Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC. "I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do" (C) ABBA; 1993 Polydor / Umgd.

CHAPTER 4
FROM THIS DAY FORWARD

The saccharine voices of Agnetha Fältskog and Frida Lyngstad woke Hyde up—for the fourth morning in a row. Last he remembered, he was slumped on Leo's couch and feeling sick as a mangled dog. But now he lay on the Shooting Star Motel's sagging bed, and his stomach didn't hurt. His arms weren't scratched up anymore, and his mind... Hell, in comparison to last night, he felt great.

"Oh, no hard feelings between you and me," Agnetha and Frida sang, "if we can't make it, but just wait and see."

"'No hard feelings' my ass," Hyde said and shut off the radio alarm. It was 8:01 A.M.

He went down to the lobby after a shower, brought his duffel bag with him. Phyllis was behind the concierge desk as always, wearing her violet blouse and chipped tortoiseshell barrettes.

"Hey, toots," he said to her, "you got the paper?"

"That's an amenity here at the Shooting Star Motel, sweet cheeks." She handed him the paper, and once again, her grin showed off her missing molar. "So am I." .

He smiled back. "I bet a trucker'll take you up on that one day."

"Who says they haven't already, hot stuff?"

"Chick's got some tricks, huh?"

"Oh, more than just some," she said. She was leaning forward on the desk, her plump cleavage practically spilling from her blouse. ""I get off at three... You can, too."

"If I ever become a trucker," he tapped her greasy chin with a knuckle, "maybe I'll take you up on it."

8:17 A.M.

Hyde was outside in the motel's parking lot, standing against the Camino and studying the front page of the Milwaukee Sentinel. The date read, "Saturday Morning, September 8th, 1979," and the headlines were still the same, but none of that bothered him too much right now. "Yesterday" had taught him some valuable things.

First, acid was off the menu. He liked to tune out and have a freakin' laugh, not "get in touch". Especially since what he had to get in touch with was pretty nasty. Maybe it worked for other people, but tripping wasn't his deal.

Second, if all this day-repeating was being perpetrated by The Man, it probably wouldn't end until they wanted it to.

Third—and best—Donna had been right "yesterday". Nothing he did seemed to count. So he was gonna do whatever the hell he wanted.

A strong gust of wind whipped the paper from his hand, and it flew across the parking lot. Other than some sharp breezes, the September 8th weather was decent—clear blue sky with white wisps, like the sun had sparked up a joint. It was strange seeing the same cloud patterns four days in a row, but it could've been worse. It could've been raining.

With his duffel bag locked safely inside the Camino, he walked briskly to the street. If all went as planned, he'd be on the road in a few hours, bringing home a nice surprise.

8:56 A.M.

The door to Sam's apartment opened wide as Hyde approached it. Sam was standing there, smiling brightly in the flickering lights of the hallway, but he stepped toward her before she had a chance to speak. His hands slid over her the sides of her face and drew her to his lips, and she responded to his shallow kiss with a soft, astonished gasp. The sound encouraged him. He caressed the back of her short hair and gently deepened the movement of his mouth, causing a moan to issue from her throat.

"Wow. I mean... wow," she said after they parted. Her eyes were round with pleased shock, and her hand lingered on his shoulder. "I almost never let guys kiss me anymore, but..."

She kissed him again, the way she had that first September 8th night. Her arms crept around his waist and guided him into the apartment, and the scent of cigarettes shot into his nose. Her stripper-friends were seated at the table, still working on their outfits, but Sam didn't release him yet. She plunged her tongue deep inside his mouth, and his own tongue countered the move enthusiastically.

"Ooh, look at that boy go!" one of the strippers shouted, prompting Sam to pull away.

"Hyde... no one's..." Sam voice was almost a whisper. "No one kisses me like this."

"Then whoever's been kissing you is a dick."

Their stripper-audience seemed to like his answer because they put their hands over their hearts and collectively let out an "Aww..."

The sentimentality raised his hackles. Any other day, he would've told them to "Get bent," but his plan was time-sensitive, and pissing off Sam's pals wouldn't speed things up.

"Do you want coffee?" Sam said. She smoothed down the front of his Che Guevara shirt. "Anything to eat?"

One of the strippers waved from the table. "Or me!"

Sam giggled and wrapped her arms around Hyde's hips possessively. "Hands off, girls. This one's mine." Then she lowered her voice, as if she didn't want the strippers to hear. "I've got some frozen waffles I can toast up."

"I already had breakfast, but—" he took off his shades and looked deep into her eyes, "there is something I want."

