Apparently my beta reader the fan-damn-tastic Cumberland River Relic is a Robert Palmer fan, and I didn't even know it when I wrote this piece. However, I did know that CRR has a fan-damn-tastic sense of humor and is an excellent comedic writer, so I was a little nervous about what I'd get back as critique notes. I guess it turned out okay, so I'm sharing with you!
I don't own the Mentalist characters nor do I own Robert Palmer nor the song Addicted to Love. I do own a sense of humor and the hopeless Romantic gene. Just thought you'd want to know that I don't make any money on any of those things, regardless.
Lisbon loved the charity but hated the fundraiser event that was making her wear that stupid getup. She felt ridiculous! Tight leather dress and smoky pantyhose? Please! And the velvet stilettos made her wobbly on her feet.
CBI staff were required to participate in the variety show every year to raise money for Raising Hope, the Bureau's charity fund started to help pay the medical bills for Hope Garcia, the daughter of slain officer Jorge Garcia. She had leukemia and treatment was expensive. Usually Jane provided the unit's contribution, but this year he refused. Not just refused but stormed from the room when it was hinted at. Having no choice, Rigsby and Cho developed a Saturday Night Live-like skit which parodied Robert Palmer's song "Addicted to Love", except it was "Addicted to Law". Once this was written, Jane rejoined the planning committee and helped them set up the details.
Rigs was front man in a white shirt, black slacks and black tie since he had the best voice. Cho donned leather pants, shiny black shirt and dark sunglasses, looking lean, mean and ready to rock…except he'd have a ukulele instead of a lightning bolt guitar. Grace was… well, graceful in her costume; her long, slender body was definitely suited to the sheath dress, silk stockings and high heels.
Backstage, Jane was putting the final touches on what Lisbon called her 'slut makeup': smoky, evening eyes; pale, heavy foundation; gleaming red lipstick laid on thick. Brenda Shettrick had finished pinning a service-blue peaked cap on Grace and was waiting to help Lisbon with hers.
"Stop fidgeting," Jane grumbled. "God, you should have cut off your coffee intake at lunch."
"I'm nervous."
"Don't be," he said, dipping his lip brush in a pot of color and lightly touching her upper lip. "You're going to be great. We should be grateful that there was a lull in serious crime. You got in lots of practice."
"We should be grateful for a lull anyway," she said sharply. What a dumb thing for him to say!
He snorted and straightened up. "You need to stop talking when I'm trying to finish your lips, woman."
"You can fix that," Brenda said quickly. "It's not that bad."
Lisbon turned towards the mirror and groaned. She now had a slight, red, one-sided moustache.
"Of course I can fix that, but I need a cooperative subject." He grabbed Lisbon's shoulders and turned her toward him again before grabbing a tissue. "Do I need to put you in a trance so I can finish this?"
"No," she said, forcing herself to take a deep breath and stiffen in the chair.
"Good. Thank you."
She had to admit it; by the time Jane was done, she looked just like the sultry women in the video. Jane had even included a fake Cindy Crawford mole.
"Looks great!" Brenda said as she exchanged places with Jane, raising the cap over Lisbon's head. "Where did you learn how to do makeup?"
Cho stepped up, his usual expressionless face softened into a slight smile.
"Some of my misspent youth in a theatrical setting," Jane answered ambiguously, closing up the packages of beauty products. Then he stopped and looked at Lisbon again, this time with an appreciative glow in his eyes. "And as ravishing as she looks now, I still much prefer her every day, natural beauty."
Three mouths dropped open at the warmth in his tone. It took him a moment to realize they were all staring at him.
"What?" he asked, acting like he'd merely commented about the weather.
Cho raised his brows and stepped away. Brenda took a single breath and turned back to Lisbon, settling the peaked cap on her head. Lisbon tried not to tremble.
"What?" Jane asked again, following Cho.
As they waited for the previous act to finish, Lisbon joined Van Pelt and Cho as they practiced the choreography Jane had developed for them. She grinned at the memory of the good times they had at rehearsals, including the ritual of going for drinks afterward. Maybe performing in the show was nerve-racking, but Lisbon had to admit she'd never had more fun with her team. Maybe it was a good thing that Jane had refused.
The thought grew and she froze. He did that on purpose, the sneaky bastard! He knew! He knew how much fun it would be if they all got involved, and how much closer they'd be as a team if they worked together on it.
