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hackthis_archiveI have been sitting on this for a week, patiently not shrieking at my beta, because she loves me and I am trying to practice my Zen. Enough of that. Let's rock out.
Fandom: Entourage
Spoilers: All seasons, up to and including the S3 Season Finale
Rating: Nothing you wouldn't get with an episode. Sorry.
Summary: So, it's going to be one of those days.
Notes: Art provided by the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slodwick corporation. Beta by serialkarma. Entourage is the property of Doug Ellin and the scary folks at HBO. I did the soundtrack. Yes, Virgina, this is that story.
As We Are, Or How Lloyd Saves the Day (Again)
The first thing Ari does after Vince walks out on him is have a nervous breakdown. Well, he has a nervous breakdown Ari-style, which involves throwing a chair through a conference room wall -- $15,000 at least -– flinging an entire pot of coffee at a junior agent -- $1250 for a new suit, plus another $5000 not to sue –- firing the entire conference room – cost: who knows -- and then stomping into his office, shrieking for Lloyd the entire way.
The fact that Lloyd's right behind him doesn't really register, but Lloyd's not surprised, because he's about ten steps behind Ari, hiding behind furniture and spare people, and totaling up the damage as he goes.
So far they're probably about a quarter of a million dollars in the hole. At least Barbara has deep pockets.
Lloyd has seen Ari upset before -– he was there when Ari heard about the Mel Gibson thing and wanted to call the same hit man that Cheney used on Ken Lay -- but this is an all new level of Ari upset. "He left me!" Ari howls, "That ungrateful, chicken-legged, titty fucker from the slums had the nerve to leave me! Nobody fucking leaves Ari Gold!"
Ari's stomping around his office picking things up, knocking other things over, and in general creating bedlam. Lloyd's cowering behind the bathroom door. "I made him! I fucking made him! I let Alan Horn fuck me up the ass! I put up with his numb nuts retard of a brother and his midget manager who couldn't find his dick with a map and GPS! I didn't even take a goddamn commission on his first job! I swear I'm going to find him and cut off his dick and stick it in Eric's mouth since all he does is suck it anyway!"
Lloyd peeks around the corner just in time to duck back as the shards of one of Ari's Agent of the Year awards tinkles against the door, and then there's an enormous crash, which might be Ari's coffee table meeting an untimely end.
Lloyd's sense of self-preservation is pretty fucking strong, because as loyal as he is to Ari and the $20,000 raise he got for not jumping ship every other week, he has a date tonight and he doesn't want to have to cancel because the people in the ER are picking glass out of his ass.
And then the shouting and the stomping stops, and Lloyd peeks around the door. Well, him and the entire MGA office, which is the downside of having an entire office constructed of glass walls.
At least there aren't any stones around.
Ari's sitting on his sofa with his head in his hands, and he looks so bewildered and so lost that Lloyd's heart goes out to him. That doesn't mean Lloyd's going to come out of hiding, but he waves off the gawkers with some modicum of irritation, and takes a deep breath. "Ari," he begins hesitantly, "um, it'll be okay."
Ari's gaze is unfocused. It's as though he's so broken he can't even get it together to glare, and that's disconcerting. Almost as disconcerting as the way Ari's hefting that huge steel Aquaman paperweight that James Cameron gave him after they kicked Spider-Man's biggest opening weekend to the curb. "Vince left me, Lloyd. Vince. He took Pizza Boy and the Court Fuckwits and left me!"
For the first time, Lloyd gets an inkling of what this really means to Ari. It's not just that Vince is upset with Ari, it's that he's gone.
It would be like if Mrs. Ari walked out and took the rugrats.
Lloyd ducks back behind the door, wincing as the wall shakes (probably from Aquaman paperweight assault) and grabs a handful of toilet paper. Ari's not crying or anything -– that would probably require hospitalization for both of them –- but if Ari throws something at him, Lloyd wants to be able to deflect it without scarring himself.
"It's okay," he says crossing the room carefully, using the soothing tone his therapist adopts when Lloyd talks about spiking Ari's coffee with arsenic. "Vince isn't your only client, and when he realizes what he's missing, he'll be back."
"Of course he'll be back!"Ari snaps to the broken coffee table, "They always come back, because I shit gold ingots and have a time share with Beelzebub! -- but that's not the point! The point is that he left in the first fucking place! Vince isn't supposed to leave me! I've been wiping his non-existent, bony ass for FIVE YEARS!"
The fact that Ari's repeating himself isn't good, and his voice doesn't have the conviction that it normally does. That is worrisome. And Lloyd will be worried as soon as he stops wondering how Ari knows that Vince has a bony ass.
Squaring his shoulders, he balls up the toilet paper and flings it at Ari's head to get his attention.
Ari's glower is only at 50%, but Lloyd still takes two steps back. "You're right," he says, "you're Ari Gold. You're the best agent in this town, so remind Vince of that. You go out there and get him a movie he'd want, and you – you woo him back."
"Woo. Him. Back." Ari enunciates each word as though it's a marble in his mouth. "I shouldn't have to WOO HIM BACK!" he howls. "He's not my fucking wife!"
"You want to bet?" The words fly out before Lloyd can stop them.
Ari's glower is now hovering around 95%. Lloyd takes another step back. "Watch it, Fudge Packer."
Lloyd just crosses his arms. "Insulting me isn't going to get Vince back."
Ari rubs his forehead. "Tell me something I don't know."
For the first thirty-two years of Lloyd's life, everything was fine. He was the overachieving second son of two brilliant Chinese-American scientists, who encouraged their children to aim high.
His elder brother took the heat off of Lloyd by going to medical school, and his elder sister did her part by graduating summa cum laude from Cal Tech and getting recruited by Microsoft. Even Lloyd has an MBA, so the gay thing didn't cause as much of a fuss as he'd assumed it would. Especially since he came out right after his sister had the first grandkid.
It helps that his youngest sister is a granola-selling hippie slacker in Berkeley; his parents have gotten accustomed to a certain amount of disappointment, because nobody is perfect.
All in all though, Lloyd's led a really good life. He's relatively sane and well-adjusted, or as well-adjusted as any ex-chess prodigy can be -- but then he moved to Los Angeles and promptly lost his mind.
He started seeing his therapist eight days after he went to work for Ari. He didn't even have any health insurance, because all the agencies figure that assistants aren't worth insuring until they've been around three months and haven't had an entire meltdown.
Lloyd said fuck it though, and wiped out his savings so he could keep his horrible, demeaning job and still keep shopping at Viktor & Rolf, because a man has to have some standards.
In the last two years since he's gone to work for Ari, Lloyd's standards have dropped considerably, but at least now he has health insurance and his therapist's home number. Now that Ari's gone into business with Barbara Miller and they've formed the Miller Gold Agency, Lloyd's even got a raise. And all that's done for Lloyd is make things worse, because it used to be that when Lloyd left work for the day that was it until he walked through the door the next morning. But ever since he had to drive Ari home drunk after his divorce from Terence, it's like the boundaries have evaporated.
If they ever existed in the first place.
Now Ari calls him all the tine. All. The. Fucking. Time.
When Lloyd's in the shower, when Lloyd's at the supermarket, when Lloyd's not even in the state.
Lloyd's drawing the line at Ari interrupting his dates.
"Ari, now is not a good time," he says firmly. He's been trying to ignore his Razr's vibrating, but it's been going off for the last fifteen minutes, and Damien is starting to give him funny looks.
"I own you, Lloyd. You have a paycheck that says if I want you to crawl across burning coals to suck Colin Farrell's herpes laden cock, that's what you do!" Ari's voice is a high-pitched and careening. Crap, he's been drinking.
Lloyd signs and covers the mouthpiece with his hand. "Sorry, work," he mouths across the table before getting to his feet and taking the call outside.
"Ari, I'm on a date, right now," Lloyd harps as soon as he's by the bathrooms and out of earshot. The date hasn't been going so well – Damien's a little too fresh out the closet for Lloyd's tastes. He still has the newbie twitch. "Don't you have a beautiful wife and three children to go home to?"
