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Chapter 4. Coffee, Tea, or…?

Four days later Buffy had agreed to meet William Thorndale for coffee after work. She had taken the subtle route, and waited for him to call her. In the meanwhile, she had researched everything she could about his personal history, and his taste in art. Over time he had bought and sold a wide variety of expensive pieces. If only a small fraction of what passed through his hands was being tainted, then there could be dozens of stolen or forged art works out there.

The shop was surprisingly busy for a Thursday evening, perhaps because of the cold drizzle that was steadily falling outside. Thorndale had already appropriated a table. From a distance all Buffy could see was the white blonde hair, mussed and curly because of the rain – sexy as hell. As she made her way to the table, Buffy decided not to say anything about the hair. She thought it made him look even more drool worthy, but she didn’t want to take a chance that he might take any comment she made as an insult, or a come on. They didn’t know one another than well yet.

Buffy ordered a Chai tea latte, and almost laughed when she saw that Spike had ordered a chocolate. There he was in his gray business suit, complete with light a light blue shirt and a fashionable purple and gray tie, with a white foam mustache. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous. On him it looked sexy. Especially with the curly hair that made him look like he had just gotten out of bed – or was ready to get into it.

The thought immediately gave her pause. This was work! She should not be thinking about how the guy looked, what he was wearing, his hair, or how adorable he was covered in marshmallow cream. Her objective was to get inside his home and have a look around, file a report, and be done with it. The guy was most likely a crook and a scoundrel! What was it Giles had said? ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ Of course their criminal justice system meant that he was innocent until proven guilty, but it’s not like most people are ever even investigated. Smoke. Fire. She had to keep that in mind.

He had asked that she call him by his nickname, but it was dangerous to think of him that way. She needed to keep her distance, stay objective, but it was difficult to do when he turned those baby blues on you and licked the froth from his lips like a little boy. If only she found him unattractive her job would be so much easier!

At first they talked about her mother, and Spike shared a few anecdotes that Buffy wished she could believe. Eventually the conversation moved on to their mutual appreciation of art. Apparently Spike was well traveled. He had been all over Europe, and even to the Far East.

Buffy’s major expertise, of course, was in the field of American and European painters. Spike’s knowledge of art was far broader. Although she had passing knowledge of non-Western and ancient art, Spike was into everything from ancient Etruscan vases to Chinese horse figurines. He’d apparently been places and seen things that Buffy had only read about. At least his enthusiasm for and knowledge of art sounded authentic. It wasn’t just an act. No one could talk for hours about something like that unless they had a passion for it. They were both just lucky that it was a passion that they shared, so that they barely noticed time passing.

In a way that passion surprised her. Many of her mother’s clients had purchased art merely for the status it gave them, or perhaps as an investment. In general, they had accepted Joyce’s recommendations, or simply bought ‘name’ artists. Spike seemed to actually have an appreciation for art for its own sake. Not many businessmen were like that.

After what felt like two minutes, but was actually closer to two hours, the conversation finally started getting more personal. “You’re asking the wrong question, luv.” Spike purred when she voiced her thoughts. “It’s not why am I, a businessman, interested in art. It’s how did I, an aspiring artist, become a successful businessman?”

He seemed quite pleased when Buffy suggested that they relocate to a small restaurant around the corner where they could continue their conversation while ordering something more substantial than tea and chocolate.

As soon as the food had arrived, Buffy reminded Spike that he had been about to launch into his life story. Laughingly she assured him that the change in venue had not been meant to thwart his desire to tell her about himself. She neglected to tell him that she had already looked him up in every source she could find and knew the official version probably better than he did. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want to hear how he would tell it. With a rapt look on her face that she didn’t have to feign in the slightest, Buffy sat back to listen while she tucked into her pasta.

“Not long after Dru and I first came to the States, I enrolled in school at UC Sunnydale. That’s when I met your Mum. I had a double concentration in Art History and Chemistry. Long ago I had figured out that I didn’t have the originality or the talent to be a painter or an author in my own right, so I wanted to be the next best thing I could think of: an art conservator, a restorer. I’d even finished my degree and begun looking about for a job when Dru took sick. Or more sick.

