Forgive me if the recap seems a little distracted. Some jerk-ass vandalized my car, and it's put a bit of a damper on my day. That said, let's go.
The show opens in Eli's room, where he's griping to Rick about the injustice of a society that judges people based on numbers. He's referring to the SATs as opposed to, say, salaries. Rick's not exactly sympathetic. Eli passionately points out that the whole idea of standardized testing is "racist." It may very well be, but last time I checked, Eli was an upper-middle-class white boy from the 'burbs, so it hardly lets him off the hook. Rick's the voice of The Man, telling him it's just the way it is. Eli snarkily wonders if that means Rick would love him more if he got higher scores. Rick warns him to "not even go down that road -- it's a dead end and [Eli] knows it." ["Is that a 'yes'?" -- Wing Chun] Eli snaps that he doesn't know anything: "I'm stupid, remember? That's what the numbers say." Rick concedes that the SATs measure how well a person can take a test, but the bottom line is that the higher your score, the better your odds. "Of what?" Eli demands. "Of things turning out the way you want them to," Rick says, somehow mistaking SAT scores for fairy dust. "And when was the last time that happened?" Eli smart-asses. Rick pauses, then decides it's wise to change tactics. He assures Eli that he's smarter than his SATs reflect. Eli wonders if maybe the scores really do reflect his ability. Rick keeps trying to encourage him, telling him that he "can see things [Eli] can't." "Dad-O-Vision," Eli intones, mockingly.
"Numbers don't lie," we hear David saying, seemingly undermining Rick's argument and affirming that Eli is, in fact, as dim as his scores suggest. Luckily, David's talking to Rick at a coffee shop, well out of Eli's earshot. He's bitching about the fact that Miles hasn't paid for any of their work yet, and he points out that if it were any other client, they'd have taken action by now. Rick tries to placate David by stating the obvious: David has a problem with it because he doesn't like Miles. David suggests that he would like Miles if he actually paid a bill once in a while. Rick insists that Miles does pay, and David insists he doesn't -- not since May, anyway. Rick tries to calm David by saying that the building is a huge commitment, and likens it to a wedding. Running with the analogy, David states that if it were a wedding, he'd say "the bride's getting cold feet." Miles in a wedding gown? I love it. David suggests that they push Miles to go to the permit stage. "Put up or shut up?" Rick demands. "What do you think he's going to say to that?" "Well, that depends on the size of his checkbook, doesn't it?" David says. Hey, David, you've got a little something on your chin. I think it's foreshadowing. He says that if Rick won't push Miles to commit, he will. "I know you will," Rick says.
As they enter their office, David pauses to tell Rick that Miles is already there. "How can you tell?" Rick asks, sniffing the air. David points to Miles's ever-present female lackey, who's perched in front of her laptop. "Her...You know what she's got in there, don't you?" he asks, pointing to the laptop. "Launch codes." Ha! David made a funny. It may very well be the first time I've laughed with him and not at him. Rick greets Miles, who's busily setting himself up near the model of his building. "Rick, young David," Miles says, "you're not late. I'm early." He then proceeds to drone on nasally about the shortcomings of architectural renderings: they lack context. He muses that while the building you see blows you away, it's easy to forget that "the clouds were airbrushed in, and they neglected to mention the nail salon door." From the way he says "nail salon," it's clear that Miles isn't a manicure man, which I find a little surprising. Then again, he probably gets his lackeys to do his nails for him. Rick says, "Real buildings stand in the real world, Miles." David stands with his back to Miles. "What do you suppose we could do about that?" Miles wonders. "About what?" Rick asks. "Reality," Miles says. "Drugs?" David deadpans, flipping through a binder. Okay, that's two. If he keeps it up, I'm maybe going to have to start thinking about hating David just a little bit less than I do. Maybe. "Always so close to clever," Miles replies. David thanks him with mock sincerity. Rick looks uncomfortable.
And then David hops up on the old Soliloquy Stool (except it's a chair this time, but "chair" would have ruined the alliteration) to give us a big ol' shout-out. Okay, deep down, I know it's not a shout-out, but I'm having a craptastic day, so let me savor my imaginary bone, okay? Anyway, David confesses, "Everybody tells me I need to work on my people skills. I think I'm being direct; they say I'm a pain in the ass. But this thing with Miles Drentell -- it's different." David looks agitated.
Back at the office. Miles's male lackey wheels away the model on its table, clearing the way for Miles to announce, "Gentlemen, there need to be some changes." "Changes?" David says, working himself up for the confrontation. He removes and folds his jacket. "You'll need to adjust your mind to a new scale. Otherwise, my building will seem out of place," Miles declares. In the corner of the screen, the male lackey assumes the position, standing much like a soldier at ease. Imagine for a minute what Miles's corporate environment must be like. Creepy. Rick, arms folded, informs Miles that the building "is appropriate to the context." "The context is about to change," Miles monotones. That line was so much more ominous when it was out of context. Many thanks to ABC's promo department for keeping us on our toes.
Back to David on the Stool that's really a chair. "It's like [Miles] is the ultimate alpha male, and everyone is supposed to urinate submissively in his presence," he scornfully says. "And I simply refuse to squat, and he doesn't like that." Well, I for one am thankful that David doesn't squat, if that counts for anything.
