"A Little Pilot" is the 1st episode of A Little Devious.
Aliza Little always gets her man. That's the mantra she lives by, and always has lived by, under varying contexts... but part of her feels as though it isn't quite true. Not since Joe's "death", and the departure of the butlers making it so that she's been the sole glue keeping Wikerly Hills together for the past three or so years. But all that's about to change, what with Henry Washington being elected Mayor, and a campaign backing him which Chief Little thinks is worthy of investigation. Meanwhile, she has another investigation on her plate, served up to her by Kathryn Kappelletti when she returns to the town where she lost it all. Will the case of the missing coat take precedence? Will Henry's family learn to get along? Will Antwon succeed in his mission to win Aliza back? And will lemon squares break ground as Silvia's new "thing"? It's back to Wikerly Hills, people, and everyone's being a little devious.
Where It All Began...
...And Where It Continues.
The moon glows bright on the WIKERLY HILLS sign as we hear the sound of chopper blades nearby; it isn't long before the helicopter ends its descent in the crux of one of this rich city's private airports, and from there we're taken into what appears to be a bar, existent for pilots and passengers who await their journeys to and from this particularly special part of California. There at the bar, listening idly to the slowing of the chopper blades and looking distinctly glamorous in a simple black dress, is an even blacker girl: one Miss Aliza Little. Or, as she's come to be known in the past several years, Chief Little, head of the Wikerly Hills Police Department. But one wouldn't know that to look at her now, as she sips her shaken martini and... waits. Nor would one know that looking back, as we proceed to do, with the camera moving around her head...
To many years ago, before her arrival in this town, when she and her Mama and her brother were still living it up in their penthouse in the big city. Her and the faux-wheelchair-bound Rochelle are arguing, with Aliza having to hike up her trashy clothes to stop her modesty from spilling out mid-yell, and Manny is of course nowhere to be seen right this instant.
Years later, and no one is anywhere to be seen, because Aliza is all alone in the big Little house. Her brother is dead. Her mother has been kicked out (by her). And so she just smokes a joint, and watches out the window. Because she's lonely. And searching for a purpose.
And, finally, we see her in more recent years, having found that purpose. The Mayor of Wikerly Hills honors her with a speech at the ceremony being held to commemorate her being promoted to the top position of law enforcement in town. People begin to clap for her, and Aliza stands proudly, tears coming to her eyes, ready to end the cycle of corruption this place has known once and for all...
Which is why, in the present, though it may not yet be clear why, she continues sipping her martini at the airport bar, and looking as sexy as she can. The hand that isn't lifting her drink to her lips is clutched to her purse, and she begins to tap her well-manicured finger impatiently. Then, finally, it happens. After she finishes her drink and refuses the bartender's gesture to have a second poured, a handsome man approaches her and asks, "Can I buy you another?" "You sure can, stranger," she announces seductively, nodding to the bartender that now is the time to pour her another, and they oblige accordingly, watching with vague interest as the handsome man sits beside Aliza, and another martini is shaken on her behalf. "Make it two," the man adds, then turning to the beautiful woman on the stool next to him and saying, "My name's Ryan, by the way." "Aliza," she reveals willingly, not taking her hand off her purse, but extending her other one to this man - Ryan - and allowing him to kiss it, and tell her that she's very beautiful. "Why thank you," she replies as elegantly as possible, and two martinis are placed on the bar. They each take one, and Ryan begins to sip, while Aliza only pretends to, eyeing him down some. "So, Aliza," Ryan goes on, putting his drink down - she does the same - "tell me about yourself." "There ain't much to tell," Aliza assures, then clearing her throat and saying, "Isn't." "Oh, I don't believe that," he assures, and she chuckles, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well, I have seen some things, I guess." "Oh? Like what?" She shrugs, removing her hand to take another fake sip of her drink, and now Ryan is the one to chuckle, delegating that she's a tough egg to crack. "My Mama always said you'd be hard pressed to try and make an omelette outta me," she nods, and Ryan asks her, "Is that so?" "Mhm." "Well," he smiles, "Let me test that. I reckon I'm a good judge of character. A good omelette-maker - and no, that wasn't me inviting you to breakfast. Not yet, anyway. Maybe I already know all I need to know about you." "Hmm..." Aliza arches a brow, clutching her purse even tighter, "Go on then, Ryan. Crack me." "Well, you like martinis," he smiles, and she encourages him to go on, "You're beautiful. Breathtaking, in fact. The kind of girl who always gets her man, no matter what. And I'm guessing the reason you're in a place like this is so you can meet a very handsome man like me." Another chuckle. "Charming," she says, and Ryan says in turn that he does pride himself some, finishing the rest of his drink and asking for another. "Now, let me see if I can do you," she begs, and Ryan tries to tell her that if she wants to do him, then she only has to-- "Crack you," Aliza amends, and Ryan sheds his smile before gaining a new one, beginning his second martini. "Go on, then," he allows, and Aliza goes on to list, "You're a lover of fine alcohol and even finer women..." "Right so far," Ryan nods, his smile widening as he looks her up and down. "You're hot, but you know it," she continues, that smile ever-wider; "I reckon you got a real big..." she adds, which garners an, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," from him, but then... "But you're also a murderer; a lowlife drug dealer who killed a poor girl Roni in cold blood in some back-alley-nowhere to keep on sellin' blow," and the smile drops. "And the reason you're in a place like this," her tone turns serious, "is because what you wanna kill now is some time by having cheap, dirty sex with some rando in an airport bathroom before the pilot buddy you bribed - who, by the way, is being taken into custody as we speak - is ready to fly you off to some exotic locale with which we don't share an extradition treaty, amirite?" Ryan just sits there, stunned into silence, while Aliza plunges her spare hand into her bra, taking out the badge which shows she's a legitimate member of the W.H.P.D. and flashing it before this perp's eyes. "Here's mine," she says, "Where's yours?" He goes to make a move, at which she finally unzips her purse, pulling out her piece and aiming it at him along with the words, "Freeze, dirtbag!" Ryan puts his hands in the air, afraid of getting shot... but then his look of fear turns into a look of confusion, as he comes to realize that what's being pointed at him is in fact not a gun, but a big ol' vibrator. "Fuck," Aliza utters, realizing this at the same time he does, "Wrong purse." And so he throws his martini all over her and begins to run. "Now this a nice dress, cracka'!" Aliza calls after him, unable to run in her heels and so just walking at the fastest pace she can muster through the bar, stuffing her badge back into her bra and taking out her minuscule walkie-talkie instead, informing her team that the plan was a bust and that the perp is on the run. Soon, the chase is taken out of the bar, as Ryan begins making his way through helicopters and private jets outside, unsure of where he should go. Aliza walks through them, hot on his tail, and he hears the clip-clop of her shoes and so knows she's near. Finally, he sees a platform - a helicopter ready for takeoff - and so he runs towards it, through a door which leads to a flight of stairs. "Now I do naht wanna be doin' stairs in these shoes. Dayum," Aliza chastises, going through that same door, and Ryan hears that same clip-clop as he turns the corner, knowing that she's coming for him. At the top of the stairs, he reaches a corridor which leads onto the platform - one which ends in a large, sliding door which has yet to descend. If he can make it past said door and shut it, he'll be away from Aliza home-free. He'll be able to get on that helicopter and it'll have taken off before the Chief of Police can catch him. And so he runs. Runs while Aliza continues to climb the stairs, reaching the top only when Ryan is about through the door. He hits the button on the other side, meaning the door begins to slide down towards the floor - cutting off Aliza's access to her perp, and so she quite literally kicks off her heels and runs. Barefoot along the concrete, Huberd's voice coming through her walkie to ask her what's occurring, but she hasn't the time to answer. Ryan is heading for the chopper, and the shutter is about to hit the ground before Aliza can pass through it. And so, she does the one thing any reasonable cop in her position would do. She slides the vibrator, which has been glued to her hand the whole time, along the floor, and its girth causes a blockage which stops the sliding door from being able to descend all the way. Aliza slides on through the narrow gap, and it's then that her bra-of-many-hidden-things coughs up something else: a set of handcuffs. Right before Ryan is about to set foot on the chopper, Aliza tackles him, pinning him to the ground and cuffing his guilty white ass. "Let me go, whore!" he screeches like a little bitch-baby, all the while Aliza is filling her team in via walkie. "You was right about one thing, foo," Aliza tells her successfully-apprehended perp before she goes on to read him his rights, "I always get my man."
A LITTLE DEVIOUS
New Chicago, 2015
Rochelle Little honks the horn on her wheelchair as she makes her way through her old penthouse, bringing with her a wrapped-up box. "Comin' through! Comin' through! Happy birthday, baby gurl why you cryin'?!" She has just applied the brakes to a screeching halt in the kitchen, where Aliza is curled up in the floor in front of the fridge in tears, her birthday cake sitting on the side with several large bites taken out of it - no attempt to slice it seems to have been made, evidence which is further bolstered by the fact that, while Aliza uses a napkin to wipe the tears from her eyes, she also uses it to mop frosting from the corner of her mouth. "B-because I'm twenty-nine-years-old," Aliza blubbers, blowing her nose some on the napkin, "And I'm gonna die alone!!" "Whatchu talkin' 'bout?" Rochelle demands, "Where's yo useless-ass brother?" "At the store," Aliza reveals, "Gettin' candles. Though I wouldn't be shocked if he usin' them to burn half the city down with that d-damn group of his." "Well blow my ass," Rochelle sighs, "And that even more useless fiancé o' yours?" Aliza begins blubbering even more, to Rochelle's confusion, and then her daughter opens up her spare hand and reveals an engagement ring to be lying in it. Her mother understands immediately, and adopts a look of sympathy. "Oh gurl..." she utters, almost getting up out of her chair in order to sit down with Aliza and comfort her some before realizing, right, that ain't an option. "He was cheatin' on me, Mama," Aliza reveals, "Antwon, he... he's gonna be a dad. With some ho from Burbank. And I'm gonna... gonna..." "Die alone, yeah, you said," Rochelle nods, and more tears leak from her daughter's eyes. "Oh, that ain't gonna happen," Rochelle sighs, "Come on. Get up now, get on up." "I don't wanna," Aliza moans, throwing the ring across the kitchen, "I just wanna sit here and eat ma' damn cake." "What would yo' daddy say if he could see you like this?" Rochelle wants to know, and Aliza shrugs, burying her head in her lap. "He'd say you bein' a fool," Rochelle tells her, "That yo' life don't stop just because some man dumps yo' ass. That you should pick yo' ass up and take care of yo' ailin' Mama!" At this, Aliza looks at her mother angrily, and does as she says. She picks her ass up off the floor, and shouts, "And then what?!" Which is what we've seen before - her, mid-yell, having to hike up her trashy outfit to cover her modesty, which makes Rochelle's eyes roll. "Then I'd spend all my time with you, until I turn into you! Old and empty, with no man and two ungrateful kids!" "You're right!" Rochelle fires back, "My kids are ungrateful! Here I am tryna give a damn abou' choo and you can't even respect me long enough not to raise yo' smart ass mouth and start sassin' off! It's no wonder he chose another girl, sugar - she prolly knows how to keep her mouth shut!" This hits Aliza hard, and she takes a step back, needing to turn away from her mother. Which only locks her gaze onto the engagement ring on the floor, and more tears start spilling out. Rochelle is clearly regretting what she's said, and another sigh escapes her, at which she lifts the present from her lap and hands it to her daughter, telling her, "Here. Open it." "What is it?" Aliza asks, sheepishly taking the box, and Rochelle exclaims, "Just open it, damn." And so she does. She unwraps the paper and takes out a small velvet box. "Jewelry?" she questions, "'Cause I ain't in the mood for--" And then she pops it open. "Oh, Mama..." she whispers, and Rochelle smiles, telling her, "I thought you'd like it." "Daddy's old war medal?" she lifts it out of the box, holding it against her chest, and then clutching it tight. "Maybe try it with an outfit that actually covers yo' tiddies, but yes. I found it in a box of old stuff and had it polished up. Do you like it?" "Oh, Mama, I love it," Aliza smiles, wiping away her tears. "And you know what he'd really say, right?" Rochelle asks, and Aliza nods, saying, "He'd tell me not to give up. To never give up." "That's right. To do summit with yo' life," Rochelle encourages. "Uh-huh," Aliza agrees, "which is why, I'm gonna take this ring," she picks Antwon's ring up off the floor, "and sell it for as much money as I can..." "Yeah," Rochelle nods along, liking where this is going, until her daughter finishes with, "And buy the fattest stack of weed I can lay my leopard-print acrylics on!" Another sigh from Rochelle, who then hears a buzz from the penthouse intercom. "Must be yo' brother wantin' to be let in offscreen," she says, reversing her wheelchair out with a beep. "Tell him he best notta shot any cops," Aliza exclaims after her, "'Cause it's my burfday and I don't want none sniffin' round! Damn it's like one of us actually gotta become a cop to keep them pigs off our backs these days." "Yeah," Rochelle scoffs as she heads to the front door, "I'll believe that when I see it." Aliza shrugs, though, laying the war medal and the engagement ring down next to each other on the kitchen counter. "Don't you worry, daddy. I'll pick myself up sometime. And I won't die alone. I'll find me a new man. I always get my man..."
