| The dress was not my cup of tea. Dresses in general weren't my cup of tea but I figured it was the least I could do. The midnight blue slinky dress fell mid thigh, complete with a set of matching stilleto heels. I didn't bother with my hair, combing it straight, letting the black mass fall where it may. Grabbing my purse and keys, I walked outside and slid into my car, a 1998 black Camero the color of my own hair. 'I'm in love with my car,' I sang in my head and started the engine before rocketing down the street. Las Vegas at night was a sight to behold. The strip, the people. New York maybe the City that never sleeps but Las Vegas was the City where people came to party. Neon lights sped past as I navigated towards Grissom's house, blarring techno. 'Music. Soothing...' Quicker than I expected, I was in front of the address hastily written on the card. It was 6:55 and the sun was throwing its last rays of light before the blackness of the Nevada sky swallowed them whole. 'I'm on time. I'm here. Just get out and hear what he has to say.' Easier said than done. Groaning, I pushed opened the door and locked my car, walking up the gravel driveway. A black Tahoe was parked there, its hulking mass looming like a shadow. 'SUVs...company cars. Gross.' Suddenly the door loomed in my face, the doorbell illuminated, mocking me as if to say, "You wouldn't dare...". 'Yeah, I wouldn't. Normally I wouldn't. But I have to...' Or do I? I could turn around. Or I could ring the doorbell. Run... Or face what I don't really want to. My watch beeped. 7:00pm. My hand reached up and rang the doorbell. Scuffling. Then. "You're on time," he said, same soft voice reaching my ears and I almost jumped. His eyes were still his most striking feature, reflecting the low light of the street lamps, making them pale gray. The job had taken its toll; new lines were where there were none six months ago and he seemed paler, almost ashen. As usual, black slacks hung loose on his frame, paired with a darker brown shirt, opened at the first two buttons. "Did you expect anything less?" I said, offering him a small smile. "May I come in?" "Of course," he replied, stepping back, ushering me in. "If you would excuse my lack of...homeliness. I'm not home much." 'Ain't that the truth?' I nodded and looked around. The walls were white, bookshelfs, coffee table, couch, and not much else. "You're...utilitarian," I answered. "May I take off my shoes? Stilletos on hardwood does not bode well." Grissom nodded, walking pass me into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving mine. "Stilletos are murder on the ankles and kness," he said, offering a smirk and I knelt, undoing the latches. "True but they give me killer legs." "You don't need shoes to do that," he said softly and reached for the microwave. "I ordered Chinese..." Next |