Chapter 11: City of Blinding Lights

Brandon glanced down at the blonde head resting lightly on his shoulder. Kelly's eyes were closed, and he could hear the gentle rhythm of her breaths as she slept. They had only been in flight for around fifteen minutes; one minute, she had been awake, reading a magazine, and suddenly, the next, the magazine had slid to the floor and her head had drooped towards his shoulder.

"You should just push her off," Dylan spoke up, startling Brandon.

"What?" Brandon replied, meeting his friend's eyes over Kelly's head.

"Kelly. Just nudge her slightly. She'll move," he suggested knowingly. "When we traveled this summer, she was always nodding off."

"She's not bothering me," Brandon commented quietly. Dylan shrugged and turned his attention back to the Sky Mall catalogue.

"Whatever," he answered.

"She had a midterm yesterday. She's probably overtired," Brandon added. Dylan shrugged again.

"Like I said, whatever."

Brandon had wound up with a seat next to Kelly and Dylan as a result of Kelly's insistence that she buy Brandon's ticket. When she had phoned Brandon to tell him that Dylan was indeed on-board for Operation: Stop Brenda, Kelly had mentioned to Brandon that it was just best if she bought all the tickets. He could pay her back later, she insisted. Donna and David were covering her portion of the rent for the next two months to even things out, and it was just better if they could all be guaranteed seats on the 3:05 flight.

Only Steve had balked at Kelly's generosity. When they had arrived at the gate, they all discovered why. Thanks to the use of Rush Sanders's credit card and platinum frequent flier status, Steve had finagled himself a first-class ticket and had given them all a satisfied smirk when the rest had filed past him into coach. He was no doubt sitting in front of that heavy blue curtain, hitting on the flight attendants and trying to sweet talk his way into getting served with free cocktails.

"Is she asleep already?" David leaned around the back of Brandon's chair, a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, why?" Brandon replied. David snickered.

"She can't stay awake for anything lately. Donna and I were watching a movie with her last weekend, and she fell asleep. In the theater!"

"Leave her alone, David. Between school and rushing, she's got a lot on her plate. Not to mention she's watching Erin all the time because your father and Jackie have such busy social lives lately."

"Blame Mel's new girlfriend for that. I don't know Jackie's excuse," David retorted. Suddenly, Kelly sat bolt-upright, her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

"Brandon, I'm so sorry," she stuttered.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled. She brushed her hair away from her forehead and bent down to retrieve her fallen magazine.

"Welcome back to the world of the waking, Sleeping Beauty," Dylan joked, though it didn't sound as playful as teasing should. Kelly shot him a look as she flipped open her magazine and began scanning the page. Brandon shifted in his seat. He could sense the tension between the two of them.

"So," Brandon began. "When we land in Vegas, how do you suggest we go about tracking Brenda down? I've got nothing to go on other than that's their destination."

"I assume they'd have to have secured a marriage license," Kelly stated. "But I don't think that would give us anything other than the city, which we already know. At least, I don't think you have to list the church or chapel on a license."

"You don't," Dylan piped up, not taking his eyes off the catalogue he was still browsing. Brandon glanced sideways at his friend. He was awfully absorbed in that stupid catalogue, and it seemed like an avoidance technique rather than genuine interest. Not that Dylan couldn't have afforded every extravagant gadget in there, but it just wasn't Dylan's style to catalogue-shop.

"I think the only thing we can do is divide up the wedding chapels," Donna called from the row behind Brandon, Kelly and Dylan.

"Yeah, and then how does the person who finds her let the rest of us know?" Dylan replied bluntly. "What we need to do is get to a hotel, book some rooms, get the phone book from the drawer where they always keep it underneath the Bible, and start calling. If they've got a reservation at one of the chapels, they'll be able to tell us."

"Reservation?" Kelly echoed. "What is this, a wedding or dinner out?"

"It's Vegas, a wedding is about as common as a nice dinner out," David replied.

"You all keep saying "It's Vegas" but have any of you actually been there to make these statements?" Dylan asked. No one answered him. "That's what I thought."

"Can you please lose the attitude?" Kelly snapped. "You're not doing anyone any favors being so cold."

"Then don't listen to me," Dylan replied.

Brandon sighed. Never before had an hour passed so slowly.

***

"So this is the nicest chapel I could find," Stuart stated, handing Brenda a brochure.

"Chapel of the Flowers?" Brenda read. He nodded.

"It had the best write-ups and testimonials. Plus it's not too far from here."

