![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
spikendru.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
gen_storytellerTitle: She Works Hard for the Money
Author: spikeNdru
Character: Harmony
Spoilers: AtS, S2-beginning of S5
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How Harmony came to work for W&H.
Notes: Many thanks, as usual, to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
makd and paynbow for the excellent suggestions and beta work.
5,586 words
Harmony was bored. Her un-life didn’t seem to be going anywhere. It had been three years since graduation, and she was just marking time. With an eternity stretching before her, that was like, really bad.
Cordelia had a purpose to her life. She had teamed up with Angel, of all people, and was helping the helpless. Aphrodesia had a beautiful wedding, with eight bridesmaids, and was now expecting her first child. Aura was starting her senior year at Stanford, and had already been accepted to law school.
What did she have? She could do all those things if she wanted! Well, maybe not. She’d tried helping the helpless, and things were going pretty good until she’d blown her first undercover assignment, but that was totally not her fault! Doug was just really persuasive, and everybody seemed to be having such a good time and they were all really friendly and nice to her, and it was all Yay, vampires! And she just got caught up in the excitement. Cordy understood that, but Angel was all scary and judgmental, so she guessed Team Angel wasn’t going to be her career path in un-life!
As for Aphrodesia, she had married a CPA and Harmony just couldn’t imagine being married to a boring old accountant! Plus, she wouldn’t be able to have children, what with the being technically dead and all. So that lifestyle was pretty much a no-go.
And she really had no desire to be a lawyer. Date a lawyer, maybe, but take all those classes and do all that studying . . . Harmony shuddered. That was so not her!
That guy, Ron, whom she had met at a party, had told her she had exactly what he was looking for in the leading lady of his new film. She could be an actress! That sounded like a lot of fun, until she discovered the kind of movies Ron Jeremy made. If anyone in Sunnydale ever found out that she had been mistaken for porn star material, she would just die! Well, okay, already dead—but she’d be mortified!
Harmony paced the small, dingy apartment. Thank goodness her parents had never found out that she was dead, or she couldn’t even afford this. The quarterly annuity checks that kicked in when she turned 18 gave her a cushion, at least. Clothes and food weren’t a problem—she’d just eat the salesclerk when she finished shopping and—voila!
Maybe she’d feel better if she had a boyfriend? Then again; maybe not. She’d had the hot, sexy, gorgeous vampire boyfriend, but he was mean to her and then turned into a Slayer-loving freak. She’d tried the regular, normal boyfriend types, but at a certain point in the . . . relationship, she just couldn’t help vamping out and then they’d get all terrified and what with the screaming and all, she’d have to kill them and the whole thing was just—unsatisfying.
Harmony picked up an issue of Vogue and flipped through the pages, but the magazine just couldn’t hold her interest. Maybe she was depressed? She never used to get depressed. She was a firm believer in the perky, up-beat approach to life. But since she was sired and met Spike and got dumped for the Slayer and got Angel all pissed off and lived in a dingy apartment and had no goals—well, who wouldn’t be depressed?
She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. Why were there nothing but infomercials on in the middle of the night? What about all the people who slept during the day? Didn’t they deserve quality television programming at night?
At loose ends?
Well, duh! That’s what I’ve just been saying!
Tired of having a job instead of a career?
Yeah. That’s what I need—a career!
Can’t fit regular training into your busy schedule? Correspondence courses can make all the difference. Learn at home, and in just a few months, you’ll be ready for the job of your dreams!
Learn at home. That could work.
We offer quality programs in the following areas . . .
Hmmm. Day Care Provider. Um, no! Nursing Assistant. Not really my style. Cosmetologist. Maybe . . . oops, no—too many mirrors. Commercial Truck Driver. Oh, please! Secretary/Administrative Assistant. I could do that!
Harmony picked up the phone and made the call.
$$$$$$$$$$
Clutching her shiny new diploma, Harmony felt excited about the possibilities opening up for her. And this diploma would look really good on her wall. She’d have to get a really nice frame for it. With a sigh, Harmony stretched out a hand toward her high school diploma. Singed and discolored, it was a constant reminder of all she had lost in the battle at Graduation. But this new one—this was the key to her future! She’d have to pick up a paper and check the Help Wanted ads. But first—a brand new career deserved a brand new wardrobe. And she was feeling a little hungry. Harmony went shopping.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony’s first job was secretary/bookkeeper to the Night Supervisor at the warehouse of an Import/Export firm.
The hours were good, the pay was adequate, and Harmony felt like she was actualizing her un-life.
She added a new concept to her mantra. “I’m productive, I’m beautiful and I don’t need a man to complete me.”
Unfortunately, the firm was doing more ‘importing’ than exporting, and a DEA raid shut the place down during her fifth month of employment.
“If they had just held off for 13 more days, I would have been eligible for a 401K plan,” Harmony complained to the bartender, as she ordered another Cosmopolitan.
Well, she’d just have to find another job. Harmony had discovered she enjoyed working. She liked having some structure in her life.
“I might know of a job, if you’re interested,” Rick offered.
“Oh yeah? What kind of job?” Harmony sipped her Cosmopolitan.
“Personal Assistant to a movie star.”
“Oh, wow! That would be great!”
“It might not be long term. She changes assistants like other people change their underwear. The word is that she’s a real bitch, but if you last long enough to make some contacts, it could be good for you.”
“Don’t worry. I can totally handle a bitch. I went to high school with the queen of ’em. Thanks, Rick!”
Harmony gave him a radiant smile and checked her watch. It was only 6:37 and her favorite mall was open until 9 o’clock. Time to go shopping.
$$$$$$$$$$
Mr. Simon will see you now, Miss. . .”
“Kendall. Harmony Kendall.”
“Miss Kendall. What a pleasure to meet you.”
Oliver Simon slowly walked around Harmony, looking her up and down.
Harmony turned her head as far as it would go, trying to make eye contact. The correspondence school had been very specific about the importance of eye contact in the first interview, but how was she supposed to do that when his eyes were on her butt? Oh, okay!
Harmony dropped down to a crouch, startling him.
Oliver jumped back. “Miss Kendall? What are you doing?”
Harmony smiled happily. “Maintaining eye contact!”
“Yes, well, very good. Perhaps we should sit down. I take it you’re an actress?”
“No. I’m a Personal Assistant. I’m here about the job with Rebecca Lowell?”
“You are? You are! How wonderful! When can you start?”
“Don’t you want to see my qualifications?”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re fine.”
Harmony slowly replaced her diploma in her bag, hoping he’d change his mind and actually want to see it.
“Can you start tomorrow?”
“Sure. Oh, did I tell you about my allergy? I’m really, really allergic to the sun. I absolutely can’t go out in it at all or I just burn right up!”
