And so it's only the boys. Tio Beto starts off by saying that he knew Tio Jorge was "starting to crumble." But, pre-crumble, the two of them had talked about "the future" and, he says, he told Jorge that the man to lead La Corporacion was Miguel. At this, Miguel smiles modestly down at the carpet. "He's not strong enough," Manny pipes up. "Shhhh," Chato purrs. But Jorge put Ernesto in charge, Beto continues. "Ernesto had huevos!" Manny interrupts. "The DEA shot him down like a pinche perro, and Miguel didn't do nada!" Beto reminds Manny that Ernesto's the one who chose to go to war with "the gringos," and that it's not Miguel's fault that he got plugged. "Except it TOTALLY WAS," Miguel's Mole says. Beto tells them all to shut it, so he can say his piece: he's coming out of the retirement. It's not that he doesn't trust them, he says, it's just that, for the next six months, they need someone in charge that the other cartels know and won't challenge. At this, everyone looks at his shoes. Miguel finally speaks up and says that a lot has changed in the last five years. Tio Beto shakes his head and assures him that things will continue to run just as they have been. "Chato will still be the enforcer," he says. Chato nods. "You will sit at my right hand and advise me," Tio Beto tells Miguel. "I may be an old man, but there are still a few things I can teach you." Miguel smiles and nods. "Dude, this blows," his Mole mutters.
Back in Texas, at the U-Store-Your-Drugs-Here, Dr. Benben stumbles to his car, carrying two very heavy-looking suitcases. He shoves them into the trunk of his Ferrari and speeds off, sweating and looking shifty all the way.
So, first, Dr Benben tries to unload the coke on a used-car salesman we'll call Cal Worthington. Cal really doesn't think there's any way he can buy all forty-five kilos. He's just not selling any cars. With that, he walks off to try to strong-arm a customer into "a heck of a deal," leaving Dr. Benben alone with his coke. Maybe you ought to sell the Ferrari, dude.
Next, Dr. Benben hits a dealer at an art gallery. She tells him that she's just leaving for Berlin and she'll be gone three weeks. But she'll take whatever he's got left when she gets back. Dr. Benben sweats profusely and looks particularly put-upon.
Over to the trailer park. Dr. Benben tries to unload his stash on this clearly very stoned slacker-type dude. Stoned drawls that maybe he can take five more kilos. "No, no," Dr Benben corrects him. "Forty-five kilos." And he needs the cash up front. This is clearly more than Stoned's brain can compute. "I don't know, bro. Forty-five pounds is a lot of pot," he says. This is more than Dr. Benben can take. "It's coke, not pot," he yells. Stoner thinks about this. "I gotta take a piss," he announces, and goes inside the trailer. Dr. Benben sits heavily on one of his suitcases and covers his face with his hands.