Season 1 Ep. 8, Ghosts
To ease the sting of summer and the fact that our girl is stuck lying in that grass until September, let’s return to the world of my TV boyfriend. If I can’t have Rick Cassl, I want Kate Bekt to. Me or her, Cassl. Your choice.
(…so far, she’s winning.)
And now: the episode of sexy, sexy poker games. If you are in a hurry, here is the short version of today’s recap:
DID BEKT JUST HAVE SEX WITH MY BOYFRIEND? I THINK BEKT JUST HAD SEX WITH MY BOYFRIEND.
For the actual recap, with Plot and stuff: Read on, Lizzie!
Season 1 Ep. 8, Ghosts
(Please bear in mind that I do not fully understand the rules of poker. I’m not here for the cards, my doves. I’m here for the pr0n.)
Hotel room. Bathtub full of motor oil. Corpse floats to top of said tub. Eeeeeegh.
Poker night at Cassl’s House Of Luuuurrrrrrrrrrve. Don’t even try to tell me Cassl and Bekt haven’t done it on that poker table. Recently, too. She’s wearing a turtleneck, which obviously proves the hickeys haven’t faded since their last round of Exercise Your Search Warrant. All Over Me. Oh Yeah, Just Like That.
The players are Cassl, his mother, our girl, El Capitan, Mini Irish and Espo. Last hand of the night: Martha immediately folds. Espo comments that she folds a lot. Cassl explains that his mother’s real game is strip poker. OH GOD MY EYES ARE BURNING. Martha explains her philosophy: “Frankly, I prefer strip because even when you lose, you win.” She winks at Bekt, who laughs, because she and Cassl have played many rounds of strip poker, just without the poker part.
Nkay, last hand is up: the Bros raise. Bekt eyes her cards, and I have no idea if they’re goodor not. But like the Badass she is, she raises a hundred. Which apparently is both daring and sexy.
She tosses her chips in and Cassl looks up at her with a look of surprise that tells me she just did something very, very dirty in the game of footsie we all know they’ve been playing all evening.
Espo’s scared of Big Sister: “A hundred bucks?” My girl grins. “Man up, Bro.” GAHHHHHHHHH. She’s half-laughing because you know she saw that line in the script and was all Fuck YEAH! I Get To Say That.
The Bros and I think El Capitan too all fold, and I’m going to pause to hug Mini Irish so he doesn’t feel bad.
Hug over.
Non-connected sexy characters out. My girl and my boyfriend going at it. Yeah, I picked that phrase on purpose. Bekt tries to psych/sex him out. “Not scared of a little…action, are you?”
He gets dangerously sexy. “Action is my middle name.”
The onlookers are laughing because the Sexy is hard to miss. Martha tells Bekt no worry, he bluffing. “Mother!” Martha, I love you.
Espo deals. The cards in the middle are a two and a pair of sevens. Now, I am not sure, but I don’t think Bekt has any kind of a hand. Cassl’s finger starts tapping his cards (stop trying to make me tell you it’s sexual!) and Martha says Ruh Roh, that’s his tell for maybe actually having a good hand.
She looks up at my boyfriend, who gets even sexier, though I didn’t think that was possible. “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of a little action, are you?”
PLEASE JUST DO IT ON THE TABLE ALREADY.
Bekt’s eyes narrow. Cassl smirks. And my girl goes All In and I’m already exhausted from this insanely hot eyefuck.
Cassl eyes his cards. Two and seven…hot damn, that makes a full house. Go Team Cassl. His eyes flick up to Bekt, who’s sitting back, watching him with a genuinely coy smile because A.) she is bluffing like a stone-cold bluffer and B.) I think Martha’s sitting between them trying to stop them from playing footsie, but let’s face it, like that would ever work. I think my girl’s foot is somewhere in the crotchal region right now.
After an amazingly long, hard eyefuck, Cassl folds.
Everyone goes OHHHHHHHH! and laughs, and Bekt rakes in the chips. “Maybe someone should change their middle name to LOSER.”
Game over, Cassl steps aside, Bektphone demands attention, and everyone kind of momentarily scatters. And then Martha sneaks a peek at Cassl’s cards and realizes he had a winning hand. Huh. He threw the game.
On to the Plot. But first, five-second credits. Don’t worry, Bekt. Cassl himself lasts much longer than five seconds.
I can already tell this recap is going downhill…consider yourself warned.
As we noted before the poker game, dead body, hotel rooom, bathtub full of oil. Yucko. Bekt crouches beside it to examine, and for a second we get this really nifty camera shot with Cassl, and Bekt reflected in a mirror. Cool, yo. Completely pointless, but cool.
Cassl figures someone’s trying to send a message. Pointlessly cool shot again.
Downstairs at the front desk, Bekt and Cassl talk to the hotel manager, who pretty much says I Don’t Want To Know What My Hotel Guests Do. Bekt asks if there was anyone strange around the place tonight. And cue a giant blonde drag queen in a hot pink tube top, miniskirt and silver heels. “Hey, Bill.” Manager nods. “Jasmine, how’s it hangin’?”
Bekt and Cassl stare.
Morgue: Kingdom of Lanie. No ID on the victim, but wedding ring. Died by drowning. Ticket stub in her pocket; she took the train from Westchester. Cassl decides it’s time to speak. “Westchester to Lower Manhattan? That’s a long way to go for a lube job.” Bekt just gives him a Look. He clarifies: “See, when married ladies go to cheap hotels, it’s always about sex.” Ah. So his interjection was case-related.
Precinct. Missing person report from some suburb matches the victim…I think we’ve got an ID, ladies and gents.
And we’re off. Aerial shot tells us that apparently this woman is from LaCrosse, Wisconsin. Or some such. Husband ID’s her from the photo - yep. No idea why she was in the skeevy hotel; she was supposedly in the city for work. Husband chokes up a little, and Cassl & Bekt do a slight head turn of strength towards each other, because He/She Is My Rock Of Strength In Times Of Trial.
Precinct, with Bekt and Cassl situated around Bektdesk. Ryan walks over and hands Cassla cup of coffee, which for some reason really, really confuses me. Espo walks in with another spoonful of Plot: they checked the store the victim supposedly worked at, but they’ve never heard of her. We thought there were dice…but there are, in fact, none.
Question for Dwight: so why was she going into the city three times a week and coming home with money?
Ryan: “Maybe Cassl’s right. Maybe this about sex.” (I no lie, he kind of slurred away the verb. It was adorable.)
Espo: “The lady was a soccer mom.”
Cassl: “Come by my daughter’s school about 3:30. Place is like happy hour.” Ryan does the nose tap of Oh Hey, Bro. Meanwhile I’m enjoying the mental image of Rick Cassl running for his life down the street, being chased by every cougar in Manhattan. You know it could happen.
Bekt suggests maybe the victim had a boyfriend. Cassl becomes animated, and therefore even more sexy, and starts spinning a story about how she met him at some museum, he made her feel good, blah blah blah, the Bros start joining in, and Bekt rols her eyes, sighs heavily, and watches the entire spectacle with a look of Good God You Guys Are Worse Than The Crowd At A Justin Bieber Concert.
