All language subtitles for Black.Monday.S02E06.Arthur.Ponzarelli.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+5.1.H.264-monkee

♪ upbeat music ♪

♪ It's Showtime tonight ♪

Previously on Black Monday.

You thinking
what I'm thinking?

One us should take
a steamy shit in Mo's car?

Heads.

♪ dramatic music ♪

I believe you've
already met my boss.

I told you, I got you.

Mo, what the fuck
are you doing here?

If I could get you
$25 million,

you think you might be able
to abracadabra old Mo a job?

Blair, a Ponzi scheme
always ends badly.

We are doing this!

So you're the boy

that Roger's been
golfing with recently,

- That's me.
- Lynette, land the plane!

So I'm working for you now.

That's right.
You're working for me.

What do you want?

Just your help fucking
Mo and the TBD group

so hard that they'll
beg for death.

Monday, 12:24 p.m.

Hello Mr. Pfaff.

This is Congressman Harris's
secretary.

Regretfully, the congressman
is too busy changing the world

to return all his
constituents' phone calls

personally at this time.

But he thanks you
for your support.

So reading
between the lines,

I think Roger

wants me to call him again.

Or give him a minute to respond
to your last 11 calls.

And while we wait,

I invite you to feast your eyes

on the first ever design
from my brand new

Fannie for Georgina

by Tiffany Georgina collection!

Did you even listen
to the message?

Oh, my God.

You played it for me,
like, seven times.

Tiff, everything with Roger

was going so well.

It was really starting
to feel real,

and now it's just been
nothing for weeks.

He's probably just busy
like his girl said.

And the election's
in one month, right?

Yeah.

Well, speaking of
changing the world,

who's ready to face
the future of denim?

Let's listen one more time.

God, he never wants
to see you again!

I'm so sorry.

But you probably did
do something wrong.

Most likely in bed.

I told you the penis--

-she's trickier than she looks.
- She?

Of all the things
to metaphorically genderize--

- Blair.
- Oh, thank God.

- I need to talk to you.
- I need to talk to you.

I'm not listening
to that shit again!

You got dumped, homeboy.

But hey,
quick question.

Have you gotten
your next big idea, hm?

'Caused we used all our Nigerian
prince money

to pay back Leighman.

And now we are broke, Blair.

I mean, how are we
even gonna cover payroll?

I don't know.

Just tell the chicks
that we got

into a little mix-up,
but we're on it.

Or you could tell the women

that we're running
a fucking Ponzi scheme!

- Whoa.
- Yeah, whoa, Dawn.

Let's just find an investor
to keep us afloat.

Right now,
we just need enough cash

to cover the payroll.

And then what?
Another investor?

How many people
do you plan to defraud?

I told you this Ponzi shit
was gonna spin out of control,

and we'd end up broke,
in jail, or both.

We're gonna get caught,
Blair.

I mean, what do we do when
our earnings report is due?

- Sit on it.
- Eh--Tiff is right.

We just hold off
until we can raise the cash,

and then we'll cook the books

to make it look like
there's a profit

till I have my next big idea.

Companies delay
all the time, Dawn.

Maybe Tiff should be
running this place.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I've been doing
a Ponzie impression

this whole time.

Was that not clear?
The Ponz?

Arthur Ponzarelli?

Ayyy!

Just let her have this.

Guys, don't worry.

All our money woes will be over

the second the world sees
a pair of these babies.

♪ hip-hop music ♪

Dungaree eyes!

Not too much else

has changed, you know?

Same menu binder.

But now it's filled
with actual menus,

and not everyone's
favorite prostitutes and...

- Oh, great.
- Uh...

There's--there's no more 'tutes

allowed at the office.

And we don't call them
'tutes anymore either.

We refer to them as

victims of sex trafficking.

Oh, well, you know
what I call them?

A cab after I hit that shit.

Uh, the powder room.
Right over there.

Couple tweaks.

It is now
an actual powder room,

and not a cute name for a place
where we host coke orgies.

- You know?
- Okay.

Now let me tell you
something.

The ladies love
getting ready in there.

There's great light,
skinny mirror.

So if you're gonna use it,
remember.

No 'tutes.

No toots.

And no...

