So, yeah, we're a lot less structured than Bailey here.
We don't divide the pot by sector, but by relationship.
We eat what we kill,
but often I will partner a manager
with a specific target if I think they have a better shot that way.
- So, transparency within the office. - Yeah, that makes sense.
Uh-huh.
I know you're used to a more siloed approach, Coop,
but I gotta tell you, I think this could be a great fit for us.
Max. Yeah, get in here.
- Coop, you know Max Cone? - I don't know, do we?
The Robin Hood dinner last year.
You outbid me on the suite for Taylor Swift.
- Right. Sorry about that. Yes. - Yeah.
I have a 17-year-old daughter, there would have been hell to pay.
- I bet. - Max is a superstar.
He's been on a hot streak all over emerging markets.
Well, I look forward to hearing all about that.
You're aware of the non-solicit?
Legal isn't worried.
The cost of enforcement would be too stiff, even for Bailey.
Okay, so I run my own book, transparently, of course.
The usual draw,
all that's left to figure out is the percentages on the share.
Sound about right?
Not exactly, no.
It's Max's book.
You'd be a hired gun hunting and gathering for a fee.
We'll see how it goes.
Yeah, we'd work together to bring in the investment capital.
So I bag the elephants for the kid,
he builds his book and then you cut me loose?
Whoa, I don't need anybody's help.
All due respect, Max, your boss thinks you do,
or we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?
Coop.
Three Yankees did a shitty 7% last year, Ben.
The year before that you were down 20% when everybody else was up.
We outperformed the index stocks in the aggregate.
Max, be quiet. Nobody cares about the index stocks.
- Who's his father? - What?
He's been in here less than five minutes, I already know he's somebody's son.
My sister.
Well, Uncle Ben,
you're one margin call away from selling shitty condos in New Jersey,
and you're about to hand the keys over to some dipshit in cheap shoes…
- Hey. - …who's a member of the lucky sperm club.
- Bro, you can't come in here-- - Shut the fuck up, Max.
Coop.
Ben, you're a sinking ship.
You're a punch line at dinner parties.
Well, from what I hear, the only place willing to meet you.
And what does that say about you?
Good luck.
I was unemployed and, apparently, unhirable,
sitting in a $200,000 car,
wearing my best suit, and a stolen watch.
Nothing made sense, and that being the case,
it was time to start considering some other options.
Patek Philippe Nautilus, 18 karat.
It's a nice watch.
Gotta check the book,
but I think I can give you about 175,000 for it.
Yeah, there's a strong secondhand market for these.
200.
185.
Best and last.
- Sold. - Great.
I just need the box and the papers.
It's not new.
Yeah, I know, but it's got a serial number
and a certificate of authenticity, which I'm gonna need.
Well, I don't have any of that.
It was a gift.
Right.
Sorry, my friend.
No papers, no sale.
Well, what if I drop the price?
Here.
You go here, in the Bronx.
You ask for Lu.
- Lu? - Yeah.
And you tell Lu, Lipschitz sent you.
You Lu?
Who's asking?
Sorry, Lipschitz sent me.
I'm Lu.
- How do you know Lipschitz? - We just met.
Met where? In a bar, a synagogue, AA meeting, where?
His shop. I'm just…
I'm trying to sell this.
We're going in back, Rocco.
Come on, let's have a look.
Go upstairs and watch TV while Bubby does business, okay?
- Okay. - Okay.
Yeah, so my wife just thinks it's too showy.
Too showy, huh?
Is that why you don't wear a wedding ring?
You gonna buy the watch or are you gonna analyze me?
I can do both at the same time.
I'll give you 65 for it.
Lipschitz was gonna give me 185.
Then he sent you to me.
You could sell it legit, you wouldn't be here.
Ninety-five.
We don't get men like you in here very often.
You're what, a trader? Stockbroker?
Whatever.
The point is, you're a man who buys and sells things he never touches.
You assign value out of your ass.
Your skill is in selling that value to other rich schmucks.
Now here you are, selling me something you can hold in your hand.
This is new to you.
You don't understand this market, but you still think you can negotiate it.
That's not savvy, that's stupidity.
