Buffy hadn’t looked at her best friend through her entire description of the evening’s events, but when she finished, she had no choice but peek into the redhead’s eyes and see what she had to say.
“Good for you!”
“Huh?”
“First of all, breaking it off with Riley? Totally overdue, but what a way to do it! Secondly, William Pratt, OH MY GOD, I hadn’t even heard of him until you did that paper and got a better grade than me!” Willow’s voice had taken on a rather envious tone at the last part, but it disappeared when she jumped off the bed and pulled Buffy into a hug. “But he’s fantastic, and I know he’ll be huge soon. Well, huger than he already is in Europe. Oh my god, Buffy, you’ll be in his premier American exhibit! And the nakedness, don’t even worry about it. Tara did some scantily-clad poseur for a photographer when she was a sophomore and she never got any negativity about it.”
“What?!” At the news that Willow’s shy, supportive girlfriend had bared quite a bit, Buffy’s eyebrow couldn’t help but quirk. “I didn’t think Tara’d be the type, Wills.”
“Neither did I, but she got really into it!” Willow said, walking over to her bedside table and pulling a picture out of the top drawer. At Buffy’s panicked gaze, the redhead laughed. “It isn’t risqué, don’t worry. Just a bit of skin. See, they even painted an ancient Greek poem on her back. Pretty neat, huh?”
“It’s beautiful!” Buffy exclaimed, taking the picture from Willow’s hands and staring at it. Tara’s eyes looked vibrant and radiant, her simple posture inciting a world of feelings. “Will, Tara should change her major—she could be a great model.”
“That’s what I told her,” the redhead laughed. “But seriously, Buffy, you would be great, I’m sure they’ll pick you.”
“You think so?” That had been another matter of concern for her. Finding that advertisement had seemed providential, in a sense, and she didn’t think she could take it if she was rejected and had to go look for another day job. The empty refrigerator wasn’t as tempting when it combated with her sleep-deprived mind.
The two girls finished getting ready for their days and set out, Willow heading back to Tara’s dorm for a day of studying and Buffy to the nearest bus stop. If there was one area the young woman was weak, it was in transportation; it was a blessing to the entire L.A. community that the young woman had chosen not to earn her license in her teenage years and instead made herself familiar with the numerous public-transit systems. After checking the schedule and waiting a short while for the right bus, she confidently strode up the stairs and settled herself down in a seat until she reached her stop.
After about a half hour, the houses started becoming nicer, and Buffy got off the bus, heading down the street in what she thought was the right direction. She could smell the scent of the beach, one of her favorite places, and heard the crashing of the waves. As she passed a house for sale, she curiously looked at the flier to see how much it cost.
“Too many numbers,” she groaned, hurrying away and trying not to gaze too longingly at the homes until she approached the right building, and let out a huge gasp.
Wondering who owned this mansion and whether they were single, Buffy made her way through the gate and up the steps to the front door, nervously ringing the bell and waiting. The house had to be at least four times the size of the home she and her mother had had in Sunnydale, and it wasn’t even small! After a few moments, the sound of footsteps could be heard behind the door and it was opened to reveal a tall, middle-aged man wearing a tweed suit and glasses.
“Oh, hi, I’m Buffy Summers?”
“Miss Summers, what a delight!” She recognized the voice instantly and smiled, shaking his hand vehemently while stepping across the threshold.
“And you’re Giles, right?”
“Well, yes, yes I am.” He gave her a smile and gestured to the huge foyer they were standing in. “What do you think of our proprietor’s house?”
Buffy cast a wary eye about the room. “It’s quite nice,” she said honestly, although there was something a bit chilling about the room. The high-up ceilings must have caused a draft, she decided. “Mr. Angelus must be pretty well-off.”
“That he is,” Giles said, leading the awestruck blonde through a hallway and into a comfortably furnished sitting room. Already inside the room were four women about her age, all rather scantily clad and appearing quite haughty. “Ladies, now that you are all here, we will begin the interviews.” Pulling a small notepad from the pocket of his suit and flipped it open. “Sandy Davis?”