"So much for that," Aliza scoffs in the present, tucking her badge back into her bra and sipping yet another martini - but at a different bar. This bar is one we've seen before: a certain homosexual establishment known as Boi Toys R Us, and tonight there seems to be a special on niche strippers - particularly, those dressed as butlers. Aliza, while sitting at the bar, watches them dust and vacuum their way around the poles, all the while slowly shedding parts of their uniform. "Where are you now, Joe?" she has to wonder. "Who's Joe?" comes a voice sitting next to her, and she turns, startled, to see a handsome mixed-race man on the next stool over. "A friend of mine," Aliza says defensively, "This butler; well, more than a butler, he... He died. Officially." "Oh," the man utters, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean t--" "It's fine," Aliza assures, "I'm dealing with it." And, with that, she downs the rest of her martini. "I can see that," the man chuckles, "Care if I buy you another?" "Faggot, why you hittin' on me?" Aliza has to ask, pretty done with her night, and the man asks, "Excuse me?" "'Cause I've already been chatted up at a bar once tonight, and it was kind of enough, but I don't need to be given false hope by another gay man - like another old butler friend of mine I once made out with - and don't pretend you ain't gay 'cause why else you in a place like dis?" "I'm bi," the man reveals, and Aliza says, "Oh. Sorry." "And I prefer 'Michael' to 'Faggot'." "Right," Aliza nods, "I've... had too much to drink. My name's Aliza. Nice to meet you, Mike." "Nice to meet you too, Aliza," he extends his hand to shake hers, and she accepts, happy that he doesn't think to kiss it like that creep Ryan did earlier, "But again, I prefer 'Michael'." "Mike's better," she shrugs, and he shrugs too, not caring all that much. "So..." he goes on to say, "What do you do?" "Nuh-uh-uh," Aliza shuts him down, "If you gon' flirt, you ain't gon' chat to me about work." Michael laughs, asking, "Who says I was trying to flirt?" "You did," she says, "Your eyes. Your voice. Your whole demeanor." "Right..." he utters, "And here I thought you were about to offer me a drink." "Excuse you?" "You know," he smiles, "As a real apology. For being rude." She wants to be offended, but she can't help but smile back, turning to the bartender and saying, "Two more martinis, please. Shaken, not stirred." "Martinis, huh?" Mike questions. "Not your speed?" Aliza asks. "I'm more at home with coffee and donuts, to be honest." "You an' me both," Aliza agrees, "I didn't used to have 'em myself. It's a recent thing. Thought it'd help me feel more... aidunno... sophisticated 'n' whatnot. His hunni always drank wine, though..." she trails off. "Whose what?" "Dun't matter," she assures, turning to the bartender and saying, "Hurry up with tha--" she then stops, asking, "Is you the same bartender from the airport bar?" "I moonlight," the bartender shrugs, pouring out the gin, and Aliza murmurs under her breath that if this were a TV show she'd say the costar budget was whack. Ignoring her, the bartender simply turns up the TV behind the bar, which is currently airing a news report on Wikerly Hills' newest elected Mayor. "I forgot the polls were tonight," Mike comments, seeing the announced victory, "Who's that who's won?" "Henry Washington," Aliza seethes, needing another sip of her drink in order to deal with the sight of the middle-aged man - who stands with his black wife and a young white daughter, smiling away - who's currently celebrating on the screen. "I was hopin' it wouldn't be him. Ain't worth shit as a judge, always 'mysteriously' lettin' off criminals sent his way. And I work so hard to--" "How do you know about all that stuff?" Mike has to wonder, and Aliza shakes her head, assuring that it doesn't matter. "Right," Mike nods, "You don't wanna talk about work." "Mhm," Aliza nods in turn, and so Mike downs his drink and stands up. "Why don't we dance instead then?" he inquires. "What?" "You. Me," he adds, "The dancefloor over there. You look like you need to let off some steam and I know I do, so..." He approaches her, extends his arm once more for her to take, but this time far more gently. Far more persuasively. Aliza's hand - the one that's normally clutched to her purse - gives a twitch, and she looks from him to the dancefloor. But, in doing so, she catches sight of those dancing stripper butlers, and once again becomes reminded of the man she lost. Her gaze meets Mike's, and then it doesn't. "I don't have time for dancin'," she tells him with a sigh, "That's just... gonna have to wait a while." Michael lowers his hand, disappointed. "Then how about that coffee? I know a great twenty-four hour place that does the best donuts and--" "I'm sorry. Again. But... that martini's all you're getting. I just... I'm gonna go now." Her purse once again has a firm grip plastered around it, and she gets up to leave. Mike watches her go and gives a sigh of his own. "Bye, Aliza," he whispers, turning to the bartender and saying, "Guy can't catch a break, huh?" However, the bartender just blinks at him and asks, "Did she, like, pay?" Mike blinks back, and the shot carries over to the TV, where Henry Washington tells a reporter that he's thrilled to have finally been elected leader of this great city...
...which brings us to a view of said great city, from the perspective of Henry Washington himself as he looks out of a window of his Fanon Drive home or, more specifically, the former Del Barrio mansion. One would hardly be able to recognize it though, as the home has been met with a remodel sometime during the last several years. A place that was once perceived as menacing, eerie, and downright frightening, is now just viewed as your average, state of the art residence for the 1%; and now, Henry turns to face an as-of-yet unseen figure. "I think what you people do is admirable." Some things just never change, and the camera pans to reveal a generic looking, Hispanic butler; one of which we've seen before (see "No Rest for the Devious"). Henry approaches the guilty-looking butler - Adrian Mendez - and begins to circle around around him rather mockingly. "You chauffeur cars you can't afford, you prepare--" but that's where Henry is cut off, for a third party joins the two in the former Del Barrio study. "Henry," calls out the voice of tall, beautiful African American woman, "our guests are waiting." Standing in the doorway is Michelle Washington, ever-so-stern and displaying a manner of poise and elegance. Despite her increasing age, Mrs. Washington puts every other person's looks to shame, as they simply pale in comparison. Any man or woman would be lucky to have her, and oh does she know it; but alas, the one who does have her appears to long for something more... and that, she knows too. Henry lets out a sigh as he stops his circling. "Coming, dear," he says to his wife, causing Adrian to let out a sigh of relief, but Henry manages to deliver one final message to the butler. "Just know," he threatens, "if you forget to pick up my dry cleaning again, I'll have you whacked. Capisce?" Adrian looks down in shame while Michelle rolls her eyes, finally being joined by Henry so that the two can lock arms and head out to their guests together.
We next see the couple emerging at the top of a staircase located in the foyer, looking down at a crowd of people chatting and drinking champagne. They all appear to be wealthy and middle aged, with the exception of one: a blonde in her late twenties, Sadie Washington, Henry's daughter from his first marriage. "Hello, everyone," Henry greets as he and Michelle descend the stairs, alerting everyone's attention. The couple goes on to be applauded by all but Sadie, who can't stand the sight of her father's beautiful, black arm-candy. "Congratulations, darling! We vote only for the best," one woman speaks from the crowd - Celeste Grier - who takes a drag of her cigarette before putting it out in her now-empty champagne glass. "Oh, we would just like to thank all of you for your support," Michelle says to the crowd, "Without your donations, this campaign would've been a non-starter, but I just know that, with Henry as mayor, we can really turn this city around." Michelle pulls her husband in for a loving kiss as the campaign donors' clapping re-commences. It's a perfect moment, really... almost too perfect. And then - the front door screeches as it slowly comes open, and incomes a familiar face. "Silvia!" Henry calls out with joy, whereas Michelle grits her teeth, "Silvia..." Standing in the entrance-way with a tinfoil-covered tray is none other than Silvia Montgomery. "My apologies for being late, she exclaims, "but here's those lemon squares I promised, fresh from the oven!" Michelle turns to her husband, quietly asking if he invited Ms. Montgomery, though she's loud enough for Silvia to hear, who calls out that indeed Henry did. There's an awkward silence as everyone in the room senses the growing tension between Silvia and Michelle. Celeste lights a new cigarette while Sadie has a sip of her champagne before putting it down to approach the neighbor. "Silvia, hi!" she greets, embracing Ms. Montgomery with a warm hug before offering to take the lemon squares to the kitchen for her. "Oh, well aren't you a doll!" Silvia exclaims, handing the tray over to Sadie who looks up at her stepmother, giving her a sinister glare. "Well, I must admit it did hurt showing up at the country club earlier today to hear Celeste and the others talking about this small gathering you were throwing for Henry's victory," Silvia says to Michelle, "I mean, after all, I contributed a very large sum of money to his campaign." "Oh, but are you sure it was your money, dear? Not the money of Henry's dearly departed niece?" "Well, it is what Selena would've wanted," Silvia argues, only for Michelle to chuckle, "No... no it is absolutely not." With that, everyone else in the room nods their head, even Henry who, while grateful for the donation, knows that Selena James Washington would be turning in her grave at the idea of contributing to a straight cis white male's mayoral-run campaign. Fed-up, Silvia diverts her attention back to the man of the hour. "Henry," she speaks up, "Congratulations on your win." "I just hope to do right by this town," Henry says in turn, "To keep peace in the land and hopefully prevent anymore terrorist organizations from operating right beneath our noses." The crowd raises a glass to that, as Silvia lastly utters, "It's a good thing those pesky Kappellettis met their downfall..."
