Oh, Kozik, you big dumb human golden retriever. Thanks to his game of street basketball with some of the kids who live near Happy's mom and aunt, he gives the local crime crew a prime opportunity to boost the truck that has SAMCRO's new firearms inventory. The crew -- headed by two brothers named Luther and Vandross who only want to buy a swanky new Ford F-350 for their mother via the money they expect to get for the guns -- is quickly brought to heel thanks to a combination of SAMCRO hijinks and their mother. (I hope we see more of Marianne Jean-Baptiste in the future. She was awesome.)
Clay and Gemma launch a PR offensive designed to convince Tara that they'd never, ever, ever conspire to kill the inconvenient waffler John Teller. It has exactly the opposite effect. We also learn that Tara's been looking at other hospitals around the country, but now she's stalling because "I have to let Jax lead us out."
Meanwhile, Potter and Roosevelt have correctly figured out SAMCRO's involvement with the Galindo cartel, and they know it's big, bad news. Roosevelt helps Potter launch Plan B, which involves exploiting Juice as the weak link. Potter's dug up Juice's dad and it turns out Juice is not only part Puerto Rican, he's also African American by way of his dad. This will not sit well with SAMCRO, and Juice knows it... so it's a question of how far he's willing to go and what he's willing to do to keep Roosevelt from passing that information along.
The Wahewa meet with Clay and Bobby Elvis to discuss a new and improved ammo pay plan. To underscore that they are not a tribe to be messed with, the head of the Wahewa meets with the SAMCRO boys right to a Russian -- whom they've buried up to his shoulders in dirt, then set flesh-eating ants upon in retaliation for the Wahewa boy killed in the prior episode. Clay conducts a mercy killing. Then he and Bobby Elvis discuss the ethics of the situation, what with SAMCRO charging the cartel a 50 percent markup on ammo. Clay figures there's no reason that the profits should trickle down, then lies to David (head Wahewa) about the economics of the situation and vows, "We're not making a dime more off the new arrangement. You've got my word." Cut to Bobby Elvis realizing that when Clay gives his word, it means nothing. And given that Clay promised Bobby Elvis leadership of the club after he steps down... well, the seeds of dissent may have taken root in Bobby Elvis's heart.
Certainly after the club vote -- in which Piney registers his disgust for the direction of the club -- Tig masks his anxiety over whether Clay's shutting him out by backing Clay, and Kozik throws the vote to the "Yea" side -- everyone's wondering if SAMCRO's still solid.
Another morning in Charming and the leaders of SAMCRO are already hard at work in Jax's kitchen. Abel is sitting at the kitchen table looking at a DVD while Clay pours coffee and tallies votes with Jax; the club VP is absent-mindedly dangling Thomas on his knee as he and Clay talk. We know who the "no" votes are, but the guys figure that Tig and Happy are yes votes. Since Kozik's an ex-junkie, he'll probably vote "no." Opie's undecided: "He saw the benefit of having the cartel on speed-dial, but he's not there yet," Jax says. Clay presses Jax to work on Opie; in reply, Jax tells Clay he better get Bobby Elvis to muzzle his mouth before he poisons the vote.
Just then, the ladyfolk walk in: Gemma is staggering under a giant laundry basket and Tara's bringing in an old high chair. Jax cannot believe that Tara's even thinking about putting something so hoopty in their kitchen, and tells her to get a new one. She protests that someone could probably use the chair, so she wants to put it in storage. The whole point to this scene? To establish that the key to the storage unit is in the junk drawer. (Also, Gemma and Clay share an amused look at the "kids" having a domestic discussion. This is two episodes in a row where they've been studying Tara and Jax's relationship. How long until Clay and Gemma begin playing the "You're just like us!" card?)
