Night Life
by Pho
Simon Banks bustled around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on his contribution to the weekly card game. Since he was hosting, he wasn't technically required to provide food, but the recipe for cheese straws was too inviting not to try. Odd, he'd never considered himself a good cook, particularly not after Joan had left. But weekends with Daryl had meant more than take out and delivery so after a couple of months he purchased his first cookbook. To his surprise he found that he not only *liked* cooking, but that he was very good at it. Not that his subordinates knew it, of course. He *did* have a reputation to maintain.
The doorbell pulled his thoughts away from the kitchen, and he frowned as he glanced at his watch. Six-thirty? Much too early for the card groupies. He shoved the last batch of cheese straws into the oven then hastened to the door. Checking the peephole, he smiled and pulled the door open. "Michael, what brings you over?"
The thirty-something blond grinned wryly. "I come bearing Hannah's cheesecake, and a warning..."
Simon's smile remained as he relieved the other man of the plate. "What kind of warning?"
"Michelle is having five girlfriends sleep over tonight. We're thinking about upping the homeowner's insurance. Not sure if the house can take half-a-dozen teenage girls at one time." He added as an afterthought. "In one bathroom."
The captain laughed loudly at the image conjured up by his next-door neighbor's words. "Good thing Daryl's not here. I'm sure he'd be girl-watching."
"Humph. More likely he'd be the one being watched, Simon. You've obviously never really listened in to a group of teenage girls reviewing the male of the species."
"That bad?" Simon looked doubtful.
"Let's just say that they can embarrass me, and *I* was a Marine." Michael shook his head and sighed. "Anyway, the cheesecake is an apology because the girls are going to be watching movies in the den tonight. If the noise level gets too much just give me a call. I don't think it'll be a problem because Michelle's rented several movies."
"Ah, love stories, right?"
"That would be a no. Try horror. The more bloody and gruesome the better. So the next screams you hear will be..."
"Six teenage girls. Ouch. I'll remember." Simon studied his friend's face for a moment and frowned slightly at the mischievous gleam in the other man's eye. "So you're going to..."
"But of course." Michael laughed easily as the captain shook his head.
"Ah ha. Oh, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the warning *and* the cheesecake. Tell Hannah it wasn't necessary, but I'll keep it anyway."
"Besides, you can serve it at poker tonight."
"How'd you know it was poker night at my place tonight?"
Michael smiled knowingly. "You went shopping on Thursday for groceries rather than waiting for Saturday. You bought four different kinds of beer, three of which you don't drink, and..." He sniffed the air. "You're baking cheese something."
"Straws." Simon replied softly. "Are you sure you don't want to be a detective?"
"Positive." Michael laughed again and headed back for his front door. Simon hurriedly kicked the door shut with his foot and returned to the kitchen in time to turn the last batch of cheese straws.
******
Four hours later Blair Sandburg was winning. Again. For a neo- hippie witch doctor punk, he was quite good at poker. "Read 'em and weep, gentlemen." He grinned broadly as he showed his hand.
"Not again!" Joe Talbert spoke for the remaining players as Rafe and Jim tossed their hands on the table in disgust.
Blair laughed loudly as he added his latest winnings to his mountain of bills. "Hey, what can I say, when you're good you're good."
"Or maybe you're just very, very lucky, Chief." Jim growled.
H. suddenly frowned as he reached into the chip bowl. "Hey Simon, got any more chips?"
"And dip?" Joel added as he rose and stretched, noting that the salsa dish was almost empty.
The captain frowned as he came out of the kitchen. "No. We've been through three bags of chips and two jars of salsa."
"Well, you could always cut the cheesecake you've got hidden in the refrigerator." Jim smiled slyly at his boss.
"Not on your life, Nosy!" Simon wagged a finger at his friend. "That's a gift to me, for me and me alone."
"Well, if we're gonna continue to play, we need more food." Blair commented sagely, then frowned as the group turned to look at him. "What?"
Simon grinned wickedly. "*I* vote that the big haired winner here buy the snacks for the rest of the night. He can certainly afford it."
Blair froze in shock, then laughed. "Okay, sounds fair. Jim, lend me the truck, will ya?"
"Not on your life, Sandburg, *my* truck so *I'm* driving. *You're* buying." He winced slightly as girlish screams could be heard coming from next door. "Just how many kids did you say were over there, Simon?"
"Only six, Jim. Six *teenage* girls watching horror movies."
"Right. Sounds like a battalion." Jim sighed as he mentally nudged his sound dials down another notch. "Come on, Chief. The sooner we leave, the sooner we'll get back and you can take the rest of our money."
The remaining players rushed to take their seats again as their friends closed the door behind them. Simon quickly shuffled the cards and started to deal. "Five card stud, deuces wild, gentlemen. Let's see if we can shift Sandburg's luck to someone else while they're gone."
******
Thirty minutes later, Blair stumbled through the front door, his arms weighed down with plastic grocery bags filled with chips, dip, cookies and other delights for the card-playing crowd.
"About damn time, Sandburg." Rafe's words died on his lips as he caught sight of Blair's face. "What's wrong?"
Blair gasped worriedly. "Jim's gone after a peeping Tom or something next door watching the kids through the den window. He sent me inside to get back up and call a unit."
"Good Lord," Joel leaped to his feet. "Those poor kids."
"What poor kids?" Simon asked as he came out of the hall bathroom.
Blair hurriedly gave him the condensed version of the story. "Peeper next door watching the kids. Jim's..."
Simon's eyes widened with horror as he realized his detectives were heading for the door, weapons drawn. "Sweet Jesus! No! Stop. Everyone sit down. Stay here. Sandburg, you're with me!" With that, Simon raced out the front door, a confused anthropologist on his heels. Heading toward the side of the house, he called softly in the direction he hoped his friend had taken, "Jim, stop. That's an order. Get back over here!"
Blair whispered, "But, Simon..."
"Shut up, Sandburg, just help me find your partner."
Jim Ellison appeared suddenly in full scowl to stand in front of his captain. "Sir, there's a prowler..."
"No, there's not!" Simon emphasized quickly as a very loud banging noise came from next door in the vicinity of the den window. "It's..."
The older man's voice was drowned out by nearly hysterical high-pitched screams coming from the den next door.
Jim whirled toward the sound, gun drawn, as Blair protested their inaction. "Simon!"
"Just listen!" Simon was now laughing as his confused subordinates turned toward the neighbor's house.
Over the hysterical feminine screams came one more irate than frightened. "DADDY! CUT THAT OUT!"
The end