A PATH OF ROSES AND THORNS

A ‘Daria’ fan fiction by Brother Grimace

PART II

Saturday, September 8, 2001 – About 5:30 p.m.

“You know, I’ve never seen an ice sculpture that doubled as a national landmark before,’ Daria Morgendorffer mused, standing before the fifty-foot-tall ice sculptures of Reese Wyatt and his bride, Amy Barksdale. “Geez… this thing could be deemed a hazard to low-flying planes.”

Daria turned to Jane Lane and Karen Myerson, a small smile on her face. “Just think, Lane… this could have been either one of us, if we hadn’t broken free of the evil young master Thomas’ spell.”

“Really, Daria – would you have stood for anything remotely as ostentatious as this?”

Daria turned to see Kay Sloane standing besides her, a thin, yet playful smile on her face as she sipped punch from her glass and looked up at the twin sculptures. “Knowing you – you’d have balked at having a three-tiered wedding cake, and even suggesting that you wear a classic wedding gown…” She turned to face Daria, and the smaller woman’s eyes widened slightly as she took in the outfit Kay wore. “Yes. It is a V.L. Riley original and speaking of which - I’ve seen all the members of your family. They’re not difficult to recognize – your family’s been splashed all across the society pages for the past eight months.”

Sour grapes, Karen thought wryly, noticing the look that passed across Daria’s face. You’re just mad that your little boy won’t have anything as ornate, or with this celebrity guest list…well, maybe not mad, but you’d have loved to have been the grande dame for this shindig...

“So, who did you skewer on a ten-foot pike when they suggested that you wear that gown? By the way, you look fabulous in it; I hope you left the designer alive long enough to accept some praise for an excellent work…”

“One of my aunt’s friends runs a bridal boutique in Georgetown – she did the gowns.”

Kay’s eyes widened. “This is one of Samantha Rudolph’s designs-?”

“Well, not one of her originals – the bridesmaid’s gowns aren’t, but Aunt Amy’s wedding gown is… Miss Rudolph wasn’t bending on that. The gown cost- uh, anyway, she wouldn’t let Aunt Amy pay her for it… apparently, her friends have been trying to marry her off for years, and she wanted to just do something special for her. ”

The older woman nearly choked on her drink.

“Aunt Amy paid for the bridesmaid’s gowns herself. She picked the design from one of her books, and Miss Rudolph added a few of her own touches-“

“I thought there was something familiar about the look – Samantha always did have a flair for the classic, and that collar-! Definitely the Rudolph touch. They must have decided to make no mistakes this time… I heard about your cousin’s wedding, and the gown that some cow who called herself a seamstress scraped together for you.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then, Kay cleared her throat. “I was not pleased by the response Bromwell gave you when you and Tom applied.”

“Elsie mentioned that,” Daria said, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Did she?” Kay let a pleasant smile come across her face. “Daria… I want you to know that I never had any problems with you being involved with Thomas. In fact, truth be told, I think he’s the one who came out poorer from the affair.”

“Really?” Karen asked, suddenly curious; Kay turned to her with the look of a puma discovering an injured fawn in a hidden glade. “Uh… I mean…”

“Kay Sloane, this is Karen Myerson. She’s a very close friend of mine… and one reason that I’m happy for the way things turned out.”

“You’re Daria’s friend…?” Kay studied her for a moment, and then extended her hand. “From what I understand, not many persons have the opportunity to say that. You must be a special young woman.”

“Aside from some unusual eating habits, she’s a good friend. She’s from Georgia.”

“Georgia… yes, of course. The accent. South Georgia?”

Karen looked at her with mild surprise. “How did you know…?”

Kay smiled back. “You learn things as you get older… Daria, it was a pleasure to see you again. I heard that you met someone, and that it’s serious…”

“You could say that.”

“Someone pointed him out for me. Has anyone mentioned just how much the two of you look like your aunt and her new husband?”

“No, they haven’t.”

”Well, consider it a compliment when they do. By the way – Tom hasn’t found anyone remotely as good for him as you were.”

“Thank you… I think.”

“Which is why none of the tramps he’s dragged home recently are anywhere in your class. Well. I’d better find my husband before he pulls a few other reprobates and begins something silly and male-oriented… you know how they are.”

“It was nice seeing you, too, Mrs. Sloane.”

“I think that you can start calling me ‘Kay’, now, don’t you? Goodbye, Daria… Karen.”

After Kay had moved out of earshot, Karen let a huge smile grow across her face. “You’re cooking for the next three weekends, or I tell your sister that you were discussing fashion with your ex-boyfriend’s mother – and that you recognized a top designer’s work.”

“Deal.”

With a start, Daria suddenly noticed that Jane hadn’t said a word about Kay’s appearance; she turned to look for her. “Jane…?”

“I don’t think she’s been listening, Daria,” Karen laughed, almost spilling some of her punch as she turned towards Jane and watched the way the raven-haired girl’s eyes moved across the sculpture in what could have only been rapt admiration. “If she ever finds out who did this, I think she’ll probably want to be his Jedi apprentice.”

Daria turned away from the sculpture to glance around the area, and saw a very familiar white-haired man with glasses pass by, a number of men with earpieces moving with him. “Did you see who just went by…?”

“Yeah. I thought he was at that big Naval Hospital for a heart problem right now…”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s always had a heart problem…”

“Look on the bright side. He’s only the number two guy.”

Daria and Karen moved away from Jane, and looked about the huge banquet room while they sipped at champagne flutes filled with punch. “The folks back home would love to see this,” Karen said, smiling softly as a distant memory rolled back through her mind. “You haven’t lived until you’ve heard a Robin Leach impression that sounds like Jeff Foxworthy.”

“You’re kidding.”

“NOTHING says ‘formal wedding’ like his-and-hers long guns! For the blushing bride, tradition is the order of the day - with a double-barreled coach gun just like the one that great-great-Grandad used to make sure his baby girl’s wedding was legal! For the groom, it’s a workhorse pump-action twelve-gauge, with a twenty-two inch barrel, nine-shell capacity, and a rifled barrel for three-inch magnum slugs, ideal for that eighteen-point buck OR that young buck in the black 1980 Trans Am that just won’t stay from your sixteen-year-old cheerleader daughter, no many times he’s been warned!”

