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CHAPTER THREE

Spike road the elevator to the eleventh floor, making sure to give the young girl next to him a little wink as
he stepped off. Walking down the marble hallway, he greeted multiple fashion editors and other photographers. Approaching two clear glass double doors, he slowed. Written elegantly in gold, both above and below the doors, was “Today’s Bride.” Then, in smaller print, “The world’s most popular bridal magazine.”

He passed a slew of studios. Sticking his head in one of them, Spike could hardly contain his laugh as the model struck another pose. Ironic she be in a virginal white wedding gown, considering the defiantly non-virginal acts she was performing on Spike last night.

“Spike,” he was greeted from behind. Only one person could address him with such distaste and disappointment, as if he was being scolded.

“Cordelia,” he sighed, turning around.

“Lilah’s waiting for you in her office. And I wouldn’t boink her on her desk today -- we have a meeting in fifteen minutes and I have better things to do than sit around waiting for her while she searches for the papers she needs.”

“You suggesting I move my venue?”

“I suggest you quit sleeping with our boss.”

“Why? You got someone better for me?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, albeit with a joking smile on his face.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, returning his smile. He followed her in the direction of Lilah’s office. “Don’t you ever get sick of it, Spike? Sleeping around with women who’s names you don’t remember the next day?”

“Never,” he answered, stopping in front of the office. Cordelia crossed her arms, facing off in front of him.

“You’re twenty-eight years old and a professional -- one of the best, I admit. But you insist on acting like a moron. I don’t care how many girls you sleep with, but the least you could do is be responsible about it. Grow up and quit wasting your time and money.” She turned on her heels and walked away.

Spike watched her go with a slight frown. Cordelia may be the most self-absorbed fashion editor he had ever met -- and he’s met a lot of them -- but damn if she didn’t call him on every cigarette, supermodel, and bad habit he’s ever had since he joined Today’s Bride right out of art school at twenty-three. Cordelia had been the one to show him the ropes of fashion, something of which he knew nothing. She had helped him dress the part, act the part And she’d been the first one to violently warn him against the darker aspects of the fashion world -- the drugs, the alcohol, and the women. He knew he had let each and every one overtake him. On cold lonely nights, he knew. In the past few years, Spike had successfully gotten past the first two sins, it was that last one he had trouble with -- the bold, sexy women he was paid a couple thousand to shoot. But he had no time to dwell because one said woman was waiting for him.

Pushing open the door with a gust, he entered the room. Lilah, his boss and lover, was perched behind her desk. Her feet were up on her desk, causing her already slight skirt to ride up even further. She had to be at least seven years older than Spike, but he was never dumb enough to ask.

“Spike, come in.”

Sitting down, he was slid a magazine, folded to one particular article, across the mahogany, “Do you know this girl?”

It was a People magazine article. The headline read “Fairytales Do Come True.” On the page was a face he hadn’t seen in five years. Though he regularly saw Red, Harris, and Anya, he and Buffy tended to distance themselves for the good of the community. Bad things always tended to happen when they came within fifty feet of each other. Yet for as distant as they were, they knew an impeccable amount about each other’s lives due to the closeness they had to the same tight knit. Though he did owe Buffy something -- It was her success that kept his friends well employed, which in turn kept them wealthy enough to meet him for a drink half way between their Sunnydale, and his current residence, L.A.

“Use to,” he finally answered.

“Didn’t you go to school with our little wedding planner herself?”

“We weren‘t exactly friends.”

“And would I be wrong to say that you and Ms. Summers once included yourselves in the same circle of friends and acquaintances?”

“You’re point?”

“My point,” she began, rising to stand behind Spike, “is that your girlfriend here, has small-town roots that have developed into a big time business. She’s on her way to becoming the Vera Wang of bridal businesses.”

“Know all that,” he stated as she sat on his lap, he seemingly distracted by her ministrations.

“Today’s Bride would very much succeed off a multiple page layout of the wedding-know-it-all telling all the future blushing bride readers her own dream wedding.”

Spike didn’t respond as he turned his attentiveness to her body.

“You have so much pent up energy,” she marveled at his roaming hands.

“Only for you,” he breathed, nipping at her neck.

“Seduce me all you want, Spike, but don‘t lie to me. I know quite well that your energy is not limited to me.”

“Well,” he smirked, “it’s energy just the same.”

“Good -- I’m going to put it to good use . . .” she stretched a long arm to the desk, returning with an credit card, wedging it between her neck and Spike’s mouth.

His eyes fell upon it with a raised eyebrow, “What, you startin’ to pay me for my services?”

“This account is critical to Today’s Bride. I plan on putting her on the June cover. Follow her around, get to know her, visit your family -- all on me,” she shoved the card in his hand.

“That only gives me two months to get the photos, story, and layout. She hasn’t even agreed to do the story yet.”

“Then I suggest you channel your frustration elsewhere until she does,” she shook his pleasure-giving hands off her as she stood up with a smile.

“Come again?”

“Think of my body as collateral. It’ll be reward for a job well done.”

“Oi! You cuttin’ me off!?”

“You’re lucky. The job is yours . . . since you’re such good friends.”

“Meeting time!” Cordelia breezed through the door, taking no time to look over the scene she had interrupted. “Spike, isn’t there a big project you should be working on?”

With that, Spike was shoved out the door, with nothing but a company credit card and a glossy picture of a girl from his past.

TBC





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