The Affair (2014–…): Season 2, Episode 8 - 208 - full transcript

Previously on The Affair...

You're a goddamn narcissist.

You take everything
for your fucking self.

Cole.

I can't do this.

I'm sorry.
I thought I could.

It's just too fast,
and it's too confusing.

It just makes it feel not right.

Allison, need you.

Excuse us.

Cynthia Rainer, ring any bells?
Page Six?



"Hot author steps out
with pregnant fiancée.

One hitch, he's still hitched."

Starting tomorrow,
you need to align yourself

as much as possible with
the story of Descent.

Noah...

You're not really
considering this, are you?

I don't want
to do this anymore.

I want to go back to mediation,

and I'll give you
whatever you want.

Helen, all I want is co-custody.

You should have that,
and you can have her too.

Hey, bub, rewind the tape.

"That's our baby."

Heard it as plain as day.



♪ I was screaming
into the canyon ♪

♪ At the moment of my death ♪

♪ The echo I created ♪

♪ Outlasted my last breath ♪

♪ My voice
it made an avalanche ♪

♪ And buried a man
I never knew ♪

♪ And when he died
his widowed bride ♪

♪ Met your daddy
and they made you ♪

♪ I have only one thing to do
and that's ♪

♪ Be the wave that I am
and then ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ I have only one thing to do
and that's ♪

♪ Be the wave that I am
and then ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ I have only one thing to do
and that's ♪

♪ Be the wave that I am
and then ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ Sink back into the o ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ Sink back into the o ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪

Jon?
Jon?

Can I get you a coffee?

I'll never get
to sleep tonight.

Getting old is a bitch, although
the alternative is worse.

You want to save the phone
records till tomorrow, or...

No, show me what you got.

Okay, so...

three calls to her
from Scott Lockhart

in early March of last year.

- Yeah.
- Then essentially nothing.

One in April, two in June.

- Length?
- Nothing over 40 seconds.

Weirdest love affair
I've ever heard of.

Then in the month
leading up to Scotty's death,

14 phone calls to Alison.

Hmm.

And she never calls him back?

Not once.

So she was married
to Scott's brother.

She was always
attracted to Scott,

but never had a chance
to move on it.

She starts an affair
with Noah Solloway,

and then the genie's
out of the bag.

She's acting impulsively,
and then she finally

has that fling with
Scott Lockhart, one night.

But now she's pregnant.

Now she's in a bind.

Maybe the baby's Solloway's.

Maybe it's Scott Lockhart's.

Maybe she doesn't want to know.

One thing she knows for sure,
Noah Solloway is a good thing,

and she doesn't want
to lose that. Plausible?

Plausible.

But Scott Lockhart
is in love with her.

As far as he's concerned,
she was always the one.

After the fling,
he calls her a few times.

She never calls him back.

She just wants to put
this whole thing behind her.

And then what?

And then what, what, what?

Tell me, what?

Uh, Lockhart threatens
to tell Solloway

the baby's actually his.

- Okay, plausible.
- Or he blackmails her.

Which is not unbelievable.

They seem to be
a transactional crowd out there.

Or... or he is so delusional,

he thinks that she will leave
Noah and actually be with him.

Look, any scenario we give her,

they're all equally bad for her.

Regardless, at the wedding
it comes to a head.

He hasn't seen her
in over a year.

He loses it on her,
thus the tape.

Later she's drunk, driving home,

back to the city, tipsy.

She... she loosens
her inhibitions.

She sees a figure
on the side of the road,

and as she comes up upon him,
she realizes...

It's Scotty.

And just a twitch
of the wheel,

just one twitch.

Where's Solloway
when she does it?

Not our job to establish.

Helen, what can I do for you?

Can we talk?

_

So, last year the college

admitted just 17%
of its applicants,

just to give you an idea.

There are a little over
2,000 students here on campus

with about a 50/50 male
to female ratio.

Come on, Whit, keep up.

Almost finished.

He's cute.

- Who? Yeah, I guess.
- You should get his number.

Tell him you're in the middle
of a divorce.

- No, thanks.
- Why not?

'Cause I'm not ready
to start dating.

Your father
and I just got separated.

He left a year ago.

Ooh, stop.
Just stop.

