Synopsis

Double Diamond Dealer is a dark, fast-talking comedy set in the late-90s pressure cooker of Southern California car culture — where the rules of professionalism are more like vague suggestions, and the sales floor is a battlefield of egos, addictions, and barely-suppressed desires. Chuck Weston is the guy in charge — at least on paper. He’s a swaggering car dealership manager still trying to live like it’s 1989, gripping tight to his fading charm and his red Dodge Viper like they’re going to save him from irrelevance. Once married to the perfect blonde trophy wife, Chuck now spends his nights sleeping alone and his days circling the receptionist like a lovesick hound, half-aware of how pathetic he’s become — but too far gone to care. The dealership is less a business than a cracked ecosystem of broken people. There’s George, the porter who weaponizes language barriers just to stay out of the drama; Andy, the salesman whose entire personality is one long HR violation; and Scott in finance, who spends more time filming his own psychosexual video experiments than approving loans. Then there’s Ben — young, eager, and soaking up Chuck’s worst instincts like cologne on a dress shirt. He’s the closest thing Chuck has to a son, a friend, or maybe just a reflection of what he used to be before time, money, and failure wore him down. Every day brings new faces, new lies, and new games. Some customers are just clueless. Others are dangerous. One claims to be the “Mortgage King of the OC,” but has a credit score that wouldn't qualify him for a toaster. When Chuck finally snaps, what follows is an unhinged verbal brawl that becomes legend across the strip mall. The comedy here isn’t about pratfalls — it’s about the moments that reveal who we really are when the mask slips. The petty cruelty between coworkers. The unspoken fantasies. The desperate grabs for youth, sex, power — whatever makes a man feel less invisible. Set against the fluorescent buzz of a dying industry, Double Diamond Dealer is fast, filthy, and uncomfortable in all the right ways — a character-driven blast of 90s sleaze where nobody’s innocent, and sometimes the only way to feel alive… is to cross the line.