"So I can tell my wife that I fucking lost the Golden Goose and we have to live on her trust fund again? Fuck no! I get enough buggery from Babs 'My Face Lift Looks Like it was Superglued' Miller! No fucking way, Peckerwood -– hey, is this the guy that popped your zit with his pecker?"
Lloyd rubs his eyes. Why him? What did he do in a past life that was so bad? "Ari, what do you want?" Clearly the Xanax that Lloyd spiked Ari's coffee with has worn off.
Damn.
"I want peace in the Middle East, you stupid ass bandit! I want Vince back, what the fuck do you think I want?!"
"Insulting me isn't going to get Vince back," Lloyd says in his most patient voice.
"If I thought a gold egg coming out of your ass would get Vince back, I'd shove it up there myself," Ari retorts. "Now stop getting your dick sucked and help me figure out how to fix this!"
"You can't fix it at eleven-thirty at night," Lloyd points out.
"Stop being helpful and help me!" Ari howls. "I need Vinny!"
Lloyd snorts. Ari sounds like his four year-old niece, but Ari won't have as much endurance. Hopefully.
"Go home to your wife," Lloyd repeats. "We'll think of something tomorrow."
Ari's silent for so long Lloyd thinks he's hung-up, and then he speaks up. "We're going to get him back, Lloyd," Ari's voice is so flat that Lloyd doesn't know if he's asking him or telling him.
"Of course we are," Lloyd says with a lot more conviction than he feels. "But first we have to get you home so security doesn't tell Defamer that you've been kicked out of your house and are living in your office. Stay there and I'll have a car come and pick you up."
"I'm fine!" Ari shoots back and then there's a crashing sound and a hiccup. "Or not. Maybe not."
Lloyd shakes his head. "Be downstairs in twenty minutes, Ari."
"'kay, Tinkerbell!"
By the time Lloyd's able to get someone at the car service to agree to take Ari home and bring him back the next day, and called the night guard at MGA to make sure Ari hasn't passed out in his office, twenty more minutes have gone by. It's then that Lloyd remembers where he is – there was a date happening.
Of course, when Lloyd gets back to his table his date is gone. He would be upset, but he thinks Ari probably did him a favor. His date was wearing white socks, and no self-respecting gay boy in Los Angeles wears white socks unless he's at the gym.
The day after the day before Lloyd arrives at the office at 7:30 in the morning, and Ari is already there. Lloyd can hear him shouting the minute he gets off the elevator –- this is not a good sign.
In fact, Ari shouting about running over people's dogs and fucking Bob Ryan with his own walking cane is a very very bad sign.
It's not that Lloyd likes getting up early in the morning. He hates mornings. If Lloyd had his way he would work from noon to eight p.m. and then go out until three a.m. and start all over again the next day. But that's not how life works when you work for an agent.
So when Lloyd says he's a morning person, what he means is that he likes getting into the office early, because that's when Ari isn't around, and Lloyd can get things done without Ari flinging things against the wall behind Lloyd to get his attention.
The first three times Ari did this, Lloyd thought they were having an earthquake.
Lloyd's stride slows considerably the closer he gets to his desk, and he thinks Denise from Walter Cohn's office is trying to get his attention, but he can't tell for Ari's tirade. The girl from the mailroom who covers Ari's phones in the morning looks as though she's trying to climb under Lloyd's desk, and when he waves at her her face crumples like a condom wrapper that's been in the car too long.
"I'M GOING TO SHOVE THAT RAZR SO FAR UP PIZZA BOY'S ASS, HE'LL BE SHITTING TEXT MESSAGES FOR A MONTH!"
There's no point in Lloyd saying "Good Morning" to Ari, but old habits are hard to break, and Lloyd pauses at the door of Ari's office like the idiot he sometimes is long enough to realize it was a very bad idea.
Ari's office has been cleared of all of yesterday's shrapnel, but anytime Ari's doing yoga on the floor without his yoga mat Lloyd is going to have a bad day.
"YOU!" Ari shrieks from his side plank. "Where the hell have you been? I've been here for hours, because I work here! Work, Lloyd! Do you want me to have your ass deported back to the motherland? Did you keep the boat in your garage – if not you better fucking get work too!"
Lloyd can feel his eyes widening, and on Ari's desk he can see the supersized Coffee Bean container. Great. Coffee and Ari, two explosive things that should never be mixed together. Like stripes and plaid.
"Ari, have you—"
"Did I tell you you could use your mouth for something besides answering my phones or sucking my dick?! I didn't think so! So, shut up and get E on the phone!"
Lloyd is not going to pout.
Lloyd is not going to pout.
Ari is undergoing a stressful time; Lloyd has to be supportive.
He will not scream and throw things back at his agent. Instead he will go to his desk and relieve Jane, and read Variety, and try to reach Eric. Except when he gets to his desk his Variety is missing. And so is The Hollywood Reporter. Which is just weird, and Lloyd would ask Jane but she's vanished into the ether.
It doesn't help that Ari's phone is lit up like West Hollywood during Halloween. "Ari Gold's office, this is Lloyd," he says by rote.
"Lloyd whatever you do, don't let Ari read today's trades." It takes him a minute to realize the person on the other line is Denise.
"Why? What?"
Lloyd pauses and takes off his headset and walks the twenty-two steps to Denise's desk. "Okay, what's going on?"
"This," Denise says showing him the cover of Variety.
Aquaman Swims Away from MGA
Vince Chase leaves longtime agent Ari Gold
Lloyd can feel his stomach churning, and he blindly reaches out for the Maalox Denise offers him.
So, it's going to be one of those days.
On the second day of TVC -- The Vince Crisis as Lloyd has taken to melodramatically calling it in his head -– Lloyd makes twelve calls to Eric's cell phone, eight to Vince's cell phone, six to Turtle and one to Johnny Drama.
The only person who answers is Drama. "Hey Ari, you can go blow yourself," Drama says.
"What?" is Lloyd's scathing reply.
"Oh Lloyd, sorry, this comes up as Ari calling."
"Well, I am calling on Ari's behalf," Lloyd hedges.
"Then you can tell him to go blow himself -– unless he's calling about an audition."
Lloyd turns in his chair and peers through the glass at Ari. Ari's been on the phone with the head of Universal for eighteen minutes and there hasn't been any screaming. Well, not much for Ari at any rate. "Drama, Ari really needs to talk to E."
"Yeah, well, he should've thought about that before he lost us that movie."
"Us?"
"Yeah, I was going to be Dee Dee Ramone."
Lloyd will not laugh at Johnny Drama. This is a crisis. He'll just think about it. "Um, Drama, you remember I'm the one who got you the audition with Ed Burns, right?"
"Yeah, I do, and I'm real thankful for that, but Ari's still an asshole."
"But that's not the point," Lloyd counters. There's no point in arguing with the truth.
"Lloyd, I gotta go. I have to meet with wardrobe."
It takes Lloyd a minute to realize that Drama's hung up on him, and he stares at his headset for a minute, because when you are being hung up on by a Z-List actor things are really fucked up.
On day three of TVC, Ari comes to the office wearing his best Brioni suit and the blood red tie that always makes Lloyd think of filet mignon and Jaws. Ari only wears this tie when he's been dreaming of sacrificing babies in front of god, the paparazzi, and everyone eating at The Ivy.
Lloyd knows this because Ari told him about this dream the day after Vince told the Foreign Press that the new and improved Queens Boulevard was a piece of shit.
That was a rough week.
Lloyd misses that compared to this.
Today, Lloyd makes twenty-three calls to Eric's cell phone, every last one of which goes to voice mail. He calls Vince six times, Turtle fourteen and Drama none.
Nobody hangs up on Lloyd.
Of course, nobody calls Lloyd back either.
Ari is the gayest straight man Lloyd has ever met, and as a gay Asian man living in Los Angeles, that's saying a lot. Lloyd lives off of Santa Monica and Gayville, and most of his friends aren't as flamboyant as Ari on a good day.
