04x16 - It's Good to Be Kink

[bunniefuu]

What is wrong with you?!

It's not that bad.

There were no minors involved, no money exchanged hands.

I did nothing illegal.

Well, that doesn't make it good.

Really, what is wrong with you?!

I'm human! I'm a man!

You're disgusting.

You want me to say "sorry" again?

Fine.

I'm sorry. Okay?

Not okay. You should know better.

How many clients have you warned about this exact scenario?

Okay, you're not a Saint!

I've been between the sheets with you.

You've taught me some things.

You're disgusting.

You're like...

Something disgusting.

I came to you. I was honest.

I didn't have to tell you this.

Yes, you did! You did have to tell me this, and you know you did.

What, was I supposed to find out when a reporter asked me about it in the White House press room?!

It's not gonna get that far.

I'm going to take care of it.

Oh, no. No!

You don't do anything.

You are entirely too disgusting to handle it.

What are you doing?

I will take care of it.

Abby... Abby, you have to...

Abby, this is what I do for a living.

Well, not this time.

This is your mess.

Why would I trust you to clean it up correctly?

Okay. Hey!

No!

I'm in charge now!

Disgusting!

Leo's got this friend who works in publishing.

He sent this book proposal to Leo.

I think he just thought Leo would get a kick out of it, but then...

Abby.

Who's the author?

Some woman who slept with a large swath of D.C. power players.

Claims to have slept... a prost*tute?

Apparently not, just someone who really, really loves to... yeah, I read all about it.

Why are you showing me this?

Because the woman who wrote that book proposal sent it out to every major publisher in the country.

And you and I both know these tabloid tell-alls are almost always fake, written for quick fame and a quick buck, so what's the big...

It's not fake.

Uh...

You saw the part about the...

Guy she calls "The Dustbuster"?

The one who...

Yes.

I saw it.

Okay, don't look at me. Look over there.

The Dustbuster is Leo. Leo is the Dustbuster.

Are you sure? Or are you really sure?

Do you know the Dustbuster is Leo because he told you or...

I know the Dustbuster is Leo...

Because I know Leo.

Oh.

So, her book is real.

And he's just one chapter out of 17, which means there are 16 other real men in that book.

Abby, I don't care about the 16 other men right now.

I don't care about Leo.

If this gets out, if the press finds out that he likes what this book says he likes, they will laugh you off the podium.

Which is why I came to retain the services of Pope and Associates.

I need you to stop this book. I need you to shut it down.

I'll take care of everything.

Just tell me this woman's name.

Hello!

Suzanne Thomas?

Yeah?

Oh, my God. You're Olivia Pope!

Hold on.

Am I in trouble?

My book?

You know about my book?

Wait. Are you here because you want to be my publicist?

I just have a few questions for you.

Of course. Go ahead.

These men in your book did they violate you?

I mean, define "violate" for you.

Do anything unwanted to you, force you in any way, humiliate you, do anything to embarrass you publicly.

No. No.

Then what gives you the right to publicly violate them, embarrass them, humiliate them?

I'm not. That's why I'm using code names in my book.

The press will decode those cute little names within hours, and they will have a great time exposing those men.

Is that what you want? Are you that kind of person, someone who destroys the lives of men you've had consensual sex with?

Not at all.

Are you someone who would ruin careers, who would ruin families for your own selfish gain just so you can be rich and famous, get a nice spread in Vanity Fair?

Is that who you are?

No, I would never.

Well, then, that book is a problem, isn't it, Sue?

Here's what's gonna happen... you're gonna call the publisher, tell them you made a mistake, withdraw your book proposal.

Then you're gonna start hitting the delete button, turn on your paper shredder, hold a good, old-fashioned book burning, make that book disappear from the planet.

It doesn't matter how you do it... just get it done.

Because if you don't, you will be the problem, and there are any number of ways I can destroy you... your career.

And, Sue, I always get it done.

It's taken care of.

She's just a confused kid in over her head.

Thank you, Liv. I'll have Leo send over a check.

Tell him it's on the house.

Where's Jake?

It's just the two of us...

"Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid".

You can be Newman. I'm fine with Redford.

Jake's still thinking about it. He'll come around.

Now, I wanted to take a look at some of the files and...

I need immunity from prosecution.

That can't happen yet, not part of the plan to punish B613.

I need full immunity, no jail time, my record wiped clean... a fresh start.

Full immunity, and I want it now.

Huck, where's this coming from all of a sudden?

We have a plan in place.

Well, if the plan involves me, then you'll give me immunity now.

There's a plan, Huck... a meticulous one that's been carefully thought through.

If I take steps to give you immunity, that disrupts the meticulous plan I've carefully thought through and will likely set off alarms that would alert our highly trained assassin enemies and result in our certain and untimely death.

Immunity!

That's the first step of the plan.

Okay.

Where have you been? At the dentist.

The dentist?

For my teeth.

Right.

Oh, this is nice in here industrial but cozy.

Can I help you?

No, I am looking for...

Olivia. Hello.

Sue.

I know you're not expecting me, but you gave me a lot to think about.

I was so upset after you left, but I want you to know that I learned a lot from our conversation, I grew, and I came here to tell you in person that I won't publish the book.

Good. That's the right decision.

If you give me $3 million.

Excuse me?

No, not you. I want $3 million from whoever hired you.

I assume it's one of the guys in my book, and he's got to have money.

I mean, Olivia Pope don't come cheap, right?

Nobody's paying you $3 million.

One of the publishers will.

Even if I allowed that to happen,

$3 million for a book by some girl nobody's ever heard of detailing her lurid sexual escapades with a bunch of government bureaucrats is...

Not bureaucrats.

Ambassadors, senators, lobbyists.

Do you know what they're going to call you?

What they call somebody who gets paid millions of dollars for what you did?

You mean a whore?

Mm.

When did you become so weak?

Weak?

Weak. Afraid.

You're Olivia Pope.

In political circles, that's like saying you've been to the moon.

You've stood on the mountaintop.

You make Rumsfeld look like a nanny... that's how badass you are.

You and Ruth Bader Ginsburg... that's it.

That's all we got.

The power you wield in this town, Olivia, it's legend.

You used to exude it. It came out of every pore.

It gave other women a contact high.

So, I must admit I'm a little disappointed by your behavior towards me.

I'm trying to protect you.

Protect me?

That's... that's awful.

I thought you'd be brave.

Sue.

I thought you'd be adventurous, fearless, sexy, confident, but instead, you're just this dried-up prude who, instead of celebrating the fact that I fully own my body and use it however I want with whomever I want as many times in as many kinky ways as I want, you're shaking your finger at me?

You're telling me to be afraid of what name someone's gonna call me just 'cause I had the audacity to have too much great sex, as if picking up a hot stranger in a bar for a dirty screw is a crime.

What happened to you? Where did your power go?

When did you become so afraid of life?

I'm not ashamed.

This is my life, my body, my story to sell or tell or... anyway, it's all I've got now.

Okay? So, go ahead and call me a whore.

Everyone who writes a memoir is a whore.

You can also call me an author, an artist, a businesswoman.

You can call me smart, and pretty soon, you can call me successful.

Hi. I'm Sue.

I'm Huck.

It's nice to meet you, Huck.

We don't have the votes.

We'll get the votes. Be optimistic.

A republican-led congress is not going to vote to make body cams mandatory for law enforcement.

Says the democrat. Traitor.

I want this bill.

I stood in this office, and I promised Clarence Parker change.

We don't have the votes. Tell him.

Sir, votes on this issue are very hard to come by, but I will not rest until we get a majority.

You see, Abby? Optimism.

Am I late?

Right on time.

I'm running for Senator of Virginia.

Well, that's...

History making.

And good for you. Good for Virginia, ma'am.

You think so, Red?

We thought you should know.

Get out ahead of it before Mellie declares.

First thing's first... I'm gonna need a campaign manager.

Abby, my top choice is Leo Bergen.

I know the two of you are involved, but he really is one of the best, and besides, I don't think it'll be an issue.

