Ah, Las Vegas! The brightly-lit city that's gonna set your soul on fire, populated by a thousand pretty women with a devil-may-care attitude. All you need there is a strong heart and nerves of steel.
A pulse might help too -- something that the young man upon whom the camera is focused seems to lack. If this were the other Las Vegas-based show I recap, we'd be about at the point where a pack of Cub Scouts comes tearing over the hill while some kid lisps, "Is this part of our outdoors skills badge?"
But we're not: we have only the body, which is lying in a sandy culvert at the side of a road running behind the Strip; we can see the shining tower of Mandalay Bay in the waning light of day. The music pulses slowly and electronically, and as the daylight dims and the neon flares up to send the shapes along the Strip into sharp relief, the music speeds up. Jet engines roar -- the body must be somewhere near McCarran International Airport -- and the camera shifts up away from the body in time with the rising whine of the turbines. The music kicks into high gear and the camera races along a runway toward the Strip.
We zoom past the iconic "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign, and tear down Las Vegas Boulevard. The camera glances off the lit towers of my beloved Tropicana, loops around New York, New York in visual mimicry of the roller coaster that threads around the casino, hurtles down to the Aladdin and onto the rear window of a pup truck, where five quasi-hot women in bikinis beckon in simulated arousal. The camera then swoops out, rests on the neon hot-air balloon outside the Paris, zips down the street to rest on the lurid neon flower at the Flamingo's entrance, then continues down the Strip. The focus blurs just enough so we can't identify any specific casino, and then hurtles along a ribbon of neon light leading into the unnamed casino's interior.
Yes, all of that happened in under a minute. Are you feeling sufficiently immersed in the Las Vegas atmosphere?
We continue zooming along with the camera -- back outside, hurtling along a straight line of hot pink lights, and then further down the Strip. The camera lingers on the creepy-ass clown fronting the Boardwalk -- if I were a clown, I'd be picketing that monstrosity -- and continues at breakneck speed toward the Stratosphere. A crumpled copy of the Las Vegas Review-Journal flies up for a moment; the headlines read "Montecito team nabs ring of slot cheats," "McCoy Construction wins bid," and "Expository headlines up 30 percent." I notice that this is quite possibly the only newspaper on the planet that doesn't use caps in their heds. The newspaper whips out of view, and we're at the Mirage, with the volcano belching water (something that must irritate vacationing geologists to no end) and palm trees all over the place.
And now we're at the Mandalay Bay's parking area. I know this from having negotiated it several times over the weekend I was married. The camera goes into remember-this-guy mode. Not to spoil the suspense or anything, but it's trusty valet Mike Cannon. Then we zoom past all the nicely-dressed people milling around -- yeah, this is totally fiction -- and then into the Mandalay Bay lobby. The camera lingers in another introductory moment; this time, it's "events coordinator" Mary Connell. She gives the camera a flirtatious glance. We then zoom into the casino and past the slot machines to cool-as-a-cucumber Nessa.
Then the camera goes nuts; we head into the elevator, up the elevator shaft, do a few loop-de-loops, end up in some hall, nearly run over some poor waiter with room service, elude him, go down some more hallway, squeeze through the security peephole, and then get a view of the Strip through what is presumably a hotel room window. It's a pity the people in the bed are too busy to enjoy the view.
There's a big ol' slow-motion moment so we can confirm that verily, this is carnal activity, and because the woman in question is a) on top and b) tattooed, she is a brazen hussy who will bring men low. There is enough writhing to send L. Brent Bozell off in need of a lie-down, and then the music gets all, "Yo! Ready!" and the camera zooms back in reverse. Hey! I finally recognize this! It's "Ready, Steady, Go!" by Paul Oakenfold. It is about as lyrically complex as "Rock and Roll, Pt. 1" by Gary Glitter.
The camera gets up with James Caan's feet. We see a bunch of guys in black suits checking their weapons as they amble on down the hall. The camera, exhausted from its three minutes of labor, lies in the hall, panting and watching from afar.
On and on amble the men. Their leisurely stroll is intercut with leisurely writhing scenes. The hotel key slides in and out of the slot, because no metaphor is too subtle for prime time, and then the door bangs open.
Molly Sims looks over her shoulder, apparently delighted to be interrupted. That doesn't speak well of whomever she happens to be straddling. And then she utters the creepiest greeting ever: "Hi, Daddy."
Cue the shocked silence from Daddy and his pet goon. The young man on the bed recovers from the shock of having the blood rush back up to his head and VOs, "Daddy?"
Evidently the goon squad is not unfamiliar with the young man. He collapses back on the bed and VOs, "Welcome to the worst day of my life."
Cue the credits. It's Elvis's "A Little Less Conversation," which is probably what I'll be humming once the voice-overs get to me. ["It's also a fairly uninspired lift from Ocean's 11." -- Sars]
And then we're back to the show, where Danny McCoy -- a.k.a. Molly Sims's funhouse ride -- is busy VO-ing, "Never sleep with the boss's daughter, especially if the boss is Big Ed Deline." Helpful note for all men: before taking a tumble with that special someone, you might want to make sure her or his father's first name isn't preceded by an adjective like "Big," "Killer," or "Brutal." As Ed makes his way downstairs (this suite is swank) to confront his Electra-fied daughter, Danny rattles off Big Ed's macho CV. Big Ed says, "Let me get to that Judas in there!" while Molly Sims says, "Daddy ..." Danny's all, "Oh, no. He's gone straight to the Biblical references." I like the idea that Big Ed has a hierarchy of literary references for his assorted stages of pique. Does he hit the Ambrose Bierce when moderately annoyed? Apparently Sun Tzu's "Art of War" is the big bad. And here we go: "Hold out baits, entice the enemy, and then crush him." Is there room for Machiavelli in here, or does that only get brought out during employee evaluations?
Big Ed charges toward the area where Danny is putting his clothes on and VO-ing, "That was a little obvious. Personally, I would have picked an obscure passage from Chapter 12: Attack by Fire." Personally, I would have picked someone other than the boss's kid to sleep with, but I'm Monday morning quarterbacking here. Before Big Ed can go all Sonny Corleone on Danny, Molly Sims steps in and intones, "If anything happens to Danny, Daddy -- I mean, anything at all, I'll kill myself." I don't think I'm giving anything away here when I say: "Go, Big Ed! Go! Go! Go! Break a bone! Ruin his pretty good looks! Everyone wins!"
Unfortunately, Big Ed crumbles in the face of this hollow threat. Oh, ha ha -- isn't it funny how a macho paragon such as Ed is putty in the hands of his womenfolk? Ed paces around and contemplates non-physical harm, and Molly pops up again like a bland but sinister puppet and warns, "And that includes firing him." Thwarted again! Big Ed will just have to settle for making Danny suffer by foregoing war literature in favor of reading James Fenimore Cooper at him until he cracks.
