02x08 - Season 2, Episode 8

[bunniefuu]

Previously on The Affair...

Scotty: You're a g*dd*mn narcissist.

You take everything for your f*cking self.

Alison: Cole.

I can't do this.

I'm sorry. I thought I could.

It's just too fast, and it's too confusing.

It just makes it feel not right.

Allison, need you.

Excuse us.

Cynthia Rainer, ring any bells? Page Six?

"Hot author steps out with pregnant fiancée. One hitch, he's still hitched."

Starting tomorrow, you need to align yourself as much as possible with the story of Descent.

Noah...

You're not really considering this, are you?

I don't want to do this anymore.

I want to go back to mediation, and I'll give you whatever you want.

Helen, all I want is co-custody.

You should have that, and you can have her too.

Hey, bub, rewind the tape.

Oscar: "That's our baby."

Heard it as plain as day.

♪ I was screaming into the canyon ♪
♪ At the moment of my death ♪
♪ The echo I created ♪
♪ Outlasted my last breath ♪
♪ My voice it made an avalanche ♪
♪ And buried a man I never knew ♪
♪ And when he d*ed his widowed bride ♪
♪ Met your daddy and they made you ♪
♪ I have only one thing to do and that's ♪
♪ Be the wave that I am and then ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ I have only one thing to do and that's ♪
♪ Be the wave that I am and then ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ I have only one thing to do and that's ♪
♪ Be the wave that I am and then ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ Sink back into the o ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ Sink back into the o ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪ Sink back into the ocean ♪
♪♪

Luke: Jon? Jon?

Can I get you a coffee?

I'll never get to sleep tonight.

Getting old is a bitch, although the alternative is worse.

You want to save the phone records till tomorrow, or...

No, show me what you got.

Luke: Okay, so... three calls to her from Scott Lockhart in early March of last year.

Yeah.

Then essentially nothing.

One in April, two in June.

Length?

Luke: Nothing over 40 seconds.

Weirdest love affair I've ever heard of.

Then in the month leading up to Scotty's death, 14 phone calls to Alison.

Hmm.

And she never calls him back?

Not once.

So she was married to Scott's brother.

She was always attracted to Scott, but never had a chance to move on it.

She starts an affair with Noah Solloway, and then the genie's out of the bag.

She's acting impulsively, and then she finally has that fling with Scott Lockhart, one night.

But now she's pregnant.

Now she's in a bind.

Maybe the baby's Solloway's.

Maybe it's Scott Lockhart's.

Maybe she doesn't want to know.

One thing she knows for sure, Noah Solloway is a good thing, and she doesn't want to lose that. Plausible?

Plausible.

But Scott Lockhart is in love with her.

As far as he's concerned, she was always the one.

After the fling, he calls her a few times.

She never calls him back.

She just wants to put this whole thing behind her.

[scoffs] And then what?

[chuckles] And then what, what, what?

Tell me, what?

Uh, Lockhart threatens to tell Solloway the baby's actually his.

Okay, plausible.

Luke: Or he blackmails her.

Which is not unbelievable.

They seem to be a transactional crowd out there.

Or... or he is so delusional, he thinks that she will leave Noah and actually be with him.

Look, any scenario we give her, they're all equally bad for her.

Regardless, at the wedding it comes to a head.

He hasn't seen her in over a year.

He loses it on her, thus the tape.

Later she's drunk, driving home, back to the city, tipsy.

She... she loosens her inhibitions.

She sees a figure on the side of the road, and as she comes up upon him, she realizes...

It's Scotty.

And just a twitch of the wheel, just one twitch.

Where's Solloway when she does it?

Not our job to establish.

[knock at door]

Gottlief: Helen, what can I do for you?

Can we talk?

[bells ringing]

tour guide: So, last year the college admitted just 17% of its applicants, just to give you an idea. There are a little over 2,000 students here on campus with about a 50/50 male to female ratio.

Come on, Whit, keep up.

Almost finished.

He's cute.

Who? Yeah, I guess.

You should get his number.

Tell him you're in the middle of a divorce.

No, thanks.

Why not?

'Cause I'm not ready to start dating.

Your father and I just got separated.

He left a year ago.

Ooh, stop. Just stop.

Right there.

Just... all right, more towards the light.