"I'm sure there were at least ten other chapels in walking distance from here," she replied dryly. Stuart's brow crinkled.

"You don't like it?"

"No, no," she caught herself, seeing his hurt expression. "I meant, there are so many chapels to choose from, proximity shouldn't have really been a concern, that's all."

"Oh," he nodded. "Okay." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Do you like the suite?"

"It's breathtaking," she agreed, looking around the lavish room again.

"Nothing but the best for my bride-to-be. And Caesar's is the best," he declared.

"You've been to Vegas before?" she asked, realizing she truly didn't know the answer.

"Uh, yeah," he nodded. "I've been here several times. Always stay at Caesar's though. They comp like no other for high rollers."

"I didn't know you like to gamble," she said. Stuart paused, as if he were trying to gauge the appropriate response.

"Uh, well, I wouldn't say I like it. But it's fun to do once in awhile."

"I see." He sure didn't sound sincere, she observed.

"So," he began, changing the subject abruptly. "I called the chapel, and they had three openings. One at 6:15, one at 8:30 and one at 8:45. Take your pick."

"There are that many other people getting married there tonight," she gaped incredulously.

"Bren, do you even know how many people get married here daily? I mean, there are the planned ones like ours, and then there are the random ones where people wake up that morning and decide to do it, and there are the drunken mistakes. Easily a couple hundred a day, and this one is very popular."

"Okay. Well, let's do 6:15," she shrugged.

"Perfect," Stuart beamed. "Then we'll have all night to celebrate." Brenda sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, running an index finger along the satin-jacquard comforter.

"You don't feel at all…I don't know…bad about this?" Stuart stopped, his hand midway into the mini-bar.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" he asked, alarmed.

"No," she replied hastily. "I meant, I guess, you don't feel bad about not telling anyone. I mean, maybe someone would have been happy for us."

"Is that what this is about? Did you really want that big wedding? Bren, we can have a nice reception for our family and friends. Maybe in a few weeks, right around the holidays. I promise." He twisted the cap off a bottle of Heineken and took a long pull off of it.

"Stuart, I told Brandon," she sputtered.

"What?" he frowned. She jumped up off the bed and began to pace.

"I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to be home this morning, and he took me by surprise! And he was asking all sorts of questions, twin-intuition stuff, you know?"

"Bren, you're babbling," he reprimanded her. "Do you trust your brother?"

"What?"

"Do you trust your brother?" Stuart repeated.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," she affirmed. "And I made him promise not to tell my parents, and he agreed to it. Brandon doesn't break promises."

"Well, then, we have nothing to worry about," he smiled brightly. "Now, should we grab something to eat before our after the ceremony?"

"It doesn't matter," she replied. All of a sudden, she was dwelling on the brief conversation she had had with Brandon a few night's ago. He had been so intent on warning her against Stuart. If her brother was convinced Stuart was not the right guy for her, why had he been so quick to give her his blessing when he learned of the elopement.

Something was not right.

"It's 3:30 now. I guess it's a bit early for dinner," he decided. "So here's what we can do." He placed an arm around Brenda's waist, guiding her back to the edge of the bed, where they both took a seat. Stuart paused to take another drink of his beer. "Why don't we get changed, you know, get ready for the wedding, and we can go have drinks in one of the lounges for a bit, maybe just grab an appetizer or something, until it's time. Then you can pick any restaurant you want and we'll have the fanciest dinner you've ever had to celebrate being Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Carson."

"That sounds fine," Brenda replied meekly. Stuart cocked his head at her and set down his beer bottle on the nightstand.

"Or we could just do some pre-celebrating here right now," he suggested, a wicked glint in his eye. He covered her body with his, and the weight of him pressed her down onto the bed. Brenda found herself resisting, and she pushed him away with some effort.

"I think we should save that for later tonight," she explained, seeing a flicker of anger spark in his eye.

"Fine," he said through clenched teeth, reaching for his beer and draining the rest of it in a long, single swig. Brenda stood and adjusted the hem of her t-shirt, which had crept far up over her navel.

"I guess I'll go change and make myself presentable," she said lightly, trying to play off the abrupt tension in the air.

"Take your time," he replied, sarcasm creeping into his tone. Brenda sighed inwardly and grabbed the garment bag from the opposite side of the bed. She also snatched her cosmetic bag from her suitcase and headed for the bathroom. Her fingers searched the wall for a light switch, and when she finally located it and flicked them on, she gasped at the sheer awesomeness of the bathroom.

