomplishment.

Girls, you're
both pretty.

Marty, I'm gonna fucking kill
him one of these days,

I swear to God.
Do whatever you want,

but shut the fuck up.
You're getting on my nerves.

♪ So let's go home. ♪

You're getting pretty good.

Thank you.

I have a ways to go

before I catch up
with you, though.

No, but then you'd
have to fire me.

Ha ha, never.

Thank you.

Roscoe, you need to come
and finish your crepe.

How about a shot of wheat grass?

ROSCOE (in distance):
No. MONICA: Okay.

Roscoe, did you borrow
my Cle de Peau liner?



I'm getting dressed.

♪ ♪


So, that looks like
it might be my liner.

Well, maybe if you didn't
buy me that shit from Rite Aid.

Hey, hey, hey.

Thanks, Grandpa.

I'm sorry, Grandpa.

We need to check the
language at the door.

And next time, just ask.

If you want to talk about your
makeup needs, we can do that.

We can do that tonight.

Fine, I'll return
your Cle de Peau liner.

Blend it a little.

You know,

if you buy him shitty makeup,

then you're really

your disapproval of his
choice to be gender fluid.

I'm not gonna get into it
with you over makeup,

something that you know
dick about.

Ah, you know, I've learned
a little bit about it

over the last few years.

Well, I know more,
and you're not his parent,

so if you could just
shut the fuck up

while I'm trying
to be his parent...

Pardon me if I don't take you seriously.

I left my immersion blender in the car.


(Monica sighs)

Pardon me if I kick your ass
out of my house.

Oh, that would be great
for Roscoe.

Yeah, I think it would.
You know what?

You put together six months
of sobriety...

and I'll vanish. Poof!

Who are you, Jeremiah?

I mean, oh, you're like

the fucking morality Nazi
or something.

A moral Nazi?

(Jeremiah laughs)

You need to read a book.

You're a sanctimonious old prick.

And you're a hungry ghost.

Okay, okay.

Why are you... you're fucking...
Damn it!

You fucking provocateur.
Okay, what is it?

What is a hungry ghost?

So glad you asked.

It's a creature
that can't be sated.

Always trying
to feed itself,

but its arms are too long
to reach its tiny little mouth.

Thank you so much for the
bullshit sandwich, but I'm full.


Hey, Grandpa?

Can we go the side way
so I can try to ollie that gap?


Hey, let's ollie the gap.

We leave now.

Ollie that gap.

Oh, Roscoe. Wheat grass!


It's good for ollieing.

I just want to make sure we
have enough time to come back.

Glad you like it.

So, look, I say we get there
a little early,

before it's 700 fucking
decibels of dubstep.

And before we're
absolutely shit-faced.

'Cause that is happening.

Yeah, we're gonna
drink beverages. Yeah.

So, look, we're gonna
tee ourselves up

with the Douchebag Twins
as kingmakers.

You know,
show them what we do,

maybe even give them
a little entree

into our, uh,
online gambling world.

Maybe. Mmm, see
how it goes.

And they're gonna show us

that big-ass billion-dollar
Carlson wallet.


Why don't we just set up

a meeting with Carlson?

Because he notoriously
hates outsiders,

analysts, consultants.

Considers himself--
what'd he say?--

"the ultimate maverick."

Really? Renegade, huh?

Oh, man, I've been there.

Yeah. Yeah,
I get the feeling

that Mr. Carlson
and Doug the Gugg are,

uh, gonna have a
lot in common.


You okay?

Want me to get the waiter?

No, I'm really
gonna throw up.

Don't ever refer

to yourself in
the third person.

And never as "Doug the Gugg."

That was a dramatic response.

I disagree.
Use it from here on out.


Doug the Gugg.

Don't ever fucking change.


It's a great nickname.

Okay, so when
it's all said and done,

factoring in
the after-work,

what are we looking
at in fees?

Could be $40 million.

Hmm. Could be 50.

It could be.

Not bad.

And once Julianne Hofschraeger
spreads that around,

puts the new Bottega Veneta
desk in her office,

there's a decent
chunk of change left over

for your bonus, Marty.

Now you're getting it.

I'm sorry, am I the only one
that does not understand

why Marty still even
talks to her

after she blew
the Pincus account?

