Bringing Down the House Page #2

I would suggest|you run to the kitchen

and get some tuna tartare|for William Shakespeare

on the house.

Yes, sir.

I'm terribly sorry, ma'am.

Where and when tomorrow?

Hello, Mr. Sanderson.

Oh, Mrs. Kline.|Always a pleasure.

And when am I going to|get to babysit

with your charming|little Georgey again?

Oh, uh, well, uh, soon,

because he just loves|coming over to your place.

Uh, Mr. Sanderson?

Those Latin people|who were skulking around...

Oh. They were looking|at the Aruda house.

Casing it?

No, uh, to buy it.

Oh, please.

If they're in this block and not|carrying a leaf blower...

Well, I'd love to discuss this|with you further,

but I'm expecting someone.

Hey.

Hi.

I hope you like cham...

...poo.

What's up, baby?

Ooh, champagne.|I love champagne.

This for me?

Oh, I'm sorry. I think|you have the wrong house.

It is damn good|to finally connect.

Pardon me?

It's me, fool... Charlene.

Ooh, food.

What?

It's me, honey.|Your date... Lawyer-girl.

You can't be.

Hey, hey, hey.|Leave that alone.

Well, why can't I?

Because you're not a blonde.

Can't get nothing past you.

You must be|a bomb-ass lawyer.

Oh, look at all|of these pretty candles...

all romantic and sh*t.

Somebody was planning|on getting some booty tonight.

Hey! Leave that alone.|There are settings.

And you can't be Charlene,|because Charlene is more of...

Skinny white broad?

Yeah.

You know, I get that a lot.

But that's your fault|you're thinking that, bro.

You must have not have took|a good look at that picture.

I have looked|at that picture a lot,

and trust me,|you are not in it.

Move, move, move.|Let me do it.

See?

There I am.

Sorry you got it|twisted, dog.

I don't get a lot of|photo ops where I been.

Where exactly have you been?

I got a rumble in the jungle.|We still having dinner or what?

I asked you a question.

Rolex.

Rolex?

I did time, baby,|but I ain't do the crime.

You're a convict?

Bump that.

Shoot,|Roscoe cracked that door.

I kicked it off the heezy|and bounced.

For real, though.

What did you just say?

What, don't you hear good?

All right.

Let's see.|How can I put this?

I was recently liberated|from a correctional facility...

All right. I get it.

You're in the big house, and|you get someone to type for you,

and you get on the Internet,|and you misrepresent yourself.

It happens, and I'm a sucker,

but now you have to go,|because this is over.

Unh-unh. No, no, no.

Biscuit,|you misrepresented yourself.

Boyishly light... please.

Gray.

You said you was|a criminal lawyer.

I pulled your file.

You're just some sorry-ass|tax attorney.

A tax lawyer is|a criminal lawyer.

Oh, yeah?

Well, good,|'cause that's why I'm here.

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