Right there.

Just... all right,
more towards the light.

Yeah.
A little more.

- Hey, hey, Dad, wh... what...
- Come on.

He's flirting with you.

- I'm not interested.
- He likes you.

No.

That is so sad.

Go ahead and file on in.

Yeah, yeah,
you can come in a little closer.

Don't be shy.

Oh, I love it in here.

On really cold days,

they even get a fire going.

Now, I'm from
Florida, and it makes me

- feel right at home.
- Payne Hall.

It's like Hogwarts
without the magic.

So as any new student here

will learn too fast,

Payne Hall is the ultimate place

for working on your freshman 15.

- Ew.
- It's open 24/7...

You know, your dad used
to work in the kitchen here.

And your Uncle Max and I
would show up really stoned

and make him
give us meatballs.

Can you not call him
Uncle Max?

Sure.

Why not?

...to get
that late night slice of pizza.

Okay, moving on.

Next stop is frosh quad,

where those of you
experiencing the dorms tonight

will be staying with your hosts.

And you are gonna be
staying in Sage Hall.

Oh, come on, Whitney.

You're gonna have a great time.

I thought you said
we could go back to Brooklyn

if I didn't like the school.

You said you would
give it one night.

I don't see the point.

Well, the point is...

The point...

The point
is that you Ne...

All righty now,
I think we've spent

enough time here.

The p...

Let's move on to the dorms.

So this is a
typical first year living space

um, except that,
believe it or not,

these gentlemen actually
straightened up for you today.

All right,
next we'll move on

to the Westin Athletic Complex.

If you all want to follow me,

it's just a quick
little five-minute walk.

Here, it's live.

- What's live?
- Your Tinder profile.

Excuse me?

Is that what you've been
doing all day?

- Oh, my God, it's a match.
- Whitney.

Wh... another one, Jesus.
You're not that hot.

All right,
just shut it off, please.

- Shut it off?
- Yes, shut it... shut it...

- shut it... make it stop.
- Mm, make it... mm-hmm.

- Make it stop?
- Whitney.

- Take it down?
- Yes, take it down.

- Take it down please.
- No.

Mom, I'm trying
to help you, okay?

Because don't you think
it's a little bit messed up

that you've been
walking around campus all day,

like, showing me all the places
that you and Dad did stuff?

It's not like you have
all the time in the world

to get over him.
Do you know what I mean?

No, I don't.

You have at least
five good years left.

I'm just trying
to help you maximize them.

You might even have six.

I'm not sure which is worse,

those fantastic
freshmen suites,

or this shitty motel room.

I'm on a budget.

I think it's charming.

I think it's sad.

Well, I have my wine
in the mini fridge

and I... my snacks and TV,

and once I drop you off
to meet Chrissy, I'm gonna...

Cry all alone.

No, I'm gonna wander around.

I haven't been here since, uh,

God, our tenth reunion,

so I'm just gonna walk around,
take it in.

You could do that,
or you could meet Richard, 47.

He lives five miles away, Mom.
He's a musician.

Just swipe right to say
you're interested.

Put your boots on please.

"I like to bike,
am fluent in French,

and like yourself,
I enjoy Indian food."

All right,
how the fuck does Richard, 47,

know I like Indian food?

He read your profile.

You made a profile?

It's good.
You should read it.

I'll pass.
Come on.

- Whitney, boots.
- Ow!

Shit, I'm sorry.

You meant for that to happen.

I'm probably gonna
have to sleep on Missy's futon

and get bedbugs despite the fact

that there's no chance
of me actually ending up here.

- Her name is Chrissy.
- Same thing.

Can't you see
I don't fit in here?

The ass poster,
the singing groups.

Oh, not a singing group.

They're jocky, fratty,
conservative losers...

They're also super
interesting and smart.

Who will never let me in.

Is that the problem?

Are you worried
you won't get in?

I'm not worried.

I know I won't.

Come on, Whitney.

You're an amazing girl,

and you're a legacy,
a double legacy,

- which maybe shouldn't matter...
- Maybe shouldn't?

But it does,

and you aced your SATs, and you
got good grades this year,

and you inherited
your father's ridiculous charm,

so I'm sure you'll nail
the interview just like he did.

