Kima's. Cheryl sits on the couch (the same one that got highlighted, not that we can see the mark from this angle), sullenly ignoring Kima and staring at the TV. Kima's got her hair down and is all dressed up in suede on suede, clearly on her way to go "investigate" some Ukrainian peelers. Kima asks Cheryl if she's just going to sit there and pout. By way of answer, Cheryl pouts. Kima: "I know you don't think I'm going down to that club just to look at pussy." Well, not just. "I know you know me better than that." Cheryl slowly turns to glare at Kima, and then rolls her eyes and turns back to the TV show she's clearly enjoying so very much. Kima: "I ain't even looking!" "Everybody's looking," spits Cheryl. "Most of them women are dykes." Do they even have those in eastern Europe? "Cheryl, it's police work," sighs Kima. Cheryl sarcastically asks if that's supposed to make her feel better: "Kima's out on the street doing her detective thing? All that hospital shit. All that rehab. All them promises--" "We talked about this," Kima reminds her. "No, you talked," yells Cheryl. "I didn't get a word in edgewise once you made up your mind." Kima blinks, but doesn't try to deny it, probably because she can't. Finally, with Cheryls accusing eyes on her, she gets up and puts her gun belt on under her jacket. After a moment, Cheryl gets up and, with maximum flap, throws on her dowdy parka. Kima asks what she's doing, and Cheryl says she's going with Kima: "Who knows? I might see a little something I happen to like." Presumably she won't be seeing anything she likes until after Kima's suede suit leaves her field of vision. I think my mom had that get-up in around '88.
I.B.S. hall. Frank's running a meeting. Some baldo in the front row asks, "So all of that's on the table?" Frank says that there's money for the grain pier, and will be a bond issue to pay for "maintenance dredging on the main shipping channel." "But not the canal?" asks some other dude. Frank says no: "For that, we'll have to fight a little longer and dig a little deeper." Nat, in the audience, is dubious, and doesn't think they'll even get what they need for the grain pier. Frank says, "We spent the money and took our best shot. Hired a couple lobbyists, made some smart contributions, paid for a consultant's report to argue against some of the environmental stuff. It cost, but we're starting to see it." A third unidentified dude asks where Frank got all that money from, and Frank cracks that he's been robbing a couple of liquor stores each week. The guys give him a nice laugh on that one. Frank says that they actually got "help from the national office," and "timely donations from a few friends." He claims that they're likely to see the grain pier back up by the next year, which would mean a couple hundred more ships each year. "IF," barks Nat. "And it's a big fucking 'if,'" Frank concedes. Nat: "If that Polack motherfucker--" The white dudes in the room are all, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" "No offense," says Nat quickly, clarifying that the Polack in question is Krawczyk, and that he could still fuck the union by getting his condos built before they can make the port improvements they want. Frank concedes that too: "The back-door threat is that Andy Kraw or some other developer gets enough last-minute votes to sink the rehab money for the grain pier -- 'cause those guys are looking at that location, too." Nat stands as he tells the guys that they need everyone making phone calls, and telling their legislators that the I.B.S. is watching them on this: "The money only goes so far. Now we gotta make some noise, right?" The guys are down with that. Frank ends the meeting and dismisses the guys who'll be working the next day to go to sleep, and the rest to get drunk. As everyone files out, Nat approaches Frank and, with a mix of amusement and dubiety (dubusement?") asks, "'Help from the national office,' huh? 'Timely donations from friends'?" Frank smiles dyspeptically. "Watch your ass, Frank," advises Nat. Oh, Frank doesn't have to watch his ass -- he's got a whole team doing that for him.