"I could live here," she murmured, taking in the marbled floors, the gold fixtures, the ornate carvings on the edge of the tub.

Or at least hide in here for a bit, she thought to herself as she peeled her t-shirt from her upper body and shimmied out of her shorts.

With each tick of the clock, her anxiety was rising.

***

The airport shuttle pulled up outside the Mirage, and the driver hopped out to assist with baggage. The gang all gathered their bags and descended the steps to wait on the sidewalk for Donna, who was lugging her suitcase down the stairs of the shuttle. David rolled his eyes and grabbed the large valise from his girlfriend.

"It's one night, Don. You didn't need to pack for a week-long getaway."

"It's just essentials," she retorted. Brandon shook his head in amusement and reached into his pocket to search for a five-dollar bill that he knew was in there in order to tip the driver. But before his fingers could close over the bill, he observed Dylan slap a twenty into the palm of the shuttle driver. The man grunted a thank you and returned to the driver's side of the shuttle and within moments, the vehicle swerved back into the moderate traffic along Las Vegas Boulevard.

"Come on, let's just go inside, get some rooms and get to work," Dylan ordered, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Donna and I aren't sharing a room with any of you, I'm telling you that right now," David announced as they made their way down the palm-lined path to the main lobby of the Mirage.

"Don't hold your breath, David," Kelly snickered. "This may be Vegas, but Donna's not going to just roll over for you because you're in a glitzy city where people act a little stupid." Brandon chuckled at her candor, but Donna's mouth dropped open.

"Kelly!"

"We're still getting our own room, Kelly," David called over his shoulder.

"I'll just get the damn rooms," Dylan muttered.

"In that case, I'll take a penthouse suite," Steve joked. Dylan didn't as much as blink at his comment, and he purposely strode off towards the reception desk.

"Isn't this the hotel with the cute white tigers?" Donna piped up.

"They're not cute when they're mauling your face off," Steve replied.

"The tiger sanctuary is over there," Kelly pointed, indicating a sign.

"David, let's go look," Donna squealed, dragging him by the hand. "Kel, watch our stuff."

"You're awfully quiet," Kelly nudged Brandon gently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking," he confessed. "What if we can't stop her?" Kelly smiled sympathetically and squeezed his forearm.

"We will," she nodded. "When has Brandon Walsh ever not gotten what he wants?" she teased. He tilted his head and thought for a moment, playing it up for her benefit.

"Well, there was the time I was eight and wanted to play for the Minnesota North Stars," he joked. "Last I checked I was hardly a hockey protégé, and the team is supposedly being relocated to Dallas." She smiled and shook her head.

"Very funny," she replied.

"Are you two laughing at me?" Steve interrupted.

"What if we say yes?" Kelly giggled.

"Not nice, Kel," he pouted playfully.

"You're a big boy, Sanders. Suck it up," Brandon added. Dylan walked back towards them and handed Brandon and Steve each a key.

"That's for your room," he explained. "Where did David and Donna go? I've got one for them too."

"They're looking at the tigers," Kelly replied. "Where's my key?"

"I've got it," he returned. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"We're sharing a room?" she asked.

"Is that a problem, Kel?" Dylan said, exasperated. "Don't get all excited. There are two beds."

"Good," she shot back. Brandon stepped forward to play referee.

"Okay, guys, let's remember why we're here. C'mon. We can go to my room and start making calls."

"It's my room, too!" Steve called.

"Shut up, Steve," Kelly replied, her teeth gritted. She shifted her overnight bag on her shoulder and followed Dylan across the open lobby.

"Shouldn't someone tell Donna and David?" Steve spoke up again. Dylan sighed.

"Yeah, probably. Here." He fished into his pocket, removed a jumble of keys and checked the numbers on them. He tossed one across to Steve. "Give this to them. I'll hold on to the other one. And meet us upstairs in your room." Steve nodded and headed across the lobby, while Brandon, Kelly and Dylan walked the other way towards the elevators. The three rode in silence up to the sixteenth floor. Kelly kept her eyes fixed on the glowing numbers, while Brandon noticed Dylan's eyes firmly locked on his ex-girlfriend. The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors parted.

"Looks like our rooms are this way," Brandon gestured after scanning the sign outside the elevator. He turned left, and Kelly and Dylan followed. Brandon came to a stop and jammed his key into the lock. Turning slowly, he felt the lock release, and the door swung open. He tossed his bag to the floor and held the door, allowing Kelly to slip inside.