Back to the office. David and Rick are facing Miles with their arms crossed, looking steely. "These are interesting times," Miles informs his students. He elaborates, saying that corporations are aligning "like so many planets," and that soon enough, the world will "live under a half dozen flags -- not of nations, but of corporations." To Miles The Bloodless, this vision represents utopia. Miles asks them what they know about a company called Atlantor (I think that's what he says. For once, Miles doesn't enunciate everything precisely, so I kind of lost the last syllable.) They supply us with a little background: the company's into computers, pagers, and other high-tech stuff. Miles gives them a gold star and then fills them in on the rest of the company and its soon-to-be holdings, which range from a TV studio and satellite system to a sourball manufacturer. Miles offers the lads one of said sour balls. Rick takes and David declines. Surprise. Miles continues, explaining that Atlantor has approached him with a plan for consolidation, and that they're interested in combining their "private and public spaces" in a complex that "would blossom from the seed that is [his] building." David and Rick stand agape. Rick wants to know what size of a complex they're talking about. Miles wordlessly unfurls an enormous roll of paper on the floor. The roll stops when it hits the wall on the other side of the office. The complex is big, in other words. After a groaningly pregnant pause, Miles says, "Big enough to lift its designer to a very high, very exclusive plateau." He looks vaguely amused. David squints suspiciously. He wants to know why that type of client would be interested in them. "Because I am," Miles states grandly, baring his teeth. Oh, pardon me. That was a smile. He watches his lackeys place the model of his building in the center of the unrolled paper. "'After' is about to begin," he proclaims. Did I miss something? After what? David glances at Rick, who's busy staring at the spectacle before him. Rolling his eyes, David walks away.
Suddenly David is on the other side of a glass partition watching Rick and Miles crouched near the model discussing the project. Miles loudly says that he must give Rick a word of caution: there is some skepticism on the part of the client as to Rick's ability. Rick stands when he hears this and repeats what Miles said. Fiddling with his pinky, Miles assures Rick that the doubt can be "dispelled in a matter of moments under the right conditions." He suggests a "convivial dinner party Saturday night." Rick agrees. Buttoning his jacket, Miles says he thinks the party "should be here." Rick thinks he means Chicago. Miles means in the office. Miles asserts, "Even the best of men can be overpowered by the wrong restaurant -- especially if the people serving the food look better pressed than he." Rick looks down at his rumpled plaid flannel and makes a joke about drinking wine out of pencil cups. The corners of Miles's mouth curve patronizingly. "You're serious," Rick says. "Almost always," Miles answers dryly. Rick looks confused for a moment -- stunned, no doubt, that Miles actually made a joke. Finally, Rick agrees to the plan "if [Miles] thinks it will put [them] over the top." Miles looks off-screen, makes a face like he's calling a cat, and nods. Male lackey appears, bearing his coat. He helps Miles on with it while Miles drones, "I will make the arrangements. And as an added bonus, I get to meet your significant other." Rick's mouth forms a perfect O. "Oh," he says when he regains his speech, "...okay...okay...I'll, uh, have to call her...see if she can make it work." Miles levels him with a steady, slightly coy look that screams, "You're joking." Rick stammers, "Kids...you know." Yeah, Miles knows kids. If Miles ever reproduces, it'll be asexually, like an amoeba, and his offspring will be fully formed, humorless adults. "Apply gentle pressure," Miles advises, thinking of the eyeful of Lily's ass he got on last week's episode. His eyes bug. "I think it'll be an enlightening evening." How is it that Miles can make anything sound ominous?
Well, speak of the devil and there she is. Oh, I'm kidding. We see Lily juggling her travel mug, purse, videos, and cell phone as she opens the door of the Explorer. See? She really does need that big truck. "I thought we were already on for Saturday," she says to the phone. Rick explains the situation: Miles wants him to meet some people, and he wants to do it at Rick's office. "What kind of people?" Lily wants to know. "Pretty important people," Rick says helpfully. "Oh," Lily says. Silence. Rick jumps in to say he knows it's short notice, and it's the first time they'll be meeting business clients "as, you know, a...unit..." "I think 'couple' is the word you're going for," Lily teases. Rick tells Lily that Miles is really looking forward to meeting her. "He is?" she says, surprised. Remember, she didn't notice Miles noticing her ass end last week. Rick says that she really should meet Miles and promises it'll be "an experience. He's a piece of work." Amen. Lily wants to know whom "Miles Drentell" is bringing. "Madeline Albright or Madonna," Rick quips. "It depends who's in town." Apparently Rick didn't hear that Madonna's engaged this week. Oh wait, no she's not. "I think I'm intimidated," Lily admits. "It'll be fun," Rick promises. Lily's still intimidated, but she agrees to go.
Rick hangs up, and the camera pans over his shoulder where David is glaring at him though the glass. Good thing it's safety glass. David looks nearly psychotic with the tape paused. Rick feels David's eyes burning a hole in his back and spins to look at him. David stands and leans over the partition saying, "I don't like this." Rick tells him not to come, then. David snarks that no one invited him, anyway. Rick says it was assumed. David: "I took it for granted that [Miles would] have the two guys there with the sunglasses and no necks to keep me out." Rick jokingly wonders why David pays for cable when he has such a vivid fantasy life. David retorts, "Hey, look, you're the one who wants to flash -- you're the golden boy, right?" Goh! Rick doesn't like that one. He scowls and tells David to knock it off. David says he means it: Rick would prefer it if David weren't there because then he could be "less inhibited." Rick wonders what that means, frantically reassuring himself that the ladies' panties incident from last year's Christmas party has indeed been forgotten. David clarifies: Rick "won't have to pretend [he doesn't] like it." The receptionist interrupts to inform them, "The party people are here." Blank looks. "Mr. Drentell sent them," she says. "That was fast," Rick mutters. "Yeah, he probably had them stashed in a van up the alley," David snides. Ha! David, really, this has to stop or I may end up liking you.
