[dramatic piano music]
♪
[bells ringing]
♪
- Well, hello there.
Who are you?
Based on your vibe, a student.
Your blouse is loose.
You're not here to be ogled, but those bracelets,
they jangle.
You like a little attention. Okay, I bite.
You search the books.
Uh, fiction. F through K.
Now, hmm, you're not the standard insecure nymph
hunting for Faulkner you'll never finish.
Too sun-kissed for Stephen King.
Who will you buy?
♪
- [gasps] Sorry.
- You sound apologetic,
like you're embarrassed to be a good girl.
And you murmur your first word to me.
- Hello.
Do you work here?
- Guilty.
Can I help you find something?
- Paula Fox?
- That's a good choice.
- Hmm, I feel weirdly validated.
- [laughs]
Follow me.
She's gonna be in here.
- Celebrity authors.
I thought Fox was pretty obscure.
- She is Courtney Love's maternal grandmother.
You're not expected to know that.
- Good, I didn't.
- Mr. Mooney wants anyone in here
who's even tangentially famous.
He thinks it sells more books.
- That's sad-- people buying books
because of what's popular, not because they want to be
moved or changed in some way.
- Yeah. It's an epidemic.
- Hmm.
- Yeah, you see this guy,
here with the glasses, behind you?
He just grabbed Dan Brown's latest on the way in.
So he's gonna wander around for another, like,
five or ten minutes just to find something legitimate
to buy with it.
- Oh, like the cereal guys buy
when they're really there for condoms?
Only makes it more conspicuous.
Like, own your shit.
If Dan Brown's your kink, then be out about it.
At the end of the day,
people really are disappointing, aren't they?
- Sometimes they surprise you.
[soft music]
Paula Fox, top shelf. Do you want me to...
- Oh, no, I got it.
♪
- Oh, are you not wearing a bra?
And you want me to notice.
If this was a movie,
I'd grab you and we'd go at it right in the stacks.
Have you read her fiction?
"Desperate Characters" is her-- it's her best.
- Oh, that's what I keep hearing.
- You haven't read "Desperate Characters"?
- I know. I know.
I'm worried it's not gonna live up to the hype.
- I can safely say it is that good.
- That's a high endorsement.
And from a bookstore clerk, nonetheless.
- Well, it's bookstore manager.
- Hello? Anyone working here?
- Asshole.
- Oh.
Whoa. - [laughs]
- Do you mind? Uh, I'm in a hurry.
- He's just pissed he's gotta buy Salinger
to feel respectable when all he really wants to do
is eat Cheetos and jerk it to iPorn
before washing it all down with a Dan Brown chaser.
Have a nice day, sir.
- Okay, I'm going for it.
- Good, you won't regret it.
- Better not.
- Paula Fox, nice.
You know, she was, uh, Courtney Love's
maternal grandmother.
- That's why I'm buying it.
- You have enough cash to cover this,
but you want me to know your name.
Guinevere?
- Yeah, my parents were assholes
with the whole naming thing.
But everyone just calls me Beck.
And you're Joe?
- Goldberg.
Everyone calls me Joe.
- [laughs]
♪
- Aren't you gonna tell me to have a nice day?
- You have a nice day, Beck.
- You have one yourself, Joe.
♪
- You smiled, laughed at my jokes,
told me your name, asked for mine.
- She write her number on there?
She was on you hard.
- No, she was just being nice.
- I'd be Googling the hell out of her right now.
You know her full name.
- That's pretty aggressive, Ethan.
- What do I tell you?
Always be closing that shit.
If you need me... - If you need me...
both: I'll be in cookbooks
but for work, not for fun.
I swear.
- At the end of the day,
people are really just disappointing, aren't they?
[dramatic music]
♪
But are you, Beck?
Are you?
♪
[hip-hop music playing on car stereo]
♪
Yes, people find "the one."
I believe that. I try to stay open.
I was in love once.
She broke my heart, Beck.
Oh, she really did a number on me.
I should have seen the signs.
But we never do when we're in love.
Exhibit A: Claudia and Ron.
- Went out for a couple of drinks.
Get off my back, Claudia. - [yelling indistinctly]
- Claudia's a nurse. Single parent.