Leo can't. He can't. He's busy... very busy.

Out of the country.

Oh, well.

Back to the drawing board.

Suzanne Renee Thomas, or just "Sue" to friends and the secretly salacious D.C. Illuminati.

26. Graduated from Swarthmore with a degree in chemistry.

So, she's smart.

Smart enough to land a job as a junior program coordinator in the office of radiation and indoor air at the EPA, until she was fired last month.

For what?

Insubordination.

Don't worry. She's kept busy.

Sue has a pretty expansive social-media presence.

Facebook, Instagram, snapchat... all the usuals.

But she's most active on land-o-kink.

Land-o-kink?

Don't knock it.

Very popular dating app for people who are into things like whips, chains, furry little...

I get it.

2 million members and counting.

The United States of kink.

Okay, so, the only way we're going to pay Sue $3 million is for all these men in her book to chip in, and to get them to chip in...

We need to round them up.

And to round them up...

We need to figure out who they are.

And to figure out who they are...

We sift through 2 million men on land-o-kink?

Oh, God. No.

The book. We need the book.

I hacked Sue's network, searched her home computer, her laptop, even her e-mails... no trace of the book.

I'm not surprised.

Sue's book proposal... Huck says it was typed.

Like, "typed on a typewriter" typed?

IBM Selectric ii, if I had to guess.

So, if a manuscript exists, she would have typed the whole thing.

To keep it from being hacked.

That's old school. Respect.

Must be in her apartment.

We could steal it, except that judging by her online activity, she almost never leaves home.

Find a way. We need that book.

Hello, Badboy5879.

What's Badboy5879 into?

What's Sue looking for? What's she into?

Well, according to her profile, she's into everything.

Uh, role playing, erotic spanking, flogging, suspension, ropes... mm.

Aren't those the same thing?

No. Not at all.

Who are we gonna find to be our decoy, anyway?

Not me.

Okay.

His real name is Colt.

And tell me your type again.

Mm, slightly older, 40s, dark features, good looking, kind of sleazy.

Oh, I think I know someone.

Hi. Colt?

You must be Sue.

Oh. Oh, she's here.

I'm in.

How's it going?

Uh, no luck.

What's happening there? They're talking.

So, colt, what do you do?

I'm a spy.

A spy? Who do you spy on?

Other spies, mostly.

What do you do?

I'm a spy, too. Don't you want to know my secrets?

Found it.

Just need to scan it.

Great. Take your time.

These two seem to be settling in nicely.

Let's say you caught me.

How would you get my secrets?

I'd tie you up.

Then what?

I'd t*rture you.

How?

You really want to know?

I demand to know.

I'd tie your arms to the rafters, and then I'd nail your feet to the floor.

You'd shackle me, put me under the hot lights.

No, no. I'd take a nail g*n, and I'd find a nice, soft spot between the bones in your feet, and I'd go Wait.

Wait, what the hell's going on?

I'm working as fast as I can.

Scanning an entire book isn't easy.

No! No, not you.

The date. She's leaving.

No problem. I'm almost done.

She's getting out in the world a bit more these days.

She goes to and from work every day, picks up a couple bottles of wine almost every night.

The two guards we put outside her building tell me everything's normal.

That's good.

It is.

Mentally, she's a mess.

She carries her g*n with her everywhere she goes.

Won't go out at night. Won't even order takeout.

I have no idea how she's surviving.

Not much of a chef.

Mm.

Expert with a corkscrew.

What about outside threats?

Any chatter?

Oh, nothing suspicious there, either.

She may have been put out on the open market, but the international crime community seems to have moved on.

Liv is, by all accounts, safe.

She's off the radar.

I'd like to make sure it stays that way.

Yeah.

You mind staying on her?

Sure.

But I don't work for free.

Okay, people. Let's go.

Okay.

Since Sue invented nicknames for all of her clients, it's just a matter of deciphering who's who.

Well, we already know who the Dustbuster is, so that's one down.

Some of them should be easier to identify than others.

"Agent Orange"... Senator with a bad dye job.

There's only one redhead in the senate and that's...

