House Hunters: Pasadena

“Claire? We’re doing the show?”

Pasadena’s lovely suburbia is the perfect place to live, now that Kevin’s got a new job.

A sunny Pasadena morning greets us as we meet our home-buying couple, Kevin, 52, and Claire, 44, who have been married for 14 years, and have three beautiful children to show for it.

The couple, who met in Sonoma, at a spiritual retreat sponsored by a now-shuttered, federally-investigated organization that has been the subject of several streaming docs, have moved to the area for Kevin’s new job at Caltech, and want a place close to the shops, with a big yard for their kids, Kelsey (12), Atticus (11), and Conrad (9), and their beagle, Ranger, to play in.

“Are you ready to find your next home?” I ask them. It comes out awkwardly.

I’m frankly shocked at how inappropriately Claire has come dressed. I don’t do fashion, but she’s wearing what I would call a micro mini-dress, with a crop top, and the top is backless. Everything is sheer, too. It leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, this lovely May day on Colorado Boulevard.

“We really are,” Kevin says. He is dressed normally, in an Oxford shirt, tucked into a smart pair of jeans. But, he smells hungover, and something seems off with him.

Both of them are much different-seeming than in our preproduction meetings, where they came across as a normal, middle-aged couple.

Everyone has a bad day, though, right? And, everybody needs a place to live. So, I resolve to get on over to our first house, only a few blocks away.

The home, a 5-bedroom, 4-bathroom Spanish Colonial, has a spacious backyard, as well as a large courtyard, and an interior hall covered in tiles custom- and hand-made in Andalusia. The owner is a top exec at Freevee, moving to bigger digs in Westwood.

It’s absolutely beautiful, and, while it’s at the top of their price range, they can afford it. The nearby schools are excellent, and did I mention there’s a pool, too?

“I could totally see the six of you here,” I say to Claire. Her eyes twinkle as she smiles widely, and does a mini-jig. It’s obvious she loves the place. But, what about Kevin?

“Honestly, I’m enchanted,” Kevin says. “The detail on the place, it really transports you. I feel like I’m in Europe, on vacation, staying at the home of a count. But, I’m worried about having the kids roaming around this place unattended. There’s a lot of ways they could get hurt, and I don’t know that I want to be at work, worried about that, not able to do anything.”

It seems like a fair point, although, the last I remember, Claire is a stay-at-home mother. So, maybe Kevin’s fears are overblown?

I wonder what Claire has to say.

But, Claire is nowhere to be found. Suddenly, Kevin is bearing a lupine grin. He scoffs, and lets out a laugh.

“This, again. On today, of all days. With cameras and shit recording us.”

For a national audience, at that?

“But, what do you mean, ‘this again,’” I ask him. “Do you know where she is?”

“No,” he says, now gazing at his phone. “But, I’m sure if you look around, you’ll find her somewhere, on her phone.”

I go into the backyard and see no one, although I can hear a woman who sounds like Claire, cackling like a hyena. I look up to the northwest side of the yard, and can see her, ambling onto the neighbor’s property, as she drags on a cigarette, and yaps on the phone with someone. They are apparently having a very hilarious conversation.

I honestly don’t have any handle on what is going on, so I approach Claire carefully.

“A Beverly Hills lawyer with a fucking seven inch cock!” she cackles into the phone, as I interrupt her.

“Claire?” I can smell booze again. I now realize the smell I caught earlier was her’s, wafting over to her husband.

“Oh, hey Mike! Are we filming again?” she says.

“We’ve been filming the entire time. And you’re actually on someone else’s property. And you really shouldn’t be smoking, either; we’re officially in a drought, and there has been a severe fire warning, and, actually, a number of severe forest fires, in the area, over the past several months,” I say.

But, I also kind of want to finish her cig for her (and she lets me, because she was kind of done with it, anyway). I send her back to make nice with Kevin, enjoy the brief rush from the Marlboro Light, and make sure to fully put out the butt when I am done smoking.

When I finally make my way back, the sun has continued to rise, and Claire and Kevin seem to have gotten it together. They appear alert, happy, and maybe even ready to make an offer on the place.

One of Pasadena’s most famous residents — the peacock — even makes an appearance! Pasadena has been blessed with the birds ever since some Hollywood animal trainer let them loose after a film shoot in the ‘50s.

Claire approaches the bird, which makes a loud, wailing call, and seems ready to either attack or impregnate Claire. My staff shoo the bird away.

“Well? Have we found our dream home?” I ask.

“This is maybe it!” Claire says. Her enthusiasm is palpable. She’s also covered with sticks and brush, with a few bad scratches on her calves, from stalking around on the neighbor’s property in the cocktail napkin she is wearing. She is taken to the side for first aid, while I get Kevin’s take.

