We head over to the prison. I have a feeling that this really isn't going to end well. Chato leans against the bars of his cell and looks depressed, as Lazareno skips over to him, whistling. "You had your fun. Now open the cell," Chato says. "No, my fun comes later," Lazareno tells him. Oh, I told you this wasn't going to go well. "How long do you think you can keep me in here, Lazareno?" Chato asks, rather mildly considering the situation. Lazareno shrugs. "You're being charged with murder. You will be locked up for a very long time," he chirps. "Murder? Who did I kill?" Chato asks. "We'll find somebody," Lazareno chuckles, and starts to walk away. "You drink too much," Chato calls after him. "It's no good." Lazareno turns back and cocks a brow. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he says, and strolls away. Chato looks vaguely perturbed by this turn of events. Dude, you so don't want to end up in a Mexican jail on the outs with the chief of police. About ten years ago, two of my cousins got in a horrible car accident in Mexico (they were run off the road). One of them went to the hospital, and the other went to jail. And my uncle had to go down there and rescue him and it cost him something like $10,000 to spring him. What I took from that experience is: don't get thrown into jail in Mexico. Anyway.
Our Lady of Aaron Spelling. Still kitted out in his altar boy ensemble, Joey looks around, snags the communion wine, and takes a big swig. Sadly for Joey, a priest walks in and catches with his nose in the sauce. Whoops! This so isn't the first time that's ever happened.
Lazareno's office. Miguel informs Lazareno that, whatever he's trying to accomplish, he's going about it very poorly. Lazareno lights a cigarette. "Your name came up yesterday in a conversation with a newspaper publisher," he says. "This newspaper publisher believes that you are the most powerful man in Ciudad Juarez." Miguel says nothing. "Not the mayor. Not the chief of police. You." Miguel just watches Lazareno smoke his skinny little cigarette, before saying that he's "just a businessman." They stare at each other for a moment. "But I will do whatever it takes to get what I want," Miguel adds, calmly. "Release my brother. I want to walk out of here with him right now." Lazareno takes a giant, unprofessional swing from his ever-present flask. "No," he says, leaning in to make his point. "Do you want to know what power is, Miguel? Strike against me. Go to war with me. I'm gonna show you what power is." Miguel barely manages not to roll his eyes. Instead he stands up, sighs, and lights a truly massive cigar. "Ha, ha! Look how big my cigar is! Especially compared to your tiny little cigarette!" his Mole chirps. "Do you get the symbolism? Do you? Do you get it?" Miguel says nothing, but simply smiles and leaves. Lazareno looks at his own emasculated smoking implement and stubs it out with a sigh.