“You know, I feel so stupid. Here I am looking for evidence, and all I had to do was just make something up.” No Bekt G’s. I feel cheated. One more round from the SnarkDeathray: “So…this imaginary boyfriend/killer - do you think that he has an imaginary address?” PWNAGE.
And then out of nowhere, victim’s husband walks in to tell them that according to the Social Security office, the victim died in 1963.
Translation: his wife was using a fake identity.
So who the hell was she?
Percussion beats and Cassl sipping coffee crescendo us into commercials.
Casslhaus, breakfast. Bekt walk-of-shame’d out an hour ago. Lex is amazed this victim lived under a fake name for twenty years. Martha sayeth that absolutely means the woman was a criminal. “Mata Hari…shady lady.” THAT RHYMED.
And out of nowhere, Martha calls Cassl out on his shit: “The poker game. You let Bekt win.” Cassl kinda freezes, and even Lex is staring at him in surprise…don’t worry, Lex, K8 will be such a better stepmom than Ginabitch…and I’m sorry, I just really, really really want to undo one more button on his shirt right now. Is that so terrible?
Cassl tries toplay dumb, but his mother will have none of it. So he admits. “I - I didn’t want to take her money in front of all of her friends.”
“Kate Bekt is not some bimbo who needs big strong you to look out for her - ” Princess Lex is nodding - “she’s a real woman, and a real woman does not want to be patronized.”
Big Strong Cassl can look out for me any day. I’m just sayin’.
Lex jumps in. “She’s right, Dad.”
Cassl grumbles - he was trying to “be nice,” which I think translates into a form of seduction - and then his phone rings and he’s off.
Precinct of Sexy. Victim was emailing someone named Lee Wax, and arranged to meet Lee the day she died. Our pretty detectives look up Lee. Espo thinks Cassl will be interested: “Guy’s a writer.” “A real writer, or ‘I took a course at the learning annex’ writer?” Hey, don’t be so quick to cast stones there, Cassl. I read Heat Wave and your books are as shitty as you are sexy. Which is a lot.
Wax writes true crime books. Whoopee. Cassl’s not impressed.
Elevator to what I’m assuming is Lee’s apartment. Think for a second about how many sexy things can happen in an elevator. Now you understand why I like them so much.
Bekt hands over a wad of cash. Cassl’s confused. He’s not her hooker; this is a consensual thing. “What’s this?” “Your winnings from the other night.” [She bet he wouldn’t be able to make her scream. She lost.] “I’m not an idiot. I know you threw the last hand.” [Oh, never mind, they're talking about poker.] “How did you figure it out?” She glances at him archly. “That’s not the point.” “Oh, my mother called you, didn’t she?”
Bekt lunges into his personal space and hisses “You owe me a rematch,” stalking off to leave Cassl to try to recover from what very quickly became a Sexy Situation.
He follows. “Fine! You wanna play, let’s play.” YES. Any game is fine. As long as it takes place in his bed and clothes are off-limits. But no, hateful producers want him to invite her to another poker night, this one with his “Gotham City crew” (are you fucking kidding me?): El Capitan, Bob the Mayor, Comissioner Gordon, Morgan Freeman, and Judge Golfbuddy who signs her warrants. [OK, I made up two of those. Figure it out yourself.] Cassl wants to scare her. She don’t scare. She’s all in, Baby. “Just set it up. And prepare to get your ass kicked.” She turns away, and Cassl watches her with Cassllook #44, I Am Going To Have SO Much Fun Stripping Your Clothes Off Someday.
Plot beckons. Apartment door open, which means bad things. They share a brief eyefuck of Huh? before slowly walking into the empty apartment. Instead of a true Wall Of Crazy, they just find tons of pictures and shit of the victim. Kinda makes sense, sinse Lee’s a writer, so my guess is Lee’s write-ifying about Motor Oil Chick.
Bekt goes off to be police-y, telling Cassl to Stay Here, and he examines what appears to be kind of murderboard-ish when apissed-off woman walks in, all Who The Fuck Are You? Turns out, this is Lee Wax. Enter Bekt; her Puppy Proximity Alarm indicated the presence of an attractive woman in the Puppy Zone. Don’t bother getting your boobs out, Lee. He’s mine.
K8’s all we need to ask you some questions. Lee’s all let me call my lawyer. K8’s all huh? Lee’s all I didn’t do any harboring or abetting. K8’s all huhhhhhh? Lee’s all but you found this woman, yes? K8’s all uh she was murdered. Lee’s all fuck whaaaaaaat?
Lee’s a ghostwriter. She was helping with the victim’s memoir. The victim was wanted by the Feebs.
Commercial break of wtF?
Precinct; pedeconference with Bekt,Puppy and Capitan, who examines the mug shot/Wanted poster. Cybnthia Dern, turns out, was wanted for 1980’s terrorism and wearing an obscenely big-ass earring. She and her cohorts bombed a tanker ship.
Sexyterrogation; Lee apparently decided she didn’t need her lawyer. Bekt keeps Lee from getting too close to Puppy. Lee tells them the bombing story: there were two other bombers. Some guy built the bomb, Dern and someone else set it, but then something went wrong. Ship was supposed to be empty, but the captain was there and ended up paralyzed. Says Dern had decided to turn herself in, but wanted the book to smooth the way for her, show remorse, yadda yadda. Lee says Dern told her she tried to back out since the captain was there, but Susan, the other person there, was all NOOOOOOO we gon’ do this. They argued. Bomb blew, Susan was killed, body never found. Huh. Lee paid Dern a few hundred bucks each week for the project. “If the book had sold well…” she leans over the table and eyes Cassl seductively, ‘cause let’s face it, he’s Hot like a Hot Thing … “I don’t have to tell you how much money was at stake.”
BektEyebrows go up and she turns to regard Puppy bemusedly; the Proximity alarms are going off, but it’s only Code Yellow, since there’s a table protecting him and Bekt’s armed.
Lee says Dern was paranoid and thought her past life was going to find her, but Lee poked around for more sources anyway. Bekt takes Lee’s notes; Lee wants to stay in the loop, since this just became a murder story. “You know, I - I would love to. But I have a whole list of writers - ” she slaps Cassl’s arm, and he looks like he just started thinking morecirty thoughts - “that are hanging around, looking for favors.” Bekt basically blows her off, walking out with an amused look. Cassl grins politely and goes to follow. Lee really, really obviously hits on him, slips him a business card (i.e., her number) and leaves.
Excuse me while I go eat dinner; I have a tasty salad, mini-egg rolls and saffron rice waiting. Back in a bit.
Nkay, I’m back.
Murderboard. Looking at stuff from that old bombing. Susan killed in blast, other guy caught & served time. Who holds a grudge for 20 years?
…remember how the captain was paralyzed?...
