The Beauty

What? Ariana Grande too? She's like 29.

- Thirty-two. - God forbid.

Aniston, Naomi. All the greats got thread lifts.

- I'm telling you, the earlier the better. - No, everyone's crazy.

Am I?

Shut up. No way.

Two weeks ago, and it's so subtle,

you literally thought I was just hydrated, no?

Oh. Actually, I thought you looked better because you dropped 20 on Ozempic.

Finally lost that face fat.

- Thank you for noticing. - I love you.

Okay, but seriously, no more slice and dice. Okay?

It's just a little tug, little poke, and very often, okay?

That's the future of beauty.

Nuh-uh. I learned my lesson with lip filler.

It left fucking lumps. Look at this.

Britt, my honey. Listen to me. You're turning 32 next week.

I can literally hear your eggs shriveling up as we speak, okay?

You need to fix that broke face,

and then you're gonna be getting so much new dick,

that trash bag Richie will feel like a distant memory, I promise.

- I'm sad. - I know.

Was that whore Clara really that much prettier than me?

- Yes. She was gorgeous. - Bitch.

- Mmm. Look at this bitch. - Oh. You.

Sweetie, Harper Rose,

get that tushy up right back out the door, okay, before Anna sees you.

You know she can't stomach human weakness, and this is…

I can't. I used all my sick days for Coachella.

I don't get it. Deathly hungover on Rotgut Rosé. She's still a ten.

- Glowing. - I'm not hungover, I swear.

Well, you better not be,

or you can kiss that accessories editor gig goodbye.

Oh, no, sweetie, not the over-the-counter cough syrup.

- Don't do that. - You need some amaro or a digest if.

- Good God, is this COVID? - No, no, no, not COVID.

- Get your aerosols away from my salad. - I'm okay.

I just got run down. I caught a bug.

But the good news is I lost another five pounds.

- Jealous. Cough on me. - Of course.

Everybody's just shedding weight. Jesus.

- Whoa. Honey. - What is this?

- I'm not liking this. Oh, God. You okay? - Why are you doing this? Stop it.

Okay. Yeah, I guess drink some water or…

Um. Can we…

Fuck.

- Water! - Oh, my God, yeah. There's no way that…

- Water. - What the fuck?

Water! Ah!

- Water! - No! No!

- No! No! - Brittany! Brittany!

No, no.

Oh, God! It's in my eye! It's in my eye!

Hey! Get me the fuck out of here!

Let's go.

Never gets easier, you know. It's like picking your favorite child.

All brilliant and beautiful in their own way.

But I see why chefs are always drawn to Japanese steel.

The high carbon content creates an impossibly hard edge,

which allows for a more elegant cut and severed nerve endings. Like that.

Thoughts?

Come on. Speak up, my man.

I'm not gonna get off if you just sit there like a sad sack.

What?

You-You thinking something a little theatrical, right? More Braveheart .

I got you, bro. Don't worry about it.

Yeah.

You didn't obey the rules, did you?

I don't get people your age.

Thinking you're so goddamn special, working from home in sweatpants,

open relationships and sexual anarchy.

Nothing's sacred anymore. It's disgusting.

You signed an agreement.

You were given a sacred gift, and you show your appreciation

by throwing your dick into strangers and infecting others.

Lesson learned. Right?

Hold, please.

Always impeccable timing, honey bear.

Status update.

Well, I'm staring at a runner prepped and ready to go if you quit nagging.

Make it quick. There's a plastic surgeon I need you to go see.

Ouch. You said I was beautiful just the way I am.

He came in contact with the Venetian runner.

She contaminated at least one other person we know of.

How exciting.

Yeah. It's in Indianapolis.

Fuck me. Are you sure?

The digital footprints never lie… Hold please.

Fucking hello!

I'm here. Happy as a clam.

At least we got the FBI on ice.

Ah. Not really. There were two more expirations in Venice.

Well, I tried telling you I need better help.

Stay focused. We solve one problem at a time.

Treading water until the production line gets wrapped up.

We got this. We're good. No worries.

Maybe I should goose the nerds along.

Maybe you should do as you're told.

Turn me loose, let me make a call to the old Blackwater crew.

You want speed? Get me mercs with skills. Pros.

