| If I Fell A (Belated) Birthday Story for Wwolfe By Kuzibah |
| Author�s Note: As per my earlier stories, Wwolfe (Bill) lives in the same apartment building of Cordelia. Sorry it�s not Anya, but I can�t make her cheat on Xander. Disclaimer: Cordelia, Angel, Gunn, Wesley, and other characters and situations specific to the TV series �Angel� are the property of Joss Whedon and his corporate overseers. Bill belongs to himself. Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* Cordelia yawned widely and snuggled into the warmth of her bed. It was a day off for her and she intended to wake in her own time without the intrusive noise of the clock radio. However, Dennis, her phantom roommate, had other ideas. Actually, she couldn�t really blame him, she thought in her still sleep-fuzzy brain. But he was trying so hard *not* to wake her up, she couldn�t help but be aware of him. She opened one eye and glanced at the red digital clock read-out. Ten-fifteen. Pretty good, she thought, and climbed out of bed, heading for the shower. Dennis must have realized what he�d done, she figured as she dressed a short time later. That is, if the scent of vanilla roast drifting in from the kitchen was any indication. Later, as she was stirring a handful of granola into her yogurt, there was a knock at her door. She answered it to find Bill, her neighbor from a few doors down. They had met about a year previous, when Bill had accidentally locked himself out of his apartment, and they now occasionally shared dinner or talked in the hallway or at the pool. Cordelia smiled, pleased to see him now. �Hey, Bill,� she said. �Hi, Cordy,� he said. �I stopped by� I mean I wanted�� He broke off and laughed nervously, a staccato �ha ha ha.� �Let me start again,� he said. �One of my favorite movies is playing at the Hollywood Toreador, uh, that�s a revival theatre�� �I know it,� Cordy assured him. �Oh, good,� Bill said. �Anyway, I thought you might like to join me tonight, say 6:30?� Cordy mentally reviewed her agenda for the day: completely, blissfully empty. �Okay,� she said. �What�s the movie, by the way?� Bill gave another nervous laugh �Oh, sorry. It�s �A Hard Day�s Night.�� �Ooo, I�ve never seen it,� Cordelia said. �I love it,� Bill said, relaxing against the doorway. �It�s just so positive and upbeat�� In the kitchen a coffee mug clattered against the side of the sink. �I�m sorry, where are my manners,� Cordelia said. �I have a fresh pot of coffee on. Would you like some?� - - - - - - - - - - When Cordelia entered her bedroom that evening to get ready for the movie she found a selection of her best dresses arranged on the bed, jewelry laid out on the top of the dresser, and her curling iron plugged in and warming up. Angrily she stalked over to the outlet and pulled out the cord. �Okay, Dennis, that�s enough,� she said, shaking the plug menacingly. �I know you like Bill, but stop playing matchmaker already. And don�t plug in my appliances without telling me!� In response, one of the dresser drawers slid open and a well-worn pair of overalls flopped onto the floor like a fresh-caught salmon. �Very funny,� Cordelia said, replacing the jeans and slamming the drawer. �It�s not that I don�t like him, too. I do. But I�m not interested in dating anybody right now. Bill is a friend, got it?� She picked up the party dresses and replaced them in the closet. The apartment was filled with heavy silence, and she sighed. �I�ll wear the earrings, then,� she said, moving to the dresser and picking up the gold stars Gunn had given her for Christmas. Slowly, a casual short-sleeved blouse floated out of the closet and draped over a chair. �Much better,� Cordelia said. - - - - - - - - - - It was pleasantly warm as Cordelia alighted from Bill�s Oldsmobile into the evening air across from the Toreador Theatre. Built in the 1940s, the original fa�ade was still well-preserved, the crenellations suggestive of old Spanish architecture. Bill had related the building�s history on the drive there, from its post-war glory days, it�s ignoble decline in the seventies and eighties, and its ultimate salvation in the mid-90s by a partnership between the UCLA film school alumni foundation and an association of Indian business owners. The combination of classic films, independent art-house pictures, and the latest from the studios in Bombay was just quirky enough to work. Cordelia perused the posters for the upcoming films (�Bridge on the River Kwai,� the new film from Wong Kar-Wai, called �In the Mood for Love,� and something in Hindi that, judging from the pictures, looked to be historical melodrama, or possibly a musical comedy) while Bill got a carton of popcorn. They entered the theatre and found their seats. �I�m anxious to hear the new digital re-mastering they�ve done for this release,� Bill whispered as the house lights lowered. - - - - - - - - - - Two hours later they spilled back onto the street, still laughing. �That was a great movie,� Cordy said. �Poor Ringo�� �I just love it,� Bill said. �Everything. The music, the clothes� He gestured down the street towards an open-air coffee bar. �Would you like to get some coffee?� he offered. �Love some,� Cordy said, following him. �You know what really struck me,� she continued. �How *young* some of those screaming girls were. I mean, because it was so long ago, you don�t think about the fans being just girls. Raspberry de-caf latte, please, no whip.� �Make it two,� Bill told the barrista, �only put whip on mine. �I know what you mean about the clothes, though,� Cordy went on. �They were so�� �Swinging,� Bill suggested. �Yes,� Cordy agreed. �I love retro clothes.� �Yeah,� Bill said. �You can�t get clothes like that these days.