Fade up on Vin Makazian chilling in a lumberyard with the newspaper. Tony's Suburban pulls up alongside. They go for a walk and Makazian fills Tony in on Melfi's activities: "girl stuff," dry cleaning, food shopping (she goes to the "fancy schmancy" Italian deli). Makazian goes on to complain that he doesn't know what he's supposed to look for. Tony, predictably, grunts that it's "none of your fucking business" and Makazian is on "need-to-know" status. He adds that he should beat Makazian down for what he did to Melfi's date the month before. Makazian shouts that he thought Melfi "was some goomah of" Tony's, so he threw a scare into the guy: "What's the big deal?" Tony, wearing a black-and-tan shirt that looks like seventies-vintage rec room wallpaper, lets that pass, then asks if the guy comes around anymore. Makazian scoffs that he doesn't and calls the guy a coward. Tony asks if he's got anything else; Makazian says that the night before, Melfi got off at nine and went to bed early. "That's it?" "That's it." Tony stuffs some cash in Makazian's pocket and tells him to "buy yourself an iron."
Melfi comes through the double doors to her waiting area: "Ready?" Inside, Tony rustles in a paper bag and sets a coffee cup in front of Melfi; he's either sucking up to or crushing on her. Melfi taps her hands on her knees uncomfortably, then asks, "So…how was your college trip with your daughter?" Tony jokingly describes his life as "like an episode of Provolonesomething." Heh. "What's going on?" Tony, futzing with his coffee, explains that all he and Carmela do is fight, and adds with a dismissive snort that "she's jealous a you." Melfi lowers her eyes before asking, "Is that something you feel, or has there been discussion with Carmela?" Tony says that Carmela didn't know Melfi was a woman. Melfi wonders why Tony hadn't told Carmela that before; Tony, missing the point, says that he didn't tell Carmela, that Melfi "spilled the beans" when she called to change their appointment. Melfi changes tacks, asking why Tony chose to come to a female doctor in the first place. That's an excellent question, actually. Tony smirks that Carmela "asked the same friggin' question…and I sometimes wonder myself." "And?" Tony says that, as he explained to Carmela, Dr. Cusamano gave him a choice between "two Jewish guys and a paisan' like me, so I picked the paisan'." Melfi changes tacks again, asking Tony, "What's the one thing -- your mother, your wife, your daughter -- have in common?" "They all break my balls," Tony cracks, and Melfi has to chuckle. Tony knows what she means, though: "They're all Italian, so what?" I can think of about a dozen answers I would have given before "Italian," starting with "passive-aggressive," but whatever ["and I would have led with 'whiny' or perhaps 'fashion-impaired'" -- Wing Chun] -- Melfi suggests that maybe by "coming clean with" her, Tony is "dialoguing" with the other women in his life. Tony doesn't think much of this theory and turns the tables, asking Melfi why she has him as a patient and pointing out in a rather fond tone that a lot of people "would go a hundred miles out of their way not to have eye contact with" him, "but you -- you didn't flinch." Melfi smiles tightly and looks away. Does that count as a flinch? I think it does.
Overhead shot of a poker game; "My Girl" plays in the background. I hate that song. I know you'll all sleep better at night knowing that. [Cough.] Anyway, a short, balding guy goes to the door, checks the peephole, and lets in Mikey Palmice and two of his guys. Short Balding Guy says they came just in time, he's about to make coffee, and he asks after Junior. Mikey jumps on SBG, knocks him down, kicks him in the ribs a few times, and tells him as he lies writhing on the floor, "That's how Junior is, Sammy." Mikey has that fugly International Male beige cabled sweater on again. Man, I can't wait till he gets killed off so I don't have to look at that eyesore anymore, not to mention the thinning-hair-non-disguising blow-dry he's got going on. Sammy gasps that he's with Little Jimmy Altieri, and Mikey, all out of breath from waving his dick around, asks if Sammy's paying Jimmy Altieri "for this game." "No," Sammy wheezes. "Are you paying someone for this game? Huh?" Mikey wants to know, punctuating the question with another boot to Sammy's ribs. Mikey announces to the room at large that "the party's over -- Junior Soprano is the new boss, and he ain't respectin' old arrangements."
Junior at the tailor's, standing ramrod straight on the measuring block in a new shirt and jacket and a giant pair of old-man's boxers. The tailor tells Junior he's lucky; he stayed slim, so he can buy suits "right off the rack." Yeah, and how. Junior smiles that he wanted something special: "The boys are having a little time for me." Mikey, leafing through a magazine, asks if Junior's wearing a suit to the dinner; Junior snorts that "these guys today, they wanna be buried in a jogging outfit." Oh, God -- amen to that. I think that's what I like best about The Sopranos; they acknowledge these little things, these bits of received wisdom about the Mob. Anyway, Junior asks after the tailor's oldest son Ralphie; the tailor sighs that Ralphie lost his oldest son. "What do you mean, 'lost'?" Junior asks. Dead, the tailor says, getting upset: "Just -- just a fuckin' kid, a baby!" "Whoa whoa whoa, what're we talkin' about here -- you lost your grandson?" Junior asks, stepping down from the measuring block. The tailor rants angrily about these "fucking animals, these drug dealers," and Junior remembers that "that little kid used to run around here breakin' balls," and the tailor weeps, "Domenic…my namesake." Junior turns to Mikey and asks if he knew about this; Mikey shakes his head. Junior gets back up onto the block and asks rhetorically, "What'd I say about this fuckin' poison," and says how he reads in the paper all the time about kids overdosing, but the tailor interrupts to say that Domenic didn't overdose, "he killed himself -- fourteen years old." "Jesus!" grunts Junior. Mikey stands up: "Was this at Paterson Falls?" The tailor nods. "Holy shit, that was your grandson?" Mikey asks. "What?" Junior wants to know. Mikey tells the story: "The kid, he took one a those…designer drugs, right? Goes to the falls, takes a header right off the fence. They said the, the current whirled so much that his head was bashed on the rocks for days before he even came up." A born diplomat, that Mikey. Kee-rist. ["Is it wrong that my first thought was, 'How does a fourteen-year-old afford designer drugs?'" -- Wing Chun] Junior agrees with me and grimaces, holding up a hand to shut Mikey up: "Shhht!" The tailor laments that meanwhile, "this piece a shit, he gets to walk the streets and sell more a this stuff to young kids." Junior gets that furious beetle-browed look on his face: "Oh, really? What's this motherless fuck's name?"