Kappelletti is etched into the side - in gold - of an otherwise gleamingly black limousine; ridiculously lavish, as is befitting the woman who's about to step out of it. It's a new day in Wikerly Hills, and, as the Sun emerges from behind the clouds, the lighting becomes just perfect for one to make an entrance, which is also about time a chauffeur emerges and opens the back door. The first thing to protrude is a stiletto heel. Jimmy Choo, only the best, strapped intricately around quite the dainty and polished foot. All the flesh is polished, in fact; and pale, as we travel up one sexy leg which pokes out of the side split of the glittering dress this woman is wearing. "I'd say thank you," a familiar voice tells the chauffeur as she takes his hand with her own excessively ringed one and allows him to help pluck her from the car, "But I don't believe in manners." With that, Kathryn Kappelletti fully comes into view in all her finery. Light bounces off her designer sunglasses, which she removes in a dramatic fashion, letting us see her fully made up face framed beautifully by her golden locks of hair. The only thing more beautiful is the diamond jewelry which adorns every feature possible; earrings, a matching necklace... and, to top it all off, the most divine sable coat you've ever see in your entire life. Lush and soft and expensive to the point that even looking at it is to bleed dollars. This is a woman who has it all... has it all... has it all... "Ma'am?" the chauffeur asks her, rather rudely, but she ignores him. And then, "Ma'am?!" "WHAT?!" she barks, which is when we're snapped back into reality. The man before her isn't a chauffeur. He's a cab driver, and he looks deeply concerned. "Sorry," he tells his passenger, "It's just, you kept repeating 'has it all' in, like, a real creepy voice, and I still haven't got my fare." "Oh," says Kathryn Kappelletti, with none of her imagined finery. No sunglasses. No stilettos. No diamonds, and certainly no fur. Just ratty old work shoes and laddered tights connecting those and her stained maid's uniform. Apron too. Her hair isn't done, with self-threaded extensions; her makeup looks cheap. And, to top it off, she's wearing a cardigan of red polyester. The lowest of the low. The yellowcab behind her farts out some dirty exhaust fumes, and she finds herself having to choke the fact that she - she coughs - hasn't - she coughs again - got - cough - any - cough - money. The cab driver's face drops, and he starts yelling at her in some foreign language before getting back into the driver's seat. "I'm sorry!" the former rich woman yells ingenuously, "I don't speak Korean!" The man is Swahili. With that, he hits the gas and goes, and Kathryn finds herself splattered by the muddiest puddle the offended driver is able to plow on through on his way out of this awful town. "Well," she sighs, eyeing up the WIKERLY HILLS sign in the distance, "I'm home... Kathryn Kappelletti is back... and at least things can't get any worse..." A seagull craps on her jacket. "I need a drink," she sighs, turning around, "First thing's first." And we now see that she's just outside the W.H.P.D. precinct. With a deep breath, and a used coffee filter to wipe off the bird poop, she approaches.
Inside, Aliza is wearing an actual pair of designer sunglasses and lets out a moan as she sits at the desk in her office - with the door open, so that she can oversee everything that's going on in her provision - writing in some sort of book with a pen. She is now dressed in her captain's uniform, and looks fap. Her cell phone buzzes and she curses the noise, quickly checking a text and saying, "Goddammit Antwon, lemme be. I's too good fo' yo' sorry ass now," before putting it away and continuing with her pen. "Whatcha writin'?" asks Officer (former Lieutenant) Huberd as he enters with two cups of coffee, one for himself and one for her, which he plants on her desk. She just groans a "thank you", taking the coffee and sipping, and Huberd laughs, asking, "Tie one on last night?" "Too many martinis," she grumbles, and her inferior points out, "Well, your plan worked. A squadron backing Ryan Shapiro into a corner woulda been the wrong move. You were right. Who knows how he woulda--" "I still had to chase the murderin' bastard down," Aliza points out, and Huberd shrugs, saying at least she was successful; "After all this time, that girl is avenged." "One of many," Aliza points out, "Which is what I'm writin' 'bout, bee-tee-dubs. Dis ma' journal, of allll the crap I've accomplished so far on this force." "Well, you have accomplished a lot," Huberd assures, "You hear about Washington?" "Did I ever," she responds, "I got a meetin' with the shady bastard later. Since I'm to be reportin' to him from now on. As freakin' Mayor." "What makes you so sure he's a bad guy?" Huberd wonders, and Aliza says, "I trust my gut is all. All them lowlifes he kept lettin' off in court when the evidence I presented was right there and... ugh... I'm too hungover for this." Huberd chuckles, "Drink the coffee. Stave it off before the meeting." "Here's hoping I can use some one-on-one time with 'Mr. Mayor' to some effect, huh?" "Yeah," Huberd concedes, "And for what it's worth, I trust your gut too. Far more than I've ever trusted my own. You're a natural as a detective. I doubt anything could surprise you." A pair of ratty work boots enter the station, making their way through desks upon desks of now non-corrupt policemen and women, all of whom turn their heads. "Yeah..." Aliza nods, removing her glasses and allowing her hungover eyes to adjust to the light, regaining some of her sense of magnificent pride, "Nothing could shock me now." "Hello, Aliza," says Kathryn Kappelletti standing at the door, and the police chief's jaw drops. "Huh, whaddayaknow," Huberd comments, "That about did it. I'll, um... leave you two alone." He vacates with his coffee, and Kathryn tells him, "Yeah, bye Generic Gay Cop." "Kathryn, what are you--" Aliza tries to ask, completely taken aback, but Kathryn has already sat herself down on the chair the other side of Aliza's desk and dumped her bird-shit-riddled coffee filter right into the police chief's cup of coffee, then making sure, "You were done with that, right?" Aliza doesn't know what to say, while Kathryn adds, "Notice how I called you 'Aliza', not, like, Generic Black Girl or Cop or whatever you are." "I'm the Chief of--" "Chief? Oh, I didn't realize you guys still had tribes. That's fun. But you work with the law, that much I know, and I need your help. So, help me. P... Please." She says the last word with difficulty; not because she's reluctant, but rather because she was literally confused on how to say it. "Um..." "Back to my point," Kathryn continues, "I said 'Aliza' because we're friends." "We're not--" "Your mother was my best friend," Kathryn reminds her. "Yeah, but--" "And now you're my friend." "I'm n--" "Maybe one day your daughter could be my friend..." "Praise the Lord I had ma' tubes tied." "I'd like to report a cuhhriiiime!" Kathryn yells slowly, like she's shouting at someone who's otherworldly or in-comprehensive, and Aliza begs her, "Slow down." "Cuuuuuuuhhhhh-riiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmme... ya?" "Ya?" "Ya!" Kathryn exclaims happily, "Okay, so, here's the sitch... my coat was stolen." "Your what?" Aliza questions, only just now considering Kathryn's look and everything it suggests about the turn her life has taken. The red polyester... "Not this one," she assures, clutching her jacket briefly, "No, I got this piece of crap after my old boss tossed what she got from JMo's 2019 mental-breakdown-auction into the trash; what I'm talking about is my sable coat. Very extraordinary piece of fashion. It cost me $50,000." "You have a sable coat?" Aliza can't quite believe, and Kathryn explains, "It's all I have left from my old life! Here I was, making my grand return from freakin' Burbank, thinking I could be like one of those plucky young gals who tries to make it big in the city - only I would have more of a footing, of course, because I was big before - when some bastard breaks into my motel room and steals the one thing I had left to my name! The one thing that showed that Kathryn Kappelletti was once worth something!" She looks like she's about to start crying, and Aliza wonders why she thought coming straight to the Chief of Police's office was a good idea. "This is grand larsony," Kathryn sobs, "and a personal attack! I'd take a death moon for this coat, but... I c-can't... a-afford it!!" The crying hits Aliza's hungover brain like a thousand punches to either side of the head, and she can't help but wince, shouting, "Stahp! Stahp! Stahp! I'll look into it, gawd!" Kathryn suddenly stops crying, becoming her chipper old self as she exclaims, "Great! I knew I could count on you to see to this personally, Liza. Being an old family friend and all." "Am I rea--" "And the best. That's why I need you on this. Because you're the best." "Well..." "So you'll get on it right now?" "Whut?" "Duh! The case of the missing coat! What else? Time is of the essence! Let's go back to my motel room and--" "Tomorrow," Aliza interrupts, needing this woman to STFU, "I... um... I have a meeting with the Mayor that I gotta prep for first. Very important. Top priority." "Okay... I'll swing by yours I guess. First thing." "You do that," Aliza sighs, allowing Kathryn to get up and walk out, only then realizing, "Wait, no, don't do that!" But it's too late. She has a date with Kathryn Kappelletti and her missing sable coat. She slams her head on her desk and instantly regrets it, her hangover getting worse. "Well, daddy..." she utters, looking at her father's war medal which has earned a special, framed spot on her desk, "Here's hoping I'm puttin' some good out into the world. 'Cause right now it looks like the next thing this journal's gon' get written in it is the runnin' rounds of some washed-up bitch." She stares at the medal for a moment, and then back to the journal, asking herself, "Maybe I could write about that guy I met last night...?"
"Good morning, Detective Cage," says a fellow detective over at what a sign tells us is the Los Angeles Federal Bureau of Investigation, while Michael sits down at his desk. "Since when do you call me 'Detective Cage'?" Michael asks the guy with a smile on his face, and, returning the smile, his coworker asks, "Since when do you come into work late, Michael?" "Hey, you ever think of just calling me 'Mike'?" Michael wonders, to which the other guy shrugs and says, "No." "Whatever, Seb," Mike tells him as he turns on his computer and gets started on his whatever work it is he has to do, "It's none of your business why I was out." Seb - or, Sebastian Knowles, as his name badge tells us - eyes him up at this, asking, "You went into the city again, didn't you? Into Wikerly Hills?" "I..." Mike begins, then veering into, "said it's none of your business." "You did," Sebastian reckons, while Michael doesn't respond, just tip-tapping away at his computer instead. "You are obsessed with that place," Detective Knowles goes on, "It's weird, really. I thought you'd stopped with all the hands-on stuff. What happened? You finally realize that combing through files isn't the answer to all our problems?" "Everything can be found in files," Michael reassures, and Sebastian scoffs, pointing out, "Maybe if you had less of that boring attitude, we'd still be together." "Oh, please," Mike fends lightly, "We would've failed anyway. The only man you're ever gonna be happy with is yourself." "Hurtful," Sebastian puts a hand on his heart, faux-offended, "but true. And, for the record, I still retain that if you had maintained your hands-on approach, then it might have been you to crack the biggest case of the century instead of some random alcoholic butler guy or whatever." "Maria Solano did not get as far as she got just because I decided that the best place for me to be was behind my desk," Mike argues, and Sebastian says, "Whatever, whatever," and starts tapping away at his own computer. A few moments go by, and Michael utters, "Butler..." "Hm?" "What was the name? Of the butler guy who died exposing Solano?" "Something DeWar I think, why?" Seb answers, and Mike says, "No reason. Just something someone said last night." "Last night, huh?" Seb queries, "Where exactly did you go in the city?" "Just a bar," Michael defends, "Took a cab back, went to go collect my car this morning; that's why I was late." "Why'd you take a cab? You, like, never drink. Another example of how boring you are." "I had a martini, for your information." More eyeing up, and Sebastian figures, "You met someone." "I did not meet someone." "'Just something someone said last night'," Seb quotes, "Come on. Who is he? Or she? A potential romance, or a potential lead?" "A potential nobody. It's nothing." "A dead lead then," Seb nods to himself. "I didn't have a lead." "So you are investigating something in Wikerly? I knew you were obsessed." "I'm not obsessed!" Michael gets defensive, and Sebastian senses this, backing off with, "Okay, okay, whatever. You want some coffee?" "Sure," Mike shrugs, "Sounds great." "I'll go get you some," Seb rises up; as he does, he looks at Michael's computer screen and exclaims, "Aha!" A few of the other FBI office workers stare while Mike shushes his ex, who's currently reading what's there. "If you're not obsessed," Seb starts, "then why are you looking into crimes logged in at the W.H.P.D., hmmm? What importance could possibly lie in," he squints to read off the latest logged-in crime, "a missing sable coat?" "Well, we never know, do we?" Mike points out, shutting off his monitor, "Now get me some coffee, if you please." "Okay," Seb concedes after a while, "but no donuts." "Aw, c'mon." "You don't deserve donuts," Seb teases as he heads off, "And I still say you met someone!" With Sebastian gone, Mike flicks his monitor back on, sighing to himself, "I didn't meet anyone important..." though he can't seem to convince himself that that's quite true. Seb makes it to the office kitchen and finds himself asking, "Hey, where the bake goods at?"