“Both of us really like the place,” he said. “I can get over my fear about leaving Claire and the kids here alone, I think. Or, at least, could work through it in therapy,” he says, in a gallows-humor sort of way. “But, we also want to look at the other places before we make a decision. I frankly want a backup place, because there’s plenty of places here, where if she takes a tumble, and she will take a tumble, it’s all over. She’ll break her neck, no question. That’s it.”

He makes a sharp whistle, as to punctuate his point.

Holy shit, I think. That is fucking dark. “Well, on to the second place!” I say.

I turn around. Claire is getting hydrated, thanks to my incredible P.A., Keisha, in grad school for film and television at U.S.C. She’s the granddaughter of my good friend, Phylicia Rashad, and, nepo baby or not, doing a fine job getting our production team ready to go.

Spirits seem to be higher as we make our way to property two.

The next home is a large bungalow, with four bedrooms and three baths, and a large backyard, surrounded by hedges, blooming with jacarandas, and shaded by several large oak trees.

It looks like the perfect home, for the perfect, loving family. Like out of a classic American sitcom, or something.

I say as much to Kevin, who seems to like the place.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says, “I loved the last place, but this place is kind of more my speed, more than the other place. It reminds me of where I grew up.”

“Well, that might make it feel even more like home!” I say. “Although, Claire might not like the comedown from the last place.”

“Comedown,” Kevin snorts. “Well, she’ll have to take it along with everything else she’s coming down from this afternoon, too.”

That’s not a bad one, Kevin. I look for Claire. I can see her, but she’s not on her mark, and she’s on the phone again. I call out to her.

“Claire? We’re doing the show?”

“Sorry,” she says, sucking a lollipop that, if she got it at craft service, I want one, too. “My mother is in the hospital.”

I am about to feign sympathy, when Kevin chimes in.

“Claire, your mother is not in the hospital. You can lie to him, but you can’t lie to me. I’m your husband and very aware that your mother is dead. I can’t believe you are talking to that fucking prick today, of all days.”

I take a step back. The couple are giving each other death stares, as they remain silent. This persists for what feels like an eternity, before Claire raises an eyebrow and goes, “a’right?”, and Kevin reluctantly nods yes.

I get the impression they want to move on, and I don’t want to give them the opportunity to change their minds. So, we load up into the Sprinter van, so we can discuss what they think about the places so far, as we make our way to our third and final property, a sprawling ranch home, with a shaded backyard, a gorgeous midcentury fireplace, five bedrooms, and four-and-a-half baths.

“I’m really excited about the next place,” I tell them, as Claire continues to drink her water and text on her phone, and Kevin stares out the window, listlessly.

Claire looks up.

“I think I’m going to get a pixie cut,” she says. “Do you think that would work on me?”

“I actually do,” I say. “I recently watched this movie, Single White Female, and one, or actually, two of the actresses in it have a pixie cut. You kind of remind me of one of them.”

“Oh my god, that movie! I absolutely love Juliette Lewis,” Claire says.

“She’s not in it,” I say. “Anyway, if you want to go short, why don’t you just go the full Sinead, and shave it all off? I think that would look hot on you.”

“Do not encourage her,” Kevin yells. “She will do anything you Hollywood people tell her to do. We had a couple of you over the house one time, and they told her she’d make a million bucks selling her shit on Etsy. She ran up a ton of money on our credit cards, buying materials to make custom dollhouses. Didn’t make a single dollhouse, did start DMing with this guy, Jason, though, who’s she’s fucking still, and who she’s now been on the phone with all day.”

“Ohhh,” I say, loving the gossip, but then remembering Claire is sitting right next to me, checking out Keisha’s nails, and telling her everything she used to do when she would go out with her girlfriends in the ‘90s. I can tell Keisha is mortified, but she is being the paragon of professionalism, and humoring her.

“So, Keisha and Claire,” I say. “A quick lunch at Urth Cafe before we hit our last home?”

Keisha appears relieved. “That sounds great,” she says. “I’ll call right now.”

When we get to the restaurant, I pull Keisha aside.

“Look,” I say. “I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But. Can I please have a Xanax?”

Keisha frowns. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I say. “I know, I know, but I am fucking crippled with anxiety right now, wondering what these two are going to do to each each other. It’s palpably uncomfortable.”

“Yeah,” she says, “but how am I supposed to feel when I give you this, and next thing, I find you at Hollywood and Highland, three days later, yelling “take a shower so I can suck your dick!” at a homeless guy? Or, someone from your team is calling me, telling me you got Andy Dick’s number through Karen Osborne, and now you’re at Cedars having your stomach pumped?”

I frown. “I only said I was gonna ask that guy to take a shower, if his cart fire had ever died down, and you know it didn’t.”

Aside from her shaky factual foundation, I don’t like that Keisha’s bringing up things that happened literally two weeks ago, but I also value her as a colleague too much to push.

