SquidgeWorld Archive

Lorne leaned on the bar and studied Spike with friendly curiosity. "So, Short, Blond, and Badass, what brings you to our fair burg?"

Spike took a sip of his Vampire's Kiss, shrugging. "It's as good a place as any."

"No place to go, huh?"

Now Spike scowled. "Stop readin' my bloody mind."

"Sweetie, you didn't even hum, so that wasn't an option. No." He spread his hands, indicating the busy club. "But hey--I own a bar. What don't I know about life--at least second hand?"

"Yeah, all right. Here's one you've heard before--runnin' from a bad relationship."

Lorne nodded. "One of the classics."

"We almost killed each other."

"Like I said."

"Numerous times."

Lorne patted his shoulder. "Don't feel like the Lone Ranger. Your situation is far from unique, and..."

"It was the Slayer."

Lorne blinked at him. "Let me get this straight--you ARE a vampire?" Spike pointed to behind the bar, and Lorne glanced back. The wall was mirrored. He couldn't resist preening a touch at his own reflection, but he noticed the significant fact--the stool next to him seemed to be empty. "Okay, you're a vampire. And you were having snugglies with The Slayer?"

"Not exactly snugglies. More like animalistic rutting."

"Well, that WOULD be more appropriate. I can see why you felt like you had to get the hell out of Dodge. I mean, that could give a whole new meaning to the term 'vindictive girlfriend'. So you came out here to hang with Angel while you got your unlife in order."

"I s'pose that was the idea. Didn't work out, though." He grimaced. "I wasn't expectin' 'welcome home, old son. Here's your kip, blood's in the fridge'. Bastard wouldn't even let me in to use the loo."

"Let's face it--you two DO have a history that might make him question your motives. Take that whole hot poker thing."

"It'd be just like him to hold that against me. Anyways, he told me to kiss off, and I'm holed up at a place called the Dungaree Pitch." He snorted. "Half the letters in the neon sign were burned out. I smashed a couple more so the sign now reads Dung Pit. It's appropriate."

"I know the place, and you're right. They should be brought up on charges for actually charging for those holes. It's risky for you to stay there, hon. Doors get kicked in on a regular basis, and if that doesn't happen there's a good chance the walls might just crumble and let you get the Suntan of Death."

"I know it, but I haven't managed to locate anythin' better. Even the rotten real estate is occupied around here."

"You need a place to stay. Tell you what--I've got a room in the back. I keep it because there's times when someone is too drunk to even be sent home in a cab. It's small, but it's tight. No windows, one door that can be locked and barred from the inside, because sometimes the patron in question shares your dietary habits. It's got a cot and a dresser. You're welcome to stay there till you get on your tootsies."

Spike eyed him suspiciously. "What's the trade off? Don't tell me you're not expectin' some sort of return."

Lorne spread his hands. "I'm a businessman, but I'm a philanthropic businessman."

"I'm broke, you know that, right? An' no prospects on the horizon, unless I rob one of your customers."

Lorne shook a finger at him. "Naughty, naughty. Mustn't molest the customers, unless they ask VERY nicely. I can't have my employees rolling my customers."

Spike lifted one eyebrow. "Employee?"

"Had any experience tending bar?"

"Lots, if you count pourin' myself drinks. Some, if you mean actually bein' behind a bar."

"Tell you what--you don't have anything pressing on for tonight, do you?"

"Shockingly enough, my calendar is free."

"Why don't you just step behind the bar, and we'll see how good you are."

Spike got up and sauntered around behind the bar, saying, "To see how good I am, you'd have to come back here, too."

Lorne fanned himself. "You're going to be very popular if this works out. I'm going to ask for a few different drinks, and we'll see how you do."

"Gimme a minute to get my bearings." Spike paced back and forth, studying the bottles, garnishes, and set ups. Lorne noted with approval that Spike stayed out of the way of Max, the regular bartender. Finally he stopped in front of Lorne, resting his palms on the bar top. "Right. First libation?"

"Let's start easy. Give me a Slow Comfortable Screw."

"Couldn't resist that, could you?" Lorne smiled at him. Spike smirked in return and quickly mixed sloe gin, Southern Comfort peach liqueur, and orange juice. He pushed it toward Lorne. Lorne took a cocktail straw from a glass on the bar and dipped it into the drink. "Might have known you'd use a straw."

"This is for practical reasons. I want to keep it sanitary." He took a sip. "Mm. My, that's refreshing."

"Is that all you're going to have of it? If you don't finish it, it'll be a waste of perfectly good alcohol."

"Oh, it won't go to waste. I'm going to use it as public relations. Hi, there!" His bright tone was addressed to a woman who was walking past. "Congratulations! You've won Caritas' Hottest Strawberry Blonde Contest. Here's your prize." He handed her the drink. She giggled, and walked off, sipping it. "That one's a success. Let's try something more obscure. You know what a Sex on the Beach is?"

"Course I do." Spike was reaching for the bottles. "I live in California, don't I?"

"Make it a SAFE Sex on the Beach."

"You're bloody joking."

"You know what it is?"

"Yeah, but this is a BAR. What's the point of a non-alcoholic drink?"

"Some people come here to sing and socialize rather than get sozzled. Drink, please."

Spike mixed cranberry juice, grapefruit juice, and peach nectar, then plopped a cherry in it, muttering, "It's like askin' Michelangelo to draw you a birthday card."

"Self esteem is healthy." Lorne picked up the drink, sampled it, then tapped a passing man on the shoulder. "Hi! You've just won Caritas Drop Dead Sexy Contest." He handed over the drink. "Enjoy." Lorne turned back to Spike. "One more, and I'll drink this one. Set me up with an Ocean Breeze."

"I thought you were going to give me somethin' challenging," said Spike as he mixed vodka, grapefruit juice, and cranberry juice. He garnished it with a lime wedge, then stood back, arms folded. Lorne looked from the glass, to Spike, then back again. "Well?"

"It's a lovely example of a Sea Breeze, but that's not what I asked for."

"What? It bloody well is."

"No, I asked for an OCEAN Breeze--similar, but not the same. An Ocean Breeze consists of
coconut rum, raspberry vodka, pineapple juice, and cranberry juice."

"I never heard of it."

"Well, 'ocean' doesn't get the publicity that 'sea' does. There's a wonderful astringent out there called Seabreeze--great for tightening the pores, and very refreshing, but there's no reason why it couldn't have been called Oceanbreeze except sheer vocabulary prejudice. You never hear about ocean foam, oceanfood, or oceanweed. Now..."

"I get it, I get it. The proportions are pretty much the same as your standard drink, yeah? Isn't meant to kick your ass in one gulp?"

"Just standard issue."

"Hang on." Spike mixed quickly, then offered the drink to Lorne.

"You forgot the cherry."

"Wanker." Spike dropped two cherries in the glass.

"The man knows when to kiss up. I LIKE that." He took a sip, then kissed his fingertips. "Fabulous. You're hired. Room and a regular supply of blood."

This was better than he'd hoped for, but Spike felt obliged to remain belligerent. "No salary involved?"

"I didn't say that, but don't expect to be able to retire any time soon. On the plus side I DO offer a dental plan, and you being a vampire, that might come in handy. Plus you'll get tips. Unlike some lest ethical bosses, I don't demand a cut of those, and if you're the charming scamp I know you can be you should be able to rake down a pretty piece of change. So," Lorne offered his hand, "do we have a deal."

Spike took his hand. Instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and gave it a kiss--with a tiny nibble thrown in. "Deal. Now, 'scuse me. I have work to do." He walked toward the end of the bar. "Oy, Max. Reinforcement has arrived. Just call me the soddin' cavalry."

Lorne sat back, watching as Spike swung into the routine of serving drinks with casual grace, and murmured, "I do believe that life just got more interesting."