"Winners and Prizes"
Copyright 2008 Penn O'Hara
T
Usual disclaimers apply.
LOCI Timeline: During Season Seven.
MY LOCI Timeline: Post "Conversations".
Prompted by something that was said on the Major Case: CI Board about what form a prize could take.
oOo
The Prizes
Some days are diamonds. Some days are stones.
Logan hung up the phone on his desk and grimaced at Falacci. "Ross wants to see me. With Goren. Know anything about it?"
Falacci shrugged and shook her head. "Nope. Fill me in when you get back."
Logan pulled a face and headed over to Goren's desk. The other detective was looking scruffier than usual, in baggy blue jeans and a cut-off sweatshirt. Since his suspension, Goren had opted, and been allowed, to stay at his desk, spending his time perusing old case files and harassing Eames while she sat at hers.
"Ross sent me to collect you," Logan told him. "He wants to see both of us."
"I don't have to… I'm not clocked on…"
"Humor me, Goren. If I go in there without you, more of my precious time is wasted explainin' to Ross why."
Goren swung his head at Eames, who shrugged, sliced a look at Logan, then nodded. Goren sighed before pushing himself from his desk.
Logan was impressed. The big man took his cues from Eames these days? That was a switch around and Logan was curious as to when it happened. Letting Goren precede him to Ross' office, Logan was ready to block him if he tried to make a run for it.
Their Captain was waiting at the door, and after ushering them in, he closed it. Prowling around his desk, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, then immediately pulled them out again. The man was looking nervous and Logan had the feeling he wasn't going to like what was coming next.
"We got an official request from upstairs," Ross said, avoiding Logan's eye. "A community promotion to raise awareness for the NYPD ran a competition. First prize was a date with a detective. There were two winners."
Logan's throat went dry as he realized what was coming. "No…Captain…You're not serious—"
"I thought it was a joke too, but I was convinced otherwise. I'm to pick two—"
"No way—"
Goren roused himself to join Logan's camp. "There's other detectives…"
"You two are the only bachelors in Major Case," Ross interrupted, his voice even. "Can't send out a married man on a date, no matter what the cause. Don't want any wives suing the department—"
"You prefer girlfriends shootin' your detectives instead?" Logan demanded, his voice rising. Unease jerked at his nerves.
"This came from the Chief of Ds. It's up to him to placate Barek—"
"No. It'll be up to me, and I can tell you now... I'll fail."
Goren held up a hand, his brow creased in a frown. "You let Barek… put a…a ring in your nose?"
Logan bristled at the implied insult before cutting Goren a little slack. Everyone knew the man was an emotional mess and not taking his enforced suspension well. But that didn't mean Logan couldn't get in a little chip of his own.
"From what I saw, Goren, Eames is calling your shots too."
Goren jerked back his head, fixing Logan with a brittle stare. He held his gaze, then, deflating suddenly, swung back to Ross. "There's other precincts, Captain. Why us?"
"It was the winners' choice." Ross stuffed his hands back in his pockets, his discomfort convincing Logan he was far from sold on the idea. "They got to nominate which division. It's one date, Detectives. On the company tab. Can't complain about that."
"Yeah, well, just so you know," Logan said, stabbing the air with a finger. "Make an extra booking at the next table for Carolyn."
"Eames…could accompany Barek," Goren said. "They're…friends."
Logan narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion. Goren and Eames? If so, Eames needed to see a shrink more than Goren.
"Ducasse's at eight, Detectives. Look sharp…" Ross paused to scan Goren from head to foot. "…and play nice. We're ordered to make a good impression."
oOo
Logan again stretched his neck free of the constricting well-starched collar and took another gulp of the scotch served to him in a heavy crystal tumbler. His gaze skittered away from Carolyn's, not needing to be reminded she was sitting three dining tables away, and in a direct line with him.
Ross was right. Chief of Ds Moran got to Carolyn first, so that by the time he got home this evening, she was briefed and amenable, if not mollified by the situation. Her face was closed while she helped him choose a shirt and tie to go with his hastily hired tuxedo, her responses to his questions abrupt and unfriendly. When she stood back to survey the finished product her comment, 'Good enough to eat. Just make sure you're not the dessert…' was spoken with such stern warning, there was no way he could construe it as a compliment.
Logan sized up Goren opposite him at the small table. Clean-shaven and hair-slickened, the other man carried his tux like he was born to it. It fitted him too well to be hired and Logan suspected that it was tailor-made rather than off the rack. Where Goren got the funds or found the necessity to order a tux was something Logan didn't even want to think about. Even the man's nails looked manicured where his fingers curled around his bottle of seltzer. Logan speculated about the manicure and the vision of Alex Eames sitting on the edge of Goren's bath filing his nails rose unbidden.
Where the hell had that come from? Blanching at the thought, Logan gamely smiled at Carolyn. She didn't smile back.
Compensating, Logan surveyed the restaurant, noting the opulence of the décor and the obsequiousness of its staff. He felt as comfortable here as he would sitting on an electric chair and wished these 'winners' would quickly arrive so he could get out of there.
Goren however looked at ease and genuinely interested in his surroundings. His wandering gaze touched upon the other guests, lingered on Eames, moved away then returned to his partner.
Logan's interest sharpened. "What's with you and Eames?" he asked.
Goren swung back to Logan. "How do you…expect me to answer that?"
Logan shrugged. "The truth."
Goren said nothing, and continued his sweep of the room.
"I wanna be anywhere but here," Logan griped.
"You object to… these surroundings…" Goren jerked his chin at the ambience of the room. "…a free meal at one of the most expensive restaurants… the company of two women who…seem…eager to meet us…"
"Cut the crap, Goren. They don't wanna meet you and me. They wanna talk to some idealized model of what they think NYPD detectives are like. They're gonna be sadly disappointed when I open my mouth."
"Or maybe they want to talk to working men... who do a job that interests them."
Logan took another gulp of scotch, carefully avoiding Carolyn's eye. "It doesn't help with the little woman watchin' my every move."
"You could have… asked her not to come."
"Contrary to popular belief, Goren, I don't like pain."
"Barek is… violent?"
Logan pulled back, startled at Goren's taking him seriously. "Hell, no!" He chuckled, tucking in his head. "I kinda like…that she's possessive. Makes me feel like I'm… important to her."
"Loved..."
"Yeah. Loved. It's…nice."
"So you joke about her…possessiveness."
"Yeah, I—" Logan leaned forward over the table. "Why the sudden interest?"
Goren's face closed down as he sat back in his seat. "Our guests… are here."
oOo
A/N: Okay, you've got twenty-four hours to put your hands up to be the two winners, else I'm writing myself in there… :-)
Next chapter: Goren's POV.