Previous part of Where You Are.
***
Chapter 8: Mommy Dearest"How is she?" Gil warily asked as he reached the bustling ER trauma unit just before midnight. "Sara?" With her back to him, it was impossible to gauge her mood. "Honey…" He brushed her hand with his on the sly.
A touch to her hand made her jump.
"I didn't mean to startle you." Even though it was unintentional, he felt terrible. "I said your name, but you were deep in thought and didn't hear me." His heart sank when he saw that she was crying.
"You're here." Her voice trembled. I'm so glad you're here. She flicked her tears. "How did you know where…"
"I got a call." His anger over Greg's decision to send Sara on the chopper returned with a vengeance. "I'm so sorry, Honey."
After a sharp inhale, she shared, "Jenni's out of the woods."
It wasn't the news he expected. "Your tears, they're out of relief?"
"And tension." She nodded as her eyes flooded once more. "Jenni flatlined right before we landed. She's so sweet, and smart, smarter than I was at her age." With a shaky hand, she wiped her damp face. "One minute we were talking and then all of a sudden, she…"
"Oh, Sara…" Grissom brought a palm to his gaping mouth and vowed to make Greg work every nasty assignment that came across his desk for the next ten years; every vomit pool, liquefied corpse, and dumpster dive.
"When she coded..." The details were delivered in between choppy breaths, "This doctor um…he straddled her body to give her CPR as they rushed the gurney into the trauma unit. One of her broken bones nicked an artery when she was transported. She was bleeding out, but thankfully they were able to turn it around pretty quickly. She has multiple fractures…a leg, a couple of ribs, a hip, an arm, a wrist. The CT of her head was fine though and no other internal problems. It's pretty amazing, considering she was launched from her mother's car as it plummeted into a ravine. Jenni's very brave, and incredibly smart," Sara sniffled, "she knows a lot more than I did in eighth grade. She's very sweet, and she has a huge crush on Greg."
"But I thought you said she was smart?" Smiling, Grissom handed her the clump of tissues he had stuffed in his pocket. "Here."
"Last week you magically appeared with a can of Sprite after I vomited, this week you show up with a pile of tissues as I'm crying." She accepted the Kleenex. "You're a very intuitive stalker."
"I have to confess, the tissues were for me, because I've been blowing my nose all night." His fever was steadily notching upward as well. "The Sprite though…I got that especially for you when I looked through the window and saw you bent over in the backyard that night." As Sara wiped her nose, Gil joked, "If you want me to send Sanders back to DNA, just say the word."
"No." Her quivering lips edged into a smile. "I'm glad Frog pushed me back on the yak."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't send him back to DNA. Actually, when you see Greg, all I want you to tell him is…" Sara smiled, "nice work."
"How's Jenni?" Nick asked as soon as his housemate snapped his cell phone shut. "Is she…?" Leaning against the kitchen counter in his townhouse, he doubled over coughing for what seemed like the hundredth time in an hour.
"Sara said they just upgraded her to stable condition," Greg hurried to the fridge to fill a glass of water from the dispenser. "They're still keeping up the ruse about her mother being in surgery though, and they haven't told her it wasn't a single car accident." He held out the filled glass and when Nick grabbed it he said, "Dude, your fever was a 102 when that EMT checked it last night and then you worked like a dog for another twelve hours. Let me to take you to that Urgent Care place in the..."
"Are you kiddin' me?" Nick rasped while lifting the glass of ice water to his burning forehead. "Goin' to one of those places is how I got sick in the first place. Tylenol and sleep is all I need. What time is it anyway? It feels like we've been gone for days."
"We left on Friday morning and it's now…" Unsure of the answer, Greg checked his watch, "Whoa. It's two-thirty pm, Saturday." When he looked up and saw Nick clutching his head, he huffed, "The EMT said your throat was trashed. You probably have strep and need…"
"Wouldya drop it already? Just point me in the direction of my bedroom and give me a shove."
Greg started down the hall. "Follow me, Cletus." When he reached the door across from his room, he gave the requested shove. "Straight ahead."
Nick zombie-walked to his king-size bed and collapsed into the luxurious comforter his mother had purchased for him after the abduction, hoping its soothing qualities would help him sleep better. "Home sweet home." Realizing he still had his boots on, he summoned all his strength to sit up. "Hey, G...when I was buried alive, I had nightmares about Doc havin' a field day with my body." He struggled to untie the double knotted right boot. "So, promise me you'll make sure SuperDave does the autopsy if I don't wake up."
"Sorry, Grissom has dibs on all of our bodies. It's part of his contract." Greg huffed over to the bed and knelt down to untie his housemate's boots. "You know those jarred brains he has in his office?"
"Make sure I get a prime spot."
"Don't you want to shower before passing out?" Greg asked while wincing from the smell of Nick's sweat soaked socks.
"Too tired." Now that his boots were off, Nick crawled under the covers. "Ugh, I forgot the Tylenol, they're in my jacket. Couldya…"
"I'll grab the bottle and get you a glass of OJ."
"Thanks." Nick called out when his buddy reached the door. "G…"
"Yeah?"
"About last night…when we were..."
Greg waited with baited breath.
After a yawn, Nick finished his thought, "When we were in the field, your leadership skills, especially how you handled the Jenni situation..."
"Oh. Yeah." Greg shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, I know you would have handled things differently, but I...no, you're right, I should have done things differently. Like when I told the Techs to…"
"Shut up."
"Shutting."
"I just wanted to say…" Nick's eyes drifted shut. "Nice work."
Sara breezed into Jenni's hospital room at three o'clock as promised. Waving her first Physics text, she announced, "Here's that book I promised you." She set it on the girl's tray table. "Do you think that will keep you busy for a while?"
The busted and bruised teen pushed out a smile. "You remembered."
"Of course I did." Noting the teddy bear tucked under the girl's broken arm and a large gift basket full of treats, Sara said, "Looks like you got some other presents while I was gone."
"Greg stopped by with all of this." Jenni's eyes lit. "The nurse took out the stuffed animal for me. Isn't it cute?" She showed off the studious brown curly bear sporting glasses and a lab coat with mini pens in its pocket. "It's a Science Nerd."
"Very cute." Sara checked out the card sitting in the basket. To the bravest girl I know. I got a food basket because I know first hand that hospital food sucks. Stay away from the cream soups, unless you like paste, then order seconds. Your Friendly Neighborhood Chem Nerd, Greg Sanders. "He's a pretty funny guy, huh?"
"Yeah," Jenni gushed. "And unlike most boys, he likes geeky girls."
"What's not to like about geeky girls?" Sara deadpanned. "Any girl can paint her nails, but geeky girls can formulate their own polish."
"That's funny." Although it hurt to laugh, Jenni couldn't resist chuckling.
Noticing the straight A student looked much more relaxed, Sara asked, "Did you let them adjust your pain meds?"
"Uh huh. Much better."
"Good." Sara smiled at the girl who had voiced concern about using drugs because her deceased father was an addict. "I know it's kind of funny to have people ordering you to get high after years of anti-drug brainwashing, and while there is some truth to genetic predisposition for addiction, it won't happen if you don't let it. I'm proof of that."
"Huh?"
Pulling up a chair, Sara quietly shared, "I'm not an open book. I could literally count on one hand the number of times I told my friends something private from my childhood, so this is a big deal for me to say, and it's just between you and me. Greg's my friend, but I've never told him this."
"Okay." Jenni clutched the bear. "I promise."
"I'm the product of two raging alcoholics." Sara slouched in the chair. "I did well in school, because I spent my childhood hiding in my bedroom getting lost in books. Novels were my escape from reality. Textbooks were my way to a better life." After a steadying breath, she continued, "My parents fought all the time and my father was violent. One night, my mother had enough and she fought back…with a knife." She was surprised that the story was much easier to tell now that she had cried about it on Grissom's shoulder a few times. "My father died, my mother was committed, and I was placed into foster care. It wasn't great, but it wasn't always bad. Just ninety percent of the time. When I was sixteen, I requested emancipation. Because the third and final home I was placed in wasn't safe. I got a full ride to Harvard." And I was happy there until an bastard named Jake ruined everything. "I missed the West Coast thought, so I transferred to Berkeley." And became a workaholic, which complimented my fear of men very nicely. "Now…life is good." Finally. "I'm doing well." Better anyway. "A girl isn't automatically the sum of her parents, Jenni." You're not going to feel that way for a while, but it's true. You can't shoulder the burden of the bad choices your parents made." But don't be surprised if kids you once called your friends suddenly won't talk to you.
"Why um…" Tears formed in the savvy girl's eyes. "There's a reason you're telling me this. You…you're preparing me for something."
"You're almost fifteen, and a very smart girl. I'm not going to baby you. I know how that feels. It doesn't help, things are what they are and there aren't words to make it hurt less." Crying with the suspicious teen, Sara leaned in closer, ready to share the news that Social Services had agreed to let her deliver. "No matter how bad things get though, they always get better. Remember that, okay?"
"Okay," she squeaked.
"Your mom didn't survive the accident."
"I…I kind of figured. The nurse, she couldn't look at me."
"I'm so sorry." Sara pulled three tissues from the bedside box and placed them in the sobbing girl's hand.
"There's more, isn't there?"
Sara gave a somber nod. "Did you know your mother had a drinking problem?"
Holding the tissues to her eyes, Jenni answered, "Sometimes she would come home from dates…I would find her on the floor. She'd yell at me if I gave her a hard time about it. She said that all adults party, that it was normal and she deserved to date. I was scared, but…she told me it was normal. Not lately though, she's been better."
"It's okay." Sara cupped the devastated girl's hand. "The autopsy results showed that your mom had consumed a large quantity of alcohol. She was well over the legal limit and shouldn't have been behind the wheel that morning." The plan was to keep her in the dark about the bus until she was a little stronger.
"That's why we crashed?" A flash back to that morning suddenly appeared in Jenni's mind. "Mom was laughing and trying to catch the bus. Honking the horn and yelling 'don't worry, baby, I'll get you on that trip'. She didn't want me to miss the field trip because it was a reward for winning the state Science challenge. I…I didn't know she had been drinking though. She seemed fine."
"They learn to hide it well." When she saw the girl's eyes widen to saucers, Sara stood. "What's happening?" The Pulse-Ox monitor flashed to red. "Nurse!" She lunged for the call button.
"The bus." Speaking like a dazed child, Jenni whispered, "We were flying. The bus was flying too. The science is clear…what goes up, must come down." She looked to Sara for an answer. "They're all dead. Are they? Are they all dead?"
As the nurse rushed in, Sara managed to choke out, "Not all of them."
While unloading grocery bags full of chicken soup ingredients, Greg heard the front doorbell. "I hope that's a mis-delivered pizza," he muttered on his way out of the kitchen. It was nearly five o'clock and the last thing he had eaten was donuts for breakfast. "Hell…"
Nothing could have prepared the exhausted CSI for the surprise before his eyes.
"Surprised to see me?" Standing on the doorstep holding two pieces of luggage, Jan Sanders scowled at her deceptive boy.
"Mom!"
"Of course you're surprised." She barged into the townhouse, her perfectly bobbed honey-blonde hair bouncing in time with her plucky stride. "Would the reason be that you moved and didn't tell me, so you didn't think I had your address?"
This is not happening! Greg was too stunned to speak.
Placing her two Louis Vuitton Keepalls on the floor, Jan snipped, "Imagine my surprise when I show up for one of my impromptu visits and found your apartment empty. With everything that's been going on lately, do you know how terrified I was?" Tears shot from her eyes. "People in this town want you dead, Gregory. Big scary black men want to run you over with their trucks."
"I'm sorry." He took her hand and gave it a loving squeeze. "Look at me, I'm fine. Please stop crying."
Pulling a Kleenex from her purse, the terrified mother sniffled, "Luckily the complex manager told me where you moved."
"She told you? That's like a huge violation of privacy. I can't believe she did that to me." He backpedaled, "Not that I was hiding from you."
Jan turned her eyes to the ceiling as she dabbed her tears. "Well, told me isn't exactly correct. When that snotty little witch stepped outside to yell at someone not picking up after their dog, I checked her past-tenant file and snagged your forwarding address form." She blew her nose. "You're not getting your cleaning deposit back by the way."
"Instead of committing property theft, you could have called me," he droned, finally over the shock enough to form words. "I wonder why I'm not getting my deposit back?"
"And you could have told me you moved! I call you every day, was it so difficult to find a way to work in 'By the way, I've moved'?"
"I'm really sorry, but I've been so busy that it…"
"Too busy to tell your mother you've…" Suddenly noticing the unfamiliar décor, Jan traded one inquisition for another. "Wait. These aren't your things. This isn't even your taste. It's horrid taste actually. Oh my, they're Sara's things, aren't they? Yes, that makes sense, she's such a butchy girl." Her hands rushed to her head as her hopes for grandchildren soared. "I knew it! I told you in the hospital, didn't I? I said 'Greggy, any girl who sheds tears while holding your hand is head over heels in love with you'! At least that horrific beating had some good come out of it. I told you she wouldn't be able to say no to you after that."
"Yes, you did." But she said no, twice as a matter of fact.
"Oh, Honey. I'm so happy for you. I know how long you've been chasing her." She threw her arms around his neck. "I'm thrilled. Thrilled!" She bit her tongue, so she wouldn't make a plea for grandchildren in 2008. "When the time comes, just say the word, and I'll book the club for a beautiful wedding."
"Mom…"
"It's March, so let's see, six months of cohabitation before you're engaged, that's September, another six or so after that…April! Is there anything more beautiful than a springtime wedding?"
"Time out." Greg gently clasped his giddy mother by the shoulders. "I'm not living with Sara."
"Then who are you living with?" Jan's gaze drifted to the A&M football team photo on the wall and the words Nick Stokes MVP. "Not a guy. Not again." She gulped. "This is all my fault, if you hadn't been forced to come home and take care of me for a semester, Lacey wouldn't have cheated on you. You two would be married with children by now."
"Ooh, lucky me," his voice hardened, "I'd be married to a woman who thinks it's okay to screw other guys the second her man leaves town. Yeah, every time I'd go to a Forensics conference, Lacey would be humping her way around town and none of our kids would have my DNA. Please don't feel guilty, Mom, she didn't cheat on me because I went home to take care of you for a semester, she cheated on me because she was a disloyal bitch."
"I'll never understand what happened," Jan sighed, "you bent over backwards to make that girl happy. You were a fantastic boyfriend, everyone said that, her parents adored you. I know you know why, but you won't tell me, which hurts, because we don't keep secrets from each other, Gregory."
"Because I was too nice, that's why!" At thirty-two he was finally able to tell his mother the embarrassing truth. "When we started getting serious Lacey told me she didn't believe in sex before marriage. I told her I was a virgin too and had no problem waiting a little longer because I loved her and we'd have the rest of our lives to get physical. Then I came home to be with you and one day Bobby called to say Lacey was sleeping with Brian Ruggiero. I jumped in my car and drove to Stanford to ask her in person, because I couldn't believe it was true. When I got there, she was in bed with the bastard and she said that if I really had loved her, I would have tried to sleep with her like Brian did!"
"What?" Jan cocked her head and pondered the information. "But she said she wanted to wait. How could she get mad at you for respecting her wish? That makes no sense."
"Tell me about it!" Greg shrieked as he dropped onto the couch.
"But, sweetie, you didn't have to switch teams just because one girl broke your heart. That's like hating pizza after eating one lackluster slice." Jan's breathing quickened. "But I guess between Lacey treating so unfairly, and your overbearing mother driving you insane, who can blame you for running to boys?"
"Mom…please." He looked her in the eyes. "I swear on Nana Olaf's grave, I've never had sex with a guy. I don't hate all women, just Lacey. I'm not living with Nick in a relationship; I'm just sharing the place with him. We're housemates."
"Housemates, as in 'share the rent', not a bed?"
"Yes," Greg chuckled at the phrasing. "You met him at the hospital, remember? Nick, the ladies man. My nurse gave him her phone number in front of you. Nick loves beer and babes, not boys. He needed some help making his mortgage, I needed to move to a different neighborhood; it's a win-win situation."
Moving her eyes from an A&M game ball display to her son's sweatshirt, Jan anxiously said, "Is that his sweatshirt you're wearing?"
At least we had two seconds of relative calm.
"You're living with your jock buddy, a beer drinking ladies man, and you're wearing his sports apparel." Jan's eyes welled. "Why does that make me nervous, Gregory? Hmm? Why? Does he know you have that on?"
"Yes. Mom, you…"
"Don't cop that condescending tone with me!" Jan barked at her son who knew exactly why she was scared to death. "You're living with a redneck football player who carries a gun for a living. I've already lived through you getting beaten within an inch of your life twice in my lifetime, the third time will not be a charm for me, Greg, it will kill me! You'll be your sweet, cute, caring self around here and Nick will misunderstand your intentions just like…"
"Stop!" Greg grabbed her both of her hands. "If you would just listen to me, instead of spiraling into a frenzy, you'd know you have nothing to worry about. Can you do that?" When she nodded, he continued, "I absolutely understand where you're coming from, I do, but you're talking about something that happened ten years ago when I was a lot more naïve than I am today. I'm a grown man, I've known Nick for eight years, and I trust him with my life in the field every night. He's not Jeff, he's not going to come home drunk one day and beat the crap out of me over a shirt."
Locking eyes with her son, she pleaded, "Just play it safe this time. Don't do things that can be misunderstood. No laundry, no cute nicknames, and no cooking."
"Okay, now let's move on." He squeezed her tight. "I never got to finish my story, and it's really cool. I gave my jacket and sweater to a girl I found in a ravine last night, that's why I'm wearing Nick's sweatshirt. The girl's name is Jenni Collins, she's at University Medical Center. She's totally sweet. She called me her hero. Sara was there and saw it all." He gushed with pride, "She said I was great."
Glancing up at her boy, Jan wiped her tears. "Sara knows you saved a girl in a ravine and she still won't go out with you? I'm sorry, Sweetie, but between her not saying 'yes' to a wonderful catch like you, and those manly clothes she wears, I really think she's a lesbian. You're thirty-two, I want grandchildren, we can't afford to waste any more time chasing a lesbian."
"We, huh?" It was hard to hate her when she loved him so much. "Mom…"
"How old is the girl who thinks you're a hero?"
"Just shy of fifteen," he laughed, happy the tension was behind them. "Sorry."
"The age of consent in Nevada is sixteen."
"Uh…I'm afraid to know why you know that."
"In three years she'll be eighteen and you'll be thirty-five. Seventeen years is socially acceptable. Heck, look at Donald Trump and Melania, they're twenty eight years apart. If she marries at eighteen, she'll be able to make babies for decades."
The joke going a little too far, Greg anxiously said, "Okay, it's official, you're squicking me out."
"Hey…" Nick called from the hallway. "I heard yelling. What's…"
"Oh my word!" Jan's hands rushed to her cheeks. "CSI Stokes, you look terribly ill."
"Mrs. Sanders?" In the haze of a high fever he couldn't process why she was in his living room.
"My mom came for a surprise visit," Greg informed his housemate. "Sorry we woke you. Nordic people are loud when they greet each other."
"It's okay." Nick clutched the wall to keep from falling over.
"You really look dreadful." Reaching into her purse, Jan retrieved her mini ear thermometer. "Let me check your temperature, dear." She rushed forward wielding the thermometer like a pistol.
"Uh…okay." She keeps a thermometer in her purse? In his fevered delirium, Nick turned his cheek and pointed to his ear, in case the crazed woman had plans to stick it in his ass.
Greg mouthed 'sorry' from across the room.
"103.7!" Jan shrieked, "That's very high for an adult and the margin of error for this thermometer is .4, you could be over 104 degrees."
"And that's with Tylenol in him," Greg interjected, his concern growing.
"Let's see your throat, Nick." Jan reached into her bag for her emergency flashlight. "Young man, your tonsils are fire red and covered in pus. It's most definitely strep. How long have you been on antibiotics?"
"He's a germphobe," Greg explained, "he won't go to urgent care to get checked because he's afraid he'll get something worse."
"Do you have any allergies to medication?" the worried mother queried. "Antibiotics in particular."
"I don't have any problems takin' antibiotics, or any medicine for that matter."
"Good." Jan grabbed her cell phone. "I'll call Dr. Goodman. He's a family friend here in Vegas. He'll phone in a script."
"Seriously?" Nick perked up. "Thanks, Mrs. S."
Jan patted the cowboy's flushed cheek. "Mrs. S, that's adorable. I like that."
"Mom, leave the poor guy alone."
"Come! Get him to the couch, Gregory." Jan waved her son forward. "He can barely stand."
Nick smiled at his mortified buddy as they ambled to the couch arm in arm. "I can't believe your mom has a thermometer and a flashlight in her purse."
"She also carries mace and a taser, so don't piss her off. But really, you don't have to humor her for my sake."
"Are you kidding? I'm one of seven kids," Nick reminded his only child housemate, "I didn't get a lot of spoiling. This is great."
"Okay." Greg helped his ill housemate onto the couch. "But just remember, when she tries to change you into fresh undies, you encouraged her."
Walking into the kitchen, the overprotective mother shook her head when she found all the ingredients for her mother's chicken soup had already been purchased. Cooking. "Hello, Benny…" She spoke into her cell. "It's Jan Sanders. I'm in Vegas visiting Gregory and the poor boy needs a round of Zithromax and something for throat pain, could you phone it in?" Peering into the living room, she watched her son placing a blanket over his housemate. "Thank you. I still feel like I owe you for all the strings you pulled when Greggy was injured." She nodded. "Yes, that plastic surgeon you called in was a genius. A stranger would never know what he'd been through." But she wasn't a stranger, she was his mother, a woman who knew every scar on the outside of his body as well as the ones hidden inside. "Walgreens on Independence and Weaver, got it." Her gaze drifted to the fridge and a note written in her son's handwriting on a memo board 'Laundry day is Wednesday' Laundry! Jan rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'd love to have dinner while I'm in town. I'll call Sally tomorrow to work out the details. Have a good night." She snapped the phone closed and glanced up in time to see her sweet, lovable boy smiling at Nick. "Honey…"
"Yeah, Mom?"
"Walgreens on Independence and Weaver, do you know where that is?"
"Yep, it's right around the corner from Catherine's house."
Jan decided to gauge her worries by how fast her son ran out the door to help his housemate. "Dr. Goodman is phoning in Zithromax and Vicodin cough syrup in your name. You can pick it up at that Walgreens whenever you have a chance."
"Cool, I'm on my way." Greg hurried to the counter, grabbed his keys and rushed for the door. "Be right back with your drugs, Cletus!" Doh! I hope she didn't hear that.
When the door shut, Jan breezed into the living room. "Cletus? Is that your middle name?"
"No," Nick chuckled in spite of his headache. "It's a nickname Greg came up with after this joke I played."
"Ah." And a cute nickname rounds out the trinity of impending disaster! Jan fluffed a pillow and tucked it under the patient's head. "My son is my life, Nick, and I want you to promise me that you'll always look out for his safety."