Yeah. A little more.

Hey, hey, Dad, wh... what...

Come on.

He's flirting with you.

I'm not interested.

He likes you.

[mouths] No.

That is so sad.

tour guide: Go ahead and file on in. Yeah, yeah, you can come in a little closer. Don't be shy. Oh, I love it in here. On really cold days, they even get a fire going. Now, I'm from Florida, and it makes me feel right at home.

Payne Hall.

It's like Hogwarts without the magic.

tour guide: So as any new student here will learn too fast, Payne Hall is the ultimate place for working on your freshman 15.

Ew.

tour guide: It's open 24/7...

You know, your dad used to work in the kitchen here.

And your Uncle Max and I would show up really stoned and make him give us meatballs.

Can you not call him Uncle Max?

Sure.

Why not?

tour guide: ...to get that late night slice of pizza. Okay, moving on. Next stop is frosh quad, where those of you experiencing the dorms tonight will be staying with your hosts.

And you are gonna be staying in Sage Hall.

Oh, come on, Whitney.

You're gonna have a great time.

I thought you said we could go back to Brooklyn if I didn't like the school.

You said you would give it one night.

I don't see the point.

Well, the point is...

[camera shutter clicks]

The point...

[camera clicks repeatedly]

The point is that you Ne...

[camera clicking]

tour guide: All righty now, I think we've spent enough time here.

The p...

[camera clicks]

tour guide: Let's move on to the dorms. So this is a typical first year living space um, except that, believe it or not, these gentlemen actually straightened up for you today. [laughter] All right, next we'll move on to the Westin Athletic Complex. If you all want to follow me, it's just a quick little five-minute walk.

Here, it's live.

What's live?

Your Tinder profile.

Excuse me?

Is that what you've been doing all day?

Oh, my God, it's a match.

Whitney.

Wh... another one, Jesus. You're not that hot.

All right, just shut it off, please.

Shut it off?

Yes, shut it... shut it... shut it... make it stop.

Mm, make it... mm-hmm.

Make it stop?

Whitney.

Take it down?

Yes, take it down.

Take it down please.

No.

Mom, I'm trying to help you, okay?

Because don't you think it's a little bit messed up that you've been walking around campus all day, like, showing me all the places that you and Dad did stuff?

It's not like you have all the time in the world to get over him. Do you know what I mean?

No, I don't.

You have at least five good years left.

I'm just trying to help you maximize them.

You might even have six.

[text message sends]

[urine tinkling]

Whitney: I'm not sure which is worse, those fantastic freshmen suites, or this shitty motel room.

I'm on a budget.

I think it's charming.

Whitney: I think it's sad.

[toilet flushes]

Well, I have my wine in the mini fridge and I... my snacks and TV, and once I drop you off to meet Chrissy, I'm gonna...

Whitney: Cry all alone.

No, I'm gonna wander around.

I haven't been here since, uh, God, our tenth reunion, so I'm just gonna walk around, take it in.

You could do that, or you could meet Richard, 47.

He lives five miles away, Mom. He's a musician.

Just swipe right to say you're interested.

Put your boots on please.

"I like to bike, am fluent in French, and like yourself, I enjoy Indian food."

All right, how the f*ck does Richard, 47, know I like Indian food?

He read your profile.

You made a profile?

It's good. You should read it.

I'll pass. Come on.

Whitney, boots.

Ow!

sh*t, I'm sorry.

You meant for that to happen.

Whitney: I'm probably gonna have to sleep on Missy's futon and get bedbugs despite the fact that there's no chance of me actually ending up here.

Her name is Chrissy.

Same thing.

Can't you see I don't fit in here?

The ass poster, the singing groups.

Oh, not a singing group.

They're jocky, fratty, conservative losers...

They're also super interesting and smart.

Who will never let me in.

Is that the problem?

Are you worried you won't get in?

I'm not worried.

I know I won't.

Come on, Whitney.

You're an amazing girl, and you're a legacy, a double legacy, which maybe shouldn't matter...

Maybe shouldn't?

But it does, and you aced your SATs, and you got good grades this year, and you inherited your father's ridiculous charm, so I'm sure you'll nail the interview just like he did.

You know, they let him in. He didn't have the greatest GPA.

