All language subtitles for Pose.S02E03.WEBRip.x264-ION10

(microphone rustling)

MAN:
We're recording.

MS. FORD:
It's Tuesday, May 1.

I'm here with Angel,
hometown the Bronx.

Congratulations, Angel.

We had hundreds of applicants,

and only five made it through
to this final round.

That's quite the feat.

Why do you deserve
to be the Fresh Face of 1990?

I don't know. (chuckles)

'Cause I'm a natural beauty.

And you don't got to beat my mug
for me to be camera ready.

"Beat my mug"?

Yeah. You know.

-Oh, vogue.
-Mm-hmm.

-That's quite on trend.
-Like that.

That's all my clients
are talking about.

But what else can you offer
as a Fresh Face?

My heart.

Um, when a friend
is having a hard time,

they call me.

-And I give pretty good advice.
-(woman chuckles)

Well, that's all
the questions I have.

Thank you for your time.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Hold on.

You didn't even ask me why I
want to be a Fresh Face of 1990.

(camera whirs)

When was the last time
you've seen somebody

that looked like me
be the face of a campaign?

I know I'm not as polished
as these other girls.

But that don't mean
that I want this any less.

I grew up in a home
where I was told

that I would never
amount to anything.

For a long time...

I believed it.

Sometimes I still do.

And I want to be an example
to... to everybody...

...that's told
that they're worthless.

That they can make something
of themselves.

Help me prove them wrong,
Ms. Ford.

Pick me.

("My Prerogative"
by Bobby Brown playing)

Oh, hey, Angel.

Where have you been, girl?

Papi told me you went
for that modeling campaign.

-Good luck with that, girl.
-Thank you.

I'm rooting for you.

(crowd cheering)

PRAY TELL:
The category is...

Femme Queen Runway.

I need to see you bitches

stomping down this runway
in your best 501s, honey.

Hey, how'd it go?

-I think I got it.
-Ooh!

PRAY TELL:
Ain't nobody coming between you

and your Calvins, honey.

Aw... shoot.

Come on, now, Miss Angel.

(crowd cheering, whistling)

Serving us them
good genes, baby.

And I'm talking about denim...

and skin.

Ah, y'all like
that double entendre?

-(cheering, whistling)
-Catch it, catch it, baby.

(chuckling):
Ooh...

Yes.

Judges, your scores.

Ten, ten, ten, ten...

ten!

You know it don't get
no better than that, baby.

Come on, get this trophy.

Just take it on home, honey.

She branching out
into the world, y'all.

She makes her own decisions.

Yeah, honey,
it's your prerogative.

* Make my own decisions... *

The Evangelistas
are turning it tonight.

* That's my prerogative. *

-You want that... that arch?
-(camera whirs)

Hell, you look like
one of them catalogue girls.

-(clicks tongue) Ain't nobody
gonna be in no catalogue.
-(phone ringing)

-Why? They don't pay
or something?
-No.

'Cause I want to be in a
magazine. I'm a magazine girl.

BLANCA:
Damon, get that phone.

-LIL PAPI: Oh, my goodness.
-(ringing stops)

DAMON:
Angel, it's for you.

Oh, my God, it's Ms. Ford.

ANGEL:
Okay.

Thank you.

Bye.

What'd they say?

Just... Pap. Pap, Pap, stop.
(sniffles)

Oh.

-Baby girl, I...
-DAMON: Angel.

-I'm so sorry, Angel.
-That lady must be blind
or something.

-Nah, she is wrong. I'm-a give
her a piece of my mind.
-ANGEL: Stop it.

I'm tired of your scheming

and your big plans
and your stupid dreams.

You always putting shit
in our minds

to make us think
that we deserve more.

Why don't you just
focus on yourself?

Just... leave me alone.

-Don't worry, I got it.
-Mm-hmm.

You okay?

Yeah.

(door opens)

(footfalls approach)

PRAY TELL:
The category is...

Live...

Work...

Pose!

*

I never wanted anything...

as much as this.

I was gonna snatch that title.

Be a real Ford model.