Senator Blake of Kentucky?

Who apparently takes a licking and keeps on ticking.

Sue writes that her hookups with "Slapjack" always coincided with days the stock market tumbled.

Someone from the S.E.C.? The fed?

The Department of Treasury?

Slapjack's also fluent in Arabic, Chinese, and Russian.

World Bank? IMF.

Turns out an IMF executive director used his credit card to order takeout around the corner from Sue's place.

This guy.

All right, who's next?

"Butterfinger."

Secretary of the interior.

"Motorhead."

Argentine Ambassador.

"Sit-and-spin." D.E.A. director.

"The gulch."

Energy secretary.

Only one left.

"The Doctor." We can't figure him out.

The surgeon general is a woman.

So is the secretary of health and human services.

The Doctor.

The Doctor.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

Oh, my God!

Chapter seven. Good stuff.

Oh, my God!

What?

The Doctor... it's not his occupation, it's his initials.

What are you talking about?

D.R.? Liv, D.R.

She wrote a book?

It was back when I was substitute teaching.

I was dead inside. I needed to feel.

Disgusting!

Not helpful, Abby.

I never liked the swings. Swings are safe.

Back and forth. Same thing over and over... an easy high.

I always went for the jungle gym.

You have to work to climb it, scramble it, claw your way up.

It's difficult.

Hard as hell if you're the fat, gay kid in glasses.

Now, I know you're a traitor, but the conservative senators on the rules committee whose votes we need, they see you as a decent, respectful, influential American.

Go figure.

The president needs votes on police body cameras.

Well, I'm on leave from the RNC. Taking time for myself, for my daughter.

Let me remind you, after your little failed coup, you work for me, your time is my time, so get your ass off the swings, get up on the Hill, get me my votes.

Understood?

Gentlemen! Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen, please, if you'll just calm down, I'll explain how this is going to work.

I'm in.

Sue has offered to sell us the book for $3 million.

That's $175,000 from each of you.

Okay. Okay!

The manuscript will be destroyed, and Sue agrees never to write about any of you or any of this again.

Great!

I'm in.

I'm sorry, but not everybody has $175,000 just lying around the house.

Oh, John!

John, John, we all know you spent that much on sex toys last year.

You think this is funny, Bergen?

A little.

But mostly, I think you're gonna pony up like the rest of us, otherwise, you're gonna lose your job running the mayor's office, your wife and kids, and that little houseboat/love shack you keep hidden away on the Potomac.

Okay, enough.

Okay.

Okay!

Enough!

I know that this is hard for some of you, but it's the best solution.

So, who's in?

Still in!

Put those hands down. This is not happening.

David... this whole thing is completely illegal.

The fact that Sue is asking for this money is extortion, pure and simple, and our paying her makes us complicit.

And you're better than this.

You are a justice of the United States Supreme Court.

You are the Deputy Secretary of Defense.

You... I have no idea who you are, but you shouldn't be involved, either.

Him, I understand.

But the rest of you, it's wrong and it's illegal, and I'm telling you no, I'm warning you, as the Attorney General of the United States, do not do this.

Give up? You said you had a plan!

Sue's book is coming out.

You don't know that!

Then I'll be a joke. It's over for me.

What about my immunity?

You can still get me immunity, right?

Immunity? You still don't get it.

Pretty soon, I won't be able to get you out of a parking ticket.

There's no sympathy for the kinky, Huck, even for occasional dabblers like me.

You promised me immunity!

What am I supposed to tell my wife?!

What am I supposed to tell my kid?

What is the point of all of this if I can't go home?

I want to go home, Rosen. You get that?

I want to go home!

I want to go home, too.

It's not over, is it?

I followed you.

I know you're still working with Rosen to bring down B613 no matter what that does to Liv!

This isn't about Liv! This is about me!

This is about my family.

I have a home and a family now, and it doesn't even matter because that book is coming out, which means David Rosen won't be Attorney General for much longer and the investigation isn't gonna happen, and if it does and the next Attorney General gets his hands on those files, my home will be in a cell in the kind of prison where nothing matters.