“Oh, I don’t see that would be a problem, Miss Kendall. Rebecca has people for everything. Your job would mainly be to keep everything running smoothly, schedule appointments and keep Miss Lowell happy.”
Harmony beamed. “I can do that!”
Oliver sighed. “I hope so. God knows I’ve tried. It’s harder than you think.”
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca Lowell was furious—with Hollywood, with life in general, and especially with Oliver Simon!
He was her friend, her agent, her manager. He said he loved her; so why wasn’t he helping her? In the past year and a half, the scripts he was getting her went from bad to awful! The only things she seemed to be offered anymore were horror films and live action remakes of cartoons! He had actually tried to talk her into doing ‘Thundercats’, for god’s sake!
“Think ‘Spiderman’,” he’d pleaded.
“Think ‘Scooby Doo’!” she’d replied.
He was pressing her to consider an English remake of a fucking Japanese horror film, now! Not even an original script. She might as well kill herself now, ’cause her career was already dead. What was next? Roles as the mother of a starlet ten years younger than she? Not on your fucking life! She’d be thirty next month—the magic age, where if you hadn’t made it to the A list, you never would. At least, if you were a woman, you wouldn’t.
Rebecca desperately wanted a drink. It was only ten thirty in the morning, but that wasn’t what stopped her. Alcohol added years to your face. About the only thing worse was smoking and sun damage.
Fuck Oliver, anyway! He knew how she felt—knew what she was going through—so what does he do? Is he sympathetic and caring? Does he spend extra time with her? Does he drop over frequently to see how she’s doing? No! He avoids being with her at the flimsiest excuse. He suggests she might benefit from therapy! Is he out doing his job, getting her good scripts in films that will get noticed? No! He hires an 18-year-old bimbo as her personal assistant to really rub it in her face! A very beautiful, young, natural blonde bimbo with absolutely no desire to be an actress! What the fuck was Oliver trying to do to her?
She should just fire Harmony immediately and show him! Why didn’t she? Harmony (and that was even her real name, damn it!) was actually good at her job. She seemed to be able to anticipate what Rebecca needed, she was good for the ego and seemed thrilled to be working for a ‘big movie star’. And, the worst part was, Harmony actually seemed to understand her!
No, she didn’t want to fire Harmony, but looking at her every day was like a knife in Rebecca’s gut. If only she was plain, 40ish and named ‘Jane’ or something, Harmony would be perfect.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony gave a little skip of excitement as she entered Rebecca’s huge garage. Her hand flew to her non-beating heart as she beheld the four cars housed there. She recognized Rebecca’s Porsche and red Ferrari, and Oliver’s Range Rover, but she had never seen the dark gray Mercedes before. Oliver handed her the keys and she walked around the car absorbing every detail. The windows were tinted dark enough that Harmony thought she may even be able to drive it in the daytime.
“It’s leased for three years,” Oliver informed her.
Just to be on the safe side, Harmony admired the car for an additional eleven minutes, until the sun set, and then slipped behind the wheel.
Tooling down the freeway—well, inching down the freeway—Harmony realized that she was pretty much un-living the life she had always wanted. She had a career that she was good at, she had a great car; she felt alive. Her death didn’t have to be her destiny—she could make a life for herself. She could turn being a vampire from a disability to a liability! No, wait. To a . . . okay, to an ability.
She was stronger and faster than humans. She could walk down a dark street at night without fear. She’d always be young and pretty. She could interact with humans—she’d never actually understood that whole ‘creature of the night’ stuff anyway. Who wanted to live in a mouldy old crypt and skulk around in the shadows with bad clothes and worse hygiene, killing people, when you could have a good job, an adequate apartment—and now that she had a regular paycheck coming in she could look for something better—and a bitchin’ car!
Now, where was that butcher where Cordelia said Angel got his blood?
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony inched past the dusty books, weird relics, and amulets of the shop looking for the proprietor.
A tiny, humanoid-looking demon popped up from behind the counter, startling her.
“You’re a vampire!” he accused in a squeaky voice.
“Yeah, so?”
“I don’t get many vampires in here. Well, the one comes in a lot—or the rogue demon hunter that works with him—but you’re not him so what do you want?”
“Well, duh! Blood of course.”
His tiny hands began making symbols of protection in the air.
“Not yours, dimwit! Demon blood is just—uck. I heard you carry all kinds of blood for like sacrifices and stuff.”
He perked up upon realizing that, rather than being a threat, she was a potential customer.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Do you have any special preferences?”
“Wha’d’ya got?”
“At the moment . . . let me check my stock.”
He puttered around, finally managing to lift a book onto the counter that was nearly as big as he was. “Let’s see . . . currently, I have antelope, badger, bobcat, coyote, deer, elk, fox, gopher, horse, jackrabbit, lynx, moose, otter—”
“Stop!” Harmony held up a hand.
“But these are just the current domestic choices—I haven’t even gotten to the imported list!”
“For now, how about a half-pint of each of those you mentioned. I can, um, try the others later.”
“Certainly!” He beamed at Harmony, closing the large book with a thump. “I’ll just be a moment.”
$$$$$$$$$$
The pig’s blood that Angel drank on a regular basis was totally disgusting—even with the cinnamon that Cordy had added. It was like the generic coffee from the local mini-mart. What made the difference in the gourmet coffee from the trendy coffee houses and the stuff from the 7-11? The Blend!
Harmony began experimenting. The antelope/pig blend was passable, but the otter really made the difference. Harmony wondered if she could patent it . . .
Things were going well at work too, and she made enough to upgrade her apartment. Unlike some people she’d heard about—who shall remain nameless, blonde and pretentious—Harmony didn’t require a view. She finagled a great apartment at a decent address for hundreds less because the two tiny windows in the place—one in the kitchenette and a frosted one in the bath—overlooked an alley at the back. The neighboring building was so close, her place got no direct sun at any time. The inner living room and her bedroom had no windows at all. That was just fine with Harmony.
As the weeks passed, Harmony discovered she was content. Most of the time, she could even forget she was a vampire. And the times when the urges flared—when her demon demanded recognition? Well those times were sort of fun. She deserved a little fun. Not that she’d want to spend all her time creaturing, but she had to admit she did get a thrill out of the occasional indulgence. And what was wrong with that?
It was like being on a diet where you ate all the good, healthy things you were supposed to eat, so that on special occasions you could have the mashed potatoes and the stuffing and the candied yams and the pumpkin pie. Then, the next day, you’d go right back on your diet. The only difference was Harmony’s indulgences didn’t involve mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. They ran more along the lines of dressing up in a totally hot new outfit, going to a trendy club, dancing for hours, picking up an attractive guy, fucking his brains out and draining him dry, but hey! The concept was the same, right? And the next day, it was right back on the diet!
Who would have thought that one stupid, little mistake could have so many repercussions?
$$$$$$$$$$
It all started when Bradley Pittston got the flu . . .