- It's every night! - It's not every night!
- You think she knew Ron was a shitbag
when she fell in love?
No, she thought he was a prince.
Hey, Paco.
- What's up, Joe?
- And now hers is not the only life she ruined.
- Leave me alone! I don't wanna talk to you!
- Is everything cool in there?
- Yeah, Mom and Ron are just talking.
- No, man, this isn't your house--
- Wow, you are burning through that book, aren't you?
- Reads quick.
It's good.
- Well, let me know when you finish.
I'll--I'll get you another one.
- All right, well, I don't care about that!
- Are you hungry?
- [shouting indistinctly]
- 'Cause, you know, I just got this meatball sub,
but I remembered I have Thai from last night.
- [shouting indistinctly]
- No, my mom will just make me something later.
- It's a shame. This won't keep.
It's getting tossed.
- You sure, Joe?
- All for one and one for all.
The point, Beck: love is tricky.
- ♪ Shiny, shiny
♪ Shiny boots of leather
♪ Whiplash girl child in the dark ♪
♪
- A guy needs to protect himself.
I had to be sure you're safe.
And your name was a glorious place to start.
Not a lot of Guinevere Becks.
And there you were.
Every account set to public.
You want to be seen...
heard, known.
Of course, I obliged.
Born and raised, Nantucket Island.
A brother, Clyde, and sister, Anya.
Your parents really were assholes about the names.
Your folks split when you were 12.
Your dad dropped out of the picture.
Went to Brown, where you majored in lit, cool.
And minored in douchebags, mm.
And then on to NYC to conquer an MFA
and make your mark, presumably.
Now, you still write. Barely.
Too busy living out moments you won't remember
five years from now.
I know this because you post about this life
all the goddamn time.
[indistinct chatter]
Candidly, it's the least appealing thing
about you, Beck.
You posted this hours after our encounter.
I was concerned.
You didn't mention that cute guy in the bookstore.
And then I realized, your online life isn't real.
It's a--it's a collage.
You paste this Beck up--
this, uh, together, lovable, cute,
bendy little creature.
If anything, the fact that you didn't share me
with your followers only confirms we really connected.
The next thing our little friend the Internet gave me
was your address.
♪
There it is, with its big,
naked windows.
It's nice-- too nice.
I'm thinking subsidized school housing.
Jesus, it's like you've never seen a horror movie
or the news.
[soft dramatic music]
[beep]
♪
But you want people to watch, don't you?
You know, I plan on asking you about this quality
when we get to know each other better.
A proposal:
why don't we spend the day together tomorrow,
just you and me?
- To everyone out there chasing their dreams,
don't give up.
And in the meantime,
Mac N Cheese!
- It's cute.
Not deep, but cute.
Is there more to you?
Let's find out.
♪
- ♪ You're mine
♪ And we belong together
- Our day starts at the ass crack of dawn.
I know from your posted schedule that you teach
a 6:30 class called Get Up N Flow.
You caress the sweaty backs of bulimic,
dead-eyed Real Mommies of Soho...
- I am loving your form today, Tasha.
- Offering smiles and lies of encouragement.
♪
By 10:00, you're at campus to TA a romantics class
and play Vanna White to some shirt.
- Good morning, Professor Leahy.
- I told you, it's Paul.
Are you ready for class?
- Professor Obvious wants to fuck you.
But you're smart.
You--you let him think one day, he might.
And what's the harm in that, right?
- ♪ Together
- After class, you head to your favorite cafe
to write for the first time all day.
[cell phone buzzes]
But your life doesn't cooperate.
Your wealthy girlfriends have just now woken up
and have nothing better to do than plan their next
pointless yet Instagrammable night.
Can we get real for a second?
You have questionable taste in friends, Beck...
- ♪ You've been holding back
♪ For a lifetime
- Cheers! - Cheers!
- Oh, yes, happy birthday!
[laughter]
- And expensive taste in lives.
- Ready? - Thank you.
[gasps] - Do you like it?
- No, I hate it.
Of course I love it!
- Jason didn't even get her something that nice,
and Annika finally let him do anal.
[laughter]
Please.
