Title: fragment3
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: A snippet from Xander's summer 1999. I don't want to say anything else. And it's slash. But I'm not saying anything else.
Spoiler: S4 premiere (can't remember the name)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. If they were mine, things would be different. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and anyone else I forgot.
Note: Originally posted on lists 17 October 2000, on the day I received my receipt for Friscon. Much to my amusement, it was postmarked in Oxnard. This happened.
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The promised tips had not materialized. Xander sighed, recalling his gullibility the previous month.
"Hey, look at Dave. His fireman routine? Three hundred bucks. For just one song. Rick made -- what was it? Five hundred bucks on jungle warrior night? Think about it. A week, and you'll have enough for your car, no problem. And you won't have to get your hands all pruny in the dishroom."
And so Xander had agreed. Now Xander was reconsidering the wisdom of this whole stripping thing. Sure, the rest of the guys had no problem coaxing several hundred dollars per shift, but Xander was lucky to break the magical triple digit mark. He sighed. Time to be honest with himself. He was lucky to get anything larger than a one-dollar bill.
And so, as part of the fun most-humiliating-experience-*ever*, here he was, asking the club's number one draw (not-so-coincidentally the same dancer who had convinced him that this whole thing was a Very Good Idea) the secret to his success. And now that he was here listening to the guy, he wasn't sure that he *really* wanted to hear the answer, especially since asking the so-called beautiful people for help had never been one of his favorite things. The phrase "bait and switch" rang in his ears. How was he to know if the advice he was getting was actually any good rather than designed to maximize his humiliation? And that was assuming that he was not immediately laughed at.
But Grant was more than willing to assist. "It's really simple. Just imagine that you're not dancing for the crowd. Imagine that you're doing this for just one person."
"Like who?" Duh. Even as he asked the question, he heard mocking voices telling him how silly it was. Any idiot knew the answer to that one. Pick the most beautiful or richest person out there and focus on her.
But Grant couldn't hear the voices in Xander's head, and the response surprised the teen. "Find a friendly face. A non-threatening one. Or even better, a sad face -- someone who needs cheering up. Put all your energy into cheering them up. Don't even *look* at the ones who are reaching for you."
"It's not like anyone's reaching for me."
Xander had thought *that* comment had remained in his head, but Grant laughed. "Yeah, but you're paying attention to the ones who are already reaching for everyone else. They're broke by the time you get out there. Look for the untapped market."
~~~ And so Xander found himself peering out into the audience from behind the curtain, trying to figure out who should be the recipient of his attention. The surly redhead next to the perky brunette? Oops. Not a good idea. It was quickly made apparent to him that the surliness was actually jealousy. Red was *not* happy with the way her girlfriend was slipping green pieces of paper in Eric's g-string.
"Can't find someone?" Grant's soft voice startled Xander. "Okay. If there's not anyone good by the stage, then look further out into the audience. That's actually even better sometimes. Then everyone in the area can think that they're the target."
Xander took a deep breath. The song of the moment was winding down, and he would have to hurry in order to get into place before the stagelights went up. He had quickly discovered that the darkness of the stage between songs allowed him to get a fast view of the audience before he was blinded by the change from dark to light, and this was the perfect time to find that friendly face that Grant seemed convinced was Xander's best hope at financing his car repairs.
Finally, the song ended, and the lights went down. Xander hurried to his mark, scanning the crowd for his inspiration.
~~~ He had planned on taking a few days to figure out who to focus on. Nothing good was ever easy, and he had assumed that this would not be the exception.
As he counted the money piled around him, he came to the conclusion that he had been wrong. Sure, it had taken a few days, but not to accomplish the same goal he had expected. Three nights of dancing to his one special person -- found the second he turned his attention to the audience that fateful night -- had resulted in fifteen hundred dollars from the club's many patrons. Even Grant had been impressed, making Xander swear to reveal the secret to his success at the end of the summer. The brunette smiled. As if the advice would help the veteran dancer. The inspiration was limited to one person, and that person would be a *former* patron of the establishment as soon as Xander was gone.
The shower stopped, and Xander quickly gathered up the cash, clearing off the bed so there would be ample space to spend the rest of the evening. But when he stood to place the bills in his backpack, he tripped, stubbing his toe. "Damn it."
"Xander?" The still-wet form of his companion and inspiration for the past few nights stepped into the bedroom, toweling off hair. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." Xander zipped up the bag, carefully making his way back to the bed and propping his foot up to survey the damage. "It just hurts like you wouldn't believe. Guess it's a good thing I made all this money in case I have to take a few days off."
"Hmm." A hand lifted Xander's foot, placing it on a towel-clad lap. "Perhaps I should make sure nothing is broken."
"Perhaps." As strong, sure fingers gently kneaded his foot, Xander sighed happily. "The other one, too?"
A warm smile. "Good idea. Just in case I don't recognize a break in this foot, I can compare to the uninjured one?"
Xander nodded. "Feel free to make sure that everything is in working order, Giles." He grinned. "And I mean *everything*."
~~~ the end ~~~