Days of the Phoenix
Title: Days
of the Phoenix
The Enemy You Know, Book II
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Rating: NC17 (barely)
Characters: Veronica/Weevil, appearances by Mac, Keith, Logan, Wallace, Dick, Felix, Lilly, etc.
Spoilers: Through Mars vs. Mars; goes non-canon from there. (No Ruskie
Business events.)
Warn: Violence; potentially disturbing themes
Thanks: Trixie 'Beta Reading for the Just Plain Crazy' Firecracker (
trixalicious)
Summary: Hmmm. Nah.
***
Veronica and Mac meet Friday morning in the parking
lot before school. Mac pulls out a manila folder and hands it to
Veronica.
Veronica opens it, finding a few laserjet-printed
sheets of logs and file directories and such.
"I drove by his house last night," says Mac. "They
have a WiFi network set up in the house, and it's totally open, no
encryption. I got right in. People really shouldn't leave those wireless
routers on the default settings."
"Goldmine?"
"Yeah. But the stuff I think you're going to be
really interested in--I just found using Google. This kid isn't so
bright." She reaches over and flips back a few pages, pointing to one
in particular. She looks at Veronica. "Sorry," she says sympathetically.
Veronica reads what's on the printout. "God," she says. It's
about as bad as she thought. "Thanks, Mac. I owe
you." She tucks the folder away in her bag.
"What are you going to do?"
Veronica puts on her best wry grin. "What I do best."
***
Dick Casablancas comes home Friday after school. He
heads into his bedroom, where he spends most of his free time, and
nearly falls over with shock when he sees the blond figure sitting
primly on the edge of his bed.
"God! How did you get in here?"
Veronica Mars stands up and smiles at him. She
waves. "Hey, Dick!"
"Dude, how did you get in my bedroom? I should call
the cops."
"Dude, your Mom let me in. She said I could
wait for you in the living room. I think she went grocery shopping, so I
had a look around." She smiles. "Your Mom seemed really happy that an
actual girl was coming to visit you."
"What are you doing here? What do you want?"
The blond girl's expression switches from cheerful
to deadly serious. "I want the video. You know which one. Now, you're
fairly stupid--oh, don't look at me like that, Dick, I'm just stating
the facts here--but you're not completely stupid. So you know you
could get in serious, major trouble for having that video. So I
figure you don't keep it on your computer. You've probably just got one
copy, and you've got it hidden pretty well. Maybe you take it out for
special occasions, maybe you figured you'd blackmail me someday. I don't
care. I want it. Now." She glances around the room with distaste. "I
would have looked for it myself, but frankly I don't think I could
stomach seeing whatever's under your bed."
It takes Dick a minute to sort through everything
she said because she talks so fast. His left eyelid starts to twitch, a
nervous tic he's had since he was a kid. He's on the edge of panic. "I
don't know what you're talking about," he says. "Get out of here before
I call 911." His voice is quavering, but he adds, "Freak."
Veronica sighs and smiles at him indulgently. "Wow,
you're actually a worse liar than I even expected. Okay, let me put it another way. You really
shouldn't have used your school email address when you posted all those
stupid tech questions about setting up X10 cameras."
Dick just stares at her.
"No response?" says Veronica. "You want me to keep
going?"
She walks around the room, ticking off points on her
fingers: "I know you're a creepy perv. I know you get your kicks from
planting hidden wireless cameras in the bedrooms at your friends'
parties. I know you've been doing it for at least a year and a half. I
also know all about your particular porno fetishes. And I have to admit,
you've got a few I didn't even know existed. But God love the
Internet, I say." She smiles a thin smile that all but drips venom. "And
last, but certainly not least: I know you're in love with Logan." She
pauses. "Or, at least, you think you are. It sounds more like a
simple schoolgirl crush to me. But who am I to say?"
Dick flattens himself against the wall. He has to
fight the urge to run. "You don't know what you're talking about," he
croaks.
"Oh, Dick," says Veronica. "I really think I do.
I found your blog. Once again, you need to learn some better
anonymizing skills." She brightens. "Hey! I have fifty spare
Gmail invites. I could totally hook you up."
"What do you want?" he asks again. He clenches and
unclenches palms that are suddenly soaked with sweat.
"I told you. I want the video. I know you
know what I'm talking about. Give it to me and I won't call the
cops. And I'll even keep all your little secrets." She shrugs. "For now."
"All right," Dick says finally. "You know what's on
the video?"
A shadow passes over the blond girl's face. "Yes,"
she says, hesitating only a moment.
"What are you going to do with it?"
She goes poker-faced. "Don't you worry about it."
He shrugs, tries to act like it's all no big deal.
"Fine. Whatever."
It's hard to hold the screwdriver when his hands are
shaking so badly, but he gets the A/C vent cover unscrewed. He pulls
down the little package that's taped to the inside of the duct.
"Here," he says, handing her the CDROM in its
sleeve. "Now go away."
"Thanks, Dick!" says Veronica. She pats him on the
arm, looks at him with mock concern. "Don't worry. I'm sure Logan will
notice you someday. You just keep hanging in there."
"Just leave," he says hoarsely.
She does.
Dick goes into the bathroom and throws up.
***
Weevil tracks Catalino Valenzuela to a Salvation
Army halfway house two cities away. During the ride over late Friday
afternoon, he's got a lot of time to think about things. He always does
his best thinking on the bike.
Catalino just wasn't smart, that was all, and he
trusted the wrong people. He got busted for drugs, kicked out of school,
and busted again after he turned eighteen. They were waiting for him. He
did a six-month sentence, and once he's done at the halfway house,
Weevil knows he'll probably end up back in jail in a matter of months.
Some people never learn.
Weevil made up the story he told Veronica, the one
about his uncle Angel being in jail. What he didn't tell her is that
he's got two other uncles who really are. And one of them's a lifer.
They weren't smart about things, just like Catalino wasn't.
Weevil figures he takes after Angel. Use your head
and you can get by. Get a group of people around you you can trust, and
maybe you've got half a chance.
He's going to be eighteen next month. High school
will be over soon after that, and he'll be out in the big bad world for
real. He tells people he stayed in school because of his abuela,
but there's more to it than that. He almost likes school. He likes
knowing things. He likes words and the way they fit together. It's one
of the biggest secrets he keeps. Another one is that he sometimes
wonders if maybe there's something he's supposed to be doing with his
life besides running the streets and jacking cars.
He's going to be eighteen, and he's smart, but he's
already on the law-enforcement radar around here. They all know his
name. In a small part of his mind, he wonders how long he's really going
to last before he winds up like Catalino. He stays away from dealing
and guns, but a couple counts of grand theft auto will take you down
just as fast.
Being around Veronica makes him think about these
things; a lot more lately than he ever has. Veronica's an outsider like
he is, he realizes that now, but she also knows how to fake it legit.
She makes it look easy. She just slips back and forth between two
worlds, existing somewhere outside both of them. Her own little
world.
He thinks he could do that too, if he really wanted
to. He could go to college. He could get a job, one where you didn't
have to worry about leaving fingerprints behind. He remembers the first
time some gringo guidance counselor told him he could do anything he set
his mind to. Thirteen years old, he'd sneered, because he was Hispanic
and he was poor and the whole system was stacked against him and he knew
it. But he knows now that there was an element of truth in what the
counselor said: You can do anything. All you have to do is use
your head. And want something bad enough.
He's just not sure how bad he wants Veronica's
world. He's not sure how much he's willing to change.
He pulls up at the halfway house, and finds Catalino
waiting outside on the steps for him. He takes off his helmet and nods. "Cómo
estas, guey."
Catalino stands up and embraces him. "Hey,
Weevil, qué tal? You got a smoke on
you?"
Weevil pulls out his pack of Camels, hands one to
Catalino. He takes one himself, lights them both up.
He takes a long drag, exhales. "How you been, man?
When they letting you out of this place?"
"Got two more weeks. Then Arturo's got a job for me,
I'll be all good."
Weevil looks away. Arturo's thing is moving illegal
weapons. Cops got no sense of humor about that one. He takes
another drag on his cigarette. Then: "Listen, Catalino, I gotta ask you
something."
"What's up?"
"When you got busted last year. With the roofies.
You remember who all you sold them to? Like maybe someone wanted some
for a big party?"
"Why you wanna know?"
Weevil just looks at him. "It's important."
So Catalino rattles off a few names Weevil doesn't
recognize. "Naw, man, anyone from Neptune?"
"Yeah," says Catalino. And he lists two or three
more.
