? Get ready... All you lonely girls ?
The category is Realness:
Bring It like a Weather Girl.
Who will show us whether it will be
rain or shine?
Who is real enough
to be on Channel 9... ?
Oh, Miss Angel.
Now, this category used to be for the juicy girls,
but not tonight!
Oh, let it snow.
Let it snow.
This Weather Girl is prepared
for all of the elements.
Yes, Miss Angel. Work, Miss Angel.
Please, judges, your scores.
Please, your scores.
Ten. Ten. Ten.
Ten. Ten.
Grand prize, Miss Angel.
From the upstart house Evangelista.
Angel! Angel! Angel!
Angel! Angel!
Go get Damon and tell him to meet me in the hallway.
Next category,
you walk in ten minutes.
What's going on?
I am walking this category.
Are you serious? I mean, hasn't she won this category,
like, ten times? It would be like fighting Mike Tyson.
You spend enough time in this hall
and you start to be able to feel the room.
You see the way they went crazy for Angel?
They're hungry for fresh faces tonight.
The upsets and the underdogs.
I just don't want to see you get hurt.
Trust your mother.
I felt the wind in my face my whole life.
Which means I know when it's at my back.
Now help me get into this dress.
The category is Legendary Runway.
Who will prove themselves to be mother of all mothers
on the Parisian runway?
Dare anyone challenge reigning femme queen
Elektra Abundance?
Going once...
Going twice...
Elektra! Elektra!
- No one? - Elektra! Elektra!
Elektra! Elektra! Elektra!
Elektra! Elektra!
Legendary children,
I do correct myself.
A challenge has been issued.
Clear the floor
or prepare to be trampled
by the magnificence
you are about to witness.
Walking against Elektra Abundance,
Blanca Evangelista!
And turn and lift and walk.
You are the last motherfuckers
on the runway.
Will you receive a standing ovation
from Bianca Jagger and David Bowie?
Or will your collection fall flat
on its face?
To your places, ladies.
To your places.
Blanca!
Blanca! Blanca!
Blanca!
Please, quiet, please.
Quiet, please. Quiet, please.
Silence!
Judges, challenging though it may be,
the future is in your hands now.
Elektra first...
as she is reigning champion, it is her honor.
Scores, please.
Ten, ten,
ten, ten, nine.
Nine?
Are you blind in one eye?
Have you lost your ability to count to ten?
I demand an explanation.
I would give you an explanation if your outfit
didn't look like the inside of a coffin.
Ooh, shade of the panel.
It's fixed! It's fixed.
Who paid you, honey? Who paid you?
Now for Miss Blanca.
Scores, please.
Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten.
Blanca! Blanca Evangelista.
Congratulations.
Blanca! Blanca! Blanca! Blanca!
Blanca! Blanca! Blanca!
I must inform the audience
that after tonight's performance
there is another contender for Mother of the Year.
Miss Blanca has ushered a new legendary house
into the forefront of the ball world.
Blanca! Blanca! Blanca!
You did that.
I was so proud of you.
You were just like...
Pride goeth forth before the fall.
That win was pure luck.
The judges were merely showing sympathy
for your virgin Legendary Walk.
Or perhaps the fix was in.
I know it was Pray Tell who helped you make
that ill-fitting potato sack
you had draped over your bones tonight.
Who's to say he didn't tell the judges
to adjust my score so you and he could share
a moment of glory?
You lost fair and square and you know it.
I suggest you get used to it.
Please.
You are the Cracker Barrel
to my Gucci and Saint Laurent.
So agitated, Elektra.
And here I thought old age would mellow a bitch.
It takes more than two trophies
to become a legendary house and take Mother of the Year.
I would know.
I've won it six times.
True, we aren't where you are,
but we'll get there.
And soon, everything new will be old,
and everything old... meaning you...
will be in the gutter looking up at my perfectly sewn hemline.
Now, the only house I'm worried about at the moment
is the International House of Pancakes,
where we will celebrate and raise a fork
of the Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity
to your inevitable demise.
- You read her. - She deserved it.
I got to go.
Hey.
You're an Evangelista, right?
Yeah.
Y'all showed out in there tonight.
Thanks.
I'm Damon.
Ricky.