It's not even that Ari's really obvious about his gayness. During Lloyd's job "interview" Lloyd was so preoccupied with Ari's shouting about the temp being a syphilitic whore and his various innuendos about Lloyd's parents being FOBs that he didn't quite realize how fey Ari behaves.
Everyone in L.A. is preoccupied with waxing their chests and Mystic Tans and getting their eyebrows threaded, Lloyd understands that. It's to be expected. Ari, however, is a bigger screaming queen than most of the transvestites that Lloyd sees hanging around Highland and Santa Monica.
He doesn't call anybody 'girlfriend' or snap his fingers a lot -- except for when he's on the phone and summoning Lloyd to the inner sanctum -- but when it comes to Vince Ari is really gay. He fawns and preens and screams and stomps his feet. He simpers and coddles and would probably get down on both knees and open his mouth if Vince asked -- but that image is a bit much for Lloyd when he's sober.
The point being that when Vince is happy, Ari is almost tolerable -- when Vince is unhappy, Ari gives Lloyd dysentery.
In the four days since Vince has left MGA, Lloyd has been through two bottles of Kaopectate and half a roll of Tums.
Today when he tried to go the bathroom, Ari actually followed him in the bathroom and kicked on the stall door until the hinges gave way. "We're in the middle of a fucking crisis, Tonto, how the fuck are you taking a shit?! You don't get to take a shit until I say you can take a shit, and until we get Vince back, nobody is shitting! You need to shit, too fucking bad! Hold it in, I'll buy you an enema later."
Lloyd has seen Ari upset, but this is an all new level of upset, even for Ari. He's rambling on like Anna Nicole Smith about Thai hookers and black ops missions and castrating Eric.
There is something very wrong with Lloyd scuttling back to his desk behind Ari with his pants around his ankles.
The only thing more distressing is that nobody seems even slightly surprised. Probably because Lloyd can smell the stench of fear all over the MGA offices.
He's still tucking in his shirt when he gets to his desk. The phones are lighting up like it's Chinese New Year, and he grabs one immediately, because rolling calls is what assistants do.
Lloyd spends so much time answering Ari's phone that more often than not, he can't even answer his own phone at home without saying. "Miller Gold, Ari Gold's office."
That night, Ari calls Lloyd at home. "Lloyd, get me E!"
It's Friday night, and Lloyd had a date, but Ari's been driving him up the wall and his complexion is all messed up, so he cancelled. In Los Angeles, you can't date looking like anything less than an 11 and expect it to go well.
Lloyd's watching season two of Sex and the City. He watches S&tC to soothe his nerves, but so far it's not working, so Lloyd puts down his ice cream on the coffee table. "I've been trying all week, Ari, you know that, he won't take your calls."
"What do you mean he won't take my calls? Does he know who I am? I remember when his Subaru-driving ass couldn't even get his shit valet parked at Starbucks!"
This no-calls thing is not something that Ari doesn't know. Lloyd's heard some of the messages Ari's left on Eric's voicemail. They seem to run the gamut from scathingly pissy to downright depressed. Today the entire floor heard Ari say, "I would dig up my dead mom if I thought it would make you happy, E, for the love of fucking Sbarro's, take my fucking calls!"
It was kind of sad.
"He won't talk to me. He won't take my calls. He's divorcing me! Vince can't divorce me! I made him! I love him! Nobody will treat that ungrateful son of a bitch better than I will! I'm sorry about the Ramones project! I drove all over fucking town trying to fix it! I called Bob! I called your mother! I went to see Alan Horn pre-fucking lubed and ready to bend over his desk -- it's not going to happen –- why am I being punished?"
Bitchy is Ari's default setting, but this almost seems defeated. This is bad.
"You are Ari Gold!" Lloyd snaps, standing up and dumping a package of Haribo on the floor. "You are the #1 agent in this town! You are the only person I would let talk to me this way without suing for emotional abuse, and Vince is lucky to have you, so stop fucking moaning, and spend the weekend with your family! On Monday, you will get Vince back, okay?!"
Lloyd's standing in his living room in his favorite cashmere pajamas, yelling at his boss on a Friday night. This was not what he was expecting when he graduated from business school magna cum laude.
Ari's quiet for a whole eight seconds. "This is war, Lloyd! Pizza boy is fucking going DOWN!" he barks.
"That's better," Lloyd says.
"I have to go fuck the wife now."
Lloyd wrinkles his nose. "Too much information, Ari."
On Monday Ari comes in with an army helmet on. The green in the helmet matches the green in his tie. The tie is Paul Smith; Lloyd knows because he has it in pink. The way Ari's tie matches the helmet is very cutting edge -- in a scary military and camouflage in the forest kind of way. It makes Lloyd think of that scene in Good Morning Vietnam, where Robin Williams starts talking about how if you wear camouflage in the jungle he can't see you.
"My grandfather lived through the Nazi fucks and getting ripped off by the ass-raping Swiss chocolate makers who stole his favorite Rembrandt," Ari announces at the corner of Lloyd's desk as Lloyd's flipping through his pad and ripping off pink messages from the twenty other clients that Ari's been ignoring for the last week.
"No hairpie eating Mick from Queens is getting the best of me!" Ari snaps peevishly. "Lloyd, get me Emily at James Cameron's office. That bitch owes me for not telling the world she got herpes from Adam Brody!"
Lloyd pops a Xanax after Ari goes into his office.
His therapist said you just have to accept some people as they are.
On an average day, Lloyd rolls somewhere between 100 and 150 of Ari's calls. Tuesday's Variety says that Vince is in talks with CAA and the phone has rung somewhere around three times per minute. It's only 10:30 in the morning, and Lloyd's tongue is starting to go numb.
"Ari Gold's office" comes out like "Murry Wolds wuffis."
There's a pause. "Lloyd, are you okay?" And Lloyd spine cracks as he snaps to attention. Phone calls from Her Highness do that to him. "Good morning, Mrs. Gold" he says with all the sincerity he can muster. It's a lot considering that Ari's been yelling non-stop since he walked in.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Gold, how are you today? How are the kids? Is Sarah still taking piano lessons?" Rule #8 of being a good assistant – be involved with your employer, know what the fuck is going on in their lives so you don't get blindsided when they march into the office with their dominatrix and announce they're having a sex change. Urban legend has it that Larry Wachowski's assistant was the second to last person to know about her boss wearing panties and leaving his wife. His wife was the last.
"The kids are fine, Lloyd, and yes, Sarah's doing okay. She still hasn't forgiven her boyfriend for going to Kazakhstan to shoot Encyclopedia Brown, but that's the business isn't it?"
Lloyd knows that Ari engineered that entire deal, but he's not allowed to say so. "First loves are tough," he empathizes, wincing when Ari breaks something else in his office.
Truthfully Lloyd's not sure what's left for Ari to break. All the awards, the mirror, and the coffee table have been removed, the desk has a huge crack down the right side and after hearing about the CAA thing Ari jumped on one of his steel chairs and broke the back.
"I hope she'll get over it, but the reason I'm calling—"
"Ari's just finishing up a call, if you could give him a moment."
Lloyd's trying to buy himself some time. "Actually, I wasn't calling for Ari, I was calling about Ari." Lloyd freezes. "He's been acting very strangely recently. He's tense and nervous, and today, he made the gardener cry. Is there something happening at the office I should know about?"
"Uh," is Lloyd's brilliant answer. Clearly Ari hasn't told Mrs. Ari about his fuck up, and there's no way Lloyd's going to be the one to tell her.
And then it slips out anyway, because she's Ari's wife, and she can probably help or at least sedate him, and Lloyd is tired of wasting his Xanax on Ari.
"So Vince left the agency because Ari lost a project he really wanted?" she says quietly.
"It was the second project Vince wanted and didn't get, and please, please please please don't tell Ari I told you. I have rent. I have student loans. I want to be able to get a job again one day."
"Ari thinks very highly of Vince."
"I know."
"Well, this explains his sex drive recently."