The strippers hollered and whistled, but Sam remained silent. Her legs buckled a little, her hand slipped into his palm, and she led him into her bedroom.

10:03 A.M.

Hyde had just wanted to fuck, but he forced himself to be as tender as possible with her. Sam came loudly and more than once, and his own climax had nothing to do with Jackie.

That was good enough for him.

He made out with her for a short while afterward, to demonstrate his capacity for devotion, and it seemed to work. She settled onto his chest and sighed. "I could marry a guy like you."

"Yeah? Well, I'd dig marrying a chick like you."

She sprang up and faced him. "Really?"

"Yup." He grasped her left hand, "Sam..." and held his eyeball ring at the tip of her ring finger, "you wanna get hitched? Like, today?"

"Sure!" she said without hesitation, and Hyde grinned. This was it, man. His goal was within reach.

He slid his ring onto her finger. "I gotta hit a bank."

10:37 A.M.

They found a branch of Bellwether Bank a half-mile from Sam's apartment building. Hyde didn't own a credit card 'cause he didn't want Big Brother spying on his purchases. He didn't write checks, either, for the same reason. His dough used to be stashed behind a loose brick in his room, but that stopped once he became the manager of Grooves—and got too much money to stash. So he'd started to use the savings account Red opened for him years ago.

Red had chosen the bank well. Unlike most, it was open on Saturday mornings.

Sam watched silently as Hyde withdrew a thousand bucks. Money wasn't too much of an issue for him anymore. The record store paid him well, the rent he slipped into Formans' wallets every week had to be minimal so they wouldn't notice—and the thousand bucks would be back in his account tomorrow anyway. But if not, this burn was totally worth it.

He took Sam's hand as they left the bank. She was wearing an off-the shoulder shirt and a pair of tight jeans. Though she was too thin for him, especially with that big rack of hers, she looked damn good. Her body broadcasted "stripper," which was exactly what he wanted.

Two minutes later, they were at a payphone outside. He'd dialed up the operator, asking for chapels in the Kenosha area. But Sam tapped his shoulder and said, "I know where one is. "

He hung up the phone. He was liking this girl more and more.

11:02 A.M.

Hyde parked the Camino in front of the Death Do Us Part Wedding Chapel. Painted on the front of the building were a cartoon bride and groom, and hecouldn't help but smirk at the tackiness. He expected more of the same when he and Sam entered the place—but the inside was nothing like the outside. Just a front desk, wood-paneled walls, and a few wire chairs. Looked kind of like a doctor's waiting room.

A woman was standing behind the desk. Her dark gray hair was pulled into a tight bun, a stiff suit jacket covered her top-half, but she had a soft expression. "Welcome to the Death Do Us Part Wedding Chapel," she said. The name tag on her lapel identified her as Margaret. "How can I help you two lovebirds?"

Sam laughed her peppery laugh, and Hyde said, "We wanna get married... as soon as freakin' possible." It was already after eleven o 'clock, and they needed to get back to Point Place before he missed his chance.

"Congratulations, sir," Margaret said. "Do you have your wedding license?"

"Uh..." He glanced at Sam for help, but she shrugged.

Margaret pulled out a card and handed it to him. "Just go to the Country Clerk. It'll take about five days for them to get it to you and cost twenty dollars. You'll both need your birth certificates, social security numbers, valid state IDs..." She smiled broadly. "Then come back here, and we'll get you two married."

"No, I don't have five days," he said. "I need to get married now."

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just not—"

Hyde tapped the desk. "Okay, how about this? We do the ceremony. You take a bunch of Polaroids, and we get the license after?"

"Well, that's not the way we normally do things..." Margaret pulled out a pen, "but it's been done before. You'll have to bring the license here once you've received it so Gary—the officiator—and Murray, the witness, can sign it. We'll also need to be paid now, however."

"Sure, whatever."

"It'll be $300-total for bridal gown and groom tux, the ceremony itself, and the pictures." Margaret peered over the desk at Sam and gestured. "Let me see your hand, young lady." Sam did, and Margaret's brow wrinkled. "Is this... eyeball your engagement ring?"

"I guess so," Sam said cheerfully. Man, she was the exact opposite of Jackie—uncomplicated. Hyde's grin returned. He couldn't have found a more perfect chick.

Margaret glared at Hyde and pointed the pen at him. "You need to get this woman a proper engagement ring. Fortunately for you, we have a lovely selection."

She pulled a cherrywood jewelry box from behind the desk and opened the lid. Inside were a variety of rings, all with different-sized diamonds. One ring in particular, with a fat diamond sandwiched between two sapphires, caught his eye.