We cut to a close-up of a measuring tape being pulled across the doorway. The plucky guitars start up to let us know that this is going to be funny. Rick ducks under the tape and approaches the woman in charge, asking how long and how disruptive they're going to be. She assures him it's just a simple matter of getting some measurements, taking some pictures, checking the circuit breakers, and then they're out. She adds that they're "the surgical strike force of special events." "Surgical strike force"? Oh, yeah, they're with Miles all right. The party girl promises that everything will be perfect because she doesn't "want to blow this one." Rick wants to know why. "Because I've seen the guest list," she says, clutching her clipboard coyly. Rick watches her walk away, open-mouthed. A sleek-looking woman approaches. She tells Rick, "The driver is waiting." "Why is the driver waiting?" Rick asks blankly. "A gift from Mr. Drentell. You'll be back in an hour," she promises. Rick wants to know where he's going. She gives him a once-over and says it's a surprise -- Mr. Drentell loves surprises. Oo! Oo! I know, I know! Rick's going to a tailor for a custom-made suit! Miles is just like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman. What does that does that make Rick, I wonder?
"It depends on whether you dress to the right or to the left," says the tailor, not in answer to my question, but to Rick. The Lucky Tailor is kneeling before Rick, measuring his inseam. The plucky guitars are still playing. Rick, standing with his arms crossed, doesn't understand. The tailor stands, grinning impishly. "Sir, I mean to which...heh...side," he says, pointing to the left and then to the right. Rick gets it. He admits he's never really noticed which side. Three million Americans volunteer to help him find out. Rick wants to know if it makes much of a difference. "I think you'd be a much better judge of that than I would, sir," the tailor says as he steps away. Rick looks dumbfounded. What can he say to that? To let the tailor know that his does, in fact, make a difference thankyouverymuch, Rick quickly stammers, "To the, uh, left. No...right. No...left." The tailor stands behind him with a look like, "Sir, if you can't feel which side it's on, trust me, it won't make a difference." Rick hurries to explain that it's definitely the left side because "that would be balanced." The tailor looks confused. Rick balls up his fists and looks like he's about to shadow box, announcing proudly, "Well yeah. I'm right-handed." Get it? He made a joke about jerking the Rick Stick. And implied that he does it a lot. Huh...talk amongst yourselves a minute, would you? I just need to think about it for a minute, you know, to see if it makes sense... ["Hee! I didn't read it like that at all. I was thinking more like, right-handed/left-brained. Because if he were right-handed, wouldn't he want...it...to the right for easier access? Let's all go to the forums and debate the issue in more depth!" -- Wing Chun]
We cut to Judy and Lily at the book store having lunch. No spit bucket necessary this time; it's only salad and fruit. Judy's telling Lily, "It's a dinner. You've had dinner before. I know; I've seen you eat." And the myth continues to be woven. "But what's my role?" Lily wants to know. "You're the girl," Judy helpfully supplies. "The one who doesn't open the car door." Lily tries to make Judy understand the context. It's a business dinner. With clients. Rick's clients. For his business. We get it. She finally gets Judy's attention when she mentions that "Miles Drentell, shaper of corporations," will be there. Judy says she saw his picture in Newsweek. "That's the sort of face they used to stamp on Roman coins," she notes. Lily says that's exactly what she means: she's "having dinner with a Roman coin. What's [her] function?" Judy bluntly says that Lily's the "trophy." "I'm not a trophy," Lily says adamantly. Half a second later, she adds a meek, "Am I a trophy?" Judy says of course Lily's a trophy. "Rick wants to show off for you and he wants to show you off," Judy says. "I think you should be very flattered being a trophy -- a woman your age." Lily swats her arm. But she is flattered. She wants to know what Judy thinks she should wear. How about a brass plate that says "World's #1 Hottest Mom"?
Meanwhile, Rick's perched on the Soliloquy Stool, saying that "there comes a point in a man's life where he seriously begins to face the fact that it's not going to happen for him." The tailor holds out a selection of ties for Rick. Rick continues talking from the Stool: "The dream, it's not going to come true. He ran out of time, or didn't get the breaks...or [sigh] he's just not as special as he'd thought." Rick examines a couple of blue dress shirts. A hand appears, bearing water in a footed crystal glass. "And in that terrible, clear moment," Rick continues, "he kind of opens the fist that's been holding so tight to what he's been dreaming of...you know, he lets go, he gives up. And now...I'm wondering if the universe wasn't just waiting to give him what he wants...was waiting for that hand to open [opens his fist and stares at it] so it could put the prize right in his palm." You know, I think Rick might be talking about himself, and not just some "man." In the store, Rick's gone back to browsing the ties. He selects a hideously mottled silk tie (it looks like a bruise) and declares, "I'll take this one." He slides it out from the rest and turns, in slow motion, to try it in front of the mirror. He looks very pleased with himself, and I half expect ZZ Top to roll out from behind the mirror singing "Sharp-Dressed Man." Thankfully, they don't.
