The non-yard-boy version of D.J. called "Ryan" walks with Marissa on the grounds of her manse. She asks if he's spoken to Theresa since he's been back, and he tells her that they didn't exactly do that much talking when he was there, either. She rejoices in this dysfunction, asking, "So you weren't really a couple?" He tells her not so much, then quickly asks if she's been dating below her caste as well. Well, he really just asks, "You dating anybody?" Rather than yelling a deep-throated "ay-yi-yi-yi-yi!" and clicking her finger cymbals in that way that implies being sexually liberated by hot Latin loving, Marissa tells him that, no, she's not dating anyone. He then asks her to the carnival kick-off and kisses her in plain sight of her cuckolded help.
Kirsten and Hailey brunch on the boat, and it's no problem that they're drinking in the daytime because they're both very, very pretty. "You got a job?" Kirsten exposits, and Hailey tells her that it's not a just a job: "It's a whole new career. In fashion. And sales." Pyramid scheme. "In Japan." Mail-order pyramid scheme. Kirsten utters a confused "oy," asking how Jimmy is doing with this information. Hailey cops to not having told him yet, fretting that Jimmy is making so much money in the stock market -- what did he do, buy stock in every other network's Thursday-night lineup? -- that all he wants to do is drink and sail and go to Cabo and repeatedly say "Cabo" in that way rich people have of saying it. Jerks. Kirsten can't really sympathize with Hailey's claim that she's "too young for early retirement," shooting back, "And you're too old to keep running away." Hailey promises she's not running away at all, saying that she has a real chance of making something of this opportunity no one bothered to ask her about because I don't know where all of the dueling information of "pretty blonde lady" and "Japan" and "sales" and "fashion" all intersect, but I have a feeling it's not in the best part of town.
Beating out the gardener, the contractor, the guidance counselor, and the interstate toll booth collector to whom Summer has started driving a hot thermos of chicken noodle soup to every morning, Sandy has gotten himself a real live drunk vagrant. Who also happens to be family! He accompanies a stinking-drunk Caleb up to his house, where Julie comes to greet them with a don't-fall-and- get-blood- on-my-terra- cotta-steps look of wifely concern. Caleb stumbles off to bed, leaving to Sandy the job of explaining to Julie why drinking in excess while the sun is up can be a family affair not just confined to Julie's daughter. Sandy will get right to it: "Caleb is gonna be indicted." Julie wants to know how long the D.A. has been investigating him, and when she finds out it was before the wedding, she mutters a perfectly villainous "Son of a bitch!" She asks if Caleb's going to jail, and Sandy reminds us all what Caleb's accused of and the fact that the D.A. has proof. He good guys, "I wish there was something I could do." But Julie hits back, "No, you don't. You despise him, you despise me, and you would love nothing more than to see us get exactly what we deserve, right?" The Sandy doth protest too much, so Julie makes her point a bit clearer: "If Caleb is going down, you better believe Kirsten's going with him. So you better come up with something, or it won't be just my kids who lose everything." Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go home and sleep with my wife.