The timer goes off in the Montgomery house as Silvia's opens the oven, pulling out a tray of her freshly made lemon squares. Sitting at the kitchen table is Aliza, waiting as Silvia brings the tray over and putting a square on two plates, one for the both of them. Aliza digs into the snack, finishing it rather quickly, which only alerts Silvia's attention. "What's troubling you, dear?" she asks, to which Aliza admits that, right now, "I could honestly use a glass of your iced tea." "Oh... no, we don't do tea anymore. After I gave the recipe to Joe and--" Silvia stops, having to be cautious about what she says next. "Well... since Joe's no longer with us. It... it just feels wrong, is all... Also it was very overdone, so here we are now." "Yeah, it kinda was... and right, yeah, rest in peace and all..." There's an awkward silence as neither woman wishes to discuss Joe any further out of fear of letting something slip; however, Aliza has now picked up on Silvia's rather suspicious demeanor, but chooses to not press it any further. "So, you're troubled?" Silvia steers the conversation back, resulting in a sigh of relief from Aliza. "Yeah, yeah... just the new mayor and shit. I 'on't trust that Henry Washington. Lotsa shadiness came from him back when he was took Judge Quinnson's place in the court. Bitch was dumb as bricks, but at least she wasn't corrupt. No, there's summit going on here... I can feel it." Taking a bite out of her lemon square and swallowing, Silvia shakes her head. "I'm not so sure about that," she admits, "I've gotten to know Mr. Washington, and he's quite lovely. Can't say the same about his wife, but Henry, he's a doll." "Well, it 'on't matter. I got a meeting with him scheduled for later today since Imma be reportin' to him from now on. I'll figure out everything then." "Oh? And what exactly are you planning?" Silvia wonders, but before Aliza's given the chance to respond, something catches her attention. From the corner of her eye she can see out the window at a run-down car that's currently parked in front of her own driveway across the street. Exhaust is still blasting from the engine, preventing her from seeing the figure emerging from the vehicle and, intrigued, she ditches her chance for a second lemon square to go investigate what's going on. "Aliza...?" Silvia wonders, getting up and following the Chief of Police, bringing the tray of lemon squares with her just in case. The two ladies make their way out of the Montgomery house, but Aliza stops in her tracks just before heading across the street. "Oh, hell no..." she utters. There, before her, is a tall African American man in a pair of ripped jeans and a wifebeater. As if Chief Little didn't already have enough on her place, a piece of her past appears to be coming back to bite her. There he is: Aliza's ex-fiancé, Antwon Kennedy.
Wikerly Hills, 2017
Aliza looks sad as she stands in the doorway of the Little house's attic, sighing to herself, "You've put this off for six months now, Aliza... it's time to do it..." And so she approaches Manny's tools, and wrecks the place. She tears up the carpet. She brings down the wallpaper with her bear hands. She smashes into the floorboards. Before taking a wrench to one, she finds herself drawn to a certain spot, and the tarp which still lies next to it - where her and Joe would lie together after their brief time spent making love up in that room. However, she ignores this, and smashes. Which brings us, of course, to the body which is buried underneath. She's breathing heavily thanks to her rage having been let out some, and now she reaches for the stash of trash bags she's brought with her. "If only I had a butler to do this shiz fo' me," she says to no one, wiping her brow, before lifting up a particular board and revealing a part of a skull. She begins to scoop it, along with shovelfuls of ash, into the trash bag, wanting her family's big black secret to be done with for good. And, soon enough, she's patting the last of the ash - and the dust - off of her hands and congratulating herself on a job well done. She then lifts up the trash bags, and it's time to dispose of them... only she stops, again. Not because of her memories of having sex with Joe, but because of her memories of what a just man he was. Suddenly, she can't go through with it, and she puts the trash bags down, just staring at the mess she's made. "I can't... with this room... anymore..." she decides, and so she just ignores it. She's gonna leave it. She walks out of the room and... No. She can't do that either. She can't ever return there. And so she grabs one last old tool of Manny's...
The next we see Aliza, she's ramming a sledgehammer into the wooden steps which lead up to the attic, thereby forcing them to collapse. A few swings later, and the delicate ascension is gone. Her breathing is even more heavy, and she stares up at the door. Just like that, access to the room her family spent so long guarding is gone, and she resigns herself to never having to worry about it ever again. "I..." she decides, "...need a smoke."
And the next we see her, she's downstairs, in the living room, smoking a joint. This we've seen before too. Her, staring out the window, entirely alone and unsure what to do with her life... She takes a break from her existential crisis with the next inhale though, exclaiming, "Dayum, this some good dope. Gotta remember where I got it..."
And so we flash back, even further, to a few weeks before the attic was smashed up. Aliza is dancing drunkenly over at Boi Toys R Us in an attempt to forget her woes and belligerently yells to one of the managers, "Yanno, y'all should do a Niche Night! Butlers be sexy - y'all'd make a bundle offa some butler strippers!" While management consider this, Aliza stumbles sideways, towards the seating area, and catches sight of herself in one of the mirrors. "Gawwwwd I wanna be high," she comes to realize, and a girl sitting near her whispers, "Follow me to the bathroom then." "Huh? Oh, I ain't a lez," Aliza makes clear, "Straight dick for me." "Me neither," the girl promises, "Just here with a buddy. But my dealer just got us all this dope we can't smoke between us and we don't like to hold on to it too long, so... you want in?" "You're nice," Aliza smiles, "what's yo' name, chil'?" The girl tells her, "Roni."
"Too far, Roni," Ryan Shapiro yells, as we flash into the future now - just a few weeks before Ryan's arrest - "Too far!" He has her cornered in a back alley, a gun pointed at her. "I didn't mean to blab your name, I swear! It was an accident, Ry! An accident!" "Oh, I know accidents happen. Let me give you a for instance." BANG. "Whoops," he says coolly as he blows the smoke off his gun, and Roni collapses dead.
But that's not important to Aliza's life at the point we're viewing her. No, right now, she's directionless. Dead brother. Mother kicked out. No boyfriend. Just staring out the window, smoking drugs and thinking about her life... "Yanno what, gurl," she says as she once again catches her own reflection, this time in the window which looks out at the rest of Fanon Drive, "You gotta pull yoself together. You gotta... gotta..." she looks away, to the mantle, where her dad's war medal currently rests, "gotta stop..." she goes on, "And do some goddamn good in the world... Stop smokin' dope..." she puts her cigarette out in the ashtray she made out of one of Manny's old paint cans, "And stop nosin' your nose into business which ain't yours, because-- Hey how long that moving van been sittin' next door? I'mma go check dis out." And that's what she sets off to do.
In the present, she's still standing with the very woman who arrived in that moving van, and Silvia Montgomery is the first of the two women to approach Antwon Kennedy and ask him, "Would you like a lemon square?" "I ain't want no fruit shapes, I just want my Lizee back!" Aliza doesn't know how to respond to this, while Silvia grabs one of her bake goods and says, "I insist you try one. Calm yourself down." "Lady, I'on't wa--" He is cut off because Silvia has literally stuffed the lemon square into his mouth, and he's unable to go on speaking unless he takes a bite. Which he does, trying to yell through chewing things about how he's a changed man, and Aliza is "the one" for him, but he soon finds himself cut off again by his own sense of appreciation, as he stops to exclaim, "Damn, these things are good!" "Right?" Silvia's eyes sparkle, and Antwon tells her, "Yanno what'd wash this down jus' right? Some iced tea. Ya' got any? I'm parched." Silvia's eyes turn steely, and her expression follows. "You should leave," she states. "Yes, you should, Antwon," Aliza finally pipes up, "What in the hell is it with people doin' a return stint? And what in the hell do you think gives you the right to just come hasslin' the Chief of Police on her goddamn street?!" "I didn't... You're the Chief of Police? Since when?" he asks, and Aliza takes a step back, saying, "Okay, the fact that you didn't even know that proves that you ain't worthy of havin' me. Yet again!" "I just thought you'd be a singer by now or sumfin'." "Is that a joke? I've moved on, Antwon." "Have you?" "Yes!" "Because I see the look in your eyes, Lizee! Now more than ever. It's what I been seein' in my own eyes, ever since I let you go. You're pinin' for someone, just like I is for you!" "It's..." she pauses, "it's not you I'm pining for." Silvia turns to her at this, knowing what this means, and looks sad; she too takes a step back and starts munching on one of her own lemon squares as comfort food. "Look," Antwon tries approaching her, to put a hand on her arm, but she shrugs him off, "I know I done wrong... but I wanna make things right. I luh you, Lizee. I never stopped lovin' you." "Well, that's too bad. And too late. As it happens, I was just on my way out. There's someone I gotta see." "Who? A man?" Antwon wants to know, and Aliza scoffs, "As a matta' o' fact, yes! The Mayor! I have a meeting with the Mayor of Wikerly Hills, because I'm Chief of Police! Remember?!" "I..." "I don't need you! I don't need a man! If you wanna make yoself useful, I do need a new vibrator, so if you could show up wit one o' those, then great!" "Lizee, I l--" "Go away, Antwon. Go away and stop remindin' me of a life I wish I never led." With that, she storms past him, to her car, and speeds off in it down the street. Antwon looks to Silvia and asks, in the most polite voice he can muster, "May I have another lemon square?" "You may not, son. You may not."
"You may not!" Henry Washington is yelling to someone over the phone, over at his Judge's office in the courthouse. He casually tosses a file into the shredder - one from the big stack of papers in his hand - and then hangs up his cell phone, which we see is a burner. He shoves that in his desk drawer and then looks to the other papers in his hand, shrugging and tossing them all in the shredder. His office is an absolute mess. Boxes and stationary everywhere. "Mr. Mayor?" Aliza greets after knocking, opening up the door without an invitation, and Henry is a little taken aback to see her. "Chief Little," he greets, quickly shutting the drawer with the burner phone in it, "I was expecting you later. In my new office." "I know," Aliza nods, "But, see, I just have so much on my plate right now, I figured I'd fit you around my schedule, Mr. Mayor. And, this was the only slot I had open." "Well," Henry tells her, "I actually have another important appointment soon, and, as you can see, I'm in the process of moving offices." "Oh yes..." Aliza nods, looking around suspiciously, and she says, "I just wanted to have a quick discussion with you anyway. It's customary. Since I'm gon' be reportin' to you now." "O-of course," Henry nods, "Let me... let me just go to the bathroom, and get my head organized, and I'd be happy to sit down with you for a chat." "Amazing," Aliza beams, and he seems wary of her smile, stepping out of his office very slowly. He leaves the door open, but, once he's firmly down the hall, Aliza shuts it, and tells herself, "Time tuh get to snoopin'!" Being the great detective that she is, she doesn't waste time going through papers, because she already clocked on to the panic he exuded when he shut that desk drawer. And so, that's where she goes first, immediately seeing the burner phone. "Oh, you bastard, I knew you was a shady mofo!" She outstretches her hand to grab it, but then thinks better of herself - after all, if it were to go missing, he'd know that she was the one who took it, and she doesn't exactly yet have cause to start seizing his possessions. And so she takes out her own cell phone and snaps a picture of it, for evidence sake, and closes the drawer because she does not want her fingerprints on the thing; and then she begins searching for things she can take. Without him noticing. "Hmmm..." she expresses, now beginning to open boxes and rifle through papers, but she soon seems to think this is the wrong move. Especially when she hears Henry's footsteps on the way back from the bathroom. Which is about when she clocks on to the machine she heard in use when she was waiting outside the door, when Henry was on his angry burner phone call just now: the shredder. With no time to lose, Aliza dashes over to it and opens the lid, seeing all kinds of shredded paper in there. Hoping some of it contains some sort of evidence that the "good" Mayor is in fact involved in some sort of criminal activity, she starts grabbing fistfuls of paper scraps and shoving it deep into her purse, until the shredder is entirely empty and her purse is entirely full. "Aw, damn, I had a lemon square in there. Mother of--" She then shoves the lid back on the shredder, quickly making sure that it rests in the exact same position it was in before she started digging around, and then dashes to a chair on the one side of Henry's desk. It's then that he reenters, commenting, "I thought I left the door o--" "Draft," Aliza breathes immediately, trying to cover for the fact that her heart is racing some, "Blew it shut." "Right..." Henry utters, a little suspicious, moving to the other side of his desk to sit opposite Aliza. "So, Chief Little... make yourself comfortable." "Of course," Aliza nods, removing her coat and placing her purse down on the desk with a loud thump, because of course it's a lot fuller than it should be. Henry clocks onto this for about a second, but luckily he's not the detective that Aliza is, and so her worry proves to be for nothing as he simply proceeds to ask her, "So what are your thoughts on stealing in this city?" The thieving cop then doth preach.
