Original subtitles

RON: My nephew stole my armoire.

Been in our family for a hundred years.

I'll knock something off the rent if you find it.

Virgin Remy hair imported all the way from China.

How long is the additional custom screening?

Whole family chipped in. Welcome home, Deonte.

What are you doing in my car?

Who the fuck are you supposed to be?

Stay the fuck away from me.

We should try again.

You don't offer another man's girlfriend your sperm.

I'm Paul. What can I do for you two?

DIARRA: I found you a buyer for the desk. Me, actually.

Lisa, we need to find Booker.

LISA: What do y'all want with Booker?

Tommy's got a speakeasy downtown everybody talking about.

- Danger? - I had this shit handled,

and this nigga coming busting through the door

Just drive. Don't look back.

DIARRA: You ever think about what you'd name your kid?

Wait, you want kids?

We need to talk.

[birds chirping]

SPIDER: Yo, Pump, listen.

Velvet dead, man,

Danger was in on it! Roman, too!

Hell, you hear me?

Yeah, a teacher, I think.

She took off in a black Chevy.

A classic.

No, not a bitch-ass Camry!

A Chevy!

Yo, you hear me?

- A Chevy! Fuck. - [phone beeping]

Fuck.

- [gunshots] - [Spider grunting]

Oh, fuck.

DIARRA: I hate to point out the fucking obvious...

[gasping]

...but life is full of turning points.

Don't die.

MAN 1: He a good guy or a bad guy?

MAN 2: He's the guy who's still breathing.

Got an Om tattoo.

MAN 1: Bad guys can have an Om tattoo.

DIARRA: But, sometimes,

when life offers a turning point,

it also provides an opportunity.

? It's been six months, three nights ?

? Ten minutes, seven seconds ?

? I still love you anyway, God bless you ?

? I'm not letting go little girl, Lord help me ?

DIARRA: To become a new man...

? Get you out of my mind

...with new rituals...

and new friends...

What'd I tell you?

Only doctor you need is water, sky, and earth.

Must be.

'Cause you sewed up my wound like shit.

Aye, you didn't get sepsis. You dick.

DIARRA: And new ways of being...

? I'ma dance, dance the same ?

? 'Til you outta my mind ?

? Until you outta my mind ?

? Whoa, Lord, until you out of my mind ?

? Whoa, mm ?

? 'Til you're out of my mind, whoa ?

[siren wailing]

BAILEY: Hey, Sheriff. What can I do you for?

SHERIFF: There's a tree down at Leon's.

Making sure y'all still have power.

BAILEY: Yeah, we're good. Thanks for coming by.

DIARRA: And you thank God that your new life

is so divinely protected

that you could be initiated into a new identity...

like magic.

And then there's the turning points

that happen unceremoniously.

Life simply demands in an instant that you grow a pair.

You ever been about to break up with someone

but the timing was off,

so you never actually got to say the words out loud?

Your turning point stalls.

It's arrested.

Both of you cuffed beyond cuffing season.

And so you remain...

in limbo.

[big band music playing]

It's humiliating.

Now, I'm looking over my shoulder for hairstylists.

Morgan,

she threatened to strangle me with her own dreadlocks.

- No. - You feel me?

I need those bundles out of customs.

You wanted to deal with the big boys.

Now you gotta deal with the big boy problems.

- Are you being proactive? - Yep.

I called Harley. He stood me up.

- Reschedule. - His assistant's trying,

but I'm in calendar purgatory.

- Oh. - Why do you say oh like that?

- Like that sounds bad. - You know how these guys are.

They're pro women in business until they're not.

They have one little pet project,

normally their side piece, who they grease the wheels for.

And they run back to their boys club

where they're nice and comfy.

Okay, so what do I do?

No one's coming to save you, Aja.

Not even me. And I'm your friend.

This is business.

Find a way.

- Find a way. - [phone pinging]

Find a way.

REPORTER: Police say the three Coney Island victims

were strangers with no discernible connection,

leaving authorities puzzled.

That was, until the arrest of

former missing person Deonte Brooks.

- What the fuck? - REPORTER: Detectives believe

he simply snapped,

luring the men to the restaurant

and executing them in cold blood.

This is ridiculous.

Chris is completely innocent.