Cut Of Great Irony to Livia gazing fondly at Junior, who sips from a china cup and scowls, "Even the coffee's old in here." Heh. Livia shrugs that what can you do, "eventually they find you with a broken hip." Junior bitches some more about getting Livia some decent coffee, but she's moved on: "What are you wearing? Ya smell like a French puttan' [whore]." "It's Canoe. Johnny wore Canoe." An elderly man makes his way past them with a wheeled walker: "Mornin', Livia." "Oh, morning," she says semi-brightly. "Morning," the man says to Junior. "New arrival?" "Go 'head, keep movin', fella," Junior grunts, insulted. After the man has made himself scarce, Livia tells Junior quietly that she's happy for him; she knows how long he waited for the job: "Just don't let certain people take advantage of your good nature, like they did to Johnny." "What certain people -- nobody got over on Johnny!" Junior snaps, then smiles complacently, "Nobody's gonna get over on me," and he gets up to go. Livia asks after Hesh. Junior asks, what about him. Livia snorts, "Who ever heard of Jew riding horses?" Huh? Junior shrugs that Hesh owns a horse farm; Livia does the hand wave, and Junior points out that "he's Tony's friend, not mine. Whaddya got against him, anyway?" "Who, me? Nothing," Livia says disingenuously, adding that Johnny liked Hesh, and Tony "thinks every word that comes out of his mouth -- is pure gold." Junior squints at her suspiciously: "Are you telling me that, since I'm the new boss, I should tax Hesh?" Livia looks purposefully blank, of course; Junior grins gleefully. "Boy, Anthony really musta gotten under your collar -- admit it. You're lookin' to crack his coglioni for puttin' you in here." Livia says mildly that she doesn't know what he's talking about. "Yeah. And I'm playin' shortstop for the Mets," Junior says, giving Livia a look I can only describe as admiring.
Over at the Bimbetova Bungalow, Tony lies on his back in bed; Irina Bimbetova dashes out of the bathroom wearing only black panties and pounces on him. "Watch the balls," he warns her. Boy, he really has a way with the pillow talk. Not. Irina starts kissing her way down Tony's ample stomach, and he blisses out for a moment, but then his head snaps up. "What is the matter?" Irina asks. "Tony's cannoli doesn't want to stand up?" Yecch. He pulls her up, laughing unconvincingly that his cannoli is "tired." Irina baby-voices that she could help, and he says he knows, "just…maybe…" and he trails off. She kisses his nipple. "So how's your job?" he asks, and she gives him a "whatever" look and asks since when does he care about her job, and he sputters, "Can't I be nice?" but she's kissing her way down again. "All right," he shrugs, stares at the ceiling for a moment while chewing his lip, then rolls out from under her and snaps, "You don't wanna talk about your job? Fine," and he hurls a wad of cash at her: "Call somebody who gives a fuck." Oh, that's nice. I mean, Irina bugs, but really. She brushes the money off the bed, saying that she's not a whore and he can "stick the money up [his] ass," and she doesn't know what's wrong with him but he shouldn't take it out on her. "There's nothin' wrong with me!" he interrupts. "I just wanted to talk, that's all!" He buttons his pants, continuing, "For all the conversation I get around here I might as well be a fuckin' dildo." "If you were a dildo, we wouldn't be fighting," Irina murmurs. Uh, I wouldn't go there, Irina; I wouldn't even go to that area code.
Tony snaps, "What does that mean? Huh? You fuckin' refugee, what does that mean?" Irina grabs a lighted candle from the bedside table and chucks it at him, and it almost hits Tony in the head but he manages to swat it away with his forearm, and she grabs the lamp , but Tony tackles her before she can throw that too and threatens to "knock you out, you fucking Communist cunt," and Irina shrieks and struggles and wrenches free and hits him a few times on the back before storming back into the bathroom and yelling something in Russian. "Yeah, same to you!" Tony yells, rubbing his elbow. "Ya fuckin' burned me!"
Satriale's. Christopher, sporting a reasonably unfortunate v-neck tank top with red stripes on the sides, steals a slice of luncheon meat from the giggling girl at the meat slicer. Percussive he's-in-his-element music plays. He joins the boys in the back, all sitting around the table playing hearts, and tells Tony, "Hesh is outside." "Tell him to come in." "He says he needs a word with you," Christopher says portentously. "What the fuck?" Pussy bitches, picking up the queen of spades. "I've eaten more queens than Lancelot." Ba-dum-bum. Big Pussy Bonpensiero, folks. You've been a great crowd -- drive safely.