The Sun sets and then rises again over Wikerly Hills, and we see Aliza pouring herself a cup of coffee in her home, yawning. She then looks to her purse on the kitchen counter and sees all the paper shreddings spilling out of it. After a yawn, she says, "Oh right. Still more to sort through… Best bring that to work." However, as she sips her drink and picks up the purse, heading towards the living room to start her morning with a little TV, she notices that, right now, Kathryn Kappelletti is standing on her front lawn, and so is Antwon Kennedy. Immediately, she closes the curtain and dials her phone, telling Huberd on the other line that she's gonna have to call in sick today - "Real bad yeast infection, bakin' bread down there, lemme tell ya, bai," - and then she heads on upstairs with the shreddings, deciding to lock herself indoors and work on piecing them together in private. Outside, however, Kathryn is checking her watch, and exclaims, "As Rochelle would say, what the damn hell? She agreed to first thing. I want my coat." "That a Scooby Doo watch?" Antwon asks as he approaches, and Kathryn suddenly screams, putting her hands up in the air. "Y-you want it?" she asks, and he looks at her confused; she proceeds to slide the watch off her wrist and chuck it to him. He doesn't catch it, though, and so it just bounces off his chest and falls to the lawn, and Kathryn adds, "There. I have nothing else to give. Just please, don't shoot. I have a family!" "Speakin' o' family!" comes the blackest voice you've ever heard, and Antwon turns around to be met by - "Shaniqua Mae, what the hell you doin' here?!" he yells, and Shaniqua (picture the trashiest trash that ever trashed) steps her bony ass to the side, revealing her thirteen-or-so kids to be lined up behind her. "Yo kiddies missed their daddy. Kids, play!" They then start to do so, wreaking havoc all over Aliza's lawn, playing catch with her MLK lawn gnome, and Kathryn looks like she's about to burst out crying again. "I can't pay any of you!" she weeps; they're running around, and so she begins to do the same, believing them to be chasing her. "I told you," Antwon barks, "I came to Wikerly Hills to be with Aliza! She the woman fo' me!" "I thought I was yo' woman! I mothered yo' babies! Fed them from my own tiddies!" She gestures her tired-looking udders, and Antwon argues, "Please! We all know only like half of 'em is mine!" "Well enjoy lookin' after them fo' the day!" Shaniqua insists, "I got work!" "Work? You ain't got no job..." "I does now! Right here in Wikerly! So you best get used to spendin' some goddamn time with Shondelle why you got a knife in yo' throat?!" she yells to one of her daughters, who shrugs, pulls the knife out, and keeps on playing. Kathryn picks the knife up off the grass and begins pointing it at the children, warning them, "Stay back! Or I'll shoot!" "That ho used to live in Burbank? I swear I once rattled her for bein' on ma' corner..." Shaniqua questions, but Antwon exclaims, "Bitch, aidunno." "Anyways yeah," Shaniqua continues, "If you thought you could just stand here and wait fo' the bougie-ass fake-black trick of a pig to take yo' cheatin' dick back into her over-popped pussy, you was wrong, homie." "At least she ain't got the herp," Antwon defends, only for Shaniqua, after scratching her crotch, to exclaim, "Whatever! I'm needed at the office. Bye, Felicia." One of her boobs pops out and she lets it, then pulling a wedgie out her ass and sniffing her fingers afterward to make sure all's good. "Ooh, I's gon' need a bath," she realizes, taking some sanitary tows out of her panties as she walks away and beginning to pat down her armpits with it. A little blood gets on her mouth when she uses it to pat her face, but she just licks it off before reapplying the lipstick (crayon) that was resting in what exists of her cleavage. She gets hungry after this, and so pulls a miniscule loaf of bread from the same place she retrieved the sanitary towel. "Ah," she beams, "A perfect rise." She munches. Antwon sighs as his babymama walks away, while Kathryn, still in a panic, begins trying to use the knife to pick the lock of Aliza's front door. "I wish I didn't pawn Rochelle's key to that gang of white Supremacists for April fools," she curses as she works the lock, and Antwon yells to his kids, "Little ones, holla'! Follow me!" They begin to do so, and he looks incredibly sad at the fact that he won't be able to continue waiting on Aliza's lawn in the hopes of winning her back. Instead, he knocks on the house next door, and Silvia Montgomery - who was just on her way out - opens up. "My babies need lemon squares, ya' dig?" he asks her, before barging inside with his posse of biological and non-biological descendants. Silvia just blinks, "Help yourself... I gotta be somewhere, um... don't make a mess?" With that, one of the sons knocks Jason's urn onto the floor. Another turns on the TV, to the Wikerly Report, beginning to watch the live edition of The Wikerly Report.
"Coming to you live from... well, for now let's say an 'undisclosed location'; The Wikerly Report sits down with a very special guest. We last spoke to this particular turtle bean weeks before the votes were in where she formally endorsed the winning candidate. Well, of course she endorsed him - it was her fucking husband! Oh, how the network is gonna be on my ass about that one... Anyways, she's blaaaaaack! Give it up for the new First Lady of Wikerly Hills, Michelle Washington!" These are the words spouted from Judge Quinnson, the current host of Wikerly Hills' one and only talk show. The camera focused on Quinnson zooms out, revealing Michelle sat across from her as they're sat in the lounging area of the mayoral mansion. "Thank you for having me... I'm sorry, what is your first name?" Michelle admits to not knowing, only for the talk show host to give chuckle, "'Judge Quinnson' is fine, dear." Michelle goes to say something, but Quinnson decides it's time to get down the business. "So the vote was pretty close. Was there a part of you that thought husband might not win?" "Oh, of course there was. Getting into politics, running in an election, it's all very nerve-racking. Hell, just look at Hillary Clinton. She's gone bald since losing to Kanye last year." "Jennifer Morrison did it better... well, I suppose the red hair-dye stains give me pause. All the toxins soaked into that gritty scalp of hers and killed whatever hope she had left for humanity, poor thing. Funny, I'd normally be worrying about a lawsuit right about now, but we all know she's sitting on her kitchen floor in some ratty Burbank apartment trying to eat melted ice cream with a fork... Probs wishes she listened to Sebastian Stan and got down on all fours back when she had the chance. That, or put aside her homophobic tendencies and not file a ten feet restraining order against Lana Parrilla." Michelle simply blinks at this, not at all knowing how to react, only for Quinnson to continue. "Yunno, I really deserved Swan Queen, okay? That bitch had to go ruin everything. Jennifer Morrison, if you're watching this, remember: horizontal is for attention, vertical is for some goddamn results!" "Maybe we should talk about you," Michelle decides, changing her seating position to look more concerned, but Quinnson shakes her head, assuring that that's enough of that. "She just... makes me... so... angry... Deep breaths, Judge Quinnson, deep breaths..." the talk show host says to herself, inhaling and exhaling a few times before a smile reappears on her face. "So tell me, what change do you and your husband intend to bring to this town?" Michelle smiles at this, admitting that it's nice to see her contribution to Henry's term is being appreciated. "Well, what we're really looking to do is just improve the overall community. It's no secret how riddled with crime this town has been in the past, but over the past few years that's gone down quite significantly. We hope to lower it even further. Currently we're looking into diverting more funds into schools, build new roads, hopefully provide new jobs." "It sounds like this is all stuff the president should be working towards, doesn't it? Speaking of which, his latest album dropped. You heard it yet? It's the bomb-dot-com, booboo." Michelle maintains composure, showing her teeth in a smile she only shows when she's nervous. For example, when she thought her husband might lose the election, but right now, when she really wants to cut a bitch but can't because she's on live TV. "No, Judge Quinnson, I'm afraid I've not heard the President of the United States' newest album yet." Insisting that she must though, Quinnson begins digging into her purse, looking for her Windows phone in order to pull up the album she illegally downloaded off of YouTube. Michelle sits awkwardly and, from the other side of the room, her stepdaughter Sadie stands at the front entrance, reveling in her stepmother's obvious misery. "Um, Judge Quinnson," Michelle speaks up, "my husband should actually be arriving any minute now to continue the interview with us." "Yeah, yeah, just a sec," Quinnson shews Michelle away, still trying to find her phone. Eventually she just dumps the whole purse out on the floor, spilling out her wallet, tampons, lighter and some other miscellaneous items before finally finding her phone. Sadie smirks at this, deciding to make her move and sit down on the couch next to Michelle. "Dad won't be here, actually," she says to Michelle, sporting a sinister grin. "Excuse me?" Michelle exclaims, clearly enraged but doing her best to conceal it. "Yeah, he texted me an hour ago. Had some stuff to do back at the office. An important meeting. I assumed he told you too," Sadie fibs, before turning to face the camera. "Oh, hi, mom!" she says with a cheer, waving at the camera, before coming to a faux realization, "Oh wait... my mother's dead." She looks back at the camera and gives a frown before getting up and wandering off. "Toodles!" she says before getting up, leaving Michelle to endure the rest of this interview with Quinnson alone. Michelle just sits there though as Quinnson blasts Kanye West's newest album on her phone. She doesn't even bother maintaining her smile anymore. She doesn't look matter either though; instead she expresses a look of sad and emptiness in her eyes. Is this what Henry's gonna reduce her too?
In the Little house down the street, meanwhile, Aliza is currently in Manny's old bedroom on the upstairs level of the home which has since been turned into an office of sorts. Having spent the rest of the day before, all of the night, and this morning sorting through the shredded papers from Henry's office, it looks as if Chief Little has finally managed to put everything back together. She sits down in her black leather spinning chair and admires her work, everything laid out neatly on a table. She starts to skim the first paper, but doesn't get far as suddenly the office door swings open and the button for the fan is smacked, sending a big enough gust of wind to send the papers flying. "Hiya!" Kathryn Kappelletti exclaims, having been the one to burst through the door, "it's hot as hell in this place. You're black, aren't you meant to like absorb heat? How are you not burning up right now? Isn't your skin like, say, what a sable coat would be for delicate and beautiful white people? Speaking of which, the case of the missing sable coat! You were gonna help?" But Aliza's not listening to a word the blonde is saying, for she simply slides down in her seat, traumatized. A tear rolls down her face as she utters, "You got to the count of three to get the fuck outta my house before I get up and cut the remainder of your deflated titties off." Kathryn gasps at this, putting her hands to her now very flat chest, and Aliza just stomps her feet in a tantrum. "Listen... I can tell you're upset about... something," Kathryn reasons, "but we both know I don't care. Like, I really just... do not. And," she sits kneels on the floor in front of Aliza and takes her extremely colored hands, "what's the point in me pretending that I do? Now, why don't you turn that frown upside down, get up, and help me find my sable coat. We can even stop by KFC on the way if you want. You'd pay, of course. But yeah, let's go. Now." Kathryn now looks dead serious, and Aliza looks as if she's about to nip some tits.
