"We should probably get to this list or something," Greg said resignedly, almost certain that she would still refuse to adhere to the schedule Grissom had given him.
"Probably," she replied softly.
They were once again outside, standing in the rain. Anne was clutching her new, weatherproof record bag (complete with its very own record collection stowed inside) to her as though it were a life preserver in an ensuing flood; a flood Greg was sure they'd have if the rain kept on.
"What else is there to do in this town?" she asked. Greg smiled at her use of the word town.
"Not much if you don't gamble."
"Or if you don't work in the crime lab, huh? Come on, there must be something else that you do for fun."
"Well, we could hit the club scene if you want." At the mischievous light in her eyes, Greg was almost certain he'd suggested wrong. On top of that, going to a club with a pretty girl was something he would call a date; something Grissom had expressly forbidden him to do.
"Or we could . . ." he trailed off, thinking desperately for something else to do.
"What kind of club?" she asked immediately.
"The kind that we're not going to," he mumbled and turned away from her to hail another cab.
"Oh, no you don't," she said and reached for his hand. She held it firmly in her own until he turned back to face her. "C'mon," she insisted.
"We really should . . ."
"What is it about my uncle that has you wound up so tight?" she asked, a small amount of frustration evident in her voice.
"He owns me," Greg blurted. "I'm not kidding," he sounded hurt as she produced a small giggle. "My career half depends on how badly I screw up and what Grissom has to say about it."
"What's the other half of this dependency?"
"That's both halves," he said. "I screw up and see what Grissom has to say about it."
"You give him too much control. It's not like he's psychic, Greg."
"You don't know!" Greg half shouted.
As if on cue, Greg's cell rang out and startled them both. Immediately, Greg was paralyzed by a wave of guilt at 1) holding Anne's hand and 2) not having done what he was basically told to do.
"It's him," he said as lightheartedly as he could. "He could hear you doubting his psychic powers and now he's checking up on us."
"Greg," she sighed. She released his hand and, before he could stop her, snatched his phone away. She checked the caller i.d. to make sure that it was her uncle before answering.
"Hey, Uncle Gil," she answered.
Greg watched, antsy to know what Grissom was saying.
"Yep. We're actually gonna take a quick break here." She paused and stuck her tongue out at Greg. " No, Absolute Business Services didn't interest me much at all." She paused briefly. "I've already told you that I want to work in commercial advertising. Magazine ad's and things like that." She smiled at Greg who was now sticking his tongue out at her.
"Are you sure because I can always call and make you an appointment at Acme Publishing," Grissom said into the receiver of the phone. He caught sight of Nick, Warrick, and Catherine coming down the hall towards him and motioned for them to join him in the break room.
"Hey Griss . . ." Nick began a greeting but was silenced when Grissom waved a hand at them to remain quiet. He listened to the person on the other end of the line and rolled his eyes heavily.
"Okay, but remember that I'm taking you to breakfast in the morning." He paused. "I love you too," he said, shocking the entire break room. "All right. Bye-bye."
He pressed the end button on his cell and looked up at the others in the room.
"What?" he asked, noting the quizzical way they were all staring at him, Warrick in open mouthed astonishment.
"My niece," he answered their unanswered question. "She's on a date with Greg."
"How did that happen?" Catherine asked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice.
"It's not supposed to be a date, but I know that's what it's turned into."
"You have a niece?" Nick back tracked.
"Yes, I have a niece," Grissom answered, a bit defensively for him.
"What was "it" supposed to be before "it" turned into a date?" Catherine asked.
"It was supposed to be a job club kind of thing but I know that's not what's going on."
"How can you know that?" Warrick asked, unsure if he was trying to defend Greg or some unknown relative of Grissom's. "You've been here the better part of twelve hours."
"She duct tapes her shoes," he answered simply, as thought that should be explanation enough.
Nick smiled, a small laugh escaping him. He looked at Warrick who looked to Catherine for an explanation.
"Greg tapes his shoes," she said. She turned to Grissom, still slightly puzzled. "So, because both Greg and your niece tape their shoes, they're on a date?"
"That's a pretty big leap," Warrick agreed.
"It's logical for me because I know my niece," Grissom explained. He waved his hand in dismissal. "On top of that, they're headed to ghostbar."
"At the palms?" Catherine asked, astounded at such a suggestion as Greg Sanders being seen at ghostbar.
"Yes. And I want someone to be there to make sure that nothing that shouldn't happen happens."
"I'll go," Nick and Warrick volunteered at once. Ghostbar was one of the damn coolest clubs in Vegas and neither ever had the chance to spend more than half an hour at a time in it.
"Catherine?" Gil began pleadingly. "Would you be so kind as to chaperone my niece at ghostbar?"
Catherine considered for a moment. She could either go home to an empty house (Lindsey was visiting her grandmother, much to Catherine's chagrin although she could do very little to help that) or she could spend an hour or so at one of the better night clubs Vegas had to offer.
"I'll do it," she answered, "but only because you look so worried."
"And I'll go with to make sure that no unseemly characters accost our dear Miss Willows," Nick said with all the chivalry he could muster.
"And I'll go with so that no one's unsatisfied spouse drools too long over Mr. Down In Texas and gets him into a fight," Warrick announced.
"Whatever," Grissom snapped good naturedly. "Just keep an eye on her, all right?"
"Whatever you say boss," Nick smiled.
"See," Anne said, handing Greg's phone back to him. "No worries."
"I guess," he said, a bit relieved that Grissom hadn't asked to talk to him at all. I just can't believe you lied to Gil Grissom. It's like . . . like you have powers that are beyond those of us mere mortals."
"Well, if he's psychic, what powers did you think I had?"
Besides the power to make me forget that you're supposed to be off limits and yet entice me your Duran dancing?
"I guess," he said skeptically and tried for a cab once more.
"Now, what's this ghostbar place like?"
"It's . . ." He stopped a moment to get a good mental image of ghostbar before trying to explain. "It's like floating," he said with a small smile.
"Can I call Dee and see if she wants to come?"
No, Greg almost said, because I know how girls are when they go out to clubs. It's always, "We came together, we leave together" and I don't want to end up leaving without you.
Now where the hell had that come from?
"Sure," he answered. "Tell her to bring a friend or something."
"I am her friend," she laughed. "But I get you." She smiled as she dialed her friend and Greg returned her smile, looking down to once again compare the duct tape with which they both repaired their shoes, hoping she didn't notice the slight blush creeping into his face at the fact that she, too, must be a little psychic to get what he'd meant.