Federal Pageantry

Chapter Four

"Ziva, meet William Hesther, the top pageant coach in the country." Gibbs gestured to the middle-aged man to his left. Ziva tilted her head, smiling slowly.
She held out her hand, "It is nice to meet you." William took it.
"And you," he said, his voice coming out in a low British accent. He lifted up her hand and kissed the back. "Call me Will." The man was obviously English, his silver hair cut short, and his eyes a clear blue. He was dressed in a simple suit, and was balding a bit on the top of his head. He would have been a lot like Gibbs if it weren't for the little, gold hoop earring that hung from his left ear.
"Will, here, is going to be training you on how to walk, speak during interviews, and figure out a talent for you to perform." Gibbs said, the skin around his eyes crinkling. He was smiling more than necessary lately.
"I will be coaching you on how to be a star!" Will said, stretching out his arms as though embracing the universe. "Agent Gibbs has informed me that you need to win, and I can make you a winner."
Gibbs had driven Ziva early in the morning to the office building where Will would be coaching her. They had checked in at the front desk in Ziva's alias, Nina Byrdsall. Ziva thought the name was cliché and unfitting, but she did not voice these opinions aloud, after all, the director was the one who had made it.
"I need to win?" Ziva asked. This was news to her.
"We have reason to believe that the killer's bomb won't strike until the last day of the pageant, possibly when the winner is crowned." Gibbs said, blinking calmly. "That show is known to have the biggest audience."
"In the meantime, we are going to get you ready for your luncheon this afternoon," Will said, flashing a smile.
"My...luncheon?"
"Yes, this is a private event for all of the pageant participants," Will lifted an arm and guided Ziva away from Gibbs and to the far side of the room. Ziva looked back at Gibbs with a fleeting look in her eyes. Gibbs just smiled.
"So, will I need to dress up?" Ziva asked. Will blinked slowly.
"Hun, you need to remember that this is the first time you are going to meet these people," Will made jazz hands, "and you need to make an impression." He fluttered his hands in a circular motion, and Ziva smiled.
"And, how am I to make this impression?" Ziva asked, half-dreading the answer. In Israel, she had never had to worry about dressing nice or making impressions.
Will unzipped the garment bag that was slung over his arm. Inside was an azure blue pantsuit that was so brightly colored, it seemed to leave spots on her retina. "It will pair perfectly with your lovely skin." Will exclaimed, smiling proudly. Noticing Ziva's face, he added, "Just try it on, honey, and maybe you'll love it."
"And if I don't?"
"Then learn to love it." Will pushed Ziva into the women's bathroom with the blue pantsuit.
~
Ziva looked in the mirror and placed her hands on her hips. "You have got to be kidding me," she said to herself, twisting around and around, trying to figure out a way to make her situation better. The pantsuit fit perfectly, and slimmed her waist nicely, but it was not her. The color would definitely turn heads, but she wasn't so sure that that was a good thing. Ziva rolled her head around and set herself. This outfit was not her at all, but that was the point, right?
She took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. She was greeted by a blinding flash of light. Ziva stumbled in her giant heels and was immediately ready to fight. Her vision cleared, and she saw Will, McGee, Abby, and Tony all waiting outside the door. Tony was holding a large crime scene camera. He wolf-whistled.
"Well hey there, Gracie Hart, how does it feel to be Miss Congeniality?" He asked, a wide smile quickly spreading on his face.
"Delete that, now." Ziva hissed through gritted teeth. Her crouched position was hindered by her heels, and she felt as though she was losing her menacing vibe.
Tony held up his hands in defeat. "Of course," he said, then mumbled, "after I show Gary in accounting."
"I heard that,"
"Okay," Abby said, pulling back Ziva's arms when she tried to strangle Tony. "Tim, Tony, go back to your knitting. Ziva still has to go into makeup."
"Oh, maybe I should have waited until then," Tony said, carelessly snapping another candid photo of Ziva. She gave him the death glare.
"Do you wish to live?" Abby asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because these spiky things pack more of a punch than you may think." Tony had a playfully frightened look on his face as he surrendered his camera to Abby. Looking pleased, she pushed everyone except Will into the squad room. She then turned to Ziva and led her to the elevator.
"Please tell me I will not have to wear a lot." Ziva pleaded, scratching the back of her neck where the tag of her jacket was giving her an itch. Will snorted and Abby rolled her eyes.
"Oh honey, this is a pre-pageant luncheon; if you wear anything less than 'diamonds and Chanel,' then you're underdressed."