Tony goes out to find Hesh getting out of his car. "What's up?" "Let's walk," Hesh says. "I'd like to show off this safari shirt." Okay, he doesn't say that last part. And he shouldn't. "That serious?" Tony asks. On the sidewalk, Hesh asks Tony if he's spoken to his uncle lately. "Junior? Yeah. No…I don't know, why, what's up?" "Your father was a fair man, Tony." Tony wants to know what that's got to do with Junior. "Junior's not so fair." Tony wants Hesh to get to the point. "He's taxing me, Tony." Tony slows down in disbelief. "He's taxing you? When did this happen?" "Today." Tony, getting angrier, asks if Hesh told Junior that he's operated for years without tax, that Johnny "loved you and respected you," that ten percent that goes to Junior comes from Hesh's "shylock business." Hesh looks down and shakes his head. Tony bitches that "my uncle's been boss of the family ten fuckin' minutes, already I got agita." Tony puts his hands on his hips and fumes, "What'd you tell 'im?" "I told him the truth," Hesh shrugs, "it's a reasonable request but an unreasonable figure." Tony wants Hesh to hold on: "Whaddya mean it's a reasonable request?" "He's the boss now, Tony," Hesh tells him gently, and if Junior calls the tune, they all dance to it: "That's the way it's always been done." He goes on to say that people can either respect the past or change the rules, but he came over to tell Tony that, "with all this bullshit going on," he doesn't know if he can stick around. "Oh yeah? Where you gonna go?" Hesh reminds Tony that he can sit on his royalty checks; he did write six gold records, after all. Tony in turn reminds Hesh that six black kids wrote the gold records, but Hesh owned the company and treated himself to a co-writing credit. Hesh just smiles. Tony says, "Besides, I know you -- you leave this action, you're gonna kill yourself." He asks how much Junior wants. "Five hundred large, plus two points monthly on my shy," Hesh tells him; Tony winces. Then he starts chuckling -- whether out of sheer frustration or because he sort of respects Junior's cold-bloodedness, I can't say -- and tells Hesh to "sit tight for now." Hesh nods and walks away. Tony mulls.
Casa Soprano. Crickets chirp. Tony and Carmela sleep. We zoom in on Tony, then zoom out again to see him in Irina's bed, surrounded by lit candles; a doo-wop group croons on the soundtrack. Tony comes to and finds a figure draped in the black satin sheet making its way down his torso. The figure starts doing her thing under the sheet; Tony grins and clutches the sheets and sings along with the song. Gee -- I can't imagine who's under that sheet! Oh, wait. I can. Because I've just spent the last hour watching Foreshadowing try on my clothes. More doo-wop. More Tony squirming in ecstasy. After the Lewinsky is finished, the figure under the sheet asks, "How was that, baby?" "The best…you are the best," Tony pants, and he pulls the sheet away from the figure and smoothes back her hair to reveal -- ta da! -- Melfi. Lorraine Bracco does actually bear a slight resemblance to Irina in this shot, but I imagine that isn't really the point. As Tony shudders and tries to sit up, Melfi says in a weird dubbed Russian accent, "Tony, I love your cannoli." He wakes up with a start to hear Carmela asking, "Are you okay?" He tells her to go back to sleep and sits up to get his bearings. "You sure you're all right?" she asks again.
Shot of the Manhattan skyline. The plinking of a mandolin. In a bar, a guy in a tan blazer asks Tony, "So what do you want New York to do?" Tony fiddles with his signet ring and tells Tan Blazer that, first of all, "Junior can't know that we talked, he's gotta think that Hesh came to you on his own, by himself." Tan Blazer puts his drink down and eyes Tony: "So you are still running things." Tony doesn't answer, just adds that "the arrangement, whatever it is, can't be insulting to my uncle -- Hesh has gotta pay something." Tan Blazer looks down at the bar as Tony says that he hasn't figured out what Hesh will have to pay yet. Tony looks behind him at Carmela sitting restively at a table for two, then tells TB that he's "gotta get back -- we'll talk later." Tan Blazer watches him go.
Tony comes back to the table and asks, "How's the veal?" "It's like rubber," Carmela sighs. Carmela has her hair up in a big complicated bouffant, and she's wearing a silvery dress and her customary no-nothing's-wrong-it's-fine-I-hate-you-please-pay-attention-to-me deep-freeze expression. Tony tries a bite of the veal and says it tastes all right to him, but asks, "You want something else?" Carmela shakes her head coldly. The waiters come over and sing "Happy Anniversary" to them in Italian and serve them tiramisu with candles stuck into it; Tony and Carmela both look profoundly uncomfortable, and Carmela gives Tony a wounded glare. Tony tips the singer and grunts, "Don't look at me." "Compliments of Johnny Sack," the singer tells Tony, and Tony waves at Tan Blazer, who raises his glass from the bar. Carmela suggests that maybe Tony would like to spend the rest of their anniversary with Johnny Sack. Tony allows that yes, he would, and gets up from the table. Okay, he doesn't do that, but I think he should have. Yes, I know he's a cheating, lying, stealing murderer. Yes, I know she can't just pack a bag. But if she didn't know what she'd gotten herself into, she should have, and either way, she herself admitted in the last episode that she tolerates his bullshit because she wants the luxuries he can provide -- maybe I should, but I don't feel sorry for her. Suck it up, Carmela -- and one more thing. The moany, weepy, icy poor-me routine won't get you what you want. Trust me, I've tried it. ["You know who else has? Livia. And look where it got her." -- Wing Chun]
Anyway, Tony settles for muttering, "I was over there for ten friggin' minutes, Carmela. Don't do this." "All right, Tony. At least I know where I stand," and she tries not to start crying but fails. "Why you always gotta be so dramatic, huh?" Tony asks, adding, "Oh, here we go -- all right, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry." Carmela regains her composure and hisses that he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for: "It's our anniversary, Tony -- ours, not yours, mine, and Johnny fuckin' Sack's. Ours!" She thought maybe they could get a room at the Plaza "like last year, or, I don't know," and she retreats into fiddling with her bangs. Tony hesitates for a moment, then reaches forward to rub her arm and tell her, more sincerely this time, "I'm sorry, Carmela -- huh? I've just got a lot on my mind, and I'm not thinkin' straight." Carmela, now fiddling with her lip, doesn't look at him. "Hey. I'm sorry," he says again. Finally, she looks up. "Should I call the Plaza?" he offers. "C'mon." But she won't bite: "Nah, let's go home."