� �Sure you can,� Cordelia said. �I know this great vintage shop.� �Really? You�ll have to take me sometime.� �We could go tonight, if you want,� Cordy told him. �They�re open till midnight on weekends.� Bill signaled the barrista. �Could we have those to go?� - - - - - - - - - - The orange and yellow building that housed the shop �Group W Bench� was still brightly-lit, even at the late hour of ten-thirty. The song �Incense and Peppermints� played softly on the slightly tinny speakers that faced the street, and in the front window four mannequins with pink and blue beehive hairdos and magic-marker tattoos played a game of �Mystery Date� around an antique card table, surrounded by black-lite posters suspended on wire. Two teenagers, a typical SoCal blonde in fringed American-Indian garb and an odd-looking black-haired girl on cowboy-boot roller skates exited as Bill and Cordy entered. The shopkeeper, a petite woman with fuchsia hair and cat�s-eye glasses, looked up from where she sat before a bank of about thirty lava lamps. �Cordelia,� she exclaimed, her accent pure Brooklyn. �Good to see you again, hon.� �Hey Betty,� Cordy said. �Mind if we play back in the early sixties?� Knock yourself out, honey,� Betty said, and Cordelia led Bill down three steps into the clothing section of the store and through a narrow doorway, under a poster, as it so happened, of �A Hard Day�s Night.� Cordy lifted a navy-blue military-style jacket off the rack and held it up to Bill. �What do you think?� she asked. �Is it you?� - - - - - - - - - - Forty-five minutes later the two of them were sitting on a patchwork quilt they�d spread on the floor. Bill was dressed in a rust-colored Nehru jacket and long strings of beads (not exactly early sixties, but what the hey), while Cordelia sat beside him in a day-glo check mini-dress, knee-high white boots, and a short purple jacket. She was painting her nails with matching purple nail polish that Bill had bought for her while she was in the changing room. ��so after two weeks I realized I really wanted to live in Los Angeles,� he was saying. �So I came back, begged for my old job, and I�ve been here ever since. How about you? How�d you end up working at a detective agency?� �Well,� Cordelia began casually, �it�s not much of a story. I knew Angel from my hometown, and I was just so desperate for work. You don�t really�� The vision slammed into her like a swung bat. She pitched forward, grunting in pain as the PTB downloaded information into her brain at high speed. She heard Bill shouting her name as though from far away, then heard him shouting for Betty. Cordy came to with the two of them looking down at her where she lay on the floor. �She�s epileptic,� Betty explained. �Just call her friends. They�ll come get her.� �That didn�t look like an epileptic seizure to me,� Bill said. �I think we ought to call an ambulance.� �No,� Cordelia said, sitting up. �No ambulance.� She reached for her handbag. �Give me my cell phone.� �I�ll get you some water, honey,� Betty said, moving back towards the front of the store. Cordy flipped open her phone and hit speed-dial without looking. �Angel?� she said, trying to ignore Bill, who was watching her nervously. �It�s me. Yeah, I know� listen. I�m with a friend. You need to go to�� She lowered her voice, knowing Angel could still hear her. ��Ninth and Caballo. There�s a�� She lowered her voice further. ��big furry thing. Lots of claws and teeth. Her baby fell into a storm drain, and she�s too big to get it out� Just be careful. She�s frantic and a little defensive� No, I�m fine� I�ll call you when I get home.� She thumbed off the cell phone and snapped it shut. She turned to Bill with a sheepish smile. �Are you sure you don�t want an ambulance?� he asked. Cordelia sighed and climbed to her feet. �No, I really don�t,� she said. �Listen, why don�t you take me home and I�ll try to explain�� - - - - - - - - - - Cordelia opened her front door and snapped on the light. �You okay?� she asked Bill. �I think so,� he said. �It�s just an awful lot to take in.� He slumped into a kitchen chair and began counting off on his fingers. �Let�s see: you were raised on a hellmouth, had a friend who was a vampire slayer�� �*The* vampire slayer,� Cordy corrected. �Okay. The vampire slayer, who dated Angel, who�s a vampire and is now your boss. He had a colleague who was half-demon and received clairvoyant visions. Then he kissed you, died, and now you get the visions instead. Is that everything?� �Hardly,� Cordelia said, grinning. �But that�s the basic gist.� Anything else I need to know immediately, or can I let this settle a little?� A kitchen cabinet popped open, and a box of tea bags fell over. �I have a ghost roommate,� Cordy said. �Ghost roommate. Good.� Bill sounded stunned. �His name is Dennis.� �Great,� Bill said weakly. Cordelia turned serious and slid into a chair beside Bill. �I know it�s a lot to take in,� she said. �You don�t think I�m a freak, do you?� Bill shook his head, and looked her right in the eye. �No, of course I don�t,� he said. He chuckled warmly. �I�m sure when the shock wears off I�ll think it�s all pretty cool, in fact.� Cordy sighed with relief and stood to retrieve the tea bags. She filled the kettle with water and put it on to heat. �I promised to call Angel and tell him I was okay when I got home,� she said, edging towards the bedroom. �We�ll talk more when I come back. That is, if you don�t want to flee in terror.� �I don�t want to flee in terror,� Bill assured her. �Thanks,� she said. �I�ll just be a minute.� Then she stepped into the bedroom. �So, Dennis,� Bill addressed the air. �How long have you been in Los Angeles?� Main Menu ~ Return to Stand Alone Menu |