After commercials, we find Rick at home. Eli is surveying the new suit with approval, saying, "You'd make a really cool bad guy in a James Bond movie with a suit like this." He'd make a great little Miles, in other words. While Rick dresses, he asks if Eli's staying in for the night. He is. Rick points out that it's a good chance to "do some studying." Eli counters that it's Saturday night. "It's an opportunity," Rick insists. Eli's getting steamed. He grits that he studies during the week, and "pretty hard." Adjusting his tie, Rick says he's not saying that Eli doesn't, but he has to "work harder, make the extra effort to get the things [he] want[s]." Either that, or find a rich client to become his sugar daddy. Eli snaps that since Rick has "a pretty good idea of what [Eli] wants, maybe he could print him out a list some time." Then he storms away.
Cut to Lily's place, where Zoe's "helping" Lily get ready. "That doesn't look very sexy," she notes, looking at Lily's high-necked black dress. As Lily moves to the mirror to put in her earrings, she asks distractedly, "What, honey?" "Never mind," says Zoe, catching sight of the dress's non-existent back. The doorbell dings. Zoe wants to know if this "is a date, or what." Lily thinks it's an "or what -- it's a business thing for Rick." "So, are women supposed to wear sexy clothes to business things?" Lily tells her that that is a very long conversation, and she'll be happy to have it with her later. Grace comes to the doorway, smiling. "Mom, you've got to see this," she says. Zoe runs after her. As we see their fuzzy shapes descending the stairs, the camera focuses on Rick adjusting his tie in the hall mirror. "Wow," Lily whistles. The girls beam, which is very sweet. "I don't know if I'm wearing it or just helping it move through the world," Rick quips. He tells them that Miles bought it for him. Lily asks if that isn't "a little..." and makes a face that says, "you know, weird?" Apparently, she saw Pretty Woman, too. "Not for this client," Rick says. They kiss. Grace eye rolls. Zoe smiles. The adults make their exit, and the camera moves to the window where Zoe and Grace push aside the curtain to snoop. "Is it okay for a guy to buy another guy clothes?" Zoe wonders. "I think it's okay," Grace says, "as long as it's not, like, underwear." You can hear her nose scrunch with distaste. Zoe seconds it with, "Ew."
Close-up of the back of a very broad head perched atop extremely broad shoulders. There is no neck involved, which leads me to believe we're looking at one of the henchmen so aptly described by David. The camera follows No Neck to the doorway, where he greets Rick and Lily. He introduces himself and tells Rick, "If you need anything, just turn around. I'll be there." Oh, there's a thought to put you at ease. He wishes them a good evening and they thank him. "You're welcome, Miss Manning," he says. And they never even told him her name! Doo-doo doo-doo...Rick and Lily get the hell away from the no-necked creep, and marvel at the office's transformation. There's a string quartet (quintet, whatever -- I didn't get to count) in a corner, a giant table in the center set with linen and crystal, a bar in the far corner, and fresh flower arrangements strategically placed throughout. Miles glides forward to greet them with a woman at his side. He asks what they think of the "mild transformation." "Very impressive," Rick notes. "It's supposed to be," Miles answers. Rick makes the introductions. Miles says that Rick has spoken well of Lily. "Well, he's talked about you too," she responds. Notice how she didn't qualify it? Smart. "It's all true," Miles says. He introduces them to his companion, Dr. Camille Ardo. Miles suggests they move to the bar. Lily moves to Camille to chat as they walk, asking what type of doctor she is. "Thoracic surgery," Camille answers. Miles offers that Camille performed his bypass. Great. She and Lily should have loads to talk about. A waiter bearing a tray of chicken satays approaches the ladies. Sela fights the urge to glare at him for teasing, and simply shakes her head. In the meantime, Miles silently guides Rick back toward the conference area to further discuss the plans. Lily looks like she wants to follow, but a couple of women walk up and greet Camille. Camille introduces Lily as we fade into a Soliloquy Sequence.
From the Stool, Lily wonders why the old grade-school-party division of boys and girls still happens at adult parties. She suspects that it must be part of our genetic code, buried deep in our brains "along with breathing air or walking on legs." I'm no anthropologist, but...bullshit. It's called social conditioning, Lily.