"How much is that one?" he said, indicating the ring he wanted.

"Four-hundred-and-fifty dollars," Margaret said.

"Cool. We'll take it."

Sam gasped beside him. "Oh, my God—Hyde, really?"

Her excitement pinched his heart with guilt. He was using this girl, but she wouldn't remember any of it tomorrow. And she seemed to be enjoying the trip today, so... no harm, no foul.

"Anything for my chick," he said and put his arm around her shoulders. Then he shifted his attention back to Margaret. "What about wedding rings? We don't have those either."

Margaret brought out another box, and inside were gold and silver wedding bands.

"You pick," he told Sam, which was a mistake because she spent the next six minutes deciding.

$950 later, they were finally on their way. Hyde took back his eyeball ring and slipped the diamond-sapphire number onto Sam's finger. She squealed and clapped in delight, something Jackie might have done.

11:16 A.M.

Margaret opened a door in the wall behind the desk. The door was disguised as a wood panel, and Hyde hadn't even noticed it. Clearly, he wasn't meant to.

Sam held his hand, and they walked into the wedding hall together. Now this was what he'd expected out of a chapel, man: White fluffy carpet running up the length of it, chairs draped in white cloth, an altar covered in flowers.

Two older guys, both with thinning gray hair, were seated and chatting it up. They stood when Margaret cleared her throat. "Gary, Murray, we've got a wedding to perform," she said.

Behind two more hidden doors were private dressing rooms. Margaret gave Hyde and Sam their wedding costumes—'cause that was what he considered them, costumes—and they met each other on the altar, dressed like a groom and his bride.

The ceremony moved swiftly. They listened to Gary spout a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about ever-lasting love, recited vows that meant nothing to Hyde, and were pronounced "Man and Wife". Hyde made sure to kiss Sam as deeply as possible for the camera. Margaret was diligent with the thing, snapping a Polaroid every few seconds.

The pictures were developed by the time he and Sam changed back into their clothes. He gathered them up from a flower-adorned table and pulled Sam back into the receptionist area.

"Remember to bring your license back here," Margaret said, "or this wedding isn't valid."

"Not gonna be a problem," Hyde said. He ushered Sam out the chapel's front door and into the Camino.
She was looking through their wedding pictures as he started up the engine. "I'll have to call my mom," she said and held up the Polaroid of them kissing each other. The image was reflected in the rearview mirror.

"Don't worry about that right now, okay?" He removed his right hand from the steering wheel and cupped her knee. "Or the license. We'll take care of it. I wanna get you home, show you off to my, uh... family. We'll go back to your apartment, get your stuff, and deal with the other crap later."

"Okay," she said simply. "I trust you."

Her answer made him chuckle. She wasn't complicated at all, and for the twenty-five minutes it took to drive from Kenosha to Point Place, he told her about where he lived, where he worked, and how exactly he wanted to introduce her. She seemed to have no problem with any of it, just happy to be taken from her old life.

12:48 P.M.

Hyde pulled into the Formans' driveway and slid on his shades. Then he and Sam got out of the Camino. He was jacked up with anticipation. This was gonna be some good shit, man; best burn he'd ever accomplished. He peered into the kitchen through the sliding door. No one was inside.

"If I haven't come out to get you in one minute," he said and fastened his watch on her wrist, "go through this door here and across the kitchen. Living room's behind the white door, and that's where I'll be."

She nodded, and he gave her a quick peck on the mouth. It was so damn easy with her.

He went into the kitchen himself and walked to the living room—and the sight that met him couldn't have been any better. Donna was consoling a crying Jackie on the couch. Fez was sitting in Red's chair, and Kelso was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," Hyde said softly.

Jackie's tear-streaked face popped up from Donna's shoulder. "Steven?"

He sat down next to her, and giddiness sparked in his chest. He snuffed it out. "What's up?" he said.

"Steven," she took his hand, and he didn't stop her, "I am so sorry about what happened in Chicago. I was alone and I thought I lost you."

"Yeah... well, I can see why you thought that." He kept his voice neutral, suppressed the laughter in his stomach. But, man, did he want to crack up—straight into her fuckin' lying face.

Jackie's eyes widened. "Why didn't you tell me sooner you wanted to get married?"

"Because I wasn't sure I wanted to," he said. "And now that I've thought about it, I'm right: I'm not ready to be married yet."

"Yet?" Her face brightened. "Oh... okay."

She squeezed his hand tighter, and right on cue—he couldn't have timed it more perfectly—the door from the kitchen swung open. Sam walked in, clutching their wedding pictures in one hand.