Victims of sex trafficking.

Ah.
Of course.

♪ Dungaree eyes ♪

♪ Ugly frames
are disguised with ♪

Blair, you gotta tell her.

- I know.
- Fucking tell her!

- Tell me what?

Tiff.
Yeah.

Tiff, Tiff, Tiff.

There's gonna be no relaunch
of Georgina.

We don't even
own the name anymore.

We had to sell it to Penney's.

You mean for pennies?

No, to J.C. Penney's.

That's even worse.

I'm sorry.

All that's left
is a bunch of pallets of Skants

that we couldn't
even give away.

What do you mean,
"There's no Georgina"?

I-I'm Georgina.

You sold a human being?

Although that is ironic,

considering how the company
got its start.

The fuck?

I don't even know
who I am anymore.

I feel like Goldie Hawn
in Overboard.

Ah, the hilarious tale
of a humble carpenter

repeatedly raping an heiress
with a head injury.

She came to love him, Dawn,

and those children as her own.

Tiff, come back.

Oh, no, no.

I'm not fucking done
with you yet, Ponzarelli.

Hey, where is the file room?

Were you not here
when we converted that

to a pumping station?

Oh, you got a gym now?

Oh, that's great,
because, you know,

I put on a couple pounds

when I went from cocaine
to sugarcane.

- A breast pumping station.
- Great.

We got a lot
of working moms,

and they can nurse
wherever they want,

as God intended,

but if they want
a little bit of privacy--

No, I was actually saying

where do you keep the files

about TBD's activities
and whatnot?

You know,
in case somebody asks,

and you're not around to give
one of these dope-ass tours.

Okay, first of all,
thank you.

- Sure.
- I work hard on the tours.

Of course.
I could tell.

But after Black Monday,

TBD digitized all the files.

What, have you not seen
the new server room?

- No.
- We gotta check it out.

- It's some Max Headroom shit.

You need to get
off my ass, Dawn.

You know why
you can't come up

with your next big idea?

Because you haven't
come up with your first!

The crash! Amerisavings!
The shit was on me.

Well, congrats on Amerisavings.

What a huge success!

Fuck you!

Hey, hey, Dawn.

Don't beat yourself up
about the Amerisavings.

- That shit--
- Fuck out of my face, Mo.

You are a junior analyst,
remember?

You wanna chat?

Make a fucking appointment!

And that is the tour.

♪ hip-hop music ♪

What on Earth are you doing?

Mom.

What a nice surprise.

We were in the neighborhood.

- Oh!
- But is this a bad time?

No.
No.

- I was just, um--
- Screaming into a pillow.

Don't worry.
I've been there.

- Hey, sweetie.
- Hello!

- He's single.
- Mom.

Ms. Darcy, I'm Marcus Duane
Wainwright III.

Wow, aren't you a mouthful?

- I mean that your name is long.
- Ah.

- Obviously.

Marcus is head of the

African American
Scholarship Fund.

- Mm.
- And I was discussing

chairing their art department

when I told him

- who my baby was.
- Mm.

And he's been dying
to meet you for a while.

Oh.

When I saw your
"Babes of Wall Street"

profile in the journal,

I did some research.

You're impressive.

Needless to say, they did not
do justice to your career.

Or my rear.

Ain't that right?

- Sorry.

You're not wrong, though.

So, Dawnie,
Marcus was asking me

what are your lunch plans?

Um, swallowing a piece
of gum in between meetings.

Honestly, I would love to,
but I just have so much work.

Ah, but this is work.

The AASF is looking
for the right investment firm

to take our endowment
to the next level

and I think you're just
the woman for the job.

Wow.
Uh, wow.

I am flattered.

And a fan.

Um, but...

I don't think
you wanna do that.

I mean, we're too
high risk of a firm

for those kids' futures.

But I would be happy
to recommend

another firm.

Another black-owned firm?

Well, there aren't any.

But there's a guy
at Bear Stearns

who's married
to an African lady.

She's South African.

Pro-Apartheid, but--

Wow, uh, okay.

How about you just come
and hear me out?

Worst case scenario,

you make a new friend.

It's just lunch, Dawnie.

Well.

This rear ain't
gonna eat itself.