He won a swimming scholarship.

He wasn't really that good of a swimmer, to be honest.

They just saw potential in him, and like they'll see it in you.

Okay, can you stop comparing me to Dad?

I know you hate him.

I'm just saying you inherited his best qualities.

Okay, let's stop.

What are you doing, Whitney?

[sighs]

I want to have a conversation about something.

Can you have it while we're walking?

Because we're late.

I can't do this.

Well, it's one night. Please just suck it up.

No, I'm trying to tell you that...

I don't know if I want to go to college.

Sorry?

Like, at all.

Uh, okay.

S-since when?

I've never wanted to go to college.

How come you never told me?

Look, I don't want to spend four years training to spend my life in a cubicle and then spend my life in a cubicle.

That's not gonna happen.

I just think that... maybe I want to travel, like, you know, go to Japan or London.

Well, you can do that here.

You can take a junior year abroad...

No, or... or... or maybe I...

Want to move to New York and be a model.

What?

I met a photographer.

Hey, hold on.

What... you... hold on.

You met a photographer?

He thinks I could be something.

Who is this photographer?

He saw me at a party.

He gave me his number.

I went to see him.

He's totally legit.

He says he sh*t Christy Turlington's first portfolio.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

What?

Christy Turlington is my age.

So what?

So how old is he?

Why does that matter?

You're not gonna be a model.

I-I knew this was how you'd react.

I mean, a professional model?

Where are you going?

To meet Chrissy.

You know what? I want the name of that photographer and a phone number because for all you know, he could be a sexual predator.

Are you saying he's a pimp?

No.

What does that make me?

All I'm saying is of course you're beautiful, but you also have a tremendous brain that you haven't even given yourself a chance to see what you could do with.

I don't want to go to college.

It's not for me.

How many times do I have to tell you?

I'm sorry. I'm your mother, and you're so young.

You don't know anything yet, and I can't condone this.

I can't.

What if I'm not asking you to condone it?

What if I'm just telling you what's about to happen?

You're not gonna go to school, and you're gonna be a model?

Yes.

I'm not paying for that.

I'm not asking you to.

Really?

Where are you gonna live?

What are you gonna eat?

I'll figure it out.

You don't even know your own social security number.

Who gives a f*ck? I'll figure it out!

Shh... Whitney, stop it.

Why is it so difficult for you to imagine that I might actually be able to support myself?

What I'm saying, you don't...

Because you never did?

Well, guess what, Mom? I'm not you.

I'm not you, okay?

I'm not gonna live off my parents for the rest of my f*cking life.

Whitney: Is that Dad? Dad?

Noah: Whitney, what... what are you doing?

Whitney: What are you doing? What's up? Why are you here?

Noah: What are you doing here?

I'm...

What the hell are you doing here?

Book tour. I've got a reading tonight.

What are you doing here?

Whitney's college tour.

Are you considering Williams?

No, Daddy, I'm not.

I'm confused. What...

Yes, I sent you the whole itinerary a month ago.

Sorry, we just added these dates a couple of days ago.

This response has been insane.

Whitney: Is this where you're staying?

Noah: Yeah.

Do you have a suite or anything?

Noah: Uh, I don't know. I'll check. Hey, Eden?

Who's that?

That's my publicist.

Noah: Eden, this is my daughter Whitney and my, um, ex...

Ex-wife.

Noah: Ex, Helen.

I gave you the dates, right, for the college tour?

Eden: Uh, I think so.

Did you know that we were all gonna be here at the same time?

Um, let me check iCal.

Oh, yes, look at that.

Your wife and daughter'll be in Liamstown today.

Can I stay with you?

Sure.

No, she can't stay with you.

Chrissy: Hey, sorry.

Are you Whitney?

Yeah.

I'm Chrissy.

Hey.

Hey.

This is Whitney's dorm host because she's staying in Sage tonight.

Sage Hall? Wow.

Exactly.

We have room for her, don't we?

Or, look, Eden can just book a suite for both of you.

Why don't you...

No, thank you.

Whitney is on a college tour, and staying in dorms...

I was just offering.

Is what you do on a college tour because you're touring colleges.

Okay, that's all I did. I was just offering, okay?

So I just want you to back me up on this.

Okay, you're backed.

Should I have them book us another suite or not?

