I Care a Lot

Look at you, sitting there.

You think you’re good people.

You’re not good people.

Trust me, there’s no such thing as good people.

I used to be like you...

thinking that working hard and playing fair

would lead to success and happiness.

It doesn’t.

Playing fair is a joke invented by rich people

to keep the rest of us poor.

And I’ve been poor.

It doesn’t agree with me.

’Cause there’s two types of people in this world:

the people who take...

and those getting took.

Predators and prey.

Lions and lambs.

My name is Marla Grayson, and I’m not a lamb.

I am a fucking lioness.

She’s my mother. I should be able to see her whenever I want.

She doesn’t need to be in a care facility.

She doesn’t need a court-appointed guardian.

She has a loving son to take care of her.

I don’t understand how the court

can entrust my mother to this stranger.

Miss Grayson forced my mother into the home

when she made it very clear that she didn’t wanna go.

And now she has auctioned off my mother’s house, her car,

her personal belongings.

And she uses the proceeds to pay herself.

And now Miss Grayson has barred me from seeing my mother at all.

It’s a goddamn nightmare. She has kidnapped my mother!

Please, sir, calm down.

Marla Grayson is a well-respected professional guardian

and has been appointed by this court, by me,

to look after the best interests of your mother now that she cannot look after herself.

How is it in my mother’s best interest to have her son barred from seeing her?

Miss Grayson doesn’t care about my mother at all.

Excuse me, Your Honor. May I speak?

Go ahead, Miss Grayson.

Mr. Feldstrom, sir, I sympathize.

But the court doesn’t appoint me for no reason.

Your mother couldn’t cope on her own.

-That is not true. -A doctor diagnosed her with dementia

and wrote an affidavit recommending immediate action be taken for her safety.

You had ample opportunity to move your mother into a care facility

or into your home.

You did neither.

She didn’t want to leave her home.

She begged me not to--

You can’t care for her by doing what she wants.

You have to do what she needs.

And that is why I can care better than a family member,

because I have no skin in the game.

I just do what is right for your mother.

I manage your mother’s money because someone has to.

She’d let it run into quite a mess.

And I have to pay for her care in the facility,

so, yes, I oversaw the sale

of some of her assets to finance that.

And, yes, I pay myself too.

Because caring, sir, is my job, it’s my profession.

This is what I do. All day, every day, I care.

I care for those who are in need of protection,

protection from apathy, protection from their own pride

and, quite often, protection from their own children.

- Hey! No! - Your Honor, you and I have seen it many times,

offspring who are willing to let their parents starve in squalor

and struggle with pain

rather than dip into what they see as their inheritance

to pay for the necessary care.

Mr. Feldstrom, sir...

I sympathize, I do,

but your visits to your mother upset her,

and the last time you visited her,

you assaulted a staff member and vandalized a reception area.

Is that not true?

Well...

Your Honor, I think it’s obvious

why the non-visitation order must be upheld.

This court is doing its best to protect and help Mrs. Feldstrom,

and the actions of her son

are undermining our every effort in that fight.

I agree. Order upheld.

What? No.

-You won? -I did.

I knew you would.

Hey! Bitch!

You! Bitch!

I think he’s talking to you.

-Then he can use my name. -Bitch. Hey.

I don’t know how you live with yourself. Our lives are being ruined.

I’m just doing my job.

Your fucking job?

-Fuck you! -Hey.

I hope you get raped and murdered,

and I hope you get killed.

You fucking... fucker.

Oh! Fuck, no, motherfucker! I’ll fucking get...

Does it sting more because I’m a woman?

That you got so soundly beaten in there by someone with a vagina?

Having a penis doesn’t automatically make you more scary to me,

just the opposite.

You may be a man,

but if you ever threaten, touch or spit on me again...

I will grab your dick and balls

and I will rip them clean off, you understand?

I’ll tell your mom you send your best.

Thanks.

Curtis.

Hey. Good going.

Hi, boss. Congrats on the win.

Thanks, Addie. So, what time is it now?

It’s 2:17. That’s...

Door to door, that’s just over five hours. Round it to six.

Charge it to the Feldstrom account, full rate.

Okay. Oh. Sam Rice called.

-Asked that you return. -I’ll take it inside.

Fran, call the Realtor.

Check progress on the Bather property.

The savings account is nearly empty.

It won’t cover the facility bill after this month.

Got ya.

- Sam’s on. - Sam. How are you?

Hey. I’m good, Marla. How about you?

Oh, working hard, playing hard.

-Fucking A. -You called.

Yeah, uh, I got some news.

Good news or bad news?

Uh, sort of both.

Your ward, Alan Levitt, here at our Berkshire Oaks facility,

he just died.

-What? -Alan died.

This morning. Sorry.

No. Alan Levitt? Really?

-How? -Stroke, big one.

-But he was young. -Just 69 and a quarter.

Oh, God.

Alan. Fuck. I only had him six months.

I thought he’d last us at least another five years.

Fuck, now I have to cash him out,

turn over everything to his inheritors. What a fucking waste.

Maybe he took a shine to you and wrote you into his will.

Yeah, right.

So, what’s the good news?

Well, due to Alan’s tragic departure,

we now have a vacancy.

His room. Huh. That’s a corner deluxe.

-Yes, it is. -Hold it for me.

Marla, you’re not the only game in town. There’s a waiting list.

Fuck the waiting list. How much?

Two grand a week till it’s filled.

Two grand? It cost 500 last time.

If you don’t pay, someone else will.

Oh, fuck you, Sam. All right, two grand.

-Thanks, Sam. -Pleasure, Marla.

What?

You know.

Keep your eyes on the road.

Hi, Petra. Dr. Karen’s expecting me.

Uh-huh.

Alan Levitt? Fuck.

Sorry. I thought he had legs.

I know. So, now we’re in the market for a new client.

Got anyone for us?

There’s a few I wouldn’t mind getting off my books.

You know, the real high-maintenance assholes.

But there is actually someone I have been meaning to talk to you about.

I’ve been feeling her out, and I think she...

-I think she might be... -No.

-I don’t even wanna say it. -A cherry?

Yes. Maybe. I think so.

Don’t tease me. Give me the details.

Come on, Marl. I can’t just give you a cherry for free.

I need something in return.

You hold stock in Golden Light Care Homes, right?

Yeah, we have a chunk.

Sign some over to me.

Come on. I’m helping you feed the money monster,

but I hardly see any of the gold for myself.

Give me a taste.

Done.

But it has to be a real cherry, bona fide.

-Jennifer Peterson. -She’s in reasonably good health.

But recently she has shown some signs of memory loss and confusion.

-Significant? -No.

We can tickle that to make an emergency hearing go our way.

She has no kids, no husband,

no living family.

-No family at all? -She has very good insurance.

She told me she used to work in finance in Chicago and moved here to retire.

Can I get a copy of this?

You bet, all except her test results.

That wouldn’t be ethical.

Of course.

Jennifer Peterson. Born April 15th, 1949.

She lives at 41 Williams Street in Shallcross.

It’s a real nice neighborhood, expensive.

She bought the house seven years ago, owns it outright.

Credit check came back A1, totally clean.