You know, they let him in.
He didn't have the greatest GPA.

He won a swimming scholarship.

He wasn't really that good
of a swimmer, to be honest.

They just saw potential in him,
and like they'll see it in you.

Okay, can you stop
comparing me to Dad?

I know you hate him.

I'm just saying you inherited
his best qualities.

Okay, let's stop.

What are you doing, Whitney?

I want to have a conversation
about something.

Can you have it
while we're walking?

- Because we're late.
- I can't do this.

Well, it's one night.
Please just suck it up.

No, I'm trying to
tell you that...

I don't know if I want
to go to college.

Sorry?

Like, at all.

Uh, okay.

S-since when?

I've never wanted
to go to college.

How come you never told me?

Look, I don't want
to spend four years

training to spend my life
in a cubicle

and then spend my life
in a cubicle.

That's not gonna happen.

I just think that...

maybe I want to travel,

like, you know, go
to Japan or London.

Well, you can do that here.

You can take a junior year
abroad...

No, or... or...
or maybe I...

Want to move to New York
and be a model.

What?

- I met a photographer.
- Hey, hold on.

What... you... hold on.

You met a photographer?

He thinks I could
be something.

Who is this photographer?

He saw me at a party.

He gave me his number.

I went to see him.

He's totally legit.

He says he shot Christy
Turlington's first portfolio.

- Oh, Jesus Christ.
- What?

Christy Turlington is my age.

- So what?
- So how old is he?

- Why does that matter?
- You're not gonna be a model.

I-I knew this was
how you'd react.

I mean, a professional model?

Where are you going?

To meet Chrissy.

You know what? I want the name
of that photographer

and a phone number
because for all you know,

he could be a sexual predator.

Are you saying he's a pimp?

No.

What does that make me?

All I'm saying is of course
you're beautiful,

but you also have a tremendous
brain that you haven't even

given yourself a chance
to see what you could do with.

I don't want to go to college.

It's not for me.

How many times
do I have to tell you?

I'm sorry. I'm your mother,
and you're so young.

You don't know anything yet,
and I can't condone this.

I can't.

What if I'm not asking you
to condone it?

What if I'm just telling you
what's about to happen?

You're not gonna go to school,

and you're gonna be a model?

- Yes.
- I'm not paying for that.

- I'm not asking you to.
- Really?

Where are you gonna live?

- What are you gonna eat?
- I'll figure it out.

You don't even know
your own social security number.

Who gives a fuck?
I'll figure it out!

Shh... Whitney, stop it.

Why is it so difficult
for you to imagine

that I might actually
be able to support myself?

- What I'm saying, you don't...
- Because you never did?

Well, guess what, Mom?
I'm not you.

I'm not you, okay?

I'm not gonna
live off my parents

for the rest of my fucking life.

Is that Dad?

Dad?

Whitney, what...
what are you doing?

What are you doing?

What's up?
Why are you here?

What are you doing here?

I'm...

What the hell
are you doing here?

Book tour.
I've got a reading tonight.

- What are you doing here?
- Whitney's college tour.

Are you considering Williams?

- No, Daddy, I'm not.
- I'm confused. What...

Yes, I sent you the whole
itinerary a month ago.

Sorry, we just added these
dates a couple of days ago.

This response has been insane.

Is this where you're staying?

Yeah.

Do you have a suite
or anything?

Uh, I don't know.
I'll check.

- Hey, Eden?
- Who's that?

That's my publicist.

Eden, this is my daughter
Whitney and my, um, ex...

- Ex-wife.
- Ex, Helen.

I gave you the dates, right,
for the college tour?

Uh, I think so.

Did you know that we were all
gonna be here at the same time?

Um, let me check iCal.

Oh, yes, look at that.

Your wife and daughter'll be
in Liamstown today.

- Can I stay with you?
- Sure.

No, she can't stay with you.

Hey, sorry.

Are you Whitney?

Yeah.

- I'm Chrissy.
- Hey.

Hey.

This is Whitney's dorm host

because she's staying
in Sage tonight.

- Sage Hall? Wow.
- Exactly.

We have room for her, don't we?

Or, look, Eden can just
book a suite for both of you.

- Why don't you...
- No, thank you.