Not.

Not, thanks.

Okay, I'll just go ahead and check us in then.

Thank you.

Jesus Christ, my head hurts all of a sudden.

Yeah, do you really want it to hurt?

Tell your dad...

Tell me what?

Nothing.

Do you understand her?

Not really.

So, uh, do you want to come to my reading tonight?

Uh, no.

Anything you're looking for in terms of information would be a betrayal of attorney-client...

Helen: All I'm asking, Jon, is what I should prepare the kids for.

The trial is in two weeks.

What's your plan?

I mean, are we... is Noah gonna be all right?

You were talking about alternative suspects.

Did you find any?

We have one.

Who?

I c... I haven't even shared that information with Noah yet.

Well, Jesus Christ, why not?

Because it's just a theory, Helen.

I have nothing to confirm it with.

Look, I've... I've... I'm sorry.

I wish I had better news for you.

I-I-I just... we're working on it.

We still have time.

What kind of confirmation do you need?

[scoffs]

You said you didn't want to be involved.

Well, I can't... just let him go to prison, Jon.

Please.

[♪ gentle rock music playing ♪]

♪ Candy canes and evergreen ♪
♪ Mistletoe hung where he can see ♪
♪ Every couple stops to be ♪
♪ It's Christmas time again ♪
♪♪
♪ All the presents are wrapped up tight ♪
♪ And the moon is shining bright ♪
♪♪

f*ck it.

♪ It's Christmas time again ♪

[indistinct chatter]

woman: I think you're right.

Are all these people here to see No...

Noah Solloway? Crazy, right?

[mouthing inaudibly]

"Three feet further, and he wouldn't live there anymore. The wild girl he'd fallen for all those years ago was standing behind him in the brownstone hallway. Her ring, the one he'd sold his Fiat for, now sat twisted off her finger and accusing him atop the radiator, and through the doorway, above the tea set she'd liberated from a little Moroccan pension where they'd spent their honeymoon, hung the portrait she'd developed of Whitman as a baby, the winter three blizzards hit the city in quick succession and the pipes froze, then burst in their fifth-floor Harlem walk up. That was the winter he decided to accept the loan from her parents. He could live without comfort perhaps forever, but he couldn't stand to see her afraid. By the time the snow finally melted, they had purchased the brownstone he was now leaving. What had become of her, that bold, unafraid girl? What had become of him, who had worshipped her? Three feet became two. Two became one, and then he was gone."

[applause]

Thank you.

[applause]

Thank you.

That's very kind.

Thank you very much.

Okay, we have time for one more question.

Yes, in the back?

Hi, I'm Sally.

I really loved your book.

I want to know if you believe love can last.

[clears throat] Because why not save the easy question till the last?

[laughter]

I believe love is a kind of faith.

Noah: And when two people both believe, something very powerful happens.

I mean, look at it this way. If you and I are in love and I trust you enough to lean in towards you, and you trust me enough to lean in toward me...

Noah: Then we meet in the middle.

It's a... it's kind of triangle, and we're holding each other up, and it's very, very strong.

It's unbreakable, but if I disappear, then you... you can't hold our house up alone.

You're kind of falling through open air.

Love can't work without the trust, without the faith.

You know, that's why people say when somebody cheats, they say he was unfaithful.

Think about that word for a moment.

It's not about the sex, kids.

[soft laughter]

man: Does God exist?

[laughs]

Uh, well, not... not an entirely inappropriate sequitur actually.

I-I think of God the same way as I think of love.

I think if you think that God exists, then He does, because your faith and your actions bring His presence into the world, and the same is true of love.

If you believe in its power and you conduct your life with respect of its... of its sanctity, then it'll always be there to serve you.

But if you don't, then... Well, then my book happens.

[laughter]

[dogs barking in the distance]

You want my hat?

No, I'm fine.

No, you're not. Look at you.

Come here.

It's too big for me.

It's cute.

Thanks.

You hungry?

f*cking starving.

You want to go to...

both: Nona's?

Wait, so you haven't seen your mother in how long?

Um, since the day I asked her to leave, the morning after Martin went to the hospital.

And you're in contact with her?

I sent her an email a few weeks ago, but she never responded.

Hey, are you two ready to order?

Yeah.