I was beginning to think

Chris was the unluckiest nigga in America.

This was his third kidnapping.

This time by police.

Then who murdered these guys?

I don't know. Aren't you the fucking police?

I'm pretty sure that's how we recovered

your boyfriend's gun, DNA, and prints at the scene.

Not to mention, we also got statements saying

that he was acting erratic and violent

at a family barbecue last week.

Wow, it really do be your own people.

Ollie Nash, '63.

New granddad.

Sam "Big Surge" Davis.

Chris' DNA was embedded in his fist.

Okay, I see how that could be suspicious, however-

DETECTIVE: Paul Patto, 36.

Ran an antique shop over in Corktown.

Gave to charities-

What's the matter? Chris didn't like Chaldeans?

DIARRA: We'd met the Chaldean.

- How are you? I'm Paul. - DIARRA: And Big Surge.

But I was afraid bringing that up

would only make things worse.

I needed to think.

The Chaldean had been looking to buy Booker's desk.

This Big Surge guy had been helping Booker protect it.

I had no clue who the grizzly Quaker Oats Man was,

but if he showed up to an abandoned Coney

in the middle of the night,

chances were he was looking to bid on the desk, too.

Booker had taken Chris's gun and was now MIA.

I had thought he was a good kid,

but all signs said he was my number one suspect.

But why would he start shooting?

Why would I kill my own friend?

And aren't you going through another breakup right now?

Damn. At this point, it might be you, sis.

And how many eggs you think you got left, yeah?

- [gunshot] - [snapping]

Stop. Stop it.

Snapping at me.

Did you two fucking idiots

happen to find a desk at the scene?

- Cause I think- - That's enough, boys.

I just heard from her fancy lawyer.

He's gonna sue if she's not breathing fresh air

in 30 seconds.

DIARRA: It was clear Aja called Swa.

And I wasn't mad.

I thought you were gonna lay low for a while.

I was trying to.

This was like a nothing case.

You don't have a case, Brickland.

You know, there's a clinical term for people like you.

- Adorable. - No, shit-magnets.

You gotta stop flirting with me, Holstein.

It's getting very uncomfortable.

- So this Booker kid did it? - I don't know.

I mean, he made this really sweet comment

about a swim diaper.

But he's the best lead I got.

You've got no lead.

For once, let the justice system work.

For a Black man?

- Come on, bruh. - [sighing]

Unless...

Unless this is one of those times that the Chief calls,

you know, makes problems disappear.

I think you might be on your own.

Oh, praise Jesus. You're free.

Hi.

[sniffling]

You okay?

TEA: You'll be okay. It's okay. It's okay.

Anything I need to know?

Yeah, the DA's not gonna file on her.

Her boyfriend changed the statement.

Said he went out for a walk alone, night of the murders.

Chris is trying to protect her.

She should let him.

This is not the time for her usual crazy, stupid antics.

Take her home.

Make her get some sleep.

DIARRA: With Chris in jail,

sleep was at the very bottom of my to-do list.

Vonda wouldn't talk to me...

Come on, Vonda!

She thought I would keep him safe,

but it was my idea to go in that Coney.

Even Ron was mysteriously in the wind.

Ron!

We even rode by Lisa's block.

But since they found one of their guys beaten to

a pulp on prom night, security was even tighter.

I had no idea how Chris was doing.

TEA: We got no leads. Take a break.

What'd you find out about the desk?

Jackson and Powells.

I mean, they were basically Prohibition-era safes.

Says online the ones with the chessboards

are all a part of the Queen Collection.

So they were all built with these

secret compartments, false bottoms, specialized keys.

So there could have been something inside.

Something old, something... valuable.

But I just- I don't understand why Booker would kill

all of his potential customers.

- These young folks be wilding. - DIARRA: Yeah, well,

I'm gonna need to understand him

if I'm gonna make a case that he's my shooter.

You do realize that you're not on DPD payroll, right?

Baby, I'm not on anybody's payroll.

Not until the summer's over.

Is it crazy for me to think that I can actually fix this?

Okay, honestly?

And I'ma help you...

Yes.

It's certifiable.

Yeah, y'all stepped in it.

We stepped in it.

I realized

a girl in love enough to wear vending machine jewelry

needed somewhere to gush about it.