Again with the too much information. "I, uh," Lloyd thinks he'll just be quiet on this one.
"LLOYD!"
Lloyd never thought he'd live to see the day where Ari yelling would be preferable to a conversation with Mrs. Ari, but she's a scary woman. "I have to go, his majesty is calling."
"Okay, Lloyd, but if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."
"Just pretend you don't know –- let him try and fix it on his own. Please, for everyone's sake, but mostly for mine."
Mrs. Ari laughs. "I'll do whatever I can."
"Thanks, Mrs. Gold."
Lloyd's just hanging up when Barbara Miller stalks past him and into Ari's office, slamming the door closed. Lloyd winces.
Like today wasn't already bad enough.
Lloyd's therapist loves hearing about Ari. He says Ari probably had lots of issues with potty training when he was small and that Ari probably smokes lots of cigars to make him seem more masculine. He says lots of closeted homosexuals, like John Travolta, do that. His therapist also thinks that Ari just needs to get fucked up the ass and it will solve everything. At least that's what Lloyd thinks he's saying, but normally he's too busy being appalled and begging Lloyd to quit MGA to say it so succinctly.
They are deep in week two of TVC, and according to the Kübler-Ross model, Ari's gone through three of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, and depression.
If the list on Lloyd's desk is anything to go by they've now moved to bargaining.
This list includes, but is not limited to:
Lloyd just stares. He can make one of these things happen. One. And that's only because he can walk down Sunset to Hustler himself, but if he's buying a double-sided dildo to smack people with, he's going to be the one doing the smacking and the first person to be smacked will be Ari.
"I am not taking Drama and Turtle out," Lloyd marches in Ari's office with all the homosexual righteous conviction he can muster, which is a truly considerable amount.
"No? No?! You don’t tell me 'no'. You tell me, 'Yes, Ari'! How fucking high, Ari? Do you want starch with that, Mr. Ari?"
"My parents aren't fucking dry cleaners!" Lloyd shrieks. Even he has his breaking point. "They are not fresh off the boat! My dad is a doctor, my mom is an astrophysicist. I have an MBA from UCLA! Stop fucking insulting me! I'm not the one who left your racist pasty ass!"
Lloyd can feel his heart racing in his chest. His palms are damp, and he's sweating in his Ozwald Boateng shirt. Damnit, this shirt cost him $300. What's even worse is that he can't believe he let Ari finally get to him this way. He's supposed to be the sane one around here. The calm one. Lloyd is Zen. He pays his therapist $175 an hour to be Zen.
Who's going to pay for his therapist when Ari fires him? Except Ari seems remarkably unphased by Lloyd's tantrum. In fact, this is the first smile Ari's cracked in two weeks. "Alright, Tinkerbell, calm down, if I get bitch slapped by my assistant I'll never hear the end of it."
Lloyd sniffs and smoothes out an invisible wrinkle in his vest.
"I'll make you a deal," Ari carries on. "You take Drama and Turtle out to a queer bar, or a tranny bar where they won't know the difference, and I will call my man and introduce you to your gay guru."
Lloyd can hardly breathe. "You'll introduce me to George Clooney?"
Lloyd loves George Clooney. Every gay man he knows loves George Clooney. That is how Lloyd wants to be when he's older: fabulous, rich, dressed immaculately and fucking someone half his age.
Ari sighs dramatically. "If you do this for me -- and if you can get Drama and Turtle to get Vince to call me back. But if you don't do this, being fired will be the least of your worries. I will personally see to it that the only way you'll ever get fucked again is by a chick with a strap-on. Are we clear?"
Lloyd narrows his eyes. "Fine! But I want Gay Pride off next year too."
Ari throws a pen at Lloyd, which he dodges easily. He's getting very good at avoiding Ari projectiles. It's an acquired talent. "Don't get carried away, Richard Simmons!"
That night Lloyd has a date. Actually, it's the raincheck from the date he had last week and had to cry off because of The Vince Crisis. Lloyd can't actually remember much about the guy he's supposed to be meeting, his name is something plain like John or Joe or Michael or – Enrique. So maybe Lloyd wasn't listening when they made the date because he was too busy looking at Enrique's muscles. These things happen.
Lloyd even understands when Enrique spills white wine on Lloyd's new Neil Barrett shoes. These things happen, too.
And then Lloyd finds out that Enrique is a Scientologist.
Everybody has to draw a line somewhere.
The specifics of how Lloyd ends up at a strip club with Drama and Turtle at three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon are a little on the sketchy side, but they boil down to drugs (the ones Ari told Lloyd to buy for them) bribery (Ari promising Lloyd can take Pride off), and Lloyd vowing that Ari will look into getting Drama a recurring role on Desperate Housewives. Lloyd promises this without asking Ari, but fuck Ari because Lloyd was just supposed to take Drama and Turtle out.
Nobody said anything about watching lesbians sliding down Vaseline-lubricated poles.
Lloyd thought they were going to The Standard for drinks, but apparently Drama can't go to The Standard, because he's got post-traumatic stress disorder since Saigon's manager hung him over the balcony by his ankles.
It's all very Suge Knight meets Vanilla Ice.
Judging by the way Drama's drooling all over himself as some silicone laden girl grinds her massive mammaries in his face, Lloyd really can't blame Saigon's manager.
He wants a raise.
He wants a promotion, too.
He draws the line at letting some girl with glitter and fairy wings give him a lap dance. "Aw, c'mon Lloyd," Turtle hollers over Madonna's 'Hung Up'. "How d'you know you don't like'em, if you've never even seen'em up close?"
Lloyd wrinkles his nose and waves the girl away. "I've never seen you naked, but I don't need to have that happen to know I don't like you!" Lloyd retorts tartly.
"Oh, snap!" Drama laughs. "I guess you got told, Turtle."
"Shut up, Drama!" Turtle says. "Hey, Lloyd is Ari paying for this?"
Lloyd should've taken a Xanax before he came; he can see this now. "Yes, Turtle, this is all comp'd by the company."
"Cool! Hey, sweetheart, how about you get some of your friends, and we go to the Champagne Room?"
Lloyd can hear the Ari in his head having a complete meltdown, but Lloyd has to object on his own moral grounds. "Turtle, we're not paying for some girl to give you a blow job!" The last thing Lloyd needs is to see Turtle's dick; that could put him off men forever.
The girl grinding on Turtle's lap gives Lloyd a dirty look. "We don't do stuff like that here, this is a high class establishment!"
Lloyd raises an eyebrow at her drawn-on eyebrows, bad boob job and the fuchsia covered lights blinding him in his periphery. Never mind about her polyester underwear and bad highlights. "Of course it is," he says sweetly.
"Then stop taking food out the mouths of my children," she snaps, and at this Turtle wrinkles his nose.
"If you're so concerned about your kids, why are you out here flashing your tits? Get somebody else instead," he says waving her off. "Go take your kids to Chuck E. Cheese."
"Fuck you!" the girl shrieks, "I'm a good mother, better than your test-tube donor."
"Nobody talks about my Ma!" Turtle hollers, standing up so fast his chair tips backward. "Especially not some Jerry Springer reject!"
The stripper swings an acrylic claw at Turtle, and that's about when the bouncers show up.
On top of all that, after they're thrown out, Drama and Turtle start laughing hysterically. "We should do that again," Drama says, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Lloyd can feel a nerve in his temple twitching. "Yeah, and at the next club you're getting a lap dance," Turtle says to Lloyd.
"Over my dead gay body!" Lloyd snaps.
"Hey, speaking of gay," Drama asks, slinging an arm across Lloyd's shoulders and steering him down Sunset to the Escalade. "When two guys cross swords during a threesome, that's not gay is it?"
Lloyd just glowers.
Ari is so fired.
Part II
Fandom: Entourage
Spoilers: All seasons, up to and including the S3 Season Finale
Rating: Nothing you wouldn't get with an episode. Sorry.
Summary: So, it's going to be one of those days.