We now focus on a completely different set of tits, those being the ones of Ms. Silvia Montgomery as she gives them a little push upward, currently sat down in a small red chair while wearing a short and tight dress. "How does ma look?" Silvia asks, and the camera pans to reveal none other than Tyson Jepsen, stuffing his face with lemon squares in between coloring a page out of a Looney Tunes coloring book. He's run down a whole yellow pencil coloring in a picture of Tweety Bird. "You look real pwetty!!" Tyson exclaims, but then wonders, "Who you gettin' all pwetty for?" "What makes you think it's for someone?" Silvia wonders, to which Tyson shrugs his shoulders. "Usually you get all nice and stuff for when you have a date... or when you wanna make those meanie heads at the country club jealous." Silvia pauses for a second, but ultimately gives Tyson kudos on his observations. "Have another lemon square," she offers, helping him pick one from the tray, "And don't forget to swallow before having another bite!" "Yes, ma," Tyson nods, before disregarding everything Silvia just said. She sighs at this, but can't help but smile at the mentally handicapped man all the while. "If you must know," she says, picking up a napkin to help wipe Tyson's face, "I do have a... date tonight." "Oooh, what's his name?" Tyson wonders, but Silvia shakes her head, revealing that she's not at liberty to say. "We're... discreet. But I'm not sure how much longer it can last, anyway." "Why's that?" Tyson wonders, giving a frown, "Does he not have a good pension plan?" "No, no, that's not the case... though I'm not sure I should be happy or slightly worried that you seem to remember everything that I tell you." Tyson tilts his head, confused. "Anywho," Silvia continues, "no, it's... more complicated." "What's complicated?" Tyson asks, "Don't you love him?" "I... I might... possibly," Silvia admits, to which Tyson responds, "Then ain't it simple. If you love somebody you should be with them. Like Joe and Joanna up in Heaven! And... and you shouldn't have to be alone just because Mr. Montgomery is up in Heaven now. I never met him, but I'm sure he'd support you being with the next guy you love. Or girl. Mama taught me boys can love boys, and girls can love girls! Is it a girl?" "Oh, no, dear... been there, done that." Tyson tilts his head in confusion, yet again, and Silvia continues, "It's just... how do I put this? Remember last month when there was that fiasco on the playground? Swings were assigned and there wasn't one left for you, so you started using someone else's without their permission." "Yeah!" Tyson remembers, "They were a meanie about it..." "And weren't they never using the swing either? They just left it there, even though it was assigned to them?" "Yeah! It wasn't fair. I wanted a swing reaaaaaaly badly," Tyson whines. "And then what happened? Even though that swing was never used by him, that meanie still tattled on you for using it because it wasn't assigned to you. My point is, sometimes life is... complicated. We want things that we're not supposed to have, and sometimes we break the rules to get these things... But then we start to feel guilty about this, and--" But Tyson cuts her off there, "What are you talking about?" he asks, now to Silvia's confusion. "Well, I just mean--" "I don't care that the swing wasn't mine. I still get on it everyday because meanie-head doesn't. If he wanted it he coulda had it, but no!" Silvia's a bit taken aback by this, and Tyson continues, "If something's there and you want it and it's not being used... forget anyone else! If you wanna swing on that swing then swing on that swing because that's what you wanna do and if no one else is there to use it then there's no good reason for you to stop." Silvia opts out of saying anything else; she just sits back in her chair for a second, contemplating this, all the while Tyson finishes up the lemon squares. She watches him, thinking, and once he's done he lets out a burp. "Excuse me," he exclaims, before thanking Silvia for the treat. She smiles and then looks down at her phone for the time, realizing she must set off now. "It was... very nice talking to you, as always," Silvia says, and the two stand up so that Silvia can brush the crumbs off her 'foster' son's shirt before giving him a hug goodbye.
It's now later in the evening, and Silvia can be seen walking across a boat dock. It's dark out, so she has a little bit of trouble seeing, but the moon shines just perfectly for her to be able to find one particular yacht that's out in the harbor. "Hello?" she calls out, "Are you here yet?" "Risk showing up late to see you?" Henry Washington questions, stepping out of the darkness, "As if." Silvia smiles at her beau and utters, "Hello, my darling." Henry embraces his lover, pulling her in for a long, passionate kiss. He then steps back to admire Silvia's look. "You really didn't have to get all dressed up for me," he points out, but Silvia says it only adds to the fun. "Consider it the wrapping paper over the presents on Christmas Day." "Ooh, is it normal to tear paper with your teeth?" he questions, before sweeping Silvia up off her feet. She lets out a cheer, happier than we've ever seen her before, as Henry carries her up onto the yacht.
Outskirts of Wikerly Hills, 1991
"Daddy's home, daddy's home!" 5-year-old Aliza yells as she rushes to greet Rowan Little at the door of their family's shack, and the young Rochelle, putting down her cup of coffee to laugh at the fact that her little girl is practically tackling her husband, gets up as well. "Hey Ro," she greets. "Hey Ro," he greets in turn, and the two of them share a kiss, before she yawns. "What's she still doing up, huh?" Rowan asks of the giggling Aliza still wrapped around his knees, and Rochelle explains, "She refused to go to bed 'til she saw her daddy. Figured I'd stay up with her." "You have your own work in the morning," Rowan points out, only for Rochelle to say, "Mrs. Applewhite can deal with me draggin' my tired ass around her house for one mornin', this felt more important." Another kiss, and then she tells her husband that she's off to bed, and will see him there soon. "See you soon, baby," Rowan tells her, and then, "Where's Manny?" "Oh, that runt in bed already. He 'on't give a damn." Rowan nods, and then Rochelle disappears into the shack's tiny master bedroom, while Rowan finally lifts Aliza off his legs and scoops her up into his arms. She giggles some more, enjoying her father's rare company, and requests, "Will you tuck me in, daddy?" "O' course, baby. Just gimme a minute to rest my legs." He sets his daughter down on the couch so that she may sit next to him, then gives off a massively relaxed sigh as he too makes it down. She crawls back into his arms, and he smiles, while she yawns, "Why you gotta work so late, daddy?" He looks sad for a moment, then answers, "So I can take care o' you. And yo' Mama. The way a man should." "And Manny?" "Sure, even Manny." "I wanna take care of people too, like you," Aliza beams, and Rowan laughs, telling her, "I'm sure you will. But that comes later. When you get outta this place. You see that up on the mantel?" Aliza looks to where Rowan points, and sees his old war medal hanging there, with him explaining that that's what he earned as soon as he fled the nest - "And I want different for you." "But you a hero," Aliza smiles, "I wanna be a hero." "A different kinda hero, maybe," Rowan tells her, "But that medal serves to remind me how precious life is. How precious you are, baby girl." "I ain't a baby girl," Aliza yawns, "I'm big and strong and," she yawns harder, "brave." "Like a panther," her daddy says, and she nods sleepily, adding, "So I'ma be a hero." "Well, my li'l panther, it all starts with you. 'Cause it's hard out there for us folk. If you really want something, you gotta keep trying, and never give up." Another tired nod as she begins to fall asleep against her father, muttering, "I luh you, daddy." "I love you too," he says, kissing her forehead. He looks from her, to his war medal, and back to her again, adding, "And you gon' end up doin' something great. I know it."
And, thirty-four years later, we see another thing we've seen before. Aliza after having been honored by a speech of the then Mayor of Wikerly Hills, being presented with a medal of her very own as she shakes the mayor's hand to be officially commemorated in front of the whole town as the new Chief of Police. Tears are in her eyes, and not just because of what's happening, but because from the stage on which she stands in the center of the main city... she can see all the way out into the outskirts... and she makes a little vow to herself that, now that she's made it here, she's never going back...
In the present, of course, Aliza is forced to wade through those very outskirts: the poorest parts of Wikerly Hills, where Kathryn's motel is situated. "Come on, come on," Kathryn rushes the Chief of Police, towards the stairs. "You think I'm takin' those?" Aliza asks, gearing towards the elevator, and Kathryn assures, "It's good cardio." "Bitch, who you stayin' thin for these days? We'll take this." "It'll get stuck," Kathryn recoils, noting how dodgy the whole mechanism looks, and Aliza asks, "Is one of us nine-months pregnant?" At this, Kathryn looks down at her stomach and then Aliza's too as if to check, then looking back up to say, "No?" "Then it won't get stuck," Aliza deduces firmly, pressing the button and allowing the shady doors to creak their way open. She steps inside, ignoring the flickering light, while Kathryn just stands there, hesitant. "Oh we do naht got all day," Aliza moans, grabbing Kathryn by the arm and pulling her inside, ripping the arm of that red polyester jacket a little bit. "Hey!" Kathryn exclaims, then looking at the hideous thing and deciding, "Thank you." "What floor you on?" Aliza wonders, and Kathryn tells her, "The thirteenth." "'Cause that ain't ominous," the policewoman sighs, hitting the button marked 13 and allowing the elevator to start its incredibly slow descent. "So how come you still wearin' that?" Aliza wonders, and Kathryn says, "'Cause I wanna be the savior of my own dark curse." "Not that," Aliza pulls on the jacket's tear, making it a little bigger, "The maid's uniform. You still workin' in Burbank or...?" "No, I quit my job there," Kathryn reveals, "Melania has just been a nightmare ever since she shot Donald; I just couldn't take it anymore. So... I came back." "But you're still wearing the uniform?" "I pawned the rest of my clothes," Kathryn reveals, and Aliza utters, "Riiight..." with an air of suspicion. She goes to ask something else, but then the lift finally stops - with a massive jolt - and the doors fail to open for a moment. Kathryn gasps, looking down and asking, "Did your water just break?!" and Aliza makes the tear in her jacket even bigger, shouting, "Bitch I ain't preg!" The doors then finally open, and Kathryn lets out a sigh of relief, saying, "Sorry. I wasn't trying to imply you were a slut or anything who wouldn't know whether or not she was pregnant." "Mhm..." Aliza grunts as they make their way out of the lift, and her mother's old friend finishes, "It's just, yunno, you could've been raped by one of your tribespeople or something." Aliza resists the urge to punch the woman in the face as she leads her to her room, not having to unlock it because, "As you can see, the thief broke my door." "Yeah," Aliza nods, staring down at the sawed-off handle, and then they make it inside. The place is an absolute mess. The ceiling light has fallen down, there are maids' uniforms everywhere, the night stand is pushed over; basically the whole room looks as though it's been rummaged through. "Clearly this guy was desperate for my fur," Kathryn nods, "I mean, you'll probably never find it, right?" "I just got here, lemme search for clues at least." Aliza mentions, taking a look round. A piece of plaster falls from the ceiling, making a noise which alerts the seagulls outside, and they begin their chorus of squawks. "Damn birds," Kathryn exclaims, running over to the window to shoo them off the sill, only to end up having her hand pecked. She weeps, and Aliza, as she wipes ceiling plaster off of her uniform, complains, "I shouldn't even be doin' this stuff, man. I'm Chief. I should be sendin' people to do this fo' me." "But I wanted you," Kathryn makes clear, "Because you're the best." "That's true," Aliza nods, staring the unemployed maid up and down, "I am the best." Kathryn smiles, until Aliza adds, "So tell me why you trashed your own room and made up some godforsaken story about a $50,000 coat." The smile drops. "Excuse me?" she asks, and Aliza bends down under the bed and pulls out a cheap hacksaw, saying, "When you destroy your door, you might not wanna leave yo' tools lying around. Manny had a piece o' crap just like this," she tosses the saw onto the bed. "The thief must have--" "There was no thief!" Aliza exclaims, "You've brought me here on a goosechase. You pawned all your clothes but didn't think to sell a coat that coulda sustained you for the next damn decade?" "It has sentimen--" "It doesn't exist," Aliza insists, "So stop wastin' my time cos Lord knows enough of it's gone already. What's your game here, Kathryn?" Kathryn goes to say something, to defend herself, but stops, finally admitting, "I wanna be rich again, okay? You don't know what it's like! You went from nothing and became something! I went from something and became NOTHING!" "And this whole charade was gonna help you become rich... how?!" "Insurance money, duh. On the coat." "You had an imaginary coat insured?!" "I dunno!" Kathryn yells, "Yeah? Something gets stolen, the police can't find it, so they give you money to replace it - that was my plan." "That was your plan?!" "Yeah I mean it's kinda brilliant, right?" "Dummy, that ain't how the law works!" Aliza rages. "It isn't?" Kathryn asks, disappointed. "No!" "Oh... then oops, I guess..." "Oops..." Aliza quotes, "Oops?! Why the hell did you seek me out for this bullshit?! You thought I wouldn't figure it out? You said yo' damn self I'm the best..." "Yeah well I didn't think it was true," Kathryn reveals, "Since you're, yunno... you." Aliza takes a step back at this, deeply insulted, and Kathryn sighs, "Look, we can both agree this whole thing has been kind of a failure. So let's just both go about our day while there's still a day to be salvaged. Obviously I'll need to formulate a new pan, while you can go off and... I dunno... shoot white kids? Is that what black cops do? Or do you hate on, like, Asians or something? Lemme tell you, this Korean cab driver I had, looked just like you, and like--" "I'm not leaving," Aliza eventually exclaims, literally unable to comprehend the words coming out of Kathryn's mouth right now, and Kathryn wonders, "Why not? We passed a whole bunch of white kids on the way here. Go shoot 'em." "You're really that dumb, aren't you? Really that spoiled..." Kathryn isn't listening, though. She just caught a glimpse of her reflection in the seagull-poop-riddled window and had to stop to admire it, then turning back to Aliza and saying, as though she's only just noticed her standing there, "You wanna maybe grab some dinner? Your treat." Aliza just rolls her eyes, finally announcing, "Kathryn Kappelletti, you're under arrest." Kathryn's jaw drops - "For what?"