"You coming?" Kelly turned to Dylan, an impatient look on her face.

"I'm going to go to our room and make a few calls," he replied, beginning to walk away. Kelly stuck her head into the hallway. "You'll be the first to know if I find anything, Kel."

"He's a regular charmer to be around today, isn't he?" Kelly marveled bitterly. She let the door slam shut behind her and walked across the room, sliding open the top drawer of the bedside table with ease. Reaching beneath the Bible, she held up the Las Vegas Metro Area phone book. She sat on the edge of the bed on the left, and Brandon wandered over to settle across from her, his fingers poised above the keypad of the telephone.

"Let's get started," Brandon sighed. Kelly nodded and flipped through the pages under she located the yellow pages near the back. She found the pages with ease and called off the first number on the page. Brandon punched it in and listened for the ringing to begin.

"Aaron's Chapel of the Bells?" a bored voice answered. Brandon cleared his throat.

"Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me if you have a couple by the name of Brenda Walsh and Stuart Carson confirmed for a wedding there today?" He met Kelly's eyes, and she looked back at him hopefully.

"One moment," the bored voice droned. A pause. "No. No one by either of those names."

"Thanks," Brandon replied, and the phone clicked without another word from the other end. He pushed the receiver and waited for dial tone. "Next?" he asked. Kelly called off another number, and Brandon repeated the process, waiting briefly to be told that no, there was no couple waiting to be married by those names. Three more numbers, and still no luck.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. Kelly hopped off the bed and jogged over to the door, peering through the peephole. She shot Brandon a quick look and swung the door open.

"Got them," Dylan announced, stepping into the room. Brandon sprang to his feet.

"You're kidding," he replied in awe. Dylan shrugged.

"It was just as easy as I suspected it might be. A leopard never changes his spots. Stuart favors Caesar's Palace. Always has, at least when he'd fly out here on Daddy's credit card in high school with his fake ID to do a little wheeling and dealing."

"How do you know that?" Kelly asked suspiciously.

"Not important," Dylan cut her off. "So I called the main desk at Caesar's and asked one of their concierges to give me the names of some wedding chapels nearby, and then I asked her humble opinion as to which was the best. Remember, only the best for Stuart Carson," he smirked. "And bam, that was exactly the chapel that was holding a 6:15 wedding for one Mr. and Mrs. Stuart Carson."

"6:15?" Brandon exclaimed. "That's barely an hour from now."

"Yeah, but lucky for us, it's not far. We wait for Steve and Donna and David, and then we go." Dylan clapped Brandon on the back. "No worries, bro. Brenda's not walking down that aisle. I guarantee it."

***

"You ready? I think it's best we head over to the chapel. Maybe if they have any no-shows, they'll just start our ceremony early." Stuart rummaged through his billfold and slapped a fifty down on the bar. Brenda looked at the empty glass in front of Stuart, his fourth, and stared down at her own glass, sweating beads of condensation from the cocktail she had barely touched.

"Yeah, okay," she nodded, grabbing her clutch from the bar. Stuart smiled and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him tightly.

"You look amazing," he whispered. She smiled half-heartedly.

"You said that already," she replied, adjusting the dress as they began to walk from the lounge.

"Well, get used to it. I'm going to be telling you how beautiful you are for the rest of our lives." They exited the casino floor out onto Las Vegas Boulevard, the setting sun casting spidery shadows from the palm trees onto the sidewalk. He signaled for a cab.

"I thought you said it was a short walk," she pointed out.

"It is," he agreed, opening the door of the cab that had pulled to the curb. "But I'm not letting you walk to your own wedding. It may not be humid out here, but it will still make you break a bit of a sweat. He ushered her into the cab, settling onto the rear seat beside her.

"Where to?" the driver called.

"The Chapel of the Flowers," Stuart replied.

"Do you have the marriage license?" Brenda asked. Stuart nodded and patted the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He kissed her temple.

"I thought of everything, my love. Nothing for you to worry about." Brenda sighed and glanced out the window. The lights were starting to come on along the Strip, and the sun had turned the sky into a smear of purples and reds. As the cab neared the chapel, her heart began to race, and she felt her pulse quicken.

This was really happening.

There was no turning back now.

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Author's Note: This chapter went according to plan, so no sense in not just posting it now. But Chapter 12 needs fixing, and if you want me to get going on it, you know what to do. There is either going to be a wedding, or no wedding in Chapter 12. I already know the answer, ha ha. And B/K fans, thanks for being patient. You'll get your due.