If you’ve watched three minutes of anything on The CW in the last month, you know this is the MP episode featuring 90′s vixen Heather Locklear reprising her camp-classic role as villainous blonde Amanda Woodward. Having never seen the original series, I can’t wax nostalgic for her, but at least the character has a little edge and gets to do lots of scenes with break-out star Katie Cassidy, who should do very well as Amanda’s protegee/nemesis.
The bad news? The show’s still pretty tired. Things heat up a little in the last quarter, but we have to trudge through endless minutes of the super-not-exciting murder mystery, which heavily involves two characters played by actors who have already been fired, seriously pushing the whole thing ever further into who-gives-a-shit territory. Come on, people– crafting a deliciously twisted soap should not be this difficult! Bring Leia in for a meeting and she’ll lay it out for you.
Hollywood Blvd newsstand. Smiley & Junoh race through a crowd of tourists to snatch up a magazine. Junoh whips it open to a two-page jeans-ad spread featuring tastefully topless Smiley under the words “Your Ass is 100% Organic”. Which I guess is true but kind of gross. To Smiley’s mortification, Junoh proudly screams out that this is his fiancee. He tells her to “get used to it”– a bus passes by with the same image plastered across the side. Junoh grabs up every available issue and says now his parents will know at least one of them made it in Hollywood. Maybe his mother will be played by Piper Laurie and tell Smiley “I can see your dirtypillows.”
“Hey, look! SIDE-BOOB!”
PR company. Gayleb inspects the ad and purrs to a miffed Cru-Ella that denim designer client Anton V was right: “The schoolteacher’s absolutely gorgeous!” G warns Cru to leave her “issues” at the door of the jeans launch party tonight. Through clenched teeth, she assures him she will do just that.
Cut to spike heels clomping down the corridor.
Gayleb tells Cru that with Anton “in Milan” (meaning they don’t want to pay that guest star again), it’s up to them to make sure Smiley’s Cinderella story gets a big publicity push.
Here come those heels.
Cru says that Smiley’s a big girl and doesn’t require handling.
The heels strut by Terrified Assistant Extras.
G tells Cru the home office in NY has ordered her to promote Smiley at the party.
The heels climb the stairs to G’s office.
Cru snips that G should tell NY that if L.A. wants NY’s opinion, L.A. will ask for it. “Why don’t you tell NY yourself?” a voice snips back. OMG, it’s legendary super-bitch Amanda!!!
Gayleb and Cru freak– Amanda’s not supposed to be here for two weeks! You know how I love surprises, A drawls. From the looks of her, she’s also partial to Botox and tons of granny-enhancing heavy make-up. A casts a derisive glance at Cru’s leather halter top then starts slamming G’s efforts to revamp the L.A. branch with some caustic similes about blood-drenched slaughterhouses and five-dollar hookers.
G defensively insists that he’s been busy establishing lucrative new client relationships, like Anton V’s. A doesn’t understand why they’re spending so many “man-hours” on jeanswear, indicating that she thinks G’s interest in the dashing denim deity is predominantly penile: “You could’ve been a leader, Gayleb. But your focus shifted… from your client’s assets to your client’s ass. You’re fired!” That’s what passes for dishy dialogue when you put the straight dudes from Smallville in charge of nighttime soaps. This show should be entirely scripted by fags and hags! Maybe then the gay boss could have been written as a delicious evil queen, not a boring, sports-obsessed str8 guy, and they wouldn’t need to be shoving Heather Locklear up our collective cornhole. Anyway, adios handsome Victor Webster (Gayleb), who I saw eating at my fave Hollywood diner, Swingers, a couple weeks ago. On Saturday and Sunday, the Special, stuffed French toast, is better than sex with Bobby Cannavale. Which, I frequently imagine, would be very, very good. MAIN TITLE.
