Apologies in advance if I don't do the episode justice. I've been wrangling with a nasty headache for the past couple of days, and I'm writing through an Excedrin fog. Mad props to Excedrin, by the way.
Anyway, remember where we left off last week? Rick's apartment was being torn apart by the Chicago Gestapo as he, Lily, and his kids cowered.
This week, we open in the kitchen of Manning Manor, where Zoe is dazzling Lily with the story of a classmate's mom who got arrested once for shoplifting. "But she didn't go to jail," Zoe thoughtfully adds. Lily is chagrined at the mention of the Big House, wondering who said Rick is going to jail. Zoe fingers Grace, and Lily insists that no one, "not even Grace," knows what's going to happen. She points out that Rick hasn't even been indicted. Zoe asks what "indicted" means. Before Lily can explain it, the almost-but-not-quite accused interrupts with a cheery "good morning" as he breezes into the kitchen. Rick mentions that he called the wedding caterer, and that they're faxing menus to his office. Lily says he doesn't have to do that, and he fires back that she's already handling a pile of other wedding details. She suggests that it's not too late to elope, and he jokes, a little bitterly, "Yeah -- you, me, and the District Attorney's office." He dashes around the kitchen for a few seconds, and then heads for the back door, over Lily's protests that he needs to eat something. He promises that he will, later, and she follows him into the laundry room, whispering, "Are you okay?" He insists that he is. She adjusts the collar of his coat and reminds him that she loves him. He kisses her quickly and says he's counting on it.
Soliloquy Rick gives us a quick rundown of his fiscal situation: "I drive a fourteen-year-old car ["I thought that thing was way older than that." -- Niki]; I rent my apartment; I have $23,000 in the bank, out of which I'm supposed to send two kids to college ["More like one kid, if we're really being honest." -- Niki]; I pay alimony and child support and half the mortgage on the house my ex-wife lives in." Your ex-wife and your kids, you mean. But why is he paying alimony? I'm surprised Karen wants it from him, actually. She's a tough cookie and a professional. It just doesn't seem fair, somehow, that one professional has to help support another. Then again, I've never been divorced, so what the hell do I know?
Cut to Karen in her office enjoying a tall, take-out cappuccino. She can afford to be frivolous because she's getting half of Rick's paycheck. She takes a big gulp and oohs, "Oh, god, how can this be legal?" Her assistant flips through a big agenda book and reminds Karen of appointments. Her assistant is now a chick. Where's Sange? The chick tells Karen that Dumanjiak wants to see her today. Karen hangs up her coat, saying, "I gave him all my case files. What else could he want?" "I wonder," her assistant says with a suggestive smile. She teases that she told him Karen would be free for dinner. Karen's ass-pole leaps to attention. "You did not!" she cries in horror. The chick laughs and says she told him two o'clock. Karen sighs that that's fine. The chick prods, "He's cute." Karen retorts, "He's unscrupulous. He used me to try to incriminate Rick." The chick points out that that's his job. "Caroline Dorazzio," Karen snipes, leveling the buttinski with a stink-eye. "I'm going!" Caroline playfully says, knowing she got to Karen. Where the hell is Sange? I like him way better than this Girlfriend Friday.