Wow, really? Thank you so much. (Although I can't take credit for the Piven or AG's astonishing "Pretty! Want." levels of foamiosity.) But I'm flattered, nonetheless. Don't get many compliments at Sbarro's.

All I can say about this bit is that there's a real freedom in writing about characters your mother will never be curious about. Ari/ Mrs Ari

"Baby, I brought you a little something," Ari Gold held out a brightly wrapped box to his spouse, who remained unimpressed.

She sighed. Ari hated that sound like few things on this planet."If it's lingerie, you mean you brought yourself a little something, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but you end up with the bigger something later, don't you?" He kissed her neck.

"Yeah, Ari, make with the sweet talk, I'm all aquiver. Meanwhile I look like a prostitute at the dry cleaners.And I'm running out of fresh places to take it all. And I've got a luncheon to plan by Thursday, and I just don't have time for your midlife bullshit right now."

"Midlife doesn't start till you're forty-three, baby, and okay, maybe I was a little tacky, but you know I want you bad, right? That sometimes I don't even shower after we do it because I love going into my meetings smelling like you. And it's great for the meetings too, cause I'm like, boom...instant stallion. All because I'm wearing Essence of Gold."

"You don't shower?" Mrs. Ari asked. "I really think you should."

"Oh, okay, you caught me," the agent continued, but he did note that his wife's mood had elevated in a promising direction."Three out of four times I do, but the fourth time is my favorite."

"Really, Ari?"

"Would I lie to you?"

Her withering look hit him like a sharp kick in the jewels. "Okay, I should have said, would I ever lie to you in a substantially relationship-altering fashion, because you know I wouldn't, darling. I signed that contract with Grossman."

"That I'll buy. Do you really love the way I smell?"

"Darling, I would love your tub-ring, if you ever lightened up on the housekeeper enough to have one...."

"If there are rings in the tubs, it means somebody's scratching the porcelain...should I leave a memo about the special cleaner again? The decorator was quite emphatic."

"Baby, remember Game Day?" The second it's out of his mouth he wishes some director, or even that schmuck Grossman, would come out onto his patio, say "Cut," and free him from himself.Fuckin' real life should have dailies.If it did, he would look like a decent person a full forty percent of the time, he's convinced. Ok, thirty-five, with a percentage of back-end karma...at a time like that, it doesn't pay to be too picky.

"Yes,Ari, I do," Usually, he counts it as a win when he's pushed someone so far, he can't see what they're thinking in their eyes anymore. Now, he just feels like shit. But he's good at it, and he didn't get anywhere backing down, so like an asshole, he finishes the thought." Well, that's how I feel about this domestic bullshit. You are a fucking goddess, the light of my life...I never want to know you think about countertops."

"Well, someone has to, Ari. Who will do it if I don't? You?"

"Darling, if you weren't here, I'd be eating out of the dumpster at the Palm, bottle of Scotch in one hand and my cock in the other...you know that."

"And it would be bad Scotch, too," his wife replied, as if this were the sad part. "You have no taste."

"Except you," He kissed her fully on the mouth.

"Okay, I'll give you that. Even though I picked you."

"So you say," he teased. "Maybe I just let you think that as part of my plan. Boom, five steps ahead, baby."

"Yeah, you have your little games, Superagent Gold...I suppose I should see how awful this new gift is."

"You know, I would be insulted, but right now, I'm just thrilled that you'll open your box for me."

"Ari!" But she was only mock-scolding, more laughing than pissed. Score another one for the Miracle Worker, Helen Keller with titanium balls.

"That's what bothers you, not me talking about going into work covered in your...juices?" Ari pointed out. "I don't understand you sometimes."

"Yeah, Ari, like that's news.' she was (continued...)

( continues...) ripping at the gift's paper in that annoyingly careful way he'd come to hate. They were rich enough not to save every box, but...

"But that's flattering and passionate. Like you can't get enough of me. The box joke, on the other hand, makes you sound like a frat-boy...cuntmuscle."

"Of course, you're right, dearest."

"Um, Ari, before we get started...any special reason why you bought me a lab coat?"

O

M

G

!!!

That was pretty cool to write, as well. Kind of lost sight of the fact that I made it up...haven't done that in a long time. That's what She said, on the back of that Vespa, too, right? (and pretty hot, considering nobody took anything off.)