My face was gonna be everywhere.

Well, look.

I still see all that for you.

You a model if I ever seen one.

That corny-ass competition's
not gonna stop you,

'cause it's your destiny.

*

Oh, my God.

Uh, uh... ah...

-I'm s... I'm so sorry.
-No.

-I-I loved it.
-I loved it... too.

We should get a room.

I'm...

I'm not... I'm not in a rush.

I've been waiting
for a girl like you.

I knew you was the one
since I first seen you.

Let me take you out.

Like, on a real date.

("Black Cat"
by Janet Jackson playing)

(door opens)

ELEKTRA:
So the Little Bitch is back.

-Lock the door. Have a seat.
-Yes, mistress.

(door shuts, locks)

(sniffs)

I see you brought me something
to add to my collection.

-I did, mistress.
-Interesting.

I've never used
one of these before.

What's it do?

You screw the poppers
to the front of the mask,

and it releases
a slow, steady supply

so you don't get a rush
all at once.

I admit, I had
a moment of weakness

the last time we played.

But I cannot condone the use
of drugs in my presence.

-(sniffs)
-I don't even take Tylenol.

Name your price.

$300 extra on top
of the normal $350.

Whatever you want, mistress.

Thank you.

* Looking for you *

* You're a rebel now... *

(sighs, sniffles, exhales)

* Always carrying on *

* With the gang... *

Hard day at the office?

I got passed over
on a promotion

by some Ivy League newbie.

My sales beat him
the last three quarters.

(sniffs sharply)
I cannot tell you

-the amount of pressure...
-(whip cracks)

Shut your mouth.
Leave your worries outside.

-Mistress Elektra
will take good care of you.
-(sniffs sharply)

* And I just now that
you're telling me lies... *

How's that?

(muffled):
Mm, perfect.

* Short days, long nights... *

Can you come back in 20 minutes
after everything's kicked in

so I can fully enjoy my beating?

Certainly.

* But not for long... *

I'm on your time.

* Or you're gonna die *

* You're so together, boy *

* But just at a glance *

* You'll do anything *

* If given a chance *

* Scheming, planning lies *

* To get what you need *

* So full of promises... *

Bye-bye, now.

* Don't you tell yourself *

* That it's okay *

* Sick and tired of *

* All of your games *

* And you want me to stay *

* Ah, better change *

* Makes no sense to me *

* Your crazy ways... *

Is my Little Bitch ready?

* Why you insist *

* On ways of living
such a dangerous life... *

Nod your head if you're ready
for your beating.

(whip cracks)

* And I just know that
you're telling me lies... *

(Elektra gasps, pants)

Shit.

No. No!

Shit! Fuck!

(hyperventilating)

(Elektra whimpers)

(sniffles)

Paul, wake up.

Wake up, Paul!

Oh, God. No.

No. Oh, God, no.

Oh, shit.

(breathing heavily)

(knocking on door)

Elektra, what do you want?
What are you doing?

-Is there anyone here?
Are you alone?
-Yes!

Blanca, I fucked up.
I really fucked up this time.

Okay, okay, calm down.

Well, give me something
for my nerves.

There's something
I haven't told you.

And you can save your judgment.

I'm employed
at the Hellfire Club.

-You work as a mistress?
-Yes.

I have this client, Paul.

A little creepy,
but he tips well.

He enjoys doing a little coke

when we do,
you know, what we do.

Girl, if this is about
borrowing money for rehab,

I am not falling for that again.

Will you just shut up
and listen!

He likes drugs.
And to be restrained.

So I put this gas mask thing
on him.

He must have gotten sick,
maybe from the drugs.

I swear I didn't leave him there
that long.

-What happened?
-Uh...

He choked on his vomit.

Wh...?
Did you call an ambulance?

He's dead.
I got scared, so I ran.

You have to call the police.

No. They'll arrest me
for murder.

Does anybody know
if the body's still there?

-I-I don't know.
-How long has it been there?

Will you stop
with the fucking fifth degree?

What am I going to do?

You are going to trust me.

