Original subtitles

*

EARN (over radio): ...15 minutes out, we're still focusing.

(indistinct chatter)

EARN: Can someone get me the drop count?

Okay. Good to go.

WOMAN (over radio): We've got 60%.

EARN: Copy that.

We're doing a runner. Make sure Paper Boi...

EARN: And could you get rid of all the ginger ale in there?

RUNNER: Why?

We asked for "ginger beer," not "ginger ale."

Okay, I'm on it.

Eyes on Paper Boi?

Guys, eyes on Paper Boi?

Niggas. Man...

The hell is-- Is that a map?

Uh, this is an original blueprint

of the building we're in.

There's about f-four... five rooms

that I think are not on file.

I smell adventure.

(laughs) Yes.

Nigga, why you even-- Never mind, man. I ain't doing it.

Oh, man, they say this place is, like, haunted.

There's a lot of creepy, unexplained events.

Look, as long as it ain't another Milwaukee,

man, I'm cool.

Mm. Are you talking about the raid?

I told you, man, that was a ghost I saw.

- Nigga, that was your reflection. - Hey, man.

- Hey, what's going on? - (scoffs)

Yo, Al, Al, you trying to hit a strip club after the show?

(both laughing)

- Oh, no! - A strip club? Hell no.

- No more European strip clubs, all right, man? - I heard that.

(British accent): It's 100 pounds to get in,

and, uh, we don't have any titties.

(all laughing)

- DARIUS (British accent): Sprinkle me, milord. - ALFRED: Sprinkle me.

- Oh, please, make it rain all over me. - Make it rain.

- Look at me trying to clap my ass together... - Make it rain.

...but I can't find it, so... Is it hot?

Meet and greet.

The kid from the Dream Foundation.

(normal voice): For sure, man. All right.

(grunts)

- Hey, what's going on, little man? - Hello.

MOTHER: This is Marvy.

- What's that? - Our evening plans.

(typing)

(sighs)

- (typing) - (cell phone whooshes)

- Hi. - One minute.

It's me again.

You're gonna be seeing a lot of me. I'm gonna be in and out.

Yeah, I know, I know, I just need to check, you know?

It's my job.

- Okay. You're good to go. - Thanks.

Sorry, guys. Uh, where were we? Um...

Yeah, check the barricade,

no flash photography for the first three songs.

I'm seeing a lot of people walking around here;

make sure people can't just walk in on him...

* Why these niggas talking fuckin' shit? *

* I-I-I told 'em pipe down *

* I don't need no little bitch *

* I'll fuck that bitch named Doja Cat *

* Pull up in a Scat Pack windows tinted all black *

* Bulletproof and all that *

* Fuck that. *

- (phone camera clicking) - (knock at door)

ALFRED: Hold that up. Oh, there you go.

Hey, guys. Hope you enjoyed your time with Paper Boi,

but, uh, he needs to get ready for the show.

There's a man outside who'll escort you to your seats.

ALFRED: (sighs) You want to take this with you?

All right. There you go.

All right, y'all take it easy, man.

(chuckles) All right.

(exhales)

- Show in 30. - All right.

- Hey, you got my, um... - Here you go.

Cool.

(sniffs) Oh, man, can you get me a...

Yeah, there's a ginger beer on stage.

It's right next to your water. You were saying you were feeling

"musty" on the way over here, that means you're dehydrated.

You should really drink more water, but, yeah,

the ginger beer's there.

Okay.

Hey, man, how you been?

- Huh? - ALFRED: How you been, man?

Oh.

Good, good.

- ALFRED: Yeah? - Yeah.

Man, 'cause... (chuckles)

...you seem busy all the time, bruh.

(chuckles) Yeah.

But busy's good, you know?

Yeah. Yep.

(voices over radio)

EARN: All right, guys.

Guys, I'm getting talkback at the front of house.

Can you check the patch?

Turn the mic off.

(exhales)

- (overlapping crowd chatter) - cheering)

(chanting): Paper Boi! Paper Boi!

- DARIUS: All right, give it up. - ALFRED: All right, all right, all right.