In the conference room, the model is sitting stark and alone in the middle of a huge table. No pressure or anything, but Miles wants to know if Rick's thought about how he's going to fill the space. "There's no need to be specific with these people as long as you sound specific," he advises Rick. Rick is a little surprised; he thought this was just a chance for the clients to meet him. Miles assures Rick it's a chance for them to get to know him, and for him to show them that he can understand and interpret what they want. "You make this sound like less than a done deal," Rick notes. "The more monumental the deal, the more fragile the negotiations," Miles says. Rick complains that this is sounding like a presentation, which he certainly isn't prepared for. Miles asks if he's apprehensive. "What's the thing just below apprehension?" Rick asks. "Lesser apprehension," Miles jokes. My computer almost crashed when I typed that, by the way. Miles says a little apprehension is good; it'll keep Rick sharp. Rick asks about the clients, and Miles explains for our benefit that they are a "three-headed beast." We get a shot of each of the three "heads" as he describes them in turn. Head #1 is a fiftyish man named Warren Wilder, who founded the company and managed to acquire others through a business plan "somewhere between manifest destiny and Mein Kampf." Head #2 is Todd Munro, "the man who's prepared Atlantor for the third millennium." Miles points out Todd Munro's date, a swimsuit model who posed nude for a baby shampoo commercial when she was five. It was done by Miles's company. "I'm sure it's significant," Miles says, his voice carrying surprisingly well from the center of the universe, "I just haven't figured out how." Finally, he points out Head #3, Cybil Testimonti, "a warm, maternal spirit who eats Harvard MBAs for breakfast." She's a short, fortyish, pregnant woman. Miles notes that it's her third child and, dropping his voice, adds, "And no one has seen her husband." Maybe she's like a praying mantis and eats her mates along with those MBAs. Sexist, much? Amazingly, Rick buys into the whole thing, gulping noticeably at Miles's little horror story. Miles notices that Rick is looking "a little clenched." In an odd attempt at reassurance, Miles points out that Rick isn't prepared for this -- it's "the deep end of the pool, deeper than [Rick] ever imagined." Rick says he can't tell if Miles is enjoying this. Miles asks Rick to clarify. "My discomfort," Rick says. "Not as such," Miles says, "but I do like the biochemical soup it produces." Because it's the perfect dissolving agent for those pesky international spies who are always trying to get their hands on his launch codes. Miles is kind enough to place the evening's success or failure squarely on Rick's shoulders before he walks away.
Cut to a close-up of the model, where we see an eyeball peering through an archway. It's Head #1, admiring Rick's work. Head #2 babbles some crap about "Miles's audacious sense of scale." Head #3 materializes and asks Rick point-blank if he feels up to such a big job. "Well, it certainly is a challenge," he fudges. "You've never done anything like this before," she says, semi-accusingly. Miles to the rescue. Head #2 scrunches up his face in pompous condescension (or I guess what he thinks pompous condescension looks like) and says, "Cybil's full of hormones right now. It makes her cautious and maternal." She responds with a cutting remark. Head #1 wants to know how Rick will get hold of all the land they'll need. "Very carefully, I presume," Rick says. I groan. Heads 2 and 3 talk at him for a minute before Head #1 levels another question about integrating the retail and office spaces so that neither seems like a "cheap afterthought." Rick pulls the old bullshitter's standby: when you don't know the answer, simply repeat the question in the form of a statement. Amazingly, these big heads of business seem satisfied with his vague comments. Rick is sporting that dopey, dazed look he got at Thanksgiving dinner. I hope the clients aren't looking at him.
Over his shoulder, Lily's chatting with the ladies. One asks about her "husband," referring to Rick. Lily corrects her. The swimsuit model is confused as to how Lily has kids without being married to Rick. Lily explains the whole sordid mess while the blonde trio clucks and nods. "Wow, four kids," says the model. "Two," Lily corrects her. "I have two, and Rick has two." "Right," says the model, "four." I think she just wants to prove that she can do the math. Lily has nothing to say in response to such a stunning display of intelligence, so she does the sensible thing and takes a slug of her champagne. While she's tipping her glass, the matronly blonde snides, "Well, I guess we know what you do all day, hmm?" and the ladies all snicker. Lily keeps the glass tilted and drains it. The model complains that she has to decide soon if she wants kids. Lily thinks that's silly, since the girl is in her early twenties. "Not if you have ovaries," the model vapids. "You can't get the tummy flat enough for swimsuit work." Someone needs to explain what ovaries are, I think. Lily looks as if she'd like to plunge her empty flute into her eye. "That never occurred to me," she says, and the ladies tee-hee. She excuses herself and heads for the conference room.
I feel like I'm suddenly watching a horror movie. I keep screaming, "Don't go in there!" but it doesn't make a difference. This is going to be bad.
One of the Heads has just finished telling a joke when Lily arrives, and everyone chuckles snootily. Lily sidles up to Rick. Miles's smile freezes a little. The laughter dies, and the room grows subdued awfully fast. Lily doesn't pick up on this classic clue that she's interrupting. Even if it were a regular party, you'd think she'd get the hint. She notices the pregnant Head and asks when she's due. I can't watch. The Head answers her civilly enough, and Head #2 even makes a little joke. But Lily can't quit while she's ahead, and insists on drawing attention to the woman's pregnancy. She asks if it's the woman's first child. She gets a terse "no" by way of reply. Silence. Uncomfortable half-smiles around the table. Lily finally figures out that she's got cooties, and quietly says, "Well, I guess I'll get a refill." Thank god! That was too tense. Rick glances at Lily over his shoulder, and Miles watches Rick.
Meanwhile, Eli's in his room, actually doing homework. He's frustrated with it, though, and slams the book and his pen on the bed. He glances up, and his guitar appears in the foreground. Oh, sweet temptation...