"Absolutely, Mrs. S." Nick assured the nervous woman, "I know how worried you must be after almost losing him. My mom was really freaked after I almost died on the job."
"I'm terrified." She knelt next to the couch. "I'd also like to ask you to be patient with him if he irritates you around the house in any way. I coddled him as a boy and it's my fault that he's quirky, please don't get upset with him."
"Trust me, after eight years, I know he's abnormal." He patted her hand. "All kidding aside, you don't have to worry. I have a state of the art security system installed here, so no one's gettin' in. And don't tell him, but I've been enjoying his company. He's funny as hell, makes one of hell of a breakfast burrito, and he's much more considerate than my sisters were growin' up. He can stay as long as he'd like."
"So, you'll give me your word that he'll be safe here?"
"Of course' you have my word." Seeing tears in the worried mother's eyes, Nick assured her, "Ask anyone who knows me, trust and loyalty mean everything to me, I'm a stand up guy. I'd never hurt or betray a friend. You can take that to the bank." He gave a firm nod, "I won't let you down."
"I'm home." Sara tossed her keys on the entry table and kicked off her shoes. Padding down the hall, she called out a second time, "I'm home!" I guess you're not home. I really wanted you to be home. She had called his cell to say she was on her way and just assumed he had answered it at home.
When she hit the candle-lit living room, she knew the lack of a reply was part of a plan to surprise her.
"Welcome home, honey." Gil greeted his exhausted significant other with an open bottle of her favorite beer. "Relaxation is tonight's theme. I laundered your favorite yoga pants and sweatshirt; they're in the dryer staying warm as we speak. I'm prepping one of your favorite dinners: avocado tacos, black beans and rice. Lastly, there's a bathtub full of lavender salts and bubbles waiting for you if you'd like to soak while I cook."
"Wow."
Gil tossed the dish towel he was holding over his shoulder. "It's been a long, long time since I got a 'wow' out of anyone." He took her in his arms. "Thank you."
"Thank you. No one has ever given me a Theme Night." As he hugged her, the stress of the day faded. "You really shouldn't be taking care of me when you're the one who is sick."
"I'm feeling better," he lied, hoping the antibiotics and painkillers he downed would keep his symptoms at bay. "But I wouldn't kiss me, just to be safe. How are you doing? I still can't believe you volunteered to break the news to Jenni."
"It felt like the right thing to do." She dropped her head on his shoulder. "But it was hell. They have her heavily sedated now. She was moving around too much and with all the pins in her hip and leg, they had to get her to sleep."
"Was it cathartic?" Gil asked, hoping for something positive.
"No, just painful."
"Oh."
"This, on the other hand, is very pleasurable." She strengthened her embrace, then asked, "I want the hot bath, but I want your arms around me. What would it take to convince you to join me in the tub?"
"You just did." Holding her hand, he led her to the bathroom. "Dinner is prepped and can be cooked whenever you're ready."
"Candles around the tub too." Sara glanced over. "Wow."
"When I was boy, my mother watched soap operas," Gil casually remarked while shucking his clothes. "I'd read in an easy chair, but whenever there was a love scene, I'd peek. It was the closest thing to sex education that a Catholic boy could get at home."
"It was a little different in my house." Sara tossed her sweater. "My parents screwed each other all over the place, so my first glimpse of sex was my father pinning my mother down on the kitchen table and taking her from behind."
"Exposure to rough sex at a young age will mess with a little girl's mind," Gil replied as Forensic Psychologist more than a boyfriend. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so clinical."
Trying desperately to change her morose mood, Sara forced a playful reply, "You're cute when you're clinical." Her clothes shed, she stepped into the tub and waited. "And unlike most boys, you like geeky girls." She chuckled, "Jenni said that today in reference to Greg."
Stepping into the tub, Gil replied, "What's not to like about geeky girls?" He took a seat and positioned himself for company.
"That's what I said to her!" Laughing again, Sara eased back until she was resting on her lover's chest. "I said any girl can paint her nails, but only geeky girls can formulate their own polish."
"I love that." His arms wrapping around the magnificent woman sharing his tub and life, he whispered, "I love you."
Sara froze in the steamy bath.
"You don't have to say anything." He strengthened his embrace. "I just wanted you to know."
After a full minute of listening to bath bubbles pop, Sara turned and lifted her eyes to the man who loved her. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but…I have to vomit."
"Excuse me?" Gil watched the love of his life rush out of the tub and over to the toilet. She's seriously vomiting. He climbed out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist and retrieved Sara's robe from its hook on the back of the bathroom door. "Honey…"
After flushing the toilet and wiping her face with the back of her hand, she glanced up panting, "Stressful day…nasty slice of greasy pizza…nerves…I love you too…this isn't morning sickness in case you were worried…round two." She whirled around to position herself above the bowl.
Grinning like the love struck fool he was, Gil stood in the bathroom and waited for the latest round of retching to end.
When round two was over, Sara sat against the wall.
"So, you're not pregnant and you love me."
Her stomach still flipping, Sara nodded. "Since you grew up watching soap operas and I vomited twice in one week, I figured you'd jump to the pregnancy conclusion."
"Ah." He chuckled and handed her a wet washcloth for her face.
"I was just about to get to the 'I love you too' in the tub when I had to hurl." Laughing at herself, she said, "Pretty romantic, huh? How did our 'first I love you' scene compare to your childhood glimpses of Days of Our Lives?"
"Sadly, you never see this kind of realism on soaps. This was much better." Gil took a seat on the floor across from Sara. "We've never discussed kids. Do you…"
"God no." Holding the cool washcloth to her forehead, she anxiously asked, "Do you?"
He shook his head.
"To summarize," Sara managed a smile, "we love each other and don't want children."
"Good indicators of long-term compatibility."
"Long term, huh?" Sara kneaded the washcloth. "You think that's a possibility? I've never been a part of happy ending…a happy anything, at least not for more than three months. It's hard to visualize something that you've never observed or done." Vulnerability flooding her voice, she confessed, "Every man I've ever trusted has let me down."
"I was one of them."
Sara acknowledged the remark with silence.
"All I can say is, this time..." He gently pulled her into his arms. "I won't let you down."
Greg had no problem finding the Walgreens Drug Store, because it was around the corner from Catherine's house and he had driven by it every time his partner wanted to stop at her house on the way to or from a scene.
"Hi." He smiled at the counter girl, "Two prescriptions for Greg Sanders, they were called in by Dr. Goodman."
Claire, the pharmacy tech checked her computer. "Zithromax and Hydrocodone cough syrup?"
"Yep, that's it." He reached for his wallet.
"Sorry, it'll be about another five minutes. We got swamped."
"No sweat, I'll do some shopping and come back."
While Greg headed to the Hallmark section to buy his mother a card, he had no idea he was being watched and photographed.
Once the picture was on her camera phone, Catherine frantically dialed Warrick.
"Hey, Cath, what's up?" Warrick groggily answered. "I was just nodding off, so please don't tell me we're being called in."
In an excited whisper, she said, "Remember how we were joking about Nick letting Greg wear his Aggie sweatshirt? You said it would be a cold day in hell, remember?"
"This is why you woke me up? I told you, don't joke around about…"
"I was making a tampon run at the Walgreens around the corner from my house when I heard Greg's name and voice at the pharmacy counter. He's here and he's wearing Nick's A&M sweatshirt."
"You woke me up to joke about this shit again?"
"I knew you wouldn't believe me, so I took a picture with my camera phone!" Spying on her coworker, she said, "He's picking up Zithromax and cough syrup, but we know he's not sick, Nicky is. And…oh my god…he's buying him a Hallmark card, a get well balloon, and flowers."
"Damn."
"I know!"
"We can't say anything, Cath. Promise me this is just between us, alright? We'll try to figure out what's going on and hopefully…it's all just a big misunderstanding."
***
Chapter 9: Visible Evidence"How are you feeling this morning, Honey?" Sara asked as she padded into Gil's home office. It was the first time she had used the term of endearment on him and as soon as she said it, she declared it 'weird' and vowed to never utter it in reference to him again. "Any better?" Any better, baby? She cringed. Baby sounds way too soft-core. She silently tried another alternative. Any better, sweetie? That's so not me. The quest continued. Any better, Griss? No, the guys all call him that.
"A little better. Thanks for asking, Sweetheart." Sweetheart? Where did that come from? I've never called her that. That's what I used to call Diane. He shivered, hoping it wasn't a sign that things would turn out the same with Sara as they had with his ex-girlfriend.
Sweetheart? He's never called me that before. Her grin expanded. I kind of like it actually. Oh god, I'm turning into one of those lovestruck idiots I used to make fun of. Her goofy grin faded.
"Penny for your thoughts."
"Oh, uh…I was wondering why your side of the bed is untouched?"
"I slept in the guest room," he replied while removing his glasses.
Leaning against his antique desk, Sara copped an analytical tone, "I say 'I love you' and you spend the night in the guest room. What does that mean?"
"It means I didn't want to infect you."
"How considerate."
Gil returned his lover's smile.
"I know I kind of missed the mark on the nurturing girlfriend thing, so I was going to grab a quick shower and then head to The Egg Spot for some take out and spend a little time spoiling you today."
"I'm starving, so I'll gladly accept the eggs, but I think we can put any doubts over your innate ability to nurture to rest." Tucking her hair behind her ear, Gil said, "Watching you in the hospital with Jenni, it was quite clear that you have a very high capacity to nurture. You just don't waste it on old men who really can take care of themselves, and that's fine with me, save it for kids out there who need it."
"You think I helped her?"
"I know you did." Gil tenderly smoothed his palm over her back while sharing, "I spoke briefly with her grandfather. Jenni had told him all about you and Greg. She told him you were just like the big sister she always wished for as a little girl."
"Really?"
Gil nodded.
"I used to wish for a big sister too." Sara's voiced trailed off, "When my parents would fight, I'd hide in my room. I had this big stuffed monkey that my father won for me at a carnival on one of the good days. I'd hold its hand, pretending it was my big sister's. I'd fall asleep like that and in the morning, I'd still be holding its hand." Shaking off the memory, she asked, "What did Jenni say about Greg?"
Gil couldn't keep a straight face while repeating the teen's sentiment, "That he was the sweetest, cutest, smartest, funniest boy she'd every met."
"Aww." Sara chuckled into her hand.
"Grandpa Joe says to me 'This Greg must be a genius if he's working as a CSI when he's a teenager'."
"A teenager?" Sara quizzed.
"From the way his granddaughter had been speaking, he assumed Greg was eighteen, not thirty-two."
"I…"
The ring of the doorbell halted the conversation.
"It's Sunday morning," Sara cinched her robe tighter. "Who could that be?"
"It's probably Ms. Weiss looking for milk to feed her cats." Gil stood and walked out of the room. "I'm dressed, I'll get it."
"I'll hit the shower."
When Gil made it to the front door, he was surprised to see Jim standing on his doorstep.
"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd bring a sick friend some breakfast." Brass held up two brown sacks. "I feel bad, I used to do this all the time, but with Ellie around now, I've been spending my Sundays off with her."
"Uh, I'm sorry, can you just wait here a second, while I…" Gil spoke as he started to close the door. "I was just wrapping up a phone call. Give me a minute, thanks." After shutting the door, he ran to warn his roommate. "Sara…" He rushed into the bathroom. "Jim is at the front door with breakfast. I have to let him in, so don't come out."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes." He hurried back to the living room, making sure to remove anything that belonged to Sara.
"Jim!" After stowing everything in the hall closet, he raced to check the guest bathroom. "Uh, be right there!"
"How are you feeling this morning, Honey?" Jan Sanders asked as she breezed into Nick's bedroom wearing her favorite terry cloth bathrobe and a sunny smile. "It's eleven am, and you're overdue for your medicine." Coming to rest at the edge of the bed, she shook the lump burrowed under the covers. "You can go right back to sleep after taking…"
Startled by the unexpected grab while he was lightly sleeping, Nick threw back the covers and instinctively lunged for the intruder.
"I'm sorry!" The terrified woman screamed. "Please! You're hurting me."
His mother's cry for help had Greg leaping out of bed and tearing across the hall. "What's going on?" The sight of his housemate with a vice grip on his mother's wrist sent him into a panic. "Nick! It's my mom! Let her go!"
The sound of a familiar voice saying his name snapped the startled man out of his daze. "Uh…" He gulped air and tried to make sense of what happened. "Oh my God." Releasing Jan, he groveled, "I'm so sorry, I...I didn't mean to scare you."
"He has PTSD from the abduction," Greg explained while taking his shaken mother in his arms. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened." He held her tight. "You can't sneak up on him or startle him when he's sleeping, okay? He flips out. I should have warned you."
Nick winced upon hearing the statement, believing Sofia must have told him what really happened in Boulder City even though she swore she wouldn't tell anyone.
"No harm done. I'm fine, Honey," she assured her son who had run from his room wearing the Abercrombie boxers she had given him for Christmas and one of his silly t-shirts. "Aww, those moose shorts look very cute on you, Sweetie. Are they comfy?" She reached for the left hem to feel the fabric. "Ooh, yes, very soft. Do you want me to pick up some more the next time I'm at the mall?"
"Could we um, not talk about my underwear right now?" Greg motioned to his jittery housemate. "We were kind of in the middle of something here, remember?"
"Oh!" Feeling bad for traumatizing Nick, Jan hurried over and gave the poor man a hug. "Please don't be embarrassed, I'm the same way when I get startled, and it was my fault for barging in here. I was in 'Mommy Overdrive' as Greggy would say. I didn't want you to miss a dose of your medicine."
"Thanks, Mrs. S, for thinking of me, and for not bein' upset." Feeling chilly in his plaid flannel pajama bottoms, Nick walked to his closet for a sweatshirt.
Suddenly craving a little medical relief herself, Jan pointed to the door. "If you'll excuse me, I have cinnamon rolls in the oven I need to check on. They'll be ready shortly, boys. Freshly squeezed OJ too!" She hurried for the guest room and her Valium bottle.
"Are you okay?" Greg asked when his mother was gone.
"After making a fool of myself in front of you and your mom?" Nick droned from the closet. "No, I feel stupider than shit." Returning with a blue hooded sweatshirt on, he huffed, "When did Sofia tell you about me flipping out on her? Was it before or after I told you she stopped flirting with me because of a boredom bang? Because if you stood there laughing when you knew I never had sex with her…"
"Actually, um…Sofia didn't tell me anything."
"What? Are you…dammit!" Nick wanted to kick himself in the ass for spilling the secret. "Then what the hell were you talkin' about when you said this wasn't the first time?"
Although Greg was anxious about sharing what he knew, he was relieved to get it out in the open. "Remember how you told me all about your date with Car-ina?' He leaned against the wall and confessed, "I literally bumped into a cocktail waitress at the Tangiers last week when Warrick and I were called there. I saw the red head's nametag said Carina and I introduced myself as your good friend and housemate, saying that you had told me about your date. She was really sweet, and very worried about you, a fellow Texan. I guess she could sense I was concerned too, so she…"
"She told you what happened." Nick averted his eyes. "So you've known I'm a liar and a freak for about a week now, huh? Great." His humiliation grew greater by the second. "What else do you know that you're not telling me?"
"Relax, man, I'm not you're enemy," Greg replied, treading cautiously into sensitive territory. "I didn't tell you about Carina, because I wasn't sure how you'd react to me confronting you about your…issues, for lack of a better term. Beyond your over the top date stories and a snippet about your family every now and then, you're very guarded when it comes to your personal life and what's going on in your head. I didn't want to cross the line and get you pissed at me, because…well, this sounds a little selfish now but, I like living here and didn't want to rock the boat." He dropped a hand on his troubled buddy's shoulder. "Please don't worry about me telling anyone about what happened with Carina or Sofia, because I won't. Anything personal I witness on the job or at home, any secrets that I accidentally learn about you, or ones you tell me in confidence…it's between you and me. I'm not going to run to work and tell Catherine or anyone." Removing his hand, he confirmed, "You should feel comfortable in your own home, so please know you don't have to hide anything from me, and if you need an ear, don't hesitate to talk to me. When I'm not in the middle of one of my own personal dramas, I'm a great listener."
Staring at his overly concerned housemate, Nick processed the information in silence for a minute, and then nodded. "Thanks."
"No problem." Hoping a joke would ease the tension, Greg said, "Unless of course you tell people I wear the moose underwear my mommy buys me. Then all bets are off."
"Yeah, your mom buyin' you undies is weird." Grateful for the levity, Nick cracked a smile. "But I think her feelin' you up was much weirder."
"She did not!" Greg's goofy laugh filled the room.
"Dude, I was right there."
"What you saw was a very innocent fabric quality check to determine if her money had been well spent."
Nick deadpanned his reply, "Is that what the kids are callin' crotch grabbin' nowadays?"
Unable to say the first thought that entered his mind, Greg held up his hands in a show of surrender. "Okay, Cletus, since it's obvious that you were paying very close attention to my crotch, we'll go with your eye witness account." While grinning at the priceless expression on his buddy's face, he heard his mother's singsong voice shooting down the hallway.
"Greg, Honey!"
Not now, mother!
"Are you still in the bedroom with Nicky?"
"Yeah!" He chuckled all the way to the door.
"Put some clothes on!" Jan shouted at her boxer-clad son, "The woman who exploded the lab and almost killed you is here to see you."
"Catherine?" Greg heard Nick cringe from across the room.
"Tell her I'm too sick for visitors just yet."
Jan yelled from the living room, "Gregory, she has a gift to commemorate your heroics the other night. Isn't that sweet? Tell Nicky come out with you, unless he's not feeling up to it."
Tell Nicky to come out with me. Ha! Make up your mind, mother, do you want me to like boys or not? "Unfortunately, Nicky's not up to coming out just yet!"
Jan cheerily replied, "Then you can have Catherine all to yourself I guess."
Yeah, too bad Cath's childbearing years are behind her, or I could make your day and hump her in the living room while you serve cinnamon rolls and pray I get her pregnant with twins. Laughing hysterically, Greg glanced down the hall and saw Catherine holding a gift bag and gaping. "Uh, be right there!"
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Gil opened the door and motioned for Jim to come in. "It was an employee issue I was dealing with and while I trust you emphatically, it would have been a violation of policy to allow you to overhear what I was saying."
"Sounds like code for 'I have a babe in my bed'."
"Don't I wish?" Gil smirked on his way into the kitchen. "Coffee or morning cocktail?"
"Coffee, thanks."
"I already have a pot made."
"Great." Jim placed the bags on the counter. "It feels good to resume this ritual."
"Yes indeed."
Taking a seat on his usual stool, Jim asked, "How have you been spending your Sundays off?"
While filling two mugs, Gil casually replied, "Bugs and books, a few movies…same old same old."
"Bugs, books and movies, huh?" Brass took the mug his long-time friend was handing him. "Not cross dressing?"
"Excuse me?"
Jim pointed to the open laundry room door. "I saw some bras drying on a rack in there and thought you might have a new hobby."
Gil whirled around. "That's an experiment."
"Yeah," the seasoned cop gave a hearty laugh, "Most guys conduct it in college, but I guess you're a late bloomer." As his friend sneered, Jim asked, "So what's the verdict? Straight, gay or bi?"
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Greg breezed into the kitchen wearing a weathered white t-shirt and the distressed True Religion jeans he had pulled from the shopping bag of designer clothes his mother had brought for him. "Thanks for stopping by, Cath." He gave her a friendly hug. "Did my mom get you something to drink?" He headed for the fridge like a good host.
"I'm okay, thanks. I can only stay a few minutes." As her co-worker bent over to grab something from the fridge, her gaze darted to his ass. "True Religion jeans."
"You like them? They're new."
"Lindsay keeps begging me to give her three hundred dollars to buy a pair." Damn his ass looks good in those jeans. If I'm getting turned on by Greg, then I know I'm desperate. Ugh this sexual dry spell is killing me! "Did Grissom give you a raise?"
"Nah." With a carton of half and half in hand, he went to the counter to make himself a cup of coffee "The jeans were a gift."
Catherine fell silent. A gift? Who would want to give him an expensive pair of jeans that made his ass look irresistible?
"My mom always brings me a shopping bag full of clothes when she comes for a visit."
"How…" squicky "…nice of her to want to dress you even though you're thirty-two." Seeing the flowers he had purchased at Walgreens, Catherine casually remarked, "That's a pretty flower arrangement on the kitchen table."
After a sip of coffee Greg said, "My mom likes having fresh flowers in the house, so I bought them for her."
"Ah." That explains that.
"We kind of had a little argument when she first got here, so I bought her flowers, a card and some chocolate."
That's what a husband buys his wife when they have a marital dispute. "You're a sweet boy, Greggo." When he flashed his cutest smile, she melted. "That reminds me." She snatched her gift bag from the counter. "I bought you something to commemorate you reaching hero status."
"You didn't have to." He dove into the gift bag and chuckled when he saw a t-shirt with the Superman S logo on it. "This is great. Thanks."
"How is the girl?"
"As good as can be expected." He neatly folded the shirt and returned it to the bag. "I went by the hospital last night and brought her a balloon and her favorite candy."
So the balloon and candy wasn't for Nick. "You better be careful, teenage girls develop crushes very easily."
"I'm more than twice her age," Greg laughed. "I really doubt she'd think of me that way."
"Hell, when I was fifteen, I was crushing on forty year olds."
Eww. Greg lifted his coffee mug. "Are you sure I can't get you a cup? My mom has cinnamon rolls in and…" The laundry buzzer cut him off.
"I'll get it!" Jan appeared out of nowhere.
"June Cleaver to the rescue!" Greg joked.
Jan excitedly informed her son. "I washed the sweatshirt Nick was nice enough to lend you the other night when you gave that sweet little girl your shirt. I'm sure he'll be happy to get it back." And I'll be happy to give it to him.
So that's why he was wearing the sweatshirt! Suddenly feeling like an idiot, Catherine pointed to her watch. "I'd really love to stay for coffee, but I have to get Lindsay somewhere. It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Sanders."
"Yes, likewise." Jan waved from the laundry room. "Take care and please remember to be careful around the lab, dear."
"I promise."
"I'll walk you out." Greg took the lead.
Ugh, there's that cute ass again. Catherine grabbed her purse. I really hope Warrick gets over his divorce blues soon. Maybe when I call to report that he was right and there was a logical explanation for Greg wearing Nick's sweatshirt, he'll want to meet up for lunch.
Once Catherine was outside, Jan yelled down the hall, "Coast is clear, Nicky. Cinnamon buns are just about done!" Ooh! That rhymes.
Nick was in the kitchen seconds later. "Mmmm, they smell great. Thanks, Mrs. S." These will almost make up for you invading my privacy and scaring the shit out of me.
As the Valium kicked in, Jan morphed into a Stepford Wife," Have a seat, Nicky. I'm more than happy to serve you."
"A guy could really get used to be spoiled like this." Nick took a seat at the counter, excited for another homecooked meal.
