The boys are a little cranky. Spelling, Weintraub, and Sean Stewart, the third member of the triumverate starring in Sons of Hollywood, the A&E reality show that premiered in the spring, were up at an ungodly hour for a taping of The Tyra Banks Show, which was notable for two things: Tyra is, apparently, "enormous," and just before Spelling took the stage, a potential love interest flipped out on him.

"I texted her that I was taping the Tyra show, when in fact I was in a restaurant next door waiting to tape Tyra," he explains. "She happened to be in the same place—she saw me. So, of course, she thought I was lying to her. I need to find a girl who hasn't been corrupted by L.A. yet."

There are silver spoons, and then there is the kind of diamond-studded flatware that resides in the mouth of Randy Spelling. He is the only son of the prolific, legendary television producer Aaron Spelling (Charlie's Angels, Dynasty, Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place). Aaron died of complications from a stroke last June at the age of 83. He left behind a 123-room "house" dubbed the Manor, worth somewhere between $135 and $150 million, and a fortune estimated to be half a billion dollars. Spelling's mother, Candy, and his big sister, Tori—perhaps you've heard of her: mouthy blonde with a Play-Doh nose?—had an epic, public catfight over the keys to the coffers (according to tabloid reports, Candy, the executor of the estate, gave the kids only about $800,000 each; Tori used hers to open a B&B with her second husband, Dean McDermott, for the Oxygen Network reality show Tori & Dean: Inn Love). For the record, Randy says he didn't align himself with Candy or Tori, and that the alleged fight between them was overblown. "I never had to choose sides," he says, steering his cream-colored Escalade through Beverly Hills traffic and texting via BlackBerry with Weintraub. "It wasn't like that at all. I'm just the youngest in the family. I was deemed the peacemaker."

If your jones for C-grade tube has driven you to certain depths, Spelling might be familiar to you. He has his father's sharp, almond-shaped eyes. He has his sister's soft, almost malleable-looking nose and chin. For the better part of the nineties, he made appearances on some of his father's shows—90210 and another teen soap, Malibu Shores—and later, in 7th Heaven. Since then, he's been trapped in the limited-release bin, costarring with Simon Rex and Paris Hilton (Pledge This!) and, worse, in a crime caper with Carmen Electra and Jason Priestly (Hot Tamale).

Today, at 28, Spelling is doing something his sister's doing with surprising success and something his dad never quite wrapped his head around: trotting out his surname for a shot at reality-TV infamy. "My dad never really understood reality television," he says, pulling into a Shell station for gas and a bottled Frappucino. "It was hard to explain. He was always like, 'When do you shoot? Do you have to go out of town?'"

The premise of Sons of Hollywood goes something like this: Spelling, Sean Stewart (son of Rod), and Weintraub, their diminutive agent-slash-manager (who was actually raised by his psychotherapist mom) high-five their way up and down the Sunset Strip, overusing words like parrrrr-teeee and bro. Gasp as they play pool while ignoring a waiting limo! Marvel as Randy and Sean have a cotton-candy fight at the Palms in Vegas! Stewart gambles, trashes hotel rooms, and gets in fights when he doesn't understand words like impeccable. Spelling thanks the help. He praises the waitstaff at the middling Las Vegas restaurant N9ne for "the best meal he's ever had." In the end, the show makes two things painfully clear: Rod Stewart should have had a vasectomy, and Randy Spelling is way too nice to be on a reality show. He is genetically incapable of pulling off the "Hey, look at me, I'm a rich fucktard" approach that worked for moneyed brats like Brody Jenner and Brittny Gastineau. But he's going to try anyway. He's a Spelling. "[My dad] was an amazing, phenomenal man, and that comes with tremendous pressure," he says. "It can be really tough on one's psyche." Spelling stops pecking at the PDA and looks up for a second. "Like, I wonder what my dad was doing at my age."

Shortly after David Weintraub wedges himself into the table at Dominick's and orders what he calls his patented drink (Ketel One, soda, splash of pineapple), a casting director whom Spelling recently read for and who has yet to glance in his direction marches across the room bringing a cloud of air hugs and kisses.

"Yo, bro, how you like that billboard on top of Privilege?" Weintraub says to Spelling, with the casting director still within earshot. "You ever seen yourself 20-by-60? That shit is off the chain, man!"

Spelling's face goes red. "It's cool," he says, "except for the fact that I've lost, like, 20 pounds since we taped." He's also stopped smoking cigarettes, and while he hasn't totally gone on the wagon (he was popped with a DUI in 2001), tonight he's drinking cranberry juice and coffee.

Since the fall of last year, Weintraub, now a talent manager and producer at The Coalition, a Beverly Hills-based management firm, has been dealing almost full-time with Sons of Hollywood. He's a 28-year-old Axl Rose freak and probably the only former Death Row Records employee to also be a 30-show Phish veteran, and he has what he calls a "Jewish-Rastafarian star" tattooed on the inside of his upper arm. In addition to producing and co-starring in Sons, Weintraub's been acting as Spelling's carnival barker; this involves doing things like making a remark in front of a New York Daily News reporter about how Spelling snatched Paris Hilton's virginity.

"I don't always agree with the stuff David does," Spelling will say after that story breaks. "I would never exploit someone else to benefit myself. But yeah, I was 17. [Paris] was 14 or 15. We had a special thing. But now people come up to me and they're like, 'You're a fucking rock star.' But that's not me. Not to be mean, but [Paris] is definitely known for being with a lot of men."

Spelling is not a reality-show producer's dream, like his mom and sister. He's a word-parser. A benefit-of-the-doubt giver. A mama's boy ("There's an episode of Sons where Sean [Rod's son] and I get in a fight, and he's like, 'I will beat your fucking ass, you fucking little mama's-boy bitch!'" Spelling recalls. "All three of us are mama's boys.") Which is probably why Weintraub is planting nuggets about his having been Paris' deflowerer.

"Here's the thing—I'm not gonna be homeless or go hungry if I sit on my ass for the next month," Spelling says. "But I'm a creative person, I have to do something. And whatever I do is gonna be different from my dad." He says he's begun production work on a couple of different television shows. There's also a feature film, and a potential movie role as a comic-book character.

Outside Dominick's, Spelling waits for the valet to fetch his car so he can follow Weintraub to L'Hermitage for dinner, Weintraub calls his driver, who pulls to the curb in a silver SUV. Near our tight knot of conversation, a woman separates herself from her pack of friends and begins hovering nervously. It's the wide-eyed autograph dance. And after waiting for the right time to break in, she finally descends.

"Is one of you guys David Weintraub . . . ?"