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Everybody Loves a Little Party Sometimes
“Do you ever think about Angel?” Cordelia asked. Doyle insisted on walking her back to her apartment tonight, but he had to hustle to keep up with her. Even in super high, high heels, she out power-walked him. Cordelia Chase always seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere, never content to stay in one place for long.
“Do I ever think about Angel? What do you mean?”
“I mean, don't you think he seems kind of lonely sometimes? He seems lonely to me.”
Her question took him by surprise. He tore his eyes from her beautiful face. He realized he had been staring at her. Maybe even drooling a little bit. “The big lug who sticks to himself, prefers sitting in the dark to socializing? Who hasn’t touched a woman in eons of time, save for that one-off with his blonde lady love, that cost him lose his soul? That Angel?”
He continued. “The poor cursed fellow, destined to spend eternity alone, lest he get close enough to someone that they press his sensitive, gooey, pure happiness button and trigger his inner sadist? That Angel?”
“Duh. Do you know any other Angels around here?”
“Certainly not in these parts,” he murmured as they passed a busty, overly made-up woman in a too-tight black skirt who shook her tits at him, while licking her full lips. “Fallen angels, maybe.”
He sighed. “Anyway, you were saying something?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I was. Thanks for paying attention,” she said sarcastically.
He couldn’t say that he always paid attention to her. Didn’t want to freak her out and send her running for the hills in those insane heels of hers.
“So, what are you thinking about exactly?”
“Not what. Whom. I am thinking about Angel, silly.”
“Oh, right." He wondered exactly how much time Cordelia spent thinking about Angel.
“I mean, sure he tries hard to hide it behind that tortured expression, and those big brown eyes, and perfect hair, but I can tell Angel’s really lonely.”
Doyle was annoyed but he tried to push the feeling down. Why did every woman he met go crazy for the vampire? Sure, Angel was great-looking, and mysterious, which was catnip for most ladies, but he was a vampire, for crying out loud! Not that Doyle could really judge. He was half demon after all.
“What’s this bit about his big brown eyes and perfect hair? Don’t tell me you have feelings for the boss man.”
“Oh, puh-lease. I just happen to be a keen observer of human nature. I can tell he’s hurting.”
“Maybe you would be safer observing from afar. Because I like your head right where it sits there upon your shoulders, not lying on the ground after Angel rips it off you because you touched his boo-boo.” Cordelia had slender, graceful shoulders. He should know. He admired them often.
“I am not going to touch Angel's boo-boo."
"What you need is an ever-so-slightly less physically intimidating man,” Doyle said. “Maybe with an accent, and I don’t know, blue eyes. A man who is a barrel of fun and won’t literally rip out your heart.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Do you have anyone particular in mind?”
He tugged at his shirt collar. “No, not really, but that’s the sort of man a woman should be drawn to. Kind, thoughtful, even if a little rough around the edges at times.”
“Oh, I’m so sure.”
“What is your type anyway?” He was almost afraid to ask.
“Guys who don't have to ask what my type is,” she snarked.
“Touché.”
“So, we were talking about Angel.”
“We’re back to him again, huh?” Doyle liked the man well enough but felt admittedly deficient by comparison.
“I think we should throw him a party. Parties always cheer me up when I’m feeling like dog crap.”
“I don’t think a party will fix what’s hurting inside Angel.”
She sniffed. “Well, it’s a start! I don’t see you coming up with any ideas to help him out of his obvious funk.”
“Who would we even invite?”
“Well, now let’s see. There’s you, and there’s me, and… Oh, come on! There must be a hundred people in L.A. who would love to hang out with me. And if there aren’t, then I may as well crawl into a hole, curl up, and die of patheticness.”
“C'mon. Don’t say that.”
“You can’t tell it to look now, but I used to have a lot of friends, Doyle. Loads and loads of friends! I always had cool places to go and fun things to do. I was surrounded by a sea of admirers.”
“I can almost guarantee you've still got admirers.” He tugged on his shirt collar again.