Rap gods, for I am not accustomed to prayer,

bear with me. I'd like to thank you

for every life that's here with me.

(barking)

- You shall bestow... - Hell yeah.

- ...Alfred with the energy on to show. - Yeah, man. Yeah!

- ALFRED: Let's go! - DARIUS: All right, shake.

- (Alfred grunting) - He's here!

Paper Boi! Come on!

Whoo! Yeah!

- WILEY: (laughs) Whoo-hoo-hoo! - Hey!

Get the fuck off the stage.

CROWD (chanting): Paper Boi! Paper Boi! Paper Boi!

ALFRED: Man, who the fuck is that?

CROWD: Paper Boi! Paper Boi!

We'll deal with it after the show.

- Start the show? - Good luck.

(music starts)

(crowd cheering)

(Paper Boi rapping indistinctly)

I did not know you were poppin' like that in Budapest.

Might have to add this stop to the next tour.

What y'all looking for?

Just tried again. Went to voice mail.

- Fucking phone? - Yeah.

DARIUS: Man, we need to hurry up and find this.

We still have our map adventure to go on.

Hey, man, I got back from my set, my shit was gone.

EARN: The one in the gold case?

When was the last time you had it?

Man, it was out on the dock, and then, uh...

I came back in for the meet and greet with that cancer kid.

- And you didn't have it after? - No, man.

No, man.

He wouldn't do that.

There was something weird about that kid, man.

Uh, wait, that dude is a fan, man.

Imagine if you had your favorite celebrity phone.

Shit, man! Is he still here?

Hold on.

Yeah, does anybody have eyes on the, uh,

VIPs from the meet and greet?

WOMAN (over walkie): I think he's currently being rushed

out of the building.

- Why? - The paramedics were called in.

He said he was having a cancer attack.

Cancer att... No.

Hey. Hey, hey, hey, man, wa--

I'm telling you, if we just stick to...

- Not now, man, not now. - Ah... damn.

Hey, hey!

- I need to talk to that kid. - What?

No.

If it is for Paper Boi,

I want to help.

- Marvy, I don't think... - Mom.

I need to do this.

What does Paper Boi need?

Um...

Hey.

- What are you doing? - Get away from my son!

CROWD: Boo!

Sorry. Thought he had a phone, thought he had a phone.

(sighs) Hey, you find him?

- He didn't take it. - Man, how you know he ain't take it?

- What you do? You just ask... - Believe me, he didn't have it.

DARIUS: I could've told you that boy didn't take that phone.

Nigga, you the one... Whatever.

Man, fuck, man. I need that phone, Earn.

It's just a phone, man.

Look, I...

I can have a runner get one in the morning for you.

Man, shit.

DARIUS: I know this is a very memorial vibe,

but, uh, we can make the whole situation

a little bit better if we just...

Hey, look, it ain't even about the phone, man.

It's about the shit that's on the phone.

- iCloud? - No, we don't do iCloud.

No, yeah, exactly. I'd have my shit backed up, too,

if it wasn't for conspiracy Jones over here.

Who could've taken that phone?

What about that runner guy?

I think he was a runner, right? That kid in the blue jacket?

The super unprofessional stage manager.

That nigga that was on the stage?

Oh, I thought that dude was the caterer.

(radio playing quietly)

(knocks on door)

FOLK: Oh, hey, buds.

(beatboxes) Good gig.

(laughs) You ready to settle up?

Yeah, Folk, soon. Um, can I talk to that stage manager?

The stage manager? He wasn't here today.

I was covering for him.

Then who was that guy?

What guy?

The guy who was...

He had crazy brown hair, he was kind of young,

he was going around asking people stuff...

He had a blue jacket.

(laughs)

- Oh, you talking about Wiley? - Who?

Yeah, Wi-- Blue jacket, brown hair.

Yeah, Wiley. That's my nephew.

- Your nephew? - Yeah.

He was here for a meeting with the rigger about a job.

Okay, well, Al had his phone stolen. We need to talk to him.

Really? That's very unfortunate.

You don't think Wiley took it, do you?

