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One of Nucky's ward bosses gets jacked of his honorarium, as per Mickey Doyle's plan of a couple episodes ago. The thieves are described super-vaguely as "Italian," which is enough for Nucky to have Lucky Luciano hauled in for questioning. Luciano has been sticking around town, banging the holy hell out of Gillian with his miraculously hard horse-cock (her words, not that we don't get a peek anyway), but his good time is deflated somewhat when Rothstein calls and informs him his bed-mate isn't Jimmy's wife, it's his mom. Nucky and Eli rough him up for the perceived robbery, and a little extra for talking crudely about the territory betwixt Gillian's legs.
Meanwhile, Nucky now finds himself juggling a scratchy Lucy and content Margaret, whom he's set up in a swell new flat. At the boutique, Lucy makes Margaret model panties that are barely a whisper, probably to size up the competition. There's something of a half-naked face-off, where Margaret shows significantly more backbone with Lucy, then promptly quits her job.
In Chicago, Torrio thinks Capone really fucked up the Irish situation, and he asks Jimmy for advice. This leads to a meeting with Sheridan on Irish turf. Torrio plays the part of the conciliatory oldster, but Jimmy and Capone stage a hellacious ambush that pretty much stomps on the neck of the Irish when it comes to control of organized crime in the city. Jimmy also spends time at the Capones' and takes notice of Al's deaf son.
Van Alden continues to run his investigation of Nucky Thompson right through the prism of Margaret Schroeder. Even his Fed bosses are like, "Dude, this is getting weird." But after getting an earful from Margaret's suddenly bitter neighbor Edith, Van Alden finds out that Margaret's now living in Nucky-provided quarters. He later ups the freaky ante by producing a photo of a 16-year-old Margaret... and proceeds to (non-euphemistically) flog himself.
Finally, Nucky meets Jersey City mayor Haig, as he's still trying to get that road appropriation money. Unfortunately, this meeting means he has to blow off Margaret, after promising a night on the town (and Houdini's brother!). Double unfortunately, her extra time waiting around at home leads Margaret to the revelation that she's now living with the other concubines of Atlantic City bigwigs. CONCUBINES! Boy, if that isn't a splash of cold water.
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Want more? The full recap starts right below!It's a beautiful, sunny day on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Lovers ride on horseback down the beach, children frolic and such, and an old, pudgy bureaucrat is making the last of his bribe-collecting runs around the local businesses. As he crosses the latest shop off his list, a kid runs up to him and, unprovoked starts giving him shit, then spits in his face. Pudgy gives chase, yelling at the "guinea bastard," despite the kid not seeming all that stereotypically Italian. He's almost caught up with him when he rounds a corner (things go all slo-mo, because whoever directed this episode felt like impressing Uncle Marty), only to be met with an adult-sized thug, this one with a sock full of quarters or whatever kind of blunt-force whacking tool was of the style at the time. He clocks Pudgy but good, then clears out his collection envelope. Hey! This is awfully similar to the plan Mickey Doyle was talking about two weeks ago. Hmm...
Nucky and Lucy are in bed, naked if you can believe that. She's being her usual, charming self: aggressively naked and calling him "daddy" in that baby voice that every straight man must be dying to hear from their girlfriend. Who doesn't want to be made to feel like a pervy old pedophile first thing in the morning? If I have one major criticism of this show so far, it's that some of the characters show very few shades of gray. This is remedied somewhat this week in folks like Capone and Dana Ivey -- and obviously the major characters, Nucky, Jimmy, and Margaret, are all sufficiently complicated -- but folks like Eli, and Van Alden, and especially Lucy are just so predictable in their awfulness. Lucy being the worst offender. Yes, we're supposed to be rooting for Nucky and Margaret, but I think we would be anyway even if Lucy weren't the off-putting, baby-talking Jennifer Tilly of this show. Alas. This time, she starts talking about being Nucky's "little tiger cub," and as she slinks her (franky marvelous and unbelievable) naked form atop his, she suddenly scratches the shit out of his chest. Like, he's bleeding. He has wounds. This is what happens when you let half-retarded, over-developed woman-children into your bed. He yells at her and she pouts. We've seen this scene before, albeit with less blood.
