'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