You told me this wouldn’t happen. You told me that she was at a different firm. You told me we would be free of who is the actual, literal, factual, literal (again) THE WORST. But someone must have said “Candyman” in a mirror five times because here we are, and Davina is back. All of the ughs in the world rounded up and raised to the tenth power could not even top the noise I let out when she walked onscreen while Christine was doing headstands with her yoga instructor and firing lasers from her undercarriage. Ugh. Davina.
At least I have a grudging respect for Christine as a colorful and unusual reality-television villain. Davina is just a gravy stain on your favorite shirt. She’s the little bit of liquid that squirts out during an especially beefy fart. She is everyone on Twitter who has typed actually as the first word of their reply. I mean, here is Christine trying to talk to her friend while upside down, and she won’t even interrupt her lesson when there is an interloper onscreen. The dedication she shows to making herself look superior must be admired. Davina just shows up and grovels.
She tells Christine that the project she was working on with the other firm is over and she’s thinking about coming back to the Oppenheim Group. The fact that she’s even here on this program means she has already been rehired, but we have to go through all the steps of pretending like she might not have been, because that is the illusion on which this entire show is predicated. It’s the “my diet starts Monday” of reality TV.
Next thing we know, Davina has invited Jason over to a house that she may be listing. It’s a $3.35 million three-bedroom home that the owner wants to put up for $4.25 million, which, since we already saw the price it’s listed at, is way too high. The house has a bar with a marble wall with a neon sign that says “Vibes.” That’s all you need to know. If someone is drinking rosé at Coachella wearing a flower crown, it would be this house. It’s the avocado toast of houses, and I’m sure the driveway is paved in millennial pink.
Davina and Jason have the most interesting talk about real estate that we’ve heard all season with Amanda, the homeowner. Jason tells her she won’t get the price she wants because she bought a new house and then did all these renovations to make it to her specifications. She didn’t add any value to it by spending all that money, like she would have if she bought a shitty house and redid it. Wow, maybe Jason actually knows what he’s talking about. He also hates when Amanda says, “We only need one person to get it.” I can’t be mad at that phrase since it’s literally what I say to myself every time I step into a gay sauna, but I get his point. If you price it too high, that person isn’t even going to get through the door, so it doesn’t even matter.
Davina then says she is thinking about coming back, and Jason should be like, “Um, hold up. Don’t I get to ask you back? What if we don’t want you back?” They rehash the (I think totally phony) kerfuffle over the $75 million house from last season before he says he wants to think about it before setting the precedent that people can just leave and come back whenever they want, which I think is a somewhat legitimate excuse for his behavior.
Later, there is a staff meeting at the O Group at which Jason brings up the idea of Davina coming back, and everyone is like, “Well, she’s kind of negative, but I guess she’s a good agent, so shrug emoji. Oh, can we get more oat milk for the coffee station? Okay, thanks!” Chrishell, however, is like, “Um, this lady was a total asshole to me for no reason, and you’re thinking of bringing her back? I mean, whatever, I guess, but also fuck you.” She was way nicer about it, but she should have read that direct quote because that’s what her face was saying.
That’s the thing about Davina: Much like Christine’s beef with Emma, her point of view is totally unnecessary. She told Chrishell at Christine’s wedding that her ex, Justin, had a story about the marriage too, and they didn’t know what it was, so how could they be sorry for her? That is the bullshittiest bullshit ever to shit out of a bull. This is your co-worker; just have her back. And even if you think that, just keep it to your damn self, and don’t let it leak out of your ill-fitting Hervé Léger that should go back to the Goodwill whence it came.
Next thing you know, we’re at the birthday party that Mary and Jason are throwing for their two dogs, Nico and Zelda, and of all the fake and crazy excuses for a party that we have ever seen on television, this is both the fakest and the craziest. Hey, at least some people at this party don’t ostensibly work at the O Group, including what I can only assume is Brett’s girlfriend, who does not have just butterfly tattoos or just dream-catcher tattoos but both. Even in L.A., you have to pay extra for a girlfriend that is that obvious.
This house is an $8 million three-bedroom that the Oppenheim Group is selling, but Jason says it’s a total teardown. I guess that’s why you can have a bunch of people’s dogs just peeing and pooping all over the carpet and no one cares. Speaking of dogs at the party, Heather brings her fiancé, Tarek. Does HGTV know about this? Is this allowed in his contract? Do they know he’s wearing a chain outside a T-shirt and a flat-brimmed ball cap like he’s 2011 Chet Hanks?
The party is certainly cringey, especially when Jason gets up to deliver poems to not one, but both, of his dogs. I haven’t been this terrified of someone performing publicly since Gia Giudice sang, “Waking up in the morning, thinking about so many things …” (The most terrifying part of that was she never monetized its TikTok ubiquity.) Then I almost forgave him when he said, “It’s not that I care about your poop and your pee, but you do it at Mary’s, and she blames it on me.” But no, forgiveness will not be given. Not at this juncture.
Christine shows up with her extensions and her dogs, and it’s hard to tell one from the other, but she at least manages a “Hi, Mary; Hi, Chrishell” that is faker than the hair on her head but just as daring. Mary freaks out because “Who crashes a party for dogs?” Take two steps back on that question. Start with “Who throws a party for dogs?” and then proceed accordingly. Mary storms through the party, Jason is hot on her tail, and she ends up in the garage shouting, “This is our dogs’ birthday party. We spent a lot of money on this. She better not be here to start drama.” Consider this. Consider your life. No, not Mary. You. This is where you are: watching a show on which people are fighting about the guest list of a fake dog birthday party. You have done something right. This is exactly where you belong, blessed and unstressed and hoping that Davina will once again blow out in the wind like a bad odor.