CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - The Red Carpet
Interview 2005
I’m a very private person. The people in my life, my family and friends, did not ask for this; this publicity. And I work very hard to keep my private life private. Out of the limelight. To protect them. And I’m happy to say, I’ve been very successful.
Late September 1997
London, England
“You ready, pet?” Spike called out, pacing the living room.
“Yeah, give me a few more minutes,” he heard her yell.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered quietly to himself. He’d been ready for thirty minutes now, whereas…she still wasn’t. He had gone for a typical rock star look, which he thought was appropriate. After all, this wasn’t a black-tie event. He had chosen to wear casual black slacks with a matching suit jacket. He wore an artfully distressed Ramones T-shirt underneath. A black studded belt and a chain bracelet and necklace completed the look. And his Docs. His hair was tousled with the curls unrestrained, just like Buffy loved it.
“Pet,” he yelled, “The limo’s not going to wait much longer for us.” When he heard about the limo the record label and his publicist set up for him, Spike had protested, proclaiming it to be a bit much. However, they wouldn’t hear it. It was, they said, expected of him to arrive in one. And so, they had the limo.
Looking out the window, he groaned when he saw his publicist exiting the limo. Anya Jenkins approached his home with determination. He moved to the door and opened it just as she raised her hand to knock.
“Anya, how are you?” Spike asked.
She pushed her way past him into the apartment. “What is taking so long? Don’t you understand we’re on a tight schedule here? I have to get you there, pronto. You have interviews to do.”
Spike looked at the closed bedroom door helplessly. He liked Anya. Really. He did. She was damned good at what she did. But she could be a bit much.
“Um -”
She interrupted, “Angel’s already there. Lorne just called me. Now, are we ready to go or not?”
“Buffy!” Spike called out loudly.
The bedroom door suddenly swung open and Buffy exited, rolling her eyes, moving swiftly for the front door. She knew he was nervous about tonight, and that was why she was going to let it go. He had a right to be nervous. It was a big night for him. She smiled at Anya, “Hey, Ahn. How are you?”
Anya smiled back, “I’m good. And you?”
“Great.” She grabbed her evening bag on the table by the door. “Well, are we going to go or not?” Buffy asked when she noticed he wasn’t moving.
“Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous,” he uttered, staring at her.
She wore a simple yet elegant knew length black dress. It hugged her curves in a very flattering way that he loved. Her hair was swept into a bun on top of her head, a few stray strands framing her face. And he found himself struggling to restrain himself from pushing her against the wall and taking her, to hell with Anya.
Buffy found herself blushing, something that always happened whenever he complimented her, no matter how frequent. And it was definitely something he made a point of doing everyday.
Spike gave himself a shake and approached her, taking her hands in his. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. “Now, love, are you sure you want to do this?”
Ah, there it was, she thought. He had spent the last week fretting about her first foray into the fray as it were. He didn’t want her to become fodder for the paparazzi. As he told her many times, he chose to but she didn’t have to. And yes, she was a little anxious about it, but she wasn’t going to back down.
“Will,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek, “I understand your concern. Really, I do. But I’m your wife and I want to be there with you sweep the competition.”
He gave a wry smile, “Don’t think we’ll be doing that.”
“Sure, you will.”
Deciding it was time to interrupt, Anya pushed both of them to the door, “Alright, already. Enough with the googly eyes. You two can have your orgasms -”
“Anya!” Spike exclaimed.
She continued as though he hadn’t said anything at all, “- later. But right now, let’s go.”
Interview 2000
It all feels very normal to me. This circus that is my life is completely normal. And, uh, it almost felt unnatural to me before I had this job. I never really felt like I fitted in. Uh, life felt a little empty, maybe?
Late September 1997
London, England
When they arrived at Earls Court, Anya exited the limo first, and proceeded to do her duty as publicist. She blended in the background, one of those unknown figures - to audience viewers, at least - remaining near Spike and his wife.
Spike looked at Buffy as he helped her out of the limo. Her eyes were wide as saucers as she took in the red carpet lined with fans, interviewers and photographers. She looked a little overwhelmed. He gave her hand he still held a kiss, “You okay, pet?”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “On TV, it never looks quite so…”
“I know,” he said, understanding what she was trying to say. He squeezed her hand, “Don’t let go. Stay with me and you’ll be fine.”
She nodded and followed him as he led her forward. She found herself having several star-struck moments when she’d realize she was within speaking distance of many of the celebrities in attendance, and she would find herself stuttering when one happened to look her way. She was surprised at how at ease William was. This was his first award ceremony as well, but he looked like a seasoned pro as they made their way down the red carpet. They halted in front of a horde of photographers, standing on the blue X-shaped marker on the ground, dictating where they were to pause. Spike pulled Buffy close, arm wrapped around her waist as they allowed the cameras to flash and pictures to be taken.
He looked at her, “You okay, pet?”
She smiled, “Yeah. It’s okay.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded and he dropped a quick kiss on her lips, which was quickly captured by the eager photographers.
Spike gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to the cameras, signaling that it was enough, and tugged slightly on Buffy’s hand, leading her further down the red carpet. Her eyes continuously darted around, taking in all the sights. They were stopped shortly by a man wearing a headset, who asked instinctively knew to go to Anya to request an interview. Anya then whispered to Spike, asking him. He agreed and she informed the man that Spike would grant them a short interview. They waited patiently for the interviewer, a woman from MTV, to finish her current interview with Beck.
“I can’t believe that’s Beck,” Buffy whispered excitedly, eyes wide as she was no longer able to contain her enthusiasm.
Spike laughed, “I know, pet. I’m having a few of those moments, too.”
She looked at him, “Really? But you look so calm and cool. Like this is nothing.”
“All part of the gig. Trust me, pet, I’m jumping up and down on the inside.”
She pouted, “Are you making fun of me?”
“Of course not.” Spike tried to say something more, but Beck had left the interviewer and it was now his turn. He and Buffy approached the woman and listened as she introduced him.
“Well, Spike, you must be excited tonight. Thirteen nominations. I believe that’s unprecedented.”
“Yeah. It’s, uh, quite an honor.”
“Your career has just been sky rocketing. In part, people say, because of your unique sound. What are your influences? Musical or otherwise?”
“Oh, well, um… Bands like the Sex Pistols, the Ramones. Um, the Beatles. Even some crooners, some Motown - Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson. There’s quite a lot a musicians I’ve grown up listening to and admiring. And, uh, life really plays a huge part. Life definitely influences my lyrics, Angel’s music. Yeah.”
The woman smiled widely, “That’s interesting. Well, Spike, I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with us, and it looks like you’re being called away.”
Spike looked behind him and saw Lorne, standing next to Anya, waving at him and Buffy.
“Good luck tonight,” the woman finished.
“Thank you.”
Spike squeezed Buffy’ hand and led her over to his manager and publicist.
“There you are, Cheekbones,” Lorne said, holding his arms out as he approached them. “I have been looking all over for you.” He looked at Buffy, “Ah, me cherie. Look at you. Gorgeous.” He pulled Buffy close and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.
Buffy blushed, “Thanks, Lorne.”
“So, Angel’s already in?” Spike asked.
“Oh, honey, he’s been in. Wanted to slip pass the media.”
“Did he?”
“Uh, no. He got caught by BBC1.”
Spike chuckled, “Well, sorry to hear that.”
“Never mind that. You two need to get in there. Shoo!” Lorne hurried them along.
“See you later,” Spike called as Lorne headed off, moving towards another client.
Lorne waved.
Spike turned to Buffy, holding out his arm, “Well, shall we?”
END CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
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Author's Chapter Notes:
After some quick research, I realize the BRIT Awards appear to be typically held during the earlier part of the year, but for the sake of my timeline, pretend they take place in September. And, I think I also made up some awards that aren’t typically a part of the BRITS, though they are for the ARIAS (which were what the artist I‘ve been basing this story on was nominated for). But, just go with it. :-)
Chapter End Notes:
Even though I'm not very good at responding to reviews, I just wanted to let those of you who left reviews know that I'm thankful and pleased that you all are enjoying the story. :)