Daria could barely keep from laughing as she watched several people stop to listen, and how they all gave Karen very peculiar stares. “…And until the next time we all here meet, this here’s Robbie Leach – the British one, not the one that gets on you if you go swimming in the wrong hole – bringing you cornpone wishes and six-pack dreams!”

“The next time you see Aunt Amy’s friend Colonel Trainor – tell her that. She’ll love it.”

“She must really not like rednecks.”

“She has issues – North-South issues. Amy says that she’s a rich girl from Rhode Island.”

“In that case, she’ll feel right at home in here.”

“Yeah, this is Ground Zero for the land of the Muffys,” Daria agreed, smirking as she saw Rita Barksdale with a sullen frown all but welded onto her face as she sat at a table, draining a glass of sparkling wine before waving one of the army of ever-present waiters over to refill it. “Aunt Rita will never be able to say a single demeaning thing to Aunt Amy regarding men ever again. I heard about her reaction to the engagement ring that Aunt Amy got… Aunt Rita was speechless for over an hour.”

“I still remember the first time your grandmother met Mrs. Wyatt, at that bridal brunch. The old, rich women can scrap and snip, can’t they?”

“Yeah. Still, you noticed that Aunt Rita never tried to get into that argument, right? She’s a little afraid to try, now…”

“Guess we know who won that round of sibling rivalry.”

“The way Aunt Amy sees it, my mom’s still way out in front.”

“Even with the twins she inherited? Yeah, your aunt does think a lot of you, doesn’t she?”

“Enough to suspect that I wouldn’t go ballistic over wearing a dress that makes me look like an ornament on top of a giant wedding cake, if I was doing it for her.” Daria sighed, adjusting the waist of her gown. “Aunt Amy pointed out that since she’s wearing a dress that looks like a cross between a giant chandelier and the bride’s gown at Casper the Friendly Ghost’s royal wedding, we could suffer through a day’s worth of fashionable torment.”

“At least you didn’t have to pay for the privilege of dressing that way.”

“Aunt Amy was serious about that, too – she said that ‘she’s not going to have her family and friends paying a fortune just to do her a favor!”

“How much did those cost, again?”

“Long story short – each one, probably our grocery budget for the past year, with our fees for books thrown in.” Daria brushed a tiny feather off her shoulder. “Damned release of doves. Damn dress – the thing’s tailored perfectly. Nothing to complain about.” Except how Michael’s going to burst a blood vessel trying to get me out of this thing. Oh, he’s going to love trying to plow through this corset…

“It must be nice wearing a actual dress, instead of this set piece from ‘Sense and Sensibility.”

Karen glanced at her reflection in a mirrored wall, smiling as she noticed how she looked in her gown from her Senior Prom. “Well, I’ve only worn this damn thing one. I‘m going to get a little more mileage out of it.”

“I’d say you’re getting lots of mileage out of it now,” Daria smirked, watching how a group of four military cadets in dress uniforms made no secret of how much they liked the way Karen looked in her gown. “If you want to trade up on your enlisted man for some future officers… I think the guys like the way you look.”

One of the cadets suddenly looked away from Karen and focused his attention on Daria, who immediately blushed down to her toenails as he looked directly into her eyes. “I think that Army cadet thinks the same about you,” Karen said, watching how the model-handsome cadet looked at her with incredibly ocean-blue eyes, taking in Daria’s full appearance. “Yeah. He’s definitely got eyes for you.”

“Well, I’ve only got eyes for someone else, and they’ve only got eyes for me.”

“I can tell.” Karen pointed over to the table where Michael Fulton and Derek Adler were sitting amongst a group of other young men who were all staring in her and Daria’s direction; as Daria turned to look, they all turned back quickly into conversation… “Something tells me that our tripods are getting major praise for bringing us along. Yes, I know,” she replied quickly, “but let them have their moment of honor as alpha wolves within a new pack. They’ll do something stupid later, and then we’ll bring up how they had the slobbering savages leering at us like slabs of meat.”

“You know what they’re saying about us, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah.”

As Daria and Karen moved away, the three cadets laughed at their companion. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think she’s interested in you! Yes, as incredible as it is to believe – the bridesmaid gets away!”

“Says you.”

“Sorry, Davers – but that pretty face gets you nothing this time! For once, the famous Davers good looks have no effect on the ladies! Denied, little boy, denied!”

Cadet Second Class Jefferson Davers (he hated his family’s tradition of naming sons after presidents) watched with very interested eyes as Daria started off through the crowd. “For now, chumps.”

He chewed slowly at a piece of green pepper, and let the image of the beautiful, auburn-haired young woman lock itself into his memory as his smart-mouthed friend continued. “Before you get any ideas, you should know about her. She’s not just a bridesmaid, she’s the niece of the bride – and remember, she stepped in for Colonel Trainor as maid-of-honor when she had to take off just before the wedding.”

“So?”

“You really need to read the society pages, or talk to your mother before she sends you to these things,” Jefferson’s friend said. “Her name’s Daria Morgendorffer. VERY smart girl. She’s at Raft, and she’s a writer. She did those ‘Melody Powers’ stories-“

“The female spy ones?” Jefferson smiled, he remembered how his Japanese sister-in-law loved reading stories like that, and pointed them out the last time he went to visit his brother Franklin at his new posting, down in Savannah, Georgia… “Yeah, Aki mentioned that name…”

“She’s also got a serious boyfriend. The story is that they were almost engaged at the end of their freshman year, buy they decided to wait until they graduate to get married.”

“I don’t see her with a ring on her finger…”

“Doesn’t matter. The tabloids talked about how they nearly broke up and got back together – word is that he’s still got the ring that he bought for her, ready to give her as soon as they get their degrees. I suggest that you find another nice-looking girl around here or wherever, because that one is definitely off-the-market!”

