Alicia Silverstone bustles down the steps of a courthouse in a two-piece red suit, cell phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder, telling someone named "Mr. Kodash" that it's too late, the desk clerk already time-stamped the affidavit and Kodash's client is liable for sanctions every hour he remains in the residence.
Getting into a beautiful new Ford Thunderbird, completely ruined by its powder-blue colour, Alicia tells Kodash that she couldn't care less where his client goes, that all she cares about is selling the house so that her client can get on with her life.
Meanwhile, that annoying big swing song -- I don't know the name of it, but trust me, you've heard it many times before, usually to connote wackiness or a sense of urgency, or a sense of wacky urgency -- is playing, already putting me in a bad mood.
Now in the middle of L.A. traffic, Alicia continues to argue with Kodash. "We are beyond the point of compromise!" she says, adding that she has the full authority of the Fox law firm behind her. Then -- in her open-top convertible, remember -- slips her suit jacket down over her shoulders. Seen from the shoulders up, she looks nekkid! At least that's what it appears to the big bald guy in the convertible to her, who does his best to look surreptitiously at her, while Alicia tells Kodash to drive over to the house and remove his client himself. Grabbing a dress on the passenger seat, Alicia puts Kodash on hold and slips the dress on over her head. Meanwhile, the Kingpin has dropped all pretense of not looking and is craning his neck for a better view. So Alicia SMILES at him. And he smiles back. Alicia wraps up the phone call with a cheery "Have a nice day!" and peels out.
She pulls up at a church. And despite apparently being late for a wedding, she finds an open parking spot directly in front of the church. And she goes running past the bride at the back (tossing off a "You look lovely!") as she goes. And even more remarkable than the open parking spot is the fact the bride isn't in tears over a missing bridesmaid.
The wedding procession has already started, and there's a groomsman walking by himself, holding a bouquet and CHECKING HIS WATCH even though he's already walking down the aisle, and Alicia runs up and slips her arm around his. He hands her the bouquet. "I know, I know, I know!" she says, while he says he doesn't know how she let herself be so "ridiculously" late. And she says, "'Let' myself?" and tells him not to get Freudian on her, like, there's a bit of a stretch, and tells him she had an insane workday, and meanwhile there's no damn music playing while this so-called wedding procession is galumphing down the aisle, and how nice of the happy couple to apparently have their wedding at 5 PM on a weekday. And he complains that she's used the insane workday excuse every time he's tried to see her this week, and she tells him they have all evening together.
Later, at the reception, we see the bride and groom doing their thank-yous, and they single out Kate Fox, who introduced them, and lets everyone know that Kate is actually responsible for three marriages, like, nice word, "responsible," and everyone claps while Katie looks embarrassed. Meanwhile, her friend, clutching a glass of wine, spots a couple of dudes and says, "I'm going in," and Kate wishes her luck. Then Kate is accosted by that Judd Nelson-looking guy who was in Igby Goes Down, who congratulates her on the three couples she's put together, and says she must have great instincts. Kate acts all humble and says she figures that luck has something to do with it too, although buddy then acts all dorky and says he's thinking of giving up the search himself, which I guess explains why he sought out the cute matchmaker bridesmaid and started chatting her up. And Kate's boyfriend shows up with, "There you are," like maybe he had a hard time finding her after she was just singled out in the crowd by the bride and groom, and he gives her a glass of wine. "What do you mean, 'giving up the search,' what?" says Kate, and he mumbles about "one too many failed attempts," and meanwhile Kate is making such horrified faces that I had to rewind to make sure he didn't in fact say, "I really enjoying eating babies." And then he goes on about his cancer research and a multi-tiered lymph nodes study, and meanwhile Kate's boyfriend keeps making all these whatever faces, like God forbid Kate should speak to somebody else at a wedding. And Cancer Boy demurs when Kate calls him "interesting," prompting Kate to make a sad face, but this happy little gabfest is interrupted by the photographer horning in to get a picture of "the matchmaker" with the bride and groom.
The day, I guess, Alicia meets up with her wine-chugging man-hunting friend from the wedding, who's already at the coffee shop gasping over the newspaper, then reads aloud to Kate some sort of story about the wedding that makes mention of the bride and groom specifically thanking her, and Kate all rudely grabs the paper out of her friend's hand. What is that, the society page? Do those even exist anymore? Does every story end with "A good time was had by all"? Was there no other real news that could have been put in the paper? Kate is aghast. "This isn't good," she says. Her friend, Victoria, tells her she looks great in the photo, but Kate reminds her that she is a divorce lawyer, an "ass-kicker," and can't be seen as a romantic softie. Victoria assures her that no one reads that column, and Katie says she hopes her dad doesn't. And they get up to go, even though Kate just got there. Spotting two people by the table, Kate asks if they want it, but the guy says the two of them aren't a couple. But hey, it's hard to pass up an open table, right? And Kate stops at the door of the coffee shop and smiles at the two once-strangers now happily gabbing away. WE GET IT.
The law offices of Jerrold Fox & Associates. Kate stops by the reception desk to ask if there were any messages, and the receptionist says Kate's mom called to confirm dinner, and there were twelve calls for "Kate Fox, the marriage broker." Kate's stunned. And this older guy goes walking by and says, "What's that about?" And Kate plays dumb. And the camera lingers for a long shot on Ryan O'Neal, eyebrows arched quizzically, prompting many viewers to say, "Oh my god, is that William Shatner?" And Kate tosses the newspaper in the trash instead of the recycle bin.
