Original subtitles

Well, Regine, I'm happy to report

there are no mice in your closet.

Although I did beat the hell out of your mink earmuffs.

So then what was causing all the squeaking?

I guess you must have loosened up the floorboards

when you was trying to hide your box of valuables.

My box of valuables?

Yes. Yes! My very valuable box.

What? Oh, man.

These are just somebody's crusty old letters.

Oh, they look like old love letters.

And I smell perfume.

No, that be the fungus

growing on the bottom of the box.

Wow. This one was written in 1894.

These could be worth a lot of money.

Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

Grab a crowbar.

There are six more closets in the house.

♪ We are living single ♪

♪ Hey ♪

♪ Yes we're living the single life yeah ♪

♪ Hey ♪ ♪ We're living single ♪

♪ Ooh, in a '90s kind of world ♪

♪ I'm glad I got my girls ♪

♪ Keep your head up ♪ ♪ What? ♪

♪ Keep your head up ♪ ♪ That's right ♪

♪ Whenever this life get tough ♪

♪ You got to fight with ♪

♪ My homegirls standing to my left ♪

♪ And my right ♪

♪ True blue, and tight like glue ♪

♪ We are living ♪

♪ Check, check, check it out ♪

♪ Single ♪

♪ And in a '90s kind of world ♪

♪ I'm glad I got my girls ♪

♪ Aah ♪

Wyatt, you don't have very much writing experience.

Yo, I'm not a magazine writer per se.

Rap lyrics are more my forte.

Oh, that explains why your resume rhymes.

It's the language of the people.

Clearly, you're out of touch.

Really?

Well, I guess you think you're smart and cool,

but if you think you're getting a job here,

you're a damn fool. Now get up out of my office.

Sorry. He was a walk‐in.

I'm here to see Khadijah James.

Hi, I'm Khadijah... James.

Xavier St. John.

I'm here for the interview.

Interview?

Oh, the interview.

I'm sorry. Just this way.

I'll just take my usual notes.

Why don't you just make your usual personal calls?

Greedy.

Why don't you have a seat?

Thank you.

Hmm. Money Magazine.

San Antonio Sentinel.

You have some nice credits here.

Yes, and as you can see,

I've also been published in Esteem.

Esteem, huh?

That's a great magazine.

Yeah, but Flavor

is clearly much more in touch with the people.

I like a man who knows when to kiss up.

Should I continue, or was that sufficient?

Well, I'll let you know.

Will that be sugar or sugar substitute?

Synclaire, we didn't ask for any coffee.

Well, then I guess it really doesn't matter then, does it?

Excuse me.

So, tell me something about yourself.

Well, I'm originally from D. C.,

but I spent my teens in Europe.

Army brat.

Really, you speak any other languages?

Mais oui.

Flavor est un journal merveilleux.

(giggles)

What does that mean?

Flavor is a wonderful magazine.

Hey, it sounds good in both languages.

Cafe au lait? Latte?

Mocha java?

Synclaire, we just said

we didn't want anything to drink.

Well, he's a big guy.

He could have worked up a thirst by now.

No, I'm fine. Thanks, anyway.

Ciao.

Xavier, I have a good feeling about you.

When can you start?

When do you want me?

As soon as possible.

How about right now?

Uh, I'll show you to your desk.

Welcome to the Flavor family.

Okay. The peep show is over.

Get back to work.

Dennis.

Oh, these old letters are so romantic.

John is writing to Emily

about the time they shared tea

right here in the parlor.

Listen, "When your hand brushed against mine, my beloved"

my heart fairly leapt with joy."

Oh, he really loved Emily.

Yeah, well.

Didn't take John long to get those 34 buttons undone.

Apparently, they had more than just tea in the parlor.

You know, Synclaire, I enjoy tea.

You guys! I told you, until I find out

if my letters are worth anything

keep your horny paws off.

(knocking)

Good evening, people.

Yeah, yeah. What's the news on my letters?

My friend at the auction house

said if the letters have any historical references in them,

they could be worth quite a bit.

You heard the man, people! Read! Read!

(knocking)

Max, is that you?

Yeah.

Nice try, Kyle

but I have a key, little freak.

So, Khadijah how was your first day

with your new writer Mr. Beautiful?

Let me put it to you like this.

Xavier spent all day stocking his desk.

You know, we keep the office supplies

in the file cabinet in the bottom drawer.

Today was a good day.

Alright!

I knew you guys said he looked good

but is the brother really all that?

Girl, his butt's so hard

you could bounce a quarter off it.

I tried. If only I had better aim.

Synclaire, I'm shocked and applauled.

It was peer pressure.

All the other women and Dennis were doing it.

Listen to your shameless prattle.

Men could never get away with talking about women like that.

That's right. Welcome to the '90s.

