'm laying out. you coming? - the u.v. index is 10. jesus, we don't do anything. we don't eat. we don't go out. god knows we don't do anything else. is that all you ever think about, sex? all i ever think about? you haven't fucked me in over a year. blood sugar, i told you, the weight loss. good, fine. skin cancer. what's up? thing we talked about at the wedding. rusty. you made the call to italy. our friend over there's gonna fit him for a suit. she's sending over two of her best tailors. so i should meet 'em at the airport? no, they're gonna call you when they arrive. now you hook 'em up with a third party, huh? get 'em some scissors. this is smart, ton', the more i think about it. glad you approve. anybody taking a look, there's nothing linking us to it. - hey, good seeing you. - hey, there he is. - how you doing? - what's up? how are you? listen, come here a minute. about the other day... i'm fine. a couple of stitches. yeah? my fucking temper, you know? no no noo, it's okay, really. take it. thanks. look, ton', i don't remember slamming the refrigerator door, but carlo told me and my dad, i never should have raised my hands to you. i'm sorry. as long as you realize. huh? it basically became the same thing every day. coffee, couple lines of meth, smooth that out with a shot of jameson. and that was just to drive the kids to school. then one day i fell asleep at work and forgot about gracie's recital. human frailty, it makes me sick sometimes. - chris, right? - should i know you? kevin mucci, yonkers. - we met at the trotters. sal iacuzzo's cousin. - right. - hey. - hey. yonkers, what are you, lost? my ex's birthday over at the red robin in clifton. - i figured i'd need a meeting to make it through that shit. - i hear that. so i saw my cousin this week. it turns out he ran into a friend of yours, the big guy, vito. and... he was in a fag bar, dancing with a guy. get the fuck out! right, joey, use your head. you are not gonna fucking believe this. vito spatafore's an ass-muncher. - oh! what? - what did you just say? i'm sorry, it's true. we ran into this kid. vito was spotted in a fag bar in new york. by who? the kid's cousin. allegedly. probably bullshit. - he's a married man. - with a goomar. all right, back up a second. what did the kid say exactly? - the kid's cousin sal iacuzzo-- - from yonkers, i know him. sal was at this place in the city, supposedly on business, he saw vito holding hands with a guy in nipple rings. you're leaving out the best part. he was wearing a motorcycle outfit, like the guy in the village people with the leather hat - and the vest. - chaps too. i don't know. fucking slander, ask me. all right, let's take this in the back. - yeah, that's what vito did. - you can go. tell you one thing, if it was me this kid was spreading rumors about, he'd have something up his own ass. and it wouldn't be no cock, either. that's the point, though. this guy sal, i know him. - he's a friend of ours. - i fucking called it, long time ago. you knew vito was a recchion'? - yes. - when? i never said it, but i knew. get the fuck out. enough of this rush to judgment. for all we know, this fucking sal guy's got a hard-on for vito. - oh, you think this is funny, huh? there's a man's reputation at stake here. a married man, with kids. nah, that don't mean shit. elton john was married. yeah, rock hudson too. i think. so what do we gotta do, ton', actually see him take it in the ass? get vito on the phone. you know, he called me the other night. 3:00 in the morning, after the wedding. and? honestly, it was weird. he wanted to know what was going on. he was fucking fishing, see if we heard. straight to voice mail. ton', i mean, he represents us. i'm not gonna condemn the man off the word of some fucking
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