Speaking of Ms. Dana Ivey -- whose character finally gets a name this week, sort of. It's Mrs. McGarry, and she's at her office when Margaret comes calling. She wants to "speak about a private matter." A man has made an offer to her. Mrs. McGarry inquires as to whether the nature of this offer is financial? Domestic? Sexual? Um ... yes? When she asks who with, Margaret replies, "He runs things." Ahh, say no more. McGarry asks if he's going to marry her. That'd be a big NOPE. McGarry: "There are various words for that sort of woman. None of them are flattering." The words could not be more harsh, and after the display of judgy eyes McGarry shot at Margaret all through last week, you might expect her tone to be, but it's actually not.
Instead, she tells the story of Mr. McGarry, who sold his share of an oil field in Pennsylvania, and used his millions to build a mansion on the shore. "Six months later, he was dead of influenza," McGarry says, sad but not overly emotional. Now she lives in smaller house, but she has the freedom to devote her life to "matters of importance." Margaret infers that she means "The Movement." "Temperance was meant to protect women," McGarry says, "but the ballot box will free us." She enthusiastically talks about how they're one state away from ratification (come on, Tennessee!). Margaret sensibly offers that she has no mansion to sell. This argument actually lands with Mrs. McGarry, who tells Margaret to do what she has to do. "You owe no one else an explanation." She does, however, hand Margaret a pamphlet: "Family Limitation," which was the claim to fame (or, at the time, infamy) of one Margaret Sanger, who crusaded for women's right to birth control and (later) abortion. Clearly, Mrs. McGarry is forward-thinking in matters not just related to temperance and suffrage, and for some CRAZY reason, she doesn't think getting saddled with Nucky's love child is all that great an idea.
Speaking of "Gosh, I hope she's practicing some form of birth control," Gillian is across town getting railed from behind by Lucky Luciano. Not that I entirely blame her, but that's a conversation for another time. They share cigarettes afterwards, and Lucky tells her how he used to have a problem getting hard, before he met her. "That horse cock?" she replies, incredulous. Lest we think she's being polite, when the phone rings, Lucky strides naked across the flat, and ... I tell ya, it's not bad. Anyway, it's Rothstein on the phone, and he's getting impatient waiting for progress on the find-and-kill-Jimmy-Darmody front. He also seems to know when Lucky's been sleeping, knows when he's awake, and knows when he's answering the phone naked. He also knows that he hasn't found Jimmy because he's been barricaded in Gillian's bed. Lucky brags that he actually has been making progress. "I'm with his wife right now." "No, you're not, Charlie," Rothstein deadpans. "You're with his mother." Well, there goes THAT erection.
In Nucky's office, poor Pudgy from earlier is sitting with a giant, hilarious goose-egg on his forehead, describing the men who jacked him. "A kid and a skinny fella," Nucky sums up, unimpressed. Pudgy swears up and down that it wasn't nobody from his ward. The guy had "a dago look" about him. Nucky's all, "And what's that supposed to mean? "Feeble-minded," is Pudgy's answer. He assures Nucky he'll get to the bottom of this. "If there's a nickel of their money in a nun's cooze, we'll shake it loose." Colorful! Nucky, perturbed, tells him to let Eli handle it -- and to put a steak on that forehead of his. After Pudgy leaves, Nucky's frustration boils over, and his objection to Italian slurs melts away. He thinks nobody from A.C. would be dumb enough to pull a heist like that in broad daylight, so he figures it must be "the greaseball" Luciano, who he knows is in town. He leans on Eli to do something about it. "Bring that dago in." Eddie pops in without knocking loudly enough for Nucky's satisfaction ("Knock like a man!"). He announces that Frank Hague, mayor of Jersey City, sent a message. He's spent several nights cooling his heels at a local hotel, waiting for a meeting with Nucky, and he's getting impatient. "There are many roads to Rome," Hague's message reads, "but only one through New Jersey." Nucky tells Eddie to set up a dinner or something.