Danny VOs some more about how scary and macho Big Ed is. Big Ed blusters, "Our surveillance system detected a weapon in here, Delinda." Delinda? Delinda Devine? Was Mrs. Big Ed whacked out on the epidural when she named her kid? Anyway, Delinda giggles, "Well, he did have a weapon, Daddy. Just not the kind you're thinking." This is what's known as pouring soothing oil on...well, not so much troubled waters as already-flaming gasoline.
We find out Delinda's supposed to be studying in Europe, but since she looks like she should have graduated from college and exhausted the patience of her post-graduate advisors over the seven years you're given to get a doctorate, we can only assume she's been doing some comparative anatomy studies without benefit of peer review. We also find out Delinda's been in Vegas for a few days, and while this is news to Big Ed, his wife has known for some time. Unfortunately, we don't find out why his wife didn't drop this bit of news on him. I guess it would have made this episode a lot less contrived, and God forbid that should happen.
As Big Ed lumbers up the stairs so that he may contemplate the wreckage of his family somewhere other than his daughter's den of iniquity, she sing-songs, "I love you!" He shows her the hand. She grins, and then calls to Danny, "You can come out now." Something tells me that the little passion play we just saw takes place about as often as Days of Thunder shows up on TNT. Danny comes padding out with his tie, shoes, and socks in his hand. He dazedly asks, "Why didn't you tell me Big Ed was your father?" Delinda responds, "What fun would that be?" Dannny blusters, "You intentionally deceived me because you thought it would be fun." Delinda loops Danny's tie around his neck as she cheerfully confirms this. Maybe Danny can go from zero to Bible in sixty seconds and begin screaming, "Delilah! O, traitorous wench!"
Or maybe not, since Delinda has attached herself, remora-like, to his mouth. Danny breaks free before she can suck his soul out. He makes like he's about to leave, a process that's given some urgency when Big Ed's pet goon barks from the balcony that Big Ed wants to see Danny. The goon then melts in the presence of Delinda's sunny smile, especially after she's all, "Paulie, you lost weight." Why are all fat men named Paulie or Bobby? We find out Paulie's on the Zone.
We also find out Paulie's got a mouth on him: "You wake up this morning and take a stupid pill, kid? You must be on some kind of drug to pull a stunt like this."
Or just the victim of heavy-handed pilot episode exposition. The two men wind their way through the bustling underbelly of the casino, past a gardener's sink full of lilies, past a clutch of feather-clad showgirls, and deep into the bowels of the surveillance and security office where they work.
Danny helpfully tells us, "Surveillance and security in Las Vegas. We see everything." Ladies and germs, meet the plot device which will justify the protagonists' godlike omnipotence in future plotlines. The showgirls all coo hello at Danny as they pass him by; he gives them a cursory wave as Paulie continues to wax wroth and the security cameras follow their passage down the hall. Danny's all, "I swear to God, I didn't know she was his daughter!" Paulie's not buying the excuse; he's got exposition to unfold: "You may be good at eluding surveillance cams to break into suites, but what the hell happened to all that Marines counter-intelligence training you had?" Women have always been the Marines' weak spot. Just ask KGB officer Violetta Seina.
Anyway, Danny protests that the picture of Delinda on Big Ed's desk is of a four-year-old child. Paulie replies, "Mister D likes to remember her that way." Insert your own joke about Molly Sims's acting compared to a four-year-old's. Up in the office, Big Ed is watching Danny's progress, which has been temporarily halted while Paulie tells him how Big Ed's going to bury him alive in the desert. Danny helpfully VOs, "That's how they used to take care of problems when the Mob ruled Vegas. Bury them alive in the desert." Do you think he learned that in Marine counter-intel, or when Casino was on Starz?
Danny enters the office -- walls of security monitors everywhere, lots of people all acting as if looking at those monitors is much more interesting than anything Danny and Big Ed are doing -- and Big Ed gives him a thermonuclear glare as he says, "You really put me in a bind." Danny stands there and looks blank. It's a very natural look for him. Big Ed then says gravely, "October 25, 1415." Danny replies dazedly, "Don't you think we should talk about what just happen--" Big Ed replies curtly, "We just did. October 25, 1415." Danny finally fills in the blanks: "Battle of Agincourt. Outnumbered 10 to 1, Henry led a starving army against the French and massacred them." Big Ed nods and asked, "Why were the French vulnerable?" Because they didn't get to hear the speech about St. Crispin's day and how "he to-day that sheds his blood with me/ Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile/ This day shall gentle his condition" and get all fired up at that prospect?
No. Danny answers, "The civil war between the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy allowed Henry to capture the port of Harfleur." He then VOs, "Although we play this military history game all the time, I think the implication here is that he's Henry and I'm the French -- right before the massacre." Oh, come on: after a specific reference to civil war and domestic vulnerability, that is what Danny comes up with? It's so totally clear that Big Ed thinks of Danny as Henry, come to take advantage of a house divided to conquer and marry the old king's daughter.
Big Ed just stands there and gives Danny a long look. Damn, but James Caan can do more in one look than many actors do in a year. We're saved from further discussion about Agincourt, Henry V's prowess, bands of brothers, or the dramatically inconvenient fact that Henry V actually took five years after the Battle of Agincourt to make an honest woman of Catherine of Valois. Thank God for cheating gamblers!
Said cheater is a schlubby-looking guy in a leather baseball cap who's sitting at a blackjack table, one hand on the felt. We go from a table-eye view to a security-camera-eye view of him. Then we slip up to the security room again. The unnamed security drone also points out a bum in bunny slippers heading to the cashier's cage; Bunny Slippers cashes a Social Security check for $426. We veer between the you-are-there view and the security view. Big Ed asks who's on the floor, and someone else answers, "The Ice Queen." Emma Frost? Cool.
Big Ed deals with that, then comes over to tell a gaping Danny, "You not only violated my trust in you, but the sanctity of my family." Man, if Danny doesn't pick up the parallels between himself and randy Prince Hal at this point, he's a lost cause. Danny protests, "Big Ed, if I had known she was your daughter --" Big Ed interrupts, "For your own welfare, do not finish that sentence. Your judgment is already suspect." Is it too early to declare my love for Big Ed? Danny apologizes some more, and Big Ed wrings him out like a washcloth with, "To say that I'm disappointed in you would be an understatement of epic proportions. Now, apart from the fact that she's my daughter, this is a question I'm asking you as executive vice president in charge of surveillance and security for a multibillion dollar corporation. Do you routinely jump into bed with women you do not know the background of? Because if you do, that is a major breach of security."
If Danny were smart, he'd realize that the only good answer to that is, "I'll clean out my desk." Fortunately for us, he's kind of dim. So he just answers, "No, sir. I do not [routinely jump into bed with mystery women]." Big Ed jumps on him with both feet: "So it's just with my daughter, then."