Back at the non-party, everyone's seated around the table, and dinner appears to be over. Rick's spinning more crap and the Heads are working hard at being pompous, grating business stereotypes. I hate them. I'd like to mute this entire scene. But I can't, see, because as your intrepid recapper it's my job to suffer through every pretentiously pretentious word. Out of consideration for you, though, I'll just skip over the bullshit and only transcribe the good stuff. Basically, the Heads blah blah blasé about the public and make apparent their scorn for Joe Q. Lily asks if their opinion isn't "terribly cynical" and says that they "sound like [they] want to cut people out of the process altogether." Miles casts a disbelieving eye in her direction. Rick quickly distances himself from her, sharply cutting her off and dishing some bullshit in support of the clients' blatherings. The clients resume insulting the intelligence of the public. Lily, still going on the mistaken assumption that this conversation is a friendly free-for-all, offers up another unwelcome opinion. As she "banters" with Head #1, Miles shoots Rick a warning look, and Rick glances uncomfortably at the table. Lily's about to say something more when Rick turns and levels her with a stank-eye. She shuts up immediately and looks hurt and embarrassed. She lowers her head. Pregnant Head looks positively smug, the bitch. Lily looks as though she's about to say something, but can't get the words out. I think she's on the verge of tears. Miles pipes up to recover the situation: "How fortunate for us that politics has been rendered irrelevant." While everyone chuckles, Lily looks positively miserable and glares at Rick. Miles shoots Rick a pointed look, letting him know he's got to grab the ball and run with it. Rick nods into his lap, psyching himself up.
The scene that follows shifts quickly between shots of the dinner party and Eli's room, as each of the Sammler men finds his groove. Rick starts blathering about the "key to understanding this project" as we get a shot of Eli's amp cord being plugged into the guitar. It's almost sexual. Rick is struggling for words and trying to hit his stride. He stands. Eli flops on his bed, cradling his guitar on his lap. Something sparks in Rick. He's not faking it anymore. He's off to the conference room, charged with an idea. Lily looks like she's grinding her teeth. Eli diddles with his guitar strings and starts to get into the music. Rick, gesturing madly and walking around the model, spouts off about "this new signature on the city." Eli really starts strumming. Rick does, too. He's painting a grandiose picture in the Heads' heads. Their complex will be the first thing people see from the air when they arrive by plane. It will be...He can't express it in words. He gestures for them to hold on, finds a marker, and he's off. As he describes the concept, Rick's hand flies passionately over the paper around the model, sketching a virtual city. He's on fire. Eli is too (in his mind...work with me). He's up walking around his room, biting his lip, and really pouring himself into the guitar. Everyone has gathered around the conference table, marveling at the image Rick's creating before them. Everyone except Lily, that is. She's sitting glumly at the table and watching through the glass partition. When he's finished creating, Rick steps back, throws up his hands triumphantly, and proclaims his creation a "new urban valley." The Heads like it...they liiiike it. Rick's got them. Eli's sitting again, but he's still playing his heart out. The music crescendos over the scene as someone steps up behind Lily with a bottle of wine. It's Miles. He startles her when he offers to refill her glass. Rick, meanwhile, is rapt, shading in his drawing to add depth. Lily frowns and hugs her arms around herself.
After commercials, we find Rick pulling into Lily's driveway. What a quiet ride home that must've been. As Lily unbuckles her seatbelt, Rick goes to follow. She tells him she can get in by herself. He asks if she wants to "tag up" tomorrow. She gives him a short affirmative. He thanks her "for tonight." "Don't mention it," she says tersely, and I think she means it literally. Rick pulls her in for a kiss. Oblivious, much? Lily starts up the walk then returns, appearing at his window with this warning: "Don't ever give me that look again." Rick pleads ignorance. She clarifies: "That silencing look. That editorial look." Lily sounds like she's choking back tears. Rick looks appropriately ashamed and repentant as he nods. He apologizes, and Lily digests it for a moment before thanking him. They both look sad. Lily asks if he's okay. He says he thinks so. He admits that the night wasn't what he expected. She assures him that it went well; Miles looked pleased. Rick affirms that everyone was pleased. He looks close to tears. I think he meant things didn't go as he'd expected with her. She asks if he wants to come in, but he begs off. They kiss again. He watches her as she walks toward the house then he's out of the truck, apologizing again for the look. He admits he could feel himself doing it, but he couldn't stop it -- the "dad mask." He adds, "It's just that this is important, and I want it." He apologizes one more time and promises that it won't happen again. Lily says she hopes not. They say goodnight again, but this time it's for real.
Back at the Sammler ranch, Eli's on the phone in the kitchen, ranting again about standardized tests. This time, he's complaining that "they actually give teachers bonuses based on how well their students do." That's right, Eli; it's all a big conspiracy aimed at making your life miserable. Everyone's in on it. Whoever's on the other end seems to be suggesting a new way of seeing things. Eli concedes that he guesses they're right -- he'd never thought of it that way. Rick enters, and when Eli spots him, he tells the person to hold on. "It's for you," he says, handing Rick the cordless. "It's your client, that Drentell guy. He seems pretty cool." From the back seat of his car, Miles informs Rick that he has a "very engaging son." Miles then cuts to the chase. Which is to say, he begins torturing Rick. He tells him that he'd planned to call and commend him. Rick says he did the best he could. Miles repeats that that was his plan, but he just finished speaking with the clients. Rick's stomach plummets. He sits on the stairs and grabs the bridge of his nose, bracing for the worst. "Uh huh," he says, resolutely. "They...Are...On...Board," Miles says. Rick looks stunned. Miles goes on to praise Rick's performance and says the clients were almost as impressed as he was. "It's going to happen, and more," Miles declares. Rick cautiously asks whether the Heads have to check with anybody. Miles informs him that they are the people with whom people check. Miles congratulates Rick and tells him -- are you sitting down? -- to enjoy the rest of the weekend. He tells Rick to "take that son of [his] to a sporting event and bond, and [they'll] talk Monday." Rick disconnects and stands there for a minute, looking disoriented and weaving slightly. As it registers, he spins around and does that little jockish "Yeee-es!" move, like he just scored a touchdown.
