Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get Chapter 2 of this posted. I was working on the next chapter of Viva Las Vegas, but it just wasn't flowing. I hope it have it up by Thursday at the latest, but my schedule this week is crazy hectic, so no promises. Thanks to those of you who sent encouragement to the start of this story. I'm glad you like it, and yeah, it's fun to write them the way they were so many years ago. BTW, I'm cheating and using an album title for this chapter, cause it fits so well. Who knew Keith Richards could be so deep?
Chapter 2: Talk is Cheap
Brandon bounded up the steps from the foyer to the second floor of the Walsh house, hoping he'd be able to catch a twenty-minute power nap before heading to work at the Peach Pit at 4. He dashed down the hall to his bedroom, tossing his backpack mindlessly in the direction of his desk. Diving onto his bed, he pounded at the pillow twice and nestled his head against it, closing his eyes before thinking twice and reopening them. He glanced over at his clock, contemplating setting his alarm, not wanting to take a chance he'd slip into a deeper sleep and wind up late for his shift. On the other hand, he thought, he could see if Brenda was home yet and ask her to wake him in time to get to work.
He weighed his options, Brenda's earlier irresponsibility looming in his head, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Jumping off his bed, he crossed his room to the bathroom he and his sister shared and passed through, rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles. He thought he heard muffled giggles that stopped once he had knocked.
"Come in!" Brenda yelled. Brandon pushed open the door and first saw Brenda, cross-legged on the bed, a textbook open in her lap, pen clenched between her teeth. His eyes wandered to the floor, where he noticed Kelly Taylor lying on her stomach, her legs up in the air, bare feet swaying back and forth. She too had a textbook open on the floor in front of her, and she was tapping a pencil against the pages. He hadn't expected to find her in Brenda's room, and he tried to remember if he had seen her car in the driveway when he had gotten home or if he just been so anxious to rest he had completely overlooked it. Kelly flashed him a brilliant smile as Brenda raised an eyebrow at him.
"You want something?" his sister challenged. He could have sworn he saw Kelly purse her lips suggestively, but he dare not stare at her.
"Yeah," he began, "I want to take a quick nap before heading to work. You think you can handle waking me up in, like 20 minutes?"
"I guess so," she replied, shooting a look at Kelly, who was now scanning the pages of her textbook intently.
"You're not gonna forget like lunch today?" he warned. Brenda heaved a dramatic sigh and pushed her bangs off her forehead.
"I forgot, Brandon. Things happen. When Kelly told me after school, I felt bad. Really I did."
"Yeah, Dylan McKay," he muttered under his breath, surprised Kelly had even mentioned the soda to Brenda.
"What did you say?" Brenda narrowed her eyes at him. Kelly continued to pretend to be lost in her homework, her feet moving in tiny circles in the air above her body. Brandon found his eyes following the mesmerizing swing of them, sporadic flashes of pink from the polish on her toes.
"Nothing," he snapped back. "I'm going to take a rest. Twenty minutes," he repeated, turning back towards the bathroom.
"I'll make sure she remembers," Kelly piped up, her eyes meeting his, a slight twinkle dancing in the blue orbs.
"Thanks," he replied, pulling the bathroom door shut behind him and heading back into his room. He decided to draw the blinds, then repositioned himself on his bed, closing his eyes.
His thoughts immediately drifted to the pretty blonde in the room next door. He was fairly certain Kelly had some level of interest in him. He knew she was generally friendly and flirtatious with most guys, save for Steve Sanders, and maybe he was reading into things too much, but he definitely felt her eyes on him way more lately. And she was always smiling.
He couldn't help but smile thinking about her, and it was just the lullaby he needed to soothe him to sleep.
***
"So when did you become so interested in my brother?" Brenda accused the second Brandon had shut the door. Kelly looked up, her eyes wide with innocence as she finished writing her sentence and put her pencil down.
"What are you talking about?"