Oh, Kyle, you're just jealous

that you're not getting the attention.

Oh, please.

Now, if I may speak for good‐looking men everywhere...

Only as their rodeo clown.

That reminds me.

Bronco busting's about to start. They're hold a stall for you.

I think that I should sashay on down to the office

and see what all this talk is about.

Don't even try it, Regine.

I think Xavier has a thing for Khadijah.

No. Really?

Do you really think he needed all those supplies?

How many post‐its can a man use in one day?

Please.

Sounds to me like he was putting on a show for you.

I thought I caught him checking me out a couple of times.

Ah! Don't touch it, girl.

Hey, I'm with you. Hands off.

What? What do you mean, "don't touch it"?

Shoot, she's paying for it.

That she is.

We need to leave

before their caldron boils over and singes our feet.

I feel dirty.

Hey, come on in.

I just wanted to say,

well, I'm turning in my first article tomorrow

and I'm looking forward to your thoughts.

I'm looking forward to reading it.

Guess we both have something to look forward to.

Guess so.

Well, um, I'm on my way out.

Which way you going?

Prospect Heights.

Cool, we can share a cab.

I'll get my things.

Synclaire, I think Xavier and I are sharing a cab home.

You want to join us?

Well, I have to cut off the Xerox machine

close all the windows, and find my keys.

See you in a few hours.

Sorry, Dennis.

So when did you first know you wanted to be a writer?

It had to be the third grade.

I always knew I had a lot to say.

The teacher wrote on my report card.

"Khadijah has a lot to say."

And I guess you've been saying it ever since, huh?

It feels like it.

I was the editor of my high school paper

my college paper and now I've got Flavor.

I guess there's no shutting me up.

Well, I could listen to you talk all day.

Xavier, you got the job already.

You can stop brown‐nosing now.

No, that's how I feel.

Be for real.

Seriously.

You're one of the most engaging

and intelligent women I've ever met.

Really?

Really.

(driver clears throat)

Your stop.

I can't believe we're here already.

Me, either.

Yeah, well.

I guess this is it.

I guess so.

Khadijah, look, I'm flattered

but I don't think this is a good idea.

No. It wasn't.

Yeah, well, I'll see you tomorrow.

Ouch.

"As our flesh became one over and over and over."

Whoo‐ee!

Ooh, yes.

Look here, Regine.

Why not take a couple of these home tonight?

You know, as a favor.

This is the worst day of my life.

I'm so embarrassed.

Khadijah...

did your blouse pop open again?

No, my blouse did not pop open again, thank you.

On the cab ride home

I thought Xavier was going to kiss me

so I went for it.

He didn't.

I hate to say I told you so.

Well, I don't really hate it.

Actually, I get sort of a perverse pleasure from it.

What was I thinking?

Oh, Khadijah.

Now, honey, this kind of thing happens all the time.

No. It's never happened to me.

Me, either.

But that's not the point.

We're here to help Khadijah‐‐

the only one to whom this has happened.

(knocking on door)

Oh, now, honey, don't you go feeling bad.

She's right. There are worse things.

Like this tale from the crypt.

Max, can we call a truce?

No.

Okay, fine. I tried

to take the high road you bearded billy goat.

Ah, Khadijah, what happened?

Your blouse pop open again?

No. She tried to kiss the new guy from work

and he left her hanging.

What?

I'm trying to help you work through your embarrassment.

I feel for you, Khadijah.

You know, men go through this all the time‐‐

always having to make the first move...

never knowing what to expect...

the humiliation and the constant rejection.

Of course, you know, this has never happened to me.

Happened to me once.

It was in the third grade.

Little Chip Fields scarred me for life.

Matter of fact, when I got the fresh fage

you can still kinda see it right here.

Look, forget all of this.

I'm just going to go to work tomorrow

and pretend it never happened.

Xavier ain't all that, anyway.

It's funny how unattractive a guy becomes

after he rejects you.

(muffled laughter)

You have a minute?

Uh, sure. What's up?

I wanted to tell you that I left a copy

of my article with Synclaire.

Alright. I'll read it as soon as I can.

Xavier.

Look, um... about last night...

I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.

This is no big deal.

Let's just forget it ever happened.

I can do that.

Great.

Khadijah?

Yeah?

Well, I'm no William Shakespeare

and I'm certainly no Toni Morrison.

I don't even come close to being Dr. Seuss...

but, oh, I forgot my point.

Wait. Let me backtrack.

Oh, yes. Xavier.

His writing stinks.

It's just so confusing.

You know, after I read the first paragraph

I relaxed my eyes and just looked at the patterns.

This doesn't make sense.

And look at these typos.

I can't believe Xavier wrote this.

Well, his other articles were good, right?

I didn't exactly get around

to reading any of his other articles.

Well, what did his references say?

