Girls Club
Pilot

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Pilot

Henry -- here to remind us all that yes, San Francisco is a diverse city -- encourages Sarah to quit and call a headhunter before she digs herself any deeper at this firm. She basically tells him to piss off and seeks out Randa. "I just want to officially apologize again," she begins. "I was wrong." Randa thanks her curtly, and tells her she's asking Meredith not to have them work together on this case because it's unsatisfactory. "Randa, my comment was more about me needing to avenge than...I'm not..." Sarah stammers. "I'm doing a lousy job of articulating here, but what I'm trying to say is, I'm going to get you. Watch your back." Randa shakes her head, amused, as Little Sarah Spectacles flounces off in a fit of Polly Prissy Pants pique.

Spencer calls Clare into his Den of Inappropriate Touching and hits a remote control to shut the door. He tells her that they scored $71,000 for Tamara from Dr. Pap Smear, and that both the senior partner and his sister are very pleased. "Wonderful job," he grins. Clare thanks him happily, until he invites her to dinner to celebrate. "I know the chef at the Wine House," Spencer coos. "They'll take care of us." Clare stammers that she shouldn't, because he's married, she's dating someone, they work together, and also it's really gross and inappropriate. "There's a reason I asked for you on this case," Spencer pants. "I think you could second chair some big trials, if you're interested." By "second chair," he means "ride," and by "trials," he means "cock." He runs his finger down her chest, and you can actually see the trail of sleaze it leaves on her skin. Clare gulps that she's busy that night, but maybe another night they could go to dinner. Spencer breathes that he'll set that up immediately, and hugs her, wetting her cheek with his lips as he mutters a lusty "congratulations." Clare tucks her hair behind her ear and flees.

On her way out, Clare makes eye contact with Spencer's secretary, who shoots her a "flavor of the week" look. Storming through the halls with her head down, Clare starts to cry. Except she's really just wrinkling her nose and making heaving noises.

God, this apartment is HUGE. Wooden floors, huge rooms, and of course overdecorated in the way only TV-show apartments are. Lynne and Sarah are flopped on couches, moping. Clare decides to be the upbeat roommate and switches off the radio. "Come on," she says. "It wasn't the worst week in the world." Sarah glares at her. "Lynne's client hung himself, I lost my one and only client, [Henry] thinks I should contact a headhunter, and I could be a closet homophobe," Sarah recaps. "It was the worst week in the world." Clare brags that she had a great day because she settled her case. "Lynne, you tried a capital case solo and got a new trial for your dead client, you impressed a partner even though he likened you to a fish, and Sarah, standing up to Randa was overdue," Clare rattles off. She wants to go out to dinner to celebrate her actual triumph and the fake success she invented for her friends so that they will therefore be likely to agree to go out and celebrate Clare's triumph. Nice strategy. They mostly want her to stop being Suzy Cheerleader, so they agree. And as Sarah and Lynne start to get excited about the idea, Clare turns around so that we can see the private pain creep into her eyes, because she's our stoic little leader and she needs a hug, but instead she's going to get sushi. That's a terrible trade, though. Lynne warns them not to let her get too sloshed. "One drink on sushi..." she begins. Sarah perks up. "Are we drinking?" she asks. Clare exhales tiredly. "Ohhhh, yeah," she nods. Welcome to my recapping universe, ladies.

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Girls Club

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