Bekt and Puppy now at the captain’s house. He’s in a wheelchair, breathing tube, scarred face, etc. He and his wife say they didn’t know Dern was involved. The bombing pretty much destroyed their lives. Their son, outside, says he didn’t know anything & didn’t care. Hated Dern, but alibis out.
Back to draw sustenance from the murderboard’s stock of Sexy. Espo tells them the FBI says the third bomber was caught on an anonymous tip; the caller, a woman, didn’t leave a name or bother collecting the reward money. Odd. Bekt says maybe it was Dern. Espo and Cassl point out that if this guy thought it was her, it’s motive.
Dancing zebras! Kidding. It’s just commercials.
Morning sweeps over Manhattan like the bubonic plague over Europe, but less gross. Bekt and Cassl find Jared, the captured bomber, washing street curbs. He doesn’t seem like a psychokiller. My money’s not on him, yo. Cassl tries to goad him by saying Dern ratted him out (please remember that’s not been verified. I doubt it’s true. I just think it’s too easy.), but Jared’s all meh, it was all my fault anyway. After the bombing, Dern told him the bomb blew early.
Casslhaus, the ladies cooking. Cassl’s reading through the manuscript of this book. Lex is wearing a seriously adorable purple sweater, btw. She wears too much pink. She should wear more blue, green and purple.
Cassl doesn’t think Jared’s as much at fault for everything. Dern told Jared something was wrong with the bomb. She told Lee there was an argument. The two stories are just a bit too different to be true, methinks. Isn’t my boyfriend smart?
Precinct, a close-up of the nameplate on Bektdesk. She walks up to discover CasslAss making love to BektChair as Cassl sits in her spot and peruses something eagerly. She stops in front of Bektdesk, her right buttcheek motionless as Cassl has no idea she’s there. “Morning.” He flinches, realizes he’s in her sacred space, and scootches away and OH FUCK HE’S WEARING A LEATHER JACKET. Let’s all just consider the fact that my boyfriend is wearing leather. Bekt, you’re influencing him. Good girl.
BektAss takes over its rightful seat as Puppy excitedly shows her his newest theory and waits for approval in the form of sexual favors. He called the publisher, who said the book, which Dern controlled, was blahhhh; they wanted sexy true crime, but this book was all wahhhhhh I’m so sorry. Yucko. But now that the book’s all true criiiiiiiiime, the publisher’s totally on board…
Bektphone. The captain’s son’s alibi fell apart. It was bartending, btw.
Sexyterrogation; a leather-clad Cassl watches from observation as our girl verbally kicks ass. Son says he followed Lee, found out where Dern lived and was going to confront her, but then his mom said they’d been getting money every month (and a note that said please forgive me) since the explosion and she didn’t want to mess it up. Cassl and Bekt both kinda go Unnnhhhh?
Well, the night of the murder, Son went to the hotel and almost knocked on the door, but saw someone else go in instead; didn’t get a good look, but heard voices. It was a woman.
Casslpuppy lights up. “Lee Wax!” And like an oaf, he starts knocking on the glass, yelling “Bekt! [knockknockknockknock] It was Lee Wax! Bekt!” She gets BektLook #1, Cassl, I Will KILL You, and slowly turns around to deathglare him into silence, even through the one-way mirror.
Commercials while I recover from the cuteness and Cassl runs away from Bekt.
Back in Sexyterrogation; this time LeatherCassl joins Bekt in grilling Lee Wax, whose hair is fantastic, btw. They accuse her of murder. She says No. Bekt claims they have an eyewitness (not really, but she’s bluffing). She says she told the publisher she thought Dern was a lying liarface. And when Bekt brings up the money, Lee has no idea what she’s talking about.
That money wasn’t from Dern. Dern was a bitch.
Murderboard of Luuuuuuurve. Cassl ponders. “Remind me, if I ever decide to write a memoir, to never write a memoir.”
Nearby, Bekt works at Bektdesk. “Okay.”
Long silence. She looks up to find him looking at her with the silent whine for love and attention. She stops typing. Long sigh. “…why not?”
“Because memoirs are all about truth, and I’m not a very truthful person. It’d be too easy to make myself look good.” BektLip quirks just a bit. “It might be harder than you think.”
He points out that there’s no reason Dern wouldn’t have told Lee about the money, if she indeed wanted to win sympathy. Money came from someone else?
[Am I the only one who remembers that Susan’s body was “vaporized?” This is TV, people. If the body’s never found, it means there’s no body. Trust me on this.]
And HALLELUJAH, it’s the Gotham City Poker Club with a guest appearance from our girl. And they’re discussing the case too. It distracts me a little from the sexy, but only a little. Bekt’s right next to Cassl, but all this serious talk is throwing off her eyefuck mojo. But the guys insist on case-talk, not pillowtalk, so as they play. Bekt was obviously kind of hoping for more hotness…but the boys’ club is fixated on Plot, so she gives up and joins them. Footsie can wait a few minutes.
The Brain Trust here figures out that maybe Dern was actually the one who set off the bomb…maybe Susan tried to stop her, time ran out, and Susan was caught in the blast while trying to stop it. Neat twist, yo. And Bekt watches the high-powered theorizing with a little smile, because it is just fucking awesome to watch people brainstorm like this. Besides, while the bigwigs are yakking, she can start sneaking parts of her anatomy onto regions of Cassl’s anatomy which might perhaps take his mind to other places than poker.
One question remains, says Bob the Mayor: “Where’d the money come from?”
Cassl is pensive. And he’s not wearing an undershirt. Both good developments in my life. Can I just sneak into wardobe and remove all the top buttons from his shirts? “I’m thinking.”
And cue BektSass. “Yeah, well, you might want to think up some chips for the pot, ‘cause it looks like it’s just you and me.” The guys (who’ve all folded) chuckle. And yes, I sense another Sexy Situation. I’d say my girl has balls of steel, but let’s be honest: there are two other things on her Cassl likes much, much better.
(boobs)
Cassl goes all in. And yeah, that can be as dirty as you want it to. “Oh, what’s the matter, you afraid of a little action?” Bekt just laughs, as do the guys watching this verbal foreplay, and Bekt, I swear to God, if your foot is not halfway to his groinal region right now it is not my fault, because I taught you better. I mean, do you want to win the damn game or not? You’re not showing cleavage, so you had better be doing something titillating to him right now.
Judge Golf is on Team Bekt. “Do us a favor, Detective. Beat his pants off.”
At the thought of Bekt removing his pants, Cassl lights right up. “Yes, please. Beat my pants off if you dare.” I AGREE. BECAUSE IT WILL BE SEXY.
El Capitan: “Bekt, do me proud.”
Judge: “To hell with proud, make him cry like a little girl!”
Me: “Just take him upstairs and DO HIM.”
I don’t know why she doesn’t take my advice, but my girl decides to actually check her cards first. It looks like she actually has a pretty good hand. Cassl watches her with the most mischevious smirk ever, and again, I don’t know why she keeps pretending this is about cards.