It's crazy, right?

It's almost like
he respects her.

I don't like you.
I don't care for you, either.

TAMARA: Oh, Marty, Marty,
what was I thinking?


Um, since we both have

the day off, would you
like to go to the spa?


I mean, we're both women.

We... we work in a primarily
male-dominated environment.

And I feel like, you know,
we should stick together

and have girl bonding power.

Okay. Let's... let's do it.
Thank you.

All right, girl power.

Did I hear something
about a spa?

Nobody heard anything
about a...? Nope.

No. No, you did not.


♪ ♪

We're on our boat off of Cabo,

balls deep, dos chicas,

and genius spots a sea turtle.

And I'm all, "Jump."

And he's like,
"No fucking way."

And I'm all,
"If you don't fucking jump,

I am going to push you,"

and he's all, "No!"

And the motherfucker pushed me.


Stop playing games. He pushed you in?

In the agua, my friend.
Oh, yeah.

Who could see that
fucking coming? (groans)

Dude, that's my favorite
story you guys tell.

Every time you say it,
I'm like, "Ah, this is

the best story I've heard
in my entire life."

(laughs) Dude, you know us.
We're always pushing

the fucking envelope and shit.
Am I right, bro?

100% right, bro.
That's what we're all about.

Check it.

Yo, Amber!

Bring out the AKs.


Holy shit.

You girls got guns.

Baby doll
got weapons, too. (laughs)


This is some
top-secret shit, fellas. Oh.

Now that you've seen it,
we may have to kill you.


Hey, Marty, do me a favor.
Say hello to my little friend.

Hey, hello, little friend.

Yeah, put your mouth on it.
Do what?

Do it!

Uh... for real?
Yeah, yeah.

Come on, now.
All right, go.

(moaning and yelling)


Holy shit, that's strong,
that's good.

Yeah, it's sugary.

Now do us, bitches.

Yeah, do us, bitches!

You're getting done.

Open your mouth.

(gagging sounds)


Whoo! Awesome, right?

You juggled the balls
a little bit there.

KYLE: Guys, these
bad boys sell

for 325 bucks a pop.

You get to keep the gun.


Our price?
$1.50, all in.

Do you see what I'm trying
to tell you, Marty?

These guys are fucking pure genius.

Pure genius.
Well, think about that.

That's all profit, guys.
That's 100% profit.

But you know what else
it makes me think about?

What would you say

the hottest club was
five years ago?

Uh, ancient history.

Wait, whoa, whoa.

What about two years ago?

Oh, wait. Um, was it...?
Who gives a fuck?

Okay. No, I get it.

So what you're saying is

that your brilliant business
model is to pimp out your club

that's gonna be ancient history
in two to five years?

Yeah. Marty, we'll be fucking...

You'll be what?

You'll be forgotten
right along with it.

Marty, come on.

Hold on, Clyde.

This is a bullshit, accelerated,
excess-fueled world

with the half-life
of crème fraîche

where nobody can remember

what happened fucking two
years ago, let alone five.

And you two fuckheads are
gonna be dead as dinosaur shit

unless you start
to realize

that the best piece of capital
that you possess is you.

Your names.

Your brand.

The Dushkin... Douchebags...

Dushkin Twin brand.

Get your...

You got to stop
putting your club's name first.

You want to know why?

'Cause you're
the fucking stars.

You're the reason you're
netting over $50 million

a year at War.

What? How much?
50 fucking million dollars

a year at War.
That's you guys.

Not the mediocre DJs,
not the bullshit themes,

not the business partners.

It's you.

You guys are the stars.

You got the big swinging dicks.

Why don't you go out

and make a fucking sex tape
with Mila Kunis?

Just one?
Oh, fuck. There's two of you?

Tag-team that bitch
and make two of them.

Time to be loud.

Be the motherfucking product.

Be the money. Listen to me.

Be the brand.

Fuck, yeah.

Let's be the fucking brand.
Yeah, be the brand.

Be the fucking brand.
I want to be in Mila.

Fuck! We're the
fucking brand. (whooping)

Go to war!

Let's go to war!

Yeah, let's go to war.

in the motherfucking house!