Macy Gray sings a song while Sims-esque people wander around the lower-case opening credits with hearts popping up over their heads.
Commercials. Is there somewhere I can contribute to a retirement fund for Kirstie Alley? Because I'll do it.
Kate strides purposefully into some guy's office, telling him she's taking the Richfield file. The guy's not even pretending to do work. She notices a newspaper on the desk and asks him if he stole it out of the trash. Because, yeah, Kate, you had the only newspaper in existence. But in this case, the guy did steal it out of the trash. Or, rather, he had Claire do it for him. Before Kate stomps out in exasperation, Nick says, while emphasizing that he doesn't need any help "in the female department," that since she appears to be hoarding a crop of ready and willing lady friends, he would "amenable" to taking a few of them off her hands. She snorts and takes off again, but he stops her. "Are you insinuating that I am not eminently date-WORTHY?" He's really overemphasizing the "worthy" part. She joshes back that if she finds someone who's into overblown egos and sifting through garbage, she'll send her his way. "That's all I'm asking," he says, as she leaves.
Some schlub is going on about how he and his wife had three great years, and then her business, "the Outgear catalogue" (that'll be important later) took off, and "the marriage went away." Kate says they need to be certain that Mr. Dixon and his wife Jolene tried all other avenues to make the marriage work. "I understand that. I'm ready," he says. T.J. Hooker -- I mean, "Jerrold Fox" asks if Jolene knows he's here today. Dixon says no, that she's at a corporate retreat. Fox Daddy says they can make that work for them; he tells Dixon to empty out his bank account and to meet with five of the "other best" divorce attorneys in Los Angeles. When Dixon says he's prepared to work with the Fox law firm, Jerrold says that's great, but if Dixon discusses the case with any other attorney, that lawyer is automatically barred from taking on his wife as a client. I know I've seen this as a plot point somewhere, but I can't remember where. ["The Sopranos, maybe." -- Sars] "By the time she gets back, we'll have her dialing 1-800-LAWYER in search of counsel," says Jerrold, chuckling. Kate just looks ill. Walking out of the meeting, Fox Daddy, the consummate professional, makes a "ka-ching!" noise, prompting Kate to give him the stink-eye. She says that sending Dixon out to meet with the competition is "low-rent." He calls it a strategy that "tends to coincide with winning." Kate asks him if anybody would be impressed if the Dodgers won the World Series by getting every other good team to forfeit. Maybe it wouldn't be great, but I think that would be a little impressive. Would it be any worse than the Yankees buying all their championships? [Note to self: Remember to remove Yankees crack before sending recap to Sars.] ["Note to Daniel: The Expos still blow goats." -- Sars] Jerrold says that since they're divorce attorneys, they could walk on water and no one would be impressed. So he tells her to concentrate on winning, which is what they're hired to do. Then Claire strolls up with several more calls for "the Love Guru." She smirks and says, "Nice article." Please don't let her be a quirky, sardonic, wisecracking secretary. I can only take so much. Kate makes a face.
Now we're at a nightclub, where the singer, who turns out to be Kate's mom, is belting out "Fever," a song that never fails to make want to drive spikes into my ears. And Kate's mom is, apparently, special guest star JoBeth Williams, although I wouldn't be able to identify JoBeth Williams if my life depended on it. Finishing up her song, JoBeth sits down with Kate and her boyfriend. Do we know his name yet? I missed it. Well, he'll be dumped by the end of the episode, so it hardly matters. When Kate compliments her act, JoBeth says she's surprised they could hear her, what with "Mr. Bang-the-Keys Liberace" plonking away. She's quite the diva, for a nightclub singer. JoBeth says the piano player wants Kate to set him up too -- "gender not specified." Kate's annoyed, not by her mom's latent hostility towards homosexuals, but because of all the attention that stupid wedding story got. "What do you expect?" says her mom. "Half the women in Los Angeles are lonely and depressed. Am I right, Doctor?" Kate's boyfriend agrees. "I have the waiting list to prove it." And the unobtrusive character establishment continues apace. JoBeth says the two of them should go into business together. One-stop shopping: "A marriage, and the therapy to survive it." Kate reminds her mom that she already has a job, but JoBeth tells her to forget her father. She's worried about the work Kate's doing, and she tells Kate she looks exhausted. And thanks-for-the-support boyfriend jumps in and agrees with Mommy, saying that he keeps saying she should be "in-house counsel" for similar pay and better hours. Kate reminds him how annoying that is. But he has a solution for the exhaustion thing as well, laying two tickets on the table. "Are we going somewhere?" she says. "Not somewhere, Maui," he says. Maui is somewhere, jackass. JoBeth gasps. He's offering six days on the beach, no distractions. "Now that is thoughtful," says JoBeth, arching her eyebrows at Kate.
Outside, Kate tells Dude that while she loves what he did, now isn't a good time for her to go. He protests that there's never going to be a good time. "L.A. can live with one less divorce lawyer for a week," he says. That should be "one fewer," not "one less," guy. Kate says she needs to work on a brief tonight. Why would a woman even mention briefs to a guy, of any age? "In Maui, it's going to be all about my briefs," he says. Kate groans and says she can't believe he just said that. Neither can anyone else. He kisses her. "Bad joke, good kiss," he says. She burbles. Remember this happy fun scene of the cute couple, when later we're asked to accept Kate's boyfriend as a manipulative arsehole.
