I did not create, nor do I own, the major characters in this story. Buffy, Giles, Faith, Xander, Oz, Angel, Cordelia, Willow, and Spike all belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I did, however, create the storyline they now inhabit. Thanks to Laur, who originated the general idea for a “film noir” episode of Buffy. The title for this story comes from the excellent movie “LA Confidential.” That’s it. Hope the lawyers are happy.
***
Buffy squinted in indignation as bright sunlight filtered in through her window the following morning. She thought for a moment that perhaps she was back in her room at home, and it had all been a dream. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, she recognized the decor of her Hollywood apartment. Buffy took a deep breath and sighed. After the high drama of the night before, she missed her familiar belongings and the haven of her own room. ‘What I wouldn’t give right now for some quality time with Mr. Gordo,’ she thought to herself.
It took a herculean effort to drag herself out of bed. Buffy sat down at her vanity and scrutized her own face in the mirror. It wasn’t pretty. Her eyes were swollen from too much crying and not enough sleep. “God, I look awful,” she said aloud. “No wonder I’m not America’s sweetheart anymore.” She looked around the room despondently, half-considering just crawling back into bed, when something caught her eye. She walked over to the dresser and picked up a small piece of white paper: Angel’s business card.
“Well,” she thought to herself, “maybe I do have a reason to get up this morning after all.”
* * *
About two hours later, Buffy found herself in a dim hallway of the art-deco office building on 18 Victory Boulevard, staring at the front door of Angel’s office. Gilded lettering on the door’s frosted glass panel read: “Fly by Night Detective Agency.” Buffy hesitated for what seemed like an eternity, then she reached out with a gloved hand to turn the knob. She took a deep breath and strode confidently into the room. There she encountered not Angel, as she had expected, but the backside of a well-dressed young woman bending over the lowest drawer of a file cabinet. Buffy raised an eyebrow and observed her silently. ‘So,’ she thought suspiciously, ‘Angel doesn’t work alone.’
Suddenly the door slammed shut behind Buffy, startling the other girl. Whirling around in a huff, her skirt flying, the girl scoffed, “Ye gods! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? Say ‘hello’ or something when you enter a room! Sheesh!”
Buffy recognized Cordelia’s uniquely prickly voice and combative demeanor almost immediately, but she was too shocked to say anything. Cordelia kicked the file cabinet closed with her heel, then placed her hands on her hips and stared at Buffy expectantly. “Well?” she asked.
Buffy was confused. Obviously Cordelia didn’t know her. “Um,” she started, “is this Angel Brannigan’s office?”
“Yeah.” Cordelia snapped her gum impatiently. Then she cocked her head at Buffy critically, as if analyzing her appearance. “You look better on screen,” she said finally.
“And you should probably move that file cabinet somewhere less...prominent,” Buffy countered. “Look, is Angel here?”
“Mr. Brannigan is out to lunch,” Cordelia answered sharply. “And I should tell you, you being a movie star and all,” she began, rolling her eyes, “Angel doesn’t investigate contract disputes anymore. So if that’s why you’re here, don’t bother.”
Buffy was about to let Cordelia have it when the door opened again, and Angel walked in the office. As he surveyed both of them silently, his calm and cool presence immediately squelched all petty tendencies in both girls.
“Did you have a nice lunch, Mr. Brannigan?” Cordelia asked. “Your messages are on your desk,” she demured, smiling sweetly.
Angel nodded in acknowledgement, then he directed his attention to Buffy. “Afternoon, Miss Summers,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Buffy said earnestly. “About...things.” Buffy cut herself off and looked suspiciously in Cordelia’s direction.
A faint smile of understanding crossed Angel’s face, and he opened another door to his personal office and gestured for Buffy to enter. As she walked past him through the doorway, he lowered his head to her and spoke softly, “What did you do to my secretary?” he whispered. “She’s never this nice!”
“Shall I prepare the standard investigation contract for Miss Summers?” Cordelia offered, before Angel closed the door.
He turned to answer her. “No, I think this one we’ll do on an as-needed basis. No paperwork for now, Miss Chase.”
“Oh, great! Another freebie!” Cordelia fumed. “Look, there are SOME of us who depend on the income from this business! Not everyone is either a movie star or an independently wealthy wacko who just does this for kicks, you know!”
Angel pulled the door shut behind him and regarded Buffy with a mischevious smile. “Now that’s more like it,” he said. He walked over and sat behind his desk. “So, how can I help you?”
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