Weevil's careful not to let his face show any
reaction. "You sure about that last one?"
"Yeah. He bought like fifty of 'em, day before I got
popped. Why?"
But Weevil's already climbing back onto his bike.
Catalino stares at him. "Weevil? What's up?"
"Forget it. I'll see you around." He pulls on his
helmet.
Catalino's still trying to talk to him as he rides
away, but Weevil's only got one thing on his mind.
He'll be seventeen for twenty-three more days. He
can change later.
***
Veronica opens the paper CD sleeve with trembling
fingers. She's locked inside her bedroom with the music turned up loud.
She has out an old laptop the Sheriff's department was going to throw
away, back when Dad was in office. The thing weighs about ten pounds,
but it's got no internal WiFi card, and the modem doesn't even work any
more. It's completely isolated from the rest of the world. Veronica
keeps it around for situations like this. Can't be too careful.
She stares and finally takes the thin silver disc
out of the sleeve. She ejects the CD-ROM tray and drops the disc down
onto it.
She pushes the button again, and the tray slides
back inside the laptop with a smooth click.
Windows 98 thinks it over for a minute, then pops up
a dialogue box asking if she wants to look at the disc's contents with
Windows Media Player.
She slides her finger along the touchpad. Hovers the
pointer over the Media Player icon. Her heart is racing about five
hundred miles a minute, and she feels nauseated. And possibly on the
verge of a panic attack.
She moves her hand away from the touchpad. "Dammit,"
she mutters.
She just can't do it. Not alone.
She stands up and turns off the music, and picks up
her cellphone. She menus over to Eli's number. Almost dials it, but
doesn't.
Won't it be worse, really, if he's here?
Does she really want him to see her like that? Is it
worth the further damage it could cause, just to have someone here to
hold her hand?
She's still staring at the cellphone when it
suddenly rings, scaring her half to death; she jumps and almost drops
it. It's Eli's name on the display, and the melody to Story of My
Life by Social Distortion is playing. She answers it quickly, keeps
her voice calm.
"Hello, stranger," she says. "Where are you?"
"Veronica," he says. Sound of cars in the
background. "Listen, I've got to take care of something tonight. Okay?"
So something's up. Something big, by the sound of
his voice. He's crafty, but not always the best dissembler.
"What's going on?" asks Veronica. " What about the
party?"
"Can't do it tonight. Just trust me, all right? I'll
explain it all later."
"Eli," she says. "This is me here. Tell me now.
What is going on?"
Silence. Then: "I think I know who it was, Veronica.
I'm going to go find out for sure."
"What? Who what was?" But a split
second later, she knows exactly what he means. "Eli, wait--"
"I'm gonna take care of it. Don't worry about it."
"Wait! I've--"
But he's already disconnected. She tries calling him
back a few times, but it goes straight to voicemail. "Fuck!"
And now it's just down to her; alone in the room
with the only thing that can tell her what to do next: the video footage.
In one furious motion, she sits down in front of the
laptop and slams the Enter key.
The laptop chugs into life. A blank screen pops up.
Then fuzzy video, shot from somewhere up high, like maybe the top of a
bookcase. Dick was nice enough to edit the video down, and it gets right
to the good stuff.
The bed. The two figures on it.
Veronica watches three full minutes of the video
clip. She's motionless except for the occasional tremor that rips
through her body, making even her teeth chatter. Tears spill down her
cheeks. Finally she slams the laptop closed and shoves it underneath her
bed. She grabs her bag and leaves, locking the bedroom door behind
her.
She runs to the parking lot and scrambles to get
into her car, then slams it into gear and screams out onto the
PCH.
She knows who it was, beyond any doubt. And she
knows where Eli's going.
***
As he walks through the party, the 09ers don't pay
as much attention to Eli Navarro as they might have even three months
ago. But they do tend to get out of his way. He spots someone he vaguely
recognizes from Logan's clique and asks where Logan is. The kid points
to another room.
When he spots Logan, Eli catches his eye and
beckons. Logan makes his way through the crowd. He's obviously pretty
wasted already. He slaps Eli on the back like they're best buds. "Hola,
Chupacabra! Where's the little missus? I figured she'd--"
Eli interrupts him. "Gotta talk to you, man.
Business." He says it way too loud, because nothing works better
on rich white boys than giving them the chance to act like they got
somewhere important to be. And if it's with someone dangerous-looking
from the wrong side of town, even better.
