This is really gonna hurt.
They say you see your entire life flash before your eyes...
right before you die.
But this is a fast bullet...
so all I really have time to remember are the last few days.
I'll start three days ago, with my first art class...
just a mere hour from my closet-sized apartment...
in Paramus, New Jersey.
I was just Nick Peters back then.
Nobody had lied, cheated, seduced, and ruined my life yet.
Most importantly, Death wasn't knocking at my door.
I was 25, single...
and struggling to find any kind of direction in life.
Last week, I met this beautiful art teacher on the bus.
So I had the genius idea of signing up for her course, thinking:
"How hard could drawing be?"
I like the nothingness you've captured.
-I guess I just kind of suck at this. -I don't think you've tried to suck yet.
You have to draw a few lines to qualify for sucking.
How can everyone else be so good on the first day of Elemental Drawing?
This is Elements of Drawing. A graduate course.
I thought you knew that.
Have you thought about a starter course in Elementary Crayons?
Up until now, I thought that total humiliation...
was the worst thing that could happen to me.
God, was I wrong.
Is there a Nick Peters in here? I got a call for him.
Hello?
Hey, cousin, it's me, Chris.
Oh, God, I've been ducking his calls for three days now.
You found me. How did you....
Anyway, look, I'm really sorry that I didn't return your calls, man...
I've just been so busy.
I hear you're taking an art class now.
-Yeah, sort of. -Wow.
How's the weather out there in L.A.?
Sunny, warm. You know, it's just beautiful.
Listen, how would you like to come out for a while?
Wow.
Yeah, I'd love to, Chris...
but, you know, I can't. I just started these art classes and....
I already bought you a ticket, first-class, on the red-eye tonight.
Say you'll come. I need you out here.
-Okay, I'll think about it. -That's my boy.
Nutcase.
That was my cousin. He....
-So, do you go to school here or-- -See you.
Stop sulking, Nicky.
Look at your cousin Chris calling as an opportunity...
and not acting like you've been drafted.
Mom, who knows what Chris wants? He's nuts.
You have a minimum-wage job...
selling underwear at a mall in Paramus.
Undergarments.
You're always broke, you live in a one-room slum...
and you eat dinner at your mother's house four nights a week...
so you won't starve.
Chris, on the other hand, lives in a lovely home in Beverly Hills...
with a huge pool...
and his mother only feeds him one night a year: Thanksgiving.
So you tell me which one of you is nuts.
Mom, do you remember when he bought me a Harley-Davidson for my birthday?
It was a nice gift.
I was eight. I mean, it fell on me in the garage.
We told you to stay away from the garage.
Besides, I can't go to L.A. right now. I got my art classes.
For who? That woman you met on the bus?
When are you gonna stop lying to women about talent you don't have?
-I have talent. -Lying to women is not talent.
Why can't you use your charm?
-Yeah, like that's gonna work. -Okay, so learn to be rich.
Like Chris and all those other nice dot-com boys...
whose mothers drive around in Mercedes-Benzes.
Then you can afford those fancy art classes...
and your mother can drive around in a big German luxury car.
Do you even know what Chris does for a living?
I don't know what he does. Who cares?
Your father wanted you to have this.
Go on, take it just so you can rent a car.
I'm not taking Dad's credit card.
Nicky, the way you maxed out your cards...
you couldn't even buy a pack of bubble gum.
That's okay 'cause I don't chew bubble gum.
Don't play smart, Nicky.
Until you have your own website, you don't get to play smart.
Goddamn pilots.
Think they can out-drink me, they got another thing coming.
Smart asses. Think they're so much better than everybody else.
Excuse me.
Sorry.
I'm so sorry. I did not mean to wake you up. I had to change seats.
This jerk would not stop talking to me, and I've got to get a little shut-eye. Shit!
I forgot my pillow.
It's okay. I got a bunch. You can have one of mine.
Thanks.
I wish they'd seated me next to you. But, no.
I have to get some boob salesman with a free upgrade.
Yeah, I know what you mean.
-So what do you do? -I'm an artist.
Paint.
What?
Like you've never told a little white lie to impress a girl before?
Really? Fine art, you're flying first-class to L.A.?
Sure you're not some poser pretending to be an artist...
or some trust-funder who's discovered he's got a creative soul?
I'm just a painter from New York.
It's an honest mistake.
We have lots of rich playboys in L.A., but not many real artists.
We don't do that very well, I'm afraid. Even with our big museum.
So, artist-boy, tell me your name.
You probably haven't seen my work. I mean, I got most of it back in New York.
I haven't even been out to L.A. that much.
Nick Peters.
Doesn't ring a bell.
I just got ranked in one of those daily trade papers...
called Artists' Daily.
I'm gonna go to sleep now, Nick Peters. Will you have time on this trip for drinks?
-I'd love to. -Good.
'Cause I get very dehydrated when I fly.
And I talk in my sleep. So don't listen.
Wake up.
You gotta get out.
Go.
Go away. Bye-bye.
The Sebring convertible is only $8 more a day...
and it's much nicer than the Geo Metro.
No, I actually kind of want to keep the expenses on the car...
as low as possible.
I forgot to give you my card. We're still gonna go for that drink, right?
Absolutely.
So we're going with the Geo Metro, Mr. Peters?
No, remember that I said that I wanted to go with the convertible?
Good choice.
I gotta bounce. Call me.
She's a reporter.
And what about insurance? It's $12 a day.
I see it's your first time in L.A.
Let me give you a quick little orientation. Mandatory for first-timers.
How did you know that it was my first time in L.A.?
And here's L.A. Think of it as a large pizza pie.
Now, this slice here is the West Side. Section 1.
That's where you're probably going.
If you ever leave this slice and go into Sections 2, 3, 4...
then chances are you're definitely lost.
This is the 'hood, the barrio, Koreatown, Afghanisberg.
Some place called Simi Valley, and a thousand other vague race-related hamlets.
No one I know has ever been to them.
And at the top of the places-to-avoid list is the barrio.
That and the 'hood.
They're not places you want to take our shiny new rental cars.
Unless of course, you want to be violently beaten and die.
Thank you.
I know It's the Tim and Tommy Show!
Okay, so what's going on in the news?
You won't believe it, the Collarer struck again last night.
