RESOLUTIONS

Jackie groaned and brought her hands to her head. She wasn't quite sure where the hell she was, but the scent of tequila and sex hung in the air, and that was never good.

She rolled over and her feet knocked into a lump, hiding underneath the covers.

"Shit!" she whispered harshly, as she looked around the room and tried to collect her bearings. This was her room, and that lump beside her was undoubtedly a mistake she'd made somewhere between the 5th shot of tequila and the near-empty bottle of champagne laying on it's side on the floor.

Jackie leaned over and picked it up. The label said 'Bollinger', and she gave a half-hearted smile. At least he sprang for the good stuff, it could be much worse. She tossed the bottle back onto the ground and scratched her head, hoping the details would magically appear in her brain if she could just get her circulation going.

Nope.

Maybe if she weren't so dehydrated things would come back to her?

Too hungover to leave bed just yet, she searched the nearby counter tops for any non-alcoholic liquid she could find, and spotted two full-looking glasses of water on the night table.

Unfortunately for her, it was not the night table on her side of the bed. She whimpered, and gingerly reached across her apparent lover to snag a glass.

As she brought the glass to her lips, her eye was distracted by something shiny and out of place.

"Oh! My! God!" Jackie shrieked, waking the lump sleeping next to her with a start. She gawked at the wedding band currently residing on her left hand. "What the fuck is this?" she asked. "Is this 14 karat gold? Ew." She sneered while examining the ring with a scowl.

Jackie didn't know what felt worse, knowing she married someone while completely blotto, or that she got married using a $50 yellow-gold cigar band ring. She shuddered at the tackiness of the ordinary which, in her mind, far exceeded the tackiness of the extraordinary – namely, her booze-addled, Vegas wedding.

"Good morning, princess," the man under the covers said weakly before descending into a long moan. "Fucking tequila..."

"You can say that again," she mumbled to herself. Now wide awake from the sheer terror she was experiencing, she turned around and punched a random spot on her sheet-covered partner in stupidity. "Wake up, hubby!"

He slowly pulled the sheets from his face and frowned. "Spousal abuse? This soon?"

"Gah!" She exhaled her disgust and turned away from him. "How can you be so calm about this? You're not totally and completely horrified? This isn't a shock to you or do you do this all the time?"

He smiled and took her left hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed her ring. "I don't do this all the time, you freak. I'm not shocked because I wasn't as drunk as you were, so I remember last night. And I'm not horrified because...well, if you can't figure that out then you're dumber than you look."

Jackie was mad. Well, she wanted to be mad but she couldn't bring herself to be...not when he was looking at her like that.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly and she sighed her resignation.

December 31, 1980

Jackie leaned across the hot pink, circular banquette she was resting on and tried to signal for a waitress. She held her hand up demurely the first two times the woman passed, but by the time she circled around for the third time, Jackie was practically doing a pep squad cheer to get her attention.

The waitress blew past her without a glance for the fourth time and she finally gave up with a groan. "Bitch," she said under her breath. "Who do I have to screw to get a drink around here?"

"Desperate, huh?" asked a man on the opposite side of the bench whom she couldn't see.

"Huh?" she asked, leaning in to hear him better.

The noise in the Pink Palace Club was as loud as the décor, which made it hard to hear anybody who wasn't screaming directly into your ear.

"I asked if you were desperate," he repeated in a muffled shout. "For a drink, I mean."

Jackie rolled her eyes. God, this guy couldn't even see what she looked like and he was still hitting on her? If anybody was desperate...

Still, she wouldn't do Vegas sober. She couldn't do Vegas sober. The fact that Fez had gotten her to agree to come here disturbed her enough, but how could a girl say no to her best friend when asked to stand up for him at his wedding? Fez didn't have any family around, which was something they definitely had in common, so she had resolved to push through the pain and be an adult about it. This wasn't about her, it was about Fez...and Crazy Caroline.

Jackie had put herself through enough pain thinking about both Vegas and weddings, so it was probably time to face her fear head-on and slay the glitterball dragon that is Sin City. For the sake of the only person strong enough to stand by her side during the worst year of her life, she would do it...but she would huff glue before she would endure it sober.