Whitney is on a college tour,
and staying in dorms...

- I was just offering.
- Is what you do on

a college tour because
you're touring colleges.

Okay, that's all I did.
I was just offering, okay?

So I just want you
to back me up on this.

Okay, you're backed.

Should I have them book
us another suite or not?

- Not.
- Not, thanks.

Okay, I'll just go ahead
and check us in then.

Thank you.

Jesus Christ, my head
hurts all of a sudden.

Yeah, do you really
want it to hurt?

Tell your dad...

Tell me what?

Nothing.

Do you understand her?

Not really.

So, uh, do you want to come
to my reading tonight?

Uh, no.

Anything you're looking for
in terms of information

would be a betrayal
of attorney-client...

All I'm asking, Jon,

is what I should
prepare the kids for.

The trial is in two weeks.

What's your plan?

I mean, are we...
is Noah gonna be all right?

You were talking about
alternative suspects.

Did you find any?

- We have one.
- Who?

I c... I haven't even shared
that information with Noah yet.

Well, Jesus Christ, why not?

Because it's just
a theory, Helen.

I have nothing
to confirm it with.

Look, I've... I've... I'm sorry.

I wish I had better news
for you.

I-I-I just...
we're working on it.

We still have time.

What kind of confirmation
do you need?

You said you didn't
want to be involved.

Well, I can't...

just let him go to prison, Jon.

Please.

♪ Candy canes and evergreen ♪

♪ Mistletoe hung
where he can see ♪

♪ Every couple stops
to be ♪

♪ It's Christmas time again ♪

♪ All the presents
are wrapped up tight ♪

♪ And the moon
is shining bright ♪

Fuck it.

♪ It's Christmas time again ♪

I think you're right.

Are all these people
here to see No...

Noah Solloway?
Crazy, right?

"Three feet further, and he
wouldn't live there anymore.

The wild girl he'd fallen for
all those years ago

was standing behind him
in the brownstone hallway.

Her ring,

the one he'd sold his Fiat for,
now sat twisted off her finger

and accusing him
atop the radiator,

and through the doorway,
above the tea set

she'd liberated from
a little Moroccan pension

where they'd spent
their honeymoon,

hung the portrait she'd
developed of Whitman as a baby,

the winter three blizzards

hit the city in quick succession
and the pipes froze,

then burst in their fifth-floor
Harlem walk up.

That was the winter
he decided to accept the loan

from her parents.

He could live without comfort
perhaps forever,

but he couldn't stand
to see her afraid.

By the time the snow
finally melted,

they had purchased the
brownstone he was now leaving.

What had become of her,

that bold, unafraid girl?

What had become of him,
who had worshipped her?

Three feet became two.

Two became one,
and then he was gone."

Thank you.

Thank you.

That's very kind.

Thank you very much.

Okay, we have time
for one more question.

- Yes, in the back?
- Hi, I'm Sally.

I really loved your book.

I want to know
if you believe love can last.

Because why not save

the easy question
till the last?

I believe love is
a kind of faith.

And when two people
both believe,

something very
powerful happens.

I mean, look at it this way.

If you and I are in love

and I trust you enough
to lean in towards you,

and you trust me enough
to lean in toward me...

Then we meet in the middle.

It's a...
it's kind of triangle,

and we're holding each other up,

and it's very, very strong.

It's unbreakable,

but if I disappear,

then you... you can't
hold our house up alone.

You're kind of falling
through open air.

Love can't work without
the trust, without the faith.

You know, that's why people
say when somebody cheats,

they say he was unfaithful.

Think about that word
for a moment.

It's not about the sex, kids.

Does God exist?

Uh, well,

not... not an entirely
inappropriate sequitur actually.

I-I think of God the same way
as I think of love.

I think if you think
that God exists, then He does,

because your faith

and your actions bring
His presence into the world,

and the same is true of love.

If you believe in its power
and you conduct your life

with respect of its...
of its sanctity,

then it'll always
be there to serve you.

But if you don't, then...
Well, then my book happens.

You want my hat?

No, I'm fine.

No, you're not.
Look at you.

Come here.

It's too big for me.

It's cute.

Thanks.

You hungry?

Fucking starving.

- You want to go to...
- Nona's?

