House of Lies

Previously on House of Lies...

I know you got a day job,

but I'd like for you to advise the campaign.

I represent the Kohl brothers.

Cha-ching.

We could be there

- for Phoebe in a very real way. - Fuck yeah.

Assuming your ex-wife

- doesn't win the offer first. - Correct.

We're gonna blow her right out of the water.

We screw people over all the time,

but if we're just gonna hand the whole thing

over to Skip Galweather,

what's the point?

The point is money, Jeannie.

Skip just called,

and the Kohl brothers are going with Monica.

Until they sign on that dotted line,

we can still win this thing.

You still have a connection in Cuba, right?

I don't know if Cuba's ready for the Kohl brothers.

Let's make 'em ready.

You're creeping me out. What's up?

Seth Buckley is leading the polls,

and by extension...

Your penis?

- My penis. - What a shock.

Slapping around that boy band

has turned Seth into a social media sensation.

Can I give you a little word of advice, Clyde?

I really came in here to gloat. I don't care about your advice.

- Proceed with caution, my friend. - Okay.

Social media can be a fickle mistress.

- Mm-hmm. - One minute, you're being called

the King of the TED Talk,

and the next, VagBreath69

is telling you to

"choke on a druid's cock."

This is the exact type of break we needed.

See, people are taking a closer look at him.

Seth Buckley is going to be the new mayor.

And VagBreath69 is going to be his chief

economic advisor.

Fucking knew it was you. Marty!

Clyde's been saying mean things about me on social media again.

I have.

Aw.

Isn't this nice?

Couple of co-workers just easing into their morning.

Yeah.

Maybe reading an online article or two.

Sippin' a nice cup of joe.

You know what? I've actually recently switched to tea,

and I got to say, digestively speaking...

Pretty certain we're about to get yelled at, Douglas.

What the fuck is wrong with you guys?

Should I move away from you?

- If you cherish your life. - Yeah.

- Of course. I apologize. - Why haven't I gotten

the PowerPoint on the fucking Cuba pitch?

- I e-mailed it to you yesterday. - Well, I haven't gotten it.

'Cause the Internet in this building is fucked.

- Doug... - I-I'm on it, Marty.

I've e-mailed I. T. a bunch of times,

I haven't heard anything...

E-mailed.

Where's my head? I'll call them.

In the meantime, I guess, I'll just go sit in my office

in front of the computer and wait for the thing.

All right. We'll be in touch.

Wow, you don't see it coming again?

Or you dickheads

could pitch it to me

right the fuck now!

Cuba strategy for the Kohl brothers.

Let me hear it.

With the trade ban lifted,

demand for hotel inventory

is about to shoot through the motherfucking roof.

That's 1.5 million American visitors per year,

trying to fit into 60, 000 hotel rooms.

Yeah, resort development is the tip of the spear.

Okay? If they can establish a foothold in Cuba,

the Kohl brothers can extend their tentacles

into many arenas, such as...

Agriculture,

energy, polymers and paper.

A vast,

untamed frontier, just off the coast of Florida.

Kohl brothers are gonna eat this shit up.

Now, the tricky part is gonna be

navigating Cuban bureaucracy, but Ron Zobel's

- got that covered, right? - He better.

Hey.

So guess who called in sick again?

Fucking nanny.

Did she do the whole, like,

voice with the cough, like...

"Oh, I don't want to get Phoebe sick."

No, she went with stomach flu.

I think she knows we're hip to the fake cold.

Is that Jeannie? Hello, Jeannie.

Yeah, Ron Zobel says hi.

Yeah, I heard.

So I checked around

and I got no hits on a replacement sitter.

I think I'm just gonna take a mommy-daughter day.

Yeah, that sounds good.

Uh, give Phoebe a kiss for me, okay?

You do the same with Ron Zobel.

Ron. Just the man I was looking for.

Oh, you want me to double my output of PSLs?

PSLs?

Pumpkin spice lattes.

No.

Uh, I'm good there.

Listen, I was wondering about your Cuba contact.

- Mm-hmm. - Has he been able

to arrange a sit-down?

Yeah, one second, because, you know,

this requires focus,

and you do not want to over-cinnamon, Martin.

God, no.

So, Ron?

Yeah, Orozco and I have already had

our preliminary discussions.

Man, you really need to taste this.

I don't want a fucking latte.

Because if you've only ever had

the kind from Starbucks, man...

Ron, just how preliminary have these discussions been?

Yeah. I have not broached the topic

of K and A's interest in Cuba.

Great.

I mean, no sweat.

Not like there's a ticking clock

on this fucking thing.

Listen, I know you're looking

to get Skip's dick hard about Cuba ASAP.

But listen to me, I have put major time and resources

into cultivating Orozco, predating my employment here.

You hedgey motherfucker.

Come on. I mean, obviously,

I know it'll be a huge win if we can parlay Cuba

into an offer from the Kohls to buy K and A.

Yeah. Because you'd be sitting in the captain's chair, right?

If the sale goes through.

But if not, I need some guarantee.

Um, how about I guarantee I will stomp a mud hole in your ass

if you don't get this guy on the phone right fucking now.

Is that the kind of guarantee you're looking for, Ron?

I was thinking more like a larger equity piece.

I fucking swear...

You know I've been a good soldier.

Okay? And I've eaten a lot of shit from you.

- Yeah. - Yeah.

But don't confuse me with being a patsy.

Do you understand?

Cuba moves forward on my terms

or not at all.

We clear?

Don't forget to breathe. That's the way.

Five, four, three, two,

one.

Right back into standing crunches.

Five, four, three,

two, one. Almost there.

- Ha, yeah, Phoebe. - Two more left.

Work those baby abs.

Here we go. Five, four...

No, you absolutely do not spark joy, dress. No.

No. No.

No.

Oh! Ow.

"What does your favorite ice cream say

about your sexual prowess?"

Give me a break.

There's a fly in here.

Phoebe, there's a fly!

How does Rocky Road make me a wet noodle?

Phoebe.

Phoebe...

Wake up.

Wake up, you lazy bum.

Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Okay, well...

we dropped Mommy's stuff off at the dry cleaner.

We got you shoes.

Where should we go now?

I asked you a question, young lady.

Oh, well, if that's

your attitude, I guess we won't go anywhere.

What did you say?

"I said I think you should go to a bar

and drink until you pass out."

Phoebe!

That's horribly irresponsible.

It's not even noon.

"Don't be so locked into societal conventions."