Jackie sighed. She wasn't in the mood to chat with horny strangers, but she'd put up with just about anyone if they could provide her with the means of getting tanked. "Yes. I guess I'm desperate!" she screamed back, cringing inside as the words left her lips. She had been called desperate way too many times over the past year for the word not to have personal baggage for her, but that's how badly she wanted a drink to help the evening go down more easily. "Do you have anything over there you feel like sharing?"

She perched onto her knees and tried to peer around the corner to no avail. There were columns on either side of the banquette, essentially blocking all view of the other side of the couch. Of course, she could always get off of her ass and go over there, but then she's have to talk to him, and that's the last thing she felt like doing.

A masculine hand pushed through the small opening between the column and the banquette cushion and offered her a lit joint. She smiled. It was as if the universe was finally answering her calls. "I don't know you, but I know I love you," she cooed through the crack between them as she accepted the joint from his hand.

Jackie brought the spliff up to her lips and took a deep hit, enjoying the pleasurable burn in her chest as the smoke filtered through her lungs for the first time. After a minute she exhaled and repeated twice more before handing it back to her benefactor through their narrow passageway.

"Rough night?" he asked.

Her brow furrowed. "Did you just ask me if I had a rough flight?"

"Night!" he hollered back and she laughed. Yeah, everything really did seem a lot funnier when you're high.

"You could say that, I guess," she said with a shrug. "My best friend is getting married tomorrow night."

"Getting married in Vegas, eh?" he said. "Can't say I endorse it."

"You have experience?" she asked, her interest mildly peaked.

There was a long pause before he answered her. "Something like that."

She placed a hand on the tufted silk brocade she was resting against and wondered for a moment if her new friend felt as lonely as she did. Maybe he was like her? At the very least, it felt good knowing she wasn't alone in her disdain for this crap town.

Donna Summer's 'Last Chance' came on the loudspeaker and Jackie's chest tightened as she quelled the urge to cry. It was like the song was written just for her, as if Donna Summer had reached into her nightmares and recorded them over a funky disco beat.

"Sometimes, I wish the sand would just swallow this entire city up," she said, feeling the weight of her own words. "I really don't know why I just said that out loud. Sorry if I'm freaking you out, it's just this city is putting me in a mood." She buried her face into the cushion behind her.

Great. Now this guy was going to think she was a psycho. Yet another man driven away by Jacqueline Burkhart.

A lump began to form in Jackie's throat that she felt could only be pushed back down by a strong hit of smoke. There was so much happening all around her and yet she never felt more alone. She was lost in a sea of rhinestones and hedonism, like she'd fallen overboard but everyone was too distracted to notice that she was drowning. If they did, would they even care?

Her only solace was that she wouldn't have to deal with Steven Hyde's presence mocking her at every turn this weekend. At least he had the good sense and decorum to sit this event out, knowing very well that she couldn't. Normally, she could endure him, but not at a wedding, and certainly not at a wedding in Las fucking Vegas. She would gladly volunteer to switch places with him, but when it came down to Fez choosing which friend to invite, there wasn't really a choice to be made. She was the foreigner's best friend, and if anybody was going to miss his wedding, it would have to be the burnout.

Just as she felt her chest seizing up once more, the mystery hand appeared again, offering her a life preserver.

"Go ahead and finish it," he said. "You sound like you could use it."

"Thanks," she said, before retrieving the joint from his hand, this time brushing up against his fingers as she took it from him. Such a slight amount of human contact, but it felt good. She wondered if more contact with him would feel even better.

"Jesus Christ that feels good..." Jackie moaned through her pants as her slick thighs gripped the head of her one-night stand, who in turn, grabbed her ass with both hands and took her farther into his mouth.

She stretched out onto the bed and let her hands tangle in her own hair as she writhed like a worm being burned by a child's magnifying glass.

His hands were anywhere and everywhere, deep in places Jackie didn't even know existed. This guy really knew his way around. She would be an idiot to regret this, no matter how tawdry or meaningless it all was. She knew who she was, what she was, but she was sick to death of denying herself good things, just because her stupid preconceived notions told her they were wrong.