-Cholera? Somebody has cholera? -No, he's that hit man...
that dresses up in a cat suit and strangles people with their own collars.
Boring. Give me something I can be interested in.
Something that affects my life.
Here's a little interesting thing:
Jack Nicholson's dog has had another kidney transplant.
You gotta be kidding me.
Yeah, third one this month. Unbelievable, isn't it?
How can a dog survive that?
-Excuse me. -Fuck you.
Oh, God, are you okay?
Reject Satan! Reject sin!
Hello.
It figures.
No, I want the red Testarossa...
and I need the car loaded at the airport in Berlin.
No, I'm not insane! I've got it marked out right here.
The silver Ferrari goes to.... Hang on, call waiting.
Hello.
Hey, boopie.
Yes, of course we're going to the premiere tonight.
I've had to hold that seat for you against all sorts of pressure.
I'll see you tonight.
-Pizza guy? -No, he dropped it off outside.
I'm Nick. I'm Chris's cousin.
Yeah, I'm Rodman, your cousin's roommate.
-ls he around? -Sort of.
Why don't you go check out the pool? I'll be by to explain in a sec.
No, the other pool.
Triglycerides are so over.
-I'm going for a semi-acidic re-puff. -Re-puff?
You know, the goat urine.
I'm Nick. I'm Chris's cousin.
I'm Daphne. I'm homeless.
Excuse me?
Roberto.
I was sleeping in the guest room, and now you've got it.
I'm homeless. Chris told me to move into the spare bathroom.
She has her own house.
It's a big bathroom, mind you, and carpeted. But it's not a proper bedroom.
I'm sorry, I didn't know anything about that.
And the bathroom's fung chee is all wrong.
-Fung chow. -Fee chung.
No, it's "fung chee."
My s�ance advisor says it's "fee chung."
No, my herbalist says it's "fung chow."
No, it's "fung chee."
Actually, it's "feng shui."
Sorry.
I'm just looking for Chris. Do you guys know where he is?
Are you in the business?
What business? The movie business?
No, I'm studying art.
To be an artist of the cinema?
No, I'm just taking a painting course.
Have you heard about the new squid-ink tattoo...
instead of using eyeliner?
Got a consultation with Dr. Mendi to go for it on Thursday.
He's fantastic. He did my nipples.
Where's Chris?
What are you doing? You can't just open the door.
He is violent. My other Ferrari is in there with him.
You have more than one Ferrari?
-You have to convince him to come out. -Okay.
Tell Rodman unless he goes away, I will shoot his Ferrari!
Okay, he's gone.
Hey, coz.
What's up?
Rodman knows there's only two ways in or out of this place.
This door here and the garage door.
I have the only clicker.
How's New York? How's the family?
-How's the Harley? -We sold it 12 years ago.
-Why? -That really doesn't matter.
Coz, what's with the big gun?
Didn't Rodman tell you? Didn't he tell you? Look at this.
And the killing spree continues....
Oh, my God.
That's her. I just met her on the plane.
I can't believe that.
There's a serial killer on the loose.
They call him the Collarer.
I'm on his hit list. And last week I saw Death's face.
She's a reporter.
-Wait, you saw what? -Death.
The last time I left this house, I went to this stupid costume party.
Suddenly I felt the room get cold.
At that moment...
I knew I was a dead man.
You were at a costume party...
and you saw some guy dressed in a Death costume...
and now you think that he's trying to kill you.
And you brought me from New York for this?
And what makes you think...
that he's got a reason to want to kill you?
Reason?
He doesn't need a reason, Nick. He's a serial killer, he's crazy.
He sounds crazy.
He is, and he's stalking me.
-Do you understand that he's stalking me? -It's crazy.
I notice hints and clues.
I feel him, I hear him, I smell him, I see him.
I don't see him, but I smell him, God damn it.
And I'm not leaving this garage until I know it is safe...
and I've got the only clicker.
Damn it!
You've got the only clicker.
You hear that, Rodman?
No way in!
He's one of my suspects, they all are.
You gotta help me find this killer and stop him.
We can do this.
I'll show you how. You are gonna help me, right?
At this point, I still could have walked away...
but Kiki, and the girls at the pool, the Ferrari, and the house....
What else could I say but:
It's what family's for.
It's Kiki Heart at KKEI. Spill your guts at the....
Hi, Kiki, it's Nick Peters. We met on the plane and....
Anyway I'm just in between exhibits tonight...
and I was wondering if you wanted to get together for that drink.
So I will try you later at home. Bye.
I met this girl on the plane. She's a reporter.
Did you want something?
Can I get some invites to your exhibits?
Yeah, sure, I'll talk to the gallery owners about that.
Great. I love openings.
There's a car on fire in the driveway.
What the....
Jesus Christ!
What the hell happened? What the fuck happened?
Shit.
This could've been an electrical fire.
Electrical? The car wasn't even on!
What are you worried about? It's fully insured, right?
No, thanks.
Listen to me...
I understand that without the full insurance, he's responsible.
I just want to know for how much money.
Yes, it was a convertible.
Yes, thank you.
It's not bad at all. A measly $28,000. It's peanuts.
You have three days to pay up before they press charges.
Vadim.
Here, drink this. lt'll make you feel better.
Did you get an invite to Thomas's new restaurant?
I don't need an invite, I'm on the permanent list.
What is this?
He hasn't opened yet, and there's a permanent list already?
Tell Chris there's a pre-appetizer party before the cocktail party at Philippe's.
Just don't tell Rodman, he should find out about it on his own.
Oh, God, I feel sick.
You didn't drink one of Sondra's specials, did you?
It's good for him. lt'll help him sleep.
He's really stressed.
If I were you, I would find a bed and a large bucket...
then lie down fast.
You're so good, you always think about other people.
We went to the golf course for a little while, but everyone was high on X.
I know.
I was there about 2:00....
You feel better?
I hope we didn't wake you.
Helicopter.
You slept right through dinner and all of tonight's parties.
Are you feeling all right?
Yeah.
I think I'm getting it out of my system.
You artists are all alike. Bad sleeping habits.
How about...
some iron-enhanced shark cartilage?
Apartment fire at 487 South Grand Boulevard...
Engine 89, respond please.
Gotta go.
Doesn't he have a job to go to in the morning?
Don't you have auditions to go to tomorrow?
Auditions?