"You'll be happy to know that I washed your sweatshirt too." Jan handed it over. "Thank you for letting my son borrow it the other night."
"Oh." When he saw Greg walking into the house, he joked, "Actually it's not my sweatshirt anymore, Mrs. S." He tossed it at his buddy. "I traded it for your son's plasma TV."
"That's hardly a fair trade," Jan remarked, wondering if she misunderstood or accidentally took to much Valium. "Sweatshirts are less than a hundred dollars, that TV cost thousands."
And the look on your face when I say this next line will be priceless! "It's not just any sweatshirt, Mom, it's…very special." Patting the A&M logo, he watched his mom kiss her dreams of grandchildren goodbye while waiting for his buddy to back him up and set things straight.
"That's right," Nick laughed, "It's an Aggie sweatshirt."
I knew the Texan wouldn't let me down. "Told you so, Mom."
"Oh!" Jan nodded, finally catching up. "Because he thinks his team is special, the sweatshirt is special."
"Yeah," Nick ripped into his cinnamon bun. "But I don't just think the Aggies are special, I know they are."
Just to irk the meddlesome mother he always loved but sometimes loathed, Greg donned the sweatshirt and purposely drove the woman over the edge. "Hey, Cletus…if you like Grandma Olaf's cinnamon buns, just wait until I make you her tiramisu." When Jan pursed her lips tighter than a clam shell he celebrated his success.
Doling out a cinnamon roll for the son she could never figure out, Jan pondered the question she had been agonizing over for decades…straight, gay or bi?
"Thanks again for bringing me breakfast, Jim." Grissom walked his guest to the front door.
As he stepped outside, Jim's tone took a serious turn. "You know you can trust me with anything, right? I mean, I gave you the authority to pull the plug on my life, so it would stand to reason I'd never do something to piss you off."
"Yes, of course," Grissom confirmed without hesitation. "Is something on your mind?"
"I know those black bras hanging in your laundry room aren't yours."
"Oh." Grissom stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It has nothing to do with me not trusting you, it's…it's complicated."
"I know, I know." Jim gave a reassuring smile. "Ecklie and the Under Sheriff would be all over you about it." When he saw his friend's busted expression, he chuckled, "You think I haven't noticed? From the first time I saw the two of you interact, I knew the spark was there. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you, Jim."
"But I will privately bust your balls about it every chance I get."
"Fair enough." Grissom laughed along with his friend.
"So tell me, pal," Jim leaned in, "what's it like living with a dominatrix?"
"She yells at me if I miss the hamper."
"Yeah, but does she spank your ass for it?"
"No." Grissom laughed at the absurd imagery of Sara bending him over her knee. "Hey, I better get back inside, because she's been hiding for over an hour."
Jim pretended to crack a whip. "Look who doesn't want to piss off his lady."
"Exactly."
"And I certainly don't want to get on her bad side by keeping her waiting." Jim walked backwards grinning at his buddy and made another whip crack sound. "Honestly, I wasn't all that surprised to hear Sanders and Stokes were playing house. Watching those two together sometimes, I can see them vacationing on Brokeback Mountain, but you and Lady Heather shacking up..." He laughed as he opened his car door. "Shocking!"
***
Chapter 10: Taking One for the Team"Uh oh." When they reached the nurse's station, Sara turned to Greg and said, "We got lunch, but forgot drinks."
"Doh!" Greg set the Taco Bell bags on the counter and dipped into his pocket for cash.
"You go on ahead." Sara snatched the money from her coworker's hand. "I'll run down to the cafeteria and grab some sodas."
"I want change, Sidle!"
"Dream on." Sara waved the money and walked away.
"Greg!" Fifty one year old Nurse Mindy Thomas rushed over to speak with her favorite hospital visitor. "I'm so glad you're here. Jenni had a really rough morning and her grandfather is back in California until tomorrow."
"What happened?" he asked the sweet woman he had come to know and respect over the last three weeks. Out of the dozens of nurses that rotated through shifts, she was one of the few who went above and beyond to help Jenni. "How bad is the pain? Is it a complication from last week's hip surgery?"
"No, that would be easier to deal with," Mindy sighed. "One of the injured children from the bus crash was well enough to go outside for some fresh air today. His nurse was wheeling him by Jenni's room and when he saw her, he started screaming that her mother killed their friends. I felt so awful for her. The poor thing has seen her mother vilified on TV and in the papers. I'm not defending her mother in any way, if she had survived the accident, I'd want her to get the death penalty for driving drunk and causing the accident, but I can't stand to see Jenni as the target of the hatred when she's a victim too. A news reporter snuck up here yesterday and tried to get an interview with her, can you believe it?"
"Yeah." Greg's heart ached for the girl. "Those reporters are vicious, I'm not even sure they're human."
"You should know," Nurse Lawanda Jordan rolled her eyes, "your face was all over the TV again after the payout. Hey, are you like Bill Gates's nephew or somethin, because you're droppin' a ton on your little girlfriend only a few weeks after payin' the James family all that hush money."
"It wasn't hush money and it wasn't my money," Greg snapped at the nurse who had been giving him a hard time since the day they met. "And I've asked you repeatedly to stop calling Jenni my girlfriend." With that he grabbed the Taco Bell bags and marched off.
Mindy glared at her coworker. "Would you back off already? He's a sweet guy."
"That's your opinion. I think he's a creep for comin' on to a fourteen year old." Lawanda stood and grabbed her patient's chart. "But hey, if he can get away with murder, he's probably not real worried about gettin' busted for puttin' the moves on a minor."
"You're twisted."
"Am I?" Lawanda pointed to Jenni's room. "Girlfriend sleeps with loverboy's sweater under her pillow and his teddy bear in her arms. She's not five, she's a month shy of fifteen. You know she's pretendin' that damn geek bear is him. She's eatin' his chocolate, callin' him on his cell phone at all hours and gigglin' at his dumbass jokes. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's a duck, and she's his girlfriend."
"He saved her life and she's developed a schoolgirl crush, but he thinks of her like a kid sister."
"It's not a crush, she's head over heels in love with him, and loverboy doesn't have a girlfriend, 'cause if he did, she would have come here with him to see what's what at least once and she wouldn't be puttin' up no cell phone calls from a lovestruck kid!" When Lawanda looked into Jenni's room, she turned her eyes to the heavens. "Oh Lord help us, they're cuddling in bed."
When Mindy saw Greg sitting on the edge of the bed stroking Jenni's hair as she sobbed in his arms, she retorted, "He's consoling her because she's bawling her eyes out!"
"And what's he gonna want in return when she's well enough to give it to him some day?"
"Stop making something innocent sound nasty!"
"What's going on?" Sara asked when she saw the nurses pointing at Jenni's room and arguing.
Lawanda walked off shaking her head. "We were watchin' today's episode of The Young and The Creepy, but if I watch any more of loverboy playin' touchy feely with his girlfriend, I'll lose my appetite for lunch."
"What?" Sara asked in disbelief.
"You heard me!"
"Uh oh." Walking down the hall with Grissom, Nick saw the Undersheriff stomping down the hall in their direction. "Someone's on the war path again."
"Grissom!" McKeen snarled from fifty feet away. "Where's Sanders?"
The mention of his buddy's name grabbed Nick's attention. "He was out workin' a case with Sara Sidle and they're off the clock havin' lunch. Can I help you with somethin'?"
"Stay out of this, Stokes." The undersheriff stepped in front of Grissom. "The Sheriff's office just received a call from a nurse at University Medical Center. She called to tell me that my favorite CSI, Greg Sanders, is actively pursuing a romantic relationship with that fourteen year old girl he found at the scene of the bus accident."
"What?" Nick blurted. "That's crazy. Greg's not…"
"I said stay out of this, Stokes!"
Nick clamped his lips, crossed his arms, and muttered, "You better say somethin' Griss."
"I agree with Nick," Grissom finally replied. "That's crazy, Greg thinks of the girl like a little sister, just like Sara does. They both visit her daily."
Not backing down, McKeen shared, "Sanders has given that impressionable teenager a dozen different gifts, he allows her to call his personal cell phone, and she has his photo on her nightstand!"
Finding it impossible to keep quiet, Nick said, "It's not a photo, it's the damn article from the newspaper talkin' about him findin' her. Hell, I cut out the article about my friends savin' my ass, so to use your logic, Grissom's my girlfriend."
In no mood for insubordination, the undersheriff barked, "Stokes! One more word out of you in defense of Sanders and you'll have three days of unpaid vacation, a.k.a suspension!"
Fed up from his friend being McKeen's abuse target for months, Nick very calmly ensured some time off, "I've watched Greg's reaction to pedophile cases, and there's no doubt in my mind that he believes inappropriate sexual conduct is repulsive."
"Three days suspension, Stokes!"
"Okay, doke." Nick slapped his ID in Grissom's hand and started down the hall. "But it's the County's loss."
"Get back here, Nick!" Gil was furious with himself for letting things get out of hand. "Unsuspend him, McKeen, because I can't afford to have any of my guys off the roster. Your relationship with the voting public isn't going to improve if dead bodies are stinking up the city because I don't have any guys left to send into the field."
"There he is!" McKeen pointed down the hall. "Sanders! Right now!"
"What did I do now?" Greg droned to Sara while wondering why Grissom and Nick looked ready to kill.
"As of this second you are forbidden to see, touch, or communicate with Jenni Riley. I have people calling me reporting you as a potential pedophile, that's serious shit, Sanders. Am I clear? No more teddy bears or candy or late night phone calls. If you violate this order, you will lose your job." Without giving the CSI a chance to respond, the undersheriff started walking away.
"What?" Greg finally protested.
"You heard me!" McKeen kept walking. "You're still suspended for defending your friend, Stokes! And anyone else who comes to his defense will join you!"
"You suspended Nick for defending me?" Taking off in the pompous man's direction, Greg reached his limit. "No, I will not stay away from Jenni!"
"Excuse me, Sanders?" The undersheriff whirled around and loomed over the mouthy CSI. "Did you just tell me no?"
"It's bad enough that I didn't receive any support from you after I almost lost my life, but I have to draw the line." Greg gulped and stood his ground. "You ordered me against speaking in public about the settlement and I followed orders, because of that, people are saying I'm just another rich white guy who got away with murdering a black guy. That's why thatnurse hates me. You made her hate me! Now you're ordering me to stay away from Jenni because of what she said…come on, where does it end? If I suddenly stay away from Jenni because that nurse accused me of inappropriate conduct then once again, I'm going to look guilty when I'm not. I'm sick of being painted like a monster when all just trying to do the right thing! You have to at least let me explain it to…"
"No contact!" Gritting his teeth, McKeen said, "But I'm in a generous mood, so I'm only going to suspend you for three days, just like your pal Stokes. Use that three days to think about your future, and don't use it to visit Jenni Riley." He ripped the LVPD ID badge off Greg's shirt. "Go!"
"Wait for me, Greg." Sara stopped in front of the red-faced undersheriff. "I've visited Jenni every day, bought her gifts, and held her when she cried. I wonder why Lawanda Jordan is discriminating, and so are you."
"Yes, because you're a girl, Sidle," McKeen huffed, "not a thirty two year old single guy who no one has seen with a woman in years. However, since you're Greg's friend, I can't trust that you won't bring Jenni things on his behalf, so…the same orders apply to you. No contact with the Riley girl."
"That's…" Sara shook her head. "…so not gonna happen. I'll call her grandfather and if he tells me not to see her, fine, but I'm not going to abandon a child who has already lost her mother, her friends, and life as she knew it, because it will make life easier for you."
"You tell him, Sidle!" Nick cheered as he joined his friends. "We're a team, and united we stand."
"And united you'll fall." McKeen held out his palm. "ID, Sidle." When she placed it in his hand, he said, "And the second you step foot in that hospital, you're fired."
Grissom stepped into the middle of the fray. "Can we all please take a breath and be reasonable?"
"Contrary to popular belief, you're not irreplaceable, Grissom." The undersheriff took great pride in knocking the nerdy genius down a peg. "Maybe Ecklie shakes in his shoes when you throw your weight around, but it doesn't work on me. Nothing you're going to say will change my mind, believe me."
"Very well then," Grissom replied while unclipping his badge. "I'll save my breath, hand over my badge and be on my way." After clipping his ID to McKeen's jacket, he put his arm around Greg's shoulder since he couldn't put it on Sara, "Come along, Charlie Bucket."
McKeen stared at the badge and realized his preventative strike had failed. "You can't leave too. If you're all gone, who will be left to handle calls?"
"I don't know. It's not even our shift," Grissom merrily informed the man he was loathing a little more with each passing minute. "Since we're all maxed out on OT, we've actually been working for free for the past three hours. Good luck finding four other people to do that." He resumed walking. "Drinks on me."
"But I don't want a drink, Mr. Wonka," Sara joked in her best Veruca Salt voice, "I want a golden goose, and I want it now."
Gil winked at his secret lover. "Is that code for something, Sidle?"
With four ID badges and no CSIs, McKeen stormed by the group as they laughed. "Dammit!"
"What was that, McKeen?" Nick shouted at the jerk's back.
"You heard me!"
Twenty four hours into his suspension, Gil was enjoying the quiet Saturday afternoon by sitting on the couch reading when his cell phone rang. "Grissom."
"It's McKeen."
Gil rolled his eyes. "Yes?"
"I've spoken to Jenni's grandfather and personally interviewed ten other nurses at University Medical Center. All of them agree that Jenni has a crush on Sanders, but they also agree that he has been nothing more than a big brother to her. The grandfather actually broke down in tears saying that Greg and Sara have been instrumental to his granddaughter's recovery."
"How nice to hear." His irritation re-sparked, Gil snipped, "Too bad you already fired Greg and Sara for showing up at the hospital yesterday evening. Have you ever heard of the concept 'innocent until proven guilty'? It really keeps you from making an ass out of yourself…or so I've been told."
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture. I want you to tell them they can have their jobs back."
"I never told them they were fired."
"But I ordered you to fire them last night."
Gil nodded as he flipped though his forensics magazine. "Yes, but I'm currently on suspension, remember? I'm forbidden to perform any work responsibilities, so I couldn't fire them without violating the terms of my suspension."
"You think you're so smart."
"Yes, I do," the scientist smugly replied.
"Okay, okay, you win. You're all unsuspended, so get your asses back to the lab. Ecklie's having puppies working OT."
"I'll pass the word along, but as far coming back in…sorry. You said you were a man of your word, so we believed you when you said we'd have three days off. Nick, Greg and Sara have all made plans and won't be able to return until Monday and I can't either. Thanks for calling and have a nice weekend." Gil snapped his phone shut and laughed.
"You're very sexy when you're smug." Sara snickered and slid next to her man on the couch. "Teaching him a lesson, huh?"
"Someone has to." Gil tossed his magazine. "It's only noon. We have almost a whole weekend ahead of us."
"Uh huh." She dove for his neck, and tickled him with a kiss.
"Let's leave town."
"Seriously?"
"Yes." Pulling her close, Gil confessed, "At risk of sounding like a silly romantic, I want a real date. I want to hold your hand in public, and we can't do that in town."
"Aww, a real date, that's not silly, it's sweet." The sentiment put a smile on Sara's face. "I'd like that. Where do you want to go? We can't go too far, because I promised Jenni I'd be there to wish her well before her next surgery tomorrow afternoon, and since she doesn't want Greg there, I need to keep my promise."
"Don't worry, we don't have to go too far, just somewhere remote."
"We'll celebrate you saving my ass with the undersheriff."
Slipping his hand under her cheeks, Gil wiggled his brows, "It's a beautiful ass, how could I not?"
"I know that look." Her eyes locked on his, Sara let her hands wildly roam about her man's receptive body. "Are you up for a little pre-date mischief?"
"Slide your hand due south and you'll know the answer is yes."
While following the directions, she claimed Gil's lips with her mouth, and wasted no time escalating into a lusty kiss.
"Mmm…" Gil sucked in some much needed oxygen. "If this is my reward for helping you keep your job, then I really hope McKeen makes a habit of firing you."
"If you think that now…" Sara slipped off the couch and onto her knees, "just wait."
As she fumbled with his belt, Gil shed his reading glasses with Clark Kent finesse and relaxed into the mushy cushions of their new couch. "You really are grateful, aren't you?"
"So grateful, that you don't even have to reciprocate."
While they had sex quite often, this was a treat indeed. "Sara, you really don't have to…"
"I don't mind taking one for the team every now and then," were the last words she uttered.
"Sara, you're…" Really there were no words to describe her or the glorious feeling swamping him.
Enjoying the verbal praise and primal sounds spilling from her lover's mouth, she intensified her efforts. It won't be long now. Seconds later, when it was over, she declared it a personal best. "Did that make you happy?" she asked, knowing it was the most rhetorical question she had ever posed.
Gil frantically nodded, as if he was worried she'd deny him the pleasure forever if he wasn't enthusiastic enough with his reply. "Amazingly happy."
Returning her man's pants to their original position, she sweetly asked, "Is there anything you need me to do for this outing we're going on? Planning? Shopping? Packing?"
"No," the fifty year old answered in between gasps for air. "After that…you don't have to do anything for the rest of the weekend…quite possibly for the rest of your life. No, don't worry...I'll take care of all the details."
"That was Griss." Nick returned his cell phone to its clip and took a seat on the couch next to his depressed housemate who had been mindlessly watching the Discovery Channel for hours. "We're unsuspended, but Griss told him we weren't coming back until Monday." He broke into a smile. "He's teachin' the asshole a lesson, I love it."
"Great, now I can go back and find a way to screw up my life a little more." Watching a tiger rip a gazelle to shreds on his oversized TV, Greg sighed, "I'll probably rescue a cat from a tree, but a branch will snap and impale a blind, crippled nun who was a day away from finding the cure for cancer."
"G…"
"Her cancer cure notes will be in her pocket, but when I go to save her, I'll accidentally kick up some rocks and cause a spark. The spark will set the nun's dress on fire and she'll burn up, taking the notes with her."
Nick shook his head.
"Her blazing body will roll down a hill into a pet store and all the cute little animals, which were earmarked to be donated to orphans, will be barbequed. To make something good out of all of that, I'll give the roasted pets to the homeless, but they'll get food poisoning and…"
"Stop! Seriously, enough already, you gotta stop beatin' yourself up." Nick turned to face his buddy. "Look, I know yesterday with Jenni was hard, but you had to set her straight. She had a major league crush on you, and it was only going to get worse, not better. Trust me, I know how rough it is to let a girl down, but it was the right thing to do."
"Dude, she's not just a girl. She's a girl who just lost her mother and whose friends hate her. She's in traction and needs more surgery or she may never walk again, and when she gets out of the hospital, she's going to California to live with her seventy year old grandpa in some rundown trailer park. Her life sucks on every level and I had to look her in the eyes and break her heart. It doesn't help that it was the right thing to do, I feel like shit. It's like I'm cursed to keep repeating the same cycle…I try to do the right thing, it backfires, and end up feeling horrible and guilty. I didn't want to kill Demetrius James, I just wanted to save an innocent guy from dying, but nobody remembers that part. I didn't want Jenni to fall in love with me, I just wanted to cheer her up, but now I'm a heartbreaker." His own heart ached every time he thought of the devastated teen sobbing and throwing the Science Nerd teddy bear in the trash. "Ugh, how stupid am I that I didn't know she wasn't thinking of me like a brother?"
"It has nothing to do with you bein' stupid," Nick assured. "There was this girl in high school, Melanie, she was my Chem partner. I worked side by side with her all year and had no idea she was in love with until she asked me to take her to the prom. I thought we were like brother and sister and she burst into tears when I told her that. It's impossible to know how someone really feels if they keep it hidden. Do you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I've been guilty of doing that myself." Staring at the ceiling, Greg focused on a speck and struggled not to cry. "Anyway, something good has come from this. I think I've finally learned my lesson. Doing nothing is a lot easier than trying to help. I could have driven away. I could have stayed away from the hospital."
"Yeah, you could have." Nick turned sideways, resting on his elbow and quietly replied, "But then Stanley Tanner would be dead and Jenni might be too. When I was in that coffin with a loaded gun, the only thing that kept me from killing myself to end the torture, was the knowledge that there were people waitin' to see me make it out alive, people like my mom, who would have been heartbroken. Jenni might have given up, but she wanted to see you. Hey…for what it's worth, I believe you did the right thing both times, and I hope you don't turn into one of those people who just looks the other way, because there are already way too many of them in this city."
After clearing the emotion from his voice with a harsh cough, Greg softly said, "Thanks, that helps."
"Great, I'm glad I could help, because you said some supportive things to me that day when your mom startled me." Nick nudged his buddy, hoping he'd stop staring into space. "See, you were right, this is good, as long as our personal dramas don't happen at the same time, we'll be able to help each other out."
Finally confident that tears wouldn't fall, Greg turned his head. With Nick staring at him only two feet away, he said, "Yeah, that would be good."
"I have to admit, it's kinda nice to have someone to confide in again."
The steadiness of Nick's gaze making him comfortable, Greg confessed, "Other than my mom, I haven't had anyone to really talk to in years."
"Me either."
"After Sara got suspended, I went to her and flat out told her I was a good listener. I wanted to be there for her, but I was also hoping it would be a two way thing, but she never took me up on it, so..."
"I know how you feel, my sister Gwen and I used to share everything, but," Nick shrugged, "she's got a husband to lean on and kids to worry about now, so she doesn't need me, and whenever I called with somethin' she'd be too busy to chat, so I don't bother anymore." Seeing the emotion in his buddy's eyes, he unfurled a smile. "Hey, you know what you need to do, you need to take your mind off everythin' for a little while and have some fun. You've been sittin' on his couch since you came home from the hospital yesterday. Hell, you even slept here."
"Thanks for tossing a blanket on me by the way."
"No problem." Nick jokingly sniffed the air. "You haven't showered since before shift on Friday, have you?"
Forgetting his problems for a moment, Greg laughed, "No."
"Okay, I got one laugh out of you, that's a start." Nick lunged for his cell phone. "I'm gonna show you a great time tonight, Greggo." He searched his phone directory. "We're going out on a date."
Greg sat straight up. "Uh…a date?"
"That's right." Nick winked.
"Um…" Flustered by the sudden and shocking proposition, Greg stammered, "I…I really didn't expect…sorry, I'm a little overwhelmed right now, because…okay, honestly, I really don't have much experience…how much do you…"
"I don't care if you're overwhelmed or not used to spontaneous dates, don't you dare say no." Nick pointed at him. "I've been watchin' you mope around here for twenty four hours and it's bringin' me down." After sending the call, he flashed a radiant smile. "I'm gonna get you your groove back tonight if it's the last thing I do, and I won't take no for an answer. You need to get laid, buddy!"
His mind blown and his heart racing, Greg anxiously replied, "Okay, whoa…this may not be a big deal to you, but to me it's…"
"Nina! It's Nick Stokes. We met this morning, at…yes, ma'am, the cowboy." He held up his index finger, signaling Greg to hold his thoughts. "You know how you wanted to go out, but you couldn't because you already had plans to take your depressed friend out to dinner on her birthday? Well I have a depressed friend too, and I had this crazy idea that maybe we could double date and cheer both of them up, whaddya say?"