The Mercedes pulls into the garage. As Carmela unbuckles and prepares to get out, Tony says, "Hey, c'mere," but she won't. "Carmela, what do you want me to say? I'm lost at sea here." "You've changed, Tony," she snaps, "and I resent it." He slumps back in his seat; Carmela goes on, "I resent it because it's destroying what little self-esteem I have left." She adds that, sometimes, she thinks he skeeves her. Tony doesn't know what that means, saying exasperatedly that "you're the mother of my children, how the fuck can I skeeve you?" Carmela bites off, "You see? You see what I'm talkin' about? Right there -- 'you're the mother of my children.' I feel like I'm just someone you've chosen to procreate with!" Tony rolls his eyes: "You knew this might happen with the Prozac!" Oh, so she's talking about the impotence. Carmela says that a friend of hers "has been on it for years, and she'd hump a fire hydrant if it could make a pass at her." Tony explains impatiently that Melfi said it affects different people in different ways, which prompts Carmela to sneer sarcastically, "Oh, she told you that?" and huff out of the car and into the house. Tony rubs his forehead and sighs.
Cut to Tony performing the coffee ceremony again in Melfi's office. She watches him for a moment, then says that before they start, they should "address the coffee situation." It's not appropriate for her to take gifts, she says; Tony stares at her, so she smiles, "Let's just make a rule, okay? No gifts." "Does this mean I can't drink mine?" Melfi laughs. Just then, her phone rings, and she apologizes, saying that she usually has the answering service handle calls when she's with a patient, but she has a car emergency. She picks up: "Yes?…What does that mean, a 'diagnostic'?…I just wanna know what's wrong with my car…no, no, don't do anything…no, I want to get a second opinion…I'll, I'll take my chances." During this exchange, Tony eyes her indulgently. She hangs up and apologizes again, and she asks how it's going. "Good, real good," Tony says, and announces that he's considering "flush[ing] the medication," just to "see if the changes I'm feeling are for real." Yeah, right -- that decision has nothing to do with the Limp Bizkit show playing in his pants at all.
Melfi points out that "the Prozac seems to be working"; Tony admits that "that might be the problem -- it might be working a little…overtime." Melfi doesn't say anything. Tony reluctantly says, "I'm having a…" "Reaction?" Melfi interrupts. "A side effect," Tony mutters. "From the stuff." Melfi reminds him that they discussed that when he started the medication, and she lists various possible side effects, none of which includes impotence, but says that they usually pass. "Are there any other…side effects…that you know of?" Tony asks pointedly. Melfi says that some people "experience a diminished libido; they have trouble getting or maintaining a --" "Bingo," Tony interrupts grimly. "You know, not all impotence is a result of the medication," Melfi says. "You saying there's something wrong with me?" Tony asks, smiling a not-really-a-smile smile. Melfi asks when Tony last had a prostate exam, and when Tony cracks that he doesn't even let anyone wag a finger in his face, Melfi bursts out laughing, then quickly apologizes and tries to calm herself. "Don't apologize," Tony says, smiling for real now. "You got a nice laugh. Hey, I'm serious," he smiles some more. Melfi is in serious mode again herself, and informs Tony that "depression is also a leading factor in impotence." She asks if he ever awakens with an erection in the morning or in the middle of the night; Tony tells her that "you could set your clock to it." Oh, could I? Please? In the words of Cliff Pantone, that was an overshare. ["Yeah, and much as he wants to, poor Tony can neither knock them down, nor roll them around." -- Wing Chun] I think Tony's trying to make her laugh again, but it doesn't work; Melfi says evenly, "Okay, so we know it's not a physical problem." Tony looks irritated by this revelation.
A Roche Bobois truck unloads furniture in front of Casa Soprano. Yet another detail that proves the writers really do their homework: the Roche Bobois furniture. New Jersey Mafia wives have a certain unmistakable decorating style -- usually involving a great deal of mint green carpeting and peach silk and roughly a metric ton of black marble and brass -- and nothing epitomizes that style quite like a Roche Bobois living room set, which costs a small fortune and yet still manages to look utterly déclassé. Anyway, Carmela, kitted out in a taupe pantsuit from TJ Maxx, comes out and directs the moving men. Tony walks up and wants to know what the hell is going on, and Carmela says matter-of-factly that she ordered some new furniture. "Some"? The lawn looks like the scene from Risky Business when Guido The Pimp unloads the whole house in the front yard and doesn't help Joel move any of it back inside. Tony sarcastically suggests that they just move into Roche Bobois and save the delivery charge; Carmela shrugs frostily, "Fine. I'll send it back." "No, but you've been spendin' like a drunken sailor all last week," Tony grumbles. "I said I'll send it back," grouses Saint Carmela. Tony leans into her face and spits, "Mother a Christ, Carmela -- I didn't say that, did I? Jesus," and stomps into the house. Carmela looks smug and continues to oversee the furniture movers.
