abetterlie

As yesterday was world AIDS day, the entire demonstration/assembly thing turned out to be way huger than just a bunch of students. It was also weird, because aside from demonstrating, everyone was soon arguing with everyone else, about all kind of things, from whether still connecting AIDS with homosexuals was discriminating against women to whether it was all a ploy by the pharmazeutical industry to exploit the Third World further back to whether not allowing gays to be priests was a way to blame gays for paedophilia. If there was anyone around who didn't have a clue what the demonstration was supposed to be about, they certainly didn't have after, either.

Note to self: demon fighting is way better organized. No matter whether it's Father or Angel giving the orders.

Or maybe this is because it's New York? I just never went to any demonstrations or group things at Stanford.

Anyway, at one point an idiot said to me "wait, I saw you in the tabloids - aren't you supposed to be banging Orlando Bloom's wife?". I tried to ignore him. I really did. He said something else about Cordy and ways of desperate repressed people to fight against their orientation, and then he called her a "professional fag hag", and I kind of snapped. Not so much that I didn't recall he was human and held back accordingly, but the punch was enough to get him on the ground anyway. Then another guy told me I was just enforcing bad stereotypes and I had enough and walked away.

Which was when I ran into Claire Davidson who was shopping for Christmas or something.

I had met her only that one time when Harry came home from his date and I had just caught Tom the thieving therapist, but she recognized me, so I said hello. And that was when things started to get even crazier. Because she dragged me to the next Starbuck's and said:

"Look, you've got to help me out with Harry."

Okay, I thought, I'm not that much of a masochist. And anyway, I thought Harry had said she knew the date hadn't been a date date but a publicity date. Plus I got Kara flashbacks, again. So I cleared my throat and said:

"I'm sure he likes you, but not as a girlfriend."

Which was the most diplomatic thing I could come up with. But she just shook her head impatiently and said:

"That's not what I'm talking about. How dumb do you think I am? Harry pinged my gaydar way back when he was still mooning over that Watson girl. No, I want Harry to back me up when I make my move with the board."

I made a very intelligent "huh?" sound.

"Boy, he really picked you just for your looks, didn't he," she declared pityingly. "Daddy is sweet, but somewhere back in the 19th century if he thinks all I'm going to do with my trust fund is to wait for someone with a bigger trust fund. I took business classes, and that whole bunch of crusty old men at OsCorp clearly has no idea about how to deal with modern management. Not that Harry is the world's brightest bulb, either, but I guess he can recognize talent, plus he really needs an ally on the board. So when I make Daddy go into his well deserved retirement? I want Harry to ensure the transition goes smoothly. Why do you think I agreed to that phony date?"

"To see Rent?" I said, so I'd say anything at all. She snorted in a semi-amused way.

"Right," she said. "So, tell him that when you get home. He has my phone number. And for the record? Next time he asks me on a PR date and brings me home to meet the rent boy, I expect at least a threesome out of it."

Then she rushed off, leaving me with the bill.

The rich are really different from you and me.