MP courtyard. Dr Whoren is doing sexy morning stretches when Bad Pitt emerges from his apartment to engage her in small talk. The short version is W’s from Cincinnati and likes fall, football and chili. Even the chicks are str8 guys! Except for wimp-tastic BP, of course, who tries to tempt W with tickets to the L.A. Philharmonic. Please– the Jonas Brothers would be more like it. W is understandably dubious about Himbo’s interest in classical music, but he admits Cru-Ella told him W has “a thing for Russian composers”. Well, they don’t call them high-class escorts for nothing. She tells BP that this sounds “dangerously like a date” and she has “a lot going on right now”, meaning all three orifices are pre-booked. Their phones both bleep with a text from disturbed neighbor Ashlee Simpson– troubled sous-chef Angrie has been written off the show arrested for Sydney‘s murder and is being held downtown. BP rushes off.
“Ask my lawyer to smuggle in some Origins facial scrub up his ass.”
Jail. BP speaks with Angrie through visitor’s glass. How the hell did the cops find Angrie’s blood on that butcher knife, BP demands. Angrie hisses that he didn’t kill Syd– after BP passed out that fateful night, A found her coked-up and drunk, and when A tried to stop her from doing more drugs, she attacked him with the knife. Because of A’s “record” of violence (he stabbed a guy while trying to protect his ex-GF), A lied to the police and now he’s in deep shit. BP says he never thought A killed Syd– BP woke up bloody in his undies with that very same knife! A says BP was “out cold” and couldn’t have done it, either. Obviously, someone’s trying to frame BP but now A’s “going down for it”.
BP suspects creepy cardiologist Dr Michael Mancini, if anyone’s capable of offing the slut, it’s Dad. But why would he try to frame his own slow-witted son? BP says Dad hated him for banging Syd. BP says he’s paying A’s bail, then he’ll go to Dad’s mansion and find “whatever piece of evidence I can to link him to Syd’s death!”
PR company. Cru-Ella apprehensively approaches Gayleb’s office. Amanda and her insanely plunging neckline want to speak to Cru, who starts laying it on thick about how Amanda’s her heroine and career inspiration. A says despite Cru’s “absentee father and pill-popping mother”, A isn’t interested in Cru’s bio, she wants to talk about the jeans party. Cru quickly assures her that Cru’s been on top of the Anton V situation since Day One, but A cuts her off, chiding Cru for not stopping Anton from risking his entire line on a neophyte schoolmarm spokesmodel. Cru says she warned Gayleb that hiring Smiley was a mistake. “You must have been terribly unconvincing,” A snaps.
“You never even heard of Dynasty? How fucking young ARE you?”
Take it from a top ex-ad exec, Smiley is a super-lame choice. Anton’s “rags to riches” campaign is wasted on a girl who’s “had everything handed to her on a silver platter.” A shows Cru a print-out of what Smiley’s supposed to say to the press tonight. Cru says none of this is true. A tells Cru to do it or get fired, too. No problem, Cru chirps, scurrying away, disturbed.
Junoh & Smiley’s apt. Cru arrives, scolding Junoh for not answering her voicemails. J must be terribly busy working on his screenplay– when can Cru read it? Probably never, J pouts. Super-Producer Andrew Misher got a new VP gig at Universal and now the featurization of J’s prize-winning short is in “development hell”. Smiley appears, annoyed at the phony bio Cru emailed her. J asks what’s up, and S reads what Amanda cooked up: S was raised by a single, poverty-stricken mom in Boston‘s gang-infested Roxbury hood before coming to L.A. to teach, where Anton discovered her “on a playground”. J informs Cru and us that S’s from ritzy Beacon Hill, where her dad’s a hotshot lawyer and mom’s a newspaper editor. Cru knows all this but “the masses” won’t be able to relate to S’s real story.