Later, gratuitous shot of Kate in a bubble bath, getting her briefs all wet. Her phone, right by the bathtub, rings. She presses the speakerphone with her toe. It's Nick, from the office. She tells him it better be an emergency. Nick, surrounded by papers in his apartment, assures her that it is, but then pauses to ask what she's doing. "Can I help you?" she says, smiling. He needs a "boilerplate summary judgment order on the Rayburn matter." "At 10:30?" she says, and he blabs about his "unparalleled work ethic," which he insists doesn't reflect poorly on her…"at least, not directly." Setting her paper aside, Kate asks if it can wait until tomorrow. She splashes a little, prompting Nick to ask if she's taking a bath. "No!" says Kate. "Well, you sound naked," continues Nick, crossing both Kate's harmless-flirtation threshold as well as, you know, sexual harassment laws. "I assure you I'm fully clothed," she says, but he continues, wondering if Bryan (her boyfriend) is there and if they're doing something naughty. Now he's crossing the "okay, even Daniel thinks this is weird" line. Smiling again, she asks him to keep her out of his fantasy life, since it's not her fault he's at home alone with his "unparalleled work ethic." He asks if she's considered the possibility that some people enjoy being alone (wasn't he earlier asking to squire about some of her lady friends?), and she says no and hangs up on him (with her toe). Then she smiles. Oh, that Nick!
Later, Cancer Boy is going to the trouble of shaving chocolate flakes on his cappuccino when Kate calls him. She reminds him who he is, and then tells him she can't go anywhere without her girlfriends asking her to set them up, so she asks him to come out of retirement (dating-wise, not lymph nodes-wise). He makes a reluctant noise, but she cuts him off with, "Excellent. I'll be in touch. Oh, and Cancer Boy -- twenty-five push-ups before bed."
The day at work, Kate tells Claire that she's trying an experiment for a bachelor friend of hers, so she wants Claire to take the numbers of the few women who call and tell them Kate will meet with them. Jerrold, holding a banana -- really -- tells her that he can't make the hearing. She tells him she can handle it, and he says he knows, and he'll get Nick to tag along.
Kate chases Fox Daddy down the hall and insists that she can handle a show-cause hearing on her own. He tells her that clients don't like to be alone with a junior partner, "not even a brilliant, beautiful one." She points out that she's been at the firm for over a year, and Nick had his own clients after six months, "as he repeatedly points out." Fox Daddy, entirely missing her point, promises to have a word with him about that. "Please don't," she says, adding that it's bad enough that Nick thinks she's at the firm because she's Jerrold's daughter. Jerrold, by this time at his desk, points out that she is there because she's his daughter, but her talent "speaks for itself."
Despite not at all resolving her problem, Kate changes the subject, telling him she saw Mom's act last night. "She says hi," says Kate. Jerrold laughs. "No she doesn't," he says. Kate blah-blahs about telling her mom how nice it is to work with her dad but they never really have much time to hang out. She suggests having dinner. Her dad suggests tonight. Pleasantly surprised, Kate says, "Works for me!" and Jerrold says he'll tell Claire to make reservations, and they'll "hang out."
Now we're at some sort of outdoor bar, which is where Victoria works, and she has a passel of margaritas limed and salted at the ready. She hands one to Kate and points out the "gaggle of bachelorettes" behind her, causing unwelcome flashbacks to a horrible reality series I recapped last year. Kate's horrified. "I told Claire 'a few'!" Note: There are only five. Victoria wishes her luck. And we get the quick-hit interview process:
Kate: "So, um, how would you describe yourself?"
"I'm fun. Fun-loving." [delivered in flat voice]
"I'm someone who loves. But not, you know, just willy-nilly. I just, when I love, it's like instant, it's like oooh! How ya doin'!"
"I have extra helpings of what the Scarecrow and the Tin Man are missing."
"Everyone tells me I'm too good to be true, but I'm really more bad than good."
Please, please don't do that again.
To the woman who will be Kate's project for the rest of the episode, Kate repeats the question: "How would you describe yourself?" The woman, a cute brunette last seen in an episode of Law & Order, says, somewhat cynically, "To someone I'm trying to impress? Or do you just want the truth?" Kate laughs and says, "Truth is good!" But we don't get the woman's response. After Cynical Chick leaves, Kate -- who you'd think wouldn't be a stranger to ethics prohibiting divulging client information to friends -- excitedly tells Victoria that Cynical Chick is a producer at the Food Network, and you're kind of thinking Kate needs to be reminded that she's for Cancer Boy, not herself. "She seems too hot for Lonely Man," says Victoria, which I guess is their nickname for Cancer Boy, since his last name is Lonaman. Kate runs down the things they have in common: they're both Ivy Leaguers and East Coast transplants. And she points out that Cancer Boy spends all day working to cure cancer, so, in effect, he deserves a hottie. And despite not being a cancer researcher myself, I think that's a sentiment we can all get behind. But Victoria whines that since she works behind a bar dispensing joy to the community, she wants Kate to find her a hottie. Kate says she's not worried Victoria, and I have to agree that I doubt a knockout bartender like Victoria has much trouble meeting guys. Kate blows her a kiss and heads off to what she calls a "hot date" but is really dinner with Daddy.