"Fuck!" She panted erratically, and heat pooled between her legs as he pushed his tongue harder into her.

She knew one person who barely denied himself any pleasure that was offered, and he seemed to sleep well at night. Why not her? She deserved good things, dammit.

And this was a good thing...so...so...good...

As Jackie's pleasure built, her face screwed up tightly and her back arched, bracing for the delicious fall. Her hands ran roughly over her bare chest as she screamed in sweet agony.

Out of breath and dizzy from exertion, her eyes sought out the architect of this epicurean masterpiece. "Wow," she said with a coy smile as she lifted her now-heavy head. "I don't think it's ever been that good."

"Never?" he asked, one eyebrow lifting simultaneously with his cocky grin.

Jackie laughed and fell back onto her pillow. "Well, there was this one guy..."

"Talking to you like this, I kind of feel like I'm in a church confessional," she said self-consciously, as a transvestite wearing gold hotpants stumbled drunkenly over her feet. "Hey, watch it, you clumsy bitch! These are Halstons!" she screamed at the diva who was tumbling to the floor.

"They look like fakes," the diva slurred at Jackie's gold, strappy stilettos.

"Yeah? Well...so do your boobs," Jackie said, as her wasted assailant trundled toward the bar for another drink.

The man laughed at her antics. "Yeah, it really sounds like church over there."

"You probably think I'm a huge bitch." Jackie laughed heartily at her own sad circumstance. "I actually kind of am a bitch about half the time, but I'm hot, so people let me get away with murder."

"That's okay. Bitches are more interesting to talk to than nice people," he said. "Man, nice people make me sick."

"Then you are sitting on the right sofa. I'm supposed to be at a bachelorette party right now, but I totally ditched," she said.

"Why didn't you go?" he asked.

Jackie tucked her feet underneath her and looked around. "They're around here somewhere. Just follow the clumps of hair and scraps of clothing and you should be able to track them down."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"My best friend's girlfriend, or fiancee, is two pearls shy of a necklace," she said. The pot was making her feel loose, though she didn't need much help to start slagging Caroline off, even if it was to a perfect stranger. What the hell would he care about it anyway? It was kind of a relief to get things off of her chest for a change.

"Why's he marrying her then?" he asked.

Her fingers toyed with one of the buttons on the couch absentmindedly. "I don't know. I guess he has a high tolerance for crazy women. Caroline is obsessed with him. Like, she probably made a Fez doll from all the hair that she steals out of his hairbrush. Obsessed. One can only assume she's a tigress in the bedroom," she said with disgust before instinctively gagging. "Ugh, I can't believe I just willingly imagined Fez in bed with somebody. The fact that it's Caroline only makes it worse. Some people really shouldn't be allowed to copulate with one another." Jackie shuddered.

"This guy a hunchback or something?" he asked. "Unless, of course, you're just jealous..."

"No!" she shouted a little too loudly. "I mean, no I'm not jealous and no he's no hunchback. No to both. He's fine. Actually, he's quite handsome in an Erik Estrada kind of way, if you're into that foreign thing. I just...could not imagine going there with him."

"You've never thought about it?" he asked.

Jackie brought her thumb to her forehead and smoothed out the crease forming between her eyes. "Oh, I've thought about it," she said almost too quietly for him to hear. "I even dated him for a hot minute, but I just couldn't go through with it."

He cleared his throat. "Why not?"

"My heart wasn't in it," Jackie said. She was enjoying this guy's company, and the anonymity of the whole exchange was freeing, but she was getting kind of tired talking about herself. Considering she was usually her own favorite subject, that was saying something. "Look, this is kind of bumming me out. How about instead, you tell me what you're doing here in the 'Capital of Second Chances'?"

"Maybe I'm here looking for a second chance?" the man answered.

Interesting. Jackie wondered fleetingly if Steven ever felt the same way about his life choices, but then swatted those thoughts out of her head like a swarm of mosquitoes. If she let one or two inside, they would just breed.

"Why do you need one of those? Were you naughty?" she asked with a seductive edge, figuring she may as well have a little fun with him, since she was safely ensconced on the other side of the partition anyway.

"Understatement," he growled back.

Her eyes widened. "Wow. Sounds like maybe you don't deserve one then?"

"You're probably right about that," he said.

"Why'd you really come back here?" she asked with an arch of a brow.

This guy seemed slippery, which would normally make her run like the wind, but there was something about him that felt familiar to her, like an old book she'd read a thousand times before but couldn't give away.

"Why does anybody go back to the scene of a crime?" he asked, challenging her.

"To gloat," she said resolutely. "At least, that's why they do it in all of those serial killer flicks."

Another long pause ensued. "Not every criminal gloats. Maybe some of them, I don't know, feel bad about what they've done and don't wanna be that way anymore?"

"Come on. Don't tell me you're trying to reform your bad boy ways," she said, almost angry that he would suggest anyone was capable. "Believe me, I've been around your type before and you're un-reformable. You may as well just embrace your dark side, honey, because it isn't going anywhere."

"You really believe people can't change?" he asked.

Jackie stopped to really give it some thought. "Not for the better."

He grumbled something she couldn't hear and she leaned in to try to catch a glimpse of him, but he was sitting just out of view and she could only see as far as his earlobe. It was bizarre to think that a guy whose face she'd never seen before knew more about her inner thoughts than the people who had been in her life for years. She fleetingly wondered if that said more about her friends or her.

"Sounds like you got a pretty rough shake," he guessed.

Jackie could barely hear his voice over the din of the crowd. "Rough?" she asked, pressing her cheek into the cushion again for comfort like she used to do with her stuffed animals. "To quote something a wise man told me a few minutes ago: Understatement."

He chuckled.

"Hey," Jackie whispered as loudly as she could. "Do you believe there's somebody out there for everybody?"

"Digging pretty deep for a club chat," he mumbled before answering. "I guess...I don't know. I used to think there was no way."

She narrowed her eyes and fingered the frayed seams where the cushion met the column. "And now?"

"Maybe," he said, with a tinge of melancholy that tugged at her gut. "I guess I do, but I don't think everybody gets that happy ending. Some people just aren't built for being happy."

Jackie could feel tears beginning to sting her eyes and tried to breathe through it. She refused to have a makeup meltdown at a Vegas nightclub. Vegas may have ruined her life, but she sure as hell wasn't about to let it ruin her face.

What the fuck was this guy doing to her, anyway? He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to get her thinking about stuff that had been long buried until now. It was like marijuana therapy.

Was it possible to have a deep connection with a person whose face you've never even seen?

"How do you know if you're built for being happy," she asked him earnestly.

He exhaled roughly. "Do you want it?"

She knitted her brow. "That's a stupid question. Doesn't everybody?"

"Some of us don't have the right to want it. We don't deserve it."

Jackie and her date were on the balcony of her hotel room overlooking the strip. They were down half a bottle of Cuervo when she decided to climb the trellis.

"Will you stop trying to give me a heart attack already?" he asked and poured himself a refill.

Jackie's dress inched higher on her thighs as her bare legs straddled the outer wall of the terrace. "Come on. I'm too pretty to die and you know it."

He stood up and put the bottle down. "I'd prefer it if you didn't try to test that theory," he said, looking at her with mirth as he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her down.

"Killjoy." Jackie's bottom lip began to peek out.

Though she was on solid ground again, he had yet to remove his hands. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard to do as she thought.

The intensity of his stare was beginning to make her uncomfortable and she pulled his hands from her body, letting them drop by unceremoniously his sides.

She buried her face in her palms. "Sorry!" she said, breathing through her embarrassment. "I've just never done this before. I have no idea what I'm doing."

He gently took her hands from her face and wrapped them around his neck. "Let me show you the ropes," he said, and he leaned down to press his lips to hers. Soft, firm, wet, tight, it seemed he could do almost anything with his magic mouth.

