Ziva carefully propped her leg on the coffee table as she sat on the couch and got comfortable, feeling accomplished. After the unpleasantness of the morning, she and Tony had met with success at the Nissan dealership they'd visited after lunch. She was the proud new owner of a black 350Z. The only red one on the lot had been an automatic, but the salesman had been fairly likable, so she'd settled. She'd actually been sold on it after the test drive – the combination of speed, handling and Tony's various terrified expressions had cemented the deal.
She flipped idly through the paperwork on the sofa beside her, waiting for Tony to return from the package store around the block where he'd walked and noting that the car wouldn't actually be hers until she received the transfer of funds from Moussad. She had already spoken to Officer Bashan, who had agreed to bring the check by on Sunday evening in exchange for a home cooked meal. She would be going to the dealership Monday morning to pick up the car before work.
She clucked her tongue as a sudden issue rose in her mind. Using her cane, she hooked her bag, sitting on the chair just past arm's length, and pulled it toward her. Her phone was at the very bottom and nearly out of battery power. She shrugged and selected the number she wanted; it wasn't like she wanted to have a long conversation. McGee answered on the second ring, "Hello?"
"Hey, McGee."
"Ziva, what's up? Did you get a chance to read my manuscript or is Tony not finished with it, because I was hoping you could go over it and tell me if the spy stuff sounds believable…"
She bit her tongue, taking a moment to figure out some delicate wording as he went on about the choices he'd made about different details in the book. She hadn't even remembered the manuscript sitting on her nightstand until he'd mentioned it. She eventually cut him off, "I'll be sure to look at all of that very carefully when I read it."
"Oh, good, because you're the person who would know what's realistic and what's…well you know. How far has Tony gotten?"
"He was up late last night. He reached the part where Lisa got shot."
McGee seemed to pick up on the edge in her voice. "She's gonna be fine. I wouldn't kill off Lisa." His voice became more excited as he asked, "But Tony really got that far? I mean, that's almost three-quarters of the way through!"
"Look, McGee, it's not that I don't want to discuss your novel, but my phone is almost out of power and I need to ask a favor."
"We have a case and you need a ride?"
"You're half-right. I do need a ride."
He sighed. "Can you give me about an hour? I'm in the middle of the penultimate chapter and I don't want to lose the vibe."
"Vibe?" She pushed the sarcasm out of her voice and continued before he could reply, "It's not for right now. I bought a new car today and I need a ride from home to the dealership on Monday morning to pick it up, since Tony can't drive yet. They open at 8:30, so if you want to come by around 8…or 7:30, if you'd like breakfast…"
He sounded alarmed as he asked, "Gibbs doesn't mind us coming in late?"
"Gibbs is off Monday."
"So?"
Under normal circumstances, she would be inclined to agree, but she had some insider information from Ducky. "He's having a root canal at 8. I don't think he'll be in any condition to mind."
"Oh. Okay. I'll see you at 7:30 on Monday, then? Will you be done with my manuscript by then?"
"I'm not sure. Don't you have another copy?"
"Of course. I just don't want it getting out."
She could almost see his top lip disappear into a pout over the phone line as she laughed. "I'll lock it in my safe when one of us isn't reading it. Have a good night, McGee."
"Yeah, 'Night, Ziva."
She snapped her phone shut and looked over her shoulder as the front door opened. Tony struggled to close it behind himself as he manipulated a large paper bag between his good arm and his sling. Ziva raised an eyebrow. "How drunk are you planning to get?"
"What? I figured we were ordering in tonight and everyone knows you can't eat pizza if you don't have beer. I also picked up a bottle of champagne so we can celebrate the new car. Good stuff, too."
Visions of $300 bottles of vintage Veuve Clicquot and Perrier-Jouet popped into her head. "How good?"
"Well, forty bucks worth of good." He reached into the bag he'd placed on the counter and pulled out a bottle of non-vintage Taittinger. "I know it's not up to your usual high standards, but…"
"It's fine," she interrupted, only slightly disappointed. On rare occasions, she missed living on an arms dealer's budget; all it took was a look from Tony to erase the nostalgia. "Put it in the refrigerator. We may need to open it with dinner tomorrow, though, unless we have wine."
"There's a couple bottles in the cupboard and why do we need it for tomorrow?"
"Michael is bringing the check for the car by and staying for dinner."
"Michael?" he asked, closing the refrigerator, where he'd just put the champagne and a six-pack of beer bottles.
"Officer Bashan," she clarified, tossing her cell phone at him. "Would you plug that in for me?"
He caught it clumsily in one hand. "Where's your little charger thingy?"
"On the counter by the phone."
