John Gage and Roy DeSoto just ended their 24-hour shift at the station.

"Hey, Roy," John piped up as he removed his uniform shirt. "That Brice hasn't had a real night out since he became a paramedic."

Roy stopped unbuttoning his shirt. He gave his partner a questioning look. Was Johnny really going nuts, or did he and Brice finally resolve their differences? Grinning, Roy looked down and shook his head as he continued unbuttoning his shirt.

John continued, unbuttoning his uniform slacks, thinking: "A new disco's opened up in Hollywood. It's called the Roxbury. I heard that it looks and feels like Studio 54 - I also heard that a lot of ladies go there."

"Not the nice ones!" Roy commented as he removed his uniform shirt, and hung it in his locker. "I met Joanne in school - now, that's where you'll find nice girls. The girls you find at a disco? I hate to break it to you, but they won't find firemen their type."

"Well, I can say I'm a soap star," Johnny told him, as his put on his plaid shirt, giving his partner a wink.

"Some of those girls are too drunk to know the difference between a soap star and a firefighter." Roy commented. Johnny snapped his fingers and raced out of the locker room.

Roy closed his eyes, and dropped his head, knowing that his partner had finally lost it. He had finally stepped over the edge into the abyss known as ëinsanityí. Roy shook his head as he went through the apparatus bay.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he heard Johnny confirming the ënight outí with Brice. Roy went to the stove and got a cup of coffee.

"What's with Gage, Roy?" Chet asked.

"I think he's lost his marbles again." He took a sip of coffee.

"You just realizing this now?" Chet grinned at his joke. "Sounds like he's talking to Brice."

"He is." Chet's jaw dropped, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. "That was my reaction, too. He says that he's taking Brice to that new disco, the Roxbury."

"NO WAY!" Chet yelled.

"That's what he just told me."

"I didn't expect him to take me seriously!" Chet stood up and headed towards Johnny, who was still on the phone.

"Chet..." Roy shook his head again. This is gonna be a big mess. Chet stepped up to Johnny and tapped his shoulder. Johnny held his finger up, indicating for Chet to wait a moment.

"Johnny..." Chet whispered.

"Okay, Craig. I'll pick you up at 10," Johnny hung up the phone.

"Have you lost all semblance of sanity, Gage?" Chet's voice was an octave higher than normal.

"Why?" Johnny asked as he buttoned his shirt.

"You are going to go out with the worldís perfect paramedic tonight! Do you know what you're up against?"

"Maybe a better time than you?" Johnny grinned at his fellow firefighter. "At least I'll be with a woman." He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. He tucked in his shirt. "Well, Chester B. I'm going home so that I can get some sleep. I want to dance the night away!" Johnny put his hands up and bumped Chet's hip with his.

"Don't make me sick, Johnny. I didn't think you would actually take this on as a worthwhile project!"

"Well, it was your suggestion. 'Maybe if we treated him like a normal human being, he'd change his evil ways.í I believe those were your actual words, were they not, Chet?"

"Yeah but I didn't expect you to fall into the lions den so quickly. Gage, you are going to be eaten alive!" Chet thought a moment. "Think about it, Johnny. If being the best paramedic in LA County is his goal for his job, what could his goal with the women be like?"

"Chet, you're just jealous."

"Why am I jealous?"

"Cause I'm taking Brice to the Roxbury and not you!"

Craig Brice was standing in front of his dresser, making sure his aftershave was in alphabetical order - Aqua Velva, Brut, and Old Spice. He took the Brut from the dresser, he had used Aqua Velva during A-shift at Station 51, where he established the unenviable reputation as a perfectionist pain in the ass. Even Roy DeSoto thought he was a nut - he had to work with him while John Gage was recuperating from a hit-and-run. Roy was okay; he just needed discipline. Of course, that was his opinion.

After slapping the Brut on his thin olive-skinned neck, carefully so it wouldn't splash on his white dress shirt, Brice looked at the mirror. "Charlie's Angels, eat your hearts out," he smiled, briefly removing his glasses. He could barely see his nondescript features reflected in the mirror. Without his glasses, Brice would not have been allowed to join the Los Angeles County Fire Department. He really wanted to wear contact lenses, but his corneas were shaped so badly that not one, but three optometrists warned him against wearing contact lenses. Besides, they were too expensive for his budget anyway. Someone knocked at his front door.

The soulful sounds of his Saturday Night Fever 8-track were playing. Brice had to mentally prepare himself for what could be the greatest night of his life. I hope. He thought. Unlike Johnny and Roy, who probably had their pick of potential dates for their senior proms, some 10 years earlier, Brice was left without one for his Class of '67 dance. Not even that gawky-looking, bespectacled, freckle-faced redhead in his physics class wanted him - and she eventually became the sexy spokeswoman for a brand of expensive cosmetics! Maybe Brice's fortunes with women would change. Or, would it?

After reflecting on his nonexistent dating life, Brice looked in the mirror one more time. These glasses have to go, he told himself, as he slipped them into his shirt pocket. Carefully walking to the door, he stumbled on the small throw that lay in the middle of the floor. This isnít going to work. He thought, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and putting them on his face. He looked through the peephole, and saw that there were not one, but two people at the doorway. Why would Roy come along, Brice thought. Roy always prided himself as the devoted husband with two tow-headed kids, both in elementary school. But what was he doing with John Gage, the worldís most eligible bachelor? Craig opened the door and welcomed the two men in.