"Come on, Kelly. I'm not stupid. You're always smiling at him, and you made it a point to tell me I had forgotten his stupid soda today, and then you offer to back me up in case I forget to wake him?"
"Just being a good friend," Kelly shot back, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"You're my friend," Brenda hedged. "Not his."
"We're all friends, aren't we?" she said, picking at a fiber on the rug. "Except maybe Steve. He doesn't know the meaning of the word."
"I'm just saying, if you're interested in Brandon, you should know that you're not really his type." Brenda bit her lip and immediately regretted the words as they left her mouth. Kelly's brow furrowed, and her pretty face contorted in a frown.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she whispered hoarsely.
"Nothing," Brenda sputtered, twirling her pen in her hand. "Forget I said anything."
"No," Kelly shook her head, springing to her feet, nearly kicking her textbook in the process. "Why am I not Brandon's type?"
"Um," Brenda stammered, her mind desperately searching for the right way to reply and smooth things over without getting Kelly any more upset. "Well…um…it's just, well, Brandon dates a lot of brunettes," she finished lamely. Kelly's blue eyes glinted steely in Brenda's direction.
"That's not what you meant," she leveled, placing her hands on her slender hips. "Admit it, Brenda, you meant Brandon doesn't go for ditzy, slutty girls like me."
"No, Kelly, that's not…" Brenda started to answer, but the wounded look on her friend's face caused her words to trail off inaudibly. She felt a pang of guilt for being responsible for that look. Kelly leaned down and hastily gathered her book and paper, jamming them into her bag and grabbing her purse. She slung both over her shoulder and fled from Brenda's room.
Brenda exhaled and flopped back against her pillow, listening to the sound of Kelly's feet thundering down the stairs. She thought she heard her mother's voice, but almost immediately recognized the slamming of the front door. She sprang off the bed and raced to her window, just catching Kelly backing her car past Brandon's Mustang and peeling off down Hillcrest Drive.
"Brenda?" Her mother was suddenly in the doorway of her room. "Where did Kelly go so fast? She barely said goodbye before she was out the front door. Brenda sighed again and perched at the edge of her bed. "Did you two have a fight?" Mrs. Walsh asked gently.
"Not exactly, Mom," she replied. "But I said something I shouldn't have, and I think I really hurt her."
"Oh, Brenda," her mother clucked, crossing to sit down next to her daughter. "What happened? What did you say?"
"Well," Brenda paused, wondering if she really should tell her mother about accusing Kelly of having the hots for Brandon. She decided to stretch the truth…just a bit. "See, Mom, we were talking about this guy Kelly likes, and I make the mistake of saying Kelly probably wasn't his type, and she took it personally."
"What did you mean by it, Brenda?"
"We-e-e-el," Brenda trailed again. "Kelly figured I meant she was too ditzy and slutty for this guy." She saw the surprised look cross her mother's face. "But I didn't say that, Mom! And I didn't mean that. Not at all," she added hastily. "I'm not sure what I meant, honestly. But Kelly's really sensitive about her reputation, and she just jumped to conclusions. And now I feel awful."
"Sweetie, you may have said it innocently, but from the look on her face, you must have really hurt Kelly. It appeared she was trying to hold back tears when she left."
"I know," Brenda replied miserably. She sighed and caught a glimpse of the clock out of the corner of her eye. She jumped up. "I told Brandon I'd wake him. He's working tonight."
"Are you going to be here for dinner?" Mrs. Walsh asked expectantly, and Brenda knew it was her subtle way of asking if Brenda was seeing Dylan that night.
"Yeah," she answered glumly. "And I thought Kelly was going to be joining us." Mrs. Walsh rose and patted Brenda's shoulder comfortingly.
"I'm sure you'll find a way to explain things to Kelly," she smiled warmly. "I've got to get the roast in the dinner if we want to eat at all tonight." Brenda watched her mom leave the room and darted into her brother's darkened room. She walked towards his bed and shook him roughly by the shoulder.
"Brandon?"