"No!" Greg firmly stated, as the truth came crashing down around him. "I…" He scrambled to cover his sudden change in enthusiasm, "I don't want to go out with a depressed stranger!"
Nick covered the phone. "I was askin' her, not you. I already told you that I wasn't takin' no for an answer." He resumed talking to the babe he had met at Starbucks when he was out buying Greg his favorite coffee concoction as a surprise. "Awesome! I'll make some plans and call you back to let you know what we'll be doin'. My friend Greg can't wait to meet Krista…huh? Oh, yeah, Trista, right."
Rolling his eyes, Greg sank into the couch cushions and resumed hating life.
"Yeah, I like red." Nick sat back, kicked up his feet on the coffee table, and spoke in his sexiest voice. "Okay now I really can't wait to see you, baby. Hell, yeah, I'm a real cowboy'. Texas born and raised. Do ya want me to bring my lasso and show you a few tricks?"
Greg grabbed a couch pillow and squeezed it, wishing it was his own neck. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
"No, CSIs don't use handcuffs." Nick glanced over at his buddy and whispered, "They always ask that, don't they?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Okay, sweetheart…I'll call you back soon. Bye." Standing up the matchmaker cheered, "We're in, and you're gonna thank me. I saw her friend, she's hot."
"You said she's depressed."
"Yeah, she's depressed and hot, but she won't be once she's out with you. Uh…she won't be depressed anymore is what I mean, she'll still be hot."
"Really, I appreciate the thought, but I'm too depressed to date a depressed girl, so please call her back and tell her no offense, but no thank you." Greg jumped to his feet. "I'm showering and then getting back to work on my paper."
"Come on, G!" Nick blocked his friend's retreat. "You can't spend all your free time holed up workin' on some damn DNA paper. You need to get a life, man, you can't just sit around here like a mopey loser and..."
"I need to get a life?" On edge from the events of the last twenty-four hours, Greg didn't hold back, "Getting my paper published is an important part of my life. It's something that will be permanent. It will help my career and increase my notoriety within the national and international Forensics community. Getting published has value. One night stands on the other hand, have no value to me, they don't lead to anything meaningful or permanent, they're bullshit and I currently have more than enough bullshit in my life thank you very much. If you want to waste your life jumping from bed to bed with women you have nothing in common with and can't stand to have around except when you're between their thighs, then have at it, cowboy! You won't hear me calling you a loser for wasting your time, but don't call me one either!" Pushing past his housemate, Greg started out of the room. "I'm a loser, ha! You won't even remember your date's name tomorrow, but if my paper gets published, geeks all over this country will remember my name forever!"
"You say that like it's cool!" Nick yelled as he followed his pissed off pal. "My God, you're turning into Grissom!"
"I'd rather be Grissom than Daniel Cleaver! You're Daniel Cleaver!"
"Daniel Cleaver?" Nick followed Greg into his bedroom. "Who the hell is Daniel Cleaver?"
"He's the thirty-something asshole who screwed around on Bridget Jones, because he was a womanizing idiot."
"Who's Bridget Jones? Is she in Ballistics?"
"Bridget Jones the movie! Hugh Grant's character."
"OH! The chick flick, yeah, I took some girl to that."
"Some girl." Greg sneered at the womanizer. "How shocking that you can't remember her name."
"Paula!" Or was it Carla? Recalling some of the film, Nick huffed, "Hey! That Cleaver guy was a jerk! You were calling me a jerk."
"Yeah, well, you said forensics papers aren't cool!"
"They're not!"
"You're just jealous, because you've never even had an idea for one."
"Ooh, I feel like such a failure, Stanford." Hearing himself, Nick burst out laughing, "Jesus H, this is the dumbest fight I've had in decades."
"Yeah, me too." Much to his surprise, Greg's mouth exploded into a smile. "Sorry."
"Me too." Nick reached for his cell. "I'll call and tell Trina we'll get together some other time."
Following a massive eye roll, Greg corrected, "It's Nina and Trista, there's no Trina."
"I know!" Nick belly laughed. "I just wanted to see your reaction when I got it wrong."
"Surrrrre." Greg tossed his shirt into the wicker hamper in the corner of his room. "Okay, you had your laugh, now get out of my bedroom. I need to shower and work on my paper."
"Oh, come on, G!" Nick grabbed his cohort by the shoulder and gave him a shake. "Snap out of this funk! Seriously, don't make me call off the date. Get out of the house and have some fun with me. I really need to get laid, but I feel too bad for you to leave you home alone now. I also feel bad for my couch havin' to put up with your mopey ass for another twenty-four hours." He smirked, "Come on…take one for the team!"
"The Team?" Greg pushed his buddy's hand from his bare shoulder.
"Frog and Toad, man." Nick backed away laughing. "I remember those stories. Toad was always mopin' around the house feelin' sorry for himself, and then Frog would show up, drag him out of bed, and force him on an adventure. They flew kites and went sleigh riding and swimming."
"Yeah, I remember that, but I don't remember the one where Frog tried to get Toad laid by a depressed stranger."
"It was a bootleg chapter." Nick pointed to the bathroom and merrily boomed, "Hop in the shower, Toad, we're goin' on an adventure!"
"Okay, okay." Valuing the friendship more than anything, Greg trudged into the bathroom whining, "I'll do it for you, Frog."
"That's the spirit." Nick hustled out of the room. "I'll take care of all the details!"
***
Chapter 11: Date Night – Part 1"Hey! Where are we going?" Sara asked in frustration when they turned off the Interstate. Always one to plan everything to a tee, she couldn't handle not knowing. "Come on, just tell me already."
"Don't you want to be surprised?" Gil asked, knowing the suspense was driving her crazy.
"Not in the least, no."
"We're going to Valentine, Arizona. Doesn't that sound romantic, Honey?"
"Aww, it does," she replied through a sunny smile.
"I thought so too, but it's not." Gil laughed as he turned toward the podunk town. "I Googled and found that only twenty seven people live there and there are no hotels, but they do have some nice old buildings to look at. We're going to stay in Kingman, in this very chivalrous sounding motel called The Knight's Inn. When you see it, please remember…it's the romantic thought that counts."
"Right." Sara laughed and watched the scenery roll by. "And most importantly, I doubt we'll see anyone we know in Kingman."
"Exactly." A naughty smirk claimed Gil's mouth. "So we'll be able to get it on in the Jacuzzi without worrying we'll be seen."
"Sex in the Jacuzzi?"
"Hot sex, and not just because the water is hot if you get my drift." Gil snickered, "It's a very old and very unfulfilled fantasy of mine."
"Sex in a public Jacuzzi? With all those germs? Sara shuddered. "Dream on."
"Hey! What are you wearin' tonight?" Nick yelled from his room. When he didn't get a reply, he walked across the hall. "G?"
"I'm in the closet!"
"Can I come in?"
"Don't ask, just pretend you're my mom and invade my privacy!" Standing in his walk-in closet in his boxers, Greg labored over a shirt choice.
Chuckling, Nick entered his housemate's bedroom. "I wanted to know what you were wearin' tonight, because we've never double dated before and..."
"You're worried I'll wear something embarrassing." Greg laughed. "Since you've stated the purpose of this date with a total stranger is to get laid…" he pointed to his Abercrombie boxers, "I thought it would save time if I just showed up in underwear."
"Bright blue Moose boxers on a date?"
"Hell, yeah, the ladies dig 'em! Remember, my mom couldn't keep her hands off them."
"Don't remind me of that squick."
"Seriously, they're super soft, but don't take my word for it, feel for yourself." Laughing at Nick's awkward reaction to the offer, Greg grabbed a navy blue moose pair from the shelf and tossed it as his friend. "My mom sent me a bunch after she got home."
"Wow, they really are soft."
"I've never worn that pair, so you can keep them if you'd like. They're washed though, because I always wash new underwear before wearing them." Greg teased his pal, "Wear them for them for Trina, I mean Nina. I guarantee she'll want to feel them, and Abercrombie and Fitch is a trendy store, so she'll know you're down with the latest fashions."
Addicted to the feel of the sueded cotton, Nick nodded, "I think I will, thanks."
"You better borrow some pants too."
"Huh?" Nick cocked his head. "Why's that?"
"All your pants are too tight to accommodate boxers." He pointed to the form fitting jeans his buddy currently had on. "Case in point, the ones you're wearing. Let's hope Nina doesn't drop her napkin, because if you do the gentlemanly thing and bend over to pick it up," he inserted a 'pants ripping' noise, "it could get embarrassing."
"Shut up, Sanders. There's plenty of room in the seat, so nothin's gonna rip if I bend over." The truth was, he had put on a few pounds and he was feeling a little constrained.
"Is that shirt long enough to untuck and wear over your ripped jeans just in case?"
"They're not tight!" Having his fill of abuse, Nick turned to leave.
"If you say so." Greg's gaze immediately dropped to the strained fabric covering his buddy's rear. Tight, I knew it.
Strolling out of the closet, Nick laughed, "I know you're checking out my ass."
Averting his eyes, Greg returned the laugh, "Dream on."
"I think you're going to love this place," Gil sarcastically said while pulling into the old motel's parking lot. "Don't let the unassuming exterior fool you, I'm sure it's quite luxurious on the inside."
"Yes, I'm sure it's all part of the owner's marketing strategy to make it look like a flea bag motel."
"Exactly."
"Good thing I brought my own bedding."
"What?" Gil parked the car laughing. "You brought your own bedding?"
"I always do when I travel. Every forensics conference, vacation, anywhere. I read a study on hotel cleanliness and even the nice places don't wash their bed spreads in between guests. Besides that, I don't like sleeping on communal sheets even if they have been washed. The knowledge that people were spilling their DNA all over them at some point in time really grosses me out."
"I love you, Honey." Gil opened the car door chuckling. "You're a very sexy freak."
"Thank you." When she stepped out of the car she pecked his lips. "You're a very sexy freak yourself."
"I guess that explains why we're so compatible." Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips for a kiss. "Our first public display of affection."
"How was it for you, baby?"
"Got a cigarette, Hot Lips?"
"Let's go check in." Laughing, Sara tugged him toward the front door. "Gee, I hope there's not a long line, because a place this spectacular must be get mobbed on the weekends."
"I knew this was going to be fun." Gil happily walked to the registration office swinging their hands and enjoying the PDA.
"Do you think they leave chocolate mints on the bed pillows here?"
"For the patrons or the bugs?"
Sara shook her head. "I should have known."
"What?"
"You really came here for the bugs, not your babe."
Gil stopped in front of the office window for a kiss. "My idea of Nirvana is having my bugs and my babe all under one roof."
"Then I'd say we're in the right place," Sara chuckled as their noses touched.
"Kiss me in public," he urged, "let the world know you're my girl."
"But there's no one around on the street to see." Sara's laughter intensified, "It's like that saying…if a tree falls in the woods, but there's no one there to hear it, does it make noise?"
Gil couldn't believe a woman holding two Physics degrees would say such a silly thing. "Of course it does. The tree's fibers stretch and snap and the tiny explosions of each fiber then…"
"Shut up and kiss me, geek!"
Inside the office, the hotels geriatric owners were watching the amorous couple smooch on the sidewalk.
"Looks like someone needs a room!" Ed wheezed, "Too bad they'll only be here an hour, maybe a half considerin' the fella's age."
"Hopefully he brought some of that Viagra I keep tellin' you to ask Dr. Mason about," Marge grinned.
"Good thing the Honeymoon Suite is available." He grabbed his cane and limped over to the wall of keys. "They look like the type to appreciate a Jacuzzi tub."
"Is it workin' again?" Marge asked, "I thought you said a rat got sucked into the main jet and died."
"It did, but when the sucker decomposed and broke into pieces, I was able to get it workin' again."
"You're so handy." The sex starved wife puckered up. "Kiss me."
"It's not Saturday night," Ed huffed. "You can wait." He walked over and tapped the glass to get the couple's attention. "There are decency laws in this town! Get a room!" He waved the key. "Honeymoon suite's ready and waiting!"
"Leave them alone!"
"Shut up! I need the money for a new recliner." Ed moved to the cash register. "And public displays of affection are nasty."
"Stop!" Marge watched the nice man take hold of his lover's hand. "I think they're sweet."
"I think you're going to love this place," Nick remarked as he led Greg through Treasure Island to Kahunaville, a party bar known for its lively atmosphere, creative food and flair bartenders. "I always order the NY Strip here, but I know you're a fish guy and I picked this place because the last date I took here had the Ahi, it's made with wasabi just the way you like it."
"Cool, thanks for thinking of me." Anxious about the set up, Greg nervously adjusted his clothes. "I'm not sure I'm up to eating though."
"Relax, G, these are fun women, and since they're in their early thirties, they'll be on the desperate side and easier to please than the twenty-somethings in this town still believin' they'll be swept off their feet by a Vegas millionaire."
"I haven't done this in a while."
"How long exactly?"
"A year, maybe a little longer."
Nick froze in his tracks. "You haven't been with a woman in over a year?"
"By 'been with a woman' do you mean out on a date or sex? It's been a little over a year since I had a date, but it didn't go well, so..."
"Jeez." Lowering his voice to a whisper, Nick asked, "Then how long has it been since you've…"
"I'm not you, okay? While I've made a few exceptions over the years, I don't believe in casual sex, so unless I'm in a relationship…"
"Dude! When was the last time you were in a relationship, because you've never talked seriously about anyone as far as I can recall?"
"Can we just get to the bar?" Greg huffed, not wanting to discuss his lack of a sex life in a high traffic zone.
"Are we talkin' years?" Nick blurted, unable to comprehend the concept of sustained abstinence.
"For actual sex with a woman, yes, years, but there are other ways to experience pleasure with people. Can we stop talking about it and not keep the ladies waiting? Please?"
"We're twenty minutes early, come with me." Nick grabbed his uptight buddy by the elbow and yanked him into the casino and over to the nearest bar.
"What are we…"
"A little tequila will help chill you out." Flagging the bartender, Nick ordered, "Two double shots of Cabo Wabo Reposado, thanks."
"You got it." Gary, the bartender, slapped two glasses in front of the men.
"Shots, great." Greg took a seat at the bar. "I don't date like you, and you should know that I don't drink like you either."
"Yeah, I figured as much."
"Just what the doctor ordered, two double shots of Cabo Wabo Reposado," Gary playfully announced after he finished pouring with flair. "Texas, right?"
"Dallas, yeah." Nick took a seat. "How'd ya know?"
"Tending bar in a tourist city I've gotten good recognizing accents. My name's Gary by the way." The bartender extended a hand.
While shaking hands, the Texan replied, "Nice to meet you. I'm Nick and this is Greg."
"Nice to meet you both." Leaning in, Gary whispered to the cowboy, "I'll start a tab, and the next round I'll charge you single price for doubles."
"Cool," Nick flashed friendly smile. "I'll tip you the difference."
"Thanks, Tex." Gary's heart soared. "Call me when you're ready." Call me any time.
"Okay."
Greg sat gaping at his buddy. Look at you. You really have no idea you're getting hit on or putting out vibes.
Grabbing one of the glasses, Nick handed it over to his fretting double date partner. "Figurin' you were a lightweight, I ordered Sammy Hagar's finest, it's real smooth goin' down." Tapping his glass to Greg's, he toasted, "Here's to poppin' your regrown cherry tonight."
"Seriously, don't be surprised when I abstain from bedding Depressed Birthday Girl, because I'm saving my regrown cherry for someone special, however long it takes to find them." After downing the double, Greg gulped for air and said, "Mmm, that is good stuff, thanks for the drink, cowboy."
"You hate this western shirt I'm wearin', don't you? I caught you sneerin' at it, admit it."
"Yeah, but you wear it well." Returning his buddy's grin, Greg teased, "I'm sure Trina, uh Nina will love it on you."
"And I'm sure Krista, uh Trista will love your…hmm, give me sec, I'll think of something."
"Yeah, a little more insecurity about my geek self is just what I need before a blind date, thanks."
"Aww." Nick patted his insecure housemate's shoulder. "I'm just kiddin'. Come on…what's not to love about you, Toad? You look great in those designer duds your mommy Garanimaled for you."
"Ha! She did write a note saying this shirt would work well with these jeans."
"And you're havin' a great hair night…for you." Nick tousled the mop that his friend called 'the in style'.
Laughing as he batted his buddy's hand away, Greg said, "You know you're growing in your hair again just so you can copy it."
After walking to the opposite end of the bar, Gary nudged his co-worker, Ben. "Check out the cowboy who sat in my section."
"Ooh, nice, just your type."
"What do you think my chances are? I mean he was flirty, but look…he's clearly with the other guy, right?"
Ben, an expert in bar body language, stopped cutting limes to study the couple. "His eyes are lit, his smile is bright, he keeps touching his date and he's totally leaning into the conversation. Sorry, Gar…in my expert opinion, he's head over heels. He probably was just being polite."
"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of." Gary sighed, "Why are all the good ones taken?"
"I know you're shy, so I'll slip the other one my number, and if he takes it, we'll know for sure."
Nick waved to the bartender, who was chatting with a co-worker. "We're ready for number two, thanks!" Then he turned to Greg. "Hey…when in doubt tonight, just flash that goofy grin of yours and gaze into her eyes, because your smile and eyes are your best assets."
The tequila surging though his veins, Greg finally started to relax. "You really think my eyes and smile are my best features?"
"And your brain, yeah." After shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Nick abruptly stood. "Hey, I need to hit the men's room, be right back."
"You feelin' okay?"
So no one else would hear, Nick whispered in Greg's ear, "I'm not used to wearin' boxers with jeans, the damn things are bunchin' up."
Tense from the feeling of his buddy's hot breath on his ear, Greg didn't reply.
"Be right back."
"Round two, coming up!" Gary grabbed the Cabo Wabo bottle, disappointed the cowboy was walking off.
Capitalizing on the opportunity presented, Ben pushed his coworker aside. "Hi, I'm Ben, the other, much hotter bartender." From his shirt pocket, he pulled out a napkin with his phone number on it. "Just in case cowboy isn't your pardner and you're free to roam the range."
"Thanks, for the offer, Bartender Ben."
"I'm sure the cowboy never let's you in saddle, but I will. My shift ends at two. How about we…"
"Sorry." As the guy moved in, Greg slid the napkin back and smoothly informed him, "Tex keeps me on a tight lasso and he has a wicked jealous streak, so I'll have to ask you to mosey along."
Upon hearing that the cowboy was taken and the possessive type, Gary downed a tequila shot to console himself.
Tucking the napkin back in his pocket, Ben shook off the rejection like a diva. "Your loss, baby!"
Watching the bartender sashay back down the bar, Greg laughed along with Gary, who had witnessed the whole thing. "I guess we're paying for those doubles now, huh?"
"Are you kidding? It was so much fun watching that queen get rejected for once, you made my night." Gary poured the shots and winked, "Drinks are on the house."
"Cool."
"Hey, how long have you and Tex been together?"
"Years," Greg kept up the ruse.
"I moved here a year ago and I haven't found anyone. Where'd you meet?"
"Work."
"Yeah, the guys I meet on the job aren't interested in getting serious. Do you live together?"
"It took a while to get to that point, but yeah…for about a month now."
"God, I hate living alone," Gary lamented. "It's better than when I lived with my parents back home, but it sucks. What's it like to wake up in his arms?"
"What do you think?"
Gary laughed, "Yeah, stupid question."
"Is this your only job, or is it a part time gig?"
"This is it while I finish up my bachelor's at UNLV. I'm twenty-five, but on the ten year plan. I can only afford two classes a semester."
"Yeah, see, that's the problem, when you tend bar, you meet guys who are only interested in sex."
"I know, I know. I've had guys laugh in my face when I said that sex isn't the most important thing I'm looking for, that I want companionship, someone to watch TV with and talk over dinner." The lonely guy shrugged. "Deep down I guess I'm just a small town guy with small town needs."
"Hang in and don't compromise. Mr. Right's out there somewhere." When he saw Nick returning, Greg motioned for the bartender to move closer. "When Tex gets back, you have to pretend that you don't know. I mean like not a clue, because he's still…"
"No sweat, I just came out when I moved here from South Dakota, so I know the drill."
"Thanks."
When Nick plopped onto the bar stool, Greg handed him a shot glass. "I paid our tab, cowboy." When Gary walked away laughing, he cracked a huge grin. "Here's to a fun night together."
Relieved that his date partner was finally getting his nerve up, Nick returned the toast through a smile, "To a fun night together." He clinked his glass to his buddy's and downed the shot. "Okay, ready to go meet the ladies?"
"Honestly, I'd prefer to forget the ladies and just keep drinking together," Greg suggested with a hopeful lilt, relatively certain that the true meaning of his words would fly right over his buddy's head. "We could have a fun night on the town, just you and me."
"Stop worryin' already." Nick stood and slipped his hand around his anxious pal's elbow, tugging him off the bar stool. "Come on. Just relax and be yourself, it'll be fine."
The bartenders stood next to each other, both watching the loving couple through green eyes.
"He's so possessive," Gary sighed, wishing he was the one the Texan was yanking from a bar stool.
"I hate happy people," Ben droned, "and public displays of affection are so gay."
Shaking his head, Gary disagreed with his bitter co-worker. "I think they're sweet."
"Over there!" Sara jumped on the bed that she had just made with her own linens. "Kill it!"
"Are you kidding?" Gil gaped at his hysterical girlfriend. "Did you see how fast that roach ran?" He hurried to grab a glass from the bathroom. "They're having races at the Forensics conference I'm taking Greg to in Long Beach this month. This guy will win us the gold for sure!"
"You're capturing it?"
"You say that like it's odd?"
"It is odd!"
"For normal people, yes, but not for me." Gil eyed the prize roach and carefully scooped it up with the glass. "Yessssssss!"
"You're using your hand to cover the top?" Sara winced, deciding there would be no digit action until her man scalded his fingers in the sink she had just bleached.
"I promise to scald my hand before touching you, Honey."
"You know me so well."
After kissing her cheek, Gil said, "I just need to run out to the car and transfer him to the portable roach house I have in the trunk."
"Sure, go ahead." She sat on the bed shaking her head.
Two minutes later, Gil returned holding his prize in a small mesh cage. "I'll bring home a doggie bag from dinner and feed him."
"The leftovers of our romantic dinner will be going to your pet roach?" Sara laughed, "I guess I should be happy you're bringing me out while the other woman in your life has to stay behind."
"Thanks for understanding me, Honey."
"Just so you know…my line in the sand is you bringing that thing into bed for a threesome."
"Thanks for telling me," he chuckled.
Watching him place the roach cage on his nightstand, Sara sighed, "Well…that really sets the tone for the evening, doesn't it?"
"Over there!" Nick shouted over the loud music playing in the bar. "Krista, uh Trista is the blond."