Jefferson took another lingering look at the slender, auburn-haired beauty in the bridesmaid’s gown; everything else in the room fell away from notice as he let the image of Daria affix itself in his mind. As he watched the way Daria grasped a glass with slender fingers and raise it to her lips, a quote from a film he’d seen when he was younger came to mind:

‘If she’s under eighteen, she’s protected by law. If she’s over sixty-five, she’s protected by nature. Everything else is fair game!’

Cadet Second Class Andrew Satone went silent for a moment; he’d been friends with Jefferson Davers since they were placed in the same quarters their first week at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He’d already learned about how his friend had his family’s trademark attractiveness, as well as an annoying habit of locking in on a single target and going after it. He was actually grateful that he had different tastes in women than his best friend – after all, it was the rare woman who didn’t swoon when a Davers man looked in her direction…

“I’m wasting my time even saying anything, aren’t I?”

Jefferson watched Daria walk away; he found for a moment that he couldn’t speak, and took a sip of chilled citrus nectar.

“Jefferson…”

“I’m going to run into her again. Count on it.”

*****

“Somebody’s got an admirer…”

“Yes, and he’s sitting over there, bragging about bagging a redhead.” Daria smiled as she glanced over at Michael. “We’ll get even for that later when we sit around with the ladies, talk about them, and they come up to the table. Men hate the look that they get when they approach a group of women.”

“That’s because most men see a group of women, and they see a pack,” a familiar voice from behind spoke, and Daria turned to see Mack Mackenzie in a perfectly-tailored tuxedo, carrying off a look that would have gotten him into any posh club on Earth. “Evening, ladies.”

“I see somebody’s ‘dressed to thrill’, Daria said. “So, ‘Universal Exports’ sent you here on a mission?”

“They thought that the great Melody Powers could use some assistance,” Mack said in a mock-bold voice. “So, where’s my target for tonight?”

“Probably still staring at the main attraction,” Daria replied, motioning towards the ice sculptures. “That aside, what was that comment about pack animals?”

“Bad influences from the guys in my fraternity. Most of them chase after every woman in sight, but freeze up when there’s a group of them.”

“From what I remember, most guys freeze up if they have to face only one.”

“Only if it’s the right one-” Mack said, and for the briefest of moments, Karen suddenly felt extraordinarily uncomfortable, as if she’d caught sight of something - as if she something pass between Mack and Daria that wasn’t ever really there, but still…

“-But that’s what I tell them. ‘You see a group of women, and you see a pack - I see a group of women, and I see a herd.”

“That’s pretty good – can I use that?”

The three young adults all turned at the sound of the VERY familiar voice off to one side, and they blinked as one at the sight of the very tall African-American with the warm, confident smile and the shaven head. “I see you’ve got a nice start on your own herd with these two – just joking, ladies.” He extended his hand out to Mack. “I’m Michael Jordan.”

“Hey,” Mack said as he shook Michael’s hand, and his throat suddenly felt very dry. “I’m – I’m…”

“I live for moments like this,” Daria smirked, stepping forward. “Michael Jordan… meet Michael Jordan Mackenzie.”

The taller man broke into a huge, million-watt smile. “You’re kidding. The dad was a huge fan, hmn?”

“He won a radio contest and got tickets to the ’86 NBA Finals,” Mack said, the bass coming back into his voice. “He was there for Game 2…” Mack suddenly found that he couldn’t speak.

‘Actually, the mute one was running a world-class gag on the entire school,” Daria said, smirking as Mack glanced over at her. Gotcha. You knew I’d find a way to get you back just a bit for that one, didn’t you? “Long story.”

“You’re a friend of Reese’s mother?” Karen asked, slightly awed as she looked up at the sports icon.

“Reese sent me an invitation – we met over in Barcelona back in ’92.”

Even Daria seemed mildly impressed. “He went over to see you play in the Olympics with the ‘Dream Team?”

“No, he was on the shooting team as an alternate. Didn’t get to compete, so he came to watch the ball games.”

“Hey, look, it’s your namesake!”

Any illusions that persons with dark skin not blushing vanished as Jane came up from behind and smacked Mack lightly on the backside. “You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I’d trade up for the first edition,” she said, kissing him lightly as Daria smirked and Karen smiled broadly. “Nice evening suit, Mr. Bond.”

Jane tossed a cocky smile in Michael’s direction. “You’re really tall, Your Airness. Love the dome.”

Michael stroked his head, and smiled at Jane; Mack watched Jane’s reaction, and ran a questioning finger across his hairline. “You don’t do ‘awed by celebrity.”

“You lose that when you’ve got a Rodin in your front yard, and your family travels the world like celebrities in their own right. I really liked that ‘I succeeded because I failed’ poster of yours. It makes you think about how much you need to work at what you like to do in order to get ahead, and how you won’t change the world on your first day.”

The smile grew brighter. “Oh, I like this one.”

“Good. You can escort me over to the dessert table, so I can get some cake, ice cream and my picture taken while you tell me stories about being a basketball jock. I’ve heard all of the football jock stories, but we’ll let him tag along, too.”

“You’re not going to wait for the wedding cake?”

“I’m a growing girl. I can handle two pieces of cake.”

“I’ve got the feeling that Mack’s never going to forget tonight,” Karen mused, watching as Jane hooked her arms around both Michaels and led them away.

“The funny thing is, I think she’ll probably outglam Quinn tonight.”

“Um, where is your sister, anyway?”

“Look for the biggest clump of cute waiters, and toss the grenade in the middle.”

“Good point. There are a lot of them, though.”

“I noticed. They must have hired every damn waiter in the county and in D.C. to work this gig.”

“Gig?” Karen laughed. “Trying to sound hip?”

“Sorry – watching too much TV.”

“I think it’s a flashback to when you were a teenager, and having your ‘Count Trent and Contessa Daria’ fantasies,” the taller woman smirked, watching the way her friend blushed – but only slightly. “After all, this does scream ‘fairytale wedding’, doesn’t it?”