"Joanne and the kids went over to my mother-in-law's for the weekend," Roy explained. He wore a modishly styled print shirt, and beige polyester double-knit slacks, which caused his boyish blond features to be quite sexy. "I had to tag along to make sure Junior doesn't get into mischief."

"Roy, I'm 27 years old, okay?" Johnny snapped. "I don't need a baby-sitter, man!"

"You do, too. How many times have I rescued you?" Roy's voice rose, stating his point: John was a fumbling, accident-prone, clumsy ëkidí who should really watch what heís doing.

"Hey, guys! We're all grown-ups. Stop arguing like a couple of 10-year-olds, okay?"

"We're not arguing like 10-year-olds," Johnny sounded exasperated.

Roy continued, "I don't know why you're dragging Brice and I, to that lousy disco in the first place. I don't like that kind of music, and Brice will never be John Travolta."

Craig Brice looked down at the floor. "Royís right. I have no business going there." He looked into the faces of his A-shift colleagues.

Johnny was in a quandary. He wanted to go to the Roxbury, but he didnít want to go alone. Royís idea of a Friday night without Joanne was watching The Rockford Files on TV, or going bowling with the guys ñ Johnny too, if he wasn't busy with a stewardess stopping into town. Roy wouldnít be caught dead with another woman.

"Do you want to be an old man with a thousand cats," John asked. "You hardly go out and meet anybody!"

"Well, it's because my schedule doesnít give me a chance to have a social life," Brice replied. He wiped his brow of nervous sweat, and continued, "Just because I do things by the book, everyone thinks that my idea of a hobby is organizing the spice rack in alphabetical order. I just want to be the best paramedic in L. A. and itís always best to do things the right way."

"Your way?" Roy vividly remembered the conversation from the squad. Brice nodded. "Well, you are a good paramedic," Roy commented. "Itís just the dealing with people that is your problem." He was not the sort to tell people merely what they wanted to hear.

"We can analyze this all night, but Iíd prefer dancing!" Johnny was becoming impatient and anxious. He had planned to arrive at the Roxbury 15 minutes ago. It was even harder to be patient when Brice was around. Working with him at committee meetings was enough to consider checking into Rampart's psychiatric ward; his perfectionist attitude was enough to drive a sane man over the edge. Sure he had good ideas, but the rule book had to go! They stepped out of Briceís apartment and went down the stairs to Johnnyís Land Rover.

The ride to the Roxbury was a quiet one. The three men sat in their own little worlds, contemplating what would happen. Roy had been kind and lets Craig sit in the front. He stared out the side window. Why did I let him talk me into this? Roy thought.
"I don't think I can do this." Craig whispered.
"Why?" Johnny asked.
"My stomach is a mess. I'm not used to this 'spur of the moment' thing. I need to think this through."
"No thinking to it, Craig. You just have to do this. It'll be fun." Johnny tried to be convincing, but it was falling on deaf ears.
"Pull over." Craig spoke suddenly.
"Why?" Johnny asked.
"Because if you don't, I'll have to pay for an interior cleaning of your Land Rover. Pull over NOW!" Johnny quickly pulled over to the curb. When the vehicle came to a sudden stop, Craig Brice opened the door, leaned over, and puked. "Sorry." He told them. "When I'm nervous my stomach contents usually come up."
"At least you warned us first." Roy commented from the back. "Feel better?"
"A little."
"It won't be so bad once we get there." Johnny commented.
"Roy is the one who pointed out that I am not John Travolta, Gage. You'd better just take me home."
"No. I want you to enjoy tonight. I want you to see how the other half-lives. I will find you the perfect date tonight if it kills me."
"It probably will." Roy whispered in the back seat. Johnny turned and shot him a dirt look. Checking traffic, he pulled away from the curb.

The Land Rover stopped in front of the Roxbury, an imposing looking edifice located on the better part of the Sunset strip, not far from the Hollywood sign. The Roxbury's name was highlighted by electric blue neon lights that danced in the darkness. The building itself looked like a converted old movie theater, complete with a plastic white marquis with red letters: "DISCO INFERNO ALL NITE!" Even the music coming from the nightclub was pure disco - Johnny Gage quickly identified it as a Diana Ross song he heard on Looking for Mr. Goodbar last week.
"Oh, no," gasped Craig Brice, as he readied himself to throw up once more. This time, he puked on the car floor. The other two jumped out of the Rover like it was on fire.
"Maybe we should leave." Roy commented looking at the queue of people. Johnny stepped up on the curb beside him. Brice opened the door of the Land Rover, and joined them. Tight-fitting satin, white polyester and loud gold chains were all they saw waiting to enter the Roxbury. These are the die-hard ëdance freaksí. Roy thought. "I don't want to go in there." He was beginning to think this was a really bad idea. "I don't think we fit the club's image!"
"Roy, just relax! Everything will be okay!" Johnny stated calmly. "Trust me." Roy shook his head. The three paramedics could hardly believe their eyes when a burly-looking bouncer wearing a tight-fitting black muscle shirt and a pair of Levi's, pushed two men wearing shiny gray suits and black T-shirts out the door.

