Drop Dead Diva

See that aspiring model there?

That was me... Deb... until the day I died.

I thought I'd go straight to heaven,

but there was a bit of a mix-up

and I woke up in someone else's body.

So now I'm Jane,

a super-busy lawyer with my very own assistant.

I got a new life, a new wardrobe,

and the only people who really know what's going on with me

are my girlfriend Stacy and my guardian angel, Fred.

I used to think everything happened for a reason...

Whoo!

...And, well, I sure hope I was right.

ooh! New lipstick?

Smoke red, Tom Ford.

Private blend!

I splurged.

Oh. So jealous.

What's the occasion?

I'm becoming a rainmaker.

Isn't that a lawn sprinkler?

At work it's someone who brings in a lot of money.

I just landed a great new client.

Her boss demoted her for being too old.

Ugh! There should be a law against that.

There is.

And she works for a company with deep pockets.

Deep pockets... so late '90s.

Different kind of pockets.

I know. I'm just messing with you.

Anyway...

The client saw one of my cases online and called me.

I'm getting a reputation.

What's with the new lipstick?

Jane's getting a reputation.

The good kind.

I got to go make rain.

Good luck, sweetie.

Ah, Fred, how many times have I told you

"inStyle" magazine is not a coaster?

Sorry.

Uh, this was in the mailbox.

Still?

Uhh.

It came a couple days ago,

and I left it there, hoping that the mailman would take it back.

It's from your credit card company.

Says "final notice," all capital letters.

I know.

They ruined the color pink forever.

How did this happen?

Well, I was all set to make the minimum payment of $150.

And?

Marc Jacobs ankle boots.

60% off!

You got to let me help. Can I loan you the money?

No, I can't take your money.

Good, 'cause I don't have 150 bucks.

Oh. What if we ask Jane?

I can't ask Jane...

Again.

Maybe you could mail the shoes to the credit card company.

They were 60% off!

Cream, two sugars, right?

How did you know I was here?

Reflection in the microwave.

Ooh. Very Jason Bourne. I like it.

I'm former CIA. Don't tell.

Oh, you have a little something on your tie,

Mr. Bourne.

Don't worry. No one saw. I checked the microwave.

Ms. Kaswell, please be ready to update us

on the Hobbs divorce at the staff meeting.

Absolutely, Mr. Parker, sir.

I'm on top of it.

Good day.

Crap. The Hobbs divorce.

Good morning.

Code red... Donald Hobbs is waiting on us

to pull the trigger on his divorce.

Get an expedited process server

to bring his wife divorce papers.

Expedited? That's 175 bucks.

I don't care. I was supposed to do this days ago.

How could I forget an entire case?

Oh, that's easy. You're in a new relationship.

Your brain is soaking in a stew of endorphins

which never get a chance to dissipate

because the object of your affection is a co-worker.

The question was rhetorical.

Hey, Stacy.

How would you like to make 175 bucks?

It's our first house.

We bought it from the bank.

It was a foreclosure.

We thought it was a good deal.

But now you want out of it?

We can't go back there. Ever.

It's haunted.

"Haunted"?

Well, there were issues from the day we moved in...

Uh, weird sounds, flickering lights.

And then two weeks ago...

I woke up and I saw a ghost standing by our bed.

Tracy screamed. I woke up.

But, by then, whatever was there had, uh, disappeared.

It happened the next three nights.

We've been at a motel ever since.

Are you guys putting me on?

Is this some sort of practical joke?

You don't have to believe us.

You just have to help us. Please.

Let's move on to new business.

This isn't civics class, Bingum.

I'm sorry. I'm just so excited.

I have an age-discrimination suit.

I like it. Keep talking.

She was a drug rep for Clasky pharmaceuticals.

Clasky. They're fortune 500.

I am falling in love with it.

She was arbitrarily demoted to a desk job

and replaced by a 24-year-old.

I see a seven-figure judgment.

We are on the right side of the issue.

So it's a win-win.

I like to win-win. Kaswell, take the lead.

Bingum, make the introductions. What? No.

Absolutely. No, this is my case.

You're excited about the case. I get it.

I'm sure Kim will be happy to have you as second chair.

Moving on, uh, who else has pending litigation?

How does this happen?

Please, I've been your second chair plenty of times.

The client's waiting in your office.

What's she doing here?

She is meeting her client.

Parker made her first chair.

Teri, please tell me that that is not my client.

That's your age discrimination? How old is she?

And if she's over 50, who did her work?

She's 34.

A 34-year-old suing for age discrimination.

Is this your way of sandbagging me?

Yes.

I knew that you were going to steal my case,

so I cleverly arranged for my client

to be 30 years younger than I thought she'd be.

I'm a diabolical genius.

That would be so cool if you were.

I know. Right?

Well, after you, first chair.

Clasky recruited me right out of college

to sell heart medications.

Within three years, I covered half of L.A. county.

So, what happened?

I got older.

Once I hit 30, they started handing off

parts of my territory and most of my commission...

To younger salespeople? 24-year-olds.

Clasky wants their reps to be young and cute.

Like most drug companies,

they recruit a lot of cheerleaders and pageant girls.

But they haven't fired you?

No, they exiled me to customer service.

My family...

...Depends on my income,

which is down 50% since they put me on a desk.

Can you think of any other reason

you might have been demoted?

I know they were unhappy

I cut back on their extracurricular functions.

What kind of extracurriculars?

Booze cruises, happy hours, trips to Vegas.

I have kids.

I need to be home nights and weekends.

Plus, I was making my numbers

without doing jell-o shots with the doctors.

Charlotte, you need to know that discrimination laws

were designed to protect people your age.

So, I'm too old to sell, but too young to Sue?

I didn't mean it like that.

I just wanted you to realize that...

We will do everything we can to fix this.

Okay, not that I'm complaining, but...

What are you wearing?

Duh. It's my swiss alps Oktoberfest barmaid outfit.

Why?

Last time I delivered a singing telegram, it was a big hit.

I got tips.

This is not a singing telegram, Stacy.

Um, these are legal documents,

uh, that initiate a divorce.

You need to hand them to Mrs. Hobbs

and say, "you've been served."

You've been served.

That's right.

You've been served.

That's good, too.

You've been served.

I see why you got tips.