It's a sushi place, and Jerrold tells her to try the "albacore with ponzu sauce," but Kate points out she's vegetarian. "Really?" says Jerrold. Yes, we get it; daddy and daughter don't really know each other. Then he tells her he talked to her "friend" Bryan, who was trying to get her some "time off for good behaviour." Understandably annoyed, Kate says she told Bryan she was much too busy. But Fox Daddy tells her to "live a little" and take the trip. "Just remember to keep your cell phone on," he says. This also annoys Kate, but she agrees.
Dinner is interrupted by a blonde harpy shrieking, "Jirry!" at Fox Daddy and kissing him; he says, "Surprise, surprise!" and introduces Kate to Barbara Day, who totters off to check her coat. While she's gone, Jerrold explains that she's a habitual client; she gets married in even years, divorced in odd -- some kind of zodiac thing, ha ha. Kate wonders if Jerrold invited her to their dinner, and Jerrold admits that he told Barbara about it, but he didn't think she'd show up. Noting Kate's disappointment, he insists that it's all professional. "Please, the woman is in crisis! Part of my signature service is to take care of my clients! You know that!" This touching moment is interrupted by Barbara coming back and sliding into the booth to Jerrold, who wiggles over and calls himself "Mr. Lucky" because he has a beautiful woman on either side of him. I gag. Kate looks disappointed. Barbara calls him a flirt and squeals at the sight of the albacore, which Jerrold insists she try, what with Kate being a vegetarian and all. "Good for you!" gushes Barbara. Kate tells them she's got work to do and has to go, despite Jerrold and Barbara's insincere attempts to get her to stay, and walks off. "It was fun!" says her dad, with Kate obviously thinking otherwise.
Commercials. I know Catherine Zeta-Jones is hot, and I know she has an Oscar now and everything, but I'm sorry, she can't act. And the fact that she's in a new Coen brothers movie really presents a dilemma for me.
Kate is whining on the phone to Victoria, who, in a midriff-revealing t-shirt, jeans, and a ponytail, is really making it hard to believe she can't meet anybody. Victoria wants to know why Kate is complaining about a trip to Hawaii, but Kate says it's the way Bryan manipulated the situation that has her peeved. For some reason, whenever someone says the word "situation," I hear, unbidden, in my mind, the way Arnold Schwarzenegger pronounces it: "sitcha-aytion." I don't know why. But I'm sharing it with you, so I won't be alone. Anyway, Victoria figures that with a couple of Mai Tais and a nice sunset, Kate will forgive Bryan, earning a "whatever" from Kate.
Kate then asks if "either of them" is there yet. Victoria tells her Lonely Man is there, "and he looks like a dork!" she squeals. Kate wants to know what the problem is, and Victoria says he's got a whole Howdy Doody look going on, which is a weird reference coming from someone under the age of eighty. Kate insists that she fix him, but Victoria says she doesn't know where to begin. "Victoria, he's a little lamb, and he's about to get slaughtered. Do something!" So Victoria stomps on over to Cancer Boy's table, unbuttons his top button, and musses up his hair, causing him to stammer. "Don't freak out," she says. "Katie sent me." Then she sashays away.
Elsewhere, Katie's offering congratulations to a client, and asking her when the wedding is. "The whole weekend, really," she says, outlining the activities going on before Kate clues in to the fact she's talking about the upcoming weekend, so she asks why she and her fiancé waited so long to do the pre-nup. The redhead starts talking in Rationalization Voice as she babbles on about how she figures he was embarrassed about bringing it up, "which is silly," and goes on to explain that he "comes from money" and she doesn't. "I'm fine with it. To be honest, I think this whole negotiation process is a bit much, but Bradley's dad insisted that everything be by the book, so here I am!" She hands over the pre-nup to Kate.
Cut to Kate reading aloud in outrage the section in which the woman's settlement in the event of annulment or divorce will be reduced by $10,000 for every pound gained over the course of the marriage. "For example, should Ms. Grier's weight increase ten pounds, her share of marital properties shall be reduced by $100,000." Why she's reading this aloud to Nick is a mystery to me, as he stands in the doorway and laughs and calls it clever. "It's disgusting," she says, and he tells her not to be such a girl. "At least it's honest. The bride knows exactly what she's getting into," he adds, but Katie says Chelsea has no idea what she's getting into. "She thinks her fiancé is Prince Charming, and I get to burst her bubble five minutes before she marries the guy." Nick gives her a "whatever" and then starts blathering on about how once Kate gets a few years under her belt (as if he isn't the same age or younger), she'll see marriage as a transaction. "When I go to a wedding, I don't see a bride," he says. "I see a future client." Why don't you repeat that, Nick, to the woman you asked to fix you up with one of her friends? "That's beautiful," says Kate. "Is that from a poem?" Heh. But I tell you, if this show turns into an insufferable Ally McBeal-esque quirky case-fest, I'm so out of here.
The Sardonic Secretary pops in. "Laurel, for you," she tells Katie. "What line?" she asks. "No. Here," says Claire, and makes a Wisecracking Secretary face. So Katie quickly calls Cancer Boy, who stammers out something about how the date went well and that he likes Laurel. "That's so great! I'll call you later," says Katie.