Wait, so you haven't
seen your mother in how long?

Um, since the day
I asked her to leave,

the morning after Martin
went to the hospital.

And you're in contact
with her?

I sent her an email
a few weeks ago,

but she never responded.

Hey, are you two
ready to order?

Yeah.

Um, you used to have
this thing that was, like,

a combination
of a falafel and a waffle.

- Do you still have that?
- Helen, that was 20 years ago.

Hold on.
It wasn't on the menu,

but I think the chef
just put the falafel

in a waffle iron
or something like that?

She had her 21st birthday
here.

It was the highlight
of her life.

Okay, I'll see what I can do.

Thank you.
He'll have one too.

Okay, I got it.

I hated that party.

What are you talking about?
No, you didn't.

Yeah, I did.

It wasn't even my idea.
It was my mother's idea.

She wanted to have
some big blowout,

but it was Spring Fling,

and half of our friends were too
stoned by the end of the day

to even show up.

Well, I had
a really good time.

Remember how the fire
department showed up

because there was a grease fire
in the kitchen,

and you convinced me
they were strippers?

You were so gullible
back then.

Guess I was.

That was really something,
what happened back there.

You mean the reading?

I guess your whole life
must be like that now.

Have people cheering your name.

I'm the flavor of the week.

By next week,
it'll be someone else.

Don't do that.

Don't dismiss it.
Enjoy it.

I mean, you worked
your whole life for this moment.

I know, Helen.

So I have some surprising news
about Whitney.

Okay, please say
something good.

She's met a photographer that
thinks she can be something,

so she's going to move
to New York

and be a model
instead of going to college.

How old is the photographer?

That's what I asked,
and he's old-old.

Is she serious?

Yeah.

She's serious,

and I think it's our fault.

- Why?
- Because she's angry at us.

She wants to get back at us
or get back at me, anyway.

I don't know. She seems
to adore you no matter what.

Well, maybe she
just wants some time off.

- Isn't that possible?
- Well, yeah, sure, we all do,

but she has to go.

Why?

Because what if one year

turns into three years
turns into five years?

I mean,
she's not gonna be a model.

- We both know that.
- She could be. She's...

No, she can't.
She's not tall enough.

- She's too fucking smart.
- Okay, I hear you.

I just... I mean, how are we
gonna stop her? She's 18.

So fucking young.
I mean, she's a baby,

and she makes terrible decisions
all the time,

mostly, I think,
just to terrify me.

I don't know.
Can't we just say,

"Look, finish applying,

get accepted somewhere,
and then defer.

Take a year
and get it out of your system?"

- She has to go.
- Why?

Because there are
some mistakes

people do not recover from,

and I think this is one of them.

I've got to be honest with you,
Helen; I don't agree.

I think everyone should take
time off before college,

figure themselves out a little.

Maybe if I'd had a year out,

I wouldn't have
had a midlife crisis at 45.

Oh, so you are having
a midlife crisis?

- Had.
- It's over?

Please don't look at me
like that, Helen.

If we don't give her the room
to make these little mistakes,

then she's gonna resent it so
much she's not gonna come to us

if ever she gets
in big trouble again.

I just want us to be
an option for her, don't you?

Maybe you just don't want
to take responsibility

for her anymore.

Why? 'Cause
I don't agree with you?

No, because we fucked her up,

and you just don't want
to admit it.

Helen,

don't you have any memory
of how you were at her age?

Yeah, I do.

No, you don't.
You were clinically insane.

Why? Because I shopped
at vintage stores?

No, because you used
to get naked during our finals

and walk through the library
passing out candy.

That was a joke.

And when we went to the Turks
and Caicos

with your parents, you had,

"I will not bow down, America,"

- tattooed on your stomach.
- It was temporary.

Yeah, well, your father
didn't know that,

and he threatened
to have you institutionalized.

- What's your point?
- Well,

what do you think my point is?

You... you gave blood twice a week
for our entire senior year

to get the money to get
a one-way ticket

to Tanzania
after we graduated

'cause you wanted to live
with the fucking bush people.

- Well, I never went.
- And why not?

Because my parents
wouldn't let me.

Fuck.
Fuck.

Fuck, fuck.
Fuck.

Where are you staying again?