I think this is a bit less inspired than the other stuff. But it has moments.

It was Monday morning at the clinic, and, in addition to the usual full house of weekend warriors and hypochondriacs, the phones were ringing off the hook.

House answered and heard the following "Hi, this is Angela from Mary Hart's office...does Lisa Cuddy work here?"

"Depends on what you mean by work, Angela. My mistress keeps me occupied here. If you know what I mean. And I think you do."

"Really...that's just great. Cause I'm on a tight deadline here, working on a bigger story than this Chase guy anyway, and...hey, aren't you the guy who hung up me before? Only you used that really phony British accent."

"Oh, yes," House replied, accent now firmly in place. "Dreadfully sorry...Deuced unpleasant lack of manners on my part."

"So, does that mean we get access to Dr. Cuddy or not?"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." he hung up.

A different sort of differential was going on at Casa Gold "Oh, but, Mr. Gold, our computers are down and our monitoring equipment is useless. You can't leave till we monitor your heart rate and make sure you don't have..."
Mrs. Ari paused in thought, a gesture fatal in her soap opera days, but then she wasn't allowed to be photographed in a white lab coat and really tiny underwear and sitting in one of her personally selected leather chairs. "Lupus. Yeah, that's it."

"Is it serious, Doctor?"

"Well, without our machinery, I'm just going to have to take it hands on."

"You don't have to spare my feelings, Doctor, just give it to me straight."

And they were prepared to do things that would surely scuff the finish of the antique desk.

Then, an ominous ringing from his jacket pocket. "It's the bat phone, baby, I have to,"

"No!"

"Just hold that thought, for one second. And don't get up."

"Well, darling, without you on top of me, it's a lot less fun having a blotter practically up my ass."

"Use that anger, baby. You're going to need that later, okay?"

Without looking to see who was calling, Gold picked up. "Eric, I swear to god. If there is not a chalk outline being sketched or a car around a pole right this minute, I'm going to use my connections to reach through this phone and have your larynx ripped out. Are we clear?"

"O-kay. You know, Ari, we go back twenty years. A simple 'This isn't a good time, Lisa' would suffice. Although I'd be interested in reading the monograph on that remote laryngectomy."

"Lisa," he laughed hollowly. "You caught me in the middle of a practical joke on young Mr. Murphy." He paced around the room, closing the door so that his wife wouldn't hear, only to find that she had pulled the long coat around herself again and was sitting on the patio, sulking. Well, crap.

"Sounds hilarious, Ari.," she pointed out. "Have you ever thought you can't stand E. because you're really so much alike?"

"Actually, Lisa," he told her. "I try not to let the little things bother me. Including Eric Murphy. But can we talk about this later? I was in the middle of pleasuring my wife....how did you get this number anyway?"

"You know how, Ari. You and every morning show booker in America knows I'm staying with Vince...you know, you are unbelievable!"

"I get that from women a lot," he couldn't resist adding.

"See, that's what I mean. Whenever I think you're being honest, you start throwing around that phony bravado...it's really obnoxious. But I just wanted to apologize...I never wanted you to find out like this. If it'll make you feel any better, I'm sorry I didn't see what I was missing in school. We were all stupid, then, right?"

"I wasn't,"

"No, you weren't...you were human. What happened?"

"What happened to your Dr. House?"

"Oh, he was a jerk long before he hit the top of his chosen profession. I'm afraid that, you, Ari Gold, have a unique cross to bear as far as the assiness of upward mobility."

Loving this like Dean Winchester loves pie.

I just couldn't resist having Ari not be boasting when he's all "Well, off to make it with the wife,"(although for him that's crazy delicate language of course.) And also, that Cuddy thinks he's full of it and he's actually telling the truth. I believe that Ari was probably a geek in school and most of the boasting about suction and Heidi Klum and all that is highly compensatory. Being an agent is not only his ticket to the cool table, it's his way of deciding who else sits there, too.(But of course, a lot of us here know that to be a geek in high school, you don't really have to look like Urkel, right?) He probably feels that Mrs. Ari would have been out of his league if he'd met her sooner, too. Because he follows her around like she's the prom queen he's got no hope of scoring with. I mean, when he's home. ETA: And, also, Ari, I love you. But your phone etiquette...not so much. Not to mention, I picture the teachers at his daughter's school wearing a cup to Parents' Night. Even the women.