A lot of my P.A.s have wanted to sleep with me, male as well as female, and I’ve indulged them. It hasn’t always panned out that well. And I have to say, it’s true that it hasn’t necessarily gone well for their careers, either. But, I never have to worry about that with Keisha, as she’s always kept it professional. (I think she looks at me as a father figure.)

So, I tell her she’s right, and that I’m sorry for asking her. I would never want to put her in that position, again, and so, I’ll buck up and deal with it.

Thankfully, I don’t have to buck up, though, as I’m able to score a 2mg bar off Claire, when Keisha and Kevin go to wash their hands. Claire takes one, too.

As a wave of relief hits me and my inhibitions loosen, and everyone returns to the table, I decide to mention the elephant in the room, and see if we can “Claire” the air a bit.

“OK, so Claire. Who is this guy you’re texting? Jason? Your husband’s upset, and you’re loopy and all over the place, and Kevin thinks it’s this Jason guy. Can you tell us who Jason is? We honestly need to clue the audience in at this point.”

Claire shakes her head back and forth, slowly. “I don’t think you’ll need to be doing that,” she slurs. “Jason is Mister M-O-Y-B.”

“Huh?” I ask. “Moyb? What is that? Is that a Jewish thing?”

“She’s shitfaced,” Kevin says. “She’s on some kind of pill. She’s saying M-Y-O-B, mind your own business. Jason is some paralegal, has a bunch of tattoos, tells people he’s a lawyer. He hangs out on social media crafting sites and Facebook and shit and hits on housewives. And probably fucks a number of them, too. She says he has a big dick, too, and that, at least, I know to be true, because I found a bunch of pictures of it on her phone, when I was getting it updated, for her birthday. Or, I should say, the Verizon guy found them, while he was helping me.

Keisha’s eyes widen. She looks nervous. I’m starting to get nervous, too. I get the sense that I may have sparked an eruption.

We wait for someone to say something. Suddenly, Claire laughs.

“I’m not taking lessons on how to live my life from you, airing our dirty laundry for all these people to see,” she says to Kevin. “I’m not taking life advice from this fuck, across from me,” she adds, looking at me, with an expression of extreme disgust on her face.

“What kind of life advice have I been giving you?” I ask. “I’m just doing my job. Keisha’s just doing her job. We’re trying to make a TV show here. I really just wanted to bring a resolution to this whole ‘Jason’ thing, to bring closure for the audience, yeah, but also for you two. So we can go look at this last house, and hopefully find you your dream home.”

“Well,” Claire asks, looking over at Kevin. “Evincing?”

“Evincing?” Kevin asks, squinting.

“I think she’s trying to ask if you think what Mike just said was convincing,” Keisha says, delicately.

“Yes,” Kevin says, instantly. “If she doesn’t cut this shit, you’re not going to be able to show anything, without this all being out there. So, let’s be on our best behavior for the last house, and get it over with.”

We finish our meals. As everyone gets loaded into the Sprinter van, we agree that Keisha is going to take Claire’s phone for the rest of the shoot, and give it back to her at the end of the day. I’m surprised by how calm Claire is about this, but shouldn’t be, because at this point, she’s so sedated, she’s almost comatose.

She perks up a bit when “Say My Name,” by Destiny’s Child, comes on over the speakers. We all sing together as we make our way to the ranch house. Where Marilyn Monroe once ate dinner and had an impromptu piano lesson. The history in these Pasadena homes, am I right?!

As we get out of the car, I can see they’re both taken with the place, which has a stunning wood-and-glass facade, and the sound of a babbling brook running nearby (unfortunately, not on the property, though.)

A tour of the place goes very well. They love the midcentury details, the simple layout, the light, the conversation pit.

“This place feels peaceful,” Claire says. She seems more lucid, which I attribute to a loose Vyvanse I saw shifting around the bottom of her purse, earlier.

“It really does,” Kevin says. “Well, hun, what do you think?”

As I turn to Claire, we suddenly hear the roar of an engine, as a car screeches into the driveway and begins nonstop beeping.

The couple’s kids are due to meet us at this last house, for mom and dad to announce their choice. We’re worried that something has happened to them, so we rush to the front of the house and open the door.

A man is standing in the driveway. He looks about 10 or so years younger than me, alright looking, has dark hair, is tall and skinny, too skinny if you ask me, but I’d still fuck him, for sure. He looks like one of those guys who has a long-ass dick. I’m now starting to get an inkling: is this Jason we’re dealing with?

I don’t have to wonder for long. “Jason!” Claire yells out. “What are you doing here?”

“I just won a gigantic case and got a huge bonus,” he says. “I’m going to take a two-week vacation before we start in on another. I want you to come with me, and I’ll take you anywhere, baby. I’ll do anything with you. Don’t even tell me no! I know you do. not. want to stay with him. You told me you cry every night. Why would you buy a house with him?”