Danny VOs that he walked into that one. Well, we're in agreement there. Big Ed makes with some wordless agita -- he is pushing every single one of Danny's buttons, I think -- and then wheels around and begins rattling off plotlines for this week. The casino's misplaced a whale. Have they checked with Japan or Norway recently? Those countries are always around the whales. Actually, "whale" is the term for mega-high-roller, the kind of guy who makes Ben Affleck look like he's playing three-card monte in a high school cafeteria. Anyway, Warren Herman -- the whale, whom the Montecito flew in on a private jet -- has gone missing. He didn't even make it to the casino. Danny absently asks, "Did you sweep the airport?" Big Ed says, "Excuse me? What?" Danny realizes his mistake: "Of course you swept the airport. I'm sorry. You probably checked the hospitals, the jails, the morgue, you ran an electronic trail." Yes, Big Ed did, in between thinking up guilt trips to lay on Danny.
And now he lays some work on Danny: find the whale. Danny protests that he just came off a double shift, apparently not thinking about how Big Ed doesn't want another reason to think about why Danny is tired. Big Ed more or less reiterates that, adds that they'll iron out their personal issues later, and sends Danny out the door to go whale-hunting.
But before Danny can go, he also has to make Mr. and Mrs. Johnson happy; they're celebrating their 30th anniversary at the casino, and Big Ed wants Danny to find out what Mrs. J wants, then go get it for her. Before Danny can ask questions about whether or not Mrs. J has all the pieces in her silver service set, one of the techs sing-songs, "Our elevator exhibitionist is back! This time, it's a cowboy." We see a grinning woman pulling a man into an elevator.
Big Ed is unswayed. He lays out Danny's priorities: bust the cheating guy, find out what the deal is with Bunnny Slippers, hunt the whale, and get Mrs. J an anniversary present. Danny stands there, gaping slightly. There's no way this guy survived the Marines. Marine World, maybe.
Danny VOs, "It's gonna be one of those days." Just as he turns to go, Big Ed says casually, "Oh, Danny...welcome to the family." Danny's blood curdles as he remembers what kind of Family James Caan is normally associated with, and he whispers, "What?" Big Ed clarifies: "If I catch you looking at another girl, take a poison pill, 'cause I'll kill you." Danny stands there, staring dumbly. I know we're only eleven minutes in the first episode of the show, but I'm beginning to get the impression that they could replace Josh Duhamiel with a mannequin and nobody would be the wiser.
We transition to the first of the many scenes which indicate how Danny's terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day will go as the camera zooms in on the grainy footage of the elevator exhibitionist getting her freak on -- and then goes to the you-are-there coverage. She's shrieking, "Ride 'em, cowboy!" and he's making like a mechanical bull. On the other side of the door, Danny nice-guys, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Barry, but there's a camera directly above you. We can see what you're doing." To the great surprise of nobody, Mrs. Barry makes it clear that she's okay with that.
Danny strides across the casino floor, VO-ing, "I always get the tough jobs, even before I made the mistake of sleeping with the boss's daughter. But that's because I was born and raised in Neon City. Aren't voice-overs great for exposition? It's much easier having to write masterful dialogue or depend on viewers to put the pieces together when it comes to my unique qualifications for dealing with casino habitues." Or something to that effect. We see how Danny knows everyone and everyone knows him -- a whole row of hookers calls, "Hello." So...the hookers are local? Like, Danny went to high school with them? Wouldn't that make reunions awkward?
As Danny smugly recounts that he's Big Ed's only hope of finding the whale, Mrs. J walks by and idly observes that her husband's "a controlling bastard." "Baby, I'm your controlling bastard," Mr. J replies. Oh, he does not. Danny mutters all ironic-like, "Happy 30th." And then he bumps into Nikki Cox, a.k.a. Mary Connell. She greets him with a smooch on the cheek as Danny VOs that she's the first girl he ever kissed. He's busy grinning through a misty watercolored memory; back in the real world, Mary tells him, "You look like crap. When was the last time you got some sleep?" Danny VOs something about how they've been running around together since they were in their prams. Mary also mentions that someone named Greg is looking for Danny. Danny's all, "I haven't had time to return his calls." Then he mentions the whale hunt and asks Mary if "he's one of yours." Mary's all, "No, but I know a girl who dates one. He's in town. I'll talk to her." Shouldn't there be air quotes around "dates"? Danny looks not-thrilled, and then some old bald guy shows up in the background. Mary says matter-of-factly, "I gotta go." Then she puts on a sarcastically perky attitude: "He's my date for the night!" With a final pat on Danny's cowlick, Mary's off to tend to her "date."
Danny preemptively VOs, "Okay, I know what you're thinking, but don't even go there. Mary's not a hooker, she's a special events director. You want a hooker, go to the end of the bar." Well, that's what he VOs. What the closed captioning says is, "Okay, I know what you're thinking, but don't even go there. Mary's an escort, not a hooker. You want a hooker, go to the end of the bar." I love it -- first, because of the potato, potahto equivocation in the closed-captioning. Second, because of the really obvious rewriting: it's pretty clear that Mary was supposed to be in the business of negotiable affections, and then someone responsible for the show's development took a field trip to our planet and realized our primitive Earth brains would be kind of creeped out at the idea of a guy who was okay with his best friend prostituting herself in his workplace, so now she's a "special events coordinator," if by that you mean "chaste escort." Who knew there was such a demand for that kind of job in Las Vegas?
Anyway, as Danny's busy trying to sell us on the idea that Mary's a platonic friend for sale, the hookers are all capering at the end of the bar. Since, you know, Danny knows everyone.
And now it's time to meet another face from the credits. Danny introduces her as "Nessa Holt, the ice queen." I love how Nessa's all in white to emphasize the title. I also love how it's apparently okay to label an aloof women who isn't simpering for male attention and approval as an "ice queen." Anyway, Nessa is a striking-looking woman who's apparently also the best pit boss in Vegas. Danny VOs, "I'm not sure exactly what her story is, but she's connected to Big Ed somehow." Big Ed's a fan of women's football? That's a joke for all the BBC junkies: the actress who plays Nessa, Marsha Thomason, played Shazza Pierce on Playing the Field, a series which mated Melrose Place with soccer and resulted in such luridly ridiculous plots, you needed a flowchart to determine who was sleeping with whom and how they were related because you were laughing too hard to pay attention. Needless to say, I was hopelessly addicted to the show.
Nessa turns around after Danny finishes VO-ing nothing of any importance, and she says, "He's into the casino for a hundred large." Danny VOs, "God, I love her accent." Yeah. Americans are suckers that way -- I've often suspected that the accent hang-up is the reason PBS stations stay afloat despite an increase in fundraising drives featuring Sarah Brightman; it's not the tote bags people keep tuning in for, it's the off-chance of seeing a Rumpole of the Bailey episode and listening to Leo McKern orate in plummy outrage.