"Ah. Hey do you think…" The landline telephone rang and he picked it up before completing his thought. "Hello? Hey, Abraham. How are you?" She reached for the phone and he remained across the room, winking. "I'm doing much better. I'll have the cast off in a few weeks. Yeah, we picked the car out today. They're holding it for us. No problem with the money, I hope? Oh, good, because I don't think I've got that kind of cash lying around. You want to talk to Ziva?" He pointed down the hall at the open doorway of the bathroom and nodded expressively. "Well, she's…"
"Tony!"
"Right here," he finished, handing her the phone with an infuriating grin.
She gave him a momentary evil eye before turning her attention to her father. "Shalom, Abba. It's late there."
"Not so late. Just after midnight. How are you feeling?"
Tony was staring longingly at the kitchen half an hour later when she hung up. She ignored his pleading look and said, "I used to talk to my father once a month for less than ten minutes, and we spoke mostly about the weather and Maccabi Elite Tel Aviv."
"Who?"
"Basketball team. Now he wants to know all about what's happening in my life."
"Yeah, almost like he's your dad or something. Look, I'm hungry. Can I order a pizza?"
"Huh? Sure," she replied distractedly, her mind focusing on the first thing he'd said.
"Are you gonna eat any? Because I'm gonna get pepperoni and sausage if you aren't."
"Get whatever you want."
He kissed her cheek and grabbed the phone from her hand, jogging into the kitchen to get the number and make the call. She knew he knew the number by heart and suspected that he had stepped away in order to request extra meat, with meat on top and a generous sprinkling of meat. She wasn't all that interested in the pizza anyway. He stuck his head in the refrigerator the moment he was off the phone. "Thirty minutes. Want a beer?"
She nodded and waited until he'd handed her a bottle and sat back down beside her to ask the question that had just occurred to her minutes before, "Why haven't I met your family?"
He choked on his drink. She patted his back forcefully until his sputtering stopped. He pointed at the television. "So…wanna watch a movie?"
"Answer my question."
"W-What?"
"Why haven't I met your family?"
"Who's to meet?" he answered dismissively. "I'm an only child, my mother is dead and my father's an asshole who gets married more often than Elizabeth Taylor and Larry King combined. You wouldn't like him."
She moved closer to him, ignoring the pain in her leg as it bent into an uncomfortable position. "Other than the multiple marriages, it sounds like my family situation."
"Hardly. Your parents were never divorced, your mother died of natural causes and your dad loves you."
"Which I didn't really find out until recently."
"Oh, no. No. Not happening."
"What?"
"You think that since you've fixed up your problems with daddy, I should fix mine now. I should have known something was up when you said you wanted a beer." He took the bottle from which she had yet to take a sip forcefully from her hand. "You aren't supposed to be drinking with your medication."
She didn't protest, squeezing his thigh with her now free hand. "Does he know about us? Have you even told your father you're engaged?"
"No, and before you try and guilt me into it, it's not because I'm ashamed of you. It's him I've got the problem with. I'll tell him when I'm ready."
"And when will that be?"
"You want me to call him? Fine." She watched as he snatched the phone off the table beside the couch, dialed a number from memory and pressed the receiver to his ear. The only sound in the apartment was a very soft buzzing. He muttered, "Voicemail," to her before raising his voice, "Hey, dad. It's Tony DiNozzo. Your son. I, uh, well, I'm engaged. Guess I'll talk to you later." He hung up and looked at her expectantly. "Happy?"
"No."
"Good. Me neither." He stood and adjusted the waist on his jeans. "I'll be out of the bathroom before the pizza man comes."
She watched him silently as he grabbed the Post from the small table in the entryway and slammed the bathroom door behind himself. Standing carefully and limping to the kitchen, she took his cell phone from the pocket of the jacket he'd dropped on the counter when he'd come in. There was one missed call from two minutes previous. "So predictable." She scrolled down the list of names in the address book, finding the one she wanted and scribbling it on a piece of paper before sliding the phone back into the pocket. Folding the paper and tucking it in her own pocket, she muttered to herself, "You'd think he'd remember that I'm a spy."
She was sitting on the couch again, watching TV, when Tony exited the bathroom just in time to answer the door. A minute later, he placed a pizza box on the coffee table and sat beside her again. After a few bites, he said, "Sorry about all that. I just…y'know, I'll be surprised if he even calls back."
Ziva cocked her head and did her best to look confused. "Why wouldn't he?"
"Oh, just…just the way he is, I guess." He gave her the smile that said he knew something she didn't know. Or thought he did.
She fingered the hem of her pocket before saying, "Didn't you have some movie you wanted us to watch tonight?"