(screams)

If you didn't want
any of my advice,

then why did you even come here?

Exactly.

I'm asking myself
the same question.

-Should've gone to Candy.
-(Blanca muttering)

("Nasty Girl" by Vanity 6
playing)

BLANCA:
Elektra, what are we doing here?

I already told you a
million times, Blanca-- go home.

BLANCA:
Candy's on the pole?

ELEKTRA:
How else is she going
to earn a living?

ELEKTRA:
Move.

I need to talk to you.

* Don't you wanna
play my game? *

* I'm lookin' for a man
to love me *

* Like I've never
been loved before... *

-What are you doing?
-Now!

* 'Cause tonight I'm livin'
in a fantasy... *

CANDY:
You hos kill me,

coming at me
like I'm Dear fucking Abby.

Run this back again.

You gagged a man and he died?

He white?

Oh, bitch, you fucked.

Candy, that is not helping.

Tell her to call the cops.

Hey, girl.

Steve.

You shouldn't allow clients
backstage. It isn't safe.

Oh, let's not talk
about safety at my job

when you just killed a man
at yours.

Um, it was an accident.
She didn't kill him.

Call the po-pos, and you're
definitely going to jail.

'Cause ain't no way
that your broke ass

is beating the best lawyers
that white money can buy.

And you best believe
it's gonna be a big-ass story

on the cover of The Times,
the Post, the Daily News...

Well, shit.
Maybe you should call the cops.

Exactly.
Somebody should call the cops.

-We can explain what happened...
-Uh, we?

Huh-uh, no, ma'am.
Ain't no "we."

Do I look like I want to spend
the rest of my life in prison?

Orange ain't my color.

He had drugs in his system.

The cops can't blame you
for that.

They not gonna believe
a bunch of transsexuals, girl.

Just let whoever finds him
deal with the mess.

No. I think Blanca's right.

-I'm going to the police.
-Thank you.

Girl, you really think
your high-saditty ass

is gonna survive Rikers?

(scoffs) Listen.

Somebody I want you to talk to
before you turn yourself in.

-Okay? Come on.
-* Nasty girl *

-* Nasty girl *
-* Do you think
I'm a nasty girl? *

Girl, we are wasting time.
Every minute we don't report,

-Elektra looks more suspicious.
-Your problem, Blanca,
is you think

doing the right thing
is always the right thing to do.

-Hey, girl.
-EUPHORIA: Hey, girl.

How you been? You good?

Ah, business is slow.
Damn Bush economy.

Look, can we buy you
a cup of coffee?

Girl, I don't drink no coffee.

But you can buy my time.

I never had one die on me.

Pass out, start puking
all over himself,

start crying about his wife--
now, that happens all the time.

But full-on dying?

That's some fucked-up shit.
What did you do to him?

Nothing. He OD'd.
I-I wasn't even in the room.

Which is why we should
call the police

-and tell them the truth.
-Don't look at me, girl.

I already told her
she was crazy.

What world you been living in?

-I've been arrested before.
-(chuckling): For hooking?

And for protesting
at a bar once.

Those are bullshit crimes.

Ticky-tack stuff
the cops can use

to prove they're
keeping the streets safe.

Or as an excuse
to rough you up a little.

We're talking
violent offenses here.

And Miss Elektra crossed
the one line that our kind

ain't allowed to ever cross.

We're the ones supposed to get
beat up and die, not them.

Tell them about the trouble
you got into last summer.

A john picks me up

in his brand-new Buick LeSabre.

Nothing fancy.
$20 BJ in the back seat.

I worked that thing
for five minutes.

-(exhales)
-You okay, baby?

You're using too much teeth.

Honey, ain't nobody
ever called me toothy.

I'm not the problem here.

(cries out)

(grunting and groaning)

(groaning)

-Help me!
-You bitch.

Stop it!

(siren whoops)

OFFICER:
Sir, stand next to your vehicle.

What's going on?

EUPHORIA:
They heard what he had to say.

He told them all about
his brother who was a cop

somewhere out on Long Island.

And how he was just
giving me a ride,

and I tried to rob him.