EARN: Well, he was backstage all night.

Eh... I'm sure he didn't take it.

Well, I'm not saying he did,

I'm just saying we'd like to talk to him.

Where is he?

I don't know.

Well... text him. Can you text him?

I don't have his number.

You don't have your nephew's phone number?

FOLK: No.

I have his father's number, but it is too late to call him now.

Well, it's an emergency.

An artist at your venue had something stolen.

The rigger has his number.

I will get the number from the rigger.

EARN: Okay, I'll come with you.

- What, you want it now? - Yes.

(sighs)

Old boy doesn't even work here.

- Man, he don't work-- Then how the fuck... - He's Folk's nephew.

He was here for an interview, but he left.

This is his resume. We got his info.

Man, call this fucker right now.

Hell yeah, and put that shit on speakerphone, man.

- (line ringing) - Shit.

WILEY (over phone): Hello?

Hey, uh, is this Wiley?

Uh, as far as I know.

Hi, this is, uh, Earn, Paper Boi's manager.

We spoke earlier today at the show.

Show?

The-the Paper Boi concert.

Oh... Uh, the rap presentation.

Yes. How can I help you?

EARN: Yeah, well, you disappeared.

Didn't you want to meet Paper Boi?

Yeah, but he seemed, uh, busy. Yeah, busy.

Well, he wanted to meet you. We wanted to know if you,

you know, live near the venue.

You're, uh, you're calling up fans randomly

to invite them to meet you.

- I feel like there's an ulterior motive. - No, no...

Listen, man, we're done playing with you, yeah?

Do you know who you're fucking with?

- Socks. - SOCKS: Keep playing with Team Paper Boi, yeah,

we're plugged in down here, man.

Mob shit. Yeah?

Like I'm the white Liam Neeson, bruv.

I will track you down, and I will fucking bury you

if you're not back here in 15 minutes, phone in hand!

Bring the fucking phone back,

or we'll fucking kill you!

What is this? What the fuck is wrong with you, nigga?

Hey, yo, man, hey. What's going on, man?

It's Paper Boi right here. (laughs)

We ain't gonna kill you, man. We just, we just want to talk.

That man said you were going to kill me.

Yeah, I know. I know, I know,

but he, uh, he was just playing, man. Hey,

how about this, man, you-- if you far-- Are you far from here?

Whatever. Hey, man, come back to the venue,

I'll be here to meet you. Call your uncle.

I swear it's legit, for real.

- Wiley? - (phone beeps)

- What the hell, Socks? - Look, I'm sorry, man.

He's full of shit. He's got that phone.

Yeah. We knew that,

but we need him to come back here.

- White Liam Neeson? - Like, what the fu--

That don't even make no fucking sense, Socks, huh?

Are you thinking of Samuel L. Jackson?

- Yeah, who are you thinking about, man? - What's wrong with you?

Fucking Liam Neeson's already fucking white!

This is not how my night was supposed to go, man.

Yeah.

Mine, either.

Yo, he came back.

Oh, shit.

- God! - Hey, hey, hey, hey.

You stay out here, okay?

You too hot, all right?

Uh, yeah.

Breathe.

Yeah, it's cool, it's cool, it's cool.

(muffled): Fuck!

(clatter)

H-Hello.

Hi.

How... how are you guys enjoying Budapest?

Let's just get to the point.

You didn't happen to see a phone while you were backstage

- all day, did you? - What kind of phone, iPhone?

- Uh, Samsung? - EARN: Doesn't matter...

Dawg, you find a phone or not?

No.

No, I didn't.

You know there's a "find my phone" app that could--

- Yeah, that could help. - DARIUS: No, no, no, we don't use that.

That's how they track us, you know better than that.

- Come on now. - Ah.

Why were you backstage all day?

Oh, I was waiting for my interview.

Then why'd you come back?

I thought about what you said.

I didn't want to miss a chance to meet...

(laughs) ...Paper Boi.

I'm a long-time admirer of his.

Well, Paper Boi has a really early flight tomorrow.

And if you know where his phone is,

it'd be really helpful.

Is there something special about this phone?

