**~**
Finally the kids got to open their presents and blow out the candles. Now everyone was crowded around the table, eating away at the Hawaiian cake. Laughter and merriment filled the room with a joyful atmosphere – everyone seemed to be talking at once. It was the utter chaos that the old house had grown to love over the years. Some mansions had opulence and visiting dignitaries or posh soirees and debutant balls; the mansion on Crawford Street had pandemonium.
“So, Troy,” Spike addressed Bess’ beau. “Glad you could make it t’night.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Weckerly,” Troy replied confidently. “It’s a good party – fun.” Troy had spoken to Spike a few times since Bess’ confession about the true nature of her family. At first he’d always made sure to scoop Angelpie up as soon as he came in the door, but nothing ever happened; her father had always been polite to him, so Troy had dropped that habit. Bess had been right about her dad, after all.
“Yeah, we have a spot o’ fun now and again ‘round here. Ya know, I been meanin’ t’ talk to you,” Spike replied in a conversational tone. The vamp slapped his hand down on the larger man’s shoulder like an old friend and guided him away from the group.
“Spike! Where are you going with my date?” Bess questioned when she saw them walking away.
“No worries, pet. Won’t bite him or anything, just a friendly chat,” Spike assured her.
“So, Troy,” Spike began again as he settled the young man into a chair near the fireplace. Spike positioned himself on the coffee table in front of Troy, towering over his ‘Inquistee’. “Buffy tells me you’re at university. How’s that going for ya, then?”
“Oh – great!” Troy enthused. “I’m having a blast.”
“Are ya, now? Not sure that’s really the point of university. How are your grades?”
“Oh, mostly As and Bs … one C,” Troy admitted. “I truly hate Calculus.”
“As do we all,” Spike sympathized with a knowing nod. “Got a job?”
“Yes, sir. I work part time at the Sunnydale Museum, cataloging artifacts and helping to set up exhibits. And I have a full scholarship in wrestling,” Troy explained before taking a bite of the birthday cake that he’d brought with him.
“So I’ve heard,” Spike muttered half under his breath as he turned his head and cocked a brow at Bess. She was standing off to one side several feet away, but Spike knew she could hear the conversation. Bess rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“And this subject you’re studyin’, Anthropology and Archeology, is it?” Spike continued, looking back at the young man.
“Yes, sir.”
“Just what sorta career you figure on getting with that degree?” Spike wondered.
“Oh – well, what I’d really like to do is uncover artifacts that shed some light on the cultures that were here before our modern society. There are rumors of lost treasures and buried civilizations due to multiple earthquakes in the Sunnydale area in particular. I’d love to be the one to find them,” Troy beamed.
“So, fancy yourself the next Indiana Jones, then?”
“Oh … uh, well … maybe without the bull whip or fear of snakes,” Troy admitted with a small shrug. “Those were my favorite movies growing up, Indy was my hero. But, don’t get me wrong! I know real life isn’t like that. It takes a lot of hard work, but hard work doesn’t scare me.
“Like my grandfather always says, ‘He lawai'a no ke kai papa'u, he pokole ke aho; he lawai'a no ke kai hohonu he loa ke aho.’”
Spike cocked a questioning brow at the young man.
“It translates literally as, ‘a fisherman of shallow seas uses only a short line; a fisherman of the deep sea uses a long line.’ It means that you can reach as far as you prepare yourself to reach. I’m preparing myself to reach my goals, which I know may seem idealistic or out of reach, but with hard work I believe I can succeed,” Troy explained earnestly.
Spike nodded thoughtfully, as if he was buying it. That bollocks, he supposed, had been practiced and delivered to more than one girl’s father over the years. Time to turn up the heat.
“Don’t believe I’ve seen lots of adverts in the paper for treasure hunters. How do you intend t’ live while you do all this working and reachin’ for your pot o’ gold?”
Troy shrugged. “I don’t mind working on digs managed by other people. Even the Peace Corps and the World Health Organization hire anthropologists to teach their volunteers how to fit into the societies they’re trying to support. I don’t mind hard work – I’ve got a strong back.”
Spike cocked his brow again and looked at Bess. She responded by folding her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes – again.
Spike looked back at Troy and switched gears on him, firing up the burner on the hot-seat even higher. “So, just what would a wrestler with a strong back’s intentions be with regard to m’ girl?”
Troy swallowed the cake that was in mouth with a hard gulp and nearly choked on it, coughing slightly to try and clear his throat. “Intentions, sir?”
“Intentions. You do know the meaning of the word, yeah? Being in university and all.”
“Yeah, of course, I … but … uhhh … I’m not sure I have any intentions, sir,” Troy stammered.
“All gits have intentions,” Spike asserted. “I bloody well hope you aren’t intending on running off and gettin’ hitched!”
“Hitched?!” Troy croaked, his voice raising several octaves above his normal baritone. “I … uhhh … hadn’t really … we haven’t known each other that…”
“Oh, planning on breakin’ her heart then, are ya?” Spike interrupted, boring his gaze into the younger man's like daggers.
Troy frowned and shook his head vigorously. “No, sir!”
“Maybe you’re just stringing the townie along. Planning on flyin’ off t’ chase treasures when you’re done with ‘er. That it?” Spike wondered, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“No…no, sir. I wouldn’t …”
“You’ve been seeing a lot o’ Bess lately,” Spike stated, interrupting Troy’s denial.
“Yes, sir,” Troy answered as if Spike had asked a question.
“Just how much o’ her have you seen, then?” Spike continued his inquisition, pursing his lips together as he studied the boy’s reaction. He could smell the adrenaline pumping, hear the git’s heart thundering in his chest and see a layer of perspiration appear on the boy’s forehead. Wouldn’t take much more to have him at a nice, hot rolling boil.
Troy started coughing violently at that. Spike picked his drink up off the floor where he’d set it down and handed it to the young man. Troy took it thankfully and swallowed several deep gulps of the fruity liquid that was spiked with rum.
“We … uuhhh … go out three or four times a week,” Troy offered after getting his windpipe cleared.
Spike nodded. “Not what I asked.”
“She really likes to dance. We go to the Bronze a lot,” Troy tried.
Spike nodded again. “Still not what I asked. Are you certain you get As and Bs at university? You don’t seem to understand the Queen’s English. Seems simple enough t’ me.”
“Daaad! What are you doing?” Bess demanded as she walked purposefully up to the two men. Maybe she should’ve sent Billy to find Angelpie, just in case.
Troy looked up at her, his sparkling, aquamarine eyes pleading for some form of rescue. He hadn’t expected the Spanish Inquisition tonight.
“Nothing, pet. Just having a little conversation,” Spike answered congenially.
“Yeah, I can tell – that’s why my boyfriend’s eyes are bulging out, his heart’s racing, and he looks like he’s about to faint,” Bess retorted.
“Boyfriend now, is it? A minute ago he was your date,” Spike pointed out.
“Yeah, well … he’s my boyfriend who is also my date,” Bess asserted. “Just what was the question that he can’t answer?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard it from across the room.
“Just curious how much o’ you he’s seen,” Spike repeated, finally looking up at her.
“Oh. Well that’s easy. He’s seen all of me – well the outsides, anyway. That strong back and all those hard muscles just make me want to drop my clothes and have sex with him every time we’re together. In fact, I thought I’d take him up to my room when you’re done with your ‘conversation’ and have my wicked way with him. Anything else you want to know?” Bess wondered. She folded her arms across her chest belligerently, tilted her head to the side and gave Spike an innocent smile.
Troy thought he might actually pass out as he looked between the two blondes who were staring each other down. He wasn’t sure if her father was gonna kill him or her or both of them.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity to the dark-haired young man, Spike shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. “Well, glad the git’s keepin’ ya happy, then.”
Spike looked back at the wrestler, who was quite a lot larger than the vamp, but at the moment seemed like a small bug waiting to be crushed. Spike stood up and clamped a hand down on Troy’s upper arm, gripping tightly around the young man’s bulging deltoid muscle. Spike began to squeeze until he was sure Troy had no doubt that he was serious, then he leaned down near his ear. “Don’t hurt her. She’s a special girl, deserves your honesty, your respect. Deserves t’ be treated like a lady. Ain’t something to be used and tossed away without a thought, ya got me?”
Troy nodded his agreement, squirming under Spike’s grip. “Yes… yes, sir.”
“Right, then. Have another drink ‘fore you go upstairs, you’ll do better. Ya look a bit parched t’ me,” Spike advised as he straightened. He loosened his grip and then patted his hand down on the young man’s shoulder again like they were old friends. The vamp picked up his red Solo cup, which Troy had emptied, and strolled away from the pair, back towards the bar for a tropical drink refill.
“Holy shit…” Troy swore, looking up at Bess as he rubbed his arm, which he was sure would be black and blue by morning. “Your old man’s scary!”
“Don’t worry,” Bess assured him. “He acts all Big Bad, but really, he’s a pussy cat.”
Troy looked at Spike’s retreating back and swallowed hard. “Yeah, right. In a man-eating lion sorta way.”
Bess laughed lightly and looked back at Spike. Her father had picked up the baby and was lifting her high in the air and flying her around above his head as she squealed in delight. Billy was pulling on the hem of his shirt, wanting to tell him something and Dani was begging him to fly her around too. Annie and Buffy walked up to him and started talking about the chocolate volcano cake that Anya had made in homage to the Harris’ trip to Hawai’i.
Buffy’s eyes met Bess’ across the room and she held a piece of the cake up, pointing at it with her fork. “Scrummy!” she called to Bess, widening her eyes and smiling enthusiastically.
Bess nodded her understanding and Buffy turned her attention back to Spike and the other kids as she took another bite of chocolaty volcano goodness.
Bess’ eyes got a bit misty and she shook her head as she watched her family laughing and talking and making new, joyful memories. It was just like Wanda promised her it would be. Like a maple tree drops its brittle leaves in the fall and grows fresh ones in the spring, Bess felt another frighteningly dark and painful memory lose its hold on her heart to make way for this bright, loving one to take its place.
“No … he’s really not,” she assured Troy. “He’s my dad. He just worries about me – he loves me. He loves us all a lot.”
**~**
{{Click here to hear Red Solo Cup by Toby Keith on YouTube }}
Now, red Solo cup is the best receptacle
For barbecues, tailgates, fairs, and festivals
And you, sir, do not have a pair of testicles
If you prefer drinkin' from glass
Hey, red Solo cup is cheap and disposable
in fourteen years, they are decomposable
And unlike my home, they are not foreclosable
Freddy Mac, can kiss my ass
Whoo!
Red Solo cup
I fill you up
Let's have a party
Let's have a party
I love you, red Solo cup
I lift you up
Proceed to party
Proceed to party
Now, I really love how you're easy to stack
But I really hate how you're easy to crack
'Cause when beer runs down in front of my pack
Well, that, my friends, is quite yucky
But I have to admit that the ladies get smitten
Admirin' at how sharply my first name is written
On you with a Sharpie when I get to hittin'
On them to help me get lucky
Red Solo cup
I fill you up
Let's have a party
Let's have a party
I love you, red Solo cup
I lift you up
Proceed to party
Proceed to party
Now, I've seen you in blue and I've seen you in yellow
But only you, red, will do for this fellow
'Cause you are the Abbot to my Costello
And you are the Fruit to my Loom
Red Solo cup, you're more than just plastic
You're more than amazing, you're more than fantastic
And believe me that I am not the least bit sarcastic
When I look at you and say
Red Solo cup, you're not just a cup
(No! No! No! God, no! )
You're my … you're my friend … friend
(Lifelong)
Thank you for being my friend
Red Solo cup
I fill you up
Let's have a party
Let's have a party
I love you, red Solo cup
I lift you up
Proceed to party
Proceed to party