Bradley was an A-list celebrity and Oliver had called in a lot of markers to set this up. Bradley and his wife, Genny Anise, had recently separated, and the press speculation around whom he would bring to the première of his new movie had reached fever pitch. The woman showing up on the red carpet with Bradley Pittston would get mega exposure in the media, and Oliver had arranged for that woman to be Ms. Rebecca Lowell!
Rebecca’s household was in a tizzy for weeks—and Harmony was right in the middle of it all! Major designers sent over one-of-a-kind dresses for Rebecca’s perusal; Harry Winston, Tiffany and a score of chi-chi new designers vied with each other to loan out a fortune in jewels. Harmony was putting in 15-hour days keeping things running smoothly.
And then Bradley got the flu. Genny would have forced him to take it easy, rest and drink plenty of fluids. In her absence, the fluids he chose tended to run toward Jack Daniels and tequila, imbibed in a variety of clubs that featured strippers and lap dances.
The day of the première found Bradley hospitalized with dehydration, and in lieu of Rebecca Lowell on his arm, there were butterfly needles and IVs. Rebecca was livid.
After smashing everything she could find that was in any way breakable, she felt no lessening of her rage. Her adrenaline levels were sky high and she felt hyper and twitchy all over. What she needed was a punishing workout followed by an hours-long massage. Her own treadmill and stair-stepper weren’t going to do it.
“Harmony!” she yelled. “We’re going to the club!”
Having no special plans for the evening, Harmony readily agreed.
Of course, ‘club’ to Harmony meant more Viper Room, less Gold’s Gym. Even in high school, Harmony saw no value in getting all sweaty and stringy-haired while repeating boring exercises over and over and over. And now? Hey, vampire!
Muscle tone and lack of weight gain was part of the package, so she was less than pleased when Rebecca’s Porsche pulled to the curb in front of a health club. She’d much rather be at home watching the red carpet arrivals on TV. Rebecca had changed at home, so giving Harmony the key to her locker, she got right to work.
Harmony sighed as she looked through Rebecca’s collection of sports bras, crop tops and Lycra bike shorts. Carefully wrapping her gorgeous Jimmy Choos in a towel, she jammed her feet into Addidas that were a half size too small and ventured out to find Rebecca.
The weights on the Nautilus machine dropped with a loud thud as Rebecca stared at her. She knew Valentine Red wasn’t really her color—she’d much prefer a nice teal or shell pink—but why was Rebecca staring at her like she’d just seen a ghost?
Oh crap! Oh . . . bollocks! Harmony wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it always sounded suitably scathing when Spike said it.
Every available surface of the room was mirrored, and Harmony wasn’t reflected in any of them. How the heck was she ever gonna explain this to Rebecca?
“You’re a vampire!”
Oooo-kay—explanation not really necessary, but what was she supposed to do now?
“Well . . . yeah. But it’s totally not my fault! It just sorta happened during the eclipse at Graduation, you know? I mean, it’s not something I asked for or anything, and besides—”
Rebecca broke in. “I did.”
“You . . . what?”
“I asked for it. I begged to be made immortal.”
“You’re a vampire, too? No, wait! You can’t be. I can see your reflection.”
Rebecca kept a firm grip on Harmony’s arm, as if afraid she’d disappear if Rebecca let go. The nervous tension thrummed through Rebecca as she waited for the valet to bring her car around.
Sliding behind the wheel, Rebecca darted a glance at Harmony. “We have to talk.”
Harmony sighed. “Does this mean you’re firing me?”
“Firing you? No! I’m not firing you. You’re the best PA I’ve ever had. Let’s go back to my place where we can talk, though. I have a lot of questions, if you don’t mind.”
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and fought to get her excitement under control. This day had certainly been an emotional roller coaster and she had to be very careful how she handled Harmony right now. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.
Pouring the wine, she tucked her feet under her on the couch and turned to face Harmony.
“So, tell me all about being a vampire. I can’t even imagine what it must be like, seeing all the changes in the world over centuries. Would it be terribly rude of me if I asked how long you’ve . . . lived?”
“Well, I was 18 when I was bitten three years ago, so I guess that means I’ve lived 21 years, but I’m not really sure how you count that. It’s still pretty new to me. My boyfriend, Spikey, said he was 126 when we were together, but I worked it out one day when I was bored and he had been a vampire for 121 years and he was totally older than 5 when he was turned, so I don’t know exactly how it works.”
Three years? She’s only been a vampire for three years? What does she know about it? Or . . . that could be good! Angel was old enough and strong enough that he could refuse me and humiliate me and scare me to death with his psychotic eeeevil vampire routine, but what if he was lying? Harmony certainly doesn’t seem ‘evil’. Or maybe he’s just a sick, twisted pervert and not everybody’s like that? Nothing ventured, nothing gained . . .
“What’s it really like, being a vampire?”
“Well . . . it’s sorta cool being strong and fast and not getting sick. Like, I haven’t even caught a cold in three years! But it’s also really lonely and it’s hard to make friends and you can’t go to the beach anymore and everything’s different. It’s kinda hard to do your make-up when you don’t have a reflection, and fudge-mint-chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream just doesn’t taste the same. I miss my heartbeat. I miss that flutter you get in your chest when you see a really cute guy. Dating isn’t fun like it was before. A lot of vamps are like all macho and really rude—”
“But you’re strong and you’re beautiful and you’ll never age!”
“Well, duh! That’s ’cause you’re dead.”
Rebecca scooted closer to Harmony on the couch and touched her hand.
“Harmony, I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I need it now, before it’s too late! Will you make me a vampire?”
“You mean you want me to sire you?”
“Yes. Exactly. Will you sire me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. What if something goes wrong?”
“What could possibly go wrong?”
“You could end up dead and then I’d lose my job!”
Rebecca jumped to her feet and rushed to the antique desk in the corner. She grabbed for her personal stationary and began to rapidly write.
“Here! It’s a letter of recommendation. If anything goes ‘wrong’, I’ve given you a glowing reference—you’ll get another job in no time, but nothing will go wrong! I have faith in you, Harmony. Please!”
It wasn’t Charlieze Theron, but Rebecca Lowell was a famous movie star . . .
“Okay,” Harmony said.
$$$$$$$$$$
It would soon be dawn and Harmony decided she’d better go home. Harmony wasn’t sure if you could dust before you actually rose—she wasn’t really sure about any of this. To be on the safe side, she dragged Rebecca’s body into her huge walk-in closet, leaving the light on so Rebecca would know where she was if she woke up. If she was going to rise, it wouldn’t be until nighttime, and if she was just dead-dead it would be too creepy hanging around here all day by herself.
She guessed she’d find out for sure tonight, but for now, Harmony decided to go home, take a nice, long bubble bath and get some sleep.
