Author's Note: Lots of fleshing out of characters in this chapter, but no B/D action, sorry B/D fans…you have to wait for Chapter 7. I hope you'll all enjoy this one anyway, and remember, nice feedback will spur me to write the next chapter faster, which definitely includes the little date in Santa Monica…hint, hint. Otherwise, they might have to wait til Chapter 8 or beyond. Wait, was that a threat? *evil smile*

This chapter certainly has Kelly on the brain, as we're inside her head a bit, and other characters are talking about her…and as easy as I find it to write Season 1 Brenda, Season 1 Kelly is more challenging for me. I'm trying to keep the right blend of the ice princess/snob we sometimes saw, as well as the more vulnerable, sweet girl that lingered underneath and eventually emerged in Season 4.

FYI, I am certainly taking my own little liberties, as some of the plot points introduced in this chapter are addressed in Seasons 2 or 3. I wanted them now, and I'm writing, so there.

Chapter 6: Get This Party Started

Kelly tilted her head and turned a critical eye towards her reflection in the full-length mirror that ran the length of the back of her bedroom door. She smoothed the slinky fabric over her hips, sucking in a breath and twisting sideways. Her stomach was flat enough, she supposed, but she was nowhere near as skinny as Donna, and she probably never would be, she lamented with a pout. She frowned at herself again and adjusted the bust line of her dress, contemplating how much cleavage she wanted to reveal. Biting her lip, she reevaluated her decision to fix her nose instead of augmenting her chest. Her father, on one of his usual guilt trips, had offered to pay for one surgical procedure, and only one. She had considered her options, narrowing it down to removing the tiny bump (which Donna always swore didn't exist) from her nose over breast implants. She had simply crossed her fingers that she was still growing and the modest B cup she currently filled would increase to a C by graduation. It was never good enough to have a pretty face in Beverly Hills. Kelly had learned that the hard way growing up the daughter of a former model.

She studied her reflection once more, tapping her fingers impatiently on her hips as she finally heaved a sigh and decided she was presentable. A demure smile played on her lips as she thought about her conversation with Brandon Walsh earlier that evening. She could still smell the musky scent of his cologne that she had gotten a whiff of as she had leaned in and kissed his cheek, and her stomach somersaulted in response to the memory.

The smile faded as she found herself fighting off thoughts of Steve Sanders. She was positive he was the primary reason to blame for Brandon stoically resisting her innocent flirting heretofore. Brenda had told her about Brandon's reluctance to date any of his sister's friends after some bad experience back in Minnesota, but Kelly knew if she could convince Brenda how good she was for Brandon, Brenda would most likely champion her cause.

So Steve remained the thorn in her side. She knew her ex-boyfriend too well, and if he had told Brandon he was planning to try and woo her back at the party, she figured Brandon was well-versed in her sticky history with Steve. Unfortunately for her, one of Brandon's finer qualities, his loyalty, was definitely working against her. It would take a monumental effort to sway him to "betray" his friend, which is how she knew Brandon would see it. She gritted her teeth and cursed silently at the fact Steve just could not accept that the two of them had no future. He had been a decent enough boyfriend for the time they were together. He could be sweet when he wanted to, and he had been a decent enough kisser, albeit a selfish lover. Kelly knew she had been his first, so the whole "newness" of sex to Steve left him always wanting more, and not usually bothering to make sure her needs were met. He had also been cruel at times, especially when he had been drinking. She had finally tired of the Jekyll and Hyde act, and she had broken it off with him, much to his chagrin. She knew it would take a lot of work to both successfully avoid Steve and to make a play for Brandon, but she was going to damn well try.

She was also going to be careful to monitor how much she drank. She shuddered at the memory of the last time she had drunk too much at a party and wound up in bed with Steve. That was a costly mistake, and she shouldered part of the blame for giving him any shred of hope at a reconciliation after that stupid move.

Kelly sighed and crossed to her vanity, picking up a tube of mascara to add another coat to her lashes. She spun around, wand in her hand as the bedroom door starting opening.

"God, Mom, don't you knock?" she complained, rolling her eyes and sweeping the wand over her lashes in a swift motion.

"Excuse me, your highness," Jackie Taylor declared, hovering in the open door. Kelly glanced back at her mother, replacing the cap on the mascara and setting it back down.

"You're awfully dressed up for a Friday at home," Kelly said, raising an eyebrow. Jackie smirked.

"Very funny. I came to say goodnight."

"I didn't know you were going out," she replied quietly, stepping into her heels.

"You're not the only one with a social life, Kelly," her mother chastised. Kelly rolled her eyes again and began jamming things into her purse absentmindedly.

"Who's the loser this week?"

"Kelly," Jackie warned.

"Forgive me if I don't think positively, Mom. You've brought home so many winners, it's hard to keep track."

"Look, young lady, I came to say goodbye and tell you to have a good time at your party. I don't need your attitude right now." Jackie turned to leave the room, but she managed to call back over her shoulder. "Home by midnight, Kel."

"If I have a curfew, so do you!" she retorted, making a face at her mother's retreating form. Kelly frowned and shook her head. Every time she thought she was making in-roads to improving her relationship with her mother, the years of resentment bubbled over. The parade of endless tools that her mother dated didn't help things; her mom would get excited over a new guy, only to have the liaison fizzle or die out, usually with Jackie getting hurt and sending her back to the nearest bottle. It was a vicious cycle, one Kelly had been trying to yank her mother off of for years. She was quickly growing weary of being the adult in the equation.

She heard the soft rumble of the garage door opening, audible only because her spacious bedroom ran the length of the massive garage, which at the moment, only housed her BMW and her mother's Mercedes. She glanced at the clock, grabbing her purse hastily as she realized it was ten minutes past seven, and she had told Donna she would pick her up at seven. She lunged for the cordless phone which she had previously tossed near her pillow after hanging up with Brenda that afternoon and rapidly punched Donna's number, which she had known by heart almost as long as she knew her own.

"Hey, it's me," she breathed into the phone before Donna had a chance to even say hello.

"Hey, where are you?" Donna asked, impatience audible in her voice.

"I know, I know. Sorry, run-in with Jackie. I'm leaving now."

"Okay, I'll be waiting." The phone clicked off without another word, and Kelly raced downstairs to the garage where she hopped into her red Beemer, gunned the engine and threw the car into reverse. Her mother hadn't even bothered to close the garage so as she cleared the door, she pushed the automatic opener clipped to the visor above her head and sped off in the direction of the Martins' house.

***

Andrea folded up the newspaper, tossing it onto the floor in annoyance. There was no need for the Lifestyle section to be spread open now, the two-page spread announcing the movie times would only serve as a glaring reminder that another Friday night had come, and she had no plans other than lingering around her grandmother's house while Grandma Rose and her friends played bridge and giggled about the latest gossip from the Jewish Senior Center. Sure, she'd watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, and she'd probably get some reading done, but it was the same sad story each weekend. Except this weekend, since her parents were away, she was relegated to spending it at her grandmother's home rather than her own. Sixteen years old, and her parents still didn't trust her alone in a house for a couple of days. It was embarrassing.

"Andrea? Can you help me set up the card table please?" Her grandmother had appeared in the living room.

"Sure, Grandma," she sighed, rising from the couch and walking towards the small dining room where the folded-up card table leaned against the rear wall. She grabbed one side while Grandma Rose reached for the other, and they turned the table upright. Andrea reached underneath and guided the retractable legs down on the left side, propping the weight of the table against her midsection so Grandma Rose could repeat the process with the right legs.

"Thank you, dear," Grandma Rose beamed at her gratefully.