Secret compartments, false bottoms.

I'll bet Lisa tried to build her replica the same way.

I mean, it looks like a piece is supposed to fit there.

Funny. Lisa left me one of those.

A queen.

If we couldn't speak to Lisa,

maybe something could speak for her.

And any Lisa intel might have just been

the cheat code to understanding Booker.

Okay.

Lisa's diary was detailed and riveting.

Danielle Steele in atrocious handwriting.

With plenty of piping hot tea on our prime suspect: Booker Chalk.

"His hard dick is my salvation."

- Ooh. - DIARRA: After three hours

of sleep and a large pot of coffee,

we assembled for our first erotic book club meeting.

"His kiss is my OxiClean."

Or wait, what?

- "My oxygen." - Oh.

"Bookie shot into my life like a bullet."

She was a sophomore at Wayne.

He was a former foster kid

who hated the system, who trusted no one.

Pretend to tie your shoe.

PATTO: Lisa, up front. Need you, thanks.

Come on. Mr. Patto's mad nosy.

You're not planning on selling that desk.

'Cause, you're asking way too many questions.

I think you're trying to figure out how to unlock it.

DIARRA: But for some reason, they melted each other.

My granny always said my inheritance was in the desk.

I always thought that was cap, but...

- I'm starting to believe her. - LISA: Who's your granny?

Okay, 'cause mine just left me a sewing kit in a blue tin

with some Earth, Wind and Fire CDs.

[laughing] That was funny. She's funny. I like her.

Okay, so blah, blah, blah...

She thought there were cunts at his job.

Okay, jealous.

Um, now this is interesting.

Jackson and Powells can't be cracked open by force.

LISA: They have built-in booby traps,

shredding mechanisms, gunpowder charges.

Look, without a key, you could destroy your inheritance.

Man, I don't have it.

I don't know where it is.

My granny always said the key was "under the lodge."

Hunting lodge, sweat lodge, Lodge freeway.

Granny was nonspecific as fuck.

May she rest in peace.

BOOKER: She taught me how to pray, you know.

She taught me how to sew.

I'ma get my inheritance so I can get my little brother

out of foster care.

Finish raising him myself.

DIARRA: Lisa loved that he had so many creams-

Or, dreams for the future.

She would be proud of you.

Especially 'cause you got me in here tithing on scratchers.

Look, there might be another way into that desk.

So Lisa builds this replica desk

to try to, like, reverse engineer a theory

on how to open the original.

But she fails. They need the key.

- So they get a new plan. - DIARRA: An auction

for serious collectors that Booker advertises...

on Reddit.

Booker figures anyone willing to spend a grip on the desk

might already have the key.

What are they gonna do when they find out that you're fishing

- and not selling? - I'ma make a deal.

Ten percent of my inheritance for the key.

Okay, and what happens when something goes left?

The J and P tucked away.

Safe.

And I got Surge for protection.

Damn. It's kind of a stupid plan.

Until I get what's mine.

Oh, I love you, too.

Cute. [giggling]

Dumb stupid.

What's wrong?

Um, when you ghosted Mr. Patto,

he called in this Black guy into the shop,

and they were plotting.

Lis, your manager's soft as hell.

Not the other guy.

Babe, he had Mr. Patto apologizing, bowing.

And he was telling him to find it now.

Look, I grew up with guys like this, okay?

I've seen that thousand yard stare.

He's a killer, baby.

Okay, so new theory.

Our lover boy, Bookie, is not our shooter.

He brought the gun, but Thousand Yard fucking Stare

took it and killed everybody.

[gunshots]

Well, not everybody.

Booker's body wasn't found, which means he escaped.

Praise God. See, that's why you tithe.

I like this theory, Dee.

So Thousand Yard and the Chaldean found out about

the Reddit auction and saw another chance to get the desk.

But when it wasn't there, Thousand Yard lost it.

And his Chaldean friend caught a stray.

- We need to find Thousand Yard. - AJA: Stop.

Okay, now, that's the last thing we need to be doing.

Let's drop off Lisa's diary to law enforcement,

and then you just-

No, no, no, no. And then let them do what?

They're not gonna take me seriously

unless I have hard evidence.

They don't take you seriously either way girl.

Jesus, could we just survive one summer

without you going full Scooby-Doo?