Notes: Art provided by the
slodwick corporation. Beta by serialkarma. Entourage is the property of Doug Ellin and the scary folks at HBO. I did the soundtrack. Yes, Virgina, this is that story. |
As We Are, Or How Lloyd Saves the Day (Again)
The first thing Ari does after Vince walks out on him is have a nervous breakdown. Well, he has a nervous breakdown Ari-style, which involves throwing a chair through a conference room wall -- $15,000 at least -– flinging an entire pot of coffee at a junior agent -- $1250 for a new suit, plus another $5000 not to sue –- firing the entire conference room – cost: who knows -- and then stomping into his office, shrieking for Lloyd the entire way.
The fact that Lloyd's right behind him doesn't really register, but Lloyd's not surprised, because he's about ten steps behind Ari, hiding behind furniture and spare people, and totaling up the damage as he goes.
So far they're probably about a quarter of a million dollars in the hole. At least Barbara has deep pockets.
Lloyd has seen Ari upset before -– he was there when Ari heard about the Mel Gibson thing and wanted to call the same hit man that Cheney used on Ken Lay -- but this is an all new level of Ari upset. "He left me!" Ari howls, "That ungrateful, chicken-legged, titty fucker from the slums had the nerve to leave me! Nobody fucking leaves Ari Gold!"
Ari's stomping around his office picking things up, knocking other things over, and in general creating bedlam. Lloyd's cowering behind the bathroom door. "I made him! I fucking made him! I let Alan Horn fuck me up the ass! I put up with his numb nuts retard of a brother and his midget manager who couldn't find his dick with a map and GPS! I didn't even take a goddamn commission on his first job! I swear I'm going to find him and cut off his dick and stick it in Eric's mouth since all he does is suck it anyway!"
Lloyd peeks around the corner just in time to duck back as the shards of one of Ari's Agent of the Year awards tinkles against the door, and then there's an enormous crash, which might be Ari's coffee table meeting an untimely end.
Lloyd's sense of self-preservation is pretty fucking strong, because as loyal as he is to Ari and the $20,000 raise he got for not jumping ship every other week, he has a date tonight and he doesn't want to have to cancel because the people in the ER are picking glass out of his ass.
And then the shouting and the stomping stops, and Lloyd peeks around the door. Well, him and the entire MGA office, which is the downside of having an entire office constructed of glass walls.
At least there aren't any stones around.
Ari's sitting on his sofa with his head in his hands, and he looks so bewildered and so lost that Lloyd's heart goes out to him. That doesn't mean Lloyd's going to come out of hiding, but he waves off the gawkers with some modicum of irritation, and takes a deep breath. "Ari," he begins hesitantly, "um, it'll be okay."
Ari's gaze is unfocused. It's as though he's so broken he can't even get it together to glare, and that's disconcerting. Almost as disconcerting as the way Ari's hefting that huge steel Aquaman paperweight that James Cameron gave him after they kicked Spider-Man's biggest opening weekend to the curb. "Vince left me, Lloyd. Vince. He took Pizza Boy and the Court Fuckwits and left me!"
For the first time, Lloyd gets an inkling of what this really means to Ari. It's not just that Vince is upset with Ari, it's that he's gone.
It would be like if Mrs. Ari walked out and took the rugrats.
Lloyd ducks back behind the door, wincing as the wall shakes (probably from Aquaman paperweight assault) and grabs a handful of toilet paper. Ari's not crying or anything -– that would probably require hospitalization for both of them –- but if Ari throws something at him, Lloyd wants to be able to deflect it without scarring himself.
"It's okay," he says crossing the room carefully, using the soothing tone his therapist adopts when Lloyd talks about spiking Ari's coffee with arsenic. "Vince isn't your only client, and when he realizes what he's missing, he'll be back."
"Of course he'll be back!"Ari snaps to the broken coffee table, "They always come back, because I shit gold ingots and have a time share with Beelzebub! -- but that's not the point! The point is that he left in the first fucking place! Vince isn't supposed to leave me! I've been wiping his non-existent, bony ass for FIVE YEARS!"
The fact that Ari's repeating himself isn't good, and his voice doesn't have the conviction that it normally does. That is worrisome. And Lloyd will be worried as soon as he stops wondering how Ari knows that Vince has a bony ass.
Squaring his shoulders, he balls up the toilet paper and flings it at Ari's head to get his attention.
Ari's glower is only at 50%, but Lloyd still takes two steps back. "You're right," he says, "you're Ari Gold. You're the best agent in this town, so remind Vince of that. You go out there and get him a movie he'd want, and you – you woo him back."
"Woo. Him. Back." Ari enunciates each word as though it's a marble in his mouth. "I shouldn't have to WOO HIM BACK!" he howls. "He's not my fucking wife!"
"You want to bet?" The words fly out before Lloyd can stop them.
Ari's glower is now hovering around 95%. Lloyd takes another step back. "Watch it, Fudge Packer."
Lloyd just crosses his arms. "Insulting me isn't going to get Vince back."
Ari rubs his forehead. "Tell me something I don't know."
For the first thirty-two years of Lloyd's life, everything was fine. He was the overachieving second son of two brilliant Chinese-American scientists, who encouraged their children to aim high.
His elder brother took the heat off of Lloyd by going to medical school, and his elder sister did her part by graduating summa cum laude from Cal Tech and getting recruited by Microsoft. Even Lloyd has an MBA, so the gay thing didn't cause as much of a fuss as he'd assumed it would. Especially since he came out right after his sister had the first grandkid.
It helps that his youngest sister is a granola-selling hippie slacker in Berkeley; his parents have gotten accustomed to a certain amount of disappointment, because nobody is perfect.
All in all though, Lloyd's led a really good life. He's relatively sane and well-adjusted, or as well-adjusted as any ex-chess prodigy can be -- but then he moved to Los Angeles and promptly lost his mind.
He started seeing his therapist eight days after he went to work for Ari. He didn't even have any health insurance, because all the agencies figure that assistants aren't worth insuring until they've been around three months and haven't had an entire meltdown.
Lloyd said fuck it though, and wiped out his savings so he could keep his horrible, demeaning job and still keep shopping at Viktor & Rolf, because a man has to have some standards.
In the last two years since he's gone to work for Ari, Lloyd's standards have dropped considerably, but at least now he has health insurance and his therapist's home number. Now that Ari's gone into business with Barbara Miller and they've formed the Miller Gold Agency, Lloyd's even got a raise. And all that's done for Lloyd is make things worse, because it used to be that when Lloyd left work for the day that was it until he walked through the door the next morning. But ever since he had to drive Ari home drunk after his divorce from Terence, it's like the boundaries have evaporated.
If they ever existed in the first place.
Now Ari calls him all the tine. All. The. Fucking. Time.
When Lloyd's in the shower, when Lloyd's at the supermarket, when Lloyd's not even in the state.
Lloyd's drawing the line at Ari interrupting his dates.
"Ari, now is not a good time," he says firmly. He's been trying to ignore his Razr's vibrating, but it's been going off for the last fifteen minutes, and Damien is starting to give him funny looks.
"I own you, Lloyd. You have a paycheck that says if I want you to crawl across burning coals to suck Colin Farrell's herpes laden cock, that's what you do!" Ari's voice is a high-pitched and careening. Crap, he's been drinking.
Lloyd signs and covers the mouthpiece with his hand. "Sorry, work," he mouths across the table before getting to his feet and taking the call outside.
"Ari, I'm on a date, right now," Lloyd harps as soon as he's by the bathrooms and out of earshot. The date hasn't been going so well – Damien's a little too fresh out the closet for Lloyd's tastes. He still has the newbie twitch. "Don't you have a beautiful wife and three children to go home to?"
"So I can tell my wife that I fucking lost the Golden Goose and we have to live on her trust fund again? Fuck no! I get enough buggery from Babs 'My Face Lift Looks Like it was Superglued' Miller! No fucking way, Peckerwood -– hey, is this the guy that popped your zit with his pecker?"