Maybe it's just desperation.
That's the first honest thing you've said.
Now we can do business.
I'll give you 60.
You just said 65.
Deal.
You got me back to my original price.
Some negotiator.
Oh, baby.
It's time, bud.
It's time.
- Good morning. - We're late.
Hey, did you text your dad back?
Are you kidding?
Just text him back, please, for me.
Yeah, fine.
Hey.
Bye, Mom.
Arm into the sky as you inhale, taking the right arm down back.
We'll drop that left arm back…
My thong has impregnated me.
There you go.
Hi.
Thank you.
She's, like, an expert on finding ways to call my mom's boyfriend a dick.
It was just a selfie and I shared it with my boyfriend,
then he shared it with his friends…
I dropped out of robotics club.
Tell me what happened.
You can't make me talk.
No, look, he comes downstairs with flowers,
he planted the biggest, sloppiest most tongue-iest kiss on me
that you've ever experienced in your life…
Mark.
Yeah, my mother went off on me like she usually does.
I guess I just proved her right for, like, the thousandth time.
Well, now wait a minute.
Can we acknowledge that there's a difference
between getting detention and keying a car?
Yeah, I know.
Is that the first time you've ever done something like that?
The first time I got caught.
- Do you know the owner of the car? - Nah, it wasn't like that.
Why'd you do it then?
I mean, you may not know, but I'm just wondering,
what was going through your head?
It's like I get so angry.
It's not really angry, it's more like this energy,
and it builds up and it's just inside me,
making me anxious.
And it gets to the point where I feel like I'm vibrating from all of it,
and if I don't do something, I'll just explode, you know?
And then I break a window,
key a car or something.
And it's like…
it just seeps out of me, and I can breathe right again.
We all have a dream, some nirvana we picture.
That place we want to get to
that will finally mean we've pulled it off,
success, happiness, peace.
For me, it was Westmont Village,
with its seven- and eight-figure homes, rolling lawns, and exclusive clubs.
But I was starting to suspect
that my dreams had been every bit as full of shit
as the rest of me.
Hey, Coop!
The Oakwood Country Club,
hundred grand a year buys you the privilege
of paying 40% above market
for every salad, burger, coffee and cocktail they serve.
But if you don't join,
it looks to everyone else like they wouldn't have you.
It's the age-old economics of social extortion
but seeing it for what it was never stopped me from falling in line
with all the other suckers.
Nice.
You making me work a little.
Why's she hitting with Nick?
'Cause you're late.
Good.
Tennis is my thing.
Can you please just not have him do that?
Okay, it wasn't planned, Coop.
We just never know when you're gonna show up and the tournament's tomorrow.
She's doing fine.
She needs to get her UTR up to a 9 for Princeton to even look at her.
I thought she was at a 9.
No, she's an 8.7.
She has to win two consecutive matches
against four or five-star recruits at this thing.
Well, how is a basketball player gonna help with that?
He was here on time.
You're right.
Now let's go.
Hey.
Hey, Coop, sorry about that, just trying to help.
Yeah, yeah. If I hear of anybody that needs their wife fucked,
I'll let you know.
All right, let's just do some net work, huh?
Coach tells us not to rush the net.
Well, he's right except when he's…
…not.
The tournament is tomorrow. It's not the time.
It's basic tennis. Come on, let me show ya.
Hit it. Hit it hard.
You okay?
Nice. Good one.
You punched my boyfriend in the balls.
Okay, well, it was still worth it.
Hey, Tori.
- Hey, Chels. - Good luck tomorrow.
You too. Bitch.
- I thought you two were friends. - Yeah, we are, but there's only one spot
for an incoming freshman on the tennis team.
Well, look on the bright side, maybe she won't get into Princeton.
Maybe I won't.
Now you're just being stupid.
Come on, back to the baseline.
Let's go.
Things with you and Nick seem really good, huh?
They're fine.
Still early days.
Early days? He's practically living with you.
What? No, he isn't.
I send him home all the time.
I like to have my bed to myself.
Send him to me. I'll keep him in the garage like a mower,
take him out when I need a little trim.
What does that mean?
- Maggie and I joined his gym. - Yes.