As Tara's futzing around the junk drawer, Clay sneaks up behind her and scares the hell out of her. But he's all smiles as he thanks her for sharing the engagement news when she did: "That was a class act." Tara is self-deprecating. Clay continues, saying, "I'm so happy you're going this family. You're already a great mom. You're going to be a great old lady." Watching Clay try to play the loving paterfamilias puts one in mind of a shark trying to channel the winsome harmlessness of a sea otter. Tara stands there awkwardly, and Clay continues, "Raising Jax is the best thing that ever happened to me. I love my son, as much as I loved his old man." Fortunately Thomas pulls the TV-baby trick of crying right as the moment stretches to its most awkward, and Tara rushes off, saved by the plot contrivance. Hands up, all who think Clay is simply terrible at attempting to sweet-talk someone. I don't doubt the sincerity behind what he's saying, but it is so painfully obvious that he's trying to assuage Gemma's concerns about those damned letters and this is not a spontaneous outpouring of sentiment.
Anyway, time for the menfolk to run off and do manly things, and we segue over to a new locale, Chez du Happy's Mom. Happy is outside tearing strips off Miles and Kozik for not cleaning up their pancake-related mess. Sure, the guys have guns to move, but Happy's aunt is no man's maid and he is here on this earth to enforce that truth. Just as Kozik closes the truck, two young men toss over a basketball into the back yard. After a few taunts back and forth, Kozik is lured into a game of street ball ($10 a point), which is, in fact, a game of beat-up-the-idiot-white-guy. Guess who wins! Hint: Not the white guy. The boys drive off with Kozik's keys.
Over at SAMCRO's new rustic compound (formerly the Osborne spread), Clay and Jax walk into a barn where many other members of SAMCRO are busy building crates for all the guns. "Look at all my happy little elves!" Clay says, giving Bobby Elvis an especially pointed look. Bobby Elvis looks neither happy nor particularly elfin. These crates are ... well, they're basically the Leksvik line from IKEA, except made for holding guns. I don't see why these guys don't just drop the gun-running and start an artisanal furniture business, because they could make a killing soaking all the authenticity-craving yuppies coming from Stockton. I mean, have you seen what a handcrafted storage chest goes for? These guys lack vision. Anyway, Chibs got the specs from the Irish, then promptly decamped to the loo where he is, as Tig delicately phrases it, "fuckin' shit out." Juice adds, "Literally -- all that processed food." Chibs comes out, looking wan, and blames his digestive travails on bad Mexican food. Bobby Elvis wanders by and chides, "Chasing burritos with Jack and James probably didn't help." Chibs ignores him and asks, "Juicey, you're going to hit me up, yeah?" Juice grins, "Green tea and a mint colonic? A little herbal infusion --" "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop," Tig begs, looking as if he's just been threatened with an outing to an American Girl store. I just love how Juice apparently spent all his time in prison contemplating herbal remedies. Jax thinks about his family's future, Clay brokers business deals, Juice reads a little Michael Pollan and Mark Bittman and takes it to a weird place.
Anyway, Clay's all, "I did not become president of an MC so I could learn about your colons, guys. I'm off to the Wahewa. Bobby Elvis, you're with me. Tig, let me stoke your insecurity so it flares up at the least opportune moment in a future episode. And ... scene."
Kozik has recovered from being jumped just in time to see the boys who scammed him driving off the truck filled with guns. I suspect Happy's inside, holding a gun to Miles' head to make sure there are no spots on the glassware, which explains why nobody else notices the truck driving away.
