Morning comes to Charming, and Gemma is sitting alone at her table, feigning an interest in a plate full of breakfast. And at this point in the season, honestly, you sort of have to wonder why anyone in Charming even bothers to get out of bed. Nevertheless, the fact that Gemma had the routine of making a full breakfast -- and that she continues to stick to the ritual even as the person she did it for is busy sulking in his tent like Achilles -- is a nice little window into the unconscious behaviors that underpin the queen of scheming.
Or maybe the set decorator got bored. Who knows? The upshot is that Opie pounds on Gemma's door, and before she answers it, she discreetly pulls her ladygun out of her bag. When Opie says, "It's Ope," Gemma puts back the gun and opens the door.
Opie is taken aback by Gemma's face, although not nearly so floridly as Jax or so deeply as Tig. Gemma reads his reaction and seems genuinely embarrassed by this vivid reminder that she's just an old lady. Opie comes inside and studies Gemma's face intently; he's confirming what Unser told him and it's rattling his world view vis a vis the club and everything it's based on. Gemma, however, believes Opie's merely shocked because he's got an XY chromosome set and a Charming zip code and should therefore regard her as the inviolate queen of San Joaquin. Anyway, Opie keeps his visit short and to the point: "I want to know why [he hurt you]." Gemma vaguely says, "Heat with the club. When that hits a point same time as family shit, that's just a bad combination." Opie would like to know more about this family shit, but Gemma shuts him down by claiming it all points to past history. And you know, technically, she's correct: It all boils down to that pot she stirred over JT's old letters.
Opie is terribly still as he asks, "So what happens now? You and Clay?" Gemma defensively says, "I do what I always do. I take care of my family." Opie gives Gemma another look, perhaps figuring out where she stands on his scales of guilty v. innocent, and leaves without another word. Gemma sits back at her table, rattled. Who can blame her? Even when he's not smoldering with murderous rage, Opie's an intimidating cat.
In front of the gun barn at the Coke-K Corral. Clay is leaning against his bike. Tig is to his left, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else, up to and including lingerie shopping with Margeaux-with-an-X. Anyhoodle, the Irish Kings pull up and there is much manly greeting, and then Jax finally rolls in. Clay is busy assuring a skeptical Gaalan and Rourke that this whole deal with the cartel is under control, really it is, when Jax bustles over to apologize for being late. Gaalan says snottily, "Guess you had more pressing business?" and Jax replies, "The mother of my son in the hospital." Brogan smilingly apologizes for Tara's misfortune. We cut to Clay, who is fuming over how people totally can't let go a botched hit job. Gaalan is quick on his feet, though, and points out that "unfortunate events such as yours -- this is why this cartel deal worries us." Everyone studiously avoids looking at Clay, which is too bad because I would love to see the expression on his face.