I'm sorry, did I say that wrong?
I mean as an actress, you know, trying to get work.
Rehearsals. 4:00 a.m. on a Tuesday?
I'm gonna go back to bed.
Okay.
Call me if you have trouble getting to sleep.
-$28,000? -Yeah.
And I'm completely responsible.
I mean, my dad's responsible because it was his credit card.
Relax, Nick. At least you don't have a serial killer stalking you.
Yeah, great.
You know, don't worry about it.
Salon Salon.
Speaking.
No.
I have never rented a convertible in my entire life.
Who is this?
Don't worry about it, I'll pay for the car, seriously.
-You will? -Yeah, I just need you to do me one favor.
-Yeah, anything-- -Smoke out the Collarer.
I have a list of suspects.
A list.
-Great. -There's a good party tonight.
We'll get you a cover, some decent clothes.
A lot of suspects will be there.
You, there. Pull up your pants and let the little cellar boys go home, you poof.
Charles is here.
Charles.
Charles is here.
-Who's Charles? -A leading suspect.
I told him that you were here on vacation, so just play along with that...
and don't mention his weight, 'cause he's very sensitive about that.
Ladies.
Hey, baby.
Her Majesty's representative to the colonies has arrived.
-Colonics? -Colonies, my dear.
Colonics are healthy.
Just embrace your king, loves.
And you must be the young cousin. How's the Harley?
-Drives like a dream. -Good.
Charles Meltzer lll.
British born but unfortunately exiled to these vast wastelands.
Chris tells me you're an artist.
And did he tell you when he's gonna give me back my Ferrari?
Good Lord. He can't still be skulking in the garage.
And he's got the only clicker.
You must tell your cousin to come out. He's missing lots of parties.
I think it's time for you to see the automobile.
-The automobile? -Yes. The automobile. Come along.
It's not gonna turn my skin green, is it?
Intruder alert.
We have GPS, scanners for both fire and police.
Two-way radio, three phone lines and a fax.
A voice-activated lnternet access with heads-up laser display.
You understand? Now it has been completely rebuilt for speed.
Here we have the brains. A $16,000 digital stereo equipment...
which I got for a steal.
Here we have a Navy prototype, anti-police radar...
which is not available to the general public...
which, of course, I am most definitely not. And last but not least...
loudspeakers.
This is the voice of Charles.
You there, please stop molesting the sheep. We need them to make our sweaters.
Chemical Brothers!
No, love, that's so old.
Hang on.
Here, dance to this.
It's very nice.
Yes, it is.
So, what do you do?
Hang on.
What did you say?
I just asked what kind of business you're in.
I don't follow.
Business, you know, work. A job.
A job? Oh, no, get it off me.
No, my friend. I'm no PWJ.
"Person With Job." A worker, drone, the bore.
Me neither.
I was led to believe that you were an artist...
a man of lots of leisure, free time.
A painter.
Good, a painter. A painter indeed.
Nick, my boy...
I hope you can fathom just how perfect this all is.
Come to this tonight.
Turn it down.
Fuck you.
You didn't tell them about that opening tonight.
Course not.
-But why did you invite them? -I thought you invited them.
I invited them to the dinner, not the party.
Who's not invited?
Daphne and the others.
As in Daphne and the others who are standing right over there?
Why can't they come?
They can come, but they must find out about it themselves.
They're eye candy.
You do like candy, don't you, Nick?
Yeah.
I love it.
Good.
I bet they know about a party and they're not inviting me.
Hi, Kiki.
It's Kiki. Speak or die.
Hi, Kiki, it's Nick Peters.
Yeah, you got it, baby.
Of course, baby, you got it.
Very good. Thank you. I shall take the larger suite.
I will send in my list for a yacht cruise next week.
Anyway, I was just calling to see if you wanted to go to this party tonight.
Shit, the barbecue. I forgot, we should get going or we'll be late.
It's not a problem?
Good.
Hang on a second.
Hello.
I just got a very strange call from the credit-card company.
Something about a very large charge from a rental-car agency.
They do that. They always charge the full amount when you rent the car...
and then when you return it, they give it back.
We'll find out about it at the barbecue.
-lt started two hours ago. We're already late. -But we're fashionably late.
If we wait any longer, we'll simply be late.
The man said something about an electrical fire.
Ma, the car's fine.
By the time we get ready, we're going to be completely late.
Shit!
-Thanks. -I gotta go.
$28,000.
Buenos Aires for $600,000.
What does he do?
Very good. See you then, okay then.
The Temple Bar, 9:00.
I have reservations for many. We'll have a swimmingly good time.
See you then, love.
-How would you like to be my date tonight? -I'd love to, Sondra...
but I can't 'cause I got another date.
-Have we got a Nick Peters here? -That's me.
That makes you the lucky artist of the day.
I've got big toys for you here, handsome, courtesy of your cousin, Chris.
Just play along. It's part of your cover.
I don't have a cover.
What's that?
It's an easel for painting on.
You know, when my friends ask me about parties...
I always tell them.
I've discovered there's something going on tonight, and they're keeping it a secret.
Don't know anything about that, Daphne.
That's probably poisonous.
I can't believe they call this "watermelon."
It's a color, it's not a flavor.
Sure you're not going to a party tonight?
Daphne, I'm not going to any party tonight.
So, what do you think of Rodman and Charles as suspects?
I think that being a serial killer would interfere with their social lives.
But on a scale of suspicion, how would you rate them?
Like 10 being Ted Bundy and 1 being your mother?
I would say that Rodman's a 2...
Charles is a 1.
Incidentally, Mom is a 3.
That looks pretty good. Now try the Armani.
What do Charles and Rodman do for a living?
What do you mean?
Obviously, they've both got lots of money...
but I think that if I knew what they did for a living...
that I could find some sort of connection to them being the killer.
A job doesn't make you kill, unless of course you work in the post office.
When are you gonna pay for my car?
As soon as you find the killer.
Should be careful where you leave your jacket.
Ready to go?
No, no one's going inside.
Fire Marshal shut us down.
No one's going in.
Nobody's getting in? What are you talking about?
Hello, there. How are you, my friend? Good to see you.
-I will be at the bar. -Okay.
Do I know you?
Hello.
Hey, coz. How goes the investigation?
Fine. Listen, Chris, about this investigation....
