A big hug and kiss to daf9, Kiki, Vera, Aingeal, Zoiy, Datura, and
waterfall for their wonderful reviews--thank you much! :-)
***
Detective Johnston had a headache. A throbbing, pounding, painful, aching, agonizing, excruciating headache. Those three glasses of vodka at the bar last night had been one of the worst mistakes of his life. He slumped down lifelessly in his chair, his glazed eyes red-ringed and swollen, his jaw hanging slackly, and his tongue lolling limply out of the corner of his mouth, uttering a faint, feeble whimper.
Suddenly, without warning, a woman's face appeared above his. He squinted and blinked the blurriness away, focusing on the features.
Radha. It was Radha. The woman he dreamed about late at night, ever since he met her; the woman he loved hopelessly, devotedly, ardently; the woman he could never confess his feelings to in a million years.
The woman who was kissing him very enthusiastically right about now.
"Radhaaaahhh?" His eyes flew wide open in surprise, his question muffled in her mouth.
"Shhh," she said softly, with a sweetly tender look in her eyes. "I love you, too. Let's go out for dinner and a movie afterwards, and end up at my apartment... how does that sound?"
"OK," he gurgled.
"It's a date." Radha kissed him again, tangling her hands in his short hair, before releasing him with a wink. "See you tonight, sweetheart." And she strolled languidly back to her desk.
"She loves me," Johnston breathed incredulously, his eyes shining. "She loves me! She loves me!" With a wildly cheerful, incoherent yell, he danced and leaped down the hallway on joyously light feet--and promptly crashed into Eames. "Ouch--ow!--oh, sorry, Eames--she loves me!"
"She should," Eames replied, getting enough of her breath back to grin whole-heartedly. "After all those flowers you sent her--"
"Flowers?" Johnston was still beaming from ear to ear. "What flowers?"
***
"How could someone get a hold of your credit card number?" Eames persisted, tapping her fingers on the desk as Johnston frantically rifled through his papers. They had spent the last hour making a succession of phone calls to the delivery company and Johnston's local bank, discovering that close to eight thousand dollars--undoubtedly spent on the flower deliveries--had gone missing from his personal account.
"I don't know!" cried the poor detective miserably, a haggard, hunted look on his face. "I mean, I always keep an eye on all my bills and receipts--"
"Do you do any shopping over the Web?" She winced as Johnston immediately blushed a fire-engine shade of red and deafened her with a shout of "No! Never! Only once, and that was for a--uh, a--a private occasion!"
"A private occasion?" she tried tentatively.
"I'm not talking about it!" Johnston folded his mouth shut stubbornly, fuming at her in silence.
"Johnston--" Eames retorted, her long-suffering patience worn thin.
"Eames?" She and Johnston both swiveled about, startled, to see Goren leaning against the wall. "Deakins needs to see us in his office."
"Coming," Eames said automatically, glaring exasperatedly at Johnston as she got up. The detective dropped his eyes and softly grumbled, glowering back at her before burying his head in his arms as she left.
***
***
Detective Johnston had a headache. A throbbing, pounding, painful, aching, agonizing, excruciating headache. Those three glasses of vodka at the bar last night had been one of the worst mistakes of his life. He slumped down lifelessly in his chair, his glazed eyes red-ringed and swollen, his jaw hanging slackly, and his tongue lolling limply out of the corner of his mouth, uttering a faint, feeble whimper.
Suddenly, without warning, a woman's face appeared above his. He squinted and blinked the blurriness away, focusing on the features.
Radha. It was Radha. The woman he dreamed about late at night, ever since he met her; the woman he loved hopelessly, devotedly, ardently; the woman he could never confess his feelings to in a million years.
The woman who was kissing him very enthusiastically right about now.
"Radhaaaahhh?" His eyes flew wide open in surprise, his question muffled in her mouth.
"Shhh," she said softly, with a sweetly tender look in her eyes. "I love you, too. Let's go out for dinner and a movie afterwards, and end up at my apartment... how does that sound?"
"OK," he gurgled.
"It's a date." Radha kissed him again, tangling her hands in his short hair, before releasing him with a wink. "See you tonight, sweetheart." And she strolled languidly back to her desk.
"She loves me," Johnston breathed incredulously, his eyes shining. "She loves me! She loves me!" With a wildly cheerful, incoherent yell, he danced and leaped down the hallway on joyously light feet--and promptly crashed into Eames. "Ouch--ow!--oh, sorry, Eames--she loves me!"
"She should," Eames replied, getting enough of her breath back to grin whole-heartedly. "After all those flowers you sent her--"
"Flowers?" Johnston was still beaming from ear to ear. "What flowers?"
***
"How could someone get a hold of your credit card number?" Eames persisted, tapping her fingers on the desk as Johnston frantically rifled through his papers. They had spent the last hour making a succession of phone calls to the delivery company and Johnston's local bank, discovering that close to eight thousand dollars--undoubtedly spent on the flower deliveries--had gone missing from his personal account.
"I don't know!" cried the poor detective miserably, a haggard, hunted look on his face. "I mean, I always keep an eye on all my bills and receipts--"
"Do you do any shopping over the Web?" She winced as Johnston immediately blushed a fire-engine shade of red and deafened her with a shout of "No! Never! Only once, and that was for a--uh, a--a private occasion!"
"A private occasion?" she tried tentatively.
"I'm not talking about it!" Johnston folded his mouth shut stubbornly, fuming at her in silence.
"Johnston--" Eames retorted, her long-suffering patience worn thin.
"Eames?" She and Johnston both swiveled about, startled, to see Goren leaning against the wall. "Deakins needs to see us in his office."
"Coming," Eames said automatically, glaring exasperatedly at Johnston as she got up. The detective dropped his eyes and softly grumbled, glowering back at her before burying his head in his arms as she left.
***