Open my gift next and tell me
how much you hate me then, lady.
- ♪ I'm not going to let you go ♪
- [gasps]
A butterfly?
It's my spirit animal for the year.
You remembered?
- Only 'cause you wouldn't shut up about it.
- You want so badly to be one of them.
- Happy birthday. - You guys are so beautiful.
- They've got nothing to do after this,
so yeah, they'll party till 5:00
and scrape it together tomorrow.
But you can't. You have to work for a living.
- A McQueen, Beck?
How much was it?
- [chuckles] It was on clearance.
- They haven't put a McQueen scarf on clearance
since he hung himself in 2010.
It'd be too much even if she did deserve it,
which she does not.
- Hmm, not all your friends are dumb.
- You always do this.
You make, like, a big gesture that you can't afford
because, I'm sorry, you're too nice.
- It's no big deal.
I had, um, a gift card.
- How broke are you?
Just tell me what's up.
- Actually sounds like she cares.
- Look, I appreciate--
- Why don't you just let me loan you some cash, okay?
I keep telling you it's nothing.
- Also sounds condescending.
- You know I'd do anything for you.
Don't forget that.
Sure you can't come out with us?
- I gotta write.
- Virtuous. Catch you later.
- ♪ There is nothing in this world ♪
♪ That can keep me from loving you ♪
- Is that the best friend you've got?
If so, Beck, you really are alone.
- ♪ I'm gonna break down your walls ♪
- Your social media's a liar.
It says you're a happy-go-lucky dilettante.
But underneath it all, you seem like
the genuine article.
Stretched ADD thin, sure,
but as soon as the door closes,
you're back at the keyboard,
trying to write.
[cell phone buzzes]
[dramatic music]
- [sighs]
♪
- Thanks.
♪
Keep the change, man.
♪
Hey, let me up.
- Uh, Beck, who the fuck is this?
[dramatic music]
- My best friend walked in on you getting your dick sucked
by some random woman in a bathroom
at a party that I took you to.
- I was wasted. I didn't even finish.
- That's your apology? "I didn't come?"
That's the one you're going with?
- And I obviously shouldn't have gone in the bathroom
with any girl that wasn't you.
But she said she had good coke,
and I've been seriously stressed.
I thought when Johno and I started our line,
it was gonna be, like, picking out flavors and shit.
It turns out it's 16-hour lectures
on microbial management.
And that's why no one starts their own
artisanal soda company and why America has to keep
drinking crap that's giving them cancer.
- You actually managed to connect your illicit blow job
to curing cancer.
I'm genuinely impressed.
- Beck, I--
- Seriously, I am drowning in work.
I don't have time to keep hooking up
or whatever it is you're even capable of.
- I know I've done some stupid shit.
But I'm on it now.
I don't wanna be just some guy that you sleep with.
God, you make me insane.
♪
- Way to go, Beck. Looks like a catch.
♪
Benjamin J. Ashby III. Oh, there's three of them.
Greenwich born, boarding school bred.
His father is the Ben Ashby of Ashby Brokerage.
Two failed careers.
Model--oh, boy.
And cocreator of a dating app
that connects people through musical tastes
called LoveHooks.
Current CEO of Home Soda Artisanal Beverages.
Motto: Drink Better by Hand,
which makes no sense but evokes a homespun quality
that lines up with a guy who wears $600 Japanese sneakers.
The hair.
The privilege he tries to hide
with retweets of Black Lives Matter.
Not to sound judgy, but this guy
is everything wrong with America.
♪
See, this is why I do my research.
You fall for the wrong men--
bad men.
You let them in.
You let them hurt you.
Too far away to know for sure,
but my guess is, if he came anywhere close
to making you come, you'd have made
a Broadway show out of it.
But you didn't...
'cause he didn't.
- [sighs]
"Desperate Characters"?
- Yeah, I just got it.
You can borrow it when I'm done.
It's supposed to be her best.
- Johno's consultant we brought in,
she's been all over me about this kind of thing.
Saged the crap out of the office.
The book title has the word "desperate" in it.
You don't wanna think of yourself
as a desperate character, Beck.
'Cause you're the opposite, babe.
You're the smartest girl I know.