Look for the biggest table.
Tell me when you see a man holding a cigar.
Yeah, okay, I got him.
Good, that's Jack Dane, a definite suspect.
Maybe as high as an 8 on the suspicion scale.
Give the phone back and interrogate him.
-Good luck on your mission. -Don't distract him.
He's that famous artist-detective guy.
Excuse me.
-Who the fuck are you? -Nick Peters.
Chris Peters' cousin.
Well, fuck my mother's ass. Sit down.
Join us. Here, have a drink. So, how is your faggot cousin?
-ls he coming here tonight? -No, he's at home, locked in the garage.
I'd offer you a cigar, except for that fucking California law.
New York, that's a real city...
where you can still fucking smoke inside.
Good thing pussy is still dynamite here...
or I'd be gone in a Jew York minute.
Jack...
you are Jewish.
-Hi. -Hi.
I'm Cynthia.
I'm his wife.
Sit down. Fourth wife. Remember that, bitch.
The other two are dead. Terrible, horrible accidents.
-Jack likes to pretend he killed them. -Shut up.
Plus, I got news for you. You're not in my fucking will.
-Fuck you, Jack. -"Fuck you!"
Fist-fuck you!
Come on! How about another bottle here, for Christ's sake?
I had to stock the bar with my own shit yesterday.
Cost a lot of money. But it's worth it, you know.
Raoul.
Just in time. Thanks, babe. Wait, hold on.
Here. Stay close, okay?
Keep awake. Maybe I'll let you blow me later.
Thank God I'm fucking rich.
Wait. Stop there.
Gotta go.
Word is that you're an artist.
Yeah. I'm an artist.
What kind of artist? Director, writer, fruit actor, what?
-Painter. Artist. -Really? Man!
Are you screwed in this fucking disaster of a culture vacuum.
Jesus, come on, for Christ's sake, what's wrong with you people?
-Doesn't anybody want a drink? -I do, lawyer-boy.
Oh, shit.
Nancy fucking Drew.
You're a friend of his?
No, we just met.
Did he tell you he's a mouthpiece for the Mob?
Come on, please. Cut out the shit. How'd you find me?
Anonymous tip. I saw you pull over that Rodman character.
He's friends with that big Englishman, right?
Bulay gave Mishiko a meerkat for their 90-day anniversary.
-A mere what? -Meerkat.
It's some sort of African cat. Like a Siamese.
Actually, it's more rodent than feline.
Like a wharf rat.
-What are you, some sort of brain scientist? -Yeah.
Two more, please.
-Do you know what he does? -Ask him.
I did. It's like, if I even mention having a job around here...
everyone gets all weird.
Speaking of jobs, I saw you on TV.
Yeah, that's the easiest place to find me.
So, are you becoming friends with the whale-man?
What, are you talking about my wallet or my dick?
I've never seen a limp whale, so it must be about your wallet, orca-boy.
-Fuck off. -Eat me.
Come on, let's go.
I have a gun.
I'm really glad you came out tonight.
-I wouldn't miss it. -Please. Jesus. Fuck.
Do I have to listen to this shit? I think I'm gonna vomit.
Do you want a drink or not?
I just came by to ask who you're supporting in the primary.
Primary?
Come on. It's mayor time, and you're one of the major string-pullers.
Thought you were a crime reporter.
You get your man into City Hall, it's crime waiting to happen.
Oh, my God. Did anyone else just see that?
I wanna buy one of your paintings.
Hello?
I wanna get one of your paintings.
My paintings.
I'm sorry, they're all locked up in my loft in New York.
So?
Paint a new one.
I just don't have very much time while I'm out here.
Besides, who says you can afford it?
Wait. We can afford it.
What are you, some fucking New York hotshot?
You don't know what's hot. You're not in the New York scene anymore.
He's ranked in Artists' Weekly, for Christ's sake.
What the fuck is Artists' Weekly?
You see, they don't even know.
All right, look, I want you to paint my portrait.
We want a big one. A big, fat one.
Yeah, a big portrait.
-Let's go outside, Nick. It's smokey time. -Okay.
Bye. We'll talk later.
-lt got chilly. -Here, take mine.
Kiki, did you see something weird back at the bar?
God, yes. I can't believe they tried to buy a painting directly from you...
and not through your managers.
Yeah. Usually my managers deal with that stuff.
Sometimes it's the agents, but usually it's the managers.
Didn't I tell you, my ovaries are back to normal?
Cool. Now we can call the guy with the website tomorrow.
Chris.
Listen, get me a pizza on your way back, how about it?
Listen, I think I saw something back at the bar. I think I saw Death.
See? I knew it! I told you you were close. Now he knows you're on to him.
Don't forget the pizza.
Listen to me. There's a four-alarm at Pico.
We can make it back in time for the party at Lemon Tree.
Party?
There's a party at Lemon Tree?
Every time I see that guy, he's chasing a fire truck.
I wonder if anybody but me has any suspicions.
-Hello, everyone. -It's the big man who should run for mayor.
-Don't you think? -Yeah.
-Yes, hello. -Hey.
What's all the whispering?
Wouldn't have anything to do with girth or weight, would it?
No. Kiki was just saying that you should run for mayor.
Come on, Charles. It's primary time, and you already know everybody.
Unfortunately, love, none of these people vote.
And besides, it would be such a costly venture.
Besides, I'm English.
I think she was just kidding.
I do adore the title "Mayor."
Yes. Mayor Charles Meltzer.
You think your friend Jack would support my campaign?
-I can always ask him. -Splendid.
You could start a new party and call it the lmperials.
What a brilliant idea!
Yes. Charles and the lmperials.
Sounds like a group.
Everyone, I'm running for Mayor.
He's really serious.
Let's go some place nicer to drink.
Thank you.
I'm 28. I'd like to get that right out of the way.
In a town where all the women wanna be 23...
I think it's one of the things that makes me so special.
That's why I like New York so much. Age doesn't seem to matter.
-So, how long have you lived in SoHo? -Since my first show.
I'm thinking about moving to TriBeCa. Thought I'd get away from all the trendoids.
Good for you, Nick. Keep it real.
You might be the only thing in all of L.A. that is real.
Everyone's so full of bullshit here. This whole town stinks.
It's a mess. Completely unreal.
