Whatever those pills were, they were great. I must remember to go back to that hospital next time I'm injured. They worked so well that I slept for the rest of the morning and all of the afternoon. It wasn't the twelve hours I'd promise myself, but in a lot of ways it was like the lost weekends I used to have at college, except that this time the drugs were legal. Well, there have to some perks to this job, don't there? When I finally surfaced it was to find that warm, amber light the movie people call 'golden time' was filtering through the windows, which meant it was early evening. And that meant one thing: Monty would be wanting his dinner. He's a creature of habit, is Monty, and he likes his routine. So I dragged myself out of bed and hobbled slowly across the room, only to nearly die of shock when I opened the door. When you're used to either living alone or waking up with your new friend in bed beside you, you just don't expect to
"Where do you think you're going?" Kensi was standing directly in front of me, blocking my passage and she did not look happy. It's a good thing I've got quick reactions, even when I am still drugged-up to my eyeballs, because I just managed to stop my forward momentum. Otherwise Kensi would have got the tip of one of the crutches on her foot, and then she really would have had a reason to look so unhappy.
"To feed Monty?" I ventured, wondering how come Kensi has this unique ability to make me feel about twelve again. A small, grubby twelve year old at that. How come she can do this to me - and in my own house to boot?
"Already taken care of. He had some liver I found in your fridge." She looked really pleased with herself.
That would be the premium grade calves liver I'd ordered in especially at the French delicatessen. Liver is high in iron and protein, and it's very lean too. It just happens to be one of my favourite foods. It is also exorbitantly expensive. Monty seemed to have enjoyed it, judging by the way he was licking his furry chops. I'd had plans for that liver and they did not involve it going down my pooch's gullet. But Kensi wasn't to know that. Her idea of cooking is to put something in the microwave and hope it doesn't explode. "Great. How did you cook it?"
Kensi looked at me like I was mad. "Cook it? Deeks – he's a dog. And I'm not a gourmet chef. I just opened the packet and put it in his dish."
Oh well, she's the one who's going to be walking him for the next couple of days, so she can deal with picking up the aftermath of a pound of raw liver up from the sidewalk. And then I can get to deal with the vet's bills we run up when Monty develops worms. Great. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.
"Go back to bed." She crosses her arms and eyeballs me
That reminds me of Janice Thomson, who used to babysit for me. That's exactly what she used to say too, and in exactly the same voice, only that was usually because she was necking with Brad Vine on the sofa when I interrupted them. I learned an awful lot from Janice and Brad, because even though I was only a kid, I learned to wait until the action got really exciting before I made my presence known.
"I've been in bed all day. I'm bored." And that just shows you how far I've fallen. There are women across LA who would fall down in a dead faint if they heard that Marty Deeks had been commanded to go to bed by a woman, and had refused to obey. I couldn't quite believe it myself, if you want the truth.
Kensi's face kind of softened when I said that. I must remember to never underestimate the power of being vulnerable and boyish. If it works on Kensi, it'll work on anyone. Well, maybe not Hetty. And definitely not Sam. But I don't fancy either of them, so it doesn't really matter. I don't really fancy Kensi either. It's more of an unrequited lust type of thing. Or wanting the one thing I know I can't have. Whatever it is, it's kind of frustrating.
"You can stay up – but on two conditions."
I seem to have heard the first part of that statement more than once before, only the circumstances were usually completely different. "Oh?"
"One: you put on some more clothes."
That was the reverse of what I normally hear. Okay, Kensi had a point, seeing as I was standing there in my boxers and nothing else. I did a quick check, but for once the fly wasn't gaping open. "I can do that. And?" There had to be a catch somewhere along the line.
"And two: you have to eat something. You've gotten far too skinny." Just for emphasis, Kensi poked me in my stomach. I told you Kensi was strong, didn't I? Well, that little poke just about sent my flying and she had to grab me round the waist to stop me falling as the crutches went every which way.
"Deeks. I'm so sorry." She sounded completely mortified.
Well, I've been in worse situations, I suppose. Being tackled and then groped by a gorgeous woman isn't that bad. I let Kensi help me over to the couch and then she disappeared back into my bedroom, where a disembodied voice came floating out.
"Where's your robe?"
"I don't have one."
Kensi's head appeared around the door. "How can you not have a robe? No, don't bother to answer that."
No wonder I'm in a permanent state of confusion when she asks me a question and tell me not to bother answering. I'm never going to win, am I? What am I supposed to make of that? And why would I need a robe in the first place? There's only me and Monty live here, and he doesn't care. And any overnight guests I have seem to prefer me without a robe. They seem to prefer me without any clothes at all, if you really want to know. When she comes back out, Kensi is carrying a hoodie and a pair of thick socks. While I pull the hoodie on, she kneels down and puts the socks on, taking a lot of care to make sure they're on properly. I kind of like that. It's kind of cute. This is probably not the best look I've ever modeled, but I don't exactly care.