Anyway, Nessa peevishly notes, "He's bumping his bet like he knows what's coming, Danny." Danny thinks that could be the case. He attempts to draw a connection between the cheater and Bunny Slippers, but the latter is merely on a hot streak. Nessa dismisses him and outlines all the ways she's eliminated the possibility of an inside job; Danny's problem now is figuring out how the cheater knows what's coming up on the deck. He tells Nessa, "Just play it straight; our people are everywhere." The camera zooms around so we can see all the casual thugs idly standing by. I realize we're supposed to be sympathizing with Danny's job and all, but given that all casinos are run so the house wins, and they all have such intensive security to reinforce this, why are we being asked to commiserate with the multibillion-dollar corporation that one person is cheating out of $100,000?
Nessa carries on some more in the accent, Danny trailing in her wake and nodding blankly. Apparently the whale wears a diamond horseshoe ring; he puts it on when he begins playing, takes it off when he's finished. Then she switches topics abruptly, asking when he plans on showing her the sights of Vegas like he promised. Danny gives a nervous look to the security camera right about their heads and thinks about how Big Ed would kill him for macking on Nessa, and defers their dream date to another time. He makes noises about finding the whale, and Nessa tells him to check with the butler at the VIP suite, since that's where the whale is usually sighted.
Cut to Danny talking to the butler who, in typical butler fashion, has a vaguely upper-crusty accent. The butler passes on one useful piece of information: "The only time he spoke to me was when he had one of his requests...he was with some female companions and wanted the jacuzzi filled with Tattinger, 1990 vintage. $400 a bottle. I had to send guys all over town to get enough." Danny asks, "To drink?" The butler gives him a wonderfully contemptuous look and replies, "No. To bathe in." Danny blinks and looks confused as he VOs, "I wonder if they turned the jets on."
We then see Danny heading outside; he's talking to someone named Leon on the phone: "Tattinger, vintage 1990. If there's movement on one bottle in this town, I want you to call me." See how much more enjoyable it is to show that Danny knows everyone? Danny then gets stopped by Valet Mike, who says, "Whoa! Big Ed's daughter! Are you crazy?" Danny explains away the likelihood of word traveling that fast with a VO: "In this town, valets hear everything -- and I mean everything." Mike says, "If Big Ed doesn't kill you, she will." Danny's slightly alarmed now, and asks, "What do you know about Delinda?" Mike declines to share. If Delinda's that notorious, wouldn't her reputation have preceded her to the point where Danny would have at least known about Crazy Delinda, even without ever realizing she was Big Ed's daughter? Mike does share about the whale, Mr. Herman. He always drives him into town because "we talk engineering, specifically hydraulics and their application in a mechanized society." Danny explains to the viewers at home that Mike's got an MS in engineering, but makes more as a valet. You know, that's not entirely implausible in this economy. Unless the message there is that valets are ridiculously overpaid for parking cars.
Mike also tells Danny, "Mr. Herman's a big fan of Le Nude Review at Crazy Horse. His favorite lady goes on at midnight." Way to work in the token "If we're in Vegas, it must be time to see the naked women" scene. Before Danny heads off for that scene, he passes on a request for Mike to keep his ears open for Mr. Johnson -- you know, the one known to friends and family as "Controlling Bastard." Mike is not unfamiliar with Mr. Johnson, which either makes him the most ridiculously well-informed casino employee ever, or a diligent reader of an in-house newsletter we have yet to see on the show.
As Danny tries to take off again -- Jesus, Rick and Ilsa's goodbye scene in Casablanca wasn't this drawn out -- Mike reminds him, "Don't forget about my barbecue tomorrow night. I got some new gadgets I've been working on." Yeah, forget the food aspect of "barbecue." And why do I have the feeling that Mike and his gadgets will be featured in all sorts of plots -- comic or otherwise -- through the coming season? ["He's the Marshall of Las Vegas." -- Sars] Anyway, Danny wheels around and asks, "You're not going to set my car on fire again, are you?" Yup. Comic gadget plotlines all year long. The two bicker for a while until Danny's phone goes off, and then Mike's all, "Get your phone, Ahab, and go find your whale." Danny heads off.
It's Big Ed on the phone, requesting a status report. Danny nearly gets run over by a valet he obviously doesn't know as he recaps the last few minutes of his workday for Big Ed's benefit. The PDA-holding valet scampers off as Danny gets into his own car. Danny tells Big Ed, "I got a line on the whale at a strip club; the whale's favorite stripper goes on at midnight." This makes Big Ed happy, as it means that "you'll have time to join the family for a little late-night dinner at Alize. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." You know, if Big Ed was in the CIA, I'd bet he was really, really good at coercion.
Danny drives down the Strip in his convertible, the neon lights gleaming on his blank face as he VOs, "Late-night dinner with him and his family? What is with him and the family thing?" Dude, I thought you were up on your Agincourt and your Henry V. Clearly, Big Ed sees himself as Charles VI of France, Delinda is Catherine of Valois, and you, my friend, have just been maneuvered into maintaining the kingdom. Danny frets some more while he's driving, and concludes, "Never sleep with the boss's daughter. Never." He didn't get out of the Marines without having figured this out? If the word "Marine" is anywhere in his background, it's surely buried in another context, like "Hey, Danny, want to go see the Marine-rs?"
Oh, thank God, we finally go to commercials. There's something a little bit off about airing a Molly-Sims-as-virginal-bride commercial during this show.
And now we're at Alize, which is evidently in the Palms. Mrs. Big Ed -- would you call her "Mrs. Big"? "Mrs Ed"? Let's just call her Jillian, since that's her name. Anyway, Jillian is asking Big Ed, "Which are you more upset about: that your protege is sleeping with your daughter, or that your protege didn't know it was your daughter?" Why should Big Ed have to prioritize? Big Ed steps around the question and says, "I want to know why you didn't tell me she was in town." Jillian shrugs, "She wanted to surprise you." Big Ed avers that he was surprised, all right. Jillian coos, "Eddie, don't do what you did to the last boy. It wasn't nice." That's when Danny steps into the restaurant; Paulie runs interference until Jillian warns, "Call off your dog, Eddie." Big Ed goes to put the moves on his lady for knowing him so well, but she's not done messing with his head yet: "Know what I think? I think you don't want to share him. I think you want to keep this kid all to yourself, which is why I never met him. And I think that you're afraid you're going to lose him to your daughter, and you're really pissed off about it." Big Ed gives her a noncommittal smile while the rest of us wonder what exactly was so overwhelming about Delinda and Danny's relationship. Then Jillian repeats, "Call off your dog, Eddie." He pauses, and her hand dives for the inside of his thigh as she smiles, "If you ever want to go on another gondola ride..." Those are apparently the magic words.
Danny joins them at the table. Jillian makes Danny's acquaintance, which he screws up with, "I can see where Delinda gets her beauty. Not that you're ugly or anything, Ed. Your wife is incredibly --" Jillian performs the conversational equivalent of a mercy killing while Big Ed smiles in such a way as to let us all know he's thinking of all ways he could kill Danny with a fork. Once Danny sits down, Big Ed offers him some wine: "It's a Petrus, from my collection." Hell, I don't care for red and I'd drink that. Danny, uncouth rube that he is, elects to tell us what he could really go for is a Coors, preferably in a can he can smash against his head. Or something to that effect. Big Ed gets a slightly more crazed look and says, "See, I'm betting that you didn't just hear what I said. It's an '82 Petrus from my private collection." Danny ignores the lifesaver which has been flung to him, and flounders in the sea of idiocy when he says, "I heard what you said, Ed. It's just that I don't like wine."