No, I don't think so.

- Give me that diary! - What?

- No! - Give me the diary.

- Give me the diary! - Hey.

- Come on, you wanna get it? - Gimme the diary.

You gonna have to take it You wanna take it?

- You better back off hobbit! - Oh, the short jokes.

Just because I'm saved

don't mean I won't fight yo' lanky ass.

Oh, wait, no to go in save you from this ass whooping!

TEA: Ugh, you!

Ladies?

- What you got, bitch! - I'm tired of your shit!

Ha! What you wanna do?

Everybody calm down.

No! She always wants us to fix her messes.

I'm not asking you to help fix shit, Aja.

Okay. Okay. I'm asking, please!

Please help me, help me, help Chris so that

I can fucking break up with him.

Wait, what?

I'm in breakup limbo.

I was this close y'all. This close.

I mean we did almost kind of break up because you know,

- there was this look. - Let me see the look.

[clears throat]

Oh, hell no, I ain't broke up off that look.

Well, I can't break up with a Black man while he's in jail.

Has hip-hop taught us nothing?

- Ja Rule said- - Wait, wait, Ja Rule said?

Ja Rule said? Bro, it's called send an email.

You have to be free to be dumped.

You know what? She's right. Breakups are all about timing.

I've waited years for the right moment.

That's why I don't get into relationships.

There's no easy way out. Like the Woodward boys.

Chris might not be the one, but he still needs me.

He is an innocent traumatized man in jail,

and if we don't try to help him, who the fuck are we?

Jesus wept.

You know, I'm coming around to the fact that you may be

the best girlfriend he's ever had.

Thank you. Spread the word.

My weave and Chris locked up. Damn.

- Aja. - Yeah?

- Those are not comparable. - At all!

What? Unless she's willing to share her 100 grand.

I'm in trouble, too.

I would cover you if I had it, but between taxes

and Chris's legal expenses, that reward money is gone.

I mean, I will help you with your weave problem,

but we just, we gotta deal with the most pressing shit first.

Okay, if we were to help you, hypothetically,

what's next?

Maybe we don't need to find Thousand Yard.

- Praise Jesus. - We need to find Booker.

Oh, God.

Convince him to go to the cops.

He can ID Thousand Yard,

which means his testimony frees Chris and me, cheers!

With Lisa in the wind, we headed for Booker's job.

["Tell Em Pay" by Payroll Giovanni]

? I talk a lil' shit, but I can back it up ?

? I'm in the foreign, watching rear cameras ?

? As I'm backing up, talk a lot of shit ?

DIARRA: During Prohibition, Tommy's Gun was the safehouse

for the ruthless Jewish bootleggers

known as The Purple Gang.

The gangsters who ran Detroit

and supplied the whole damn country with liquor.

Now, it was a hipster's playground.

The manager confirmed Booker works security,

an often distracted employee who'd recently been MIA.

Girl, the fuck is a citizen's interrogation?

I'm glad you asked...

She was less cooperative with the rest of my investigation.

Sis, I'm not gonna help you track down my employees.

Take a selfie with the dead guy and lighten up.

DIARRA: It'd been all over the news.

An old murder victim

discovered in the vault during renovations.

That kind of juju could have hurt businesses elsewhere,

but in the D?

Blap, blap, blap, blap. 'Ey, yo, hold on.

Get me with this dead nigga right quick.

DIARRA: Shit, the corpse's artifacts became

the best excuse downtown to pay ungodly prices

for craft cocktails.

To survive in the fucking summer.

Amen to that!

Are you starting a Detroit food insta?

Dee! Yo, Dee! Woo, what up, though? I made it!

- AJA: Why is he here? - He's my investigator?

I'd asked Mac to track down Ron.

He felt guilty for gifting the murder weapon

- and was desperate to help. - Ron gone.

I checked the strip club,

the casino, the track.

Did you go back to his house?

Damn? No!

DIARRA: The problem was, he wasn't very helpful.

But my mom did say that Booker little brother is

at a group home off eight mile.

Okay, what's it called?

I forgot to ask.

- The fuck? - Mmm.

- Can I get of these? - Just keep that one, shit.

? I take that money that be coming through the mill ?

? I take Venmo and card, I take your bills ?