"She looks like a stripper!" Greg proclaimed when he saw the woman had big hair, buxom breasts and glittery skin. "You set me up with a stripper? I know I've talked and joked about strippers a lot, but that was all talk. I really can't see me dating a stripper, can you?"
"They're not strippers, they're flashy because they used to be tradeshow models, but you know…they don't let you do that in this town once you hit thirty. Now they're perfume spritzers at Nordstroms during the day, and they cocktail a few nights a week to make rent. They're roommates by the way."
"Perfume spritzers?" Greg burst out laughing, feeling the full effects of four shots of tequila.
"You know, the chicks who hit you up when you walk into the department store to try the perfume and cologne?"
"I know what a perfume spritzer is, dude. Not to sound like an intellectual snob, but what's a geek like me going to have in common with one?"
"I'm sure they have good noses, you can talk about Trace work." His laughter fueled by Cabo Wabo, Nick shoved his reluctant friend toward the bar. "Just follow my lead."
"Okay!" Greg walked behind his buddy and cracked up when he caught himself checking out Nick's ass. "Tight pants," he coughed into his fist.
"Wouldya stop checking out my damn ass, G!"
"I'll try, but I'm not making any promises!" Greg covered his mouth. Oh! No more tequila for me! If I keep boozing, I'll end up saying something really stupid.
"Howdy, ladies!" Nick greeted the babes in his thickest drawl. "Nice to see y'all again." He kissed their cheeks before presenting the fourth member of their party. "Trista and Nina, I'd like to introduce my co-worker and housemate, Greg Sanders."
"Hi, nice to meet you." Greg smiled and waved.
"Thank Gawd he's cute!" Nina declared while giving her best friend a shove. "See! You were worried he'd be gross. He's not gross, he's cute!" She turned to her date. "I told her a hot guy like you wouldn't have a big fat ugly nasty roomie with long nose hair and BO."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Trista scooted off her bar stool and kissed her date's cheek. "Nice to meet you, Greg. Thanks for coming out tonight for my birthday."
Having downed four generous shots of tequila on an empty stomach, Greg giggled his reply, "Coming out tonight. Are you kidding? I jumped at the offer." He kissed her cheek in return. "Wow…you're very sparkly and…pretty, very, very pretty. Happy Birthday. How old are you today?"
"Greg!" Nick rolled his eyes at the stupidity rolling from his tipsy friend's mouth. "Didn't your mommy teach you that it's impolite to ask a lady how old she is?"
"Awww, it's okay." Trista cuddled up to the guy she already knew she'd be sleeping with later. "I'll forgive you, because you have the sweetest smile and the most beautiful big brown eyes. You're pretty happy for a depressed guy too."
"Thank you." Greg put his arm around his date. "And you're very upbeat for a depressed girl."
Nina whispered in Nick's ear, "They're like cutely dysfunctional together, aren't they? I'm glad they're hitting it off."
"Me too," Nick intently watched his buddy snuggling up to the girl. "Hey, our table's ready in the restaurant. We checked before comin' to get you in the bar. Shall we?"
"Yes!" Clutching her future fiancé's hand, Trista led the way. "They have these jumbo margaritas for two here. They serve them in big schooners. Do you like tequila, Greg?"
"No." Swinging his date's hand as they merrily strolled toward the restaurant, Greg declared "I lovvvvvve tequila!"
"Oh boy," Nick took Nina's hand. "My buddy…he doesn't drink all that much usually."
"That's okay, Trista's a lush, so she'll feel right at home with a drunk," Nina giggled. "We drank before we got here too. No worries, we can just take a taxi to our place later. I have birthday cake ready and waiting." Pausing to kiss her date, she winked, "First we'll have cake, and then we'll have dessert…in my bedroom."
Nick winked at the babe. "If you insist." After the woman who he had spent ten minutes with collectively shoved her tongue in his mouth and kissed him like her life depended on it, he broke into a satisfied smile. "Well…that really sets the tone for the evening, doesn't it?"
***
Chapter 12: Date Night – Part 2"Mmm, this is really good," Trista moaned after swallowing her third bite of Calypso Calamari. "Don't you guys think that the banana-pepper puree is todie for?" She snatched another piece from the platter in the middle of the table. "Open up, Greggy." She dangled the treat in front of him. "Trista's gonna feeeeed you."
Humoring the vapid lush who was driving him insane with her third person speak and wandering hands, he did as directed. "Mmm, Greggy like," he mimicked Trista's irritating habit and when he saw Nick laugh into his hand, he knew the cowboy got the joke.
"You guys!" Nina gave her date a shove. "You keep laughing with each other, let us in on the jokes."
"Sorry, Darlin'," Nick apologized, "we don't mean to be rude, we just know each other so well that we can communicate without talkin' and sometimes we forget we're doin' it."
"Awww." Nina pushed out a smile. "You're like Trista and me." She reached across the table and squeezed her roomie's hand. "BFFs, best friends forever. I swear, it's like we share the same brain."
"Exactly," Nick confirmed while wondering if they alternated days and accidentally forgot the shared brain at home.
"So tell me," Trista forged on trying to bond with her shy date, "what was it like to get beaten to a pulp and kill a thug to save your ass, Greggy?"
Stunned by the tacky and rhetorical question, Greg anxiously shifted in the booth. "Uh…pretty much how you would imagine it to be, incredibly terrifying, horrifically painful, and not really something I like to think about or discuss, especially when I'm out trying to have fun." He looked directly across the table at his buddy and robotically announced, "Speaking of fun…wow…how fun is this date? How happy am I that you found these two, Tex?" Not happy at all would be the correct answer, pal! "Good thing time is standing still so we can savor all this fun we're having."
"Trista was just thinking the same thing!" the birthday girl squealed before kissing her date's cheek. "We're only on appetizers, that means there's still so much ahead to enjoy!" She let her hand roam her date's thigh and when she moved to his crotch, she giggled, "So much indeed."
"Let's not go there." Ever! Greg moved the slut's hand and continued to feign enthusiasm while wishing both women would spontaneously combust from a chemical reaction caused by wearing stinky perfume, too much body glitter and tons of hairspray. "So, um, do you ladies enjoy being Perfume Spritzers or is that a temporary gig while you wait for something else to materialize?"
After sipping from the bowl full of margarita in front of her, Trista replied, "We never finished high school and some close-minded people seem to have a problem hiring us because we only have GEDs."
"Yeah," Nina droned, "as if you learn more from books than life experiences." She rolled her eyes. "Personally, I think reading books about stuff is no where near as good as doing the stuff first hand. I mean, you can read a million books about sex, but everyone knows that you're really not good at it until you've done it a lot. I mean, I started reading books about sex when I was thirteen, but I wasn't good at it until I was sixteen and had a ton of experience under my belt. You know?"
"No, actually, I don't," Greg replied in shock. "A ton of experience at sixteen?" When he felt Nick kick him under the table, he laughed off his shock, "So you were a late bloomer, huh?"
"She was, but Trista wasn't." The girl who lost her virginity at twelve assured her man, "Trista was highly skilled by fifteen and she can't wait to show you some of her expert moves and her collection of very special toys."
While Nina rambled on about her love of trees for a reason he couldn't be bothered to figure out, Nick winked at his buddy, mouthed the word 'cherry' and made a popping noise.
"No way, Tex," Greg mouthed in reply. "Not happening."
"Mmmm….I know just what I want for my birthday," Trista slurred in her date's ear, "a Greggy wearing a bow…only a bow."
"But I might catch cold," Greg joked while peeling his date's hand off his crotch for the third time. "I really should stop drinking," he remarked before taking a huge sip from the margarita bowl. But it's the only way to ease the pain of this excruciating date!
When Nina finally finished droning on about the evils of the written word, she shook her date's arm and asked, "What do you like better, trees or books?"
"Uh…why do I have to choose?" Nick asked in confusion, while thinking of the six IKEA quadruple-shelved book units in his housemate's bedroom and replied, "We have a few books at home." He tried to stifle the alcohol induced laugh dying to get out. "Mostly picture books though, and lots of Frog and Toad."
Greg kicked his buddy under the table before bursting into another round of tequila giggles.
"You guys have to have diplomas to work at LVPD, right?" Trista asked when the two men finally stopped laughing.
"Yeah," Greg confirmed. "Too bad you don't have yours, because with your heightened sense of smell from working as a spritzer, you'd be great addition to our Trace Department." He dove for another gulp of alcohol.
"The Trace Department?" Trista shook her head. "Nah, I don't think so. I really suck at drawing."
Greg spit his sip of margarita back into the bowl as laughter seized him yet again.
Nick wiped his watering eyes. Drawing! Ha!
Greg apologized to his date, "Sorry, I spit a mouthful of marg back in the bowl, I'll order us a fresh one."
"Trista doesn't care! It's not like we won't be swapping a ton of spit later, right?" She winked. "Not to mention a few other fluids."
"Is your pager going off, buddy?" Greg nervously asked while watching his date savor his backwash. Because that's the last DNA sample she's getting from me tonight.
Nick shot his housemate a glare. "No, it's not, and yours isn't either, pal." I thought I covered this? The pager doesn't go off until after the sex.
"Hey, Tris, let's hit the little girls room." Nina stood and shimmied her tight skirt down to mid-thigh. "We'll be right back, boys!"
"Take your time, ladies," Greg waved. Seriously, take all night if you want! Take a left at the bar and keep on walking for all I care!
"I know what you're gonna say," Nick informed his glaring buddy once they were alone. "They're not exactly ideal matches, but…"
"You think?" Greg threw a crumpled napkin and blurted his unfiltered thoughts, "Why the hell are we sitting here suffering and spending our hard-earned cash when the only fun we're having is with each other? We could be having that at home for free! Or we could be out having a…"
"Because I need to get laaaaaid," Nick explained in between laughs.
"Five minutes with my hand is far more pleasurable than enduring these two for hours in exchange for fifteen germ-filled minutes in the sack, and I wouldn't be out a hundred bucks! Seriously, are you that bad at using your imagination and whacking off?
"I don't know, man…" Nick gasped for air, "I read lots of books about whacking off, but maybe I just need a lot more first hand life experience before I get it right!"
Greg fell over in the booth in stitches, and when he saw Nick crash down on the other cushion, he asked, "Do you come here often?"
"Are they that bad?"
"Uh, your date said books are a waste of pretty trees, what does that tell you?"
"Is that where the tree talk came from? I wondered."
Laughing harder, Greg said, "Do you use lotion when you spank the monkey? Because that really enhances the experience and maybe if you stepped up your handball game, you'd realize that chicks like Nina aren't all that imperative to your social life."
"I'm not frickin' twelve," Nick replied, feeling the full effects of the tequila he had rapidly consumed, "of course I use lotion…except when I'm in the shower, then I use soap."
"Really? Conditioner is much better, especially the mint kind I use."
"I can't believe we're comparing handball tips." Staring at his BFF on the other side of the table, Nick's smile grew. "You're right, I'm havin' a much better time with you."
"How could you not?" Greg replied in exasperation. "You're intentionally dating women you have nothing in common with, you do realize that, right? I mean, you always ran through women, but you used to be a romantic and pick ones you could bond with at least for a weekend before never calling them again. I think…" Realizing he was too drunk and the timing was bad, he fell silent.
"What were you gonna say, G?"
"Ahem! I hate to interrupt your meeting," the server crouched down to speak with her patrons. "But your food is here."
"Ooh, steak." Nick bolted back up in his seat. "Try your tuna, Greggo. I know you're gonna love it."
Greg sat up and grabbed his fork, happy to eat the entrée his BFF had specifically brought him there to try. "Mmm, you're right. I love this."
"See…Frog knows what Toad likes," Nick joked in third amphibian, hoping the ladies would take their time in the restroom.
Slicing a second piece of Ahi, Greg returned his buddy's smile, "Yeah, and Toad knows that he's never letting Frog set him up on a date again, and the second Trista tries to kiss Toad and make him her Prince, he's hopping into a cab."
Meanwhile in the bathroom…
Expertly spritzing her hair, Nina grumbled, "I don't know, Tris, those two seem to be way more into each other than us."
"I don't think so," the birthday girl replied while teetering on her spike heels.
"Because you're too wasted and desperate to notice, Honey. They keep laughing at inside jokes, and winking at each other, and they're playing footsie under the table." Nina lowered her voice to a whisper, "I think this might be a beard date."
"But they don't have beards," Trista slurred.
"No, we are the beards."
The horrified woman rushed to check her upper lip in the mirror. "But I just waxed!"
"No, beard, as in a woman used to prop a gay guy's fake straight status. They take us out so it looks like they're hetero and they have sex with us just so they can say they sleep with girls."
"Wait…does that like make us lesbians? Because you said us doing each other when we don't have dates makes us Bi, not lesbians, and I was cool with that, but I really don't want to be a lesbian, because I look terrible with short hair."
"No, it doesn't make us lesbians, sweetie."
"Whew." Trista dabbed her chest with a fresh coat of body glitter and asked, "So what are we going to do? Ask them?"
"Nah, it will be much more fun to take them back to our place and try to figure it out on the sly. We'll play Dare or Bare, that should do the trick."
"But we'll still get to sleep with them, right? If I don't see man-action on my b-day, I'll cry. I mean it's like bad enough that my boyfriend of two weeks dumped me yesterday because he didn't want to buy me dinner and a gift, y'know? Not having a one night stand would really be the nail on my coffin of self-esteem."
"Aww, don't worry, Sweetie, I won't out them until after we get our kicks." Nina gave her sad friend a hug. "I promise."
"Mmm, this is really good," Sara smacked her lips, savoring the boysenberry syrup that she had loved since childhood.
"I was surprised enough you picked IHOP, but…pancakes for dinner?" Gil curiously asked, "Is there a something special about IHOP pancakes?"
Dabbing her sticky lips with a napkin, she confirmed her intuitive man's suspicions, "Yes."
"I didn't mean to pry," Gil said when his significant other fell silent, "I was just trying to get to know my date a little better."
"It's okay, she wants you to get to know her better." Sara grabbed the boysenberry syrup container and coated her next pancake. "I was in three foster homes until I became an emancipated minor at sixteen. The first home was a transition home, a place where they put younger kids who need a lot of TLC. My foster mother was this sweet, older woman who we all called Mama Lucy. She had room for four kids and took care of us all like we were her own. It was great, but kids only got to stay with her about a year. The goal was for her to help us get through the drama and prepare us for placement in a long-term spot. When you arrived at Mama Lucy's you got a church outfit, because every Sunday she took her kids to her fire and brimstone church and afterwards, we were treated to breakfast at IHOP." She lifted her fork. "I ordered pancakes with boysenberry syrup every time."
Realizing how hard it was for Sara to talk about her childhood, Gil reached across the table and squeezed her free hand. "Thank you for sharing that story."
"Your turn," she directed, hoping to shift attention away from her.
"After my father died," Gil began, "my mother and I started a similar tradition. We'd go to mass at St. Ann's Catholic Church and then walk down the block to this little bakery called The Cake Box. I was allowed to pick anything I wanted. Unlike you, I varied my choice week to week…a bear claw, a glazed donut, a cherry cheese Danish. My mother always got an apple turnover. It was my job to carry the little white box tied with red string. We'd walk home, she'd make tea, and we'd discuss Father Aloysius's sermon as we enjoyed our pastries. We kept up the tradition until I left home."
"Thank you for sharing that story," Sara sat back in the booth, smiling wide.
"What?"
"This really is a date," she chuckled.
"But is it a good date?" Gil returned her laugh. "Are we hitting it off? Or are you wishing your pager would go off so you'd have an excuse to run out the door?"
Sara replied by reaching into her purse, producing her pager, and shutting it off. "What does that tell you?"
"I think I just might get a kiss at the door," he joked while slicing into his Old Fashioned Pot Roast.
"If things keep going the way they are, you'll be getting a little more than a kiss."
"Really?" Gil played along with the ruse. "There is a Jacuzzi tub in our room. Will I get my Jacuzzi fantasy?"
"Will you sanitize it and check the water's chemical levels first?"
Gil winked. "I promise."
"Home sweet home!" Nina announced upon throwing open the door to the apartment she shared with her BFF. "First things first…music!" When My Humps happened to be on the radio, she knew it was her lucky night. "My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps…"
"Check it out!" Trista pointed to the two bedrooms. "Right through those doors is where the magic happens, boys."
Greg drunkenly grabbed Nick and whispered, "For their first trick, I hope they make themselves disappear."
"You are frickin' wasted, G." Nick held up his buddy while the girls scrambled to serve drinks and cake. "Are you gonna be able to get it up?"
"Get it up? Are you kidding?" Greg slurred, "My germphobic pecker entered the witness protection program when Trista said she was voted 'Miss BJ' five years in a row during the annual Spring Break contest in Cabo, until some chick with a wicked overbite beat her record of ten guys in ten minutes without spilling a drop."
"Who wants to do shots?" Nina yelled from the fridge. "I'll let you lick the salt off my boobies, Nicky!"
"Take me all the way to Cabo, baby!" As he broke into Sammy Hagar's Mas Tequila, Nick danced into the kitchen, "Take your vitamin 'T' with a salt n' lemon slice."
"Ooh! Trista would love to go to Cabo with you, Greggy!"
"Sorry, I can't leave the country, because…uh…because…" Too drunk to think of a good reason, he simply said, "I'm afraid of borders."
Noticing her man was intently watching the action across the room as Nick swirled his tongue over her friend's chest, Trista sweetly said, "Aww, look…someone's jealous."
"Is it really that obvious?" Greg sighed, while bringing his hands to his spinning head.
"Totally!" Trista dashed off to change clothes and grab a much needed supply.
"Yeah, it took like sixty seconds for my mom to catch on when she visited." The tequila continued talking, "Sometimes the attraction feels like the most natural thing in the world. Seriously, there are moments when it feels perfect and I look at him and think he's dying for me to say or do something to let him know it's okay, that I feel it and want it too, that in some strange way, even though we didn't do it on purpose, this thing has been building between us since the day we met." Shaking his head, he confessed, "But sometimes the idea scares the crap out of me. I don't mean the physical, I've been with a couple of guys, not all the way, but enough to know that I can be perfectly happy on either side of the fence. For me it's always about the person and the feelings between us, not their gender, and right now, for a while actually, Nick is the only person I want to be with. That's why I'm scared…I don't want one move to end our friendship forever, because I know without a doubt, he's the best friend I'll ever have." Watching his buddy kiss and grope Nina, his tequila-voice cracked, "But then I see him like this and it's abundantly clear why my mother's not sleeping well since her visit. I'm obviously completely insane for thinking he wants something more." He forced himself to watch, hoping the image of Nick Frenching Nina would cure him. "My mom's right, this is Jeff all over again. That's why she's back in Santa Gabriel waiting for me to show up on her doorstep with another busted nose and broken heart."
"I'm back!" Trista, now wearing lingerie, jumped in front of her date waving a salt shaker. "Did you miss me?"
"You weren't here?" Greg asked when he snapped out of his tequila fog. Thank God you weren't here! "You weren't here!" What the hell was I thinking saying that stuff out loud?
"But I'm here now, baby!" Ripping off her top, Trista growled, "And my girls are your girls! Lick away!"
Greg jumped back when his date's breasts smacked him in the face. "What the…" Tripping over a stiletto on the floor, he crashed onto the red love seat. "Where did those come from?"
"Dr. Simpson," Trista proudly replied while squeezing her C+ boobs. "I think they were worth every penny. Have a feel, tell me what you think."
"Um…" His scientific curiosity getting the best of him, Greg placed a hand on each silicone sphere and gave them a squeeze. "They're um…perfectly symmetrical."
"They taste good too," Trista announced in her best soft-core voice. "Have a nibble."
"No, thanks," Greg patted his belly, "I'm still really full from dinner."
"Huh?"
"Game time!" Nina clapped her hands. "We have this great date game called 'Dare or Bare'." She hustled over with the box. "It's boys against girls, so sit next to your roomie on the love seat, Nick."
"Yay!" Trista clapped her hands and took a seat next to Nina on the couch. "Shirts off boys, so we start out even."
Nick handed Greg the bottle of Cuervo he swiped from the kitchen counter, tossed his shirt, and plopped onto the small leather couch.
His mind still reeling, Greg reluctantly tossed his Abercrombie pullover, sat next to his topless housemate, and forced himself to get in the game.
"Here we go!" Nina rolled the dice. "We move up the pink side, you move up the blue side." She advanced six spaces on the board and read the words in the circle. "Dare - Pick a girl and pucker up. Bare – All girls take off your shirts. Well, since my shirt's off, I guess I have to kiss ya, Tris."
"Yay!" Trista readied for her smooch. "I love this game!"
"Whoa," Nick's eyes widened to saucers. "You two look mighty comfortable doin' that."
"Yeah." Giggling, Trista wiped her mouth. "We're each other's Saturday night fall back plan. You know…screw buddies."
"Uh…" Nick cleared his throat and took the die Nina was handing him. "Okay." He tossed the dotted blue and pink square. "Four." He moved to the appropriate circle and read, "Dare – Pick a boy and dance the tango. Bare – All boys take off your pants. I'm not dancin', so…" He stood and tugged Greg to his feet. "Take your pants off, G."
"I really don't think that's a good idea," Greg protested. "We're wearing…"
"I'm sure as hell not dancin' with ya, so strip!" After kicking off his shoes, Nick tugged open his belt and shoved his jeans to the floor. "What's the big deal, they were comin' off soon anyway." When the ladies pointed and burst out laughing, he said, "What's so funny, girls?"
"Dude…" Greg reminded him, "We're wearing matching moose boxers."
"Is that like a gay thing?" Trista blurted, remembering her friend's suspicions. "Because Nina and I were talking in the bathroom earlier, and we think you two might be…"
"No!" Nick loudly protested. "Me? Gay? As if! I'm not…we're just…it's not." Panic consuming him, he grabbed Nina's hand. "Talk's overrated, so how about we head to the bedroom so I can prove it to you the old fashioned way?"
"Yee haw!" Nina jumped on her date's back. "Giddy up, cowboy! I'm ready for a wild ride!"
"Let's feel those spurs, sweetheart." Nick couldn't get to the bedroom door fast enough.
Before he knew what happened, Greg was alone in the spinning room with Trista, who was performing a strange tribal dance in front of him. "What are you doing?"
"I'm stripping for you."
"Stripping? But you were down to a thong when you started." Greg stood and returned his pants to his hips.
"What are you doing?"
"Unlike Nick, I have nothing to prove."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she huffed.
"Sorry, it's not you, I just have a policy," Greg sweetly explained, "I don't have casual sex with strangers."
"I don't either," she protested, "but we've known each other for like three hours, Greggy."
"I'm sorry, but..."
"Please!" She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the bedroom. "I'll do anything you want."
"Anything?" he anxiously asked as Nick's words and grunts shot through the paper-thin wall in front of him. "Uh…"
"Whatever it takes to keep you here, because I don't want to be alone on my birthday."