Is it walking distance?

- I should probably get a cab.
- I'll text Eden.

She'll send one.

I'm sorry.

For what?

For making you leave Harlem.

This is not to excuse
anything you've done.

I want to be really clear
about that, but I just... I...

When your first book failed...

I was r-relieved.

I was heartbroken for you.

I mean, I hope you know that,

because you
were so disappointed,

but I...

Part of me hoped it meant you
would finally give up on writing

and just be content
with me and the kids.

And I guess I just couldn't see
what you really wanted.

And I never in a million years
thought you would be this...

this guy.

Now you're here,
and I'm very proud of you.

Thank you.

Oh, God.
Did Eden do that?

I guess so.

Wow, she's good.

Look, why don't you take
the pull-out couch in my suite,

wake up in a nice hotel?

Fuck it, take the bed.
I'll take the couch.

I know how sensitive
you are to cheap sheets.

No. You know what?

I'm gonna walk back.
I changed my mind.

It's not that far.

Okay, whatever you want.

Hey, Helen?

- My hat.
- Oh, yeah.

Thanks.

Come on, Martin.

Come on, Martin.

Get him, get him,
come on.

Come on, man, come on.

Get him, yeah.

Come on, Martin.

You okay?

I don't know.

Can you tell me
everything's gonna be all right?

I-I'm cautiously optimistic.

Come on, Martin.

Gottlief said
all the prosecution evidence

is circumstantial.

They have nothing
to put me on that road.

They have no proof that I was
driving the car that killed him.

Yeah!

Good one, Martin!

Great.

_

"Ultimately,
Solloway depicts a world

built on the folly of passion.

His façade, word by gripping
word, loosens and crumbles,

leaving the reader heartbroken

that another page
will not follow the last."

Wow.

That's incredible.

Where's that from?

Oh, just some
little-known magazine

with no influence called
The New Yorker.

Yeah, no, even
I've heard of that.

It's incredible.
People keep emailing me.

Okay, so are you ready
for something really special?

Yeah, sure.

Hang on a second.

What... do you need... do
you need to get that?

No, no, no, it's fine.

It's fine.

Okay, ready?

Yeah.

Here we go.

Okay, it's just a...
just down here.

Ready?
Almost there.

'Kay, wait for this.

Ta-da!

Oh, my God.

Wow.
Is that my office?

Do you like it?

Yeah, yeah, love it.

The chair, the lamp,
I got this whole crib.

Look.

Huh.

Look how cute that is,

and this thing.

Oh, that's cute.

- It's so cute.
- Yeah.

And then we have
the changing table.

Isn't that beautiful?

Wow, what did you
do with my desk?

Well, it's in the hall.

In the hall?

Look, you know what?
I-I thought you'd be excited.

I am, but, uh, wh...

Hang on.

Sorry.

You know, maybe you should go.

- I know you're busy.
- No, it's fine.

It's just... I need to check this.

It's the... the PEN/Faulkner's
announcing today,

and you know
I'm on the short list.

I just...

I got some inside information.

It's looking pretty good for me.

Well, things are looking pretty
good for you anyway, right?

Yeah, sure, yeah,
looking great, but,

you know, I just...

You just want it all.

Oh, look, I'm gonna be late
for my five-month checkup.

I got to go.

I love you.

Love you too.

Bye.

Yeah, that's great.

Wonderful.
No, lovely.

Thank you so much.

May I?

Kite Runner, fuck.

What the fuck?

Solloway.

We're late.

You seen this?

I mean,
Ernest Schiffbaum?

Who the fuck
is Ernest Schiffbaum?

What does he know
about anything?

Typical lit major reviewing like
he's got something to prove.

Oh, Jesus,
it's just a student paper.

Keep up.

"Solloway's attempts
at a stylized voice

only serve to illuminate
the novel's shortcomings.

What could have
been literary eroticism

is instead reduced
to clumsy groping in the dark."

Who the fuck is this guy?

What do you want,
100% adulation?

Even Vladimir Putin
settles for 98% of the vote.

Wow.

Any word yet?

PEN/Faulkner?

You'd be the first to know.

You know what
you're reading tonight?

No, you have a favorite?

I love the shower scene.