(chuckles):
"No good deed goes unpunished,"

and all that bullshit.

MAN:
Take it off.

EUPHORIA:
On my first day in Rikers,

I got beat up.

On my second day, a guard
tells me he could keep me safe,

even sneak in some cosmetics.

Maybe even a good wig.

-But it wasn't kindness.
-(camera clicks)

He was just making me pretty
so he could pimp me out.

Listen.

A pretty girl like you

doesn't want anything
to do with jail.

And I don't care if they
got the guy dying on video.

You gonna take the fall.

For girls like us,

the system is never on our side.

That's all fine,

but what the hell
am I going to do?

I think I know someone
that can help.

I heard she takes care of
situations like this, but...

you gonna have to have cash.

Oh, so what, we gonna add
new people to the conspiracy?

-(scoffs)
-ELEKTRA: Blanca,

-may I speak to you in private?
-What?

ELEKTRA:
I know this is your house,

-but your mother is sending you
to your room.
-Why?

So you can get yourself
into even more trouble

without having me
to get you out of it?

Yes.
And to keep your hands clean.

Thank you, but this is serious.

Bigger than all of
our reading and shading

and cutting and feuding.
This is your life.

-You're my mother.
-And you're my daughter.

And not responsible
for my sins.

Whatever we're about to do
is reserved for those of us

who only need a hot bath
and a stiff drink

to forget things.

-That's not you.
-That's not you, either.

But I have no choice.
And neither do you anymore.

Go. I don't want you to hear
another word of this.

(sighs)

Okay.

Who's this problem solver
of which you speak?

Oh, I don't do subbasements.

Bougie bitch, come on.

MS. ORLANDO:
I just need five minutes
to clean up.

-And smoke me a Virginia Slim.
-(door closes)

(gasps)
Not you, bitch!

-Yeah, bitch.
-You cause me
nothing but problems.

-Bitch, you almost killed me.
-No!

You telling all the girls

that Ms. Orlando
doesn't know her shit.

-You cost me money, whore.
-I can cost you more.

You two can argue over
your grievances some other time.

I was told that you could
help us clean up a little mess.

For a friend of hers?

Never... (rolls "R")

You earned your living
mutilating and scarring

the girls of our community.

I'm here to offer you
an opportunity

to make up for your butchery.

We heard you know how to get rid
of particular kind of problems.

Like the kind that was breathing
that ain't breathing no more.

And that you're a cleaner.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Bullshit!
You habla inglé bitch.

Word is a girl got sick
from some of your shit

and had a heart attack
or something.

And you got rid of the body.

And you did the same for a girl
who knifed a john

-who got rough
with her at the piers.
-(sobbing): More lies!

-Now, leave!
-(exhales)

I am not proud
of having to come to you.

I don't know if he was
a good man or a bad man,

but I know that he didn't
deserve to die like this,

and he certainly doesn't deserve

whatever we're going
to do with him.

But something must be done,
and we need your help.

MS. ORLANDO:
Mm.

Was he a tall man?

-Was he fat?
-What does that matter?

I just need to know how big
of a suitcase I need to bring.

*

We have four hours until
the cleaning crew comes

to get the room ready
for the next shift.

We should get anything that
could trace him back to here.

CANDY:
Hold up.

I know this motherfucker--
Paul.

They banned him from the
strip club 'cause he would take

the girls in the back
and smack 'em around.

I say we take him outside
and leave him

dressed up just like he is.

MS. ORLANDO:
Mm-mm-mm.

We put him back in the suitcase,

and we take him somewhere safe.

Vamos!

(elevator bell chimes)

Sh... Damn it!

-What a mess.
-I can't do anything.

That's okay. I got you.

I'm sorry about the other day.

It's all right, I just...

Um, I long forgave you
for your-your outburst.

(chuckles)

-You all right?
-Yeah.

I just got a lot on my mind.

You want to talk about it?

No. You first.

Papi has been pouting all day.

What did you do to him?

(door opens)

(door shuts)

Speaking of the devil.
You gonna go handle that?