Satriale's. In front of the store, Tony, Junior, Johnny Sack, and Hesh all sit in the sun. Tony makes a big show of saying that, with all due respect, he doesn't think Johnny should tell Junior how to run the family. Johnny in turn makes a big show of saying that he would never do such a thing, or he wouldn't see the Statue of Liberty again. Junior accepts these accolades with a small self-satisfied smile. Johnny says that Hesh is a friend of New York's as well as of Tony's, so "somebody has to step in so he doesn't get fucked." "I never said 'fucked,'" Hesh corrects him. Tony tells him, barely keeping the wink-wink out of his voice, that he's hurt Hesh didn't come to him first instead of "airing your dirty laundry in public." Hesh plays his part, grumping that Junior knew how he felt: "How would it look if I went to you after I spoke to him?" Johnny calls that a good point; Junior sips his drink and tries to look regal, but with that white driving cap on, he just looks kind of silly. Johnny asks, "Bottom line is, what're we gonna do about this?" Junior shoots Tony a quick appraising stare, then says that something tells him Johnny has a suggestion. Johnny tells Junior that "if there're any flies on you, they're payin' fuckin' rent." Everyone laughs dutifully except Junior, who laughs regally. Johnny observes hesitantly that five hundred in back taxes seems a bit steep. Junior looks dyspeptic. Johnny says he's got no problem with the two points, because that affects Tony as much as it does Hesh, and Tony makes an "I've got no problem with it either" gesture towards Junior. Junior says he's not out to hurt anyone or get in the way of their earning, and offers one-and-a-half on the shy and three hundred grand on the back tax. "Two fifty," Hesh says quickly. An awkward silence while everyone stares at Junior to see how he'll take it. Finally, he mock-complains, "What'd I tell ya? Hold onto your cock when you negotiate with these desert people." Everyone laughs in relief, and they shake on it.
Casa Soprano. Tony, taking a piss. He looks over at the shower to see a woman inside. The shower door slowly opens to reveal a naked body, and we cut from Lorraine Bracco's body double to a wet Melfi saying, "Mr. Soprano," the same way she does when she comes out into the waiting area.
In bed, Tony bolts upright and immediately checks to make sure Carmela hasn't woken up. She's sleeping, but when he puts his hand on her waist, she snaps to and asks eagerly, "You want sex?" Oh, my holy God. "No…go back to sleep," he murfles, patting her and flopping back onto his pillow. Carmela -- VIBRATOR! Please! You'll thank me later!
Cut to Irina peeling her top off and stepping down from her heels. Tony compliments her "nice body," but says she "oughta make it work for [her] more." "Oh, really?" she says sultrily. Tony thinks she reveals too much in the way she dresses. Irina asks teasingly if he doesn't want other men looking at her, which he blows off, saying that when she's not with him, she can do what she wants, but maybe she could try wearing "a nice business-like outfit" once in a while. Oh, ew. "I think I could get into that," he adds. "You want me to dress like a man?" "No -- no, you fuckin' whackadoo, I don't want you to dress like a man. I'm just sayin'…maybe wear somethin' a little more professional, you know, like you're in business." Irina takes this to mean that he wants her to dress like a hooker and tells him to fuck off, and he tries to explain but then sighs heavily, "Ah, forget it," and he sits on the bed and says, "C'mere." She waves her hand "no." "Is everybody in my life bananas or what?" he mutters to himself, then bellows at Irina, "Get over here!" She sulks towards him, but when he takes her arm, she pulls away and shuts herself in the bathroom, snitting, "Go jerk off!" "Yeah, go jerk off," he sighs.
"Look at this -- she burned me," Tony tells Melfi, pointing to the candle injury on his arm. "That's not good," Melfi says, then asks what led up to that. Tony dissembles that "Carmela can be pretty violent sometimes." He goes on to say that, with the "added problem" (i.e. the impotence), he thought maybe they needed to spice things up a little to give him a "jump start," so he suggested to her "that maybe she dress a little different." "Something titillating," Melfi pipes up, and Tony says yes, he thought it might help, "so I suggested to her -- not demanded, suggested -- you know, maybe dress a little sexier. But Carmela can be very sensitive." "Well, maybe she felt it degraded her," Melfi proposes. "Not all women are into sexy lingerie." Tony says impatiently that he's not talking about dressing like that, and Melfi wonders, "Then what are we talking about?" Tony says that "some women are sexier when they dress, you know -- understated. I'm -- I don't mean…fuck it, I don't know what I mean." A silence. Melfi regards Tony quietly, and he looks away, then admits, "Like you." Amused, she asks, "How like me?" "You play it down," he says, fixing her with a smoldering look. "It's obvious you got a killer body under there. Don't get me wrong," he adds hastily. "All right," she says mildly, and he continues, "Not only do you play it down…but you're gentle. Not loud. Sweet-sounding. Like a mandolin." She smiles slightly. Tony gets up out of his chair. She sees what he's doing and says in a warning tone, "Anthony," but he walks over and leans in and plants a kiss on her, and she does hesitate for a split second and let their lips touch before leaning as far back in her chair as she can and pushing him away. She smiles firmly and gets up herself: "It's unfortunate that we have to stop now, because I think it's really important we talk about this. Do you think you could come back later this afternoon?" Still standing too close to her in pre-kiss mode, Tony smolders, "No." There's a moment where it seems like they might kiss after all; then Melfi says flatly, "'Til Tuesday. Okay?" "Yeah, all right," Tony says, sounding bummed, then wiggles his eyebrows and smarms, "See you Tuesday." He walks slowly to the door, opens it, stands there for a moment drumming his fingers on it, and then, finally, when he sees Melfi isn't going to give in, he leaves. After he goes, Melfi lets out a sigh and turns away from the door.