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca opened her eyes and stretched. She felt great! Every muscle in her body flowed with her movement. She felt horny and . . . hungry! She wanted to dance and fuck and feed. Just the thought of warm, rich blood flowing down her throat was making her hot. She pulled on a slinky silver tube dress that fit her like a second skin. Strapless, the dress ended six inches above her knees. The silver Manolo sandals made a perfect match. Running a brush through her short, dark hair, she noticed it seemed fuller than usual. She carefully applied a slash of crimson lipstick and was ready to go.
This was a special night! Where should she go to unveil the ‘new’ Rebecca? The hottest new club in LA, the Sky Temple, of course!
Picking up her keys, she headed to the garage. The silver Porsche matched her outfit, but tonight she was going to paint the town red! The Ferrari, then.
Rebecca slipped behind the wheel and, for the first time, didn’t fasten her seat belt. No more wrinkled clothes for her! She roared out of the garage and the brightness of the night astounded her.
Weaving in and out of traffic, she threw back her head and laughed exuberantly. This was the life! Or the un-life. Whatever. It was glorious!
Taking the glass elevator to the club at the very top of the building, Rebecca felt the hunger rage through her at the sight and scent of all those beautiful bodies. She paused in the doorway, scanning the crowd. She could have anyone she wanted tonight. She had the beauty and the power.
She caught the eye of a young Adonis and smiled enticingly. He came toward her as if he were mesmerized. He asked her to dance and the scent of his hot blood and his arousal drove her wild. She licked the salty skin of his throat and felt her face change and reform. She sank her fangs into his neck, but before she could draw that delicious salty goodness into her mouth the world exploded and all hell broke loose!
Lights flashed, the floor buckled and piercing screams hurt her sensitive hearing. She whirled around and beheld a nightmare.
Eight feel tall, he seemed to be made of rock—it was the Devil incarnate. Rebecca watched as he picked up a man and tore him in half. Shoving the Adonis at the Beast, she turned to run. She wasn’t fast enough. His huge hand reached for her head. With a vice-like grip, he twisted.
The glittering shower of dust that had been Rebecca Lowell, drifted in the warm air as the Beast continued his rampage.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony was beginning to think this might be a good time for a visit home.
The ‘vampire’s paradise’ of perpetual night wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. LA was teaming with vampires from all over the world and all the humans had either left, died or gone to ground—which made for a whole bunch of very cranky vampires! Fights broke out constantly as there wasn’t anything to do or anyone to eat. The occasional human who blundered out was set upon like a fox by a pack of hounds. The city had effectively shut down.
This was stupid! It was violent and boring and stupid! Harmony packed a suitcase and an insulated cooler with her gourmet dinners, hopped in her leased Mercedes and got the hell out of Dodge!
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony drove down the deserted street, her mind a welter of confusion. What the frick was going on? Maybe this really was the end of the world?
Sunnydale still had day and night—the perpetual darkness seemed to be confined to LA, but the people had all disappeared. It was like an episode from the Twilight Zone. The street where she had grown up was completely peopleless. Her family, her neighbors—all gone.
She unlocked the door of the house she still thought of as ‘home’. The silence was absolute. No hum of electricity, no ticking clock—nothing at all. A film of dust lay over everything.
Tiptoeing through the laundry room, Harmony unlocked the door to the attached garage and breathed a sigh of relief. Both cars were gone, so her family could have left voluntarily.
Whatever was going on was giving her a definite wiggins, so she carefully relocked the house and sat in her car to think. She’d heard San Francisco was nice; this seemed like a real good time to find out!
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony sat in the oak-paneled bar of the hotel, sipping a Cosmopolitan and glancing through the newspaper. It was cold and damp and foggy in San Francisco, but maybe she could find a job, just until she got on her feet, and then . . . what? New York? Las Vegas? Europe?
Harmony was a southern California girl to the bone. Could she make an un-life for herself anywhere else?
Harmony put down the paper and sighed. She finished her drink and looked up to catch the waiter’s eye to order another. As she glanced around the bar, her gaze passed over a dapper little man who was staring at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread. Managing to meet her gaze was all the encouragement he needed. He made a bee-line for her table, took her hands in both of his and kissed them.
“Ah . . . bella signorina. Bellissima! You are a goddess . . . a Venus. You are an American movie star, no?
Harmony laughed. “No.”
He wagged a finger at her and made a clucking sound. “Ah. You are, how you say, ‘fibbing’ to remain incognito, yes?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Really no.”
“But . . . you are not a movie star?”
Harmony shook her head ‘no’.
“Why not?” he asked plaintively.
Harmony giggled. “I’m an Administrative Assistant/Secretary/Personal Assistant and I’ve got the diploma to prove it. Wanna see it?”
He lit up as if a thousand-watt bulb had turned on behind his eyes and he brought his hand to his heart in an overly dramatic gesture of surprise.
“No!” he exclaimed.
“Yes!”
This silly little man was providing the most entertainment Harmony had managed to find in weeks.
“But this is perfection! It is fated!” Grasping her hands again, he leaned across the table and lowered his voice as if he were going to impart the secrets of the universe.
“I,” he withdrew one hand to place it over his heart again, “Carlo Alberto Paolo Alessandro Ponti, am the head Personnel Director of a multi-national corporation and we are currently in need of Administrative Assistants, among other staff!”
Harmony’s eyes widened in turn. “No!”
“Yes!” He nodded happily. “My, how you say, ‘Boss’, the bellissima Ilona Costa Bianchi, from the Roman branch and the charming Soon-Li Park, who heads the Singapore branch, are here in America to personally supervise the complete re-staffing of our Los Angeles branch!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
He removed a gold card case from his breast pocket and withdrew an embossed business card. Turning it over, he jotted down the Suite number and handed it to her.
“Present yourself tomorrow at eleven o’clock of the morning and we will see what we may do to satisfactorily conclude both our needs!”
Harmony wasn’t sure exactly what he said, but she thought he might be offering her a job interview. Either that, or he was coming on to her. Whatever.
$$$$$$$$$$
Things had finally gotten back to normal—or as normal as it gets in LA. Carlo Alessandro whatever whatever had been on the level. She had gotten the job with W&H, and although it was in the typing pool to start, the salary was more than she expected and the benefits were great.
As Harmony’s fingers flew over the keyboard, typing up a complicated contract, she smiled. She was back on-track in the actualizing of her un-life and in less than an hour, she would be keeping her date with the pair of Ferragamos that had been calling to her ever since she had passed the window that displayed them yesterday.
Sensing a presence studying her intently, Harmony looked up. The man looked familiar, but a whole lot hotter and more confident than she had remembered him being.
“Wesley?” she asked in disbelief.
“Hello, Harmony. I have a proposition for you . . .”
THE END
Author: spikeNdru
Character: Harmony
Spoilers: AtS, S2-beginning of S5
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How Harmony came to work for W&H.
