At eight o'clock, dinner was served. Everything was delicious and the meal progressed without any major incident. Of course, Monk wouldn't touch his food until Sharona wiped off all the silverware and assured him that the plates were steam-cleaned, and Karen picked on her husband's table manners, but aside from that, all went smoothly.
"I can't believe this service!" Sharona exclaimed, "The staff is so professional!"
"It should be," replied the captain, "This is one of the best catering companies in San Francisco. Every waiter and waitress here has been trained probably better than our police dogs."
"Wow," Sharona replied, impressed. The banquet was fully equipped with a jazz band that had been playing for some time. A few couples had begun dancing a while ago, but due to Monk's incredibly slow eating, the group had remained at their table. A familiar Sinatra tune began to fill the room, and Karen gasped.
"Oh! They played this song at our wedding!" She mused, sentimentally. Her husband stood up.
"Would you like to dance?" the captain asked his wife, getting up.
"I'd love to," Karen replied. Sharona smiled, and looked at Adrian, hoping that she wouldn't have to sit this dance out. Just then, one of the waiters tripped, dropping his tray. Adrian cringed at the sound of silverware, plates, and glasses crashing to the floor. He jumped to his feet to attend to the mess.
"Adrian, you don't have to--" Sharona started
"It'll make me feel better," he said, as he rushed to the embarrassed waiter and his pile of broken dishes.
"Looks like you got ditched," Randy chuckled, looking at Sharona.
"At least I was here with someone," she shot back. Randy started to get up. "Don't tell me you're going to leave me all alone here," she started.
"No," he stepped closer to her seat, "I was getting up to ask you to dance."
"Oh." Sharona stood up, and Randy led her too the floor. This should be interesting. Sharona thought as they assumed "dance position." Randy never displayed any behavior that wasn't clumsy or awkward. However, when they began to dance, her opinion changed completely. Randy was very light on his feet, and dare she say, debonair.
"Where'd you learn to dance?" She smirked at him.
"I took dance lessons in high school." Sharona stifled a laugh. "Sure, just another way for you to make fun of me."
"No, its just," she started, "I couldn't picture you dancing." She started to laugh again.
Wow, she's beautiful when she laughs. Randy was in heaven. He felt like Fred Astaire. Coincidentally, Sharona thought to herself that she felt just like Ginger Rodgers. Her heart raced as he dipped her and the music swelled.
He brought her back up, closer to him. A little startled by this at first, she eased into this new position. She noticed the way he smelled. Usually, in the course of a day's work, he would smell just like the police station- stale coffee and bad air freshener. But tonight, he smelled like clean pressed cotton and just the right amount of cologne. She smiled.
The song ended and Randy dipped Sharona again. They both smiled and applauded the band. Suddenly Randy's face became serious.
"Sharona, I--" he was interrupted by the echo of gunshots in the corridor.