Bekt looks around the table, ending up seeing Cassl giving her such a damn hot look that I almost understand when she turns her cards facedown. The guys groan. “Sorry, fellas. Just not my night.” WELL IT WOULD BE IF YOU WOULD JUST SLEEP WITH HIM.
Cassl does the cutest little happydance of victory and gathers up his winnings and I love him a little bit more. Bob makes an offhand comment that leads Cassl to (I think) Cassllook #19, I Just Figured Something Out [I really need to stop numbering them indiscriminately and make a chart or something]. Back from the dead…SUSAN’S NOT DEAD.
[I ALREADY SAID THAT.]
Commercials tell me it’s OK to feel kind of smug about it.
Break room at the precinct, where Cassl and the Bros sip girly coffee. Bekt comes in and gets coffee which is probably much less girly, knowing her. They slowly catch up to my reasoning skillz.
Back to the captain’s family, where they fork over the envelopes from the mystery money person. The most recent ones are from Pennsylvania. She glances up at Cassl, who informs her, “If we’re gonna roadtrip, I’m gonna have to pee first.” Wise. Always empty your bladder before driving more than an hour, kids. Trust me.
Pennsylvania post office. The worker doesn’t recognize whatever photo Bekt hands him. Or the next one. Then Cassl reminds them that Susan would have scars from the blast. And DING, we have a winner. Some woman who comes in once a month to send money to “relatives” in New York. Cassl and Bekt share a brief eyefuck of AHA!
Back at the precinct, and here’s Susan (current name: Mary). Icky, Phantom-of-the-Opera-esque scars on her neck and jaw and hands. She confirms that Dern insisted on setting off the bomb. Dern, as I have suspected, was a crazybitch. I’m all for saving the world, don’t get me wrong. But Dern took a few too many licks of the crazypop, if you catch my drift. A med student friend nursed her back to health and she set aside her old life completely.
But with the new life and money, the status quo was working. Until Dern decided to get greedy. She wanted money and adoration. Susan/Mary found out Dern was lying about the bombing. Tracked her down, threatened to tell the truth to the cops. Dern wanted to meet first. Dern tried to drug her, tried to drown her in the tub of oil. Susan’s death would’ve been called a guilty suicide. There was a struggle, and Susan pushed her into the tub.
Confirmation: Cynthia Dern was a crazybitch.
Bullpen. Bekt walks out with Susan. Cassl warms up Bektdesk with his Sexy. And in struts Lee Wax, shirt unbuttoned a touch low. “I hear you made an arrest.” “You can read all about it in the morning news.” Lee pouts - after all the help she gave them? Back off, Lee. He’s my boyfriend and K8's sextoy. And Cassl’s on Team Soxie: “I just keep thinking that if it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t be a case in the first place.” “What does that mean?” [Oh fuck, I just realized she has crazy eyes. Look at her and tell me she doesn’t have crazy eyes.] “All the people from Cynthia’s past that you interviewed. How did you manage to let every one of them know that you were in contact with her?” [He’s got a point.] “What are you implying?” [That your eyes are fucking crazy.] He says you wanted someone to figure it all out and call the police so you could write the book your way and it would sell more. Lee doesn’t flinch. “That’s a lovely theory. But even if it’s true, I didn’t kill Cynthia Dern. I didn’t even do anything illegal.” “Oh, no, no no. It’s not illegal. It’s just slimy - ” [DAMN STRAIGHT. Take her down, Boyf.] - “so your, uh, all-access pass…has been revoked.” He hands her back her number LIKE A BOSS, because that all-access pass included access to his body and who the fuck does she think she is, trying to seduce my boyfriend in front of Bekt? Take your fucking crazy eyes and go home, crazy.
She stalks out. Cassl stops her. “Oh, and one more thing. One day- and one day not far from now - I’m gonna use this in a book.” PWNAAAAAAAAAAGE! MY BOYFRIEND WINS AT LIFE.
So now she stalks out even more pissed. Right past my girl Bekt, who doesn’t get it, and looks at Bektdesk to find Cassl grinning that adorable way he has, where his eyes crinkle a little at the corners and his whole face is smiling. Fuck, I love him.
Bekt gives him the arm throw of WTF Is Wrong With You? and he hastily vacates Bektchair again, having warmed it up with CasslAss for her.
They banter. It’s cute. Cassl pines over the unfairness of it all. Bekt shrugs: “If you’re looking for a happy ending, you’ve come to the wrong place.” “Next time, I’ll just try that massage parlor on Second Avenue - ” BektWTF - “just kidding.” Better be. Only Bekt is allowed to do that to him.
More banter. Still cute. “Wow. You are all about the cloud, aren’t you? Never the silver lining. Okay. Maybe this might cheer you up a little.” Cassl pulls out the money. “Your winnings.”
“My winnings?”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me. You threw your hand.”
She considers denying but decides Oh, Fuck All. “Alright, I was trying to be nice. I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.” See? She’s kind. THIS is why she and my boyfriend belong together.
Cassl moves past it. “Now we’re even.” Tiebreaker round of bedromping? Anyone? Anyone? Oh…I guess Cassl wants to play cards. My bad. Jumped the gun a bit thar. “So what do you say to a little…showdown? Head to head. Toe to toe.” Pelvis to pelvis. “Winner take all.” Including their opponent, in a sexual manner. “Mano a mujer.”
He’s leaning into her bubble, but his Spanish sucks. Bekt eyes him, momentarily confused. “‘Hand to woman?’”
Dirty…?
“Whatever it takes.” CONFIRMATION: IT WAS DIRTY.
She leans in too, and can we just acknowledge that they have NO FUCKING CONCEPT OF PERSONAL SPACE? As in the world of Sparky: eventually they will just get so close that they will simply be forced to have sex due to proximity. Don’t argue. It’s true.
She gets sexy. Fuck all, even the music just got kind of porny. Rawr. “You’re on.”
“No mercy.”
“I’m gonna make you hurt.”
“Oh, you’re gonna get hurt.” That does it. They just had sex. It just happened, right there.
“What are we playing for?” OMFG SHE JUST LOOKED AT HIS MOUTH. PLAY FOR HIM TO LICK YOU AND EVERYBODY WINS.
“Pride.” His eyes flick downwards. “Or clothing.”
PLEASE PLAY FOR CLOTHING.
Bekt ruins my fun. “I think I got a bag of gummibears.”
OH. WELL…I GUESS YOU COULD PLAY NON-SEXUALLY. IF THAT’S WHAT YOU REALLY WANT.
Sadly, they sit back into their respective non-sexual proxomity zones, Bekt shuffling. Naturally, she thinks he’s going to cheat: “Whatcha got up your sleeves?” “Aside from my muscular arms?” Guh. My God, would you two just do each other already?
The End.
Next time, in Soxie’s Files Of Sexy: Once we’ve all gotten rid of the mental image of Cassl eating gummibears off Bekt’s naked torso, I’m open to suggestions for next recap. I picked this one because these poker scenes are so fucking sexy. Maybe Rose For Everafter, or Food to Die For? What do you think? What do YOU find sexy?