Notes: Many thanks, as usual, to
makd and paynbow for the excellent suggestions and beta work.5,586 words
Harmony was bored. Her un-life didn’t seem to be going anywhere. It had been three years since graduation, and she was just marking time. With an eternity stretching before her, that was like, really bad.
Cordelia had a purpose to her life. She had teamed up with Angel, of all people, and was helping the helpless. Aphrodesia had a beautiful wedding, with eight bridesmaids, and was now expecting her first child. Aura was starting her senior year at Stanford, and had already been accepted to law school.
What did she have? She could do all those things if she wanted! Well, maybe not. She’d tried helping the helpless, and things were going pretty good until she’d blown her first undercover assignment, but that was totally not her fault! Doug was just really persuasive, and everybody seemed to be having such a good time and they were all really friendly and nice to her, and it was all Yay, vampires! And she just got caught up in the excitement. Cordy understood that, but Angel was all scary and judgmental, so she guessed Team Angel wasn’t going to be her career path in un-life!
As for Aphrodesia, she had married a CPA and Harmony just couldn’t imagine being married to a boring old accountant! Plus, she wouldn’t be able to have children, what with the being technically dead and all. So that lifestyle was pretty much a no-go.
And she really had no desire to be a lawyer. Date a lawyer, maybe, but take all those classes and do all that studying . . . Harmony shuddered. That was so not her!
That guy, Ron, whom she had met at a party, had told her she had exactly what he was looking for in the leading lady of his new film. She could be an actress! That sounded like a lot of fun, until she discovered the kind of movies Ron Jeremy made. If anyone in Sunnydale ever found out that she had been mistaken for porn star material, she would just die! Well, okay, already dead—but she’d be mortified!
Harmony paced the small, dingy apartment. Thank goodness her parents had never found out that she was dead, or she couldn’t even afford this. The quarterly annuity checks that kicked in when she turned 18 gave her a cushion, at least. Clothes and food weren’t a problem—she’d just eat the salesclerk when she finished shopping and—voila!
Maybe she’d feel better if she had a boyfriend? Then again; maybe not. She’d had the hot, sexy, gorgeous vampire boyfriend, but he was mean to her and then turned into a Slayer-loving freak. She’d tried the regular, normal boyfriend types, but at a certain point in the . . . relationship, she just couldn’t help vamping out and then they’d get all terrified and what with the screaming and all, she’d have to kill them and the whole thing was just—unsatisfying.
Harmony picked up an issue of Vogue and flipped through the pages, but the magazine just couldn’t hold her interest. Maybe she was depressed? She never used to get depressed. She was a firm believer in the perky, up-beat approach to life. But since she was sired and met Spike and got dumped for the Slayer and got Angel all pissed off and lived in a dingy apartment and had no goals—well, who wouldn’t be depressed?
She turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. Why were there nothing but infomercials on in the middle of the night? What about all the people who slept during the day? Didn’t they deserve quality television programming at night?
At loose ends?
Well, duh! That’s what I’ve just been saying!
Tired of having a job instead of a career?
Yeah. That’s what I need—a career!
Can’t fit regular training into your busy schedule? Correspondence courses can make all the difference. Learn at home, and in just a few months, you’ll be ready for the job of your dreams!
Learn at home. That could work.
We offer quality programs in the following areas . . .
Hmmm. Day Care Provider. Um, no! Nursing Assistant. Not really my style. Cosmetologist. Maybe . . . oops, no—too many mirrors. Commercial Truck Driver. Oh, please! Secretary/Administrative Assistant. I could do that!
Harmony picked up the phone and made the call.
$$$$$$$$$$
Clutching her shiny new diploma, Harmony felt excited about the possibilities opening up for her. And this diploma would look really good on her wall. She’d have to get a really nice frame for it. With a sigh, Harmony stretched out a hand toward her high school diploma. Singed and discolored, it was a constant reminder of all she had lost in the battle at Graduation. But this new one—this was the key to her future! She’d have to pick up a paper and check the Help Wanted ads. But first—a brand new career deserved a brand new wardrobe. And she was feeling a little hungry. Harmony went shopping.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony’s first job was secretary/bookkeeper to the Night Supervisor at the warehouse of an Import/Export firm.
The hours were good, the pay was adequate, and Harmony felt like she was actualizing her un-life.
She added a new concept to her mantra. “I’m productive, I’m beautiful and I don’t need a man to complete me.”
Unfortunately, the firm was doing more ‘importing’ than exporting, and a DEA raid shut the place down during her fifth month of employment.
“If they had just held off for 13 more days, I would have been eligible for a 401K plan,” Harmony complained to the bartender, as she ordered another Cosmopolitan.
Well, she’d just have to find another job. Harmony had discovered she enjoyed working. She liked having some structure in her life.
“I might know of a job, if you’re interested,” Rick offered.
“Oh yeah? What kind of job?” Harmony sipped her Cosmopolitan.
“Personal Assistant to a movie star.”
“Oh, wow! That would be great!”
“It might not be long term. She changes assistants like other people change their underwear. The word is that she’s a real bitch, but if you last long enough to make some contacts, it could be good for you.”
“Don’t worry. I can totally handle a bitch. I went to high school with the queen of ’em. Thanks, Rick!”
Harmony gave him a radiant smile and checked her watch. It was only 6:37 and her favorite mall was open until 9 o’clock. Time to go shopping.
$$$$$$$$$$
Mr. Simon will see you now, Miss. . .”
“Kendall. Harmony Kendall.”
“Miss Kendall. What a pleasure to meet you.”
Oliver Simon slowly walked around Harmony, looking her up and down.
Harmony turned her head as far as it would go, trying to make eye contact. The correspondence school had been very specific about the importance of eye contact in the first interview, but how was she supposed to do that when his eyes were on her butt? Oh, okay!
Harmony dropped down to a crouch, startling him.
Oliver jumped back. “Miss Kendall? What are you doing?”
Harmony smiled happily. “Maintaining eye contact!”
“Yes, well, very good. Perhaps we should sit down. I take it you’re an actress?”
“No. I’m a Personal Assistant. I’m here about the job with Rebecca Lowell?”
“You are? You are! How wonderful! When can you start?”
“Don’t you want to see my qualifications?”
“Oh, I’m sure they’re fine.”
Harmony slowly replaced her diploma in her bag, hoping he’d change his mind and actually want to see it.
“Can you start tomorrow?”
“Sure. Oh, did I tell you about my allergy? I’m really, really allergic to the sun. I absolutely can’t go out in it at all or I just burn right up!”
“Oh, I don’t see that would be a problem, Miss Kendall. Rebecca has people for everything. Your job would mainly be to keep everything running smoothly, schedule appointments and keep Miss Lowell happy.”
