II. When I Think Of You
Ooh baby, anytime my world gets crazy
All I have to do, to calm it
Is just think of you
'Cause when I think of you, baby
Nothin' else seems to matter
'Cause when I think of you, baby
All I think about is our love
I just get more attached to you when
You hold me in your arms, and squeeze me
And you leave me making me blue
'Cause when I think of you, baby
Nothin' else seems to matter
'Cause when I think of you, baby
All I think about is our love
So in love
(So in love)
Ooh
(So in love)
With you
(So in love)
Baby
(So in love)
Ooh
(So in love)
Hee
(So in love)
With you
(So in love)
(So in love)
When I think of you
When I think of you
When I think of you
When I think of you
Bass
I'm so in love
I just think of you
If you're not around
Oh
When I think of you
(So in love)
Ooh
(So in love)
So in love
(So in love)
With you
(So in love)
Baby you
(So in love)
Ooh
(So in love)
So in love
(So in love)
With you
(So in love)
Break.
(Ooh, ah, ooh, ah, cha, ooh, ah, ooh, ah, chaow!)
Ah!
Hahahaha!
Feels so good
When I think of you
Yeah-e-yeah
When I Think Of You is the property of Janet Jackson.
AN: Sorry for the delay. Really, I am. This whole story takes place during that whole Mardi Gras weekend. The Dylan/Brenda story is operating on a different timeline than Brandon/Kelly but it's all in the same weekend. Thanks.
Everything is almost done. It's not nearly the Fourth of July, but for some unknown reason Jim and Cindy Walsh have insisted on barbequing tonight. The weather is being cooperative so it's no chore to do it, but Brenda has more packing to do before the week's over. After all, this isn't for a weekend visit to Minnesota or one of the gang's camping trips; this is for a three month stint in London with the Royal Academy. What if great things happen there?
At the same time, what if great things will happen between her and Dylan? She did her best not to pry into the break-up, having been in the thick of things in the past. Call her crazy, but she didn't exactly relish reliving those lonely nights alone, seeing Dylan and Kelly across the West Bev quad, and dancing with Dylan at prom only to lose him to Kelly for the rest of that night. Finding the strength to endure all of those instances came from somewhere. She liked to think she was strong, but she didn't know she was that strong. Forgiveness is one of the hardest things to give someone, but it's also the most rewarding. Cutting Kelly and Dylan out of her life wouldn't make her feel any better, especially Dylan, not after everything they've been through. When they were next to each other near the bumper cars, it confirmed it for her. Dylan isn't someone to lose. He's someone to keep.
Brenda tosses two dresses on hangers onto her bedspread. Mr. Pony tumbles down the pillowcase, next to her script for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and her first dramatic technique textbook. All three were sentimental to her, but she'd made the decision to leave Mr. Pony with the Walshes. She's nearing nineteen and she couldn't bring him to a professional place like the academy. Maybe she could lend him to Donna. She'd always admired him.
"Brenda!" calls Cindy from downstairs. "Could you set the table?"
Sighing, she reluctantly leaves her room. Perhaps her parents were preventing her from finishing packing because they wanted her to change her mind about which day she was going to go. She was going four days early, just to become familiar with the city. Her father started listing all the neighborhoods she should stay away from after one of his business associates told him. While her mother was more game for Brenda to go, every now and then, she'd have this wistful look on her face and smile sadly at her daughter. Brandon was so buried in Task Force matters that she barely got to see him, but he promised he'd be there for them to say a proper Walsh twin good-bye.
"How much have you gotten done?" asks Cindy as soon as Brenda steps into the kitchen.
Two salads, ready to be eaten, are sitting on the counter, with bottles of Ranch dressing next to the bowls. The plates they often use for company are stacked to the right of the salads.
"Not a lot," replies Brenda. "Can I ask why we're doing this?"
"You always love our barbeques," says Cindy.
Correction. She always loved their house barbeques, because those were spent with her friends. Even then, Brandon enjoyed them more. He could eat and eat and eat, yet maintain his good figure. She hates that.
"I'm not exactly in the mood this time," says Brenda.
"You came in from Mardi Gras cheerful," notes Cindy. "What happened between now and then?"
