Survivor's Remorse

This is Clay Beckwith.

He specializes in defending rich athletes

and their felonious relatives.

I'd insist on therapy and community service for Mary-Charles

since she's ineligible for a diversion program.

I shouldn't have come.

You came because you wanted to.

We have ties that bind.

What if it doesn't work out?

I mean, could you imagine how much trouble that'd cause for everybody?

Imagine the best, not the worst, Cassie.

Take a leap of faith.

Just wink if I'm gonna be okay.

Mr. Calloway.

Why the hell did you tell me I was gonna be okay?

- Did she? - You threw me under the bus.

I'm a flawed person, but I'm not irredeemable,

and I really want to take you out.

My shift ends at 2:00 AM.

If you're here, maybe you get my number.

Miss Pierce?

- You hacking into the Pentagon? - Yep.

Careful, they don't do WikiLeak documentaries on brothers.

Brothers go straight to Gitmo.

I got a date with Allison. I'm finding out what I can about her.

That's the point of the date.

- You been out of the game too long. - Are you calling me old?

I'm calling you married and old.

Married or young, don't stalk your way into this girl's heart.

I'm scouting, not stalking.

- I ain't diggin' up the girl's geotags. - Oh, man, come on.

Just browsing her social media.

Picking up the breadcrumbs she purposely left on her life's trail.

I'm getting to know her before I get to know her.

Do that in person through conversing.

It's all about discovery, baby.

Discovery in person. That shit fires the neurons.

And there's probably shit on there

she's outgrown and wants to forget.

That's why I'm doing this, to excavate her shit.

Like Ronald Reagan said, "Trust but verify."

Did you just quote Ronald fucking Reagan?

I got a new app about history, man.

I'm trying to become more educated during my longer shits.

Just go, be you, be young, black, famous, money out the anus.

I'm telling you, this girl is special, okay?

- You don't know this girl. - And neither do you.

- Oh, my... damn. - What? Let me see.

- Reg, come on. - Okay, yeah, yeah, yeah.

I see it. I see it. That is the kind of girl

that you get pregnant on purpose, man.

I see you.

Man, I knew she had the goods underneath them scrubs.

Yeah, you got a real nobility of purpose.

I meant that in the most gentlemanly way possible.

- Really? - You know girls talk about dicks at brunch.

Yeah, and thank God they do.

If not, the world would be fuckin' M-Chucks and M-Chucks alone.

Hey, stop talking shit. Boys, Jules.

- No way. - Oh.

- Way. - You two?

Became one last night.

Wow. Well, congratulations.

Thank you.

Um, y'all mind if I get you on the Snap?

- Uh... - Hey, what did I just say to you upstairs?

That I was the best you ever had.

Is that what she said?

I told you that I would bring you down to breakfast

if you did not try to Snapchat with my brother.

He seemed friendly and open to it.

- I am friendly. - Not open to it.

Jules, can I speak to you inside?

- Are you asking me to leave? - Politely.

Okay.

Uh, Cam, if things don't work out between me and your sister,

you and I can always give it a try.

Thanks, but I'm currently in a relationship that hasn't really started yet.

Hey, my brother and I, we got a bro code.

Oh, well, fine. We'll talk business, then.

Cam, here's my business card.

In case you ever wanna fucks with me.

Jules, may I walk you to your car?

I don't think this is gonna work.

Why are you being such a drama king?

- Just come on. - So, when did that happen?

Not sure.

I ain't creeping on Chuck's geotags either.

Look, now that you have downloaded terabytes of Allison's data,

what's the date plan?

I seen a picture of steak "tarter" on her Instagram,

so I'm thinkin' I'm gonna take her to Rathbun's.

Steak tartare, it's not "tarter."

What's steak "tarter," then?

The shit left on your teeth after you eat steak.

Look, just ease up. Let it flow tonight.

Be you. Okay, she gonna find out who you are eventually anyway,

and she'll either like it or she won't.

That actually makes sense. Thanks, Reg.

I still got it, baby.

Yeah, but you still married as fuck.

Hey, you find the right woman, it ain't a bad thing.

You can get on with the living and the fucking

instead of the Googlin' and the hopin'.

- Ah. - Ah.

- All right, yeah. - Okay, all right.

- Let me see her picture again. - Look.

That's baby girl from the hospital?

She's cute, right?

Text me that photo immediately. Hi-res.

Man, I'm gonna take me a bike ride.

Yeah, get that body nice.

Be a better me. And get some pussy, too.

- Oh. - Yeah, the same reason

why M-Chuck goes to that head doctor.

Mary-Charles is not seeing a shrink for her health

or for her pussy intake.

She's court-ordered. She don't go, she goes to jail.

It's not so bad. I mean, the breakthroughs hurt,

but it's a good hurt.

Breakthrough? Mary-Charles, ain't nothing broken about you.

That's what them headshrinkers want you to think.

That's the hustle. Only need therapy

as long as you can afford to have it.

Nobody's telling me what to think.

Therapy's all about listening to my thoughts.

And your thoughts better not be about me

'cause I raised the shit out of you.

- Mm-hmm, she raised you. - Hear that?

All right, so don't let some voodoo doctor

teach you how to hate your family, you hear me?

- I won't. - All right.

Hey, what'd you do with the girl you brought home last night?

- We finished fucking. - Julius.

- Hey, did she lick your belly button? - No.

- Julius. - I mean from the inside.

- I'm talking about the tongue going all the way... - Hey, hey, hey, hey, enough.

A little more respect here? Really.

Hey.

Hey. Oh, there's my number-one son.

Look. Raised in the same household.

He turned out fine. He didn't need no shrink.

Hey, not yet. Seize the day, y'all.

- All right, baby. - What's with the motivational phrase-ology?

Some girl he hardly knows got him thinking and thinking.

Yeah. I gotta go. I'll see y'all.

Wait a minute, Reggie. I'm gonna ride with you.

Missy's gonna school me on how to make dumplings for my Chen.

He's ten pounds away from being the perfect man.

I need something to grab.

What does Missy know about making dumplings?

Hopefully more than me.

Hey, when did you and Mr. Miyagi get so serious?

Stop calling him that.

Okay. Well, wax on and wax off.

Fuck you.

- I gotta go, man. - Oh, I do, too.

Oh, what? Everybody's...

What... what? Everybody's leaving?

I got the place all to myself?

You keep your clothes on in the common areas

and don't get any ideas.

You know I ain't got no underwear on...

Okay, you have made it this far.

Don't be a creepy uncle now, please.

All right.

Mm.

How's that?

Hey! Stop! I wanna talk!

Then I'll kick your ass!

Fuck.

Ah.

I know what it look like.

A black man doing what you heard black men do,

but I live here.

I'm Cam Calloway's uncle. Professional baller.

A thief stole my bike.

I'm sorry to ramble, but police make me nervous.

It's genetic.

You got ID?

Oh, indeed. Can I... can I dig for it?

Slow.

You say someone stole your bike?

Yeah, it's a 20-speed, man.

I tried to catch him, but he flew off like ET.

His ID says he lives here.

Yeah, Uncle Sam don't lie.

- You get a good look at him? - Yeah.

- What'd he look like? - White.

Anything more specific?

White. Like a privileged motherfucker.

Like he had time to just sit around

and do nothing but put mousse and gels in his hair.

Was he short? Tall?

Average-size white guy.

I can't tell these motherfuckers apart.

No offense.