Don't follow me!

I think it's interesting that I'm so disgusting, but you're the one with two chapters' worth of sex in that book.

Two!

There's no way that Rosen has the imagination to ask Sue for any part of chapter seven without an education from you first.

Admit it.

So, who's disgusting now?

Who's more disgusting?

Abby!

I'm writing my resignation letter, but if you want me to stop so you can make fun of me, sure, I'll take a break.

Abs, you don't need to quit your job.

I do. I can't let my life negatively affect the White House.

It's not your life. It's my life.

This comes out, I'll be destroyed, there'll be a little buzz on you, there'll be some jokes, you'll ride it out, it goes away.

Are you serious? A little bit of buzz?

What?

It's different for you than it is for me.

It is in that it did not happen to you, it happened to me.

Leo, what happens to you happens to me.

Well, abs, I appreciate your loyalty.

No, what happens to you happens to me.

I'm good at my job, Leo.

I am a lion up there. I own that room.

I work for it. I give a strong briefing.

And they write about that, they cover the news, and there are articles about how well I do at my job, but they also write about me.

If I wear lipstick, I'm dolled up.

If I don't, I've let myself go.

They wonder if I'm trying to bring dresses back, and they don't like it that I repeat outfits even though I'm on a government salary.

They discuss my hair color.

There are anonymous blogs that say I'm too skinny.

They have a running joke that I'm on a hunger strike until I can be liberated by the democrats.

Abby.

They also write about you.

Every article that comes out about me has your name somewhere in it, because apparently, there's this rule... in order to mention my name, they also have to report to the world that there's a man who wants me.

My work, my accomplishments, my awards...

I stand at the most powerful podium in the world, but a story about me ain't a story unless they can report on the fact that I am "the girlfriend of D.C. fixer Leo Bergen."

Like it validates me, gives me an identity, a definition.

They can't fathom the concept that my life doesn't revolve around you.

My life doesn't revolve anywhere near you.

It's horrifying.

"Property of Leo Bergen."

Tell me, when they write articles about you, Leo, how often do they mention me?

Do they talk about your clothes, write about your thighs?

There is a difference. There is.

So, what happens to you happens to me, which is why I am writing a letter of resignation.

Are we done?

David's right. We can't be caving to extortion.

Well, we could cover it all up pretty easily.

Just because we can doesn't mean we should.

White hats, Huck.

Besides, paying someone off never works. They always talk.

Eventually, they always talk.

What else can we do?

"It's all I have now, anyways."

What?

Sue.

When she was here, just before she left, that's what she said about her story.

Anyway, it's all I've got now.

I mean, I know she lost her job, but...

What do we really know about her?

Well, she likes...

Other than her sex life.

What do we know about Sue? About Sue's life?

Let's get to know Sue.

Cyrus.

Where the hell you been?!

Uh, I had to step out for an hour.

Step out? How delightful.

Did you indulge in a little spa retreat while I kept my eye on that coup-plotting Amazon Elizabeth North?

I'm sorry to add to your woes, but there's something I need to warn you about.

Can't wait.

So you're saying you may have to resign.

Since I'm linked romantically with David and Leo, if this book comes out... when this book comes out... it's going to be a story... a juicy one, a distracting one that will raise a lot of questions about my choices.

So, I should add this to my pile, to spinning your resignation.

Yes.

Fine.

I'm sorry. I just, uh, wanted...

You'll be the fifth Press Secretary of this administration, the third to be fired.

The other two d*ed from g*nsh*t wounds to the chest... much harder to deal with.

So, just let me know when I should pull the trigger on your resignation.

I'll handle it from there.

Now get out.

I have more pressing matters to attend to.

Are you waiting for someone?

What if I am?

I would still offer to buy you a drink.

A Martini with a twist and two olives.

I'm Russell, by the way.

Alex.

Alex.

It's nice to meet you, Alex.

Are you?

Waiting for someone.

I haven't decided yet.

Well, that works in my favor, then.

While you decide, we can just sit here, get to know one another.

I'll tell you all my best stories.

You can tell me yours.