"Hmmmmm…" he grunted. Brenda shook him again, harder.
"Brandon, get up!" Her brother sat bolt upright.
"I'm awake, I'm awake," he insisted, dragging a hand through his now-disheveled hair. "Thanks, Bren. Glad you remembered this time."
"Shut up, Brandon," she snapped. Her brother gave her a bemused look, shrugging off his shirt and buttoning his Peach Pit uniform over a white-t.
"Awfully testy, aren't we?" he snickered. He craned his neck, looking past Brenda into her room. "Where's Kelly?"
"None of your business!" she huffed and slammed the door to the bathroom behind her. She leaned against the door, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, before dashing towards her room and lunging for her phone. She punched the buttons in quick succession and waited for the voice on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Donna," Brenda breathed. "It's me."
"Oh, hi, Brenda. What's up?"
"I just need to talk," she requested.
"Oh, sure. Just let me tell Kelly I'll call her back." Brenda's heart sank.
"Kelly's on the other line?" she murmured. Brenda knew immediately that Kelly had driven right home and wasted not a second's time calling Donna, no doubt to vent about Brenda. "No, no, don't go. I'll just talk to you later."
"Are you sure?" Donna hedged.
"Positive. Bye, Donna," she said softly, disconnecting the line without another word. She paused and waited for another dial tone and pressed another line of numbers.
"Yeah?"
"Hi," she whispered, smiling at Dylan's uber-casual way of answering the phone. "Are you doing anything tonight?"
"I'd like to be doing you," he replied.
"Dylan!" Brenda exclaimed, her cheeks growing hot in spite of the fact she was alone in her bedroom.
"No plans, Dad's out of town, got the suite to myself for a few days. Why? You wanna come by tonight?"
"Can I?" she begged. "I just need someone to talk to."
"You know my door's always open. Just have them buzz the room and I'll come down and claim you," he teased. She exhaled and placed her hand over her heart subconsciously at his offer.
"Okay," she exhaled, relieved that she had finally passed her driver's test and didn't have to plead with him to come get her. Besides, she could easily tell her parents she was driving over to Donna's to do homework, "My mom usually has dinner ready around 6, so I'll be there sometime around 8?"
"I'll be here," he replied.
"Thanks, Dylan."
***
"Kind of slow tonight, huh?" Brandon raised his elbows off the counter, where he had paused to rest after wiping them down for the third time, and looked into the smiling eyes of Nat Bussichio, the owner of the Peach Pit.
"Kind of slow would be a few customers, Nat," Brandon lamented. "I've served two people in the last hour."
"Some night are just like this, Brando," Nat shrugged cheerfully. "On the bright side, the counters have never been cleaner."
"Thanks," Brandon replied sarcastically. Nat grinned and disappeared into the back again. Brandon tossed the rag beneath the counter and stepped out from behind it, heading towards one of the corner booths to check the salt and pepper shakers. He had just picked up the pepper to examine it at eye level when the bells over the door tinkled to announce the arrival of a customer.
"It's a regular party in here!"
"Hey, Steve." Brandon went back to the shakers when he realized it was only his friend.
"Hey, I'm a paying customer. Get your ass behind this counter and take my order!" Steve commanded as he settled his bulky frame onto one of the swiveling stools along the counter. The phone rang as Brandon began his walk back towards the counter.
"I've got it Brandon!" Nat yelled from the back.
"What can I get you man?" Brandon greeted his friend with a slap of their hands. Steve pushed back the unopened menu.
"My usual," he ordered. Brandon nodded.
"Megaburger, medium-well, fries to order, Willie!" he called, sliding a bottle of ketchup towards Steve while one hand held down the button to dispense Coke into a cup. Steve grabbed the soda, plunged a straw into it and took a long, steady sip.
"So, tomorrow night, party at Tom Hartman's. You're coming with me."
"Who's Tom Hartman?" Brandon asked, trying to place the name. It was futile, though, what with meeting so many new people within a short six month-span.