And now, let us pause this recap and review what Big Ed and Danny's relationship has been like in the 22 minutes we've spent in their company. Danny slept with Delinda, on multiple occasions, without ever sussing out that she was his boss's daughter. Given that he works for a corporation where security is a priority, this can be construed as something of a lapse in judgment. He didn't start off the day on the right foot, and when committed oenophile Big Ed offers him a wine that goes for somewhere around $2,800 a bottle, claiming you'd rather have a beer is not the move that's guaranteed to assuage any of Big Ed's concerns about your judgment.
Danny quickly realizes this and adds, "But you know what? It's always good to try new things." Big Ed is placated until Danny says, "As a matter of fact, I was just telling Delinda that last night --" Big Ed gives him a look as he says, "You might want to stop talking." Danny shuts it. He then gulps roughly $400 in one mouthful. At least Jillian's amused. Danny says, "Wow, that's not half bad." He holds up his glass for another go, and Big Ed gestures to the sommelier to indicate that Danny's welcome to suck on a Pabst now.
Jillian makes some small talk wherein she tries to convey how much she's wanted to meet Danny and how much Big Ed likes him, but that's right about the point where Delinda comes into the restaurant in a manner not unlike that of your average beer commercial. You all know the sequence: two losers sitting around and picking their noses until some goddess goes walking by in slow motion, hair bouncing in time to some boring and derivative rock anthem.
Well, then, you've just seen Delinda's entrance. She caps it off by once again attaching herself remora-like to Danny's mouth, keeping an eye on Daddy to make sure she's pushing him toward cardiac territory. Once Danny's survival instinct kicks in -- it may have been prompted by his frantic, oxygen-starved observation that Big Ed was holding a fork in a homicidal manner -- he pulls away. Delinda sits down smugly. After Big Ed's pulse returns to normal levels, he manages, "I was wondering what your intentions might be?" She smugly smiles, "My intentions, Daddy?" Big Ed stammers, "Well, you know, Danny, yeah..." Danny correctly guesses that there are no good outcomes for him in this conversation. Delinda says, "I thought I'd have as much sex with him and his cute little butt as possible, and when I get bored, dump him."
You know, Nikki Cox could pull off that line -- she's got fine comic chops and a certain unapologetic sauciness. Molly Sims, on the other hand, cannot. Pretty to look at, but insofar as acting goes, she's about as believable as Cindy Crawford was as a maritime law expert.
Big Ed is not pleased to hear that, and launches into the "When we were your age..." thing. This is when we find out that Jillian has undermined him here too, and apparently the gondolier wasn't the only one wielding a pole in those boat rides alluded to earlier. There's some more minor hijinks not worth recounting, and then Danny decides to flee the batty and implausible charms of Delinda in favor of a reality check from Mary.
Mary's tapping her foot in the lobby and wearing a dress that was apparently sprayed on minutes before. She tells Danny impatiently, "This better be good, Danny. I'm working, my date thinks I'm in the bathroom, and he's on a roll." Heh -- "special events coordinator," indeed. I'm guessing this scene was shot before they decided to clean up her character. Danny wanly apologizes, adding, "I'm in kind of a pickle." For some reason, this makes Mary all emotional: "Oh, you and your pickle are in a pickle, all right!" Danny realizes that the news about him and Delinda apparently ran as the lead on the nightly news, judging from how many people know about it now. Mary continues, "Big Ed's daughter? Never sleep with a woman trying to piss off her father, Danny!" Danny decides to go on the offensive: "What is that? Some rule I'm supposed to know? I don't know that rule. You name me one guy who knows that rule!" Any guy with a healthy self-preservation streak would know that rule without needing to be told. Unfortunately, Mary decides that now would be a fine time to make sweeping generalizations about the opposite sex: "You name me one man that thinks before he jumps into bed with a woman. How could you let yourself get into this situation?" "It just kind of happened," Danny weakly replies. I love that. It's like the "Oh, Officer, was I speeding?" of the boudoir. Mary assures him that he's full of it. Danny's all, "Okay, now you're scaring me." Me too: Mary's getting all weirdly dramatic with, "You should be scared. Not just of her. You could always go back to the family business." Danny replies, "That's not gonna happen, Mary. You know it." Why not? Is the family business in black-market organ donations? Mary's really pissed now: "Your grandfather and your father handed you that business on a silver platter, Danny! And you just threw it back in their faces!" Wha...? Danny's all, "I did not just throw it back in their faces! I joined the Marines!" Mary's all, "Same difference!" She's near tears as she continues, "You walked out on them, Danny, when they needed you most." Oh, God save us from pilot-episode exposition. Not that I'm all for pretentious impenetrable first episodes, but this is a little too much, even for a pilot. Mary does the walk-away-to-compose-herself thing, since, you know, her "date" for the evening will wonder why she's coming back to the table all puffy. Danny's closed-captioning VOs, "Well, this conversation's not going where I thought it would." Danny, however, does not VO that. Let's hear it for frantic character revisionism! I bet this scene played differently when audiences thought she was a hook-- excuse me, "an escort." Danny tells Mary, "You know I had to leave, Mary." Mary sniffles, "I know." She brushes some lint off his shoulder and tells him she's got to get back to work. Danny at least has the good grace to thank her for "being there" -- even though, in this case, the conversation turned into All About Mary on some level. Mary replies, "I've always been there for you, Danny."
And in the scene, Danny's busy donning a hair shirt so he can appear appropriately penitent as he VOs, "And she always has. I haven't always been there for her, though. I should have been there when things went bad between her and her father, but I wasn't." Oh, Lord, save us from the backstory. Anyway, Danny heads off to the strip club to look for the whale, lest he be forced back into the family business. At this point, I'm wondering how bad the business can be. Is it breeding poodles for high-strung AKC members?
Danny's in the strip club. He finds Mr. Herman's favorite dancer -- Jewel -- and they go back and forth over the merits of private dances versus information, and after Jewel takes the money and declines to give any info, Danny notices the diamond horseshoe ring and asks where she got it. Jewel snits, "None of your business!" but her heart's not really in it, so she quickly reveals that Mr. Herman was in last night, but she has no idea where he went after that.
Jewel heads off to take care of a customer, and Danny VOs, "There's no way [Mr. Herman] would give [Jewel] his lucky ring, unless he ran out of luck, which means he lost big. I bet he came in carrying cash, which is why there's no electronic trail." While Danny VOs this, we see Jewel gradually losing pieces of clothing -- she's somehow wearing more lace and netting than Stevie Nicks, so it's all appropriate for primetime. I love how, with the exception of the Ice Queen, the women we've met on this show are all in the business of selling themselves while the men all run around gathering and using information.