Honestly, you blow me away.
[dramatic electronic music]
[cell phone buzzing]
Oh, shit. Gotta roll.
Johno's blowing up my phone.
Hey, you should come by the office,
test out some new flavors.
We're doing cumin.
I know how much you like Indian food.
- Sure. Sounds good.
- Looks good on you, by the way.
♪
The extra weight.
♪
Yeah, hey, I'm on my way, bro.
You guys ordering pizzas?
Yeah, don't dick me over like last time.
Gluten-free crust.
Not from that vegan place.
Vegan cheese tastes like asshole.
[door closes]
♪
[door opens]
I'm talking French gourmet shit.
[door closes]
No, Johno, Johno, listen to me.
They can't do half gluten-free 'cause of the dough.
They have to use a spelt dough.
♪
- [sighs]
[Rob Simonsen's "Night Drive"]
♪
- ♪ Ah, ah, ooh
♪ Ooh
- So you didn't finish.
♪
- ♪ Ooh
- ♪ Ah, ah
♪ Ah, ah - ♪ Oh, oh
- [moans softly]
- ♪ Ah, ah - ♪ Oh, oh
- [gasps]
- ♪ Ah, ah
- ♪ Oh, oh
- ♪ Ah, ah - ♪ Oh, oh
- ♪ Ah, ah
- Just like that. [moans]
- ♪ Ah, ah
[door opens]
- [clears throat] Here.
- Oh, thank you.
You're so kind.
I don't suppose you can help me get a cab, can you?
- Of course.
- Thanks. - Yeah.
[dramatic music]
♪
- [moaning]
- Wow, don't tell me you're finished already.
- Almost.
It's so good.
Sometimes the dialogue's weird, though,
like when they're killing each other
and still all nice about it.
- Well, it was the 19th century.
People still had manners.
- I was hoping we could go get another one.
- Ooh, I mean, it's pretty late, Pac.
I don't know.
- [moaning] Oh, yeah. Oh, I want you to come.
- Ugh, something's in the air tonight, Beck,
'cause everyone but me is getting action.
Even the lovebirds made up.
Yeah. Yeah, why not?
♪
- Did you know Dumas was a black dude?
I Googled him.
His grandmother was a slave,
and his dad was a brigadier general.
He killed, like, half a battalion.
You probably knew that since you work at a bookstore.
- I didn't.
- How'd you get to work here, anyway?
- Mr. Mooney gave me a job
when I was just a little older than you.
He sort of took me in.
- He seems nice.
- He was a dick. But he loved books.
And he taught me to love them too.
- I never see him around here.
Is he dead?
- No, he's just old.
I'm sorry, Pac.
I had one back here for you,
but Ethan must have sold it.
- Sold what?
- Your next read.
Come on, I'll show you where we keep the good stuff.
♪
- Freaky.
♪
- It's the cage.
It's where we keep early editions and collectibles.
- It's cold.
- 65 degrees for the books.
- If the zombies come, this is where I'm hiding.
- Why don't you set that milk shake down?
♪
[door whooshes]
♪
- Careful, Joseph.
When it comes to the value of a book,
it's all about condition.
I'll show you.
- It's always 65 degrees, humidity 40%.
Too moist, the pages can mildew.
- Too dry, they get brittle.
Always keep books upright so the spines don't become
rolled or warped or what we call cocked.
- And we never want to fold or crease the pages.
And we dust the covers with a chemical-free duster.
- Always towards the spine.
- Under no circumstances is there any sunlight
in this room.
- Sunlight can ruin a book as fast as fire.
- Faster.
- It's a lot of stuff to remember
just to take care of some old books.
- The most valuable things in life
are usually the most helpless.
So they need people like us to protect them.
You know?
- "Don Quicks-oat"?
- "Quixote."
It's about a guy who believes in chivalry,
so he decides to be an old-school knight.
- What's chivalry?
- It's treating people with respect,
especially women--
like men should.
It's good. It's one of my favorites.
- I probably shouldn't take this home.
- It's not a first edition. It's just an old one.
Besides, I trust you.
♪
- Where you been, Paco?
- We just grabbed some milk shakes.