Who cares that I was magna
cum laude at Columbia, or

the youngest ever
consultant... Jeannie?

...accepted into Galweather?

It's not that you're not amazing

and ambitious
and talented.

I mean, you are
a beautiful girl.

Sensing there's a "but."

I'm already
senior to you,

and I'm not threatened by you,

and I'm sorry if you
feel threatened by me,

because you don't have to.

I'm not gonna get in your way
at Galweather.

Okay. Well, that's...
great, I guess.

Oh, and,

you know, whatever's going on
between you and Marty

is totally between the two
of you. I don't really...

There's nothing going on
between Marty and I.



No, like... nada.


Got it.


This is so amazing.

If anything,
I would have thought

there was something going on
between you and Marty.

Mmm. You know,

that ship sailed
a long time ago.

So there was a ship?

Well, it was a little,
tiny boat, and it sailed.

Well, I'm guessing
Marty fucked it up.

Uh, actually, you know,
it was both of us.

We were both

so young and so competitive.

I mean, neither one of us
were really ready for... (sighs)

You know what, Jeannie?

Everything turned out exactly
the way that it was supposed to.

And you met your husband.

Yes. Kevin.
He's amazing.

He's smart.
He's funny.

He's... he's
an amazing dad.

And I am a lucky girl.

Gosh, how do you do it?

You know, balancing marriage
and career and kids?

Well, you do one thing
for a while

until the other thing suffers,

and then you swing back and
pay attention to the other.

It's the most imperfect
system, and unfair,

but honestly, I haven't seen
anything else work better.


Well, you make it look easy.

Yeah, well,

it's pretty much
always a cluster fuck.

Nothing's ever easy.

You know, maybe if you ever
have a family, you'll get it.

Yeah. Maybe I will.



You know, my-my associates went
to a so-called high-end spa.


Yeah. High-end.

Oh, please. Why?

Because they-they float a few
cucumber slices in their water?


You know, a massage should be
about the rubbing.

Nothing more.


Just like that.

Yeah, the rubbing.

I think, as a culture,
we've-we've forgotten that.

That's sweet.

You know, we should be honoring
people like you, a proud--

oh-- wage earner...

...plying her trade,
charging a fair price

for a damn...
good... rubdown.


Instead, what do we do?

We judge.

We say, "Well, she can't
be a good masseuse

because she works
off the Strip."


"She doesn't use
scented candles."


"She doesn't sanitize
the table."



Oh, it's effective apartheid,
if I'm being honest.

Yeah, homey don't play that.

Uh-uh. No, ma'am.

Homey do not.

(table squeaks)

Oh. (gasps)


(oil squishing)





Mmm. Oh. That was
fun tonight.


Some of the girls
don't dig it when

I talk about Noam Chomsky.


Yeah, I had a nice time
tonight. I...


It's good. Mmm.

I think I should go inside.


You're not, uh...

You're not inviting me in?

No. (laughs)

I have a son.



Well, I guess we could go to my place.

No. No, no, no. I want to go...
I wanted to go inside

and just say good night
before he went to bed.

Mm-hmm. What
about, uh...

Wait, wait. What about, uh,
you know, just a little, uh...



From what?
For the...

Like, don't leave
me hanging. Right?

What are you
talking about? Just get me off

Even if it's just, like, a quick...

quick hand job.
Quickie, quick...

Do you remember when I...?

You remember how I said that
I had such a good time tonight?

Yeah, yeah. So, look,
I'm pretty speedy.

We could just...

That was reflexive, like,
"God bless you" when you sneeze.

Because, truthfully?

Listening to your fatuous,

boring, hipster-elitist diatribe

against free market capitalism
made me want to go

purchase a gun and then put us
both out of our misery.

I just got harder.

I love angry chicks.

Well, then,
you're gonna love this.


Go fuck yourself.

Fuck. Fucking creep. Gross.

♪ I was walking home
from work... ♪

What's that?

Check it.

♪ You just packed
your suitcase ♪

♪ Dragged it down my...

Dior. Pretty nice.

(Monica scoffs)

No Cle de Peau, but
considering the hack job

you do on your eyes.
It's the look-du-jour.

Okay? But...

I'll take the Dior
if that's all you're pimping.

