Tony snaps that he's in the waste-management business, so "everyone assumes you're mobbed up. It's a stereotype, and it's offensive! And you're the last person I would want to perpetuate it." "Fine," Meadow shrugs coldly, looking out the window again. Tony shoots a nervous glance at her before grunting, "There is no Mafia." Meadow turns back to him. Tony checks to see if she's buying it; Meadow, fixing him with a level but almost indulgent stare, isn't. Tony rolls his eyes and tries not to smile and tells her, "All right, look. Mead, you're a grown woman. Almost. Some of my money...comes from illegal gambling and, and whatnot." Meadow does the "tell me something I don't know" eye-roll and tries not to laugh at her father. Tony asks, "How does that make you feel?" Heh. Meadow shrugs and says mildly that "at least you don't keep denying it like Mom." She adds that "kids in school think it's actually kinda neat." Tony asks dryly if that's because they've seen The Godfather, and Meadow says they like Casino better -- "Sharon Stone, seventies clothes, pills" -- but Tony interrupts, "I'm not askin' about those bums, I'm askin' about you." Meadow thinks for a moment, then confesses that sometimes she wishes that Tony "were like other dads," but advertising executives and lawyers -- she rolls her eyes yet again and snorts, "So many dads are fulla shit." "And I'm not," Tony mutters sarcastically. Meadow tells him sweetly, "You finally told the truth about this," and Tony smiles ruefully, and she smiles back. Tony can't let it go, though, trying to convince her that "part of my income comes from legitimate businesses," but Meadow cuts him off: "Look, Dad -- please, okay? Don't start mealy-mouthing." She turns the radio back on.
At a payphone, Tony says into the receiver, "How's my sweetheart?" Oh goody -- looks like Muscovite mistress fun times ahead. On the other end of the line, Irina Bimbetova paces back and forth on the cordless, wearing a falling-off filmy shirt over a too-small black bra, and bitches that her cousin Svetlana (otherwise known, Tony inadvertently informs us, as "the amputee") only came to the States a couple of months ago and she's already getting married. Tony snarls, "Hey, you knew the deal -- I got two kids, high-school age," and they've already talked about this. "Yes, and a wife whenever you want. What do I have in my life?" Irina wails. "Boy, am I glad I called," Tony grumbles. "Fuck you, then. Hang up!" Tony changes the subject to the whirlpool jets he had installed in her bathroom, and she grumps, "Don't throw up in my face things you buy me, okay?" and tells some story about Svetlana's prosthetic leg falling off in a Gap store and her fiancé carrying her out "like knight in white satin armor." Tony makes a "whuh?" face and says, "I gotta go, my daughter's coming," and hangs up. Irina hurls the cordless down and pouts. "Jesus," Tony mutters, putting in another quarter and peering out of the phone booth at Meadow getting hit on by a guy in a blue button-down before saying into the phone, "Yeah, how you feeling?" Cut to a stuffy-headed Carmela in bed under an assortment of afghans: "Better actually, the fever just broke. I miss you two -- how's [sic] the interviews going?" "Good, real good," Tony says absently, staring now at a black SUV at the gas pump. Carmela asks if Meadow liked Bates, "'cause anything to get her off of this Berkeley kick." Tony doesn't answer, mumbling to himself, "What the fuck?" as the owner of the SUV gets out of the car. "Tony?" Carmela prompts, and Tony says he'll call her back from the motel and hangs up, and Carmela makes an "uch" noise and hangs up too.