Cut to a close-up of paper clips around the base of a champagne flute. The camera pans back and we see that David is tossing the clips at the glass. Rick enters and they exchange hellos. After a moment or two, during which David goes on shooting clips, Rick proclaims him "unbelievable." Rick bugs him about not asking how it went Saturday night. "How'd it go Saturday night?" David dutifully asks. "We got it, David. We got the whole damn thing," Rick says, with barely restrained elation. He goes on to say it was like the first time they got anything except "a million times better." Rick's elation is not contagious. David, still sitting, simply looks at him. Rick tells David to do himself "a favor: open up just a crack and let some of this in because it feels so good!" "So you were brilliant?" David asks. Rick affirms it, sings his own praises, and ends up sounding like Cinderella after the ball as he remembers how transformed the office looked -- like a dream. David points out that the only remnant is the lone champagne flute. Still blabbing excitedly, Rick says he's going to frame the flute. David's expression still hasn't changed. "Miles must've been happy," David says from behind the fist that's propping up his chin. He removes his feet from his desk, stands, and walks deliberately to Rick's desk, saying, "If you hadn't impressed those people, his whole dream would've fallen apart." Rick agrees, saying that after all that, doing only Miles's building would have been a letdown. "Miles wouldn't have a building if it wasn't for those people," David states in a monotone. Rick wants to know what he's talking about. David moves to Rick's other side, lowers his voice, and drops the bomb: he made some calls over the weekend and managed to find out that, "about the same time Miles started being so fussy, the funding for his building was going down the toilet." Rick doesn't comprehend. "I mean there's more real money behind this model than there is behind Miles Drentell." Miles's old financers, it seems got cold feet, and when word got out "there was a stampede." Rick can't believe they didn't hear about it. David points out they don't "run into too many investment bankers in the car-pool lane." "Last May," Rick repeats, finally absorbing the reality of David's news. David lays it out: "Without Atlantor, [Miles is] nothing. You saved his ass the other night, and I bet you said 'thank you.'" Rick looks like David Spade must've when his assistant got finished with the stun gun. "I'm sorry," David mutters before walking away. I honestly think he means it.
Miles is in the Soliloquy Room, but he doesn't deign to speak or even sit. He stands and eyes us deliberately, pulls a hard candy out of his pocket, and slowly unwraps it. He represses a smirk. Seriously, no one does smug better than this actor.
"It wasn't something I thought you needed to know about. I would have told you if you'd asked," Miles tells Rick, who's standing in his office. Rick's fury is boiling just under the surface. "You didn't have the money for your building, Miles," he fumes, his voice deceptively soft. Miles takes the philosophical route, wondering what "have" means "these days...What does money mean, for that matter?" Rick points out that he lied. "What is truth?" Miles muses, pointing out that Rick "sculpted the air the other night...That was a kind of lie. Only now, you'll get to build it." Miles wants to know what's "worrying the edges of Rick's conscience. Is it the Atlantor people? Does it offend you that they're hacks? It offends me. But the great temples have always been lifted to honor the mediocre." Except when they're lifted to honor Miles, of course. Rick's not letting him off the hook so easily. He starts with the finger pointing, jabbing away as he says that Miles manipulated him -- he made Rick perform for those people, and Rick hated that. Miles disagrees: "There was reluctance and fear, but not hate. And once the fear fell away, it was like nothing you've ever felt before." Rick seems to have lost control of his face, he's so angry. His mouth swims around, contorting as he tries to get the words out. "No! You used me to get the money!" he shouts. "Because I knew you could," Miles says hypnotically. I think he puts Rick in a trance. Rick stands there panting, looking at Miles while Miles issues a vaguely veiled threat. If Rick is so offended by Miles's actions, and his trust in Miles is so corroded, then Miles will graciously release Rick from the contract and find another architect. Whoa, there! Nobody's gotta go doing anything crazy. Rick ponders the loss for a moment as Miles's phone rings. Miles goes to answer it, leaving Rick looking around helplessly, trying to figure out what to do.
