Putting the Crank in Crankypants
Faith fought the urge to dance from foot to foot. She was going to be late if this guy didn’t hurry up and answer the door. Dawn’s birthday party was in a couple of days and Faith had hours of driving to do to make it to San Francisco if she wanted to be there. And since this was the first Scooby bash she’d been invited to since she got out of the clink and because little D had grown up to be awesome, she wanted to be there.
But first, she had to do a pickup and delivery for Giles. And Mr. Singer wasn’t answering his damn door.
She brought her hand down hard on the wood and flinched a little when one of the little panes of glass cracked. The damn thing finally opened, though, and Faith had never been so glad to see someone scowling at her.
“Delivery for Mr. Singer from the Council,” she said, thrusting the sack at him. The thing gave her the wig and she wouldn’t have carried it across the freaking country if Giles hadn’t been so logical and trusting.
He narrowed his eyes at her and opened the sack. She peeked because Giles had told her not to open it before handing it over but Singer closed it up tight before she got more than a glance.
“What do you want in trade?” he grumbled, hand knotted tight around the sack.
She pulled out a list from the inside of her jacket and handed it to him. He glanced at it and grunted, turning away from her and wandering further into the house. Faith took that as an invitation and stepped in, wary of the piles of books that seemed to be everywhere.
“Hey, are you the dude with the Key of Solomon?” she called as an idea struck her.
“Yeah, but it ain’t on the list and I wouldn’t let you have it anyway,” he called back.
Faith snorted softly. He didn’t look it but the man was a librarian at heart. “I knew that,” she said, lowering her voice when he came back into the room. “You’ve already told the Council that. But a friend of mine, she’d like to study it. It wouldn’t even have to leave the house. She could stay here while she worked on it.”
“I’m not one for guests,” he said with biting sarcasm, thrusting a different pack at her. She didn’t bother to open it because damned if she’d know if everything was in there. “I prefer my solitude.”
Faith crossed her arms, eying the man. Deciding she had his number, she said, “D’s turning 18, just got accepted to Cambridge. And I need to make up for 18 years of birthdays and a lot of nasty shit that went down in the past, so just let her play with your damn book. Please.”
He stared at her, mouth pinching, then said, “Balls! Fine, but I’m not responsible for her safety and she don’t pester
me while she’s here.”
Faith grinned, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll talk it over with G, figure out the whole safety thing, and get back with you.”
She bounced down the steps, ignoring the muttering and slamming door behind her. There might actually be something to this asking shit after all. She got what she wanted and she didn’t even have to worry about cops.