So of course we cut to Laurel terming the date a "disaster" and saying that although Cancer Boy is obviously intelligent and "pleasant enough," he didn't say a word other than a thirty-minute discussion on lymph nodes. "I'm sure he was just nervous," says Kate, pointing out that Cancer Boy really liked her. Kate insists that the second date will go better. Laurel passes, and asks who else Katie has. Katie's all whuh? No. Cancer Boy was it. He's the guy. This was just a one-time thing. Laurel's all confused, since she thought that's what Katie did for a living or something. So why did you go to see her at a law firm, Laurel? Laurel says she doesn't want to grovel, but she needs a man for her upcoming ten-year high school reunion. I'd prefer not be rude, because Laurel is rather foxy, but, um, did she graduate high school in her late twenties? "I already went to my five-year by myself. I had to sit to the vice-principal. Don't make me relive that." Well, maybe if you'd been "friendlier" to the vice-principal then, you wouldn't be alone now. Kate reluctantly agrees to see what she can do. Laurel squeals and says Katie's the best.
Meeting with the Foxes, Dixon, Jolene, and Jolene's lawyer, who says her client was "blindsided" by the proceedings but has no intention of prolonging any "entanglements" with her husband, so she's offering a fifty percent split of the community properties plus $50,000 of her pre-marital assets, dependent on Dixon giving up custody of their dog, Pepper.
Dixon storms out, with the Foxes trailing, Katie telling him it's a good offer since she's not obligated to turn over any money she brought to the marriage. Dixon blusters about how his wife had a million dollars before she got married, and he's not giving up the dog, which is "the most important thing" in his life, unless she gives up half. "Of the dog?" jokes Jerrold.
Jolene's lawyer: "Half?" She sneers at it. Katie says, "Well, then I suppose we're done." "This is ridiculous," says the lawyer. "Do you honestly expect my client to roll over like this?" Oh, god. Please don't. Please…Fox Daddy says, "No, but I do expect her to sit and stay." Groan. How the hell did that contrived set-up and punch line ever make it past a first draft? Anyway, Dixon's wife takes umbrage, and Jerrold threatens a long, drawn-out court proceeding, since Dixon has nothing to lose. He asks if that's the case for Jolene, who focuses her anger on Dixon. "It's not enough for you to decimate our marriage, do you have to blackmail me too?" says Jolene, and stomps out. Kate looks concerned, or maybe constipated. The lawyer offers $100,000 and not a penny more. Anyway, Dixon nods, and Katie says they'll finalize it at the hearing.
Katie and Victoria stroll around downtown, while Kate eyes prospective women she can fix up. Victoria says she can't just randomly stop strangers and ask to fix them up on a blind date, because it's weird. "People will think you're insane," she says. Katie tells her to have a little faith in humanity. This from a divorce lawyer. She drags Victoria to a nearby bar, and then says "hello" to three suit-wearing dudes sitting at a barstool. "What do we have here, lawyers?" says Victoria. Katie says it feels more like an MBA crowd. "Consultant!" she says, pointing at one. "Nicely done," says the only one of the trio who gets a speaking part. He's a very minor Hey! It's That Guy, whose face is familiar, but I couldn't tell you where I know him from if you pulled out my fingernails. Or made me watch the Sharon Osbourne talk show. No, wait. The first one. Anyway, it's not enough for the balding minor HITG that a cute girl has started chatting him up in bar. He has to then ask if she can predict what colour underwear he's wearing. "No, no, better yet. Am I wearing underwear?" His buddies look either entertained or embarrassed. Yep, there's your MBA crowd. Kate tries another table, featuring a single guy who apparently goes to loud, crowded, dark bars to read. He's not wearing a suit, so after Kate introduces herself (the guy's name is Michael Mendelsohn), she says he's definitely not part of the MBA crowd. He identifies himself as an architect. Kate asks if he's single. He says he is. "Imagine that!" says Katie. "Yes, I am, actually. Absolutely single," he says, like, WE HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME. And Katie starts listing all of Laurel's stellar qualities but before she can finish, Michael interrupts her to tell her he'd rather not be fixed up, since it seems a little "random." She gives him her card in case he changes his mind, then shakes his hand. "Nice to meet you, Future Ongoing Love Interest," she says. Kate and Victoria walk out, arm in arm, with a horrified Victoria going, "Totally awkward!" and a bubbly Kate going, "Not even!" sounding every bit the hard-assed divorce lawyer she aspires to be. "He almost went for it. I just have to smooth out my pitch," she says, as they exit stage left.
So it's date-coaching time. Cancer Boy tells Katie, endearingly haltingly, that her hair looks very nice today. "Thank you," she says, adding she thought she'd do it up for a change. "You should more often. It complements your pretty face," he continues, prompting Katie to slam the table and say, "Nice!" which seems to scare the hell out of Cancer Boy. But she praises his disarming smile and solid initial compliment (with an even better follow-up). "I'm flattered, and I can tell you're paying attention. Good work!" she says. He thanks her, but admits it feels a little superficial to him. She gives him a hint about women: they want "deep and real and profound," but if they're looking good, they want to know about it. Poor dude. I learned that in the seventh grade when I told Brandy McGee her hair looked nice in a ponytail. I hope this guy's better at curing cancer than he is with women. And then Katie asks if he really likes her hair up, and he stammers an affirmative response, and starts chewing his fingernails, earning a mild rebuke.