"Don't ever show your ugly mugs here again," he yelled, as the two men found themselves sprawled on the sidewalk. Roy thought they looked like brothers. He started towards the two men to see if he could help, but as he neared them, they slowly rose, rubbed their eyes, and shook their heads.

"I can't have fun in this town," the short one commented.
"Think we should join a monastery," stated the taller man.
Roy turned, walked back to join Johnny and Craig. The line was beginning to move rather quickly. For Johnny, it was only a few minutes away from the greatest night in his life. For Roy and Brice, it was going to be like one of Chetís B-movies, a true nightmare.

It was a quarter after 11 before John, Roy, and Brice got anywhere near the front door of the Roxbury. It had a forbidding sign reading, "No persons under 21 admitted."

"That means you, Junior," chided Roy DeSoto.

"Ha ha, Roy," Johnny replied, and Roy smiled.

The usher greeting the three paramedics was a thin sandy-haired young man, who was obviously earning his way through college. His airs suggested that he wouldn't be stuck at the Roxbury for the rest of his life, his shoulder-length hair, and brown eyes made him look like a blond Johnny Gage.

"Five dollars each," the young man told them.

Roy shook his head. "We could have gone to the movies for a lot less that that," he commented, as he opened his wallet, pulled out his five-dollar bill, and passed it to John. Brice also took five dollars out of his wallet.

"My rent's due, Gage," he complained. "I can't afford to go to places like this with all the rich people." John's eyes gave his fellow paramedics a devilish, mischievous look.

"Life's too short, man," he replied, as he passed $15 to the usher, who coldly told them,

"Go in."

The three men walked into the darkness that was the Roxbury. There were people everywhere. They were stuffed into various places, seated around glass tables, drinking at the long, shiny chrome bar, or dancing underneath the disco ball. The party-colored electric floor they were dancing on looked flimsier than it was.

Roy looked around, and spotted at least two partygoers sniffing cocaine at their tables.

"Oh, my god, Johnny, we definitely have no business being in here," Roy commented into thin air. Johnny had disappeared into the crowd. Briceís eyes were trying to focus in the dark. "Gage has finally lost it," Roy shouted through the loud music. "Iíll be back," and he went to find his partner, disappearing into the crowd.

That left Brice standing alone in the nightclub crowd. At one of the tables, Brice noticed three women ñ blondes, wearing Farrah Fawcett hairdos, halter tops and tight-fitting pants. They were seated around a glass table with chrome legs, and they were drinking beer. He couldn't help but smile at each of them, for he had a weakness for tall, slender blondes with long hair. To his delight, the women giggled at the attention they received.

"He sure looks cute," one of the blondes told her friends. As Brice walked over to their table, the girls giggled. Tonight is my lucky night, he thought, as he found a vacant chair at that table, and sat down. They stared at him. "Heís a lot cuter from a distance," one of them whispered.

"My name is Craig Brice," he told them, uncomfortably. Was he supposed to make his move, or should the women make their move? There were no rule books for dating, unfortunately. At 28, he had rarely dated, much less entered intimate relationships with women. That wasn't to say that he was never interested. Would Brice's fortunes with women change tonight? The girls continued to giggle. Was there something wrong?

"Care to dance," Brice asked.

"Sure," said the blonde wearing a baby blue wrap dress with pink trim. She stood up and led Brice to the dance floor without touching him. On the dance floor, the blonde began to sway to the beat of Kool and the Gang. Not once did she put her hands on Craig Brice, who bumped into other dancers while attempting his own version of the funky chicken.

"Find your own space, you bum!" One of the voices on the dance floor shouted at him. It was a noisy nightclub, but you could still hear people shouting obscenities and insults in the crowd. All that the blonde could do was giggle at Brice's dancing.

"You're a pretty good dancer," she spoke loudly to be heard over the din of music. He knew she was just being nice.

"You're not bad yourself," Brice replied, as he moved closer to the blonde. Putting his hands around her small, thin waist, he continued swaying his body to the music. His short, thin frame mirroring her moves exactly. He thought she needed a kiss, and leaned up to give her one. WHAM! His face stung from the slap. He put his hand against his cheek. His eyes stared at the blonde in shock, who now glared at him.

"I'm not that kind of girl," she snapped, before disappearing into the darkness and back to her friends. I really have no business being here, Brice said to himself. He walked towards the bar, looking for Johnny and Roy. His eyes tried to focus in the dark, smoky disco. Where are they? He wondered. He reached the bar and slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter after taking it out of his wallet.

"A Schlitz on ice," he told the bartender, who took his money.

"Buck and a half." The barkeep told him.

"$1.50 for a mug of beer on ice? What is this, highway robbery?" Brice commented.

"I donít price ëem, I just pour ëem," the bartender replied.