On the other side of the law, Potter is putting up a picture of Parada on his Web O' Crime collage. (Behind him, by the way, are a stack of twelve photos under the heading "RIRA Presumed/Related Kills." That number seems low.) We get the 411 on Parada: Former Mexican military guerilla enlisted by Jose Galindo to head up the cartel's strategic enforcement unit. Roosevelt asks incredulously, "The cartel has a 'strategic enforcement unit?'" Potter explains that there are two Sonora-based cartels: Galindo's and Los Lobos Sonoras. There's a blood feud over the territory, thus explaining Parada's need for guns. "I'm guessing the Sons will be expediting the coke that pays for them." Cut to Roosevelt looking less than pleased that the felons in his backyard will be adding drug trafficking to their busy schedule of extralegal activities. The ATF guy brightly adds, "We've been watching Galindo for the last couple of years. He's a spunky little psychopath! Since he hired Romeo, he's been giving TJ and others a hard run for their money on drugs." I'm guessing "TJ" is shorthand for a Tijuana-based cartel. The upshot is that SAMCRO is now getting more heat as the target of the RICO operation. Potter says, "Now, my locally-enforced friend, we move on to Plan B." There are two mug shots under that heading: Big Otto's and Juice's. Potter asks Roosevelt to pick up Juice. When Roosevelt asks, reasonably enough, how picking up an enema-addled goofball helps the RICO case, the ATF suit explains, "We need to create a history of organized crime, past and present. Juice is the [present] connection." Potter then outlines what Roosevelt will do: pick up Juice on a parole violation -- being part-owner of a weed shop will do nicely -- then tell Juice that he's about to pull a few family skeletons out of the closet. Roosevelt gets an eyeful of the skeletons per a dossier and looks up with a "You've got to be kidding me" look.
Back at Satan's workshop (see what I did there? Har-de-har-har), Jax has just gotten off the phone with Miles. He starts figuring out how to divide the labor: Opie and Filthy Phil will come with him to handle this Kozik screw-up, Juice will tend to Chibs, the prospects will continue building crates and Tig will hang out in case Clay needs his ammo. Tig decides he'd rather go with Jax, arguing, "If there's a problem with those guns, I should be there." Well, he is sergeant-at-arms, so why not argue that "arms" encompasses many meanings and have done with it? Let's do so.
At the Wahewa rez, Clay and Bobby Elvis are getting off their bikes, and Bobby Elvis goes on the offense with, "I know you didn't bring me out here for my vast knowledge of projectiles." Clay admits it's because he wants to talk to Bobby Elvis alone, and makes his pitch: "The beating we took over these last few years set us way back --" "Part of the life. I didn't join this club to get rich," Bobby Elvis says. Clay continues, "Ain't about getting rich. It's about getting whole. The club needs an infusion." Bobby Elvis stops short and asks bluntly, "How did you get the boy to sign off on this? Drugs nearly killed his firstborn. He's changed. He's gone waaaaaay inside. I don't know what pushed him there, maybe it was the time --" "Maybe it was me," Clay snarls. The glasses are off and his easy affability is disappearing before our eyes. Bobby Elvis says that Clay and Jax are hardly interchangeable, and Clay says, "But he sure knows what's best for this club." Bobby Elvis asks Clay to cut the "for the sake of this club" crap and notes, correctly, "You're sprinting for the door, stuffing your pockets before it slams shut. I get that. But what's Jax get out of it?" Stung, Clay replies that he doesn't give a crap what Bobby Elvis thinks of him, but "I'll tell you what Jax gets out of it, because that's what I brought you out here to talk about. The only thing is, I need for this to stay between you and me, you understand? Because Jax doesn't want anybody to know about this. I need your word." Bobby Elvis semi-nods. Clay continues, "Jax wants out. He's got two sons. He's got an old lady he loves. He's done." Bobby Elvis realizes the terms: "He backs the drugs, you let him out clean. What's that got to do with me?" Clay tells him, "You're the guy I endorse to replace me... it's not about any vote [for the drugs]. I'm handing you the gavel because you're the best guy for the job. If you want it. I'm giving you my word." This will, I imagine, come as news to Jax because so far as he knows, Clay agreed to give the gavel to Opie. A lissome young woman then comes over and tells the guys that if they're looking for Charlie, they need to head over to the south corner of the rez.
Zip! We're at St. Big Hospital, Small Tax Base. Unser's in the chapel, staring at the devotional candles. He stammers to Gemma, "I'm trying to remember how to do this." Naturally, Gemma is disinclined to offer any spiritual insights, so she quips, "You put the flame to the wick." Unser lights a candle, and Gemma gently asks, "You stopped going to your church?" Unser says, "When you're buried in your own shit, Sacred Heart seems a little out of reach." Wow, he is really punishing himself for the choices he made with SAMCRO, isn't he? Gemma continues gently, "You gotta believe in something, Wayne." When Unser caustically asks Gemma what she believes in, she says she's in the same place she's always at. Unser says, "No, you're not, sweetheart. We want to believe that. But the older we get, the further away we get from who we think we are." And, it is implied, the closer we get to the ugly reality of who we really are. Gemma chews on that a moment, then asks, "We done here, Confucius? Let's go."
