Note: Post Weeping Willows
"So you are trusting Sara, the vegetarian, to bring snacks?" Warrick clarified as he followed me into my darkened house. It was one in the morning.
"She's cool," I replied as I flipped a light switch on.
"I know, but she's a cool vegetarian," Warrick clarified as he peeled off his coat.
"Rick, she knows what to buy," I said as I walked into the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator.
"I'm glad someone's confident, but I swear to you if I have to snack on carrot sticks all night, I'm not going to be a happy man," Warrick replied as he flipped the television on.
We had started planning these nights not too long after the night shift had been split up. Once or twice a month we would meet for drinks, go to a club, or hang out at someone's house. Tonight, Warrick brought over the only video game that we had successfully taught Sara to play.
We went through a variety of video games before we could agree that this was the lesser of the evils. Sara was often lost somewhere between the button with the triangle on it and the button with the square. She would try, but often became frustrated when she couldn't figure out why the hell her defensive line was sitting idle while Warrick's offense already had the football and was half way down the field. Sara's football, baseball, and hockey teams spent most of their time 'itching their asses' or so she said.
We had seen Sara change a lot over the last few months. She was the consummate professional at work, but was slowly shedding her professional skin during the after hours. Warrick's jaw dropped open when Sara said that she had begun dating after a very long 'four year drought." Warrick nearly passed out when Sara said she was currently juggling a defense attorney and a pit boss from the Golden Nugget. Sara said she had a lot of life to catch up on. He teased her for trying to catch up on it so fast.
"Hey, I brought food," Sara said as she walked into the kitchen. She laughed when she saw how much she had startled me.
"Smells good," I replied as she sat two grocery bags on the kitchen counter.
"It was my day off, so I decided to try my hand at cooking," Sara said with a rather serious face. I must have looked shocked, curious, or suspicious because she laughed and said she was joking. I had a hard time picturing her in the kitchen wearing an apron baking a cake. It was easier for me to picture her swearing at her stove for burning yet another frozen pizza.
"Buffalo wings and pizza for you guys," Sara said as she pulled various items out of the bags, "And veggie chips and dip for me."
"Veggie chips?" I asked as I pulled the bag from her hands, "These are thinly sliced yucca, blue potato, and I can't even pronounce that vegetable. Exactly how much dip do you have to eat with these so they don't taste like crap?"
"Funny, Nicky. Very funny," Sara replied as she punched me in arm.
"Beer?" I asked as Sara proceeded to unload the rest of the snacks.
"No, water is fine," she replied with a knowing smile. I knew Sara's problem wasn't with alcohol, but she still avoided it like the plague. Her problem had always been with herself. She never believed she was smart enough, good enough, confident enough . . . the list could go on forever.
"Would you two get your asses out here," Warrick yelled impatiently.
"So what's the difference between this game and last year's version?" Sara asked innocently.
"Well, a few of the rookies like Kvapil have been added to the roster. The paint jobs on all the cars are a little more true to life," Warrick replied as he tried to justify spending seventy dollars on a video game that was only slightly different than the NASCAR game released last year. Sara shook her head. I knew she resigned it to being something only a man could understand.
"So, Sar, who are you this week?" I asked. I always asked because her answers were entertaining. Warrick always drove Jimmie Johnson's car because it had the best winning percentage and best Vegas Odds. I always drove Dale Jr's car because my father all but worshiped Dale Senior. Some of my fondest memories were of watching NASCAR with my father. My older brother clung to those memories by becoming a mechanic for a racing team in North Carolina.
"I was thinking Kasey Kahne. I looked at the profiles online, like Warrick told me to, and I decided that he was the best looking," Sara said with a smirk.
"I told you to look at the driver's statistics," Warrick replied as he tossed Sara a controller, "All that repressed sexuality that's coming out of you is starting to creep me out."
"Oh, Rick. Do you really expect me to be celibate forever?" Sara teased.
"Considering you are juggling men like an old pro . . . ," Warrick replied with a smile. I always enjoyed watching them interact. Each a cynic with a dry sense of humor. Their banter was by far more entertaining than the game we would spend hours playing.
"Okay, kids. Twenty-five down . . . winner takes all," I said, "Two hundred fifty laps at the Texas Motor Speedway."
"It's always Texas," Sara groaned.
"It's better than watching you try to drive the road course at Sonoma," I replied. Sara's car spent most of the time in the dirt last time we played that course.
"You know, Nick, we just make a donation to Warrick's bank account each time we do this," Sara said as she tossed her twenty-five dollars on the coffee table.
"And you know I love it," Warrick replied.
Two hundred fifty laps went by quickly. Warrick's wallet was fattened as it was each time we played. Sara regaled us with stories about Catherine and Grissom bickering about the amount of time Mia should spend processing the evidence for each shift. Sara also told us about how Greg was doing in the field. Warrick grilled Sara about her new 'boyfriends.' Sara promptly asked Warrick exactly how fast Mia turned him down. It felt like the shift changes never happened.
"Again in three weeks?" Warrick asked as he opened the front door.
"Just let me know when and where," Sara said.
"Three weeks should give Sara enough time to practice so she doesn't miss her pit stall on three consecutive pit stops," I teased.
"We may want to make it four weeks," Warrick said as he left.
"So Kasey Kahne?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"You're the one that doesn't want anyone to know about us. If anyone was to figure it out, it would be Warrick. That's why my 'pseudo' sex life is something right out of a trashy novel," Sara replied as she finished clearing the snacks off the coffee table.
"It's going to get messy the minute Catherine and Grissom find out," I said as I followed her into the kitchen. I stood behind her with my hands on her hips as she began to rinse off the plates that we used. She always needed to rinse the plates before putting them in the dishwasher.
"You act like they have a say," Sara replied. I admired her defiance, but I wondered if exposing us was something she wanted to do for the right reasons. Sometimes, I wondered if she wanted to punish Grissom and Catherine. Sometimes, I wanted that too. I wanted that after I saw Grissom standing a little too close to Sara in the layout room last week. I wanted that even more after he called her 'honey' on accident after a jack slipped out from under a car and almost fell down on Sara. I knew she was shaken up, but there was no reason for him to be so overtly affectionate.
"They don't, but there's enough turmoil at work right now. Let's not make any waves until things calm down," I replied as I slowly began kissing the spot where her neck sloped into her shoulders.
"I know, but I'm happy. This is the first time that I've been happy in a long time. I want to be able to go out to movies and restaurants with you without worrying if someone saw us," Sara replied.
"Letting everyone know is going to make things change. Catherine is going to be pissed at me for sleeping with the 'enemy.' I don't even know what Grissom would do," I replied.
"It bothers him that seeing him with Sophia doesn't make me jealous. I see it in his eyes. He wants me to be jealous," Sara replied with a sigh, "It seems like a never-ending saga. If he knew that I was happy, it might all end."
"Or it would drive him into full force flirting and such. I was ready to punch him for calling you honey. I don't know if I could handle him being any more affectionate. I don't think he would ever treat me the same again," I replied. I always wondered if Grissom would approve of me being with Sara. His approval always meant so much to me. I always tried to aspire to his standards, but I always seemed to fall short.
"Let's not talk about Grissom. Take me to bed, Nicky," Sara said with a smirk, "I'll get the dishes in the morning. No matter what he calls me or what he says . . . I'm yours, Nicky."
I scooped her up and carried her to my bedroom. All those issues could wait until the morning. It was so much easier when I pretended that we were the only people on earth.
FIN