Bridget’s communing with the hit-man’s phone, reliving those great memories of shooting him, dumping him in the Titanic steamer trunk, and grabbing the phone from the dead man during her husband’s investors’ recruitment hootenanny. Andrew interrupts to tell her Juliet won’t be in this episode. It’s because they couldn’t fit in any mascara-tracked teenage angst…that is, druggie stepdaughter’s visiting her mother in Florida. Bridget says, “Sometimes a girl just needs her mom.” More than she needs rehab? All righty.
Andrew has a surprise for Bridget. He won’t tell her what it is (because it’s a surprise, duh), and just gives her an address, telling her to be there at 11. Bridget phones Malcolm (who is hanging out in the community college’s creepy garage once more) to tell him she has the hit-man’s cell phone, though no texts, recorded numbers, or pictures on it. She’s looking for a serial number when she spots a photo featuring the killer’s picture of Siobhan; uh oh, it’s a picture of Siobhan and Andrew! Bridget immediately thinks Andrew is person trying to kill Siobhan, and goes to digest this in the middle of her incredible closet with the great tufted bench in the middle.
Malcolm, when Bridget calls him back, is skeptical, telling her to get proof and keep safe while doing it. Bridget heaves her trusty gun into her purse, leaving as poor Malcom gets totally knocked out by Bodaway’s thugs. Cut to Bodaway’s club (which we know because there’s random music and sexy erotic dancing), with Malcolm now trapped in a tawdry back room with Bodaway & Co.
Victor, at NYC FBI headquarters, grouses that the judge didn’t give them the warrant to get Sibohan’s phone records. The minion temporarily appointed to him strongly hints Victor would be much happier back in Wyoming (he’s sick of running errands for you, Victor). Victor ignores his minion’s head jerking toward the door to signal an upcoming exit so he can rant about how long and fruitless the search for people who will inform on Bodaway has been.
Bridget stops by a phone store and finds the hit-man’s phone is a temporary sort for people who don’t want to be found out. This seems supremely unhelpful, but forget that, because we cut to a bar in Paris, where some awkward American is trying to order a Shizzitini in English, because they don’t let you order that kind of crap made-up stupid drink in French. Siobhan, decked out in a memorable Mother of the Bride sparkly get-up, picks up on the investment banker (who just happens to work for Martin-Charles, her husband’s company) and tells him her name is Cora Ferrell. She says she has to leave, but murmurs, “if you ever want a French lesson” (Siobhan always gets Title, doesn’t she?), and writes her hotel info on his hand.
Back in NYC, Bridget goes to the creepy alley Andrew specified, finds it filled and blocked off with scary shadows and menacing SUVs, but it turns out it’s just the entrance to some couture designer’s studio. Gemma steps out in some truly horrific hot pink pants to tell Bridget that this is Andrew’s surprise, to have her pick out a fancy dress so he can take her to see Swan Lake. Bridget, confused because she thinks Andrew is trying to off her (which completely explains why she went so willingly down that alley and said, “Excuse me, sir,” to a malicious looking thug in the shadows), asks why he’s doing that. Gemma asks, “Is it that hard to believe you have an amazing husband?”
Just to show how not-amazing Henry is, we see him in Andrew’s offices, saying he wants to take his investment out of the firm. Even though he’s earned 20% on top of it (holy guacamole) he says he wants it because he’s planning to self-publish (which further supports my idea that Henry is an idjit). Also, hey, “his” investment? Isn’t this Gemma-the-architect’s money here?
Bridget looks at more expensive gowns and asks why Andrew is doing this. Gemma says, “You always do this!” (questioning his intentions), and “you never think what Andrew does is good enough.” For some reason they decide to take the designer out to lunch, and as they’re getting a cab, Bridget gets a ringy-ding-ding on the hit-man’s cell phone. Wisely, she immediately picks it up, and when he says, “You dropped your scarf,” we know he can see her, eeeek! Of course everyone in the vicinity is speaking on cell phones, so Bridget can’t figure out who/where the dude is. He instructs her to set the phone down on a nearby bench and walk away. She sets it does, but then fetches it and trots off to hunt down more mystery and intrigue!
Back at the apartment, Bridget tries unsuccessfully to get the last call made to the hit-man’s phone traced. She calls Malcolm, who can’t answer right now as he’s getting worked over by Bodaway’s thugs (while Bodaway stands back and watches impassively, and hey, does he seem like the kind of guy who would personally dismember a stripper, because right now I’m thinking he tends to supervise). Gemma calls asking why Bridget didn’t show for lunch, and tells her the exciting news that Gregor got them tickets to Fashion Week. Bridget, being a resident of Wyoming, apparently has no idea how freaking exciting this is, and instead fishes a card out of Siobhan’s planner, asking Gemma about the firm on it: Pierce, Zimmerman, and MacDonald. Turns out they’re big divorce lawyers, so it seems like Siobhan may have been checking out the options to separate from Andrew.