Why you acting like that?

I'm not acting like nothing.

Yes, you are.

Look, you're the one ignoring me
ever since I asked you out.

No, I'm not.

You kissed me
'cause you was sad.

It was a pity kiss, and now you
don't know how to act around me.

Go ahead, reject me.
I can handle it.

I'm not just some hoodrat
who can't see

he ain't got shit
to bag a girl like you.

Papi...

That's not true.

I'm just scared.

I don't want to ruin
what we have.

You're family.

You mean so much to me.

I can be more.

Give me a shot.

Let me show you.

Show me what?

This right here.

Oh! Who needs The Young and
the Restless when you got this?

All right,
get y'all asses in here.

Dinner's served.

When are you taking me out?

Whenever you want.

That bitch ran off
with my money.

Never trust a girl
who works the pole.

You blaming me?
(scoffs)

Okay, fine.

I'll leave.

I ain't the one with a dead
white boy in her bedroom.

Talk to me crazy.

I got some goodies
to play with.

What is all this?

The lye is for the smell.

The pleather is easy
to work with,

and most importantly,
it doesn't leak.

We're gonna wrap him up,

we're gonna sew him in,

and we're gonna put him
in that closet

with some boxes over.

And I promise you,
no one will ever know.

A beautiful little cocoon.

Hmm.

It works.

I have a friend in Honduras.

Her husband used to
beat her with a hanger

that he used to heat up first
over the fire.

Until one day she shot
the motherfucker dead,

right in the belly.

And all the ladies in town
came to help her cocoon him

so she wouldn't get in trouble.

That's what we do-- women.

Is that how you got rid
of the body of that girl

who had a bad reaction to some
of your ghetto silicone?

My silicone is primo shit!

That girl had some kind
of problem or something.

Now, are we going
to do this or not?

Because it's going to take time.

And I... I have a hair
appointment at 10:00.

-Come on.
-Can we at least say a prayer

or something over the body
before we cocoon him?

I told you, this motherfucker
got exactly what he deserved.

But he's a human being--
some mother's son.

(sighs)

("Shame" by Evelyn "Champagne"
King playing)

Ugh.

Lord, the world can be
a cruel place,

especially for women like us.

We do not like
what we have to do

to this man's body,

but we have no choice.

If we did, we would
do right by him.

At least no one will know
how he died,

which I'm sure
he would appreciate.

Can we get to work now?

*

(grunting)

-He's too big to lie him flat.
-No.

We have to fold him up...

-...like a baby.
-Ugh.

Hey, you didn't kill him.

Come on, help me.

* You got me so confused,
it's a shame *

* Sometimes I think
I'm going insane *

* But still I want to stay *

* Wrapped in your arms *

* Is where I want to be *

-* I want to be *
-* Want to be *

* Wrapped in your arms *

* That's my high *

* My high *

* Shame, ooh *

* My mother says
you're playing a game *

* And what you do to me
is a shame *

* Ooh, gonna love you
just the same *

* Mama just don't understand *

* Wrapped in your arms... *

MS. ORLANDO:
Now, we have to sew him tight.

No holes, no seams.

Because when the body start
decomposing,

he's gonna spill out
all over your heels.

* I can't get enough *

* Ooh, baby *

* Enough of that magic touch *

* Love is in my heart *

* Tearing the rules apart *

* So, why should I
be ashamed? *

ANGEL:
Ay.

Hmm.

Nothing feels right
for Barbetta.

It's impossible to get
a reservation there.

-How did Papi pull that off?
-I don't know.

He's a hustler.
That's what I like about him.

He can do anything.
He's creative.

What do you think
about this dress?

Classy.

-Mm-hmm.
-Very...

Veronica Webb.

But, girl, why you stressing
over it? It's just Papi.

What you mean it's just Papi?

Okay, for the record,
I'm Team Papi.

All right? I mean,
his intentions are pure,

he quit dealing,
he got that GED,

and he got that job
at the Carlyle.

I mean, I'm proud
of how far he's come.

Mm, me, too.

And I feel a "but" coming.