- Great classes. - Great.
I prefer Equinox.
That's 'cause Mel needs her space…
- Whatever. - …doesn't she?
- Shit. Guys. - What?
Paul's here.
Oh, dear. Is that the waitress?
Yeah, in the flesh.
Literally, that's all her flesh.
I cannot believe he brought her here.
There should be a rule about that.
Fuck her.
Yeah, fuck her.
How old is she, 16, 17?
Twenty-four.
- Her name's Misty. - God.
I was gonna guess Savannah, but Misty tracks.
Yeah.
Well, you've been to his places.
All his waitresses are some version of her.
Hey. Hey.
What?
Present company excluded, of course.
It's fine.
He picked me 15 years ago, back when I wore bikinis like that.
Don't even, Sam. You are hot as fuck.
And when you say you're ready,
we're gonna set you up with some eligible bachelor.
Yeah.
Oh, yeah, Sam, you're gonna have more dick than you know what to do with.
Okay.
What do you know about dick?
Thank you, guys, but she can have him.
And you can have his money.
Hey. Hey, hear, hear!
Weekend brunch at the club, where you'll find great food,
good company, and an endless parade of conspicuous consumerism.
It's not like I'd never noticed, but I guess now I was seeing it differently.
Hey, guys, how's it going?
Hi, Coop. Are you joining us?
Unclear. Have you seen Hunter?
- Anybody? - He's around here somewhere.
Jake, hey.
- Hey. - Fuck.
Hey there, Jake. How are ya, buddy?
Mr. Cooper.
Sorry about the other day.
You kinda caught me by surprise.
Yeah. I was pretty surprised myself.
I bet.
Well, I hope there's no…
lasting damage.
And more importantly, hope there's no hard feelings.
- Sure, no hard feelings. - Good.
Great. Come on, sit down, have some lunch.
Yeah, Jake, come… Let's get you…
- How was that? - I'd like it better if you meant it…
Well, I'd like it better if he kept his pants on.
You understand me? Come on.
All right. If you see Hunter, please tell him I am looking for him.
Thank you.
- Hi, there. - Hey.
- How are you? - Well, I'm still mad at you.
I know, but to be honest, I can't exactly remember why.
- Fuck, Coop. - Hey, hey, I'm kidding.
I'm kidding. I'm sorry.
Sam, come on.
I'm sorry about the other night, I was preoccupied.
Well, normally I'd stay mad at you a little longer,
but Paul brought his damn waitress and I'm feeling vulnerable
which is really pissing me off, so yeah.
Did you see what she was wearing?
You know, I didn't notice.
That's because she's wearing so little of it.
Point is, I need to feel sexy really damn soon,
so I'm gonna give you a pass.
- Well, I'll make it worth your while. - Damn right you will.
- Hey, girls. - Hey, guys.
How's it going?
Hello, ladies.
- Hey. - Brad, Jules, how's it going?
Hey, Coop. What's new and exciting?
Oh, God, same old same old. How are things at the bank?
They're shitting a few bricks about the rate hikes.
- But we see the way through. - Please, guys, spare us the shoptalk.
Chelsea, I saw you hitting earlier.
You're looking very strong.
Thank you, Mr. Cooper.
I saw Nick hitting with Tori.
You bringing in the big guns, huh?
Coop is the big gun, honey.
He played for Princeton.
Did I know that?
It was a lifetime ago.
Well, I'm predicting our daughters make it to the final again like last year.
- What do you think? - That's the smart money.
Hi. How are you?
Hi.
Good, everybody. Happy weekend.
- Hey, honey. How was the pool? - It was great.
Speaking of smart money,
I pulled a lot of strings to get you that Three Yankees interview.
Come on, it was a bullshit job.
And that bullshit job could have been yours.
Look, you have been shunned, my friend.
And before you can get back to where you were,
you gotta get a foot in the door.
I opened the fucking door.
I'm not gonna sing for my supper, Barney.
Let's see if you're singing that tune in six months.
I think you're just worried about your 5%.
Damn right I am, along with about 40,000 in unpaid invoices you owe me.
- I'm just saying. - Yeah, well, I'm just saying I…
- I gotta go. - You just sat down.
