Chapter Text
Hot Cops: Las Vegas
by kaspernoth
It hadn't been a good day for Catherine Willows. Had it only been yesterday when she had been teeming with excitement over being appointed the head writer of Hot Cops: Las Vegas? Lately, she found just couldn't muster the same enthusiasm she had two years ago. Maybe it was from the stress-induced headache she woke up with this morning. Or the angry call she fielded from Sara's agent, demanding more screen time. Or the angry call she fielded from Sara's publicist, demanding more screen time. Or the angry visit from Sara herself, in full drama queen mode, demanding more screen time. And then there was the call from the network executive, asking her if she could have her staff write another episode with "hot teen lesbo action", like the one that had spiked ratings up ten points during sweeps.
Or maybe it was this agent friend of hers, Jim Brass, sitting down in her office while she was in the middle of trying to take her goddamn lunch break, attempting yet again to get her to hire another one of his creativity-challenged writers.
"C'mon Cath! Do this for me, okay? How many favours have I asked from you lately, anyhow?"
Catherine rolled her eyes and tried, for the fourth time in as many minutes, to contain her lunch. "Jim? Enough. I've had it up to here with you trying to push your oddball, hack writers on me. Remember Ecklie and that godawful Martian vampire storyline last year?"
"Hey, that episode had pretty good ratings. I remember it winning its timeslot."
"That was because it was also the episode with the hot teen lesbo action."
"Oh yeah. Forgot about that."
"Knowing you, I'm shocked," Catherine commented snidely.
"But listen Cath, you've gotta give this guy a chance. He's been out of work for ten years now. It's either this or he moves back to Santa Monica to live with his parents."
"His parents? How old is he?"
"Forty-seven."
Catherine sighed. She hated when Jim tried tug her by her heartstrings. Not the least because it tended to work. She sighed. "Do you have a writing sample with you?"
Brass gave her a salute. "You know me Cath, always prepared." He dug it out of his briefcase. It was slim, white, and neatly typed. "It's a script for a pilot," Brass told her, in lieu of an explanation. "He tried pitching it last year, but no one picked it up."
And no wonder, thought Catherine as she scanned the title. CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. Yeah, like that clunker of a name would ever fly with network executives. With a weary sigh, she turned her attention to the rest of the script.
It wasn't bad, she thought, after digesting the first three pages or so. A bit overly technical, perhaps, in the forensic details, but that was nothing a good re-write couldn't fix. There was promise here, certainly, and talent too, though she was loathe to use that adjective on any of Jim's clients.
"Well?" Brass asked her.
Catherine paused before saying, "I don't know, Jim. I'm not in charge of hiring anymore, but I'll speak with Mobley. We'll see what he has to say about it." She turned her attention back to the script. "What's this guy's name again?" But even as she asked the question, her eyes scrolled up the script to where the author's name was printed finely on every page. She read it in the same moment that Brass said it.
"Gil Grissom."
*****
It was a little after two in the afternoon when the ringing of the telephone woke Gil up in the middle of his cramped, one bedroom apartment. Though still bleary and a little hung over from the night before, he still had enough wits about him to still feel grateful that his phone company hadn't yet disconnected him. He grabbed the phone off its cradle and put it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Gil, this is Jim. Boy, do I have good news for you.
Gil found himself instantly wide awake. "Someone picked up my script?"
"Huh? Oh, that. No, nothing like that."
He felt himself deflating a little. "Then what is it then?"
"I found you a writing job."
"A writing job? Writing what?"
"Hot Cops: Las Vegas."
Gil stared at his phone, incredulous. "You're kidding me."
"Nope. Let me tell you, I'm excited as you are. It's not everyday that opportunities like this drop in our laps."
"Jim..."
"It's a good thing for you that me and Catherine Willows-that's the head writer for the show, Catherine Willows-go way back. Otherwise, she might not have..."
"Jim, I'm not doing it."
There was a long, resigned silence on the other end of the line before Brass finally asked, "Okay, why not?"
"Look, Jim, I know you're just trying to do the best by me, but it's crap. It's a crap show that ignores factual, modern-day police and forensic procedure to shill out cheap, soap opera style antics that focus more on the sex lives of the officers than the details of the cases themselves."
"But Gil," said Brass pleaded wearily. "You've got to think of it as a stepping stone. When you're at the top, you can do whatever you want, but you're just small fry as far as the bigwigs are concerned. You've got to play by their rules."
"Brass..."
"Look Gil, I know that you've got your artistic integrity and all, but you're in no position to say no to these kind of jobs." Brass paused to take a deep breath. "I'm your friend, Gil. I mean, didn't I always help you out whenever you were short on your bills? Or your rent? Wasn't I with you every step of the way when you were pitching that pilot script of yours?"