- You just walk off with strangers?
- Joe's not a stranger.
- Yes, he is. Inside, now.
Okay? All right.
♪
Keep away from my girlfriend's kid.
- Look, I'm sorry.
But he was out here and he could hear everything in there.
- Don't you tell me how to parent.
Look, this whole nice-guy act,
this might work on other people.
I'm a parole officer 15 years, and I can see what you are.
- Well, you're an alcoholic shitbag who beats women,
so, please, enlighten me.
♪
- You're a freak.
So stay away from Paco, because if you don't,
I'm gonna grab a steak knife
and I'm gonna cut those freak eyes out.
♪
- There are scary people in the world, Beck.
That's why it's important to be safe.
♪
[door closes]
And why I have to do
what I'm about to do.
- Fun fact: did you know the law
requires gas leaks to be investigated?
I've been learning a lot since I met you.
Hey, Beck, you left the door open again.
I thought we said we weren't gonna do that anymore.
I was careful to call the gas company
on a day when you had a full schedule.
Wouldn't want to scare you.
Hey, is Beck here?
- Nope, super let me in.
Someone reported a leak.
- Right, yeah, she mentioned that.
Is everything okay?
- Yeah, all clear.
Tell your girlfriend there's no leak.
I'm done, so...
- Okay, thanks. Well, I can just lock up.
[door closes]
[dramatic music]
I just need to know who you really are,
besides a broke poetry student in a subsidized apartment
you could never afford.
Where is it, Beck?
When we live together, your place won't be a pigsty.
I'll clean for us.
And you won't eat all this frozen shit.
I'll cook for you every day.
I promise.
♪
I'll even do your laundry...
♪
And take care of your favorite books.
♪
I'll make our bed every morning.
Oh, there it is.
No matter how hard you fight me,
I will always make sure you password protect your devices.
♪
- "One day, you won't need love anymore.
"One day, you won't walk through the world
"as though it was your job to hold everything up.
The sun, the sky, the hard part of the night."
It's good.
It's quite good.
But, Beck, where's the rest?
You owe me 20 more pages.
- I've been honestly working every day and grading papers.
- If the schedule is too rigorous,
drop back to part-time.
- But then I won't qualify to TA.
I-I need the cash, the housing. I'd lose my place.
- I'm sure you'll figure it out.
You're smart, or you wouldn't be here.
- Please, Professor Leahy-- - Paul.
I'll get you the pages by the end of the week.
I-I can't go to part-time.
Okay?
- I'm rooting for you.
You just need to keep up.
Happy to discuss further,
after class some evening.
If we're gonna seriously discuss poetry,
it should be over a drink.
There's a little gastropub I love.
- I would love that, Paul.
Just, uh, how would your wife feel about you--
- About me helping out an aspiring writer?
She's--she's used to my generosity.
- [laughs]
- So Thursday night, then?
♪
- Thursday night it is.
- Excellent.
And don't worry about the next few days.
Just go home and get caught up.
♪
- Need to see you tonight.
♪
- Well, if I can, babe.
Working late.
PS, I can still smell you on my fingers.
- I learned two definitive things
by scouring your computer.
First, there are no recent pictures of your dad
because he's dead.
He OD'd, and you were the one that found him.
You've started a few poems about that day,
but you never finish them.
I'm so sorry, Beck.
But none of this matters because of my second
and greatest discovery.
11:06 a.m., an hour after our encounter at the bookstore,
amidst a group text on the merits
of, uh, vaginal detoxing, you wrote...
- Wow. Just met a human male who actually reads.
Alert the media.
What if it's finally time for me
to date someone good for me?
- Thank you for letting me know
I wasn't crazy after all.
[door opens] No!
- Yes.
I remember what you said
when you sent money last.
Yes, I'm grateful.
♪
[laughs] I'm working constantly.
There's no place cheaper to live.
I did.
He basically offered to sleep with me.
No, I can't report him. That's not how it works.
- I'm not worried.
I've seen enough romantic comedies to know
guys like me are always getting in jams like this.
- Not the school, the world.
That's not how the world works.
♪
I know how much you helped me.
It's just, it's hard here, Mom.