You know how I feel about meeting new people. I'm not very good at hellos.

Well, don't expect masterpieces when all I get is a goddamn mop and bucket.

So, how are we feeling about some human sashimi?

Could you please give me a minute?

Take all the time you need, you fucking asshole,

but I'm going to have dinner because the fillet is getting cold.

And by the way, we have to talk about Tig. Bad news, I'm afraid.

Tig?

Who the fuck is Tig?

Tiger, our oldest troubled son that you have so much contempt for,

you don't even remember his childhood nickname. He relapsed again.

Again.

He's in a methadone clinic in Cleveland.

We're gonna take the plane tomorrow to be by his side. I've organized it all.

Have fun. I'm going to Capri with Jeff and Lauren.

They're actually excited about what I have cooking up, as one would expect.

It is official, then. You are the biggest monster on this planet.

Every night, I pray for your death.

Feel free to go fuck yourself while you're fucking yourself.

Could we play some yacht rock?

Hey. Just letting you know a fresh wire came through.

Should post tomorrow.

Thank you. He asked about you again.

Jesus Christ. How many times are we gonna do this?

It's not too late, Antonio. We could figure something out.

He needs his father in his life.

Yeah, he needs a father. He doesn't need me. You already know the deal.

As long as I keep the accounts full, I'm dead to him.

Good news. There's a room available at the Hilton.

I don't…

This fucking guy

- Hello. You've reached... - Fuck.

Still nothing.

We searched the hotel. All the stuff is there.

No struggle, nothing on the hotel footage.

We're canvassing everywhere around the bar.

I never should have left her.

Word is, DC is freaking out. They got a plane on standby.

No, fuck that. They went after me and they went after her. We gotta find her.

I'm gonna get my stuff from the hotel, then let's meet.

I had a team take care of that. Follow me.

Both of the guys you killed tested positive. You've been exposed.

Then so have you.

I'm negative. That's why I'm keeping my distance.

That scene was a bloodbath.

You're a walking bio hazard. Precaution must be taken.

The fuck is this?

Until we get our arms around this, we gotta be smart.

You raise hell, we get panic in the streets. Everything gets fucked.

- No. We don't have time for this. - We'll find her, okay?

Find her!

My, my, Doctor. Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into.

Uh-uh!

You don't wanna do that.

What are you, some kind of cop?

Bitch, please. Ugh. These cuts were clearly made by somebody

with knowledge of anatomy for easy separation.

So surely the authorities are gonna be looking

for someone with medical training.

A surgeon, even.

No, you don't understand. I didn't kill them.

You think I give a fuck?

I bet you even googled how to dispose of a body, didn't you?

Playing around on the Internet has turned you into a naughty boy

who's met some very naughty girls.

Is this about Claire? Who the fuck are you?

Tell me about the marketplace.

Okay. It was on the dark web. I heard about it from a colleague.

You can buy and sell medical stuff, body parts, even.

I was curious, so I took a look.

You thought you stumbled onto a miracle, didn't you?

She was stunning, but I figured she must be nuts, so I said, "No, thanks."

But you just couldn't help yourself.

She sold you something that didn't belong to her.

Yeah.

- Oh, fuck. Fuck. I didn't know. - Fuck.

I swear it was only the one client.

Jeremy, a fucking incel. He was going to kill me.

- Pinky promise? - What?

Okay. He did this. He's a fucking psycho.

I'm the fucking psycho. Certified since 1961.

Where is he?

I don't know. Please. Please, please.

Oh, God!

Do you have any idea what kind of luxury wasteland this town is?

I mean, look, I was really enjoying our productive dialogue.

However, if I'm not wheels up soon, I'm gonna freak the fuck out.

Please help me!

- Do I deserve more than a Hilton? - What?

Answer me, Doc. Do I deserve more than the fucking Hilton?

Yes, yes! Oh, my God, yes!

I agree.

People always accuse me of being a high-maintenance girlie and impatient.

I'm just, like, "Excuse me for having an aversion"

"to bedbugs and dry jizz stains," right?

If I'm gonna be doing the dirty work for these people,

best believe I deserve the best.

Find him, Doc.

Before you lose more than the arm.

Yeah. Oh.