She looked around and found him a few feet away, watching events onstage. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he looked up and winked at her. Then he gave her a 'thumbs up' before he held up what looked like a peace sign. Two minutes, he mouthed.
Van Pelt then touched her arm so she turned back to their dancing.
The short time flew by. As emcee, the personable Patrick Jane thanked the previous act, a pair of jugglers from Organized Crime, and asked if he could borrow their Indian clubs later because he was on a bowling league and needed to practice. While the SCU team got into position behind the curtain, he did a simple magic trick and made a mildly derisive joke about Gale Bertram, the director of California's Division of Law Enforcement and California's notorious financial problems.
Meanwhile, Cho raised his ukulele, Van Pelt adjusted the saxophone hanging from her neck, and Lisbon brought the clarinet to her lips. Rigsby tested the microphone to make certain it released quickly and easily, a paranoia developed after a rehearsal where Jane punked him by over-tightening the clamp on the mike stand. Rigsby had struggled awkwardly with it for nearly two minutes while the rest of them laughed hysterically. And really, the only thing in the act that wasn't provided by the soundtrack was Rigsby's singing, so it was important that it work smoothly. Rigsby took Jane's practical joke as a serious lesson in showmanship. Make sure it works!
Jane began his glowing introduction of the Serious Crimes Unit, his signal to them that they should be ready to go.
"They're one of the winningest teams in the history of the California Bureau of Investigation. From the pint-sized powerhouse Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon to the quiet but brainy Agent Kimball Cho, both supported by the always-ready-for-action Agent Wayne Rigsby and the ever-loving, ever-smiling, ever-ready-to-draw-her-weapon, Agent Grace Van Pelt! My friends, it's a crime how sexy this group is! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the seriously talented Serious Crimes Unit!"
As the curtain opened, the audience laughed as intended. As the music burst over the PA system with its booming back-beat, Rigsby started his Robert Palmer impersonation and the backup dancers began their slick moves. The crowd cheered as the lyrics began.
Your lights are on, they're red and blue
Your mind looks at the clues
Your heart sweats, your body shakes
More evidence is what it takes
You can't sleep, no time to eat
There's no doubt, you're in deep
Your throat is tight, you can't breathe
Evidence is what you need
Who-o-o-a, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah!
It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough
You know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to law
At that point, Rigsby went all 'rockstar' with the mike and mikestand, dancing around the stage and even performing a smooth "James Brown"-type split as though he did that sort of thing ten times a day starting with breakfast. The crowd went wild over his enthusiasm.
You see the signs, but you can't read
You're runnin' at a different speed
You heart beats in double time
More evidence and you'll be mine a one track mind
You can't be saved
Closed Case pizza is all you crave
If there's some left for you
You don't mind if you do
Who-o-o-a, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah!
It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough
You know you're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to law
Right before the refrain, Jane stepped out from the wings wearing dark sunglasses identical to Cho's and joined the backup dancers. He still had his emcee microphone and brought it up to sing harmony to Rigsby's main vocals. Since he had helped them develop and practice the dance steps, he knew them as well as they did.
This had not been part of the rehearsals, and Lisbon had difficulty maintaining the Cho expression they'd agree to don as backup dancers.
Might as well face it, you're addicted to law
Might as well face it, you're addicted to law
Might as well face it, you're addicted to law
The sound track faded and the curtains closed on a flawless performance. Jane removed his sunglasses and dashed around the closed curtain. There was glee in his voice as he breathlessly announced the next act. The team high-fived each other as they exited the stage. The other performers patted them on their backs.
There were two more acts before the end of the show, so the team watched from their front row seats with the other performers.
"That concludes this year's variety show. We hope everyone had a –"
Someone in the audience yelled "Addicted to Law encore!" and Jane's face lit up.
"Really? Yeah? Would you all like to see another performance by SCU?"
The crowd cheered and a small group started chanting 'S-C-U! S-C-U! S-C-U!' The audience took it up and some people rose to their feet.
"I think that can be arranged," Jane said, waving to the team. "In fact, I think all the CBI Players should come up! C'mon, everyone! Join the dance party!"
It was a fun encore, with everyone – players and audience alike – playing backup singer to Rigsby during the chorus of "Might as well face it, you're addicted to law!" The performance brought down the house.
"Thank you, folks! Thank you for joining us for this year's show! Before you go… before you go…I have an announcement to make. Please, take your seats again. Stop dancing in the aisles… thank you."