Harmony beamed. “I can do that!”
Oliver sighed. “I hope so. God knows I’ve tried. It’s harder than you think.”
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca Lowell was furious—with Hollywood, with life in general, and especially with Oliver Simon!
He was her friend, her agent, her manager. He said he loved her; so why wasn’t he helping her? In the past year and a half, the scripts he was getting her went from bad to awful! The only things she seemed to be offered anymore were horror films and live action remakes of cartoons! He had actually tried to talk her into doing ‘Thundercats’, for god’s sake!
“Think ‘Spiderman’,” he’d pleaded.
“Think ‘Scooby Doo’!” she’d replied.
He was pressing her to consider an English remake of a fucking Japanese horror film, now! Not even an original script. She might as well kill herself now, ’cause her career was already dead. What was next? Roles as the mother of a starlet ten years younger than she? Not on your fucking life! She’d be thirty next month—the magic age, where if you hadn’t made it to the A list, you never would. At least, if you were a woman, you wouldn’t.
Rebecca desperately wanted a drink. It was only ten thirty in the morning, but that wasn’t what stopped her. Alcohol added years to your face. About the only thing worse was smoking and sun damage.
Fuck Oliver, anyway! He knew how she felt—knew what she was going through—so what does he do? Is he sympathetic and caring? Does he spend extra time with her? Does he drop over frequently to see how she’s doing? No! He avoids being with her at the flimsiest excuse. He suggests she might benefit from therapy! Is he out doing his job, getting her good scripts in films that will get noticed? No! He hires an 18-year-old bimbo as her personal assistant to really rub it in her face! A very beautiful, young, natural blonde bimbo with absolutely no desire to be an actress! What the fuck was Oliver trying to do to her?
She should just fire Harmony immediately and show him! Why didn’t she? Harmony (and that was even her real name, damn it!) was actually good at her job. She seemed to be able to anticipate what Rebecca needed, she was good for the ego and seemed thrilled to be working for a ‘big movie star’. And, the worst part was, Harmony actually seemed to understand her!
No, she didn’t want to fire Harmony, but looking at her every day was like a knife in Rebecca’s gut. If only she was plain, 40ish and named ‘Jane’ or something, Harmony would be perfect.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony gave a little skip of excitement as she entered Rebecca’s huge garage. Her hand flew to her non-beating heart as she beheld the four cars housed there. She recognized Rebecca’s Porsche and red Ferrari, and Oliver’s Range Rover, but she had never seen the dark gray Mercedes before. Oliver handed her the keys and she walked around the car absorbing every detail. The windows were tinted dark enough that Harmony thought she may even be able to drive it in the daytime.
“It’s leased for three years,” Oliver informed her.
Just to be on the safe side, Harmony admired the car for an additional eleven minutes, until the sun set, and then slipped behind the wheel.
Tooling down the freeway—well, inching down the freeway—Harmony realized that she was pretty much un-living the life she had always wanted. She had a career that she was good at, she had a great car; she felt alive. Her death didn’t have to be her destiny—she could make a life for herself. She could turn being a vampire from a disability to a liability! No, wait. To a . . . okay, to an ability.
She was stronger and faster than humans. She could walk down a dark street at night without fear. She’d always be young and pretty. She could interact with humans—she’d never actually understood that whole ‘creature of the night’ stuff anyway. Who wanted to live in a mouldy old crypt and skulk around in the shadows with bad clothes and worse hygiene, killing people, when you could have a good job, an adequate apartment—and now that she had a regular paycheck coming in she could look for something better—and a bitchin’ car!
Now, where was that butcher where Cordelia said Angel got his blood?
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony inched past the dusty books, weird relics, and amulets of the shop looking for the proprietor.
A tiny, humanoid-looking demon popped up from behind the counter, startling her.
“You’re a vampire!” he accused in a squeaky voice.
“Yeah, so?”
“I don’t get many vampires in here. Well, the one comes in a lot—or the rogue demon hunter that works with him—but you’re not him so what do you want?”
“Well, duh! Blood of course.”
His tiny hands began making symbols of protection in the air.
“Not yours, dimwit! Demon blood is just—uck. I heard you carry all kinds of blood for like sacrifices and stuff.”
He perked up upon realizing that, rather than being a threat, she was a potential customer.
“Yes. Yes, I do. Do you have any special preferences?”
“Wha’d’ya got?”
“At the moment . . . let me check my stock.”
He puttered around, finally managing to lift a book onto the counter that was nearly as big as he was. “Let’s see . . . currently, I have antelope, badger, bobcat, coyote, deer, elk, fox, gopher, horse, jackrabbit, lynx, moose, otter—”
“Stop!” Harmony held up a hand.
“But these are just the current domestic choices—I haven’t even gotten to the imported list!”
“For now, how about a half-pint of each of those you mentioned. I can, um, try the others later.”
“Certainly!” He beamed at Harmony, closing the large book with a thump. “I’ll just be a moment.”
$$$$$$$$$$
The pig’s blood that Angel drank on a regular basis was totally disgusting—even with the cinnamon that Cordy had added. It was like the generic coffee from the local mini-mart. What made the difference in the gourmet coffee from the trendy coffee houses and the stuff from the 7-11? The Blend!
Harmony began experimenting. The antelope/pig blend was passable, but the otter really made the difference. Harmony wondered if she could patent it . . .
Things were going well at work too, and she made enough to upgrade her apartment. Unlike some people she’d heard about—who shall remain nameless, blonde and pretentious—Harmony didn’t require a view. She finagled a great apartment at a decent address for hundreds less because the two tiny windows in the place—one in the kitchenette and a frosted one in the bath—overlooked an alley at the back. The neighboring building was so close, her place got no direct sun at any time. The inner living room and her bedroom had no windows at all. That was just fine with Harmony.
As the weeks passed, Harmony discovered she was content. Most of the time, she could even forget she was a vampire. And the times when the urges flared—when her demon demanded recognition? Well those times were sort of fun. She deserved a little fun. Not that she’d want to spend all her time creaturing, but she had to admit she did get a thrill out of the occasional indulgence. And what was wrong with that?
It was like being on a diet where you ate all the good, healthy things you were supposed to eat, so that on special occasions you could have the mashed potatoes and the stuffing and the candied yams and the pumpkin pie. Then, the next day, you’d go right back on your diet. The only difference was Harmony’s indulgences didn’t involve mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. They ran more along the lines of dressing up in a totally hot new outfit, going to a trendy club, dancing for hours, picking up an attractive guy, fucking his brains out and draining him dry, but hey! The concept was the same, right? And the next day, it was right back on the diet!
Who would have thought that one stupid, little mistake could have so many repercussions?
$$$$$$$$$$
It all started when Bradley Pittston got the flu . . .