"Any time, Grandma," she replied. Andrea could never really say no to her grandmother, no matter how small or menial her requests were. She owed Grandma Rose everything for allowing her to use her grandmother's address in Beverly Hills in order to attend West Beverly Hills High School. It had been her father's idea; he wanted the best education for his daughter, and he knew Andrea wouldn't get it living in Van Nuys. He had managed to convince his mother to register Andrea as a student at West Beverly using the Beverly Hills mailing address for her tiny bungalow in the Hills. Her father had then proceeded her drop her off each morning at the corner two blocks over from the high school, and Andrea would walk the remaining way to the school. He bought her a bus pass to use to get home, and thus after school, she would walk three blocks in the opposite direction, board the 3:10 bus and ride the nearly half-hour route to their house. Andrea's mother had been less than thrilled with the arrangement, mainly because Andrea suspected she was irritated at the idea of her mother-in-law being the glue holding together a precarious ruse. Her mother and Grandma Rose had never gotten along.

"No plans for the evening, dear?" Grandma Rose asked, setting out folding chairs at each of the four sides of the table. Andrea shook her head and leaned against the dining room doorframe.

"Not really," she admitted softly.

"Who was on the phone before?" Her grandmother continuing puttering around, crossing into the tiny kitchen to retrieve two trays, one with fruit and another stacked with various cheeses and crackers.

"Oh, just a guy," she answered vaguely, silently praying that for once, Grandma Rose wouldn't pry.

"Just a guy?" Grandma Rose raised a knowing eyebrow. "I now have boys calling on my granddaughter? It couldn't be any old boy if he knew he'd find you here and not at your own house." Andrea sighed and snagged a piece of cheese from the tray Grandma Rose had just set on the table.

"You've met Brandon, Grandma," she pointed out, an edge of exasperation in her voice. "He's the one who works at the newspaper with me."

"Oh, right," her grandmother nodded, placing teacups on saucers. "He's a nice young man." She paused. "Was he calling you for a date?" Andrea stifled a snort.

"Hardly," she lamented. "I had mentioned seeing a movie tonight, but he called to say he's going to some party."

"You asked him to the movies?" Her grandmother seemed surprised. Andrea shook her head.

"Friends go to the movies all the time, Grandma. This is the 90s," she sighed. "It was no big deal, and he obviously didn't think so either."

"Why aren't you going to this party?" Grandma Rose asked innocently, studying her granddaughter with a perceptive eye.

"Even if I had been invited, that's not really my scene," Andrea sniffed. "I don't really enjoy hanging around a bunch of random strangers and watching them all get drunk."

"Oh, it's one of those parties," Grandma Rose nodded. "Well, you're probably wise, dear. I wish I had a better evening to offer you in return though."

"Are all the ladies coming?" Andrea asked hopefully, knowing any no-shows would extend her an invitation to play, and that would at least occupy her time for the night and keep her mind somewhat off Brandon Walsh and what he might be doing at Tom Hartman's stupid party.

"Yes, honey, they are. No room at the table for you tonight," Grandma Rose squeezed her arm affectionately. "But I'll tell you what. I think I have a twenty in my purse if you want to order yourself a pizza and rent a movie to watch in my bedroom. That VCR isn't great, but it does play."

"Thanks Grandma, maybe I'll do that," she smiled appreciatively. At least her grandmother tried. But eating pizza and watching a movie would most likely only compound her depression over being alone, and it would also probably add a few pounds to a frame she was constantly worrying over anyway. "I'm going to go in your room and watch Jeopardy, okay?"

"That's fine, dear. Just be sure you stick your head out when the ladies get here. They always love to see you, you know. Especially Hazel. She's convinced you are going to be the perfect wife for that gawky grandson of hers someday."

"Great," Andrea wrinkled her nose at the thought of Joel Westerberg and his coke-bottle glasses. If Brandon Walsh was Top Gun handsome, Joel was Revenge of the Nerds dorky with a capital D. Regrettably, those were the guys who showed interest in her. Every time she thought she had a chance with a guy like Brandon Walsh, she was reminded that there were the Kelly Taylors of the world, armed with perfect smiles, perfect teeth and killer figures, and those were the girls who got the guys like Brandon.

She bristled at the thought of Kelly, knowing she would be at the party, also knowing that Kelly had shown a healthy dose of interest in Brandon Walsh. It eased her mind just a little that Brandon had never really shown that much attention to the beautiful blonde, at least no more than he showed Andrea or any other girl. Brandon was nice to everyone, Andrea mused, and he could certainly be flirty if he wanted to. If he hadn't fallen prey to Kelly's advances by now, there was a chance he really had no interest in her.

