Your eyes are burning low
As you look out on this morning
But your eyes will return
To their former glory
It was with some considerable effort that Kensi dragged herself out of bed the next morning. Her telephone conversation with Hetty had been rather worse than she had anticipated. "Seriously hacked off" was probably how Marty would describe it, if he was around. If he ever bothered to get back in touch with her. Could life get any crappier, she wondered, as the milk poured into her coffee curdled instantly on contact with the hot liquid. Great, that was just what she needed. She poured the revolting mixture down the sink and ran the tap to dispose of the repulsive curds. It would have to be black coffee then.
In need of some light relief, she switched on the TV, channel skipping until she found some mindless celebrity news station. Watching a few mindless bimbos, botoxed up to their (non-moving) eyebrows would take her mind off things. Some new club had opened last night, and Kensi made a mental note to check it out. Purely in a professional sense, of course. In her job, she had to be aware of what was going down and where the latest hot spots were. This one was aiming for an exclusive (which usually meant filthy rich, in Kensi's experience) clientele and was operating a strict "members-only" policy. According to the reporter, it was consequently the hottest ticket in town.
Kensi slouched back on her sofa as some interior shots came onscreen and started to muse on how she could wangle an invite. This club looked amazing – huge dance-floor, cool DJs and a guest list to die for. Who wouldn't want to be there? The action moved back outside, with various limousines drawing up and she sat bolt upright.
Sam? What's Sam doing there? He looks pre-occupied, scanning the crowd. Oh geeze – look at that bulge under his left armpit! Could he make it any more obvious that he's carrying a gun? What's going on here?
She grabbed her cell and selected Sam's number on speed dial. It went straight to voice mail, a bland message saying to leave a message. Kensi ended the call and returned her attention to the TV, where a familiar figure was exiting the limo.
Though the cold North wind may blow
It's all sound and fury
And the summer will return
In its former glory
"And that's Michael Brandel," the voiceover informed her. "The owner of Brandel Holdings and recently returned to the LA scene. We hear he's recovered from last month's horrific assault and his partner, Nico Sterling, the classical pianist, certainly looks like she's taking good care of him!"
I'll say, Kensi thought sourly. The way she's draping herself all over him.
Marty gave the camera an engaging grin and pulled Nico closed to his side.
Get a room, why don't you? The pair of you look like Ken and Barbie with your blonde hair and your blue eyes and those matching tans. Too frigging cute for words. And what the heck have you done to your hair? I loved your hair!
He was only onscreen for a few seconds more. Kensi froze the screen and took one last look at him, standing there and looking so damned hot in his suit in positively hurt, before gulping down the remainder of her sour-tasting coffee. It seemed like there was a new game in town and she needed to get into the action.
As long as he's not getting any action. I'll cut that sexy suit to ribbons, with him still inside it, if he is. You're messing with the wrong girl, Marty Deeks.
She wasn't jealous. Why on earth would she be jealous? Kensi knew she didn't have a single jealous bone in her body. And it didn't matter, anyway. She'd had plenty of one-night stands in the past and this was just another one. She could put it down to experience and move on. What was the point in looking back?
Except that this time, she'd got involved. This time, she'd trusted him and given him her heart. Marty wasn't another one-night stand. He was so much more than that. Hot tears were prickling at Kensi's eyes when something struck her and she rewound the broadcast.
"…Michael Brandel. The owner of Brandel Holdings and recently returned to the LA scene."
Her mind flew back to the briefing he'd given before the board meeting at the Brandel Building, where everything had gone so horrifically wrong.
"That's me. A photo from Harvard Law review, I think, judging by my hair. A look I regret now, although it seemed like a good idea at the time. Michael Martin Deeks Brandel and no comments about the name, please."
The pieces were starting to fall into place. This had to be some set-up they were working. Of course it did – that was the only logical explanation. It all made perfect sense now. Nevertheless, Kensi took especial care with her hair and makeup and selected her tightest possible jeans. Why leave anything to chance? That Nico Sterling was pretty hot after all.
Everything will be just like you remember
Today won't look as bad as it seemed
And though love's become a dying ember
It will burn brighter than you ever dreamed
AS she drove into work, Kensi kept remembering her mother's advice. It wasn't too late; this time she wasn't going to leave anything unsaid, no matter how much apologising she had to do. Because, in the end, it was worth it. A relationship was about two people and they both had to work at it. And some things were worth working at. Marty Deeks had no idea what he was up against if he thought he could rid of her that easily!
The lyrics from "Former Glory" belong to Ron Sexsmith.