S whines that she’s not a PR company “stereotype” and that she’ll skip the launch if she has to lie. Cru lays it on the line– Gayleb’s been canned and she’s next if Amanda doesn’t get her way. When S asks why Cru wants to work for such a mega-cunt, Cru says “work is all I have”– unlike S, she doesn’t come home to “a hug from Junoh” and congratulatory phone calls from her parents. And Cru isn’t just thinking about herself– if S doesn’t contractually fulfill “all publicity obligations” S doesn’t get the 10K. Cru hands S some outfit choices and promises to check back later. Buh-bye. Cru exits as J suggests they blow off the jeans salary and take S’s parents up on “that early wedding present”.
“Yeah, well you don’t have to do scenes with her. How many times is she gonna tell me she got arrested by the same cop Mel Gibson called a Jew? BOH-RING!”
S says no, her mom would love S admitting S can’t make it on her own. J has compromised his integrity by making tons of horrid wedding videos, so now it’s my turn, S tells him. It won’t hurt to “stretch the truth” just once, will it? I think we know the answer to that, Gasmii.
Dad’s mansion. Bad Pitt zooms up in his Porsche and walks toward the back door only to be intercepted by Dad’s Tranny Wife Vanessa, who wants to know what the hell BP’s doing here. Is BP surprised she’s not at yoga? I’m surprised she’s not lip-synching to Lady Gaga at a gay bar in Tampa. BP covers by claiming he’s here to see Dad, but Tranessa says Dad’s in Rome at a doctor convention (meaning they couldn’t afford both Heather AND Thomas Calabro in the same episode)– if BP comes within 500 feet of his half-brother, recently injured brat Noah, T will have BP arrested! T got a restraining order after BP’s unauthorized playdate with the little tard resulted in a trip to the ER. BP tells her to wake up– Dad’s a killer! His motive? To silence fuck-bud Syd before the red-headed hussy spilled to the beans to Tranny-Pie.
T insists Dad “would never do something like that to his family”, but BP says they’re talking about an “egomaniac” who’d do anything to save his own skin– when Syd threatened to expose him as an adulterer and a mal-practitioner, Dad quickly got rid of her. If T wants to be “a good mother to Noah”, she’ll Amber Alert his ass right out of town. And learn how to tuck her she-nis up between her buns to avoid embarrassment at PTA functions. “Get off my property,” T spits.
Ext. office plaza. Cru-Ella runs into Gayleb and asks if he’s okay… his bolt from the premises was the talk of the PR company. Gayleb’s not okay and wracking his butch brain for Amanda’s motive– the L.A. branch has good numbers, so why would she fly across the country to “slap us on the wrist”? Cru dismisses it as A’s whim to spend some quality tanning time in SoCal, but G thinks something sinister’s up: A has been collecting a dossier on Cru– phone logs, lunch dates, client list. Cru scoffs that A couldn’t have any real interest in Cru, who was a lowly assistant less than a year ago. G advises Cru to leave the firm, which Cru finds rather suspicious, coming from selfish G.
“You left some Quicktime bareback videos on your desktop. Should I email them?”
G FINALLY acts a little fruity, squealing “That woman will get inside your head and make you do things that you never dreamed that you would do!” Cru tells G that aspiring to be like A is basically Cru’s reason for living. Later, Mary. As Cru stomps off, G warns her “It’s your ass”, a set-up which Cru sadly neglects to punch. In keeping with the spirit of the show’s dialogue, I’d suggest: “And you know a lot about asses, since yours has had more married men in it than an Ashley Madison chatroom!”
MP CY. Junoh mixes cocktails at the poolside bar while Whoren, Smiley & Cru congregate in various hot outfits nearby. S says there’s no way she’s going to the jeans party sober, and Cru seconds that. S says she’s memorized her phony bio as J serves his famous mojitos. Angrie enters from jail to a not-so-warm welcome. A says Bad Pitt posted bail and asks what he’s missed. J snarkily mentions the police raid– A had no idea the cops were after him? A is miffed everyone thinks he could have killed Syd, which he so didn’t, FYI. Et tu, Smiley? S stares awkwardly into her voluptuous bosom, and Cru and W quickly excuse themselves to prep for the party. J hustles S out, too. She tosses A a tortured, bikini-clad glance, leaving him alone as a gloomy emo-rock tune begins.