Bradley was an A-list celebrity and Oliver had called in a lot of markers to set this up. Bradley and his wife, Genny Anise, had recently separated, and the press speculation around whom he would bring to the première of his new movie had reached fever pitch. The woman showing up on the red carpet with Bradley Pittston would get mega exposure in the media, and Oliver had arranged for that woman to be Ms. Rebecca Lowell!
Rebecca’s household was in a tizzy for weeks—and Harmony was right in the middle of it all! Major designers sent over one-of-a-kind dresses for Rebecca’s perusal; Harry Winston, Tiffany and a score of chi-chi new designers vied with each other to loan out a fortune in jewels. Harmony was putting in 15-hour days keeping things running smoothly.
And then Bradley got the flu. Genny would have forced him to take it easy, rest and drink plenty of fluids. In her absence, the fluids he chose tended to run toward Jack Daniels and tequila, imbibed in a variety of clubs that featured strippers and lap dances.
The day of the première found Bradley hospitalized with dehydration, and in lieu of Rebecca Lowell on his arm, there were butterfly needles and IVs. Rebecca was livid.
After smashing everything she could find that was in any way breakable, she felt no lessening of her rage. Her adrenaline levels were sky high and she felt hyper and twitchy all over. What she needed was a punishing workout followed by an hours-long massage. Her own treadmill and stair-stepper weren’t going to do it.
“Harmony!” she yelled. “We’re going to the club!”
Having no special plans for the evening, Harmony readily agreed.
Of course, ‘club’ to Harmony meant more Viper Room, less Gold’s Gym. Even in high school, Harmony saw no value in getting all sweaty and stringy-haired while repeating boring exercises over and over and over. And now? Hey, vampire!
Muscle tone and lack of weight gain was part of the package, so she was less than pleased when Rebecca’s Porsche pulled to the curb in front of a health club. She’d much rather be at home watching the red carpet arrivals on TV. Rebecca had changed at home, so giving Harmony the key to her locker, she got right to work.
Harmony sighed as she looked through Rebecca’s collection of sports bras, crop tops and Lycra bike shorts. Carefully wrapping her gorgeous Jimmy Choos in a towel, she jammed her feet into Addidas that were a half size too small and ventured out to find Rebecca.
The weights on the Nautilus machine dropped with a loud thud as Rebecca stared at her. She knew Valentine Red wasn’t really her color—she’d much prefer a nice teal or shell pink—but why was Rebecca staring at her like she’d just seen a ghost?
Oh crap! Oh . . . bollocks! Harmony wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it always sounded suitably scathing when Spike said it.
Every available surface of the room was mirrored, and Harmony wasn’t reflected in any of them. How the heck was she ever gonna explain this to Rebecca?
“You’re a vampire!”
Oooo-kay—explanation not really necessary, but what was she supposed to do now?
“Well . . . yeah. But it’s totally not my fault! It just sorta happened during the eclipse at Graduation, you know? I mean, it’s not something I asked for or anything, and besides—”
Rebecca broke in. “I did.”
“You . . . what?”
“I asked for it. I begged to be made immortal.”
“You’re a vampire, too? No, wait! You can’t be. I can see your reflection.”
Rebecca kept a firm grip on Harmony’s arm, as if afraid she’d disappear if Rebecca let go. The nervous tension thrummed through Rebecca as she waited for the valet to bring her car around.
Sliding behind the wheel, Rebecca darted a glance at Harmony. “We have to talk.”
Harmony sighed. “Does this mean you’re firing me?”
“Firing you? No! I’m not firing you. You’re the best PA I’ve ever had. Let’s go back to my place where we can talk, though. I have a lot of questions, if you don’t mind.”
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and fought to get her excitement under control. This day had certainly been an emotional roller coaster and she had to be very careful how she handled Harmony right now. She couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.
Pouring the wine, she tucked her feet under her on the couch and turned to face Harmony.
“So, tell me all about being a vampire. I can’t even imagine what it must be like, seeing all the changes in the world over centuries. Would it be terribly rude of me if I asked how long you’ve . . . lived?”
“Well, I was 18 when I was bitten three years ago, so I guess that means I’ve lived 21 years, but I’m not really sure how you count that. It’s still pretty new to me. My boyfriend, Spikey, said he was 126 when we were together, but I worked it out one day when I was bored and he had been a vampire for 121 years and he was totally older than 5 when he was turned, so I don’t know exactly how it works.”
Three years? She’s only been a vampire for three years? What does she know about it? Or . . . that could be good! Angel was old enough and strong enough that he could refuse me and humiliate me and scare me to death with his psychotic eeeevil vampire routine, but what if he was lying? Harmony certainly doesn’t seem ‘evil’. Or maybe he’s just a sick, twisted pervert and not everybody’s like that? Nothing ventured, nothing gained . . .
“What’s it really like, being a vampire?”
“Well . . . it’s sorta cool being strong and fast and not getting sick. Like, I haven’t even caught a cold in three years! But it’s also really lonely and it’s hard to make friends and you can’t go to the beach anymore and everything’s different. It’s kinda hard to do your make-up when you don’t have a reflection, and fudge-mint-chocolate-chip-cookie-dough ice cream just doesn’t taste the same. I miss my heartbeat. I miss that flutter you get in your chest when you see a really cute guy. Dating isn’t fun like it was before. A lot of vamps are like all macho and really rude—”
“But you’re strong and you’re beautiful and you’ll never age!”
“Well, duh! That’s ’cause you’re dead.”
Rebecca scooted closer to Harmony on the couch and touched her hand.
“Harmony, I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I need it now, before it’s too late! Will you make me a vampire?”
“You mean you want me to sire you?”
“Yes. Exactly. Will you sire me?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. What if something goes wrong?”
“What could possibly go wrong?”
“You could end up dead and then I’d lose my job!”
Rebecca jumped to her feet and rushed to the antique desk in the corner. She grabbed for her personal stationary and began to rapidly write.
“Here! It’s a letter of recommendation. If anything goes ‘wrong’, I’ve given you a glowing reference—you’ll get another job in no time, but nothing will go wrong! I have faith in you, Harmony. Please!”
It wasn’t Charlieze Theron, but Rebecca Lowell was a famous movie star . . .
“Okay,” Harmony said.
$$$$$$$$$$
It would soon be dawn and Harmony decided she’d better go home. Harmony wasn’t sure if you could dust before you actually rose—she wasn’t really sure about any of this. To be on the safe side, she dragged Rebecca’s body into her huge walk-in closet, leaving the light on so Rebecca would know where she was if she woke up. If she was going to rise, it wouldn’t be until nighttime, and if she was just dead-dead it would be too creepy hanging around here all day by herself.