Lloyd rubs his eyes. Why him? What did he do in a past life that was so bad? "Ari, what do you want?" Clearly the Xanax that Lloyd spiked Ari's coffee with has worn off.
Damn.
"I want peace in the Middle East, you stupid ass bandit! I want Vince back, what the fuck do you think I want?!"
"Insulting me isn't going to get Vince back," Lloyd says in his most patient voice.
"If I thought a gold egg coming out of your ass would get Vince back, I'd shove it up there myself," Ari retorts. "Now stop getting your dick sucked and help me figure out how to fix this!"
"You can't fix it at eleven-thirty at night," Lloyd points out.
"Stop being helpful and help me!" Ari howls. "I need Vinny!"
Lloyd snorts. Ari sounds like his four year-old niece, but Ari won't have as much endurance. Hopefully.
"Go home to your wife," Lloyd repeats. "We'll think of something tomorrow."
Ari's silent for so long Lloyd thinks he's hung-up, and then he speaks up. "We're going to get him back, Lloyd," Ari's voice is so flat that Lloyd doesn't know if he's asking him or telling him.
"Of course we are," Lloyd says with a lot more conviction than he feels. "But first we have to get you home so security doesn't tell Defamer that you've been kicked out of your house and are living in your office. Stay there and I'll have a car come and pick you up."
"I'm fine!" Ari shoots back and then there's a crashing sound and a hiccup. "Or not. Maybe not."
Lloyd shakes his head. "Be downstairs in twenty minutes, Ari."
"'kay, Tinkerbell!"
By the time Lloyd's able to get someone at the car service to agree to take Ari home and bring him back the next day, and called the night guard at MGA to make sure Ari hasn't passed out in his office, twenty more minutes have gone by. It's then that Lloyd remembers where he is – there was a date happening.
Of course, when Lloyd gets back to his table his date is gone. He would be upset, but he thinks Ari probably did him a favor. His date was wearing white socks, and no self-respecting gay boy in Los Angeles wears white socks unless he's at the gym.
The day after the day before Lloyd arrives at the office at 7:30 in the morning, and Ari is already there. Lloyd can hear him shouting the minute he gets off the elevator –- this is not a good sign.
In fact, Ari shouting about running over people's dogs and fucking Bob Ryan with his own walking cane is a very very bad sign.
It's not that Lloyd likes getting up early in the morning. He hates mornings. If Lloyd had his way he would work from noon to eight p.m. and then go out until three a.m. and start all over again the next day. But that's not how life works when you work for an agent.
So when Lloyd says he's a morning person, what he means is that he likes getting into the office early, because that's when Ari isn't around, and Lloyd can get things done without Ari flinging things against the wall behind Lloyd to get his attention.
The first three times Ari did this, Lloyd thought they were having an earthquake.
Lloyd's stride slows considerably the closer he gets to his desk, and he thinks Denise from Walter Cohn's office is trying to get his attention, but he can't tell for Ari's tirade. The girl from the mailroom who covers Ari's phones in the morning looks as though she's trying to climb under Lloyd's desk, and when he waves at her her face crumples like a condom wrapper that's been in the car too long.
"I'M GOING TO SHOVE THAT RAZR SO FAR UP PIZZA BOY'S ASS, HE'LL BE SHITTING TEXT MESSAGES FOR A MONTH!"
There's no point in Lloyd saying "Good Morning" to Ari, but old habits are hard to break, and Lloyd pauses at the door of Ari's office like the idiot he sometimes is long enough to realize it was a very bad idea.
Ari's office has been cleared of all of yesterday's shrapnel, but anytime Ari's doing yoga on the floor without his yoga mat Lloyd is going to have a bad day.
"YOU!" Ari shrieks from his side plank. "Where the hell have you been? I've been here for hours, because I work here! Work, Lloyd! Do you want me to have your ass deported back to the motherland? Did you keep the boat in your garage – if not you better fucking get work too!"
Lloyd can feel his eyes widening, and on Ari's desk he can see the supersized Coffee Bean container. Great. Coffee and Ari, two explosive things that should never be mixed together. Like stripes and plaid.
"Ari, have you—"
"Did I tell you you could use your mouth for something besides answering my phones or sucking my dick?! I didn't think so! So, shut up and get E on the phone!"
Lloyd is not going to pout.
Lloyd is not going to pout.
Ari is undergoing a stressful time; Lloyd has to be supportive.
He will not scream and throw things back at his agent. Instead he will go to his desk and relieve Jane, and read Variety, and try to reach Eric. Except when he gets to his desk his Variety is missing. And so is The Hollywood Reporter. Which is just weird, and Lloyd would ask Jane but she's vanished into the ether.
It doesn't help that Ari's phone is lit up like West Hollywood during Halloween. "Ari Gold's office, this is Lloyd," he says by rote.
"Lloyd whatever you do, don't let Ari read today's trades." It takes him a minute to realize the person on the other line is Denise.
"Why? What?"
Lloyd pauses and takes off his headset and walks the twenty-two steps to Denise's desk. "Okay, what's going on?"
"This," Denise says showing him the cover of Variety.
Lloyd can feel his stomach churning, and he blindly reaches out for the Maalox Denise offers him.
So, it's going to be one of those days.
On the second day of TVC -- The Vince Crisis as Lloyd has taken to melodramatically calling it in his head -– Lloyd makes twelve calls to Eric's cell phone, eight to Vince's cell phone, six to Turtle and one to Johnny Drama.
The only person who answers is Drama. "Hey Ari, you can go blow yourself," Drama says.
"What?" is Lloyd's scathing reply.
"Oh Lloyd, sorry, this comes up as Ari calling."
"Well, I am calling on Ari's behalf," Lloyd hedges.
"Then you can tell him to go blow himself -– unless he's calling about an audition."
Lloyd turns in his chair and peers through the glass at Ari. Ari's been on the phone with the head of Universal for eighteen minutes and there hasn't been any screaming. Well, not much for Ari at any rate. "Drama, Ari really needs to talk to E."
"Yeah, well, he should've thought about that before he lost us that movie."
"Us?"
"Yeah, I was going to be Dee Dee Ramone."
Lloyd will not laugh at Johnny Drama. This is a crisis. He'll just think about it. "Um, Drama, you remember I'm the one who got you the audition with Ed Burns, right?"
"Yeah, I do, and I'm real thankful for that, but Ari's still an asshole."
"But that's not the point," Lloyd counters. There's no point in arguing with the truth.
"Lloyd, I gotta go. I have to meet with wardrobe."
It takes Lloyd a minute to realize that Drama's hung up on him, and he stares at his headset for a minute, because when you are being hung up on by a Z-List actor things are really fucked up.
On day three of TVC, Ari comes to the office wearing his best Brioni suit and the blood red tie that always makes Lloyd think of filet mignon and Jaws. Ari only wears this tie when he's been dreaming of sacrificing babies in front of god, the paparazzi, and everyone eating at The Ivy.
Lloyd knows this because Ari told him about this dream the day after Vince told the Foreign Press that the new and improved Queens Boulevard was a piece of shit.
That was a rough week.
Lloyd misses that compared to this.
Today, Lloyd makes twenty-three calls to Eric's cell phone, every last one of which goes to voice mail. He calls Vince six times, Turtle fourteen and Drama none.
Nobody hangs up on Lloyd.
Of course, nobody calls Lloyd back either.
Ari is the gayest straight man Lloyd has ever met, and as a gay Asian man living in Los Angeles, that's saying a lot. Lloyd lives off of Santa Monica and Gayville, and most of his friends aren't as flamboyant as Ari on a good day.
It's not even that Ari's really obvious about his gayness. During Lloyd's job "interview" Lloyd was so preoccupied with Ari's shouting about the temp being a syphilitic whore and his various innuendos about Lloyd's parents being FOBs that he didn't quite realize how fey Ari behaves.
Everyone in L.A. is preoccupied with waxing their chests and Mystic Tans and getting their eyebrows threaded, Lloyd understands that. It's to be expected. Ari, however, is a bigger screaming queen than most of the transvestites that Lloyd sees hanging around Highland and Santa Monica.
