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By now Buffy is in complete hysterics.

"Yeah, ha, ha. Laugh at my demise." I can't help but smile anyway. If only this had actually happened to someone else…someone like Riley, or…Angel. Okay, now that would be funny.

It takes Buffy a good five minutes to get her laughing back under control. I guess I can count that as a favor, because at least while she's laughing she can't make little snide comments about it.

"So…are we even now?"

Buffy raises her eyebrows and pretends to be considering. "Well…I don't know…"

She's already forgiven me, I can tell. But I play her game anyway.

"So, if you broke your arm only a couple weeks into the summer, how is it that you still managed to make enough money to get the car and pay for your hotel and stuff?" she asks. "Oh wait, you said something about insurance money? Geez, how much did they give you?"

"About two thousand."

I can see Buffy working the math in her head and realizing that after doctor bills, hotel and food costs, there probably wouldn't have been enough to get home on. "Uh…Xand? How exactly did you buy a car…?"

What's one last humiliation? "Nothing says love like money in the waistband," I echo the same thing I'd told her before.

Buffy eyes me strangely. "Don't tell me you made that much in tips in one night."

I grin. Let her believe that. It's a lot less embarrassing than admitting the truth. All I can say is that Jim-Bob, Billy-Joe, Betty-Jean, and all the patrons of the Fabulous Ladies Night Club recognized me everywhere I went the rest of the summer.

And pity tips are still good money.