Did you take a bath in Kouros Player cologne tonight?
Too much?
It's the right amount if
you're trying to cover up the stench of a dead body.
No, I like it.
You smell good.
Thank you.
What? You like my tank top?
It's WilliWear.
I mopped it from Macy's.
I tie rubber bands around the bottom of my sweats.
I could stuff anything down there
and just walk out.
You thought of that yourself?
Smart.
You like smart boys?
If they're cute.
Excuse me.
Oh, okay.
Excuse me.
Oh, man.
You want to go grab a slice or something? On me.
You mean like a date?
I mean, I'm smart and cute,
and I smell good.
I mean, you could do a lot worse.
Okay, but...
can we go sit at dinner and talk first?
I mean, isn't that what you're supposed to do on a date?
Oh, see...
Sitting means waitresses, which means tips.
Slice and a stroll... that's my idea of a date.
I'm gonna go get my stuff.
Don't go nowhere.
What was all of that?
He asked me if I can go on a date. Can I go?
He looks like trouble.
But they're always the ones I like, too.
Don't do nothing stupid.
Be back by 3:00 a.m.
No minute later, understand?
Yes, Mother.
All right.
The category is...
Live...
Work...
Pose!
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --
I don't get the hype around Janet.
She ain't Michael.
That's the point.
She's not trying to be Michael.
She's stepping out.
No daddy, no husband...
just Janet on her own.
I mean, she's going for her dreams.
I love her for that.
I want that.
Anyway, you're sleeping on Janet.
I mean, in 20 years,
you're gonna look back and tell me I was right.
You think we're gonna know each other in 20 years?
I don't know.
I hope.
It's cool.
We're with our people.
No one's gonna do anything.
Come on.
I want to show you something.
Where are you going?
Where are you?
Over here.
Boo!
It's beautiful, right?
This is my favorite spot.
What's that smell? It stinks in here.
I didn't realize you were so bougie.
It's all right. I ain't into thugs.
I don't know how to do this.
Know how to do what?
Um...
I've never kissed anyone before.
Ah.
Hold on. Um... here.
I've wanted to be alone with you ever since I first saw you.
Me, too.
Wait. We're moving too fast.
Ah, but I'm in love with you.
What? You just met me.
I know, but it's like I've known you my whole life.
Come on, let's have some fun before you meet someone better.
I-I won't meet anybody better.
Oh, yeah, you will.
You're gonna be a star.
You'll forget all about me.
You really think I'm gonna be a star?
Of course.
I believe in you.
- Ricky. Ricky. - What? What? What?
I'm not ready.
I'm sorry.
Maybe
we can go on a few dates first?
Yeah. Sure.
Uh, how about next Saturday?
We can grab a slice, catch a movie?
Yeah, I'd like that.
Cool.
It's a date.
Come on. This is...
Bougie.
It stinks in here.
- Oh, God. - Where are you taking me?
Damon?
Yeah?
Sit down.
Where have you been?
Ricky took me to the pier.
You're two hours late.
I won't tolerate you breaking my rules.
Were you out drinking?
- No. - Did he give you any drugs?
No, ma'am. Mother.
So what possible reason could you have for disobeying me?
Did you have sex?
No.
We...
We kissed.
- And? - And that's it.
He wanted to do more, but...
I didn't want my first time to be at the pier.
Did your daddy ever give you the talk?
The talk?
The birds and the bees.
Yeah, he did.
It was really awful.
I mean, he was saying all this stuff about
women's anatomy and-and things like that, and...
the whole time I was thinking,
this is not the information I need to get.
Like, Sweet Baby Jesus, this is not helping me.
But, you know, I-I couldn't ask him
the questions I really wanted to know,
which was about...
what men do together and stuff,
or... I'd be found out.
And... I was afraid he'd kill me.
Well, here's what no one will tell you but me.
Gay life is hard.
Here.
No. I-I-I don't need these.
I-I'm not planning on having sex with Ricky.
Oh, child, no one ever plans on having sex.
And I can't be your mother and your conscience.
I'm not gonna always be here to protect you.
You are a good-looking young man.
And soon you are gonna want to start exploring, but you got
to make smart choices.
Now, as a gay man,
you have options when it comes to sex.