Angrie’s apt. Ashlee Simpson finds Angrie cleaning up his raided place. A is disgusted all the Place-Holders but BP seem to think he’s guilty. AS says she knows he’s innocent. A warns her that the gang will ostracize her for supporting him. If those people actually believe A could have hacked Syd up with professional-quality cutlery, they’re all big meanies and who needs’em? But if A doesn’t want her hanging around, she gets it. After all, A did high-tail it to Mexico right after porking her. A assures the creepily skinny lass that he left the country because he was “pissed at myself for blowing things” with asshole chef-lebrity ex-boss Roccello, not because A felt dirty and wrong about their night of penetration.
“You sent The CW 20,000 letters demanding you stay on the show? Maybe I’ll try that.”
“Definitely! But learn from my mistake… don’t use your real email address!”
AS mopes that she’s “not like the girls in L.A.” (which is funny because she’s anorexic and boffing a rock star)– she “expected a phone call or something”. Needy much? Excuse the guy for not taking time from his leisurely schedule of fleeing the police to tell you you’re special! A trots out the tired “things got pretty intense pretty fast/let’s just be friends” line of crap, as AS twitchily covers, claiming that’s totally cool. AS exits, her face a frozen mask of thespian ineptitude.
Coal. It’s the big jeans party, which, like every other important event in town, takes place at this top four-star eatery and nightspot. Huge blow-ups of tastefully topless Smiley are everywhere and non-topless denim models pose on boxes. Smiley & Junoh (in dork-chic plaid jacket and bowtie– Dios Mio) enter and are immediately intercepted by Cru-Ella, who reminds S that “Anton V changed your life!” Cru announces the Schoolmarm Super-Model with a yell to the assembled press, then throws S onto the blue carpet (jeans, get it?) as Amanda oversees.
Cru comforts J by telling him soon it’ll be his turn in front of the photographers when he becomes a top director. Reporters shout questions about gang violence and feeling like a princess and S stands stupefied and open-mouthed, prompting A to prompt Cru to rush over and start handling S. Cru drags S away and reminds her “one wrong sound-bite and you can kiss that 10K goodbye!” I think S needs an agent, like now.
“Don’t panic, but I overheard Heather pitching that you get run over by that bus with your picture on it.”
Dad’s mansion/Angrie’s apt. Bad Pitt lopes through the dark, OTT backyard, on the phone, saying he’s about to go through Dad’s desk and files. Angrie tells BP that evidence of Dad’s Syd-tryst will be somewhere Tranessa would never look. BP spots Dad’s silver Mercedes with the midlife-crisis Back to the Future doors and says he’ll call back. BP pops open the car and starts snooping as gay club beats pound the soundtrack. Suddenly BP ducks down– T’s Range Rover is coming up the driveway! BP hides until T goes into the house, then checks a secret compartment, which contains a blood-stained chunky gold necklace neatly encased in plastic! Thank God Dad’s such a busy top heart surgeon he had no time to drop this outrageously incriminating piece into a safe-deposit box or the bottom of the ocean! FLASHBACK:
Syd’s apt. BP walks in and sees Sydney wearing the very same necklace! OMFG LMAO XOXO!
Coal. The party “rages” on. Smiley finds Cru and asks how long she has to stay– until the bitter end, and BTW, you’re doing super, Cru shmoozes. S whines that she’s worried what’ll happen when her class of inner city tots finds out “the person who teaches them to tell the truth is a total liar?!” Personally I think that if these tykes are actually interested enough to read a spokesmodel’s bio, she’s done her job. But what do I know– I’m a recap artist, not Oprah Winfrey. Cru pooh-poohs S and sends her off to discuss the constantly mentioned $10K. Smart, sassy Katie Cassidy (Cru) is pretty much singlehandedly keeping this pathetic Sweeps ep afloat– do the rest of you find her as entertaining as I do?
