Original subtitles

- Missy Vaughn? - Yes.

This is Trent Vaughn, Reggie's dad.

- I'm in Atlanta. - You want to talk about this?

- No, I don't. - I'm here to hear whatever you want to say.

- The good, the bad, the ugly. - I don't want to talk about it.

By the way, the spa clothing flatters you.

Is that your A game?

I gotta find my father. I am fed up with not knowing.

- But you each have different fathers? - Yes.

- But he knows who his is. - I haven't seen him in decades.

I can't tell her who her father is

because I don't even know who was in the fucking room.

I've been thinking a lot

about life, parents, choices.

I'm sorry I didn't encourage you to keep the baby.

You can't feel guilty about it.

Then why do I?

Congratulations on the successful completion

of your court-mandated therapy.

You have made great progress, Mary Charles.

Go forth into the world as a well-adjusted human being.

No further therapy is required.

Thanks, Doc.

- There is just one other thing. - Yes?

It appears my mother was raped by a bunch of guys

when she was 15 and that's how I was conceived.

I will clear my schedule.

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Hello.

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- Oh, they're excited to meet me, huh? - Oh, yes.

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They say it's very nice to meet you and please come in.

Okay. This is beautiful.

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Dr. Roycroft said in times like this,

a person has to lean on friends,

not family or romantic interests 'cause they're not objective.

So I did a rough head count of my friends,

people who just like me the way I am

and aren't trying to fuck me or get fucked by me,

and I came up with, uh, one.

It's nice that sex between us is not a possibility. It's very liberating.

Do you have anyone special in your life, Jimmy?

Yes, but she doesn't know it yet.

I want to go after the guys who pulled the train on Ma.

Hunt them down, figure out which one is my father,

and kill him in a slow and spectacular way.

- To accomplish what? - His death.

- At what cost? - Whatever it costs.

I would pay the moon right now

just to be able to draw in a deep breath, I swear to God.

Even if it was my last one.

Oh, for the love of God. Can you believe this?

Gum.

People are appalling. This luxury box is $25,000 a game

and even people with that kind of money leave gum on the seats.

- Know why? - Because people suck?

Because they suck.

And because they can get away with it.

And because we are who we are when no one's looking.

Except maybe six other guys.

It fills me with rage that that happened to Cassie.

And confusion because it's horrible,

but because of it you're here and you're wonderful.

And if it hadn't happened, you wouldn't be.

You think you're confused,

try swimming around in my head for eight seconds.

Not many of us are love children, fine.

But I'm a child of hate. I'm... I'm a hate child.

Hey, you realize what this means?

Yeah, my mother's a sympathetic character.

I couldn't believe it either.

She wouldn't want to lose you.

It could not have been easy to decide to take you to term.

That right there is the triumph of love over hate.

Your brother wouldn't want to lose you. I wouldn't.

Fine. What if I don't kill the guy?

Better.

I mean, for one thing, my mother might be exaggerating.

I wouldn't put it past her.

And it would be awkward if I killed him

and then found out the sex was consensual.

It may not matter for your future at this point who you came from.

It may just matter that you now feel fueled

to go into your future with purpose, which you do.

Is that what you did?

How are there no glasses?

What a franchise.

Come buy a luxury suite

where you can drink out of the bottle like a pirate.

My father

and my mother lost me when I was two.

They literally lost me.

They apparently got into a fight

outside Mike's Pastry in the North End of Boston.

And while they were fighting, each holding a pastry,

by the way, I walked off.

I walked off in the North End of Boston at two years old.

Not at a high rate of speed either.

I was two. I... I toddled off.

And where I walked over to,

there's a statue of Paul Revere.

There's like a little brick sitting area.

It's all brick because, hey, why have grass anywhere?

Anyway, I don't remember this, but it's in the police report.

I walked down into that park and... and cried and cried and cried.

Some kindhearted Samaritan eventually said,

"Hey, whose fucking kid is this?"

Because in Boston even the Samaritans have a potty mouth.

Brought me to the fire department right around the corner.

Apparently I was separated from my parents for about two hours

because at first they were so embarrassed to have lost me

that they didn't ask for help.

They were too embarrassed

to ask for help in finding their tiny

two-year-old son lost in the North End of Boston

in the late 1960s.

You know who told me that? My mother.

She admitted that. God rest her soul.

I mean, hell, to admit that, that takes guts

and a complete lack of embarrassment, I guess,

which it appears now was a isolated moment

of emotional growth on her part.

Whatever.

She sucked. He sucked.

I don't.

I try to have empathy for them, but I usually fail.

This is why we get along so well.

We're birds of a diseased feather.

They hated each other.

They split up and neither one wanted me

because apparently, according to my uncle,

my face reminded them of one another.

Wow.

Ain't that great?

You got a good face.

So I went into foster homes.

My mother got cancer. She smoked like a smoker.

Dead before I was 17. I met her four times.

My old man, he was killed by a drunk driver.

Himself.