Melfi at home, reading. She hears glass breaking outside and a dog barking; suspicious, she creeps to a front window and peers outside, just in time to see a police cruiser-type vehicle turn its lights on and pull away.
Melfi at a garage, telling the guy under her car that she's had a starter problem for weeks, but this morning she got in and it started right up, "and then again at the deli." The guy under the car says he doesn't see anything wrong under there, and Melfi yells over the noise in the garage, "Are you sure? I was told I need a new starter." The guy rolls out and tells her, "Lady, as much as I might wish to rob you, even I wouldn't try to replace a new starter with another." "What do you mean, 'new'?" she asks. "New -- it has everything but the price tag hanging from it," the guy says. Melfi makes a "whuh?" face and tries to figure out how a new starter got into her car. Anyone? Anyone want to take a wild guess here? Yeah, thought so.
Up at Paterson Falls, Mikey and one of his boys drag the drug dealer along the bridge. The dealer sobbingly protests that "you know me" and "I didn't do nothin'," but Mikey just shrugs that yeah, he knows him, but a kid committed suicide up there "'cause a you," and then tells the guy that he'll make him a deal -- when Mikey tosses the dealer over, if the dealer can fly, "I won't shoot ya down." The dealer struggles and begs for mercy, but Mikey and his boy heave the dealer over the side without delay, and he splashes down into the river below, screaming. The teenage boys fishing at the other end of the bridge stand up and look over warily at Mikey and friend. Meanwhile, Mikey and friend look over the side at the dealer's motionless body floating in the water; Mikey laughs. Then he wipes his hands, looks over his shoulder to make sure nobody else saw what happened, and heads over towards the kids. One of the kids stands up as Mikey comes up to them, and Mikey asks, "My goodness. What happened here?" and extends a hundred-dollar bill towards the kid. The kid reaches for it, Mikey pulls it back, and the kid snatches it and says he heard the dealer say he "didn't wanna live no more…[and he] jumped." Mikey nods and smiles, motions his friend past the kid, and walks away; the kid stares after them. One of his friends asks, "How much he give you?" What are you, new? An Italian-looking guy pitches another guy into the river and then asks you what you saw, you tell him the other guy jumped, money or no.
Satriale's. Big Pussy lets Larry Boy, Jimmy Altieri (formerly "Johnny Bravo"), and Ray Curto (formerly "Another Guy") into a back room. Tony gives them a "the hell?" look and cracks, "I thought I was the only one Junior could make look like that." They all sit down around the table. Tony, patiently: "All right, lemme hear it." Jimmy and Larry Boy tell Tony about the dealer taking "a header" off the bridge. Curto grumps that "that's the closest that junkie fuck ever got to a bath," and Larry Boy grumps in response that "that 'junkie fuck' was my biggest earner," and that "a certain friend of ours" -- i.e. Junior -- should have checked with him before doing "old man Capri" -- i.e. the tailor -- a favor. Tony doesn't get it; Larry Boy explains that that dealer sold Capri's grandson "that shit." Curto pipes up that Tony "created a fuckin' Frankenstein in Junior."
"I created?" Tony repeats. He reminds them that they all agreed to let Junior have his day, and also to let Junior serve as the lightning rod so that, if anyone "goes down," it's Junior and not a younger man with a family: "You remember this? We all agreed!" "Yeah, we agreed, but who the fuck expected to get raped over here?" Larry Boy grumbles. Curto says that, with Jackie as acting boss, they let it slide because it all evened out in the end, "but your uncle, Madon', does he eat alone -- he doesn't even pass the salt." Jimmy chuckles at that, but adds that Mikey came in on Sammy Grigio's card game and smacked Sammy around to boot: "That ain't right." Tony says that "even a broken clock is right twice a day" and defends Junior on that point: "Junior was right, he had a position; that kid wasn't payin' anybody." Curto disagrees, hiking a thumb in Jimmy's direction and saying that Sammy invoked Jimmy's name, so "it shoulda been enda story," and Jimmy nods in agreement. Tony sighs and sits back in his chair, asking what they want him to do. Larry Boy shrugs that "we made our bed, we sleep in it, we're all men. But how long we gonna continue to kick upstairs without it hurtin'? I mean, something, anything should trickle down over here, no?" Jimmy asks Tony to talk to Junior: "After all, he's your uncle. C'mon." Larry Boy concurs. Curto stares at Tony. Tony looks annoyed.