You can be a top or a bottom.
Uh, how will I know which one I am?
Well, there's no rule book.
Sometimes you want to give, sometimes you want to receive.
Sometimes you want all the pleasure.
It's up to you.
- What if I'm a bottom... - Mm-hmm.
... and I fall for another bottom?
- Oh, don't. - You said there was no rules!
Oh, so what y'all gonna be doing, bumping purses all night?
Look, don't overthink it.
When you find the right guy, you'll figure it out.
Just promise me you'll protect yourself.
There's a virus out there,
and if you catch it, it will kill you.
If you need condoms, you go and ask for them,
and if I'm not around,
you go to the clinic. Understood?
Yes, Mother.
When will I know that I'm ready?
Well, when you have sex,
that's your decision to make, no one else's.
Just listen to that voice in your head...
the one that told you to come to New York.
That voice is intuition,
and I promise you she'll guide you, and if
you ever feel unsure about what that bitch has to say,
you come straight home to Mother.
Thank you.
Damon...
if I could go back in time
and make different choices, I would.
Don't ever give away your gifts...
for no one.
Mm.
Hey, you found it!
This better be worth it,
'cause I'm missing 227 to come meet your ass.
Why are we meeting here?
Is this some kind of joke?
No, it was in the Village Voice.
Best gay bar in Manhattan two years running.
I wanted something special
to celebrate me snagging my first trophy.
You do know they don't serve our kind here?
Bitch, shut up.
Our money is just as good as anyone's.
Happy Halloween, ladies.
- I'm done. - Uh-uh. No!
One drink.
I got a proposition for you.
My house is going to crush all others.
They're gonna place a statue on the piers
to commemorate us one day.
Big talk after one trophy.
Now's the time to get in line
before the line to get in starts
to snake its way around the block.
I need a lieutenant.
A second in command.
Who? Me?
You hate Elektra just as much as anyone.
All she does is look down on you,
bragging about her rich daddy
and her Weezy Jefferson apartment up on the East Side.
She don't care about you.
And I'm not just starting a house.
We're gonna be a family that looks out for one another.
Elektra would rip your weave right off of your head
if she knew you was trying to steal me away.
Oh, so, what, you want to tell her?
Fuck her.
I ain't got no loyalty to her.
But she helps me win,
and I like to win.
Which means joining a house
that ain't no more than a toddler
still soiling in his diapers ain't never gonna happen.
Besides, maybe I want to start my own house one day.
Well, hello, handsome.
I'll have a Manhattan,
and my friend here is going to have a Malibu...
Malibu Rum and Tab on the rocks.
This one's on me, but then you got to go.
I got ten guys in here asking me if it's drag night.
Well, I'm sorry. We're not in drag.
- We're women. - Even better.
We don't like women in here. This is a gay bar.
Well, I want to see a manager.
Girl, why you always got to pick fights you can't win?
Because these are the ones worth fighting.
I'm Mitchell the manager.
Can we speak outside where it's quieter?
How could you discriminate against me in my own community?
This bar is called Boy Lounge.
We have a specific clientele...
gay, under 35...
- White? - Frankly, yes.
The New York City nightlife is segregated.
Look, I've got a friend.
She works at the Cubby Hole.
I'll call her. You guys can go. You can drink free all night.
But I don't want that scene tonight.
I'm sorry. I'm not throwing a costume party.
Oh, this is not over.
Bitch, it was over before it started.
Everybody needs someone to make them feel superior.
That line ends with us, though.
This shit runs downhill past the women,
the blacks, Latins,
gays until it reaches the bottom and lands on our kind.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Uh. Reach.
Uh-huh.
And legs! That's right. Oh!
Huh. Uh-huh.
Yes. Yes.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Yes! Reach!
Uh-huh. And...
breathing!
Uh, and...
All right, everybody,
that's the day.
Mr. Richards?
You weren't rehearsing today.
I wasn't?
No. You were dancing.
Rehearsal is getting ready for life.
Dancing is living it.
For an artist, greatness happens
when you can take something organized
and make it feel like it was improvised.
You've been doing that,
and that's a skill I cannot teach.
You either have it, or you don't.
Great job.
I'm impressed.
Thank you so much. That means so much to me.