“Jason,” Claire yells, as if to scold him. To stop him. But, he continues.

“I will fuck you, every night, the way you want to be fucked. Your pussy will be like the Hope fucking Diamond to me. I will treat the fucking ground you walk on like it is sacred land. I will buy you anything. I will do anything for you. All I want to do is be with you! For at least this two week period, and then at the end of that, we can assess.”

Kevin looks like he’s going to kill the guy. Kevin’s been a bummer the entire time, but he’s also been straight with me, and has tried his best to go along with the production, so I do feel sympathy for him.

“Look,” I start to say, before Jason begins blasting the horn again, and yelling out all four syllables of the phrase ‘inverse penis’, one-by-one. I’m trying to figure out what he means, but before I can ask, I see Claire, a wide grin on her face, skipping down the driveway, to join him in his Lexus.

Holy shit, she’s leaving with the guy! I’m pretty sure the kids are supposed to be on their way, so I frantically ask Keisha to cancel them. She already took care of it, she tells me, having sensed that it would be a bad idea to bring them into this. I couldn’t be happier to have her here with me right now.

Of course, this is terrible for Kevin, since we contractually do own the footage of what went down, and we unfortunately won’t be able to edit it out, and we definitely can’t not air it. I go to comfort him, but see that he is already ducking into an Uber, in tears.

Jason and Claire are still in the driveway, blasting “She Drives Me Crazy,” by the Fine Young Cannibals, while Jason shows Keisha his tattoos, and explains what each of them means.

I notice that Claire has left her Marlboro Lights by the front door, so I pull one out, and I pocket the pack. I don’t even feel bad about it, after all that she’s put us through today. I light one up, and smoke it, as I watch the sun begin come down. It’s magic hour, and it’s gorgeous out.

Soon, Keisha is waving goodbye to the two of them, as they drive off together.

Keisha approaches me. “Wow,” she says.

“Like, the most ultimate catastrophe of a shoot I have ever endured. I feel so fucking bad though, it’s going to be an amazing episode,” I say. “A ton of clips will go viral. Definitely a lot of the funnier shit Jason said. That will be all over TikTok. Poor Kevin really pays the price, though. I’m honestly mortified for him. And the kids.”

Keisha closes the trunk of our Nissan, finished loading it.

“That’s why I took care of it,” she says. “I knew you would never be able to have it on your conscience. So, I did it, now it’s on mine, and now we’re fine. We have an incredible season opener.”

“What do you mean ‘took care of it', Keisha?” I ask. “Did you have something to do with what went on today?”

Keisha holds up Claire’s phone. “Who do you think called Jason to come here?” she asks me. “Who do you think Venmo’d him $15,000, to take his girlfriend on vacation, during the time period he’s been permitted to go by his probation officer? Who do you think took that bitch out last night, and got her shitfaced, went through her phone, and told her she was one hundred percent way better off with Jason than with her husband? She was already texting and DMing with him before we left the bar.”

My jaw drops. “Holy shit, Keish! You’re a sociopath!”

“You know if it’s always just underlying tension, or some nice, normal couple fighting over paint color, we’re out of our jobs,” she says. “I’m just being real.”

I am astonished, but impressed. Taking out a cigarette as I contemplate what she’s done, I offer her one.

“I stole them from Claire,” I laugh. But she waves her head no, showing off her own pack of Newports.

“Jason’s,” she says.

We both laugh, and then hug, before getting into the car to take off.

While we’re on our way back to the production company office, I get a call from Kevin. I’m driving, so I hand the phone to Keisha. She puts it on speaker.

“I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry about what happened today,” Kevin says.

We both snicker, as softly as we can, then immediately stop ourselves, in guilt.

“We understand,” Keisha barely gets out.

“By the way,” he said. “I was originally going to call and tell you that I was going to buy the first house anyway, no matter what happens with Claire. She’s done this before, where she’s run off a guy and cucked me, and we’ve always gotten back together. And even if we don’t, I still need a place for the kids.”

“Well, that’s great,” I say, turning down the radio. “So, you’re going to put in an offer?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he said. “I think I’m gonna have to start my search over. That Spanish Colonial we were at, burned to the ground. Someone left a lit cigarette butt on the neighboring property. Took out like two or three blocks.”

“Wow, that’s unfortunate,” I say. “So that’s a no on that one property, then?”

“Uh, I think so,” he says, awkwardly.

I don’t know what else to say to the guy. We hang up on him.

“Jesus, what a day,” I say, as I put up the windows and blast the AC.

“Who do we have tomorrow?” I ask Keisha, smiling.

“Marlon and Antoinette,” she says, “looking for their forever home.”

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