He doesn't call anybody 'girlfriend' or snap his fingers a lot -- except for when he's on the phone and summoning Lloyd to the inner sanctum -- but when it comes to Vince Ari is really gay. He fawns and preens and screams and stomps his feet. He simpers and coddles and would probably get down on both knees and open his mouth if Vince asked -- but that image is a bit much for Lloyd when he's sober.
The point being that when Vince is happy, Ari is almost tolerable -- when Vince is unhappy, Ari gives Lloyd dysentery.
In the four days since Vince has left MGA, Lloyd has been through two bottles of Kaopectate and half a roll of Tums.
Today when he tried to go the bathroom, Ari actually followed him in the bathroom and kicked on the stall door until the hinges gave way. "We're in the middle of a fucking crisis, Tonto, how the fuck are you taking a shit?! You don't get to take a shit until I say you can take a shit, and until we get Vince back, nobody is shitting! You need to shit, too fucking bad! Hold it in, I'll buy you an enema later."
Lloyd has seen Ari upset, but this is an all new level of upset, even for Ari. He's rambling on like Anna Nicole Smith about Thai hookers and black ops missions and castrating Eric.
There is something very wrong with Lloyd scuttling back to his desk behind Ari with his pants around his ankles.
The only thing more distressing is that nobody seems even slightly surprised. Probably because Lloyd can smell the stench of fear all over the MGA offices.
He's still tucking in his shirt when he gets to his desk. The phones are lighting up like it's Chinese New Year, and he grabs one immediately, because rolling calls is what assistants do.
Lloyd spends so much time answering Ari's phone that more often than not, he can't even answer his own phone at home without saying. "Miller Gold, Ari Gold's office."
That night, Ari calls Lloyd at home. "Lloyd, get me E!"
It's Friday night, and Lloyd had a date, but Ari's been driving him up the wall and his complexion is all messed up, so he cancelled. In Los Angeles, you can't date looking like anything less than an 11 and expect it to go well.
Lloyd's watching season two of Sex and the City. He watches S&tC to soothe his nerves, but so far it's not working, so Lloyd puts down his ice cream on the coffee table. "I've been trying all week, Ari, you know that, he won't take your calls."
"What do you mean he won't take my calls? Does he know who I am? I remember when his Subaru-driving ass couldn't even get his shit valet parked at Starbucks!"
This no-calls thing is not something that Ari doesn't know. Lloyd's heard some of the messages Ari's left on Eric's voicemail. They seem to run the gamut from scathingly pissy to downright depressed. Today the entire floor heard Ari say, "I would dig up my dead mom if I thought it would make you happy, E, for the love of fucking Sbarro's, take my fucking calls!"
It was kind of sad.
"He won't talk to me. He won't take my calls. He's divorcing me! Vince can't divorce me! I made him! I love him! Nobody will treat that ungrateful son of a bitch better than I will! I'm sorry about the Ramones project! I drove all over fucking town trying to fix it! I called Bob! I called your mother! I went to see Alan Horn pre-fucking lubed and ready to bend over his desk -- it's not going to happen –- why am I being punished?"
Bitchy is Ari's default setting, but this almost seems defeated. This is bad.
"You are Ari Gold!" Lloyd snaps, standing up and dumping a package of Haribo on the floor. "You are the #1 agent in this town! You are the only person I would let talk to me this way without suing for emotional abuse, and Vince is lucky to have you, so stop fucking moaning, and spend the weekend with your family! On Monday, you will get Vince back, okay?!"
Lloyd's standing in his living room in his favorite cashmere pajamas, yelling at his boss on a Friday night. This was not what he was expecting when he graduated from business school magna cum laude.
Ari's quiet for a whole eight seconds. "This is war, Lloyd! Pizza boy is fucking going DOWN!" he barks.
"That's better," Lloyd says.
"I have to go fuck the wife now."
Lloyd wrinkles his nose. "Too much information, Ari."
On Monday Ari comes in with an army helmet on. The green in the helmet matches the green in his tie. The tie is Paul Smith; Lloyd knows because he has it in pink. The way Ari's tie matches the helmet is very cutting edge -- in a scary military and camouflage in the forest kind of way. It makes Lloyd think of that scene in Good Morning Vietnam, where Robin Williams starts talking about how if you wear camouflage in the jungle he can't see you.
"My grandfather lived through the Nazi fucks and getting ripped off by the ass-raping Swiss chocolate makers who stole his favorite Rembrandt," Ari announces at the corner of Lloyd's desk as Lloyd's flipping through his pad and ripping off pink messages from the twenty other clients that Ari's been ignoring for the last week.
"No hairpie eating Mick from Queens is getting the best of me!" Ari snaps peevishly. "Lloyd, get me Emily at James Cameron's office. That bitch owes me for not telling the world she got herpes from Adam Brody!"
Lloyd pops a Xanax after Ari goes into his office.
His therapist said you just have to accept some people as they are.
On an average day, Lloyd rolls somewhere between 100 and 150 of Ari's calls. Tuesday's Variety says that Vince is in talks with CAA and the phone has rung somewhere around three times per minute. It's only 10:30 in the morning, and Lloyd's tongue is starting to go numb.
"Ari Gold's office" comes out like "Murry Wolds wuffis."
There's a pause. "Lloyd, are you okay?" And Lloyd spine cracks as he snaps to attention. Phone calls from Her Highness do that to him. "Good morning, Mrs. Gold" he says with all the sincerity he can muster. It's a lot considering that Ari's been yelling non-stop since he walked in.
"I'm fine, Mrs. Gold, how are you today? How are the kids? Is Sarah still taking piano lessons?" Rule #8 of being a good assistant – be involved with your employer, know what the fuck is going on in their lives so you don't get blindsided when they march into the office with their dominatrix and announce they're having a sex change. Urban legend has it that Larry Wachowski's assistant was the second to last person to know about her boss wearing panties and leaving his wife. His wife was the last.
"The kids are fine, Lloyd, and yes, Sarah's doing okay. She still hasn't forgiven her boyfriend for going to Kazakhstan to shoot Encyclopedia Brown, but that's the business isn't it?"
Lloyd knows that Ari engineered that entire deal, but he's not allowed to say so. "First loves are tough," he empathizes, wincing when Ari breaks something else in his office.
Truthfully Lloyd's not sure what's left for Ari to break. All the awards, the mirror, and the coffee table have been removed, the desk has a huge crack down the right side and after hearing about the CAA thing Ari jumped on one of his steel chairs and broke the back.
"I hope she'll get over it, but the reason I'm calling—"
"Ari's just finishing up a call, if you could give him a moment."
Lloyd's trying to buy himself some time. "Actually, I wasn't calling for Ari, I was calling about Ari." Lloyd freezes. "He's been acting very strangely recently. He's tense and nervous, and today, he made the gardener cry. Is there something happening at the office I should know about?"
"Uh," is Lloyd's brilliant answer. Clearly Ari hasn't told Mrs. Ari about his fuck up, and there's no way Lloyd's going to be the one to tell her.
And then it slips out anyway, because she's Ari's wife, and she can probably help or at least sedate him, and Lloyd is tired of wasting his Xanax on Ari.
"So Vince left the agency because Ari lost a project he really wanted?" she says quietly.
"It was the second project Vince wanted and didn't get, and please, please please please don't tell Ari I told you. I have rent. I have student loans. I want to be able to get a job again one day."
"Ari thinks very highly of Vince."
"I know."
"Well, this explains his sex drive recently."
Again with the too much information. "I, uh," Lloyd thinks he'll just be quiet on this one.
"LLOYD!"
Lloyd never thought he'd live to see the day where Ari yelling would be preferable to a conversation with Mrs. Ari, but she's a scary woman. "I have to go, his majesty is calling."
"Okay, Lloyd, but if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."
"Just pretend you don't know –- let him try and fix it on his own. Please, for everyone's sake, but mostly for mine."
Mrs. Ari laughs. "I'll do whatever I can."