The audience quieted at Jane's request.
"As you know, this event is intended to raise money for Hope Garcia, the daughter of one of our own fallen comrades. We had a pledge from our fearless leader Director Gale Bertram to a one hundred percent match of the highest individual donation to the foundation. At the beginning of the show, that donation was $750 from my former boss Virgil Minelli!" He gestured to his left side audience. "Virgil? Please stand and let the people show their appreciation."
Lisbon hadn't noticed Virgil during the performance. It had been months since she had seen him. He and his wife May were looking healthy and happy.
"However," Jane said as the applause died, "the person I really want to introduce you to is Gale Bertram. Gale? Come up here, please."
The applause wasn't nearly as strong as for Virgil when Bertram mounted the stage.
"Gale Bertram's generosity is about to make a real difference in a young girl's life, because during the show we had an anonymous cash donation that topped even Virgil's."
The look of alarm on Bertram's face would have been delightful if Lisbon weren't so sure that she wore the same expression. This was Jane in charge of these surprises, after all.
"Get your checkbook out, Gale—" Jane gestured offstage and an adorable young girl came out with two banded bundles of cash in her hands. "—Because the donation was for five thousand dollars!"
A communal gasp escaped the audience and Bertram's color paled. Lisbon grabbed Van Pelt's arm.
"We need to take some of the sting out of this or we'll pay for this on Monday. Follow my lead."
They hurried forward and clung to either arm like gold diggers while Brenda directed the PR Department photographer to take advantage of the photo op.
"Give him a kiss on the cheek!" the photographer called.
Lisbon looked at Van Pelt, then Brenda Shettrick, both of who looked like they were trying to hide revulsion. Behind them, Jane was laughing heartily. Bertram bent over so they could reach. Swallowing hard, Lisbon leaned forward as did Van Pelt. They were forced to hold it until the photog fired off two captures.
"It's for a good cause, girls!" Jane cajoled them. Lisbon shot him a dirty look as they walked back. Jane addressed the audience again. "Good night, folks! See you again next year! And if you have some spare change, drop it off with the nice ladies in the booth in the lobby. Every little bit helps!"
He backed up and allowed the curtain to close in front of him. He took the money from the little girl and handed it to one of the charity organizers, before facing the crowds of CBI people who gathered to congratulate him on his handling of the Masters of Ceremony job.
Van Pelt came to her side. "Are you going to change before going to the cast party?"
"No, it's going to be a mob scene in the dressing rooms and the ladies washroom," Lisbon said.
"You have a point," Van Pelt admitted. "Besides, this outfit is getting me noticed by all the right guys tonight."
Lisbon mentally shook her head. Van Pelt just didn't realize how much attention she already drew, just being a lovely, Midwestern farm girl. "Like who?" she asked.
"Like Jerry Collyard from Organized Crime."
"Ooo, watch out for him. I heard he's a dirty player."
Disappointment fell onto the redhead's face for a moment, but she took her boss by the arm.
"Well, stick close at the party. You can warn me off of the dangerous ones."
"Sorry, Grace, but I'm not even sure that I'm going. My feet hurt, and this dress is so tight, I think I need to go home so I can breathe normally again in the privacy of my own soaking tub full of rose water."
Grace laughed and gave her a hug. "It was wonderful seeing you so dressed up. You look absolutely stunning." She released her and held her at arm's length as she perused her. "In fact, we need to get a picture of us. Wayne?...Wayne!"
Rigsby turned away from an adoring fan at Grace's call.
"Do you have your phone? Take our picture."
Once the photos started, they were tied up a long time. The whole team. Then Lisbon with Cho. Lisbon with Van Pelt. Lisbon with Rigsby. Then Van Pelt with Cho. Van Pelt with Rigsby. Then Cho with Rigsby. Rigsby with Jane. Cho with Jane. Van Pelt with Jane.
Then Jane with Lisbon. She actually felt nervous about it.
There was no need, obviously. He settled his arm around her shoulders and they smiled. The picture was taken.
Then he stopped, put her arm around his waist and put his arm around her again.
"Take another one. And let's pretend you're trying to stop me from going to poke the bigwigs," he said.
She laughed at the memory of saying that to him just as the camera flashed. Everyone agreed it was the better photo.
The auditorium cleared quickly. So did the backstage as people departed for the cast party being hosted by Bertram at his country club. Since Cho volunteered to be designated driver, Van Pelt and Rigsby agreed to go in his car.