Olivia stomps into Andrew’s office, upset that Henry wants to pull his measley 300,000 smackaroos from the firm (wow, what I could do with 300,000 in cold hard cash). Andrew mentions Henry’s genius plan to self-publish, and Olivia exclaims, “So put it online for a hundred bucks; don’t throw your wife’s hard-earned money down the toilet!” Hey, Olivia, he could put it online FOR FREE, and again I’m right, because it’s obviously Gemma’s money in the account rather than Andrew’s. Olivia’s unhappy because she wants to sign Gemma’s father to their firm; Andrew disputes that this is possible and says, “Let the Butlers cash out.” Olivia says, “Fine, I’ll take care of it,” and plots to go behind Andrew’s back.
Bridget gets stuck on an elevator with some social climber who totally wants to be her bestie (when Bridget says absently, “We should have lunch,” the social climber looks like she’s about to make dolphin noises). Bridget goes ahead and gets off on the famous divorce firm’s offices, like that won’t be immediately the buzz all over the Upper East Side, and asks bunches of leading questions about what she said or felt or seemed like when she was last in to talk to her lawyer. He doesn’t seem to find it odd that she doesn’t remember basically anything she told him, and willingly fills her in on what she said and worried about (but then, Bridget!Siobhan gets special treatment on account of all that money, so maybe people are used to her saying, “So tell me what I said! And go on, how I felt? And what was I wearing, because I hate to repeat outfits.”) He mentions some Pratt Street property which Andrew may or may not have been trying to shut her out off, and Bridget runs off to go through Andrew’s files.
Andrew bursts in as Bridget locates the info on the Pratt Street place, demanding to know why she went to see a divorce attorney. She grabs a letter opener to totally stab him to death if he makes one false move, but rather than trying to strangle her or something he just grabs the folder and tells her the Pratt place is still worthless. “You used to tell me I was the only man you could trust and now you’re sneaking behind my back and seeing divorce attorneys?” He despairs that whatever he does for her, like spending a ton of money on fancy ball gowns, “It’s never enough, is it, Shiv?” and barks out she should take Gemma to the ballet instead of him, so “the two of you can talk about how much you hate your husbands.” Ouch.
Oopsy daisy, Malcolm saved the message from Bridget saying she’s already to go, her bags are packed, and Bodaway plays it from Malcolm’s phone (though he doesn’t listen to all of it, which should be a lesson to the rest of you; when you’ve broken into someone else’s voicemail, get every detail before you beat that person up). Bodaway snarls that he doesn’t like loose ends; he wants to find Bridget and end her, even though Malcolm insists he knows nothing about where she is. Bodaway finds Malcolm’s sobriety badge, and gets an idea, an awful idea; Bodaway gets a wonderful, awful idea!
Olivia tricks Gemma into the offices, and blames some poor peon for bringing Gemma there to sign papers. “I don’t pay you to think, Penny!” Olivia exclaims, and we have to wonder just what the hell kind of investment firm this is, if no one is paid to think. Olivia uses her chance to tip off Gemma that Henry’s trying to empty their account, and then asks, “And tell me, how is your lovely father doing?”
Bridget goes to the property and finds out that it is, indeed, total crap with lots of asbestos and nasty piles of wood. Suddenly the creepy Germanic guy from the party last episode stalks in, demanding the phone. Bridget pulls her Old Faithful Gun and refuses to hand anything over until he says who he’s working for. Hey, did he just happen to follow her here? Or is this Pratt Street place actually some sort of piece in Siobhan’s game, if the hit-man’s boss maybe already knew where it was/that Bridget might go there? Anyway, Bridget spots an exit and runs as fast as her high-heeled boots will take her, grabs a cab before creepy Germanic guy catches up, and calls someone, asking to speak to “Agent Victor Machado.” Will Bridget do the right thing and turn over the phone to the feds? Will the creepy Germanic guy take her hostage before she can act out for truth and justice? Will the cab inevitably get stuck in rush hour traffic, perhaps with enough time for Bridget to re-do her nails?
Bridget meets Victor in Central Park (I think they’re near the zoo, but don’t quote me), and asks how “the search for my sister” is going. Victor tried to get her back to the office, and attempts to get more info from her, all the while Bridget is glancing around like she’s looking for someone with a little more class than a cheap-suited FBI agent. When she won’t talk, Victor says, “How about I tell you what I know about you, Mrs. Martin?” Turns out he knows she withdrew a bunch of cash (eep!), missed some appointments (eh *shrugs*), and that for “the last six months you spent almost every Thursday afternoon in a suite at the Dandridge hotel with Henry Butler. The question is, does Andrew know you’ve been sleeping with your best friend’s husband?”
