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CHAPTER 4 -- Anne

“You go ahead in, I’ll go call the boss lady. Hey, order me a cheeseburger, huh?” Xander jogged across the street in search for a place with half decent cell phone reception. Spike entered Tom’s Diner and slid into a booth by the window facing the door.

Spike really wasn’t hungry. He would never admit it, but the last few hits he’d done had left him queasy. Assassination was an acquired taste, one he feared he was losing the stomach for. Though he didn’t have time to dwell on the idea because the waitress was coming -- and she made his stomach do a different kind of flip.

She was a tiny little blonde thing, the mini waitress dress she was wearing rode up a little higher in the back -- just screaming for Spike to drop his fork so he could watch her pick it up. It made him want to bend her backwards over the table and kiss her. That or spank her, Spike couldn’t decide which.

Spike dropped his voice to a lower register, “Hello, luv, I’d like two coffees . . .”

“What did you just call me?” She interrupted.

Spike furrowed his brows, trying to comprehend her question, “Um . . . ‘luv’ probably.” Then it dawned on him the reason for her objection. He looked at her incredulously, “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, I call my landlord ‘luv.’”

“I have a name,” she ground out. Spike’s eyes narrowed.

“Well okay then . . .” Spike leaned dramatically over the booth, staring purposefully at her nametag, lingering too long on the breast which held the Hello My Name Is, “Anne.”

Anne the waitress glared at him.

“Well then, now that we’re such good friends, could you get me two coffees and a cheeseburger.”

Anne turned on her heels and headed to the kitchen. Spike watched her until she was out of view. The girl looked like the picture of delicate femininity. That was until she opened her mouth and became the walking poster girl for Looks Can Be Deceiving. That girl was anything but diminutive.

Spike reached across the table and grab a leftover newspaper and tried to catch up on the daily politics. After fifteen minutes of being engrossed in an article about Christina Aguilera’s rumored engagement, he was startled by the clanging of plates and cups down on the table in front of him.

Anne looked over him critically, “Is that blood on your pants or are you just happy to see me?” She asked coolly.

Spike looked down to see a stain of Mr. Wakefield on the crotch of his pants. Spike opened his mouth to say something but the waitress zipped away.

“I bleed for you, baby,” Spike called to her. Xander swerved around Spike’s leaning form, flopping down in the booth and following the retreating form Spike was leering at.

“What was that all about?”

“Let’s get out of here,’ Spike grumbled before standing up. He threw a couple bills on the table before pivoting to leave, Xander stuffing as much of his double-decker in his mouth as he could.

TBC





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