Pre-nup negotiation. Katie's explaining to Bradley and his lawyer that she's concerned about the clause limiting transportation of any children, which Bradley's lawyer explains is to keep the children within reasonable distance of their father. Chelsea completely capitulates, and gets all flustered when Bradley winks at her. Good wittle fiancée! So Katie brings up the weight-gain aspect. The lawyer, who upon reflection could just as easily be Bradley's dad, says Brad loves the way Chelsea looks. "We're just incentivizing her to maintain it," he says. "You're 'incentivizing' her to find another husband," says Katie.
On the street, Chelsea says Katie is taking it all too seriously. When Kate points out that it's her job to take it seriously, Chelsea says it's not going to matter anyway, since they're going to be together forever. Katie insists it will matter every single day, and tells Chelsea that Brad's behaving like he's buying a racehorse, warning her that such behaviour is likely to carry over into the marriage and affect big decisions like children and finances, all the issues that they should be addressing now. Chelsea doesn't say anything, just stomps off, Katie running after her.
The kind-of-annoying-but-doesn't-seem-too-monstrous-yet boyfriend is looking at some Hawaii website and going on about a list of restaurants that he wants Katie to look at. She's on her cell phone, as usual, telling him she's late for court and wonders if it can't wait until they get there. He gets annoyed, pointing out that he's organized "the whole trip," like that's a real boatload of work, and tells her she can take five minutes to have a look at it.
Anyway, as Kate hangs up and heads up the courthouse steps, she overhears someone yelling, and looks to see Dixon yelling at Pepper. "C'mon, dammit, do it already! Pee, you stupid little --" He breaks off abruptly when he sees Kate looking at him. She turns and stomps up the steps to where her dad is waiting, and she informs him of how much Dixon hates the dog, so his side of the deal was just a scam to defraud his wife out of a richer settlement. Since Kate's seen her dad in action, I'm not entirely sure why she thought he'd be outraged at Dixon's deception. In fact, he seems almost impressed, and takes issue with Katie calling it emotional fraud, to which they're accomplices. His position is that they did the wife a favour, and that maybe time she'll think twice about marrying the schmuck who comes along, whatever that's supposed to mean.
In the courtroom, the judge officially dissolves the marriage, and thank god we didn't get a wacky judge. And apparently Dixon was allowed to bring the dog into the courtroom, and he hands it over, telling Pepper, "Daddy loves you." Jolene takes the dog, kisses him, then becomes overcome with emotion -- or maybe she was flustered by Ryan O'Neal standing there looking around like he forgot he was on set -- and she excuses herself from the courtroom.
Katie follows her into the washroom, where Jolene, in the bathroom stall, is crying and saying, "Stupid son of a bitch!" For a divorce lawyer, Katie sure seems to be unaccustomed to the emotional consequences of ending marriages. Anyway, she reaches under the stall and offers a tissue, and it was just like that "spare a square" episode of Seinfeld. Jolene thanks her, then, through the stall door, explains that she just saw her marriage end. "I can't believe I wasted seven years of my life on a superficial jerk. time all I want is a guy I can read a book to, listen to music, just be with." She comes out of the stall too quickly for Kate to get out of the way, and seems quite unimpressed when she realizes to whom she's been spilling her guts. So she goes over to the mirror to check herself. And Kate FOLLOWS her again, saying she knows this is awkward, but…and proceeds to explain about her great friend who's single. The look on Jolene's face is great, as she gives Kate hell for thinking that she's in the mood to be fixed up, never mind by her ex-husband's divorce lawyer. She stomps out of the bathroom.
And KATE FOLLOWS HER. "I'm not saying today or tomorrow, but when you're ready, I'd like to help!" I can't believe she's haranguing this poor woman like this! And Jolene thankfully ignores her, picks up her dog from her lawyer (who asks Kate not to speak to her client), and leaves. Disappointed, Kate strolls away, but is intercepted by her dad, who wants to know what she's doing. Kate indignantly says she was just offering to set Jolene up with someone less piggish and scheming. You mean, "your client," Kate? Jerrold reminds her that they don't do that. "I don't see why not," she says. Um, conflict of interest, maybe? But Kate says just because the clients they deal with may be robbed, they don't have to be lonely and depressed too. Jerrold asks her if this is how she deals with all her "girlfriends," since he just got off the phone with Chelsea's fiancé's father. "It seems young Chelsea has reinvented herself as a feminist freedom fighter after her little chat with you," he say. ["Yeah, God forbid the little woman WEIGH WHAT SHE WANTS TO WEIGH. Shut up, JERROLD." -- Sars] The wedding's been called off, and Brad's dad is threatening to sue for the $20,000 deposit they put down on the Four Seasons. "What they asked her to agree to was completely unconscionable," she says, which, in all fairness, is true. Jerrold says that you negotiate, you don't kill the deal. Kate objects to his use of the word "deal," since these are people's lives they're dealing with. "You don't want to do the job, you don't work for me; it's that simple," he says. "No, it's not!" she says. Uh, yes it is, Kate. She goes on about how she could have worked for any law firm she wanted to, but she chose her dad's so they could get to know each other. Jerrold's all, well, you want to know me? This is me, baby! Well, he didn't say "baby." And he says he's sorry if he's not what she expected, but in his office he calls the shots. He stomps away, leaving Kate to look forlorn.