But...

you are a girl...

that can get anything.

-(phone ringing)
-Any guy that you want.

Hello? Oh.

-One second. Angel.
-What?

MAN:
Angel? She's ready for you.

MS. FORD:
Trust me, I have
the girl for you.

Well... well, don't worry.

Consider it handled.

Angel, thanks for coming in.

Mm-hmm.

I assume you have regrets
about rejecting me

in favor of that blonde.

You're delightful.

And as much as your sass
tickles me,

it cost you the title.

-Hmm.
-I have something for you.

A group of Ford models
is on location as we speak

for a cosmetics shoot.

The client feels that
there's something missing.

He wants something different.

Well, I have a hunch that
what he's looking for is you.

-Me?
-Yeah.

You have something.

It's just the Bronx.

You ain't used to the realness.

-The realness?
-Mm-hmm. Real.

I'm of the people
from the sidewalk

that you look down on
from your perch in the sky.

Mm. Well, I'll give you that.

Have you heard of Wet 'n' Wild?

Mm-hmm.

They've got the best eyeliners.

You ain't got to
burn 'em or nothing.

-Is that so?
-Mm-hmm.

Well, it should be
an easy sell for you.

To be the face of their
Spring Colors collection.

Wait.

My face is gonna be in the
makeup aisle at Duane Reade?

Where all the girls
can see me?

When do they want me?

You're already late.

(gasps)

* Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like
to introduce the high hat *

* Go on *

* Mm, that's good *

* Who's looking good today? *

* Who's looking good
in every way? *

* No style, rookie *

* You better watch,
don't mess with me *

* No moneyman can win my love *

* It's sweetness... *

-I like this a lot.
-STYLIST: It's great.

* We always hang
in a Buffalo stance *

* We do the dive
every time we dance *

* I'll give you love, baby,
not romance... *

You must be Angel. I'm Erik.

-Nice to meet you.
-Nice to meet you.
How are you feeling?

I'm good. I'm a little nervous,
but I'm so excited.

Oh, don't worry. You got this.
I love this already.

This is great. Let's try one
with the hands up.

-I love that look.
-Okay.

* Looking good,
hanging with the wild bunch *

* Looking good
in a Buffalo stance *

* Looking good when it
comes to the crunch *

* Looking good's
a state of mind *

* State of mind, don't look
behind you *

* State of mind
or you'll be dead *

-* State of mind,
may I remind you *
-* Bomb the bass... *

Oh, perfect.
I love this pose, yeah.

Hold that. Mm-hmm.
Right, right. Great, great.

Mm. Yes.

Give me a little vogue.

Yeah, vogue a little more,
vogue a little more.

There we go. Yep.

Yes. You are a star, Angel,
you're a star.

Angel, feel free
to use that stool.

* No moneyman... *

ERIK:
Get close, ladies.

Right, right. Great.

Oh, amazing.

Great, I love this. I love this.

* No moneyman
can win my love... *

Great. Yep.

Perfect. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

Great, great. Perfect.

Shit. 7:35.
I got to meet somebody.

(laughs softly)
We have you booked until 9:00.

I-I got plans.

Do you want to be
a social butterfly,

or do you want to be
a superstar?

It's your choice.

Superstar it is.

(camera shutter clicking)

*

So we was at Palladium.
We had our own

private table and everything--
all you can drink... and sniff.

Girl, you had better kept
your nose out of that junk.

DAMON:
Mm-hmm. No, but, no,
were you, like,

behind, like, a red velvet rope
and everything?

Yeah. So, um, Lindsey,
she's another Ford model,

she's sleeping
with the club promoter.

-Ooh.
-I'm telling you,
models are the new rock stars.

That's not even the best part.
So we was dancing on the table,

and guess who singled me out.

-B-Bobby Brown.
-Guess again.

Give us a hint, or else we never
gonna get the full story.

My favorite designer.

Oh, my God,
you met Isaac Mizrahi?

-Girl!
-Yes! Girl, I'm telling you,

you know what he said?
"You are the face of the '90s."