(…so far, she’s winning.)
And now: the episode of sexy, sexy poker games. If you are in a hurry, here is the short version of today’s recap:
DID BEKT JUST HAVE SEX WITH MY BOYFRIEND? I THINK BEKT JUST HAD SEX WITH MY BOYFRIEND.
For the actual recap, with Plot and stuff: Read on, Lizzie!
Season 1 Ep. 8, Ghosts
(Please bear in mind that I do not fully understand the rules of poker. I’m not here for the cards, my doves. I’m here for the pr0n.)
Hotel room. Bathtub full of motor oil. Corpse floats to top of said tub. Eeeeeegh.
Poker night at Cassl’s House Of Luuuurrrrrrrrrrve. Don’t even try to tell me Cassl and Bekt haven’t done it on that poker table. Recently, too. She’s wearing a turtleneck, which obviously proves the hickeys haven’t faded since their last round of Exercise Your Search Warrant. All Over Me. Oh Yeah, Just Like That.
The players are Cassl, his mother, our girl, El Capitan, Mini Irish and Espo. Last hand of the night: Martha immediately folds. Espo comments that she folds a lot. Cassl explains that his mother’s real game is strip poker. OH GOD MY EYES ARE BURNING. Martha explains her philosophy: “Frankly, I prefer strip because even when you lose, you win.” She winks at Bekt, who laughs, because she and Cassl have played many rounds of strip poker, just without the poker part.
Nkay, last hand is up: the Bros raise. Bekt eyes her cards, and I have no idea if they’re goodor not. But like the Badass she is, she raises a hundred. Which apparently is both daring and sexy.
She tosses her chips in and Cassl looks up at her with a look of surprise that tells me she just did something very, very dirty in the game of footsie we all know they’ve been playing all evening.
Espo’s scared of Big Sister: “A hundred bucks?” My girl grins. “Man up, Bro.” GAHHHHHHHHH. She’s half-laughing because you know she saw that line in the script and was all Fuck YEAH! I Get To Say That.
The Bros and I think El Capitan too all fold, and I’m going to pause to hug Mini Irish so he doesn’t feel bad.
Hug over.
Non-connected sexy characters out. My girl and my boyfriend going at it. Yeah, I picked that phrase on purpose. Bekt tries to psych/sex him out. “Not scared of a little…action, are you?”
He gets dangerously sexy. “Action is my middle name.”
The onlookers are laughing because the Sexy is hard to miss. Martha tells Bekt no worry, he bluffing. “Mother!” Martha, I love you.
Espo deals. The cards in the middle are a two and a pair of sevens. Now, I am not sure, but I don’t think Bekt has any kind of a hand. Cassl’s finger starts tapping his cards (stop trying to make me tell you it’s sexual!) and Martha says Ruh Roh, that’s his tell for maybe actually having a good hand.
She looks up at my boyfriend, who gets even sexier, though I didn’t think that was possible. “What’s the matter? You’re not afraid of a little action, are you?”
PLEASE JUST DO IT ON THE TABLE ALREADY.
Bekt’s eyes narrow. Cassl smirks. And my girl goes All In and I’m already exhausted from this insanely hot eyefuck.
Cassl eyes his cards. Two and seven…hot damn, that makes a full house. Go Team Cassl. His eyes flick up to Bekt, who’s sitting back, watching him with a genuinely coy smile because A.) she is bluffing like a stone-cold bluffer and B.) I think Martha’s sitting between them trying to stop them from playing footsie, but let’s face it, like that would ever work. I think my girl’s foot is somewhere in the crotchal region right now.
After an amazingly long, hard eyefuck, Cassl folds.
Everyone goes OHHHHHHHH! and laughs, and Bekt rakes in the chips. “Maybe someone should change their middle name to LOSER.”
Game over, Cassl steps aside, Bektphone demands attention, and everyone kind of momentarily scatters. And then Martha sneaks a peek at Cassl’s cards and realizes he had a winning hand. Huh. He threw the game.
On to the Plot. But first, five-second credits. Don’t worry, Bekt. Cassl himself lasts much longer than five seconds.
I can already tell this recap is going downhill…consider yourself warned.
As we noted before the poker game, dead body, hotel rooom, bathtub full of oil. Yucko. Bekt crouches beside it to examine, and for a second we get this really nifty camera shot with Cassl, and Bekt reflected in a mirror. Cool, yo. Completely pointless, but cool.
Cassl figures someone’s trying to send a message. Pointlessly cool shot again.
Downstairs at the front desk, Bekt and Cassl talk to the hotel manager, who pretty much says I Don’t Want To Know What My Hotel Guests Do. Bekt asks if there was anyone strange around the place tonight. And cue a giant blonde drag queen in a hot pink tube top, miniskirt and silver heels. “Hey, Bill.” Manager nods. “Jasmine, how’s it hangin’?”
Bekt and Cassl stare.
Morgue: Kingdom of Lanie. No ID on the victim, but wedding ring. Died by drowning. Ticket stub in her pocket; she took the train from Westchester. Cassl decides it’s time to speak. “Westchester to Lower Manhattan? That’s a long way to go for a lube job.” Bekt just gives him a Look. He clarifies: “See, when married ladies go to cheap hotels, it’s always about sex.” Ah. So his interjection was case-related.
Precinct. Missing person report from some suburb matches the victim…I think we’ve got an ID, ladies and gents.
And we’re off. Aerial shot tells us that apparently this woman is from LaCrosse, Wisconsin. Or some such. Husband ID’s her from the photo - yep. No idea why she was in the skeevy hotel; she was supposedly in the city for work. Husband chokes up a little, and Cassl & Bekt do a slight head turn of strength towards each other, because He/She Is My Rock Of Strength In Times Of Trial.
Precinct, with Bekt and Cassl situated around Bektdesk. Ryan walks over and hands Cassla cup of coffee, which for some reason really, really confuses me. Espo walks in with another spoonful of Plot: they checked the store the victim supposedly worked at, but they’ve never heard of her. We thought there were dice…but there are, in fact, none.
Question for Dwight: so why was she going into the city three times a week and coming home with money?
Ryan: “Maybe Cassl’s right. Maybe this about sex.” (I no lie, he kind of slurred away the verb. It was adorable.)
Espo: “The lady was a soccer mom.”
Cassl: “Come by my daughter’s school about 3:30. Place is like happy hour.” Ryan does the nose tap of Oh Hey, Bro. Meanwhile I’m enjoying the mental image of Rick Cassl running for his life down the street, being chased by every cougar in Manhattan. You know it could happen.
Bekt suggests maybe the victim had a boyfriend. Cassl becomes animated, and therefore even more sexy, and starts spinning a story about how she met him at some museum, he made her feel good, blah blah blah, the Bros start joining in, and Bekt rols her eyes, sighs heavily, and watches the entire spectacle with a look of Good God You Guys Are Worse Than The Crowd At A Justin Bieber Concert.