"Insurance fraud, or some weird variant of it," Michael reads out from his computer, back at the FBI office. "Hm?" Sebastian asks, busy tip-typing away at his own, and Mike reveals, "The newest crime logged in over at Wikerly Hills. Kathryn Kappelletti appears to be involved. The Kappellettis were real big with Solano, right?" Seb takes a break from typing to respond, "Yeah. They helped bankroll her organization. Why?" "No reason," Michael shrugs, "just... wondering if it's worth investigating, is all." "Michael, for God's sake," Seb exclaims, "Will you just admit your obsession there? What are you looking for?" "I'm not--" "Come oooon," Sebastian rolls his eyes, "I'm in the middle of writing up a case report right now because, unlike you, I've actually been in the field lately; I don't enjoy being a desk-jockey, Michael, and I enjoy it a whole lot less when you're sitting there badgering me with little questions about Kathryn Kappelletti - who, by the way, is famously irrelevant to all that stuff that went down - and Wikerly freakin' Hills... alright?" "Alright..." Mike utters, subdued, and Seb insists, "So just tell me what it's all about." There's a lengthy pause, before finally Michael explains, "It's my father." "Your... what?" Sebastian questions, "I thought you never knew your father. That you learned he was a bad guy, and you want nothing to do with him." "I did. And I don't. I'm just... curious. I followed a lead--" "You followed a lead?" "On my computer..." "Of course," Seb sighs. "And it led me to Wikerly Hills. But, it's not enough to... roam around, investigating..." "Are you even capable of that anymore?" "So," Mike presses on, but Sebastian finishes for him, having figured it out, "You're looking for a crime big enough. So you can exhibit FBI jurisdiction and do your own investigation on the side." "Essentially," Mike nods, and Sebastian turns away, getting back to typing. Michael turns away also, studying his computer screen more thoroughly, but then Seb reveals, "There's a party tonight. For the new mayor. You want a big crime? It's gonna be in the political field. That's the kind of stuff the FBI cares about, not stolen coats. So go, crack open the secrets of a few judges - using those interrogation skills you used to use so often - and... have at it." Michael ponders this, looking again to the goings-on of the W.H.P.D...
Speaking of which, we see see Aliza enter the W.H.P.D., Kathryn in tow as she drags the latest convict to a holding cell. "C'mon, get in there," she says, turning to Officer Huberd who's kicked back at his desk with a donut. "Handle this," she says, "I got bigger chicken to deep fry." Huberd gets up from his seat as Kathryn pouts in the back of the cell. "This isn't fair! I didn't do anything wrong!" she cries, only to go ignored. "Oh, hey, boss," Huberd remembers to tell Aliza, "Those bank statements you had faxed over last night, the ones from the shredded files..." "The only thing to survive after Hurricane Kath-rina over here fucked everything up with her existence? Yeah, I remember," Aliza responds. "Well," Huberd goes on, "I got around to looking at them, just like you said. Got in touch with the bank listed, et cetera." "And?" Aliza wants to know. "Mayor Washington... he seems to have been moving some funds around. Money's been getting transferred into an account for the Grier modelling company." Kathryn looks up at this, but doesn't say anything. "Grier modeling agency... You mean Celeste Grier?" Aliza realizes, and Huberd nods. "It's odd," he says, "she was one of his biggest endorsements during the campaign, but a dime of hers has been given to him." "He's been funding her," Aliza puts together, finally onto something. She thanks Huberd before heading back into her office where she pulls out the phone and dials a number. After a minute of waiting, someone finally picks up on the other line. "Silvia? Yeah, hi... Henry Washington is throwing a party tonight at the old Del Barrio place, right?... You think it'd be alright if I stopped by?... Great... Good... See you then... K, bye." With that Aliza re-emerges from her office, having a party to get to. "Huberd, just hold Kathryn here for the--" But Aliza looks at the now empty holding cell as Huberd is back at his desk, feet propped up and enjoying his second donut. "What the damn hell?! Where's Kathryn Kappelletti?!" Chief Little barks, only for Huberd to shrug, "She said she had to use the bathroom."
Meanwhile, a good yard away from the W.H.P.D., Kathryn is running as fast as she can, starting to run out of breath. "You'll... never... take me... alive... coppers!" And then she sits down on the sidewalk, needing a break.
"Why the hell do you still work here?" Aliza sighs, back at the police station, and Huberd simply takes another bite of his donut. "Want one?" he offers, pulling out a whole box from underneath his desk. Aliza does not hesitate to take one.
It's later in the evening now, and Kathryn's safe and sound, back at her crummy motel bar where the nameless bartender we've come to know and love serves her up a shot of the cheapest thing on the menu. Downing it instantly, she demands for something stronger, telling him to start a tab. The bartender scans Kathryn from head to toe, unsure if he should do this, but nonetheless decides to anyways. "Yunno? My life wasn't always like this," Kathryn says to the man serving her another drink, "I... I was rich. I was famous. I was beautifuler. I had it all. How is it my fault daddy liked investing in getting some lowly skanks laid? Like, I really don't get what all the fuss was about." "Ohhh, you're that chick off that reality show, right? Uh... Kristi, was it?" Kathryn proceeds to pick up her glass and throw it across the bar, shattering it into pieces. The bartender is appalled, and Kathryn continues to pout. "I just want my fabulous life of immense privilege and opportunity back. Why is that so hard for people to understand?!" "Have you ever tried being a good person?" the bartender asks, getting up to clean up the shards of the glass Kathryn threw. The blonde doesn't say anything though; she just reaches across the bar, grabs a bottle of whatever she can get her hand on, and throws some crumpled up one dollar bills that most certainly do not cover the total cost on her tab. "See? No one understands!" she cries, storming out.
Transition over to Fanon Drive where, outside the Del Barrio property line, cars are seen gathered for Henry Washington's election party. So far it's mostly just staff getting ready for the final preparations, but Kathryn examines this, having stumbled on over, on foot from her motel, reflecting on the life she once had and the parties she once threw. "Goddammit!" She stomps her foot and drops the half empty bottle of alcohol in a fit of rage. "I just... want it all." She looks around the street at all of the beautiful houses and cars - and then - at a particular African American woman arriving home from wherever. Michelle Washington gets out of her car, sporting a long sable coat, only sending Kathryn further into a trigger. "That... should... be... mine!" she cries, just about to the point where someone might hear her. She watches as Michelle re-enters her home as the party preparation continues and, against Ms. Kappelletti's best instincts, she follows her. She crosses the Del Barrio property line and marches to the front door. Adrian Mendez is there though, and he stops her. "Who the hell are you?" he asks, to which Kathryn doesn't know what to say. "Wait, you're part of the catering staff, right?" "Um... yeah?" Kathryn answers, and so Adrian instructs her to use the back entrance. Kathryn feigns a smile and goes on to do just that.
CONGRATULATIONS MR. MAYO a banner, made up of individual letters, reads overlooking the pool of what is now the mayoral mansion, with Adrian up on a stepladder adding the finishing touch. "Mr. Mayo?!" Henry rages as he arrives on the scene, seeing the incomplete decoration, "I'm not the head of a goddamn sandwich chain, what the hell is this?" "Adding the 'R' now, Mr. Washington," Adrian assures, holding up the big sheet with the red 'R' on it before pinning it up with the rest of the letters, and Henry begs, "Mayor Washington. And you mat as well stick that on your forehead for 'Retard' with all the good you're doing with set-up. People are gonna be arriving any minute - where the hell is my ice sculpture?" "Running late, sir," Adrian replies, and the very stressed Mayor stomps his foot and storms off, muttering under his breath something about incompetence. Adrian rolls his eyes hard, seeming heavily disgruntled and finally allowing the banner to read MR. MAYOR as it should.
"Can I just say," Kathryn says as she approaches Michelle, who's still sporting her gorgeous sable coat, "Your coat is just... to die for." "Why thank you," Michelle tells her, taking note of the woman's red polyester jacket and reciprocating, "Yours is... well, let's just say wanting to die also comes to mind." She then takes note of the maid's uniform underneath and questions, "Shouldn't you be setting up with the rest of the catering staff?" "Right, yes, I... I... do you need me to take that somewhere? Like to a cloakroom or... something?" "No, I'm good," Michelle assures, wandering off, and Kathryn looks around the foyer, noticing all the silverware on display and thinking to herself, "I should get a job here..." as she eyes it up greedily. There is then a ring of the doorbell, and she notices Adrian the butler wandering on by, assuring Michelle that he'll get that. Kathryn eyes him up, before moving onward, while Adrian adds, "That must be the ice sculpture." "Oh, finally," Michelle exclaims, and, because she's closer to the door, she decides to just get it herself, opening it up and gasping for dear life. "Who placed this order?!" she yells, and Adrian reveals, "Um... I did?" "What the hell did you ask for?!" "A sword," Adrian tells her, "To represent victory." Michelle seethes at this, asking, "And do you think the place you ordered this ice sculpture from perhaps also runs decor for, say... bachelorette parties?" Adrian arches an eyebrow at this, and then Michelle opens the door wider, allowing him to see that the delivery men on the order side of it are currently toting with them a gigantic penis rendered in ice. "Oh dear..." he utters, then squinting and asking, "What does that engraving at the bottom say?" Michelle reads it herself, and then gasps, telling Adrian, "You find a way to fix this. Now." She storms off, and Adrian is left staring at the ice dick, not knowing what to do.