Well, so much for this not being long."If I told you you I had a twenty-two part story, is that something you'd be interested in?"

Vince kind of dug it that Lisa had no real interest in Shauna's publicity campaign and it sent him even more when a reporter asked about Mandy and she smiled and said "Which one is she again?" Because Lisa knew about the human gene project, a little gardening, some poetry, but not a hell of a lot about the crazy business that he and the boys thought about twenty-four-seven, or at least as often as they weren't trying to decide which fictional characters to fuck, what sort of draft pick might bring back the Knicks' glory days, or the name of the place with the great cupcakes.

Lisa read shit without pictures in it. Voluntarily. Without bribery or prompting.

He knew he wasn't, like, a moron. Despite some of the opinions he had taken in with the pasta on his dinner table, he thought he was smart about some things. And he was always very fucking good at pretending things were cool when they weren't, which probably made him the actor he was today. The added bonus of watching his apparent calm drive Ari insane? Only came with time.It was weird though, the more the agent strutted, the more Zen Vince got. Cause it wasn't like screaming, cursing, and even threats against his person were that new in Vince's life. He just went to a place in his brain where it was quiet. At least Ari didn't call him a retard when he didn't rise to the bait, like his father had done. He thought he might have some of that attention-deficit thing they were giving the kids all the pills for, because once he got bored? Forget it. But you couldn't act on fuckin' Ritalin(he figured) and anyway, Turtle would probably sell his whole script on EBay anyways. And, anyway, all that old painful shit was, like, water under the dam.

But when he and Lisa were in bed together they made perfect sense. Among other things he could never tell Shauna was that there was one place where he didn't mind being called "Vincent,"

Not that he talked to the guys the way he used to. Sure, they still knew most everything about his life, but he didn't "bang" or "fuck" Lisa like she was some starlet eager to show off her absence of thong lines. Occasionally, he would talk about their "shagging", but he wished the reference had stayed more Johnny Rotten and less Austin Powers. But if your mother couldn't bust you for saying it, it didn't count as a curse, then, right? Vince's old Catholic-boy love of loopholes reasserted itself, big-time.

And Ari? He was, just like...to use Lisa's word, omnipresent. It never failed that they were in the middle of something when he would call with some detail about Lisa's women's clinic, or some embarrassing story about one of their classmates."It's Ari, again."Vince told her. "Maybe I should take it."

"Let me talk to him...I would like your mouth to be busy for a while."

"Do your patients know how nasty you are...underneath those suits you're just my dirty girl."

"I'm an administrator," She panted as he found a good spot. with his fingers "I don't have patients anymore. Just lawyers, and shareholders, and House."

"Oh, my,"And he stunned her again with that amazing smile. "See, I can play the quote game too...not like you and Ari, but I can. And I can't believe you haven't seen "Almost Famous"...it's a good way to know what I'm about."

"Now, see, in 2000, how was I supposed to know I'd need that? I was snowed under with work, and you were, please God, don't say getting your driver's license, or I'll get out of this bed and kill myself right now..."

"I'm from Queens," Vince told her. "I still don't have a driver's license. Your life is saved. Unless you hate Almost Famous...I can't promise anything then."

"That's great. Just so there's no pressure."

And it might have continued to be stolen time outside of both their lives, if a photographer's innocent mistaken-identity hadn't changed everything.

• **

( continues...) tried to befriend the photographers who started to appear in Head-on's wake, figuring they all had a role to play in selling Vinceness, whatever that was. So far, they seemed like mostly normal guys. Some people complained about being followed, but Vince had been watched by someone since at least puberty...girls. And their fathers, who weren't as impressed as the girls. It was them he thought of when he waved at his "usual" paparazzi. "Hi, Len...hi, George."

It was fuckin' funny that he had to get famous to finally learn how to be what his mother called a "polite young man".

"Where to, Vince?" the older photographer said.

"Just the park."

"Nice to see you taking your mother out...Vince's Mom, how about a smile, huh?" Cuddy said little, but walked back to Vince's motel and locked herself in the bathroom.