A/N: Seriously, guys, you are overwhelming me with your reviews. You are making me feel so loved. And I'm really, really glad you guys are having fun with this, because I know I am. I know it's been nearly 24 hours since I updated, but I've had to work on a couple of other projects. My husband and I own a multimedia development company, and in exchange for letting me be a "stay at home wife," I have to help him write ad copy sometimes. So anyway, sorry! And I also want to apologize for the last chapter. I was dead tired while writing it, and it was total crap. Not the ideas, but the pitiful job I did getting them down in writing. Hopefully, now that I've recharged a bit, things will come out more smoothly for me! Now...on with the story!
Grissom couldn't help but groan inwardly when he thought of all the hell he was going to catch from Catherine when he commissioned her help. He knew she would be totally on board with the idea once she got all the teasing and needling out of her system, but he dreaded it nonetheless. The next step in his plan was totally out of his league, though, and he needed her, so he would just have to suck it up. Besides, it was worth it...for Sara. With a quiet sigh, he picked up the phone and paged Catherine. A few minutes later she was standing in his doorway. "What's up?" she asked.
"Come in and shut the door behind you," he replied cryptically. Catherine raised an eyebrow at him as she slowly sauntered in. When the door was closed and she was comfortably seated, she eyed him, waiting for him to start talking. Grissom drew in a deep breath.
"Did anyone see you coming in here?"
"Uh....no. I don't think so. Why?" she queried, her curiosity piqued.
"I'll explain everything in a second. But first, if anyone asks you, we were just going over a case, all right?"
Catherine was really getting annoyed. "Grissom, will you just tell me what's going on here?"
Grissom knew it was now or never. He glanced down at his desk and fiddled with a pen as he began to speak. "Uh, Catherine...it's about Sara. I need—"
"No way," she said, cutting him off. She held her hands up, palms facing him, to say that she was not interested in where this was going. "Grissom, I'm not touching it with a ten-foot pole. Until you get your head out of your ass and figure out what the hell you're going to do about this—"
This time it was Grissom who did the interrupting. With a red face, he snapped, "Dammit, Catherine, will you let me finish?" Catherine sat back, shocked.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Ok, thank you." Settling down, Grissom tried again. "As I was saying, it's about Sara. I am aware," he said pointedly, "that I have been a complete ass. I've been a total chicken about my feelings for Sara, but I can't ignore them anymore, and I've decided to go for it." He paused. Damn, this was hard. Catherine was probably his closest friend, but it was just so uncomfortable discussing things like this with her. He risked a quick glance up at Catherine. She was staring at him with her mouth slightly open and her eyebrows raised. A strand of strawberry blonde hair had fallen into her eye, but she didn't seem to notice. She waited for him to continue. Taking another deep breath, he quickly filled her in on all that he had done, from the notes to the massage to the bottle of Dom Perignon. He did not, however, mention her dancing. He knew Sara would want that to stay private. As he finished his speech, he looked at Catherine and waited for a response. After what seemed like years, she looked at him and said, "Damn, Gil. Dom Perignon? That stuff is primo!" Grissom laughed and relaxed. Leave it to Catherine to recognize his discomfort and do something to relieve it. She was a good friend. She continued, "Ok...so what does all this have to do with me?"
Grissom proceeded to tell her about the last part of his plan. When he finished, he said, "This is where you come in. I need your keen fashion sense. We're obviously going to need clothes for this—nice clothes. I don't have anything appropriate, and I have no idea what she has. So...since you have tonight off, I want you to go home and get a few hours of sleep, and then go shopping for us." He reached for his wallet and pulled out his credit card. Handing it over to her, he said, "And Catherine, I don't care where you go or what you buy. Spend whatever you need in order to make this a night she will never forget. I mean that," he said sincerely, locking her eyes with his. "I've screwed around for too long on this. Money is not an issue here."
Catherine raised one very skeptical eyebrow. "Ok, let me clarify this, Gil, because I do not want to bear the brunt of your wrath if I mess up. When you say that money is no object, you do realize that I am going to immediately head over to Via Bellagio and spend you into oblivion at places like Armani, Prada, and Gucci, right?" She was staring at him, giving him that patented "Catherine" look that screamed skepticism. She was in for a surprise, though.
"Yes, I am aware of that. That is exactly what I am asking you to. I want you to go wherever you want to and spend whatever you need to in order to make both Sara and me look like a million bucks." He smiled faintly. "Although, I have to admit, I'll need a lot more help than Sara will. Oh, yeah, and don't forget accessories. Jewelry, perfume, whatever. Oh, and get me some cologne. Got it?"
"I think you've lost your mind, but I've got it. There's only one problem...I don't know what size Sara is.I'd guess that she's either a size 4 or 6, but I can't be sure, and I don't want to screw this up. And as far as shoe size goes, I haven't got a clue." She looked at Grissom questioningly. "How am I going to figure that out?"
He sat thinking for a moment. Suddenly his face brightened. "Hey! Just about everybody keeps a spare key here just in case they get locked out..."
"Gil, no. I can't invade her house. She'd die. Besides, what if she comes home and catches me?" Grissom was busily digging a drawer. He emerged triumphantly with a key and shoved it into Catherine's hand.
"Look, you're only going in long enough to look in her closet and find out what size she is. It's not like you're going to snoop through all her stuff. And besides, you've wrapped up your case, so go now, while she's still at work, and no one will ever be the wiser. And if she starts to head home early for some reason, I'll call your cell and tell you to get your ass out of there." Catherine looked unconvinced, and Grissom pleaded with her, a note of desperation in his voice. "Please, Cath. Please do this for me." His blue eyes were huge, and Catherine knew this must be really hard for him. She relented. "Ok, ok, I'll do it."
A huge, very un-Grissom-like grin spread over her friend's face.
"Thanks, Cath. You have no idea how much I appreciate this."
She was shaking her head as she walked toward the door. "Just make sure I get to be a bridesmaid in the wedding, ok?" she called over her shoulder. As she turned and glanced back at him from the doorway, she couldn't help but grin at the sight of one very red-faced Gil Grissom.
'This is gonna be too much fun,' she thought. She quickened her pace, excited at the prospect of a shopping expedition. Stopping in her tracks, she turned on her heel and walked back to Grissom's office. Poking her head in, she said, "Uh, Grissom?"
He looked up in surprise. "Yeah?"
"In all the excitement, I forgot to get your measurements. I can't exactly shop for you without knowing what size you are." Grissom looked at her sheepishly.
"Uh, yeah, I guess I left that part out. Sorry," he said as he grabbed a sheet of paper. "What all do you need?"
"Uhh...neck size, shirt size, jacket size, pant size...and don't forget length. Oh, yeah, and shoe size. Yup, that should do it." Grissom shook as his head as he jotted down the requested information.
"It sure requires a lot of numbers to get dressed," he said as he finished. Sliding the paper toward her, he said, "The neck size might be off by a half inch or so—I haven't checked lately—but everything else should be accurate. Now get out of here!" he said with a smile.
Catherine ducked back out of the office, looking down at the proffered sheet of paper. Oh, yes, he was going to look very nice indeed by the time she finished with him.