"He's a senior soccer stud," Steve explained. "Donna's been eyeing him since she was a freshman, but stupidly, in this, our young prime when we should be macking on as many gals as we can, Hartman's been with the same girl since they were sophomores. And Cammie Fisher, his girl, she ain't even that hot, man." Brandon rolled his eyes.
"Maybe not all guys are as shallow as you are, Sanders. Apparently she's a helluva swimmer. Or so my article says," he quipped.
"Whatever. Let's get back to the business at hand. This party tomorrow night, you're going, so don't wuss out on me."
"I don't know, Steve," he sighed. "It's my one night off this weekend; Nat needs me Saturday night and for the Sunday afternoon shift. I don't even know the guy, and honestly, sometimes, just watching the Kings on a Friday night works for me. The playoffs are approaching."
"Hockey?" Steve snorted in disgust. "Brandon, are you kidding?"
"Not really," he admitted, glancing up as the bells jangled and an older couple entered the Pit and headed for a table in the far right corner. Brandon grabbed his note pad and walked over to take their orders. Within moments, he was back behind the counter, spinning the paper with the couple's requests around to Willie, who was in the kitchen. At the same time, Willie was placing Steve's order in the window, hand poised above the "ready bell."
"This is why we work so well together, my man," Brandon grinned at Willie through the window. Willie winked and began reading the new order.
"I'm dragging you to that party if I have to," Steve mumbled around his first bite of burger. Brandon leaned forward and gave him a look of mock confusion.
"What? What was that?" Steve swallowed and gave Brandon a withering glare.
"You heard me loud and clear. You are not sitting home tomorrow."
For the third time within the hour, the bells over the front door jingled as the door swung open. Brandon was surprised to see Kelly step inside the Pit. Her eyes found his instantly, and she gave him her usual coy smile. But within seconds, her beaming expression grew stormy as she noticed who was sitting at the counter.
"Hey, Kel," Brandon called. Steve froze, mid-bite of his burger, and swiveled around to face his ex-girlfriend.
"Hi, Brandon." She walked over to the counter, careful to keep her distance from Steve. She leaned against the counter, and Brandon tried in vain to avert his eyes from the generous amount of cleavage her position created. "My mom called in a take-out order about twenty minutes ago." She gave him another smile.
"I'll check," he replied. Once again, just as he was looking into the window of the kitchen, Willie slid a large bag onto the ledge and stapled a receipt to the flap. "Your timing is impeccable," he praised Willie, grabbing the bag and returning to Kelly.
"I see your mom has whipped up yet another of her specials, huh, Kel? She's such a good cook," Steve smirked nastily. Kelly finally turned her attention to him, an icy glare in her blue eyes.
"Oh, Steve. I didn't see you there," she said smoothly, completing ignoring his barb. "What's the damage, Brandon?" Brandon looked down and consulted the receipt.
"Uh, looks like $21.64," he read. Kelly nodded and reached into her purse. She produced a twenty-dollar bill and a ten and slid them across the counter in Brandon's direction. He picked them up.
"I'll get your change," he offered. Kelly reached across and placed her hand on his forearm, shaking her head.
"No, no change," she murmured. "The rest is yours." Brandon gazed back at her in surprise, noting her hand was still lingering on his arm.
"Kel, people don't usually tip at all for take-out, let alone that generously." She shrugged.
"Jackie's not expecting change," she said breezily, and Brandon was reminded how odd it was that so many kids in Beverly Hills called their parents by name. He had only met Kelly's mother twice, and he had to admit she really didn't seem like the kind of woman who wanted to be reminded she was a mother. It seemed fitting that Kelly referred to her as "Jackie" more than she did "Mom."
Brandon knew Steve was watching their exchange like a hawk, and he also knew Kelly was completely ignoring the guy. In spite of the fact she had her order and had paid, she was making no move to leave.
