Where you see scenarios that might result in malpractice and/or harassment lawsuits, the good ladies of Mistresses see only opportunities.
Your married doctor’s heart rate (and “reflex hammer,” ahem) shwing upward as he takes your pulse following a major medical procedure? Hey, there’s nothing like a sexy, testosterone-fueled house call to get you back on your feet (and into five-inch heels) less than 24 hours later!
Your attorney seems more interested in a quickie with her waiter than in focusing on the total fiscal ruin threatened by your insurance company? Eh, just downgrade from artisanal almond butter to the brown Country Crock tubs perfunctorily purchased by middle-class families across the country, then fuhgeddaboudit!
Or maybe your wealthy new boss reveals that she semi-stalked your sister’s ex-husband (aka the man to whom you recently admitted your illicit romantic feelings) — but her crazy came from a place of caring? Offer your forgiveness and understanding, as long as she lets you live out a fashion-model fantasy and slips a fat check on the kitchen counter of your current crash pad!
Not that I’m complaining, mind you. If our protagonists suddenly slipped on Easy Spirit flats and became disciples of Oprah’s Lifeclass, April would be living in a split-level ranch and managing a Pier One in Calabasas, Joss would be enrolling in community college and wearing last season’s Target yoga pants, and Karen… well, she’d probably be in a minimum-security women’s prison or a treatment facility with tragic fluorescent lighting. And who among us would really want to watch that brand of mess?
So let’s celebrate Joss and Harry living out the lyrics to the Spice Girls’ “2 Become 1,” Karen finding a deeper appreciation for Aretha Franklin’s “Dr. Feelgood,” and April fighting to keep alive Maison Sur Mer, AKA TV’s greatest fictional boutique of the last 20 years. Calista, well, I’m not so sure yet how I feel about her. I mean, she intrigues me, sure, but I worry a little that she’s eyeing Joss like a 7-year-old does a new My Pretty Pony — a shiny distraction that’ll eventually be marked down to a 25-cent toss-away at next year’s garage sale.
So, on that note, let’s run down what happened with each of our main ladies — while posing key questions about their decisions and behaviors.
KAREN | Karen’s arc this week is simple and straightforward. She goes in for her marrow donation to help the wife of gruff (but douchey-hot) Dr. Adams, and he shows up at her house the next day chiding that it’s “not very responsible” that she’s recovering all alone “without so much as a house cat.” So essentially, Karen is below cat-lady hoarder on the mental/physical wellness spectrum? Alec cancels his appointments, though, which I guess is kinda nice, and soon he’s reminiscing about how he met his wife Victoria while he was on a date with another woman. Victoria, a ballerina at the time, fell on stage, and Dr. Adams rushed backstage to rescue her (what? there was no troupe physician or trainer backstage?) and then all Karen can hear is the same sound the Peanuts kids hear when adults talk. “Mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp mawp.” The only sound is his sexy scruff, his broad shoulders, the silence between them as he takes her pulse. As Joss puts it when she stumbles across the scene, “That was one helluva house call from the husband of the woman whose life you’re saving!” And then, later, “It’s not often that a doctor makes house calls outside of reruns of Little House on the Prairie. Admit it, Karen, it’s a little weird.” Karen, though, being more prone to keeping it in her fantasy world then keeping it real, won’t admit there’s chemistry, and merely grins like a kiddy teenager when Dr. Adams leaves her a flirty voicemail the next day. Methinks she wants Alec to take her to church Hozier-style (side note: Have you ever listened to the lyrics of that song? Racy!) rather than a Methodist church-hat situation, if you catch my drift.
APRIL | She Who Gave Up
Ricky Whittle Daniel’s Abs for Her Ingrate Daughter gets even worse news: She has 30 days to pay back $200,000 to her insurance company — seeing how her presumed-dead husband was secretly alive. Nope, his subsequent death no longer holds any weight with the firm of Fool Me Once, Inc, and so April goes to Dom, who passes her case to Toni Tumbling Out of Her V-Neck. The clueless former rival to Savi giggles that reading April’s case file is “like watching one of my favorite telenovelas!” — and it’s the kind of tactless truth bomb that makes me think she’d be a fun fifth wheel if Mistresses gets a Season 4.