Commercials. I don't know anyone who's ever watched American Dreams, but I am Canadian. Is every episode about the daughter being on American Bandstand?
Kate tracks down Chelsea at the gym; she's working out on an elliptical trainer. I think it's an elliptical trainer. It's one of those things where you look like you're cross-country skiing. Chelsea wants to know how Kate found her, like she's some sort of hermit or something. Kate says, "Your roommate cracked," like, can we GET TO THE POINT, PLEASE. Chelsea says there's nothing to discuss, since she expects the man she marries ("whoever that may be") to love her for the woman she is, as well as the woman she's going to become. Kate blah blahs about how great it is that she's standing up for herself, but there's middle ground. She says pre-nups bring out the worst in people, which is why it's best to deal with them long before the wedding. And since Chelsea was head over heels for Brad just a little while ago, Kate finds it hard to believe she's willing to just walk away. Chelsea understandably looks a little disconcerted, and then finally says, "The ball's in his court." She says that since Kate found her, where the hell is Brad?
Brad's over at his office, wondering how the hell an obvious security risk like Kate Fox managed to get in the building, then telling her she's not allowed to speak to him without his lawyer present. "Been watching your Law & Order, Brad?" says Alicia. I wish! She says she's just dropping off an alternate draft of the pre-nup, which she says Brad should read, and lectures him about what's really important -- love and respect, or Chelsea's girlish figure. So Brad starts in with how he met Chelsea at a Jenny Craig weigh-in. "All my life, I was a fat kid, and Chelsea…you should see the 'before' photo." And he ladles on a lot of garbage about how the clause in the pre-nup was just an insurance policy, because if she blows up again, so does he. And the way Kate stands there, I couldn't help but wonder if we're supposed to just accept this nonsense, like Kate's supposed to feel stupid and that the stupid weight-gain clause has actual merit? Are you kidding me? If this is an "insurance policy" for both of them, as Brad says here, why isn't there a provision in which he increases his payout to her for every ten pounds he gains? Thankfully, Kate collects herself, and then more or less makes herself liable for Brad's dad's lawsuit by telling him outright that before Kate talked to her, Chelsea was ready to sign the pre-nup because she loves him, so he'd better get off his "newly svelte self" (I guess saying "ass" wouldn't fit in with the charming, endearing, fluffy nature of this show) and talk to her, because if he doesn't, she knows several guys she can fix Chelsea up with. Once again, I'm convinced Kate was sick the day they taught conflict of interest in law school.
Laurel's whining on the phone to Kate about how her reunion is tomorrow night, so Kate says she'll try to scrounge something up. And she means scrounge, as evidenced by her popping over to Nick's office and telling him it's his lucky day.
Back at the only bar anyone appears to go to, Victoria is draping her boobs all over the table as she drops off complimentary drinks for Cancer Boy and another woman, a former law school classmate of Kate's. Awkwardness ensues, in the form of torturous small talk and rambling, pointless stories. So as Cancer Boy's date starts to pat wayward strands of hair back into her pulled-back hairdo, he decides to offer up, "I like your hair," stopping her mid-pat.
Over at another table, Nick and Laurel are getting along as famously as can be expected, which means they're ending the date quickly and amicably. Nick apologizes for his remark about desperate women and hopes Laurel didn't take it the wrong way. "I usually try to censor myself better in first-date situations, but Katie said you were edgy, and…" he says, with Laurel interrupting him to tell him it was fine. Heh. They shake hands, with Nick promising to call her and Laurel saying, "Can't wait."
The morning, a sleeping Kate is awakened by her boyfriend at 7 AM, and he appears to take his cell phone jogging. And he's doing some post-run stretching and pulse-checking, asking if Kate's interested in some pre-flight breakfast, but she begs off, citing an appointment. He reminds her that they're leaving in three hours, and she masks her surprise, saying she'll be ready. When he asks if she's packed yet, she says, "Getting there," and he requests that she pack only carry-on luggage, since he hates to check baggage. And she says, "Yes, sir," because we're beginning the transformation of her boyfriend from slightly-anal-but-still-nice to total domineering asshole.
Kate's appointment is with Cancer Boy, wearing a track suit and walking his Great Dane (I think it's a Great Dane. My apartment is much too small for a big dog, so I have two cats, Wilco and Animal. My cats like to scrap, but whatever kind of dog Cancer Boy has, it could eat my boys without a second thought). Anyway, Cancer Boy is lamenting another date that he doesn't think will amount to anything, but is telling Kate (and himself) that he's getting used to being alone, because it gives him time to enjoy Stephen Hawking and early Leonard Cohen, so Kate gives him a rah-rah speech about how the search is hard but eventually you find your soul mate and you know things are just right. He asks if that's how things are in her relationship, and she lies by saying, "Yes, pretty much," while making her confused "is it really?" face, meaning Bryan's doomed. And as Cancer Boy relates his Hawking/Cohen epiphany, Kate notices his sweat suit, and asks if it's Outgear. Why, yes, it is! says Cancer Boy, who then starts touting the virtues of its wonderful plush lining, like, shut up, Cancer Boy. But you see where this is going, I'm sure. A quick visit to an Outgear store to harass Jolene Dixon again, in the guise of setting up a play date for Pepper, which Jolene is quite open to.