Works like a charm: "Ah," says Logan. "Let us
withdraw to my office then, post-haste."
"Right," says Eli. "Whatever you say, boss."
He follows Logan out to the poolhouse. Inside, he
sets the lock on the door after he closes it behind him.
"Now," says Logan, turning to him, "What can I--"
Eli sees his opening and takes it, lands a solid
roundhouse punch that brings Logan to his knees.
"What the fuck," Logan begins, one hand at
the side of his mouth.
"I know what you did to Veronica."
Logan glares up at him. A trickle of blood falls
from the corner of his mouth. But he climbs to his feet and then laughs
in his crazed way. "Oh, this is classic. So you really are the muscle
now. And my response? A hearty fuck you, buddy."
So Eli hits him again.
He's punched Logan Echolls before. He notices now,
as he did then, that Logan can take the hits much better than you'd
expect for a soft, pampered rich boy. He doesn't make any sound. And he
doesn't try to fight back; he just keeps getting up and taking it. Like
he knows he deserves it.
Which doesn't mean you stop. Five or six more
punches, and the front of Logan's snazzy dark rich-boy shirt is darker
with blood. Eli grabs two fistfuls of that shirt, hauls Logan to his
feet and slams him back against the nearest wall. "Admit it. Admit it was you."
Logan gasps for breath. "Kiss...my...white...ass."
Eli slams him against the wall again. Logan just
hangs there limply, back to giggling now.
Then Eli sees movement in his peripheral vision:
Veronica staring at them through the glass door. Pounding on it with her
palms. Looking concerned.
He sighs and shakes his head. He shouldn't have
called her.
Girl just has a knack for turning up where you don't
want her.
***
Veronica raced to the party, driving as fast as she
dared without getting pulled over. She didn't bother trying to find a
good place to park; she just pulled the Le Baron over, blocks down
the street from Logan's house, and ran the rest of the way. She passed
Eli's motorcycle where he'd parked it, practically next to the mansion's
front gate. Seeing it there just made her run faster. When she couldn't
find Logan or Eli anywhere, she didn't bother asking anyone, just headed
straight for the poolhouse.
Now, she stands there out of breath, watching Eli
about to beat Logan's head in. She yanks ineffectually on the locked
glass door. Finally she kneels down and feels under the door mat. And
finds a key there. She unlocks the door and lets herself in.
"Eli--" she cries, rushing up to them, "Don't do
this."
She stands next to Eli, but doesn't touch him.
"Please," she says. She barely glances at Logan, whose mouth and nose
are bleeding all down the front of his shirt. His left eye is starting
to swell up.
Logan wipes blood from his face on one sleeve and
grins at her horrifically. "Veronica," he says, "Girl wonder come to my
rescue. You want to get Cliché Guevara here off me?"
"I didn't come here to rescue you. I came here to
keep him out of jail."
"I told you I'd take care of it," Eli says to
Veronica, not taking his eyes off Logan, not turning him loose either.
"Take care of it," she echoes. "What are you going
to do, kill him?"
"Don't know. Haven't decided yet. Depends on whether
he confesses. How 'bout it, Logan? Gonna tell us why you bought
all those roofies?"
Logan looks confused, then panicky. Like he just now
gets what this is all about.
"He doesn't need to confess," Veronica says
hollowly. "I already know it was him."
"Yeah?" says Eli, finally looking her way, "Well,
now that everyone's cards are on the table, maybe you wanna press
charges. Or maybe I should just break his fuckin' jaw, who knows?"
They all stand there. Eli stares at Veronica
questioningly. Veronica stares at Logan with sick fascination. And Logan
stares at the ground.
Even after Veronica saw the video, she hadn't wanted
to believe it was him. He'd been acting nearly human again, and he was
in so much pain over his mother. She had wanted to believe they could
somehow find their way back to being friends, could discover some common
ground in all their loss. She'd wanted to help him.
She wishes she could pretend none of it ever
happened. She doesn't know how to. But all her grand plans for revenge
crumble into dust at the look on Logan's face, a look of horror and
profound self-loathing. He's staring down at nothing at all now, lost in
some other time and place.
"Let's just go," says Veronica finally. "He's not
going anywhere. And he's not going to call the police."
Eli exhales and releases Logan. He takes one step
back. "You sure?"