♪
[sighs]
Okay. I'll figure it out.
All right, love you too.
Bye, Mom.
[crying]
- It's okay, Beck.
- [crying]
[cell phone rings]
[groans]
- Hi, Becks! - Hey, bitch, where you at?
Come play!
- Oh, I can't. I just had the worst day.
- Aww, Beckalicious, whatever it is,
there's nothing that we can't fix, okay?
- Yes, us and copious amounts of alcohol.
- Oh, my God. There's a sale.
- [laughs]
[groans]
You guys love me?
- Of course! - Why would you even say that?
- Okay, then. Meet me in Greenpoint.
- Look, why don't you come here, okay?
Come here. - It's actually really fun
where we are. I promise.
- Yeah.
- There's something I need to do for myself.
I'll text you on my way.
- See you soon. - Bye.
[cell phone beeps]
♪
- I guess we're going to Greenpoint, Beck.
- ♪ So tired of feeling this way ♪
♪ Feeling like I can't go on
- I never go to Greenpoint.
But the things you do for love, right?
- Hi, um, okay, so we're gonna get
a few more drinks.
Hold on one second.
Guys?
- What is she thinking? Open mics are for
models/ singer-songwriters/vegans.
I mean, these people don't wanna hear some wannabe
read a poem about the bleakness of life or whatever.
- Your friends are disloyal.
And that Peach is the worst.
[laughter]
- Another round of picklebacks.
- Beckish, do we think now is the night?
- Positive.
All my life lately has been about surviving.
I need to remind myself why I came here in the first place.
- Yes! - Yeah.
- You go. - Who do you keep texting?
- I invited Benji. - Beck.
- What? He likes poetry.
- For sure. - And he texted he was coming?
- He texted a row of smile emojis, like,
45 minutes ago.
- Some guys are assholes,
and you just have to realize that.
- I get it, Peach.
- No, you're the one who told me to keep reminding you
he's a bastard.
- Up next, we have Guinevere Beck.
- Whoo!
- All right. - All right.
- To vulnerability and shit.
- Yeah.
Cheers. - Okay.
- Okay.
- Kill it, Beck.
- Hey, everyone, um, I'm Beck,
and I'm--not to sound like, you know, whatever,
but just-- I'm a--I'm a poet.
- Yeah, you are!
Whoo!
- Yeah, you are!
- One day, you won't need love anymore.
One day, you won't walk through the world
as though it was your job to hold everything up.
The sun, the hard part of the night,
the secret time when you wake to the sound of beating,
rise to answer the door, but he's not there
because that sound is coming from inside you.
And you cannot answer it no matter how far in you go.
- Wrap it up!
[dramatic music]
- Whoo!
- You loved him the way
fragile kids love gorgeous bullies.
You wrote songs about him-- uh, I mean...
[laughs] You wrote poems about him.
You still write poems about him.
You're writing one right now.
- Why are you so sad?
Just so sad.
Just something happier for a change might be nice.
I think everyone agrees.
Can we get the singer back?
She was--
- Sorry, I, uh--
I just, um--I lost my place.
It'll just take a second to find where I was.
- I can't stand seeing this.
I'm sorry. I-I just can't.
It's obvious what you are.
You're blind with love.
And what you love-- writing,
this city, your friends,
most of all, men like Benji--
what all those have in common is,
they will never love you back,
while you give everything.
♪
It's crazy, the lengths we go.
We're a lot alike, Beck.
Last of the true romantics.
♪
- ♪ Engine number nine
♪ On the New York Transit line
♪ If my train...
- I was considering this with my new friend,
Mr. Batshit Homeless Guy,
when the second luckiest thing this week happened.
♪
Could it really be?
It feels like I'm dreaming.
- ♪ Pick it up
- I'm not. - ♪ Pick it up
- Beck, you're too drunk to be alone.
What if some sicko had followed you down here?
And you're too wasted to be standing so close
to the tracks. Beck!
Beck, stop texting that arrogant club soda
no-show dickhead.
- ♪ New York line
♪ If my train jump off the track ♪
- You want Benji.
- ♪ Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up ♪
- You need Benji.
You hold that phone like it is Benji
'cause it's your only means to stay connected.