Brenda touches her earring, feeling the light jewelry swing to and fro. This isn't the earring she remembers, that makes her frown as the smell of hickory floats in from the backyard. When she came in, the smell reached her nose and she was instantly reminded of a time when she hated barbeques. She and Dylan were preparing for a big blow-out barbeque at his house the summer before senior year. Brenda set down the brown grocery bag on Dylan's couch and saw an earring in between the cushions. Well, it wasn't the earring that got between them. Kelly's bauble sent a wave of suspicion, true, but she didn't know it was Kelly's. Dylan denied it, lied and said it was his mom's, and Brenda believed him. Thinking back, that barbeque should've sent more red flags up than it did. She hasn't liked barbeques since.
"Nostalgia," says Brenda, shrugging. "We both know how sentimental I can get."
"A great tool for your acting," says Cindy.
"Mom, I figured that out a long time ago," says Brenda, smiling.
They both laugh, Brenda setting about getting the forks. She put three on top of the plates, then carried the load to the table. Her mother had put down the red and white checkerboard tablecloth. Her parents could be so American sometimes. Something about it is charming, though. It reminds her of the simpler Minnesota days, when everything in her life wasn't so complicated. Who knows? Maybe she'd miss that too when she went to jolly old England. She should be jolly. Yes, this is going to be a great summer for her. She shouldn't be moping around. Brenda shakes her head.
"I'm actually starving," says Brenda good-naturedly.
"Good," says Cindy, going over to kiss Brenda on the forehead.
Jim enters from the back door, steam floating up from a plate of baby back ribs. The steam passes his balding head. He wears red mitts and a Tip the Cook, red apron. This elicits a laugh from Brenda.
"That's new," says Brenda.
"Jim, where did you get that?" groans Cindy.
"Bought it by myself," answers Jim. "What, you kids can buy jeans with holes in them and I can't buy this?"
"Well-played, Dad," says Brenda, patting his back. "Well-played."
Cindy looks defeated and fetches salad tongs.
"Thank you," says Jim.
The doorbell rings, interrupting their fashion discussion. Brenda's happy to get the door. She's almost afraid that they'll start discussing her past ensembles next. Brenda opens the door to a guy who's seen her in almost every outfit she currently owns.
"Dylan!" she cries.
"Sorry, wrong address," says Dylan, looking over his shoulder. "I was looking for a cat on a hot tin roof."
"Yeah, she's out for the evening," kids Brenda, smiling. "I guess I'll have to do."
"Beggars can't be choosers," jokes Dylan, coming inside.
She said goodnight to him and Erica at Mardi Gras, so she didn't expect to see him anymore today. Suzanne's marriage to Kevin is tomorrow so she thought he'd be resting at home.
"What are you doing here?" questions Brenda.
"I kinda need you," replies Dylan.
Needs her? Needs her for what? Brenda takes a deep breath.
"See, I wrote this toast...for the wedding," continues Dylan. "And I'm not sure it's gonna fly. It's just...missing something."
Oh, a toast, for the wedding. Of course that's it.
"Let me tell my parents and we can sit out on the porch," offers Brenda.
"Considering the way Jim feels about me, that's a pretty good idea," says Dylan.
Her father and Dylan weren't on speaking terms and she doesn't exactly know why. She knows it involves Dylan's money and Kevin, but that's basically it. Brenda walks to the kitchen, Jim and Cindy putting condiments onto the table.
"Dylan's here and...," begins Brenda.
"Dylan?" moans Jim, then looking to his left. "Well, him dropping by at this time isn't inconvenient in the least."
"Jim, it's only eight," says Cindy.
"And we're about to eat," points out Jim. "But...he's your friend."
"He is," remarks Brenda, throwing Jim a steely glance. "And I'm pretty sure a little common courtesy isn't too much to ask for. After all, that's how I was raised."
Giving her father a pointed look, which makes him sigh and untie his apron, Brenda returns to the foyer. Dylan holds a small piece of white paper in his hand. Even from the back, Brenda can tell there were some cross-outs and other small revisions. She takes Dylan's other hand and leads him to the porch. They sit under the hazy golden light cast from above.
"I almost wish Kevin had another best man," groans Dylan.
"Was there anybody else?" says Brenda.
"That's it," says Dylan. "I don't really know him well enough to know if there's anybody else."
"Well, you've seen him with Suzanne. That's what really matters," assures Brenda.
