Chapter Twenty-Two
Breakfast TV
Spike paid the cab driver and began to walk up the driveway to the house. The door flew open as he got halfway up it.
“Where the bleedin’ ‘ell ‘ave you been?” hissed Rich, mindful of the proximity of the neighbours - otherwise he would have yelled. “The car will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes.” He glared furiously at Spike.
“Fifteen minutes, yeah? Plenty of time,” replied Spike, trying and failing to diffuse Rich’s temper by smiling sweetly at him.
“Jesus Christ, Spike! You’re going on live TV, and you haven’t even been to bloody bed!”
“’S all right, Rich. I’m not tired.”
“Not tired? Yer bleedin’ better not be! I’ll kill Pete. Yer went out with him again, didn’t yer?” said Rich, pushing Spike towards the house. “I don’t know what’s got into yer.”
Spike planted himself, resisting Rich’s pressure. He turned to look at his friend and lifted the sunglasses from his nose. He quirked an eyebrow at Rich - an eyebrow above a harsh yellow eye.
“Don’t know what’s got into me? Sure about that?” He grinned at Rich and pinched his cheek. “Come on, we better get a move on. Wasting time out here, aren’t we?”
“I’ll bleedin’ kill yer myself if yer do this to me again,” snapped Rich. “I’ve got bloody Lisa in there ready to do yer make up so we don’t ‘ave to ‘ave yer near a mirror in the studio. So for God’s sake, keep yer eyes closed if they stay like that.” He began to propel Spike towards the door again.
“Okay. Okay. Sorry, mate.”
“She’s in the kitchen,” said Rich. He’d avoided taking Lisa into the lounge room as it had a big mirror above the fireplace.
“I’ll just go and get changed first. Is that all right?” asked Spike contritely, beginning to feel guilty at worrying his friend.
“Just bloody hurry up. And put a coloured shirt on. Buffy’ll kill me if you just wear black again.”
Spike pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “I want to call Buffy. I couldn’t get hold of her last night.”
Rich snatched it out of his hands. “Yer can call her afterwards.” His voice raised a little. “Go and get ready. The driver’ll be here soon. We can’t be late.”
“Sorry, Rich,” muttered Spike as he ran up the stairs two at a time to get changed.
Luckily, by the time that the car from the TV company arrived, Spike was ready. Lisa had put the make up on him to prevent him from looking shiny when on screen and had left just before the car got to the house. She was a bit puzzled as to why Spike couldn’t have had the make up done at the studio, but was more focussed on getting back to the hotel, and into bed with Joey, as soon as possible.
Rich let out a huge sigh of relief as he and Spike settled back into the car.
“Don’t do that to me again or else I’ll quit.”
“I’m really sorry, Rich. I just wasn’t tired and couldn’t settle, so I called Pete.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out and left yer alone. Yer worse than a bleedin’ kid to look after.”
“Calm down, mate. There’s no harm done, is there? We’re on time. Did you have a good time last night?”
Finally, Rich smiled at Spike. “Yeah, it was terrific. Thanks.”
“Thought you’d like it. Tara looked stunning.”
Spike allowed himself a little smirk at saying exactly the right thing to diffuse Rich’s bad temper as he began to tell Spike all about his evening at the Ivy.
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The paparazzi photographer was working at his computer, getting the best image that he could of the male on male kiss he’d caught Spike Norman enjoying outside London’s infamous sex themed club, the unimaginatively named ‘Sex Appeal’. He couldn’t believe his luck that he had been the only one there to catch it. It meant that he could ‘sit’ on the photograph for a time without being worried about losing the exclusive. He wanted to do a little research as to why Spike’s long-term partner Buffy Summers hadn’t made the trip to the UK. Was there more to it than the ‘her mom’s had an accident’ spiel that had been released? He’d put a few feelers out to his contacts in an effort to find out. He was just about to call it a night and go to bed when the phone rang.
“Hey, Ethan,” said a woman’s voice.
“Sandra, hi. So what have you found out?” She had been one of the contacts that he’d called earlier.
“Got some news that you’ll like,” she said. “My contact at Heathrow has told me that Buffy Summers is due to land in an hour. She requested a car and driver to be waiting for her. She doesn’t want any fuss, just to get off the plane as soon as possible.”
