Sorry this has been a few days. I got a bit distracted. Here's the next
part, though! Enjoy!
Sara exchanged the backpack she carried for a cup of coffee from Danny as she walked past Danny's desk. "Thanks," she held the cup up in a quick salute before taking a drink from it. "You have two with baked, three with dough for her to make them. If she needs them, directions are on a piece of paper."
"Thank you," he told her fervently, checking to make sure the promised goods were in the bag before stashing it under his desk. He'd take it over on his lunch hour if they weren't in the middle of something; give Leigh a head start on them. "Hey, Sara?"
"Do I finally get to find out what you guys were talking about?" Jake asked as he propped his feet up on Sara's desk.
Shoving his feet off as she sat down, Sara nodded to Danny as she powered up her computer. "Four extra of baked are in there. Two for us to munch on, and two for Vicky. She'd kill me if I didn't fix some for her."
Danny popped the top on one of the containers and grabbed a cookie before holding it out to Jake. "Isn't she on a diet? She'll probably kill you if you do give them over."
Sara shrugged and grabbed one to munch on. "Dead if I do, dead if I don't. Might as well screw up her diet in the meantime."
Jake stared at the browned cookie he held in his hand. "This is what you were talking about yesterday? Cookies?"
Danny pointed with his half-eaten one to Sara. "Made by our esteemed partner."
Jake looked up at Sara before looking back at the cookie again, this time with fascination tinged with horror on his face. "You bake cookies?"
"I've been known to for someone special," she said slowly, wondering just what Jake was getting at. Well, she knew what, she just didn't know if he'd actually say what he was thinking.
"Mystery guy get any?" Danny intervened; hoping that Jake wouldn't stay on the track he was heading.
She glanced at him to let him know that she knew he was deliberately using the distraction from Jake to fish for more information. "Helped bake them, actually. Showed up halfway through the process. Took some home, ate a bunch there. He's a bottomless pit." She watched as Danny ate another cookie, having lost track of what number he was on. "Kinda like you."
Danny looked guiltily at the container, a fourth of which was gone, and shrugged. "I work it off. Got anything new to tell me about Mr. Mysterious?"
Jake broke in with an exclamation about the cookie he finally got up the nerve to try. "This is pretty good!"
"Thanks, rookie. Not yet, Danny."
Jake grabbed three cookies from the dwindling pile. "Why doesn't Sara just give the recipe to Leigh?"
Danny laughed and shook his head. "Leigh already tried that.Sara refused to give it up."
"Hey," she defended herself, "this isn't my recipe, you know. It was my mother's. She passed it onto Marie," she said, referring to Joe Siri's wife, "who taught me how to bake them."
"You have a family recipe for. what are these things?" Jake reached up to try and catch the crumbs escaping from his mouth.
"Ginger coconut, and yes, I do, Jake. Why?"
"No reason, no reason," he placated as he scoffed down what he had left. Reaching for some more, he pouted when Danny pulled the container away and covered it.
"We have work to do, Jake," Danny reminded him, ignoring the blonde's whining with all the practice of a father.
Gabriel knocked on the heavy wood door leading to the bar, hoping that someone was there and could help him. It was a long shot for him to be here, but if it worked out, it'd be worth it. Last night with Sara had been full of mixed blessings. It was obvious from her casualness that she was trying to put them back on the even footing they had with their friendship. He'd followed her lead, hoping to get her on a little more even keel before he stepped up the campaign. Ah, speaking of the campaign.
"What do you want?"
Gabe backed up a step at the brusque greeting. The man who had opened the door was short and overweight, wearing a large once white apron covered with stains Gabriel really didn't want to know about. Taking his lead, Gabriel answered in a matter-of-fact tone "I'm looking for a singer named Conchobar."
"He isn't here," the man replied and made a move to close the door in Gabe's face.
"I know he isn't. He used to sing here, though."
"Yeah, before he decided he was too good to show up for his normal gig."
"Any idea where I can find him?"
He gave Gabe a once over, taking in everything he wore. The loose jeans and flannel shirt he wore looked normal enough, but the leather jacket was obviously expensive. "What you lookin' for him for?"
"I'm just a fan."
The man took another look at the young man before him. "A fan, eh?"
"Yeah, of his music," Gabe answered with outraged offense in his voice. Just what he needed a repulsive man to assume he's a gay groupie. Was Conchobar gonna be like that too?
"Hmm, well, I'm not supposed ta, but here." He grabbed a napkin from the stack that rested on the table just inside the door and scribbled an address on it. "If he hasn't moved or been kicked out, he'll be there."
Gabriel's thanks were cut off with the door slamming in his face. "Well, definitely not someone worried about the patronage of his fine establishment," he told himself as he read the address and started back to his car.
The drive to the building was done on automatic, his mind still on the night before. Sara's baking cookies was unexpected but enchanting. He knew that the detective usually had take-out and that the most she cooked was usually something simple, like eggs. But baking cookies? That was something associated with females and being feminine, even with the blurring of the gender lines in the past fifty years. Sara Pezzini's whole life was based on her take-no-prisoners attitude. It served her well in work and her home reflected it, sparse furnishings, bare concrete walls, and even her punching bag enforced her no frill style.
