Written by MichaelOctober 7, 2020October 8, 2020

Episode 1041

Previously…
– Spencer confronted a flustered Elly with the fact that she’d had an affair with a married partner at the law firm where interned. Elly shut him down but later admitted to Jimmy that she might have reacted poorly.
– Natalie kissed Jason and suggested that they go home together, but when a call about Molly going into labor caused him to hit the brakes, Natalie went home – where she shared drinks with Spencer and convinced him to consummate their marriage of convenience.
– After learning that she’d been lied to her entire life about who her biological mother was, Diane impulsively decided to go on an Alaskan cruise to get away.

Elly Vanderbilt pulls her car up to the curb and puts it into park. She leaves the engine running as she gazes across the street at the large, contemporary, white house, its windows and doors accented by sleek black framing. As Ariana Grande’s “No Tears Left to Cry” plays over the vehicle’s entertainment system, Elly picks up her phone from the center console and quickly composes a text.

She hits send and waits. By the time the song concludes and rolls into the next track, there has still been no response. She checks her phone again for the telltale bubbles indicating that the other person is typing, but still, there is nothing.

With a sigh that is equal parts frustration and annoyance, she places a call. The car cuts off the music as the call begins to ring… but after four rings, it goes right to voicemail.

Elly hangs up, and the music reemerges as she sits back in the driver’s seat. For a moment, she considers driving off, but she has come all this way; she abandoned the half-finished whiskey-ginger that Jimmy made her on the bar of The Wild Lady in order to come do this before she loses her nerve.

The only car in the driveway is Spencer’s, and while that is no assurance that Loretta isn’t home, Elly knows that she can come up with a cover story if need be.

Finally, she kills the engine, unplugs her phone, and steps out of the car.

—–

Spencer Ragan pants heavily as he rolls off Natalie Bishop and onto his back. He stares up at the whirring fan on the ceiling of his bedroom, catching his breath as the feelings of pure physical bliss give way to a clearer-headed amusement at what has just transpired.

“Oh my god,” a dazed Natalie says from beside him. “I needed that.”

“I hate to say it, but so did I.” Spencer raises a hand to wipe his sweaty brow. “Does this mean we’re really married now?”

Natalie manages a laugh. “Who cares?”

“Seriously.”

A sharp rapping from downstairs snaps them from their post-coital haze.

“Who the hell could that be?” Natalie asks.

“Maybe my mother forgot her key.”

“Fat chance of that. That woman would never be careless enough to give up her access to this house.”

“You might have a point there,” Spencer says, sitting up in the bed.

The knock on the front door sounds again.

“I’m going to get that before whoever it is wakes up Peter,” Natalie says as she scrambles out of the bed. She grabs Spencer’s plush white robe, which is hanging on the open bathroom door.

“Hey!” he says. “That’s mine.”

“What’s yours is mine, hubby.”

“Gross.”

“Besides… let me get rid of whoever it is, and then how would you feel about round 2?”

Spencer mulls that over for a second and then gets a devilish grin on his face.

“Be quick, okay?” he says.

“Fully intending to,” Natalie tells him as she ties the robe over her naked body and slips out of the bedroom.

She takes the stairs carefully, not wanting to create too much of a commotion out of fear of awakening Peter. Once downstairs, she crosses the hardwood floor of the foyer and looks through the frosted panel in the front door. Seeing who it is, she undoes the lock and opens the door.

“Natalie. You’re here,” Elly says with surprise.

“Yeah, I live here,” Natalie replies. “What are you doing here?”

—–

Out on the Pacific Ocean, the cruise ship sits beneath the navy blue nighttime sky. Away from the light pollution and smoggy air of civilization, the sky provides the perfect backdrop for revealing the brilliance of the stars.

Inside a modestly sized theatre aboard the ship, Diane Bishop sits in a black cocktail dress, watching a crew of singers and dancers perform a tribute to “The Music of Hollywood” with a near-frantic enthusiasm that almost — almost — makes up for their spotty talent. She finds herself wondering yet again why she thought a week-long Alaskan cruise was a good idea. Yes, the ship is nicer than she expected, and sure, she wanted to get out of King’s Bay to clear her head, but as her daughter wisely pointed out before Diane left, a weekend at the spa probably would have served her better.

Or maybe nothing will, she thinks, the discomfort of the recent revelation about her parentage sweeping back over her like an Arctic chill.

By the time one soloist launches into a maudlin, moldy Celine Dion cover, Diane decides that she has had enough. She has tried out the ship’s programming, at the five-course seafood dinner, at a game of bingo, and now this. Resolving to stick to a pool chair and a good book tomorrow — and a massage in the spa if there are any openings — she slips out of her row and heads for the exit.