A tall brunette with long, wavy hair stood and languorously followed Giles into the next room. Buffy settled herself into a suede leather armchair and pulled out a book, trying to read but unable to calm her nerves enough to comprehend the words. She hadn’t felt anything other than normal, job-interview anticipation until this point—until those women’s eyes set upon her.
Looking over the top of the book, Buffy met three sets of blazing eyes staring back at her. Just like “Sandy Davis,” the women were all wearing small, form-fitting outfits to emphasize their obviously plastically-enhanced bodies. Similar to all three, apart from their Barbie-esque bodies, were the deathly stares she was receiving—they were making it very clear that this was their territory, and that Buffy was not welcome. There were two brunettes and a blonde, and the latter looked oddly familiar.
Before she could place the face, the door opened and Sandy walked out, a disappointed expression on her face. She glared at Buffy and then stalked out of the room, revealing Giles standing behind her. “Harmony Kendall?”
Buffy couldn’t help but flinch as she heard the name, realizing just where she knew the blonde from. Harmony pranced into the room ahead of Giles and offered him a sickly-sweet smile, giving Buffy a flashback to high school and the four years of her life she’d rather forget. It looked like the ditzy blonde’s promises of becoming a model weren’t as fruitless as she’d thought.
Turning her stare to the two brunettes she shared the room with, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder where they got their clothes—Sluts ‘R Us? She chuckled at her internal quip and then winced when the two simultaneously directed their stares towards her. Okay, not a good time to be laughing—that’s to be expected, I guess.
Harmony was gone longer than Sandy, but when she pranced out of the room she looked smug. Before she walked back through the hallway, she gave Giles a conceited smile, which he raised his eyebrows at, an expression of distaste written clearly over his face. “Um, Dulce Arredondo?” Giles’ fumbled Spanish pronunciation was charming, coming from the apparently educated man, but the Dulce clearly didn’t think so, swinging her long, thick hair behind her and flashing the man a death gaze through hooded eyes.
Nearly alone, Buffy tried to turn her focus back to her book, but she had questions in her mind now. What would they ask her? Would she be discarded right away for her dress? What would she do if Harmony got the offer and she didn’t? Would Harmony get the offer??? Before she even realized it, the door was opening again and Giles was speaking once more. “Buffy Summers.”
Despite the snickers of the two brunettes in the room, Giles gave her an encouraging smile as she crossed the threshold and entered the room. It was dark inside, and it took her a few moments to adjust to the dimness before she could see anything. It appeared that the drapes were closed on the apparently large windows, and that where there should have been three men, there was only two.
“Buffy, I apologize for William. He received an urgent call from overseas and he was forced to take it. If you’d rather wait until later…”
“Oh, no, this is fine right now, Giles,” Buffy answered, feeling a twinge of disappointment but ignoring the feelings. Her gaze was focused on the other man in the room, whose back was towards her as he stared at a painting on the wall. How he could see it without any light was beyond Buffy, but if she assumed right, then this was the guy providing the big bucks for this operation, and she knew better than to question her potential food sources.
Giles moved ahead of her towards a mahogany desk and seated himself on one side, which had three chairs on it. On the other side, there was only one, and Buffy settled herself onto the plush seat, suddenly feeling more nervous than she thought possible. She and Giles stared awkwardly at one another for a moment, before Giles turned around to call to the other man in the room. “Mr. Angelus, if you will…?”
The moment the tall man faced Buffy, she felt a chill run down her spine. Liam Angelus was good-looking, with potentially rugged features that seemed awkwardly cultured; he was young, probably in his early thirties, which seemed strange considering the amount of money he was said to have. Buffy gave him a nervous smile, which he returned; there was no warmth in his gaze, however. It was cold, predatory, and… desirous.