In Chicago, Jimmy is impressing the ladies with that knife game (Jimmy calls it "five-finger fillet") where you lay your hand palm-down on a table, spread your fingers apart, and try to stab the spaces between them without cutting yourself. You know. The knife is this giant, ornate thing, with finger-slots at the handle, making it double as brass knuckles. For the thug on the go! Al shows up and thinks Jimmy's fucking crazy, which gives Jimmy a chance to twist the knife (so to speak) about how Al keeps saying he served in the war. Jimmy says they played it all the time in the service, and challenges Al to play a round. I like this side of Jimmy, and I always like seeing Al squirm. He gets out of having his bluff called by Torrio showing up, complaining of a cracked molar. He tells his two underlings that he's going to meet with Sheridan about getting out of Greek-town. He blames Capone for nearly getting him into a war, then belittles him as merely a doorman, a driver. He then turns to Jimmy, referencing what is surely the reputation Al fed to him, and asks, "Are you smart? Are you?" He sends Al out to clean the Buick (oooh -- hello, my new dismissive retort), then asks Jimmy for his advice. Jimmy thinks backing out would be a mistake. He also calls Torrio "Johnny," an assumption of familiarity that is quickly corrected. He says they've got a decent foothold in Greek-town, plus retreating would look really bad. He instead suggests "coming to an understanding" with the Irish. "What's that supposed to mean?" Torrio asks. The fact that we don't hear the answer all but assures us it'll be something big.
Van Alden is on pins and needles, meanwhile, thanks to a surprise field office review from Supervisor Elliot. Though "field office" continues to be stretching it, considering the bags of old mail that need to be cleared out before anyone can even sit down. Van Alden stammers that he had planned to send out such-and-such report, and Elliot shoots back, "Well you certainly had plenty of stamps!" Excellent. Elliot's also incredulous at this case Van Alden is building against Nucky Thompson as the head of a county-wide criminal organization. Where are the financial records and corroborating witnesses? Van Alden pleads for resources, but Elliot first needs numbers: casualties, damages, commandeered stills. Van Alden offers up a capital crime: the roadside raid, which he says Nucky ordered Jimmy to carry out, then blamed on Hans Schroeder. At this, Elliot perks up, "What is this obsession with this Schroeder character?" Yeah, "obsession" appears to hit the nail on the head, especially when he notes that Van Alden requisitioned the immigration file on Margaret. Van Alden says he's being "thorough." "You're a prohibition officer," Elliot deadpans, "not Bulldog Drummond." Elliot just wants the numbers.
Across town, Nucky is in bed with a less-scratchy paramour than before: the aforementioned Mrs. Schroeder. He asks what time it is, and he corrects her answer of "half-three" to the more American "three-thirty." But he doesn't want her going overboard with her American accent. Actually, Nuck, anyone who's seen No Country for Old Men can attest that Kelly MacDonald is pretty excellent while going overboard with an American accent. Anyway, Margaret frets about what the neighbors will say, seeing her shacking up with a man like Nucky. He tells her they won't be her neighbors for long. He's setting her up in a sweet new apartment, see. Margaret then spots the scratch wounds on his chest, and while she's not fooled for a moment by his claim of a "hunting accident," she doesn't get jealous or anything. She gets out of bed, though, having to go pick up children, and then to work. She excuses herself to the bathroom, where she grabs her Family Planning pamphlet from atop a tall shelf, then follows its instructions to ... I'm going to say "douche with Lysol." Okay, 1) aren't old-timey workaround solutions the best? And 2) I don't know if we have an award for Awkward Product Placement of the Week, but if we do, Lysol wins it in a walk.
Jimmy gets the extreme pleasure of being a guest in the Capone household for dinner. The dynamic goes like this: his wife is a kind but cowed Irish woman, his mother speaks no English but curses in Italian while she makes all the food (and calls Mrs. Capone a "stupid Irish cow" to boot), toddler Sonny is remote and not responsive to much, and Al tries very hard to project the image that he's the glue holding this shambly mess together. When Al cracks about his dumbbell for a son," Jimmy tries to steer the conversation to his own son, and how he's in his own little world too. But when Mama slips on a toy and spills some of dinner, Jimmy follows a hunch and snaps his fingers a few times to Sonny's ear. Nothing. Al looks up and doesn't look all that surprised at this revelation that his kid is deaf. He just looks ashamed.