So wait, what does this Thousand Yard guy look like anyway?

Mac, if you gon' be here, you gotta keep up.

None of us have seen him.

Mmm, I see. So this nigga is invisible.

That technology does exist. It's like a cloak.

There's niggas in here right now.

You know what? I feel like you making all of us dumber.

Please pass the Dead Man Jalapeno bites.

DIARRA: In the quiet moments,

I couldn't help but think about Chris,

spending another night in jail while I ate crispy crab cakes.

I was failing him and Vonda.

It was actually calming to be face-to-face

with someone else at a dead end.

Whacked in Tommy's Gun then turned into decor.

Jesus, we were both fucking stuck.

Who was this kindred soul, this dead motherfucker.

This DD.

And then I realized, I'd seen his initials before.

It looks like a piece is supposed to fit there.

DIARRA: I'll bet Lisa tried to build hers the same way.

It hit me all at once, Booker wasn't a distracted employee.

He was investigating because dead guy,

Mr. DD, was the OG owner of his desk.

[country music playing]

BAILEY: Hey, um, I've been wanting to ask you something.

When Rory brought you to me, he said he couldn't tell

if you were the good guy or the bad guy.

Everything I've seen says good guy.

Great guy.

What do you say?

A Course In Miracles says good and bad is an illusion.

I knew you'd say some shit like that.

[chuckling] I don't even know why I asked.

Look, I'm just me, Bay.

I'm grateful that you see me.

I'm grateful that God guided me here,

'cause these peas need some more seasoning, good Lord.

You know what? I only made the chicken in the corn.

- Okay, focus on that. - Okay.

Hey everybody. Om's gonna say grace.

He's gonna pray some flavor into Tyler's peas.

Heavenly Father, please put some seasoning

in this community.

[chuckling]

- Seasoning salt, Old Bay. - [Bailey chuckling]

Anything besides salt and pepper.

There weren't "cunts" at Booker's job.

There's "clues."

Lisa's handwriting is fucking terrible.

- Absolutely. - Yeah.

- That's very real. - Okay, so Booker doesn't

believe his granny's story about there being an inheritance

in the desk until this body pops up on the news.

When he sees the DD on the news and recognizes it.

Figures if the desk is connected to the Purple Gang,

- gotta be valuables inside. - Oh, yeah.

- Them niggas made bank. - So if we find

what Booker missed, he'll owe us a hell of a favor.

TEA: Says the letter was found in Dead Guy's pocket

when they found him. Dated 1932.

- "My dearest Queen..." - Booker's favorite theme.

TEA: "Do not fret. All will be made whole

"when my son becomes my brother"?

His son is his brother? That's nasty.

Wow- Whoa! I got something.

Oh, no, never mind.

Oh! I got something. I'm pretty sure that's the same ring

that the Chaldean had on in the news report I saw.

DIARRA: I never forgot a face.

Aja never forgot jewelry.

Why would the Chaldean and Dead Guy have matching rings?

Maybe they was gay.

"Purple Gang" is a gay-ass name for a gang. No disrespect.

What, so heteros can't wear matching championship rings

- or be pledges? - [Mac grunts]

You mean like if they become brothers?

Like frat brothers.

So Dead Guy, Chaldean, same frat.

Um, maybe same frat as Thousand Yard.

Mm-hmm.

- What fraternity fucks goats? - Sigmas!

- Alphas. Kappas. - TEA: All of 'em.

You know goats got the same vagina as a woman?

Really not that weird when you think about it.

Nigga, it's very weird,

and anybody goat-fucking should be keeping it a secret.

Maybe like a secret society.

Yes. Yes!

A secret society protecting the key under the lodge.

They're Freemasons!

The key's under the Masonic Lodge!

[all screaming excitedly]

- Hey, hey! - Get off me!

- Hey, hey! Hey! - Hey!

No, no, no. Let me show you to your seat. Yes.

These white folks gon' come downtown

and think we not gon' clown.

We was here first.

Okay, so Booker was right.

His little auction, it smoked out the key.

And then the Masons...

you know, they smoked out everybody.

No wonder my witness was on the run.

He'd made an enemy of the most powerful

secret order in the world.

I don't know how we get a scared kid to poke his neck out.

We need bait.

Mac, find the little brother.