Yes, by all means: Let's go back to last week's wacky subplot. Gemma is still hung up on finding those letters Maureen tucked into Jax's luggage. She barrels into Tara's office and commands Unser to act as her lookout (he is indignant). As Gemma futzes around inside, we see what's going on in the corridor: Roosevelt and his (presumed) wife come out of a doctor's office and the woman collapses onto a chair. Roosevelt murmurs how sorry he is, and he coaxes her up out of the chair and down the hall. This does not go unnoticed by Unser, who creeps down the hall to see with whom the Roosevelts were consulting. The answer: Hoyt Willmott, MD, reproductive fertility specialist. Poor Roosevelt: like his job isn't giving him enough trouble, he and his wife have to deal with the insanity of infertility and its treatment. Anyway, Unser's spying lets Margaret waltz right past him and into Tara's office, where she surprises Gemma.
Margaret asks, "Is Tara expecting you?" and Gemma stammers, "No, I um, I was just going some research." Margaret reads the book title: "Sonoanatomy and feasibility of ultrasonic graphic guidance in term and preterm neonates." "It's a trilogy," Gemma deadpans. You have to hand it to Gemma: Even when she is totally busted, she commits to her cover story. Behind Margaret, Unser's just skidded up, his eyes cartoonishly wide, and he says brightly, "Hey there!" "Hey, Wayne," says Gemma, in a voice that promises quick entry into a world of pain. Unser then tries to draw Margaret away with questions about his HMO, and as Margaret goes, she tells Gemma, "I'll tell Tara you're in here, engrossed in the Neonatus trilogy."
Southern corner of the Wahewa rez. Charlie greets them and says he's glad they have the privacy to talk about this increase in demand for ammo. Besides, there's a tribal matter the Sons are involved in, no matter how tangentially. We find out that Charlie's fine with upping the volume of ammo made, but he wants a larger cut of the sales. Clay says, "Our deal with the Wahewa's set. It doesn't matter who we're selling to." Charlie says, "I'm not living in a teepee, Clay. The cartel's a risk for you. I know you've got to be charging more for our bullets. I just want to make sure that the Wahewa get their piece."
And what happens to people who don't give the Wahewa their piece? They're buried up to their necks, then beset with a nest of flesh-eating ants, per the Russian thug from the last episode. Charlie explains that the tribe's big on slow death as a means of extracting retribution. Clay takes in the drooling, twitching man and comments, "That's some real cowboy-and-Indian-shit, chief." Charlie says, "It's about closure. You play a part in his passing over into the spirit realm." A woman hands Clay a shallow dish filled with some sort of ritual brew, and both Sons take a slug of the foul-tasting stuff. The What the fucking FUCK? look has not left Bobby Elvis's face the whole time. The Wahewa wander off to let SAMCRO contemplate what happens to people who screw over the Wahewa. Bobby Elvis points out that Clay's charging the cartel nearly 50% more for the same ammo, so it probably would not hurt to bump up the Wahewa's take. Clay, however, is blinded by avarice -- or a frantic need to bulk out his 401(k), whatever -- and stubbornly insists he's not altering the pricing at all, "because as far as he knows, we're charging the Mexicans same as we charge anyone else." This debate is interrupted by the Russian, who gasps out, "Help me, please. Help." Clay asks him, "Are you listening to us? Oh, you heard that, didn't you?" and decides that it's time to take out the witness, which he does by suffocating him. "You're going to piss off the gods," Bobby Elvis drawls. "I don't give a shit about the gods," Clay says in a tone that would make Richard Dawkins beg for lessons on detatchment.