“The 21^st Century version,” Daria said, noticing how Jake Morgendorffer – her well-meaning but slightly clueless father – was having a conversation with a slightly rotund Japanese man in glasses she recognized as a chef from a very popular cable cooking show. She vaguely remembered his name – Morimoto something… “You know that they did the pre-nup thing, right?”

“In this day, who doesn’t?”

“The thing was, she wanted to sign it. Said that once she did, the mother-in-law’d better NEVER interfere in her relationship with Uncle Reese…” Daria took a drink. “I can’t believe my uncle’s a billionaire.”

“I can’t believe that he still wants to wear the uniform,” Karen said. “Besides, she’s got him around her finger. He’s slightly whipped – the way every good husband should be.”

“Don’t you forget it, young lady,” Helen Morgendorffer said, sliding up from behind and catching the last snatches of the conversation. “If he’s not whipped a bit, they you’re not doing your job as a wife. Amy’ll keep him in line, no doubt.”

“So, Daria said that your sister signed a pre-nup?”

“Yes – and in a surprising move on my part, I didn’t tell her not to,” Helen said, looking a bit tired. “She obviously loves him, and he loves her, and if they get divorced she won’t need a lawyer to break the pre-nup…”

Helen took a long drink from the glass of ice water Karen lifted from the tray of a passing waiter. “If she even looks like she’s going to dump Reese, I’ll kill her on the grounds of being stupid.”

“I think I’ll take that as another reason why I’d better be a very good husband,” came a voice off from the side, and Helen turned as Major Maurice Wyatt, dashing in his U.S. Air Force ‘mess dress’ uniform, appeared in front of her. “War with the Barksdales. Not something I’d like to think about. Having a good time, Helen?”

“Don’t you have a wife to think about?”

“Yeah, but she’s trying to escape that ‘Val’ woman my mother invited to the wedding; I think the woman wants to do a ‘fairytale wedding’ story for that new magazine she’s heading up.” Reese turned, and looked directly at Daria with a big smile. “She flipped her lid when she found out that Amy was related to you, and I guess she wants to do the story to show that there’s balance in the universe, or something.”

“If she doesn’t stop hounding Aunt Amy, she’s going to get something else flipped.”

“You should have seen what happened during dinner. I thought she’d take that turkey leg and use it like a Q-Tip. Helen – if you don’t mind my saying so, you look a bit tired.”

“It’s the day. Lots of moving around, and there’s so many name people here…”

“I wonder how many of them my mother’s invited up to the Honeymoon Suite for tonight?” Reese said, and Helen coughed as she laughed. “Sorry about that. Anyway, we’ve got several suites reserved for you and the other Barksdales on the Gold Floor, and-“

“Gold Floor?”

“Top floor of the hotel,” Reese said off-handedly, not noticing the look on Karen’s face as he answered her question. “We rented the entire top three floors for the week. If you need to take a break-”

“I’m just a little winded from all of the walking,” Helen said; Daria caught the look Reese gave someone off to her left, but saw only milling revelers when she turned to look. “You may want to consider having the next wedding and reception in something smaller than Soldier Field for your next big celebration.”

“Are you kidding? When it comes time for our kids to get married, Mom will probably want to rent out National Cathedral and the closest enclosed stadium!” He smiled as he sat down next to her. “You should have seen some of the things Amy and I had to put our feet down on for this wedding…”

Daria’s mouth opened in surprise. “Like what?”

“For starters, those ice cubes not being twice as big-“ He gestured towards the ice sculptures. “-Or asking the Archbishop of Seattle to perform the wedding – he’s in Mom’s poker circle. Amy almost snapped in half when Mom suggested that we let her network and a couple of the others carry the wedding live. I think she scared Mom straight with her reaction to Mom wanting to bring a full production crew in and do a documentary special on the whole thing – “

“What was that music they played when you and the rest of the bridal party entered the hall-“

“Don’t you mean ‘arena?” Daria smirked.

“-And what’s with the orchestra playing it?”

“That was Wagner's Entrance of the Gods into Valhalla from Das Rhinegold,” Reese told them. “As for the orchestra, well, Mom knows people with them-“

“Your mother hired the Seattle Symphony and the Boston Symphony Orchestra - and flew them across the country to play at the reception…”

“She couldn’t swing any of the Armed Forces symphonies or marching bands. Believe me, she tried - but it would have meant asking my godfather for help. Never happen…” Reese looked over to where a fit, fifty-something man with graying temples and two very slinky blondes sat, sipping sparkling wine as he carried on a conversation with Ted Kennedy and Jet Li. “Amy said that she’d have them play the title theme to Jesus Christ, Superstar on kazoos when we came in if Mom didn’t calm down. After that, she eased back on her and the arrangements. Just a bit.”

“Speaking of which, where is your blushing bride?”

“Well, I’m assuming she’s escaped from Val by now, so I’d say that she’s probably surrounded by the hordes of society women who didn’t manage to snare me and now want to stay in my mother’s good graces by getting in good with the new lady of the manor – or the celebrity types looking for a new big-name to drop.”

“I don’t think Aunt Amy realized that part when she accepted that giant glass-cutter from you,” Daria said, noticing a man who, while trying to blend in with the crowd, had a look that screamed ‘world-class bodyguard’. I wonder how she’s going to react when she finds out that she’ll have someone trailing her from now on – I wonder if that was Reese’s idea, or his mother’s…”She’s never been one to put up with the ‘you have to fit in and act like this’ crowd.”

“One of the things that Mom both respects and can’t stand about her,” Reese said, winking as he did. “As for the royal horde - there’s already a pool going on how long it’ll be before she snaps out on one of them, and who it’ll be. I’ve got a hundred on her pouring a pitcher of punch over Joy Behar’s head.”

“How’d she get an invitation?” Karen asked, and in unison, she and the other women said, “Your mother” as Reese said, “My mother.”

“Can I get in on this pool?”

