Two

I went home that night wondering about all the people I had met in one day, and all the small yet significant experiences I had. Las Vegas was not a city for the faint of heart, or the weak of stomach, so what was I doing there? I belonged in suburbia, where I had grown up. I was supposed to be getting married and being a soccer mom with long red finger nails and vacations to Maine. This was far from the life I had planned on living just two years ago.

I was by no means the Queen of cool, but I believed that in certain situations I could blend in. My co-workers were a different story. They seemed out of place in such an upbeat party city; so out of their element. I wondered why a man as smart as Grissom had come to Las Vegas. Even more so, I wondered what he did here when he wasn't working. Where do the nerds go if not to the casinos and dance clubs? State of the art arcades? Late night movies? Nerd conventions? I was desperate to find out, because to be honest, I was feeling like a loser in a cool world, too.

The next few weeks blurred into one long and messy day, and I felt myself tiring from the routine of my new life already. Missy had upgraded me from answering phones to sending and delivering faxes, but that was even more depressing than my original assignment. At least the phone offered me the opportunity to have contact with the outside world. I could actually talk to breathing human beings; flirt with the men with sweet voices, joke with tired investigators, even fight with certain media figures. Now, my conversations were "Beep, Beep. Paper Jam".

It was only a few days ago that I realized why Grissom had such a strong interest in a nobody receptionist like me, and why he felt it necessary to introduce me to Warrick, Sara and Nick. More than any other workers in the building, I relayed messages to them and sometimes even brought them crucial evidence, hot off the fax machine. They became my real co-workers and everyone else in the building was just a blur of blue lab coats. I guess it was better this way. It was hard enough for me to get to know one person, so I wasn't looking forward to being buddy-buddy with 100 of them.

I was right about Sara. I instantly liked her personality, and where she stood in every case. She was the kind of woman I wanted to be growing up. The strong woman who called the shots and didn't take crap from anyone. She had a sort of tomboyish quality to her, like she would have rather played football with the boys than gone shopping with the girls. She was really the only person who chatted with me. The others would pass my desk, back and forth busy on a case, and wave or smile casually. But Sara would walk up the desk, lean casually over the ledge like we were two teenagers telling secrets. It wasn't a huge gesture, but when you have no one else in such a big city to rely on, it's comforting.

On certain occasions, I found myself watching Greg as he walked by, his head down reading an important document, his hair still spiked upwards. I fell into a sort of trance, but caught myself before anyone else did. I always did this when I thought that a man was even slightly attractive. I would think about them off and on all day, and primp and preen just for the two seconds he walked by in the hallway. I tried to tell myself that those little glimpses he gave me were signs of his undying love and affection, but then I took my crazy pills and everything made sense again. We didn't say much to each other, just the mandatory co-worker talk. Until Halloween, that is...

Growing up, Halloween was always my favorite holiday. But now, as an adult, you need a good excuse to dress up as a Teletubby. I miss Trick-or-Treating (Hello free candy) and staying up until midnight trying to get my face paint out of my pores. It's only acceptable for older folks when they're going to some office party, and even then, the customs aren't as fun. You're either schorlarly and boring, or overly sexy. I was neither one.

I had been so focused on this new job that Halloween snuck up on me out of nowhere. It didn't even register in my mind until I was brushing my teeth that morning and heard the radio DJ announce it. Having no one else to celebrate with, I told Cornelius "Happy Halloween" and began on my way to work. The entire ride there, I contemplated the crime lab and whether anyone there was shameless enough to dress up. I imagined Grissom in a pink bunny suit, or Warrick decked out in 70's pimp wear, and giggled to myself.

Unfortunately, no one was dressed up when I got to work. It was the same blue lab coats, and the same business casual polo shirts and khakis. I knew I should have been a grade school teacher; on this particular day, it would have been a much more gratifying (and entertaining) job.

"Happy Halloween!" Missy cheered as I approached my desk, the phone already ringing and the fax machine backed up. I gasped at the sight of her chunky orange sweater with pumpkin and black cat buttons and a "spooky" scene. Spookier to me was the fact that people actually wore that stuff. I knew she was a novelty holiday sweater wearer!

"Good morning, Missy." I didn't even try to fake enthusiasm.

"Someone isn't in the Halloween spirit." she replied, making a frowning face and approaching me, ready for a hug. No, not that! Anything but hugs!

"Yeah, everyone in this building." My comment stopped her, made her think, and then go right back to that Betty Crocker smile.

"I know what you need." And with that, Missy pulled a handful of candy out of one of her oversized pockets and set it on the desk in front of me. "I can tell you like candy."

She can tell I like candy? It's one thing for me to think that I'm fat, but to have a fatter person tell you so is just the worst. I produced a grim smile, and acted like I was working so she would buzz off. In reality, I was playing with the stapler like I did whenever I had nothing else to do. I started out just hitting it over and over again so that all the staples would run out and I could refill the tiny machine to look busy. But I realized that it was such a waste of good staples, and started punching them into paper in designs and patterns: hearts, my name, anything I could think of. I got a little ambitious when I tried to make the Eiffle Tower, and gave up in frustration.

I started punching the curves of a fat pumpkin into a fresh sheet of paper when Greg appeard over me, hovering for a moment before he said anything.

"Stapler art?" I jumped at his question, and quickly slammed my art project down on the desk. I should really go back to the first grade, where I belong.

"I was just testing out the new staplers...and hey, they work!" Dumb. Stupid. Stupid. Dumb. Dumb Matilda. Getting over my shame, I then realized that Greg was wearing a bright blue and purple silk Genie hat with the most conviction I had ever seen out of any guy in a Genie hat. He noticed my staring.

"What?" he asked innocently. "It's Halloween."

"No, it's lovely. It's just that your the only one who seems to be interested in Halloween around here."

"Are you kidding me?! An excuse to dress up and get free candy? Where do I sign up?" I laughed at his enthusiasm, even blushing a little. But after that cutesy moment, I felt the dreaded awkward silence coming on. I had to say something quick, before I made an even bigger ass of myself. Great, now I would be chubby and uninteresting.

"I love candy," Oh that was a great comment.

"Who doesn't?" he asked casually, and I was relived that he hadn't noticed my complete dorkiness. "Hey, got any plans tonight?"

"No." Actually, my good friends Ben and Jerry were coming over and we were all going to watch "Pretty Woman" and cry because there is still no man as good as Richard Gere. Of course, I couldn't tell Greg that.

"Let's go Trick-or-treating." I stared at him blankly, as if he had just sprouted another head and started up a conversation with it. How was I supposed to react to this? Was he joking, making fun of me? Or was he serious?

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Yeah, come on. I realize it's kind of immature, but it'll be fun." On the inside, I laughed at how a super smart guy like Greg could still get kicks out of dressing like a Power Ranger and begging for candy. I made a vow to myself from that point on to never again judge people on their outside personas (yeah right).

"I don't have a costume."

"No problem," he brushed off my comment casually with his hand. "You're in Vegas. If you can't find a last minute costume here, something is definetly wrong." And before I knew what was going on, or who I was even, I had made a date with Greg for that night - to go Trick-or-Treating. After he left my desk to go back to his work, I was faced with the ultimate girl problem: I had nothing to wear!