So where did the cookie baking come in? Was it some way of ensuring closeness to a female in her past? Her mom, maybe? Wherever it came from, it was proof not to take her on sight only. Sara definitely had unexpected hidden depths to her.
The address given to him wasn't that far from the bar and he easily found the apartment in the building. Reaching out and knocking, he stepped back just in case it wasn't Conchobar and whoever it was hadn't wanted to be disturbed. He lucked out, the door was flung open with a crash that made both men wince and then Gabe was looking at the singer/song-writer himself.
"Yeah?"
"I got your address from a guy down at Duncan's," Gabriel explained, naming the bar he had visited earlier.
"They aren't supposed to give out information about their entertainers to just anyone who walks in off the street," Conchobar responded in his Irish accent, grimacing as he turned and walked over to a cupboard. "Besides, Duncan knows I'm not singing now. Why would he send you to talk to me?"
"That's apparent," Gabriel said to himself as the singer washed down a couple of aspirin with beer from a bottle that had been open in the fridge.
The Irishman turned and raised the bottle towards Gabe before he drained it of its contents, satisfaction apparent on his bruised face. "What is it you need, boy? Are you Duncan's latest ploy to get me to sing for him again?"
"I never met Duncan, unless he was the guy who answered the door."
"Nah, that would have been Christopher, Duncan's brother. Duncan never spends his days at the bar."
Gabriel nodded in acceptance and sat where the singer pointed. "I'm just a fan that's interested in a copy of one of your songs."
"I don't have a record deal, boy. Everyone knows that."
"I know. Because you're a bard and you can't write to others' specifications," Gabe answered, the way he put it showing he knew Conchobar's viewpoints quite well.
"Aye, that's true. So why are you looking for me?" he asked as he sat down across from Gabe.
"I heard you singing months ago, before you disappeared. I was hoping that I could get a copy of one of your songs."
"How do you propose to do that, what with me not having a record deal?"
"I have the equipment at home to make a CD," he explained.
"And what would you do with this CD after you made it?"
"Give it to my girlfriend. She needs to hear the message in the song."
"You're wanting me to give you a recording of one of my songs so you can give it to your girlfriend?" Gabriel's answer to Conchobar's question was a nod, and Conchobar sat back in his seat. "Tell me about this girlfriend, and then we'll talk about your recording."
Grinning, Gabriel began to do just that.
TBC
Again, no kiss or romance, even..sorry guys! Maybe next time!
Sara exchanged the backpack she carried for a cup of coffee from Danny as she walked past Danny's desk. "Thanks," she held the cup up in a quick salute before taking a drink from it. "You have two with baked, three with dough for her to make them. If she needs them, directions are on a piece of paper."
"Thank you," he told her fervently, checking to make sure the promised goods were in the bag before stashing it under his desk. He'd take it over on his lunch hour if they weren't in the middle of something; give Leigh a head start on them. "Hey, Sara?"
"Do I finally get to find out what you guys were talking about?" Jake asked as he propped his feet up on Sara's desk.
Shoving his feet off as she sat down, Sara nodded to Danny as she powered up her computer. "Four extra of baked are in there. Two for us to munch on, and two for Vicky. She'd kill me if I didn't fix some for her."
Danny popped the top on one of the containers and grabbed a cookie before holding it out to Jake. "Isn't she on a diet? She'll probably kill you if you do give them over."
Sara shrugged and grabbed one to munch on. "Dead if I do, dead if I don't. Might as well screw up her diet in the meantime."
Jake stared at the browned cookie he held in his hand. "This is what you were talking about yesterday? Cookies?"
Danny pointed with his half-eaten one to Sara. "Made by our esteemed partner."
Jake looked up at Sara before looking back at the cookie again, this time with fascination tinged with horror on his face. "You bake cookies?"
"I've been known to for someone special," she said slowly, wondering just what Jake was getting at. Well, she knew what, she just didn't know if he'd actually say what he was thinking.
"Mystery guy get any?" Danny intervened; hoping that Jake wouldn't stay on the track he was heading.
She glanced at him to let him know that she knew he was deliberately using the distraction from Jake to fish for more information. "Helped bake them, actually. Showed up halfway through the process. Took some home, ate a bunch there. He's a bottomless pit." She watched as Danny ate another cookie, having lost track of what number he was on. "Kinda like you."
Danny looked guiltily at the container, a fourth of which was gone, and shrugged. "I work it off. Got anything new to tell me about Mr. Mysterious?"
Jake broke in with an exclamation about the cookie he finally got up the nerve to try. "This is pretty good!"
"Thanks, rookie. Not yet, Danny."
Jake grabbed three cookies from the dwindling pile. "Why doesn't Sara just give the recipe to Leigh?"
Danny laughed and shook his head. "Leigh already tried that.Sara refused to give it up."
"Hey," she defended herself, "this isn't my recipe, you know. It was my mother's. She passed it onto Marie," she said, referring to Joe Siri's wife, "who taught me how to bake them."
