Getting down to serious business, Jack wants to know if he and Tony will be working together on some new project involving a bus station in Newark. Oy. The only thing I'd want to do with a bus station in Newark is run very, very far away from it. And then maybe throw a hand grenade. It seems Jack is worried because Zellman hasn't contacted him about any new bids, and he wants to Tony to check in with everyone's favorite whipping boy to see what's going on. "Uh, we don't talk much," replies Tony. Heh. You know, at the time, I thought Tony's attack on Boon was a perfect example of him letting his emotions get in the way of running the business, but now it turns out that his little spanking tantrum may have been the only thing that prevented him from making some very incriminating statements during this conversation. Go figure. Tony suggests that Jack relax and take off his hat, but Jack sheepishly answers that he's just started using Rogaine, so he can't. Aw. Now there's a man after my own hairline. I'm so telling people that I'm a snitch from now on whenever they try to get me to take my hat off. Eventually, the topic of conversation shifts to their mothers, with Masserone wishing aloud that his dead mother could have seen the trucking museum, even though he knows "exactly where she is, and it's pretty fucking hot." Hmm. She's in Barbados? Tony, of course, is instantly sympathetic to anyone with Jewi...er, "overbearing" mother issues, and I honestly think that's a big part of why he's initially so reluctant to order a hit on Black Jack later on in the show.
Outside, meanwhile, RICO Suave and hus FBI friend get cruised by a suspicious cop, who also takes a moment to run their license plate. That'll be important later. Then we cut back inside just in time to hear Masserone make a joke comparing the pain of childbirth to a prostate exam. I'm not even going to touch that one. Figuratively or literally. Tony stares at the painting he's been given, and then ends the scene by sighing, "The Rat Pack."
Elsewhere in the rain, Adriana is meeting with Agent Not Mare, who is desperately in need of a new nickname at this point. Post 'em if you got 'em. The Feds are interested in someone named Joey Cogo, whom I don't believe we've ever seen before. I have, however, purchased many a fine tobacco product at one his convenience stores. (That joke is funnier if you live in Pittsburgh, by the way.) Adriana admits to having seen the mysterious Mr. Cogo earlier in the week, and then a different agent hands over an autopsy photo of what we can only assume is this selfsame Joey, beaten to bloody and deformed pulp. Ooh! Now there's a good idea for a spinoff. Adriana also confirms that another unnamed individual (who we don't get to see) was present, and Not Mare's colleague bolts out of the car, runs through the rain, gets into a completely different nondescript late-model American sedan, and speeds away into the night. You know, because the FBI obviously doesn't believe in cell phones. Or walkie-talkies. Or flu prevention. Seriously. What the hell was that all about? Even Adriana is shocked, gasping, "Jesus! Because of what I said?"