It was getting to be one expensive night out, Brice thought as the bartender gave him his $3.50 back. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a big swallow. He set the mug on the bar, and contemplated the cubes floating in the amber fluid. So, why I'm not having fun, Brice thought. Brice's misgivings were compounded when he looked over, and Johnny was chatting away with the same girl who slapped him at the dance floor. There were three more women surrounding Johnny, admiring his lean, longhaired good looks up close, trying to ask him for a dance. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and the attention he received - not just from the girl next door, but from chicks who looked like the stewardesses and nurses that he seemed to have a weakness for.

As Brice watched, Gage led one of the girls on the floor and began dancing seductively with her. She was a shapely brunette with brown eyes and the most seductive features he had ever seen. She looked like a TV star, maybe Jaclyn Smith, or a brunette Farrah Fawcett. Brice was getting jealous. Man, what luck? Roy isn't much better, he thought. He sat uncomfortably at the bar, and was drinking a beer, paying little, or no, attention to two women who stood next to him.

One of the women was a redhead of average height, with the most luminous blue eyes Brice had ever seen. Normally, Brice found redheads mousy and even unattractive - but this woman was really something. She looked a little familiar. She looked like a former classmate of his. No, He thought, that girl had glasses and freckles. Her companion looked like the woman that Roy talked nonstop about. She was in her early thirties, with shoulder-length blonde hair and sexy green eyes. She was a little on the heavy side, but her youthful features made this modern-day Jayne Mansfield look delicious.

"This is the man I've been telling you about," the blonde said loudly, yet cheerfully. "This is Roy, and he's a paramedic at the L. A. County Fire Department." Then, she turned to Roy, who suddenly looked at the blonde, fascinated: "Roy, this is Karen Lockwood, the TV spokeswoman for Manhattan Cosmetics. I do her PR at the agency here in Hollywood."

Roy extended his hand in his usual gracious way.

"Pleased to meet you," he smiled sweetly, as Karen's hand met his. It was soft and smooth, as if she never had to wash her hands a day in her life. Even Joanne's hands never felt that good, even during their rare nights out. Then, Roy turned towards the blonde. "Irenie," he said, "would you do me a favor?"

"Sure," she nodded, "what is it?"

"Well, that guy over there," Roy nodded his head, and used his beer to point in Brice's direction. "His only date was with an inflatable clown dressed as a woman."

"Oh my, I remember that!" the redhead started giggling, as her eyes focused on the man in question, "I started that rumor. I had a crush on him and just never let him know it. He was something. Oceanview High Senior Prom, Class of '67! I havenít thought about him in years. Heís a paramedic now? Wow!" Then, she turned towards the blonde: "His name is Craig Brice and nobody liked him because everything had to be done his way, because it was the right way."

"He's not any more popular now," Roy commented. "Heís still the stickler for rules. He could be worse. I donít know what he was like in High school but if he was anything like he is nowÖ" Roy shook his head, "he's the original pain in the neck thatís for sure." Roy looked into the blonde's green eyes, winked, and smiled, "My crazy partner's brought him here to have a good time, but I think he's really brought him closer to jumping off one of the letters at that Hollywood sign."

"I don't know," the blonde said, looking seductively into Roy's baby blues. "I don't think he's Karen's type." She told him.

"Irene," Roy touched her arm, charmingly. "Would I ask you to do anything stupid?" The blonde stayed silent for a moment. Then, she replied,"Well, you invited me over for dinner. Thatís the night Joanne and the kids came home from your mother-in-law's early. If looks could kill."

"Not Joanne, sheís a pussycat," Roy smiled.

"Well, she was pretty ticked off."

"Please do this for me." He pleaded, his eyes boring a hole through her head. "If you canít do it for me, at least do this for him," he nodded in the vague direction of the dejected paramedic at the other end of the bar. Irene Broadbent was not the sort to accept bribes, even from a man as handsome and trustworthy as Roy DeSoto. She knew that he was married with two children, but Irene could hardly contain her crush on Roy, since he and Johnny had been dispatched her apartment fire earlier that year. They were never on intimate terms, but Irene knew where she would like their friendship to lead. Irene turned to her friend/client.

"Karen," Irene pled with her eyes.

"Over my dead body," Karen snapped. "Irene, heís a geek, and Iíve matured."

"Karen, please? For me?"

"Oh, alright!" Using the stiff, controlled walk she learned in charm school, Karen Lockwood strode over to Craig Brice, who was nursing his second mug of beer. Sitting next to him, she placed her silky white hand on his shoulder: "Hello, sweety."

"Hello," Craig smiled at the pretty lady.

"I hear you are the best Paramedic in LA County, is this true?" She asked.

"I strive to be the best, and I am the best, yes." She smiled at him. She started drawing little circles on his shoulder with her long fingernail. She felt him shiver. He shook his head, 'must be the beer and the lack of oxygen in here'. He thought to himself.

"Wanna buy me another drink?"

"What are you drinking?"

"Strawberry Daiquiri." He watched her ruby red lips pronounce the drink, his mouth agape. When his brain re-connected to his mouth, he ordered her drink. When it was delivered to her, he watched her lift the drink in slow motion to her lips.