Is that why you said you were going to kill me?

- What? - (groans)

N-No, we didn't say that.

(chuckles) We... we're not gonna hurt you.

If I died today, people will assume you did it,

I think. (chuckles) They-the will.

EARN: Nobody's gonna die, Wiley.

We all have to die sometime.

You know that?

Maybe my end...

...should come at the hands of Paper Boi.

(chuckling softly)

(laughs)

This is funny.

Meeting you like this, I feel like I'm dreaming.

ALFRED: Trust me, ain't nobody dreaming this, dawg.

What do you dream of?

Box-top Chevys?

Or kissing the thorn on a rose?

Oh, it's sweet, but it hurts.

It'd make you never want to trust...

...anything too beautiful

again.

Out.

(mouthing)

Listen, he's just scared.

He's only 19.

He's my nephew through marriage.

So, what happened-- did he admit to it?

- Not yet. - Oh, damn it! Piece of shit, man!

(clatter) Fuck!

That was strange.

Have y'all noticed he's blinking every five seconds on the dot?

EARN: What was that... "box-top Chevy" shit?

DARIUS: I don't know, but I think

we might find out if we just go

to this one place on the map. I'm telling you...

- We're not gonna do the map. - I know.

That was my dream car in high school.

Box-top Chevy.

And what about that rose thing?

You know, "nothing... trust anything beautiful again"?

I used to date this girl in high school.

My boy Pookie fucked her-- her name was Rose.

Yeah, Pookie stayed fucking her.

So...

how'd he know any of that?

I rapped about it in some early shit.

Never released it, though.

It was on my phone.

(exhales) Good cop?

ALFRED: Bad cop.

Devastated cop.

FOLK: Oh, here they come. Okay.

I got you something.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Listen, you're obviously a fan.

And sometimes fans get excited.

And, you know, it's possible

you just took the phone by accident,

and maybe you're embarrassed to tell us.

- And that's fine, that happens-- - You don't have the same accent,

you know, the same southern dialect as Paper Boi.

- Uh... - Were you told as a child "you talk white"?

Sometimes.

Must've made you feel separate.

What does that have to do with anything?

Nothing, nothing.

I think it's interesting when people aren't allowed

in the group.

The universal group.

To be "part of the team."

You know, people just want to be seen.

Doesn't matter what for.

Can I have a cigarette?

FOLK: Sure.

Here.

WILEY: Cool, cool.

(coughing)

Why do people smoke these?

Yep, I'm done. I'm gonna beat you right now!

Wait, wait!

I want my one phone call.

This isn't jail, Wiley.

You can call anyone at any time.

Okay, um, I don't have a phone.

Could you, could you call a number for me?

EARN: Yeah, yeah.

So it's, um, it's 404...

(bleep)

And that's my fucking number, nigga! You got my fucking phone!

- (shouting, clamoring) - Give me my fucking phone,

man, stop playing with me!

- (high-pitched air escaping) - (Wiley panting)

When I'm nervous, my stomach churns-- it's disgusting.

I am sorry.

- Please don't hurt me. - Oh!

(coughing)

Hey, he's just a scared kid.

You're interrogating a 19-year-old.

I'm 32.

Nah!

That's not strange to you?

(sputters) He's not 32, no way.

He's either 32 or he's lying about being 32.

Both is strange behavior.

Has it been so long?

I-I saw him maybe 15 years ago.

- That still doesn't make him 32. - Wait, wait.

- 15 years? - Mm.

This guy's a stranger to you.

You don't know him at all.

He's my nephew... through marriage.

Okay, googled his address.

It's the fucking Cirque du Soleil headquarters.

He's toying with us.

When was the last time you actually saw him, man?

I visited him at juvenile offenders institute.

So jail, kid jail.

Okay, so he's in on it, isn't he?

ALFRED: Hey, hey, stop, man! Chill out, man!

Go cool your ass off, bruh.

I'm so mad, I could kill this ni...

Oh, I'm so mad, man.

He definitely stole it.

ALFRED: Mm-hmm, but we ain't got no proof.

