Title: Sticks and Stones Chapter 6
Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.
Author's Note: Anal retentiveness seems to be an unerring trait amongst scientific types. I struggle to overcome it myself. So with that said, I recently observed one of my colleagues making a list very similar to the one Grissom makes here. I couldn't resist teasing him unmercifully about it.
Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows
Gil Grissom sat quietly reading a forensics journal as he awaited take-off. This time he had ample time to catch his plane and was one of the first boarders. His study was interrupted when a raucous group of men, sporting Harley Davidson T-shirts, entered his area and began clamoring into their seats. The last one was a huge man, probably six-three and easily weighed three hundred pounds. He had on a Harley Davidson ball cap with his curly brown ponytail hanging down to the middle of his broad shoulders. Grissom found his T-shirt quite amusing; it read 'I beat anorexia.' A red arrow pointed down to his generous paunch.
"We need beer." Chirped one of his compatriots. He was much smaller with youthful features and dark hair.
"Doubt we can get one until we're in the air." Slurred another one. He had on a Harley cap with a slightly longer blonde ponytail.
"Gentlemen, how are we today?" Questioned the petite flight attendant. She had already flirted with Grissom for a few minutes when he settled into his seat.
"We'd be better with a beer!" Exclaimed another member of the group. He was short with a powerful build and a demeanor that screamed belligerence.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't serve you until we're in the air but after that you can just call me your 'beer girl'. Okay?"
"Heh, Heh. Our very own 'beer girl', how lovely." The large man in the anorexia shirt chortled with a toothy grin, which revealed a silver cap on the left front tooth. "Well, we'll need lots of Budweiser."
"I'll get the first round to you as soon as I can."
"Wonderful!"
To Grissom's amazement, the blonde ponytail guy pulled a crossword puzzle book out of his back pocket. Soon all four of the other men were hovering around him, supplying answers to the clues. The two leaning over the seat behind him grudgingly sat down and buckled their seat belts when the flight attendant came through and chastised them. As soon as the seat belt sign went off, they were leaning over the seat again.
"Vidi? How do you know that?" Asked the man in wire frame glasses. This was the first time Grissom actually heard what he said. Most of his comments had been muttered wisecracks, just loud enough for his fellow travelers to hear and answer with guffaws.
"One of the words is a clue in other crosswords! Veni, vidi, vici."
"Oh, right! And, this comes from a guy who calls Canadian Geese magnitory!"
"It's right!" Blonde ponytail guy insisted.
"Actually it is." Supplied anorexia T-shirt man. "Five down is voracious, six down is icon, seven down is doghouse and eight down is iambic."
"Well, what's it mean?"
"Haven't a clue."
"I came, I saw, I conquered - Julius Caesar." Grissom thought and considered telling them, but then decided he really didn't want to draw their attention.
After a few more minutes of listening to them, Grissom blocked them out by wondering what Catherine would be wearing when she arrived at his townhouse. He visualized various form-fitting articles of her wardrobe and couldn't decide which he preferred. He knew she would freshen her makeup and put on a dab of perfume. Would she be dressed to kill with her hair up or would she be relaxed and casual?
His thoughts soon gave way to fantasies of undressing her and laying her on his bed. He imagined how her skin would glow in golden tones in the candlelight. It would feel so good to lightly graze his fingertips over her soft skin in tender caresses. Jolting back to reality, he desperately tried to recall if he even had any candles. He remembered a four pack of emergency candles in a utility drawer and some tea lights in the kitchen – none of which were in the least bit romantic. Too much time had slipped by since he last attempted to woo a woman; he should've put more thought into this.
Retrieving his briefcase from the overhead bin, he pulled out a legal pad and began making a list of things he would need. First, he had to know how much time he would have to prepare. He'd call her as soon as he landed in Vegas and use the excuse of letting her know he had arrived. Then, he could casually inquire as to when she thought she might arrive at his place. If time was short, he could have the taxi stop at a grocery store on the way and grab the minimum items. What about dinner? Would she like for him to pick up some take out? At the very least, he needed something for breakfast. He had wine but she usually preferred white wine and that needed to be chilled. That would be another item on the grocery list.
Two hours later, he had a satisfactory list together. He'd carefully ruled three columns on his pad, the headings arranged by what she desired and the amount of time he would have. Reviewing it one more time to be certain he had every contingency covered, he tore the page off the pad, neatly folded it and tucked it in his pocket.
"What's this?" He heard anorexia T-shirt man loudly inquire, now that he was no longer intensely concentrating on personal matters.
"Olympia." The blonde ponytail guy read the label. He took a swig and blurted out. "My God, this stuff is awful!"
"Sorry guys, you've drank all the other beer we have." The flight attendant answered.
"Really?"
"Yep, you've cleaned out the Bud, Miller and Busch. After this, all I have left are three O'Douls."
"Oh my, that's sad." Anorexia T-shirt man said. His retinue collectively pondered this apparent tragedy and looked appropriately depressed, until he brightly suggested. "Well then, we need to make a beer stop."
"Very funny." The flight attendant replied.
"Hmm, you got any Jack?" Inquired the belligerent one.
"Plenty." The mood of the group quickly improved.
"So, Jack Daniels and coke, all around?" She asked.
Vigorous head nods answered except for the fellow in the wire framed glasses. "Make mine, Jack and 7-UP."
The general cacophony of the group resumed as she left to fetch their drinks. Grissom glanced at his watch; they still had well over an hour of flight time remaining. He sincerely hoped these guys weren't picking up a rental car upon arrival.
TBC