Greg took the desperate woman in his arms. "Happy Birthday, Trista." After a tender kiss to her cheek, he said, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to take advantage of you." He grabbed his shirt. "Good night."
"Get out of my face, jerk!" she screamed. "I don't need to sleep with you. I was just feeling sorry for you. I'm so much better than a one night stand with you! I'll go have a threesome with Nick and Nina!" As she marched for the bedroom, she yelled, "Get out of my house, you big loser!"
"Going!" The word 'loser' echoing in his head, Greg couldn't get to the front door fast enough.
***
Chapter 13: Head over Heels"This wine bar was a great find," Sara told her date, who had just ordered a third bottle. "Who knew they'd have such a trendy place in Kingman?"
"I do believe I'm the oldest person in here by a decade." Glancing around Gil joked, "Am I really losing perspective, or did the blondes at the bar have to use fake ID to get in here? They look sixteen."
"Why are you checking out the blondes at the bar?" Sara joked, before changing the subject. "I haven't been to one of these places with a guy in ages."
"Who took you the last time?" Gil queried, certain he knew the answer.
"A lying skank named Hank, who took me to a dump in Pahrump."
"Dating history in rhyme form." Gil raised his glass. "It's awkward as expected, but pleasant at the same time." After a chuckle, he admitted, "I thought you were going to say Greg."
"No, he asked me to go to a martini bar." When her man froze in mid-sip, Sara laughed, "How can youstill be jealous of him panting after me when I'm sharing your bed?" She snickered into her glass, "I said he asked me by the way, I didn't say I went."
Gil winked. "George Bernard Shaw said, 'Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary man that supplants us all in the long run'. What do you think of that quote, my dear?"
"I think it means that men are always worried that there is someone out there who will come along and woo their girlfriend away. Someone richer, sexier, smarter…a guy with a better car, more toys, a nicer house, faster roaches."
"You can stop that any time now," Gil laughed as his wine buzz intensified.
Feeling the full effects of the vino they had quickly imbibed, Sara snuggled up to her date in their booth. "Aww, I promise I'll never leave you for a guy with faster racing cockroaches."
"That truly was the least of my worries"
Relaxed and happy, Sara swooped in for a kiss. "Ready for our first public smooch?"
"I was born ready, baby."
"Wow, that wine really is hitting you hard," Sara teased before snatching Gil's bottom lip with her mouth.
Dizzy from the grapes and drunk off his lover's slow, burning kiss, Gil felt like a million bucks. Then he overheard a passing conversation…
"Eww, look! That chick in the booth is shoving her tongue in her dad's mouth!"
"Where?"
"There! Right there in the booth we just passed! Look! The guy with grey wavy hair and the girl wearing the ugly pinkish sweater!"
Gil pulled out of the kiss to verify the color of his date's top. "Oh good, you're wearing mauve."
"Did that bitch just call my sweater ugly?" Sara huffed.
"You're worried about your sweater?" Gil choked on the chunk of pride he had been trying to swallow. "Going out is so overrated."
After walking five blocks in a drunken and depressed haze, Greg saw a taxi coming towards him. "Yo!" He waved, hoping the cabbie would stop.
"Where to?" Malcolm Reynolds yelled out the open passenger window at the obviously drunk young man.
"22 Rancho Verde. Please say yes, I've been on the date from hell."
"That'll work."
Dizzy from the tequila, Greg slid into the back and grabbed the seat in front of him to steady himself. "Thanks for stopping."
After radioing his fare, Malcolm turned to say, "So, bad date, huh?"
"Uh…" Noticing the driver was a large middle-aged African American man, Greg froze.
"Is there a problem?" he asked, not worried about losing money now that the meter was running.
"No." Deciding to stay put, Greg anxiously overtalked, "It's just…I was already having a bad year when I had to go to the hospital yesterday and tell a teenager that I rescued on the job a few weeks ago that I only thought of her in a sisterly way. I broke her heart and since she already has like…I don't know…a bazillion broken bones and a dead mother, she really didn't need more bad news, not that it's really bad news because I'm not a good catch, but anyway…to cheer me up, my buddy set me up on this blind date from hell that I didn't want to go on in the first place because I'm crushing someone else, but I couldn't tell him that because…well…let's just say I have a good reason, but it's moot now anyway, because tonight, tonight I got proof that the object of my attraction is not on the same page, and on top of that, what the hell kind of a friend thinks of his own needs when he's supposedly dedicated to cheering up someone else, right?"
"Sounds pretty shitty to me."
"Exactly! But Nick does this stuff all the time though and not just to me, he's done it to Catherine too. She won't even go out as friends with him anymore because he abandons her at the bar for the first chick who smiles at him."
"That's not cool either."
"Yeah, you're right. He's an uncool shitty friend." Greg slurred, "I'd never stay at an apartment to have a threesome with two big-breasted bimbos if Nick left because he was hurting."
"Hold up, hold up," Malcolm cracked a grin, "you didn't mention there were girls with big titties. A guy don't walk away from a free booty opportunity, not even for his best friend. That's Man-Law, ya know what I'm sayin'? Threesome tops friend any day. The only thing more important than a threesome is a foursome, so cut homie some slack."
"Ugh, am I the only guy in this town who doesn't think with his penis?" Greg grumbled, "Whatever, that's why I'm hating life more than I was hating it before I left home tonight, which was a lot, which brings me to my point." He extended his booze-shaky hand. "I'm CSI Greg Sanders, does that ring a bell? Because if it does and you hate me, this is your lucky night," he leaned in to read the man's photo ID card, "Malcolm Reynolds I won't put up a fight if you want to kill me, because if I wasn't such a wuss, I'd do it myself. Don't make it a beating though, I'd prefer one kill shot in the third eye, right here," he tried to point to the spot, but missed and poked himself in the pupil, "Ow! That hurt."
"CSI Sanders, hell yeah I know who you are. You've been all over my TV. You're the guy who ran over Demetrius James." The cabbie gladly shook the man's hand. "Sorry to disappoint you, son, but I ain't gonna kill you. I'm pleased to meet you as a matter of fact."
"This isn't a cab, it's the Twilight Zone," Greg crashed against the cab's worn seat humming the old TV theme. "How can you not hate me?"
"I'll tell you why." Driving away, Malcolm explained, "A thug's bullet killed my fourteen year old nephew Tyrell last year. I hate thugs. I saw on TV how the James family is dancin' in the street and spendin' their 2.5 mil. That's not grief, those assholes are smilin' and givin' tours of their million dollar crib to news reporters. That mother raised a thug and now she's livin' like a thug's mama, and I'm supposed to feel sorry for her ass? No one gave my sister shit when Tyrell died, and she was raisin' him to be a preacher, not a killer. No, I don't hate you. Hell, I may be your biggest fan. Do me a favor and run over a few more thugs next week."
"While I appreciate the support," Greg moaned from the backseat, "I'm still having nightmares over the last one, so I'll have to pass." Holding his spinning head, he quietly said, "But thank you for not hating me, because sometimes it feels like every black person does."
"Nah, there's lots of us that don't, but we don't get on TV, 'cause angry black folks up their ratings and prop the myth." Checking his rear view mirror, he said, "You don't look so good. If you want me to hate you, pukin' in my cab is the way to go."
Greg whimpered, "Trust me, I don't want to puke, I hate puking, I always have. I know that sounds pretty wimpy, but it's not an unfounded phobia. When I was eight, I woke up in the middle of the night with a stomach ache. I was on the toilet with the runs when I puked so hard that I passed out and hit my head on the tub. My mom found me in a pool of blood, poop, and vomit and naturally thought I was dead, because you know…everything comes pouring out when you die. She started shaking me and screaming at the top of her lungs and then she burst into tears and rocked me in her arms. As you can imagine, I was totally freaked out when I came too in my mommy's embrace and saw us both covered in my excrement, vomit and blood. Oops…overshare." He closed his eyes. "I think I'll pass out now."
After walking five blocks back to the motel in awkward silence, Gil hoped to heal his wounded ego by fulfilling his decades-old Jacuzzi fantasy.
"Are we clean yet?" Sara asked when she strolled over to the tub that her favorite scientist had been testing for bacterial contamination.
As the stench of Bleach assaulted his nostrils, Gil confidently replied, "I'm quite certain you won't find a cleaner Jacuzzi in any hotel anywhere."
"Well…since they're all crawling with germs that's really not all that comforting." The reluctant lover pecked her determined man's cheek. "But I trust you enough to toss my robe and take the plunge."
"I'll turn on the bubbles." Just like that, Gil felt sixteen again.
"Ooh, the temperature is perfect," Sara remarked while dipping her toes. "I'm all in."
"Hey…that's my line," Gil joked, having a fantastic time once more.
"You're a dirty old man when you're drunk."
"Did you have to say old?" Sighing, Gil shoved his boxer briefs to the floor.
"Aww." Feeling bad, Sara patted the water, "C'mere, stud. Rock my world."
"You're funny when you're drunk, Sidle."
"That's not all I am when I'm drunk." Sara slid onto her lover's lap. "I get frisky too."
Using jealousy as foreplay, Gil puckishly remarked, "Did you get drunk when you went to that wine dump in Pahrump?"
Turned on by her man's possessiveness, she murmured, "I've never been with a man in a Jacuzzi ever, so you could totally screw this up and I'll think it was my best time."
"Good to know."
"Mmm…" Sara gazed into her man's eager eyes.
"Mmm…" Gil lost himself in his woman's loving gaze.
Two minutes later, Sara delicately suggested, "Maybe I need to…"
"Yes, I think that would help," Gil anxiously confirmed when nothing was happening down below.
"How's that?"
"That's good…yes…perfect." He vigorously nodded. "I'm sure that will do the trick."
But it didn't.
"It's the hot water," Sara sweetly whispered in her sullen lover's ear after five earnest minutes of trying.
"And I don't know about you, honey, but the strong smell of bleach is making me think of a covered up murder scene, not love scene."
"I was thinking that too, but I didn't want to bring us down with morbidity."
"Did you have to say down?" the fifty year old droned.
"I have an idea." After a delicate kiss to her disappointed man's nose, Sara said, "How about you sit on the edge of the Jacuzzi and dangle your feet in the water? Would that count enough to cross the fantasy off your list?"
"I'm certain it would, yes." His spirit renewed, Gil poised himself outside of the tub. The cool air immediately rousing him, he snickered, "This is better already."
"I can see that." Eager to please the man who had gone out of his way to fulfill many of her many of her fantasies, both sexual and non, she didn't hold back.
"Sooooo good," Gil rasped a few minutes later when he lifted his mouth from Sara's chest. "Honey?" She looked pained. "Are you okay?"
Bummed that he had noticed, Sara confessed, "The chemicals in the hot tub…"
"Oh."
"I thought you were close so I didn't say anything." Smiling through the awkward moment, she pointed to the bathroom. "I have some gel in my overnight bag, I'll grab it and we'll pick up where we left off."
"I'll be here," he assured as his thoughtful lover slid off his lap. "And if you…" The sudden sensation of falling took Gil by surprise, rendering him speechless.
"Oh!" Sara screamed when she saw her man fall backwards off the Jacuzzi's edge and land on the floor with his feet in the air. "Are you okay?"
"Um…" Flailing like a five-legged turtle, Gil tried to ignore the searing pain shooting down his back. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine." Sara rushed over to help him to his feet.
"OH!" Gil instinctively grabbed his lower back. "It's nothing."
"From the look on your face I don't believe you." Taking his hand, she attempted to pull him standing, but their wet grips were slick and she ended up accidentally dropping him after only a few feet. "Sorry!"
"It's okay, I'll do it myself," Gil breathed through the pain.
"I'll get towels." Sara rushed off.
Gripping the Jacuzzi's edge, he struggled to his feet.
"Here!" Sara gently placed the towel around his shoulders.
"Thank you," he panted.
Attempting to use humor to get past the embarrassment, Sara smiled and asked, "Wanna take it to the bed for the big finish?"
"I had something else in mind." Steadying himself against the wall, Gil closed his eyes. "I think I'll pass out now."
"Hey!" Nick tore out of the house with his pistol when he saw Greg being dragged up the sidewalk by a huge black man. "Nick Stokes LVPD! Who are you and what did you do to him?"
Malcolm instinctively raised his hands. "We're cool."
"Ow!" Greg yelped when his head hit the sidewalk. "What did you do that for, Malcolm?"
"You know him, G?" Nick engaged the gun's safety.
"Yeah, Trigger, I'm his cabbie," Malcolm pointed to the sidewalk. "He didn't have enough cash in his wallet to pay his fare, something about spendin' it all on expensive booze and cheap women. I had to drag his drunk ass all the way here from the parking lot so he could pay from his piggy bank."
"Look..." Flat on his back looking up at the sky, Greg pointed, "Orion's Belt…Big Dipper…Little Dipper."
"Sorry, man." Nick felt ridiculous for being wasted enough to pull his gun on a cab driver. "I thought…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know exactly what you thought."
While Greg rattled off constellations, Nick reached for his wallet. "How much does Copernicus owe you?"
"Thirty-five before tip, and he promised me a big tip."
Nick laughed in the extortionist's face. "Nice try, but I know where he came from, man. That was a twenty dollar fare, tops."
"Yeah, but he got me confused with Dr. Phil and asked me to take the long way because he needed someone to talk to."
"That I'd believe." Nick shook his head and held up fifty bucks. "Is that enough for your trouble?"
"You friggin' pulled a gun on me, man." Malcolm held out his palm. "You better toss in another twenty. Make that thirty, 'cause therapy sessions aren't cheap in this town and your friend has a lot of problems." Snatching the eighty bucks, he laughed, "How was the threesome by the way?"
"Wow, he really did talk, didn't he?"
"Oh yeah, Tequila Greg spilled it all," Malcolm grinned at his drunk passenger's secret love. "For another twenty I'll tell ya what he said about you."
"You took the last of my cash and I already know why he's pissed off." Nick bent over to scrape his buddy off the sidewalk. "He's ticked I made him go out with stupid women tonight."
"That's close," Malcolm walked away laughing. "Just as well he won't remember nothin' in the morning."
"Come on." Supporting his buddy's dead weight, Nick walked inside. "You've had enough adventure for one night, Toad." He kicked the door closed behind them.
"H…how can you be here?" Greg tried to focus his eyes. "You're doing the nasty with Dumb and Dumber…and I do mean nasty." He cringed.
"When Trista came in and said you left because she called you a loser, I took off after you." Dragging his housemate down the hall, Nick confessed, "I've been worried sick that you went for a walk and got jumped, that's why I went off on your cab driver."
"You gave up a threesome because you were worried about me?" Greg's heart soared as Nick threw him onto the bed. "That goes against Man Law."
"Yeah, well, it wasn't much of a sacrifice." Pulling off his buddy's shoes, Nick burst out laughing, "The truth is, I drank so much tequila, I couldn't get it up. You should have seen their reaction when I grabbed my moose boxers and ran. Ha! Runnin' out to chase you when you got your feelings hurt. Oh yeah, those two must really think I'm queer for you now." He jokingly patted Greg's cheek. "Who loves ya, baby?"
"You do," Greg dreamily sighed as the room spun out of control. "Cletus…I…I really need to let this out."
"You mean…"
"Yes! I can't believe this is happening!" Clutching his head, Greg panted, "It feels so...OH! What are you doing?"
"Sorry, didn't mean to hurt you," Nick apologized after abruptly yanking Greg's shirt off. "Let's go!" he tugged his buddy to his feet.
"Where? Why can't we stay in the bedroom?" Greg moaned, feeling too weak to go anywhere.
"Because I don't want to make a mess in here, G."
"A mess?" Greg's anxiety skyrocketed and sweat poured down his face.
"Yeah, a mess. If there's spillage, it'll be much easier to wipe up tile than carpet." Rushing for the bathroom, Nick teased, "I've never seen you this trashed, Greggo, it's fun. It makes it real easy to mess with you and I intend to take full advantage of the situation."
"Uh…" Greg grabbed his aching gut. "Confession time…I'm really scared, like stomach-in-knots scared."
"Don't worry, I know you are," Nick assured, knowing all about his friend's vomiting phobia. "It'll be okay, you're in good hands."
"OH!" Greg exclaimed as the apparently impatient lover behind him pushed him to his knees. "What are you doing?"
"Getting you in position."
"No! I don't want to do this."
"It's gonna happen, so there's no point in fightin' it." Nick positioned his buddy's hands around the toilet bowl before rushing out to get a can of Sprite.
"Are you crazy? I don't want my first time to be over a toilet." Sweating buckets, Greg panted into the bowl, "I meant what I said about sex being a big deal to me. I'm looking for a serious relationship, not a screw buddy, and no means no! Ugh, I feel sick." He shook violently. "Really sick."
"We had one can of Sprite left," Nick announced upon return. "I'll put it on the sink for after." When he slid the can onto the counter, he knocked off Greg's toothpaste. "Oops." He bent over to pick up the economy-size tube of Crest.
When Greg saw his supposed friend reach for a jumbo tube of lube, he screamed, "No! I…" But his panicked protest was interrupted by a forceful stream of vomit.
"There you go, Toad." Nick crouched down, just in case his heavily intoxicated buddy passed out while violently purging. Placing his palm on Greg's back, he soothed, "You'll feel much better when you're done."
After four rounds of vomiting followed by a half dozen dry heaves, Nick handed his buddy the Sprite and started the shower. "You can't possibly have anything left after all that."
Shivering, Greg sat against the wall clutching the cold can of soda to his forehead. "Uh…" He felt ridiculous for thinking his best friend would force himself on him.
"Talk to me, G."
"Um…"
"Are ya gonna faint?"
"No…I'm okay." His stomach calming down, Greg glanced up. "Thanks for getting me to the bathroom." He raised the can. "And for the Sprite." His thoughts turned to watching Grissom doing the same for Sara when she got sick a month ago and a smile edged over his parched lips. "You're a good guy to have around in a vomit crisis."
Still buzzing from a night of booze, Nick teased, "And you're one hell of a sloppy vomiter. Look at you. It's on your clothes, in your hair. You got the cabinets and the floor too." Shaking his head, he chuckled, "I think there's a part for you in the next Exorcist movie." Smiling, he bent over and pulled off his buddy's socks. "Let's get you in the shower, Linda Blair."
"Ha!" Even though all evidence that evening told him a romance wouldn't happen in a million years and he had given up, in that moment, Greg felt himself falling head over heels once again.
"Careful now," Nick warned while grabbing his buddy's arm.
"Yeah." Greg gripped the towel rack. "Give me a sec, okay? I'm a little dizzy."
"No problem, I'll help you, and don't worry about the mess, I'll clean it up when you're done in here."
"Uh…" When he felt Nick working open his jeans, Greg squeaked, "You don't have to do that."
"Are you kiddin?" Vomit stench in the air, Nick chuckled, "You're not in any condition to clean, and it'll be a dried smelly nightmare in here by mornin'."
When Nick's fingertips collided with his flesh, Greg desperately willed his body not to react. Think dead puppies!
"Are you ticklish?" Nick asked when Greg covered his mouth and laughed.
"Uh huh." Dead bloody puppies! As his pants and boxers hit the floor, Greg gave an anxious chuckle, "Okay, I…um…I can take it from here." Dead bloody mangled puppies!
"Aww, look who's shy." Nick's tequila laugh echoed in the small bathroom. "No, I'm gonna help you into the shower, because you can barely stand, no less walk, and I don't want to add blood from a cracked head to the mess." Seeing his buddy tense up, he sweetly said, "Sorry, I forgot you didn't play sports. Usin' crowded locker rooms and communal showers with jocks you get desensitized." He winked. "Don't worry, I promise not to peek."
"That's what Sara said before our decontamination shower, but she did."
With their eyes locked on each other, the jock laughed, "Why so paranoid about people glimpsin' the goods? Huh? What kind of freak show are ya runnin' down there, G? Are we talkin' about an odd number of testicles…a crooked snake…what?" He lowered to a whisper, "Wait, is that why you didn't want to bang Trista? Because you have jacked up plumbing? Seriously, you coulda told me."
"Ha! There's nothing wrong my plumbing, dude." Suddenly feeling much better, Greg's drunken silliness returned full force. "I didn't want to bang Trista because I like to keep my parts germ-free. But I told Sara not to peek, because whenever you tell someone not to do something, it makes them twice as curious. It was a tactical move, if you get my drift."
Leaning in, Nick chuckled, "You mean you were usin' Reverse Psychology to get Sara to check out your package? You dog, you."
"That's me. Arf." Greg gulped for air as the walls and Nick seemingly closed in on him Wait…why am I worried? The tequila will keep me down. "Unfortunately, my plan for Sara didn't work out too well. One glimpse of my goods and she panicked."
"Panicked?" Nick's curiosity intensified. "Why'd Sara panic?"
"She was afraid I'd be too much man for her. You know…" in a deeper, cockier voice, Greg revealed, "not everyone can handle an Anaconda."
"Ha! Right." Nick fought the urge to verify if it was true.
Greg laughed, "Eyes up! Don't look!" I'm so totally flirting with you right now, and you're clueless. God this is fun. "It's kind of a Medusa effect, one glimpse and you'll die a slow, painful death…of intense jealousy."
"As if," Nick rolled his eyes while dying of curiosity.
Reverse Psychology is a powerful thing, isn't it? "Check my nightstand drawer…only Magnum XLs, mi amigo." Smirking, Greg walked by his buddy and stepped into the shower. "I saw you peek."
"Did not!"
"And it was a little chilly out there."
"Ha! Dream on." Nick hustled out of the bathroom staring at his suddenly inferior crotch. "Damn."
Greg yelled from behind the shower curtain. "You're checking my nightstand drawer, aren't you, Cletus!"
"No!" Nick yelled while caught in the act. "I was bein' nice and grabbin' you a fresh pair of boxers, ya ingrate!" He peeked into the nightstand drawer and laughed into his hand when he saw a nearly depleted jumbo bottle of lotion, an unopened variety-pack of regular-sized condoms, and four different kinds of lube, all with their factory safety seals firmly in place. Noting that the condoms were expired, he snickered, "I guess it really has been 'Sanders, Party of One' for a while." The CSI in him couldn't stop snooping. No porn in the sex drawer. I wonder where he keeps it? He moved to check the other nightstand…then under the bed…and behind the headboard.
"So busted!" Greg yelled from the bathroom door while securing a towel around his waist. "You know I keep my boxers in the closet, you saw me grab a pair before we went out. And what kind of CSI are you if you can't find a pair of boxers in ten minutes?"
"Has it been that long?" Returning to the first nightstand drawer, Nick said, "I was gonna have to confess anyway." He retrieved the outdated condoms and walked over to his pal. "Just in case you didn't know…these are expired. Should the opportunity arise, I wouldn't want you to use one and have a girl end up pregnant."
"Wouldn't that be a shocker?" Enjoying the inside joke, Greg snatched the box and threw it in the bathroom trash basket. "Are you done snooping?"