When she pulls open the door at the back of the theatre, she nearly runs right into the chest of a tall, black man who appears to be in his early 30s or so. She is taken aback at how handsome — a trait in alarmingly short supply on this ship — he is, especially in his burgundy blazer.

“Are they evacuating the theatre or something?” he asks, stepping aside so she doesn’t bowl him over.

“They might as well. I don’t know who thought performing the theme song from Titanic on a cruise ship was a good idea.”

The man snickers and then dips inside the theatre. Diane watches the door close behind him, and when it does, the singer’s caterwauling is reduced to a distant, muffled background hum.

She navigates her way through the ship, not quite ready to retire to her cabin yet. The elevator brings her first to the floor with the casino, and though she considers going inside, the prospect of losing money on this ship fills her with a seething rage that she knows better than to stoke. Instead she makes her way up to the deck with the child-free pool — the one place where she has found something resembling tranquility, bathed in warm sun and lost in the pages of an engrossing novel, thus far on her trip.

When she exits onto the deck, however, the utter stillness makes her realize that the pool must be closed for the night. She rounds a stairwell and goes to the gate, where, as expected, she finds the entrance to the pool area padlocked. She contemplates staying up here anyway, simply enjoying the peace and quiet and aloneness, but the raspy bark of a voice jolts her back to reality.

“Tell him I don’t give a shit,” a man’s voice is saying, and Diane quickly sees him, a larger man probably in his 60s, his suit rumpled and his words slurred as he talks into his phone and paces by the edge of the pool.

“I want it done by the damn morning! Do you hear me?” the man yells into the phone. Diane winces at how loud and obnoxious his voice is, and she is about to make her escape when she sees it happen.

“Get her on the phone,” the man says. “Right n–” But before he can finish his command, his foot catches on the wet edge of the pool, and he tumbles backward. It happens so fast that Diane hardly believes it is real: the man’s feet in the air, his phone hitting the concrete, and a thunk that sounds like he has hit the side of the pool before he slips into the water.

Diane’s heart rate quickens.

“Shit,” she says as she drops her purse, kicks off her heels, and hoists herself over the fence.

—–

SportsCenter plays on the TV hanging on the apartment wall. Travis Fisher, however, is only half-paying attention to it. Clad in sweat shorts and a tank top, he sits with his legs stretched over the length of the couch, his laptop open on his thighs as he clicks into yet another browser tab.

He looks up from the computer when he hears a key in the front door.

“My man,” Landon Esco says as he enters the apartment. “Didn’t think you’d be home from work already.”

“It was a little slow, so Uncle Matt cut me early,” Travis says. He sets the laptop on the wood-topped, rectangular coffee table. “How was driving?”

“Pretty busy. I made some sweet tips.”

Landon drops his keys on the coffee table and plops down on the couch, giving Travis a mere split-second to move his feet or have them crushed.

“Sit. Please,” Travis says sarcastically.

“Hey. I pay for half this couch.” Landon glances at the TV, but before he can even focus on it, the laptop’s screen snags his attention. “Yo. No way.”

Travis quickly grabs the laptop. “What?”

“Are you seriously–” Landon’s mouth hangs open. “Travis!”

“I’m just… researching,” Travis says sheepishly as he tries to close the computer.

But Landon snatches it away from him and studies the diamond ring displayed on the screen. He clicks through the other open tabs, finding most of them to be jewelers’ sites and rings, as well.

“First of all, I’m relieved you don’t have any weird porn open,” Landon says.

“Maybe that is my weird porn,” Travis counters.

“Funny. But for real: are you proposing?”

“Not right now. I’m just… getting an idea about what’s out there.”

“Does Rosie know? When are you thinking? And I can be your best man, right?”

“No, I don’t know, and not if you don’t calm down,” Travis says. He finally takes the laptop back and sets it aside. “But yeah. I’m starting to think about when. And how.”

“Let me help,” Landon says excitedly. “This has to be the surprise of the century!”

“I don’t know that Rosie loves big surprises–”

“That’s just what she thinks. Wait until she sees what we pull off.”

“We?”

“You’re my best buddy. Of course I’m gonna have your back on this.” Landon stops, and his eyes go wide with terror. “Where am I gonna live? Do I have to find a new apartment? Or a new roommate?!”

“One thing at a time,” Travis says. “The first order of business is: do you know anything about diamond rings? Because this shit is complicated.”

“No, but I can learn,” Landon says, and then he springs across the couch to embrace his best friend, smothering him. “I can’t believe you’re getting married!”

“I’m not, if Rosie catches us like this!” Travis says through a laugh as he shoves Landon off of him.

—–

Elly shifts her weight uneasily as she stares across the threshold at the robe-clad Natalie.

“I need to talk to Spencer,” Elly says.

Natalie scrunches up her nose. “Now’s not a great time.”

“I saw his car out front. He’s–” Only now, however, does Elly fully process Natalie’s appearance: the robe, the flushed cheeks, the tousled hair.