-It's a mess everywhere. -It's overkill.
It's out of whack with reality.
And unfortunately, L.A. is beginning to set the standard nationwide.
What happens in America becomes the future of the world.
So, pretty soon, this'll be reality.
Yeah, that's a very good point.
Have you ever been in a room full of people...
and seen something they didn't?
You mean like truth or beauty?
No, I mean like Death.
You are so deep.
Draw me something.
What, right now?
I couldn't.
I'm not warmed up right now. I mean, I don't even have a pen.
Thank you.
I can't.
-I'm really down on my art these days. -Critics?
Oh, God, Nick. Don't let them get you down.
They're just little people with little minds.
You stay true to yourself and your talent.
lt'll keep you honest.
-I know you. -Fuck you.
I know her.
Beer's in the fridge.
I'm gonna do the proverbial "slipping into something more comfortable."
So make yourself at home.
Unless, of course, you spit on the floor and fart at home.
I'm fascinated with this Collarer killer.
So is half the city.
-Any clue as to who he is? -It's one of my lead stories.
He's a mafia hit man. That's about all we know.
Why are you so interested?
I was thinking about doing a series of portraits on serial killers.
You know, start out with the regular murderers...
and head towards the guys who like to dress up and stuff.
You wouldn't happen to know any serial killers who like to dress up as....
I don't know....
Death?
So, Nick...
are you a sporting man?
Are you awake?
Yeah.
Can't sleep without your special pillow?
I forgot Chris' pizza.
Do you have the keys?
Stay.
Are you comfortable?
Yeah?
There's something else.
It's about the whole...
artist thing.
The whole "me being an artist."
I wanted to tell you, but....
Hang on, lover.
Work never stops.
Hello?
Shit. I'll be right there.
The Collarer just took out a whole gang in Chinatown. I gotta go.
Wait.
What about the keys?
Call me tomorrow.
Wait.
Hello.
Wait.
I got the keys over there.
Could you help me get the keys? Over here.
Do you see where my toe's pointing?
Los llaves estan alla.
Right there. No!
Hey, this is Kiki. Leave your badge or parole number after the tone.
Nick, Nick, playtime's over!
Call a taxi. Don't forget the pizza. Extra pineapple, buddy.
Relax. At least, you didn't have Death pointing at you.
That would not be good.
What, do you think he's after me now?
Can't say. He's Death.
Thanks for the pizza. They won't deliver up here since I shot at them.
You really made an impression on Jack Dane.
He called me this morning. Wants you to do a portrait of him today.
-I thought he was just drunk. -No.
Your cover's working.
I don't have a cover.
Sure you do. You're a hot artist.
But I don't know how to paint a portrait. Everybody's gonna know that it's a sham.
I really like this girl.
I don't want her to know that I'm lying.
She's not gonna know, don't worry about it. Nobody's gonna know.
In L.A., you are what you say you are.
-I wanna be an astronaut, then. -No can do.
You said you're an artist. You're an artist.
You pigeonholed yourself there. You have to do the portrait.
-Chris? -What?
What am I gonna do about Death...
and my car?
Don't worry about it.
You smoke out the killer, we dodge Death, I write a check.
Relax. It's all taken care of. It's in the works.
Charles is gonna pick you up for breakfast.
You have a lot of suspects to interview.
Do you think that any of them have a motive?
Motive? What are you talking about?
Killers normally have a....
The Collarer doesn't need a motive, Nick!
He's not sitting around his apartment thinking about motives.
He just wants me dead. Don't you understand that?
You just put the pressure on him, and we're gonna stop him.
We're gonna do this.
Yes, Mayor Meltzer! Vote for me on Tuesday.
-Charles. -Charles.
I said Tuesday. Vote for me, love.
I'm not here, so spit it out.
Hi, Kiki, it's me, Nick.
Yes, vote for me for Mayor.
Mayor Charles Meltzer lll.
So I'll try you back later. Bye.
Not to worry, young Nick. You're going to absolutely love the birds at this restaurant.
-Yeah, I can barely wait. -You can barely guess my weight?
No, I said--
That's rather rude of you, considering we've just met.
I didn't say anything about your weight.
Good.
It's not easy being a stranger in a strange land.
The truth of the matter is that model-types...
they're with me because they feel safe around me.
I'm their blithering teddy bear...
that they hug and cuddle, but do not do.
Hey, you! How are you? Have a nice day. Good to see you.
Can I get you anything else?
So, next Tuesday. Any questions?
So we close the curtain and flick the lever next to your name?
That's all.
We close the curtain before and then flick the lever?
Before. That is correct, yes.
Should we eat first, or will they be serving food?
Drug tests?
Good day. Nick, come along.
How are you? Good to see you.
Hello, John, my boy. How are you? Good to see you.
Marvelous. Yes. Quite a good day. Hello.
You missed all last night's parties. Not that you know where any of them are.
Sondra, I think I should warn you that if you're not nice to Nick here...
I shall have you thrown to the lions.
You can't do that in America.
How wrong you are, dear. You see, when I'm elected Mayor...
I shall change all these colonial laws to those of the Crown.
You can sit with us, Nick. Mayor Boob cannot.
As if I wish to sit with you cows.
You may sit and moo with the cows. I'll be back to collect you.
Hello! Good to see you. How are you?
He really does know everyone, doesn't he?
But he won't be back for you.
Are you ladies enjoying ourselves? But we just wanted to come by...
and invite you all around to our house tonight for a small party.
You must be the cousin?
We have heard all sorts of wonderful things about you and your incredible work.
Thank you.
Della Fontaine.
You must come to our party and see our art collection.
Our card.
We're a wonderful judge of art, Nick...
and we cannot imagine not having one of your major pieces...
on one of our major walls.
See you tonight. Ta-ta.
Hi, Chris.
What do you think? That girl with the big hat.
-Weird, huh? -Yeah.
-Could be a suspect. -I'm all over it.
Nick, my boy, I've arranged transportation for you. Let's go.
That's great. Just as long as it gets me back to Earth.
11:00 on a Wednesday...
and everyone's just sitting around in coffee shops without jobs.
Not like me. I have a job.
My job is to find a killer, or something like that.
I'm a killer, you fucking winged rats! Fucking dumping on my cars?
Come on in.
Oh, God.
You got to love this big, bad Collarer.
