Sixth Wheel

Riding in Cars

Esposito decided to keep meeting Meredeth at Cecil's to himself, not only because things were still incubating stage but because Castle needed to kiss his ass for unleashing the airhead nightmare of Rachel on him. As expected, on Thursday when he walked into the precinct, he saw there was a coffee already waiting for him on his desk in a brand new mug. At Beckett's desk, Castle sat going over crime scene photos, making notes on a yellow legal pad.
   
"Though you writer types only used Mac Books for drafting your genius quips."
 
Castle looked up, a combination of apology and frustration on his face. "I'm sorry, man. I really didn't know. When I met her at a Storm Falls launch, she was chatting with one of the Ledger's books critics, so I figured she was one of those elusive Harvard-educated models, like Brooke Shields."
   
"Brooke Shields went to Princeton."

"And the male fantasy world is a better place for it. Cream, no sugar," he added when Esposito picked up the coffee on his desk. "How long am I going to pay for it?"
   
"I'll get back to you."
   
Esposito felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, discreetly checked it and had to stop himself from grinning ear to ear.
   
Fire Walk was a piece of crap, but the AMC 16 was nice. They have chili fries there too. See ya there. M.

"Gentlemen, good morning." Wearing another suit that meant a day in court, Beckett strolled into her bullpen with her jacket on her arm, making Esposito drop his phone back into his pocket a little too quickly to be smooth. "We caught a break in the Finch-Satipo case. It seems both victims frequented the Nuyorican bodega on East Ninety-Second Street. Ryan, Esposito, I want you to run some surveillance, see if out potential next targets are in there at all, we might catch a break in our guy. Castle, let's move, we're due at court for the Bluth homicide."
   
As Ryan parked in Spanish Harem a few doors down from he bodega, Esposito sent a quick text back to Meredeth: Good thing we're going to see Matt Damon on Sat night, 8:45pm. Chili fries at a movie? I'm more of a popcorn guy. See ya soon. J.
   
It hadn't gone unnoticed by Ryan that his partner, usually full of chatter, barely said five whole sentences that morning. "What's up with you today?"
   
"What do you mean what's up"
   
"Normally your up my ass with noise from the minute you set foot in the squad room. What's up?"
   
"Nothing, just some personal stuff." Esposito bit his li, unsure of how to tell the newlywed Ryan about Meredeth or even if he wanted to. Ryan was as much as a Mr. Fix-It for people as he was ith household chores, which didn't bode well for anyone unloading their burdens on him. A good listener he was, but advice was not his forte. "Its nothing." he repeated.
   
Ryan let it slide, thought about bribing him with cemitas from their second favorite Mexican restaurant for lunch, or with the chocolate pretzels from the confectioner's across the street; despite his healthy eating habits, Esposito was a chocolate junkie. Instead, he decided to pull out one of his wife's tricks and lasso him to spilling his guts.
   
"I heard you were on the date from hell last night."
   
"Castle has a big mouth."
   
It was actually Beckett who mentioned it, but that was besides Ryan's point. "I get it, the illusion of a celebrity can be ruined when you meet them, and I'm guessing Rachel the Weather Girl was no exception.
   
"You think I'm holding a grudge over that?"
   
"Well you've been moody since then, and theory of parsimony says you either got rack-jacked or rejected."
   
Esposito shook his head, drank water. He knew what Ryan was trying to do, and Esposito as finding it very hard to resist the temptation to tell all. "I ditched her. She was an airhead."
   
"And?"
   
"And nothing. I went to  Cecil's, had my usually coke and chili fries, watched the game with Meredeth and went home."

"Who's Meredeth?"
 
Shit, was all Esposito could think, rookie mistake. In his effort to get Ryan to shut his nosy yap, he slid Meredeth's name in with even realizing, and his hesitation, gave Ryan the inadvertent opening he sought.
   
"You got a girl?"
   
"Yes...no, well it's confusing." Esposito shifted uncomfortably, watched the shop they were staking out as he told his partner about her confused reaction to his asking her out.
  
"Maybe she isn't used to dating."   

Esposito sent him a blank look. "No. Not possible. Women who look like her are kicking guys out of her way to make the train to work."
   
"Yeah? Like Salma Hayek hot or Eva Mendes hot?"
   
"More like Kate Dillon ht. She's got the most incredible smile, laser blue eyes, caramel-colored hair."
    
Ryan said nothing as he stared out the window. It was a far cry from his usual type, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "Is that the problem? She's a snowflake?"
   
"I'm not prejudiced, man. We were chatting over the game and when I asked her to see a movie, she acted like asking her out was along the lines of being told UFO abductions are totally legit."
   
"Ah. The classic Katy Perry move."
   
"The what?"
    
"You know, like the song, Hot-n-Cold."
   
"I got it." Esposito cut Ryan off sharply before he could bust out his karaoke skills which were pathetic at best, just like his own. "I don't know what her problem. Maybe she'll explain it better on Saturday."
   
"Wait, you're going to the movie?"
   
"Provided we're not on overtime with the case. Why?"
   
"It means one of three things. You're either brave, hard-up, or sincerely interested whether you realized it or not."
   
Before Esposito could respond, he saw their target walk into the bodega was jumping out of the car. "How about saving the psychoanalysis for Dr. Phil we do some police work, Mr. Honey-Milk?"
   
Ryan only shook his head as Esposito went inside while Ryan kept watch on the exterior in case they needed a call for back up. "Touchy. Boy's got it bad."