"That's what I tried to capture," says Dylan. "So, want to hear it?"
Brenda nods and lowers her hands to the sleek surface of the porch. Dylan clears his throat and begins to read.
"I've only been a part of Kevin and Suzanne's lives for a short period of time. However, their connection is timeless and will most likely last forever. Cheers to the happy couple."
Looking skyward, Brenda taps her mouth and stares at Dylan for a few seconds.
"Man, it's horrible," laments Dylan.
"No...no, it's not," consoles Brenda. "It's pretty...pretty short."
"Suzanne asked for one page, and I kinda made the words big," admits Dylan, showing Brenda the paper.
Brenda chuckles. The word 'timeless" takes up half the page.
"Maybe I'm...I'm just down on love," muses Dylan. "Like...love never works out."
The glow of the light shines on her knees as Brenda lifts them to her chest. Boy, did that thought sound familiar. She was dating, engaged, and Vegas wedding-bound this year in the blink of an eye. Stuart seemed so perfect. But he was only perfect because they were both so lost. She wanted a happy ending, though to truly be happy, she would've had to love that person unconditionally. This wasn't in the cards for her and Stuart. She'd been an incurable romantic who was cured of their fantasy once reality set back in and she barely talks to him anymore. Let the dead stay dead, she supposes. It really has, in a way, because she hasn't dated anyone since, not seriously.
"You know how they say Paris is the most romantic city in the world?" says Dylan.
Her Paris adventures were somewhat romantic, until they followed her home in the form of Rick. Bleh, she hated having that French accent for long.
"Kelly and I...pretty much fought the whole time once we left," shares Dylan. "Other parts of France weren't so romantic. It never was the same again. What if it couldn't be?"
Brenda stays silent as Dylan stares ahead at the end of the driveway where his car is parked. Couldn't be? Was it the guilt, because of her, that weighed down his relationship with Kelly, or was it another matter entirely?
"What if?" he murmurs.
"Dylan, everybody's story is different," says Brenda. "In fact, that's what makes love so interesting. There's twists and turns, and you don't usually know how it'll go."
"How am I going to write about that?" says Dylan.
"You're an amazing writer."
"Not as amazing as you are an actress, Bren."
The compliment is met by Brenda's skin growing hot, a heat more felt than anything radiating from the porch light.
"Trust your talent," offers Brenda. "And when you do get up to speak, just picture everyone in their underwear. Well, everyone you want to."
Dylan laughs, smiles at her.
"Bren, we really ought to do Paris sometime," says Dylan after a few seconds of silence.
She hasn't told him about the academy, not at all, not yet. Though Dylan won't be in L.A. either, the distance between L.A. and Orange County, and L.A. and London is vastly different. Well, anyway, he might be too busy with his business to notice she was gone. They'd only just started hanging out regularly after the whole Stuart thing. But yes, weeks from tonight, she'd be up for another night with him in a place where they've never been together.
"What if we fight during our trip, too?" says Brenda.
"We wouldn't," says Dylan confidently. "I'd like to think it'd be like Baja. There'd be some little disagreements, and more croissants, but by the Eiffel Tower, we'd be on the same page."
Brenda chuckles. "Okay. Then, I'm sold."
"Wonder how Jim Walsh would react if I whisked you away," says Dylan, thoughtfully stroking his chin.
"Sacre bleu!" cries Brenda.
They grin. Dylan places the paper into his pocket and stands. Brenda stands too, almost hating to do it.
"Hey, uh, I could stop by and see how the toast went," suggests Brenda. "What time is the wedding over?"
"Four," answers Dylan. "Yeah, come by my house at six. I mean, if you're not doing anything."
"Alright," says Brenda.
"So til next time, les grandes pensees viennent du coeur," says Dylan.
Scratching her head, Brenda shrugs, staring at him in disbelief.
"Look it up, Maggie," says Dylan, beaming as he climbs into his car and speeds off.
Maggie, her character from Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. Chances are she wouldn't have known the meaning either. Brenda wishes she herself knew, knew the language that well, knew the reason for her heart rolling and shuddering in her chest, knew why she couldn't move from the glow of the light.
II.
