Lights up on a motel room that looks cheap, but still cool as hell. Jimmy is flipping through the static on the TV, and Frohike is packing. He hates Miami. He's leaving. No, he's not. Yes, he is. He compresses a travel pillow and it makes a farting noise. Langly, in a Dead Kennedys t-shirt (punk points through the roof) says he almost died, and Frohike is like, "Whose fault is that, Aqua Man?" Heh. Jimmy wonders whether this was their fault for having bad intentions and wanting to nail Yves (pardon the expression) going into the scheme. How do you spell that whipping noise? Whch-chah? Wht-cht? ["I usually spell it 'whhhht-tsssh!'" -- Wing Chun] Then, Yves bursts through the door and starts huffing and puffing. She is so mad at them! Again! Byers said that they wanted to expose her "smuggler," and maybe get some reward money. Frohike adds that they're "journalists first." Yves unzips her black rubber catsuit some more, peels a wad of bills from her chest, and flings it at Frohike: "Take it and get out of Miami." She never wants to see any of them. Ever. Again. Fine with me. Frohike counts the wad, finds "over $500," and pronounces a stop at "the Red Lobster" on the way home. Wow, does Frohike know how to live or what? The answer is "what." I know. Langly is like, no way! Why would Yves throw money at them if the deal is off? "The only thing here that's blown is us, and not in a good way." Hee! Byers figures out that the smuggler had "the goods on him, and is still out there, ready to deal." They're staying. Frohike, and the seafood lover in him, aren't happy.
Lights up on a big, beautiful, Spanish-style mansion. A Spanish guitar plays madly, desperately. Inside, standing in an atrium-cum-swimming pool, Spanish goons fight over what happened on the wharf the night before. Langly is a "blonde woman with long flowing hair," whose scream still rings in the ear of the goons. And the one goon has "a twin brother." They are all confused. But speaking in English, which is helpful. They pay off the boat-goon, and ask, "Do you have eet?" He does: a CD of Tango de Lamour. The head goon pops it in, dismisses the boat goon, and proceeds to get his tango on. The other goon is like, "Someone knows our plans," and splits.
The music continues as we land in a dance class, where people are dancing the...guess what? Right. Tango. The head goon and his lady are doing okay, to my layman's eye, when the lady stops and is all, "No, no, no! More sweep! It isn't good!" The dance instructor expositionally says, no, it is good, this will take you to you second championship. Then Yves strolls into the studio, makes major eye contact with the head goon, and, you know, does that thing with her womanly ways. Sigh.