Roy watched in fascination as Craig Brice was reduced to a quivering puddle of Jell-O. Roy smiled in spite of himself. 'Johnny is right. This is going to be a night to remember! Where is that crazy partner of mine anyway?í He looked around the darkened room, and saw Johnny doing the bump on the floor with all the other 'lunatics' in this disco. The song that was playing was Ohio Players FIRE. Roy shook his head.

"Junior, if this is how the other half lives, I think I'll stay on my side of the fence." He took a deep breath of the stale air and took a swig off of his mug. "Joanne I wish you hadn't gone away for the weekend. Johnny is going to get me into trouble, I just know it!"

"Hey, I think there's something wrong with your friend," Karen yelled from across the bar. That brought Roy's attention back to the bar, where he saw Brice was slumped over his drink. He didn't see Irene give Karen the OK sign behind his back. Roy stood up to check on Brice. His knees felt a little weak, but that was probably from the beer that he had consumed. He grabbed the bar to steady himself, and hurried over to Brice. He touched Craig's shoulder, and called his name.

"Craig?"

"I was just talking to him, and he slumped over into his beer." The girl told him.

"I don't think he can hold his beer," Roy stated confidently. "He didn't have anything on his stomach when we got here, either. That doesn't help," Roy smiled sweetly at her.

Roy's head started to spin. "Whoa." He grabbed his head and started to loose his balance. "I've been drinking too much tonight," Irene grabbed his elbow. 'Where did she come from?' he thought.

"You okay, Roy?" her voice sounded real far away.

"I don't know." his words were slurred. 'I didn't drink that much!' he thought to himself

"Oh my god, we did it!" Katy exclaimed.

"Don't say a word until weíre at the apartment!" Irene stated firmly.

"Sorry. I just can't believe we did it!"

"Me, either." Karen commented.

"This is going to be soooo much fun!" Katy sounded excited.

"Why's that Katy?" Irene asked.

"Cause I got the single HOT one! And baby did he like me! Did you see him dancing with me? God, he's so good! I think he's better than John Travolta!" She couldn't get the smile off of her face! "He has danced his way into my heart! I feel bad that I had to slip that knock out drug in his drink though. I think we could have really made a go of it."

"You haven't had Roy look at you with those dreamy eyes of his have you, sister?"

"No, I was paying more attention to the UNMARRIED younger partner than to the MARRIED one! His eyes are the color of melted chocolate. UMMMMM." she licked her lips for emphasis.

"Well, now that they're in the van what are we gonna do with them?" Karen asked, from the back of the van where she sat with Craig Brice.

"We've gotta take 'em up to the great white north and make them our own personal HOSERS!" Katy told her, grinning from ear to ear.

"But they're not one of us, eh?"

"That's why we have to make them one of us, eh!" Irene commented. "This may take all weekend, but by Sunday night they'll be singing the Canadian anthem! Eh?" All three women giggled.

"The girls are all waiting aren't they?"

"They certainly are! They've brought all the party stuff and they're supposed to be waiting for us. This is going to be THE best kidnapping case since the Lindbergh baby incident!"

"That's great! Go down in Canadian history as the women who abducted three LA County Paramedics!" Katy stated. "I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"You didn't object to it when I suggested it!" Irene told her.

"Yeah, well, I didn't expect to fall in love with Johnny either, but I have, and I don't want to hurt him in any way shape or form." Katy responded. "I don't want to ruin my chances with this guy. He's so cute." She leaned over her charge and pulled the hair off of his forehead. "His hair is really soft." His head lay in her lap and he looked so peaceful. "I'm so glad you're driving, Irene."

"How's Roy doing?" She asked.

"He's doing really good." Katy told her. Roy was slumped over onto her shoulder. She patted his cheek. "He must really love his wife, Reenee."

"Why do you say that?"

"His cheek is as smooth as a baby's bottom."

"What does that have to do with loving his wife?"

"Well, he probably knows that stubble really hurts, so he keeps himself really well shaved. What a lucky gal!"

"Don't remind me!" Irene growled.

"He's your choice, not mine!" Katy told her.

The next morning Roy DeSoto awoke on Irene's shoulder. His eyes, glazed from last night's booze and smoky disco air, try to focus on what he saw around him. He was not listening to loud disco music, but to sultry jazz - John Coltrane's India, perhaps. It came from an invisible record machine - it was that scratchy.

"Where - where am I, " Roy said absently. Irene stood and went into the kitchen to put Blueberry Eggos in the toaster oven.

Craig Brice was slumped over on Karenís shoulder, singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" absently. She reached for a green banana that was lying in a fruit bowl in front of her. Peeling it, she munches into its white flesh, throwing the peel at a dazed Johnny Gage, who sat next to Katy.

Johnny awoke, his brown eyes looking alert at their target: KAREN! "Hey, man," he cried, investigating the banana peel lying on his lap. "Brice, this is your breakfast!" He threw the peel at Brice.

"Gage, will you just shut up," slurred Brice, before singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" again.

"Guys, guys!" That was Roy, now wide-awake and getting more frustrated by the minute. It may had been his day off work, but he was thinking about Monday morning, when he and John had to report to work at 8 a.m. Would he survive, or at least stay in California, until then? "That blonde making the waffles?" Then, he trailed off: "Oh, God! Joanne's going to kill me."

