"Drive" she said, a faint glimmer of moisture in her eyes. And Catherine did, pulling out into the early evening traffic, cutting off a bright yellow VW bug with a wave of thanks, as if that would make it ok for the driver of the Volks Wagon. They rode, the radio playing hits from the 70's softly, the only sound in the Tahoe. Catherine lost herself in memories of her ex-husband, the late, not so great Eddie that each new song brought with it. Sara, played and replayed those last few moments with Hank.
Steering the truck off the strip, Catherine pulled into the first bar she saw that didn't look like it was overflowing with tourists. She cut the engine and looked over to Sara, who hadn't seemed to notice they'd arrived. She lightly slapped the back of her fingers against Sara's upper arm. "Hey. We're here." Sara blinked and looked around her. With a slight raise of her eyebrows, she popped open her seatbelt and climbed out of the truck.
Catherine met her on the passenger side of the truck, and wordlessly they walked through the rays the setting sun bounced off the parking lot black top and into the dimly lit bar.
Just inside the door, they stopped, letting their eyes adjust. Catherine looked around her, and thought that she couldn't have picked a better place if she'd been trying. Three men sat at the bar, all of them wearing worn jeans and tee shirts that carried a think layer of dust. Each man sported facial hair in varying stages of growth, and each had a belly that lapped over his belt. One of the men eyed the women as they stood in the doorway, and he absently rubbed a hand with grim encrusted nail beds over his dirty tee shirt. The other two men glanced briefly at Catherine and Sara before silently turning back to their beer, each wishing for his younger days and the confidence that had gone with them.
The only other customers were a yuppie type couple, both dressed in business suits. From the way they held hands across the tabletop, the woman jerking her hand away, her eyes quickly darting to the door when the CSI's walked in, Catherine guessed, sorry Gil, that they were having an affair, this bar their pre or post sex meeting place.
Catherine nudged Sara and pointed to an empty corner booth, a question in her eyes. Sara nodded and let Catherine lead the way.
"Two drafts, whatever's on tap." Catherine told the waitress as she leaned forward a little and shrugged off her jacket. Settling back into the stuffed plastic-leather cushion Catherine looked across the table to Sara, waiting for her to meet her gaze. After a moment Sara felt Catherine's eyes on her and looked up from the scratched brown lacquered tabletop she'd been staring blankly at.
"Son of a bitch." Sara said, anger and hurt filling her voice as quickly as the tears filled her eyes.
Catherine cocked her head just a little, a hint of a smile spreading over her lips. "Yeah." She said simply.
"Practically engaged . . . a trip to Tahiti . . ." She stopped speaking when the waitress arrived back at the booth, placing a frosted mug in front of each woman, she left as mutely as she'd arrived and Sara continued. "He turned me into the other woman." She jabbed a hand toward her own chest, pointing the finger at herself. With her other hand, she grabbed the beer and took two long gulps.
Catherine waited while Sara set the glass back down with a thud and ran her tongue over her top lip, licking off a bit of stray foam. When she was sure Sara had nothing more to say, at least for the moment, Catherine said: "Well, not exactly the other woman."
Sara nodded emphatically. "Yes, yes I am. . . Was." She thought about the past tense word for a moment. "I should call her. I should call her and tell her that her perfect boyfriend was cheating on her. That'd show him. I have her number in the case file, in the truck" Sara started to slide out of the booth.
"Sit down." Catherine commanded. Stunned by her tone, Sara did as she was told. "Calling her isn't going to make you feel any better, it'll make you feel worse. Drink your beer."
Sara's face couldn't have looked more astonished if Catherine had pulled a rabbit out of her own ass. Catherine raised her eyebrows and glanced at Sara's beer, Go ahead, drink. Sara did, wrapping her fingers around the mug, wet with condensation, and finished off the beer with long swallows.
Catherine caught the waitress' eye and raised two fingers, ordering another round. She looked back at Sara. "When I first met Eddie, he was engaged to another girl." Sara cocked her head to one side. "Yeah." Catherine continued. "After a while he ended up breaking their engagement, and married me. When I caught him cheating on me, I realized then that I should have known from the beginning that it was inevitable."
"Cheats with you, cheats on you." Sara interjected.
"Yeah." Catherine said simply.
"So I . . ."
"You" Catherine interrupted "got the best deal you could out of Hank. Ya had some fun. . ."
She looked up and smiled at the waitress when she plunked down the second round. "And if your mood lately is any indication. . . you had some good sex. Really good sex." Sara pursed her mouth, trying not to smile. "That's what I thought." Catherine went on, her observations confirmed by her co-workers embarrassment. "You got the best out of him, and you didn't have to wash his underwear."
Sara had raised the second beer to her lips and the underwear comment caught her in mid swallow. She choked, coughed twice, and began to laugh. Shaking her head, she set down the mug. "Do you think any of the guys would cheat?" She asked, referring to their co-workers.
Catherine took a sip of beer and held the glass between both hands as she considered the question. "Greg: probably, he's so young. Warrick: maybe, but it'd be a spur of the moment thing, and only once. And Nick?" Catherine shook her head. "No way. The woman he marries he's going to treat like a princess." She lifted her beer and drank.
Sara waited a moment for her to continue, there was still one left. When it became apparent that Catherine was done with her comments, Sara brought it up herself. "And Grissom?"
"Grissom?" Catherine snorted. "Grissom's so clueless, so inside his own head, a naked woman could be spread eagled on his desk, and he wouldn't notice." She watched Sara's eyes as the other woman looked down at the tabletop. "You wanna talk about Gris-"
"No." Sara answered flatly and gulped the rest of her beer.
"Good. Neither did I." A comfortable silence surrounded them. After a moment Catherine asked: "You feeling better?"
Sara looked up and met Catherine's eyes. "Not yet. But I will."