Bridget decides not to try to lie that she’s been attempting to get Henry’s obviously failtastic novel into some kind of publishable shape (seriously, I would believe Sibohan knows a million more tricks and tropes than our pal Henry), and answers, “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I don’t like threats.” Her phone rings as Victor’s saying, “I can help her [Bridget] and I can help you.” “You already have,” Bridget!Siobhan says brightly, picking up the phone to hiss, “I want you to know if anything happens to me, or if your friend’s body is ever found? That FBI agent back there gets this phone, which leads to you.” Creepy Germanic guy says she doesn’t know who she’s messing with, and Bridget says breezily, “Looks like I just bought myself some insurance.”
Henry goes to Andrew to complain that his withdrawal has been stopped, while Andrew claims he had no idea Gemma refused the transaction. Henry leaves in a huff, muttering about how Gemma controls the purse strings (hey, they’re HER STRINGS, HENRY). Andrew catches Olivia out, saying, “Oh, cut the crap, it’s not about Gemma…I told you to leave it alone. Why can’t you listen for once?” He tells her he doesn’t need to be lied to, and “next time just let me know what you’re doing first, so I can at least prepare for the fallout.” Olivia looks sadface, so I think for her its a setback to her goal of getting in Andrew’s tailored trousers.
Bridget drops off the Swan Lake tickets to Gemma’s place and spots that same picture of Siobhan and Andrew there. She gets confused why it’s there, and Gemma says, “”It was also on about five hundred refrigerators on the Upper East Side; darling, it was your holiday card.” So obviously Andrew having the photo means nothing, which the rest of us had guessed thirty four minutes ago.
Actual!Siobhan in Paris is making out with the Shizzitini Boy, and wow, those are some gorgeous strappy shoes; they almost make me forget about that Bedazzled top Siobhan was wearing earlier. But before it can get really sexy, Siobhan kicks out her would-be boy toy so she can lose her lunch. It’s the morning sickness setting in! At night. Oh, right, Siobhan doesn’t even know she’s pregnant yet.
Bridget shows up at Andrew’s office in her fancy custom fit couture dress and a really stunning operatic type wrap. She improvises that she went to see the divorce attorney when things were tense between them, “and then things seemed to get better, so I went today to call it off.” When he’s suspicious, she tells him, “I’ll be honest. I thought some really awful things about you. But it was entirely based on fear. And I realized if we’re going to move forward then I have to stop listening to other people and trust you.” Bridget has done really well with all her recovery and trust talk, hasn’t she? She lets him know the dress thing was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for her; he finally approaches her and tells her very sincerely that she looks beautiful. And yet they still don’t kiss, and I feel grouchy about this because Ioan Gruffudd is too hot not to be doing sexy things to Sarah Michelle Gellar. Also, Bridget, if you’re planning on sticking around, YOU NEED TO GET PREGNANT AT SOME POINT, and meaningful looks or standing side-by-side aren’t going to get the job done.
Ugh, the worst scene is next, because Bodaway’s got a needle to shoot up Malcolm against his will. Okay, yes, the hit-man got killed the first ep, but this is the worst, scariest, and most upsetting thing I’ve seen on this show so far. It’s horrifying, seeing Malcolm who’s obviously stable and recovering from addiction, getting forced back onto the junk. Is he going to end up working for Bodaway now that he’s re-hooked? D:
Unaware of poor Malcolm’s plight, Bridget and Andrew tell each other they have to trust each other. “I hope from this point on we can be honest with each other,” he says, and she replies, “I want that too,” which carefully doesn’t promise she will be honest, because you know, stealing the identity of her sister and such. “What we used to have together was pretty amazing, “Andrew says. “And if there was any chance of getting that back…” My god, KISS OR SOMETHING, but no, Bridget just looks at him significantly and the scene ends.
We cut to Henry typing at home with more vintage typewriters sitting around him than you could find in a stack of Pottery Barn catalogs. He picks up the ringing phone, asking, “Hello? Anybody there?” and you can tell he’s suspicious that maybe it’s Siobhan. Well, it is Siobhan back in Paris, not speaking but looking at her positive pregnancy test and crying, awww. Maybe it’s just being knocked up that’s making her emotional, but this is the first sense I’ve gotten that maybe Siobhan truly had feelings for Henry. Great, now I feel bad for Puffy Henry too.
No doubt we’re going to get more next episode about Siobhan’s issues with the pregnancy, and maybe some info about that little boy in the photo with Siobhan that Bridget found hidden in the jewelry box. Also, it’s been an entire episode without charity events or corporate cocktail functions, so let’s have a fun dress-up shindig next time, right, Ringer writers?