So Johnny finally gets his computer set up so he can upload all his flirty photos of Greta. His internet handle, by the way, is "CameraShy90." Soulful photographer! He's still could-shouldering mom, and he avoids her by taking his fine self for a swim at the country club pool, where he and Greta can make flirty talk about how Palm Springs is so horribly sunny, unlike Johnny's hometown of Seattle. Oh, fucking of course he's from Seattle. That's where he gets the soulfulness and mopey street cred. Cliff mercifully interrupts and talks about some kegger-equivalent that's happening this weekend. Greta flounces off, of course, because of Cliff, which is good because it allows Cliff some uninterrupted flirting time with Johnny. But Johnny wants to talk about why Greta and Cliff are being all icy and weird around each other, which leads Cliff to admit that Dead Eddie didn't just die, he killed himself.

Holy crap, you guys, the opening credits are so bad. They look like an Enya video, for one, and they manage to take a billion years and yet still not identify anyone. If you're going to be one of the few shows that employs a full credit sequence these days, I damn well want to see actual credits instead of moody windmills.

Johnny goes to another AA meeting where he spills his guts to Jessie Jo. They hash out the whole issue of "Isn't a teenage alcoholic kind of just a...teenager?" Jessie Jo, of course, is the voice of reason: "Not everybody's doin' the vodka shuffle." Man, I could really go for a Vodka Shuffle right now. While at AA, Johnny runs into an old friend/flame of his from rehab named Nikki, who is played by Tessa Thompson, infinitely more likeable than she was on Veronica Mars. She can't go back home to L.A. until she's had a year sober, says her dad, so she's staying at a halfway house nearby. Johnny takes her to the Club for lunch where they very quickly manage to catch Greta's eye and make her exceedingly jealous. Nikki and Johnny are a billion times cuter and less annoying together than Johnny and Greta, so it looks like I'm in for a summer's worth of frustration and disappointment. On a completely related note, still no sex in my sexy summer soap yet.