Buffy was starting to wonder if she should worry more than she was, or if Spike was doing enough worrying for the both of them. She had to chuckle to herself when she thought about how he went from asking to her to go with him to the ball, to trying to frighten her away from going. He was right, too. Putting the fear of God in her, setting a challenge like that to her only made her want to do it more. It was the same with work and sticking it to Riley Finn. The more he sold, the harder she worked to prove herself not only to her competitor’s, but to herself as well. Sometimes she was a tad too hard on herself, but she got the job done and it was the reason why she was one of the top realtor’s in Boston.
And that was yet another reason why she was feeling hesitant about moving. She’d have to start from scratch and learn the market in an entirely new environment. She well remembered what it was like starting from scratch, and the idea of having to do it again made her cringe. But looking at Spike. . . seeing his smile, feeling that fluttering feeling in her chest when he came in the room, well...she was lucky to remember her name at that point.
He’d spoiled her that day, taking her out to find a dress and all the accessories she needed to go with it. It was a process. From shoes to jewelry to purses. . . she was exhausted just from the shopping! Now she knew why these celebrities spent months before an engagement getting prepared. Though he did have impeccable taste. He’d picked out a lavender strapless gown with a form fitting bustier that formed a point at her waist before flaring out to her feet, and had a slight train. He’d nearly drooled when he saw her in it, so she knew it was the right choice. And just when she thought they were done, he took her to the hair stylist.
As she sat perched in the hair -dressers chair she frowned at him in the mirror as he stood behind the stylist. Without asking her opinion, he’d told the woman to go ahead and fill her head with curls.
“What?” he asked.
“The way I do my hair is wrong? Do you not like it?”
He rolled his eyes. “You honestly think that?”
“What other reason could there be for me having to sit here?”
His expression softened and he came round, kneeling beside her. “Pet, the way you do your hair is perfect. I love your golden locks. My Goldilocks,” he grinned.
She gave him a look. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, and then held up his hands in surrender when she started to glare at him. “This is how it’s done.”
“How what’s done?”
“Parties like this. Hollywood parties. Charity benefits hosted by celebrities. While I know how fiercely addicted you are to your black dress from the Gap, it’s just not going to cut it at this kind of thing. I want to make you blend, not make you stand out. Less pressure that way. Think of it as getting pampered for a day.”
She stared to acquiesce to his way of thinking until the stylist yanked a chunk of her into the iron and nearly scalded her scalp.
She didn’t want to be pampered anymore.
The drive to the benefit (in a limo) was filled with Spike giving her the do’s and don’ts for dealing with the paparazzi. By the time they’d arrived, Buffy’s head was swimming and all she’d gotten out of his diatribe was: Don’t talk, just smile. Simple enough, though she wasn’t usually one for keeping her mouth shut for very long. She didn’t want the world – his fans – to think that he was with some half-wit. She wanted them to see that she was a smart girl, and not the trophies he usually went out with. In that way, he’d probably gain even more respect; maybe gain a larger following if people saw that William Giles had substance. All hopes on that were dashed though, as it appeared her job was to be nothing more than a done-up mute. The feminist in her was scratching to get out.
Her excitement grew the closer they got to the event, an upscale restaurant known for its lavish parties and celebrity gatherings being the place the benefit was being held at. And when they arrived, her breath caught in her throat. She gulped. People were everywhere and most of them, it appeared were the dreaded paparazzi. Flashes of camera lights were constant, so much so it was if there were a thousand strobe lights going off.
“Buffy, look at me, pet.”
Tearing her wide eyes away from the crowd, she focused in on Spike.
“You all right?” he asked, worried. “If you want to back out now—“
She shook her head, and gathered her wits about her. Terror might have been building up on the inside, but she was not about to let him know that. Nor was she going to let him down. She would not fail at this. No way.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just took me by surprise. You see these things on TV and in pictures, but to actually see the enormity of the crowd...”
“Buffy—“
“Spike, I can do this.”
It was against his better judgment; he decided as he drank in the bewildered expression she was trying her best to suppress, but he knew if he forced her to not go through with it, she would find a way out of the limo and into the crowd. Which, he knew, would be like sending Little Red Riding Hood off to the Big Bad Wolf. If there was any Big Bad there, it was him, and he was the only Big Bad Buffy would encounter.
He took a deep breath and took her hand. “Okay, let’s do this. I’ll get out first and hold out my hand. You take it and we go in. We’ll make nice, pose and chat with a few, but just a few, and only about the benefit and nothingabout our relationship and we go in, okay?”
She nodded. “One mute coming right up.”
“Buffy,” he said on a weary sigh.
“I’m just kidding, go.”
And they were off. As soon as Buffy’s feet hit the ground, the literal red carpet, she was blinded by the thousand strobe lights in the crowd. Blinking, she held on tight to Spike’s hand and let him lead her.
Putting on a smile she hoped did not look fake, she walked by his side, gripping his hand. He hammed it up, waving and smiling to the onlookers, to the press, to the entire monstrous crowd. He was, Buffy decided, amazing. He didn’t appear nervous at all. Instead he was smooth and charming. Spike was working the crowd, the vast crowd, instead of them working him. Her smile, as a result of watching him, was now beaming. This was her man, and she was going to stick by his side no matter what.
Buffy felt more at ease as they progressed further away from the throng outside and made their way slowly inside.
“Mr. Giles, may I have a word with you?” A tall woman in an elegant dress stepped in front of them, blocking their way inside to sanctuary. She held a mic that said E! on it and Buffy studied her, thinking she’d seen her on some show on the channel.
Spike smiled charmingly, “Of course.”
“First, may I tell you how handsome you look tonight?”
Buffy nodded appreciatively at him. He was so handsome in his tux, it was a wonder they’d made it out of the apartment. All she’d wanted to do was jump him when she saw him in it.
Spike smiled graciously, “Why thank you.”
“I see you’ve brought a date to this star studded affair.”
Spike nodded, “I did. And what an affair it is huh? Raising money for AIDS. Can’t think of a better reason to come out on my summer vacation.”
Buffy was clear blown away. The reporter took that bait and Spike reeled her right in. The next few minutes were spent discussing what he’d been doing on his vacation and then he was off.
“Wow,” Buffy muttered as they walked away, “You’re good.”
Spike chuckled and lifted her hand to kiss her palm. “Been playing this game for a while now, pet. Learned a few tricks of the trade.”
Buffy beamed up at him. “I think I’m star struck.”
“By who?”
She smiled, “You.”
He chuckled, “I’ve always been this dashing, luv. You just never noticed before.”
“Must be the tux,” she said matter-of-factly.
He grinned, “Must be.”
It was a shame that the next two interviews couldn’t have gone as well as the first. The one that came after would not take the bait so easily and instead wanted the scoop on the “Made Harmony Kendall Cry” rumor. Spike graciously excused himself when the woman would not stop her line of questioning. Buffy resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the woman as they moved on. The third interviewer of the night – god, how long was it going to take to get inside?—blatantly flirted with him right in front of her! It was too much to ask of her to stand there and smile. Buffy glared at the bimbo as openly as the bimbo flirted. Thankfully, Spike maneuvered them out of that situation before Buffy’s claws had to come out. She was becoming well aware of the animal magnetism Spike exuded and she was not above clawing eyes out if that’s what it took to stake her claim.
Finally, they entered the enormous ballroom and Buffy let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Better, luv?” Spike asked, smirking down at her.
“Much.”
“Should be smooth sailing from here on out,” Spike told her. “I think we’ve faced the worst.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in horror.
“What?” Spike asked. “What is it?”
“Now you’ve jinxed it!”