Please, sit down.
He's making life in this dull town interesting. You know what I mean?
Yeah, nothing like a serial killer to liven things up.
I agree.
So, what I heard was that the Collarer...
may actually be a mafia hit man.
Did you hear anything like that?
No.
-I bet you have an alibi. -Handcuffed tight.
What is that, a sex thing? A joke, maybe?
I thought your cousin was the retard. You were the talent.
Sit down. Make yourself comfortable.
200-year-old Armagnac.
Costs $600 a bottle.
Cheers.
Breakfast of champions.
Oh, God.
Was I drunk last night? I think I branded my wife.
Branded her?
I got a branding iron with my name on it for my "love it" stuff.
You know? I think I stuck her with it.
Right on her ass. Shit, she's gonna be pissed if I really did that.
Come on, sit down.
I want to start with this portrait stuff, okay?
Especially since I'm gonna be paying you $100,000.
I don't have the patience to pose all day. Take that sketch pad there.
All right, sketch me.
Sketch me while I'm talking. I want a big canvas.
A big canvas, right?
I said I wanted a big one! Right! We agreed on that, didn't we?
Didn't we? Fuck, we agreed on that, okay?
All right? I'll give you $1 25,000. Nothing more than that, okay?
-$125,000? -$150,000, that's it. Bottom line, okay?
And I get first dibs on everything else you do.
-Deal? -Sure.
Good morning.
It lives.
-You want something to eat there, baby? -No thanks. I already ate.
Like that fucking creature can cook.
Hey, douche bag...
forget about that idiotic Poliero.
We got an authentic....
-Nick, what's your last name again? -Peters.
Peters. We got an authentic Nick Peters here.
Baby, I'm just so thrilled, okay? Whoop-di-doo.
Jack!
Better go downstairs. Wait for me in the office.
Things are going to get rough up here.
What the fuck is wrong with my ass?
You fucking animal! I should kill you, you fucking bastard!
Fuck you, douche bag. You didn't complain last night.
Hello, I was passed out drunk, you psychotic fuck!
Put that gun down!
What are you going to do with that, stupid? You gonna kill me?
-Good idea, motherfucker. -Oh, God, no.
Pitiful.
Good God, no!
What's up with this shit?
You shot up the bar. No!
-Yeah, down with the $600 bottle, baby! -Not the cognac!
Now for the whiskey.
Call me a bitch now, punk.
-Kiki? What the hell are you doing? -I said....
I tried to call you.
What are you doing here?
lnvestigative reporting. Now keep quiet or you're going to get me arrested.
Did you break in here?
What are you, five? Of course I broke in. I'm an investigative reporter.
Did you find out any more information on the Collarer?
What in the hell is going on up there?
It's Jack's wife. She just found out that he branded her.
He what?
I just hope she's a lousy shot...
because he just offered me $150,000 to paint his portrait.
Then you better go back and stop her before she kills him.
And don't say anything to anyone about me.
I'll see you later.
You gotta make nice to the bitch. She wants us to rearrange our little art deal.
You're rearranging our art deal?
Yeah, we both were very drunk last night.
She really wants a painting by Poliero.
You heard of him, right? He's this Mexican painter.
He does these wall murals in the barrio. They're all over the place.
-ln the barrio? -Yeah, right.
So, what she really wants you to do is do a portrait of me like Poliero.
-Like a Poliero? -Yeah, right. Great.
Forget about this posing shit. Here, take a photo.
Make it look like a goddamn Poliero, okay?
Okay, but his style is much different than mine. It's not....
$200,000.
Get your sorry ass down to the barrio. Start at the train yards.
Call me when it's done.
See you.
Ciao.
Need something? 'Cause you came to the "white" place.
-I'm Sisqo and I see you need a little-- -Directions.
For slamming or smoking? You want some chieva, some opium?
Or do you prefer to call it heroin. It is, dude.
What are you, a smoker or a shooter?
No, I'm just looking for these wall paintings.
Say what? You yanking my chain, fool?
You be yanking my chain, man, I'll fuck you up right here.
No, I'm just looking for these wall paintings.
A guy named Poliero.
Oh, shit.
Check it out, my white boy here, he looking for murals. Poliero.
White boy, you looking for murals, hop in.
Or you'll be looking for the hospital.
What about me?
-Bye. -I'm half-white.
You're lucky I came by. Those guys could have killed you.
-They don't know a thing about art. -Neither do l.
Are you in the movie business?
-It's a long story. -Got some time, baby.
My semi-crazy cousin bought me a ticket from New York, right?
And I met this amazing girl on the plane.
And it turns out that my semi-crazy cousin, he's completely crazy...
because he thinks that someone's trying to kill him.
At that point, I probably should have left.
But then my car caught on fire, he said that he'd pay for it...
but only if I'd help him track down this serial killer.
It turns out that my semi-crazy cousin might not be completely crazy after all...
because I saw Death, too.
-El muerte? -Yeah.
So now I'm thinking that I'm in trouble.
I try to get some information out of this reporter girl.
Then I get hooked up with this scary guy, Jack...
who wants me to paint his portrait in a Poliero style.
But now, I'm thinking that he might be the killer.
Is he in the movie business?
I don't know what anyone around here does.
'Cause I have this screenplay. I'd love for you to read it.
You know, creative input. You being an artist and all.
Then you can pass it on to some of your movie-business friends.
I don't know anything about the movie business.
I mean, I'm just trying to fake this art thing so I can impress the girl and fix my car.
If you want to impress a lady in L.A., art isn't where it's at, man. Movies.
Be a freaking producer.
Shit, I wish I would have said I was a producer.
Who's stopping you now? Just say it. "I'm a producer."
-Okay. I'm a producer. -Good.
I'll call my lawyer, tell him I have a producer interested and all.
It's on the way.
All right.
Better get going.
These people have the only copy of the screenplay.
And we're in the middle of arbitration to get it back.
Feel like a producer yet?
Forget it. I don't want to be a producer anymore.
But you will when you see how good my script is.
Oh, God!
I only took one extension course...
and I don't know anybody in the movie business.
My mother works in a nail salon, okay?
Shit. Fuck you, motherfucker!
When a script is that fucking good, you have to fight to keep it, man!
Here. Now, you produce the script.
I don't want to die this way. My God, I gotta get out of here.
