It’s not like I’m even asking you to pay the taxes or asking for the Social Security payments back. Well, unless we can find a way to work that out. But I’m willing to pay you back for what ever taxes they, um, tax you with”
“I’m totally bliss free, Spike. You’ve managed to suck the bliss out of an unexpected check.”
“It wasn’t unexpected. *I * was expecting it. That’s why I’m here.” Spike’s voice was slow and calm, as if talking to an imbecile. Or to a bliss-free Xander.
Xander slapped the envelope against his thigh while glaring at Spike. He looked down and quickly ripped it open. He gulped. “Fuck. How long have you been doing this?”
Spike reached for his check, but Xander quickly stood and held the check over his head, waving it. “Don’t be naughty, Mr. Harris.” He smirked at Spike. “Legally, morally and any other ‘ly’ I want to use, this is *my * check. It even says so.” He tilted his head to read the check. “Pay to the order of Alexander Harris. Yep, that’s me.”
“A month.”
“Jesus! You got three *thousand * dollars for a month’s work being a phone hooker?”
Spike grinned. They told him he’d be lucky to clear nine hundred dollars working eight hours a night. He’d worked six at the most. His bonuses had really paid off. What could he say? They loved him.
Spike grinned. “I’m a very *talented* phone hooker, it would seem.”
“Yeah. So it would.”
Spike glared at Xander, not at all comfortable with the evil glint in Xander’s eyes, pretty as it might be. “Give me the check, boy.”
“Sure.” Xander sat back down and held out the check, letting Spike snatch it from him. “There ya go. All yours.” His eyes grew comically wide. “Say, Spike. What say I *cash* that for ya? Me being *me* and all, I could do that! And you being. . .what? No one? Certainly not the great gainfully employed and fully tagged and licensed, Alexander Harris. You, not being me, might run into some problems cashing it.”
Spike sat down in the chair facing Xander. “Don’t think I’ll have much trouble cashing it.” He held out his hand. “And don’t think I’m gonna try and fuck you with the taxes. As I’ve said, I’ll pay ‘em. Just as long as we can keep this little arraignment going. No trouble for you at all, plus you’ll have a little something extra for when yer foot’s in the grave.” Spike had it all worked out by now. Hadn't figured out that being Xander's minor next of kin, yet, but all he needed was time and he had plenty of that.
Xander crossed his legs, one work-boot clad foot coming to rest on his knee. He began to drum his fingers across his ankle. “Yeah, sure. Money for my retirement; that whole after, what is it now, 70? And that’d be nice if I had a hope of living that long.” Xander smirked. “But I’m all about the now, Spike. Just who were you gonna get to cash that?”
Spike remained silent.
“Willy? Yeah, I can see that. And he’d want, what? Half?”
Spike glared but said nothing. Yeah. The git wanted half.
“Me? I’ll do it for a quarter.”
Spike perked up. “Promise?”
Xander laughed. “Promise? You’re asking me for a *promise*, Spike?”
Spike huffed, leaning forward. “This isn’t about lives, Xander, not yours nor your friends, those things don’t get promises.” He waved his hand in the air at the very foolishness of the idea. “This is about *money *. A whole different game. A game we need to play, unfortunately.” Spike looked down at his boots. Worn. Ran a hand over his thigh. Jeans looking thin; thread bare, almost. He couldn’t just scope out a suitably dressed human, his size and build, and take what he wanted any longer. Of course he still could, and did, nick most of what he wanted. Let’s face it, those little tags on clothes were a joke. But it was hard to get by the folks in the shoe store. Bastards didn’t have *both* pairs on display. And, Spike would bet blood, it’d be easier getting into Fort Knox than getting to a carton of smokes these days. He needed money. They both did. He looked up at Xander with a smirk. “Right then. A quarter of my earnings.”
Xander smiled.
“*And* the use of your place, here. And you’ll need to get another phone line. I wouldn’t want you answering line 666 and getting a shock you couldn’t handle.”
“No way, Spike! Forget about it. If you think-“
“Five hundred dollars a month, easy. It’s sure to be more, once I have a place I’m all comfy-like in. I turned down lots o' calls at Willy’s, you understand. I played bouncer too. Very busy with that, I was. Just think of all the lovely money, Xander, once I have a nice quiet place to, uh, work.”
Xander didn’t say anything but rose and went to the kitchen. When he came back, he held two bottles of beer and offered one to Spike. He held out his hand to Spike. Spike took the beer and then the hand and shook it. “We have a deal, then?”
Xander took a pull on the beer and then tightened his grip on Spike’s hand, shaking it. “Yeah. We do.”
“Peachy. I’ll get me things.” Spike took a swallow. “Got a key for me, pet?”
Xander said nothing but went into the kitchen and retrieved a spare key, which he handed over with a grimace. “Buy some ashtrays, Spike. The smoke-free kind. No parties. No minors. Oh, and no killing me or mine.”
“Not even one little minor? What if they *look* eighteen?”
“Smoke free, Spike. The kind with the neato fan that sucks in all the harmful toxins.”
“As you say, pet.” Spike headed for the door. “Don’t wait up for me, luv. Be back soonest.”
“Spike!” Xander called as Spike was headed out the door.
Spike looked back with a raised brow.
“Line 666?”
Spike grinned. “Cute, that, yeah?” He went out the door and closed it with a slam.
Xander went to the door and locked two of the three deadbolts. Then leaned against it and sucked down the rest of his beer. He was very afraid. Just what the hell had he done to his newly found happy Xanderland?
tbc....