Pink cherry blossoms skid across the sidewalk, before their four feet touch the lines. Buildings of white marble hang above their heads. The sky is clear, blue, and without a trace of a cloud. It's like Beverly Hills has followed them. That's not to say he knows Washington D.C. weather well. It was way more unpredictable than Minnesota in winter, and L.A. in spring. They just lucked out, he guesses.
Once they left the hotel, Brandon took his arm away from her. They were in this weird limbo phase. When they were casual friends, he had no qualms about wrapping an arm around her shoulders or giving her a quick peck on the cheek. He did the same for Andrea, Donna, Brenda, any of his platonic female friends or relatives. But now Kelly isn't a platonic, pretty girl. She wouldn't have hopped on a plane that flew to him if they were simply platonic. So, now under the awning on a restaurant where they stopped for a bite to eat, he's keeping his hands to himself.
"Okay, the lady at the counter was kind enough to point me in the general direction," says Kelly, exiting with a scone and her guidebook.
He no longer keeps his hands at bay, brushing off a few crumbs that had fallen from the wrapped scone onto her red sweater. Kelly grins shyly.
"Bleh, I'm gross," laments Kelly.
"I don't expect you to be perfectly spotless every second,' says Brandon. "Just...every other second."
"Do you expect me to be a good guide?" returns Kelly, playfully swinging back and forth. "You trust me?"
"You're the girl that got me to pose for a beefcake calendar," reminds Brandon. "If that didn't show full trust then..."
"Deep down, you loved every second of it," says Kelly with a firm nod.
"Don't we have somewhere to be?" says Brandon.
"Avoidance thy name is Brandon," replies Kelly.
She dramatically fluffs out the map once she removes it from the guidebook. Brandon reads several street names as Kelly drags her finger along the coordinates. They are near the Capitol, the center of the greatest attractions. Their first stop, they decided, would be the Lincoln Memorial. Brandon fessed up that besides Kennedy, Lincoln was his favorite president. Kelly insisted that they should go since she had just suddenly shown up and might've thwarted any plans Brandon really had for the day. Actually, he hadn't had any plans. He would've probably bummed around the hotel, checked out the pool, and mailed a couple postcards. Those plans weren't nearly as enticing as spending the day with her.
"Let's get walking," says Kelly.
They walk a few paces, but are interrupted by a high-pitched whistle. The whistle is from a man, with a baseball cap and a Baltimore Orioles T-shirt on, parked in front of an easel. The man is around his father's age and staring at Kelly. Brandon kind've liked the Orioles but that didn't mean the guy would get off for showing no class. Kelly glanced at Brandon quickly.
"Excuse me, but I didn't know manners were out of style, sir," says Brandon, frowning.
"Oh...they're...they're not," stammers the man. "Only, it's been a long morning, and I saw a golden opportunity with you two."
Wrinkling his brow, Brandon is completely lost, until Kelly beams at him.
"Brandon," she says.
Kelly nods at the display of caricatures, with their oversized heads, ruler-sized smiles, and chalk-drawn clothes. So that's why he whistled? Brandon holds up a hand apologetically.
"Sorry, sir," says Brandon.
"No, I'd do the same if it was my wife," assures the artist. "How long have you guys been together?"
Rather than reply, Kelly bites into her scone and Brandon offers a gentle laugh.
"Lemme guess," says the artist. "You guys look like...six-monthers at least. The honeymoon-ish stage?"
How to answer that question? Brandon shrugs.
"This is our first real vacation together," supplies Kelly as she finishes her scone.
Brandon and Kelly both smile at the artist, Brandon sorry he didn't have the nerve to grant a smile to Kelly. She came up with a better answer than he could've. This is their first vacation as...as, well, whatever they're going to be.
"See?" says the artist. "I could tell by those glowy looks. I'm Lenny."
"Kelly," returns Kelly.
"Brandon," speaks up Brandon.
"Your art's really good, Lenny," compliments Kelly. "I'm kind of into art."
Really? He makes a mental note to remember that in the future. That's what so great about the early stages of dating, the little facts you find out that aren't in any guidebook, the little facts that show you listen to who you like because you like them.
"So why not take advantage of my skill?" says the artist. "I say as humbly as possible."
"We're on a tight schedule," says Brandon.
"This would take ten minutes max," assures the artist. "Come on. You need something to commemorate your first trip together."
Kelly smiles over at Brandon.
"Something tells me you could sell ice to a polar bear, Lenny," remarks Brandon.