"Donít worry, Roy. Nothing happened, although itís not like Irene didnít try." Katy told him. "I hold a high regard for marriage, and I wouldnít let her try anything with you."

"Yeah, Thanks for nothing!" Irene commented, angrily over her shoulder.

"She sounds miffed." Johnny whispered into Katyís ear.

"Sheíll get over it. Trust me." Brice found six plane tickets.

"What are these?" he began reading, " Air Canada Flight 220, Los Angeles to Toronto. Stops at Albuquerque, Denver, Chicago and Winnipeg." Irene carries the Eggos to the table.

"Those are to get us back home to California." Katy volunteered.

"Chow down, everyone," she told them. Roy takes two of the waffles. Everyone else took one.

"Irene," said Brice, "when are we flying out of here?"

"Shhh." John snapped, kicking Brice underneath the table. "You don't ask kidnappers questions like that!"

"You'd think these harmless-looking cuties here would snuff the lives out of us," Roy commented, as he put a piece of Eggo in his mouth. "They said themselves they wouldn't hurt a hair on our head."

"That's what they all say - before they put a bullet in your head," argued the dark haired paramedic. "Remember Jimmy Hoffa, Pally?"

"They've never found his body!" Roy responded, a smile spreading across his face. "Hope we donít end up like that!"

"Those are to get us back home to California." Katy volunteered. "After we make you honorary Canadians." She put her chin in her hand and just watched Roy's deep blue eyes.

"I see what you mean about his eyes, Reenee."

"Dreamy." Irene commented.

"Wait a minute, I thought we brought them here to show them some good food and excellent Canadian Hospitality?" Katy asked. "You're feeding them Eggos?"

"Yeah, we could get those in the states." Brice stated drunkenly, still humming '99 bottles of beer'. He was back to number 98 when Johnny started counting from 1. "Thanks, Gage!"

"No problem, Brice!"

"So what's the deal? I thought the girls were gonna be here? You said the girls would meet us with all the party stuff."

"They were suppose to be here," Irene ran over to the picture window and looked out.

"Maybe they got held up in traffic."

"Maybe a moose stepped on their car!" Brice commented, snickering. "I mean sat, no I mean slipped, no, Oh I don't know what I mean." Katy's eyebrows rose.

"Man, you are really wasted! What did you do to him, Karen?"

"I didn't do anything to him. He just came this way!"

"I don't think he can hold his beer." Johnny told them. Irene came back from the window and put a hand on Royís shoulder. Katy saw the look in Ireneís eyes, and wanted to head her off before she did anything stupid.

"Don't worry, Roy, I won't let Irene do anything to hurt you, or make you break your vows to Joanne." She watched Ireneís reaction.

"Don't say that name!" Irene whispered, through gritted teeth.

"Irene!" Katy gave Irene a stern look. "He's married, and you have to honor that. Look we only brought them up here to have a little fun. Don't forget that. You yourself said Brice needs to have some fun." Karen stepped over to the record player and shut it off.

"Thank you," Johnny told her, holding his head, "It was like an ice cream headache."

"Now, that's not nice," Roy looked at him. "I thought it sounded good."

"Thank you, Roy. I've love John Coltrane for a long time." Irene told him. Karen stepped over to the cassette player and put in some soft dance music. She then walked over to the table and took Brice by the hand, pulling him into the middle of the room.

"I asked you to dance earlier," and lay her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"They make a good couple," Katy commented, watching the two dancing.

"Yes they do," Johnny's eyes twinkled. A smile spread across his face.

"What are you contemplating, junior?" Roy asked.

"Oh, nothing Pally." He looked over at Katy and winked at her. "Care to dance, sugar?"

"It would be my pleasure!" He took her hand and they stood up together. He pulled her close as they neared the middle of the 'dance floor'. "You are a very good dancer, Mr. Gage." He leaned down and spoke into her ear, causing shivers to run up and down her back.

"Johnny, please." She could hardly breathe. His breath caressing her ear, he continued to whisper. "Do you want to play a joke on Brice tonight?" It took her a moment to respond, because she needed to catch her breath.

"Sure, as long as he doesn't get mad." She leaned back and looked into his chocolate brown eyes.

"I don't even think he'll remember this weekend!" He smiled at her. "Hey, Brice, Katy here is a Justice of the Peace. You wanna get married to your lovely lady?"

"Hum?" He looked over at Johnny. "Married? Me?" He looked into Karen's hazel eyes and smiled. "Sure, I'll marry you."

"See, it's easy, when you know how to do it." He whispered in her ear again. She couldn't feel her knees. Katy lay her head on Johnny's chest and listened to his voice as he spoke to his partner. She really didn't want this night to end.

"Johnny!" Roy's voice sounded stern. Irene had gone back to watching out the front window. She turned at the sound of Roy's voice. Johnny looked over at his partner. "Don't do this."

"It's not like she really is a justice, it's just a joke."

"Okay, Chester B."

"Low blow, Roy."

"Well, that sounds like something Chet would do to you."

"Well, where do you think I got it?" He smiled. "Come on, Roy what's it gonna hurt?"