Um, you used to have this thing that was, like, a combination of a falafel and a waffle.

Do you still have that?

Helen, that was 20 years ago.

Hold on. It wasn't on the menu, but I think the chef just put the falafel in a waffle iron or something like that?

She had her 21st birthday here.

It was the highlight of her life.

Okay, I'll see what I can do.

Thank you. He'll have one too.

Okay, I got it.

I hated that party.

What are you talking about? No, you didn't.

Yeah, I did.

It wasn't even my idea. It was my mother's idea.

She wanted to have some big blowout, but it was Spring Fling, and half of our friends were too stoned by the end of the day to even show up.

Well, I had a really good time.

Remember how the fire department showed up because there was a grease fire in the kitchen, and you convinced me they were strippers?

You were so gullible back then.

Guess I was.

That was really something, what happened back there.

You mean the reading?

I guess your whole life must be like that now.

Have people cheering your name.

I'm the flavor of the week.

By next week, it'll be someone else.

Don't do that.

Don't dismiss it. Enjoy it.

I mean, you worked your whole life for this moment.

I know, Helen.

So I have some surprising news about Whitney.

Okay, please say something good.

She's met a photographer that thinks she can be something, so she's going to move to New York and be a model instead of going to college.

How old is the photographer?

That's what I asked, and he's old-old.

Is she serious?

Yeah.

She's serious, and I think it's our fault.

Why?

Because she's angry at us.

She wants to get back at us or get back at me, anyway.

I don't know. She seems to adore you no matter what.

Well, maybe she just wants some time off.

Isn't that possible?

Well, yeah, sure, we all do, but she has to go.

Why?

Because what if one year turns into three years turns into five years?

I mean, she's not gonna be a model.

We both know that.

She could be. She's...

No, she can't. She's not tall enough.

She's too f*cking smart.

Okay, I hear you.

I just... I mean, how are we gonna stop her? She's 18.

So f*cking young. I mean, she's a baby, and she makes terrible decisions all the time, mostly, I think, just to terrify me.

[sighs] I don't know. Can't we just say, "Look, finish applying, get accepted somewhere, and then defer. Take a year and get it out of your system?"

She has to go.

Why?

Because there are some mistakes people do not recover from, and I think this is one of them.

I've got to be honest with you, Helen; I don't agree.

I think everyone should take time off before college, figure themselves out a little.

Maybe if I'd had a year out, I wouldn't have had a midlife crisis at 45.

Oh, so you are having a midlife crisis?

Had.

It's over?

Please don't look at me like that, Helen.

If we don't give her the room to make these little mistakes, then she's gonna resent it so much she's not gonna come to us if ever she gets in big trouble again.

I just want us to be an option for her, don't you?

Maybe you just don't want to take responsibility for her anymore.

Why? 'Cause I don't agree with you?

No, because we f*cked her up, and you just don't want to admit it.

Helen, don't you have any memory of how you were at her age?

Yeah, I do.

No, you don't. You were clinically insane.

Why? Because I shopped at vintage stores?

No, because you used to get naked during our finals and walk through the library passing out candy.

That was a joke.

And when we went to the Turks and Caicos with your parents, you had, "I will not bow down, America," tattooed on your stomach.

It was temporary.

Yeah, well, your father didn't know that, and he threatened to have you institutionalized.

What's your point?

Well, what do you think my point is?

You... you gave blood twice a week for our entire senior year to get the money to get a one-way ticket to Tanzania after we graduated 'cause you wanted to live with the f*cking bush people.

Well, I never went.

And why not?

Because my parents wouldn't let me.

f*ck. f*ck.

[groans]

f*ck, f*ck. f*ck.

Where are you staying again?

Is it walking distance?

I should probably get a cab.

I'll text Eden.

She'll send one.

I'm sorry.

For what?

For making you leave Harlem.

This is not to excuse anything you've done.

I want to be really clear about that, but I just... I...

[phone keys clicking]

When your first book failed...

I was r-relieved.

I was heartbroken for you.

I mean, I hope you know that, because you were so disappointed, but I...

Part of me hoped it meant you would finally give up on writing and just be content with me and the kids.

And I guess I just couldn't see what you really wanted.

And I never in a million years thought you would be this... this guy.