"That I could," says Lenny.
"I...want...a picture of Brandon," asserts Kelly, slowly.
"What?" cries Brandon. "Wait a sec..."
"More than doable," says Lenny.
"Yeah, come on," encourages Kelly. "This doesn't require you taking off clothes like with the calendar, or being in an awkward pose, or..."
"I'm sure the lady can go on, Brandon," interjects Lenny.
"I can," agrees Kelly.
"You really want a picture of this mug?" says Brandon, turning to Kelly.
"Mhmmm," replies Kelly.
Whew, this is the last thing he thought he'd be doing today, but after she ordered breakfast for him, and came all this way, he can't say no. A numb butt and a goofy picture won't kill him.
Brandon rolls his shoulders and takes a seat on the stool. Kelly goes to Lenny's side, Lenny taking out a peach piece of chalk.
"So what do you like to do, Brandon?" asks Lenny.
"Oh, I know how this works," says Brandon. "You're going to exaggerate everything. There were caricatures in Minnesota, you know."
"Minnesota? Are you a twin?" asks Lenny.
Brandon twists his lips as Kelly laughs.
"I'll ask you then, miss," says Lenny. "Any hobbies?"
This would be interesting. What would Kelly manage to cull up from their four years of friendship?
"Sports definitely, preferably hockey," starts Kelly.
Lenny starts to draw on the sheet, shielded from Brandon's view. He sees Lenny go for red, blue, and white chalk too, yet stays quiet.
"And how do you see him?" says Lenny.
"Fine and upstanding, a gentleman, good posture," answers Kelly. "Warm smile, thoughtful blue eyes..."
She's staring at him as she lists every characteristic, her eyes never straying to the drawing. Were these things she's always noticed? Or were these things she'd only taken notice of today? Is she doing what he's doing? Is she trying to ingest any information about him and log every memory in her memory bank?
"Strong, open," finishes Kelly. "Really, really hot."
Brandon lowers his eyes to the pavement, smiling at more floating petals near his legs.
"Lemme add some finishing touches, and....there!" says Lenny, laying down his chalk after a few careful movements.
Standing, Brandon hesitantly peers at the drawing, Kelly by his side. The drawing is a more than decent likeness of him. His body is smaller, and his head bigger, but Lenny had pretty much gotten the rest right. There was his sandy-brown hair, his chest covered by a Minnesota hockey jersey, his hand holding a hockey stick, and his smile white and large as a tiny puck sails towards a miniscule goal.
"That's perfect," proclaims Kelly.
"Brandon?" encourages Lenny.
"What can I say?" sighs Brandon. "You nailed it."
"Another satisfied customer," says Lenny. "Fifteen dollars, please."
"Looks like I have to pay for you, Brandon," teases Kelly.
"I feel so cheap," says Brandon.
Kelly hands Lenny the money, and Lenny puts it into a thin box for protection.
"This city's beautiful at night," comments Lenny. "Make sure to stay out 'til dark, eh?"
He says it with a wink, with romance obviously on the brain. Brandon and Kelly say their good-byes, heading towards the Memorial, well in view after two blocks. They haven't said a word to each other after leaving Lenny, not until Kelly stops abruptly.
"Have you ever heard that expression 'what you see is what you get'?" asks Kelly.
"Yeah?" says Brandon.
"Well, and don't get me wrong, because Steve and Dylan are great guys, but...there was this piece of themselves that they hid from me, or they weren't emotionally open, and sometimes they had secrets, which I totally respect."
"But?"
"But I like to hide too. And sometimes when two people are hiding, there's no way it'll work. One of you has to open up eventually."
"Sounds right to me."
Kelly gently puts her hand in his, something he'd way rather be holding than a hockey stick.
"Something tells me that with you, what you see is really what you get," says Kelly. "And that's a good thing."
He more than understands where she's coming from and he's relieved. With Lucinda, there was too much secrecy, and with Clare, if anything happened, he'd be sneaking around with her behind the Chancellor's back. He'd like to be open and honest with her.
"I do have one secret, though," says Brandon. "Something you don't know about."
"What is that?" says Kelly, pulling away slightly.
"Nobody knows this, but...I can't dance...," starts Brandon.
Kelly laughs loudly, Brandon doing the same. He kisses her on the cheek with no reservations.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."