“Do people cum on your back in regular modeling? Just curious…”
Poor Cru just manages to get Smiley out of her wig when Amanda appears to bestow begrudging kudos for Smiley’s smashing debut. Cru admits S has the sob-story party-line drilled into S’s roomy little head. “Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought,” A beams, to Cru’s utter delight. Suddenly Cru looks nauseated and I’m not sure why, since the next shot is Whoren entering in a black dress. W runs up to S for girly-hugs and says she’s proud of S, but S has to buzz-kill it by dismissing the night as “one big superficial fantasy”. Seriously, how has S not been stabbed repeatedly and tossed into the pool yet?!
W wonders where Bad Pitt is. S says he just texted– something suddenly came up. S thinks he’s out hitting on some broad, which makes W look a little sick. S catches this and asks what’s up with W and BP. W tries to deflect, but S says W is “blushing”. BP is my “polar opposite”, W stammers. S thinks W got all dolled up for him, and W admits to “a tiny crush”. But there’s no future because W is such a busy young intern. S warns her not to let her “soulmate” pass her by. W doesn’t respond, waving to Cru at the bar.
Cru orders water for S and a vodka soda for herself. Make that two vodkas, drawls a thirtysomething Liz Hurley/Jackie Collins tart. Cru notices the woman’s trendy purse. A gift from an ex-BF who chucked it at her “on the way out the door”, explains Cru’s new pal. It looks like Cru’s bisexuality might be acting up again for Sweeps as the two check each other out. But maybe it’s just that Cru recognizes her as Melissa Sachs, sharky A-list talent agent. “I guess we have a lot in common,” Lez Hurley purrs. She knows who Cru is and thinks Cru’s “far too talented” to be wasting time as a junior publicist. Cru scoffs at the idea of starting over in an agency mailroom, but Lez thinks Cru is more suited to “a corner office”. I’m not an agent, Cru says, flattered.
I guess Dawn French wasn’t available.
Why not? You have an eye for talent and are probably “dangerously persuasive”, Lez drools. Let’s find a dark corner and discuss Cru’s career! Amanda shoots Cru an approving look from across the room. Cru smiles back, then makes a zip-it motion to Smiley, who’s chatting with an extra nearby. Lez leads Cru to a wall and they start making out!
Some fairly graphic sapphic kissing happens, broken when a panting Lez tells Cru the agency’s looking for someone with Cru’s “claws”– dump the PR gig and climb aboard! More making out, then Cru says she needs to go babysit Smiley. “So quit”, Lez cheekily suggests, inviting Cru to come away with her. Cru says she appreciates the offer, but her cold little heart belongs to the PR company. Amanda’s lucky to have you, Lez sighs. Cru agrees.
Whoren & Cru’s apt. W returns home and is dazzled to find Bad Pitt has set up a candle-lit autumnal dinner for her. She misses fall, remember? And unpaid sex, probably. Oh, and “Skyline chili”, which BP had flown in. But wait a minute– did BP break in, W asks. He just smirks and pulls a cord, releasing some leaves from the ceiling. W says she can wait till after dinner to have BP “arrested”. They start making out. BP’ s shirt gets tossed, W loses her dress, slow, sensual kisses are administered. BP mounts her on the couch.
“Do you happen to know the incubation period for herpes?”
But W freaks out and pushes him off her, apologizing. No problem, BP says, they can wait. W says this can’t be how his usual dates end. BP tells her he’s never dated anyone like W.