Hyde stood from the couch, but Jackie hadn't let go of hm.

"Hyde! Hey, baby!" Sam said and smiled warmly. "Wow, this place is nice."

"Ooh, pretty!" Fez said. He mimed the shape and size of her chest. "Very pretty!"

Jackie's grip on Hyde loosened. "Who the hell is that?" .

He shook Jackie's fingers from his hand and slipped his arm around Sam's waist. "This is Sam. She's a str—exotic dancer I met in Kenosha."

Jackie was standing now and staring at Sam's left hand.

"Yeah..." Hyde grinned, maybe wider than he ever had. Then he touched Jackie's shoulder, and she looked up at hm. "We got married today."

"Wha—what?"

Sam shoved her left hand in Jackie's face. "Check out the ring he got me!"

"Hyde, what did you do?" Donna said.

"Sapphires?" Jackie said. Her features were shot through with pain, and Hyde relished every second of it. "That's—that's my birthstone."

He shrugged. "Wanna see the wedding pictures?" He took the Polaroids from Sam and pushed them at Jackie's chest.

She grabbed the Polaroids with shaking hands and flipped through them. "Oh, my God!" Flip... flip... "You're wearing a..." Flip, flip, flip... "How could you do this?"

Donna was looking at the pictures over Jackie's shoulder. "Hyde, how could you do this?"

He didn't answer, and Sam frowned for the first time since he'd met her. "Baby, they don't seem happy about us," she said.

"I am," Fez said. He stepped in front of her. "Will you give me a lap dance?"

Hyde punched Fez in the arm, but he didn't give a shit if she gave Fez a lap dance—or anything else. Defending Sam's honor was mostly just a show for Jackie.

"Wow, you really are married," Donna said. The Polaroids were now in her hands.

"No," Jackie said. "I don't—I don't believe it. You set all this up just to hurt me."

Hyde glared at her. "Man, everything's always gotta be about you, huh?" Then he plunked onto the couch and brought Sam into his lap.

"Donna, Fez, would you please leave us alone?" Jackie said.

"Uh... sure," Donna said. She left the pictures on Red's chair and dragged Fez into the kitchen.

"Steven, could your 'wife' leave, too?" Jackie's tone was abrasive but held no rage.

"Yeah... no." He stroked Sam's arm, played with her fingers. She was being so freakin' docile, not questioning a thing. "Whatever you got to say to me, you can say in front of her."

"Fine," Jackie said. "Where's your marriage license?"

"On its way," Sam said helpfully.

"Uh-huh..." Jackie crossed her arms. "Marriage licenses take at least five days to process in Wisconsin."

"How the hell do you know that?" Hyde said. His resolve was starting to waver. This wasn't how things were supposed to go down, man. Jackie was supposed to be freaking out, not controlling her voice and confronting him.

"I know everything about how getting married works, Steven. D'uh. You would've needed your birth certificate, too—and I highly doubt you had it with you in Chicago. So what exactly is this..." her finger traced a circle around himself and Sam, "really about?"

He began to answer, but she continued. "No, I'll tell you what it's really about. This is your way of saying, 'Fuck you.'"

He smirked at her. She was damn perceptive when she wanted to be.

"Yeah," she said, "I get it, Steven. I begged you to give me a glimmer of hope we'd get married someday. And when you finally decided you could, you found me with Michael. So you go out, take the first piece of trash you could find—"

"Hey!" Sam tried to stand up, but Hyde held her in his lap.

"You say something about my wife like that again, Jackie, and—"

"Your wife?" Jackie tossed back her hair and cackled smugly. "She's not your wife. She's a joke! And the joke's over, okay? I can forgive you for this. I can, but you have to drop it. Y—"

"You can forgive me?" Hyde forced himself to remain seated, but Jackie's skewed understanding of things had his blood pumping furiously into every piece of him. "Right. First you tried to pressure me into marriage and don't stick around to hear my answer. Then you come back and don't even fucking ask if I'm pissed you left, and..." He shut his eyes. Words he'd thought countless times since he first met her rose to his lips. "You're a selfish bitch."

"Steven!"

His eyes opened, and he stared right into Jackie's stunned face. "My wife's ten-fucking-times the chick you are," he said and brought his mouth to Sam's.

The kiss was hot and dirty, he made sure of that—their jaws widening against each other, tongues pressing and sliding—and, finally, he heard what he was waiting for: Jackie's shrill, horrified, "OH, MY, GOD!" followed by the clack of footsteps into the kitchen.

