Chapter 38
Sara hiccupped. "So you know what happened in there? He didn't even freaking bother to really apologize. He was all, 'oh so you found out about Elaine, sorry,' not looking the least bit sorry that he had fucked it up with me. Bastard," she spat, holding out her cup for another refill of wine.
Noting with amusement that Sara had polished off an entire bottle and was about to start the second, Catherine nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, men are all assholes. They'll get as much as they can then make a hasty exit."
Sara's head jerked emphatically. "Exactly! Even Gr-Grissom, he, um, he's like, 'oh yeah, why don't we spend more time together,' and then starts a fight about – of all the damn things to complain about! – Hank!"
Catherine quirked an eyebrow. "Grissom, huh? Care to share what's up with you two?"
"Why the hell not, you'll fine – find – out anyway." She hiccupped again. "Well you know about the whole charades thing where he ended up sleeping with me." Catherine nodded. "So he wakes up and gets all freaky, like I'm some English lady whose reputation he ruined."
"English lady?" Catherine blinked.
"Yeah, you know, like in all those romance novels. You know, everything always works out perfectly in those. They should be BANNED."
Hooo boy, the girl was trashed. "Ok, I get it. So he acted like he ruined you, then what?"
"Well he was all wanting to make it up to me, so I said his punishment could be to eat my quiche. Which is GOOD," she added indignantly. "So he helped me cook dinner, and then I fell asleep while he took a shower cause he was covered in flour from my hair, and he put me in bed and got in with me . . ."
Sara continued rambling while Catherine struggled to figure out what she was saying. Her words were starting to slur, and even when Catherine could make out what she said it didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense. Flour in her hair?
". . . and then I had to take a shower to get the whipped cream off, and we went to work, but then he acted like I was some pesky kid hanging around him, so I got mad, and then I found you guys all talking about me and I got even madder."
"Whoa, Sara, take a breath. Refill?" She brandished the bottle and Sara nodded.
The brunette took a few sips of her newly refilled drink, then took off again. "So I was in Archie's lab, and he must've went and got Grissom . . ."
Catherine sipped at her own wine – only her second cup – and listened as Sara described the events of the past few days in a rather unsteady fashion. Poor Sara . . . Poor Grissom, too! Those two were just going to keep fighting, she mused. Warrick had been right, they saw their own worst traits in each other and hated it. So Grissom was jealous of Hank – well that problem was solved, but she supposed the bad feelings would persist until they talked it out. Sara spent close to ten minutes ranting about his lack of trust in her. Yep, she was a little upset about the whole thing.
Sara was getting a little unsteady. Catherine wondered if she ought to get a trashcan for the girl. "You ok there, babe?"
"Babe . . . baby . . . oh god I called him that," Sara moaned, hugged herself and rocking back and forth.
Catherine had heard about that faux pas from Warrick. Sara must have been mortified, and to embarrass herself over that little prick who wasn't worth it, too! She tried again. "Ok there, slugger?"
Sara nodded forlornly. "Yesh – I mean yes – yeah – I'm, um, I'm fine. Just a little…drunk." A small giggle escaped her throat.
Oh this was just too convenient. She had to do it; Sara would thank her for it later. "Hey Sara – I'll be right back, ok? Don't fall off the couch."
Sara smiled widely at her. "Why would I do that? Falling isn't any fun anyway, like that song says!"
Catherine had no idea what song Sara was talking about. She retreated to the kitchen, trying to decide whether to laugh or be worried. Picking up the phone, she bit her lip. This could cause her a lot of trouble in the long run, but she couldn't help being a meddler and honestly, she thought this would be the kick in the ass Grissom and Sara needed to get back on track. Taking a deep breath, she dialed.
