And who just happens to be 1,300 miles from home and in the same club as Jay? It's Dani! Jay predictably makes his way over. In what is obviously a wildly cut and/or dubbed-over conversation, Jay segues from "How are you?" to "Let's fuck" in about three exchanges, one of which is him asking her to repeat herself. Annnnnnd scene.
The next day, everyone from MiserAlba to Joe Zee (and even Diana Ross, I think?) has made it to the ELLE cover luncheon. While Whitney stands by sullenly, Olivia sidles up to every important person in the room to schmooze, self-promote and bullshit about what a wonderful job "she" did directing the cover pull. That saddest part is that Olivia looks genuinely excited. She is flouncing about like she actually thinks she deserves these accolades and that her decision not to shut down Whitney's ideas was the single most important thing she did this entire decade. This is the deluded world in which Nevan = socially acceptable, a Hamptons mom blazer = rocker groupie attire, and Manolo Blahnik = close buddy. This is Olivia Palermo's world, and we're just living in it. Or at least Whitney is... And, as witness to that, Whitney is literally standing in a corner transmitting evil looks at Olivia all whilst doing absolutely nothing. Worthless! She eventually ambles over to Joe Zee to participate in her own destruction. Joe Zee is nothing but compliments for the photo and the outfit. Whitney gives demure, meaningless smiles because she is too classy to blow open this farce in the presence of Diane, so Olivia runs with it, gushing, "I pulled that look!" So Joe Zee, like everyone else, gives her the credit. Whitney covers her face in despair. Whitney = seething.
That night, Whitney bitches to Jay about Olivia's grab for power. Not unlike the last conversation in which Whitney tried to talk about things that mattered to her, Jay literally yawns and stretches and sighs loudly and does everything humanly possible not to listen to what is the sum total of his sad little girlfriend's entire day's experience. His excuse? He was up really late the night before. Rightly, she wonders what the hell he was doing until six in the morning (or who?). His answer is simple: binge drinking. She advises him against living in the moment like he is. Because life's so much better when you're dwelling on the past!
The next day, Whitney meets A-holette to chew the fat. And by "chew the fat," I clearly don't mean actual fat, because this is A-holette we're talking about. She does not do ingestion. A-holette talks briefly about her hardships looking for an apartment but wastes little time breaking it to Whitney that Dani has reared her ugly head. OMG, this is totally A-holette's moment to throw Whitney's earlier upper hand back in her face. A-holette is deriving scads of pleasure from this beneath her tracing paper-thin skin. If you poked her face with, say, a spork, I swear bubbles of giddy would escape as if from an overshaken can of soda. That is how much she is loving this. She is a miserable person, you see, and she must subsist on something besides food.