“You know, I feel so stupid. Here I am looking for evidence, and all I had to do was just make something up.” No Bekt G’s. I feel cheated. One more round from the SnarkDeathray: “So…this imaginary boyfriend/killer - do you think that he has an imaginary address?” PWNAGE.
And then out of nowhere, victim’s husband walks in to tell them that according to the Social Security office, the victim died in 1963.
Translation: his wife was using a fake identity.
So who the hell was she?
Percussion beats and Cassl sipping coffee crescendo us into commercials.
Casslhaus, breakfast. Bekt walk-of-shame’d out an hour ago. Lex is amazed this victim lived under a fake name for twenty years. Martha sayeth that absolutely means the woman was a criminal. “Mata Hari…shady lady.” THAT RHYMED.
And out of nowhere, Martha calls Cassl out on his shit: “The poker game. You let Bekt win.” Cassl kinda freezes, and even Lex is staring at him in surprise…don’t worry, Lex, K8 will be such a better stepmom than Ginabitch…and I’m sorry, I just really, really really want to undo one more button on his shirt right now. Is that so terrible?
Cassl tries toplay dumb, but his mother will have none of it. So he admits. “I - I didn’t want to take her money in front of all of her friends.”
“Kate Bekt is not some bimbo who needs big strong you to look out for her - ” Princess Lex is nodding - “she’s a real woman, and a real woman does not want to be patronized.”
Big Strong Cassl can look out for me any day. I’m just sayin’.
Lex jumps in. “She’s right, Dad.”
Cassl grumbles - he was trying to “be nice,” which I think translates into a form of seduction - and then his phone rings and he’s off.
Precinct of Sexy. Victim was emailing someone named Lee Wax, and arranged to meet Lee the day she died. Our pretty detectives look up Lee. Espo thinks Cassl will be interested: “Guy’s a writer.” “A real writer, or ‘I took a course at the learning annex’ writer?” Hey, don’t be so quick to cast stones there, Cassl. I read Heat Wave and your books are as shitty as you are sexy. Which is a lot.
Wax writes true crime books. Whoopee. Cassl’s not impressed.
Elevator to what I’m assuming is Lee’s apartment. Think for a second about how many sexy things can happen in an elevator. Now you understand why I like them so much.
Bekt hands over a wad of cash. Cassl’s confused. He’s not her hooker; this is a consensual thing. “What’s this?” “Your winnings from the other night.” [She bet he wouldn’t be able to make her scream. She lost.] “I’m not an idiot. I know you threw the last hand.” [Oh, never mind, they're talking about poker.] “How did you figure it out?” She glances at him archly. “That’s not the point.” “Oh, my mother called you, didn’t she?”
Bekt lunges into his personal space and hisses “You owe me a rematch,” stalking off to leave Cassl to try to recover from what very quickly became a Sexy Situation.
He follows. “Fine! You wanna play, let’s play.” YES. Any game is fine. As long as it takes place in his bed and clothes are off-limits. But no, hateful producers want him to invite her to another poker night, this one with his “Gotham City crew” (are you fucking kidding me?): El Capitan, Bob the Mayor, Comissioner Gordon, Morgan Freeman, and Judge Golfbuddy who signs her warrants. [OK, I made up two of those. Figure it out yourself.] Cassl wants to scare her. She don’t scare. She’s all in, Baby. “Just set it up. And prepare to get your ass kicked.” She turns away, and Cassl watches her with Cassllook #44, I Am Going To Have SO Much Fun Stripping Your Clothes Off Someday.
Plot beckons. Apartment door open, which means bad things. They share a brief eyefuck of Huh? before slowly walking into the empty apartment. Instead of a true Wall Of Crazy, they just find tons of pictures and shit of the victim. Kinda makes sense, sinse Lee’s a writer, so my guess is Lee’s write-ifying about Motor Oil Chick.
Bekt goes off to be police-y, telling Cassl to Stay Here, and he examines what appears to be kind of murderboard-ish when apissed-off woman walks in, all Who The Fuck Are You? Turns out, this is Lee Wax. Enter Bekt; her Puppy Proximity Alarm indicated the presence of an attractive woman in the Puppy Zone. Don’t bother getting your boobs out, Lee. He’s mine.
K8’s all we need to ask you some questions. Lee’s all let me call my lawyer. K8’s all huh? Lee’s all I didn’t do any harboring or abetting. K8’s all huhhhhhh? Lee’s all but you found this woman, yes? K8’s all uh she was murdered. Lee’s all fuck whaaaaaaat?
Lee’s a ghostwriter. She was helping with the victim’s memoir. The victim was wanted by the Feebs.
Commercial break of wtF?
Precinct; pedeconference with Bekt,Puppy and Capitan, who examines the mug shot/Wanted poster. Cybnthia Dern, turns out, was wanted for 1980’s terrorism and wearing an obscenely big-ass earring. She and her cohorts bombed a tanker ship.
Sexyterrogation; Lee apparently decided she didn’t need her lawyer. Bekt keeps Lee from getting too close to Puppy. Lee tells them the bombing story: there were two other bombers. Some guy built the bomb, Dern and someone else set it, but then something went wrong. Ship was supposed to be empty, but the captain was there and ended up paralyzed. Says Dern had decided to turn herself in, but wanted the book to smooth the way for her, show remorse, yadda yadda. Lee says Dern told her she tried to back out since the captain was there, but Susan, the other person there, was all NOOOOOOO we gon’ do this. They argued. Bomb blew, Susan was killed, body never found. Huh. Lee paid Dern a few hundred bucks each week for the project. “If the book had sold well…” she leans over the table and eyes Cassl seductively, ‘cause let’s face it, he’s Hot like a Hot Thing … “I don’t have to tell you how much money was at stake.”
BektEyebrows go up and she turns to regard Puppy bemusedly; the Proximity alarms are going off, but it’s only Code Yellow, since there’s a table protecting him and Bekt’s armed.
Lee says Dern was paranoid and thought her past life was going to find her, but Lee poked around for more sources anyway. Bekt takes Lee’s notes; Lee wants to stay in the loop, since this just became a murder story. “You know, I - I would love to. But I have a whole list of writers - ” she slaps Cassl’s arm, and he looks like he just started thinking morecirty thoughts - “that are hanging around, looking for favors.” Bekt basically blows her off, walking out with an amused look. Cassl grins politely and goes to follow. Lee really, really obviously hits on him, slips him a business card (i.e., her number) and leaves.
Excuse me while I go eat dinner; I have a tasty salad, mini-egg rolls and saffron rice waiting. Back in a bit.
Nkay, I’m back.
Murderboard. Looking at stuff from that old bombing. Susan killed in blast, other guy caught & served time. Who holds a grudge for 20 years?
…remember how the captain was paralyzed?...
Bekt and Puppy now at the captain’s house. He’s in a wheelchair, breathing tube, scarred face, etc. He and his wife say they didn’t know Dern was involved. The bombing pretty much destroyed their lives. Their son, outside, says he didn’t know anything & didn’t care. Hated Dern, but alibis out.