Coal. Smiley approaches Junoh at the bar and starts kissing him. She says she’s doing okay but is all shmoozed out. Disgusted, Cru watches them canoodling. The Black Lady Journalist who asked about gangs earlier comes up and says she’s writing a Vogue piece about Anton’s “real people” campaign. Cru eyes them a short distance away as BLJ asks what it’s like “going from hand-me-downs” to being a top jeans model. (BTW, ANTM junkies, dyslexic Dixie darlin Laura was robbed! I mean, Nicole‘s okay, but seriously. If you have the interweb in Kentucky, Laura, take solace in the fact winning that hilarious competition is pretty much a guarantee you WON’T become a top model.) Smiley says “a little adversity” can’t stand in the way of a gal’s dreams.
A little?! BLJ squawks. Didn’t S and her single mom live in their car for a while? S’s underprivileged students must really look up to her! S gets queasy at the mention of the plucky tykes, then declares that “I can’t do this anymore”– S says she’s no role model and starts to drag Junoh toward the door. BLJ is confused– what on earth can S mean? S pauses, ready to spill. Cru notices and comes barreling over as J supportively tells S to do what she has to do. No no no, Cru shrieks, but S launches in with the scoop: Anton V gave her “a fake biography and I went along with it”. Smiley! Cru bleats, pushing through the crowd. Amanda turns her eyes to S, smile curdling.
“And Mariah Carey was never my social worker, either!”
S says she’s not from the streets, has never heard a gunshot, and turned down Harvard Law School tuition from her esteemed, very present dad. The only “real thing” here– S is “a teacher who loves her job”. Amanda reacts, mad. Cru watches all her carefully spun bullshit go up in flames.
Ext., Hollywood Blvd. Smiley & Junoh jump into a waiting limo. Cru clatters up to the car just as it takes off. Fuck, Amanda’s gonna “skin me alive”, Cru says to no one. Not good enough, Amanda snips from behind her. Black Lady Journalist is going to write a Vogue article entitled “Real Jeans for Fake People”. Cru swears that Smiley promised to keep her yap shut, but Amanda cuts her off– your friend screwed you. See me at 1:00 tomorrow at East. Cru slinks off, devastated as Lez Hurley appears. Not only are she and Amanda chums, A set up the dykey distraction! Which, Lez says, didn’t work. Cru is 100% loyal to Amanda. “I guess now we’re even,” Lez tells A. Hmmmm.
MP CY. Angrie enjoys a moonlight swim as Smiley & Junoh return home. S says J should’ve shut her up– now they’re out 10 grand. J shrugs it off– he’s still super-proud of the busty tard. This touching moment is thankfully interrupted when Angrie climbs out of the pool, dripping wet and fucking cut. He asks to speak to S alone. Forget it, J pouts. S agrees– whatever A needs to say, J can hear.
“The only thing I killed is today’s pec work-out!”
Angrie says the cops told him “they got an anonymous tip I was in Mexico” and S was the only person who knew where A was staying. Hiding’s more like it, J whines. S gets all defensive and tells A the police had the murder weapon– what was she supposed to do, lie? How about trust me, A says, hurt. The federales dragged him out of his room [completely naked] and threw him into “a six foot cell” [where he was ravished six ways to Sabado Gigante by five vicious uncircumcised thugs]. A does have a “criminal history”, J pissily points out, looking hot but ridiculous in that vomitrocious vintage. No one’s talkin to you, A barks.
J tries to drag S away but A demands she look A in the eye and tell him she thinks A killed Syd. A moves closer, imploring her, but J puts a hand on A’s wet, buff chest– “Back off!” The kute kouple exit as A boils with hard-nippled rage, casting a glance at the fully stocked bar. Soon-to-be-ex-Recovering Alky A snatches up the tequila and stomps off to tie one on.