Forget Benji.
[cell phone buzzes]
And to hell with that phone!
- [grunts] - Pick it up. Pick it up.
Pick it up. Pick it up. - [coughing]
- ♪ Engine, engine number nine
- [gasping]
- ♪ On the New York Transit line ♪
- Hey, hey, hey!
You okay?
Are you all right? Can you stand up?
Just stay still.
Half that shit down there can electrocute you, all right?
So just give me your hand.
- Pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up.
Pick it up. Pick it up!
- Sir, please shut up!
- Pick it up! - Give me your hand.
- The train's coming.
- Pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up. Pick it up.
Pick it up. Pick it up.
[train clacking]
- Your hand, now!
- Pick it up!
- [grunts] - Pick it up!
[train whistle blows]
[dramatic music]
♪
- [vomits]
- [groans]
- Oh, my God. Oh, my God.
- Whoo! - I am so sorry.
- No, it's fine. It's fine.
I, uh--I hated-- I hated this jacket.
- I really am sorry.
- It's okay.
- Do you mind?
[sighs]
- Sure, um...
You know what? Let's get you in a cab, all right?
- I'm not always like this.
- I figured you had some kinda night.
- Some kinda...
Hey, I don't wanna sound like a stalker, but...
I think I know you.
Paula Fox?
- Oh, right, right!
Of course.
I remember. I'm sorry.
- This is what I look like when I'm sober
and have my hair up.
- Yeah, no, I remember.
- It's okay. I have a pretty bland face.
- No, you don't.
Yeah, uh, "Desperate Characters."
I remember.
- Yeah.
- Where you headed?
- Village.
Are you anywhere close?
Ride with me.
It's the least I can do.
[dramatic music]
- Okay.
♪
- Did you move here to be something?
I did, but it's not working out,
and I'm just running around 18 hours a day.
Why?
♪
Oh, God, never mind. Sorry.
- No, please.
I feel the same way sometimes.
This guy I know, he owns the bookstore.
He once told me that all books
add up to one essential truth,
which is, if your IQ is above a certain number...
♪
Life is pretty much unbearable.
And the number is not even that high.
♪
- I do think I'd be happier if I was stupider.
- [laughs]
But then the world wouldn't know your poetry.
- How'd you know I write poetry?
♪
- Doesn't every young writer in New York?
I mean, I read a lot of poetry.
♪
- Who do you like?
- Strand, Sexton, Merrill.
- You're describing my nightstand.
- Well, if you read them to get to sleep every night,
then you definitely belong here.
- [chuckles]
What was your last name again?
- Goldberg.
♪
- Where did you come from, Joe Goldberg?
- I grew up here.
♪
I left for a little while,
chasing a girl.
- Mm, but you came back?
- Yeah, I missed it.
And I'm not a good chaser.
- Hmm, me neither.
♪
Oh.
Oh, this is, uh... this is me.
- Mm, it's not bad.
- Thank you for sobering me up.
And for saving my life.
- No, I didn't-- I didn't save your life.
- Yeah, you did.
♪
[knocking]
Oh, God.
- Of course.
Benji. - Hi.
Um, this is Joe.
He literally saved my life tonight.
I-I fell on the tracks.
It was crazy.
- Babe, I told you, people are basically good.
It's a great job, bro.
- Bro? You waste of hair.
- Okay, Beck, it's freezing out here.
- Wait, uh, maybe I can get your info.
- Yeah, um...
Shit, my phone.
I must have dropped it in the subway.
- Oh.
Oh, okay, well, um, just maybe give me your number
for when you get a replacement?
- I'm basically enslaved to email.
- I get it. Smart.
I'm practically a stranger. Can't be too careful.
Okay.
- It's beckinreallife@gmail.com.
- All right.
♪
Beck in real life.
- Thank you.
♪
- So here's what I learned this week.
- I'm sorry I didn't make it. You know.
- You are special. You're talented.
You're passionate.
You're smart...
♪
Except in the ways you're really not,
like not locking your phone
and falling for men like Benji.
You know better, but you can't stop because...
well, because everyone needs someone.
What you really need is someone to save you.
I can help, Beck.
Let me help you.