Feed itself.

- They're both weird.
- Yes, lunch, yes.

- Sure, I would love that.
- Great.

- Lunch it is!
- Yeah.

Be right there.

Girl, you call that flirting?

You better tighten up.

Wow.
Look at this place, Marcus.

And look at all these sisters.

Ooh, my baby is doing it, huh?

Ah, Ruth.

- Always lovely to see you.
- Oh.

- I thought you were in jail.
- No, no.

That was just
a misunderstanding.

Oh, I didn't know
the show was called

America's Most
Unsolved Misunderstandings.

Hey, brother.
I'm Marcus--

Duane Wainwright III.

A Morehouse man.

Head of the African American
Scholarship Fund.

- Oh.
- Yes, he's taking Dawn

to lunch to discuss
investing their endowment.

- Mm.
- Yeah, so.

- Move along, playboy.
- Excuse me.

- Yeah, excuse you.

You guys do great work.

We do.

Ooh!

African American
Scholarship Fund.

Oh.

So y'all robbing niggas now.

No.

Actually, it's not business.
It's a date.

- Mm, well.
- Mm-hmm.

I hope you can handle
his very large endowment.

I've moved on from medium.

- So I know I can.

Me too.

♪ Eric Carmen's Hungry Eyes ♪

♪ Hungry eyes ♪

♪ One look at you
and I can't disguise ♪

♪ I've got hungry eyes ♪

♪ I feel the magic
between you and I ♪

♪ I want to show you
what love's all about ♪

You know what?
Yeah.

Bless you.

Oh.
No thanks.

♪ Now I've got you
in my sights with my ♪

I can't believe they put

your partner's white ass

on the cover of Jet.

Well, it's better
than my black bush

on the front of The Journal.

For what it's worth,

my cousin has that taped up
in his garage

if you ever want
a discount on a muffler.

But seriously, all the success.
It must be--

Dope.
Well, it's fucking dope.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

I was gonna say isolating.

Well, uh...
yeah.

Sometimes it would be great
to hang out with

other black CEOs

or female CEOs
or black female CEOs.

Well, hey,

no one forgets
those who were first.

- Tell that to Rebbie.
- Who?

Oldest Jackson kid.
"Centipede"?

Aah.
You got me.

- Yeah.

But for real, Dawn,
that's why we need you.

To be an example to our kids.

- The Fund needs you.
- Wow.

You are persistent.

We haven't even seen a menu,

and you are already pitching.

Think of how many lives
you'll inspire and change.

We can announce it tonight
at our mixer.

In front of the press.

I want our kids

to see your black face
on that front page.

Sorry, but I just don't think
we are the right firm for you.

You keep saying that.
Why?

I've seen your returns.
You're brilliant.

Thank you.

- But--
- Who else should I trust

with $30 million worth

of our community's futures?

- 30 what?
- Million.

Come on, Dawn.
Do I have to beg?

♪ dramatic music ♪

...phone calls personally

at this time,
but he thanks you--

- Boss?
- I'm busy. And leaving.

Okay.

Just wanna know if you
could sign my timecard.

Is there anything else?

No, just, uh,

love what you've done
with my office.

With the angles

and the sharp--

all the sharpness.

Okay, well, I'm sure
there's some shit

that needs to be
junior analyzed, so--

While I have you,
I just wanna say that, man,

I am really sorry
that we got off

on the wrong foot
last year.

Huh.
Do you mean when you

sabotaged my job prospects

to manipulate me
into working for you,

so you could steal
my wife's birthright?

Yeah.
That.

- I was wrong. Okay?
- Oh.

But I think you and I both know

that kind of wrong

is exactly what you need
right now.

I mean, Dawn's gone all
goodie-goodie, and

I would really love
the shot to--

to make shit right with us.

Believe it or not,
I was starting

to think of you as a son.

And I was starting to think
of you like my father.

The one who died
while beating you?

That's the one.

Anyway, look,

if you need
an extra set of hands

to get dirty,

I am the wrong guy.

- What?
- Which means the right guy.

Where you rushing
off to so fast?

Out.
And no thank you, Roland.

Rollin.

Can't get anything by you!