“Sure,” Reese shrugged, pointing, “just talk to Sam. He’s holding the money and taking bets.”

Daria and Karen’s eyes followed in the direction Reese pointed, and they saw-

“No way,” they said in unison. “He came to your wedding?”

“Yeah – he’s a local. Born and raised in D.C., and he’s-“

“A friend of your mother’s,” the women said in unison.

“Yeah. He’s also a big golfer – picked up on it while he was filming over in England earlier this year. Just don’t ask him to do dialogue from ‘Pulp Fiction’, or ask him questions about his purple lightsaber.”

At that moment, an elderly African-American gentleman in a uniform similar to Reese’s appeared at Karen’s side; Reese was about to snap to attention when the man said, “Not on your wedding day, son.”

“Yes, sir,” Reese said, very respectful as the man adjusted his glasses on his face and moved to face Helen. “Hello – Helen, isn’t it?”

“Yes…?”

“I’m Dr. Satcher – I’m a friend of Alexandria’s. You mind if I take a look at you?”

Karen leaned over to Daria. “Excuse me – but is that the Surgeon General of the United States right in front of us, offering to look your mom over?”

“Yeah…”

“We have to stay friends for the rest of our lives. I’m not giving up contacts this good.”

*****

Erin Danielson was feeling a little depressed – well, maybe it was the fourth glass of the exceptionally fine sparkling wine…

She sat alone at a table, quite attractive in her bridesmaid’s gown, and picked listlessly at a plate of crab salad and celery sticks as she looked at the happy people all around her. God, I wish I were as happy as they are. Brian…well, at least the new drugs are keeping the herpes in check. Thank God. Now, I don’t have to feel as though I’m stuck with him forever.

I’m never going to be happy again at a wedding, though. I would have asked Aunt Amy if I could have sat this out, but no – Mom has to be in the show, dragging me along, too…

I wonder if I can sneak away…

“Don’t even think of wandering off and getting lost for the rest of the day, Erin. They’ll have the tossing of the bouquet and the cutting of the wedding cake soon – and I want you to be there for those.”

“Mom – I want to go.” Really - why would I want to catch the bouquet?

“Not yet, you’re not! I’m not letting anyone think that their money can make us feel like we’re second-class citizens – hold on…”

Rita’s nose perked up like a bird dog scenting prey, and she grasped at Erin’s elbow. “Come on. I think –“

“No, Mother,” Erin said, a touch of steel in her voice as she pulled free of her mother’s grip; she recognized that ‘time to be competitive!’ tone in her mother’s voice. “If you want to do something silly, you’ll have to do it alone this time. I’m staying.”

Rita drew back as if stung, then turned and stalked away. “Well, she seemed annoyed about something,” a man’s voice said, and Erin turned to see a slender man plant himself in the chair next to Erin. “Hoping that she’s going to catch the bouquet?”

“No – just annoyed that this isn’t all for me, so she could lord over my aunts about how ‘I landed a big one.” She looked over at him. “You look familiar.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He wiped his hand, and extended it to her. “I’m Keanu.”

“Erin.”

“Pretty name.”

“Yours is unusual.”

“I’ve been told that.” he smiled, as she smiled back. “So, what do you do?”

“I fetch coffee and shuffle papers at a firm in Boston – but I’ve been dabbling around with writing children’s books. You?”

“I’m an actor. I do movies.”

“Okay. Done any movies that I’d have seen?”

*****

Rita followed the flash of hair color she knew so well through the crowd, out of the banquet hall (earning a venomous look from Diana Ross as she nearly ran the singer over), through the jammed halls and towards one of the public restrooms near the main bank of elevators.

Nice. Sneaking off somewhere – I wonder where she’s going… after all, she could have used the bathroom anywhere. Why’d she leave the reception – and why’s she out of her wedding gown already? I mean, it’s barely six, and they haven’t done any of the traditions yet – no first dance, and she hasn’t thrown the bouquet…

“Can I help you -?”

Rita jumped, screeching like a cat as the woman – It’s NOT Amy! – stepped boldly from behind the corner and faced her directly. “I said, ‘can I help you?”

The woman, looking so much like Amy – and Daria, too – my God, look at that scowl! – took another step towards Rita, who reflexively stepped back. “You’ve been trailing me for the past five minutes – so, what DO you want?”

“I – I think I owe you an apology-“

“You’ve got that right. What are you – a stalker or someone looking for a date? Sorry, but I like guys.”

“No! I mean, no, I thought you were my sister-“

“What – you’re spying on your sister? Ew. You are a sickie. Get away from me.”

“Not that way, I thought she – she just got married – I was wondering why-“

“Is THAT why people have been constantly coming up to me and hugging me since we stepped into this hotel, congratulating me and telling me how I managed to reel in a big one – not that I didn’t…” The woman smiled a tiny, knowing smile, one that Rita recognized.

She must really love her man… he must really be special, to put that smile on her face…

“Look, ‘Weena-“

“I’m a woman-!”

“Weena!’ It’s H. G. Wells! Read a book!” The woman took a deep breath, and Rita paled as the woman unclenched her fist.

“Why don’t you head back in there with your rich friends, have a few more glasses of thousand-dollar champagne, and stop bothering real people who have more important things to deal with?”

The way she scrunched her eyebrows as she stared broke Rita’s last resolve, and she mumbled an apology as she headed in the opposite direction.

“Hey, what was that about?”

The woman who looked so much like Amy Barksdale turned and looked up to face her husband, a good eight inches taller than she, and gave him the same scowl. “Okay, what did I do now?”

“Oh, I think you know what I’m going to say!”

“Come on-“

“Richard Lobinske – ever since you started writing those stories and putting them on the Internet, we have been running into the weirdest people!”

“Lou, I think you’re exaggerating-“

“Two words. ‘Penguin fetish.”

“Come on. He just does that as a joke. He’s the nicest person-“

“Then, there’s your Australian buddy, and that monk from England-!”