I'm taking some students to the ballet on Saturday night.
Mostly seniors, but one of them has the flu,
so I have an extra ticket.
It's a story of heartbreak, betrayal, revenge,
the redemptive power of true love.
That sounds like a play or something.
Dancers tell stories with their bodies.
Technique is nothing if it doesn't reveal
some personal truth.
Be outside Roosevelt Hall at 7:00 on Saturday night.
This is a big opportunity for you.
Don't blow it.
I'll be there.
Yes.
Why are you eating like this is your last meal?
- 'Cause this food is bomb. - Ugh.
Close your mouth, hood rat.
- Mmm, mmm. - Oh, my God.
Um, excuse me. Where the hell are you going?
Sit your ass down. We are having
a mandatory family meeting.
And where did that come from?
I bought it.
- With what money? - Money.
Oh, how does anyone make good money these days?
Waiting tables, cleaning gutters,
working as a street pharmacist.
Yo, mind your business.
- Are you dealing? - No.
If I find out that you're doing
anything illegal, you will be out of this house.
- Do you understand me? - Yup.
Hey, y'all.
See, now, if that was me, I'd have got my ass read
like a library book.
Where did you get that jacket from?
Oh, I bought it at the Goodwill.
- Oh. - In the dollar bin.
My dance instructor is taking me
to the ballet this Saturday.
Oh, you fancy, huh?
Well, that is a moment
to celebrate... one of my children is going to the ballet.
I mean, I was supposed to have a date with Ricky,
but I don't have his phone number to reschedule.
Don't really matter if you show up.
Ricky's a hit-it-and-quit-it type.
Trust and believe, you've already been replaced.
Okay, that's enough. Thank you.
Damon, soak this moment up, okay?
This is just the beginning of many more doors
like this one opening for you, for all of us.
You made your mother proud.
All right, now,
I got something to share with all of y'all.
This may come as a shock, but
I'm not gonna be competing in the
Saint Laurent ball this weekend.
- What? Wh-Why? - What?
There are things more important than prizes,
like my dignity.
Wait. Did something happen?
I went to a gay bar downtown
for a celebratory cocktail,
and the bastards refused to serve me.
I don't understand.
I mean, if they're gay, why did they turn you away?
Gay, straight... it doesn't matter.
They all think we got psychological issues.
They don't see us as real.
It's not fair.
Nothing in life is fair.
But that's okay, though.
I'm-a do something about it,
so that my children's world is better
than the one I grew up in.
You're asking for trouble.
I want a Manhattan.
I want a drink just like everybody else.
Yeah, get her out.
I should be able to drink wherever I want!
There's my Jersey boy.
How do you like the new de Ville?
Like driving a cloud.
I told him to get the new de Ville.
He's got a good eye for style,
but he needs a little help from the professionals.
Hey. How you doing?
Come on in.
We never used to have so many.
Yeah, well, this is what success looks like.
You think we're successful enough
- to get a dishwasher? - You serious?
Do you see how underwater we are now? Look at all this.
We have a Cadillac in the garage.
There's a ball gown in mine
that costs $900 that I've worn once.
If we don't have any money, then
how are you paying for all these things?
We need all that stuff.
We need a dishwasher.
We have a baby, and I'm up doing dishes by hand
until The Tonight Show starts.
You don't understand how it works
out there in Manhattan, okay?
You have to look the part or they won't let you
into the big club.
You wore that gown to the big event at 21 the other night,
and now they all think you're one of them.
- So what? - So what?!
You know anybody with a corner office
in one of those skyscrapers in Midtown?
Or a place in Montauk of their own?
- No. - No.
You don't. Because people like us don't get invited.
We don't get a shot at it.
But I got a one-in-a-million chance here,
and I made that happen because I'm adaptable.
I know how to play the part.
But you have no idea
how much pressure that puts on me.
I have to be on 100% of the time,
and I can't do that if you're second-guessing me
and pressuring me to buy things that you don't need
and that we can't afford!
Baby, baby, is any of this really worth it?
I got to go back to the office.
It's Saturday.
Yeah, it's Saturday.
If I'm gonna have to put up with this version of you,
I should at least get a dishwasher out of it.
Asshole.
Mr. Richards, I'm glad you could join us.
