With the Paulie dilemma now most foremost on his mind, Vincent arrives home. His mother approaches him with a serious hug.
“This is a nightmare, honey.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Ma,” Vincent sighs. He’s about to say more but thinks better of it. He needs to confer with Paulie. So much fucking deception. He hates being in the middle and having all this knowledge swirling in his head. But Paulie is his brother, and he cannot fucking avoid it. He has to find a solution somehow. First, he needs to call Paulie, but not from home.
He gives Valerie a ring, tells her he’ll be over shortly. When he arrives, Valerie welcomes Vincent with a warm embrace, but she senses his tension.
“I need to make a call, sweetheart. Can I have a little privacy, please?” he says. “I really need to have this conversation in absolute private.”
Valerie sees the sincere look on Vincent’s face, so she retreats to her bedroom, shuts the door, and turns on the TV.
“Paulie,” he says, once he gets him on the phone. He’s careful not to say too much. Valerie might be listening. “Is there any way you can fight this transfer?”
“I don’t know, maybe. But why should I?”
“There is a lot going on here, and you’re better off not being anywhere near it, Paulie. Trust me.”
“Vincent, like it or not, I am an FBI agent and I follow their orders, not yours.”
“Just try to fight the fucking transfer, Paulie!” Vincent screams into the receiver.
“Have you gone over to the dark side completely?” Paulie responds, incensed. “Do you know what you are asking of me? I’m surprised. And I’m honestly fucking disappointed, too. All the jokes aside, Vincent, I always thought you’d back me up. You know what? Now I know where you stand. Fuck you.” He hangs up.
Vincent slams the receiver down.
Yeah Paulie, my brother, you think you know where I stand, but you have no fucking idea. Deep in shit is where I stand. I wish you could stand here with me. But you can’t. You don’t know what it’s about to be—an FBI son against Outfit father. And it breaks my fucking heart.
Vincent leans back in the chair and moans so loudly that Valerie peeks out of the door. She sees him holding his head rocking back and forth.
“Vincent, what’s wrong?”
Vincent stops rocking and looks up at Valerie.
“Something I have dreaded all my life just came to pass, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it.”
She walks over and kneels before him. Her hands go to his fly.
“Not now,” he says. “Jesus.”