I need him to deliver a message to Booker.

We'll trade him his precious key

for the testimony that frees Chris.

- Got it. - Okay.

And- and 10% of his inheritance.

TEA: But- but Dee...

you don't have the key.

Not yet.

ROYCE: Are you high?

I'm not bringing y'all fake-ass niggas in there.

Come on! I can't be the only one in here with big dick energy.

You live for shit like this.

You once told me that you broke into a Taco Bell on a dare.

A Taco Bell in the student union. I was 20.

- My bills on autopay now, Dee. - This is too big.

We'd combed Paul Patto's socials

and found he was the only Chaldean member

of the oldest Lodge in the city.

Luckily, they were welcoming brothers from all over the state

for a special ceremony.

It was perfect.

You think it's crazy?

She got me looking like some Blob Marley nigga

I wouldn't give my own number to.

Aw, I'd give you my number.

It'd definitely be a wrong number, but I'd give it to you.

Dee, you know my dad was a Prince Hall Mason, okay?

You're gonna have him rolling over in his grave.

And you know that I'm going through

a very difficult time right now,

and you are the only person in the world who can help me.

I haven't been in years.

I don't even remember the customs.

And the Masons do not play, Dee.

Daddy Frederick, may you rest in peace,

if you object to Royce doing me this very simple favor,

may you strike my ass down dead right where I stand.

Thanks for nothing, frickin' Daddy Frederick.

[laughs]

Now this is a perfect dick.

[tense music]

[Royce sighs]

DIARRA: Royce was right. The plan was crazy.

But it was simple.

[indistinct chatter]

?

[deep voice] All right, come on, y'all.

[deep voice] Dee, they looking at us.

Nah, you doing good. Just keep moving.

Don't say shit, and just keep walking.

DIARRA: It wasn't supposed to be a suicide mission.

Tea had a buddy down at the City's Planning Commission

who found a flaw in the blueprints:

a ventilation shaft that went from the bathroom

on the first floor down under the lodge.

- [bleating] - Only problem?

It was a tight squeeze. Too tight for me.

It was a problem fit for short kings only.

I was shocked she agreed.

I guess it felt good to be in the boys' club for one night.

No biological clocks. No scheduling purgatories.

[foreboding music]

Bingo.

Thousand yard fuckin' stare.

Uh... brotha?

You look a little hippy.

Better lay off that soy.

Um, yeah, speaking of soy, um,

we had a long trip here.

Brother gotta go to the bathroom.

You know the way.

That's a great tip, man. Thanks.

?

[sighs]

Oh, that was very scary.

?

- What in the Tom Cruise? - All clear. Green light.

- Green light, niggas! - Royce.

- Stop using code words. - Thank you!

Okay? It's not necessary.

Now, the key is probably chess-themed.

It better not be no rodents in there.

- Oh, I owe you. - Buck up!

- Here I go. - Okay.

[grunting]

AJA: Doing it. Motherfucker!

- What? - Nothing.

I just thought when you texted,

you wanted to talk about my offer.

That wasn't a real offer.

That was you being drunk and inappropriate.

Okay, it's clear your boyfriend isn't father material.

- Let's not do this shit. - I was worried about you, okay?

Now I'm very worried about you.

Can we please not start this shit right now?

- Start what? - Stop! Just stop-

You think I wanna talk about this shit while you dressed

like a man and I'm dressed like a fucking bathroom attendant?

Well, you brought it up, Royce.

You're the one that's talking about it.

That's when I realized...

his biological clock was ticking too.

It was rarer for men.

Most weren't brave enough to give voice to it.

- I'm serious about this, Dee. - DIARRA: It took balls.

I'm- I'm sorry. Could you- could you look that way

while I finish what I gotta say? It's the beard.

- This shit- No, no- - You don't like the beard?

- This shit throwing me. - You wanna touch it?

- Hey. - Hey, it's okay what you feel.

- Pause! Come on, bruh! - [laughing] Okay!

- You want me... - Yes.

- I'm turning around. - Thank you.

I can still see you in the mirror.

[Royce sighs] Okay.

Now, I was asking for a sign about this fatherhood thing.

Then I walked into that Coney

and saw your goofy ass trying to hide in plain sight.

Who does that? Hmm?