Of course, she realized with a frown, it was also possible that Kelly hadn't really been trying that hard, and the girl had just yet begun to fight.

***

"I'm telling you, if you gave anything other than Garth Brooks a chance, Scott, you'd probably be surprised at how good most rap and hip-hop can be!" David Silver cradled the receiver against his shoulder as he fiddled with the buttons on his sound system. His best friend gave a telling snort at the other end of the phone.

"It's just noise, David," Scott Scanlon shot back. "Maybe if you gave country music a try, you might be surprised to find you like it."

"Not likely," David retorted dryly. "So what are we going tonight?"

"I thought I was talking to you." David shook his head and thought to himself how simple and naïve his best friend could be at times.

"We are talking. I meant, what are we going to do when we hang up the phone? It's Friday night! We can't stay at home like losers!"

"I don't recall anyone asking us to do anything," Scott said pointedly.

"That's why we have to create our own fun," David suggested. "Did you hear anything going down? You have a few classes with some of the juniors and seniors. Someone had to have said something!"

"Um, I don't think so," he replied.

"C'mon Scott, think!" David urged him. He knew on a given Friday night in Beverly Hills, there were at least a few parties going on and/or a few hot spots throughout the town where kids might be gathering.

"There's probably something worth seeing at the movies. I can grab the paper from my dad's study…"

"The movies? I'm not going to the movies with you on a Friday night!" he interrupted, aghast that Scott would even think seeing a stupid film was acceptable fun for two high-schoolers. Not unless you brought a girl, and didn't watch the movie, David thought with a sly smile.

Of course, he would need a girl first. And halfway through his freshman year at West Beverly Hills High, he had yet to score himself the girlfriend he had assumed would come flocking to him once he was a mature high-schooler. David figured he could probably get one of the other freshmen girls to go out with him, but he had set his sights much, much higher. He didn't want any girl.

David wanted Kelly Taylor.

He had never before seen such a beautiful girl in his life, and from the first day of high school, he had made it his personal mission to ingratiate himself into Kelly's life and make her realize that he was worth the risk that dating a younger underclassman would bring to her social standing. A goofy smile crossed his face as he conjured up her image in his mind's eye.

"David? Are you still there?"

"Yes," David snapped irritably, suddenly beyond annoyed with Scott, his best friend since childhood, who foolishly believed that high school was no different than middle school and it was perfectly acceptable to sit home on a Friday night watching TGIF on ABC or playing The Legend of Zelda on his Nintendo.

"I think I remember overhearing that girl who's always with Kelly Taylor and Brenda Walsh talking about some party at Tom Hartman's house. She's in my algebra class, though I think she's dropping, or something." David's ears perked up at the mention of Kelly Taylor's name and the word "party" in the same sentence.

"That could be promising!" he enthused.

"God, what is that girl's name?" Scott asked.

"Who cares?" David replied. "Should we go?"

"Uh, David, first off, neither one of us was invited," Scott snickered. "Do you even know who Tom Hartman is?"

"It doesn't matter. These parties are usually so big and out-of-control, no one notices a few unwanted guests." David's mind was racing at the possibility of getting near Kelly that night.

"Yeah, but if Kelly and that other girl are there, Steve Sanders won't be far behind. And if he sees you, you know it'd be all over for you. He'd know you had crashed, given what happened at that other party a few months ago."

"I remember, thanks," David sighed sarcastically.

"David?"

"Hold on, Scott," he murmured, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "What, Dad?" he yelled.

"I'd like you to come downstairs for a moment, please." David groaned and pulled his hand away.

"I'll call you right back. My dad wants something," he grumbled.

"Okay," Scott replied. David hung up the phone, hit the pause button on his CD player and shuffled down the hall to the top of the staircase, staring down into the opulent foyer where his dad was standing with a blonde woman that he did not recognize.

"You can come down the stairs and say a proper hello," his father chided, shooting him a warning glance that did not go unnoticed by David. He jammed his hands into his pockets and slowly descended the stairs, not really interested in being introduced to a woman who'd most likely be in and out of his father's life within a few weeks. His dad never seemed to linger on his girlfriends for more than a few dates, and there had been plenty of them since his parents had divorced a few years back. Of course, there had been plenty of them even when they were married, he remembered bitterly, given his father's wandering eye and proclivity for cheating.

"Jackie, this is my son David," Mel Silver announced when David reached the bottom of the staircase. David's eyes swept critically over the frosted-blonde standing next to his father. She was pretty enough for an older lady, he supposed, but nothing special; at least, nothing special enough to keep Mel Silver's eyes on her and only her.

"Hi, David, it's so nice to meet you," she said warmly, extending a well-manicured hand. David shook it unenthusiastically. "Your father has told me so much about you." David nodded politely, hiding his surprise. He didn't even know his father had been seeing anyone steadily enough to mention him.

"Likewise," he managed to say in return. His father strode to the large coat closet near the staircase and removed a light overcoat.

"I'm taking Jackie to dinner, and then we might try dancing," he smiled and gave her a wink. David tried not to gag. "Don't wait up," he winked again, this time at his son.

"Don't worry, I won't," he shrugged.

"No plans for the evening," Mel asked casually, slipping into his jacket.

"Scott just mentioned this party. We might go," David replied, offering no further details.

"Mel said you're a student at West Beverly?" the woman (Jackie? he thought his father had said) asked.

"Jackie's daughter goes to West Beverly too," Mel added. Great, David thought sardonically. So do, like, 1500 other kids.

"She's going to a party tonight too," Jackie nodded. "That's why I asked. I'm not sure how many parties are going on tonight, but I thought it might be the same one." She paused. "Of course, Kelly is a bit older than you, so you probably don't have the same friends." David's heart stopped.

"Your daughter's name is Kelly," he croaked, his heart restarting and beginning to race a bit. Jackie nodded again.

"Yes. Kelly Taylor. Do you know her?" David tried to hide the mix of horror and delight that was now dueling it out in the pit of his stomach. This woman had birthed the goddess known as Kelly Taylor? And she was dating his father? It was unthinkable.

"Uh, yeah," he said slowly. "I've seen her around."

"She's a knockout, David," Mel interjected. "Jackie showed me pictures. Hardly the kind of girl you'd miss."

"No, I know who she is," David nodded, trying to play it cool.

"Well, maybe one night you should join us for dinner?" Jackie suggested. "Who knows? Maybe you and Kelly might have a lot in common and become friends?"

"Uh, yeah," he agreed, secretly thinking friends was not what he really wanted to be with Kelly Taylor. He studied Jackie out of the corner of his eye again, contemplating the potential damage to his plans should she become serious with his father. Most people would condemn a guy hitting on his future stepsister. No use in jumping to conclusions, though. Mel's track record bode well for him, and not so well for Jackie.

"Night son," Mel called, breaking David's reverie. "Be safe if you decide to go out."

"Sure, Dad," he nodded.

"So nice to meet you David," Jackie waved as his father escorted her out the front door. David offered a weak smile in response, and as the front door closed, he thundered up the stairs, taking two at a time. He grabbed his phone and dialed Scott's number, taking deep breaths to settle his pulse.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me again."

"Donna Martin!" Scott crowed.

"What?" David frowned.

"The girl who's always with Kelly Taylor. Her name is Donna Martin." David knew Scott too well, and thus he figured the poor kid had been wracking his brain for the entire time David had been downstairs trying to come up with that name.

"Whatever," David interrupted. He didn't care at the moment, unless this Donna Martin girl could help him get any closer to Kelly. "You're never gonna guess what just happened to me!"

"Okay," Scott replied. David rolled his eyes. Scott was so dense sometimes.

"You're not going to guess?"

"You said I'd never guess." David spun around, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"My dad wanted me to meet his date for the evening. No big deal, cause my dad dates all the time, right?"

