The sign outside proclaimed the words "The Red Rose" in blinking lights, accompanied by the outline of a rose in red lights. Music echoed from within, along with excited chatter. Word around town was that The Red Rose could get pretty wild at night, so it seemed to Tim like the best place to drown his sorrows.

Before he could walk through the door, he was met with a familiar face. It was Jimmy, who was currently being tossed out. "I've told you once," the bartender said, "I've told you a thousand times. Come back when you're 21!"

"C'mon!" Jimmy protested. "Just a little rum or something."

"No means no, kid. Now get home, it must be past your bedtime."

Jimmy scowled indignantly as he walked away, promptly tripping over his own feet. He landed on the ground with a painful sounding "Oof!"

"You okay?" Tim asked as he helped the teen to his feet. He was rewarded with a sour look.

"I was okay until you arrived! My life was great and then you and your rock star had to come in and wreck it all."

Tim winced at the accusation. "Sorry, kid. If it's any consolation I've also managed to wreck my own life in the process. Ziva'll never speak to me again."

"Women," Jimmy intoned. "Can't live with them or without them."

His companion laughed, giving him a friendly pat no the back. "Go, home, Jimmy. You'll feel better in the morning," he said as he walked into The Red Rose, leaving the young man outside with a pout.

The restaurant was the closest he'd felt to New York since he'd arrived in Sweet Apple. There was a semi-circle bar right beyond the door and to the left were private tables and booths, many of which were occupied with couples. Tim grimaced. It reminded him of Ziva. But no worry; a trip or two to the bar would take care of that.

"Could I get a gin tonic, please?" he asked the bartender. "Hold the ice."

"Coming right up, sir."

Tim glanced around the place. It was difficult to see with the lights dimmed so low. The candles which adorned each table cast an eerie glow on the table's occupants. The majority of the others there were young adults, likely newlyweds. In fact, he could only see one table occupied by an older couple. In fact, he thought, the woman looked kind of like… "Mama?"

Indeed, Maureen McGee was seated at one of the secluded tables with a gentleman who looked to be about her age. The two were sharing a drink and, based on the amount of empty glasses that cluttered the table, it wasn't their first. As Tim neared the table, he heard his mother's companion toast. "To Maureen! She's peachy keen!"

"Mama!" Tim chided. "Mama, what are you doing in a place like this?

"Oh, Timmy! Sit, sit," she ordered, patting the seat beside her. "I just met this nice Mr. Yost. He's a widower."

"Hello, Tim," Mr. Yost greeted with a large smile. "Your mother's told me a lot about you."

"Mama, this isn't any place for you!"

"Nonsense, dear. Mr. Yost and I are just playing a nice game of gin rummy."

"While enjoying a few glasses of gin…and rummy," Mr. Yost added.

"And what are you doing here, Timothy?"

The man sighed as he plopped into a seat. "I just needed to get my mind off Zi…um…off of things."

His mother encased him in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie! Things will be alright! Tony will sing the song and make you lots of money."

"I know, Mama, I know," he muttered as he disentangled himself from her grasp.

"Say…isn't that your secretary…or, should I say, ex-secretary?" Maureen asked, gesturing to a dark-haired woman who had just entered the restaurant.

Tim turned and saw the figure in question. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bouffant with a fake diamond clip. The revealing yellow dress she wore beautifully complimented her olive-toned skin. Her brown eyes looked at him and her mouth twitched up into a smirk. "Ziva…" he whispered. But she didn't approach him. Instead, she hopped onto a bar stool, crossing her legs at the knee. Her legs looked lovely.

"Dirty martini," she said to the bartender, "and do not skimp on the vodka!"

The bartender looked the woman over appreciatively. "Yes, ma'am!"

Ziva gave Tim a sideways glance just to make sure he was watching. He was. "Tell me, mister, where can a wild girl like me find herself a good time."

"Well, if you can wait another three hours, I can take you back to my place."

The man repulsed her and the last thing she wanted to do was put herself into a stupid situation. "No," she said sweetly, "I am afraid I can't last that long. I need action now."'

He placed the drink before her, dropping an olive in there. "I'm sure you can find a young fella around here who'd give you a good time."

Ziva removed the olive and suckled on it, getting out all of the alcohol it had managed to absorb during its brief time spent submerged in the drink. She popped it in her mouth, picked up the martini and brought it to her painted lips. She stopped short of taking a sip and looked once more at Tim; he looked back with rapt attention. Then, in one swift movement, she threw the drink back and swallowed the entire thing. It tasted awful, but she kept the serene expression on her face and placed the glass back down on the bar. "Another…no, wait! Make it a Manhattan this time! I need something with a kick!" On the word "kick" she kicked out her leg and popped her hip.

The bartender complied. "Better brace yourself, darlin'. You'll regret this in the morning."

"Ha! I am a woman on a mission!"

"And what mission is that, sweetheart?"

She leaned in to him seductively, ignoring his horrible breath. "To live it up like it is my last day," she whispered. "Now where are these 'young fellas' you mentioned."

"Well, none of them are here now. We do have a meeting of the local Shriners going on in our banquet hall."

"Mmm," she murmured, "what kind of shrine are they looking for? Because I may be able to be of assistance to them in that respect."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," he said as he leered at her. "They may just take you up on your offer."

She plucked the cherry from her drink and performed the same suckling on it that she had on the olive. "So where do I find these available men?" she asked as she fingered the rim of her glass.

He nodded to a couple of men who had just entered. "Follow the red hats."

