Entourage

Not a bad neighborhood, E.

And you're relatively close to the House of Wax.

You got a Jiffy Lube right across the street.

And if you had a hard day,

you're only a few steps away from a $50 blowjob.

Please, we passed $5010 blocks ago.

What do you need an office for anyway? I don't get it.

You didn't get the concept of having a job till you were 25, Turtle,

so I wouldn't expect you to.

If it's my place that's not doing it for you, E,

we can make some modifications,

make the environment more work-friendly.

I appreciate that, Drama. The only modification

that would work would be having you guys move out.

Why, are we distracting?

No, having Turtle blow bong hits in my face

when I'm trying to read a script is motivating.

- This is the building? - Shut up and get in there.

- Jesus Christ. - What the hell?

I guess you don't like it?

Well, it doesn't exactly scream

"I'm Vincent Chase's manager."

No. It screams "I'm Johnny Chase's."

Why do I gotta get abused

when we're trying to abuse him?

It's just for a laugh.

- This is gonna be your desk? - Yeah, for now.

No no no. A working man needs a real desk,

a sturdy desk.

One that can support a good fuck.

Well, this office isn't for show.

And it's not for fucking. It's so I can get shit done.

Like what?

Yeah, what do you got to do that's so pressing?

I am kind of booked till Walsh hands in his script.

So what do you want to do? You want to sit around and do nothing?

You have something else in mind?

Peter Jackson's starting a new gaming division.

They're looking to make some talent deals... Big dough, limited exposure.

I'm gonna call his development guy and set up a meeting.

Maybe I can lock us a video game. Sound good?

- Sounds great. - Yeah?

- The office still sucks. - Yeah, it's terrible.

Come on, guys. Let's leave my high-powered manager

so he can earn us some money.

- Later, E. - What are we gonna do all day?

We'll figure it out.

Big day today, people!

The Gold standard's golden girl,

Miss Mary J. Blige,

is coming in today for her annual

"make-me-understand- what-I-pay-you-people-for"

meeting, so we'd better be ready.

- Chris! - Uh, I'm ready, Ari.

- Bradley! - Wearing my best tie, Ari.

Great, zip up that fly.

- Ari... - Hey, Jim.

- It's Jeff. - I'm sorry. From the side, you know...

- Yeah, don't worry about it. - You and your bro ready for Mary J?

We are. But listen, just a heads up:

My brother and I have been having some personal problems.

Does it have anything to do with Mary J?

No, it does not.

- Then it has nothing to do with me. - You're absolutely right.

But you know how emotional Jim can be.

So, look, if he comes bugging you with this, just ignore him.

Let's hope he doesn't come bugging me.

Yeah. Let's hope.

Did Mary J. Confirm?

Six times, one for each Grammy.

- What's that smell? - It's Issey Miyake, her favorite scent.

I'm wearing it as a subtle subliminal show of our support.

- What else you got? - Jim Jensen's in your office.

Oh, Jesus Christ, his brother just ambushed me.

Yeah, I guess there's some kind of rift with the Jensen boys.

- Be careful in there. - Careful?

You know multiples freak me out, Ari.

Can gays have multiples, Lloyd?

Jim! Not the day for this.

How's it going with the baby bro?

Okay, he's 27 seconds older than me, Ari.

And he's a lowlife slimy piece of cunt shit.

Yes, well, you know how siblings can be, right?

- Oh, you have a brother? - I do.

And a whore of a sister, so I can relate to the sibling squabblings.

I need you to fire him, Ari.

I need positivity today, Jim.

But, Ari, I can't work in the same building with him.

Jeter and A-Rod let their dicks fly in the same locker room

- and they hate each other. - Okay, Ari...

Jim, listen to me.

Just man the fuck up, okay?

We got Mary J. Coming in today.

It's time to heed the woman's lyrics..."No More Drama."

- Matt Dravitzki's on the phone. - Who's Matt Dravitzki?