“I just want people to care. Is that so wrong?”
“No, but maybe havin’ just one or two people who care a lot isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“You can’t have a party with only three people, Doyle! It's not a party at all. It’s embarrassing!” She gasped, as if something alarming just occurred to her. “It’s a pity party! Because we’re not cool enough for people to want to hang out with us. We're just sad and lame. And pitiful."
“So then, no party?”
“I didn't say that exactly. And don’t be such a party pooper! We still have to do something fun to make Angel feel better.”
“Just a shot in the dark here, but I don’t think Angel is the party-hearty type.”
“But I need to thank him for giving me a job when no one else would, and you should want to thank him as well for hiring you to… do whatever it is you do.”
He puffed out his skinny chest. “I will have you know, I do a lot of things at Angel Investigations. Wasn't it me who brought us to D'Oblique’s door and Talamour in the first place?”
“Oh, yeah, thanks for that by the way. I never want to sleep with anyone ever again.”
He straightened his shoulders. “There, there. Don’t be so hasty. You just need to stay close to people you know who won’t open your heart up through your back muscles and burrow in there and do, may I say, some seriously nasty things.” He saw Cordelia’s disgusted expression and he cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do. And can I just say, ew?” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, about Angel's party.”
“Oh, are we back to that?”
“It’s important to me, Doyle. Angel is miserable and I hate to see pretty people being miserable. They run the risk of getting frown lines.”
Doyle sighed. “Angel is in no danger of getting frown lines, I promise you that. And wait just a minute, why do you keep bringing up the way he looks? You do like him, don’t you?”
“No.”
He crossed his arms. “I am pretty sure I recognize a lovesick person when I see one.” He would know. He caught a glimpse of one in the mirror every morning.
She ignored him. “I am thinking of petit fours and lots of champagne. We can’t skimp on the bubbly.”
“And just who’s paying for all this fancy schmancy stuff?”
“Don’t you have any money?”
“Not a pittance."
“Me neither.” She sighed. “Well, I guess it’s pigs in a blanket and a six pack of Budweiser then.”
“I do love a good pig in a blanket.”
“What about Angel?”
“I don't think he'll eat pigs in a blanket or petit fours. Not unless they’re smothered in Type A straight from the freezer section.”
“Gross.”
“The man drinks blood, Cordelia. You know that. I'm just being honest.”
“Do you have to be so honest?”
“Trust me. There are lots of things I play close to the vest.” One thing he kept close to the vest was the truth about how he really felt about her. He was falling in deeper every second. So much deeper.
He studied Cordelia in the moonlight as she went off on a spirited tangent about the wonder of party favors.
“Party hats!” Cordelia exclaimed. “We need party hats. But not those cheap paper ones. They are tacky.”
“What were you thinking? No, let me guess. The latest from Ralph Lauren couture?"
“Don’t joke about Ralph Lauren. I can’t even afford to walk in there now.”
Doyle smiled a little. “I guess it doesn’t matter what kind of party hats anyway. As long as you don't scrimp on the confetti, mind you.”
“Oh, of course not! I love confetti. The glittery kind especially. I love how it falls through your fingers like fairy dust!”
She touched his arm. “Hey, uh, thanks.”
His skin burned where her fingers brushed his skin. “What for?”
“For entertaining my ideas, even if I know you don’t really like them.” Her eyelashes fanned her cheeks. They were a bit pink. “It means something. Having someone to listen, I mean.”
Doyle suddenly understood. This party was as much for Cordelia as it was for Angel. There were a lot of lonely hearts in this city. He'd taken it for granted that somebody as unique and special as her couldn't be lonely too.
He gave her a genuine smile. “If you really want to have a party … Then a party you shall have. The best one ever.”
“Do not tease me, Allen Francis Doyle!” It pleased him to no end to realize she knew his full name.
“I’m not. It’ll be wonderful. You’ll see.”
She smiled. “In that case, can we please talk about the cake? I am thinking two tiers, white frosting, cinnamon sprinkles…”