Irene was still looking out the window. Thirty stories below, the lights of Los Angeles danced against the darkness - shocking blues, stark reds, vibrant yellows, sultry purples, and mysterious whites. It was a quarter to three, but Irene wasn't tired. In her hand dangled a can of Diet Pepsi. She watched the condensation sweat dripping onto the windowsill, fascinated by the slow dripping process. She loved freezing the pop and letting it thaw for a few hours before drinking it. She liked slushy soda, especially in the warm Los Angeles air - so different from the near-zero temperatures and snow that Toronto had that time of the year. She swirled the can, the thick slush making the can feel heavy.

Behind her, Roy turned on the TV set. In his hand was a large, bulky remote control with fake wood trim. Roy flipped through the channels, but all he found on TV at that hour were reruns. Perry Mason, Naked City, Plan 9 from Outer Space, or one of those other ëcultí classics that Chet liked.

"Roy, would you turn that thing off," Irene asked him, her voice remaining distant. She was concentrating on the panoramic view the city. Roy was concentrating on Perry Mason, which wasn't his favorite show. He preferred 77 Sunset Strip - he tried to dress like Cookie during his senior year in high school. All he got from the masquerade was a trip to the principal's office. That style of slicked-back hair, T-shirts, and blue jeans were not to be worn during classes. Roy's school had a dress code, which had been strictly adhered to. Of course, that was tossed out after the hippies started protesting.

Bored with the courtroom drama, Roy turned off the TV set. "I've seen that particular episode a hundred times," he spoke softly. He then looked at Irene, who still looked out the window. He glanced to the other side of the room, where Karen had to escort Brice to the bathroom so that he could throw up again.

"There, there, baby." Karen's voice cooed from the bathroom. She had fallen for Craig hard.

"Don't make me sick," whispered Irene, as she turned slowly towards her house guest. Johnny and Katy had disappeared into the kitchen, to plan Briceís wedding on the table. The cassette tape was still playing the same song, repeatedly, and a few thoughts about Roy raced through Irene's blonde head. "Would you like some Diet Pepsi?" he shook his head no. "Orange Crush?" another no. "How about Mountain Dew?" She had to at least try to get a snuggle from him.

"Mountain Dew, please."

Irene walked into the kitchen, her curvaceous form swaying seductively to the refrigerator. She bends over to pull out a can of Mountain Dew. Without opening it, she carried the can into the living room, where Roy was seated on the sectional sofa, cross-legged, his arm extended on the backrest.

"Have a seat."

Is Roy trying to start something here, Irene asked herself, or is he just being nice? So, trying to be polite, she sat next to him on the sofa, handing him the can of soda. He popped the top and took a big swig. She was slightly uncomfortable; after all, he was a married man. She heard the two giggling in the kitchen. It had a cheery, almost loony sound.

"Junior's finally lost it," said Roy, with a small laugh. "Think we should call up Dr. Brackett or Dr. Early?"

Irene's eyebrows arched up with delight. "You think Dixie will come, too?"

"Wonít hurt to ask. Sheís the one who talks the other two into things anyway." Roy picked up the phone and began dialing Rampart.

"This will be the party of the century - guaranteed." She gave Royís knee a gentle nudge.

Roy's blue eyes met Irene's. This should be good. Brackettís not married. And heís cute, too! Irene thought.

Rampart General hospital had a boring night. A child had swallowed a whole tube of toothpaste, because his big sister told him that he needed to clean the teeth in his stomach. A couple of elderly patients had gotten confused with their meds and taken too many, and one car accident, with no major injuries.
Dixie McCall looked bored as she looked at the dispatch board. None of the squads were busy ñ thatís unusual for a Saturday morning. She poured coffee into her Styrofoam cup when the non-emergency line rang.

"Rampart General. Nurse Dixie McCall."

"Hi, Dix, it's Roy DeSoto."

"Hi, Roy," Dixie smiled, inflecting a friendliness over the phone. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"Well, weíre planning a party over here at a friends place," Roy's normally confident voice hinted nervousness as he talked.

"Uh, oh," was all that Dixie could say. All of Johnny's parties were advertised as fun events that the whole family could attend. But once you walked through the doors, you were greeted with disco music that threatened to pop your eardrums. Once, Dixie and Joanne had dropped by a party and three half-naked table dancers were standing over Roy, Captain Stanley, and Joe Early. Joanne had played the ëevil, angry wifeí to a Tee, and threw a coat at one of the dancers, urging her to put some clothes on. She didnít get angry with Roy, because she trusted her husband implicitly, and she knew it wasnít his fault. She knew that he would never, ever hurt her that way. Now Johnny, on the other hand, was a different matter. She had remained mad at him for several weeks, because it was his party.

"I hope it won't be one of ëthoseí parties, will it, Roy?" she sounded leery.

"No, Dix. Itís not one of Johnnyís parties. This is a couple of really nice girls that we met tonight at the Roxbury."

"You? Went to the Roxbury? Roy DeSoto, model husband, and all around good guy?" She smiled at the thought of Roy in the dark recesses of a disco.

"Yes and we had a really good time, too."

"Are you doing okay? I mean you werenít kidnapped were you? I hear that kind of thing happens over there quite a bit," she snickered at the thought of Roy and Johnny being kidnapped by girls.