I know. I gotta go. Hey.
- Hiya, Dad. - Hey.
Are you high?
No.
- Barely. - Hunter.
It's fine, I just took one hit.
Rein it in.
You are too young for this shit.
Weren't you gonna get the drums?
It's a long story. They're at my house.
Well, can we go get them?
We could use Mom's car.
Actually, that's a pretty good idea.
You know what? I have an errand to run first,
and then we can go get the drums.
Deal.
Okay, why don't you go and switch cars?
Can you do it?
She's gonna freak out if she thinks I'm high.
Well, if you can't do the time, don't do the crime.
Go get it. Come on.
- How'd that go? - Better than expected.
Yeah? Here. You're gonna need that.
What the hell is that?
Have you not seen the Assmobile yet?
It's Nick's.
He's very proud of it.
I bet.
- Thank you. - No problem.
- Get that. - Yes.
Sorry.
Hello, hello. Come on in.
We got a new coffee machine.
I'm gonna make us all coffee.
Did they kick you out?
- Mom. - No, they didn't kick me out.
I'm just asking.
That place was falling apart, we're trying to find her a better place.
- So, why isn't she staying with you? - Gee, thanks, Mom.
Well, I'm just saying, this isn't exactly The Ritz.
Why would you wanna come back here?
I don't have a spare bedroom.
I keep forgetting you're not in the big house anymore.
Look, if it's gonna be a problem, I can just--
No, of course not.
I'm just saying.
What exactly is it you're just saying?
I'm just saying, I wish I knew why you both seem so hell-bent
- on screwing up your lives, is all. - Jesus. Fuck.
Who wants decaf?
- That's me. - We don't have decaf, Ron.
- The silver pods are decaf. - No, the blue were and we're out.
You still want it?
Seems like as good a time as any to dial up my anxiety.
I'm gonna go put your bags upstairs.
Andy, your coffee.
Yeah, Dad, I'll get it later.
I saw Bruce and his family at the Stop & Shop.
He has those two adorable kids, gorgeous skin tone.
It's a bit lighter than Bruce's because of that wife of his.
That's great, Mom.
Anyway, he seemed very happy to see me, all things considered.
And I just couldn't help thinking how things would have been
if you'd just married him back then.
I would have still been me.
- You were supposed to get married? - It's a long story.
She skipped out on her own wedding.
- I had a psychotic break. - I know.
I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying.
Change of plans.
- We're leaving. - Okay.
Wait a minute, what happened?
Where are you going?
You couldn't have just fixed up her room? Made her bed?
I was planning on it.
Right.
Come on, let's go.
I love you, Mom.
Love you, Dad.
Come on.
This way.
No one drank the coffee.
Grandma really sucks.
Buddy, you have no idea.
You can have my room, Ali.
That's sweet, babe, but I don't wanna invade your space.
It's fine.
I'm not there that much anyway.
Fuck.
Don't linger in doorways, it's creepy.
Sorry.
Here, this is the last of it.
Great. Thanks.
Look, I'm sorry I have to uproot you like this.
Please. I'll be fine.
I just need some time to get my feet back underneath me,
then we'll get you set up someplace else, all right?
Andy, you've been taking care of me for years.
Whatever else you think you might have fucked up,
you've always been an above-average brother.
I'd be lost without you.
God.
I have to run a couple errands.
Will you be okay here for a while?
I don't need babysitting.
- Go. Live your life. - All right.
Clean this shit up. Put it away. Come on.
Eighty some odd years ago, Herschel Levitt fled Hitler
and immigrated to the United States,
where he scraped together enough cash to buy a small diner
in upstate New York just off the interstate.
By the time his prediabetic grandson Paul, Samantha's husband,
took over the family business,
it was nine diners and a slew of higher-end restaurants.
And now, Herschel's empire,
which fed his family for almost a century,
would fall to the vagaries of New York State divorce law
all because Paul couldn't keep his dick in his pants.
Hey.
I'm sorry. What the fuck is that?
That's Nick's.
Yeah. Pretty tasteful I think.
And why are you driving Nick's car?
