A/N: Alright here goes (deep breath):

Americans: Merry Christmas!

Brits, Canadians, and Aussies/ Kiwis: Happy Christmas (and Boxing Day)!

Danes: Glaedelig Jul!

The Dutch: Vrolijk kerstfeest awesome word for xmas btw.

Finns: Hauskaa Joulua! It is with two 'n's, right? Otherwise you would be Fins. And that would be funny. And I would laugh.

The French: Joyeux Noel! (et aussi pour les Suisses, si vous lisez)

In Spanish: Feliz Navidad!

degli Italiani: Buon Natale!

Swedes: God Jul!

Germans: Frohe Weihnachten!

Maligayang Pasko! (Okay, I don't actually think any Filipinos are reading but I wanted to brag that I know how to say it.)

Did I get everybody? Hope so. Let me know if I didn't, and with any luck I will have an international New Years' post, too. Alright, so I promised you an extra, extra long, double Christmas post and I have delivered. This had better mean nobody skimps on the reviews!

Here ya go! Hope you like it!

Oh, and by the way, I forgot to give credit to Eugene Field for his beautiful poem The Fly-Away Horse, which got me through many nights as a child and life-long insomniac.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Somewhere between our conversation before the service and us getting in the car to head to Ducky's, Sara had gotten really into the idea of us masquerading as a couple tonight. So much, that she had half begun to believe that it had been her idea in the first place.

"Okay, I've given this a lot of thought-" Really? In six hours? "-and I think that we need to keep the story simple. But it needs to be interesting enough that it's believable. And I think that we need to lie as little as possible without, obviously, not lying at all." Wait, what?

"Sounds good."

"Right, so things like 'how did we meet.' Obviously, we met at work. It would be stupid to say something more complicated like we grabbed for the same drink at a carnival because, duh, that would be completely illogical. As for when we got together, that's a trickier question isn't it? I was thinking…"

Sara had been staring straight ahead the whole time, not looking over at me once as she was driving along the highway. In addition to being completely focused on the road, she was also talking a mile a minute in a tone that could only be described as professional. Quite the change from the intimate moment we had shared only a few minutes before. It was making me grind my teeth audibly.

"…so, do think that's a good idea?"

"What? Sorry, my brain stopped for a moment there."
"I asked if you thought my idea for how long we'd been together was believable."

"Uh…"

She sighed heavily, "My idea was that we should say we've been together for the last six months since that was when we really became friends anyway, and that way we don't have to make up a history for the last three and a half years. We'll just slightly alter our recent history and say we started dating six months ago instead of just having a better friendship, it'll be a…you know…a relationship."

She was glancing at me now. Probably because I was beginning to smell of brimstone and the heat radiating from me was very likely visible. She wants to treat this like a business transaction? Fine. By. Me. "That's a great idea Sara," I said, my voice entirely void of emotion and my expression doubly so, "We could even come up with a lovely story about how we were getting it on while you investigated my ex-husband's murder case. In fact, maybe that's when we got together, eh? Just couldn't deny my attraction to you any longer then." I slapped a hand over my mouth and shut my eyes tightly. Fuck!

I heard Sara gasp for air.

As soon as the words left my lips, I wanted to take them back. I felt physically ill, my self-contempt was so great. Stupid, stupid!

We drove in absolute silence for five minutes. Sara stared straight ahead, unblinking. She had the steering wheel in a vice grip. I watched the color of her knuckles change from healthy pink to ghostly white, clenching my teeth and feeling like the absolute ass I knew I was. When I heard her sniffling in an attempt to hold back tears, I cracked.

"Sara…" I waved a hand. "I'm sorry. I am a complete bitch. I have no idea where that came from. One minute I was…and the next…There's just no excuse; as soon as I said it I felt sickI still feel like I'm going to puke I've been on edge all day and I don't know…I needed- all of a sudden I wanted my sparring partner back, you know? And it was like target practice and I wanted to provoke you. I didn't mean to, I thought…I don't know what I thought. I wasn't thinking! God, Sara, I am so sorry. I promised myself that I wasn't going to do shit like this anymore and not three days later…" Sara had been watching the road in silence and it was making me nervous and more than a little desperate. My head was pounding. My breathing was heavy and irregular. "Sara? Sara say something. I can't stand feeling like I've fucked this up, like I've made you hate me."

"Don't be…look, just forget it okay? I don't want to talk about it."

Oh, God. My stomach lurched. I started to feel dizzy and slightly faint, "Sara…"

"Cath, I said forget it. So forget it, okay?"

"No, Sara, you need to pull over."

"Cat, we're five miles from the exit, and I said I don't want to talk about it."

But there were familiar rumblings in my stomach and I was beginning to feel a bit green. I shook my head violently, "Sara, you need to pull over. Now."

"But Catherine-"

"Sara, so help me god, if you do not pull over right now I am going to puke in your hundred thousand dollar car!"

Her eyes went wide, "What?" She took one look at me and moved into the other lane. "Oh, God. Hang on, Cat. Just one second. I am so sorry, Catherine, hang on."

As soon as we reached the side, I jumped out and ran for the grass where I promptly threw up everything I had eaten that day. I knew what this was. It was my body's natural reaction to extreme stress, embarrassment or guilt; any time I especially lost control of a situation or my emotions surrounding it. It had only happened a few other times in my life, Eddie's case being one of those times. I closed my eyes as I knelt in the grass; one hand held my weight while the other cradled my stomach. I threw up again, and in the midst of it, I began to cry. Deep, racking sobs.

Shit. How had it gotten this far? That the intensity of my feelings for her was comparable to the stress of Eddie's death or my first night on stage or cocaine withdrawal? How had I let this happen? People did not affect me this much! I didn't fall in love. Not really. Sure, I fell in love in the flirty, devil with a blue dress, special performance, one night only, scattered rose petals, that better be real champagne kind of way. But…that was just pretend.

I was forty years old, and I'd never been in love. How was I supposed to know when it was real?Because, left to my own devices, I was starting to think that…

The combination of sobbing and puking had given me the hiccups. And since I could stop the crying, the gagging, or the hiccups, I was finding it difficult to breath and that was causing me to hyperventilate.

"Hey." I felt a cool on my back. Sara had found me. "Hey, shh…shh…it's okay," her voice was sweet and soothing. It just made me cry harder. I didn't deserve her or her help. "It's okay, you're okay, shh…everything is alright."

In the middle of a particularly dramatic sob, I threw up again.

She just rubbed my back gently and stayed with me, "Alright, okay. Shh…that's it, you're alright. Calm down, babe, we're okay. Calm down."

But I couldn't calm down. It was all too much. I was overcome with emotion. I had become hysterical, and I could not calm down. "I c-c-can't," I hiccupped, "calm down!" I tried to explain. "I-I can't stop!" I was a royal mess. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, my nose was running; I'm sure I looked disgusting.

"Okay, it's okay. Are you alright? Do you think you're going to throw-up again?"

I shook my head, "No!" I couldn't make my voice sound anything except severely distressed and 'no' became a three syllable word when all I really wanted to convey was that I didn't think I had it in me to vomit again.

"Okay, then, here we go." She turned me and easily lifted me with one arm under my knees and the other around my back. She carried me a safe distance from the throw-up and then sat down again, cradling me in her arms. It was strangely comforting. But that didn't mean I was any less hysterical. I had completely lost control. Truthfully, I was scaring myself.

"I-I'm so sorry!" I wailed pathetically, shaking my head violently. "I didn't-" I gasped, "I didn't mean to!" It was one of those times when you know you really should stop talking but then ramble on anyway. I could've easily just waited until I'd calmed down and regained control of my baser functions. But no. "I-I-I r-really di-did-did…" But I had gone into this gasping, coughing, sobbing fit.

"I know," Sara kept on with the soothing voice. "I know you didn't mean to. Do you think I think that you've ever mean to, Cath? I know you don't. But you're a passionate woman. I know that too. And for lack of a better outlet, you get angry. And for better or for worse, I'm the one you like to lash out at. I know that too. I understand. And…it's okay." She smiled softly and tucked a bit of hair behind my ear. "Obviously, I wish you'd find someone else to be your punching bag because, truthfully, there are some things my heart just can't take. But, I know you don't mean it." She furrowed her brow, "In a way though, that only makes it worse. Cause if you feel this bad, then you didn't get any satisfaction from it either." She shrugged, "This is something we will have plenty of time to talk about later. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Sara produced a restaurant napkin from her back pocket and used it to wipe my nose and then folded it over and cleaned off my mouth. Then she produced a bottle of water from nowhere and shook it at me. "You can have this when you've calmed down enough so that you won't choke on it. Okay?"

I managed a nod.

"Okay." She turned me again so that we were back to front like we had been in the bedroom. Then she encircled my waist and lay her hands flat on my stomach. "Try to breath with me," she whispered warmly in my ear. And she inhaled deeply.

For the next ten minutes, we just sat there on a rise overlooking the California Shoreline Highway and all of the cars rushing past. She held me and breathed with me until my hysterical cries gave way to involuntary whimpers and sniffles gave way to deep rhythmic breathing. I felt drained and helpless as she pulled me to my feet. Whatever this was between us, it very quickly destroying me. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. At that point, I didn't care what happened. At least it would be over.

Standing beside the car, Sara handed me more napkins and the bottle of water, the first few swigs of which were spit over the guardrail. When I felt somewhat human again, I looked briefly up at Sara. In the glow from the headlights of passing cars, she seemed unnaturally pale. She met my gaze until I turned and walked several paces away. I may have calmed down, but that didn't mean I felt any less guilty for my behavior. How could she even stand to look at me?

I felt strong, lithe arms wrap around my waist and curl me into a comforting embrace. "You really scared me, Cat. I haven't seen you lose control like that since…"

She didn't need to say it. I just nodded in understanding. I was trying my hardest not to lean into her frame; I didn't know why she was being so forgiving but I knew I didn't deserve it.

"I never wanted to see you like that again. It's painful to watch someone break down that way. But you're feeling better?"

I nodded again, at a loss for words.

"Do you still want to make it to the party? I can take you back to the house if you want to rest."

I spun out of her arms, disbelief evident on my face.

"What?"

I gaped like a fish for a few seconds. "That's it?"

"What's it?"

"You're not going to yell at me or get angry or leave me here to walk the twenty miles home by myself?" Because somebody should.

She smirked. "Well, I hope you don't think I would ever just drive off and abandon you. Though yes, for your information, I am going to get angry and yell at you. Just not right here and now."

"Why not?"

She shrugged, "You already feel guilty enough as it is. Besides when you're all cute and splotchy like this it kind of takes the challenge out of it. Look at you!" She smiles, "You're so sad and pathetic- practically a shadow of your former bitch."

The corner of my mouth twitched at that.

"Yelling at you now would be like yelling at Maggie. Or a kitten. Absolutely pointless except to stand to make me feel like a horrible person. But, if it makes you feel any better, I fully intend to bitch you out as soon you've built a bit of your reserve strength back up."

I had to smile.

Sara caught my smile up and held out a hand. "So, what do you say? Are you up for four hours of falsely complimenting me to strangers, my dearest pie? Or should I whisk you away to your castle-by-the-sea, oh Queen of my heart?"

I rolled my eyes as I allowed her to escort me back to the car. "As long as we can stop at a gas station on the way so that I can fix my makeup, I don't see why we can't still go to the party."

"Your wish is my command, my mighty Aphrodite."

I snorted, "Sara, if you call me that at this party, I swear to God I will tell everyone that you get off to nude pictures of David Bowie. And that we haven't had sex in month because I refuse to wear the wig he wore in the movie Labyrinth when we go to bed."

"See if they care, my Lady Stardust."

"I'll also tell them that you choreograph dances to Britney Spears songs wearing just your swimsuit, a pink feather boa, and a tiara."

She froze. "Only because Lindsey makes me!" There was a note of panic in her voice.

I shrug. "Nobody here knows that."

Silence. "So, Catherine, did you enjoy the mini-break we took last month to Aspen to celebrate our six month anniversary?"

I grinned, "Well, yes, I did until you tripped over your own ski and sprained an ankle. But then of course, I got to play nursemaid to your reluctant patient."

"I did not trip over my own ski." Sara said, indignant.

"Oh, I remember quite distinctly that you did. I had to flirt with a guy on a snowmobile to take you down the mountain. Yum. He looked like Rock Hudson."

"That's right, I remember now. And I didn't talk to you for nearly three days after that for being a two-timing skank. But I didn't trip over my own ski; there a was rock."

"Sure there was, honey."

"There was!" She said rather forcefully.

"Uhh…Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"You do know it's a fake skiing accident, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing. You're right, there was a rock." I patted her thigh.

"Of course there was. My ankle still clicks when I turn it to the left."

I smiled and shook my head. And she thought I was amazing?

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

In the end, the story was simple. Sara and I had been dating for ten months. Obviously, it was pretty serious, but we weren't rushing things for Lindsey's sake as well as our careers. People didn't know about us at work yet because we weren't sure how we wanted to handle the announcement and subsequent changes in the work place. As for the future, well, we were taking things one day at a time. With Maggie and Ayla coming into our lives, the most important thing right now was to get them comfortable and establish a new routine. And that part, though we hadn't discussed it, was very probably true.

There were so many cars surrounding the bar that we had to park several streets over. When we got to the corner, I could hear music and loud voices inside. I grabbed Sara's arm to stop her. She tilted her head curiously. So damn cute. And that deep lipstick is so damn sexy. Okay, breathe. Calm down.

"Any last words of advice?"

Sara watched a deserted, Japanese, double-decker tour bus roll past asshe thought. "Well, for one thing; stand your ground. Not that I think you'll have a problem with that. But a bunch of people, Denny, Gina, Mo, Joey, and Lola, in particular; are going to challenge you until they know that you'll hold your ground." She shrugged. "They're a little protective of me. Charlotte is too, I'm surprised you didn't get the shake down when you met her."

I coughed. "Yeah. That's weird."

"Oh, and Gina is Vicki's older, more successful sister. She's an accomplished photojournalist and her gorgeous wife is a veterinarian with her own practice. They have a son and a daughter, adopted from Korea, who are very bright. Vicki won't be here though, she has this thing with people dying, plus she and Warren didn't get along very well."

"Is Gina going to be mad that I cursed out her sister?" I am not going in there if I'm about to get beaten up.

Sara shook her head, "Not at all. She told Denny she couldn't wait to meet you. They aren't exactly close. More like polite acquaintances who happen to run in the same social circles and spend major holidays together."

"Okay, great, anything else?"

"Umm…Lola is deathly afraid of cable cars- if you don't want to hear a very long and involved and grossly exaggerated story, don't even mention them. Denny uses humor as a defense mechanism. He's a bit like Greg that way, so don't get offended if he gets a little off color. And…nearly everyone in there is going to hit on you whether they think were together or not, and whether they are with someone else or not."

I smiled and rolled my eyes, "Great."

"Ready?"

"One more thing."

"Hmm?"

I wrapped my arms around her neck and rested my cheek on her collar bone. "Thank you." I still couldn't get over how sweet she was being to me. I half expected her to just start yelling at me. I might have felt better if she did. That guilty feeling was still eating away at my stomach. "I don't know why you're being so good to me, but I know I don't deserve it."

Her arms came up and held me tight for a moment before she pulled away slightly, keeping her hands at my waist. "Cath, you hurt my feelings. I admit that. So what? We've done it before and we'll do it again." She smiled down at me and tucked my hair behind my ear with one hand. She shrugged. "It's our thing. What was worse than that was seeing you as distraught as you were. I couldn't take that. It really scared me. Besides, knowing that you felt that guilty about saying what you said? It sort of balances out the scale. So, before we go in there, I want you to understand that I've forgiven you. It's not forgotten. Someday when things are a bit more calm, we're going to sit down and talk about ways to reduce our fighting. But for right now, this is a closed issue, okay? The whole point of coming here tonight is to have fun the way that Warren and Matt would want us to. And neither of us can do that if you are worrying about something you don't need to be worrying about. What do you say?"

I bit my lip. I still wasn't sure, but I knew she was right about tonight. I was determined to put this behind me, for the time being, and make sure that Sara had a good time. She deserved that much, as did the memory of her friends. I smiled, "You're right. I'm sorry. Tonight is about them, not about me."

She looped an arm around my waist, her hand settling on my hip, and grinned sneakily, "Very well, my sunshine, my kitten, my rose!"

"Sara…" I warned as we walked the twenty yards to the main entrance.

"Oh, calm down, my angel from heaven. If I called you any of those in front of my friends, they would immediately know something was up." She held the door open for me and gave me a wide smile. "After you, my delicate flower."

Inwardly very nervous now, I rolled my eyes and stepped into the noisy room ahead of her.

There were a ton of people inside; two hundred easily. Sara took my hand and smiled, "Everybody is going to be by the bar," she shouted above the crowd. "It's this way." And she began pulling me deeper into the sea of bodies. I took in the sights.

The walls were done halfway up in dark wooden paneling that matched the floorboards and the support beams in the ceiling. The top half was painted in a dark, shimmering silver-green that matched Sara's top so perfectly, that there was no chance of coincidence. It was a nice atmosphere. But what was more interesting, were the people. I hadn't seen such a mix and match group since my eighties party days. There were Monday night football guys surrounding the television and among them was a man wearing a shirt made from nothing but chains and a man with a rather large python draped over his shoulders.

There were people from all walks of life here. I saw a lot of white people, but also several blacks, quite a few Asians, and a number of Latinos. Many people looked to be mixed race, as well. I saw men in suits and ties; I saw women in suits and ties. There were clearly some very wealthy people here, and yet I saw an obviously homeless man sitting and conversing with a woman (I think) who looked eerily like a mid-nineties Michael Jackson, while they shared a plate of chicken. Even more bizarre were three, what I like to call 'sweater set moms', that sat talking with a man who must have had twenty piercings on his face alone. I didn't care, but neither did anyone else and that surprised me.

"IT'S SARA!" A voice boomed dramatically, forcing me from my thoughts. I looked around to see a dark-haired man leaping over the bar counter and heading towards us.

Then another, sassier, male voice said, "Mmm! Girl-child, you better get yo' ass ova hee'a and gimme some suga'!" I couldn't find the source of this voice.

"Come on and get into these arms, Birdie."

Sara dropped my hand and ran into the arms of the dark-haired man I had already seen. He immediately grabbed her thighs and hoisted her high in the air and onto his shoulder.

As much as she ever has, Sara shrieked. "Ducky!" She smacked him upside the head, trying to look fierce and intimidating and failing miserably when a big grin spread across her face. I smiled because she did. "You put me down! Everyone's going to know I'm here, now!" She smacked him again.

"Well, I don't think abusing me is going to help your cause." He grinned up at her, "But a kiss might help."

I knew I didn't like the look of him!

Sara smiled and, draping her arms around his neck, kissed him exaggeratedly on the cheek. I breathed a sigh of relief. "There. Now put me down!" The man complied. As if she'd suddenly remembered, Sara looked up and around at me. The man, Ducky, presumably, followed her gaze.

"Is this her, then?"

Sara never took her eyes off me. "Yeah," she smirked, "This is her." She seemed to shake herself more awake, "I mean, this is Catherine. Catherine Willows." She called me closer with a wave. "Cath, this is Denny Duxbury, the guy I told you about."

He was handsome in a rough and tumble way. He looked like he'd just come in from the outback or trekking through Alaska and thrown on a t-shirt. His eyes were a mottled green and heavy-lidded in a way that gave him an approachable, yet eternally sleepy expression. He was a couple of inches over six feet, with a little extra around the belly, but firm toned arms. His face needed a shave, but his smile was genuine and kind.

He made a show of wiping his hands on his pants before holding one out to me. "It's great to meet you, Catherine. Anyone who makes Sara happy, I will count among my friends."

Right, time to put on the 'people person' cloak. I smiled widely and shook his hand firmly, "Likewise." Sara came to my side and put her arms around my waist. I leaned into her, smirking and raising my eyebrows at Denny. "Pretty nice bar you've got here."

He shared in my smirk, "Thanks, I've-"

"Love fo' ev'rybody but, Lola, eh, Sugar-bird? I see how it is. Where's my lovin' at?"

Sara released me and looked at the figure coming around from behind the bar.

Wow. A man tall enough to play in the NBA was gracefully descending the three steps to our level. In full drag. Granted, her height could have been attributed to the five-inch heeled, gold, knee-high, fishnet boots she was wearing. Her well-muscled, angular, male body was outlined in a gorgeous gold cocktail dress. She wore a wig with straight blonde hair past her shoulders. Because she was dark-skinned black, the wig as well as her deep emerald contact lenses were slightly off-putting. Gold dripped from her neck, wrists, and ears as well as a gold bead ring through her nose. Her make-up was also done in varying shades of gold and copper.

"Lady," Sara smiled, "There's always lovin' for Lola Heart from me." And with that, she embraced the statuesque person.

Lola lifted Sara up, "Damn, girl? You went and put some meat on them bones, huh? 'ts about time; you was too damn skinny. Because you know a real woman has a real caboose." She set Sara back down and struck a pose.

Sara laughed and slapped Lola's shoulder, "Lola, I want you to meet Catherine, she's-"

"-the latest and greatest, I've heard."

"And told." Denny rolled his eyes, but it was clear he was joking. "She's told damn near half the city."

Lola made eye contact with me for the first time, "An exaggeration, I assure you. My name's Lola, dear; Lola Heart."

I smiled and nodded, "Catherine. Catherine Willows."

"Oh, will you listen to that voice and that name!" She hip-nudged Sara, slightly displacing her on the floor. "This one's got sexy down on it's knees!" Oh, I like her. Lola grinned, "Now, you ever need anything at all, you just come to your Auntie Lola, okay? But I've got to tell you- you break her heart, I break your-"

"Lola," Sara warned, "You wouldn't want to harass a federal officer, now would you?"

Lola winked slyly, "That depends entirely on what he's wearing."

Sara mouthed the word, 'Sorry' at me but I just shook my head and smiled; I was expecting far worse. So far, so good. We talked for a few minutes about what we'd been doing since we arrived. Sara looked so at home here, more than I'd ever seen her anywhere else. Nodding and laughing at a joke Denny made, I'd never seen her look more beautiful. After a few minutes, someone shouted that they needed more beer and Denny said that he and Lola should get back to tending bar. But Lola didn't want to, remarking that she needed to breathe and that being behind the counter was like being inside a microbrewer's snow globe. And that was when I got my brilliant, beyond brilliant, idea.

"Well, I know we just met, but I'm a trained bartender, though my license probably expired ten years ago. I could help out if Lola wants to circulate."

"Praise the lord!" Lola made a praying gesture with her hands and then hugged Sara. "Birdie, you must love her and marry her and keep her forever!" Yes, yes, and definitely yes! I knew I liked her. And with that, the six foot six golden goddess walked away into the crowd.

Denny nodded, "Fine by me, just come on up when you're ready." And he headed back up to the bar."

Sara frowned at me, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Honey, if I follow you around all night, then all we'll be doing are introductions. This way, you can hang out with your friends and if they really want to threaten me- I mean meet me," that made her smile, "then they know where to find me. Besides, I like Denny, we'll be fine."

"You're sure? I hate to leave you by yourself."

I rolled my eyes, "Sara, I told you, I was a bartender, I know how to work a crowd."

She smiled. "You know how to work a crowd because you're you." She wrapped her arms around my waist again and pulled me close. Her smile broadened, "Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

Oh, yeah! I nuzzled her cheek with my nose, "Absolutely."

She released me and I smiled at her as I turned to follow Denny.

The bartending was easy once you got the hang of it. It was only beer and wine, but Denny clearly loved both and had many kinds, especially of beer. He proudly claimed that he sold more local brews than any other bar in the city. The best part about the bar was that it was a few steps above everything else and I could follow Sara where ever she went as long as she stayed in the room. It took me half an hour to understand what was on tap and which bottles were where. At one point, Sara came by to grab a Jack Russell Harvest Apple Ale and to check up on me.

While I was learning the ropes, Denny told me about his life, how he ran away from Ontario to Alaska, where he was a guide for a while but it was too cold for him. So he went south to Seattle where he started as a waiter and a host, but didn't like the rain. From there it was Portland, Napa, and Sacramento where he had a string of managerial positions at restaurants and bars until he met Warren who wanted to financially back him in his dream to open a tavern style bar as long as it was in San Francisco. That's when Duxbury's opened and that's where he's been ever since.

And six months ago, at the ripe age of forty-three, he had married twenty-seven year old Lara Winters and she was expecting their first child- a girl. He pointed her out to me in the crowd and made her wave to us. She was a sweet, cheery looking woman with white-blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and a perfect smile.

In return for his story, I shared with Denny the overview of my life, giving a few more details than I usually would because Sara trusted him; I only left out my experience with cocaine.

"That's quite a tale," he said when I was through. "No wonder you're a match for Sara."

"How do you mean?"
He shrugged, topping off a pint of Fleishhacker Stout, "Just that she's been faced with a lot of unfair adversity that has made her the way she is. She expects a challenge, most women don't get that and fall short. But she won't run out of hurdles with you- you'll keep her busy. Now, as long as she fits you as well as you fit her, then you and Bird will last forever."

I smiled, "She does." Something occurred to me. "Why do you all call Sara 'Bird'? I've been meaning to ask."

"And I believe that that is a better question for Miss Gina Michelle Kelly." Denny pointed his bottle opener at an exotic looking woman coming towards us.

She caught my eye.

She was an inch or so taller than I was in stocking feet but her boots were well-heeled. Her waving, smoky-black, hair was half up while the rest cascaded well past her shoulders. She wore a large silver and turquoise necklace that she fingered with one hand like she wanted you to ask about it. Her outfit was a plain black tank top and jeans with matching a turquoise and silver belt. All of this was under a light brown suede duster, matching cowboy hat, and deep, luminescent blue eyes. She swaggered up to the bar like an Old West cowboy.

So much so that it didn't feel at all strange to lean back on one elbow and ask, "So. What'll it be?" in my best Texas twang.

She grinned at me and nodded to Denny, "You're Catherine, right? Sara told me to be nice. But I'd imagine that you eat nice people for lunch, am I right?"

I smirked. "In a manner of speaking."

"So, I should feel free to be my good old bad self, then?"

She had gotten my attention, I liked her. "Oh, don't hold back on my account." I whipped my dishrag against the counter and gave my best coy look. It was fun to play back and forth like this.

She laughed, "Alright then, Catherine, gimme a bottle of Seal Rock Bock and grab a seat."

I looked to Denny who agreed I was on break. I grabbed two bottles of beer, opened them and put them between Gina and myself.

"So what was this question that you wanted to ask me?"

"I was asking Denny to explain Sara's nickname and he said that I had better ask you."

Gina finished a swig and nodded. "Well, I was there at it's birth. Um, it more or less all comes from her legs. I don't know if you know, but Sara was a lot skinnier when she lived here- had the body of a twelve year old girl. You could have snapped her like chicken."

I nodded, "Everyone has commented on how much she's muscled up since she moved away."

"There you go, then. Anyway," she waved a hand, "Warren and Mattie were having a New Year's Eve party, we must have been bringing in '95 or '96. No, it was definitely '95. So," she seemed to think and shook her head, "no, I can't remember how we got her into it, I think we might have paid her or made it a bet or something, but Maureen, Lola and I got Sara to wear this salmon colored, sequined mini dress."

My eyes bulged, equally from disbelief and wishing I could have been there.

"Which looked- obviously, gorgeous on her." Gina rolled her eyes, "But you know her, she wouldn't stop fiddling with it, trying to make it longer and bring up the neckline at same time. She hid in the kitchen all night, would not dance, and kept saying that she looked like a flamingo." She shook her head. "Anyway, somewhere around five o'clock in the morning, it was down to about eight of us all crashed and trashed on the sofas in the den. Sara was worst off of all of us, since she had been next to the alcohol all night. She couldn't even stand up, and she kept shouting out random verses of that song, 'Pink Flamingo.'"

We both laughed, visualizing Sara in that condition. "So it comes from that song?"

"Sort of. It was so funny to watch her, that all of us teased her for weeks, calling her flamingo-legs, flamingo-bird, flamingo-girl, flamingo-breath. Anything we could put 'flamingo' in front of was fair game. Eventually that got tiring though, and we dropped the flamingo and called her whatever was left. Bird was the most common, but some people still call her Legs. And from Bird and Legs stemmed a whole other wealth of names; Sticks, Stems, Pipes; Birdie, Whirlybird, Bird the Brain, Birdgirl, Sarabird- the possibilities are endless. Everyone has there favorite. I'm a Whirlybird girl, myself." She downed the last of her beer, "So there you have it; the Saga of Sara the Flamingo Queen."

I smiled. It was a good story. We talked for another twenty minutes before there was a sudden beverage rush and Denny needed my help again. For the next hour or so, I tended bar and talked with Denny as well as meeting a number of Sara's general acquaintance who introduced themselves to me. Several, as Sara had predicted, tried to pick me up with rather bad lines that I'm sure they'd had no luck with before. I met Diane the corporate-butch investment banker, Brody the ninth grade science teacher, Margaret who I'm sure was not born a woman and Truman, the Rastafarian steel-drum instructor. I was just handing Poppy, the seventy-five year old x-rated romance novelist, a glass of red wine when I felt familiar arms wrap around me from behind.

I relaxed into the embrace and looked up at her, "Hey, you having fun? Is it good to see everyone?"

She nodded, "It appears you have passed the tests with Lola, Gina, and Denny, plus all the other people I've sent up to see you. They've all told me how sweet and accommodating you are, and what a cute ass you have."

I pushed my butt back into her playfully, "Well, how nice of them."

"You're not bothered by all of this?"

"Are you kidding? It's a blast. Plus, I'm learning all sorts of things I never knew about you, my Flamingo Queen."

She groaned and dropped her head to my shoulder. "I'll kill Gina," she muttered.

In my best Vicki imitation, I batted my eyes up at her and said, "What's the matter, Birdie-bird?"

She pinched me viciously, "Not funny." But she was smiling. "Listen, they're about to start the talent portion of the night, and I was wondering if you'd want to sit with me."

I smirked at her, "What kind of question is that?"

"What?"

"Birdie-love," I smiled, "we have been dating for nearly a year, if you still need ask me if I'll share your lunch table, then maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

She shook her head hopelessly.

"Yes, Sara, I would like to sit with you."

She grinned contentedly, "Good, because the soundstage is in the other room and we have to hurry if we want to get good seats."

But at that moment there was a rush to the other room and we were left with seats at the back, or I should say, seat. There were, in fact, two seats available. But, seeing that people were still crowding in, I graciously sacrificed my chair and took up residence in Sara's lap.

When she gave me a smirk, I simply said, "We have to conserve space, honey."

"Ah," she replied and, still smirking, she repositioned me with her arms draped across my lap. I leaned back and we watched the stage.

Joey, it turned out, was the master of ceremonies for this event and therefore had to go first. He told the story of how he and Warren met and then the story of how he was best man at their wedding. Sara whispered that she had been best woman for Matt and they'd made her wear a sleeveless burgundy dress. Joey's speech was short and quickly gave way to others. Charlotte also spoke as did Maureen, but she also sang a beautiful gospel song. Denny performed a song he had written and accompanied himself on acoustic guitar. Lola recited a wonderfully melancholy poem. Gina spoke as well, but she had arranged a digital photo collage and had it projected up onto the wall. Several people even Sara didn't know spoke or performed or recited, until we had been sitting there for nearly two hours.

Then Joey announced rather loudly that that was everyone who had signed up.

Someone protested rather loudly, "Hey, what about Sara?"

I felt Sara tense beneath me.

"Sara's got to get up there!"

"Yeah, isn't Sara going to sing?"

Wait. Sing? "Sing?" I asked her quietly.

She had gone very pale, but she managed to swallow hard and nod.

"I didn't know you sang."

Again, a jerky nod.

"How about it, Bird? You've got to say something and you know Warren and Mattie would be heaving you onto the stage."

Sara was clawing at my thigh and arm like a cat. Or a condor. She was shaking her head violently. She was quite clearly panicking, though about what, I really didn't know. I turned around and straddled her lap, knowing that everyone was watching us and doing it anyway.

"Babe?" I tried to meet her gaze but she was staring off into space, "Sara, honey? Do you get stage fright?"

Her eyes still glazed, she nodded blankly.

"Hey, Sara!" I snapped in front of her face. This got her attention somewhat and she looked at me like a frightened rabbit. Cute. I put my hands on the sides of her face. "Hon, is Joey right? Would Warren and Matt want you to sing for them?"

Slowly, she nodded again.

"Well, don't you think you had better do that then?"

Another vacant nod. She was really freaked out.

"Hey," I said more calmly, "it's just your friends here; it's just me. And we only want to hear what you have to say, okay? It's just a conversation with a microphone and a musical interlude. Nothing to be afraid of."

In the middle of her nod, Sara's eyes became focused once more. She studied me. "You're amazing," she whispered.

My heart filled with light. I shook my head, "Now, that's where you're wrong. If anyone here is amazing," I thumbed her jaw line, "it's you."

She searched my eyes, trying to find insincerity, I think. She wouldn't find any. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded one more time, "Okay," she smiled bravely, "I'll do it."

That's my girl. "That's my girl." Oops.

But she was smiling as I stood up to let her out. There were cheers in and amongst the crowd. She held my hand, "Wait for me?"

I smirked. "You're my ride home," my tone was warm.

She shook my hand a bit before making her way through the chairs to the soundstage. I watched her step up and take the mike from Joey who hugged and kissed her and whispered something in her ear to which she nodded and smiled. Sara lowered the mike stand and stood behind it. Rather than sit back down, I leaned against the wall so that, not only could I see Sara, but she could see me. I wanted to reassure her and keep her calm. As she surveyed the crowd, she caught my eye and I smiled. She smiled back. And then began to speak.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Okay, so I know how tempting it is to leave only one review on a double post, but…but it's Christmas and Santa doesn't bring reviews. So pause for a moment and review. I may lose all holiday spirit and not be able to write the next chapter, you never know…