And my uncle, he at least had some heart.

He would come visit me in the foster homes I was in

up until I was 11 when he got shot.

So all in all,

I got a shitty pedigree.

Human beings are amazing.

And human beings suck.

You're one of the amazing ones.

Don't go looking for a bunch of them that suck.

Unless I feel like I have to.

In which case, you can take my plane.

Do you know where to start looking?

I got an idea.

You want someone to go with you?

I will go.

I know.

Mama Chen, you've got some really good Chinese food here.

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They say please enjoy.

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- Got nice pictures. - Mmm.

You're in every single one of them.

I'm an only child, so every moment was commemorated.

You must be very proud of your son.

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She says yes.

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He likes your hair.

I don't have any pictures from when I was a little girl.

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They say have more chicken.

I am just killing it with your parents.

How many nights are you gonna do this?

As many as it takes.

It's not healthy.

Oh, I think this is extremely healthy.

It's not the kind of parent-child relationship

I want to see from someone who is constantly

lobbying to be the father of my children.

Oh, Missy, I am sorry

that I am not living up to your standards.

And if we have that child,

I want him to know his grandfather.

Hey, can't always get what you want.

No matter what your daddy told you.

Don't be like that to me.

I texted you Trent's number for you to call him.

Yeah, and that was a waste of a kilobyte.

However, I am glad that you found this

because, ha, I thought I had gotten rid of all of them.

But I hadn't.

- That was the last one. - Yeah?

Terrific.

You know what I'm feeling,

like, right now?

Nothing.

Missy, you were blessed with a sober, doting father

whose existence was designed around a premise

that fatherhood is all about loving

and nurturing one's offspring.

You were lucky that way.

I was not.

- Baby, I just want... - Now listen. No, listen to me.

I appreciate everything that you're trying to do,

I do 'cause I know it comes from a good if naive place,

but, Missy,

you got no idea how deep is the water.

I ju... if you ju...

Now I'm telling you calmly

one last time,

stop.

You look great in that teddy.

Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.

Oh, fuck.

Cam, expectations were so high.

And a first-round exit to the Celtics?

The Celtics?

How disappointed are you?

Cam. Cam.

Can we just... all right, just one comment about... hey.

That's mature.

Hey.

- Dude, you okay? - Nope.

Look, this wasn't our day,

but think about how far we've come.

I mean, when I bought this team,

we used to cry this way on opening night.

It's got nothing to do with the game.

Be glad you missed it.

I'm not. Put him on.

It's your mother.

I'm sorry we lost, Ma.

- I should have been there. - No, Ma.

You got a man that loves you.

He wanted you to meet his mom and his dad.

That's way bigger than basketball.

It never occurred to me that you would lose to the fucking Celtics.

Okay, now you're just making it worse.

I love you, baby.

You... you got your health,

you have your sister, you have me.

And there... and there's always next year.

That's right.

I'll talk to you tomorrow.

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Thank you for coming.

What is it this time?

More negotiating through the press?

It's nothing like that.

You want to apologize to the fans

for losing to, goodness gracious, the Celtics?

I'd like to ask you out.

Shut up.

I'm serious.

I'm drawn to you and not just physically.

You have a combination of exterior security

and interior panic that I find very appealing.

I'd like to mitigate the panic and reinforce the security.

Plus, you've already seen me in spa clothing,

so if you say yes, it means I may have cleared a physical bar.

You asked me here to ask me out?

It was either festive or obnoxious.

I... I struggle differentiating between those two sometimes.

It's a rich man's problem.

No.

Was it the spa clothing?

Do you know what happens to women like me

when we date athletes or owners?

- No. - It ends.

And then we have to leave town because those people, they're deities.

And then for the rest of your career wherever you go,

you're the girl that used to fuck so and so.

It is hard enough being a female sportswriter

with professional credibility

without a famous sports penis on your résumé.

So I look good in the spa clothing?

Why don't taxis cruise in this city? Can you call me an Uber?

I am the last person in America without an account

because I believe drivers should get a livery license

and pass some sort of nominal exam.

I wouldn't ask you out if it weren't important.

I wouldn't put either one of us through that. Or the Uber drivers.

I'm not sure. I don't know anything.

I'm just clinging to whatever's left

of my instincts like a gnat in... in... in... in...

In the... you know, in the wind.

Will you sign a contract in advance

providing compensatory damages

for irremediable professional harm?

No.

Fine.

How much?

- Five million. - What? No.

For five million, you'll purposely develop

- a chronic yeast infection. - Whatever.

You're... you're gonna be lucky to make three million in your lifetime

and that's only if Erin Andrews goes on a sugar binge.

I'm not negotiating.

Four million.

You said it was important.

So are you a reptile's reptile

or are you for real?

Everyone has a weakness. I have several.

And the biggest one is women.

Not all of them, just six in my lifetime.

Seven now.

Thank you.

Hey. I, uh...

so appreciate you calling to let me see you, son.