He cupped her face and nipped at her bottom lip, causing just enough of a sting to get her attention. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about doing that."

Her stomach knotted and tingled as his hands brushed over her behind and pulled her body snugly against his. He fit perfectly, coupled up to her contours and planes like a 3-D puzzle piece. It felt like heaven, and she wondered how long this dream would continue on before she had to wake up.

He smiled hungrily at her and she felt her innocence melting away.

Jackie ran her hand up and down the smooth column, letting the cool stone chill her hand before placing it on the side of her neck. It was strange knowing she was only an inch away from this stranger who knew her intimately, yet she still couldn't reach him. An inch might as well be a mile when it's as immovable as a boulder.

She pressed her mouth to the small passageway between them and whispered. "Everybody deserves happiness if they want it badly enough. I think the reason some people never get there is because they don't realize what makes them happy until they've lost it. I've learned the hard way that it's easy to neglect or push away somebody you love when you're not listening to them tell you what makes them happy."

Jackie could see his silhouette bob up and down in agreement. "Which one did you do?"

She closed her eyes. "Definitely the second one."

"I'm guilty of a little of both," he said pensively. "So, some jackass really did a number on you, huh?"

Hbe chest began to constrict again and she sunk back into the cushions. "I think I probably did it to myself."

"How do you figure?" he asked.

"There's this older man, Red, my friend's dad, who's been kind of a father figure to me. When things were really turning pear-shaped with the ex, I asked him for some advice on what to do. He told me that, while he thought the world of the guy I was with, that I should leave him."

"He told you to leave him?" he questioned in disbelief. "What reason did he give?"

Jackie felt herself getting flushed and tried to hail the waitress once again. "Bitch," she murmured under her breath and secured her hair up into a bun with hair pins from her clutch.

He knocked on the pillar three times. "You still there?"

"Sorry. He said that getting my ex to commit to anyone would be like trying to 'milk a bull', and that a girl like me deserved better than to beg for scraps," she said.

"Oh." She could practically hear the gears whirring in his head as he processed this.

"Of course I didn't listen. I never do, even those times when I clearly should." She laughed self-consciously. "But you know what? I'm really glad in some ways that I didn't, because I learned a really hard lesson at a young age. I used to be pretty naïve, but now I'm more broken in. It's like when you get a new pair of Gucci boots, it's always tough at first, and you get blisters and pain whenever you try to move, but once they're broken in, it feels like you're walking on ambrosia. Red told me once that 'A good pair of boots can last you a lifetime if you treat them right.' He said I wasn't treating myself right. You know, sometimes old people really give really good advice."

"So...you totally broken in yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. I still have a few miles of road to go, but I'm getting there."

"Maybe I could buy you a drink, in case you get thirsty along the way?"

Jackie smiled so hard the muscles in her face began to ache. "I think I'd like that," she said, bringing her hands up to her cheeks to force them to relax. "My place or yours?"

"I'll meet you at your place." She could almost hear him smiling through his words.

She bit down on her lower lip, which was threatening to break free into a pout. "Hey. Just tell me one thing. Was all that, down there..." She gestured to the floor, indicating the club. "...real?"

"You know it was," he said, still staring at her like she were a viper, waiting to strike.

Jackie crossed the hallway purposefully and he flinched. She held up her key card and laughed. "Oh relax, will you? You're safe," she said as she opened the door. "Well...for now."

He watched her enter the room and stood motionless behind her, still holding the door open.

She sat on the bed and took off her shoes. "Are you coming in or what?" she asked, without looking up.

He walked into the hotel room and let the door slam shut behind them.

"Have a seat, make yourself at home," she ordered as she lovingly tucked her golden sandals underneath the bed. "Booze is on the table. You know the drill."

She stood up on her knees again and pressed her ear to the crack as she eagerly waited for a response. "Hello?"

After a minute or two her face dropped and she sank back down into the chair, feeling dejected. How could he? She spilled her guts to him and he got so freaked out, that he just bolted on her? How dare he? Didn't he realize who she was? What she freaking looked like?

Suddenly, she remembered.

No. He doesn't.