Match made, Miss Match squeals as she wheels her suitcase down the walkway. The suitcase matches her outfit exactly, so I'm not sure why Bryan's anal qualities are going to be grounds for the imminent dumping. But here it comes anyway. He asks, "What's with the big bag?" and she explains that she was running late so she just threw everything into one suitcase, so he starts bitching about waiting in baggage claim for an hour, and then whines about all the strangers Kate will be sure to chat up while they're waiting. In the face of this merciless barrage from her total arsehole boyfriend, Kate gets out of the car at a stop sign and tells him to have a nice trip. She gets her suitcase out of the trunk and then totters off down the sidewalk. He starts backing up the car and tells her they can take the "giant bag" (it's just a suitcase, people), and she tells him it's not about the bag, it's about him finding fault with every little thing. She wants someone who's going to love the fact that she talks to perfect strangers, or some damn thing, and she says the woman of his dreams is probably out there organizing her closet or something, in a slam against people who aren't perpetually late and disorganized, I suppose. But never mind. They're done. He drives off, after a halfhearted attempt to stop her from dumping him. Viewers look around, wondering if maybe the writers shouldn't have made Bryan smack her around once or twice to villainize him completely, and wondering if we're supposed to actually be upset that they're broken up. I think I speak for most of us when I say she could have waited until after Maui to break up with him. Will her future soul mate also spring Maui vacations on her? God, that'd be awful.
Commercials.
On a streetcar, Laurel's lamenting her lonely ten-year reunion and displaying her winning personality by whining about how pretty much every one of her classmates managed to find a husband, "even the losers." And Kate takes the final step and starts running essentially an escort service as she reluctantly accepts $1,000 from Laurel to find her a husband. Laurel prefers big. No, not how you think she means "big." Well, if she does, she doesn't say so. She just wants a "strapping" man.
At the office, Claire says she thought Kate was on vacation. A flat "plans changed" is all she can muster. Nick pops by and makes fun of her non-tan, and she repeats her "plans changed," and he doesn't get it and says, "Trouble in paradise?" like, I wish people could find at least one other stock phrase to say when couples fight. Anyway, Kate lowers the boom with "Yes, actually. Bryan and I broke up. Thanks for asking," and walks away, leaving behind a chastened Nick to apologize (genuinely). I kind of like the way Nick is a jerk, but not irredeemably so.
Jerrold, not even inquiring about why Kate isn't on vacation, swings by her office to tell her that Bradley signed the pre-nup, and never wants to deal with Kate again. "I took that as a compliment," he says. Kate doesn't greet this with much happiness, just a promise to messenger the document to Chelsea. But before he leaves, Jerrold says he misrepresented his position during their "tiff" at the courthouse. "The fact is, your following in my path has been a not inconsiderable source of pride to me," he says, and continues in the same jargony vein, telling her he'd be opposed to her leaving the law firm. She calls his speech "lawyerly, but sweet," and launches into a show-defining speech of her own, with her nonsense about fixing up people is part of their job. And for all her talk about karmic balance, you have to wonder why she can't grasp the ethical problems with her rose-coloured fixer-upper plan: namely, the conflict in counseling divorcing couples when one also runs a matchmaker service, and the explicit ethical transgression in using the matchmaker service as a threat to bully someone into signing a revised pre-nup? I mean, GOOD GOD. Anyway, maybe Jerrold is drunk, or maybe the resolution music is affecting his brain, but he says that Kate is more like him than she realizes, since taking care of customers is her signature service as well. "Just not by making out with them," jokes Kate, like, how gross to joke about that with your skeevy dad, who says, "Fair enough," and then they hug. She hugs him extra hard, so he asks if everything's okay and she says it is, but she had a really tough week.
Back at Victoria's bar, she's all excited because their days of tag-team man-hunting are back, which Kate disputes, since she no longer trusts her man-hunting prowess, at least not for herself. Victoria charitably says that since Kate's entitled to a mourning period, she'll let that go without a slap, like, what is Victoria's deal, anyway? And Michael Mendelsohn shows up, since he's changed his mind about being fixed up, and I guess he found her because maybe on Kate's business card she's listed the bar she always frequents, which actually makes sense, since we saw her here more than in her office.
Kate and Michael chat at a table, Michael pointing out that dividing his time between the drafting table and construction site doesn't really do wonders for his love life, but mainly the point of this conversation is to suggest that Michael is going to be the love interest that Kate wants for herself. Michael asks if that "producer friend" is still single, which she is, but Michael wonders if maybe Kate has someone else on her roster better suited for him. She says she'll think about it. I'm sure she will. Michael gives an annoying "can you believe I need professional help?" chuckle while downing his beer in the middle of the afternoon, and says he figured his love life would just fall into place. "Sometimes we just need a little nudge," chirps Kate.
A jaunty closing number about kissing plays over scenes of Chelsea and Brad's wedding, as well as Cancer Boy and Jolene walking their dogs together, with Kate stalking them and grinning in her Thunderbird. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have several more cavities and need immediate dental attention.