You're looking sharp.
Really?
- Mm-hmm. - Thanks.
Ah, showtime.
Let's find our seats.
Applause comes at the end.
Hey!
You a cop?
I'm looking for Angel. I'm a friend.
I'm sure you are.
She's working indoors now.
Me, myself, I prefer the fresh air.
What, you mean, like, she got a regular job
at a store or something?
You know that place in Times Square,
Show World?
Go give her a visit.
_
Got to buy tokens here.
Ten-dollar minimum.
How's it work if I'm looking for someone specific?
I'm here to see Angel.
Yeah, he's popular.
She.
Whatever you say, boss.
Second-to-last door on the left.
Well...
if it isn't my uptown businessman.
I knew you'd find me.
You can't stay away from your Angel too long.
Why are you here?
This place isn't right for you.
I make $125 a night here.
And no one touches me.
Don't you want me to be safe?
I get jealous
that so many men see you like this.
Hmm.
Does that make you mad?
Do I look like a kept woman to you?
A kept woman
would be in a high-rise apartment
in Riverdale with a refrigerator full of groceries
and a mink coat in her closet.
Do you ever do things with guys here?
Sweetheart...
a lady never tells.
And I'm not appreciating your attitude.
Especially considering this is the first time
I'm seeing you in three weeks.
I can't stop thinking about you.
At work.
If I'm in bed with my wife.
I drive by the piers almost every night,
but I get too scared to pull over.
Scared of what?
I don't like you in a place like this.
A lady needs to make a living.
Can I take you to get some... food?
Coffee or something?
I have break in an hour.
We can walk to a diner.
Okay.
Where should I wait for you?
The category is Dynasty.
I want to see all the rich bitch fantasy
in full effect.
Ah, yes.
Looking like a ghetto Banjee Fallon.
Work, mama. Scores, scores, please.
Yeah!
Here we have Dominique Deveraux,
replete with boa.
Darling, the champagne is burnt.
Oh, and what have we here?
Bringing her best attempt at Heather Locklear.
Mmm, darling,
more like T.J. Hooker.
Hmm, is it Krystle Carrington...
Linda Evans?
Oh, my children, I'm afeared that this show
is about to be canceled.
Children, I repeat,
the category is Dynasty,
not goddamn Falcon Crest!
We don't need no spinoffs up in this bitch.
The eleganza!
Miss Elektra is bringing us Alexis Carrington
in full effect.
Show them how it's done.
Elektra! Elektra!
Showing the children how it's done.
And the scores are ten, ten, ten...
tens across the board.
And the grand prize goes to,
with no competition,
Miss Elektra, Abundance.
Once again.
She brings it every time.
Why the attitude?
We did amazing tonight.
A victory's hollow if there's no real competition.
How dare The House of Evangelista
not show their faces tonight?
Where the fuck was Blanca?
Is this the life you want,
dancing in a place like that?
It's safe behind the glass.
Money is good.
And I like being admired.
I don't like other men touching you.
How much do you make a week?
You trying to put me on a retainer, sweetheart?
I'm sorry. I didn't...
I didn't mean it like that.
What if I got you a place of your own?
A kept woman?
I must warn you,
I cannot cook.
Unless you count
opening a can of SpaghettiOs.
I want a year lease.
I don't want you running away and leaving me holding the bag
once you get me out of your system.
No, it's not like that. I swear.
But okay.
A year.
I can't leave my wife, though,
or promise that I could see you every day.
I can't help you if I can't keep my life.
I should refuse you, right?
Demand commitment.
But I've also learned how to keep my dignity,
even when I'm kneeling down for scraps
under the table.
My hope is that, over time,
I can help you want more for yourself.
You talking about dreams?
Aspirations?
Those are only words
that only last in the suburbs.
All I know
is that I'm-a have a roof over my head,
a little spending cash for clothes
for the balls,
and my chances of not getting killed in the gutter
just increased considerably.
I'm fine with that for now.
What's your deal here?
Usually, the ones like you
are either gay... won't admit it...
or straight
but too afraid to ask their wife
to stick a finger up their behind.
Jesus.
I'm neither of those things.
I'm not gay.
I don't understand.
You hadn't touched me.