"So – what do you want to eat?" I can't help noticing that Kensi is kind of pink in the face: must be because she was bending over.
"Anything but Jell-O."
"What's wrong with Jell-O?"
My partner has a bit of a thing for Jell-O. I could almost swear Kensi only visits me in hospital to get free Jell-O. She comes in, sits down and then grabs my Jell-O. That's not normal, is it? She's like some sort of Jell-O addict. I wonder if they have a 12 Step programme she could go to and get some help? The only good thing about Jell-O is when they use it in those wrestling competitions. You know – the ones with the girls in the bikinis? Jell-O shots are pretty good too. Actually, watching girls wrestle in Jell-O and knocking back some Jell-O shots would probably be kind of epic. But apart from that, I hate Jell-O. It's like fruit flavoured snot. And artificial fruit flavours into the bargain.
"For starters, it comes in unnatural colours," I tell her. It doesn't seem to register, because Kensi thinks Jell-O is the food of the gods and has all sorts of healing properties.
"It's good for you. That's why you get it in hospital."
"Kensi – you get lots of things that aren't good for you in hospital. Like C-dif. Or MRSA."
Knowing my almost legendary hatred for the stuff, Kensi gives in gracefully. If only I kept a journal, I'd mark this day in red. "Okay, so Jell-O's out. How about eggs?"
Eggs sound good. Or maybe egg singular. I'm not really that hungry and besides which, Kensi isn't the greatest cook. But even Kensi can't do much to ruin an egg. Can she?
If you overlook the occasional bits of eggshell, Kensi's scrambled eggs aren't too bad. I manage about half the plateful, and she gives me a rueful look.
"It was great. Really. I'm just not very hungry."
That's the truth. Besides which, Kensi's going out of her way to look after me. I keep thinking about what Hetty said: about how they all needed to look after me. I still can't work out what she meant by that, because the way I see it, I'm putting everyone to a lot of trouble here. Kensi especially. She's really putting herself out and I feel kind of bad about it. No, actually I feel as guilty as hell. I'm not the greatest of company right now and besides which, that liver is giving Monty terrible gas. But if I'm feeling sorry for myself, I'm feeling a whole lot sorrier for Kensi, who's stuck here with a gimpy guy and a flatulent dog.
"You don't have to stay, you know? You could go home."
"Are you trying to get rid of me, Deeks?"
"No, of course not. It's just that…" It's just that I'm kind of ruining everything for her. Kensi could be out somewhere and having fun, instead of being stuck here with me in my wooly socks.
"You don't want me here, do you?" And know I feel a whole lot worse, because Kensi actually sounds sad.
Under other circumstances, the prospect of snuggling up with Kensi wearing just my boxers would be pretty much my ideal night. The socks kind of ruin the image though. Not to mention the leg brace, although I believe that turns some people on. Whatever floats your boat.
"It's not that. It's just that I really am okay. I can manage."
Kensi turns around and her eyes are huge and angry. "Listen Deeks: you are not fine. I'm telling you that you are not fine, so just believe me. And I'm staying and that's an end of this discussion. Okay?"
Well, that's the end of that conversation. She's got me again. Just like she usually does. Kensi knows just which buttons to hit. And right now she's got me at a physical disadvantage, having already had a technical knock-down. "Okay. So – do you want to watch a movie?" It's the best I can do under the circumstances.
Monty lets rip again and Kensi gets up with a sigh. "You choose. I'll just take farty-pants out for a walk."
Sometimes that dog has the best timing. "How about you open a window on the way out?"
Kensi does better than that – she lights this candle and puts it on the table in front of me. "It's lavender," she says. "It's supposed to be healing." And then she snaps on Monty's lead and goes out.
Since when did I have a scented candle? I don't ever remember buying candles. Far less scented ones. It does smell kind of nice though – sort of relaxing. I lean my head back and close my eyes, just for a second. The next thing I know, there is the smell of chocolate wafting temptingly underneath my nose.
"Hot chocolate." Kensi is standing there with two mugs and there's a plate of Oreo cookies on the table, sitting next to that candle I don't remember buying.
"You've been to the grocery store, haven't you?" I know this because I don't have any hot chocolate powder and I certainly don't have any mini marshmallows.
"How can you have a movie night and not have snacks? Healthy snacks. And before you say anything, hot chocolate's made with milk. And milk is good for you."
And so is Kensi. Kensi is really good for me. In fact, she's probably the best thing that has ever happened to me. She takes the throw that lies along the back of my sofa and she drapes it across both of us as we sit there watching movies, drinking our hot chocolate and eating Oreo cookies. I haven't done this since I was a kid and it's actually kind of great. And when Kensi leans her head on my shoulder, it's pretty close to amazing.
So, that was how I spent my first night alone in my apartment with Kensi. Chastely close. My reputation is never going to be the same again. And that's just fine with me. For the moment.
Do you think Deeks is going to realise something anytime soon? And how long can Kensi hold out? before she cracks?