Danny calls the IRS and talks to his friend JD; apparently someone dumped big bucks in a casino in the last 24 hours, but they're still trying to figure out who it was. As Danny hustles out, we do see a tubby guy in glasses gyrating around a pole. Must be part of that "It stays in Vegas..." campaign.
Danny's back at the Montecito; Big Ed is watching him walk across the floor as Danny explains, "He lost big in another casino; I'm just trying to figure out which one." Big Ed notes that Bunny Slippers is now up $1.2 million, for no reason anyone can discern. Big Ed adds, "He's not my only problem. I picked up an unauthorized frequency." We see the cheater on the screen as Big Ed says that. Danny figures it could be the cheater's accomplice. Big Ed replies, "Not 'could be.' It is. He's close. I'm trying to take the source, but it's scrambled." Until then, the cheater's up $750,000 and counting. Danny says he's going to run the cheater's face through the black book.
He explains, "The black book. It used to be a book. Now it's a computerized network that allows casinos worldwide to track cheaters. More importantly, you can identify a cheater with just a partial facial feature. Dark glasses and a hat are a bitch, though." Just as the black book produces nothing, Big Ed casually says, "Jillian wants you to come by for Sunday dinner. Six o'clock." Danny replies, "Sorry, Ed. I got plans -- I'm going to Mike's house." Cue everyone in the room stopping their work to discreetly listen to how this will play out. Danny finally picks up on Big Ed's flat, even glare, and asks, "Why don't you join me?" And that is how Danny invites the entire Deline clan to Mike's barbecue. Molly Sims and wacky gadgets in the same scene? This episode can't hurry up and get there fast enough! Big Ed clears a little more air: "Danny, I don't want you to think for one second that just because my wife thinks she likes you, you're back in my good graces."
Just then, Danny's phone rings. It's Leon, whom he talked to earlier. Leon is a wine importer, and someone just bought $56,000 worth of Tattinger's. Big Ed picks that moment to lock on to the signal and discover that the cheater is communicating with someone outside the casino.
The camera zooms from the security-room view to the felt of the blackjack table, and then up to the cheater, whose chips are stacked in neat rows. Everyone cheers and cheers, and then we go to commercials.
Back in the security office, Big Ed orders Danny to run infrared through the casino, then put Bunny Slippers in a high-roller suite, the better to get him out of the way.
Danny's back on the floor, about to take care of Bunny Slippers, when Mary comes up and tells him, "Hey. All right, the girl who dates your whale was just called by the casino host at the Sand Dragon, and told when and where to meet him." I love how "date" is used in these conversations. It seems positively quaint. Mary also passes on that the casino host's name is Sam. Danny's all, "That guy's the biggest whale thief in town! He plays hit-and-run, never showing his face."
And now we're watching Bunny Slippers rake in even more chips as the player who just busted at his table grumbles, "God, this guy's pathetic." Sour grapes much? Then he gets Nessa to give him his own table, claiming that Bunny Slippers -- who has unapologetically invaded his personal space -- smells. Well, $1.2 million buys a lot of Jean Naté bath splash. Danny and Mary charge on over to the table; Danny introduces himself and offers a VIP suite on behalf of the hotel. Bunny Slippers isn't impressed. Nessa comes over and orders new decks for the table; Mary slips into Danny's old spot and says, "You know, they have great room service in the VIP suite. You can order anything you want, even have a chef come in and cook it for you." Bunny Slippers ponders this, then asks, "Mac and cheese?" "Oh, yeah! To die for!" Mary responds. "Oatmeal cookies and milk?" Bunny Slippers persists. Mary assures him that the chefs will make him whatever he wants. Bunny Slippers caves, and takes off said slippers to begin transporting his chips to the suite. Mary and Nessa help, and Mary mouths at Danny to go. He does, but not before telling Big Ed that he found the whale.
As Danny heads out the door to retrieve the whale, Mike has time to tell him that his dad has stopped by. At last, we get to see if the McCoy family is involved in child slavery! Mr. McCoy sure doesn't look like he traffics in human flesh. Danny asks his dad what he's doing there, and McCoy replies, "I was wondering if you were going to come with me to see your mother." Danny reverts to his fourteen-year-old self and replies, "It's not Mom. It's a headstone." McCoy declines to get into a debate over personal rituals acknowleging the dead; he asks only, "That mean you're not going?" Danny doesn't reply. McCoy searches for a new topic of conversation: "You ought to stop by the new job site sometime --" "I'm not into job sites, Dad," Danny snots. McCoy replies, "You used to love them." Danny snots some more, "You used to love to take me because you didn't have a babysitter." Oh, suck it up. McCoy notes with a grin, "There's not one piece of heavy equipment you can't operate." Danny sulks some more, "Oh, yeah, working a 40-hour week in 115-degree weather when you're ten." When'd he have time to kiss Mary if his dad was making him work? Also, excuse me for being obtuse here, but how would Danny's childhood be any different from any kid whose parents have him or her booked on time-intensive sports activities, or music, or dance? Danny should just hop in his waaaaaaahmbulance and take off.
McCoy cuts his losses: "I'm going to be late for work. Listen, Greg needs to talk to you. Call him, okay?" Who is this Greg? Why do both Mary and McCoy know about him? Anyway, Danny realizes he's being a little shit, and he asks McCoy to call him before he heads over to the cemetery. As the older man takes off -- and let me express how disappointed I am that he's the McCoy in the "McCoy Construction" of that newspaper headline, and not something outrageous like a hit man -- Danny informs us that his father never really moved on after his mother's death. Danny strikes me as the kind who would also complain if his father remarried after his mother's death, so McCoy can't win for losing. We also find out that the reason McCoy came by was in honor of what would have been Mrs. McCoy's birthday. Danny doesn't dwell on this; he'd rather dwell on his own problems, like what to do for Mrs. J's anniversary present. He asks the Widower McCoy what he would have done. Nice. McCoy replies only, "I'd hope she'd still want me, son." Danny pats his Dad on the arm, and walks off.
He then drives over to the Sand Dragon -- more Mandalay Bay -- and walks into what looks to be the Four Seasons in Las Vegas. It's got that same pared-down taste to it, and believe me, that's a rarity in Vegas. The receptionist puts on her glasses and blinks, "Danny?" Danny fake-laughs, "Jane!" Oh, see, he really does know everyone in this town. He VOs, "I hate when I run into a woman I used to date." Jane asks brightly and vacantly, "Are you, like, stalking me?" Danny protests, and Jane natters on for a while in a matter designed to make us all think she's a moron. Danny blurts, "I'm looking for Sam," and Jane's all, "He's not here." Danny takes off again.
After exiting into what looks like one of the corridors connecting the Four Seasons and the Mandalay Bay, Danny notices a comely waitress walking by with a big bottle of Tattinger. Ahoy! We've sighted the whale! Thar he blows!