We're out in Bakersfield, where Jax and his crew have rolled to fix Kozik's screw-up. Jax is all, "A HICCUP?" and Kozik is all, "On the bright side, they only got one case of AR-15s -- that's good, right? Heh, heh, we'll all laugh about this later?" Jax is not amused, as the guns were already promised to the cartel, and they aren't the kind of customer who will cheerfully take an IOU and a coupon for 10% off a future order. Tig and Opie end up having to pull Jax off Kozik. Tig points out that their first order of business is not beating some sense into Kozik -- that would end up being a season-long endeavor -- but getting the guns back. Happy points out that in this neighborhood, there is only one place to sell those guns: to Vivica, a French fence.
Off we go to Vivica's, which is an exquisitely landscaped bungalow, complete with white picket fence, trellised plants and a profusion of roses in the front. Vivica is busy repotting some marigolds as she listens to Jax's tale of woe, then asks, "Do I look like I buy guns?" Because Vivica is played by international treasure Marianne Jea- Baptiste, she is capable of leveling a Bitch, please look that can make even hardened felons grow awkward and avert their eyes. And that is exactly what happens here. Kozik asks if Vivica can ID the kids by their nicknames, and Vivica gestures to the two ambulatory mountains flanking her: "I got enough kids. I don't need to know anyone else's. Look, if you want the iPads, microwaves or organic vegetables, I'm your Nubian goddess. But guns? That's dirty business -- not my flow. Everybody knows that. Luther! Vandross! Show them out."
(If I may interject here: I first saw this episode back in August on a screener DVD, and it has taken all of my self control not to go to my Twitter account and post "Luther! Vandross!" daily.)
Jax puts on his big-boy pants and says menacingly, "If for some reason they do flow your way, we need to know." Vivica waves a trowel at him, gives him another Bitch, please look and says, "The only thing you need to know is that my soil is in desperate need of some aeration." Cut to Luther and Vandross sizing up Tig, perhaps wondering if beneath that hairy leather exterior lurks someone who's good with a tiller. Jax and crew turn to go, and Happy points out that making Vivica unhappy would have repercussions for everyone in the neighborhood, his aunt and mother included. Just as everyone finishes filing out, a car rounds the corner and Kozik pegs it as the boys who ripped them off. Jax shouts to Miles and Filthy Phil to stay behind in case the truck shows up. Everyone else is off to the races. Vivica rises to see which of the neighborhood kids she doesn't know are responsible for this.
We have a sequence with much loud music and many shots of motorcycles going through alleys and suchlike as they pursue the car. At one point, the cops get involved, on account of the speeding car, and Jax swears, because "if the cops get involved, these shitheads will lead them right back to Happy's aunt's house." Kozik steps up: He peels off his cut and pulls his hood over his face. The car's been pulled over by the police, and Kozik drives by and shoots at the cops, thereby drawing their attention off the traffic violation and on to the felony firearms charge. The kids in the car are all, "Phew!" until a crew of angry, hairy bikers pulls up. Tig thrusts a pistol through the passenger side window and Jax leans into the driver's side. "License and registration, please," he says drily.
Back at the reservation, Charlie is not too pleased that the Russian's already dead. Clay shrugs, "Not sure what happened. He came to a little bit, gasped, and went out." "Ayup, it was quick," Bobby Elvis avers. Charlie says, "Family's going to be disappointed. He should have suffered at least another two days." Hands up, everyone who thinks that Charlie knows exactly what happened. Clay makes metaphorical allusions to the Wahewa with "Maybe the ants were a little hungrier than you thought." Charlie calls him out: "Yeah. Like all of us." Clay takes off his glasses so he'll seem extra-sincere, then says, "Look, Charlie, I don't know what you heard or what you think you might know, but we got the same deal going with the cartel as we did with the Russians. We're not making a dime more off your ammo. You got my word." Cut to Bobby Elvis realizing that he was played as shamelessly as Clay's playing Charlie. (For the record, Charlie agrees to continue making ammo under the same terms.)
