Billions

Previously on Billions...

He's a rich man.

There always have been rumors as to the way he earned it.

You are willing to testify

Jock Jeffcoat profited along with his brother?

I know he does.

We're doing a massive cap raise.

Welcome to the new quant headquarters.

He fired you.

I was fodder. Don't try to tell me different.

So, is it prison or start talking?

Let's do this.

Who the hell gave you permission to talk to my son.

Good thing is there's no paperwork.

Off the books. The Chuck Rhoades Special.

Your best friend sold you down the river for nothing.

I'm willing to pay you 30 million to tell the truth.

But I sure as hell will testify about what Chuck Rhoades did.

You sold out my relationship.

No, no. You did.

That's why you told me he was at your dinner.

I can't believe you brought me here.

Thank you.

I was surprised to learn the viral videos so afflicted you.

Oh. They don't... usually...

but I mean...

- Oh, my God. - Oh!

You know we could just order the tomahawk

and have him do his whole thing here at the table.

Uh, no.

I'm all right looking at the eclipse through the cereal box.

Ah, well, well, well.

How'd it go?

Bought you a present,

had it sent straight to the office.

Well, I hope that's not all you've brought me.

Texas is a bizarro world.

Jock Jeffcoat's a pariah at Zabar's

but he's the second coming on the 29th parallel.

So you weren't able to substantiate what we know...

the brother, the cable company.

We have embarked on a one-way mission here.

We either get to the other side and line dance on Jock's grave

or he will most assuredly be doing the Tush Push on ours.

Anybody who knew anything wasn't willing to go on the record,

and anyone willing to go on the record

didn't know anything. I'm sorry, Chuck.

You know what's printed above the Rhoades family crest:

"Never say sorry.

"Make the other fella sorry first."

Can you do that?

Will you do that?

I will.

Reach out to people you feel dirty talking to,

employ tactics you wouldn't confess even to a priest,

and find a way to crack someone inside the cable company.

Because we cannot build a case

on the word of a confessed liar like Cutler.

Yeah. On it.

Yep.

Mm-hmm. Thank you.

Be right back.

Excuse me.

Well. Look at you,

fat and happy, taking down the Cadillac of steaks.

Well, you must have made a nasty nickel selling me out.

Fucking right I did.

Why didn't you come to me?

You could have come to me.

Ah.

You're married.

To Taiga.

Of course to Taiga.

Who was the best man?

There wasn't one.

- Come on. - Shapiro.

Oh. Shit... Really?

I'm sorry you could only to do it at 50 percent of my weddings.

Wouldn't have made you Cal Ripken, but it would have been nice

to keep the streak going.

I whopped you a good one.

And you whopped me a good one.

I don't believe in even,

but, uh, maybe,

we're even.

Maybe we are.

So... where is your bride?

Uh, Taiga's out of town. Visiting family.

Hmm. So you're a bachelor for the evening.

- Boys' night out. - Not quite.

This is work.

That guy's on the board of... Doesn't matter.

Just... I'm trying to impress him, build my book.

Making it monsoon?

Just trying to keep my head above the flood waters.

Taiga's expensive.

She decided to start a Yoga empire.

SoulCycle, but...

Mm. For yoga. Mm.

And of course you supported her.

It's who you are.

But how deep are you in?

Deep... and descending.

Location problems, design problems,

all kinds of... hypoallergenic?

Stuff that makes my eyes glaze over.

- Sorry to hear that. - It'll all be fine.

As soon as we get the first location open

and have some money coming in instead of just going out...

Right.

Of course.

Of course. Uh, well.

My best to Mrs. Schirmer.

And... it's good to see you, Ira.

Where are the others?

They left... a while ago.

They didn't contact you?

To say?

Uh...

They quit. What happened?

Well, they're hacks and lame.

Did they quit because you called them hacks and lame?

You backslid into being a dick.

Fine. Yes. Big time.

You know what? Those other two were sweet,

but you're more talented. I need you.

Damn right you do.

'Cause I'm the Yngwie Malmsteen of coding,

total control of the instrument...

Sad. Look, I need you to model something for me.

If we give the algo an extra 20 billion to play with...

can it reliably generate returns in excess of eight percent?

If so, how soon? How reliably?

And can any other funds do the same?

Wait, this isn't some T test.

This is something you'd pitch an investor.

Problem is: Bridgewater would have 50 PhDs

writing software on this.

Molly Hatchet had three guitarists.

Rising Force had one.

Are you going to tell me you can't play this solo?

Of course not.

I'm sure we'll go faster without the dead weight...

- Whoops... - You're working alone now,

act however you want.

Take me to the fucking Regency.

Thanks. Excuse me one second.

- Hey, Axe. How are you, man? - Hey.

I don't think we knew you were coming.

Just give us a second, and we're gonna have your table.

- Nah. No need, JT. - Okay. Enjoy.

Thanks.

- Hey, Axe. - Hey, Lizzie.

Ah, fuck, Axe. Can't you skip a year?

I could. But what fucking fun would that be?

I'm Martin Carlisle.

Who you are is a witness

to this year's edition of Fuck Ups Fucking Up.

Today, at Axe Cap, it's comp day.

And so, as always, I'm reminded of the best day of my life.

The day that this man,

Bill McGann of McGann Commodities,

told me I didn't have enough Blarney in me.

What he meant was: I didn't kiss enough ass.

I meant you didn't have a soul.

And so, by means of instruction,

he wasn't gonna bonus me right.

He shorted me by 50,000.

Hey, I can leave you two to...

Stay. I'm leaving.

So, here I am, as I am every year,

to thank you.

And to buy you breakfast.

Just think.

If I'd stayed,

you maybe could have owned this hotel.

Least I can do is get your check.

Right before I engage in the very same rumble

that left you knifed and bleeding in the schoolyard.

You're about the same age I was back then.

You've had a good run, kid.

But you can't stay clear of the switchblades forever.

You're not a Greaser anymore, Axe,

you're a Soc now...

Do you want to lean down or bulk up?

Because either way, suck my dick.

Is this how one runs a service business?

Whatever I'm doing, it seems to be working.

Because I invested in one.

And now I got five.

Ah. Some guys just stumble into money.

Like Leonard Cohen into the Chelsea Hotel.

Mm. You're looking good, sweetheart.

Thanks.

Do you have any idea what it takes to make the pivot I did?

This is my lifeblood now.

I built it to where there are guys who would help me take it public...

if I wasn't a fucking felon.

In your estimation, that's my fault?

You went after Axe.