“You’re Buffy Summers, am I correct?” His voice was good-natured, with a bit of an accent. It wasn’t strong at all, though, and she honestly didn’t care to ask about it. She simply nodded, not knowing why her muscles were so stiff or her gaze so cold, the smile gone from her face before she even realized it. “Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air!” He was obviously pleased, his eyes locked on hers. “Won’t you stand and… give us a twirl?” Giles looked indignantly on as Buffy reluctantly rose to her feet, slowly rotating her body around to the penetrating gaze of Angelus. “Yes, you’re quite good. Done anything like this before, Buffy?”
“No,” she said, seating herself without waiting for his permission. There was a moment of silence after her defiant act, the blonde staring down the man across the room boldly until Giles gratefully spoke.
“Um, Buffy, what made you want to pursue this job offer?”
“To be honest, it was the money. I’m what you’d call ‘broke.’” Although the words seemed like the exact worst thing to say in this situation, Buffy no longer cared. She felt chilled to the bone and wanted out of that room as quickly as possible; living without food didn’t seem to matter that much when eyes as cold as steel were raking up and down one’s body. Angelus, however, was not angered by her statement, as the blonde expected; in fact, he seemed rather… amused.
“Erm, yes.” Giles paused, giving Buffy an apologetic look, then continued. “What do you do for your main source of income, Buffy?”
“I waitress at a club.”
“And what are you planning on doing with your life, Miss Summers?” Angelus broke in, striding towards the table and finally taking a seat. “Keep waitressing at the club?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m studying art at UCLA.” Insolence, already in her voice, was beginning to overwhelm any shred of restraint Buffy had. “Next question?”
“Are you related to Hank Summers?”
“What?” The question caught Buffy completely off-guard. “You know my father?”
Angelus let out a cold, demeaning laugh. “We were business associates a few years ago. How is Hank?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Buffy coldly replied. “I haven’t spoken to him in six years.”
Giles, ever the savior, broke in at this point. “Erm, thank you Miss Summers, that will be all. Thank you for coming today, and we will inform you of our choice within the next few days.” The blonde shot Angelus one last bold look before striding out the door.
Quickly gathering her things she’d left in the waiting room, Buffy rushed through the hall and out the front door, leaning against the cool wood and panting exhaustedly. She hadn’t counted on running into one of her father’s numerous business associates, let alone be questioned on his wellbeing.
Hank Summers had been an attentive, doting father for the first fifteen years of Buffy’s life. For all she knew, he and her mother were very much in love and would be together until they were both old and gray. But, as she learned through her following teenage years, the world didn’t have time for happy endings. One day, Buffy had come home from school to find her parents waiting for her at the kitchen table. At that day, she learned of their coming divorce, and received the sugar-coated version of the “why’s and how’s.”
She could have lived with thinking just that. That her parents had simply grown apart and didn’t want to be together anymore. But the cruelty that was her father couldn’t let Buffy think that he was responsible when she was the problem. So one day, he’d picked her up after school and told her the truth.
The truth being that from the moment she was born, she’d been a failure. Never good enough, never quite at his expectations, never the true daughter of Hank Summers. And he had stridden away from her then, leaving her to weep on a park bench and scarring her perception of men for the rest of her life.
Trying to make her way back to the present, the twenty-one-year-old Buffy wiped the drops of sweat off her face, shaking with cold despite the warm sun. If Liam Angelus knew her father, she didn’t know whether she could take this job—not because she was in any way afraid of the man catching word of her somewhat unsavory participation, but because she didn’t think she could take the tainted money she’d been avoiding for the past six years.
But she had to. She couldn’t let her father ruin her life more than he already had. Buffy stood up abruptly, gaining resolution in her purpose once more. She would survive, and show her father just what he had walked away from.
~*~
“I like her.”
“What?” The British man was in shock. “What exactly do you like about—”
“Her fire,” Liam Angelus answered, staring at the door as if it were transparent. “All that passion packed into such a lithe form… Beautiful.” He paused a moment, then stood up once more. “Cancel any of the other interviews and alert the others that we’ve seen of my choice. I want Buffy Summers.”