"For now." Nick rubbed his stomach. "I'm hungry. Are you up to eatin' somethin'? I'm gonna walk down the street to IHOP for pancakes."
Running his fingers through his wet hair, Greg replied, "I'll pass, thanks."
"Oh." Nick sighed, "Okay, I'll just get take out then."
"And don't worry about cleaning, I've got it."
"You sure?" Nick asked, feeling bad he had forgotten his promise.
"Yeah, I'm feeling much better." Standing in the doorway of his bathroom, Greg continued his secret game, "Thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a great time."
"Really?" Nick asked through a smile, "Even with the annoying skanky women?"
"I was blocking that part."
After a shared laugh, Nick said, "I had a great time too. Seriously, we should do it again soon."
"Definitely."
"Yeah." Nick winked at his buddy. "I'll find better women next time. Seriously, don't worry, I promise."
"Okay then, I won't give women another thought." Greg's smile doubled, "Good night, Cletus."
"Yeah." With a goofy grin plastered on his face, Nick strolled for the door. "I'll see you in the morning, G."
"Hey," Sara quietly entered her injured man's ER cubicle. "Have the pain meds kicked in yet?" She had been waiting in the hall for him to return from an MRI of his lower back.
"Finally, yes, I'm feeling no pain." He extended a shaky hand. "Except for my ego, it's still smarting and apparently morphine-resistent."
"Plenty of twenty-something guys have fallen from Jacuzzis during sex." Slipping her hand into Gil's, Sara pushed out a smile. "I read somewhere that it's the second most common Spring Break injury for men."
"What's number one?" the ever-curious scientist queried.
"Erectile burnout."
"Of course." Gil sighed, "I'm sure the twenty-somethings bounce back from their falls and continue partying. Me…I end up in an ambulance." Because Sara's BAC would have been over legal, their only option when he was doubled over in agony was to call 911.
"Don't be embarrassed, awkward things always happen during sex. That's why it's important to be friends before you're lovers, so you don't have to worry about making a fool out of yourself." She squeezed his hand. "Remember our first night together?"
In a drugged haze, Gil giggled, "You mean when you reached for a tissue and farted? Good times."
"See! So this is no big deal."
Quietly laughing with the love of his life, the embarrassment faded. "It's hardly apples to oranges, sweetheart. Farting is embarrassing, but painless. I had to have two burly men lift my naked ass onto a gurney."
"I think the chubby guy liked you," Sara teased. "He had this twinkle in his eye when he was feeling your body for breaks."
"Just when I thought I couldn't feel any more uncomfortable about this incident."
"It kind of turned me on," she joked, believing that laughter was indeed the best medicine.
"If you have an unsatisfied urge to watch two guys ogle and long for each other, I'll assign you to work with Nick and Greg more often."
Sara covered her mouth so her laughter wouldn't disturb the other patients.
"Sorry, it's the morphine talking," Gil explained. "And ever since Greg's reaction to the blender, I keep seeing something there."
"I think you making Greg gay is your subconscious way of eliminating him as a competitor." She corrected his perception. "Broken back or not…you have nothing to fear. I don't care what George Bernard Shaw said, you're irreplaceable to me."
Her words warming his heart, Gil quietly replied, "I love you, Sara. I'm sorry our first public date didn't turn out better."
"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of other chances," she assured him with her eyes and a tender kiss to his parched lips, "because I'm not going anywhere."
"Good to know," he whispered as the medication's sedative effects intensified. "I'm getting sleepy."
"Sweet dreams."
"I'll finish out my hot tub fantasy and give it a much happier ending."
"You do that." Sara pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, Honey."
***
Chapter 14: Unconditional Love"A little better," Greg moaned into his cell phone as he lay in bed gripping his throbbing head. "Wait…what time is it?" He strained to see the alarm clock. "Jeeeez, Mom," he groaned out of irritation and from the hangover pain. "It's only eight forty." Thanks to the sunlight-blocking blinds on the windows it was still pitch black in the room even though it was Sunday morning. "I was sound asleep."
"Sound asleep? But you should be just getting in from your graveyard shift, dear. I'm looking right at the copy of your schedule that you emailed me. You know I print it and tack it to the fridge, so I can keep track. Does this mean you're not working midnight to eight anymore? Because you know I hate…"
"No, sorry to disappoint you, I'm still working graveyard. Grissom negotiated a weekend off for us because we've been pulling a lot of OT." After clicking on his nightstand lamp, he saw a water bottle with a post-it note on it that read 'Drink Me'. Next to the bottle were two Excedrin poised on a post-it with the words 'Swallow Me'. A third note read 'I had a feeling you'd be hurting after our adventure with Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber last night. There's a take out box from IHOP in the fridge for you too.'
"Greg!"
"Sorry," Greg chuckled into the phone. "I got distracted reading the cute note my date left on the nightstand."
"Date? What date?"
"Doh! I said that out loud?" Greg tossed the Excedrin in his mouth and grabbed the water bottle.
"What was her name?" Jan asked with a hopeful lilt.
"Trista," he covered. "Nick set us up."
"Did she have any potential?"
"Yes, for transmitting STDs."
"Please tell me you used a condom."
"No, I didn't, because things never got that far and, Mom," crawling out of bed, Greg droned, "you do realize that normal mothers don't expect to hear every detail of their son's sex life, right?"
"I don't want the gory details of your personal life, son, I just need to know you're safe and happy."
Padding to the bathroom, he joked, "Then you have nothing to worry about, because I have a very strong, clean hand."
"That was uncalled for," Jan scolded while laughing.
"I need to pee, Mother. Would you like me to hold the phone close to the stream, so you can assess my prostate health?"
"No, you little ingrate, I was calling because you were so depressed about hurting Jenni when I spoke to you yesterday, that I was worried, but I can see you're in a pissy mood, so..."
"Pissy! Ha! Yes, I told you I have to pee." When he heard Jan sniffle, Greg softened, "Okay, okay, don't get upset. I appreciate you checking on me. Let me put you on hold while I pull myself together and then we'll talk. I want to talk…really, don't hang up."
"Fine," Jan huffed.
"Be right back." While setting his cell on the counter, Greg saw his discarded jeans and boxers on the bathroom floor and smiled. Between Nick's silliness the previous night and the cute notes on the nightstand, it was incredibly easy to believe there was something going on between them. "No," he warned his reflection when he stopped to check his bloodshot eyes in the mirror.
"God, I feel like shit." Tossing up the toilet seat, Greg lectured himself that Jeff used to do a lot of the same things as Nick. He used to leave funny notes and joke around. He sat flirtatiously close on the couch and touched his arm and shoulders during conversations. But after being so wrong about his old roommate, he wasn't about to make the same mistake with his new one. He had learned the hard way that wishful thinking can make even the most innocent gesture seem like a grand romantic move and sometimes a straight man can accidentally encourage a hopelessly romantic guy without knowing how he's being perceived.
Maybe it's time for a look at the term paper, huh, Sanders? Through a Spring 2005 Stanford Alumni newsletter profiling graduates on the move, Greg had learned that Jeff was now working as a DNA Analyst in Seattle and married to a woman named Cecilia and that they had two children, Peyton and Connor, as well as a Collie named Max. The article contained a family photo snapped during a summer vacation on the Oregon coast. It wasn't until he saw that piece of visual evidence that he truly believed he had been wrong about his best buddy that fateful day. Believing the saying 'a picture is worth a thousand words', he deemed the Garsen family snapshot as a term paper on his inability to accurately assess a man's true desires, and he kept the newsletter in his desk in case he needed a reminder.
"I hate hangovers." After flushing the toilet and washing his hands, Greg bent down to pick up the clothes his housemate had so kindly removed for him the previous night. It was all a drunken blur, but recalling his near-confession he vowed to lay off drinking tequila with his buddy, and made a promise never to reveal his secret desire unless Nick made an overt physical move, or said something definitive.
"I'm back, Mom," Greg announced when the phone was against his ear again. Trembling from alcohol shakes and a trip down bad memory lane, he apologized, "I'm sorry I was rude. I'm really hungover and in a very bad mood, but I shouldn't take it out on you." He slid down the wall and sat in the exact spot he had been laughing with Nick only hours before. The spot where he had fallen harder than ever for the cowboy whose smile made his heart rate soar. "I love you, Mom." The emotion of the last forty-eight hours catching up with him, his voice cracked, "And I really do need someone to talk to. I think I paid a cab driver to listen to me last night, that's how desperate I am, not to mention pathetic."
"My goodness, what's wrong, sweetheart?"
"What's not wrong?" he replied, as tears built in his eyes. "On top of everything I already told you, last night my stupid date went on and on about how guys treat her like crap and how her boyfriend broke up with her the day before her birthday because he didn't want to spring for a card and gift." His head and heart pounding, he said, "She was desperate to have sex, but I told her I didn't believe in casual sex with strangers and I wouldn't take advantage of her being drunk and vulnerable on her birthday. She raged at me and called me a loser. Can you believe it? Once again, I do the right thing and I get shit on. If I had just slammed Trista down on the kitchen table and screwed her senseless, I would have been her freakin' knight in shining armor."
"But, honey, you did the right thing and I'm proud of you for it. I know it's not fair that you keep getting shit on in return for your trouble, but the world has never been a fair place and unfortunately, too many people don't appreciate good morals and ethics anymore. This Trista sounds like an ignorant witch, just like Lacey, and I know it's discouraging, but you can't give up, sweetie. Don't become one of them, stay who you are."
"That's what Nick told me too."
"Then that's another reason I really like that boy."
Greg's mouth inched into a smile. He took care of me when I vomited last night, you'd like him for that too.
"Keep the faith, honey. One day soon you're going to find a nice, sweet girl to marry and…"
"Mom…" He closed his eyes, really not in the mood to hear about grandkids.
"You'll have kids and raise them right, just like your father and I raised you. I know you don't believe me, but it'll all work out."
"Mom, don't…"
"Seriously, honey, I know it feels hopeless now, but one day when you have the grandkids here for a visit, we'll look back on this conversation and laugh about how you thought it would never…"
"Stop!" he yelled into the phone. "Stop the grandkids talk! Stop!"
"I…I'm sorry, Greg, I was just trying to cheer you up by painting a rosy picture."
Tears spilling from his eyes, he quietly said, "I think it's time we dealt with the reality that grandkids probably won't happen. I'm thirty two, I haven't had a serious relationship in ten years, and…I'm sorry, Mom." He sucked in a jagged breath, "I'm really sorry."
"Honey…" Jan broke the silence a minute later, "I meant what I said earlier, I want you safe and happy. If my wishes for grandkids have made you think that I would be angry with you or not love you any more if you told me you were...if you said you were…oh, God…help me out here, Greg, are you waiting for me say it, or do you want me to wait for you to say it? If you're not sure of the protocol, I could check the PFLAG website I've had bookmarked for years."
An anxious laugh tumbled from Greg's mouth as he cried.
"I love you unconditionally, honey, now please say it so we can move on…so you can too."
"Okay." Greg wiped his tears and confessed what his mother already suspected, "I like girls, Mom, I really do, but I like boys too…maybe even a little more."
"Are you sure? I'm not trying to sway you, I don't even believe that's possible when a person is truly…gay. I just…I need to understand how you know, because you've seemed awfully confused over the years and I guess I just need to hear a definitive explanation. You can tell me anything, sweetheart, you know that. We're both adults now, and I'm hardly a prude."
"Yeah, I know," He forced some levity, "Until we moved into the big house I grew up listening to you and Dad get it on across the hall, remember?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, we thought we were being discrete?"
"Yeah, okay, let's get back to answering your question before I sober up." Relieved and anxious at the same time, he started, "Ever since puberty, I've been crushing both girls and guys. I spent many days and nights trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, or what was right is more accurate I guess. In high school, I kissed Kelli Conrad and Bart Pillard in the same week, and both make out sessions felt equally fantastic. I went away to Stanford confused, but when I fell in love with Lacey, she was the only person I ever thought about, so I thought the guy thing was just a phase. After getting dumped by that lying skank for maintaining my virginity pledge, I went out and bedded the first slut who would have me."
"You used a condom, right?" Jan laughed as she cried. "Because I want grandkids, but not a slut's lovechild."
"Yes, I did, and while we're clearing things up, please know I've never had sex without a condom in my life and stop asking me."
"Okay, and what about what you swore on your Nana's grave about?"
"I was telling the truth."
"Then how do you know for sure, honey? Kissing is hardly a determining factor. If you've only had sex with girls, how do you know you'll even enjoy being intimate with a guy?"
"Jan, you've been around the block," he joked his way through the sensitive question, "You know there are other things two people can…"
"Got it!"
"Good, because I really didn't know how I was going to rephrase my answer."
"Was Jeff one of those boys?"
"No," he snipped.
"What really happened with him?"
All the levity gone from his voice, Greg replied, "I fell harder for him than Lacey, and I thought he felt the same. He did so many things that led me to that conclusion, and I figured he was like me…too scared to say it out loud. On my birthday he gave me this great gift and I hugged him. The way he hugged me back, I was 100 sure I was right. I looked him in the eyes and said it was okay, that I had fallen in love with him too. He responded by pushing me away and telling me he wasn't queer. When I shared my theory about him being in denial he beat the crap out of me. He probably would have choked me to death if his basketball teammate hadn't shown up and pulled him off me."
"I knew it! Is it too late to press charges, Gregory?"
"Yes."
"What about a civil suit? Because I want him to pay for what he did to you! I'll donate the money to the charity of your choice, but he needs to pay!"
"Mom, he's married with two kids, I wouldn't want to ruin the kids lives, would you?"
"No," she sighed. "See you get your kindness gene from me! I'm a big softie when it comes to kids, you know that. Ugh! But I'll tell you, if I ever see him somewhere, he's going to hear an earful…if his kids aren't with him."
"Okay, Mama Bear." Greg continued, "Anyway, after the Jeff blowout, I took some time off from people for a while, but eventually I bounced back and dated girl, boy, girl, boy, but to be honest, Mom…no one really seems to think of me as boyfriend material. I can have all the sex I want with desperate women like Trista, and during my one and only visit to a gay bar, I had seven different guys ask me if I would bottom, but nobody wants to hang with me on a regular basis. I'm universally annoying to both genders. After one date I'm always deemed too hyper, depressing, cerebral, boring, geeky, talkative, goofy, and/or too weird." He sighed, "They're not wrong, I am all of those things…sometimes all of those things within a span of an hour. Most people can't deal with me. My job stress, and the crazy work hours don't help either."
"I know you said Sara is off the market, but this is exactly why a girl like her would be good for you, honey…besides understanding the stress of your job and the odd hours, she's very butchy, so it would be like having a boy and a girl at the same time. Sure she couldn't…uh…but if you've made it to thirty-two years old without having intercourse with a boy when you've been naked with one, then you can probably live without it, don't you think? Honestly, I've done the backdoor thing, and if you're on the receiving end it's really not much to write home about unless you're very drunk, then I'll admit it's quirky fun, like using cuffs or edible panties. Although, as I understand it, the prostate does factor in for men, so maybe the pleasure is significantly increased and..."
"Stop talking!" Greg covered his eyes. "Oh my God, stop talking! My ears are bleeding, Jan! Bleeding! Oh! We were doing so well and then you leapt out of the comfort zone. I so didn't need to know you were doing that across the hall with Dad."
"I never said I was with your father," Jan snickered. "I went to college for a year you know, and it was a wild year, let me tell you."
"OH!"
"I fooled around with a girl once, got all the way to third base, well I guess two girls really can't hit a homer, now can they? Ha!"
"I can't hear you, Jan, the blood pooling in my ears has rendered me deaf."
"I guess you inherited your gayness from me then, huh? Can you do a DNA analysis and find out for sure?"
"Sorry, there's no definitive process for that yet." Laughing through his extreme discomfort, Greg asked, "What about pot, Jan? Did you spark up in between sordid romps?"
"Yes, but I didn't inhale."
"Ha! I knew it! My mommy was a burner. I guess I inherited my taste for weed from you too."
"No, you got that from your father. I only dabbled, but he used to grow his own until you were born. I was too worried you'd eat the plants and die, so I made him give up the hobby."
The mention of his father jarred him back to reality. "Hey, um…don't tell Dad about me, okay? I'll tell him eventually, but you know I don't like disappointing him, and…"
"Honey, if I had a dime for every time your father said 'I wish he would just tell us he's gay already' I could buy a Tiffany necklace. Can we please tell him? You or me, or we can do it together."
"Really?" Greg asked in surprise. "You think he's going to be okay?"
"He's said the only thing that would upset him is knowing how badly I want grandchildren, but there's always surrogacy! Hey, if Nick turns out gay, he told me he loves kids and is a fantastic uncle. Maybe…"
"And just like that Jan goes from supportive friend back to meddlesome mother. Thank you for righting the universe, Mom." After sharing a laugh, Greg sweetly said, "And thanks for cheering me up."
"A little better," Gil moaned while Sara slipped her hand into his. Resting in his hospital bed, he was grateful to have her back at his side. "I'm really glad you're here."
"Sorry, I meant to get back to the hospital sooner," she explained, feeling bad that it was after ten. "I didn't set the alarm clock right and then I had to call Jenni's grandfather and tell him I wouldn't be back to…"
"I forgot about that."
"It's okay." Sara tossed her purse and jacket on the visitor's chair. "I spoke to Jenni and she understood it was beyond my control." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she assured, "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
"Thank you, honey."
"So what did the doctor say?"
"Herniated disc. I'll be released this afternoon and need to follow up with my primary care physician, but the doctor said I should feel significantly better after a few days of rest, because it's not severe."
"That's a relief." Sara smiled, "The lab would fall apart if you were gone more than a few days."
"I'd like to believe that," he sighed, feeling less than confident at the moment.
Trying to put a smile on her sullen man's face, Sara joked, "If you put Catherine in charge during your recuperation I'll withhold sex for a year."
"I was thinking Warrick should run the show while I'm gone," Gil quickly replied, and after a shared laugh he said, "The doctor said I will probably be out of commission in the bedroom for a while. He's a funny guy, he told me I've herniated my booty call disc."
"I'm not worried." Sara winked. "There are other ways to be intimate and we're trained to think outside the box."
"That we are."
"So, do you need anything? A pillow fluff? A glass of water? Something to eat from the cafeteria?" Sara stood and rubbed her hands together, "This is my second chance at being a supportive girlfriend and I'm not going to blow it."
"The fact that you're still with me after last night's humiliation is the ultimate show of support, honey."
"It's going to take a lot more than that to make me run screaming."
"Something like finding me trying on your lingerie?" he teased as his mood perked and his latest dose of narcotics flowed through his veins.
"Uh…that would be negotiable," she chuckled in reply, but quickly turned serious. "In case you were wondering…lying, cheating, and violence are non-negotiable."
"Then I have nothing to worry about," he stated without hesitation. "I'd never lie, cheat, or hurt you, Sara."
"Then I have nothing to worry about either." Leaning over, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "You need some water," she stated after kissing his parched mouth.
As Sara filled his pink plastic hospital cup, Gil distantly remarked, "With the exception of my mother, every woman I've trusted has lied to me." Feeling uninhibited from the medication, he shared, "After my father died, I grew very close to my mother. I've told you as much. It was a very healthy relationship, so when I went out into the world and began trying to fit in socially, I didn't have any negative feelings about women. It was very easy for me to believe that all women were just like my mother…sweet and honest. She loved me unconditionally, and I was naïve enough to think that girls would too." A goofy grin emerged. "Boy was I wrong about that. My mother's love was unconditional, but every girl I met was hyper-critical. At home I could do no wrong, but in the dating world, I couldn't do anything right. I guess I still carry that baggage with me."
"I have some overstuffed suitcases as well, don't worry." Sara handed over the water. "Unlike you though, I entered the dating world with no faith in men."
"Rightly so considering what you've shared about your father."
"Yeah."
"I was the Biology Club President in high school. I didn't date until my senior year when this girl, Lisa Swanson, a fellow geek, asked me to help her on a project. She was my first kiss and I was quite smitten." Sighing, he said, "But she dumped me for Barney Panko, the Chemistry Club President."
"Lost out to a Chem geek, huh?" Sara teased, "No wonder you're always jealous when it comes to Greg."
"I hadn't considered that possibility," Gil chuckled, "you may be on to something."
"My first serious boyfriend was a guy named Jake Fife. He was twenty and worked part-time on campus at Harvard, in the maintenance department. His uncle was in charge and got him the job. We met when he was fixing the plumbing in my dorm. He wasn't anything like the other guys I had met. He wasn't a geek. He was going to community college, majoring in business." Retaking her seat on the bed's edge, she somberly shared, "I was having a great time with him, I really thought he was different. Then one night right after finals, we went out celebrating. We had been drinking and we got into an argument about something stupid, I don't even remember what it was, and…he smacked me."
Gil reached out for Sara's hand.
"He immediately apologized," she distantly said, thinking back to the horrible night. "I was afraid, so I accepted the apology. I even had make up sex with him, because I just didn't know what he'd do if I didn't. After that, I made an excuse about having to work on campus in the morning. I went back to my dorm and saw my cheek was bright red. Instinctively I reached for makeup to cover it up. I had seen my mother do that so many times, I guess it was second nature." After a deep breath, she said, "I was her…drunk, bruised, and covering up the truth. I had to break the cycle. I packed my things and was on a bus to California in the morning."
"That's why you transferred to Berkeley?" Gil queried, feeling bad for never asking the question before.
"Yeah." She flicked a tear from her cheek. "Smarter, stronger and determined to never find myself in that situation again. I managed to successfully never date another violent man, but unfortunately my radar for liars and cheaters never developed."
"You're safe with me," Gil assured, "I know how it feels to be lied to and cheated on. I can't imagine inflicting that pain on someone I love, and you are certainly someone, Sara Sidle…and you are everything to me."
"You're very romantic when you're drugged," she sniffled. "Thank you."
"No, thank you. Before you came to see me, I felt like a loser," he confessed. "Hearing the twenty-something doctor ramble on about men my age and injuring my booty-call disc…it wasn't a good morning." He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. "Thanks for cheering me up."
"G! You have a delivery!" Nick shouted from the front door.
"A delivery?" Greg sat up on the couch just in time to see his housemate carrying a jumbo gift basket into the living room.
"FTD's Garden Paradise Fruit Basket," Nick said while reading the tag. "Pretty fancy, this had to set someone back. I'll be honest, I was tempted to claim it for myself and not give ya the card." He handed over the envelope.
"It's from my dad." Immediately getting the joke, Greg's laughter filled the room.
"My dad never sends me anything," Nick huffed as he set the basket on the coffee table. "You're lucky."
"Yeah, I really am," Greg gushed as he silently re-read the supportive message.
Orange you silly…of course I still love you.
You'll always be the apple of my eye, son.
Everything's peachy keen with me, don't worry.
Enjoy the FRUIT basket!
Love, Dad
P.S. How do you feel about Cambodian adoption?
Kidding! I'm buying Jan a puppy, that should keep her happy for a while.
