Gus slides the day's paper across the bar. "Detective's homicide linked to drug slaying," says the headline under the fold. Accompanying the article is a very nice picture of Billy, which is probably one of the actor's headshots. Damon skims the paper with growing worry. "This is bullshit!" He thinks Skelos must be setting him up somehow. "Still business as usual, boss man?" snarks Steven. Maya tells Gus and Steven to lay low for a while so that the writers don't have to come up with any other lines for them. Maya and Damon to Nick, who's been sitting at the other end of the bar, staring into space. Maya pours him a mug of whiskey as Damon shows him the paper. It's notable that they turn to Nick now, and not to other, older members of their crew. Perhaps they want his advice, seeing as he seems smarter than other, older members of their crew. But Nick forgoes the mug and takes the whole bottle with him without saying a word.
Frank meets with a cute young guy outside what must be a federal building, judging by its slickly imposing exterior. "What's up, Cable?" he asks, handing the guy one of two cups of coffee. "It's that French vanilla crap you like so much." Remember this for later: Frank knows this guy's favorite kind of coffee. "You only bring me coffee when you're not sporting a warrant," Cable says. "I need some information on a URL," Frank says, handing him a little slip of paper. Cable presses him for more info, but Frank remains mum. This leads Cable to assume it has something to do with McCann's death, and Frank doesn't correct him. In payment, he forks over two tickets to some sporting event.
Oh, hell. It's time to catch up with Joe Geddes and his sullen teenaged daughter, April. The two meet with a Father Rayburn in order to get April admitted into Catholic school. Father Rayburn is reluctant because April is not a very good student nor is she particularly good at sports. Plus, she may be the devil. "I confess I have done wrong by this girl," Joe says. "But she is a better person than me, and if I can come here, then she should be able to come here." Something flickers across April's face that is half a degree less than seething hatred. Apparently, she's touched by her father's impassioned speech. Father Rayburn is touched, as well and starts to talk about the tuition. "There are payment plans," he says. But Joe, having already looked up the prices online, forks over a check for the whole semester. Who needs payment plans when you have dirty money? "Whoa," say April, Father Rayburn and Jesus.