Jackie stood up angrily and pulled the pins out of her hair, shaking her shiny mane until it laid just right. She was determined to give this loser a piece of her mind and show him what he was missing. She couldn't wait for him to see how hot she was and what he could have had if he hadn't bolted like the fucking coward he is.

Just as she was about to walk over, she stopped. This was crazy. Clearly she should be taking this as a sign. A guy who hadn't even really met her and didn't even know her name, had just rejected her.

She was that repellent. Maybe he was right? Maybe some people don't deserve happiness?

She hesitated for a moment, but then bravely pushed herself forward, one foot in front of the other like a wartime soldier. If he was going to reject her, he would have to do it to her face. She was sick of making it so easy for people to cast her aside like an old, worn out shoe.

As she rounded the corner, she was surprised at what she found in her neighbor's chair. Nothing. He had vanished like Houdini, nowhere to be found.

As if by magic, the waitress finally wandered over to where she was sitting, carrying a champagne flute no less. "Are you Jackie?" she asked.

Jackie nodded and looked around. "Why?"

The waitress placed the glass on the table and smiled. "Looks like you have an admirer." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Who sent this?" Jackie asked.

The waitress looked surprised. "That guy you were talking to. He was sitting here for about a half hour."

"What did he look like?" she demanded to know.

The waitress shrugged. "I only look at the cash, honey. Sorry."

Jackie looked at the drink as if it had just insulted her dress.

"Enjoy your Kir Royale!"

Jackie face-planted into her palm and breathed through the sting of rejection. "You're still breaking yourself in, girl. You're Gucci. You. Are. Gucci," she said quietly to herself the mantra that had become her daily affirmation over the past year.

She sat in the asshole's seat, tipped the glass to her lips, and luxuriated in the sensations caused by tiny french bubbles, lovingly tickling the back of her throat.

This wasn't so bad. He'd gotten her high, passed the time with her, bought her champagne, maybe she was overreacting? She certainly had gotten a better end of the deal than he did.

KIR Royales always made her feel like Holly Golightly, whom she considered a bit of a role model. One time, she forced Steven to sit through the whole film and drink KIRs with her. He claimed he hated every moment, but later that night she caught him humming 'Moon River' as they were falling asleep. That was the night he started calling her 'princess'.

All of a sudden, she heard a loud click in her head, like the last frame of a Rubik's Cube slipping into place.

Steven!

Jackie downed the rest of the drink in one go and ran out of the club and into the lobby of the hotel and started pacing. Between the flashing lights and the slot machines ringing through her pot and champagne-addled brain, it was hard to get her bearings. Where the hell could he have gone?

She started to walk toward the front desk to ask for his room number then suddenly remembered how she propositioned him: 'my place or yours?', so she made a U-turn toward the elevators and depressed the button for the 10th floor.

Should she be mad that he showed up in Vegas when he said that he wouldn't? Was he just fucking with her the entire time in the nightclub? Why was he even here at all?

As Jackie stepped off the elevator and started down the hallway, her eyes were instantly drawn to a pair of old work boots peeking out from behind the floor moldings of the hallway. She'd know those boots anywhere...after all, she was the one who bought them.

She got them for him the very first day she realized she loved him, because he was kind to her when nobody else was. Before Veteran's Day, before the nurse, before Chicago, before Sam, those boots even came before she did and remained with him long after she was gone.

God, I fucking hate those boots.

As she approached the door to her hotel room, and took in Hyde's form, her gait slowed. He was just standing there, leaning against the door frame like he hadn't smashed her heart into a million pieces in this same town just over a year ago, and casually observing her as if she were there to speak with somebody else. Certainly he must be expecting her?

Hyde crossed his arms over his chest and his jaw tensed as she approached.

"Good evening, princess." He nodded, with a smile in his eyes as he stared longingly at her.

Jackie shuffled her feet as she came to stand in front of him and realized that maybe those old boots weren't so bad after all. Seemed like he'd taken good care of them. That had to be worth something?

She smirked, then placed her hands on his shoulders and rolled forward onto her toes to meet his face. "Fancy meeting you here."