She guessed she’d find out for sure tonight, but for now, Harmony decided to go home, take a nice, long bubble bath and get some sleep.
$$$$$$$$$$
Rebecca opened her eyes and stretched. She felt great! Every muscle in her body flowed with her movement. She felt horny and . . . hungry! She wanted to dance and fuck and feed. Just the thought of warm, rich blood flowing down her throat was making her hot. She pulled on a slinky silver tube dress that fit her like a second skin. Strapless, the dress ended six inches above her knees. The silver Manolo sandals made a perfect match. Running a brush through her short, dark hair, she noticed it seemed fuller than usual. She carefully applied a slash of crimson lipstick and was ready to go.
This was a special night! Where should she go to unveil the ‘new’ Rebecca? The hottest new club in LA, the Sky Temple, of course!
Picking up her keys, she headed to the garage. The silver Porsche matched her outfit, but tonight she was going to paint the town red! The Ferrari, then.
Rebecca slipped behind the wheel and, for the first time, didn’t fasten her seat belt. No more wrinkled clothes for her! She roared out of the garage and the brightness of the night astounded her.
Weaving in and out of traffic, she threw back her head and laughed exuberantly. This was the life! Or the un-life. Whatever. It was glorious!
Taking the glass elevator to the club at the very top of the building, Rebecca felt the hunger rage through her at the sight and scent of all those beautiful bodies. She paused in the doorway, scanning the crowd. She could have anyone she wanted tonight. She had the beauty and the power.
She caught the eye of a young Adonis and smiled enticingly. He came toward her as if he were mesmerized. He asked her to dance and the scent of his hot blood and his arousal drove her wild. She licked the salty skin of his throat and felt her face change and reform. She sank her fangs into his neck, but before she could draw that delicious salty goodness into her mouth the world exploded and all hell broke loose!
Lights flashed, the floor buckled and piercing screams hurt her sensitive hearing. She whirled around and beheld a nightmare.
Eight feel tall, he seemed to be made of rock—it was the Devil incarnate. Rebecca watched as he picked up a man and tore him in half. Shoving the Adonis at the Beast, she turned to run. She wasn’t fast enough. His huge hand reached for her head. With a vice-like grip, he twisted.
The glittering shower of dust that had been Rebecca Lowell, drifted in the warm air as the Beast continued his rampage.
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony was beginning to think this might be a good time for a visit home.
The ‘vampire’s paradise’ of perpetual night wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. LA was teaming with vampires from all over the world and all the humans had either left, died or gone to ground—which made for a whole bunch of very cranky vampires! Fights broke out constantly as there wasn’t anything to do or anyone to eat. The occasional human who blundered out was set upon like a fox by a pack of hounds. The city had effectively shut down.
This was stupid! It was violent and boring and stupid! Harmony packed a suitcase and an insulated cooler with her gourmet dinners, hopped in her leased Mercedes and got the hell out of Dodge!
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony drove down the deserted street, her mind a welter of confusion. What the frick was going on? Maybe this really was the end of the world?
Sunnydale still had day and night—the perpetual darkness seemed to be confined to LA, but the people had all disappeared. It was like an episode from the Twilight Zone. The street where she had grown up was completely peopleless. Her family, her neighbors—all gone.
She unlocked the door of the house she still thought of as ‘home’. The silence was absolute. No hum of electricity, no ticking clock—nothing at all. A film of dust lay over everything.
Tiptoeing through the laundry room, Harmony unlocked the door to the attached garage and breathed a sigh of relief. Both cars were gone, so her family could have left voluntarily.
Whatever was going on was giving her a definite wiggins, so she carefully relocked the house and sat in her car to think. She’d heard San Francisco was nice; this seemed like a real good time to find out!
$$$$$$$$$$
Harmony sat in the oak-paneled bar of the hotel, sipping a Cosmopolitan and glancing through the newspaper. It was cold and damp and foggy in San Francisco, but maybe she could find a job, just until she got on her feet, and then . . . what? New York? Las Vegas? Europe?
Harmony was a southern California girl to the bone. Could she make an un-life for herself anywhere else?
Harmony put down the paper and sighed. She finished her drink and looked up to catch the waiter’s eye to order another. As she glanced around the bar, her gaze passed over a dapper little man who was staring at her like she was the best thing since sliced bread. Managing to meet her gaze was all the encouragement he needed. He made a bee-line for her table, took her hands in both of his and kissed them.
“Ah . . . bella signorina. Bellissima! You are a goddess . . . a Venus. You are an American movie star, no?
Harmony laughed. “No.”
He wagged a finger at her and made a clucking sound. “Ah. You are, how you say, ‘fibbing’ to remain incognito, yes?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Really no.”
“But . . . you are not a movie star?”
Harmony shook her head ‘no’.
“Why not?” he asked plaintively.
Harmony giggled. “I’m an Administrative Assistant/Secretary/Personal Assistant and I’ve got the diploma to prove it. Wanna see it?”
He lit up as if a thousand-watt bulb had turned on behind his eyes and he brought his hand to his heart in an overly dramatic gesture of surprise.
“No!” he exclaimed.
“Yes!”
This silly little man was providing the most entertainment Harmony had managed to find in weeks.
“But this is perfection! It is fated!” Grasping her hands again, he leaned across the table and lowered his voice as if he were going to impart the secrets of the universe.
“I,” he withdrew one hand to place it over his heart again, “Carlo Alberto Paolo Alessandro Ponti, am the head Personnel Director of a multi-national corporation and we are currently in need of Administrative Assistants, among other staff!”
Harmony’s eyes widened in turn. “No!”
“Yes!” He nodded happily. “My, how you say, ‘Boss’, the bellissima Ilona Costa Bianchi, from the Roman branch and the charming Soon-Li Park, who heads the Singapore branch, are here in America to personally supervise the complete re-staffing of our Los Angeles branch!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
He removed a gold card case from his breast pocket and withdrew an embossed business card. Turning it over, he jotted down the Suite number and handed it to her.
“Present yourself tomorrow at eleven o’clock of the morning and we will see what we may do to satisfactorily conclude both our needs!”
Harmony wasn’t sure exactly what he said, but she thought he might be offering her a job interview. Either that, or he was coming on to her. Whatever.
$$$$$$$$$$
Things had finally gotten back to normal—or as normal as it gets in LA. Carlo Alessandro whatever whatever had been on the level. She had gotten the job with W&H, and although it was in the typing pool to start, the salary was more than she expected and the benefits were great.
As Harmony’s fingers flew over the keyboard, typing up a complicated contract, she smiled. She was back on-track in the actualizing of her un-life and in less than an hour, she would be keeping her date with the pair of Ferragamos that had been calling to her ever since she had passed the window that displayed them yesterday.
Sensing a presence studying her intently, Harmony looked up. The man looked familiar, but a whole lot hotter and more confident than she had remembered him being.
“Wesley?” she asked in disbelief.
“Hello, Harmony. I have a proposition for you . . .”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-05 02:59 am (UTC)