He continued to kiss Sam for a while, just for the hell of it, but then his stomach started to growl. "Wanna get some grub?" he said.

"Yeah." She hopped off his lap and giggled. "I was beginning to wonder if you ever ate."

1:27 P.M.

The kitchen was devoid of people, which suited Hyde fine. He made Sam and himself a couple of sandwiches, got a few beers from the fridge. They ate silently at the table, and with every chew, he grew more and more disturbed by Sam's easy compliance.

"What's your deal, man?" he said. "It doesn't bother you my ex-girlfriend said all that crap?"

She took a swig of beer and shrugged. "No. She obviously loves you very much. I can understand why."

"What?"

"Hyde," she slid her hand over his fingers, "it's okay if you're using me to get back at her. She must have really hurt you."

"What?" he repeated.

"You've treated me well today, baby... better than I've ever been treated by a man. Jackie must be crazy to have cheated on you." She drank another sip of beer and suddenly lowered her gaze. "Hyde, there's something I haven't told you."

"Sam..." He felt the urge to run. Who the hell was this chick?

"I'm married already." She took a deep, labored breath. "See, my husband, he's in Vegas. He—"

"No. I don't care," he said and meant it. He didn't care, and he didn't want to know. "Today, you're my chick, okay?"

She nodded sadly, eyes shining in the kitchen lights.

They continued to eat in silence until their beer cans went dry. "Want another brew?" he said and headed for the fridge.

Sam began to speak, but the sliding door slammed open. Kelso rushed in with Fez behind him.

"Where's the stripper?" Kelso shouted. Then he looked at Sam. "There she is! There is a stripper in the kitchen! Am I yelling? I can't help it!" He ran up to Hyde, who was holding two cans of beer, and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Oh, Hyde, you married a stripper! I love you so much!"

Hyde shoved Kelso off him. He was the last guy Hyde wanted to be near right now.

"You must be Kelso," Sam said and held out her hand, but Fez took ahold of it with both of his.

"Oh, Sam, you are so lovely," Fez said. "Show me your boobs, please?" He released her hand, and a dollar bill was left in her palm.

She lifted her shirt an inch as if it were a reflex, but Hyde put the beers on the counter and pulled her toward the basement stairs.

"Spoil sport!" Kelso shouted.

"Go fuck Jackie," Hyde said and immediately regretted it. He was revealing way too much, allowing his feelings to surface. But his Zen had bailed days ago, the moment Kelso walked into Jackie's hotel room.

1:48 P.M.

Hyde sagged onto the basement couch and stared numbly at the ceiling.

But he didn't stare at it for long. The Doors' "Gloria" thumped through Forman's stereo, and Sam started to dance. She removed her shirt, revealing a sparkling white bikini top. Her body undulated like a snake to Robby Krieger's guitar, but all Hyde could see and hear was Jackie—her pain and her damn self-centeredness.

He checked his watch. Not even two o'clock, and too many hours to go. "Sam," he said as she began to grind into his lap, "I gotta take you back."

"Back?"

"Yeah, to Kenosha. I can't—" A wave of pleasure surged through his body. Fuck, she was talented, but he pushed her away, if only to speak properly. "I can't do this to you, man."

Sam looked morosely at her ring

"You can keep it," he said, and her face brightened a little. "But I gotta take you home."

She didn't argue. She simply put her clothes back on.

"SELFISH!" Kelso shouted from the basement stairs.

"I was about to see boobs!" Fez said next to him.

Hyde ignored them and brought Sam outside to the Camino.

2:23 P.M.

"Thanks for getting me back in time for my shift," Sam said. She and Hyde were standing in the shadow of her apartment building.

He gave her hands a squeeze. "Yeah... thanks for playing along today." She really wasn't a bad chick, but she wasn't his chick. He'd never make that mistake with a girl again.

"I hope you get what you want," she said and kissed him one last time. Then, without looking back, she disappeared inside her building.

Hyde was in the Camino a moment later, driving toward the highway. He wanted only one thing: More of Jackie's pain. The show-up-with-a-wife plan was a bust. Jackie proved too smart for that. But where the hell was that intelligence in the last year? The generous insight he'd found beneath the layers of her selfish superficiality?

His eyes shut against the thoughts. He hated her, man. For forgetting all she was, for forgetting him, for leaving—

A blaring car horn forced open his eyes; a sixteen-wheeler truck had stopped in front of him. He cursed and clutched the steering wheel, but it was too late. The Camino crashed into the back of the truck and threw his body forward. He hadn't put on his seat belt—only used to do that for Jackie—and pain smashed into his skull as he collided with the windshield.