Oh, well, thank you so much
for lowering your standards.

I try.

♪ I thought I knew...

So how was the date?

The date. The date.
(door closes)

You would not believe the date.

Too predictably awful.

I think I'm...
I'm just gonna retire

from the whole business
of dating.

I know who you are.


I see how you
parent him.

How you're working so hard

to give him
everything he needs.

I mean, with his gender

his school, his diet,

I really see...

♪ Just kissing
on your shoulder... ♪

What just happened?




Yo, yo, yo, yo, check it,
check it, check it.

In our world,

you prove yourself

by how you rage.

You ready to fucking rage?

Is pussy made of fucking pussy?

Huh? Lets rage,

(whooping and cheering)

(hip-hop playing)

(woman's echoing laughter)


♪ My world, my world

♪ Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay

(echoing laughter)
♪ Come on, I can't stop ♪

No! Come on!

♪ Na, na, na, na...


Yes! Oh!



(Clyde laughing)

Hold up, hold up.

I had sex in my full suit
last night.

Oh, yeah, you should get that dry-cleaned.

That was an amazing

It's, like, top three
of the best things you've ever done.


Hey, so, Marty,
what do you mean

when you keep saying we,
like, got to be the brand?

MARTY: Oh. Ugh. I'm gonna
be honest with you, man.

That was just
consultant mambo, man.

We were just bullshitting.

It's what we do.
Don't be mad at me.

But you guys are the shit, okay?

That's true.

I just want you to jump

on that rocket ship
and take it all the way

to Planet Ka-Ching.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.

You can't push these guys, man.
Let them be.

They're big boys, Clyde.

They can hear a big idea.

But that's
a big fucking risk.

That's a huge risk.

Absolutely. And huge risk
leads to huge rewards.

Because War
is gonna look like

a teeny-tiny,
little antiquated

colonial fucking

compared to what's
coming down the pipe.

You need to be
on that shit.

We're talking $500 million.

These guys do not have
that type of money.

Oh, so you're the consultant
and the accountant now?

Oh, okay, because I'm Jewish,
I'm the fucking accountant? Fuck you, man.

I make one dumb little
Sammy Davis Jr. joke,

and now I'm an anti-Semite?
Sammy is more Jewish

than he is black.

Oh, you're a racist.

No, you're the racist.

You don't think
Jewish people can dance.


Hey! Whoa!

(conversation stops)

Okay. Just for a
second, humor me.

Now, let's just say
we do have $500 million.

What are you
frontin' about?

We're not fronting.

No, no, no, stop.

We signed
a confidentiality agreement.

I apologize.
We can eat this food...

Oh, fuck that, Clyde!
Did your boys

not get you seriously
laid last night?

I'm saying, man,

why don't you try respecting
the fuck-terntity, Clyde.

Tell them.
For real?

For real for real.

Social media gaming.

We have exclusive
access-- that is

first-right refusal
to a Web site

that is gonna fucking rock
the fucking world.

Oh, man, it's
instant monetization.

It's... it's perfection.

It's Facebook while you spend
a couple of bucks betting

with your social network.
Think about it.

You're alone, by yourself,
comfortable, sweat pants,

looking at pics of your family,
farting around,

while we bleed you dry
with a tiny juice box straw.

Tell them about Caesars.
It's legal

overseas already, man.
Caesars is

fucking killing it over there.

Billions... in revenue.

It's totally untapped.

Yeah, I know.
And it'd be awesome if...

If it was legal here.

Oh, exactly, my man.

No. If it was legal
in the States, but exactly.

All right.

What the fuck
was that?

Oh! You motherfuckers
have inside intel, huh?

Can I say we know?

Let's just say
maybe we know. Maybe.

It doesn't fucking matter
anyway, because...

turns out our guy Pincus
is a complete pussy.

He ain't a baller.

He's an asshole.

We got your
back, homey.

Don't know what
that means, homey.

It means we got the
fucking guy, Clyde.

He is gonna eat this shit up.

He most certainly
has the scrilla.

Oh, wait, are you guys
talking about Carlson?

What good does that do us?

He's a total inner-circle guy.

We can't even
get next to that dude.

Yes, you can.

We'll make the intro.