Not a blow job in the car or nothing.
But you want to possess me.
Why?
What are you?
I'm no one.
I want what I'm supposed to want,
I wear what I'm supposed to wear,
and I work where I'm supposed to work.
I stand for nothing.
I've never fought in a war
and I probably won't ever have to,
'cause the next one's gonna kill us all.
I can buy things I can't afford,
which means they're never really mine.
I don't live.
I don't believe.
I accumulate.
I'm a brand...
a middle-class white guy.
But you're who you are
even though the price you pay for it
is being disinvited from the rest of the world.
I'm the one playing dress-up.
Is it wrong to want to be with one of the few people
in the world who isn't,
to have one person in my life who I know is real?
You think of me as a real woman?
You'd be crazy to choose this life if you didn't have to.
I...
have to get back to work.
You know where to find me
once you've made all your arrangements.
Hey. Hey.
Do you believe in love?
Or is that just a word for the suburbs, too?
How was your fancy trip to the ballet?
It was magical.
You know, one day,
I'm-a be on that stage, and I expect you to come and see me.
How much are you gonna pay me to show up?
Uh, you know what?
- Forget I even invited you. - Nah,
I'll show up for, like, 15 minutes before dipping.
Uh-uh.
You're too much, though.
Was it worth ditching your date, though?
I think so.
A'ight, so then...
You shouldn't be selling drugs out in the open.
It's dangerous.
If Blanca finds out, she's gonna take...
Only way she'll find out is if you flap your gums.
Yo, I got to run.
Ricky?
Hey, uh, Damon.
This is Midnight.
Nice to meet you.
Can we speak in private?
Can you give me a minute?
Is that your girlfriend?
I'm not the boyfriend type.
So what type are you?
The type that sits around waiting in the pizza shop
for an hour and a half like an asshole.
I'm the asshole, and I'm sorry.
I didn't show up because I was at the ballet.
- My teacher gave me a ticket. - School?
I thought you wasn't bougie.
I didn't move to New York looking for a relationship.
I mean, I came here to make my dreams come true.
I got kicked out of my home for being gay.
And then I spent weeks on a park bench
because I had nothing.
I mean, Blanca gave me
a warm meal and a place to stay,
and being a part of her house
means I have to follow her rules.
If I have to choose between education and dating,
- I choose the ballet. - Whatever. It's all good.
Seems like you moved on, so no big deal, right?
Yeah, no biggie.
You know, you ain't the only one who came here with a dream.
I'm still sleeping on that park bench.
You could join a house.
Don't nobody want me to join their house.
- You can't sleep on the street. - It's what I do every night.
Just yesterday, I stole a couple 40s
and got smashed right over there.
You know, you were smart for not showing up.
I'm just a fuckup.
- That's not true. - Yeah, it is.
You know, when I first saw you, I thought,
"That shorty's going places."
Guess I thought maybe you might...
take me with you.
Not the first time I've been left behind.
Mani-pedi?
Just a top coat, please.
I want her.
Oh, she's on break.
Do your ears not work,
or is the customer not always right in this establishment?
I said I want her.
Oh, I am sorry, sweetie, I'm on break.
I'm sure, even worn as you look,
that you can find the fortitude to stick around
and give a top coat to the woman who raised you.
Oh, what is that, Coral Punch?
I assume you have Revlon or Max Factor.
Don't even think about putting Yardley on these fingers.
You know, you can learn so much about a person
by looking at their hands.
All the wigs and
clothes and plastic surgery don't matter
when you're looking at a woman's hands.
It always reveals her real age.
You're one to talk
in your stained white coat, looking like a peasant.
Look at me.
You're clearly not winning the game.
Nor are you playing it fairly.
Do you think you can just come to the balls and beat me
with a lucky break and then disappear?
Denying me my opportunity for redemption?
Leaving me twisting in the wind?
You are so anxious to have me come and crush you again?
Oh, please.
You win one trophy,
and you talk like you're a legend.
Any hoodlum or orangutan off the streets
can snag one trophy.
I've been busy with other business.
Oh. I heard about that "other" business.
You're a regular transvestite Norma Rae.
Don't get me wrong,
I admire your determination.