“Hmm. That’s a little odd,” replied Ethan. The few previous times that the couple had travelled separately had given photographers the gift of some great photos of them embracing in the airport.
“Spike Norman is appearing on breakfast TV this morning. Perhaps that’s why?”
“You’re probably right,” replied Ethan. He hadn’t shared the news of his photograph to her. “Thanks for letting me know.”
After a brief goodbye, he hung up the call to Sandra and quickly redialled.
“John, are you still at the airport?”
“Just about to leave. Why?”
“I need you to get some photographs of Buffy Summers. She’s landing at six thirty and will be coming through with the regular passengers in an effort to get to her driver as soon as possible. Try to get her not smiling if you can.”
John laughed. “What are you plotting, you old sod?”
“Put it this way: if we get the right shots, we’ll be quids in. There’ll be a race to get their hands on the story and photos between the magazines and newspapers.”
“Are you telling me that rock’s golden couple aren’t all they’re cracked up to be?”
“I am indeed. Now go and get the bloody shots. Let me know as soon as you’ve got them, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Sure thing, Ethan.”
Ethan yawned and leaned back in his chair as he put the phone down. He was tired but knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard back from John. He got up and walked out of his study and into the small kitchen of his apartment to make yet another cup of coffee.
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Buffy glanced at her watch anxiously. It had seemed like it had taken forever to get through customs, even though she’d travelled first class. Before getting off the plane, she’d pulled her hair back into a pony tail. She hated flying and despite drinking copious amounts of water, she always ended a flight feeling dehydrated and in need of a shower. She’d slept a little but was still feeling tired. She looked at the bank of people holding notices with names on, trying to spot her alias of Ruby Winters. Buffy scowled when she didn’t immediately spot it and cast another worried glance at her watch.
“At this rate, I’ll miss him on TV.”
Then, she spotted it. She smiled and walked over to the driver.
“Hi, I’m Ruby Winters. I’m in a bit of a rush, I’m afraid.”
“Hello, ma’am. Can I have the password please?” asked the driver politely.
“Dark mountain.”
The driver smiled and took the suitcase from her. “Pleased to meet you. I’m a huge fan of The Dingoes. Let’s get you to where you’re staying as quickly as we can, eh?”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that. I really want to catch his TV interview,” replied Buffy as she followed him out to the car.
As John watched them leave, he called Ethan. “Got a couple of great shots of our Miss Summers looking anything but happy,” he said as he scrolled through the images. He thought that the one with her running a hand over her hair and scowling was the best one. He quickly deleted the ‘smiley’ ones when she saw the driver.
“Excellent.”
“I’ve got Mark tailing the car on his motorbike, then we can keep tabs on where she’s staying.”
Ethan smiled. Things were looking good for their exclusive. “We’ll need to keep an eye on where she’s staying round the clock. Can you organise that?”
“Yeah, mate. No problem. Talk to you later, okay?”
“Thanks.”
Ethan hung up and looked again at the photo that he’d taken outside Sex Appeal.
“You little beauty.”
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“You didn’t take anything when you were out clubbing, did you?” asked Rich as he and Spike sat waiting for him to be called onto the set of the TV station.
Spike rolled his eyes, not that Rich could see them as he was resolutely wearing the shades despite all attempts by the show to take them off.
“God, Rich. Why are you always accusing me of bloody doing some drugs or drinking? It’s getting old.”
“Because we’re ten minutes away from you going on live TV and you’re sitting here cool as a sodding cucumber!”
Spike sighed. “And that’s bad because…?”
“It’s not ‘bad’, it’s just not ‘normal’ for you.”
“I know, mate. I can’t believe myself, truth be told. Just feel pretty chilled. It’s not like I haven’t been on TV before, is it?” said Spike, nudging his friend and grinning.
“I think this is something to do with the whole vampire thing,” whispered Rich. “You just seem a bit different. The sooner we get this sorted, the better. It’s really starting to freak me out.”
“You’re freaking out? What about me? I’m the one the crazy bitch bloody bit,” replied Spike. “I don’t think that it’s anything to do with that, so don’t worry. There’s been no other changes, has there? I even reckon I might be coming to grips with the whole eye changing thing. Maybe I should take these off?” He put a hand on the sunglasses.
“Don’t you sodding dare! If you get stressed out there and they change, we’ll be fucked.”
Spike laughed. “Don’t worry, only joking.”
“That’s it,” said Rich. “The world must have stopped spinning. Spike Norman is joking before he goes on TV.” He shook his head with a rueful grin.
“Shit. Am I usually that bad?” asked Spike.
Rich nodded. “Yep.”
They were interrupted by a girl politely asking Mr. Norman to follow her to prepare for his appearance.
Spike grinned at Rich, lifting his shades and winking at him. His eyes to Rich’s horror were amber. Then he calmly sauntered after the girl. Rich felt sick with nerves. He longed to call Tara to see if she’d had any more news from the coven. Spike was changing. He was sure of it, even though he hadn’t been bitten again.
Spike was told to sit on the sofa to the side of the two presenters. A make-up artist popped up out of nowhere to powder his nose.
“Thanks, love,” he said as she disappeared, glancing back at him with a smile when he spoke.
The presenters were a man and woman. Both had a kind of ‘plastic’ appearance. Not a hair out of place and perfect make-up. No shiny noses for them. Spike decided within five seconds that the man – Jeremy Jacobi – was a total prick. The woman – Nathalie Kinsley – was another matter. She was ten years older than Spike, at thirty-six, but was giggling like a teenager as soon as Spike sat down. A smile and head tilt by him confirmed what he suspected - she had a major crush on him. Spike smirked as his heighten senses picked out the smell of lust on her.
“This could be fun,” thought Spike as they were counted in from the commercial break.
Nathalie smiled her hundred watt smile at the camera as soon as the light on top of it went on.
“Welcome back. We’ve got a real treat for you, now. Spike Norman, the lead singer of the famous rock group The Dingoes is here with us.” She turned to Spike. “Hello, Spike. Thanks for agreeing to join us this morning.”
Spike matched her smile with a huge one of his own. “That’s all right, love. The pleasure’s all mine.” He grinned as even beneath the pancake make-up he could detect a blush. His nose wasn’t lying – this woman thought he was hot.
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Buffy snatched her bag from the driver, thanking him quickly, and raced up the path to the front door. She fumbled the key in the lock and as soon as she was in, she raced to the living room. She stopped short when she saw a woman sitting on the couch watching the TV.
Tara started as Buffy burst into the room.
“Oh!” she squeaked.
“Um…hi,” said Buffy. “I’m sorry. I forgot you would be here. I take it that you’re Tara?”
“Y…yes. Rich went with Spike to the studio. It’s just about to start. I didn’t think that you would be here for another couple of days. You don’t mind that we’re staying here too, do you?” babbled Tara nervously.
Buffy put her bag down, walked in and sat on the couch next to Tara. “Rupert came home a bit earlier so I thought that I’d surprise Spike. I suppose I should have let you and Rich in on the secret. Of course I don’t mind you staying. It’ll be fun.” Buffy smiled at her.
“Ooh, look! It’s coming back on. He’s on now,” said Tara, pointing at the TV.
Both women focussed intently on the screen. Buffy’s face split into a grin when she saw Spike lounging on the sofa.
“God, I can’t wait to get my hands on him,” she thought. “Hang on a minute…lounging…Spike’s on TV and he’s sitting there so relaxed that he’s lounging? I never thought I’d see that.”
Spike normally sat bolt upright and rigid when he was being interviewed. His one word answers had been known to reduce interviewers almost to tears with frustration. Spike just didn’t ‘do’ publicity very well. But there he was, large as life. His arms were stretched out along the back of the sofa, with legs slightly apart. Buffy wondered if it was just her eyes that were drawn to the crotch of his skin tight jeans?
Buffy had to stop her mouth from hanging open as she watched him, chatting easily about the tour. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that he was flirting with the over-made up trollop who was interviewing him. He was acting as confidently as he did on stage, once the performance got under way. Maybe Rich was right and that Spike was finally learning to deal with the PR stuff.
“I don’t know why Rich was worried about how Spike would be,” said Tara. “He’s doing a great job.”
“He is,” agreed Buffy. “But trust me, this is not how he normally is. I can’t believe that he’s finally conquered his nerves.”
Buffy missed the slightly alarmed look that Tara shot her way when she said that. Like Rich, she was worrying that things were still changing for Spike.
“So, Spike, your lovely partner Buffy Summers hasn’t joined you on tour this time. Is there trouble in paradise?” said Nathalie, leaning in towards Spike, showing rather more cleavage than was appropriate at such an early hour.
Even with the sunglasses on, it was clear that Spike was enjoying the view. He licked his lips before he replied, playing up to the woman’s advances.
“Well, Nathalie. What can I say? Sometimes it’s nice to be out and about without the ‘little woman’ tagging along.”
Nathalie positively beamed at his response, a stark contrast to both Rich and Buffy who howled.
“What?” yelled Buffy.
“He’s lost ‘is bloody mind,” said Rich.
Spike shifted in his seat, moving slightly further away from Nathalie. His body language closed down. He brought his arms from the back of the sofa and folded them across his chest.
“You know what, Nathalie?” he said quietly.
“What?” Nathalie breathed.
“That question was out of line,” he said firmly. “As we told the press when we came over here, Buffy’s mum had an accident and suffered a couple of fractures. Buffy had to stay to take care of her. She’ll be here in time for the last concert and I can’t wait. That woman is the centre of my universe. Anyone who’d actually done their homework on me and the band before doing an interview would know that and not try a cheap shot like that. I love Buffy. End of story.”
“Oh…um…that’s…um…lovely,” stuttered Nathalie.
Jeremy decided to step in and help his colleague out. He quickly thanked Spike for coming in and smiled sweetly at the camera, telling viewers that they’d be back in a couple of minutes.
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As soon as he could, Spike stood up and stalked off the stage, finding Rich waiting for him.
“Stupid, bloody cow,” said Spike as soon as he got to him.
“Yeah, she is, but one minute you were looking like you wanted to bed her and the next you’re jumping down the bint’s throat.”
“I never wanted to bed her, you git,” protested Spike. “But I could smell the desire on her and couldn’t resist playing up to it.”
“You could smell her desire? God, that’s gross.”
“Yeah, it is a bit,” giggled Spike. “Look, can we get out of here, mate?”
“Come on then. We’ve got a car waiting for us. I think you need to get some sleep before tonight’s gig. I still can’t believe that you haven’t had any sleep. I’m knackered and at least I had about four hours.”
“I always did have more stamina than you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Tara,” teased Spike.
Rich gave Spike a none too gentle, but affectionate, push. “You git.”
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“Oh,” said Buffy when Spike had set the presenter straight about her. “I guess that’s all right then.”
“Wow,” said Tara. “He just told half of the United Kingdom on live television that you are the centre of his universe.”
Buffy’s face split into a wide grin. “He did, didn’t he? God, I love him so much. I can’t wait to see him.”
“I bet. I know he’s really missed you. He talks about you all the time.”
“And I’ve been hearing a lot about you. It appears that you have tamed the infamous Rich Bayliss.”
Tara blushed slightly. “We are getting on really well. Um…would you like a cup of coffee? I could use one. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Really?” said Buffy, cheekily raising an eyebrow.
Tara’s blushed deepened. “I…I didn’t mean that! We were out until late.”
“Late. Right,” said Buffy with a chuckle. “Let’s get that coffee and you can tell me all about what I’ve missed on the tour. I want all the gossip. Has Pete been behaving himself? There was this one time…”
Buffy and Tara walked through into the kitchen.
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Spike and Rich walked up the path and into the house. Spike froze.
“What’s up?” asked Rich.
Spike grinned. “Buffy’s here.”
“Buffy?” said Rich, looking around to see what Spike had seen that made him think that Buffy was here. She wasn’t due for another two days. “Why do yer think she’s ‘ere?”
“I can smell her perfume,” replied Spike as he ran towards the kitchen.
tbc
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Banner by dawnofmeAuthor's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as always to Carol and dawnofme for their beta work.
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