VP of Peter Jackson's company.

Do I talk to VPs?

He says he's calling because E called him

and said Vince wants to work with Peter.

Jim, go back to work.

Go.

And don't ask to see her tatts like you did with Angelina.

Hello.

Ooh, look at this sweet piece, Vince.

It's perfect. E will love it.

Can I go on record and say that when I get an office

I want my gift to be a plasma?

Can I go on the record and say by the time you get an office,

plasmas will have gone the way of the eight-track?

Excuse me, miss.

Can you tell me a little something about this desk?

Oh, that's an amazing piece with a lot of history.

- You've got a good eye. - Well, thank you.

Do you know what kind of weight this can support?

This is a signed Majorelle built in the 1930s.

Mickey Rooney sat at this desk in "Breakfast at Tiffany's."

- Mmm. - Huh, that's ironic.

We want it so another small Irishman can sit at it.

- Oh, is this a gift? - Yeah.

That's very thoughtful.

How thoughtful?

$42,000.

Get a 100-inch plasma for that, Vin.

This is an investment, though.

This desk will appreciate like a piece of art.

And Robert De Niro owned that desk.

Really?

Yeah, Scorsese gave it to him as a gift

after "New York, New York" bombed.

It was the only thing that survived

after his Malibu home went up in flames.

- Is this true? - Cross my heart and hope to die.

Hmm.

I'm sold.

I wonder if De Niro ever fucked on this desk.

Hmm, I don't know, Drama.

Why don't you lean over and sniff it for ball wax?

Turtle, come on. You have to ruin the desk for me?

- I'm sorry, Vin. - Vince, I am so embarrassed,

but apparently a buyer came in yesterday

and someone forgot to put the sold tag out.

- You're kidding? - I feel awful.

We have another great desk that just came in.

It's a rustic piece.

- Yeah, De Niro own that one? - I'm really sorry.

Is there any way we can call the buyer

and maybe offer him a little more?

- We really want the desk. - I'm sorry, I couldn't.

We're supposed to respect the privacy of our clients.

Can you respect my poor little friend

sitting at a fold-up table in his sad little office?

It was Gary Busey.

Hey.

Shit!

Eric Murphy.

Like the new office number, E.

You know it spells 274-COCK.

- It does not. - No, it doesn't, but I made you look.

Why are you so out of breath?

Are you christening the place with a nice midday jerk?

Stop fantasizing, Ari. What do you want?

You call Peter Jackson's company?

- Yeah, how'd you know? - 'Cause they called me.

Why'd they call you?

Because they don't know who the fuck you are.

I told them I was Vincent Chase's manager.

Well, there are people outside your office right now

that will claim to be Lady Di. That don't make it true.

Whatever. This is true, you jerk-off.

Your staff is ready, Ari.

Listen, we got a great system going.

Just 'cause you got 80 square feet of office space

doesn't mean you can go and fuck it up.

And what system is that, Ari? Just so I'm clear.

Well, let's see, people call me,

then I call you. You tell Vince what I tell you.

Vince tells you what to tell me.

You're like a... A ventriloquist in a dummy's body.

Whatever. I can make and take my own meetings.

Well, listen, if you want people to call you back,

may I suggest that you get a van

with a large bullhorn on the top,

drive around Hollywood

announcing that after three years of hibernating in Vincent Chase's ass,

Eric Murphy has come out to play-ee-ay?

All right! Let's do this, everybody!

- Everyone feeling good? - Yes! Yeah! Great!

Not everyone.

All right!

I am not Ari Gold today, I am the queen of hip-hop soul.

I have sold 65 million more records

than all of you combined.

Impress me. Go.

A broadway musical based on her alter ego Brook Lynn.

Miss Blige could produce, star and direct.

Uh, so you want to keep her on the stage for nine months

and out of the recording studio?

It's a really good idea.

Mention that to her and I'll kill both of you.

Next.