Well, I had to trade cars
'cause I had to pick up a drum kit with Hunter.
I didn't have time to trade back. It's…
It's been a day.
Do you want me to put it in the garage?
No, I have a better idea.
Wait. Wait, touch my ass.
Yeah. Come on. Oh, God.
Yeah.
Yeah. Fuck. God.
Wait. Fuck.
Fuck!
Nick's gonna love his new car smell.
So, you left the club pretty fast today.
Yeah. I was dealing with some family stuff.
- Yeah, everything okay? - Yeah.
It's… Sure. It's all good.
You know, it's getting harder and harder to go to the club these days.
The only bright spot is seeing you
and we have to pretend that nothing's going on.
Yeah. Well, I'm not sure I could stomach
being at the center of another club controversy right now.
Oh, God, no. Yours is old news already.
Mine is just kicking into high gear.
You know, the girlfriend tried to talk to me today
about Henry's anxiety levels.
And how did that go?
Not as well as she'd hoped.
Honestly, I don't know whether to hate her or to pity her.
Well, hate him. Pity her.
And fuck you.
Exactly.
God, now I'm worried that Henry has anxiety.
- She got in your head, huh? - Yes.
I know. It's so annoying.
Are you heading out?
Well, I thought I could stay the night.
You know, I could leave before the kids got up.
That's a great idea.
We could listen to a podcast.
There's this really great one.
It's about home organization.
- And… - Okay.
…you separate your pots from their lids.
Okay. That's smart.
Yeah, and then…
you have a whole room just for the luggage.
You have a luggage room.
That's really convenient.
No? Okay.
How did it go with your dad today?
Fine.
Did you two do anything fun?
It's okay to have fun with him, you know.
It's not gonna hurt my feelings. I promise.
I know.
And it's okay to miss him.
Honestly, it doesn't feel that different than it did before.
Why?
I had to pee.
I get it.
Can you tuck me in?
Sure, buddy.
Where we going?
- There. - Okay, get in bed.
There you go.
Let's tuck you in. There you go.
Okay, night, night.
I need my dragon.
- Where is it? - On the dresser.
Oh, yeah, there it is.
This guy, huh? Yeah.
Okay, pal, here's your dragon.
Can you stay till I fall asleep?
Sure, buddy, sure.
I'll be right here, okay?
Be right here, we'll both even fall asleep.
Okay.
There you go, buddy.
It was at moments like these,
sitting on the floor in someone else's house
in the middle of the night, tucking in someone else's kid,
when I realized how far you could drift away from your own life,
without actually going anywhere.
Hello?
Good morning.
I was having a little trouble getting the hang of your kitchen,
so I went out and I got all of our favorites from when we were kids.
Did you get milk?
Fuck me.
I'm kidding. I have milk. I think.
Asshole.
So, Sam Levitt.
Yeah.
I mean, now that you say it, I guess it makes sense.
You're both attractive and freshly single.
And no one's single out here.
So, it's either Sam Levitt or, you know, adultery.
I'm beginning to wish I hadn't told you about this.
I mean, don't get me wrong.
Sam's a hottie.
From what I can remember.
You could do a lot worse.
- Right? - It's fine.
What?
I mean, we used to have them over for dinner.
We used to go over there.
Nick and Ivy too. Now Nick's with Mel,
I'm sleeping with Sam, my job.
It feels like somebody scrambled the whole universe
and I'm lost in the shuffle.
Welcome to my life.
I'll clean this up, by the way.
- Will you? - Probably not.
How old are you, Tony?
I just turned 41.
Forty-one.
Such a good age. I remember that age.
Just beyond the bullshit striving of your thirties,
starting to feel like a real grown-up.
Then you get older, you realize there are no fucking grown-ups.
And you have no idea what the fuck you're doing.
Find yourself day drinking in a bar.
Something to look forward to.
Are you okay?
Yeah.
Don't mind me.
You know,
I always figured I was older than you.
You're a terrible liar.
You want another one?
Yes, but I'm not going to.
Thank you, young man.
You have a nice day.
Brad and Julie Sperling weren't home.
Yes!
I knew that because I knew exactly where they are.