He then walks into a lush-looking hot-tub area where Herman is busy assuring the massed women in the hot tub, "There's enough of me for everyone! Don't fight." The women take a brief time-out to say hi to Danny. (Five bucks says this is going to be a running joke through the series.) Danny walks over to the edge of the tub and introduces himself as a representative of the Montecito Casino. Mr. Herman sighs like Danny's a huge imposition on his time, and Danny reminds him, "The resort and casino that sent a plane for you. We sent that plane so you would stay -- and more importantly, play -- at the Montecito." Herman chickenshits, "If you have a problem, you need to talk to Sam." Why, yes, I just turned a noun into a verb. I think it's appropriate here. Danny's all, "I'd like nothing better, but nobody seems to know who he is, or where he is, for that matter." Herman says all snarkily, "He's right behind you."
Sam, as it turns out, is the same as Jane. Oh, ha, ha, how funny that Sam's really a woman! Who would have thought that to be the case, what with the multiple references to someone with an outsize reputation and no physical description whatsoever? Danny's all, "You posed as your own secretary?" Sam replies, "Don't look so surprised. All's fair in love, war, casino hosting, and the hackneyed premise that duping people about your gender is some clever ploy and not at all a comment on outdated attitudes about the relative competence of men and women." Or something like that. Danny's all offended that Sam only loved him for his insider casino information; moral relativist Sam thinks this is okay, as he was so fresh as to assume that someone who was on a date with him might be open to amorous advances.
Danny recovers by offering Sam a job. She turns him down; the freelance life is good for her. "Job security?" he offers. "Not something I think about," she replies. "You should. Whale thieves aren't looked upon highly, and since I know your little secret, Jane..." She ignores the implied threat when she replies, "Your whale dropped a wad here. I could write my own ticket." Danny resorts to overt threats: "Not if I put you in the black book, you can't." "You can't put me in the black book!" Danny elaborates, "Sure I can put you in the black book. Mistakes happen all the time. It could take years to discover." Sam walks off in disgust. Danny adds, "I'll bump you ten percent. Just because I'm a nice guy. Despite that whole threat about the black book." Or something to that effect. They dicker, and the upshot of it is that Sam gets a 30 percent bump and a 120-day exclusive contract, with her own live-in suite at the hotel with a Strip view. It's a deal.
And now Mr. Herman has returned to the casino that bankrolled his trip. As Danny gets out of the limo, clumsy New Guy Valet almost runs him over again. Danny's on the phone apprising Big Ed of the sitation when -- poof! -- there's Big Ed. Danny explains that the complication in hunting the whale is hiring Sam and giving her a 30 percent bump and a live-in suite at the hotel with a Strip view. Big Ed's all, "You what?" and Danny reminds him, "You told me I should do whatever it takes." Big Ed discreetly makes sure that Danny's not involved with Sam, and she calls out, "Don't worry! The only one he's doing is your daughter!" Yup. Apparently Danny and Delinda were the leading item on the local 11 PM newscast. No doubt Delinda called it in herself. Big Ed heads off to have his Maalox moment and charges Danny with checking in Mr. Herman. Sam picks that moment to sashay by and say, "I'm really going to like working here!"
She's going to like it a lot more in a minute, once Danny gives her the job of placating Mr. Herman while Bunny Slippers bounces in his seat in excitement over the prospect of a hot bowl of mac 'n' cheese and a plate of oatmeal cookies the size of dinner plates.
Sam's tactic is to go visit Bunny Slippers, who explains through a mouth of mac 'n' cheese, "This is my suite. The hotel gave it to me." "We'll get you another one," she replies. "But I don't need another one. I've got this one." Danny steps in, but his efforts at persuading Bunny Slippers are about as effective as his efforts at talking to Mrs. Deline at dinner, and Bunny Slippers demonstrates the ugly side effects of too many carbs when he gives Danny a big, starch-laden raspberry.
Just then, someone calls in for Sam, and she pulls out a turbo-charged PDA to confirm dinner reservations. Danny watches her, and flashes back to the sloppy valet and his habit of toting the same PDA, sitting in the car with his PDA, and generally seeming slightly out-of-place. Then Danny sees Bunny Slippers's hand on the table, index finder slightly raised, and he recalls the way the cheater keeps his hand on the table, fingers splayed with the index slightly raised. Danny leaves after charging Sam with getting Bunny Slippers out of the suite. She walks over, takes Danny's recently-vacated chair, and says, "There must be something you want...that you'd be willing to trade to get this suite." Bunny Slippers eyes her speculatively while she gives him a confident smile. Eventually, Bunny Slippers's expression changes to indicate that there is something, and as he looks at Sam, her smile slides off her face.
Meanwhile, Danny's in full action mode. He asks Mike about the new valet, and Mike's all, "He just asked to pick up an extra shift, said he needed the money." Danny heads off to deal with that while Mike does a delay on Mr. Herman. Frankly, Mr. Herman seems like more trouble than he's worth.
Danny grabs the valet by the shoulder and strong-arms him to a convenient bench to check out the PDA. It's playing a recording signal from the table. The valet makes to get up and beat a hasty retreat, but Danny's well-placed elbow to his stomach quickly halts that attempt. Danny continues to monkey around until he sees that the PDA has a little peripheral screen which lets the valet see the cards more clearly, and a microphone so he can share that information with the cheater. Danny frog-walks the guy off, saying, "I'm about to introduce you to a man with a fork."
It will have to wait until after the commercials. Jeez, when did Carter decide to try the Caesar cut? Someone should tell him that it may have worked for George Clooney eight years ago, but lightning isn't likely to strike twice.
We see a dealer shuffling the blackjack decks and placing them in the card dispenser while Nessa stands behind her and watches. Then we see a card laid down; the cheater rakes in cash while the crowd cheers. Big Ed watches, paying attention to the guy's posture; the camera lingers on the cheater's fingers. After the cheater wins another hand, there's a buzz. Nessa answers, and Danny asks her to put Ed on. She does, and Danny shares, "I've got the signal. It's a live feed: he knows every card being dealt." Big Ed pulls away from the circus at the blackjack table to say, sotto voce, "You got the feed, I just picked up the eye. Our man's about to go all in, one hand. Let's crush him."
Danny hangs up; in the background, Herman is still bitching and moaning. And while I am still not sure why on Earth I'm supposed to be sympathetic to a multibillion-dollar corporation's security woes in the face of relatively small-scale cheats, I can totally understand why they'd want to take the mewling moneybags Herman for a ride; anyone who deals with him should get some compensation for the valuable time Herman wrecks with his presence. Danny delays Herman's leaving by offering him all sorts of extravagant things, then heads off to crush the cheater.