Don't "son" me.

Look, Reg, I know you got lots of reasons to be mad.

Hey, don't "Reg" me. Okay... you know what? Just sit down.

This won't take long. Come on, sit down.

I was a bad father.

- I apologize for that. - Mm-hmm.

I came all the way down from Boston just to say that.

And I make no excuses.

Look, I've been in AA for the past five years.

Mmm.

And I learned a lot about myself.

- Most of it not good. - Hmm.

But I can be good.

You know, I've been good.

I've been sponsoring others, helping them through their lives.

Good for them. And good for you.

You can be honest with me, Reggie.

I mean, that's part of the deal.

That's part of my recovery

is that I face my mistakes and try to atone.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

So I can be honest with you?

Is that what you're dispensing today?

Permission slips for honesty?

Well, that is awesome, you know,

that you came down here to Atlanta uninvited

to tell me that I can be now to you

the very thing that you were not for most of my life.

All right.

So where you want to start with this... uh, with this honesty?

How about... How about this?

I think I got it. I'm here right now not to forgive you

or not to let you make amends.

I'm here right now

because I want to hit you in your fucking face.

Like hard. Very hard.

I feel and have felt for years like just...

Just cocking back and... and punching you,

you know, swiftly and... and sharply

with a punch designed to just do massive damage to your fat face.

Just one second.

And then I thought that after I landed the punch,

I'd just take a moment and smile

as I watched you hold your broken nose

as it gushed with your demented blood, your poison blood.

The blood that I got running through me.

And then I'd just smile some more

as you felt some very real pain and blood ran down your...

Well, your chin and then your neck and then it, you know, stains your shirt.

And then the waitress and other bystanders would rush to your defense,

hold me down and say things like, "How could you do that?"

And then I'd tell them how.

Smiling.

And then they would hold you down

and let me have another go at it

because, see, nobody who frequents a diner such as this

would ever think to come to your aid after hearing me

tell them the kind of father that you were to me.

Nobody.

Fuck you, Dad.

I am not interested in you telling me

that you're sorry for all the stuff you once did

not once, but many times.

Many, many, many,

many, many, many, many times.

- You're right. - Yeah?

- And I'm trying to do better. - Mm-hmm.

- I'm helping others, too. - Yeah.

I'm trying to pull others up.

I ain't interested in your renewal

or your journey of recovery or your new life

where you try to reframe your entire fucked-up existence as a parent

as some wonderful AA sponsor's tale told now with enough distance

that it seems to distance you from the shit you... you inflicted.

Inflicted on me.

On my mother.

On me.

On my beautiful dead mother.

On me.

- On me. - I can take it.

On me.

- I got the sobriety to hear it. - Yeah? Well, good.

Look, let me ask you. Does that make you... does that make you tough?

You know? 'Cause now you're helping people?

Well, good for you, man.

Good for you.

Just one more second. Thank you.

But honestly,

fuck you.

Fuck you.

I don't approve of you taking

all the shit that you did to me,

the shit you didn't do, the shit you fucked up,

the shit you beat out of me,

the shit you saddled me with and using it as somehow

some... what, some fertilizer for this revamped new useful you.

Nah. Uh-uh.

See, what I see is the same old sack of shit.

Same old abusive drunk.

You want to sponsor somebody so you can feel less shitty

for the shittiness that was your stock in trade?

Whoo-hoo. You go, Dad.

You want a pat on the back

for getting over the bottle, hmm?

Is that what you want?

All right. Here you go.

You call me or my wife again,

I will beat the living shit out of you and enjoy every second of it.

Coffee's on me.

How you folks doing over here?

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How on earth do you lose to the Celtics?

You have to make a concerted effort.

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There ain't nothing that you can't get over

and nothing that you can't get through.

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You just count your blessings and keep on walking.

Eventually, you will find yourself walking in the light.

- And then you see glory. - What is glory?

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This is glory.

This right here.

Oh, come on, dude.

Like, what, you never saw a black person before?

Go ahead and run. Wake up, you dough-faced motherfucker.

There's a whole big world out there.

He thinks you're Beyoncé.

Oh, he does?

Sorry. My bad.

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My mother would like a picture.

Doubtless for the Great Wall of Chen.

Oh, okay, no problem.

I got it right here. Come on, everybody get together.

Come on, Mama and Papa Chen.

Here we go. All right, smile.

Stop looking like you just passed a sticky bun.

All right, never mind.

Cassie, my mother would like you in the photo as well.

Me?

What did he say?

He said it's never too late to start commemorating.

Well, thank you.

Xièxie.

Xièxie.

Mary Charles?

Hey, Pookie. What's going on?

What's going on? It's 9:00 and you're in Boston.

Yeah, I guess I should have called first.

Sent a text or something.

Hey, listen, quick question.

You know anything about what happened to my mother that night on Long Island?

Name, please. Cameron Calloway.

Here to see?

Rodney Barker.

And what's your relationship to the inmate?

He's my father.

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