The day, at Trois Couleurs: Bleu, Madame Jeunet is finding it a frustrating job, selling underwear to Lucy. She asks Lucy what she looking for out of this underwear: "Some wish to hide, others wish to reveal." Lucy says she wants it in lights. She manages to project her voice so Margaret, working on the display window, hears every word. After taunting Margaret for her menial job, Lucy demands that Margaret model the careless whisper of negligee that Jeunet has brought out for her. In the dressing room, it's clear Lucy knows the score between Margaret and Nucky, and she's pulling a power play, subjugating Margaret because she can. Margaret undresses, and Lucy mocks her for not wearing a bra -- says she's saggy, and it's obvious she's had children. "You look like the kitchen help," she sneers, "a quickie bent over the table."
At this, Margaret begins to dress again, ignoring the underwear she's supposed to model. "He doesn't seem to mind," she says, finding her backbone. Lucy says Nucky was raised a good Catholic, and every so often that guilt kicks in and he tries to straighten up and avoid Hell. But, she says, all she has to do on those occasions are pout and flash her cooze and he's right back in her bed. Margaret, in response, tells a story about a raggedy man back in Ireland, and the piano-playing rooster he'd bring around to the bars. She and her girlfriends were enthralled at first, then kind of patronizingly curious, then they didn't even bother going to see it at all. The rooster could only peck out that one song, after all. Lucy doesn't get it, if you can believe that. Margaret gets to the point: "Maybe your cunny isn't quite the draw you think it is." WELL NOW! With that hellacious exit line laid down, Margaret strides out of the dressing room, past Madame Jeunet, and announces, "I quit."
thing we know, peppy-jazzy music is welcoming Margaret to her new, Nucky-provided digs. Eddie helps her and the kids (Emily and Teddy, for reference sake) unload at the new place, which is pretty damned swell, especially compared to their old shack. Eddie tells Margaret that Nucky will call soon. Before Eddie leaves, Margaret has one question to ask of Eddie: "Is he nice to you?" It's a pretty telling one, actually. "Oh yes," Eddie assures her, "Mr. Thompson is a very nice man." On balance, it's a truthful statement, especially from Eddie's perspective. But it sets up the smash cut to Nucky hurling obscenities at Lucky Luciano pretty well.
Because, yes, the Brothers Thompson have hauled Lucky in for some questioning. Lucky plays the "Who? Me?" card, even though he actually is innocent, of this particular infraction. Nucky brings up the beef Rothstein's got with him, but Lucky maintains that's not why he's in town. So why is he? "I like the view between that gash's legs?" Charming! Nucky infers that he's talking about Gillian Darmody, which earns Lucky a swat upside the head -- like you'd do to a bratty teen. Lucky, however, totally flips out, leading Eli to "restrain" him with his billy club. With Lucky nearly choking, Nucky lays down the law: 1) Mrs. Darmody is to be treated with the utmost respect; 2) Everything Lucky sees, does, and steals in this town belongs to Nucky, so, you know, recognize. Lucky once again protests his innocence, but Nucky ain't buying. In fact, he tells him to tells his "pack of guineas" and his boss in New York to recognize as well. This moment of misdirected warning is interrupted by Eddie knocking on the door like he's the coming Armageddon. He announces that "Mrs. Schroeder is very happy with [her] accommodations." Nucky seems happy to hear it, but I wonder if he's going to end up regretting letting Lucky hear Mrs. Schroeder's name in connection to his.
In Chicago, Jimmy puts some money in an envelope to send back to Angela (aka the See! Not a Deadbeat! More or Less! Moment of the week). He's interrupted by one of the prostitutes, a redheaded girl who doesn't get a name, I don't think, in this episode, but she's important later on, so let's just call her Ginger for now. She suggestively asks him to come downstairs and join the revelry, but he blows her off. She leaves him with Pearl's things, including her copy of Free Air. Inside, Jimmy finds a flyer about Florida, upon which Pearl had written her and Jimmy's names on the smiling oranges. Man, that's sad.