♪ upbeat dance music ♪

Hello, Mr. Pfaff.

This is Congressman Harris's
secretary.

- Regretfully, the--
- Motherf--

Hey, girlfriend.

Keith, what the fuck
are you doing here?

Well, Miami kind of
sucked me dry,

both from a money standpoint,

and from a "getting blown
on the reg" standpoint.

- Ew.
- And Shira wants her alimony,

so long story short.

I'm here,
I'm queer,

unless you want
the rest of the world

to know that you are too,

give me a job, bitch.

Fine.
Whatever.

You can be a junior analyst.

- Welcome back, fuckface.

Keith?

Mo.

Oh, I'm sorry,
is it Antoine?

No, no, no.
Let me guess.

With the hair, James Brown.

- Hilarious.
- Wait a sec.

- This isn't Kokomo.
- Question.

How'd you get out
of prison so fast?

You're not that white.

It's almost as if you, uh,

cut a deal with some
very powerful people.

Hm.
Question.

How'd you get your charges
dropped so fast?

You're not white at all.

It's almost as if you

cut a deal with, uh,

some very powerful people.

Mm-hmm.

Well, see you around.

Well, not if I see you first.

Around.

Bobbled that one
a little bit.

Yeah, well, you know,

just getting my sea legs back.

- Okay.
- Okay.

All right.

♪ upbeat music ♪

Fuck!

Yes.

♪ Hall and Oates'
"Private Eyes" ♪

Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Please.

- Please, please allow me.
- Oh, thank you.

What?
That's mine.

Follow that cab!

Oh! That's so nice of you.
Thank you so much.

They never would've stopped
for me.

- Hey, that's mine!
- Okay, follow that cab!

Excuse me, I'm so sorry, ma'am.

Ah!
Ah!

Fuck you!
Asshole!

♪ What my head overlooks ♪

♪ The senses will show
to my heart ♪

♪ When it's watching
for lies ♪

♪ You can't escape my ♪

- Hey, man.
- Hey, hey, hey, shh.

I'll pay for both of us.

Here.
Keep the change.

♪ They see your every move ♪

♪ Oh, babe,
private eyes ♪

♪ They're watching you ♪

♪ Private eyes ♪

♪ They're watching you ♪

Stupid, stupid.

What the hell is happ--

Good to see you, Tiff.
Bye.

Fine.
Have a seat.

It's a free country.

Uh, I was sort of

on my way to a thing.

Yeah, I'll take
a little advice, okay.

I mean, because you do
always seem

to do exactly the right thing

in every situation.

I don't know about that.

So what's up?
Briefly.

God.

Things used to be
so good, D.

I was Tiff Georgina.

Girls wanted to be me.
Guys wanted to fuck them.

I didn't give a care
in the world.

But if I'm not Tiff Georgina
anymore, who am I?

Who am I, Dawn?

Wow.

Kind of all over the place.

But let me try to cut through.

You're not your name,
or the family you came from.

You never were.
You are...you!

And this is an opportunity

to finally figure out
who that is.

Do your own thing.
Forge a new path.

I have a lawyer friend
who gave it all up

to go to veterinarian school.

Tiff.

You're so much more
than just a Georgina.

You're right.

You are so right.

You can do anything you want.

- I'm not just a Georgina.
- No.

I'm also a Pfaff.

It's a simple rebrand.

That's not exactly--

And I already
have a great name

that's already a quality brand.

I mean, Blair Pfaff
is the Whiz of Wall Street.

You start with designer denim
and the sky's the limit!

Pfaff Hotels, Pfaff
Universities, Pfaff Steaks--

Yeah.
That's what I meant.

- Try the medium Blair.
- Good luck.

Pfaff Casinos, Pfaff
Deodorant, Pfaff the Game!

Come on, you son of a--

Jesus!

What are you doing here?

I could ask you
the same thing.

Who's Dr. Egon?
Your new boy toy?

Who are you supposed to be?
Investor Clouseau?

I think the hat works.

You think you're
solving a mystery here?

You hit up my
psycho father-in-law

Pastor Swafford for money
behind my back.

He deduced we were what we...

were.

And forced me back
into conversion therapy

with Dr. Gabe Egon.