“He’s not a monk-“

“And let’s not forget your new friend from Alabama. I didn’t know they HAD a ‘Jurassic Park’ in the ‘heart of Dixie!” She took him by the hand, and pulled him into the elevator. “The next time we come to one of these ‘we are the guys who study bugs’ conventions, we’re checking into ‘Motel 6’. Fewer weirdos!”

*****

A red-haired vision in a Prada gown suddenly appeared next to Helen. “Mom…?”

“Quinn, I’m okay… I’m just a little tired…”

Daria was suddenly aware that Quinn was dressed quite differently from her. “Uh, Quinn – why aren’t you still in your bridesmaid gown? One of those waiters got lucky?”

“Oh, ha, ha, Daria. We only had to wear those gowns until after the wedding photos are all taken. After that, I went up to our suite and changed – what do you think?”

“One – since they haven’t cut the cake yet, had the first dance or tossed the bouquet, I think you let them get lots of photos beforehand so that you could get into something more suitable for diving through the ravaging hordes,” Daria said bluntly. “I also think you roped Aunt Amy into blowing some of her new money on you-”

Daria froze as she realized that Reese and Helen were watching. “Um, I mean-“

“Oh, Daria, my new favorite niece – you’re going to love the Donna Karan gown that we picked out for you,” Reese said, his expression mirthful as Daria paled. “Quinn had mentioned that we should get you something really nice, as a token for your helping out by being in the wedding, so my mother-“

Karen surreptitiously drew her tiny digital camera from her handbag and snapped a photo of Daria’s expression – Jane would never forgive me if I let this go by and she didn’t get to see it! – as Reese continued.

”-Had photos of you taken for the last couple of weeks, because she KNEW you’d never stand for a fitting by a fashion legend, and they used them – along with the help of a few other people – to make sure that the gown’s perfect for you.”

Daria looked Reese directly in the eye. “It was you,” she said. “This was your idea.”

Reese grinned. “Yes.”

“To embarrass me?”

“I’m your uncle now, Daria! I have only three purposes in your life; making your aunt happy as ‘Dr. Barksdale-Wyatt’, buying you nice things, and to embarrass you in public!”

“He’s very good at that, too,” a young man’s voice from behind Quinn spoke, and she turned to see a tall, dark-haired young man in a very nice suit. “The ‘embarrassing people in public’ part.”

Quinn gasped out his name… “Pacey…”

“Uh, it’s Joe. I mean, Josh. Joshua Jackson,” the young man said, obviously taken by Quinn. “I’m Joshua Jackson. ‘Pacey’s’ who I play on-“

“Dawson’s Creek,” Quinn said breathlessly. “I love your show…”

“Can anybody else taste the bile?”

“Now, now, let’s allow your little sister her moment of fawning over a celebrity. Trust me – it gets old fast,” Reese said, watching Dr. Satcher talk to Helen. “Karen, I hope you’re having a good time. Daria – thank you. Thanks for stepping in for Paula. It broke Amy’s heart that she couldn’t be in the wedding, but you stepping in made her very happy.”

Daria blushed gently as Reese gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek, and she didn’t flinch at all. “I’m glad I could help… Uncle Reese.”

Reese smiled, and as he turned and started away, Karen leaned in close. “Wow. Someone gave you a compliment and a peck on the cheek, and he’s still able to feed and clothe himself.”

“You sound like Jane.”

“Thanks.”

“I think that I should be the one saying ‘thank you,” Colonel Paula Trainor said, coming up to Daria and Karen. “It was a beautiful ceremony?”

“It was nice,” Daria allowed, “very nice. I’m sorry that you couldn’t be here.”

“A big downside to this uniform,” she said, and once again, Daria was struck by the ornate styling of the Air Force ‘mess dress’ uniforms – as a woman, Paula’s had a full skirt that just brushed the floor. “When they call, you have to go, and you end up missing some important things. After Amy comes back from her honeymoon, the gang’ll have to get together and watch the wedding video.”

“Oh, Daria…”

Daria cringed inwardly as she heard that tone in her sister’s voice, and Quinn came up, Joshua dutifully trailing behind, to gently turn her towards the table where Michael was sitting… only now, a tanned, beautiful woman with long, straight blonde hair sat next to him, smiling as he talked to her… and making sure that he was afforded a good look at her long, sculpted legs… “Time for you to do some of that ‘evil girlfriend’ stuff – you know that there’s a lot of girls looking Michael over, especially now that they know you’re his girl and that you’re related to Aunt Amy…” Quinn was actually relishing the way Daria would get rid of the woman – she’d already bet fifty bucks on ‘runs her off with a look from thirty feet away…’

“Quinn, I’m not going to-“

“Hey, Michael!”

Michael looked up at the sound of his name – and flushed crimson as his eyes met Daria’s. The tanned beauty beside him followed his gaze; she drew back as she saw the way Daria looked at her, her brown eyes piercing deep into the ocean-blue eyes of the intruder…

Quinn squealed with unabashed joy as the girl suddenly excused herself from Michael’s presence with as much speed as dignity would allow, and Michael suddenly realized that his shoelaces were untied, so he decided that he’d take as much time as necessary to make sure that they were tied perfectly…

“That’s my sister!”

Quinn turned to leave, and accidentally bumped into a tall man wearing the dress uniform of a firefighter. “Oh! Excuse me…”

The firefighter casually wiped the droplets of spilled punch away, and Quinn was slightly taken by just how handsome the firefighter was. “That’s okay, miss. Accidents happen.”

“I’m Quinn Morgendorffer. I’m the bride’s niece.”

“I saw. You looked very nice in your bridesmaid’s gown.” He extended his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Carter Grayson. I’m with the Mariner Bay Fire Department. That’s Mariner Bay, California.”

“Really?” Quinn’s eyes sparkled. “I go to Pepperhill!”

“Hey, Grayson – why don’t you introduce me to your cute little friend?”

They turned as a ruggedly handsome, well-built man in a police officer’s dress uniform came up from behind Carter, two glasses of punch in hand. “Hello, miss. I’m Eric Meyers,” he continued, handing Quinn a glass before tossing Carter a dismissive glance. ”You’re relieved, big boy. Go rescue a cat from a tree or something.”