Ziva turned and saw the men disappear down a set of stairs to a lower level. She downed her Manhattan in a single gulp. Her mind was getting a bit hazy, but she ignored it. "Thank you," she said as she threw down a couple of bills. "But don't close up shop too early. When we come out, those men will be buying me drinks."

Tim watched angrily as Ziva flounced off after a pair of Shriners who had just entered. She was swaying her hips as she walked, an act that he knew meant she was looking for action.

"Mama, I have to go," he said as he shot up. He didn't hear his mother call out to him as he ran down the stairs after Ziva.

The banquet hall had been set up with a few round tables talking up the bulk of the space and a single long table situated at the front. Tim didn't know much about the Shriners, but he had a feeling that the men at the long table were the head Shriners.

Ziva walked confidently into the meeting, not missing a beat when the men quieted. They looked at her with confusion, interest, and more than a little hunger. She smirked, reveling in the attention.

"Can we help you, miss?" asked one of the men. He was seated in the dead center of the long table; Ziva figured he was the guy in charge.

"I was told," she began, propping herself on the edge of the table, "that you men are in the market for a fun, young woman." She brought her legs up and splayed them across the table. "I thought, perhaps, that I could be of assistance to you." She lay back, looking up at the head Shriner with her come hither eyes.

"Miss, this is a meeting of the Shriners…"

"I know," she replied as she reached up a hand and run a finger down the man's silk tie. "And I am here, offering myself to you like a sacrifice. Are you saying you do not want me?"

His face turned red and he began stammering. "We…um…that is…"

"Shh…" she hushed, placing a finger over his lips. She sat up and surveyed the room. "I am on the menu for tonight, boys. Who wants firsts?"

The question was met with cheers and wolf whistles. One of the braver men at the long table placed a tentative hand on her calf while another sprung from his seat and joined her on the table. It made her a bit nervous, but she was in too far to turn back now. "My, but you men know how to make a city girl like myself feel welcome! That," she added, as she tapped one of the men on the tip of his nose, "is why I prefer small towns to the hustle and bustle of New York City. You men know how to appreciate a body like mine." She ran her hand down her side for emphasis. "Now," she continued, pushing herself off the table, "who would like to have the first go round?"

There was a beat and then the men surged forward excitedly, each trying to grab at her. Their enthusiasm startled her, throwing her off kilter. She felt hands everywhere and through the haze in her mind she began to get scared. "Okay," she said uneasily, "let's not be so…um…hasty. One at a time…" But her words fell on deaf ears. Hands wrapped around her and soon she felt she was suffocating in a sea of Shriners, drowning with no life vest on. "Hey! Someone! Please!"

Tim had stood peeking in since the beginning of the ordeal. His anger and jealousy had risen, but hearing Ziva's calls for help was the thing that kicked him into action. He shot in and dove into the pile of Shriners. He shoved his way through them to the center where a panicked Ziva was.

"Ziva!" His rescue mission was halted as a body slammed into his and he fell to the ground with a painful thud.

"Timothy!"

He pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled through the legs of the Shriners, tripping them as he went, but not caring. He reached Ziva's leg and she grabbed his hand to pull him up. "Hey! Back off!" he yelled to the other men as he pushed himself shakily to his feet. Ziva clung to him and he in turn wrapped a protective arm around her waist. Together they forged through the throng of Shriners. Someone grabbed her leg, forcing Tim to scoop her up in his arms. He then pushed through the crown like a football player runs through the defense. They broke free and he went into a run, all the way up the stairs and out the door to his waiting car. He placed her in the passenger seat, jumped into the driver's seat, and they took off down the road.

Ziva closed her eyes and bade her heart to return to its normal rhythm. She hadn't expected it to get quite so out-of-hand.

"What the heck was that?" Tim asked, a bit breathless himself. "Were you trying to get yourself ravaged?"

"I was just trying to have some fun."

"Yeah? Well, you could have gotten yourself killed! Then what would I have done?"

"You can always get yourself another secretary."

"I don't want another secretary, Ziva. I want you! Now can we stop playing games?"

"Who is playing a game, my sweet?" She rubbed her head. That second drink had been a mistake. "Oh, I am so tired."

"Alcohol usually has that effect on people, especially when they down two drinks back to back."

"You were watching me?"

"Watching you? I couldn't keep my eyes off of you!" He glanced sideways at her. "I don't know how anyone can. And besides, I had to make sure you didn't hurt yourself."

Ziva grinned and rested her head on his shoulder. She snuggled up to him tightly. "I did not realize you cared, Timothy."

"Of course I care," he whispered. He relished having her pressed against him like this. It had been too long since he'd had her beside him. "Ziva, I love you! I want to marry you."

"I know…you've been saying that for a while now."

"So let's do it."

"Do what?"

"Get married!"

She sat up and looked at him skeptically. "When?"

"Tonight if you'd like." She laughed. "I mean it! We can elope and drive off to Niagara Falls for a honeymoon."

"You are not serious, are you?"

"Why not? We're in love and that's what you do when you're in love."

"But what about your mother? She would be very disappointed."

"I don't care!" he proclaimed loudly. "Ziva, I'm crazy about you and the idea of spending another day not married to you might just push me over the edge!"

She leaned back in her seat, a smile playing on her lips. "Married…" she whispered.

"So do we find a nice little chapel?"

"No…not tonight. We still have to think about tomorrow. We have invested too much in this to not see it through. But," she added, giving him a peck on the cheek, "after that, I see no reason why we cannot make it legal."

He intertwined his fingers in hers and lifted her hand up for a kiss. "Then tomorrow night we'll have two things to celebrate."

"Two?"

"Our marriage and my retirement from the music writing business. I hear the local high school is in need of a chemistry professor…"