Chapter 1: Opening Salvoes

I already regretted agreeing to help my big sister out. Being a waiter wasn't my favorite thing to begin with, and waiting tables at a fancy country club wedding like this one was even worse. However, an event like this was a big deal to Tracey, who was working hard to make her catering business a success. I also love my sister, so when she asked for my help, I said yes.

That 'yes' had landed me here, working a gig for my sister among people who didn't even seem to see the help unless they needed another bottle of wine. So far things had gone relatively smoothly. Tracey had planned for a lot of 'what if's, so she was in good shape, even when groom told her that a dozen 'old friends' had agreed to come to the wedding at the last minute and would need to be fed. She'd even had cold bottles of beer ready when those same friends had derisively dismissed the offer of wine.

I had just finished clearing the last of the dinner dishes when I heard the band begin to play for the bride and groom's first dance. Tracey smiled and told me I should take a break. I think she could tell that I was tired, restless, and bored. I wandered out back and sat down on one of the chairs around the pool.

It was a humid August night and I loosened my bow tie to cool off a bit. I could feel myself falling asleep, but I was too tired to fight it; I had been up late the night before. The chair was too uncomfortable for me to really fall asleep, so I just sat there, buzzing in and out of awareness. I don't know how long I sat there dozing, but I came wide awake when I heard the doors to the reception open. I could hear two people whispering, hissing their remarks at one another.

I turned towards them and could see a man and a woman silhouetted in the light from the reception. The conversation continued as the man closed the doors quietly. When he finished, he turned and grasped the woman by the arm, dragging her closer to me. I'm not sure why, but something about his manners, or rather lack of manners, had me quietly getting up out of the chair.

"You'll do what you are told, young lady," the man hissed.

"Don't think that you can tell me what to do! You may have married my mother, but you are not my father," the woman shot back, pulling her arm away from his.

The two glared at one another. Well, I knew who they were now. The man was the groom, Charles Langley. He was a washed up baseball player who had come back to town and wooed the widow of one of the town's richest men, Annabelle Harmon. That meant the girl had to be Missy Harmon, Annabelle's only daughter. Everyone expected Missy to be head cheerleader and prom queen when school started back up in the fall. It would be our senior year at Ridgemont High.

Me, I'm John Robinson. To say that Missy and I don't run in the same circles would be an understatement. In fact, I would have been surprised to find out that Missy even knew who I was. My sister, Tracey, and I were not exactly members of the elite of Ridgemont.

"You'll heed me nonetheless, Missy. Now get back in there and dance with Junior Bishop."

"I wouldn't dance with that octopus if he were the last man on earth."

"Look, young lady. Tonight, you are going to dance with Mr. Bishop. Starting tomorrow, you are going to date Mr. Bishop and sometime next summer, you are going to agree to marry Mr. Bishop."

"Not a chance, asshole."

"This isn't up for discussion, Melissa Langley."

"I will NEVER be Melissa Langley, asshole."

Missy's head rocked sideways when Langley's hand connected loudly with her face. The veneer of civility left his voice. "You will learn not to mess with me, you little bitch! Compose yourself and get your ass back in there."

Langley raised his hand again and I decided that I'd seen and heard enough. I grabbed the hand. "Enough, Mister. Go back to the party."

Missy took the opportunity to run into the shadows, and I could hear her sobbing off to one side.

"Get your hand off me, son. And get out of my business."

"Yes, sir," I replied, letting go and moving between him and Missy, "but I think your business here is finished for now."

Langley clenched his fist, but he nodded curtly and returned to the reception.

When I was sure Langley was gone, I turned towards the sounds of Missy's sobs... I found her about twenty feet away, hidden in the deepest part of the shadows. "Are you okay?" I asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged, still sobbing with her back to me. Her shoulder was warm beneath my hand. The dress she wore was strapless and light purple, I remembered. I was sure there was a better word for the color, but I sure as heck didn't know it. I used my hand on her shoulder to gently turn her to face me, and I hugged her.

Missy didn't resist, and she was soon crying openly in my arms. I knew a lot of guys at Ridgemont would have given anything to have Missy Harmon in their arms, but for whatever reason, I didn't even consider who she was at that moment. I wasn't sure what I was trying to accomplish here, or even what I wanted to accomplish, but Missy needed someone to comfort her. So I did, holding her, rubbing her back and whispering reassurance into her ear. Gradually, she stopped sobbing.

"You need to get back in there, Missy. They are sure to miss the Maid of Honor eventually. Come on, there's a bathroom over here. You can fix up your makeup and stuff."

"Thanks," she whispered, and after she was in the bathroom, I headed back to the kitchen. It would soon be time to serve the cake. I shook my head. This had been a long night, and the episode with Missy added a bit of unreality to it.

The rest of the evening went without a hitch. A couple of other women who were interested in her catering service had approached Tracey, and she was overjoyed at the thought of another booking. Seeing Tracey smile made my efforts worth the hassle. Missy wore a smile the rest of the night, too, but hers was pasted on, and she adamantly refused to dance with anyone but the best man and her uncle. She never so much as glanced my way, at least not that I saw. I sighed to myself and shook my head. What had I expected? Missy had no idea who I was — she and I were from different worlds — and she probably thought that providing a shoulder to cry on was one of the things the hired help did. That made me laugh, and by the next day, things seemed to have returned to normal.

I was sweeping aisle seven, cursing the four year old who had tossed a bag of flour out of her mother's cart, when my broom ran into a tennis shoe. I looked up to see Missy Harmon standing in front of me.

"I wanted to thank you for last night, John," she said, smiling when I looked up.

"It was nothing, Missy," I replied, leaning on the broom a bit and wondering when the world had tilted off its axis. Missy Harmon actually did know something about me, even if it was just my name.