Marissa finally bumps into Trey near her car; he grabs her arm. "Let go of me!" she yelps. Ryan catches up to them at that moment but somehow misses that rather flashy and loud display of rage, because he's suddenly stupid. Then he hugs Trey, whom he apparently hasn't seen in the many days since Miami, despite initially not wanting to leave him alone in Newport. Okay! If you like. Trey lies that he's just there to thank Marissa again for the Bait Shop gig. Ryan notices Trey's head wound, but buys the feeble fib that he banged his head. When Ryan suggests that they all go get a bite to eat, Marissa and Trey loudly object in the most awkward and obvious way possible. Ryan needs to invest in some lifts and platform shoes, so that fewer things will go so far over his head. Unconsciously touching the spot on her shirt that covers her wound -- nice touch by Mischa Barton -- Marissa pretends she has to go help Julie with something vague. Trey scampers. Ryan follows Marissa to her car to make sure she's okay, because she is acting odder than a balloon. Marissa insists that she's fine, so Ryan asks her to Seth's comic-book opening and then dinner. "Yeah, sure," Marissa says, with all the enthusiasm of a girl who's just been invited to the Future Ophthalmologists of America ice-cream social. "I promise I'll be in a better mood by then," she swears, pecking him chastely and patting his shoulder in maternal lack of interest. She leaves, and Ryan is confused. Again.
Kirsten has passed out on the living-room couch. Sandy arrives home and calls out that he made reservations at that new steak joint "with the really heavy silverware," which cracks me up. And yet makes me sad, because it sounds like a funny in-joke from a great Cohen Family night out, but I know such a dinner did not happen in recent times because they don't hang out together anymore. Boo. When he spies Kirsten, Sandy looks worried and picks up the empty glass at her feet. Again, he detects vodka. Gazing at her sadly for a second, he then scoops her up into his arms. "Let's get you in bed," he says softly.
The next morning, Kirsten is snoozing away on her stomach as Sandy brings her breakfast in bed. "Rise and shine," he calls out gently. She flips her head around to check out her hangover breakfast, and he made a doozy: "Coffee, bacon, those little waffles you like, butter, two fried eggs, fruit and O.J. I call it The Whaler," he beams. Hmm, I do need a houseboy -- I should mail Sandy an application. To Kelly Rowan's credit, she's okay with the makeup folks letting her be clean-faced, and as such, a little rumpled. It works. Although where is the vomiting? Kirsten goes straight for the coffee as Sandy casually mentions how conked out she was when he came home. "I was exhausted. Long week," she says, only semi-convincingly. Sandy probes that it seemed like a tad more than tiredness. "I had a couple of drinks, so what?" Kirsten snaps. But Sandy isn't just referring to last night. Kirsten is furious that he's been watching her; she'd probably feel worse if she knew he hadn't noticed a damn thing amiss until the previous morning. Sandy asks if he should be concerned, and of course, Kirsten says no, but adds: "Maybe I've been drinking more than usual, but I'll cut down, okay?" She wants to close the subject, but Sandy wants to understand why his wife's been on a Grey Goose IV. He also might want to remind Kirsten that she has a son and a Ryan, either of whom could've seen her drooling through her drunk fog, but hey, whatever, she's not my wife. "Is it something at work? Are you taking on too much?" he asks. Nothing. "Is it that Carter left?" he pushes. Kirsten's head snaps up and she acts appalled, but of course, Sandy is simply referring to whether she's shouldering his workload. Kirsten's face turns hard and she says she's fine. "I'd appreciate it if you'd trust me," she spits. She heads to the shower without breakfast as a defeated Sandy heaves a sigh.