When we return to 'da club, Marie Antoinette has returned from the dead and put her head back on so she can rave with the best of 'em. One of A-hole's friends is complimenting him on all the girls that are hitting on him, exemplified by some overbite-afflicted tramp blowing a kiss at A-hole (supposedly). Erin swills champagne and thinks about the shambles that is her life, all self-inflicted I might note. Dani approaches Whitney and apologizes way too profusely for the fake drama that she (a.k.a. the producers via Trucker Hat Kid, whose name I've already forgotten) caused. She leaves before Whitters can get a word in edgewise. Yeah, that was a real authentic and effective apology, bitch. Dozens of reaction shots, the last of which is A-hole slugging an entire bottle of PatrÃ³n tequila.
Jay and his plaid shirt (who wears plaid in 'da club??? Don't you dare make me sympathize with Nevan, show. Don't you dare!) comes over to investigate what just happened. Whitney tries to brush it off. Instead of letting it drop, as a smart person would do, Jay basically lets Whitney know he is guilty as sin by insisting over and over again that nothing happened, then manipulatively putting it back on Whitney, saying, "The most important thing is, you trust me." Speaking of play books, that one's straight out of A-hole's. Ass. Whitney is, frankly, pretty annoyed that she has to put up with this crap and finally puts it to him that he is way too invested in this gossip to be entirely innocent.
His partner in crime, meanwhile, is continuing to entertain the club hos, so Erin takes it upon herself to call A-holette and narc. A-holette is miffed that she has to worry about these things, claiming she doesn't want to get phone calls from her friends about his behavior. I get that, bottom line, she doesn't want him to cheat, but she should also realize that she has taken him back on the flimsiest excuses and in the face of fairly damning evidence, so perhaps she wouldn't have to receive tattle tale phone calls from her friends if she didn't enlist them to spy on him in the first place. Basically what I'm saying is, break up or shut up.
Cut back to 'da club. A-hole charges his bros with getting some more hos. And Whitney, possibly now just drunk enough for shit-talking, adds fuel to the fire by saying A-hole is a cheater and a little devil.
Back in NYC, A-holette takes the cowardly route and retaliates, accepting the male model's invitation. She shamelessly acts all girly, claiming she'll fall down the ramp as they walk out and talks about how heels make her feel sexy. He wonders why she accepted his invitation. Because she obviously can't tell him the truth, she pawns it off to the long day. Trans-parent.