Zip! We're in Bakersfield and Happy's driving the kids' car back into a deserted alley. He's eschewed turning on the radio so he can listen to the sweet, sweet music of the boys screaming from the trunk where they've been locked up. The other guys all loom over the trunk, but the boys persist in lying about the whole gun thing. Kozik pulls up right then, sees the kid he was playing ball with, and hauls him out of the trunk for a beatdown. Tig grabs the other guy and performs his idea of community service: "Listen to me! You see this guy there? He's cracked three of my ribs giving me a hug. Now, he is going to shatter your boy's face unless you give [the location of the truck] up." The child folds, much to Happy's disgust. He says, "We sold it to Vivica. Luther only gave us half the cash. We were headed to get the rest when y'all spotted us. The money's in the glove box. The truck's on Langley." Jax rolls his eyes, all, I gotta deal with a maternal criminal mastermind at home, and now here? He orders the boys back in the trunk, he dispatches riders off to check on the trunk, and then heads to Vivica's to see if she's lying or if the boys are.
Back in Charming, Chibs and Juice are coming out of the Clear Passages dispensary. Chibs is a convert: "That was crazy. I just saw some stuff in there I ate when I was seven years old. I'm a hundred pounds lighter. I'm a brand new man." Minutes later, the new man and Juicy are up against the wall courtesy of San Joaquin's finest, and because Juice was holding a dime bag, he's hauled in for parole violation. Juice, you amiable idiot.
We then cut to the hospital, where Margaret's swung by Tara's office to drop off references for two different hospitals -- Legacy Immanuel and Providence -- per an earlier conversation Margaret and Tara had about Tara's dire need to get her children out of Charming before they end up in the kiddie division of SAMCRO. Margaret also lets Tara know that Gemma was in the office, and most probably snooping. (Fortunately, Gemma has not seen Tara's job hunting materials.) As Margaret turns to leave, she awkwardly says, "I've heard the nurses talking -- are you really engaged?" "I am," Tara says cautiously. Margaret comes back in the office and asks, "Does Jax know you're planning to move?" Tara admits, "Um ... not just yet." Margaret starts with "Tara --" and Tara says, "I need to be here." We find out that two months ago, Tara went to Margaret, broke down in her office and asked for help finding a new job, but now, Tara says, "I still feel that way, but I have to let Jax lead us out, Margaret. It may take longer, but it's the only way I can get my whole family out clean." Margaret amps up the pressure by noting that "'Longer' can very easily turn into 'forever.'" Or until season seven, whichever comes first. Margaret adds, "Please think about this." Tara says testily, "It's the only thing I think about. I have to get ready for surgery." She then takes a key out of her lab coat, unlocks a drawer, and pulls out an accordion file.
Back at Vivica's, both Miles and Filthy Phil are sitting on Vivica's porch, silently drinking lemonade, when the rest of SAMCRO rolls up. Luther and Vandross come charging down the stairs while a third young man cocks a rifle, but Tig protests they're only there to talk. "It's okay, boys," Vivica says. Jax nods and says, "I appreciate you taking care of my crew." "They looked a little thirsty. And I don't like white boys spying on me," Vivica says. Jax tosses Vivica a wad of cash and says, "We tracked down the crew that jacked our guns. They said they sold them to you." Vivica tosses back the money and shouts, "I don't have your goddamn guns!" "Maybe your boys know somethin' about it," drawls Opie. Jax asks brightly, "How about it, boys? You taking on a bit of side business Mama don't know about?" Luther and Vandross exchange looks. This is not lost on Vivica, who rises and slaps them both upside the head, snarling, "You idiots!" The third son aims his rifle at Jax, and as the SAMCRO boys all dive for the dahlias, a fourth son of Vivica's comes out of the bungalow, semiautomatic blazing, shouting, "Mama!" Filthy Phil grabs the gunman, Vivica grabs the gun, then she turns a Wrath of Mom stare on her boys and orders them to knock it off. We cut to Opie and Tig picking themselves up out of a bed of lillies. Tig looks as if he's unsure as to whether he should put on clean shorts or propose marriage to Vivica on the spot.