"I wasn't expecting you to be gone when Brenda woke me up this afternoon," Brandon pointed out, changing the topic. "After all, you promised to back her up."
"Yeah, um, I had some stuff to take care of," she replied evasively, her mood suddenly less cheery and flirtatious. She was clearly giving no more away than Brenda was. She picked up the bag. "Thanks, Brandon. See you tomorrow," she replied, turning towards the exit.
"Bye, Kelly," Steve called loudly. Kelly glowered at him and disappeared out the front door, the bells announcing her departure. Steve snorted and grabbed a fistful of fries. "That girl has some issues."
"You don't exactly make it easy for her to communicate with you," Brandon chided. "Why do you always have to try to get under her skin, man?"
"Why do you care?" Steve snapped back. He straightened on his stool and shoved a few fries into his mouth, wiping at some excess ketchup on his lips with a napkin, which he then wadded up and tossed in Brandon's direction. Brandon shrugged.
"Maybe because I'm your friend and it's no fun to watch you wallow in your Kelly-Taylor-dumped-me-and-I'm-still-not-over-it self-pity. You know, in some places, guys and girls can even be friends when they break up. You want my advice, get over it."
"You don't get over Kelly Taylor," Steve replied bluntly.
"Well, I wouldn't know that," Brandon replied, shaking his head at his friend's stupidity. "But Steve, think about this: has she given you any shred of indication that she's not over you? Or that she'd be willing to take you back if you dropped the mean routine and started treating her with a little respect?"
"I tried the respect thing, right after we broke up." Brandon had to stifle a laugh. He didn't know Steve at the time, as he and Kelly had broken up well over a year prior to him moving to Beverly Hills, but somehow, knowing his friend, he severely doubted Steve had ever attempted to be civil to Kelly. "And if you must know, yeah, you remember that party at your house last winter, when your parents were in Palm Springs?"
"I remember," Brandon grimaced, recalling the horrible events of that night, a night he had partially spent in jail thanks to his asinine decision to get behind the wheel of his car after having drunk too much. It was a night he knew he'd regret for a long time coming.
"Yeah, well, thanks to a few of my magic margaritas, Kelly was more than putty in my hands that night."
"I don't think a girl's actions under the influence of some heavily-spiked margaritas can be argued as unrequited love," Brandon demurred, hearing Willie smack the bell. He pivoted, grabbed the two orders of the older couple in the corner, and moved quickly to deliver them their food. After refilling the man's iced tea, he returned to his post at the counter where Steve was polishing off the rest of his plate.
"Kelly's going to the party tomorrow night," Steve declared. "And I'm going to make it a point to get some alone time with her, try to make her realize we should give our relationship another try."
"Good luck with that," Brandon snickered. It was futile to attempt to talk Steve out of his plan, but he sincerely doubted Kelly had any interest in rekindling a romance with Steve.
Especially when Brandon was pretty sure Kelly Taylor was inching closer to making a move on him.
***
"Hey you," Dylan whispered as he opened the door. Brenda melted into his arms for a hug, which quickly led to Dylan's lips caressing her neck. Brenda sighed, trying to ignore the warmth flooding her body as he began to work his magic on her.
:"Okay," she murmured, putting a hand between them to gently push Dylan away. "As good as that feels, I really do need you to listen right now. I need a boyfriend's shoulder to cry on, since I can't talk to Kelly or Donna about this." Dylan shut the door and crossed to the sitting area of the hotel suite he occupied with his dad, who as usual, was conspicuously absent. If it hadn't been for a few random photographs around the suite, Brenda might have even doubted his existence.
"Why can't you talk to them?" he asked, lowering his lanky frame to the couch, his feet automatically swinging up onto the coffee table.
"Cause this is about Kelly, and naturally, she went right to Donna, so Donna only has Kelly's side of the story," Brenda blurted, sinking down to the couch next to him. Dylan raised an eyebrow at her.
"Did you have a fight?" Brenda nodded.
"You could say that," she replied, biting her lip and remembering the hurt look on Kelly's face.