Back to draw sustenance from the murderboard’s stock of Sexy. Espo tells them the FBI says the third bomber was caught on an anonymous tip; the caller, a woman, didn’t leave a name or bother collecting the reward money. Odd. Bekt says maybe it was Dern. Espo and Cassl point out that if this guy thought it was her, it’s motive.
Dancing zebras! Kidding. It’s just commercials.
Morning sweeps over Manhattan like the bubonic plague over Europe, but less gross. Bekt and Cassl find Jared, the captured bomber, washing street curbs. He doesn’t seem like a psychokiller. My money’s not on him, yo. Cassl tries to goad him by saying Dern ratted him out (please remember that’s not been verified. I doubt it’s true. I just think it’s too easy.), but Jared’s all meh, it was all my fault anyway. After the bombing, Dern told him the bomb blew early.
Casslhaus, the ladies cooking. Cassl’s reading through the manuscript of this book. Lex is wearing a seriously adorable purple sweater, btw. She wears too much pink. She should wear more blue, green and purple.
Cassl doesn’t think Jared’s as much at fault for everything. Dern told Jared something was wrong with the bomb. She told Lee there was an argument. The two stories are just a bit too different to be true, methinks. Isn’t my boyfriend smart?
Precinct, a close-up of the nameplate on Bektdesk. She walks up to discover CasslAss making love to BektChair as Cassl sits in her spot and peruses something eagerly. She stops in front of Bektdesk, her right buttcheek motionless as Cassl has no idea she’s there. “Morning.” He flinches, realizes he’s in her sacred space, and scootches away and OH FUCK HE’S WEARING A LEATHER JACKET. Let’s all just consider the fact that my boyfriend is wearing leather. Bekt, you’re influencing him. Good girl.
BektAss takes over its rightful seat as Puppy excitedly shows her his newest theory and waits for approval in the form of sexual favors. He called the publisher, who said the book, which Dern controlled, was blahhhh; they wanted sexy true crime, but this book was all wahhhhhh I’m so sorry. Yucko. But now that the book’s all true criiiiiiiiime, the publisher’s totally on board…
Bektphone. The captain’s son’s alibi fell apart. It was bartending, btw.
Sexyterrogation; a leather-clad Cassl watches from observation as our girl verbally kicks ass. Son says he followed Lee, found out where Dern lived and was going to confront her, but then his mom said they’d been getting money every month (and a note that said please forgive me) since the explosion and she didn’t want to mess it up. Cassl and Bekt both kinda go Unnnhhhh?
Well, the night of the murder, Son went to the hotel and almost knocked on the door, but saw someone else go in instead; didn’t get a good look, but heard voices. It was a woman.
Casslpuppy lights up. “Lee Wax!” And like an oaf, he starts knocking on the glass, yelling “Bekt! [knockknockknockknock] It was Lee Wax! Bekt!” She gets BektLook #1, Cassl, I Will KILL You, and slowly turns around to deathglare him into silence, even through the one-way mirror.
Commercials while I recover from the cuteness and Cassl runs away from Bekt.
Back in Sexyterrogation; this time LeatherCassl joins Bekt in grilling Lee Wax, whose hair is fantastic, btw. They accuse her of murder. She says No. Bekt claims they have an eyewitness (not really, but she’s bluffing). She says she told the publisher she thought Dern was a lying liarface. And when Bekt brings up the money, Lee has no idea what she’s talking about.
That money wasn’t from Dern. Dern was a bitch.
Murderboard of Luuuuuuurve. Cassl ponders. “Remind me, if I ever decide to write a memoir, to never write a memoir.”
Nearby, Bekt works at Bektdesk. “Okay.”
Long silence. She looks up to find him looking at her with the silent whine for love and attention. She stops typing. Long sigh. “…why not?”
“Because memoirs are all about truth, and I’m not a very truthful person. It’d be too easy to make myself look good.” BektLip quirks just a bit. “It might be harder than you think.”
He points out that there’s no reason Dern wouldn’t have told Lee about the money, if she indeed wanted to win sympathy. Money came from someone else?
[Am I the only one who remembers that Susan’s body was “vaporized?” This is TV, people. If the body’s never found, it means there’s no body. Trust me on this.]
And HALLELUJAH, it’s the Gotham City Poker Club with a guest appearance from our girl. And they’re discussing the case too. It distracts me a little from the sexy, but only a little. Bekt’s right next to Cassl, but all this serious talk is throwing off her eyefuck mojo. But the guys insist on case-talk, not pillowtalk, so as they play. Bekt was obviously kind of hoping for more hotness…but the boys’ club is fixated on Plot, so she gives up and joins them. Footsie can wait a few minutes.
The Brain Trust here figures out that maybe Dern was actually the one who set off the bomb…maybe Susan tried to stop her, time ran out, and Susan was caught in the blast while trying to stop it. Neat twist, yo. And Bekt watches the high-powered theorizing with a little smile, because it is just fucking awesome to watch people brainstorm like this. Besides, while the bigwigs are yakking, she can start sneaking parts of her anatomy onto regions of Cassl’s anatomy which might perhaps take his mind to other places than poker.
One question remains, says Bob the Mayor: “Where’d the money come from?”
Cassl is pensive. And he’s not wearing an undershirt. Both good developments in my life. Can I just sneak into wardobe and remove all the top buttons from his shirts? “I’m thinking.”
And cue BektSass. “Yeah, well, you might want to think up some chips for the pot, ‘cause it looks like it’s just you and me.” The guys (who’ve all folded) chuckle. And yes, I sense another Sexy Situation. I’d say my girl has balls of steel, but let’s be honest: there are two other things on her Cassl likes much, much better.
(boobs)
Cassl goes all in. And yeah, that can be as dirty as you want it to. “Oh, what’s the matter, you afraid of a little action?” Bekt just laughs, as do the guys watching this verbal foreplay, and Bekt, I swear to God, if your foot is not halfway to his groinal region right now it is not my fault, because I taught you better. I mean, do you want to win the damn game or not? You’re not showing cleavage, so you had better be doing something titillating to him right now.
Judge Golf is on Team Bekt. “Do us a favor, Detective. Beat his pants off.”
At the thought of Bekt removing his pants, Cassl lights right up. “Yes, please. Beat my pants off if you dare.” I AGREE. BECAUSE IT WILL BE SEXY.
El Capitan: “Bekt, do me proud.”
Judge: “To hell with proud, make him cry like a little girl!”
Me: “Just take him upstairs and DO HIM.”
I don’t know why she doesn’t take my advice, but my girl decides to actually check her cards first. It looks like she actually has a pretty good hand. Cassl watches her with the most mischevious smirk ever, and again, I don’t know why she keeps pretending this is about cards.