- Dr. Gay Begone?
- Oh, God.

Do you think he changed
his name to that?

I don't know.
He's the fucking devil.

Roger, I'm sorry.
I didn't know he suspected.

- Oh--
- Since Corkie gave us his card,

I thought it was okay,
but h-how can I fix this?

You can't.

You don't know men
like Newell.

He owns me.

- But if I talk to him--
- Just let it go, Blair!

Just let me go.
It was fun, but...

it's done.

Hey.
I'm really sorry to interrupt,

but you said you wanted to know
as soon as it happened, boss.

- Mo?
- What's with the hats?

Ran the numbers.

Turns out that TBD

can completely underwrite

Congressman Harris's
re-election campaign,

so we're good.

Oh, no, shit.
Is this the Congressman?

God.
I'm so sorry.

I know you wanted it
to be a surprise.

Please don't fire me, boss.

I got a bunch of kids and shit.

Wait.

That's why you've been
calling me so much?

To tell me...

You wanna finance my campaign?

Where would you
net out on that?

Well, I--

I wouldn't have to answer

to that monster
Newell ever again.

And we'd have a reason
to see each other

during the daytime.

- Is this for real?
- It's very real.

- Let's go celebrate.
- I would love to.

But my bones
are still doing that

post-conversion therapy
tuning fork thing.

- Oh.
- Yuck.

This weekend?

Yeah.

♪ light music ♪

Roger.

Pfaff.

- Congressman.
- Friend.

- Mo, thank you so much.
- Ooh!

I'm really impressed.

I mean, you're doing the nasty
with the Congressman

so that you can trade
on legislation

before it hits the street?

That is some crazy shit,

I mean, even for me!

You're gonna kill everybody,
Blair.

- I fuckin' love it.

Yeah, that is, uh--

that is what I was doing.
- All right.

We got hats on,
we should go do something.

- Let's go do hat stuff!
- Hat stuff!

Hats!
I feel like we're in a musical.

- Ah.

Ah, fuck.

Are you ready?
Now, don't be nervous.

Just be yourself,

the embodiment
of black success

that comes from honest,
hard work.

Yeah, that's me.

Now can we just get through this

without describing me
any further?

You're my idol,
Ms. Dawn.

- Oh, thank you.
- Can I have some money now?

I'm just playing.

I'm gonna make my own.

I didn't even know
it was possible

till I read about you,
so thank you.

Oh, baby, sweet.
Thank you.

So now can I have some money?

Okay, Shontiqua,
let's get you to your seat.

See you out there, hero.

Yeah, sure.

- Oh, thank you.

Mm.

What the heck
is wrong with you?

Mom.

I'm a liar.

I can't take these kids' money.
I'm sorry.

I wanted you to be proud of me,
and I came pretty close,

but I can't do this.

TBD is--
it's a fraud.

- Hold on.
- Listen, I know you raised me

- to be better, to do good, to--
- To do whatever it takes.

Good isn't always
what it looks like, baby.

What?

Don't you think
I want things too?

I want this
art department chair,

and I want my baby to run
that fund's endowment.

Even if you have to juggle
a little bit.

Mama, no.
It's not right.

You want to talk
about right?

Was it right that I never had
the opportunities that you had?

Was it right that you shattered
the glass ceiling

while I spent my life
banging my head

against the basement wall?

That's why I sent you to all
those fancy white schools.

Now do you want to stand in
front of your daughter one day,

envious of what
the world had for her

when it had nothing for you?

Or do you want to go out there
and get it for all of us?

♪ dramatic music ♪

Damn, Mama.

You gangsta.

Where you hell you think
you got it from?

Now get your ass up there.

Get this shit over.

Just tell me
you got something.

And it better
be something good, Ro,

- or you're done.
- Yeah, I know.

Look, Blair is using
Congressman Harris's

insider information
to front-run the market.

- Wait, really?
- Yeah, really.

- That's huge.
- I don't get this.

If you know
Blair did Black Monday,

why don't you just arrest
the motherfucker already?

We have evidence that points
to Blair and Dawn.

But not enough.

That's why we need you
to help us

catch them in something else

so we can leverage that
into a confession.

This has nothing
to do with Dawn.