“Excuse me, Meyers – but I was talking to the young lady.”

Eric laughed; he finished his drink in one swallow and placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Really…?”

“Hey, guys – I was talking to Quinn when that little accident happened,” Joshua said, putting his hand around Quinn’s waist and starting to guide her away. “We’ll just go somewhere else and-“

He gulped audibly as he saw the device around Carter’s left wrist – a very familiar device, with a blue, star-shaped insignia with six blunt points… “Hey, you’re… you’re with-“

“Lightspeed Rescue. Yes.”

Joshua turned to Eric, and saw a similar device on his left wrist as well. “Dude! You’re Eric Meyers! You’re the Quantum-“

“No wonder you get into so much trouble on that little show of yours. You don’t know how to be subtle.” Eric brazenly removed Joshua’s hand from Quinn as he placed himself between her and the two other men. “Why don’t we go and get some music going, so we can dance?”

“Well, I’m sure that she doesn’t want to get her toes mashed by a knuckle-dragger like you, so she can come and dance with me!”

“You’ll have to wait for all our lives to be over before you cut in front of us, ‘Pacey’, Eric sneered. “Besides, isn’t she a little young for you? I thought your dating pool came out of the Medicare directory!”

“Oh, real funny, Barney Fife. Better be careful, Quinn – go out with one of these guys, and you might end up dodging mutants and demons and aliens – oh, my!”

“No, that’s what she’d dodge if she went to one of your cast parties,” Carter snarled. “Eric, why don’t you give him a free taste of police brutality, while Quinn and I get some punch-“

“You move one step away from here with her and you’ll get all the punch you’ll ever need,” Eric said bluntly.

As the three men began to argue, Quinn actually felt a bit guilty. She moved to stop them, but a thought went through her head and put a tiny, familiar smile on her face…

Well… just once more. For old times’ sake.

At least one of their names begins with ‘J’…

*****

“Jeez, what is that-?”

“What’s wrong, Karen?”

Karen stopped walking and shook her head, brushing purposefully behind her ear; Daria watched as she pulled something from the back of her head. “Rice,” she snorted. “God, it gets in everywhere…”

“And you’ll keep finding grains of rice for weeks to come. Some traditions… at least they didn’t have people blowing bubbles.” Paula shook her head, turning, and then stopped as she saw the sculptures. “Well. They’re smaller than I’d imagined. The happy couple must have made a fuss.”

“Uncle Reese just said something like that.”

“Back before they first got together, they’d have killed for that much ice. Well, Amy would have, certainly.”

“I don’t get it,” Daria said, as Paula helped herself to a glass of punch. “What would they need with that much ice?”

“Okay – you know how hot it can get in the D.C. Metro area in the summer?”

The girls nodded, and they followed Paula over to a table, where a waiter immediately appeared at Paula’s side. “Could you please bring me about ten of those chicken wing drumettes, a side salad with French dressing, and some of those little meatballs in the sweet barbeque sauce, along with another glass of punch? I’ll have some dinner later.”

The attractive, slender African-American woman caught twin looks of disbelief. “I’ve been a size six since I was nineteen. Trust me, I can handle it, and besides, I’m hungry.”

“I walked constantly during my last three years of high school wearing Doc Martens every day, and I basically lived on Italian food. Pizza, and what passes for lasagna in the world of institutional foods. Didn’t gain weight until I went away to college.”

“Walk more and put the boots back on.” Paula made a trio of chicken drumettes disappear, and took a long drink. “Anyway, Back to what I was saying about ice. Well, the first few weeks at Tennyson U are almost always uncomfortable – and God help you if your air conditioning goes out…”

*****

One year earlier…

*****

“The worst part about this is the heat.”

“The worst part of being around this place is the mosquitoes. Okay, the heat, the annoying humidity, and the mosquitoes. No – the WORST part about being here is not having any air conditioning, and THEN the heat, the humidity and the –“

A raspberry sno-cone struck Angela Nogura directly in the back of her head, and the slightly plump Asian woman turned with fire in her eyes at the room full of sweat-soaked graduate assistants. “Who did that-?”

“The sno-cone fairy!” someone quipped, and the main offices of the Statistical Sociology and Anthropology Laboratory rang with laughter as Cassie Wheeler sheepishly lifted her hand. “I’m really sorry, Doc Angela – my hand slipped!”

“Well, it can just slip again – slip out to the big freezer down the hall, for three or four of those big bags of ice! Make sure it takes the rest of you with it, and get some help, too!”

A gangly, pale-complexioned grad student with straw-colored hair and thin, wire-rimmed glasses, Cassie unglued herself from her chair, and looked longingly at the melting remains of her sno-cone as she and three of the other grad assistants sludged through the doorway – and dodged Amy Barksdale as she barreled through.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” she said, already soaked through her blouse as she came through the door – and pointedly ignoring the way a couple of the male students were trying not to stare at her. “Isn't anything on in the building - what happened to the power?”

“Well, if someone would answer her phone instead of sleeping right through her alarms, wake-up calls, and assistants throwing rocks at her window, she’d know that classes got cancelled today because of the heat!” Angela told her, pulling a chunk of ice from a cooler next to her desk and wrapping it in a hand towel before putting it on her forehead. “Of course, the new Dean of our department expects everyone else to buck up and sweat it out, even though the University’s power plant is off-line –“

“That’s why-“

“Yeah. Why we all look like the off-Broadway cast of some Tennessee Williams play set down in the Deep South!” She took a deep swallow from an ice-cold bottle of water. “Look, we’ve all been here since seven-thirty-“

Amy felt a twinge of regret.

“Amy-?”

“Uh, yeah – seven-thirty…”

“I’m going to let them go. It’s getting to be murder up in here with all these warm, STINKY bodies and no AC besides the occasional breeze.”

“…That’s a good idea – You guys can all take off, and find someplace to stay cool. What’s the temperature now, anyway?”