Gil sighed. "Yes, Jim."
"I'm your friend and as your friend, I'm telling you-take this job. If not for yourself, then for me. God knows I could use the commission."
Gil sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head hang in defeat. He knew that it would have come to this eventually. He had fought it for years, tooth and nail, but he had always known. "Alright, Jim," he said. "I'll take the job."
*****
"Look, Mobsley," Catherine said into her phone, keeping her voice steady and patient. "I know what the network brass said, but I'm not sure an eight-part hot teen lesbian storyline is right for our viewers." A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye told her that someone was at the door. "Look, I have a visitor. Can we talk about this later? Okay, bye."
She hung up and swiveled her chair until she was facing her guest: a middle-aged man in his forties. He was a little pudgy, perhaps, but still sort of handsome. "Hello?"
"Hi," he said in a polite, but neutral tone. "I'm Gil Grissom. My agent told me that I worked here now."
She smiled at him. "Mr. Grissom, it's good to finally meet you. I'm Catherine Willows, your new boss. I read the pilot for that show of yours, CSI. I really enjoyed it."
He smiled back, but only a little. "I've received many compliments for it."
"But no pick-ups?"
"No, no pick-ups."
She nodded sympathetically. "It's a cut-throat business," she said. "All of us just try to get by, doing the best we can."
"I guess so," he said, then changed the subject. "So what do you want me to do for you today?"
"Well," she began. "I think the best thing for you to do is to get familiar with the show. Get to know its characters, its setting, and its history. Have you seen the show before?"
"A few episodes. Not many."
"Well, I'd advise that you see more than just `a few'. Ask one of the interns to pull out a few from the archives. After you've gotten the necessary background, I'll clue you into the general story arc we're planning for this season and assign you a few scripts to try your hand at re-writing. That sound okay to you?"
Gil nodded blankly. "Sounds perfect."
Catherine regarded him quietly for a moment, then said, "Mind if I ask you a personal question, Gil?"
He pursed his lips slightly, but nodded. "Certainly."
"You're not really happy to be here, are you?"
He looked back at her, studying her in turn, before saying, "No, not really."
She offered him a sad smile. "I'm not surprised. Like I said, I've read your script. You're overqualified for this job, but then so are most of us. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not any happier than you are. I pushed for this job because I thought it would finally give me some real creative freedom and control, but nowadays I mostly try to find ways to fit more hot teen lesbian action into the show, to help horny guys in the audience with their jerk-off fantasies."
Gil smiled back, just as sadly. "Beware of what you wish for," he said, solemnly.
"Hey Cath!" said someone from the door, just behind Grissom. Gil turned around to find himself facing a very attractive and genial young man wearing sunglasses and designer clothes. "I heard you got a new guy. This him?" The young man nodded his head in Gil's direction.
"Yes, Nick," said Catherine, smiling a little more light-heartedly. "Say hello to Gil Grissom. Gil, this is Nick Stokes."
"Pleased to meet you," said Nick with a Texan drawl, taking Gil's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. "We could use a few new bodies around here." Then, in a more teasing tone, "Between you and me, Gil, the writing on this show has gotten REAL stale."
"Haha, Nick," said Catherine, taking the teasing with good humour. "Another line like that and you could be a comedian."
"Hey," Nick chuckled. "Don't tempt me. Anyhow, I gotta be on the set in a few. Either of you seen Sara or Warrick?"
"Nope," said Catherine.
"Alright. See you later, Catherine. You too, Gil." He patted Grissom heartily on the shoulder and gave them both a grin-ful of beautiful white teeth, then wandered off on his own.
"See you later, Nick." She waved the amiable young man away, then turned back to Grissom, who hadn't said a word the whole time and was still watching the back of a departing Nick. She cleared her throat to regain his attention.
He blinked and looked back at her. "Who was that?" he asked.
"Wow, you really haven't been watching the show, haven't you? That was one of our stars, Nick Stokes. He plays, and I quote, the `studly Officer Rod Farrel'."
"Ah," Gil said, furrowing his brow somewhat. "I think I remember him. Vaguely."
Catherine smirked. "You're not starstruck, are you?"
Gil looked a little startled. "No, of course not. Why would I be?"
"Well, a lot of people are a little infatuated with our Nicky. Hell, even I like him, if only because he isn't in my office everyday, begging for more screen time like the other actors."
"He's that popular?" Gil asked.
"You'd be surprised," Catherine said with a wane smile.
END PART 1