Back in Bum-Town (or wherever Margaret just moved out of), Van Alden pounds the pavement and snoops around the recently-deserted Schroeder home. door, Edith emerges, and guess who had an extra helping of c-word this morning? She's all too eager to put Margaret on blast, for shortcomings both imagined (she says she carouses at night and drinks) and real ("she works for French people"). Van Alden takes this all in, though it's not clear how much he's adjusting for bitchitude. "And not four months a widow," Edith continues, clutching at pearls that she certainly doesn't own. "He was a lovely man," she says, proving her to be either the world's least attentive neighbor or a horrible shrew of a liar. She tells Van Alden about the blue limo that showed up today and carted her and the kids away. "A Rolls Royce?" Van Alden attempts to clarify. Edith's too much of a dumb cow to know what that even means, but she early says it certainly was, because why not? One parting note about Margaret before Van Alden goes? "She's a whore." Well ... Mrs. McGarry was at least polite enough not to SAY it.
Charlie Sheridan is flirting with his coat-check girl while he waits for Torrio's contingent to arrive for the meet-up. When they do -- Torrio, with Al and Jimmy -- Sheridan brags to them about how this building used to have a sign out front: "No Dogs or Irish." Now he owns the joint. Yes, yes, I'm sure Bill the Butcher is rolling in his grave. He has his people pat the three visitors for weapons, which Johnny finds a bit rich considering it was Sheridan's men who went shooting up HIS brothel. When Capone asks to return the favor, Sheridan stonewalls. "We ARE packin' heat," Sheridan assures them. Home-field advantage, I guess. Sheridan assures them "I wanted to kill youze, ya wouldn't have made it through the front door." I have to say, props to Frank Shattuck for nailing the Chicago Irish accent. It's the "youze" that sells it. Anyway, clearly there is no love lost among these factions, as they proceed upstairs.
Upstairs, Sheridan and Torrio quibble a bit over what constitutes a threat. Sheridan then makes a crack about the sad fate of Jimmy's "whore," and Jimmy makes it clear it's a bit too soon for him to laugh at hilarious jokes about an 18-year-old girl who was mutilated and driven to suicide. Sheridan counters Jimmy's sentimentality with the sad predicament of that Greek shopkeeper Al stomped two weeks ago. Torrio finally takes control of this tit-for-tat, chalking everything that's happened up to "an unfortunate series of misunderstandings." Sheridan gives a half-hearted apology about the girl, but Jimmy says he wants to hear it from Liam, the thug who did the cutting. Sheridan bristles at this, but Torrio works to smooth it over.
Down to business, Sheridan offers to concede a three-block territory, which seems small, but the Irish do seem to be holding all the cards right now. Jimmy starts to zone out at this, because it's boring but mostly because he seems close to slipping into a rage fugue. He itches at his leg, which we see has his enormous fancy knife strapped to it. Soon enough, one of the Irish spots it too, and everybody springs into action. They confiscate the knife, and Sheridan is all, "I keep it now." Jimmy says he forgot, but Sheridan puts the point of the knife under Jimmy's chin, threatening to do him like he did Pearl. Jimmy keeps calm. Sheridan notices the domed nub at the base of the handle, and Jimmy says, "It's called a skull crusher. It's for cracking walnuts." Cracking jokes at knifepoint! Sheridan says he'll "crack a few" and let him know. With yet another conflict needing smoothing over, Torrio offers drinks and bygones.