-Bitch!
-Yes, I did.

(laughing)

-Yeah, girl.
-My daughter...

out here
with the crème de la crme

-of Manhattan high society.
-DAMON: Mm-hmm. Right there.

-BLANCA: Girl, I'm telling you.
-DAMON: How could she do it?

-ANGEL: Yeah...
-DAMON: Oh, what's up, brother?

LIL PAPI:
Nothing much.

Um, I'm so sorry I'm late.

I picked up an extra shift.

Let me go make you
a plate, baby.

Thank you.

(mouthing)

Oh. I'll help you, Ma.

You know, I wasn't gonna
say nothing, but...

Pap, I'm sorry.

I feel really bad,
but I have... but I have

a really good excuse,
if you want to hear it.

So, I did a photo shoot
for a real modeling campaign.

It's gonna be in Duane Reades
and pharmacies and drugstores

all over the country.

Can you believe it?

I wouldn't be doing
any of this if you wasn't there

-to push me.
-Mm-hmm.

I am so happy for you.

(chuckles softly)

But you fucked me up.

I was flexing mad hard

'cause I thought
I got the girl of my dreams.

I felt like a real man for once.

I told myself, "You must have
done something right

to get her to say yes."

I was ready
to sip champagne with you.

But you didn't show up.

And I was alone
like I always been.

It was even like that. I had my
dress picked out and everything.

Damon helped me.
I really wanted to be there.

-Nope. Nah.
-I-I really wanted
to be there. I promise.

I'm not gonna let you apologize
for doing what you had to do.

This is your dream.

You're living it.

I'm happy for you, for real.

-Angel, you making a mess.
-(chuckles)

I'm-a check on your plate.

Just so you know, though, you're
the only thing I've ever wanted.

You are my dream,

and one day, you gonna realize
that I'm your man.

That I'm gonna protect you and
that I'm gonna love you right.

Right now,
you can't see all that

'cause you got your eyes
on other prizes--

the photo shoots, the magazine
covers, the famous people--

but, Angel, I am a prize, too.

And I need you to know that.

("Nighttime" by Pretty Poison
playing)

You're late.

The sun rises
when it's ready, Blanca.

Now, what was so important
that you needed

to speak to me face-to-face?

What the hell do you mean,
"What is so important"?

It's been two weeks
since that Hellfire business,

and you haven't spoken
one word about it.

I heard about
what you did with that body.

Is that bitch Candy
running her mouth?

I'll do the same to her
if she keeps yapping.

Don't worry. Half of the girls
don't believe her.

And the other half?

They like me. They seen
the story in the papers,

"executive gone missing,"
front page for a week,

and they understand you did
what you had to do.

What any of us would have done
trying to survive.

And don't get me wrong,
I've had nightmares.

I'm worried about you.

You a hard bitch,
but even you got to be hurting.

I've had nightmares, too.

I see him.

We put him in an old trunk.

I move boxes around
to try to hide him.

I worry that the others
can smell him.

The worst part is,
late at night, when it's quiet,

I think, "That's a human being
in there."

I know he was a pig of a man,
but I pray over him.

He's mine now.

He will be with me
for the rest of my life.

Well, you gonna be okay.

Like you said, he was a pig.

So ain't nobody gonna be
grieving over him.

Look at the New York Post today.

He is nothing
but a little story on page 22,

and in a month,
everyone will forget.

Euphoria was right.
The game ain't fair.

We may cut each other up
like a pack of alley cats,

but when the outside world
tries to tear us down,

this army closes ranks.

We sure do.

(Elektra sniffles)

-(door chimes)
-(indistinct P.A. chatter)

-Are you sure it's out yet?
-It's been two weeks already.

She said it would be out.

Oh, my God.
Yo, yo, over here, over here.

We found it.

(Angel gasps)

You look so beautiful.

(shuddering breath)

(laughter)

(shouts)
Oh, my God.

-You did this.
-(shouts)

-Look.
-That's-that's my...

Hey, mister, that's my face.

(laughter)

-Look, this is me.
-Oh, my God.

Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH