Ray Donovan

Previously on Ray Donovan:

Your father's been here.

- What did you say? - I don't remember.

I have a brain tumour.

Father Danny, he's here in L.A. I seen him.

- The one that abused Bunchy? - It wasn't only Bunch.

- They don't know. - I told you to shut up.

I loved you.

See what I'm saying? We could knock this place off real easy.

Terry. This is my son. He's gonna be our muscle.

- Try this one. - You're a cop.

Never know when you'll get in trouble. If you do, call me.

I think I'm in love with you.

Kate McPherson, Boston Globe.

She's a reporter. Gonna publish a story that says I paid him to kill Mickey.

She has to be stopped.

You buried a Catholic priest at a Jewish hospital?

Anything happens to Kate McPherson, that body comes up.

You think fucking this guy's gonna make you feel better, but it won't.

It feels pretty fucking good right now, Ray.

- I'm locked in! - Where's Terry?

Just drive, son.

- Here's your cut. - Keep counting. I'm the one going to jail.

- Kate McPherson is dead. - What?

There was an explosion, I think I broke my arm.

You almost killed your grandson.

You sent Avi.

Of course I did.

You don't know who you are anymore, Ray.

It's over, Ezra.

What are you doing, Raymond?

- Yeah, I'd like to report a body. - Raymond.

Ripped By mstoll

Mr. Goldman.

Mr. Goldman, can you hear me?

Mr. Goldman?

My name is Thomas Romero.

I'm a servant of the Paraclete.

Paraclete?

I minister to broken priests.

No last rites. I'm a Jew.

A call from your office led to the body of a murdered priest.

I tried to make a monument.

Did you make that call?

You can't tell Ruth.

She's suffered enough.

- Who made the call, Mr. Goldman? - What are you doing?

- Did you make the call? - He doesn't want a priest.

- Who made the call? - He doesn't want a priest.

I understand.

I'll pray for you, Mr. Goldman.

The girl I killed.

Sweetheart, you didn't kill anyone.

Ray needs to know.

Ray hasn't spoken to you in months, Ezra.

- Call Ray. - No, Ray isn't here.

Call him, call him.

- Call Ray! Call Ray! - Nurse? Nurse?

Ray!

Nice. It's only 2 grand. It's Italian.

- Where is he? - You can't go back there this time, Ray.

- Give me a break. - Ray.

- Ray. - Flip!

- Ray. - Is that you, Ray?!

Open the door, Bob.

We know who he is, Ray.

- Open the fucking door. - She wants more money, man.

Jesus, Ray.

Give me the fucking key.

- Flip? - In here. Oh, God. In here!

In here!

Aah! Oh, God! No, don't. No, no, don't. Let go.

He stiffed my glory hole.

They zip-tied my cock-- Aah!

Third time. He pleasure himself and run without paying. Third time.

- Five hundred, right? - Not anymore.

He told me he's important man. Big scandal.

Many people like to see.

You pay 6000.

I'm gonna-- I'm gonna lose consciousness.

No one's gonna pay you 6000 for this asshole's picture.

Six thousand, or I call the stalkerazzi.

Heh-heh-heh. Okay.

Aah! Oh, God!

- Hello. Uh-huh. - Marty, it's Ray Donovan.

You got any interest in a picture of Flip Brightman fucking a glory hole?

- Flip who? - Brightman.

- Who? - Flip Brightman.

Stop wasting my fucking time, Donovan.

- Ray, Ray. - Trust me, he's nobody.

In the future, can you please tell the chaplain not to visit?

- We don't have a chaplain on tonight. - Excuse me?

Okay, okay, thanks.

Ezra.

Oh, Ezra.

Oh.

Oh, Ezra.

Oh, my love.

Can I bum a cigarette?

Thank you.

- Hey, Ray. - It looks like it'll be another...

...beautiful day in Southern California. - Ray...

I-- I have a disease, okay?

That guy in there with his cock and balls zip-tied, that guy wasn't me.

That guy was my addict.

Yeah, well, one of you owes me $2000.

So my fucking ex-boyfriend calls me drunk last night.

It's like, "Am I supposed to come to your house?"

You okay?

"Mandy, you just have to fucking say no."

How many times are you gonna fucking do this?

You just go over to his house. The same shit happens.

- Yeah? - Ezra's dead.

- What? - He's gone, Ray.

The fuck you talking about?

I'm so sorry.

Fucking say no, particularly to the men in my life.

Ray, you there?

I'm so fucking tired.

Where are you?

I mean, can we all just stop pretending?

Come home.

- That's not a good idea. - Then I'll come to you.

No.

Go back to sleep.

I'm done.

Seriously fucking done.

And this time I totally mean it. I know I've said it before. I've tried before.

Fasten your seatbelts, raise your chairs to the upright position.

We'll be landing at Los Angeles International Airport shortly.

Tip the country on its side...

...and everything that falls loose lands in L.A.

I'm just gonna focus on myself for now.

I'm completely through with men, you know.

Yes! Oh, yes!

Yes!

Oh, God, yes.

In what was said...

While the kidnapper's demands are not known...

...judging by the family's fortune, they're sure to be substantial.

Now Flip with the five-day forecast.

And it's gonna be another beautiful day in Southern California.

Marvellous, you got it. You got-- You got star quality.

Mickey.

- Vartan. - What, are you a mermaid?

Vartan, my friend, what do you got for me?

Exactly what you asked for, 14 beautiful grills.

Let me see.

- What the fuck is this? Eleven grand? - You got a good eye.

It's the Kalamazoo, man. It's the top of the line.

- Why is it so much? - It's got 55,000 BTUs.

Give it to me for one-third retail.

Okay, $4000 cash, and I bring it to you this afternoon.

Yeah.

Took that pretty quick.

Maybe I should have gone lower.

It's just, I don't want to go.

- You're going. I ain't asking, Ginger. - Please, please, send somebody else.

Listen, never disappoint the client, Ginger.

- But I have to watch Audrey. - No, you don't.

Mickey loves looking after her. Don't you? It'll just be a couple hours.

- Sure. - Good man.

Hey, princess, I'm gonna have your mama back in a hot minute, okay? Good girl.

- Sorry, baby doll. I won't be long. - You got Gary Royal.

Just hang out with Mickey. I'll be back.

- Can we go? - I love you.

- Please, don't. - Gosh, damn it.

- Thank you. - I don't wanna hear that shit.

- Bye, Mom. - Bye, baby.

You okay there, kiddo?

It's time for my swim.

All right.

Put on your floaties.

Fucking Mexicans ain't paid. Two months running now.

Terry would never tolerate that shit.

Get the fuck off the turnbuckle.

I'll talk to them later.

Daddy, I'm so sorry about Mr. Goldman.

It's all right.

Are you sad?

I'm fine.

Come home, Daddy.

I can't, sweetheart.

- Why? - Trust me, you don't want me there.

Look, even if you're angry with Mom, even if you're sad, we can handle it.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

Go inside.

Ray, we have to make things right.

Go fuck yourself.

Excuse me one second.

I'm sorry, Deb.

He needed you.

He was screaming your name from his deathbed.

He treated you like a son, and you abandoned him.

He treated you like a fucking son!

I don't want you here. Leave.

Leave!

Let's go.

Ray, wait.

Ray.