Tony, carrying yet another probably-ill-fated bakery box, knocks on Livia's door. "Who is it." "It's me, Ma." "Who?" Oy vey. "Anthony. Open the door." After a long moment, during which Tony shifts from foot to foot, Livia finally comes to the door: "I thought you were the activities lady; she's a real pain in the ass." She introduces Tony to a woman passing in the hall; the woman calls Tony "handsome," which prompts Livia to roll her eyes and lead him into her apartment. "How's it going?" he asks. "Ohhhhh, what can I say?" she says flatly. Tony calls her new set-up "great," saying jovially that the only thing missing "is that broken reading lamp you had by the phone at home." He tells her that he's got that lamp downstairs and he can bring it up if she wants, but she shushes him to complain about her neighbor running water all day: "I'm living door to Gunga Din!" Oh, all right. Heh. Tony tries to ignore this and hands her the box of biscott', and she tells him to leave them on the table, she'll take them downstairs later. They sit; Tony asks, too casually, if Junior's come by. Livia shrugs and says he does once in a while, but the place makes Junior uncomfortable. "He's got a lot on his mind," Tony says, and goes on about more responsibilities meaning more headaches; Livia snorts, "Better men than him had to work hard." Tony says pointedly that "he'll be all right…long as he remembers who his friends are." Livia looks at Tony a little harder. Tony says that he'd hate to see Junior "mess this up" after waiting so long for "the big chair," and he goes on to say that he hates to see Junior "makin' wrong moves," especially so early on.
Livia looks disgusted -- well, more disgusted than she usually does -- and grunts, "Why you tellin' me? Tell him." "Ma, you got his ear," Tony says in a tone of false warmth. "He listens to you." "I don't -- know that world," Livia says, seeming distracted, and Tony says no, of course she doesn't, "but if anything, you know, were to come up…that's all." Livia doesn't want to get involved and tells him that if he has something to say to Junior, he should do it himself. Tony rolls his eyes; Livia gets up and says that she wishes the Lord would take her. Tony tries to dance her around and suggests that plenty of "gents" in the senior community would love a date with Livia, and I haven't even stopped laughing at the idea of Livia on a date before she pushes Tony away and says she's going downstairs before the activities lady finds her. "You want coffee?" "Yeah, all right." "Bring the cookies!" she barks.
In a pew, Father "Drank His" Phil tells Carmela that he doesn't want to posit religion "as a cure-all," but he thinks greater involvement in the church might "expedite things" in Tony's therapy. Dream on, Father Phil. Carmela says that what kills her "is that it's a self-inflicted wound -- I pushed for it. I could deal with the goomahs, I knew I was better than them." She says that she viewed the girlfriends as "a form of masturbation for" Tony, since she couldn't give him "what he needed all the time." Oh, that's a healthy attitude. Not. Father Phil looks unnerved, but Carmela isn't finished: "You're a man, Father -- you know that thirst." Father Phil closes his eyes in pain as she adds, "I was too busy with the house and the kids to quench it." Carmela feels different about the thing with the psychiatrist, though: "For the first time, I feel like he's really cheating and I'm the one who's thirsty." Vi. Bra. Tor. Hello. "I'm not gonna stay in marriage where --" Father Phil shushes her, then reassures her that "divorce is for the weak" blah blah blah "we reap what we sow" blah blah blah "what do you mean?" blah blah blah she accepted his past infidelities blah blah blah those didn't count blah blah blah they "lightened the workload" and Carmela "practically welcomed it" blah blah blah martyr-cakes. Carmela bows her head; Father Phil tells her to pray to the Holy Mother for guidance so that she and Tony "can get through this as a couple." Carmela pouts because Father Phil doesn't feel sorry enough for her, but Father Phil is on a roll: "You're not without sin in this, Carmela." Thank you, Father Phil.
Tony tells Melfi that Carmela's spending has gotten "out of control." "Yeah, but you noticed her, which may have been the point," Melfi points out. Tony glances at the clock. Melfi notices him do it and says that before they run out of time, she'd like to discuss what happened during their last session. Tony looks uncomfortable for a moment, then smiles smarmily and asks, "How's your car?" Melfi asks coldly, "Did you steal my car and have it fixed?" More smarmy smiling. "We had an agreement, no gifts." "I didn't wanna see you get robbed," Tony smarms. "It was you," Melfi says. Tony leers some more, expecting her to fall all over him with thanks, but she snaps, "You had no right to steal my car. I've been scared to death." "Why?" he asks softly. "Why? It's a violation of my privacy! What else have you done?"
Tony takes a breath as if to answer, then changes his mind and keeps fixing her with The Look. "Answer me," Melfi tells him sternly. "I love you," says Tony puppyishly. "Anthony," she cautions him, but he says, "I'm in love with you. I'm sorry, that's just the way it is." "Okay," Melfi splutters, "let me talk," but Tony won't: "Nope, it's not the Prozac. I dream aboutcha, I think aboutcha all the time, I can't get excited about any other women…there's nothing else to say. I love you." Melfi looks like she might throw up, but she soldiers on, saying that she knows he might have trouble accepting it, "but you're only feeling this way because we've made such progress." "What?" Tony says gruffly. "I've been gentle, that's my job. I listen, that's what I do best. I've been a broad, generic, sympathetic woman to you because that's what this work calls for." She pauses, then tells him, "You've made me all of the things you feel are missing in your wife…and in your mother." Tony, who looks like he might cry, makes a face: "You're makin' me out to be some fuckin' mama's boy. I'm a man. And you're a woman. Enda story." Tony goes on to say that this has nothing to do with any Freudian complex, but Melfi says she didn't say that: "I want to make sure we understand each other." Tony, hurt: "Yeah, we understand each other. You don't love me." He gets up to leave, but turns at the door to grunt, "You don't want me to come back anymore, fine." "It's quite the opposite," Melfi says quickly. "This is all a by-product of progress," and then, in the same breath, "Has someone been following me?" Tony glares at her, and she waves her hand at him Livia-style: "Okay, forget it. I'll see you week."