Inside the casino, Cheater wins another hand. Big Ed comes over and says, "Excuse me. You're killing us here. We're going to shut down the table, and this is going to have to be your last hand." The cheater replies, "Then I'm going all out." Nessa watches as Big Ed underplays with, "Well, I'm -- I'm sorry, but that's slightly above our table limit." Cheater belligerently replies, "So change the limit." Big Ed smiles apologetically, "I can't do that." "Then find somebody who can," Cheater blusters. Sheesh. Whatever happened to charming rogues who may have had no morals, but at least had impeccable manners? These grifters today have no style. Nessa informs Big Ed, "He's up over three and a half mil. That's seven-plus if he wins." Big Ed manages to look worried as he says, "I-I know." Big Ed catches some anonymous guy's eye and nods near-imperceptibly. The guy nods so we can see it, Big Ed makes a big nod in return, and says, "All right. Uh, let him play." Nessa taps the blackjack dealer and says, "I'll deal this hand." Cheater doesn't seem too torn up about that. He pushes forth his entire rack. Nessa lays down the first card: seven of clubs on top of the five of hearts. She deals the card -- queen of hearts. There's a tense moment on her side but Cheater's paying attention. Then he looks down at his cards and commands, "Hit me." She does, and the king of spades drops with a thud. For those of you who may be wondering why this is bad: the goal to winning at blackjack is to make sure your card count doesn't exceed 21. Since face cards are worth ten, and he already had 12 with the seven of clubs and the five of hearts, Cheater's looking at cards that total 22 -- one dramatic point over. The crowd groans. The cheater looks at the huge rack of chips he just lost and protests, "That's impossible." Out pops Danny: "Actually, it's not. He's got a mini-remote fiber optic camera implanted in his finger, which is fed to his partner the valet -- who tells him every card being dealt through an earpiece built into his glasses. And I just had his accomplice tell him the wrong card." And then Danny passes out from having delivered that monster-sized chunk of dialogue without taking a breath. Nessa notes that "it's not illegal to cheat a cheater."
Big Ed orders the giant-sized men now holding the cheater and the valet to "take these two clowns and march them around for everyone to see. Make sure everyone gets a good look at them. Nobody cheats in my casino. March them around!" The crowd's affections are fickle: where once they were applauding Cheater's hands, now they're clapping for Big Ed. Oh, whatever. Big Ed orders them all to disperse.
And now, back to wrapping up other loose ends. Danny heads up to the much-coveted suite, and sees Sam sprawled on the bed. When he asks how Sam got Bunny Slippers out of there, she stretches her arms along the headboard, implying a really kinky freakshow. He's all, "Ewww! That's sick! You didn't." Sam rolls her eyes at how simple he is. Instead, she tells him between bites on an oatmeal cookie, Bunny Slippers (a.k.a. "Tom Bay") asked her to send his family a picture of him with some guy in a suit and bunny slippers, "so they'd stop worrying about him and know he's okay." Danny asks where Bunny Slippers is now. Sam sing-songs, "Casino," and Danny groans before rushing off again.
Cue Mrs. J and the Controlling Bastard. She's busy haranguing him, he's busy ignoring it. I don't understand why couples do this in public. There's something near-operatic about witnessing a couple having a full-scale, nuclear meltdown which ends with someone screaming, "She's my sister! And my daughter! She's my sister and my daughter!" so you've got to respect the drama, but those low-grade persistent whines about "you always" this and "you never" that just make both parties look small and tacky. Danny walks by and wishes them both a happy anniversary, but they're too busy rehashing an argument that started in 1986 to listen. Danny walks off, then walks back to lecture them: "You know, my father would have given anything to spend thirty years with my mother, anything at all, but he never got the chance, and he spent the last 20 years alone. Now, I'm sure the 30 years you two spent together were a hell of a lot better than the 20 years he spent alone." Instead of telling this know-it-all punk to go pound sand, the Bickersons treat his lecture as one to grow on. They begin talking to each other like human beings again, and after Danny shamelessly eavesdrops for a while, he settles the anniversary problem by getting them reservations to a swanky restaurant.
And now he's off to wrap up the Bunny Slippers issue. Nessa is watching as Bunny Slippers systematically loses 97 percent of his winnings. Once he's down to $40,000, she closes down the table, and Danny sits down. He urges Bunny Slippers, "$40,000 is still a lot of money, Tom. Walk away. Just walk away." Tom sniffles and looks at the large pile of plastic-wrapped oatmeal cookies on the table, then takes Danny's advice. In the background -- o! Irony! -- a woman wins big on the slot machine. Danny sighs, and we see the camera that's focused on him.
Then the camera zooms up so we see his image on the monitor. Big Ed is telling another hired goon -- I don't think it's Paulie, but I could be wrong -- that Danny did a good thing there, because "we'd have had that forty grand back in a New York second. Kid did the right thing." Goon nods. Oh, it is Paulie. He asks Big Ed, "Does this mean you're not still pissed at him?" Big Ed gives him a look that implies he thinks Paulie is out of his mind. Then he says, "I'm going to kill him."
The screen goes dark for a moment, and then we're out of the casino and at the barbecue. Danny and Mary are standing on the edge of the patio, watching as Mike brings out an invention that looks like a cross between a lava lamp and a DNA molecule model, and sets it down on the patio in front of the Deline family and Paulie. Mary knocks back part of her beer, then asks, "Hey, did you ever get a hold of Greg?" Danny, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, replies, "I'll call him later."
Just then, Danny's night gets even worse as Sam joins Nessa and Delinda to form the triumvirate of Women Who Make Danny's Life Hell. Sam waves to Danny, and as he turns away, Mary gives a big, fake smile and waves back as she grits through her teeth, "You've got a problem, Danny." He mutters, "It's like a bad dream." Mary checks the patio tableau again -- Big Ed is there, glaring -- and she asks, "How long have you been up?" "Thirty-six plus," he replies. Mary urges him to go home. Danny mutters, "Maybe I am too tired for goodbyes." She smiles, "Yeah? Too tired? Or too afraid?" Heh. I like Mary. Delinda blows Danny a kiss, and he's all, "Both." He skulks off. Mary gives the group a tart "Hey, what are you gonna do with him?" look, then saunters on over to hang out with everyone.
Danny tears down the Strip. At an intersection, he stops and waits, and is surprised to see a neatly-groomed and not at all scary-looking Bunny Slippers walking on by. There goes that crazy man, his actions a mystery to us all.
And then he's driving again while musing in VO: "Vegas. A former Mob lawyer is mayor, legal gambling, valets with masters' degrees in engineering, bars that never close, world-class food and entertainment, 24/7 action. Oh, and I made it through the day without getting buried alive in the desert. God, I love this town."
Danny then whips out his cell phone, because the safest thing on the road is a sleep-deprived driver who's distracted by conversation. As he holds the phone to his ear, the camera pulls back until he's but a blur on a river of neon, and then we do another crazy-fast slide across the nighttime panorama and out beyond the Strip, a total reversal of the sequence that started the show. We're back at the hunched body laying in the culvert, and a cell phone begins ringing. The camera zooms down to the phone and we hear a tinny, "Greg, it's Danny. Call me." And then the camera zooms back so all we see is the huddled corpse of what is presumably Greg, lying in the dark sand beyond that town his friend loves so much.