Outside on his balcony, staring down at the mean streets, is Ezra Fitz. Mona sidles up beside him looking like one hundred zillion dollars and hands him a drink. They go inside. She closes the curtains. Down below, Hanna stares up and spits out the word, “Men.” Spencer is lounging around in her night gown reading Ali’s diary. The first story is about Ezra, I think, about how the two of them could be the “power couple of Rosewood, a sole island in a sea of envy … if only he’d let me take him there.” And then this is telling: He’s opening up a side to her she’s always known was there but never knew how to “utilize,” and that side is controlling people through the power of written words, which is a nice challenge since “things are so easy for me, to turn people, to play with them like putty in my hands, molding the situation in my favor” with her actual words coming out of her face hole. She also says she misses Ambrose Pierson.
But that’s nothing on this next entry which is all about Emily:
Look at my mermaid! If she knew how much power she has, she could have whoever she wants, but she’s afraid. I think about what she’d be like if she was as tough as she is beautiful. You can be anything you want to be in this world, but one thing you can’t ever be is weak.
And on that note, a beautiful transition to Rear Window Brew where Paige and Emily are sharing some cocktails and intense closeted conversation.
Paige: Why are you asking me about Shana? That was a million years ago.
Emily: Not really, not a million.
Paige: You want me to apologize some more? Look, I dunked you, I kissed you, I rode my bike in the rain to tell you how sorry I was, you dated me, you broke up with me to date the neutral third party who was meant to counsel me out of the closet, you dated Maya again, her fake cousin murdered her — an experience I’m at least halfway familiar with, you’ll remember — you went to Haiti to grieve, and I went to swim camp where, yeah, I wanted to blow off a little steam. It was a weird year. It was complicated.
Emily: I’m not asking you to apologize.
Paige: Are you asking me to tell you I thought of you every time I touched her? Because we both know that’s true. And there, the power is yours, again.
Emily takes Paige’s hand to try to comfort her because there’s no way to calm Paige down with her words because her words would be: “I’m not asking you about Shana in a romantic context; I’m asking you about Shana because she was the childhood best friend of the first girl I ever loved; you know, the one who psychologically tortured you nearly to death. I’m asking because that girl is alive and anything you can tell me about Shana might help me help her come back home.” The barkeep glares at them and their deviant behavior and they break apart. Emily’s like, “I’ll go first this time so people won’t be able to accuse us of being homosexuals because of how you always leave first.” And Paige is like, “No, I’ll go first; watching you walk away from me breaks my fucking heart.”
Out on the street, Mona and Hanna play a little click-clack game of Cat and Mouse in their super high heels on the hard Rosewood streets. Mona walks and Hanna follows and Mona walks and Hanna follows. Mona is balling in a Cruella de Vil-looking fur coat and her face is smug as hell. Even Spencer’s subconscious knows that Mona’s main dream is having Hanna chase her. When Hanna loses track of Mona, she stops in front of this store window that has a hundred mirrors of varying shapes and sizes on display and before you can say “Who’s the fairest of them all?” Mona’s reflection appears in every single one of those things.
Showing a person in a mirror to symbolize his/her duplicitous ego is a famous noir convention, so showing Mona in a million mirrors is just about the most perfect thing I have ever seen.