So I'm guessing that the title of Nico's Vanity Fair-esque magazine, Bonfire, derives from the phrase "bonfire of the vanities." Which is funny, because if you were going to conduct an actual bonfire of the vanities, this show would be the first vanity object you'd toss on the fire (followed, possibly, by Candace Bushnell herself). Right now Savonarola's ashes are stirring angrily in their watery grave. Anyway, there's a crisis at Bonfire: Prince William "and his crumpet" -- we are delicately declining to name the royal GF -- no longer want to be on the cover of the mag's "royal" issue, because the proposed styling was too "stodgy." Nico assures company-head Hector that she can get HRH to sign a contract, and turns down smirking Mike's offer to help out.
Wendy walks into the Parador Pictures office, greeting everyone cheerfully, but all her employees are plainly avoiding her. Haven't they heard the good news about the weekend returns? she asks her assistant, Josh, who doesn't answer; Sal, a suit waiting in her office, fills her in. The studio has just received the manuscript for a novel, ostensibly so that they might consider it as film fodder. Sal calls the book a "thinly-veiled novel based on your life," although I think he means "a novel that is a thinly-veiled account of your life." Watch those modifiers, Sal. The point is, it's a Devil Wears Prada-style character assassination penned by Wendy's former nanny, Mariska. (A certain NBC star might have a problem with Wendy's failure to pronounce the invisible "H" in that name.) I'll spare you the quippy quotation -- the first of many -- Sal uses to make his point that the book's not flattering. Wendy is shocked.
In her home office, Victory is whining to her sole remaining employee about wanting to reinvent herself. I can already tell that it will be unnecessary to specify that Victory is whining; I might as well say, "Victory is speaking." The irritating whining can be assumed. Victory's sweet-looking assistant, "Reese" (God, show, STOP IT with the NAMES!), assures Victory that she's a genius, but somehow Victory can tell that Reese has already got one high-heeled boot out the door. Reese insists that she couldn't possibly leave Victory now, when Victory needs Reese's help so much, but Reese finally admits that she's been offered a job elsewhere. When Victory hears that the new gig will give Reese a chance to design, Victory insists that Reese take it, sadly saying, "I can't hold you back." Reese's face crumples, and she clomps toward her boss in her great big boots like a little girl with a skinned knee. Victory holds out her arms like the martyr she believes herself to be before closing them around sweet little Reese in a maternal hug. Would you feel better if I told you the sappiness won't last? It won't.