After commercials, we join Lily and Judy in Lily's kitchen where they're having coffee. Judy's blathering about someone who reads the residue of latte foam. Lily could not care less. She just stirs the sugar in her coffee and stares absently. Judy leans in and asks Lily to give her a clue because she's "running low on banter." Well, it's a relief to know the foam stuff's not her best material. Judy asks if the dinner was that bad -- whether Lily threw up on somebody, or somebody threw up on her. Close, but it was more like a case of verbal diarrhea. Lily gets up from the table, grumbling cryptically that it was "very interesting." She puts the milk away, saying, "Rick impressed the hell out of them, and that was the whole point." She goes on, describing his performance and concluding that he was "all business." Judy points out that Lily's always picked men with "a gift for striving." Lily's "been down that road before, thank you very much, and [she] really doesn't want to go down it again." Judy says that there are worse things to be attracted to than ambition. And then a vortex mysteriously opens and sucks Lily out of the kitchen. She ends up in her familiar haunt, the center of the universe. You know, the place where she's most comfortable. Lily suggests that maybe she's not attracted to ambitious men. Maybe they're normal, well-adjusted people until they meet her. And then they become competitive and driven to succeed. "What if it's me?" she demands. Judy doesn't seem to notice that Lily's idea is entirely preposterous and incredibly self-absorbed. She makes the mistake of encouraging Lily, which astounds me, because after thirty-odd years of being hijacked on Lily's little Me Trips, you'd think Judy would recognize the warning signs. She asks if maybe Lily produces a pheromone of some kind. Lily suggests that maybe she's got some kind of Midas touch curse. My heart bleeds for her. Judy tells her it's a "certifiably [SAY IT, JUDY! SAY IT!] creepy idea." Damn. That's not what I thought she was going to say. Lily says it's also "borderline paranoid." Sure, if paranoid borders on egocentric and self-inflated. Lily keeps whining on about it, failing to notice that none of us care. While she talks, she grabs a bread bag, holds it up, and swats it repeatedly in an attempt to twist and seal it. She handles it like she's wearing oven mitts. I don't think Sela touches Wonder Bread too often. Judy figures out that Lily's musings reflect something more serious, and asks if the dinner was a "speed bump" or something "more serious." Lily's not sure.
David, meanwhile, is going over the drawings Rick whipped up at the party. They mutter back and forth about the concept, and then Rick says he "ordered the survey for the larger site." "Oh boy, you really told [Miles] off, didn't you?" David snides. Rick gives him an ends-justifying-the-means spiel and says that such an opportunity "only comes along once in a lifetime." David knows all that, but the project is dealing with a lot of land and involves a lot of red tape. He asks whether Rick really trusts Miles enough to put all the time and money into securing it. Rick starts to say that Miles knows they're watching him...David cuts him off, asking whether Rick trusts Miles, especially with "that much of [their] city." Rick says that's a good argument for them to be "the ones" who handle it. They can "watch [Miles]; they can handle him." David scornfully says, "And you think I have a rich fantasy life." He tells Rick that he's dreaming if he thinks they can handle Miles. David says he doesn't want "to hang around and watch [Rick] build [Miles's] palace." "Well, maybe you could just hang around and watch my back," Rick spits. Somebody should. "God knows somebody has to," David says grudgingly, echoing my very sentiments. It's really starting to scare me, people. Rick tells David that he'll "see in a year -- maybe less" and asks if he wants to bet. "No, I really don't," David answers. "Because I don't want to win."
At home that night, Rick finds Eli torturing his guitar. He reminds Eli that he "really should be studying." Eli's not happy to hear it. Rick gives him the same damn speech my mom used to give me: think of doing something fun as a reward. "Tell yourself 'I'll study this much, and then I can play,'" Rick says. He's about to leave when Eli tells him flatly, "This is my work, too." Rick looks at Eli like he's seeing him for the first time then glances around the room. We follow his view, seeing a keyboard, some scattered CDs, an acoustic guitar. I'm waiting for him to tell Eli to clean up the damn mess. "This is going to be it for you?" he asks. "Is this what you really want?" "Well, I'm good at it," Eli says. I'm still cleaning the Coke spray off my TV. "What do you want for your life?" Rick asks. Eli snaps that he doesn't know what he wants yet. Rick says he understands, and that "there used to be time for a man to wander. Nowadays they throw things at you so fast you don't have time to wonder if it's an opportunity or a trap." I refuse to transcribe the rest of his speech because it involves the use of "fella." Still, Eli is rapt, and he understands what Rick is saying. For the first time, each of them seems to see where the other is coming from. Eli pleads not to have to decide what he wants to do "right now. Not today, or this week." Rick says he's just worried that one day Eli will wake up and find that it's too late -- somebody's already made the decision for him.
Eli hops on the Soliloquy Stool, saying, "My dad's got the eye. You know, Dad-O-Vision. You can feel it drilling a hole in the back of your head sometimes. And he's also got the eye that sees how things go together. I mean, he makes connections. He builds things."
We see a crane scooping dirt as a Mercedes pulls up to a building site.
"I didn't get that eye," Eli continues. "I watch my dad work, sometimes, and his pencil just flies across the page like it was music."
Hands unroll Rick's plans for the new development.
"Me writing a sentence is like walking through mud up to my neck," Eli says. "Makes me kinda jealous. You know, I think when he thinks about me not having it, he gets kinda angry. I don't know why, or whether he's getting angry at me. But he just...gets angry." Eli looks sad.
We see Miles and Rick at the hood of the Mercedes, looking at the plans. They discuss the fight they'll face in getting the land and building ordinances for the development. Sensing Rick's reluctance, Miles points out that Rick's ideal world -- where "good work rises of its own accord, without the sully of compromise or politics" doesn't exist. He says he knows it's hard to "let go of that dream" and assures Rick that "it will be all right. [He's] made the right choice, and [he] will be rewarded. The monument will be built." He goes on, "And though the poets disagree, monuments are what count. I know this because I am closer to the end than I am to the beginning. Come, let's pace off the kingdom." He smiles a little and Rick follows him. We watch from above as they stride off, and Miles says, "There remains the small problem of your partner, David. But I'm sure you can handle him." Rick assures him that he can. Hmm, Rick's going to be doing a lot of handling in the coming days....