Maybe you'll give me your number, we'll go out.

Russell.

Yeah?

I just decided I'm not waiting for anybody.

Okay.

Uh, why don't I get us a table? We'll order dinner, start getting to know one another.

Or why don't we finish our drinks, not get to know one another, and go back to my apartment?

Let me pay the tab.

Let me freshen up.

Hey.

Where were you? Dentist again?

EPA.

I did some digging in their human resources division, and this was hidden away... very deep.

It's all there... the reason Sue was fired.

You called, so I assume you have my money.

Money isn't what you want.

Uh, you're kind of wrong.

What you want is control.

What you want is revenge, but not against the men in that manuscript.

You're angry.

I'm not angry.

You are angry.

At your ex-boss, Jim Sanders, the one who fired you.

Word got around that you were wild... a tiger in the sack.

And he assumed that you wouldn't mind sleeping with him, too, but you said no.

And that didn't go over well with Jim, did it?

He fired you.

And when you tried to get work elsewhere, he blackballed you, stole your ability to use your intellect because you would not have sex with him!

That's ridiculous! That's unconscionable!

He didn't just sexually harass you... he stole your intellect.

And you need to take that back. That is what you need.

Not money, not notoriety.

Here's your book.

You want to publish it, be stuck in this moment of your life forever?

I can't stop you.

But if you want to move forward, take down your old boss, get justice for whatever he did to you, let's get it done.

He had me pinned to the floor of his office.

Laughing, telling me it's what I like, how he'd heard all about me, how rough I like it, what a dirty girl I was, and that it's only fair that he get a piece... he actually said "piece," so maybe you can write that down, Irene.

And the next day, you went to human resources?

And they said they'd investigate it.

And things sort of went back to normal until two weeks later, when H.R. called me in and fired me.

After that, I tried for a while, but couldn't get a job anywhere in my field, not even an interview.

Okay. That's all I need for now.

Thank you, Sue.

And what happens next?

We'll type up your statement.

I'll bring it by your apartment later for you to sign.

Then Irene will file a suit against your old boss.

If he doesn't step down and agree to our terms, Irene will take your case to a jury and nail him in court.

Either way, he'll be fired and his mistreatment of you will follow him wherever he goes.

Good.

In the meantime, I've lined up some interviews for you at the national oceanic and atmospheric administration and the Washington post.

The Washington post?

I pitched you to write a column, said you have a unique perspective.

You did?

Thank you so much!

Thank you so much.

Nice to see you, Cyrus.

It's been far too long.

You look well, considering.

What's in the case?

$3 million cash.

Are we running away together?

I was thinking Saint-Tropez, but I'm open.

It's for Abby for whatever pickle she's in with that sexy tell-all.

That's sweet, looking out for her.

I need her.

She ain't cheap, though.

Well, she's worth it.

Weird times at White House high, Liv.

Mellie's about to make a senate run, Jake and Fitz are drinking in the locker room together, snapping towels, trading stories of conquest.

Cyrus.

Ethan remains utterly useless.

An idea would die of sheer loneliness in that head of his.

Cyrus, I don't care.

Fitz, Jake, Mellie, the White House... it's all in the rearview for me.

I need to move forward.

I am moving forward.

Moving forward.

Hmm.

Towards what?

Take care, Cy.

Hey.

The case.

Don't need it. Already handled.

So you're not buying the book?

Oh.

I see.

You couldn't care less about Abby.

You just wanted the book... you just wanted dirt on these guys.

It could come in handy.

You know, down the line.

This town.

Its heart.

Goodbye, Cyrus.

What is that?

Everything I'd do to get you elected senator.

I did some digging today.

You bought a farm in Virginia, the same state whose senate seat Susan Ross vacated when you made her vice president...

I assume so you could establish residency.

Elizabeth please.

I can't be Cyrus Beene's bitch anymore.

I need some power, some influence.

An ally.

And you came to me?

You need me.

It's United States senate. Challenging, yes.

I'm not talking about the senate.

That's just a stepping stone.

I'm talking about the presidency.

That's what you're really running for.

