The Lowdown

Hey, Lee.

Fire!

What the hell is this?

Well, it's a cookout.

You never been to a cookout before?

Well, it's-it's really wonderful to see our tax dollars going to good use.

What am I doing here?

Well, it turns out cops are the best witnesses.

And you're a lying journalist, so that's why.

Hey, you know,

I don't know why, but it turns out people end up in all manner of accidents

- in Oklahoma. - Uh-huh.

Bottom of wells, hog pens. And here you...

You walk around like you're invincible.

Yeah, and you run around like you're a hell of a swell fella,

but I see you.

You're sniffing at the wrong hole.

Oh, I'm sniffing at the right hole, and it stinks.

Oh, fuck. Ow. Goddamn, Donald.

That was for Betty Jo.

Oh, shit.

Oh, fuck. Oh.

Hey, here. Here.

Thanks.

- Oh, Lee. - Oh, shi...

You just don't know when you're getting played, do you?

Uh-huh.

No, I'm sure Betty Jo spun some yarn

about me and loyalty, commitment.

What else did she tell you?

- Well, she did tell me one thing. - Yeah?

Oh, you know what, it was private.

It's kinda like pillow talk, you know?

You're funny. Yeah. You are.

Shit.

Fire!

Lee, it's gone too far.

I'm gonna ask you somethin'...

real honest.

I want you just to leave us alone.

Well, I want to know who murdered your brother,

and frankly, I find it a little disconcerting

that you don't want the same thing.

You don't know me.

And you didn't know my brother.

I'm gonna give this to you one time.

Dale wasn't killed.

He was being manipulated by someone.

He met someone, an Indian.

I don't know. I don't know the man.

He's a hustler.

Street artist. Gaybo for sure.

He got close to Dale.

Now, I don't know the nature of the whatever, and I don't wanna know,

but this man drove Dale to kill himself.

Okay, so a street artist talked your brother into killing himself.

- That's what you're saying? - No, no.

What I'm saying is, he put ideas in Dale's head.

- You ever meet this guy? - No, I don't entertain street people.

That's not my demographic.

Oh... What did he say to Dale exactly?

- What did he... - Lee, Lee, it's over.

All right?

Dale is dead. You've exhausted every angle here.

All right.

There's hot dogs.

- You get a name of the guy? - I mean it, Lee.

Get a hot dog.

Are you kidding me? I live, like, seven blocks from here.

I don't care. Catch an Uber, motherfucker.

We got a cookout to get back to.

Cookout, baby. We got fucking all-beef franks waiting for us.

- Get the fuck out. - Get your ass outta here, man.

Fucking clowns.

Hey, you know what? Hold on, man, hold on. My bad.

Come on back in, man. Get back in.

You hungry? Buy some cat food, pussy.

- Bye, bitch. - Fuck you!

- Oh, fuck, Samantha, Jesus. - Whoa! Okay. Put the fucking bat down.

- I could've... - Sorry, sorry, I still have a key.

What are you... Are you all right? Is Francis all right?

Oh, yeah, Fran is fine.

Fran's fine.

So, what's going on? What are you... W-why are you here?

Well, I'm just, um, looking for Borges.

You...

You come here in the middle of the night after hours looking for a book?

There it is.

Right, just put it on my tab.

- No, no, no. What's going on? - Hmm.

Where's Johnny Rockets?

I don't wanna talk about it.

What? He break up with you?

Classic Sam.

Don't fuckin' say that.

I'm sorry.

What happened?

I called it off.

The wedding?

- Are you drunk? You're drunk. - No, I had a couple.

- You're... Oh, my... - Maybe three.

- Uh-huh. - I had three.

Three, huh?

Don't get any fucking ideas, okay?

But...

you wanna join me?

- Phases and Stages? - Hmm.

- No. No Merle. Come on. - All right.

Uh...

- Yes, obviously. - All right.

Okay, okay.

Do you remember when she got the word "morning" confused with "springtime"?

So she'd come and say, "Wake up, Daddy, it's springtime."

Oh, I miss those days.

I miss that age.

Mmm. Whoa.

I...

I gotta go to the bathroom.

We can't do that. That can't happen again.

I need to lie down.

- Okay. - I'm spinning.

Hey, I got you. Come here. Come on.

I broke up with Johnny.

Yeah.

Well, you know, if something's not right, it...

it's not right.

I fucked up.

Yeah?

Yeah, I gotta make it right.

Oh.

Welcome to Sunyata.

How long will you be staying with us?

Jesus, I don't know.

And what brought you to Sunyata today?

Um, oh, um...

I'm on the run.

Man's trying to kill me.

Oh.

Mm-hmm. Do you have cable?

Oh, no screens.

Hey.

This isn't a cult, is it?

Oh, well, if bettering yourself is a cult, then we are guilty.

Fuck. All right. Okay.

So I talked to Sam.

- Yeah, how'd that go? - She came right through here.

You know, from the door that leads to the stairs,

that leads to your apartment.

Nothing happened, okay?

In fact, the opposite of something happening happened.

So don't get any ideas.

- I judge not. - Yeah, that's why you're here.

I heard she's getting married.

- Where'd you hear that from? - Francis.

Fuck. How'd she feel about it?

Lee, you should ask her.

How do you feel?

How do I feel? I don't know, you know what I mean?

We're not together, so what are you gonna do?

I mean, she's happy. I mean, he seems cool.

I mean, if not cool exactly, he seems okay.

Damn it.

- What are you looking for? - Oh.

Right here. This.

Can you read this?

Looks like "Chutto."

- Chutto? - Oh.

- That's the guy who draws people downtown. - That's right.

That's the guy I'm looking for.

- You know him? - No.

Thanks for the help.

So, if you were an artist, where would you go?

I am an artist and a poet. What do you mean, "if"?

All right. Theoretically, you're an artist.

Theoretically? That's the most fucked-up shit you've ever said to me.

- Oh, my God. - I'm supposed to work on my art

while I'm in the store? I work on my stuff in my spare time.

I just mean, if you were a street artist

who was drawing people for pocket change, where could I find you?

I don't know.

Come on, come on, seriously, where would you go to sell your stuff?

Come on, come on, come on, come on.

- The Indian store. Easy. - Right, okay.

- Bingo. Let's go. - What?

No, not with all that, "If you were an artist" stuff.

- Look, I'm sorry, but I can't go alone. - Lee, it's a store.

I know, but I'm a white dude, so it's not cool.

White people are allowed at the Indian store, dork.

I know, but I don't wanna be one of those white guys

who's, you know, trying to collect feathers to look tough, right?

Take Henry.

Time and a half.

Thank you.

What's up your ass?

Hmm?

You're quiet.

Why didn't you answer any of my calls yesterday?

I had some personal stuff to take care of.