We're in the middle of arbitration. You can't leave now.
You just lost your 10%.
Am I glad to see you.
-What are you doing here? Drugs? -I don't do drugs.
You drink coffee and sip alcohol. Those are drugs.
But I don't do heroin or coke or anything.
Hello.
Yeah, I need a red cabriolet for a friend in Guam. Okay, later.
I haven't noticed you smoking, but nicotine's a drug, too.
As is aspirin or any flu medication.
It's too bad about this building. It had this huge mural painting on it.
Some guy named Poliero.
Get the hell out of this neighborhood before dark.
And stay off the drugs.
Oh, yeah. Coco called. Gotta go.
I need a ride!
-Excuse me, are you a registered voter? -Not in this state.
Mayor Charles will abolish the states.
Fuck you.
Wonderful.
I do declare! Nick!
This is the brilliant young artist we were just telling you about.
You must be working hard.
They never care about their personal hygiene...
when they're creating.
We were just comparing this dreadfully boring exhibit...
to your simply exciting new style.
You must tell us your opinion of it.
I don't like to harsh on other people's work.
A true genius without any fear of base competition.
My niece is an artist and she just came back from New York, too. Sweetheart.
This is the guy we were talking about.
I think we met.
You probably went to one of my openings.
I don't know. The only opening I was at was at the Dyson Gallery.
Yeah, that was it.
That was a sculpture exhibit. I thought you were a painter.
I do both.
Come, come, we mustn't interfere with his creativity.
Wonderful.
$200,000.
Pay for rent-a-car. Pay for caviar.
Impress Kiki. Escape death. Go home.
My doctor said it was an acute case of the gout brought on by the injection.
That's impossible, Sondra.
Giraffe urine's been used for years over in Africa.
It's an ancient anti-aging agent.
Why do I feel so sick?
Maybe the ancients didn't exactly inject the urine into their asses.
Are you going to the barbecue?
-No, I'm going inside. -You're not gonna go to Kamal's barbecue?
I don't even know Kamal.
Let me know if you're going 'cause I really wanna go.
So go.
-Alone? -Take Sondra.
I can't go. I have laser surgery today.
Vladimir. Jesus, that reminds me, I have a piercing at 2:30.
Sorry, I can't go to the barbecue with you, you'll just have to go alone.
This call's for you.
Chris.
Mom?
My stars, Nicky, I've been on this phone for 20 minutes.
What are you doing?
What were those girl talking about giraffes? What are you?
In a zoo?
Some guy wants to pay me a bunch of money to paint his portrait.
Someone wants to pay you money to paint?
That's wonderful.
Yeah, but he wants me to do it in a Poliero style.
So, what's a Poliero?
Who cares?
Ma, I can't even paint.
And even if I could, I can't find any of this guy's paintings.
I gotta go. I love you.
And don't worry about the car. Bye.
You should go to Della's party tonight. She has a Poliero.
If I wanted to end this charade and get out of L.A...
I knew I had to come face to face with the infamous Poliero.
It seemed hopeless, but I had to try.
Della.
Hello!
Look, it's C. Thomas Howell.
No, I'm Nick.
Chris' cousin. We were just talking this afternoon.
Oh, dear us.
And here we thought you were something simply so base as an actor.
Not that all actors are base, dear.
You must excuse us. We Southern ladies simply speak what we think.
And of course, we think you, sir, are a genius.
The buzz is everywhere. What do you think of this wall?
It's a great wall.
For your piece, sweetie.
For the big painting your cousin's been promising we get first bid on.
We're seeing him tomorrow at noon in the garage to go over the contract.
Rodman was telling me that you had a Poliero painting...
-somewhere in the house. -Hello.
And I was wondering if I could see it.
It is a nice wall.
I also co-executive sub-produced a film with Harry Dean Anderson...
called Miami Fish Machine.
-Nicky? -Vinnie?
-Holy shit! -Fucking A.
A fellow Jerseyan.
What's up?
-Two, three years? -Yeah.
You still into undergarments?
Yeah, I am.
But, listen, if anybody asks you, I'm a famous artist, okay?
Okay, dude. Sure.
By the way...
I'm head tiger-trainer for Siegfried and Roy.
-Love that shirt. -This?
Between me and you, I hate this shirt.
But I wear it to piss my sister off whenever I visit her.
Wait, Debbie? You're telling me my old baby-sitter's in L.A.?
What, are you kidding? You were just talking to her.
Your hostess, Nick.
A nose job, blond hair dye, big hats....
-A new accent, boobs. -Definitely boobs.
You're telling me Della Fontaine is Debbie Maneros from Jersey?
Fucking-A right.
Jersey State Lottery, man. But she left New Jersey way behind.
We are now from Kentucky.
This is good. This is really good.
There you are.
I need to impose upon you for a favor. Please.
Charles, I can't. I got to find the Poliero.
When I am elected mayor, it would honor me greatly...
if you would paint my portrait.
You see, it's customary to have the hottest artist in town do so.
And according to the buzz around town, you, my friend, are he.
That's great. But don't they normally just take pictures?
No, I want to change all that. Elegance, my friend. Elegance.
Carry on. Come along.
So you drink the snake's blood? I thought it was a douche.
-Just go ahead and take those. Mingle. -Okay.
Hey, Debbie.
Excuse us? Who are you looking for?
If I hear one more word of that Scarlett O'Hara spiel...
I'm gonna start screaming "Jersey."
Like you got nothing to hide.
"Ranked in Artists' Daily." How did you even come up with that one?
Yeah, but you got a lot more to lose than I do, don't you?
What do you want, Nicky?
It's way past the diaper-changing days.
The Poliero. Where is it?
You won't tell anyone I'm from Jersey?
Where's it, Della?
Right there.
-That's it? -Yeah.
-How much did you pay for that thing? -$175,000.
And you hung it in the kitchen?
I wanted people to see it, and people always end up in the kitchen.
That's not even art. It's stick figures.
Hell, I do stick figures really well.
Nicky, we have a deal, right?
You're not gonna tell anyone?
We'd be ruined.
Hang on. Nick, I've just received a call. I'm on the ballot.
It's a new party. It's called the lmperials.
You're getting quite popular.
I just ran into a pair of French playboys who claim they're your patrons.
Listen, Kiki...
I got to tell you about this artist thing. I was....
Now I remember you.
You were taking that drawing class at Cooper Union.
You're not a painter. You're not even a good student.
Liar.
You lied to me?
-I tried to tell you so many times-- -You lied.
To me? Me?
Gotta go.
I can't believe a rube like you pulled a fast one on me.
I'm a frigging crime reporter, for Christ's sake.
I trusted you.
God, I slept on your pillow.
I'm so sorry that I lied. I really am.
I just couldn't tell you that I was a schmuck who sold undergarments.
I wanted to impress you.
Then I had to play up the whole artist thing so that I could pay for my car.
-I thought you didn't have a car. -lt burned.
-Burned? -Then I saw Death twice.
Death?
I started realizing that Jack Dane may be the killer.
Which is why I agreed to paint his portrait...
so I could get in there and get information and get some clues from him.
That, and so that I could get him to help me pay for my car...
so I could get back to Jersey.
-New Jersey? -Yeah.
Oh, my God.
I know.
Don't book your ticket yet, imposter-boy.
You're right about Jack Dane. He is involved.
Come home with me. I have proof.
What are you.... No.
Oh, but yes.
-Really, I'm not in the mood. -You'll get in the mood.
Kiki, I'm serious. I got to go home. I got to paint a portrait.
Don't make me hurt you, Nick.
Kiki, can you just tell me?
Tell me if Jack Dane is involved.
And if so, if my cousin Chris is in trouble.
Let's see.
Jack is totally involved...
and your cousin.
So I guess now the only question is...
exactly how involved are you?
Me?
What are you talking about, me?
Until a little while ago, I'd never have suspected you...
but now that I know what a sneaky little liar you are....
Sit right there.
No. Stay away from me.
Stay right there. Don't get anywhere near me.
Shut up!
Jesus, what is your problem?
Chris, what are you doing?
You're ranting. What?
-You're the Collarer? -Someone had to be.
The fucking lunatic is the Death guy?
He wears that crap when he does his fires.
He doesn't destroy the script.
Okay, guys, let's make a deal.
You just killed my girlfriend.
Your girlfriend?
You knew her two days. She was about to blow the lid off Jack's Mob connections.
I can't have that.
I can't have that. Election day.
Come on.
You set me up.
I didn't want to involve you. I really didn't.
But somebody had to get close to her...
to find out what she knew, and you did it. Thank you.
You're a murderer.
And him. Dressing up for fires?
Selling Ferraris all over the fucking world!
He's a fucking arsonist burning down half the city!
Not to mention your car.
I knew it!
And the girls by the pool.
Daphne, and Celeste, and Sondra.
They're not actresses. They're not anything. They're....
Prostitutes.
-Really? -Except Daphne.
She's actually an heiress, which means she doesn't have to work.
Not like the rest of us, God damn it.
Work? You call what you people do work?
Sitting around in coffee shops all day.
People with no jobs. Charles with his $50-million automobile...
dealing out party invitations like tickets to see the fucking Pope?
-What's your point? -I don't have a point. I don't need a point.
I hate you! I hate you!
That's rude.
Is this your fucking cousin?
Okay, easy there, chiquita. You're breaking into somebody's house here.
-Are you in the movie business? -Yeah, actually.
'Cause I have a script for you. It's about my life on the streets.
-I love it. -You should....
You haven't even heard the pitch yet.
He's lying to me.
Smells like gasoline in here.
No, the gasoline. Don't let the lighter hit the floor.
Please...
make my movie.
I don't know how to make a movie.
Nobody does.
You should at least read it.
Okay, Angela, I'll make your movie.
It's a deal.
So, what?
You're gonna kill me now?
Kill you? Why?
'Cause I'm a witness.
You're my baby cousin.
Cops'll think this was a robbery gone bad. Don't worry about it.
Listen, I got to go to the airport.
I have a job in Moscow. Jack's got a branch office out there.
He wants me to go down there and be a motivational speaker.
Got their motivation right here.
But will you do me a favor and feed the dogs for me when I'm gone?
I really liked her a lot.
Boo-hoo. I know. Listen, you're gonna get over it.
Here's the key.
I'm gonna call you from Moscow.
Do me a favor. Strike a match as you leave.
"Don't mess with me, hombre.
"I'm not someone who can be messed with."
"If you don't take back what you said about my mother...
"I will mess with you."
"She does not even know your mother.
"So put down that gun before I mess you up."
Wait, would I really have a gun at this point?
It says right here you have one.
I fucking love it.
You've really captured me, and it's very Poliero.
Here's the rest of your money.
I made it out the way you wanted.
My people'll pick the painting up later.
-How's the script? -We love it.
Then you make the movie.
I had Jack fill out the check to you guys.
It might not be enough, but it's a start.
I'll put up the finishing funds then.
Thank you, Nick.
I need to go now.
-Bye. -Need a lift?
We have to entertain some councilmen at Charles' victory party.
It's on the way.
No, thanks.
Hey!
What did you just do?
I didn't mean anything by it.
You've been flipping me off since I got to town.
I'm sorry.
You don't know how long I have waited...
for someone in this dickless town to give me the finger.
Everybody's so afraid of making the wrong impression and ruining their careers.
I'm Rhonda.
I'm Nick.
Where are you heading, Nick?
Going to my mom's place for dinner.
You're gonna hit rush hour.
Dinner's on Thursday in New Jersey.
-You got tired of it here? -Yeah.
Yeah, I got kind of tired of it.
I'm tired, too, Nick.
Can I come with you?
Yeah, sure.
Come on.
-So what do you do? -I sell underwear.
-Can I turn the radio on? -Sure.
Hey, so now what's going on in the news?
-You're not going to believe this. -Try me.
Mayor Charles has been in office for only one day now...
and already has his first scandal.
Scandal?
Yeah, he appointed that criminal, Jack Dane, Head of Police...
as well as commissar of the Fine Art Department.
Boring. Give me something that affects my life.
How about this: Errol's cat just got over her severe halitosis.
-Who's that guy Pascal? -He's your friend.
No. He's French, so he has to be your friend.
No, he said that he was your friend, Sondra.
And he said that he wanted to be your agent.
That's what I need, another agent.
He said he'll make you like a big movie star.
-Really? -Yeah.
I don't like him, though. I don't like the way he smells.