And to do that as a woman, yet alone as sitting first lady, that's not just hard, it's all but impossible.

You need a campaign manager who's willing to do what that takes.

Think of what I've already done for you, the lengths I've gone, the bodies I've left in my wake.

I am exactly the kind of person you want in your corner.

What do you say?

Sue?

Sue, we have your... help!

Help me!

Be quiet!

Stay there!

I need you to drop that Kn*fe, Jim.

I'm not gonna let her do this.

Drop the Kn*fe.

I'm not gonna let her ruin my life.

Drop the Kn*fe!

I'm sorry. You don't understand. Huck: Shut up.

I got a family... you were never here, this never happened.

Huck.

Leave! Go home! Now!

You let him go?!

Thank God.

Thank God. Thank God you guys were here!

It's okay. Everything is fine. Another 10 seconds, and I would have...

Huck!

What the hell?!

She would have talked.

We dealt with the book! It was done!

It was over! Handled!

I liked her. She was nice, smart.

But she would have talked.

Eventually, she would have told her stories.

I couldn't let her.

I couldn't risk her taking down Rosen, our investigation, my immunity agreement, my future with my family.

I didn't want to, I liked her, but I had to.

Come on.

Let's get out of here.

Huck.

I'm sorry, Sue.

Get me the D.A. I need to know which detectives are on this, and I want them in my office this afternoon!

Olivia, I... and make sure Leo Bergen has an alibi.

We're gonna have to give the police the names of all those men in the book, even his.

This is every copy of the book.

You took these from the crime scene?

Quinn.

Do you know who did this?

It doesn't matter who did this.

It doesn't matter?!

Sue is dead.

Sue is not your client.

Abby is.

Abby is your client, and Abby...

Is family.

You want me to help find whoever did this, you want me to hand that book full of suspects over to the cops, I will.

I will do whatever you say.

But just know that justice for Sue comes at a cost to Abby.

At a cost to your family.

Immunity agreement.

Blanket protection for future prosecution for any and all crimes related to your testimony.

Hear about Sue Thomas?

It's crazy... I feel guilty.

Dirty.

I didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't wrong to sleep with her, not illegal.

I refuse to engage in extortion or let others do so.

I didn't slit her throat... a gory detail I wish the police hadn't shared with me.

Didn't do anything wrong, did everything by the book.

Letter of the law. Above board.

And yet...

I still feel dirty. I still feel culpable.

I still feel like I can't help but to have had some hand in her m*rder.

I didn't stand up for her. I didn't try to help her.

A young woman... someone's daughter.

I thought of her as just some girl I called "Kinky Sue" and treated like a sexual vending machine, which is...

I didn't do anything wrong, but I also feel like I didn't do anything especially right, either.

Do you know that feeling?

Do you know what I'm talking about?

That sense of guilt over nothing?

Where are you going?

H-home.

I'm going home.

What was she like?

She was a nice person... smart and nice.

Deeply, deeply... perverted, but also smart and nice.

She was a very talented writer.

I was sick once bad-flu sick.

Sue brought me chicken soup and cough syrup.

Town full of sharks, Sue's bringing me...

Mm... Soup?

Wait, you read the book?

Like... The whole book?

Cover to cover. Oh.

Oh, that book... was good, Leo.

It... I mean...

Chapter five alone.

Chapter five?

What was chapter five?

Do you really want to know?

I think we owe it to Sue, to her memory.

Oh, my God, Leo.

Have some respect.

No.

I'm serious. Think about it. Think about Sue.

What would she be doing right now if she could?

Get down to the kitchen.

Uh-huh.

Get your clothes off.

Uh-huh.

Get the butter.

Okay, that sounds filthy and slippery, and I like it already.

You're back.

The way you disappeared the other night, I thought I must have dreamed you up.

No. I'm real.

Are you waiting for someone?

How is she?

thr*at-wise?

Still nothing.

Nothing in the chatter, either international or domestic.

What about her mental state?

Mental state?

You mean...

You were worried.

Is she better? Getting out more? Working less?

Nothing new to report there, either.

Get in there... and get naked.