And I thought to myself,

"Yep, she could make this domestic thing fun."

[tender music]

Royce...

- AJA: They sealed it. - What?

There's no way through! They bricked it over.

- I told you. Abort! - I need you to calm down.

- ROYCE: I am calm. - DIARRA: No, you're not calm.

You're sweating! You need to-

Is everything okay here?

[deep voice] Yeah. You know, we was all in here just...

taking a piss and shit like that.

Yeah. All of us.

Come take your places.

[dinging]

[tense music]

MASTER: Brothers.

In the west, as the Sun is in the west

at the close of the day,

so is the Senior Warden.

To support my Worshipful Master.

Those who have chosen to become master builders

of the third degree and find their true selves

under the lodge...

Come forward.

DIARRA: There it was. A turning point.

Or a point of no return.

"Under the lodge."

My heart said I needed to get Booker's key

to ensure his testimony.

And there was one more big swing I could take.

Initiate. You seek answers?

- MASONS: Welcome, welcome. - [clears throat] Welcome.

Who vouches for this brother?

The dignified brothers from Saginaw claim him.

[Masons hooting]

And who vouches for this brother?

The dignified brothers in Flint claim him.

[Masons hooting]

And who vouches...

for this brother?

Initiate.

Which Senior Warden backs you?

Uh, Kalamazoo.

We vouch for him. He's dignified.

As are we, and he good with us.

[both hooting]

We acknowledge and honor you.

Now, who will answer my call

to walk the path of a master builder,

to become a leader of your community and your chosen field?

- MASONS: We will. - [delayed] We will.

Step to the east to answer the call.

Step to the west.

[Mason hooting]

DIARRA: And then suddenly, we were doing the cha-cha slide.

Man, this nigga ain't got no rhythm. It's a damn shame.

Initiates.

Bare yourselves.

[ominous music]

Uh...

In- in Kalamazoo, we don't go in for all that soft shit.

Nah.

In Kalamazoo...

we show 'em our dick.

- [Masons murmuring] - Yeah.

Go ahead, initiate.

Let 'em see that dick.

[Aja coughs]

Uh, it's a Kalamazoo thing.

That won't be necessary, initiate.

During the long night,

you will be tested.

Will you keep a brother Master Mason's secrets?

- MASONS: We will. - [delayed] We will.

Will you present an atheist,

a madman, a fool, or a woman,

knowing them to be such?

- MASONS: We will not. - Hell naw!

MASTER: You will be proved imposters...

or Masons.

Time to ride that goat.

[goat bleating]

[Masons shouting, jeering]

[Diarra gasping]

[grunts]

You're weak, you bitch nigga!

Give up, you imposter! Just give up!

DIARRA: The ceremony was impossible.

With seemingly the whole world against me,

my job was to focus on a single voice to get me through.

You can do it, brother.

Shit, speak up! I can't hear you!

You got this, brother.

DIARRA: And without warning or good reason...

our rituals collided.

Am I really riding a goat?

You riding this thing called life.

They bring the goat to try to trick you.

You know, I heard sometimes you just on a old nigga's back.

- Danger? - Hmm?

Are you dead?

Nah.

I'm in meditation.

It's called astral travel.

DIARRA: Mmm.

You got a lot going on, Dee.

I know you didn't just astral travel to my hallucination

to tell me some shit I already know.

Apparently I'm a shit magnet.

[chuckles] I prefer Patr�n saint of lost negroes and causes.

I think you mean "patron."

I said what I said, Dee.

I can't solve this.

I can't do it.

Chris is gonna be in jail for, like, 400 years,

- like Nelson Mandela. - You can do it.

No, I can't, not while I'm in breakup limbo.

And- and I got this other nigga offering me his sperm.

Like, should I take the sperm, Danger?

Because I also got Aja's hair problem, and you know what else?

I have no idea where the fuck you are!

Shh.

You know, females think that y'all can focus on

a hundred things at once.

Niggas know we got to focus on one thing at a time.

Get Deonte out.

Focus.

One thing.

[distant shouting, jeering]

MASON: Go home back to Kalamazoo!

You in limbo.

It can be a state of mind, or a dance.

So dance.

[mystical music]

[grunting rhythmically]

[both exclaiming]

[gasping, panting]

Kalamazoo niggas is wild.