Cut to after the meeting, both parties come down the stairs, still tense but everyone seems glad to at least have this over with. Torrio excuses himself to visit the head, while everyone else goes to coat check. Sheridan, seeing a different girl behind the counter, asks what happened to the blonde chick. He's told she's on a coffee break. This new girl hands Jimmy his coat, and that's when we first see her -- it's Ginger! Jimmy turns around -- gun now in hand -- and starts firing, in that awesome shot we've all seen in the previews. Still a cool moment. Al, having been handed a shotgun, gets most of Sheridan's bum-rushed thugs. Torrio briskly strides out of the men's room and orders his guys to wrap it up. Jimmy hustles Johnny and Al out, but then returns to Sheridan, who's been shot in the neck but isn't dead yet. "I think you'd agree that Greek-town belongs to us now," snarls Jimmy, before shooting him in the head and finishing the job. He then retrieves his knife -- which is really just so comically large that I can't help but make the trite observation that it's clearly a phallic symbol. So, yes, Jimmy retrieves his giant war-penis and strides off in his swank gangster wear.
Nucky and Margaret are "luxuriating" (her words) in Margaret's new apartment. He says he likes making her happy, and she shows her appreciation by kissing on his chest. She sure seems to have responded well to being completely provided for. They're interrupted by phone -- which startles Margaret in a way that makes me think she's never had a phone before -- and Nucky is clearly perturbed by whatever message he's gotten. But when Margaret inquires about it, he placated her with a "just business." So don't go expecting a partnership of equals here, no matter how much Nucky supports suffrage. He then asks if she wants to accompany him to see Houdini's brother, Hardeen, perform ... and maybe out for dinner with Hardeen afterwards. Margaret is high on this high life she's living, beaming at the thought of dinner with his "Hardeen," even though she'd never heard of him. Oh, is she ever headed for a fall.
Back at Torrio's brothel, the topless girls and gangsters alike are living it up. Torrio sings Jimmy's praises, and Jimmy indicated that he'll be sticking around for a while. Torrio continues to heap on the praise -- "the balls on this guy!" -- and Al is clearly getting jealous of all this attention. Because Al is a child. So he steps up to make a toast, which is really just a thinly veiled excuse to bust Jimmy's balls, including the story of when he woke Jimmy with a gunshot and scared the hell out of him. He also denigrates Jimmy's service, saying he was scrubbing latrines in France. Jimmy, who at this point looks quite drunk, decides it's time to stop coddling this toddler who is clearly acting out. He turns to Al and addresses him sarcastically as "Captain Capone" and asks if that's how he got his scars. "The Lost Battalion?" he jokes. "Got so lost they thought Brooklyn was in France." BIG laughs from the peanut gallery, as Al barely suppresses a scowl.
Nucky is meeting with Mayor Hague gross-looking shrimp. Nucky gets right to the road appropriations, saying there's plenty of money to go around if Hague would just be fair about it. Of course, he then not very subtly plays the Senator Edge card. Nucky maintains that edge is bound for the White House, and his coattails will have room for Nucky AND Hague if Hague plays ball with the appropriations. Hague silently considers this. Then he asks Nucky what they're doing after, and Nucky quickly realizes he can't just blow this guy off for plans with Margaret. He asks Hague if he's interested in seeing Hardeen, but Hague doesn't look like he's in the mood for tricks. ...Well, not magic tricks.
Jimmy's reading on the floor of his room when he's spooked by a knock at the door, particularly when no one answers him. He pulls out his gun, but of course it's fucking Al at the door. Tellingly, Jimmy doesn't even drop his gun until he sees what's behind Al's back. It's only steaks, though. This scene really emphasizes the height differential between these two. Enhances Al's overgrown-child persona. So Jimmy invites him in, and Al makes a half-assed apology for "running off at the mouth." But he just as quickly chides Jimmy for saying what he did about Al and the war. "That ain't how you treat a buddy." Jimmy's like, "That's what we are?" He figured more like "accomplices." Al invites him to come round the house sometime to cook the steaks. Then, having mentioned "home," he bluntly tells Jimmy that his son is deaf. Jimmy, obviously, knows. Al laments that Sonny's being punished for shit that Al has done. Jimmy says to take him to a doctor, but Al ignorantly says they can't fix it. "It's in the blood." Mmm hmm. He says he plays the mandolin sometimes and sings, and he puts Sonny's hand to Al's throat, so he can feel it. "But he doesn't know what it is." Jimmy knows he's not of much comfort, but he says anyway to keep at it. "Medicine now ... they're finding new things every day." Al pulls it together enough to tell a moronic joke about how Sheridan and flat beer are the same -- "No head." He came up with that one himself.