Now you're here, and I'm very proud of you.

Thank you.

Oh, God. Did Eden do that?

I guess so.

Wow, she's good.

Look, why don't you take the pull-out couch in my suite, wake up in a nice hotel?

f*ck it, take the bed. I'll take the couch.

I know how sensitive you are to cheap sheets.

No. You know what?

I'm gonna walk back. I changed my mind.

It's not that far.

Okay, whatever you want.

Hey, Helen?

My hat.

Oh, yeah.

Thanks.

[taxi driving away]

[cheers and applause]

Noah: Come on, Martin.

[baby cries]

Come on, Martin.

[baby cries]

[indistinct chatter]

[whistle blows]

man: Get him, get him, come on.

Come on, man, come on.

Get him, yeah.

Come on, Martin.

[crowd shouting variously]

[whistle blows]

You okay?

I don't know.

[sighs]

Can you tell me everything's gonna be all right?

I-I'm cautiously optimistic.

Come on, Martin.

[whistle blows]

[crowd shouting]

Gottlief said all the prosecution evidence is circumstantial.

They have nothing to put me on that road.

They have no proof that I was driving the car that k*lled him.

[whistle blows]

Noah: Yeah!

[whistle blows]

[applause]

[baby fussing]

man: Good one, Martin!

Great.

[♪ tense music ♪]

♪♪

[baby babbles]

♪♪

[treadmill whirring and squeaking]

[machine beeps]

[iPad alert chimes]

Noah: "Ultimately, Solloway depicts a world built on the folly of passion. His façade, word by gripping word, loosens and crumbles, leaving the reader heartbroken that another page will not follow the last."

Alison: Wow. That's incredible. Where's that from?

Oh, just some little-known magazine with no influence called The New Yorker.

Yeah, no, even I've heard of that.

It's incredible. People keep emailing me.

Okay, so are you ready for something really special?

Yeah, sure.

[phone rings]

Hang on a second.

What... do you need... do you need to get that?

No, no, no, it's fine.

It's fine.

Okay, ready?

Yeah.

Here we go.

Okay, it's just a... just down here.

Ready? Almost there.

'Kay, wait for this.

Ta-da!

Oh, my God.

Wow. Is that my office?

Do you like it?

Yeah, yeah, love it.

The chair, the lamp, I got this whole crib.

Look.

Huh.

Look how cute that is, and this thing.

Oh, that's cute.

It's so cute.

Yeah.

And then we have the changing table.

Isn't that beautiful?

Wow, what did you do with my desk?

Well, it's in the hall.

In the hall?

Look, you know what? I-I thought you'd be excited.

I am, but, uh, wh...

[phone dings]

Hang on.

Sorry.

You know, maybe you should go.

I know you're busy.

No, it's fine.

It's just... I need to check this.

It's the... the PEN/Faulkner's announcing today, and you know I'm on the short list.

I just...

I got some inside information.

It's looking pretty good for me.

Well, things are looking pretty good for you anyway, right?

Yeah, sure, yeah, looking great, but, you know, I just...

You just want it all.

[both chuckle]

Oh, look, I'm gonna be late for my five-month checkup.

I got to go.

I love you.

Love you too.

Bye.

[indistinct chatter]

woman: Yeah, that's great.

Wonderful. No, lovely.

Thank you so much.

[mouthing] May I?

Kite Runner, f*ck.

What the f*ck?

Eden: Solloway.

We're late.

You seen this?

I mean, Ernest Schiffbaum?

Who the f*ck is Ernest Schiffbaum?

What does he know about anything?

Typical lit major reviewing like he's got something to prove.

Oh, Jesus, it's just a student paper.

Keep up.

"Solloway's attempts at a stylized voice only serve to illuminate the novel's shortcomings. What could have been literary eroticism is instead reduced to clumsy groping in the dark."

Who the f*ck is this guy?

What do you want, 100% adulation?

Even Vladimir Putin settles for 98% of the vote.

Wow.

Any word yet?

PEN/Faulkner?

You'd be the first to know.

You know what you're reading tonight?

No, you have a favorite?

I love the shower scene.

man: So without further ado, it is our great pleasure to introduce to you author Noah Solloway.

[applause]

Thank you.