So without further ado,
it is our great pleasure

to introduce to you
author Noah Solloway.

Thank you.

"On the other side of the house,
surf broke hard on the shore.

She unclasped her top

and stepped backwards into the
steam from the outdoor shower.

A pit opened in his stomach.

Without breaking his gaze,
she re...

Without breaking his gaze,

she reached down
and stepped out of her bikini.

'Are you coming?' she asked,

as if he were somehow
already inside her."

I'm sorry,
I'm gonna... I want to...

I'm gonna read something else,
I think.

Hope that's okay. I'm gonna
read a different passage.

Sorry about that.
Let me see.

"Three feet further, and he
wouldn't live there anymore.

The wild girl he'd fallen for
all those years ago

was standing behind him
in the brownstone hallway."

Thank you.
Thank you very much.

Okay, let's take some questions.

- Hi.
- Hi.

I finished your book
last night,

and I just wanted to say
thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Two more, please.

Yes, in the back?

Hi, Mr. Solloway.

Noah, please.

Noah, thanks.

I couldn't help
but be so impressed

at how well you write women.

Do you mind sharing with us
how you do that?

Uh, I guess I just,
um... I don't know.

I suppose I write the...

the voices of women
I-I most admire.

Thanks...
Noah.

Uh, yes.

Hi, Mr. Solloway,

my name is Ernest Schiffbaum.
Perhaps you've heard of me.

I write reviews
for the Williams Record.

Uh, no... no, I haven't... haven't
had the pleasure of reading it.

Mr. Solloway,
James Frey asserts

that prior to the... the memoir
craze, as he refers to it,

in the '90s, his
A Million Little Pieces

would have been
published as fiction.

Where do you think Descent

lies on that scale
between fiction and memoir?

Uh, are you a lit major?

Well, I think we can
just assume that James Frey

is creating a dense philosophy

for the purpose of justifying
his own fiasco, don't you?

And my book is...

my book is fiction.

Would you consider it
literary fiction?

I believe it is being
considered as such, yes.

And do you see anyone
reading your book in five years?

Well, for...
for the sake of your generation,

I hope that in five years it's
gonna be translated into emoji.

During your reading, they
announced that the PEN/Faulkner

was awarded to Annie Zheng.

Are you disappointed?

No, I...

Annie is a brilliant writer,
and, uh...

Nothing could, um, be
more important to me right now

than these devoted fans
that I seem to have.

Motherfucker.

You are the smoothest son
of a bitch alive, okay? Ready?

All right, yeah.

Let's go.

Could you make it
out to Daisy?

Sure.

Daisy.

Is there a green light
at the end of your dock, Daisy?

Gatsby, my favorite.

Of course it is.

And why don't you find out
for yourself?

- Hi.
- Hey.

I just got carded.

I love this place.

Oh, come on.
You're not still sulking?

I know, but...

I mean, fucking Annie Zheng?

The world needs another
time-jumping tale of love

interrupted by
the Cultural Revolution?

I read that book.
I couldn't put it down.

Well, people couldn't
put down my book, but...

You know why it didn't win,
don't you?

Why?

I was the victim
of affirmative action.

Oh, my God,
you did not just say that.

No, it's true.

As a straight white man,

I am automatically disqualified
from those awards.

- You are out of control.
- Why?

- 'Cause I'm telling the truth?
- Oh!

It's impossible
to be a man in 2015.

Oh, my God.

Okay, whatever,

The Corrections lost
to fucking Bel Canto.

I loved Bel Canto.

I wish you'd stop laughing.

- I...
- Okay.

I'm sorry.

- Tell me how you feel.
- It's okay, I don't...

Please, tell me. Tell me.
Tell me, tell me, tell me.

Just everybody predicted
it was gonna go to me.

I knew it was a long shot,

but I thought,

you know, actually it
might somehow come my w...

Wait, just a minute.

I just realized something.

This is not my job anymore.

It was my job for 20 years,

and now it's not my job anymore.

It's her job, and I'm free.

Ha ha!

- Aw, come on!
- Revenge.

Go ahead, get it.
You can call Alison.

I'm sure she's worried
about you.

It's not Alison.
It's Eden.

Who's Eden?

My publicist.

I can't believe
you have a publicist.