"About this fruit…" Nick commented while rubbing his belly, "you are gonna share, right?"
"No." Inheriting his father's wicked sense of humor, Greg laughed, "It's forbidden fruit and if you eat a piece..."
"Hey!" Nick protested, "I shared my sister's toll house cookies with you!"
"I was kidding." Greg plucked a red Fiji apple from the display and presented it. "Don't say I didn't warn you, Adam."
"I'll take my chances." Nick wasted no time biting into the apple. "Mmm, I knew it was the good stuff." He dropped onto the couch and kicked up his feet. "Thanks, G."
"My pleasure." Greg plucked a banana from the basket and peeled it.
"How is the banana?" Nick asked, watching his housemate break off a bite and stuff it in his mouth. Suddenly his apple didn't seem as appealing. "Mmm, I can smell it from here."
"Are you coveting my banana, Cletus?" Greg asked, barely able to keep a straight face.
"I like 'em like that, yeah…all yellow, but before the brown sets in."
"You want it?" Greg held out his piece of fruit. "I broke off my piece in case you were worried, Germ Boy."
"If you don't want it, yeah, potassium is good for a hangover." But then he remembered he had gained two pounds that week and handed it back. "No, that's okay."
"Really, I don't mind."
Nick laughed, "No, really."
"You can deny it, but deep down…we both know you want it."
"You know me well," Nick chuckled while snatching the fruit from his buddy's hand. "Hey, what do you want to watch?"
"Discovery Channel," Greg droned while staring at his supposedly straight buddy chomp the banana. Seriously, could you be any closer to me on the couch? What the hell am I supposed to think when you're less than a foot away?
Nick surfed up to the requested channel.
Looking at the three feet of unused couch on the opposite side of his housemate, Greg debated if his friend was sending a signal or not. I need a sign. Send me a sign!
Reaching the Discovery Channel, Nick announced, "Perfect Disaster is just about to start."
There's my sign. Greg silently laughed.
Grabbing an orange, Nick asked, "Why did your dad send you a fruit basket anyway?"
"It's a long story."
"So." Nick started peeling his orange. "It's not like we don't have time. We're just sittin' around nursin' our hangovers."
"You really want to know?" Greg gulped, feeling almost brave enough to tell the truth.
"Duh…I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."
"Right."
Resting his head on the back of the couch, Nick glanced up at his pal, "I'm waiting."
"Okay, okay." After a deep breath, Greg began, "My dad found out something today…something important…about me. My mom told him actually and he wanted to make sure that I knew…" The ring of his cell phone startled him and he wondered if it was another sign. "I better get that." He pulled the phone from his belt. "Hmm…it's Jenni's grandfather."
"What do you think he wants?"
"Knowing my luck, Undersheriff McKeen has convinced him to charge me with statutory rape." He flipped open the phone and nervously answered, "This is Greg."
Nick muted the TV and tried to figure out the gist of the conversation.
When Greg snapped the phone shut a few minutes later, he glanced over at his concerned friend. "Hmm."
"What?"
"He said Sara called from Kingman, Arizona to say she wouldn't be able to see Jenni before her surgery as promised, because she was taking care of a close friend who got injured when they were out last night."
"Sara has friends?" Nick said in surprise. "Besides us, I mean."
"I guess so," Greg answered, pretending he hadn't figured out a month ago that it was Grissom.
"What are you doin'?" Nick asked when he saw his housemate bolt from the couch. "Where are you goin'?"
"Oh, Walt asked me to come to the hospital because Jenni feels terrible for saying she hated me. She's desperate to apologize before her surgery in case something was to go wrong."
"Aww." Nick clicked off the TV and followed his pal. "I'll drive you, because you drank way more than me last night and your BAC is probably still above legal."
"I didn't think of that, thanks."
"Frog's always thinkin' of Toad," Nick joked while grabbing his jacket and keys from their hooks. "So, Sara has a secret love, huh?"
Who doesn't? Greg thought as he tugged on the A&M sweatshirt that his secret love had given him.
"A mystery guy for Sara." Nick opened the front door. "I'm gonna figure out who it is."
"I'm sure." Greg winked, "Because nothin' gets by you, Super Sleuth."
Chapter 15: Suspicious Minds"You really are a genius," Dave Sanders told his son as they stood outside of Jenni Riley's hospital room watching Jan mother the sweet, needy girl. "A teenager is much better than a puppy." At Greg's request, Jan had driven to Vegas four days ago to meet the motherless child and bestow a little of her infamous TLC. "Good job."
"Thanks, Dad," Greg proudly replied. "I really thought it would be a win-win situation for everyone. With no cash, no experience raising a teenage girl, and only a one-bedroom trailer, Grandpa Joe was freaked when he found out he was Jenni's only living relative. He's thrilled that you and mom have agreed to take her in. With him living less than an hour from you guys in California, he'll still be able to see her regularly." Watching his mother braid the girl's hair, he said, "Jenni told me not to tell her grandfather, but she was terrified about moving to his trailer park. Every time she visited there, she'd get harassed by some guys living around the corner, they'd offer her drugs and say they'd show her a good time."
"Yeah, I had my suspicions that was the case. I know the area where Joe lives and I'd be scared there after dark, so I certainly don't blame her." Dave draped his arm around his boy's shoulders. "My lawyer said he'll have the joint-guardianship papers finalized later today. You sort of won't be an only child anymore. Think you'll be okay sharing your mom?"
"Hell yes!" Grinning wide, Greg admitted, "I'm more than happy to split Jan's intensity with someone.
"I figured." Dave checked his watch. "Since your mother is occupied with Jenni, I can actually enjoy you all to myself. How about we grab some dinner before your shift starts?" It was six days since Greg had come out and he wanted to do a little bonding and assure his son all was well. "If we have time after dinner, I'll give you a hundred to burn at a Blackjack table and we'll play some cards together."
"I just need to stop home to change clothes and stock my kit, but yeah, that'd be great." Greg nodded, happy that all was well between him and his dad. "Let's go."
"You really are a genius," Gil exclaimed when his significant other showed him his reorganized closet. She had positioned all his essentials so he wouldn't have to bend over or reach up. "Now I won't aggravate my back reaching for socks."
"Did I pass the final exam for Girlfriend 101?"
"A-plus, Ms. Sidle," the professor sealed his grade with a kiss. "So what if you don't make chicken soup? Between your organization skills and your prowess in bed…I am a happy, happy man."
"And easy to please if a shoe rack and a few cheap thrills is all it takes."
"Speaking of thrills…" he selected a shirt. "I'm thrilled to be going back to work tonight."
"You've been working from home all week," Sara laughed.
"I stand corrected…I can't wait to get back into the field tonight."
"You're like a kid on Christmas Eve."
"That's exactly how I feel," Gil laughed at his geeky self. "Like when I was seven and hoping Santa would bring me an ant farm."
"Did he?"
"Of course, I was a very good boy." Fondly recalling those happy mornings, he shared, "Christmas was my favorite holiday. My mom went all out making…" He fell silent.
"I know that look." Sara smiled at her concerned significant other. "You feel bad, because you think your happy family memory has evoked a bad one for me."
"No one reads me like you do, honey."
"I actually have a good story to share, believe it or not." A bittersweet chuckle tumbled out of her mouth, "Good by Sidle Family standards anyway. The last Christmas before my father died, I woke up and saw Santa had left two naked drunks under the tree, aka my parents. I woke them up and my dad scrambled for his boxers and said Santa must have gotten lost trying to find the living room. I vividly remember him staggering down the hall and then coming back with a black garbage bag of gifts. He told me Santa must have got fed up and dropped the bag on his way out. Then he had me go back to my room for a few minutes and come out for a redo. Once my mom threw some clothes on, she made a big breakfast." After a deep breath, she sweetly said, "It's getting easier and easier to open up to you about my past."
"Good." Gil dropped a kiss onto Sara's cheek. "I feel the same way when it comes to talking to you."
Through a smile, Sara said, "I need to shower for work."
Gil followed his mate out of the closet, "You know…I've having one hell of a time washing my back due to my limited range of motion. Do you think…"
Pulling back the shower curtain, she motioned for her man to join her. "Let's go."
"It's good to see you again." Walking into the kitchen, Dave extended his hand towards Nick for a shake. "We met when Greg was in the hospital, remember?"
"Yeah, good to see you again too, Mr. Sanders." It was like looking at Greg thirty years from now. Nick smiled, "Glad that we're meetin' under much better circumstances."
"Please…call me Dave."
"Okay, Dave, I will. Uh…" With wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist, Nick apologized, "Sorry, I got hungry showerin', so I ran out here for a bite before getting dressed. Where's Greg at anyway?"
"Taking out the trash."
"He's so good about that," Nick laughed.
"It was his job at home from the time he was nine."
"That explains it."
"Hey, if you're hungry, then you're in luck, I'm taking Greg to Blackstone's Steak House at the Monte Carlo where Jan and I are staying. Why don't you get dressed and come with us."
"Really? I don't want impose if you two had special plans."
"It wouldn't be an imposition at all." Dave smiled at the man his wife had told him Greg secretly adored. "As a matter of fact, I insist on buying you the best steak in the house. It's the least I can do for you since you very generously invited my son to share your home."
"Alright then, you're on." Already tasting filet mignon, Nick hurried down the hall. "I need about five minutes."
"No problem." When he heard the front door open, Dave turned to inform his son, "I hope you don't mind, but I just invited Nick to join us for dinner."
Happy to hear the news, Greg chuckled, "That carnivore will be thrilled to eat at Blackstone's."
"Yeah, he seemed excited." Dave pulled his boy close. "He was only wearing a towel," he snickered, "you have very good taste."
"Dad!" Greg simultaneously laughed and panicked. "I can't believe…"
"You know Jan tells me everything."
Greg whispered in reply, "Then she also told you that Nick's never said he's gay and him finding out about me would be a disaster."
"According to your mother he's deeply repressed, and considering he walked out here dripping wet in a towel looking for you…I'd have to agree."
"Yeah, well until proven otherwise, we say nothing. Promise me."
"I promise."
"It's good to see you again," Ecklie greeted his top lab man when they met in the hall. "This place isn't the same without you, Gil."
"You had to get your hands dirty, huh?"
"Yeah," Conrad droned, "so make sure your kitchen floor is dry before you walk on it from here on out."
"Trust me, I won't be repeating my mistake."
"A lot has happened around here while you were gone."
Gil pointed toward the exit. "I'm meeting Brass and Sidle at the diner so they can fill me in."
"Good." As his employee walked off, Conrad yelled, "remember, no more walking on wet floors!"
"I promise."
"How are the appetizers?" Dave queried from his side of the booth were he was sipping Merlot and stealthily studying Nick.
"My scampi's great, thanks," Nick answered while waving a shrimp tail. "You know, between your wife cookin' Greg and me dinner all week and you takin' me out tonight, I bet I gain five pounds. I've already gained four since your son moved in."
"Greg's an excellent cook," Dave proudly confirmed. "His mother forced him to learn, and whenever he'd complain, she'd tell him…when your date spends the night in your bed because they know you'll make them Nana Olaf's Stuffed French Toast for breakfast, you'll call to thank me."
"Hey…" Nick gave his buddy a shove, "how come you've never made me Stuffed French Toast?"
After chuckling at his father's reaction to Nick's outrage over never being cooked the special 'overnight date' breakfast, Greg replied, "I'm saving that until the end of football season so you'll have another reason to keep me around."
Nick explained to his host, "He's talkin' about how I can't wait to watch my Aggies play on that sixty-three inch plasma of ours."
Ours? Dave curiously replied, "College football season is about five months away and lasts for three, right?"
"Yeah, the opener is September first against Montana State," Nick confirmed.
"I'm sorry, you think this is a long-term living arrangement, Nick?" Dave lifted his wine glass. "Because my understanding is that it's just temporary until Greg finds a new place." The seasoned poker-player continued to decipher the Texan's tells. You're suddenly looking pretty anxious there, pal. "Greg, isn't that why you asked me about helping you with a down payment? So you can buy a place of your own?" Ha! Tex is really panicking now. It could be platonic though, maybe the poor guy is just desperate for a friend after all the shit he's been through.
"Yeah, Dad. I know I told you it was short term, but only because I really didn't think living with Nick would work out. I've changed my mind though." Greg looked at his housemate, "Living together is good, right?"
"Hell, yeah, it's great!" Nick vehemently nodded at his buddy and then Mr. Sanders, "I love havin' Greg around."
"Greg or his TV?" Dave chuckled, trying to get something more out of the cowboy. "You used 'ours' in reference to the plasma. I bought him that TV for Christmas and you're not keeping it when he moves."
"Sorry, the TV's just a runnin' joke between us, please don't think I'm that shallow," Nick gave an anxious laugh, worried that he offended his host. "All kiddin' aside, after livin' alone for so long, it's nice to have someone there, especially after a hard day. Greg's a great listener, when he's not ramblin' on himself, and he's funny, god damn hilarious at times. He knows just how to cheer me up when I'm pissed off, which is a lot lately, because this city and the people in it seem to be gettin' scummier by the day. You raised him right, Mr. Sanders, he's a real considerate guy to live with, a hell of a lot better than my siblings or college roomies were. He pulls his own weight around the house and more. Don't repeat this, but…our co-worker Warrick Brown used to be my best friend, but he got married and I was kinda without one exactly when I needed one the most. Greg filled the vacancy, and he's turnin' out to be the best friend I've ever had. I say that because I'm comfortable tellin' him things that I wasn't able to talk about before, and I know I can trust him. So, I hope you'll believe me when I say that while the TV is an undeniably nice bonus, it's your son that I really like havin' around and I hope he…" When he noticed his buddy gaping at him, Nick flustered, "I hope he uh…"
Dave silently stared at the Texan, half expecting him to ask for Greg's hand in marriage.
"Don't stop now!" Greg nudged his housemate. Oh my God, it's like you're about to ask my dad for my hand in marriage!
"Yes, don't stop," the hopeful father prodded. "You hope my son sticks around, because…"
"Sorry, I lost my train of thought for a sec. I hope he stays because…" Feeling inexplicably awkward, Nick glanced around the restaurant and when he saw the TV playing in the bar, he said, "Because it's nice havin' someone to split the cable bill with. Those bastards have raised their rates a bunch of times, the frickin' sports package has doubled actually. I used to get free cable from Luna because one of their employees almost killed me, but they went out of business and now I have to pay, so yeah, I hope Greg stays because it's nice that he's pickin' up half of the utilities and whatnot."
When Nick glanced away, Dave winked at his son. "I'd bet the farm."
"Bet the farm on what?" Nick asked when he turned back around.
"That our entrees will be here any minute," Greg covered. "Hmm, maybe not, Dad, because I see our waitress, but no food."
"How are you guys doing?" the busty blond waitress cheerily asked, while leaning over the table. "Ready for some drink refills?"
"Yeah, that'd be great, thanks." Nick held up his empty soda glass, wishing he didn't have to go to work in a couple of hours so he could order a beer.
"Another round," Dave confirmed and when the perky girl left the table he said, "Did you guys see those D cups?" He smirked behind his wine glass.
Nick shrugged while reaching for a piece of bread. "No, but everyone knows I'm an ass man."
While his father choked on Merlot, Greg laughed into his napkin. "I'm having the best time."
"How are the appetizers?" Brass asked from his side of the booth where he was seriously rethinking his guess about Gil's female roommate.
"The mozzarella sticks are great," Sara replied while twirling her next one in the small bowl of tomato sauce provided. "Thanks for taking us out."
Us? Brass smiled at his coworkers who were sitting awfully close. "So, Gil, how did you manage at home with the bad back? I threw out my back once back when I was married and if I didn't have the wife there to help me out, I don't know what I would have done."
"It was a bit difficult at first, but once I rearranged some things and organized myself, I was fine." Gil reached for a mozzarella stick and brought it to his smirk. "Ow!" His hand flew to his mouth as the pain from hot oil hidden inside the cheese stick seared the roof of his mouth.
"Are you okay, honey?" Sara panicked. "Drink some of my ice water!"
"Honey?" Brass laughed even though his friend was writhing in pain.
"Oops." A smiled jittered across Sara's face when she realized she was stroking her significant other's hair. "Busted."
While Gil sucked on an ice cube and Sara blushed, Brass raised his glass. "I'm having the best time."
"Honey?" Dave Sanders called out when he entered his hotel room.
"Bath tub!"
Buzzed from the alcohol he had consumed at dinner and in the casino, he shed his clothes and strolled to the bathroom whistling.
"How was dinner?" Jan pointed and laughed when she saw her husband was down to a pair of socks.
"Laughing at my naked body?" he huffed. "It ain't what it used to be, sweetheart, but until it stops making your toes curl, it deserves some respect."
"I was laughing at your socks."
"Oh. I knew that."
Jan pointed at his feet. "See how much you need me. You can't even dress yourself when I'm out of town. You're wearing one brown and one blue. That's not even a respectable black/blue mishap."
Grinning wildly, he stepped into the tub without removing the pair. "Wanna get it on?"
"You popped a Viagra before coming up, didn't you?"
"Aren't Viagra always popped before coming up?" he proudly laughed at his joke.
"Just get in the tub, Don Juan."
"Si, si, Senorita!" As he dropped into the water, Dave said, "I just watched my newly out gay son flirt all evening with his repressed closeted cowboy roommate future boyfriend and now I want to get it on with my wife. Does that make me a bad person?"
"Only if you call me Tex and ask me to turn around." She plucked off his now soaked socks.
Shaking with laughter, Dave sunk lower in the suds. "If Nick knew how screwed up his future in-laws are, he'd have second thoughts about having second thoughts about his sexuality, which we know he's having even before he knows."
"So you agree!" Jan cracked up as she turned to recline against her husband's sudsy chest.
"I started counting the number of times he touched Greg during conversations or in passing. I lost track around one hundred and forty-three."
"Okay, now you're exaggerating."
"Barely!"
"I'm tired of guessing, I want my suspicions confirmed."
"Think how Greg feels." Getting comfortable with his wife and the concept of having a gay son, Dave admitted, "I like Nick a hell of a lot more than that insufferable Lacey bitch. I throw-up in my mouth every time I think of that priss almost being part of our family."
"I have the same reaction every time I think of her almost getting my mother's diamond ring." Jan snickered, "We'll get it sized for Nicky when the time comes."
"You know what the best part about having a gay son who likes jocks? I finally have someone to talk sports with. God, imagine if they really do hook up…I'll have a guy to watch games with on Thanksgiving while you and Greg cook. This could be good, Jan, reeeeeally good." In his best Veruca Salt impression, he whined, "I want a jock son-in-law, and I want him by November!"
After laughing with her husband, Jan's motherly concern surfaced, "All kidding aside, I've had a meal with them five days in a row, and it's hard to watch my son fall harder every day for a guy who may never return his affection. I'm scared for him. I don't want him to get hurt…emotionally or physically."
"I will have my jock son-in-law!" Dave circled his arms around his ever-concerned wife and tenderly whispered in her ear, "Stop being a pessimist. Be a hopeful romantic! Believe that true love conquers all." He repositioned her body and rasped, "Believe in the power of love knowing no boundaries and Brokeback Mountain and Rosie O'Donnell's gay cruise ship of love and…can you feel The Love yet, Jan? Can ya?"
"I don't know about the love, but I can feel the Viagra. God, I curse the man who invented that stupid pill!" After pushing away her drunk and horny husband who never obsessed about anything, Jan rolled her eyes. "Let me get some caffeine first, it's gonna be a long night."
"Honey?" Brass teased Gil when they were alone in his office. "If you're going to fish off the company pier, you should pick a fish who doesn't blurt." He winked, "Not that I blame you for picking Sara, she's one hell of a catch."
"I can't believe you thought I was living with Lady Heather." Gil chuckled at the absurdity. "While I find her fascinating, we're hardly couple material." He winked at his friend. "Maybe you should look her up though. Dating a Police Captain would come in handy when she gets into trouble with the law."
"Griss!" Nick whooped from the door. "Glad to have you back, man!"
"Don't hug him!" Jim warned the personal space violator. "He has a back injury and can't handle a Texas Tornado."
"An injury, huh?" Nick thought back to Sara calling Jenni's grandfather about a close friend's injury on the same day Grissom didn't show up for work because he was ill. "How'd you do it?" he asked while reading the assignment slip Grissom had just handed him.
"Slipped on a wet kitchen floor."
Brass elbowed the Texan. "So make sure Greggy does a thorough job when doing the floor."
Standing in the doorway, Catherine did a double take. "I'm sorry…all I heard was you talking to Nick about Greg doing something thoroughly while on the floor. Make that right for me, Jim."
"Mopping, Willlows!" Brass shook his head. "Innocent mopping of the floor."
Draping her arm around Brass's shoulder she teased, "But why was the floor in need of mopping in the first place?"
"You're a real perv," Nick chuckled, feeling unusually generous towards the woman who had been irking him for months. "Maybe now that Warrick's separated from Yoko, we'll see you work out some of that tension that's been buildin'."
To ease the guilt of fishing off the company pier, Grissom waved an assignment paper. "Catherine…find Warrick. You two are heading to the desert. A couple was found dead in a parked car."
Nick promptly coughed Lover's Lane into his fist.
"Awwww." Snatching the paper, Catherine winked at the cowboy. "Are you jealous that he's not sending you and Greggy to walk the desert in the dark?"
"Nah." Nick returned the wink and headed for the door waving his assignment slip. "Griss is sendin' me and Greggo to walk the water's edge at Lake Mead! Woo hoo! Here's hopin' I get a kiss in the moonlight!" At the door he deadpanned, "Any of you have some mints to spare?"
Jim tossed his pocket tin of Altoids. "Need a condom just in case you have to kill time waiting for the coroner's office?"
"Thanks, Uncle Jimmy, but…" Nick patted his pants. "I always keep one in my wallet."
"Like uncle, like nephew." Brass gave an approving nod. "Drive safe, young man!"
"Always do!" Nick headed out whistling 'Secret Lovers'.
Gaping at her two friends, Catherine said, "You know…they could be hiding in plain sight, using the jokes as a cover."
"He's screwing with you, Catherine," Gil chuckled, "not Greg."
"Who cares, Stokes and Sanders are yesterday's news," Brass wiggled his brows at the woman who thrived on gossip, "I know a far juicier secret."
"What?" Catherine had to know. "Dish!"
"Don't ask, don't tell!" Brass shouted on the way to the door.
"I have my suspicions!" Catherine yelled at the snickering man's back.
"Don't look at me." Alone with his friend, Grissom shrugged, "I have no idea what he's talking about."
"Why don't I believe you?"
"Hold that thought." Grissom read his incoming text message. "Uh oh…another field assignment, I'm going to have to send Warrick to the desert alone and you to the Motel 7 on Ray Road…sex assault on a female."
Disappointed by the change in assignment, she trudged to the door. "Let me get some caffeine first, it's gonna be a long night."
***
Next part of Where You Are.
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- C.S.I. Crime Scene Investigation: The Complete Ninth Season