Angrie’s apt. Still topless, Angrie stares down the booze bottle, tormented. Ashlee Simpson enters and is horrified to see A teetering on the brink of relapse. You don’t need that, she says. You don’t know what I need, A snaps. Now please leave. AS can’t believe A would throw away all “your progress” for a shot of Cuervo. Soon A will be in prison, he says, so who cares. He’s “a drunk with a record” and he can’t convince his own pals he’s not a homicidal slasher. Who cares what they think, AS whines. A does, that’s who! He picks up the bottle and starts to pour. “You don’t need that… you need someone who believes in you,” AS declares, quickly whipping off her shirt and aggressively thrusting her scrawny B-cups at the troubled hunk.
Tonight’s cooking lesson: How To Bone A Cheap Piece of Meat!
A goes for the slightly less shameful option and yanks down her skirt, mounting her on the kitchen island. The tequila bottle shatters on the floor.
East, next day. Cru-Ella shows up for lunch with Amanda, except Amanda’s meeting someone else in ten minutes, so “don’t get comfortable”. “What’s your end game?” A bluntly asks Cru. I want to be you, Cru correctly replies. Amanda sniffs that’s a tall order for a gal who couldn’t even effectively babysit Smiley last night. Cru cops to it, but insists she’s a great publicist– No, Amanda cuts in. “You’re a DECENT publicist who hasn’t learned to disengage your emotions.” A wants Cru to “prove” Cru wants to keep her job. Cru insists that “this job is my life!”
Amanda drily reflects on how Smiley’s school would feel about her using sick days to pose topless on a beach. Cru says S’s punishment is not getting the 10K, which as an ex-teen model, I can assure you is totally batshit retarded. Cru doesn’t understand why a novice jeans model is so important to Amanda and the company; A says S isn’t important to them, but she’s important to Cru. Cru needs to learn that the job supersedes all things, including friendships. A wants Cru to call the school and rat out S! Cru tells her no way and walks out. Awww. But also a little retarded, since no way is some ghetto school getting rid of a teacher that hot.
“No, I hate Denise Richards more!”
Junoh & Smiley’s apt. Junoh peruses one of their 36 copies of Diva magazine. Smiley approaches and says she wants to burn all the mags. J comforts her– she made the right choice. Seriously, do the people plotting this know there’s a recession on?! For 10K I would hold a press conference and admit to rimming Pauly Shore. The phone rings and it’s Principal Fleming, obviously a straight woman, since Smiley is fired! Not for the cheesecake pix, for using sick days to work another job. S starts to lose her shit as J remains annoyingly calm and conciliatory.
Smiley reminds him that they’re totally broke and now both unemployed. Where was this foresight last night when she was being such a tool?! J says he’ll take his uncle up on the offer to work as a bookkeeper at his office supply store. But that’s 12 hours a day including weekends, S frets… when will J write?! S got fired, she should be the one to take a horrible job. J says S made sacrifices in pursuit of that 10K, now it’s J’s turn. Everything will be just fine. Reveal Cru-Ella listening outside their window, whorified. Amanda must’ve done this!
Bad Pitt appears and asks if Cru’s okay. She brushes him off by changing the subject to his fall fest which left Cru’s apartment covered in leaves. How wonderfully romantic, Cru says sweetly. She never knew BP was so cute. BTW, BP says, Cru will have to do “pro bono spin-work” to save Angrie’s reputation. Cru scoffs that A has BP “wrapped around his murderous little finger”. A’s innocent, Dad killed Syd, BP blurts, explaining that he found Syd’s necklace in Dad’s car.
“You gotta stop talkin about that goddamn murder mystery or I’m gonna drop dead.”
Cru wonders why a “genius heart surgeon” would leave evidence lying around. BP doesn’t know, but Dad is cunning and evil and plotting to ruin BP’s life.
Syd’s apt. Amanda walks through the deserted space to Syd’s empty closet. Hitting a secret panel, A reveals a safe and punches in the combination. Inside is a note from Syd: “To Amanda, You’ll never find it!” If she’s talking about a comeback on this tepid time-waster, the dead bitch is absolutely right.