"You have a family recipe for. what are these things?" Jake reached up to try and catch the crumbs escaping from his mouth.
"Ginger coconut, and yes, I do, Jake. Why?"
"No reason, no reason," he placated as he scoffed down what he had left. Reaching for some more, he pouted when Danny pulled the container away and covered it.
"We have work to do, Jake," Danny reminded him, ignoring the blonde's whining with all the practice of a father.
Gabriel knocked on the heavy wood door leading to the bar, hoping that someone was there and could help him. It was a long shot for him to be here, but if it worked out, it'd be worth it. Last night with Sara had been full of mixed blessings. It was obvious from her casualness that she was trying to put them back on the even footing they had with their friendship. He'd followed her lead, hoping to get her on a little more even keel before he stepped up the campaign. Ah, speaking of the campaign.
"What do you want?"
Gabe backed up a step at the brusque greeting. The man who had opened the door was short and overweight, wearing a large once white apron covered with stains Gabriel really didn't want to know about. Taking his lead, Gabriel answered in a matter-of-fact tone "I'm looking for a singer named Conchobar."
"He isn't here," the man replied and made a move to close the door in Gabe's face.
"I know he isn't. He used to sing here, though."
"Yeah, before he decided he was too good to show up for his normal gig."
"Any idea where I can find him?"
He gave Gabe a once over, taking in everything he wore. The loose jeans and flannel shirt he wore looked normal enough, but the leather jacket was obviously expensive. "What you lookin' for him for?"
"I'm just a fan."
The man took another look at the young man before him. "A fan, eh?"
"Yeah, of his music," Gabe answered with outraged offense in his voice. Just what he needed a repulsive man to assume he's a gay groupie. Was Conchobar gonna be like that too?
"Hmm, well, I'm not supposed ta, but here." He grabbed a napkin from the stack that rested on the table just inside the door and scribbled an address on it. "If he hasn't moved or been kicked out, he'll be there."
Gabriel's thanks were cut off with the door slamming in his face. "Well, definitely not someone worried about the patronage of his fine establishment," he told himself as he read the address and started back to his car.
The drive to the building was done on automatic, his mind still on the night before. Sara's baking cookies was unexpected but enchanting. He knew that the detective usually had take-out and that the most she cooked was usually something simple, like eggs. But baking cookies? That was something associated with females and being feminine, even with the blurring of the gender lines in the past fifty years. Sara Pezzini's whole life was based on her take-no-prisoners attitude. It served her well in work and her home reflected it, sparse furnishings, bare concrete walls, and even her punching bag enforced her no frill style.
So where did the cookie baking come in? Was it some way of ensuring closeness to a female in her past? Her mom, maybe? Wherever it came from, it was proof not to take her on sight only. Sara definitely had unexpected hidden depths to her.
The address given to him wasn't that far from the bar and he easily found the apartment in the building. Reaching out and knocking, he stepped back just in case it wasn't Conchobar and whoever it was hadn't wanted to be disturbed. He lucked out, the door was flung open with a crash that made both men wince and then Gabe was looking at the singer/song-writer himself.
"Yeah?"
"I got your address from a guy down at Duncan's," Gabriel explained, naming the bar he had visited earlier.
"They aren't supposed to give out information about their entertainers to just anyone who walks in off the street," Conchobar responded in his Irish accent, grimacing as he turned and walked over to a cupboard. "Besides, Duncan knows I'm not singing now. Why would he send you to talk to me?"
"That's apparent," Gabriel said to himself as the singer washed down a couple of aspirin with beer from a bottle that had been open in the fridge.
The Irishman turned and raised the bottle towards Gabe before he drained it of its contents, satisfaction apparent on his bruised face. "What is it you need, boy? Are you Duncan's latest ploy to get me to sing for him again?"
"I never met Duncan, unless he was the guy who answered the door."
"Nah, that would have been Christopher, Duncan's brother. Duncan never spends his days at the bar."
Gabriel nodded in acceptance and sat where the singer pointed. "I'm just a fan that's interested in a copy of one of your songs."
"I don't have a record deal, boy. Everyone knows that."
"I know. Because you're a bard and you can't write to others' specifications," Gabe answered, the way he put it showing he knew Conchobar's viewpoints quite well.
"Aye, that's true. So why are you looking for me?" he asked as he sat down across from Gabe.
"I heard you singing months ago, before you disappeared. I was hoping that I could get a copy of one of your songs."
"How do you propose to do that, what with me not having a record deal?"
"I have the equipment at home to make a CD," he explained.
"And what would you do with this CD after you made it?"
"Give it to my girlfriend. She needs to hear the message in the song."
"You're wanting me to give you a recording of one of my songs so you can give it to your girlfriend?" Gabriel's answer to Conchobar's question was a nod, and Conchobar sat back in his seat. "Tell me about this girlfriend, and then we'll talk about your recording."
Grinning, Gabriel began to do just that.
TBC
Again, no kiss or romance, even..sorry guys! Maybe next time!