"On the other side of the house, surf broke hard on the shore. She unclasped her top and stepped backwards into the steam from the outdoor shower. A pit opened in his stomach. Without breaking his gaze, she re... Without breaking his gaze, she reached down and stepped out of her bikini. 'Are you coming?' she asked, as if he were somehow already inside her."

I'm sorry, I'm gonna... I want to...

I'm gonna read something else, I think.

Hope that's okay. I'm gonna read a different passage.

Sorry about that. Let me see.

"Three feet further, and he wouldn't live there anymore. The wild girl he'd fallen for all those years ago was standing behind him in the brownstone hallway."

[applause]

Thank you. Thank you very much.

man: Okay, let's take some questions.

Hi.

Hi.

I finished your book last night, and I just wanted to say thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

man: Two more, please.

Yes, in the back?

Hi, Mr. Solloway.

Noah, please.

Noah, thanks.

I couldn't help but be so impressed at how well you write women.

Do you mind sharing with us how you do that?

Uh, I guess I just, um... I don't know.

I suppose I write the... the voices of women I-I most admire.

Thanks... Noah.

man: Uh, yes.

Hi, Mr. Solloway, my name is Ernest Schiffbaum. Perhaps you've heard of me.

I write reviews for the Williams Record.

Uh, no... no, I haven't... haven't had the pleasure of reading it.

Mr. Solloway, James Frey asserts that prior to the... the memoir craze, as he refers to it, in the '90s, his A Million Little Pieces would have been published as fiction.

Where do you think Descent lies on that scale between fiction and memoir?

Uh, are you a lit major?

[laughter]

Well, I think we can just assume that James Frey is creating a dense philosophy for the purpose of justifying his own fiasco, don't you?

And my book is... my book is fiction.

Would you consider it literary fiction?

I believe it is being considered as such, yes.

And do you see anyone reading your book in five years?

Well, for... for the sake of your generation, I hope that in five years it's gonna be translated into emoji.

[laughter]

During your reading, they announced that the PEN/Faulkner was awarded to Annie Zheng.

Are you disappointed?

No, I...

Annie is a brilliant writer, and, uh...

Nothing could, um, be more important to me right now than these devoted fans that I seem to have.

[applause]

m*therf*cker.

You are the smoothest son of a bitch alive, okay? Ready?

All right, yeah.

Let's go.

Could you make it out to Daisy?

Sure.

Daisy.

Is there a green light at the end of your dock, Daisy?

Gatsby, my favorite.

Of course it is.

And why don't you find out for yourself?

Hi.

Hey.

I just got carded.

I love this place. [laughing]

Oh, come on. You're not still sulking?

[sighs] I know, but... I mean, f*cking Annie Zheng?

The world needs another time-jumping tale of love interrupted by the Cultural Revolution?

I read that book. I couldn't put it down.

Well, people couldn't put down my book, but...

You know why it didn't win, don't you?

Why?

I was the victim of affirmative action.

[laughs] Oh, my God, you did not just say that.

No, it's true.

As a straight white man, I am automatically disqualified from those awards.

You are out of control.

Why?

'Cause I'm telling the truth?

Oh!

It's impossible to be a man in 2015.

Oh, my God. [laughing]

Okay, whatever, The Corrections lost to f*cking Bel Canto.

I loved Bel Canto. [laughs]

I wish you'd stop laughing.

I...

Okay.

[groans, coughs]

I'm sorry.

Tell me how you feel.

It's okay, I don't...

Please, tell me. Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me.

Just everybody predicted it was gonna go to me.

I knew it was a long sh*t, but I thought, you know, actually it might somehow come my w...

Wait, just a minute.

I just realized something.

This is not my job anymore.

It was my job for 20 years, and now it's not my job anymore.

It's her job, and I'm free.

Ha ha!

Aw, come on!

Revenge.

[phone chimes]

[laughs]

Go ahead, get it. You can call Alison.

I'm sure she's worried about you.

It's not Alison. It's Eden.

Who's Eden?

My publicist.

I can't believe you have a publicist.

I know, neither can I.

[phone chimes]

What does she want?

She wants to know where I am.

Does she want to get into your pants?

Of course she doesn't.

Does she know you have a pregnant fiancée at home?

Yes.

Why don't you give me that number, by the way?

What number?