"As a matter of fact we were. But we have the weekend off and we thought why not? Weíre young and alive. May as well enjoy life to the fullest!" He grinned ear to ear. "Besides," he commented as an afterthought, "Joanne and the kids are at her mothers."

"Oh, well let me talk with Kel and Joe, we all get off at 6 this morning. Speaking of parties, is Station 51 going to appoint Johnny to the entertainment committee for the Fireman's Picnic again this year?"

"Iím not sure, Dix, but I can find out for you. I know how much you, and Joanne enjoy his parties!" she could see his evil grin even through the phone.

"Very funny Roy. Say were is this party at anyway?" She asked him.

"You know, I donít know, let me ask," the phone went quiet for a moment. "Weíre over here at the Canyon Luxury Apartments on Alameda. Apartment number 3003."

"Thatís over by my place."

"There are a bunch of others that are suppose to be here shortly, so the party should be in full swing when you get here."

"Sounds like fun. See you later, Roy."

"Okay, Dix,"

"Oh, and Roy be careful!"

"Donít worry. I have a protector!"

"You have a what?"

"Katy is my protector. Sheís not going to let anything happen to me!" He snickered over the phone. "As if I really need one!"

"You donít know Irene!" Dixie heard the female voice in the background.

"Who was that?" She asked.

"My protector!" Roy stated. "Sheís never very far away." Dixie heard a disgusted sigh on the other end of the phone. Must be an upset Irene. She thought.

"Iím gonna have to meet this Knight in Shining armor!" Dixie told him.

"Sheís pretty nice. Sheís enamored of Johnny right now. Theyíre planning Briceís wedding in the kitchen."

"Theyíre doing what?"

"Planning Briceís wedding."

"Brice is getting married?"

"Yes and no. Itís a Johnny/Chet joke."

"Nough said." Dixie commented. "I donít want to know the details. What I donít know I canít be tortured for." She heard him laugh on the other end. "So what time do you want us to be there for the ëweddingí?" Dixie asked.

"Hey, Johnny whenís the wedding?" she heard Roy ask.

"Around three," was the response.

"So, we have time to go home and take a nap?"

"Sure. Weíll let you, since you worked all night. I think I might just go grab a few winks myself."

Karen had taken Craig into her room and stretched him out on her bed. She knew he was feeling miserable and he needed his rest. She pulled his shoes off and covered him up with her blanket. Katy led Roy to her room and told him to lock the door, just to be on the safe side, she told him, grinning. Irene had gone over to the little grocery store to pick up some supplies for lunch.

"I think I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Iím telling you, Roy, you donít know Irene. Trust me on this one, please?" She looked into his eyes again; she was amazed at how blue they were. "Man, if you werenít married." She shook her head. "Sleep tight, donít let the bed bugs bite." She grinned real big.

"Thanks mom." He grinned back at her. He pulled the door tight and she heard the lock slide into place. Satisfied that he would be safe; she went back into the kitchen where Johnny sat at the table.

"Are you going to go lay down before the festivities?" Katy asked him.

"Is there a spare bed?" He asked.

"Yeah, itís right next to mine." She took his hand and led him to the room. She pulled back the covers on the spare bed.

"Thank you," he pulled a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Will I have a chocolate on my pillow in the morning?" his brown eyes twinkled with mischief, as he winked at her, and his lips parted in a silly, crooked grin. Her knees felt weak. She had better get out of here fast, or something was bound to happen that she wasnít ready for.

"Yes sir, and the number for room service is beside the phone on the end table." She smiled back at him, flipping the quarter in her hand. "Thank you for the tip, kind sir. Hope you have a good nightís sleep." She stepped towards the door. She hesitated, knowing that he was watching her. If she turned around, she may not leave, and that wasnít good. She didnít know this guy from Adam. She stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. She leaned on it, took a deep breath, and then headed for the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Maybe that would make her feel better.

Karen had crashed on the sectional, and Katy crashed on the recliner. Irene walked in the door with the stuff for lunch and was totally surprised to see the two girls sleeping, alone, in the living room. Irene shook her head in disbelief. She carried the stuff into the kitchen and put it all away.

She stood in the middle of the kitchen trying to decide what she wanted to do next. She could put up the streamers and party stuff, but she really didnít want to do that alone. Then, it hit her like a ton of bricks. Katyís sleeping, and Roy is in one of the rooms alone. She perked up and went to Karenís room. She opened the door and saw Brice sleeping soundly on Karenís bed. She closed the door, shaking her head. A perfectly good opportunity gone to waste, she thought. She stepped over to the spare bedroom door, and turned the knob. Johnny was sleeping soundly with his arm over his eyes. Good way to keep the light out of your eyes! She snickered. He wasnít her type anyway. She quietly closed the door. She stepped over to her room and opened the door. There wasnít anyone in there. Shoot! Heís gotta be in Katyís room. She thought. She stepped quietly over to Katyís door and put her hand on the knob. She looked down the hallway towards the living room, seeing that she wasnít being watched, she gently turned the knob and pushed on the door. It was locked. Damn! She swore Katy knows me to well!