"Your dad gets more action than Wilt Chamberlain," Scott snickered.

"Stay with me, Scanlon," David ordered, pacing excitedly around his bedroom. "My dad's date was none other than Kelly Taylor's mother!" There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

"Why is that good news? Dude, if your dad gets serious with your dream girl's mom, that'll make you her stepbrother. And that's just gross. We make fun of my cousins in Oklahoma a lot, but wanting to date your stepsister borders on crushing on your cousin."

"It's not even the same thing! We're not related, and if you'd stay with me, you'd know my dad will never make it more than a few weeks with this Jackie lady. He'll move on to the next piece of ass in a month or so, but by then, I'll have used the situation to get closer to Kelly!" Scott snorted.

"I still say she won't give you the time of day," he laughed. David's eyes narrowed.

"You just watch, Scott. I'm going to get Kelly Taylor. Starting tonight. Get dressed if you're not already. We're going to that party."

"How are we getting there, genius?" Scott retorted. Neither of the boys had a driver's license yet, though David was a few weeks away from his permit.

"Get your mom to drop you off here. Tell her we're gonna watch some movies. I'll find out where Tom Hartman lives. Worse-case scenario, we walk."

"You're insane."

"Just get over here."

***

Brandon leaned forward towards the mirror over his bathroom sink, twisting his fingers through his wavy hair, working the gel evenly throughout. He gritted his teeth, ran his tongue over them and decided he could still taste the oregano he had sprinkled generously over the pizza his father had brought home an hour earlier. Running the water, he brushed his teeth vigorously and sloshed some Scope around in his mouth.

"Brandon! Steve's here!" his father's voice drifted up the stairwell. Brandon glanced at the clock. Quarter to 8. So much for Steve's idea of a "fashionably late arrival."

"Be right down!" he called back, grabbing a black shirt from his closet and buttoning it over the maroon t-shirt he was already wearing. He fastened the buttons with ease, leaving the top two undone and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror. Casual, but classy, he decided, nor did it look like he was trying too hard. Good enough. He grabbed his keys off his desk, knowing Steve's Corvette would remain parked in front of the Walsh house and Brandon would drive. After his DUI months earlier, as well as Steve's drunken decision to let a random freshman without a license drive him home, it was best for both guys if Brandon drove. Steve never liked pulling up in Mondale, but it was a small price to pay.

Brandon hopped down the steps, slapping Steve's outstretched hand as he reached the landing, hiding a smile at the loud paisley shirt Steve was sporting with his khakis.

"You're early," Brandon indicated.

"You ready?" Steve asked. Brandon nodded, jangling his car keys in front of Steve's face.

"I'm designated driver tonight, no arguments." Steve held up his hands.

"No argument from me," he agreed. "But we're taking my car. I can get us there. Worst thing that happens is you take me home and bring the car back here. You I trust," he added hastily. Brandon raised an eyebrow.

"I thought…" he started. Steve shook his head.

"Don't think, let's go," he interjected. Brandon shrugged and tossed Mondale's keys onto the foyer table.

"Bye Mom, bye Dad!" he called. He waited for a reply.

"Have fun honey!" Cindy called from the kitchen. His father poked his head into the foyer.

"Be safe, boys. Brandon, home by 1." Brandon smirked to himself, knowing full-well Brenda's curfew that evening was an hour earlier, and it no doubt had something to do with the fact she was out with Dylan McKay. His parents had done the same thing to him back in Minnesota when he had casually dated Jill Miner. They had never liked that girl, and Brandon's curfew had suffered as a result. Brandon opened the door, and Steve bounced out before him, his nervous energy clearly evident.

"Take it easy, man," Brandon advised as they walked to Steve's car.

"This is gonna be a good night, Brandon. I can feel it," Steve grinned, sliding into the driver's seat as Brandon adjusted the seat belt on the passenger side. The Corvette purred to life, and Steve threw it into first gear to guide it out of the Walshes' driveway.

He didn't tell Steve that he didn't have quite the same feeling about the evening, and the party, that lay ahead.