And I knew that because I was supposed to be there too.
Out, 30, 40.
Deuce.
Bingo.
Hello?
Jules did M&A for a large Japanese bank
and she could out-deal and outdrink most of her male counterparts.
Her husband Brad was a New England blue-blood
whose family bible traced their ancestry back to the Mayflower.
As far as I could tell,
Brad spent his time playing golf and reading books about war.
Nice work if you could get it.
Chelsea, their daughter was a nice enough kid
who was hopefully having her ass handed to her by my daughter
on the tennis court at that exact moment.
The Richard Mille Felipe Massa automatic chronograph
with a signature rose gold and titanium skeleton
and flyback function goes for upwards of $225,000.
I hadn't seen Brad wear this in years,
which meant he probably wouldn't miss it.
He may have already forgotten he owned it.
Out! Game, set, match.
Tori Cooper will advance to the final.
Looked like Jules and Brad were leaving nothing to chance.
They had bought next month's SATs, complete with the answer key.
Thirty all.
Sorry, sorry, guys.
Excuse me.
Sorry. Sorry, guys.
Seriously?
Okay, I know, I'm sorry.
What were you doing that was more important than this?
- You missed two of the matches. - Something came up, all right?
Look, it looks like she did okay.
Are you kidding me? She ate that shit up.
When I told you to show up for our daughter,
I meant show up on time.
You're becoming a caricature of yourself.
I already said I'm sorry.
It's not me you have to apologize to.
- Okay, so can we drop it? - Okay.
- Forty, 30. - Attagirl.
- Out! Deuce. - Yes.
Way to go, Chels.
It was a strange new feeling being around someone
when you had just been in their house, going through their things,
when you had their $225,000 watch in your pocket, and they had no idea.
Advantage, Tori…
If I'm being honest, I wasn't hating it.
- Bang. Yes, yes, yes! - Yes!
Game, set, match.
Attagirl!
Yes, yes, yes!
You rushed the net.
Yeah, it's basic tennis.
Come here.
It's not like I thought petty larceny was any kind of solution
to my problems.
But Lu had handed me 65 grand with no questions asked.
And in my current situation
it was hard to argue with that kind of tax-free return on investment.
Hey, Rocco, right?
Lu here?
Yeah, someone's asking for you.
Nah, it's that white guy, looks like he brushes his hair a lot.
Okay.
The negotiator.
Nice to see you again.
Richard Mille.
Very fancy.
Your wife making you sell this one too?
- I'm divorced. - No shit.
Let me guess, you lost the papers for this one too?
Go home, negotiator.
- What? - No papers, no deal.
Thought you told me you could move this stuff.
Now I'm telling you
- quit while you're ahead. - …sold it to me…
- I don't understand. - …saying you needed money.
- Not my problem. - Give me the ring.
- You're not getting the ring. - Give me the ring!
- Just give me the fucking ring! - I should've done this a long time ago.
- Get outta here. - Give me the fucking ring, Rocco!
It's my mother's ring!
You wanna pull a fucking knife out in here?
Jesus.
Piece of shit. You know you've been a piece of shit, Donnie.
- Come on! - Fuck you and fuck your filthy mom.
- That's enough, Donnie. - Look, I just want my fucking ring, Lu.
"I just want my fucking ring, Lu."
- Fuck you, Rocco. - He's 200 short.
Come on, Rocco. Man, this is my mother's fucking ring.
Who are you kidding?
Put down the goddamn knife and get outta my shop.
You can walk away.
Or you can spend the next six months wishing like hell you did.
All right, Lu. Look, I'm… Fuck it. Sorry, Lu. Okay? I'm sorry.
- It's my mother's ring. - Now, tell me you won't be back.
Come on, Lu.
Say the words, Donnie.
I won't be back.
You walk in here again,
you leave with a big hole in you, you understand?
Yeah, yeah.
You're a disgrace, Donnie.
You're still here.
Hey, look, I'm in a bind here.
No, you're not.
You only think you are.
I can't help you.
Look, you can name your price.
Do I have to ask Rocco to show you out?
Fuck!
It's Lu.
I'm sending you a plate number.
Get me everything you can on this guy.