Bekt looks around the table, ending up seeing Cassl giving her such a damn hot look that I almost understand when she turns her cards facedown. The guys groan. “Sorry, fellas. Just not my night.” WELL IT WOULD BE IF YOU WOULD JUST SLEEP WITH HIM.
Cassl does the cutest little happydance of victory and gathers up his winnings and I love him a little bit more. Bob makes an offhand comment that leads Cassl to (I think) Cassllook #19, I Just Figured Something Out [I really need to stop numbering them indiscriminately and make a chart or something]. Back from the dead…SUSAN’S NOT DEAD.
[I ALREADY SAID THAT.]
Commercials tell me it’s OK to feel kind of smug about it.
Break room at the precinct, where Cassl and the Bros sip girly coffee. Bekt comes in and gets coffee which is probably much less girly, knowing her. They slowly catch up to my reasoning skillz.
Back to the captain’s family, where they fork over the envelopes from the mystery money person. The most recent ones are from Pennsylvania. She glances up at Cassl, who informs her, “If we’re gonna roadtrip, I’m gonna have to pee first.” Wise. Always empty your bladder before driving more than an hour, kids. Trust me.
Pennsylvania post office. The worker doesn’t recognize whatever photo Bekt hands him. Or the next one. Then Cassl reminds them that Susan would have scars from the blast. And DING, we have a winner. Some woman who comes in once a month to send money to “relatives” in New York. Cassl and Bekt share a brief eyefuck of AHA!
Back at the precinct, and here’s Susan (current name: Mary). Icky, Phantom-of-the-Opera-esque scars on her neck and jaw and hands. She confirms that Dern insisted on setting off the bomb. Dern, as I have suspected, was a crazybitch. I’m all for saving the world, don’t get me wrong. But Dern took a few too many licks of the crazypop, if you catch my drift. A med student friend nursed her back to health and she set aside her old life completely.
But with the new life and money, the status quo was working. Until Dern decided to get greedy. She wanted money and adoration. Susan/Mary found out Dern was lying about the bombing. Tracked her down, threatened to tell the truth to the cops. Dern wanted to meet first. Dern tried to drug her, tried to drown her in the tub of oil. Susan’s death would’ve been called a guilty suicide. There was a struggle, and Susan pushed her into the tub.
Confirmation: Cynthia Dern was a crazybitch.
Bullpen. Bekt walks out with Susan. Cassl warms up Bektdesk with his Sexy. And in struts Lee Wax, shirt unbuttoned a touch low. “I hear you made an arrest.” “You can read all about it in the morning news.” Lee pouts - after all the help she gave them? Back off, Lee. He’s my boyfriend and K8's sextoy. And Cassl’s on Team Soxie: “I just keep thinking that if it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t be a case in the first place.” “What does that mean?” [Oh fuck, I just realized she has crazy eyes. Look at her and tell me she doesn’t have crazy eyes.] “All the people from Cynthia’s past that you interviewed. How did you manage to let every one of them know that you were in contact with her?” [He’s got a point.] “What are you implying?” [That your eyes are fucking crazy.] He says you wanted someone to figure it all out and call the police so you could write the book your way and it would sell more. Lee doesn’t flinch. “That’s a lovely theory. But even if it’s true, I didn’t kill Cynthia Dern. I didn’t even do anything illegal.” “Oh, no, no no. It’s not illegal. It’s just slimy - ” [DAMN STRAIGHT. Take her down, Boyf.] - “so your, uh, all-access pass…has been revoked.” He hands her back her number LIKE A BOSS, because that all-access pass included access to his body and who the fuck does she think she is, trying to seduce my boyfriend in front of Bekt? Take your fucking crazy eyes and go home, crazy.
She stalks out. Cassl stops her. “Oh, and one more thing. One day- and one day not far from now - I’m gonna use this in a book.” PWNAAAAAAAAAAGE! MY BOYFRIEND WINS AT LIFE.
So now she stalks out even more pissed. Right past my girl Bekt, who doesn’t get it, and looks at Bektdesk to find Cassl grinning that adorable way he has, where his eyes crinkle a little at the corners and his whole face is smiling. Fuck, I love him.
Bekt gives him the arm throw of WTF Is Wrong With You? and he hastily vacates Bektchair again, having warmed it up with CasslAss for her.
They banter. It’s cute. Cassl pines over the unfairness of it all. Bekt shrugs: “If you’re looking for a happy ending, you’ve come to the wrong place.” “Next time, I’ll just try that massage parlor on Second Avenue - ” BektWTF - “just kidding.” Better be. Only Bekt is allowed to do that to him.
More banter. Still cute. “Wow. You are all about the cloud, aren’t you? Never the silver lining. Okay. Maybe this might cheer you up a little.” Cassl pulls out the money. “Your winnings.”
“My winnings?”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me. You threw your hand.”
She considers denying but decides Oh, Fuck All. “Alright, I was trying to be nice. I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.” See? She’s kind. THIS is why she and my boyfriend belong together.
Cassl moves past it. “Now we’re even.” Tiebreaker round of bedromping? Anyone? Anyone? Oh…I guess Cassl wants to play cards. My bad. Jumped the gun a bit thar. “So what do you say to a little…showdown? Head to head. Toe to toe.” Pelvis to pelvis. “Winner take all.” Including their opponent, in a sexual manner. “Mano a mujer.”
He’s leaning into her bubble, but his Spanish sucks. Bekt eyes him, momentarily confused. “‘Hand to woman?’”
Dirty…?
“Whatever it takes.” CONFIRMATION: IT WAS DIRTY.
She leans in too, and can we just acknowledge that they have NO FUCKING CONCEPT OF PERSONAL SPACE? As in the world of Sparky: eventually they will just get so close that they will simply be forced to have sex due to proximity. Don’t argue. It’s true.
She gets sexy. Fuck all, even the music just got kind of porny. Rawr. “You’re on.”
“No mercy.”
“I’m gonna make you hurt.”
“Oh, you’re gonna get hurt.” That does it. They just had sex. It just happened, right there.
“What are we playing for?” OMFG SHE JUST LOOKED AT HIS MOUTH. PLAY FOR HIM TO LICK YOU AND EVERYBODY WINS.
“Pride.” His eyes flick downwards. “Or clothing.”
PLEASE PLAY FOR CLOTHING.
Bekt ruins my fun. “I think I got a bag of gummibears.”
OH. WELL…I GUESS YOU COULD PLAY NON-SEXUALLY. IF THAT’S WHAT YOU REALLY WANT.
Sadly, they sit back into their respective non-sexual proxomity zones, Bekt shuffling. Naturally, she thinks he’s going to cheat: “Whatcha got up your sleeves?” “Aside from my muscular arms?” Guh. My God, would you two just do each other already?
The End.
Next time, in Soxie’s Files Of Sexy: Once we’ve all gotten rid of the mental image of Cassl eating gummibears off Bekt’s naked torso, I’m open to suggestions for next recap. I picked this one because these poker scenes are so fucking sexy. Maybe Rose For Everafter, or Food to Die For? What do you think? What do YOU find sexy?