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Chapter Six -- Model Citizen

“A model must project a look that makes people notice.” Spike, playing the part of Mr. Fashion, was sauntering around Buffy critically as she stood perched on a stool in front of the mirrors. Spike had wasted no time after he received Buffy’s compliance to the project. He had quickly enlisted all of their friends or, as Buffy thought of it, hired them against her to successfully complete Spike’s mission.

That was one thing Buffy would give him -- Spike had a way to get people excited over something they had no idea about or would have had no involvement in otherwise to further himself. All though college he was the one inciting the riots. Sophomore year, he convinced the entire senior class to stage a strike over the brand of sports drink being given to their precious sports teams just so he could start in the soccer game against their biggest rival. They won the game and now serve Gatorade, not Sports Aid, on the sidelines. No one realized the ridiculousness of the argument until years later. The man could easily raise a revolution simply by being aggressive.

Willow stood below Buffy with her little measuring tape, recording all of Buffy’s numbers for the designing of her fake future wedding dress. “If models want to model haute couture, they must also be tall and thin.” Spike paused, looking Buffy up and down critically. “Well, you got the thin part right.”

“Oh you must be loving this,” Buffy glowered. Spike ignored the comment.

“Though the clothing worn during a shoot is provided, models must also own a wardrobe that is fashionable and flattering for them to wear in public and in meetings.”

Buffy purposely sighed loudly and turned her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Look, Summers, I’m not doing this for my health. You agreed to the deal, so I’m doing this for you.

“Oh, so sorry fairy godmother, I had no idea I wanted to go to the ball so badly.”

“I’m not exactly asking you to turn water into wine, Summers. You’re job is to stand there and look pretty.”

“And what exactly is your job?”

He smiled proudly, “A fashion photographer must make the model and the product or service she is promoting look as appealing as possible.” He paused.

The many comments on what kind of perverted service she was promoting that had the potential of flying out of his mouth made her interject, “You even think it and this is over before it’s begun.”

Spike ignored the empty threat. “A good fashion photographer has a unique style of shooting and the ability to work with fussy models.” Buffy stuck her tongue out at him to play up to his insult.

Willow’s mediating spirit prevailed, “So who do you have lined up for Buffy on Friday?

Buffy putting on a fake cheer, “Yeah, have you successfully whored me out yet?”

“Don’t worry about it Summers, I already found the perfect guy.”

“He better be.” Buffy commented as she climbed off the chair. “Are we done with today’s festivities?”

“For now. We meet tomorrow at eleven o’clock at the salon. Be there.”

“As long as you’re paying.” Buffy wasn’t about to argue a free haircut. She left the dressing area and returned to her real work on the main floor.

Spike poked his head around the corner, making sure the Ice Queen was out of earshot. He saddled up next to Willow, who was gathering up her materials. “So, Red, what am I looking for here?” In all honesty, Spike had no one in mind for Buffy for Friday and had planned to throw a bunch of guys at her and just see which she’d take to.

Willow answered his question with a confused look, “I thought you’d set her up with a bunch of random losers, and see who she baits onto.”

“Yeah, well, a guess I’ll throw some normal ones into the bunch too.”

“How nice of you.” Willow rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I’d be looking into the smart, funny, and cute bunch then.”

“I’ll try,” he began his way towards the door.

“Oh, and Spike . . .” He turned around. “She hiccups.”

“She what?”

“She hiccups, ya know, when she’s crushing on someone, she gets so nervous she gets the hiccups.”

“So I should be watching for diaphragm spasms to see if I hit the mark?”

Willow shrugged and nodded.

Spike sighed, “Okay.” Yet another strange characteristic of Buffy Summers.


TBC

**Job descriptions come from Careers For Your Characters





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