“Ninety-six degrees…” Cassie growled, lugging a twenty-two bag of ice through the door and dumping it without fanfare into an opened cooler. “The generator for the big freezer has more than enough gas to keep it running. I… want…a… beer!”

“Then go get one over at ‘On The Island’, Amy said, watching the three other students arrive with their ice. “That should be more than enough to keep Angela and me cool while we finish -“

“Excuse me-?”

*****

As Assistant Dean of the Curtis E. LeMay College of Military Sciences at Tennyson University, Paula Trainor rated her own office in the Military Technologies Annex – a large, four-story facility located at the far north side of the Tennyson campus.

As a person who liked to plan for every eventuality, she sat in her office – rather plush and comfortable, with more than ample space – and flipped through the pages of the personnel file sitting before her as cool air flowed from the vents in the ceiling. Those three auxiliary generators had General Eggemeyer so annoyed when I requisitioned them and had them installed - but times like this, he's glad that I got them. If he were actually here, that is.

Paula shook her head with slight disgust as she thought of her Commanding Officer, General Denton Eggemeyer, and how he routinely 'called in sick' or 'needed to just take the day off'… Thank God he's retiring at the end of the year. She sipped her iced lemon tea, and continued to look through the file before her.

Maurice Alexander Wyatt. Born 31 October 1964, Edwards Air Force Base, California. His mother was a reporter, refused to quit working during her pregnancy and took an assignment to interview test pilots. Got into an argument, went into premature labor and had the baby in the base hospital. Talk about destiny…

Mother – Alexandra Marina Kyle-Wyatt; currently senior executive vice president of operations for the GSN cable news network. Father – Gerald Harrison Wyatt; television writer-producer. Born into serious wealth; mother’s family has old money, while his father made his own in television, with several novels off to the side. Creator of many major hits for television over the years…he’s producing that teen tripe ‘Kitten’s Run’ nighttime soap that’s polluting the airwaves right now, as well as that ‘Johari Four’ show on that cable sci-fi channe… he did ‘Agents of D.E.L.T.A.?’ God, we used to love watching that show, back when I was an Agency liaison officer…

Got into the Academy with impressive recommendations – Senator Gantt of Colorado, who’s also his godfather, not to mention that he’s almost as rich as God in his Old Testament days- which is really saying something, considering the wealth that the Wyatts have… wasn’t lying about his time at the Academy or in flight school… offered several prestige spots - was offered a slot for astronaut training… they actually wanted him to fly the shuttle, and he turned it down. The only prestige spot he ever accepted was on the Air Force marksmanship team; he was the number-two pistol shooter on the squad. Perennial attendee at many inter-service shooting competitions - won high honors six times for his pistol skills. Went to the Olympics; chosen as first alternate for the US team for the 1992 Games and won a silver medal down in Atlanta, during the ‘96 Games. He didn’t even try out for the Sydney Games this year …

Did more than a bit of traveling during his time in uniform – I guess he’s not too straight-arrow about using family pull for getting assignments. Kosovo, Desert Storm – Picked up the Air Force Cross in the desert for some serious air-to ground action that saved a bunch of British troops, and then joined in on the party at the Euphrates River without being invited – killed five or six tanks before the Warthog drivers shooed him out of the area for horning in on their turf. Followed that up with shooting the hell out of SAM sites and light armor in Bosnia after another flier went down, chopped the hell out of some irregulars on the ground and bought enough time for the rescue units to extract the downed pilot. After getting yelled at by his CO, he got the DFC and the Air Medal for that stunt, and nearly transferred into Warthogs ‘because you seem to like shooting up armor so much!’ Three confirmed kills – a Mig-29 and a Mirage in the Gulf, and another Mig-29 over Kosovo. How the hell did he manage a year in Antarctica – oh. Meteorology major at the academy with language skills, volunteered to act as a liaison with the Japanese science team that was invited to work at McMurdo Station during the’ long night’. Busy boy… and apparently, he doesn’t mind asking his godfather to pull strings for assignments. Sometimes.

Married five years, two children. Jerica and Jocelyn – twin daughters. Widowed. Married to Dawn Reynolds; died 20 December 1998 at Barksdale Air Force Base, Louisiana. Died one week after giving birth to stillborn son – massive cerebral hemorrhage. Moved to Maryland and transferred to Air National Guard two months later. That’s interesting… must’ve been listening to his buddy Wallister – they’ve been thick as thieves since the Academy, and wanted to be near someone close to him afterward. Cute kids…

Paula wondered, as she had for the past week, why the pilot kept coming to mind. No, not interested in him that way – he’s not bad, although he's not a male model like Wallister, but there’s something about him…why did I even request his file?

A broad grin appeared. Yes, I do know why. Maybe – just maybe – the Force is strong with this one. Of course, he will need to be reminded about PDA. At least he’s not in uniform when he makes an ass of himself in public with Newlin like a frat bum at a kegger…

She touched the intercom button on her phone. “Master Sergeant Tran Noc?”

A perfectly cultured Southern accent responded from the speaker. “Yes, Colonel?”

“I want you to get in touch with a Lieutenant Colonel Wyatt – he’s-“

“Lt. Colonel Maurice Wyatt, ma’am?”

“You know – oh, of course. You would know him.” Paula remembered that her chief NCO – non-commissioned officer – also competed regularly in the inter-service shooting competitions, had served for years as an instructor for the Air Force Commando program, and was considered one of the best shooters in the Air Force.

Because of his shooting skills, he was also thoroughly loathed by the U.S. Secret Service for absolutely humiliating their three best shooters in a totally unofficial - and totally one-sided - competition on their home range two years earlier. Paula remembered that match well; she’d cleared about seven thousand dollars in bets – and had to politely ask him not to accept a re-match. The American Royal Guard was just so touchy, although they probably wouldn’t have taken it so personally if he’d been an Army shooter, or a Marine, and traditionally lived with weapon in hand… “Yes. Contact him and arrange a time for him to come in.”

“Looking for a new firearms instructor, ma’am?”