Author’s Note: I don’t own Beverly Hills 90210.
His shift dragged on. Being the normal Tuesday night, not many were out and about looking for a burger. They were more than likely sitting at the library or at home pulling their hair out over their upcoming calculus, physics or history exam. Those were the same worries Brandon should be sulking over, but that wasn’t what consumed his mind. Stephanie had approached him and at first, he thought maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she wanted to start over with him.
Then his fear took over and he began dealing with the possibility that she didn’t need to speak with him for that reason. Maybe she didn’t want to give him the second chance he felt he deserved. The more he let his mind wander, the more he questioned her intentions. Perhaps it wasn’t second chances she was interested in, maybe she was coming to tell him to leave her alone and reject him as she seemed to have a knack for doing with every other guy in her life.
He began to think through their week together and their date soon realizing that while he was quick to tell stories about his home life and family, she would as soon switch the subject to her favorite movie or her favorite rock group. She avoided speaking about her past or her family like the plague. It was something Brandon hadn’t picked up on before, but talking to Dylan again, and everything that went down the night before, he finally realized that maybe she truly was carrying baggage that kept her from taking any guy seriously. He decided to try convincing himself not to allow her to hurt him. He had only known her for a week so why can’t he get her out of his head? What was it about her that drove him to fighting? These thoughts swirled through his mind only seeming to make his shift longer as he again, thought about how he would be seeing her soon enough.
He looked up, hearing the front bell and found the object of his thoughts staring back at him. “You off yet?” she took a seat at the counter in front of him. “Give me a second,” he tried to forget everything he had been thinking about as he headed into the back room. There he found Nat attending to a stack of dirty dishes that desperately needed washing. “I’m leaving,” Brandon stated. Nat nodded to him and Brandon made his way to his locker, unbuttoned and removed his Peach Pit shirt and put on a green button up collared shirt over his undershirt. “Good night,” he waved to Nat and headed out the swinging doors in the direction of the woman who controlled his every thought now awaiting him.
As she stood from the stool, he took note of the simple outfit she was wearing. No tight short skirt or revealing shirt, just a simple pair of blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt, jean jacket and tennis shoes. She was a far cry from the disheveled girl in the back seat from last night. Brandon still found himself captivated by her radiant beauty. “Can we take a walk?” she asked as he approached. “Of course,” Brandon motioned to the door as she turned to walk outside, he followed closely behind.
The walk started out very quiet. Neither seemed sure what to say and so they just listened to the sounds of their shoes on the pavement and the cars speeding by. Beverly Hills actually seemed pretty peaceful at night and Brandon made a mental note about taking these walks more often. Stephanie continued to look ahead, probably lost in her own thoughts just as he was. Brandon finally got up the courage to attack the issue first. “I’m sorry about everything that,” she quickly stopped him by raising her hand. “Brandon, stop. You don’t owe me an apology. I was just caught off guard. Most guys ask me out because they have one thing on their mind. James was the perfect example of that.”
Brandon added, “James is a dirt bag.” Stephanie let out a low laugh, “Yea, but at least I know how to react to guys like him. I can give them what they want and walk away unattached and unaffected. You, Brandon Walsh, got to me. I wasn’t ready for a guy who actually wanted something more. I’m still not sure I’m ready for that. Commitments are not my strong suit.”
He looked down at his feet as they walked unsure of exactly how to take what she was revealing to him. “That came out wrong,” she continued. “It’s just that I was starting to have feelings for you and I figured that if we slept together, you would ignore me like all the rest and I wouldn’t have to own up to the possibility that I was falling for someone.” He couldn’t control the next question, “What’s wrong with that?”
She paused for a second, “I’ve spent the past few years of my life making sure to keep my distance from people and you were the first guy I had started letting in and that scared me.” They approached a bench placed to the side of a local deli that was closed and she motioned her intention to take a seat. They both sat down.
“Sounds like it’s been hard for you,” he commented noticing the immediate shift in expression by her to a more sullen look. She shrugged, “I didn’t have the greatest childhood I guess you could say.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts and hesitatingly began her story, “My father wasn’t around much as a kid being a busy stock broker. My mother died when I was 5, so I didn’t really have any close relationships with anyone in my family. That is until my Uncle Pete came to live with us.” Brandon could tell that she had now gone from sullen to tense. He also noticed she seemed to be choking back some emotions she refused to let overwhelm her. He wanted to reach out and hold her, but let her take the time she needed.
“My Uncle Pete was a big shot lawyer who always made time for his little niece. He would take me to Magic Mountain, the zoo, the movies, wherever I wanted to go. He would even take Dylan along sometimes when I would ask.”
This turn seemed to perk her up a little, “Besides Uncle Pete, Dylan was all I really had. He lived right next door and we obviously had a lot in common. I didn’t get along with the other hotel kids. I was a tomboy and that didn’t really fit with all the other rich little girls in their fancy pretty dresses and sparkly shoes. There I was in a jean jumper and pony tail and my best friend was a boy,” she smiled. “How taboo,” he commented with a smile. She let out a smirk and went on.
“Anyway, things were great. I didn’t need my Dad around. All I needed was my Uncle and Dylan and I had the world. That was until I turned 12,” her expression once again shifted to the uncomfortable tense stare. “Slowly things started to get weird with Uncle Pete. He started making comments about how mature looking I was and how I was turning into such a pretty young lady. It was just comments at first, Brandon could sense where the stories was going, but didn’t want to stomp her need to tell it.
“One night he came home with a present for me. It was wrapped in a sparkly yellow and blue wrapping paper. I was so excited I ripped the box apart. Inside was a pretty little blue bra. I smiled and thanked him and put it back in the box. I was going to wait to put it on the next day before school. He told me to put it on now to make sure it fit. I waited for him to leave my room, but he didn’t move. He said he needed to watch to make sure I knew how to put it on correctly. This was my Uncle Pete, the greatest guy in the world, so I figured he was just trying to help. I turned around, took off my shirt and went to put it on.” She slowed down taking a deep sigh. Brandon continued to listen though he had to force himself to stay calm.
“He wasn’t satisfied with that and he told me to turn around while I put it on. When I was done, I just stood there as he stared at me. He told me how pretty I looked and how proud he was of me. He had me walk toward him. He only wanted to give me a hug because he was so proud of the big girl I was becoming,” Brandon watched as she tried to hold back the tears that were forming in her eyes as her chin began to quiver. “That night, he taught me what big girls do with men.” A tear finally fell and she quickly pushed it away. “He repeated that lesson with me every night before bed.” The tears began to flow freely.
“Dylan was the only person I told. He would sit and listen to me cry and try to make me feel better. We would have sleepovers two or three times a week just so I didn’t have to be there alone with him. Eventually though, Dylan’s Dad and my Uncle put a stop to them telling us we spent too much time together. My only way out was taken away and I was again forced to be alone nightly with Uncle Pete. One night I had finally had enough and I told him that I that I knew what was happening was wrong and I was going to tell. He warned me that if I told anyone I would regret it. The next day, the police came to my school and some woman, who told me she was my friend, said that my Dad had been arrested for hurting me and that it was okay to tell her the truth.”
She caught Brandon off guard as she seemed to become agitated, “I sure as hell told that woman and everyone else the truth, but my Uncle had them so wrapped around his finger that they didn’t believe me. He told them that I was making it up to protect my father. They even awarded him temporary custody. So I ran away. That’s when I was placed in a foster home. The court found my father guilty. They ran tests on me that showed that I had been molested. My molester sat in that court room and told them that he had walked in on my father as he was abusing me. No one stood up in my father’s defense. They didn’t want to be associated with a child molester and the one person who knew the truth had disappeared all together. Without anyone to speak up for my Dad and no one believing me, my father received a 10 year sentence. He’s still rotting away in prison.”
Brandon stared off into the street in front of them scanning the cars that drove by as she finished revealing her dirty little secret. He couldn’t think straight picturing the image of a 12 year old girl in the arms of a 40 year old man. The very thought disgusted him and he wanted to lash out, but knew that’s not what she needed right now. She needed someone who was willing to listen. He placed his hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry you had to go through something like that.” She looked up from her hunched over position at Brandon and simply nodded. “I was kicked from foster home to foster home for unruly behavior. A few months ago the courts finally gave up and emancipated me. Here I am back in Beverly Hills trying to start my life over again.”
Brandon tried to regain his thoughts, but wasn’t sure where to begin. Stephanie took the time to recover for him, “I wasn’t going to share that with anyone. I’ve spent so much time trying to block it out, besides there wasn’t anyone I thought I could trust with it.” This peaked his interest, “What convinced you to trust me?” She let out an uncomfortable laugh, “A few things actually. You taking a beating last night and then Dylan coming to your defense in my hotel room.” That was news to him he thought as she continued, “The final straw was your sister. She pointed out what a jackass I was being to you. I knew you really liked me and after our date, I knew I returned the feeling. It took her kick in the head to point out what a great guy you must be if she was willing to bite through her hatred for me in order to speak up for you.”
“What makes you think she hates you?” he had to ask. “Please, I’ve caught the daggers she’s been sending me since I got here and with McKay putting on the beaten puppy act I figured he had probably said something to her.” Brandon corrected her, “Actually, he hasn’t really talked much about it to anyone. All I know is, it takes a lot to ruffle Dylan’s feathers and you managed to do it. With everything that’s happened, I can see why.” She just sat silent as his final comment flew off into the distance being overpowered by a supped up black Chevy pick up that drove by.
She slowly stood from the bench turning her attention back to the understanding face of the gentleman she had just spilled her heart out to. “Can you give me a ride? I actually took the bus to get here.” He stood up perking at her statement, “A Beverly Hills girl took a ride on the public bus? That must have been a sight.” She let out a little giggle and gave him a light tap on his chest, “I’m not your average Beverly Hills girl.” He had to smile, “Trust me, I’ve noticed. Of course I’ll give you a ride,” he placed his arm around her shoulder without thinking, but was happily surprised when she returned the gesture placing her arm around his waist. They both held on tight as they walked back to the Peach Pit.
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