The women had all been wealthy and beautiful. Hank "The Ladykiller" Summers, also known by many other last names including Bailey, Rogers, Stevens, Worthington and Lyle, usually met them on cruises or at resorts world-wide. He'd spend the week flirting and spending large amounts of money on these unsuspecting, lonely women. And then he'd end up accompanying them home where he would slowly divest them of their bank accounts over the course of several months or several years.
Joyce Sutherland had fallen victim to Hank's charms while in college. She came from old money and Hank had sniffed her out immediately. He spent ridiculous amounts of his own money to win her trust and her love. And then he spent 16 years stealing away her inheritance all the while going away on frequent and long 'business trips' where he'd swindle other unsuspecting women. By the time Joyce had figured out what he was doing, it was too late. Their finances never added up. He was always investing in this or that. And she never questioned him even though they seemed to be living on a rather tight budget for people who were supposedly so well-to-do. She loved Hank and it ultimately came back to bite her on the ass. Love's bitch. That's what Joyce had been and Buffy swore never to be that.
Joyce was flipping through channels late one night and saw her husband's face on CNN. The Ladykiller, they had called him. Hank Summers, age 46, of Sunnydale, CA had been conning women for nearly 30 years. They showed pictures of him with his 'victims,' some of whom had actually married him not knowing that he was already married to someone else. Joyce's eyes were riveted to the TV screen, disbelieving what the reporters were saying until they showed a picture of Hank with her and the children. He is legally married to this woman and has two daughters ages 15 and and 10. She didn't even hear Buffy pad down the stairs and across the living room. She didn't see her teenaged daughter's jaw drop at the sight of her father on the television screen.
"Mommy?" Buffy whispered. "Why is Daddy on TV?"
Joyce was jolted from her own thoughts. Her eyes raised to meet her daughter's watery gaze. She didn't know what to say. Buffy thought that Hank was the world. How do I tell my little girl that her Daddy is a con man, she thought, barely able to digest the information herself.
"Buffy, honey... I... I don't know," she tried to tell her, breaking into a strangled sob as her husband's tanned and handsome face flashed on the screen again.
"He is believed to be harmless, using charm and not violence to control his victims. A total of 34 women have already come forward to testify against Mr. Summers. He is in custody in Los Angeles."
Buffy moved to join her mother on the couch, wrapping her arms around her and stroking her hair.
"It's going to be okay, Mommy," she promised her mother. "Everything is going to be okay. I'll make everything okay."
Buffy Summers swore that she'd never be anyone's victim. She swore she'd never be love's bitch. It didn't stop her from desperately wanting love and romance in her life. She only lived out those fantasies in the stories she wrote. She was 16 when her English teacher, Ms. Calendar, suggested that she try to get some of her work published. Buffy saw it as an opportunity to get her family out of debt. She saw it as a chance to save the home she grew up in and to buy out the space her mother had been renting for her gallery. What Buffy never expected was the flood of creditors who were owed hundreds of thousands of dollars thanks to her father.
She started hustling pool before she had even received the advance on her first novel. Hank had never been home much, but when he was, he'd let his older daughter accompany him to Willy's where he taught her the finer points of billiards. She was a pro at 9-ball before she was even 12 years old. She could out-Snooker the old timers who had grandchildren twice her age. Her game of 8-ball was infallible.
Buffy walked into the Bronze and scoped out the three young men playing a friendly game of pool and knew that she could easily finagle her way into the fold. Hiked up skirt, pouty lips and Mr. Pointy, and she was able to flirt her way into their game. An hour later, she walked out of the Bronze a thousand dollars richer deciding that nobody would ever pull the wool over Buffy Summers' eyes the way her father had her mother.
Spike watched the two girls giggling as they returned from their little gossip trip to the ladies' room. He couldn't help but smile at his hand in Red's giddiness. The shy girl would never have gotten up the nerve to talk to Tara on her own. Now, thanks to his interference, they were going on their first date. Now he just had to figure out what to do about Buffy.
Willow took the seat at the end of the table, forcing Buffy to sit beside Spike. She looked up and caught the twinkle in his blue eyes and winked at him, letting him know that she was thanking him for helping her out with Tara.
"So, where's Giles tonight?" Buffy asked, trying to pull her skirt down a bit from where it was riding up her thigh.
Spike caught the gesture and raised an eyebrow at her. Her cheeks flushed pink when she caught him watching. He wondered if she was remembering their phone call.
"He said something about tweaking his lesson plan tonight," Spike offered.
He let his eyes rake over Buffy's body as his thoughts turned south. He leaned toward her and whispered something about tweaking that made her turn three shades of flustered while Willow distracted Xander and Angel.
"Perhaps you'll let me read your new chapters," Spike suggested to Buffy. "You know, proof it before you send it off. An extra pair of eyes is always helpful."
"I have spell-check, thank you," she said tightly.
"Spell-check is fine for technical errors, but it won't catch grammatical and context errors," he insisted. "Need human eyes for that."
"I've managed on my own this far, so I'll pass, but thank you just the same," she responded, her voice firm.
"I don't know why you'd want to read that crap anyhow, Spike," Angel said. "No offense, Buff, but your writing isn't something that attracts guys."
"None taken," she said brightly. "Your penis isn't exactly something that attracts girls, so I'll call us even."
Spike had to hold in a chuckle as his colleague turned red with anger. The little blonde was always getting under his skin. Probably had quite a few unresolved issues with the chit after getting his ass beat good and proper at pool.
"And on that note," Xander said pushing away his plate. "I should probably get going. Early morning at the MacGowan site across town. Angel?"
The two had drove over together, so Angel didn't have much of a choice but nod and follow his roommate out the door.
"Yeah, I'm feeling pretty knackered myself," Spike said with a stretch. "Red, you two need a ride home?"
"Um, I think I might wait for Tara at the bar," she smiled. "She gets off in thirty minutes. Buffy, do you want to wait with me?"
"Nah, I think I'll head home," she told her friend.
At least someone has romance in their lives that isn't imagined.
"How about you, Goldilocks? Need a ride?" Spike offered with a smirk.
Just say no, Buffy, she told herself.
"Uh, I...um..." She was stammering again.
"Imagine you walked since you and cars aren't... mixy?" he guessed, using her own words.
"Yeah... I walked," she told him.
"Right then," he grinned, standing and offering her his hand. "You won't be walking home. Too chilly. Besides, it's not safe."
Buffy was helpless as soon as his hand touched hers. She hoped Willow didn't notice as she swallowed down the lump in her throat.
"Oh goody," she beamed. "I feel better knowing you've got a ride home. Spike's right. It's not a good idea to be walking home this time of night."
She reached up to hug Buffy and then turned and did the same to a surprised Spike, kissing him on the cheek as well.
"And just in case nobody's ever told you this before," she grinned at Spike. "You so rock!"
"Thanks, Red," he grinned back. "Not so bad yourself."
