Mary Jane is still peeing in the bed. Breakups are hard, but dang, girl. Before she wakes up in soiled PJs, she dreams of David shirtless, making breakfast in her kitchen. Everything is sweet and dandy until she notices a white baby in a high chair. It’s David’s baby, Andre, but because we all know not one single white baby named Andre, it’s obviously a dream.
In the dream, the famous news anchor has a fresh doobie wrap with bobby pins. In actuality she wakes up sans doobie wrap with her weave intact, to a wailing baby Isabelle. Niecy’s pancake-flipping is unimpressive to M.J., considering that Niecy has burned her $300 porcelain French oven. She hits up her brother Patrick to tell him he has to find a way to get his daughter and grandkids out of her guest room because “that guest room is like a showroom; it looks better untouched.”
Mary Jane does what all heartbroken women do: throw themselves into work. M.J. hasn’t done her due diligence on her next big story—sex trafficking—since she asks a detective why victims don’t just send a text or email or call their parents. Google is clearly not her friend. “What is this, the sequel to 12 Years a Slave?” she asks.
Colleague and neighbor Mark needs M.J. to be his beard for dinner with his parents. Mark’s boyfriend is not feeling this charade. Mark says being black is hard enough, so adding gay to the plate is not about to happen. His white boyfriend tells him to save the Malcolm X spiel. Mark and M.J. play the couple game. His mom asks when he’ll propose, which leaves both him and M.J. dumbfounded.
“Mark, I know you’re gay. I gave life to you,” his mom finally blurts out. If that ain’t a black-mama proverb, I don’t know what is. His dad is confused. Mark’s mom finally gets him to come out. The dad is upset, not because he’s gay, but because Mark’s lied about it well into his 40s. He wants to know who his son really is. “And honestly, that’s more important to me than literally who is up your a—.” Daddy gave a classic Papa Pope read.
M.J. meets with Polly, the white sex-trafficking victim Kara has arranged for her to interview for the story. Polly tells her how awful sex trafficking is: The $2 daily happy meals. Being beaten for being on her period.
Meanwhile, one of the dads of the teenagers who stop by for a tour of the network asks Kara where he can go get a drink while his daughter goes to the movies. And because all journalists (at least in their world) drink copious amounts of liquor, Kara invites him to her desk, where she has a bottle of tequila on deck. The two talk while sipping their Patrón in red cups. All that was needed was Beyoncé’s lyric “Don’t drop that alcohol, never drop that alcohol” as a soundtrack. Random Dad Guy asks Kara if he can take her out for a “proper drink,” but she informs him that she’s not into Latino men despite being Latina. He’s offended but hands her his card anyway.
M.J. listens as Polly tells her how gross men are because they fart and they have skid marks in their underwear. To Polly, the saddest ones are the wealthy guys who want to talk instead of have sex. Polly is down to tell her story. She just wants to know, “Where ’dem dollas at?” Cue Gangsta Boo. M.J. informs her that news programs don’t pay for stories, but Polly feels that if Katy Perry gets paid for her stories, then her story is worth money, too. Her pimp is waiting nearby and offers to sell Polly for $20,000. M.J. offers to write a check. In 2015. The pimp wants cash, so off goes Polly.
Mark vents to M.J. about his boyfriend dumping him. Apparently everyone’s office is half business and half minibar because Mark goes to his office to drown his sorrows in a Bellini. Before M.J. joins him, she listens to a YouTube video of a young sex-trafficking victim’s account of her pimp raping her. M.J. calls Niecy to let her know everything will be OK and that she loves her.
Mary Jane plops down in the seat in Mark’s office. Who knew? M.J. knows how to be a good friend as long as it’s to a gay man who needs her to be his beard.