Political Animals (2012–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Pilot - full transcript

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.