Little-League game. The kid at bat gets a hit, and everyone in the stands cheers. Whuh? Cut to Tony and Junior in the stands. Tony starts to say something, but Junior interrupts to tell him that "I always thought you could make the pros" and that Tony used to have a swing like DiMaggio's. Tony snorts that he could barely hit .250, and Junior says smugly, "That's because you didn't want it. Too busy chasing skirt. Chasing skirt, your average was .500." "Yeah -- what happened?" Tony wises off. Junior asks what Tony wanted to talk about. "Octavian. You know, Augustus." "You fuckin' with me?" "No. Octavian became Augustus," Tony reminds him. Junior is starting to lose patience with this, so Tony quickly explains that "Augustus was a Caesar, and everybody loved 'im, right -- you know why?" Junior says he doesn't think he gives a fuck, but Tony tells him anyway: "Everybody loved 'im because he never ate alone. Capisce? It was the longest time of peace in Rome's history. He was a fair leader," and his subjects loved him for that. Junior asks if that's the one "they stabbed in the back," and Tony says no, that's Julius: "I'm talkin' about Augustus. He shared his wealth, and all his people loved him." "You've said that three fuckin' times," Junior points out acidly. "I heard it. His people loved him, what's your fuckin' point?" Tony launches into some story about a father bull and his son talking about fucking cows or some damn thing, and Junior laughs and finally gets it, but asks why Tony didn't just come out with it; Tony doesn't know. I don't know either. "Are you okay?" Junior asks him, adding that Tony seems weird lately and Junior hasn't "seen a long face like that since you were a kid." Tony says he's fine, "just bullshit stuff, don't worry about it," and Junior asks again, and Tony says he's fine again and pats Junior's shoulder.
Hesh's farm. Tony tells Hesh that Junior took the $250,000 in back taxes from Hesh and divided it among the top five guys. "Smart move," Hesh says. "Your uncle may turn out to be another Harry Truman." Tony asks what that means, and Hesh says Truman had "a big job thrust upon him" that he didn't want, but in the end he made "some pretty wise decisions," so Junior might grow into his job the same way. Tony hopes so, because he doesn't want the job himself; it gave Jackie cancer, he couldn't take the stress, "fuck it, who needs it," blah bling blah. Hesh studies him but says nothing. Slo-mo shot of the horses. "It's nice here," Tony says. Hesh says he hates the smell, and the shit and the flies everywhere, but he likes to watch the horses run around. "I envy them," Tony says -- they don't have to deal with bills, headaches, family, questions, guilt, and so on. Hesh eyes him warily. Tony catches himself: "I don't know what the fuck I'm talkin' about!" They both laugh. Hesh confirms that Junior plans to spread Hesh's gambling money around. Tony nods, "Yeah." "Five bosses, fifty a pop -- not a bad day's pay," Hesh remarks, obviously fishing for something. Tony nods again, but says, "Still, I wish it wasn't your money…I feel terrible." Hesh peers at him again. They stare at each other until Tony starts laughing and says, "You old fuckin' Jew," and he hands Hesh a wad of cash: "Here's my share." He asks if Hesh really thought Tony would take his cut. "Never entered my mind," Hesh says dryly. How, uh, heartwarming…I guess.
Tony sits on a chaise by the pool. Carmela comes out and sits beside him; in the light by the pool, she looks twenty years younger (although she really shouldn't wear orange). Tony tells her there's nothing "there" with Dr. Melfi, and Carmela says he doesn't have to explain. "This psychiatrist shit," he complains, "apparently what you're feelin' is not what you're feelin', and what you're not feelin' is your real agenda." Carmela leans over out of nowhere and kisses him on the lips. Tony gazes at her tenderly. "You're gonna stick with it, right?" she asks. "I dunno," he mumbles. Carmela thinks he should. "You do?" "Uh huh," she says, then admits, "I was jealous." No…really? Tony says he should have told her, but she interrupts that he should let her finish; she did a lot of thinking, and she realized that "I was jealous of her ability to help you, to be a sort of salvation for you." She says she talked to Father Phil, and she wants to be that woman in Tony's life. Tony tells her with tears in his voice, "Carm, you're not just in my life. You are my life." Carmela ponders this. Tony kisses her and strokes her hair. They look into each other's eyes.
At the dinner for Junior, Tony clinks a glass and stands up, saying that he's no good at speeches. Larry Boy loudly agrees with him, and Tony tells him to shut up. "All right, I'd like everybody to raise their glass," and he motions the waiters from the doorway to fill everyone's wine glasses. A close-up on a waiter named John, who has a tiny bulb underneath his nametag. Tony hoists his glass and says, "Taught me as much as anybody, except for maybe my father." Junior sits stiffly, listening.
Tony: "Even if he wasn't my uncle, I'd be standin' here sayin', 'To our new boss.' Salut'," and everyone drinks. The toasting begins, and the bulb under John's nametag flashes; a black-and-white still of Tony. Another flash; a still of Curto. More flashes; stills of Larry Boy, Jimmy Altieri, Johnny Sack, Mikey and Junior clinking glasses, and Tony standing beside Junior and chugging his wine. Throughout, Godfather-esque violin music plays in the background.
Cut to a bulletin board; a hand pins up a photo of Mikey, and beneath the photo there's a yellow card reading "Michael 'Mikey' Palmice -- Soldier." Pan out to a busy office. An agent eyes the bulletin board, and we cut to an extreme close-up of the late Jackie, then pan across Larry Boy and Tony and Curto and Jimmy Altieri. The agent unpins Jackie, moves Junior's picture up, crosses out the word "CAPO" under Junior's name, and writes in "BOSS." Pan in close-up from Tony's picture up to Junior's, directly above Tony's, and fade out.