All right,
this is all Blair.

Oh, yeah?

Why is she meeting
with the AASF?

Don't tell me
y'all are robbin' us now.

No, that's just a date.

And after all the shit
you've done to us,

you don't get to use
the word "us."

Our deal is Blair,
not Dawn.

Ro, if Dawn steers clear
of wrongdoing,

I'll steer clear of her.

But if she doesn't,

or if I find out
that you're lying for her,

you're all going down.

For good.

You really think you still
have a chance with her, huh?

- No.

- Yes, you do.
- No, I don't.

- Look at your face.
- I don't think anything.

- Jesus.

Wait, wait, wait,
what about you?

How's the new boyfriend?

- What?
- "What?"

What?

Trying to play coy with me,
girl.

I know you got a new man.

With the hair, your dress,
nice shoes on.

Come on, tell me about him.

- Well, if you must know...
- I gotta know.

It's going really well,
actually.

I don't give a fuck.
Are you joking?

Jesus Christ, I was playing.
You kidding me?

Checkmate, Lenny.

Well, it wasn't easy,

but I am back
at the Jammer Group.

That's my Keithy!

Actually, the, uh, TBD Group.

I don't know why they put up
professional signage

for a temp name?

Doesn't make any sense.

Yeah, what the fuck is that?

Not gonna matter for long.

To taking down the entire
snake pit for good.

We're gonna RIP TBD.

And especially to...

No mo' Mo.

- Jinx!

- We are so in sync!
- We really are.

We're like a chorus line
in A Chorus Line,

- which I saw...
- Five times!

- Jinx!

We really are so in sync.

- Yeah.
- Yeah, I would've seen it

more times,
but I just felt strange,

you know, going to the theater
without my brother.

That must be really hard
for you.

You know, I actually have
two tickets tonight

to the new Andrew Lloyd Webber
joint, Phantom.

It's supposed to be kooky
and spooky,

just like Andy Lloyd himself.

You wanna come?

- Y--oh, you're inviting me?
- Yeah.

Come on, I'll let you keep
both playbills.

♪ dramatic music ♪

- Twist my arm!
- All right, come on.

You're coming with me
to the theater.

Now, let me just
get my theater cape.

- Yeah.
- And, uh, I'll meet you there.

- All right, hey, uh--
- Let me take that.

- There you go. Thank you.

Ah, how 'bout that?

A surprise Andrew Lloyd Webber
ticket.

Phantom of the Opera.

No mo' Mo. Jinx.

Wow.

We're so in sync.

Going out?

- Nice night, I assume.
- Oh.

You think you'll walk?

Or skip?

How do you plan
on using your legs?

That's not fair.

If that coin
toss had gone different,

you'd be in this chair.

That's not fair, Lenny.

I haven't been out
since your...

our incident befell you--us.

Come on,
Phantom of the Opera

is supposed to be
transcendent.

It's about this guy who gets
so brutally disfigured

that no one wants to
be around him.

It--

B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B.

Oh, that's just me
weeping. that?

Don't cry.

Look, I'll grab a hot dog
to blend for you

on my way back.
Okay?

I love you.

B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B.

B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B.

Slowly.

Gently.

Night unfurls its splendor.

Grasp it.

Sense it.

Tremulous and tender.

Hearing is believing.

Music is deceiving.

Hard as lightning,

soft as candlelight.

Dare you trust

the music of the night?

Good morning.

Oh, hey. Morning.

- You're in early.
- Well, you know,

- life of a junior analyst.
- Yeah.

- Hmm.
- Oh!

What's up, fuckers?

- What in the bald fuck?
- Dawnie.

Who let Keith sneak back in
my ass?

It's good to see you too.

I'm sorry, he's a sad man.

He needed a job, and
we're all family here, right?

Whoo!

The band is back together.

- Yeah.

A toast.

- To my best friends.
- Where are they?

- I--the implication was--

And to the children
of our future.

Wait, you took that AASF money?

And to the man responsible

for TBD's next big idea,

who's going to put that AASF
money to good use, me!

Mm. Ah. L'Chaim.

♪ dramatic music ♪

- L'Chaim.
- L'Chaim.

♪ upbeat music ♪