I have known you since you were a wee tot,
and while you're not nearly as stunning
and well-kept as I am,
and you could clearly use a delivery of Pond's Cold Cream
for that ashy complexion,
you have always been impossible to stop
once you get an idea in your head.
But take it from a woman of the world:
you're punching at windmills.
These gay white boys don't want anything to do with you,
and never will.
I told the children of my house that I was fighting for them.
I won't back down.
You're not Rosa Parks, sitting up front of the bus.
You're a tired, old queen
looking to sip a margarita with some white boy
- in Sergio Valente blue jeans. - You know, I know about
your life, even though you never speak about it.
About your gentleman caller who showers you in rhinestones
and keeps a house over your head.
You're settled, comfortable.
The only fights you have left are with your wrinkles
and your cellulite and walking the balls.
And, bitch, that's because you're old.
If I cut you open, there would be nothing but dust
and 50 rings to count.
Now, your generation got us to where we are.
I'll give you that, I'll give you all of that.
But I'm planning on moving our kind forward.
Getting us access to worlds you wouldn't dare dream about.
I'm entitled, I have the right.
All right.
You fight that fight, naive little girl.
Learn the lesson we all learn eventually.
When it comes to the life we lead,
there comes a point where you must
accept disappointment.
Like I'm disappointed in this top coat.
It's on the house.
Matt?
Our boss is in the Post again.
He's a master of the publicity machine.
It's so fucking awesome the way he controls them all.
- Do you read the Post? - Everyone does.
I read the Times, too. The Journal.
Listen, if you want to sip Chardonnay
in the Upper West Side with a bunch of intellectuals
from Columbia, get the Times.
If you want to get invited to the best parties,
walk past the line at Palladium, meet celebrities,
get your name in the Post.
What do you want?
Well,
I know it's pretty early in my time here, but, uh,
if you look at what I've accomplished so far,
I-I... I wrote that speech for the Ellis Island award,
- and, uh... - What is this about?
You want more money?
Well, yes. I was hoping for a...
maybe, like, a ten percent bump, or-or a...
preferably, a small bonus.
Close the door.
Have a seat.
So what's she like?
I want details.
She blonde? Got big tits?
She do that new Brazilian thing down there?
I... I don't...
I'm sorry, I-I don't understand.
Don't bullshit a bullshitter.
Huh?
I'm proud of you. I'm telling you,
you put on that suit, you get behind that Cadillac,
the pussy starts flowing like Niagara Falls.
My wife just wants a dishwasher.
I'll get you your money.
Two conditions.
You work weekends when I ask,
and you got to tell me the fucking truth.
She's beautiful.
Yeah?
Puerto Rican, I think.
Exotic.
It's not my thing, but to each his own.
Do you love her?
- I don't know yet. - You don't.
You're just not tired of fucking her yet.
Matt, thank you.
I promise I will earn every penny.
Word of advice.
Don't leave your wife.
And if you get her pregnant, you come talk to me immediately.
Jesus Christ, not this bitch again.
Don't you have anything better to do?
Told you, I'll be here every night until you serve me.
I'm not dealing with your shit tonight.
- I'm calling the cops. - Call them.
I'll be right here. I'm not afraid of Five-O.
Have you noticed you're the only one
here with the year-round tan?
What's your point?
They don't want us here.
No, they don't want you here.
Compliments of the house.
Thank you.
I still want my Manhattan.
Miss, can I have a word with you?
"Miss"? It's a dude.
I am a woman
and I will be addressed like a lady.
Sir, can I have a quick word with you?
What, is the battery in your hearing aid dead?
I said I'm a woman and I go by "ma'am" or "miss."
This is what I'm talking about, Officer.
- He's constantly spouting off. - You know what?
Why don't you make like your hairline and disappear?
- You know, you need to calm down. - Deaf and blind.
You know what, I can't arrest you for being here,
- but I can arrest you for your mouth. - What?
That's right. You're under arrest for disturbing the peace.
Turn around.
Get her out.
All right, Officer.
What the fuck are you looking at, bitch?
I think it likes you.
Man, fuck you.
What's up? You pissed that her dick is bigger than yours?
Rodriguez.
You made bail.
Wait, somebody bailed me out?
Who?
That is Caron Poivre, darling.