We cut to later, when the party's actually started, and Aliza rocks up in another nice dress. Huberd appears to be her date, and he asks, "Why did you invite me to this thing? I gotta be up early tomorrow if I wanna make visiting hours." "It ain't my fault you bangin' a jail-bound serial killa ho," Aliza points out, "Not that I judge, but I couldn't show up here without a plus one. Dat'd just be sad." "Well I'm just glad your yeast infection cleared up. What are we looking out for exactly?" Huberd wonders, and Aliza says, "Right now, the Mayor." She then clocks onto him, saying, "There he is. I'm going in." She grabs a complimentary glass of champagne from one of the catering staff, downs it, and walks off, leaving Huberd by himself. He too begins sipping some champagne, and wanders off to another room. "Ooh, a giant ice penis," he discovers near the kitchens accidentally, "My kinda party."
"Chief Little," Henry meanwhile greets outside, "I wasn't sure you were coming." "Oh, I wouldn't miss it," Aliza promises, "Free food 'n' booze." She grabs an hors d'oeuvre from another passing member of staff and stuffs it into her mouth, asking, "You got any fri' chicken in this joint?" "I... don't believe so, no," he tells her, and she's like, "Damn... Anyway, since our little meetin' earlier, I's been wonderin'--" However, he barely seems to be paying attention, cutting her off with, "I'm sorry, Chief, but I'm going to have to cut this short. I'll be with you in a moment, I'm sure." He hurries off, and Aliza watches him go, making angry eyes. "Slippery bastard," she growls, before clocking onto the crabpuffs.
Henry, though, has clocked onto Celeste Grier, hence him leaving Aliza's company so hurriedly. Celeste is lighting up one of her long cigarettes indoors, and asks Henry, upon noticing he's even there, "It's okay if I smoke in here, right?" He replies, "You're not even supposed to be here. At all. I thought I made it clear via our little phone call that you may not show up to try and extort more money from me." "You might wanna keep your voice down, Henry," Celeste warns, "Wouldn't want your voters thinking you're not all trustworthy now, would you?" He looks angry, but lowers his voice, assuring, "I don't have anything more to give you." She however also eyes up the silverware, pointing out, "You're the Mayor now, darling. Thanks to me. Scrounge something up, why don't you?" She then blows smoke in his face and slinks off.
"Why hello, Madame First Lady," Aliza greets Michelle over by the pool. "Hello..." "Aliza Little," she introduces, "Chief of Police." "Oh, how wonderful," Michelle exclaims, "I'm always telling Henry that what this country really needs is more women of color in a position of power." "Yet his old white ass gets elected Mayor," Aliza chuckles, making Michelle frown. The Chief's had a few more free champagnes by this point, and apologizes, adding, "I'm sure you'll get power separate from yo' husband's one day. "Actually--" Michelle begins to snap, but she's cut off by the sound of a tray of crabpuffs falling to the floor. Aliza is most disheartened by this fact, while the member of catering staff who dropped the tray - Kathryn Kappelletti, still posing her way around - hides behind a table, not wanting to be seen by the woman who tried to arrest her. "Excuse me," Michelle tells Aliza, ignoring the mess, "I'm getting pretty hot in this thing." And she begins to remove her sable coat as she heads inside, passing Sadie on the way who says, "Make sure to put that somewhere safe now. I'd hate for daddy to have to replace it." "You know perfectly well--" Michelle begins, only for Sadie to insolently walk away before her stepmother can finish, leaving Michelle reeling.
While Aliza sneaks a crabpuff off the floor, Kathryn discreetly crawls across the ground and into the house, through a separate entrance which leads to the kitchens. In a hallway just off of it, she sees Huberd and so hides behind a coat rack, sifting through it for sable furs. Unfortunately, there are none. Huberd, currently, is admiring the fact that Adrian is back up on a stepladder and sanding down the tip of the ice penis. Or rather, trying to make it sharper. "What are you doing to it exactly?" Huberd wonders, and Adrian tells him, "I'm trying to make it into a sword. But it just sorta looks like--" "A pointy cock?" Huberd questions, and Adrian nods, sighing, "I swear this job is way more demeaning than it should be. If one more thing goes wrong at this party, I may just quit on the spot." And Kathryn, still eager for the chance to get to explore this mansion further by getting a job there, finds this very interesting. "What's that engraving say?" Huberd questions further, then reading it and having his eyes widen as a result. "Yeah, I'll have to try and get rid of that," Adrian nods.
"Are those lemon squares for everybody?" Quinnson asks Silvia inside, and Silvia tells her, "Absolutely!" "Great," Quinnson beams, stuffing one into her mouth, "I need comfort food." "Why's that?" Silvia wonders, and Quinnson tells her, "It's harder being here than I thought. I was gonna put my hat in the ring for mayor, before all this boo-hickey about me being 'bad at my job' or whatever started coming out." "Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that," Silvia tells her, picking up another lemon square, "Here. Have another." Quinnson indeed takes another, while Kathryn slips out of the kitchens. "Kathryn?" Silvia questions, spotting her, "What are you doing back in town?" "Ohai Lindsay," Kathryn greets, "I'm just here for, yanno, more tranny galas and whatnot. Ciao." She walks away before Silvia has the chance to offer her a lemon square, so she just shrugs and eats it herself.
"Find any corrupt politicians yet?" Sebastian asks Mike over the phone, with the latter having infiltrated the party, but Mike tells Seb, "Don't worry, I'll call you if anything comes up." He then spots Aliza not too far away and hurries the words, "Gotta go," before quickly stuffing his phone back into his pocket and moving to avoid her, not wanting to be recognized. As he does this, he accidentally bumps into Antwon Kennedy, who shouts, "Watch where you goin'!" "Sorry, man," Mike apologizes, and then Antwon asks, "Hey, you seen Aliza? About yay-high. Black. A girl. Black." Mike then points him in Aliza's direction and Antwon thanks the detective, who's then able to slip off successfully. "Aliza!" Antwon calls as he rushes over to her, and she looks deeply annoyed to see him there, demanding to know if he crashed the joint. "Of course I did," he exclaims, "I had to show you I was serious about wantin' you back. Make a big romantic gesture." "And just what the hell would that be?" Aliza demands to know, at which he says, "I know you pawned my engagement ring for weed money... so..." he reaches into his inside pocket to retrieve something, and Aliza gasps, "Please tell me you're not about to give me another--" However, what he pulls out is a little baggie of marijuana, and Aliza gasps again. "I'm a cop, remember?" "Oh, right..." Antwon recalls, stuffing the weed back into his pocket and searching his jacket for another present, eventually asking, "You want an expired coupon for Wik-E-Mart?" "That's where ma' coupon went?!" Shaniqua Mae exclaims as she too arrives on the scene, snatching the coupon from Antwon's hand and stuffing it into her bra, her entourage of children behind her. Seeing her, and the kids, comes as a great emotional shock to Aliza. Flashes suddenly run through her mind of her sitting on her penthouse floor, crying over the fact that the man she was engaged through cheated on her, and she suddenly says, "I gotta go." "Aliza, wait!" Antwon tries to stop her, but it's too late. Shaniqua is blocking his path, and Aliza is gone. On her way out of the party. "What are you even doing here?" Antwon asks his babymama, and Shaniqua says, "Ma' new boss at this joint. Thought it'd be gud for the babies to get out some. Get some culture." One of them trips over nothing. The others start falling into the pool.
"Huh, black people really do float," Quinnson comments as she watches this out the window, still socializing with Silvia. However, Silvia is paying no attention, because Michelle has just come storming down the stairs into the foyer. "Don't you walk away from me in the middle of a discussion!" Henry yells as he storms after her, grabbing his wife's arm. This causes her to whip round and yell, "Don't you dare lay a finger on me! If you're not going to defend me against your insipid daughter's vicious attacks, then you don't deserve to touch me!" Everyone's attention is on them now. Silvia's more avid than most. "I keep telling you. I'm a very busy man, and I don't have time--" "Don't have time to what? Be a parent?! Oh, sure, too busy with your 'important meetings', I suppose?! What the hell was that?!" Quinnson says to Silvia, "L-O-L, I bet he cheatin'," and Silvia gulps with fear, while Henry reprimands his wife in a lower tone, "Please. This is my victory party. You're making a scene." She just seethes, and Silvia sees fit to leave, ditching her lemon squares and just heading on out the front door. She finds Aliza crying on the front step, still sipping her last glass of free champagne. "I'd prefer a martini, but..." she weeps, and Silvia doesn't say a word; she just sits down on the step next to her and puts an arm around her. "I always get my man..." the Chief of Police drunkenly spouts off. "I know you do, sweetie," Silvia nods, and Aliza affirms, "Always."
The party goes on. Henry tells Michelle, "I can't deal with you being like this anymore. I'll be in my study. Only get me if it's urgent." And, like that, the Mayor vacates the scene of his own party, and all the guests start gossiping. Michelle now becomes more conscious to the fact that all these people have just witnessed the dissolution of her marriage, and so she just smiles and walks away. Mike observes. As does Sadie, who grins. Shaniqua drops her kid on a tray of lemon squares. "If only I'd adopted one of those things while I had the chance," Kathryn sighs, "I might still have an angle to fall back on..."
"Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!" the crowd later begs of the Mayor... but he's still sulking up in the study, nowhere to be seen… whispers and murmurs...
"Thank you for coming. And thank you for voting," Michelle is later telling to people as they leave the party, the whole thing having come to a rather dismal end. With most the guests gone, she eyes the stairs angrily, not at all happy with her husband.
Outside, Adrian is clearing up along with the other catering staff, begging them, "Help me with this, would you?" Some others come over, helping him lift the table which has the enormous penis rendered in ice, now sharpened at the tip. "Yeah, I never did manage to get it to look like a sword," Adrian concedes as he and three others struggle to move it across the patio. "If we just dump it in the pool, it'll melt, right?" The others look to each other, and he suggests they just put it down for now, which is what they do. Lifting big ice dicks is hard work, and they already need a rest. Sighing at the fact that this is simply no way to live, and staring up at the evidence that he's just spent an entire party unsuccessfully trying to turn male genitalia into an impressive weapon of victory, Adrian announces, "Yeah... that's it... one more thing goes wrong... and I'm outta here." Which, of course, signals-- SPLAT. Henry Washington has just come hurtling from the balcony of the study, and now lays sprawled, suspended in midair as a big pointy prick protrudes from his stomach. His blood splatters his own congratulatory banner, and the butlers and maids who worked his victory party remain in a stunned silence over the fact that their employer has just been impaled. It's then that the camera pans down, past the mayor's dead face and the red which trickles from his mouth and drips onto his butler's shoe, to the engraving which remains at the ice sculpture's base, beneath the monumental snow-balls. And that engraving reads: In your ass, nigger. Congratulations, indeed.
- Why would Henry, as a judge, let off criminals Aliza sent his way?
- What about Wikerly Hills does Michael want to investigate, in relation to his father?
- Why was Henry moving money into Celeste's modelling company?
- Who killed Henry Washington?