Back at home, as April realizes she’ll need to cut her living expenses, she’s growing tired of “Uncle” Mark’s relaxed-casual approach to life — and suggests he get a job, or at least “something to frame the day.” We eventually learn Mark is three years sober — but despite his fear of the hard-living restaurant biz, he finally takes up April’s offer for a job interview with Harry. And Mark’s concessions/confessions make April consider some own hard truths. “I kept Paul’s insurance money even after I knew Paul wasn’t really dead. I’m basically Carmella Soprano.” More troubling, though, is that Lucy’s begun dressing like an intern at the Bada Bing — with leopard crop top and skin-tight black pants, with the “Mother, please” attitude to match. I’ve got to admit I miss the old April-and-Lucy-Against-the-World days, and hope the tween’s reign of terror isn’t a season-long arc. (Quick, April, take away all her electronic devices — and all her plush home furnishings — until she begins showing her mother the respect to which she’s entitled! I mean, it’s not like she’s even old enough to earn spare cash at the local Burger King!)
JOSS | After Calista fires her event planner the day before showing her new line to a critical Neiman-Marcus buyer, Joss volunteers her services. As thanks, Calista offers some unsolicited romantic advice — “You wanted the relationship to be a choice, rather than a reaction to a wedding you didn’t want” — which Joss interprets as a sign to back away from the man she loves so much that she essentially gave up having a sister.
Later, though, Calista slips that she visited Harry at work — “You would’ve done the same!” she argues, presumptuously — then suggests Joss give Harry a chance to “get his rocks off before you settle in.” Adding some cayenne pepper to the wound, she makes sure to point out that Harry and the hawt Wunderbar bartender were exhibiting some serious sparks — a terrifying notion that is confirmed when Joss stops by the eatery and finds Harry doing a James Bond-esque photo shoot with the topless tart draped over him like excess cilantro on a quesadilla.
All’s well that ends in summer 2015’s hottest sex scene to date, though, right? After Calista apologizes for interfering, and gives her new pal the key spot in her runway show, she asks Joss, “What do you want?” “Harry,” replies our tall drink of vino. “Then get him,” says Calista. And so Joss bangs (pun intended) on Harry’s door. “I thought we weren’t talking,” he says, surprised. “We’re not,” says Joss, and then she goes at him like an Atkins aficionado who’s just scored a cheat day inside a French bakery. Lips lock. Tongues intertwine. Somebody’s backbone probably gets bruised from repeatedly slams against the wall. Let’s just hope next week’s episode doesn’t kick off with an ill-timed text from Savi: “Hey, sis, can we talk?” [Insert frustrated emoji here.]
CALISTA | Turns out, our famous (and suspicious) fashion designer (and newest Mistress) is still sharing a bed with her snoring hubby — though she’s begun contemplating smothering him with her pillow. She’s having a stressful enough work week that she doesn’t have time to surveil Luca — but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get more reasons to doubt him. One of her skank runway-show models — please tell me if that green “Children of V” eye makeup is on trend or if you thought it was as hideous as I did — bursts Calista’s bubble when she hisses, “men like women with their hair down — at least your husband does.” Calista’s subsequent meltdown to Joss — “she’s actually Carla Risotti from Queens, a chubby kid with a big nose and a chip on her shoulder” — is sad/sweet/clichéd/all-too-common, but I like this chick better when she’s armed with binocs, high-end scones and a look of vengeance in her eyes. Is it wrong that I’ll be a little bummed out if Luca doesn’t meet the same fate as How to Get Away With Murder‘s Sam?
Your turn. What did you think of this week’s Mistresses? Sound off in the comments!