Chapter 14

Spike looked at himself in the mirror. This was not unusual practice for Spike, who took his role as "Handsome Rebel" very seriously. What was unusual was that Spike was wearing a burgundy-coloured velvet tunic, tights and a floppy hat.

"It's gonna be hard making this look good," he said to himself. "But, hey! We love a challenge!"

He struck various poses before experimenting with the look by adding his signature sunglasses, leather jacket and American flag trainers.

"Now you just look weird," he told his reflection. He tossed the jacket back on the bed and kicked off the trainers. Reassessing his reflection, he removed the sunglasses as well and looked thoughtfully at his stockinged feet.

"Now I know what girls mean when they talk about matching shoes!" he said. "I don't have anything that goes with velvet!"

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Should I try for some facial hair? Or is Romeo a clean-shaven kind of guy?" He peered closely into the mirror. "No. Why try and cover up perfection!"

There was a tap at the closed door of his bedroom.

"Dad, I'm going to open the door but I don't want you to be alarmed, okay?" Spike called. "I'm still your son and I still like football, cars and girls!" He leapt over the bed and opened the door with a flourish.

"Anyone I know?" asked Lynda, dryly.

"You know, I really gotta get Dad to start announcing my visitors," said Spike. "One day, you're going to catch me in a really awkward situation!" He bounced onto his bed, silently congratulating himself for having rounded up all stray underwear that morning. "So what can I do for you, Lynda? Back for another round of Trivial Pursuit? Or perhaps you've come to pick unpopped kernels out of my hair?"

"Actually, I came to apologise," replied Lynda.

Spike did an exaggerated double-take. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you properly." He sat up, removed his floppy hat and cupped a hand over his ear. "Please say it again, speaking loudly and clearly, so the recording mike can pick it up."

"You heard, Spike," said Lynda, taking a seat at his desk. "I'm sorry about the popcorn box."

"Hey, I like salt in my hair," replied Spike. "It gives it a really good texture, makes it easier to style. And I like those little unpopped kernels too. Chewy. What is it about those things that make you eat them, even though you know they're going to get stuck in your teeth?"

Lynda pressed on, undaunted. "And I'm sorry I didn't say thank you for taking me to the movie."

"I'm not sure about that," replied Spike. "It was a bit hard to hear with the box on my head, but I definitely heard two words and the second one was definitely 'you'!" Lynda laughed in spite of herself.

"I really liked the movie, Spike. It was a great idea to go and see it," she said.

"You know, there are other movies . . ." began Spike.

"Don't push it, Thomson," replied Lynda immediately. Spike grinned and shrugged as if to say, "Can't blame a guy for trying!"

"So, nervous about opening night?" Spike asked.

"Hic!" replied Lynda, involuntarily.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Spike. "Lynda, don't worry. You'll be fine. I don't know why you haven't got involved before. You're a terrific actress. Really."

"You're not too bad yourself," said Lynda, grudgingly.

There was an awkward silence and both looked uneasily around the room for something to steer the conversation onto easier ground.

"Well, I had better go," Lynda said, eventually. "Your Dad will start thinking something funny is going on between us if I keep showing up at night around here!" she said.

"You could always come in by the window," suggested Spike.

"You don't have a window!" replied Lynda.

"Would you let that stop you?" teased Spike. Lynda rolled her eyes.

"One more thing, Spike," she said.

"What?"

"Nice tights!" With that, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

"At least mine match my top," murmured Spike wickedly to himself.