Jax rises from the roses with an outraged "Jesus Christ!" but Vivica's on the warpath, inquiring of her boys, at the top of her lungs, as to what they might have possibly been thinking. The most giant of her sons (Luther? Vandross?) says, "Sorry, Mom, it was s'posed to be a surprise. We was going to get you the F-350. Super-duty." Vivica's expression softens, and her second-largest son adds, "We know how much you love that truck, Mom. We even had a red one all picked out and shit." Vivica reigns in her temper and says formally to Jax, "My apologies." Jax bows in response, which pleases Vivica. She orders her sons to give SAMCRO their guns, then gestures Jax to hand back the wad of cash, since it belongs to her boys. She peels off a wad of hundreds for his troubles, then adds, "Tell Happy I'll send his mom some tomatoes." As Vivica climbs the porch steps, she calls, "Family meeting! Inside!" Her two big boys try unsuccessfully to menace Filthy Phil, and Vivica bellows, "Luther! Vandross! I said now!" The boys scamper inside, closing the front door (which bears the plaque "#1 Mom"). Tig is in love; he tells Jax admiringly, "That one there? She makes Gemma look like Donna Reed." Jax cracks up and says, "I'm suddenly feeling a little less dysfunctional."
He may want to revisit that thought after his mom finishes laying the family's dirty laundry on his old lady. At the hospital, Tara's made a copy of the John Teller letters and tucked them into her accordion file. As he heads back into her office, who should she encounter sitting on the couch but Gemma? Per her usual behavior, the biker matriarch has figured that the best defense is to make everyone else feel defensive. Gemma shows Tara Maureen's note and asks where Abel might have found such a note. Tara stalls -- a note? Why whomever might it be from? And why would Abel or I have it? -- and Gemma calls her on it. Gemma says, "What I do know is that letters from John Teller would be very painful for my son to read." Tara asks, "Why?" Gemma explains, "John was in love with Maureen Ashby. When we were in Belfast, I found out she had a kid with him. It stirred up all that old shit. I had already fallen in love with Clay. When Thomas died, I -- I didn't care anymore. I didn't even try to hide it. That was a mistake. It put Clay at risk. It was humiliating for JT. Jax doesn't know any of that. Him finding out could set things off with Clay again. John ripped me apart. He spent months at a time in Belfast with her. Left me here, alone, with his sons." I have to hand it to Gemma: in one monologue that appears to be soul-baring, she's managed to draw parallels between herself and Tara ("left me here, alone, with his sons") and exploit Tara's inclination to protect the man she loves. The woman is a pro. If Kurt Sutter ever gets tired of the biker gang angle, he can always retool this show as a procedural with Gemma and Vivica as a team of angry middle-aged moms who roam California and manipulate people for the sheer fun of it. It'll be a cross between "Kate & Allie" and, oh, "Dexter?" I would totally watch it.
Gemma continues, somewhat tearily, "I loved him. Like you and Jax. I was nineteen. He was my goddamn world." Then she snaps back to the present, waves the note around, and bluntly tells a teary Tara that "wherever this leads, this is bad for our family." So, she implies, if Tara knows what's good for her, she will not even let Jax know about the letters. Gemma leaves, Maureen's note in her hands. Tara just covers her face and sighs.
And now, in the Charming PD, Roosevelt and Juice are having a tete-a-tete. Rather, Roosevelt is laying the groundwork for Plan B. And here it is: Michael Howard Cole -- who is of the African-American persuasion - just happens to be the father of one Juan Carlos Ortiz. "I knew who he was. I never met him," Juice says, sounding rattled. Roosevelt says, tongue-in-cheek, "Now I don't know if you can tell by his picture, but, um, he's black. Like, African black." Juice looks like he's in dire need of a green tea and mint colonic to unwind: "Yeah. I picked that up." In that same guileless delivery, Roosevelt says, "You tell me, what would the club do if they found out that you're black? You don't know? Let me break it down for you: First, they pull your patch, then they make you scrape the ink. Then if you're lucky enough, you walk out alive. As far as SAMCRO is concerned, you never even existed. So much for affirmative action." We cut to Juice's face. Clearly, Roosevelt has just voiced his worst nightmare, but Juice snaps back, "You don't know dick about my club." Roosevelt snaps back, "Yeah, you right, about dick. But Leroy? Everything." He tosses back the weed: "Enjoy your day." Then Roosevelt sits back at his desk. Juice is still sitting there, and he finally asks, "So what happens now?" Roosevelt looks up from some paperwork and says matter-of-factly, "We go back home to our families. I'll stay in touch, brother." And then I die from admiration over how tightly this show is written, because twisting the word "brother" from its usual "Hail, fellow biker club member in leather!" connotation to the more street usage is just genius.