What number?

"Mr. Solloway, you write women so beautifully."

Thank you.

Tell Alison she owes me.

[phone chimes]

What does she want? Go ahead, check.

No, it's fine.

Fine?

Hey, hey, come on.

No, let me look.

"Noah," exclamation point,"Where are you? I am having FOMO." What is FOMO?

I have no f*cking idea.

FOMO.

Hey. Hey, yo! Hey, millennials!

What does FOMO mean?

Fear of missing out.

Thank you.

Fear of missing out.

You're on a tear.

[phone chimes]

Oh, my God, drink.

What?

Every time she texts you, you have to drink.

She doesn't text me that much.

[phone chimes]

Drink!

She's had a very disappointing day.

[phone chimes]

Oh!

Drink!

Jesus, make it stop.

The only way to make it stop is to turn the phone off.

I can't see... [laughing]

I'm proud of you.

You remember that fight we had in that booth over there?

God, that was a terrible fight.

I'm sorry about that, by the way.

About what?

For wanting you to, you know.

You know, we were 19.

I know, but...

I still think about that decision.

You do?

Yeah.

I mean, especially once I met the other four, and they're so beautiful.

Yeah, I know.

[♪ pop rock playing ♪]

♪♪

I'm sorry you didn't get the prize.

I mean it.

What's wrong?

There goes that f*cking kid.

What kid?

You know, the critic.

I'm gonna teach that fucker a lesson.

No, no, hey. No, no, don't, don't, don't.

No, why not? Ow, f*ck, ow!

Well, stop it. Sit down.

What the f*ck? I just want to talk to him.

Sit down. Stop with the assh*le routine.

He f*cking misquoted my book, like, three times in print.

He's an undergrad.

So what?

He needs to take responsibility for what he puts in his f*cking paper.

Oh, my God, stop being this guy.

You are not this guy.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Yeah, you do.

You're acting just like my father.

Bruce Butthole?

Yes, I... look, look, I have been wanting to say this to you all night, okay?

You need to be very careful. I mean it.

You have been looking for this kind of attention your entire life, and now that you're finally getting it, I think that you are a little drunk on the power.

I'm just drunk, period, Helen.

You know, Noah, you're not a d*ck.

You've made some questionable choices, and you don't like yourself very much for reasons I just don't understand, but you're fundamentally a decent human being, and just because you're famous now doesn't mean you should throw all that away.

You know, my father goes after his detractors.

My father gets numbers from women half his age.

Bruce Butthole is no Noah Solloway.

Helen?

Helen?

What? What?

Do you like it?

Like what?

Do you like the book? Is it a good book?

I can't read it without crying.

Go home, Noah.

Sleep it off.

Alone.

Get home safely, Helly-belly.

Good seeing you again.

[♪ pop rock music ♪]

♪♪

Mr. Solloway.

Mr. Shitbomb.

Uh, the name is Schiffbaum. It's...

Let me ask you something.

Uh, all right.

Who the f*ck do you think you are?

I think my name is Ernest Mosely Schiffbaum.

What business have you tearing apart other people's work, hmm?

Brave artists who put their f*cking heart and their guts into things, hmm?

How many books have you written?

Mr. Solloway, A., you're drunk.

B., I've written a memoir and two novels, one of which is my thesis project and which will be published by Minton-Hardman in the fall.

C., I think you should get yourself home safely.

You f*cking assh*le.

[crowd yells]

man: Oh, man.

[camera clicking]

[muttering] Turn that f*cking...

[knock at door]

[knocking at door]

Here's an idea.

How about you never do this again?

Noah: You f*cking assh*le.

[crowd yells]

Jesus Christ.

Noah: You f*cking assh*le.

[crowd yells]

It's online already?

It's okay. I'm spinning it.

Congratulations, you're now a bad boy of the literary world.

[laughs]

[chuckles]

Where were you all night?

Bad idea.

We're working together.

You shouldn't have come here.

[groans]

Mm.

We have a very long tour.

And I don't mix business with this kind of pleasure.

What?

[sighs]

[exhales sharply]

Helen.

Are you all right?

I'm not sure.

She stole your husband, Helen.

I know.

I'll tell you what.

I will not use it unless I absolutely have to.

Gottlief: I promise you that.