We'll put the club
in the Vibrato, dude.

Just give us
a little taste.


(low grunting)

Num, num, num, num. Tasty, tasty.

Num, num, num, num, num!


I like tastes.

Who doesn't like tastes?


(helicopter blades whirring)

(soft whirring)

Yeah. W...


No, you're talking like you have
a bag of dicks in your mouth.

Yeah, well, can
you please...


Good, then get
to a landline.


Come on.
This is your shot.

Oh. Um, all right, well,
as you can see from the deal...

Why would you even take

this call on a
fucking mobile,


Am I so unimportant

that you could just talk on
your shitty little iPhone

while I'm tying to do
real business?

Go ahead.

Uh, the deal
that we are proposing,

as you can see,
it's potentially far more

Okay, I'm about to put a bullet in this deal.

This deal?
It's a little better,

yes, thank you.

Come on, let's go.

This deal is potentially far more lucrative

than, um...
we believe exponentially

more lucrative

than your standard
brick-and-mortar options.

That's right, sir.

Which you've already made
extremely profitable.

But the sky
is the limit. No, I'm

to you, bag of dicks.

Just hold on a minute.
Go ahead.

This is a client base

that is utterly untapped.

Mr. Carlson...


Mr. Carlson,
we're talking about

an entire gaming audience
of potentially

of new users.

And the
entire country

can't... the entire world
can't come to Vegas.

What we're proposing is that...

Just give me a second.
This is a good point.

Um, what
we're proposing

is that we
bring Vegas Jeannie...

to the new...

You think he's listening to you?

He's looking
at your tits.

We're out of here.
Wait. Come on.

Let's go.
Hey, hey, hey.

Okay, you
know what?

Fuck off. Okay.

You know what, we're gonna
take our show down the road,

but thanks for the undivided
attention. Really.

I'm saying okay.

I'm saying yes.

But only on a
pay-per basis.

You guys close
the deal,

and I'll pay the freight.

Till then, you work on spec.

So I... thank you,
I guess.

And you guys are available
to me, okay?

I call, you get here
on the first-- not the second,

not the third-- flight,
you hear me?

Absolutely, sir.
And just remember

that I fucking
hate you.

I hate consultants.

I hate the way
you do business, I hate

what you stand for, I hate
your billing practices,

I hate that you ride
on the entrepreneurial vision

of people like myself,
and if I could do

this deal without you, I would.

And if you guys prove
to be anything less

than totally effective,
I will do this deal without you,

and you can try to outspend me
in a court of law. (pops mouth)

Okay, and don't

patronize me, motherfucker...

or I will separate you
from your balls.

Uh... (chuckles)

you know what, Mike?

We're gonna go make this
happen for you, okay?

So why don't you
stand down

and let us make you some money.


Make me some money.


You fucking freak.

(clears throat)

hey, you know,
at least we got the job.

Shut up, Doug.

Do we

I need a drink.

Uh, correction:
I need to drunk.

Uh, yeah,
drink till drunk.

I could get
with that.

Maybe the Douchebags
will hook us up. You know what, guys?

Fuck all this
moping, okay?

'Cause we got this
motherfucker on the ropes!

All we have to do is wrestle
this thing into submission,

and we're gonna be
the stuff of legends.

And there's
the look. What?

I-I didn't say anything.

Okay, it's not the
Holy fucking Grail,

but it's...
it's a big win.

It's a win for Galweather.
It's a win for me.

It's a win
for all of us. Right.

Fuck it,
I will drunk to that.

Good. Everybody's
getting wasted.

Dougy Doug.

Uh, well, no,
actually, not me, guys.

I've already booked
another massage,

so, uh, I'll
catch up with you.

All right.

DOUG (chuckling):
All right.

All right, sir,

I'll let you
get dressed.

Ooh, no,

no, no, not quite
done yet, are we?

I really think we are.

Oh... no,

I don't think so, Pepper.

There we go. There.

Sir, I'm calling security.

What? What? No. No.

(alarm blaring)
No, no, hold on.

Come on!

Oh, it's not necessary.

Come on.

Uh, hold on. Before you poke
the finger... point the finger,

I can explain, honestly.
No, no, no, no, no.

No, wait, wait!