Original subtitles

? Ooh ?

? 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.

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.

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? Now let me tell you something. - Okay.

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.

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.

_

You know what? Yeah.

Bless you.

Oh. No thanks.

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?

... 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!

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.

Fuck!

Yes.

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!

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

I'll pay for both of us.

Here. Keep the change.

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.

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?

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.

- 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. - What is that?

Oh, that's just me weeping.

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.

- L'Chaim. - L'Chaim.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.addic7ed.com -