Meanwhile, at Teller Morrow garage, Piney's in Gemma's office, waiting for her to come back so he can try and do an end-run around Clay to his old lady. Gemma takes the news that Clay plans to run drugs for a Mexican cartel with surprising composure. Or perhaps she's just numb with disbelief, which is why she does not tell Piney to watch it when he dismissively says, "All those drones at the table, they're going to follow Clay down to the last little crumb." You know, since one of those drones is her son. Anyway, Piney charges Gemma with taking some sense into Clay.
Tara's at the self-storage place, ostensibly to drop off the high chair. But she's also packing away the copies she made too, clever girl.
Clay and Bobby Elvis pull up, a little tired after a long day of watching Russians get eaten by ants, and Gemma descends like a whirlwind, pulling Clay away and demanding to know if the boys are going to be running cocaine for the Mexicans. Clay asks, "Who told you that?" "Not you!" snaps Gemma. Clay catches sight of a belligerent Piney hanging out on a picnic bench and realizes what happened; he tells Gemma, "You didn't need to know." Gemma begins to say, "Drugs or not, we do --" and Clay pins her down against the railing, not gently, and has a hand on her throat. "You don't tell me what we do," he snarls at her. The whole incident is not lost on Piney -- who really doesn't seem sorry about anything that's happened -- or Bobby Elvis. At least the latter man has the decency to ask if everything's okay. Clay won't look at him as he stomps toward church: "Yeah. Let's just get this done."
Everyone else rolls in from Bakersfield. Opie grabs Jax for a second and asks, "You really think we can handle the drug end of this?" Jax says, "I know we can." Opie says, "Gettin' as cocky as Clay too -- which is not a bad thing. You came out harder, looking like a guy who can lead a club. That bullshit today, you handled it better." Jax thanks him for the compliment. Opie says, "You got my vote, and Miles'. And when we're done with the cartel and Clay is gone, it's you and me sitting at the head of that table, getting this back to the way it should be. You good with that?" Jax hesitates for only a moment before nodding.
It's time for the vote. Clay votes in favor. So does Tig. Chibs says, "I don't trust them. No." Opie says yea, as does Miles. Piney dourly votes nay. Juice -- still in desperate need of an enema, or perhaps regretting his decision to stay up watching The Human Stain -- votes nay. Bobby Elvis says no. Happy says, "I'm sorry. I'm a no." Kozik says, "Backin' my prez and VP. Yea." Jax is surprised by that, and says yes. Everyone pushes back from the table, silent and unhappy. Piney's still sitting at the table, and Clay rises to close the door to church. Then he tells Piney, "You ever try to end-run me through my old lady again, I'll slit your throat." Then he walks out. Piney watches him go, eyes wide with fury -- at the present, at the past, at his brothers. And I begin to wonder if Piney may be planning his own death; it's only a question of what he's hoping to do to Clay or the club on his way out.
Tara pulls up at Teller Morrow and walks over to Gemma, who's standing in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. She turns around to see an angry Bobby Elvis stomping out of the clubhouse, and there's a shot where Gemma and Tara are both framed in the doorway, all long hair and high cheekbones and wary looks. Gosh, do you think this show is foreshadowing how Jax and Tara are destined to turn into Clay and Gemma? The final shot is of the core eleven club members each drifting away from one another, silent and alone.
Lisa Schmeiser is a technology and business reporter in the San Francisco Bay Area. She also gets her geek on with The Incomparable's Comic Book Club podcasts.
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