Mmm, I've never smelled a perfume like that before.
Well, of course you haven't.
It cost $100 an ounce.
I don't believe that the ladies of the evening
that come through here or the girls in the bars
you frequent in Newark
can afford such a luxurious aroma.
Elektra?
Ah, there she is.
This one is a relation of my housekeeper.
The poor woman was inconsolable about her arrest,
so I volunteered to be of assistance.
And she's an expert with my delicates.
How could I say no?
A true pleasure, Officer.
I do love a man in uniform.
Perhaps I'll call on you one evening
if I'm in the neighborhood and in need of some company.
Any time, sweetheart.
Let's go.
Well, this is a surprise.
You're lucky that I have a gentleman friend
who understands my needs in terms of walking-around money.
Though don't expect the same kindness in the future.
You just cost me half my weekly allowance,
and it's only fucking Tuesday.
Yeah, but why? Why did you help me out?
Why do you think?
There's my car.
Because you understand what I'm trying to do
by getting into this bar.
Have you lost your mind?
Did you not see me back there with that policeman?
I can gain access to any bar or country club
or department store in this city.
Your struggle is not my struggle.
My struggle is that I was defeated
at the balls last weekend.
Because you're so distracted with this silliness,
I have remained in a temporary humiliation.
You are not being beaten within an inch of your life
in that jail because I need you to be at the ball tomorrow night
so I can reclaim my honor.
And you will be there, bitch.
So that's all that matters to you?
That is our place.
Our community.
The balls were created so we would have somewhere to matter.
If you have any aspirations to become a legendary mother,
you'll get it in your skull that while there are many places
for us to find love and adoration in the outside world,
in this life, yes,
the balls are all that matters.
Is your driver going uptown?
Yes.
Subway's two blocks away.
Hey, I heard you was here.
Can we talk?
I heard you the first time.
What you want?
I want to start over.
You clearly didn't appreciate my presence.
My absence shouldn't be any different.
That's not true. Look,
I like you
and I'd like to invite you out,
but it's not a date, just two friends hanging out.
Tuesday night?
I'm busy.
Fine. Wednesday night?
I have tickets to the ballet.
The ballet?
Hell nah.
I thought the same thing,
but I went and...
it opened me up.
The freedom I saw on that stage!
I mean, those dancers weren't dancing with the music.
They were the music.
Not interested.
I thought you wanted a different kind of life.
I mean, maybe
this is the beginning of something new.
Look, I'll be in front of the Roosevelt Hall
Wednesday at 6:30.
Attire's kind of fancy, so no jeans or shell tops,
in case you decide to show up.
The category is...
Femme Queen in Pumps.
Now, this is not a face category.
This is to show that you can cross the threshold
into the Four Seasons
or to the bar at the St. Regis
or tip up and down Fifth Avenue
and never stumble,
wobble or show fear.
Miss Kiki Pendavis, your heels are too low
and your hips have no flow.
Please remove yourself from the premises
and do not return
until you're in some goddamn stilts
because as we all know,
six inches is the minimum.
Ladies and gentlemen, clear the floor. Clear the floor.
I need the floor cleared of all contestants.
I have just gotten word
that it is time for a rematch
between the legendary House of Abundance
and the upstart House of Evangelista.
Now, if my memory serves me correct,
each has one win.
Who will be the best out of three?
Ah, here she comes,
freshly sprung
from her night in the clink.
Yes, you do belong, darling,
walking like you were born in a stiletto.
What have we here?
Is it Aphrodite?
Is it the goddess Athena?
Who are we to stand
in this woman's presence?
How could we possibly
deserve to bear witness
to all that the
goddess Elektra is bringing forth
on this evening?
There is no way this bitch
is getting her heel stuck in a grate.
Judges, please, it's time to score.
For Miss Blanca,
ten, ten, nine, nine.
A respectable score.
And now, for the legend Elektra,
ten, ten, ten, ten.
Perfection.
Grand prize, Elektra.
First runner-up, Miss Blanca.
Elektra! Elektra! Elektra!
You know what it is?
- No. - You don't?
- No. - Can you see?
No.
Where are we going?
On the count of three, okay?
- Okay. - Three.
- Thank you. - You're welcome, babe.
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --