directly above me...
- and tell them to stop
screaming and yelling...
- and breaking up your furniture?
- Are you sure they're breaking furniture?
Yes! Listen.
- Okay?
- I'll call right away.
What? Hello!
Oh, the man
down-fucking-stairs, eh?
Well, thank you very fucking much!
- Rick. Where are you going?
- What?
Where am I going?
Downstairs to talk to this fucking man!
We're gonna get thrown
out of here, damn it!
All right!
I'm coming!
Calling up,
getting me in trouble!
You!
- What's with you, man?
- Wait a goddamn minute!
- Who the fuck are you?
- Who the fuck are you?
- You hit on my old lady...
- I want you out!
- What are you blaming him for?
- You know fucking well why.
You said I'm always comin' on to guys
the minute your back is turned.
Well, you're right. I pick up guys all
the time, whenever I get the chance!
- And you wanna know why?
- Why?
- Because you are a boring...
- Arrogant.
- Arrogant!
- Sanctimonious!
- Sanctimonious!
- Cocksucker.
- Oh, you little... Ow! Jesus!
- I picked him up, Rick!
Hey!
Hey, turns out great,
don't it?
While you're screwin' him,
I'll move out.
Oh, I like that.
Don't be stupid.
Hey, don't panic,
you little wanker.
I pack real fast. Ta.
- Oh, God, I'm so sorry.
- It's okay.
Hey, wait, wait, wait a minute.
Hang on.
- Don't go back up there.
- No, I'll just... I'll just go take a walk.
No, no, no.
You take a seat and relax.
Give him time to get out.
Okay? Sit down.
- Don't be nice to me, please.
- Okay, I won't.
- Would you like a drink?
- No, thanks.
Look. I've caused you
enough trouble.
- I really think I should leave.
- No, you shouldn't.
Now, come on.
It's not your fault.
Even if I did
buy you a drink...
because we had a kind of
mutual exchange...
across a crowded room, that guy had
no business beating you up like that.
- He didn't exactly...
- Who is he? What does he do?
Uh, Rick Curry, he's the lead guitarist
for the Moon Rocks.
Naturally.
- Why naturally?
- Because rock groups like that...
and lead guitarists like Rick
are an unnatural phenomenon,
put on this earth, I suspect,
to test my reality.
I don't know how
I could have missed it.
By the way, I'm Zach Hutton.
How do you do. Amy McKenna.
Amy. Well, I'm sorry
we had to meet like this,
but it's better than
not meeting at all, I hope.
So, what do you do, Zach?
I write and, um, occasionally
I wear orange-and-yellow pajamas.
Usually under a robe.
I'll be right back. Don't go away.
Amy, love, fuck you!
- Amy?
- Yeah?
Where's your home?
My home? Um...
well, I was working
in Seattle when I met Rick.
- He's got a house in New Jersey,
but we travel a lot. - Mm-hmm.
Um, originally
I'm from New Orleans.
New Orleans? Do you know what
it means to Miss New Orleans
- Do you know that song?
- Yeah. My father loves jazz.
How does he feel
about the Moon Rock?
Um, he's never met him.
I don't think he'd like him.
- So, where do you come from, Zach?
- Uh, geographically...
- or emotionally?
- Both.
Well, I was born in Philadelphia,
but I come from New Orleans.
- You like jazz?
- Oh, I love it.
Hmm. But you prefer
heavy metal.
- No, I prefer good music.
- Well, that eliminates heavy metal.
- I love good heavy metal.
- Really? That's impossible.
That's like saying,
"I love good root canal."
You sound like my father.
Oh, no, I know.
Sometimes that can be a major handicap.
What times?
Sounding like a father when I'm trying
to impress a young female under...
- twenty-two?
- Twenty-five.
- Oh, especially those times.
- Well, you could lie.
Then I wouldn't know
if it was me or the lie.
I'd have to start lying
about my age.
Oh, come on. How old are you?
You couldn't be more than 35.
Close. I'm 33.
- Well, good night, Zach. Thanks for everything.
- Good night.
You were terrific.