Lisbon sat down sideways in the driver's seat of her Mustang and slipped off the hurtful stilettos, letting them fall to the ground. God, she hated high heels!
"Those looked painful."
She jumped at the voice. It was Jane.
"They suck," she bitched. "But you know what they say: 'The show must go on'."
Jane picked up the shoes and tossed them into her back seat. She thanked him.
"They also say 'A closed mouth gathers no feet'," he said with a shrug, "but I've never let that stop me." Then he gave her one of his 'ain't I clever?' smiles, making her laugh.
"So, are you going to the party?" he asked.
Her amusement disappeared into a heavy sigh. "Oh… I suppose I should. It's sorta my—"
"Don't say it's your duty," he interrupted softly. "You go above and beyond your duty every day. Go if you want to go. Don't go if you don't want to go."
"Well, I haven't decided if I want to go."
"Ah. That's different, then."
"Are you going?"
Jane looked around the parking lot, scrunching his face with a deep sigh of his own. "I…I don't know if I want to deal with Bertram just yet. He's probably irritated with me at the moment."
She grinned at him. "More than usual, I'd say."
Again he shared that self-satisfied smile. She admitted to herself that he deserved to wear it.
"You donated that five grand, didn't you?" It was a question, but she already knew the answer.
He stared at her a moment, first in surprise and then with admiration. "Why should I be surprised you figured that out? You're a very smart person. A great detective."
"Ah! Well, it was an educated guess. Apart from knowing your habits, I know your tastes. Whenever you win at the casinos, you indulge yourself by drinking expensive loose white tea and there are empty wrappers from imported chocolate left around my office."
"I'd share if you ask."
"Maybe on Monday," she griped. "I had to watch my diet cuz I had to fit into this damn dress, remember?"
He smiled sincerely. "You filled that dress perfectly tonight."
"Thank you. I can't wait to get out of it, now." Then she realized how it sounded. Good thing it was dark; her face grew hot and Patrick Jane was not the type to miss that opportunity to tease her.
"Listen, if you're not going to the cast party and I'm not going to the cast party, let's avoid going to it together. How about we go out for a night cap? A nice glass of wine or something? Or a light beer so you're not in danger of exploding that dress with sudden caloric intake?"
She laughed and nodded. "That sounds good. I want to get some miles out of this stupid thing before retiring it to the darkest corner of my closet. And those shoes too." She jerked a thumb toward the passenger side. "Get in. I'll drive."
He went around and climbed in while she sat properly in the driver's seat and closed the door.
"Miles, huh?" he asked. "Wear a dress so many times and get a free trip to Nordstrom's?"
"Something like that," she said, starting the engine and carefully backing out of the parking spot.
"No, wait," he continued in jest. "Wear a dress to so many charity functions and earn a free trip to the firing range."
"That's more like it," she said, pulling out of the parking lot.
"Oh, hey, you could earn free targets by wearing it to biker bars. The black leather would fit right in."
"I got no tats," she quipped, getting into the spirit of his playful banter.
"Those can be faked," he said. "Oh, or how about a punker bar?"
"Oh, right. Me and Cho. He wouldn't have to dress up. He could just wear his usual go-to-hell expression."
"I never thought of it that way. Yeah, he'd fit right in. Same with the biker bar, I guess."
She smiled at him. The evening had been fun in a nerve-racking way, but messing around with her best friend afterward just put the icing on the cake.
"Oh, and you could get more mileages on Halloween. You could dress up like a Vamprella and scare the kids at the door."
"I hate Halloween," she said.
"You hate Halloween?" He sounded really offended. "How could you hate Halloween?"
"I do. All that dressing up and pretending you're someone else? It's stupid."
"It's fun… Wait, you're a cop. It should be like going undercover, for you."
"I don't like going undercover, either."
"Really? Isn't it a requirement? You know, like How to Wear a Wire 101? Or Infiltrating Notorious Drug Rings for Fun and Profit… I mean, for Fun and Busts?"
She laughed and drove on. Yes, this was a lot more fun than dodging conversation with the likes of Bertram all night. Taking his hand in a light, brief squeeze, she gave him another smile.
"Thanks, Jane."
He squeezed her hand in return.
"You're welcome, Lisbon." He was silent for a few moments before letting out a quietly amused chuckle. "Now about that Vamprella idea…"
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