"What happened?"
"It happened pretty fast, actually. One minute we were doing our homework, chatting about random stuff, like that party tomorrow night that she and Donna are going to, and if we should grow out our bangs or not…totally stupid girl stuff, but that's what we do, you know?" Brenda had started rambling, which was what she knew she always did when she had something on her chest that needed release. "And somehow our conversation turned to Brandon, and I accused her of having a thing for him, and then when she didn't completely deny it, I told her she wasn't Brandon's type." Dylan nodded knowingly.
"What makes you think she's got a thing for your brother?"
"I don't know. She's always smiling at him, and she never comes by our house anymore without looking really put together…"
"That's just Kelly," Dylan interjected. "I've never seen her not looking perfect, and I've known her since we were five. Donna too," he added. "I wouldn't really read too much into that."
"Okay, well," Brenda continued. "She was just acting really flirty."
"Again, that's pretty much Kelly."
"That's the problem!" Brenda exclaimed. "Kelly took my comment that she wasn't Brandon's type personally, like I had implied she was too flirty for him."
"Bren?" Dylan warned, raising the eyebrow again.
"I didn't call her a slut, Dylan," Brenda responded, knowing that's what he was thinking.
"Yeah, but I didn't say you did, and even if you didn't, you have to know that's probably how she took it. I mean, why else wouldn't you want her dating your brother?"
"I didn't say I didn't want her dating him," she replied quietly, contemplating the thought.
"No, but by saying she wasn't his type, that's certainly the message you sent her." Brenda jumped up from the couch and began to pace, frustrated.
"You're supposed to be on my side!" she wailed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. Dylan laughed gently and leaned back against the couch.
"I am on your side, babe. I'm trying to get you to see things from Kelly's point of view. You're her best friend, and you know how sensitive she is about her reputation. That's not something that goes away easily. At least not until most of those guys graduate and the rumors finally die down." Brenda heaved another sigh and placed her hands on her hips.
"I can't change Kelly's past, Dylan," she proffered. Dylan nodded.
"No one said you could, Bren. But you're going to have to be more sympathetic to her, and tread lightly. That's all." Dylan paused, an amused smile creeping onto his face. "You really think Kelly is interested in Brandon?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions," she admitted sheepishly. "Funny thing is, I don't really think he's her type either."
"I don't think it really matters. You think people look at us and think we make sense?"
"We do," she replied quickly. Dylan stood and took Brenda's hands in his.
"I know you think we do, but I'm saying you can't always predict who is going to click and have chemistry and who won't." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then worked his way slowly towards her left ear, his breath hot against her earlobe, tickling the sensitive skin there.
"I think it's kind of pointless to dwell on it. Brandon hasn't really ever shown much interest in her, and she's always around. He'd have given some indication by now if he was attracted to her," Brenda pointed out, closing her eyes as Dylan nibbled at her ear. "I guess I just needed to vent and have you act as my voice of reason."
"Good, cause I'm about to stop being reasonable," Dylan murmured, latching onto her neck and suckling gently.
"I can't stay long," she reminded him. "My parents don't know I'm here, and I'm going to have to get back home before it looks obvious." She snaked her hands around his neck and brought his lips to hers, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss before she released him. "You think I should apologize to her?"
"Yeah, I do," he nodded. "If you apologize, I think that will mean a lot to her. Even if you didn't do it with malice, you be the bigger person."
"Okay," she smiled. "Now, let's make the most of the…" she glanced down quickly to consult her watch, "…twenty minutes I can spare."
"With pleasure," he murmured, twirling her around and playfully tossing her to the couch, the length of his body covering hers. Brenda sighed blissfully and closed her eyes again, willing the time to pass slowly before she had to leave the safety of Dylan's embrace and go back to reality.
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Author's Note postscript: Some of you have hinted you want a Spring Dance redux…well, things might indeed head that way. I've got to get Brandon's Student Council campaign going first.
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