Never seen nobody ride the goat like that.

Now it's time to pay respects to the Masters

that came before, in the ancestors' room.

DIARRA: But the next thing I knew,

I was a Master Mason

of the third degree.

MASON: You've been reborn, perpendicular on the square

as a master builder in your chosen field.

Which is?

Uh...

I'm a private investigator.

Congratulations, brother.

DIARRA: And I realized...

I was finally under the lodge.

["Do What I Want" by Daisha McBride playing]

? Uh, yeah ?

? Tell him I do what I want, yeah ?

? Don't really care what it cost, ooh ?

? I got him down on the knees ?

? He wanna be with a boss ?

? Might as well buy him a ring ?

? I let him drive in my car ?

? Get out my face, better behave before you get nothing at all ?

? Boy, you can't tell me nothing (Nah) ?

? I get on stage, I run, I run it ?

? I don't understand what you talking ?

? Bank run give me my hunnids (Hunnids) ?

? Slim waist, cute face, got like 2k diamonds ?

? Up and down my sleeve (I'm the best) ?

? Me and my girls, we the baddest in the city ?

? Break necks every time we leave (Watch out) ?

? But you can't do it like me (Nah) ?

? I do what I want ?

DIARRA: Finally, Mr. DD.

Duncan Duckett.

MASTER: Powerful ride you took, young man.

[ominous music]

Um...

Yeah. You know, uh...

I was working through some things.

Aren't we all?

Guilt for me.

I sent a man...

a good man...

to recover something important to the brotherhood...

and it didn't end well.

[Diarra gasps]

?

You don't have any hands.

Good eye.

Desert Storm.

We're all carrying something.

Thankfully, this can be a haven for us all,

where we can put down what ails us.

All your brothers can help you carry the load.

That's what it is to be a Mason.

Welcome.

That's what's up.

Thank you for your service, brother.

Sorry about your hands.

That's a nice-ass top hat, though.

Lisa was right. He was a killer.

Just not my shooter.

[tense music]

Damn. What's up? I was meditating.

?

Need you to take a ride with us.

We can trust you, right, Om?

[sinister music]

[gun clicks]

?

[dance music playing]

[overlapping chatter]

Stop winking at niggas.

Sorry. I forgot. Can't believe I'm with

Detroit's finest bachelors and can't say nothing.

Dee asked if I can intro you to someone who could help with

- the customs issue. - Ooh, so let's go!

Yeah, but that'd get us busted.

My boy Priest, he's a barber.

He's always dealing with some hold-ups

with his Turkish beard oil. That work?

You would help me out like that?

ROYCE: My dad always said Prince Hall was an abolitionist.

If the brotherhood ain't about service, then what are we doing?

Hey.

Suck my dick. I'm a fucking Mason.

You got the key? How you know it's the right one?

'Cause we about to test it out.

I know where the desk is.

You got balls, son. Big balls.

So do you, brother.

Thank you.

I'll cover your exit, all right?

[loudly] Let's toast!

[overlapping chatter]

- To our new initiates. - MASONS: Yes.

To our brothers.

- MASONS: Hear, hear. - Hear, hear.

[intriguing music]

Maybe don't have your baby running around

the streets in swim diapers.

[floor creaking]

?

DIARRA: Lisa said that Trinity Rose,

the oldest Black church in Michigan,

was Booker's haven.

And there he tucked his inheritance,

guarded by God and the ancestors.

Uh, here. Take this one.

?

To make a deal with Booker, I needed the key to be real.

[clicking]

?

Hmm. Nothing happened.

AJA: Is that a keyhole?

DIARRA: And so I was face-to-face

with yet another turning point.

[whirring]

?

And finally revealed some gorgeous penmanship.

"My brother, my son.

"Where this leads, you shall find glory."

The heck does that mean?

DIARRA: "But keep your wits.

"You may have inherited my enemies"?

BOTH: Okay...

- That sounds ominous. - Right?

DIARRA: It's a map.

Like a treasure map.

A treasure map? This is Detroit.

So what? So, what, you think this is just

- some kind of practical joke? - Diarra, yes!

Yes, I think it's a practical joke.

- None of this is even real- - [explosion booming]

Who in the hell did you piss off?

?

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