Uh... well, you know, I didn't get around to, uh...

Okay, okay.

You didn't read his samples.

You didn't check his references.

Khadijah, the next time I staple your papers at the wrong angle

cut me some slack, okay?

I made a mistake.

Tell him I want to see him.

I should think so.

(snapping fingers)

What's up?

Well, I read your article.

What did you think?

I got to be straight up with you, it needs work.

How much work are we talking?

A lot.

A lot?

As in beaucoup.

Xavier, I can't publish this.

Oh, okay, I see what this is about.

Last night in the cab.

I say no, so you say no.

Xavier, this has nothing to do with last night.

Khadijah, there is nothing wrong with my article.

The trouble is, you don't need a journalist.

You need a man.

I need someone who knows

there are two "O's" in Brooklyn.

Are you threatening to fire me?

I hope not, because you'll have a nice

little lawsuit on your hands if you do.

You're going to sue me?

For sexual harassment.

Well, fine.

Just remember, harassment‐‐ one "r," two "s's."

So, Max, does he have a case or what?

Nah. I wouldn't represent him.

Good, 'cause I want to fire him.

Oh, that's different. Could you give him my card?

So I'm stuck with a guy who can't write

or a lawsuit I don't deserve.

That's basically the conclusion we came to here.

You know, I think this dilemma

illustrates the progress women have made over the years.

I mean, before you know it,

you women will be blamed for starting wars

telling us men what to do with our bodies

and suffering from male pattern baldness.

Kyle. Yeah, baby?

Get the hell out.

See, you're relaxing into that newfound power already.

I'll get the door.

And you, you're such the gentleman.

(chuckling)

Goodnight.

You know, Khadijah,

John and Emily had a love no one approved of.

Synclaire, we don't have a love and he's threatening to sue me.

I don't see how this relates.

Now that you put it that way, neither do I.

Thanks for correcting me.

So, Khadijah, what are you going to do?

Look, I made a mistake.

If I have to pay with a lawsuit, fine

but my magazine is not gonna pay for it.

I'm firing Xavier tomorrow, and whatever happens, happens.

It's times like this

that mae me glad I work alone.

This kind of thing can never happen to me.

I always treat myself

with the utmost courtesy and respect.

You wanted to see me?

Yeah. Have a seat.

Xavier, earlier, you said

you admired me as a good businesswoman.

Well, a good businesswoman knows when you make a mistake

you have to admit, apologize, and correct.

Now, I've admitted my mistake and I've apologized.

All I have to do is correct the situation.

I'm letting you go.

I'm filing that lawsuit.

Go ahead, 'cause your threats are not going to dictate

the way I run my business.

Khadijah, everyone saw how you wanted me.

Check this out, right?

Nobody wants you more than you do

and more importantly, you cannot write.

Do you know what an accusation of sexual harassment

will do to your reputation?

If I'm lucky, it will get me a Supreme Court appointment.

And I know, if a judge were to read your article

she would sentence you to remedial English class.

I don't need you to get where I wanna go.

You're right. You don't.

You'll get over on your charm and your good looks

but see, you won't get over on me again

'cause Khadijah don't need you.

See ya.

I'm fired?

Yep.

I'm fired.

And hard of hearing.

You're not even worth the time it would take to sue you.

I didn't think so.

Okay, I'm out.

You can kiss my b‐u‐t good‐bye.

"T."

Synclaire, Overton

your hard work in reading those musty old letters

has paid off.

I hit the jackpot, y'all‐‐ $400.

A woman at the historical society

said Emily was a person of some substance.

Mm‐hmm. Apparently, Miss Emily was a suffragette

or she sewed a flag or a dress or something.

Anyway, they are willing to pay cash money

to read about whatever she did.

Give me the letters.

We can't. Yes, you can.

Before you say another word, let me read you the last one.

It's to Abigail, Emily's sister.

"I am racked with grief over my beloved Emily's death.

"Curse that runaway oxcart.

"I'm going to spend

"the remainder of my wretched life

"in a monastery.

"My one last wish is that you burn any letters from me.

"Emily may have saved

"so that she may read of my love in heaven.

Peace be with you, John."

All of them?

All of them.

You looked past the money

to fulfill the last wish of a holy man.

(crying): You each owe me 200 bucks...

and I want it by Friday...

or you both will be sorry that you were ever born.

REGINE: "Dear Emily:

Had lunch today with Ben Franklin."

SYNCLAIRE: Regine, I don't think he was around in the 1890s.

Oh, dang.

It says here in the almanac

that the light bulb was invented in 1879.

Mm‐hmm. Close enough.

"Dear Emily: Had lunch today

"with Thomas Alva Edison.

"He thanked me

"for the light bulb idea I gave him.

See you soon. Love, John."

Mm‐‐ sounds valuable to me.