Well, he wants to be close to you, so...

maybe just get him to confess and we try and record it?

Socks almost said "nigga," right?

- He almost called us that. - Yeah, I heard that.

Hey, Folk, man, can I get you to, uh...?

(Folk scoffing)

Uh, so how much longer do you think you will have me detained?

Ain't nobody detaining you, man.

Okay, I-I made you a crane.

Listen, I know things haven't gone well.

And I want to do things the right way.

(breathing heavily)

I haven't been completely honest,

which is why you guys, you guys, uh,

you had to resort to this, uh,

you know, this good cop, bad cop scenario.

Uh, at this point, I think you're probably

gonna try to, uh, record me.

To get me to say something incriminating, but, uh...

Look, I...

I don't think you'll get what you want

that way.

Earn, let me talk to him, man.

Check on Folk.

(Earn sighs)

(chuckles)

You know, I haven't written anything in about...

seven months.

Seven months, man, yeah.

Like, I go to the studio, or I lay in bed,

and like... bah. (chuckles)

Like, nothing comes out.

I can't find the words.

It's like I don't know

what's bad or good anymore.

You know, I was never really into rapping, either.

(laughs) Not really.

Yeah, I know, like...

now it's what I do.

It's all I do, really.

And, you know, it's just, uh,

too late for me to do anything else.

But tonight-- oh, man-- tonight I was out there on the dock

before the show and, uh...

I finally heard it.

I finally heard him-- my voice.

I heard him, man, loud and clear, like...

(chuckles) He was singing this melody, man.

He was singing this melody like he was a kid on a bus.

And I started singing with him, and it was....

(laughs) it was...

It was fun.

And I recorded that on the phone.

See what I'm saying, like...?

And if I don't...

If I don't...

get it back now, then, uh...

I'm afraid I'm gonna lose it.

Forever, so...

I need that phone.

Wiley, you know what I'm saying? Like, I need that phone.

So...

did you take my phone?

Did you know we share a birthday?

Hmm? April 28th.

We're Tauruses.

(door opens)

Thank you.

FOLK: He texted me to...

(strumming guitar)

(door closes)

I like music, but I wasn't really that into making it.

I was a lot like you.

Uh, then a girl broke my heart

in eighth grade-- her name was Rosie.

My mom moved me and my sister to Budapest.

I was really, really, really

lonely. (chuckles)

But when I heard The Postal Mixtape...

...I felt the same.

I didn't sympathize.

I didn't empathize.

I felt...

the-the same.

Um, so...

...I-I wrote this.

* There's a fire on *

* The mountainside *

* I can see the smoke rising *

* The ocean blooms *

* They already do *

* They say the tide is turning *

* I swear I saw *

* The other side *

* I never wanted less *

* Because I don't need more *

* I don't want more *

* You were my mirror, my best friend *

* We used to be one and the same *

* Mm *

* But now my hero's gone *

* And left me here *

* To play this evil game *

* I swear I saw the other side *

* I never needed less *

* Because I don't need more *

* I don't want more *

* Of *

* You. *

Thank you for seeing me.

I hope you find your phone.

(exhales)

(bus engine idling)

Hey?

Sorry about back there, man. (chuckles)

Sometimes I just...

you know?

We're good, yeah?

- (phone dings) - It's cool, man.

(exhales)

(clears throat)

("Dedicated to the One I Love" by The Temprees playing)

*

* While I'm *

* Away from you *

* Ooh, baby *

* I know it's hard *

* For you *

* Ooh, baby *

* Because it's hard *

* For me *

* And the darkest hour *

* Is just before dawn *

* Each night before you *

* Go to bed *

* Ooh, baby *

* Whisper a little *

* Prayer *

* For me *

* Ooh, baby *

* And let's tell *

* All *

* The stars above *

- * This is dedicated * - * Dedicated *

- * To the one I love * - * All the stars above *

* Ooh, baby *

- * Dedicated * - * To the one I *

* All the stars above *

* Love *

* Ooh, baby, dedicated *

- * Ooh, baby, baby * - * All the stars above *

* Mmm. *

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH