CSI Nick Stokes was sitting in the interrogation room across the table from their suspect. Jim Brass leaned in the corner, watching the interview and adding his two cents whenever he thought he could be most effective. It was a hardcore case. The villianous youth was close to breaking with Nick and Brass employing the good cop/bad cop technique. Jim was the bad cop, of course.

"Hey look kid, it's okay with me if you don't want to talk. I mean, young guys like you...they help us keep the prison population quiet...if you know what I mean." Jim's voice was soft but his tone was hard and he had a wicked glint in his eyes.

Nick was grateful the young man's attention was fully on Brass because Nick was about to start laughing. He recognized Brass's look and knew the older cop was having fun trying to make the kid squirm. His efforts were having an effect. The kid had gone pale. Brass continued, "the way I figure...it's like this you see...you'll do a year or two in juvie and then it'll be off to the big house. There your life will get better. You'll have some bull to be your sugar daddy. He'll take really good care of you..." Jim looked at Nick. "Won't he Stokes?"

All Nick could do was bite the inside of his lip and nod. Jim was wired on this one. Of course, none of it was true. The kid might go to juvie but there'd be no hard time and no prison bull. Brass just wanted to scare the kid real good so that this would be the only time the kid sat in a police interrogation room.

"So, Mickey," Nick picked up from Brass's speech, "Where's the money?"

Mickey looked at Nick; his eyes nervously glancing back at Brass before giving Nick his full attention. "Look kid," Brass started again. Mickey cringed and looked back at the detective. "We've got your prints all over the shop. Witnesses saw your get away...and my patrolman clocked you at 25 miles an hour on your moped before he caught up to you. So do yourself a favor and give up the money."

Mickey swallowed and then spoke. "I...I can't. I don't have it."

"What do you mean you don't have it," blasted Brass.

"Now Captain Brass, " a calm Nick chided his superior, "don't be so rough on Mickey. I know he wants to own up and make things right." He turned back to the youth and spoke to him. "You know, I'll bet if we can get the money back to the owner, he won't press any charges. No juvie...no prison."

The youngster's eyes widened and then his expression fell. "But I really don't have it."

"Where is it?

"I...um...well, spent it...on a video game."

"Video game! When did you have time to stop and buy a video game?" Brass was at his best.

"Well, it was in the store next to the ...one...that...I robbed."

"Great kid, now we're getting somewhere.So you admit to robbing the shop?"

"Yeah..."

"And you spent the money on a game?"

"Yeah."

"So where's the game?"

"When the cop was chasing me the bag with the game flew off the moped because I was going so fast. It fell into the road. I think the cop car ran over it." The boy looked devestated.

"Likely story," grumped Brass.

"Come on, Captain...I think the kid is telling the truth." Nick was enjoying his role as good cop.

"Okay...so where's the weapon?"

Slowly the kid reached in his pocket and produced the weapon. Brass could have shot his uniform at that point for letting this get by him. He watched as the kid placed a small black water pistol on the table.

"Nick looked across the room to Brass, who silently cued him for the next move. "Okay Mickey. I'm going to go talk to the shop owner and see if we can't make a deal here. I'd hate to see you go to prison over a video game." Nick walked out of the room to briefly talk to the parents and the owner.

Mickey watched Brass intently, ready to hide under the table if the fierce looking cop moved toward him. Brass, in turn, was doing his best to look like a grouch who thought the kid should toast in the chair.

A few minutes later Nick entered. "Okay Mickey. Here's the deal. You're parents are taking away your moped until you are fifteen. No arguments or the deal's off. Number two: you have to work in the shop and do what the owner tells you to do until you have paid back what you stole. You'll be working at the rate of $5 an hour but you'll never see the money, understand? And number three: you are going to apologize to the owner, the clerk, and the officer that had to chase you down. And Mickey, if we ever see you here again as a suspect...Brass there is going to throw the book at you. Got it?"

A very frightened but relieved looking thirteen year old nodded.

"So ...who do you apoligize to first?"

"My parents...for causing all this trouble," the kid said woefully.

Behind him, Jim Brass was smiling.

After Vegas's newest supercook and his parnets left, Brass turned to Nick. "Thanks Nicky. I knew you could help me with this one. You were the perfect choice to be my good cop."

"Oh...no problem, Jim. I'm glad we could put a little scare in the kid before he got into real trouble."

"Hey look, why don't you let me buy you some lunch? I owe you for your help. I found a new place and I thought about you when I was there. They have Bar-B-Que with a house sauce---Tex Mex."

"Beef or Pork?"

"Either...or chicken for that matter. Interested?"

"Sure."

A half hour later the two men entered the little cafe. Nick read the menu board and was impressed by the variety of the selection. "You said she cooks all this herself?" he asked Brass..

"That's what she told me."

"Wow."

Jenny Lawson entered from the back and saw the two of them. "Detective Brass..." she was smiling, "and you brought a friend?'

"Yeah, I told him about your Tex Mex sauce for the bar-b-que. He's from Texas so I thought he might enjoy it." And you have the most beautiful smile and I've been looking for an excuse to come back so soon...

"So Tex-Mex bar-b-que then?"

Nick looked at her..."well...what does it have...I mean is it loaded with peppers?"

"I wouldn't say loaded. There is some chipotle in the suace and some other things that are a secret. Tell you what, try it. If you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it. How's that?"

"Great," smiled Nick.

"And you, Detective?"

"Well first, most people call me Brass...or you can call me Jim if that's more comfortable. And then, yes, I'll try the Tex-Mex. Is it beef or pork?"

Jenny and Nick exchanged looks and smiled. "Man Brass," he said. "It's Tex-Mex...it's beef."

"Oh...sorry." Jim looked mildly chagrinned.

"You want anything with the bar-b-que sandwiches?"

"What are the Jack's beans?" asked Nick as he studied her sides menu.

""Ever heard of Jack Daniels?"

The two men exchanged grins as both ordered the beans.

As before, she brought the drinks while the plates were being prepared. Nick and Jim were laughing over their big case of the morning. "Can't believe the kid pulled it off," said Nick.

"Oh, I can..."

Nick looked at Brass. "really, that didn't surprise you? I mean, it was only a water gun. And to actually ask the clerk to only give him $35. The kid is stupid."

"Well, no. That's what told me that he wasn't a lost cause. He was only stealing the money he thought he needed to buy ...notice I said 'buy'...the game. If he were really a young criminal, he'd have taken the whole drawer and the game too, for that matter. So, I thought he was worth a second chance."

Jenny heard the story and was impressed that these two had spent their morning trying to help the mystery crook.

Once they were about finished with their food, Jenny brough a small plate with a variety of cookies and brownies on it.

"Hey, we didn't order..." Brass began.

"Oh, I know...but I thought you should be rewarded. Sounds like you two worked hard this morning to keep Vegas safe from future criminals." She was smiling again; especially at Brass, Nick noticed. His ears turned a little pink. That was a tell-tale sign, Nick knew, that the good captain was mildly embarrassed. He didn't like to get caught being nice.

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A couple of days later Brass was back at the cafe. He had come alone this time. He had told himself that he wanted to be alone but in truth, he'd spent the last two days thinking about her smile and didn't want any distractions. Distractions seemed to be all that he would get, however. When he entered there were three other customers. They all seemed to be talking to each other. Jim thought the scene was a littel odd. He assumed that since they were all pleasantly chatting that they knew each other, but they all sat at seperate tables, indicating that they had been strangers when they came in.

Studying the menu again, he asked about a couple of her choices. She pateintly explained what they were and waited for his decision. "What's the Etoufee?" he asked.

"Oh, today's special...a very delicious from South Louisiana. It has all the good stuff: tomatos, onions, celery, bell pepper, shrimp...little bit o' dis, a little bit o' dat...and served over rice. Really, really good." she beamed.

"Sounds good...I think I'll try that. What goes with it?"

"Oh, it makes a meal on its own...but we can add something if you like?"

"No, that's fine. It sounds really good." He was watching as her eyes danced, reflecting the smile that she wore. Funny though, the other day I thought she had blue eyes but today they are green.

A few minutes later he beheld a large bowl of steaming delight. The aroma was mouth watering and he was eager to taste the source. She watched as he took his spoon and dipped into the fare. "Oh...wow," he declared as he savored and then swallowed his first bite. "That is delicious!"

Her gratification was evident as he complimented the food. She gently placed a bread dish on the table with a couple of rolls. As he noted them he looked at her. "I didn't order rolls..."

"I know. But they really go well with the etoufee. And you're becomming one of my favorite customers." She smiling that smile again. Wait...favorite customer? I've only been here...what, three times?

Jim was far too intent on his food to really join in the conversation that surrounded him. All of the other customers were still chatiing with Jenny chiming in from time to time. Slowly they finished their meals and left until he was the only one there. Looking up at her, "Your customers always get friendly like that?"

"I hope so," she returned. "I want this to be a place where people can come and be comfortable. And I want it to be friendly. We seem to go through life these days barely noticing who is around us. Just living in our own little space for the most part. I try to make the spaces blend a little."

Jim nodded as he absorbed what she meant. He knew she made him feel comfortable...and the way she smiled, he definatly wanted to blend some space.

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