In the week's strangest bit of symmetry, Al's sad story of playing the mandolin for his deaf son transitions into a naked lady playing the mandolin while Nucky and Hague sit fully-clothed, smoke cigars, and talk about road appropriations. Which have become to Boardwalk Empire what intergalactic trade routes were to the Star Wars movies. Hague is still reluctant to shake on a deal, but while Nucky is annoyed, he comes to attention when Hague says he shouldn't trust Edge. "He's a silent partner in a paving company," he says, and it operates out of Jersey City. Nucky is perturbed, then asks Hague why he's spilling this bit of intel. "Guys like Edge will come and go," Hague says. "Bosses, like us, are here to stay." Oh man. If only someone could tell these HBO characters that all their shows are about how nothing ever stays the same and OH! Painful progress!
Margaret's at home, telling stories to the children, waiting for Nucky. She's talking to Mrs. Charlton, the black babysitter who says she sits for "the other ladies" too. Margaret, still living the high life, brags a bit about seeing Hardeen tonight. As if she'd ever heard about Hardeen before a few hours ago. Anyway, the phone rings and it's Eddie, who delivers Nucky's blow-off. "Nucky wishes to say he has business tonight," is Eddie's delightfully German way of conveying the news. "He will call." Margaret is crestfallen. At that moment, Anabel, one of Margaret's neighbors, pops in. She's all dolled up, flapper-style, and couldn't be nicer as she introduces herself to Margaret's kids. She's got her own girl, Ruby, in tow, and essentially she wants to glom onto Mrs. Charlton's services for the night. Looks like somebody's got a hot last-minute date. She beseeches Margaret -- "Us girls all help each other out here." Margaret, confused, asks which girls. "You know," Anabel says, "the concubines." Oh, ZING! Margaret feels that one. Anabel promises to return the favor, then asks if this is the three-bedroom. Margaret, still stunned at being made a concubine all of a sudden, says it is. "Your fella's certainly sweet on you," Anabel says. I'm sure Margaret sees it that way.
That night, at wherever temporary lodging Van Alden is hanging his hat, our square-jawed agent solemnly goes over the immigration paperwork he requisitioned on one Margaret Rohan, who left her old country pregnant but didn't arrive on these shores the same way. The records indicate she'd miscarried shortly before encountering immigration. Van Alden reads this, then creepily caresses the photo of Margaret that accompanies the records. He turns the pic over, and on the back is scrawled, "aged 16 years." So, you know, double creepo. But Van Alden is bound and determined to go for that triple crown. More on that in a moment.
First, we see Nucky lounging around, bored, while two women bounce around atop a naked Hague. Our Mandolin Girl kneels at Nucky's feet and asks him what he wants. "I try to be good," Nucky tells her, frankly. "I really do." Mandolin Girl's like, "My shift ended an hour ago, you wanna get this nut busted or what?" Actually, her exact words are, "It's too late to be good." Which have the added benefit of double-meaning and thematic resonance. I'll stand by my nut-busting paraphrasing, however.
Back to Van Alden, he takes off his shirt, lays down a towel, and perches on the edge of his bed. Propping the photo of Margaret up on the nightstand, he removes his belt. Auto-erotic asphyxiation time, you ask? Nah. Just some old-fashioned flogging! All the best stereotypically religious, proto-fascist, creepily obsessive hypocrites are doing it! It's a powerful image, sure -- Van Alden's back is scarred to fuck -- but again I ask: haven't we seen this character before? I suppose I shouldn't pile on; Van Alden's beating himself up enough for the both of us.
Joe R isn't saying he'd DEFINITELY be someone's concubine for a three-bedroom flat, but ... hey, don't judge. He can be reached for lavish praise and nothing but at joseph.reid21@gmail.com.
How is Boardwalk Empire like the Muppet Babies of the gangster genre? Watch vloggers Beth & Val explain: