Chapter 15: The Devil's In The Details
Author's Notes: I am utilizing the characters which already exist in the Buffyverse to as great a degree as I can. I am trying to keep those characters as close to their original characterization and relationships as I can, but I am somewhat limited by the story I am trying to tell. I have to fit them in there and this means that sometimes a character is used in a position for one purpose but must take on other characteristics that are not part of the Buffyverse or may not be as pleasant as one would like them to be, but the story requires that particular attitude or behavior be seen in the same character. No negative stereotyping is intended within this story. Each character is his/her own person, for good or bad, as the story requires it. I am completely opposed to character bashing in fanfiction, and to stereotyping in general. And this is not in reference to Spike, who is a complex combination of bad and good all on his own, so please don't panic anybody. I love Spike too. :-)
One Week Later
It was eight o'clock on a Thursday morning in May, and Buffy sat in her kitchen feeding Katie her cereal and pears. As usual, more of the food wound up on the high chair, on the floor, and on Katie than actually made it inside of her daughter. She couldn't believe she thought this, but she actually liked
changing her little girl more than
feeding her. Changing was so much more predictable. And nothing beat the belly raspberries that she blew on her tummy and the baby giggles that followed at the end of the process. Feeding, however, was all about waiting for the baby to look her way and cooperate by opening her mouth, and then cleaning up an ever expanding mess afterwards. Nope,
no contest. *I'm probably going to wind up with very clean skinny children.*
She was just about to wipe up all the mess, when she was startled by Fred rushing excitedly into the apartment waving the morning edition of the local newspaper in front of her.
"You have to read this!" Fred shoved the paper before Buffy's face and pointed to an editorial above the fold on page three.
"A Serial Killer in our Midst?
Authorities Hiding the Truth!
Since March 25th, five young women have
been brutally raped, tortured, and mutilated,
their bodies left near the side of the roads
on the hillsides along the Central Coast
between Sunnydale and Santa Cruz.
The similarities between the five homicides
clearly indicate that a serial killer is walking
among us. All five women were sexually
mutilated in the same sadistic manner...." Buffy quickly read the newspaper article that Fred had placed before her this morning. Apparently the authorities had been downplaying the five murders in order to avoid alarming the residents, the college students, their parents, and the tourists that were expected to boost the local economy during the summer months. The local press felt the authorities were stonewalling the investigation and the media, and were taking them to task for it.
"Oh, God," Buffy's heart sank as she wiped some pureed pears off the paper and passed it back to Fred. Could it be...? "Do you think it's..." She really didn't want to finish that sentence.
"Zack?" Fred said reluctantly. "Could be. He is very...strange...and he has been watching you pretty much all the time since that day in the laundry room..." she trailed off.
Buffy had told Fred about her encounter with Zack that rainy day in January, and both girls had kept a close eye on him ever since. But not in their wildest dreams did they think he might be considered dangerous to this level and degree. A serial rapist-killer...that was a whole new worry to consider.
"What should we do?" Buffy asked unhappily. She didn't want to call attention to herself with the authorities, and they had no proof that the landlord's odd son had done anything wrong, but still...what if it
were Zack that committed these crimes? How could she live with herself knowing she suspected and said nothing?
"Well, I think we should tip the police that he's here and acting strangely. Let them decide whether there's anything there or not." Fred put forward. "We have to let them know so they can stop him, if it is him."
Nodding, Buffy turned away and started cleaning up Katie and the tray. She had never fessed up to Fred about her real age and reasons for being in Sunnydale. How could she explain her reluctance to get involved with the authorities? For all she knew, there was a missing persons bulletin out there on her and Katie, perhaps even a warrant for her arrest for taking Katie the way she did. She really had no idea what her parents might have done when they found them gone. She remembered all too clearly the threats her mother had made at the time, however.
Fred noticed that Buffy was reluctant to get involved, even though Zack clearly frightened her. She watched her clean up after Katie's breakfast and then sat down with her for a cup of morning tea. She needed to let Buffy know she knew something was wrong there, had for awhile now.
"Sweetie, I know you're carryin' a secret you don't want anyone to know," she started carefully.
Buffy tensed immediately and began to deny anything of the sort but Fred put her hand on her arm and stopped her before she got started.
"It's okay. Whatever it is, I'm not going to tell anyone, your secret is safe with me." Fred smiled reassuringly and hoped Buffy wouldn't become defensive and refuse to admit the truth.
Buffy had thought that hearing those words out of Fred's mouth would be terrifying and was astonished that the feeling they evoked was closer to relief. After holding her breath for about five seconds, she suddenly burst into tears. Fred enveloped her in her arms immediately, and rocked her until she could get control again.
"Shhh...there....it's all right....it's gonna be alright...." Fred cooed softly into Buffy's hair as she held the weeping girl. "No one's gotta know anything you don't want 'em to....your secret is safe with me....it's gonna be alright..." Over and over Fred soothed the poor girl, stroking her hair softly until Buffy could regain her composure again.
"I'm so sorry...so sorry....I...I...I lied to you...." Buffy shook her head back and forth while pleading with Fred to understand. "I'm so sorry..."
"It's okay, sweetie, I kinda suspected you weren't completely truthful when we first met. It's not my business if you don't wanna tell me what's got you so worried." Fred brushed some hair behind Buffy's ear and handed her some tissue to wipe her eyes. "You don't have to tell me, it's okay, sweetie."
But that's exactly what Buffy did that morning; she told Fred everything - leaving out the rape, as she just was not willing to trust anyone else with that yet. Fred just smiled patiently and gave no indication she was startled or concerned about the things Buffy told her that morning. She was surprised by how really young Buffy actually was, but a lot of time had passed since that first meeting, and Fred believed that the girl before her had earned the right to her life and her independence in the months she'd known her. Buffy was a resourceful, caring mother and Fred thought that if she felt she needed to run away and live with Faith in order to keep her daughter with her, that she would support her in that effort and keep her secret safe for her. And that's exactly what she told her, prompting Buffy to launch herself into Fred's arms for a fierce hug and grateful babbling thanks.
Fred loved this girl, she really did.
Meanwhile, there was Zack to deal with. They decided that Fred would make the tip, anonymously, and let the police deal with Zack without Buffy's involvement in any way. And if the police cleared him, then they'd both sleep better knowing they'd done what they could and that Zack was not the killer that was being sought.
At the police tip line - set up after the third murder victim had been found - the officer took down the information regarding the suspicious tenant that the anonymous caller reported to him. When he hung up the phone, he placed the information on the stack of other tips and leads that came through the line, an ever growing pile of information which had grown even taller once the newspaper editorial hit the stands the previous day. Everyone in the area had a weird relative or knew someone that acted hinky, and was only too happy to make sure the police checked them out.
At this rate, the young officer thought glumly, it'd be 2009 before they were able to track down all these leads. The phone rang again, and he started a new report.
"Yes, sir....your father-in-law, you don't say...
what exactly did he do last Tuesday?.... I see... yes, sir.... yes, sir.... a chicken.... yes, sir, I got that.... you don't say.... yes, sir, that
is strange.... yes, sir...."
It was gonna be a long day.
**********
Lorne Krevlornswath was usually a happy man.
He was tall, athletic, blessed with a wonderful sense of style if he did say so himself, had a fantastic singing voice, a priceless sense of humor, and the ability to size people up within moments of meeting them. He was a good-natured man, and loved people in general. And he thought he lived a good life.
He was known to his co-workers and patrons as 'The Host', and his job was to act as emcee, DJ, and general manager of the girls who danced at
The Paradise Club in San Martine, California.
San Martine was a small town situated a good thirty minute drive north and inland from the beach community of Sunnydale. It didn't have a lot going for it in terms of business or tax base, so the town government found they could not resist one area of municipal wealth that they could cash in on to keep the coffers filled. And that area was adult entertainment. While most cities and counties in the state had enacted new laws which strictly limited the boundaries of the adult entertainment industry, San Martine had taken advantage of the rather large customer base that was forced to seek their entertainment in less restrictive environments. San Martine had no intention of enacting any new ordinances regarding it's adult clubs, and therefore had a powerful draw to the owners of such businesses and their all-too-willing customers. A strip club in San Martine was an old-fashioned strip joint in every sense of the word, and no fussy town council was chomping at the bit to limit their lawful activities now that such laws had become popular in other communities. The town council of San Martine saw dollars in the bank, and were not particular as to how that money came into the city. There were more strip clubs and adult theaters in the town than churches or schools. And Mayor Wilkins liked it that way.
Lorne was a free-spirited man whose motto in life had always been live and let live. He saw his work in the club as protecting civil liberties for society as a whole, while making a good living for himself and his employers. At the same time he also saw himself as protector of the girls themselves, shielding them as much as he could from predatory customers who tried to get too up close and personal with their favorite dancers. He was big brother and father confessor all rolled into one, and the girls who were not too cynical to care any longer truly liked and some might say even loved him.
But it was his empathy for the trials and tribulations of his fellow man that sometimes made it difficult for him to truly enjoy his profession. Some of the girls who came to dance in clubs such as this came from hard lives and with little hope of a better future. He knew that there were a substantial number of women who danced who did not come to the profession out of hopelessness, drug addiction, or emotional damage, for whom dancing was a conscious and free decision made with a healthy sense of self-esteem, but too many he saw pass through these clubs in San Martine tended to be of the damaged variety, and he sometimes almost literally felt their pain. He was feeling some of that pain right now.
The main bartender and general manager, Robin, had mentioned that his girlfriend was interested in becoming a dancer in the club. Lorne spoke often to Robin, in fact they were friends, and knew that although he could be a hard ass he did truly seem to care deeply about this girl - Faith, her name was - and did not believe he was actually exploiting her situation to further his own ends. But he also could tell immediately that Faith was not exactly thrilled with the career choice she was committing to at this very moment. It was not his place to interfere, however, and so he gave her the tour and the rules just as he would any new dancer they were hiring on at
The Paradise Club.
"Okay, honey, pay attention and I'll give you the ten-dollar tour," he smiled and waved a hand around the club. "In the front here is the 'floor', and that's where the bar, the tables, and the stage are. When you're not dancing a set you should be working the floor for private dances, that's where the money is." He continued on, "To the front left of the floor, back here, is the private booth area, and this is where the private dances are done."
They entered the area, and as Faith looked around curiously, Lorne described how the private dances worked.
"Never go into the private dance area with a customer until the song that was on before completely ends or you'll have it charged to you as a full dance," he cautioned. They went behind the curtain of a 'booth', a little room with a vinyl sofa and a little carpeted wooden box, about two feet square. "The private dances are sixty dollars each, and get paid up front. If a customer leaves without paying you, you'll still owe the club it's cut." Lorne pointed out the carpeted box to Faith. "Before you can start your dance you have to step up on this box and start from there. By law we're a theater, and nude dances must start from a stage." He pointed to the box. "This is your stage."
Faith took in the little carpeted stool-stage, and would have laughed if she wasn't so depressed and scared by the entire prospect of actually 'performing' for a living there. Her stage. *Holy Mother of --*
Lorne went on to tell her what a customer could and could not touch or do during a dance, and what the dancer could and could not do also. "Remember your rotation, get through your private dances but also listen for your rotation because you must perform your set when it's your turn. No exceptions. But do try to get the customer to sit through more than a couple of dances. Remember, that's--"
"--where the money is. Gotcha."
Lorne stopped and considered the girl before him. She was such a mixture of innocent lamb and worldly-wise street kid that he found himself completely charmed by her. *That's what Robin sees in her....that and she's a knockout.*
"When you finish the private dance, leave the booth right away so some other dancer can use it. Then get dressed to the side here before you go out onto the floor. You can't go onto the floor nude." She nodded, and he went on, "You can settle up your private dances as you go or at the end of the night, but babycakes it will make the end of the night go a lot smoother if you settle as you go." He gave her a wide smile. "No one leaves until everyone has settled up and I escort you to the parking lot, so the faster that goes the sooner we all can go home and soak our doggies."
Faith looked at him blankly.
"Feet."
Faith nodded, "Oh, right...feet...and settle up as I go."
Lorne nodded, and watched her look around the tacky booth a moment, then started up the tour again, "On to the dressing room..."
Faith began dancing that night, hesitantly at first, and then with more confidence as the night wore on. Robin had given her some tips on how to sell a performance also, and she decided that if the law said this was theater, then she was going to be a damn fine actress. She decided that she wasn't really a stripper - she just played one. It made it easier to get into the spirit of the thing. One thing Robin mentioned to her also helped - think of the set as an ad for the private dances she would try to sell between sets.
Because that's where the money was.
********
This was intended to be part of a larger chapter, but I decided to get it out there on it's own before I moved on. Hope you like, and will read and review. And I NEVER do this, because I don't believe in telescoping my plots, but just so no one panics out there, let me reassure you that Spike is not the killer in spite of his bitter new attitude, and yes he is going to be more a part of this story soon so please stick around. And don't expect me to tell you anything in advance like that again, except in very rare instances. I'm evil that way. :-)
Also, some of the tour of the club Lorne gives Faith was completely based upon an article I read recently regarding the first night as a stripper of a girl in Orange County, California. The article is a first-person narrative called Private Dancer, by Elan. I didn't use much of it for the story, but it was a fascinating article and the details were irresistable, especially since my knowledge of the actual workings of such a club is zero.
Sara