"Thanks, Mrs. Gold."
Lloyd's just hanging up when Barbara Miller stalks past him and into Ari's office, slamming the door closed. Lloyd winces.
Like today wasn't already bad enough.
Lloyd's therapist loves hearing about Ari. He says Ari probably had lots of issues with potty training when he was small and that Ari probably smokes lots of cigars to make him seem more masculine. He says lots of closeted homosexuals, like John Travolta, do that. His therapist also thinks that Ari just needs to get fucked up the ass and it will solve everything. At least that's what Lloyd thinks he's saying, but normally he's too busy being appalled and begging Lloyd to quit MGA to say it so succinctly.
They are deep in week two of TVC, and according to the Kübler-Ross model, Ari's gone through three of the five stages of grief: denial, anger, and depression.
If the list on Lloyd's desk is anything to go by they've now moved to bargaining.
This list includes, but is not limited to:
- Rachel McAdams' phone number for Vince.
- A kilo of the best weed he can get from Snoop Dogg's supplier to be delivered by Snoop himself
- A new girlfriend for Eric – preferably in another country.
- A double-sided dildo so Ari can smack people with it when they ask if Vince is really signing with CAA.
- Handcuffs and nipple clamps for Drama
- A life time membership to Spearmint Rhino for Turtle
- Dinner with Vince
- Dinner with Eric
- Dinner with Eric and Vince and any studio head in town with some crazy ass indie project that nobody in their right mind would do, but which Vince will probably love just because he wants to fuck Ari over. Repeatedly.
- Lloyd to take Drama and Turtle out on the town
Lloyd just stares. He can make one of these things happen. One. And that's only because he can walk down Sunset to Hustler himself, but if he's buying a double-sided dildo to smack people with, he's going to be the one doing the smacking and the first person to be smacked will be Ari.
"I am not taking Drama and Turtle out," Lloyd marches in Ari's office with all the homosexual righteous conviction he can muster, which is a truly considerable amount.
"No? No?! You don’t tell me 'no'. You tell me, 'Yes, Ari'! How fucking high, Ari? Do you want starch with that, Mr. Ari?"
"My parents aren't fucking dry cleaners!" Lloyd shrieks. Even he has his breaking point. "They are not fresh off the boat! My dad is a doctor, my mom is an astrophysicist. I have an MBA from UCLA! Stop fucking insulting me! I'm not the one who left your racist pasty ass!"
Lloyd can feel his heart racing in his chest. His palms are damp, and he's sweating in his Ozwald Boateng shirt. Damnit, this shirt cost him $300. What's even worse is that he can't believe he let Ari finally get to him this way. He's supposed to be the sane one around here. The calm one. Lloyd is Zen. He pays his therapist $175 an hour to be Zen.
Who's going to pay for his therapist when Ari fires him? Except Ari seems remarkably unphased by Lloyd's tantrum. In fact, this is the first smile Ari's cracked in two weeks. "Alright, Tinkerbell, calm down, if I get bitch slapped by my assistant I'll never hear the end of it."
Lloyd sniffs and smoothes out an invisible wrinkle in his vest.
"I'll make you a deal," Ari carries on. "You take Drama and Turtle out to a queer bar, or a tranny bar where they won't know the difference, and I will call my man and introduce you to your gay guru."
Lloyd can hardly breathe. "You'll introduce me to George Clooney?"
Lloyd loves George Clooney. Every gay man he knows loves George Clooney. That is how Lloyd wants to be when he's older: fabulous, rich, dressed immaculately and fucking someone half his age.
Ari sighs dramatically. "If you do this for me -- and if you can get Drama and Turtle to get Vince to call me back. But if you don't do this, being fired will be the least of your worries. I will personally see to it that the only way you'll ever get fucked again is by a chick with a strap-on. Are we clear?"
Lloyd narrows his eyes. "Fine! But I want Gay Pride off next year too."
Ari throws a pen at Lloyd, which he dodges easily. He's getting very good at avoiding Ari projectiles. It's an acquired talent. "Don't get carried away, Richard Simmons!"
That night Lloyd has a date. Actually, it's the raincheck from the date he had last week and had to cry off because of The Vince Crisis. Lloyd can't actually remember much about the guy he's supposed to be meeting, his name is something plain like John or Joe or Michael or – Enrique. So maybe Lloyd wasn't listening when they made the date because he was too busy looking at Enrique's muscles. These things happen.
Lloyd even understands when Enrique spills white wine on Lloyd's new Neil Barrett shoes. These things happen, too.
And then Lloyd finds out that Enrique is a Scientologist.
Everybody has to draw a line somewhere.
The specifics of how Lloyd ends up at a strip club with Drama and Turtle at three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon are a little on the sketchy side, but they boil down to drugs (the ones Ari told Lloyd to buy for them) bribery (Ari promising Lloyd can take Pride off), and Lloyd vowing that Ari will look into getting Drama a recurring role on Desperate Housewives. Lloyd promises this without asking Ari, but fuck Ari because Lloyd was just supposed to take Drama and Turtle out.
Nobody said anything about watching lesbians sliding down Vaseline-lubricated poles.
Lloyd thought they were going to The Standard for drinks, but apparently Drama can't go to The Standard, because he's got post-traumatic stress disorder since Saigon's manager hung him over the balcony by his ankles.
It's all very Suge Knight meets Vanilla Ice.
Judging by the way Drama's drooling all over himself as some silicone laden girl grinds her massive mammaries in his face, Lloyd really can't blame Saigon's manager.
He wants a raise.
He wants a promotion, too.
He draws the line at letting some girl with glitter and fairy wings give him a lap dance. "Aw, c'mon Lloyd," Turtle hollers over Madonna's 'Hung Up'. "How d'you know you don't like'em, if you've never even seen'em up close?"
Lloyd wrinkles his nose and waves the girl away. "I've never seen you naked, but I don't need to have that happen to know I don't like you!" Lloyd retorts tartly.
"Oh, snap!" Drama laughs. "I guess you got told, Turtle."
"Shut up, Drama!" Turtle says. "Hey, Lloyd is Ari paying for this?"
Lloyd should've taken a Xanax before he came; he can see this now. "Yes, Turtle, this is all comp'd by the company."
"Cool! Hey, sweetheart, how about you get some of your friends, and we go to the Champagne Room?"
Lloyd can hear the Ari in his head having a complete meltdown, but Lloyd has to object on his own moral grounds. "Turtle, we're not paying for some girl to give you a blow job!" The last thing Lloyd needs is to see Turtle's dick; that could put him off men forever.
The girl grinding on Turtle's lap gives Lloyd a dirty look. "We don't do stuff like that here, this is a high class establishment!"
Lloyd raises an eyebrow at her drawn-on eyebrows, bad boob job and the fuchsia covered lights blinding him in his periphery. Never mind about her polyester underwear and bad highlights. "Of course it is," he says sweetly.
"Then stop taking food out the mouths of my children," she snaps, and at this Turtle wrinkles his nose.
"If you're so concerned about your kids, why are you out here flashing your tits? Get somebody else instead," he says waving her off. "Go take your kids to Chuck E. Cheese."
"Fuck you!" the girl shrieks, "I'm a good mother, better than your test-tube donor."
"Nobody talks about my Ma!" Turtle hollers, standing up so fast his chair tips backward. "Especially not some Jerry Springer reject!"
The stripper swings an acrylic claw at Turtle, and that's about when the bouncers show up.
On top of all that, after they're thrown out, Drama and Turtle start laughing hysterically. "We should do that again," Drama says, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
Lloyd can feel a nerve in his temple twitching. "Yeah, and at the next club you're getting a lap dance," Turtle says to Lloyd.
"Over my dead gay body!" Lloyd snaps.
"Hey, speaking of gay," Drama asks, slinging an arm across Lloyd's shoulders and steering him down Sunset to the Escalade. "When two guys cross swords during a threesome, that's not gay is it?"
Lloyd just glowers.
Ari is so fired.
Part II
