House of Lies

Previously on House of Lies...

Take Kaan and Associates and, like, ten other management firms

and put them in a blender and strain the fat.

It's nice when dreams work out, huh? Yeah.

You wanted me to own you, and now I do.

Handbags, purses.

And you're making this kind of bank?

Not bad.

But you're gonna give it a rest, right? I will.

Clyde has feelings for her. Okay, so stop fucking her.

I have mad respect for a guy

who'd give up top-shelf genius vag for friendship.

Just 'cause you want back in

doesn't mean I'm gonna stop sleeping with Clyde.

Isn't this what we discussed-- making K and A huge?

Which victory means more to you?

Saying "fuck you" to my turnaround artist,

or making serious "fuck you" money?

Come on.

Okay, watch your step.

Yeah, right there.

Okay, look, don't peek.

If you... if you're peeking,

you're gonna ruin it.

Just keep coming, keep coming.

I'll tell you when you can look.

Hold on, hold on.

Ya-da!

Ta-da.

Three boutique consulting firms acquired.

Six more slated for acquisition within the fiscal quarter.

Double-digit market share growth within the month.

What?!

Welcome to the golden age of Kaan and Associates.

A true Renaissance where I am da Vinci,

uh, Copernicus...

Uh, hold on, hold on, hold on.

Come... Did... did you just look me in the eye?

Yeah.

Get your fucking shit and get out.

Kick rocks, motherfucker, you're fired.

You're not... seriously...?

You're joking, right?

Yeah, I'm joking.

What, am I gonna fire you just 'cause you looked me in the eye?

Get the fuck out of here.

Phew.

Phew, no.

I'm firing you because you're habitually late,

your client optics are sub-optimal,

and HR says you're something of a sexual predator,

so, yeah, freak, get the fuck out.

Bounce.

Run, don't walk, motherfucker.

Okay, where was I?

Oh, yeah, and Machia-fuckin'-velli

all rolled up into one.

Oh, shit, you see me limping?

Yeah, that's 'cause my balls are so big.

Whoever said it was lonely at the top--

thank you, sweetheart--

never sat here.

And that's a real Hermès? What do you think?

Look at the stitching.

Roscoe?

Good morning.

Um, morning, Mr. Andrews.

How's your day so far?

It's okay.

That's good.

Mine? Not great.

Let me tell you why.

I just spent the better portion of the morning talking

with Debbie Nichols' mom.

Well, I say "talking."

It was more her lecturing me

on the devastating effect that counterfeit handbags have

on the fashion industry.

I have just so much newfound wisdom to impart to you.

Shall we?

Okay, so if we're all good with the basic layout,

I can have the design coding done in a couple of weeks.

Perfect. Sounds great.

All right.

Uh, where you going?

I should make an appearance at my day job.

If I don't show up for a few weeks,

the party app guys start to notice.

What's this?

Happy birthday, Kels.

Uh, I...

I was just about to say the same thing.

Happy birthday, um, from me as well.

Uh, my gift was supposed to arrive yesterday.

Fucking USPS. Two tickets to The Dirty Projectors?

What are The Dirty Projectors?

Are you f...? You went on this huge rant

about how they're genius.

And how math rock is coming...

You're fucking with m...

Ah...

This is awesome, thank you.

It's okay, kind of generic.

J-Jeannie, we got it covered, okay?

Yeah, see you this afternoon.

Uh, let me guess-- another doctors appointment?

Uh-huh, that's convenient.

I know, right? It's almost like

she's having a baby or some shit.

Literally didn't hear a word you guys just said.

Recon lunch, let's go.

Oh, right. Yeah.

Hey. Yes.

See you tonight? Yes, yeah, yeah.

Aw.

N...

Nah... Oh, my God.

Oh, oh, okay.

Bye, Doug. Yeah, that's...

Hey, unbelievable gift coming your way.

You just passing them out, or...?

No?

Hey, hey, wait.

So both of you guys are still...?

You know, Mm-hmm.

knocking that out? Uh-huh.

How's that working?

It is beyond great. It's fucking terrible.

That's two different answers. Are you crazy?

I love it. Not only do I get to have mind-blowing

commitment-free sex,

the fact that Clyde is sharing a similar experience

is only bringing us that much closer together.

And you say? It absolutely has not.

Right. And can you stop wearing

that fucking cologne to her place?

That shit lingers for days.

Afraid I can't do that, Clyde. Why?

Why, Doug? Why can't you do that?

Well, because it's my fucking cologne.

Oh, I'm gonna throw up.

Mm-hmm. Because Doug has a fucking cologne?

- Oh, my God. - You mean a cologne he wears while he's fucking?

Don't you fucking... Wh-What's it called?

It's called Uninvited Guest.

This could be our Holy Grail. After 35 years,

150 locations,

a cult-like following,

the Southern California institution

known as Shags Burger Shack

is finally ready to expand nationally.

And now that CEO and founder

Samuel Sullivan is six feet under,

son Luke Sullivan is the newly-appointed

Shag Godhead.

And he is looking for a Moses

to take his people out of the SoCal desert.

Marty, can we be that Moses?

I think we are that motherfucking Moses.

You can't curse here, though.

Uh, sorry, decent people.

Quick question, if you don't mind. Yeah, mm-hmm?

The fact that Luke Sullivan is an outspoken,

Bible-thumping denier of gay rights,

a woman's right to choose?

It's unfortunate, but it doesn't mean

his money is any less green.

Welcome to Shags Burger Shack.

What can I get you? Uh...

how are the tacos?

They're two for 99 cents. Not what I asked.

And yet you still answered my question.

It's a simple menu, just order something.

Greasy food wreaks havoc on my system.

You know that. Marty Kaan.

Hey, hey. Back at the Shack.

Never thought I'd see this.

Do you still have time for us to talk?

Absolutely. Mm? Yeah, great, great.

- Uh, you know what? I'm just gonna take my chances... - Doug.

...yeah, with a-a salad.

I'm afraid we don't offer a salad.

What does that mean? You don't have lettuce?

We have burger lettuce.

What on Earth

is burger lettuce?

It's the lettuce we put on burgers.

The lettuce that they put on burgers. They don't

have s... J... I'm s-I'm sorry,

forgive me for my friend.

He'll have a number one combo... No.

...or a bullet to the temple. It's his choice.

I'll get the number one, please.