- Joe.
[dramatic music]
- Pac, hey.
What's going on? What are you doing out here?
- It's Ron.
He came home drunk.
He started yelling,
saying I thought I was smart,
reading my books and looking at him like he's dumb.
- What--what happened?
Did he hurt you?
- No, he didn't touch me.
♪
I tried to stop him.
I'm sorry.
- Paco, Paco, it's okay.
Really, it's okay.
You know what? Come with me.
We can fix this together, all right?
♪
So, you know, the first step to fixing something
is to know no matter how destroyed it seems,
it can always be saved.
Books are no exception.
You got it?
- Got it.
- So what we have here is a line press.
Basically just a huge clamp.
Polyvinyl acetate glue means no acid to burn the pages.
Got your needle, thread, and finally--
right out of "Bugs Bunny"--
a trusty mallet.
[dark music]
You see this?
♪
[book rips]
We don't need this.
♪
- Johno, listen to this!
"Dear Benji, heard about your soda.
"I'm interested in including you
"on my fall list of must-tries.
"Would love to discuss, perhaps even try some.
Jeff Pevensey."
- That's the dude you're always retweeting?
- It's the culture guy from "New York" magazine.
♪
- Hit him back, bro.
- No shit.
Back off while I think.
Jeff, comma,
so nice to hear from you, bud, period.
Yeah, our sodas are legit, period.
I would love to meet up
to have you try the goods, period.
Let's set something up.
♪
- Scrape carefully along the spine.
Of course, you gotta watch your fingers.
♪
[cell phone buzzes]
♪
- "Sounds great. I can call between meetings
to see if you're available."
- This is gonna take us next level.
What time you think we'll meet?
♪
- No offense. We discussed this.
It's best if the product has one clear face
at the beginning.
That's just more me.
♪
- Okay, the spine is sewn.
So take this.
Pull it as tight as you can that way.
♪
Yeah, that's it.
♪
- Jeff!
- The glue is set. We've applied the binder.
Now...
♪
You gotta be precise
and use exactly the force needed.
♪
[tapping]
[pounding]
Hey!
♪
- Nice to meet you, man.
- Nice to meet you too.
Have you-- have you been here before?
It's, uh--not a lot of people know about it yet.
It's an incredible after hours. Very exclusive.
- Yeah, I've been here a couple of times.
- Yeah? - Mm.
- Huh. Well, good.
So you'll feel right at home, then.
♪
Please, after you.
- All right. [chuckles]
♪
- It's just down to the left.
♪
- Hey, man, I'm thinking maybe--
[thwack]
[bottles shatter]
♪
[soft music]
♪
- It's 2:00 p.m. when the door chimes,
and I'm ready.
- [speaking indistinctly]
- You told your girlfriends you'd come by.
I know this because I have your phone.
- I'll be in back. - Okay.
- Hey.
Remember me?
Almost dying on the train tracks?
- Uh, it rings a bell.
Hang on. Hang on. - [laughs]
Well, I wanted to say thank you.
- No, you already did that.
- Well, uh, thanks again. [laughs]
And I'm sorry for, uh, running off the other night.
- You had a guest.
- Hardly.
So I got you a present.
- No, no, no, please.
You don't have to get me anything.
- Shut up and just look at it.
[dramatic music]
- "Engine, engine number nine on the New York Transit line.
"If your girl falls on the track,
pick her up, pick her up, pick her up."
We already have in jokes.
- So...
anyway, that, and I'd better--
- Maybe if you're not too busy,
we could get a drink sometime?
- Sure.
Oh, but I still can't find my phone.
- I know. Email.
- That's right.
♪
See you, Joe.
- See you soon, Beck.
♪
- Well played, sir.
Well played.
- I'm not always right.
I'm human. I make mistakes.
You'll see.
I have to check on a shipment downstairs.
Can you--um, can you watch the register?
- Yeah.
[door opens]
- Hell, maybe I'm just a fool in love.
But I'm right about you.
And I'm going to help you get the life you deserve, Beck.
♪
- [groans]
[gasping]
♪
Please, whatever you think I did,
you got the wrong guy.
- No...
I don't.
[tense music]
♪