I know, neither can I.

What does she want?

She wants to know where I am.

Does she want to get
into your pants?

- Of course she doesn't.
- Does she know

you have a pregnant fiancée
at home?

Yes.

Why don't you give me
that number, by the way?

What number?

What number?

"Mr. Solloway, you write
women so beautifully."

Thank you.

Tell Alison she owes me.

What does she want?
Go ahead, check.

No, it's fine.

Fine?

Hey, hey, come on.

No, let me look.

"Noah," exclamation point,
"Where are you?

I am having FOMO."
What is FOMO?

- I have no fucking idea.
- FOMO.

Hey. Hey, yo!
Hey, millennials!

What does FOMO mean?

Fear of missing out.

Thank you.

Fear of missing out.

You're on a tear.

- Oh, my God, drink.
- What?

Every time she texts you,
you have to drink.

She doesn't text me that much.

Drink!

She's had a very
disappointing day.

- Oh!
- Drink!

Jesus, make it stop.

The only way to make it stop
is to turn the phone off.

I can't see...

I'm proud of you.

You remember that fight we had
in that booth over there?

God, that was a terrible fight.

I'm sorry about that,
by the way.

About what?

For wanting you to, you know.

You know, we were 19.

I know, but...

I still think
about that decision.

- You do?
- Yeah.

I mean, especially once
I met the other four,

and they're so beautiful.

Yeah, I know.

I'm sorry
you didn't get the prize.

I mean it.

What's wrong?

There goes that fucking kid.

What kid?

You know, the critic.

I'm gonna teach
that fucker a lesson.

No, no, hey.
No, no, don't, don't, don't.

- No, why not? Ow, fuck, ow!
- Well, stop it. Sit down.

What the fuck?
I just want to talk to him.

Sit down.
Stop with the asshole routine.

He fucking misquoted my book,
like, three times in print.

- He's an undergrad.
- So what?

He needs to take responsibility

for what he puts
in his fucking paper.

Oh, my God,
stop being this guy.

You are not this guy.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Yeah, you do.

You're acting just
like my father.

Bruce Butthole?

Yes, I... look, look,

I have been wanting to say this
to you all night, okay?

You need to be very careful.
I mean it.

You have been looking
for this kind of attention

your entire life,

and now that
you're finally getting it,

I think that you are
a little drunk on the power.

I'm just drunk,
period, Helen.

You know, Noah,
you're not a dick.

You've made
some questionable choices,

and you don't like yourself
very much for reasons

I just don't understand,

but you're fundamentally
a decent human being,

and just because
you're famous now

doesn't mean you should
throw all that away.

You know, my father
goes after his detractors.

My father gets numbers
from women half his age.

Bruce Butthole
is no Noah Solloway.

Helen?

Helen?

What?
What?

Do you like it?

Like what?

Do you like the book?
Is it a good book?

I can't read it
without crying.

Go home, Noah.

Sleep it off.

Alone.

Get home safely, Helly-belly.

Good seeing you again.

Mr. Solloway.

Mr. Shitbomb.

Uh, the name is Schiffbaum.
It's...

Let me ask you something.

Uh, all right.

Who the fuck
do you think you are?

I think my name is
Ernest Mosely Schiffbaum.

What business have you tearing
apart other people's work, hmm?

Brave artists

who put their fucking heart

and their guts into things, hmm?

How many books have you written?

Mr. Solloway,
A., you're drunk.

B., I've written
a memoir and two novels,

one of which
is my thesis project

and which will be published
by Minton-Hardman in the fall.

C., I think you should
get yourself home safely.

You fucking asshole.

Oh, man.

Turn that fucking...

Here's an idea.

How about you never
do this again?

You fucking asshole.

Jesus Christ.

You fucking asshole.

It's online already?

It's okay.
I'm spinning it.

Congratulations, you're now
a bad boy of the literary world.

Where were you all night?

Bad idea.

We're working together.

You shouldn't have come here.

Mm.

We have a very long tour.

And I don't mix business
with this kind of pleasure.

What?

Helen.

Are you all right?

I'm not sure.

She stole your husband, Helen.

- I know.
- I'll tell you what.

I will not use it
unless I absolutely have to.

I promise you that.