“Oh my god,” she says, remembering what Jimmy told her about having witnessed Natalie and Jason doing shots and then leaving the bar together. “You brought him back here?”

“Brought who back here?” Natalie asks with confusion.

“Hey, who is it?” comes a voice from upstairs, and Elly instantly recognizes it as belonging to Spencer.

Natalie purses her lips wickedly at Elly.

“I was promised a round 2!” Spencer calls out.

“Do you want to come in?” Natalie asks Elly.

“No. No,” Elly says hastily, as her entire understanding of tonight fractures and realigns before her very eyes. “Forget it. It’s not important.”

She hurries back down the driveway and across the street to her car. With a self-satisfied smirk on her face, Natalie closes the door and then hurries back upstairs to her husband.

—–

“Sir!” Diane shouts, but all she hears in response is gurgling before she leaps and hits the water with a splash. Though the pool is heated, it is still a shock to her system, and as she gets her bearings and strokes through the water to the man, she feels the heavy drag of her dress slowing her down.

Nevertheless, she reaches him within seconds. He looks like dead weight, his eyes closed and his body limp, and she confirms this when she hooks her arms underneath his armpits to try and drag him to the surface. By the time she has both their heads safely above water, the man’s weight resting on her as she uses a wall to support herself, her lungs are screaming.

“Help!” she screams out into the night. “Someone call a medic!”

Her brain is racing faster than her body can move. She tries to heave the man, who is sputtering out coughs that she hopes are a positive sign, up onto the edge of the pool, but she can’t find a way to hoist his weight up. She knows that she can’t leave him in the water in order to go get her phone, but neither can she pull him out herself.

“Sir. Can you hear me?” she asks, tapping at his face. “Sir?”

The man coughs again and then lets out a low groan.

“You know, you could help me out a little here,” she mumbles, “seeing as how I’m trying to save your life.”

She gives herself a few more seconds to suck in deep breaths of cool air. With her heart still pounding, she sets out to drag him through the water and to the stairs at the opposite end of the pool.

“Can anyone hear me?” she yells as they begin slowly trudging through the water. Her drenched dress now feels like it weighs as much as the man she is lugging through the pool. “Can someone get the medic?”

Her head keeps dipping beneath the water’s surface as she steers the man. All she can hear are the sounds of water splashing and slapping — until another voice, that of a man, cuts through the night.

“Are you okay?” he calls. Footsteps rumble over the deck’s surface, and then she sees a figure hopping over the same gate that she scaled mere minutes ago.

“He fell in,” she says, gasping out the words. “I’m trying to get him onto land. Can you–”

“I’m calling the medic,” the other man says, and Diane hears him placing a harried call, his voice authoritative as he does so. By the time he finishes, Diane has made it a few more feet down the pool. She hears another loud splash, and then someone else is in the pool with them, and she feels the burden of the first man’s weight being eased off of her.

“Almost there,” the newly arrived man says as he helps Diane maneuver the limp older man onto the stairs. Working together, they get him onto the top step and then roll him onto the concrete.

Only now does Diane have enough use of her senses to recognize her helper as the guy she almost barreled over when leaving the theatre earlier.

“I’ve got him,” he tells her, and he begins administering CPR. Within seconds, the man who fell into the pool is coughing and then sucking in hard, much-needed breaths.

Diane sinks to her knees, her dress hanging heavy around her body and her muscles and lungs burning from the exertion.

“Thank you,” she says. “Is he okay?”

“I think so. Thanks to you,” the younger man says.

They share a brief, silent moment of mutual appreciation — broken only by the other man’s heaving and labored breathing — until the ship’s medic comes rushing up to the pool.

“He’s got a steady heartbeat and he’s breathing,” Diane’s accomplice tells the medic, a woman in a white cruise line polo shirt.

As the medic takes over, Diane and the other man step back. Their bodies drip endless tiny streams of water onto the concrete, and the nighttime air feels much colder now.

“What happened to him?” the guy asks. “Do you know him?”

Diane shakes her head. Her wet hair, which she is sure is an absolute mess now, sticks to her neck and face. “I came up to sit by the pool. He was talking on the phone — actually, he was berating someone on the phone — and he slipped and fell in.”

“Lucky for him you came by.”

“And lucky for me you came by,” she says. “I don’t know if I could’ve pulled him out on my own.”

“Guess it’s a good thing they went with that Titanic song after all, huh?”

“You couldn’t stand it either?”

“No way in hell,” the man says, and when he flashes an easy, winning smile her way, Diane feels herself really and truly begin to relax for the first time since she boarded this ship.

END OF EPISODE 1041

Is Diane’s luck about to turn around?
Should Elly have run off so quickly?
Are Travis and Rosie ready for marriage?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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