peter. you pig. i'm with someone. peter steers them to a table filled with people.
this is filippo chirazzi, the artist. this is peter fallow, the has-been.
no thanks, peter. the last time i sat on your face, i ended up with a yeast infection.
excuse me, peter. there's a phone call for you upstairs in the office.
i lied. i wanted to see you alone. i'm going to do you a favor. *
you don't deserve this, peter. but i'm going to tell you something. * * she reaches under her skirt and pulls off her panties. she drops them on the floor.
relax, darling. do you remember my pretty little italian friend? the painter.
filippo. the little shit. caroline climbs up on the desk, lifts her skirt and sits down on the xerox machine.
well, filippo has run off with a little slut you should know about. *
shut up, peter. you're not listening. her name is maria ruskin.
she was subletting my apartment. she was also subletting filippo. and, as it turns out, she was also in the car with sherman mccoy when the accident happened.
i never joke. she was in the car.
the apartment was bugged. they had a wire in the intercom. they were trying to prove that i wasn't living there. which i wasn't. now i've lost the apartment and the boyfriend.
no. but i'm trusting you to find them. and when you do. give them this. tell them this is the little lady who turned them in. she takes one of the xerox copies and hands it to peter. peter leaves. caroline looks at the xerox copy.
maybe i should advertise.