“She’d never been well. Something had happened to her as a child, or perhaps as an adolescent, and I don’t think she was ever the same after that. Looking back on it now, I guess she was never really completely sane in all the years I knew her. But as far as I was concerned in those days it only added to her charms. But this time her madness went beyond anything that I could deal with. I had to have her committed for a while.”

Buffy must have looked shocked, as he added, “I try to keep it out of the public record. It’s not anybody’s business. I don’t know why I told you. You’ll keep it to yourself, won’t you? Joyce knew, but I knew she would keep it quiet.”

He really didn’t know what was wrong with him. He had just gone to a lot of trouble to keep this bit of information out of Joyce’s notes, and here he told the girl first chance he got! At least he hadn’t babbled everything! He had better start keeping his mouth shut around her, or soon she’d know every secret he had. She was easy to talk to, just like her Mother had been, but he really didn’t know Buffy that well at all. The thought sobered him up. He liked Buffy, a lot, and wanted to get to know her better. But he wasn’t sure how far he could trust her. He didn’t want anything to spoil their chance at a real relationship.

Buffy was stunned, but tried not to show it. There had been very little said about his ex-wife in any of the articles that Buffy had read. Most of them, she realized belatedly, had been slanted in his favor, probably approved, if not written, by his own public relations staff. Thinking about it now she realized that the reporters only mention of Drusilla had been to say that they were no longer married. As if she hadn’t been an important part of his life at all. Spike told it differently.

Buffy had been silent for a long time. Spike didn’t know what she was thinking. He had gone to a lot of trouble to keep their private matters private, and he needed them to stay that way. He needed to be sure than Buffy understood.

“I loved Dru, I really did. It broke my heart that I couldn’t help her. I tried to do what was best for her. Having her committed in Sunnydale forced me to forget about moving out of town to take a new job. Relocating just wasn’t something Dru was up to at the time. She needed familiar people and surroundings. So instead I took a job at a local pharmaceutical company, that liked my background in chemistry. Came with a good salary and more importantly, good benefits.”

Belatedly Buffy thought she should have looked a little more deeply into his life history so she would know how much of his story was the truth. On the other hand, Buffy thought, it was possibly a good idea that everything she knew about Thorndale was common knowledge. That way when he came out with these unexpected statements her reactions were real.

“I can count on you to keep it quiet, yeah? You won’t go sell the story to the tabloids, will you?”

He made it sound absurd, the way he said it. Of course she wouldn’t have anything to do with unscrupulous tabloid reporters. Aside from violating her sense of propriety, she realized that if she went to them, they might want to find out more about her life story, and she had her own secrets to keep. So really, it was easy to give him what he wanted.

“You have my word. No newsman will get any story out of me.” That still left her room to put it in her report to the Bureau. It would not make the heaslines, which was what Spike was apparently afraid of. Beside, the Agency probably knew already, or could find it out if it became necessary.

“Thanks pet. I appreciate it.” He put his hand over hers on the table and left it there while he continued his story

“Life would have gone on that way indefinitely if not for a fortunate series of events. A guy I knew introduced me to a man who owned a bar in L.A. This was a few years later, and Dru was out of hospital by then, but she was still far from well. Since Dru was prone to fits now and then, I had made a kind of tonic for her, that calmed her down. I made sure that I always had some with us wherever we went.

“One night we were in Lorne’s bar, and Dru wanted her ‘special’ drink. She wasn’t acting out, but I wanted to avoid the possibility of a scene. I hadn’t exactly explained to them about Dru. They just thought she was a little odd, and they accepted her that way. After I gave Dru her drink, Lorne asked for a taste, so another bottle was passed around. One thing led to another, and Lorne started selling it in his bar. It was so successful he suggested that I have it bottled and sell it nationally.

“Hence the genesis of Thorndale Industries. Of course we sell a lot more than ‘Tiger Tonic’ now, but that’s where it all started. Something I mixed up at home to help my wife. Irony of it all is that not long after she was labeled fully ‘cured,’ she decided to up and leave me. But at least I was able to help her when she needed it most. Only fair, I suppose.”

Tiger Tonic was a subgenre of so-called energy drinks. What products like Red Bull claimed to do for you physically, Tiger Tonic was supposed to do for you mentally. Its advertising claimed that it helped keep your mind clear and improved memory. It had been a huge success, especially among the college set. Then the craze had spread, until it was a popular drink. Buffy could have ordered it tonight, but she preferred the warmth of her tea and thought she got much the same effect from it.

“So,” Spike said. “I’ve rambled on about me for long enough. I’ve shown you mine, now’s time for you to show me yours.”

Spike chuckled slightly at the look on her face. God, he needed to get to know this girl better. “What I meant, pet, was that it’s your turn to tell me about yourself. Granted, I know most of the highlights already. But all I’ve heard is your mother’s side of things, and not much past when you started college. I’m sure that you have quite a bit to add to that.”

He finally let go of her hand then, and started rummaging for a cigarette. They hadn’t been holding hands, exactly, but it had felt natural. She hadn’t realized that they had stayed touching for so long. Now that he had taken his hand away, she was surprised that she missed his warmth, and took another sip of tea to try to make up for the lack.

He was looking at her expectantly, but she really couldn’t think of much to say. Finally she decided on the truth. “I think you know way too much about me already. If I had just met you, and you hadn’t known my mom, I would never tell you any of it. All that stuff in high school, none of it was my fault. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it. Ever. Understand?”

“Course pet. Not gonna pry. Just want to get to know you better.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what he wanted to know. It wasn’t like she was a world traveler or had done anything interesting with her life. Well, not anything that she was willing to share at any rate.

The silence continued for a few moments as they both sipped their drinks. Finally it was Spike who broke it.

“Cat got your tongue? Why do I find quiet Buffy so hard to believe? How about this – to get the ball rolling so the speak. What was your major in college, art history?”

“Ugh! Don’t even go there!” Buffy rolled her eyes and squinched up her nose in a way that Spike found strangely appealing. “ Instead of quiet Buffy you’re gonna get complainy Buffy. But you asked for it. So here goes!

“My Mom wanted me to major in Art; Art History was okay, but she really wanted me to follow in her footsteps. The fact that I didn’t have the talent for it or the desire didn’t bother her one bit. Then there was my Dad. Mind you, I hadn’t actually seen much of him since before junior high. But somehow Mom got him to pay a large part of the tuition bill, so he figured he had the right to tell me how the money should be spent. He forced me to major in Pre-law! Pre-law, like I was really gonna go to law school?” She crossed her arms and pouted, “No one cared what I had to say about it.”

Spike thought she looked adorable, and had to restrain himself from trying to kiss her. For once he decided it would be safer to simply voice his thoughts.

“I can see how law might be a bit of a stretch, but are you saying you didn’t like Art History? You do run the Gallery now, or did I get that wrong?”

“Yes, yes. The Gallery is mine now. And I do love it. I just wanted to have some say in the matter, that’s all. Not have both my parents decide what was good for me whether that was what I wanted or not.”

“So, if you had your choice, pet, what would you have majored in?”

Buffy’s eyes lit up and her response was immediate. She had obviously given this no small amount of thought at one point in her life. “P.E.”

“P.E.?” Spike wasn’t sure what she meant. Maybe it was a British thing. “I’m not tracking here, luv? What is P.E.?”

“Physical Education. P.E.”

Spike’s brows went up in surprise, and it was only with some effort that he managed to stifle a laugh. “You wanted to major in gym? Is that what you mean?”

“Yeah. And it’s not funny.” Now she was indignant and that was even more adorable than the pout. “There’s a lot of money in gym,” she continued. “I wanted to be a personal trainer, or start my own fitness club. I could have made my own videos. Who knows, I might have invented Pilates! Instead, there I was, newly graduated with a double major in Art History and Pre-law, with absolutely no idea what to do with myself. To make matters worse, my boyfriend of three years had just broken up with me. Do you know my mom seriously considered asking you to help me find a job?”

“Really?” Spike tried to act surprised. “I don’t rightly know what Thorndale Industries would have done with a Pre-law and Art History major. Could you type?”

“I so would not have worked for you anyway,” she taunted back. “I mean, you made all your money bottling soda water. It may be lucrative, but it doesn’t sound very interesting. No offense.”

“None taken.” Spike was spell bound. Suddenly he was very glad that they hadn’t met back then. If his reaction to her at 21 was anything like his reaction to her now – well, let’s just say that Joyce might not have approved of the relationship. But he dearly would have liked to watch as young Buffy took on the world. “So what did you decide to do? Or did you just go straight into helping your Mom out at the Gallery?”

“Nah. At the time, that didn’t seem very appealing either. The Gallery was still in Sunnydale, and I seriously wanted to get out of that town. So I mucked around in graduate school until my Mom got too sick to run the Gallery on her own. By then she had relocated here to L.A., and I came home to help her with the business.”

“Don’t tell me you really did go to law school? I can’t see that really working out too well for you as a career choice.” It was only after he’d said it that she realized how it might sound. He hadn’t meant it a derogatory way. It’s not that he thought that Buffy was stupid. It just didn’t seem like a good fit for her. Too sedate for a woman who was obviously full of spice and vinegar.

“No, no. It was an interdisciplinary program. Definitely not law school.” More like spy school, she thought.

She never did really figure out how she had gotten picked for that particular program. She certainly hadn’t applied for it. But they had recruited her after college, and she had proved to be good at it. And it had led to her more clandestine second job in the Art Investigations division, while allowing her to maintain the Gallery as well. Buffy felt it was the absolutely perfect set up. She couldn’t have arranged it better if she’d planned it that way.

“Sorry the grad school bit didn’t work out then. But you’re happy now, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. I love what I do.” Both jobs she thought. It was a perfect combination of her talents. And it certainly wasn’t boring.

That thought brought her mind back to her current assignment: Thorndale. While she was sitting across from him, it was hard to credit the Agency’s suspicions. Spike seemed far too genuine to be a criminal. Besides, he already had tons of money. What did he need more for?

Still, there could be other reasons. Maybe he just liked the thrill of outwitting the law. His day job had to be terribly tedious to someone as well educated as he appeared to be.

She considered her assignment and the best way to complete it. If she could, she would like to see Spike cleared of the allegations as soon as possible, so she wouldn’t have to have an ulterior motive in seeing him. She figured casual and straightforward was best; they were friends now weren’t they? As they were getting ready to leave, Buffy casually suggested going back to his place.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. The look he gave her then had her quickly backpedaling. Of course a guy would take a line like that differently than how Buffy had intended it! If nothing else about him was clear, it was certain that he was all male. Of course he would assume that her innocent request meant that she wanted to sleep with him!

As far as Buffy could tell, Spike was everything a girl could want in a man: personable, good looking, rich, slightly famous, and single. He was probably propositioned at least once every night of the week!

Buffy tried her best to hold back the blush that colored her face as soon as she realized how what she had said had been interpreted. Trying to push back thoughts of Spike’s yummy goodness and the possibility of the two of them in bed together, Buffy knew her face must be flaming. She was suddenly inexplicably jealous of those faceless women whom he might in fact have taken up on such an offer.

She had to keep reminding herself that she was working. They had had a fun evening together, and gotten along well. If she had just been Buffy Summers, regular girl, she realized that she would have been interested in dating him. But as things stood now, he was an assignment, and would have to remain an assignment. Once she completed said assignment, and the Agency realized that he was innocent of all charges, then she would make the decision what to do with him then.

“I just meant I would like to see it,” she stammered. At his raised eyebrow she stammered even more. “The… the… your house I mean. That is – well – it’s probably like a museum, full of all the interesting and exotic art you’ve collected over the years.”

She was not Faith. She was not willing to sleep with him just for the sake of an assignment – even if he did turn her knees to jelly. The idea of him as a criminal – well, that was just all wrong. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. He wasn’t like that. He had an honest appreciation for art, not just money. He had more then enough on his own without resorting to criminal activities!

Plus he had been friends with her mother; that said a lot about his character right there. And they had just had a very sweet and uneventful evening in a coffee shop. Until she had to put her foot in it and had unwittingly propositioned him!

Instead of taking her up on it, he seemed amused at her fumbling attempts to cover. Despite trying to guard her emotions, she suspected she was falling in serious like with the guy.

The light must have caught his eyes just the right way as he smiled down at her. He wasn’t laughing at her, was he?

“I thought you wanted to take this slow, pet? How about I take you out to dinner and a movie or something first, yeah? We can talk about going back to my place after we get to know each other a little better, yeah? I promise my ‘house’ isn’t going anywhere.”





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