"It's not worth it," she says. "It's just not. I
know the truth now. And he knows I know. That's all that
matters." She looks at Eli pleadingly. "Let's go," she repeats.
He hesitates, then: "Okay." He walks to her and puts
a hand on her shoulder, moving her towards the door. Veronica sighs
shakily, trembling and nauseated from adrenaline.
But as they start to walk out, Veronica hears Logan
mumble something behind them.
She stops. She doesn't want to turn around, but she
does it anyway. "What was that?"
"I said," Logan says, "I thought you were Lilly."
Veronica's stomach lurches. "What the hell are you
talking about?"
Logan, still leaning against the wall where Eli left
him, slides down now to a sitting position. He wipes blood from his nose
again, mostly smearing it everywhere, and rests his forearms on his
knees. "That night," he says. "At the party. When you were passed out."
He looks up at Veronica, eyes lost and hopeless. "You were wearing her
dress."
Veronica's too stunned to speak. Her stomach does
another nasty flip; she's close to retching. She clamps her jaw shut.
Beside her, Eli touches her arm and she remembers she's not alone. She
steels herself, says, "Sure, Logan. Is that why you drugged me?"
Logan looks away. "I couldn't sleep. After Lilly was
killed. For weeks and weeks. I kept having nightmares about her. Every
single night. So I was taking the rohypnol to knock me out so hard I
didn't have any dreams at all." Then, almost to himself: "Dad
didn't want me going to the shrink and getting antidepressants, Dad
thought it would look bad if the media found out. And after a while, I
got used to the roofies and I started taking them just for the hell of
it." He looks down at his hands. "The night of the party, I gave some to
Dick. I was hoping he'd get good and wasted and quit following me around
like a goddamn lost puppy. I didn't know till the next day that he'd
decided it would be funny to spike people's drinks with them."
Veronica says nothing. She doesn't want to hear
this, but she can't make herself leave.
"I was drunk off my ass," Logan continues. "Out.
Gone. Totally hammered. And I went looking for a place to lie down. And
I walked into a bedroom, and saw you lying there. You--" His voice
trembles and breaks. "You were wearing that stupid dress of Lilly's. And
your hair was long like hers, back then." He gestures vaguely at his
own head. "Before you cut it off."
Eli shakes his head and looks away.
Logan's voice is low now, hard to hear over the
sound of the music outside. "You had your arm up, covering your face,"
he says. "And just for a second, I thought it was her. I thought
you were Lilly. I was so fucked up, I really believed she was still
alive." He chokes back a breath. "Just for a second," he repeats
hoarsely.
"What you did to me took longer than a second,"
hisses Veronica.
"I know," says Logan, and he breaks into a sob. "I
just missed her so fucking much. And you reminded me of her.
Every time I looked at you back then, all I could think of was Lilly. It
was like you were the closest I could get to her. And when I touched
you, you kind of woke up and said my name. I thought you knew it was me.
I thought you didn't mind. I thought you were just drunk, too."
Dead silence for nearly a full minute, while Logan
cries, and Eli stands there with preternatural stillness.
"None of that," Veronica says finally, " is
any fucking excuse." And only then does she realize that she's crying,
too.
"I know," says Logan, and he wipes his eyes with his
unbloodied left hand. "I know."
And then, almost inaudibly, his voice heavy with
irony: "Sorry."
And he just sits there, staring at nothing again,
and after a few moments Eli touches Veronica's hand.
"C'mon," he says quietly. "You all right to drive?
I'll follow you home."
***
Eli trails the Chrysler on his motorcycle. But
Veronica doesn't go straight home; she pulls off at the beach. He parks
and goes to her, but she doesn't seem to want to go down to the shore.
She just stands next to her car and looks west, into the darkness. He
puts his arm around her.
"You gonna be okay?" he asks. He knows the question
is ridiculous; he's not sure how anyone's going to be okay ever
again, after what went down tonight.
But she smiles at him and says, "Yeah. I think so."
And then, determinedly: "Knowing is better. I wasn't sure it would be.
But it is."
***
Logan sits in the front parlor the next afternoon,
waiting for his father to come home.
The house is really trashed this time. And this time, Logan doesn't make even a cursory effort to clean up after everyone leaves.
It's beautiful. There
are bottles and cans and glasses on every flat surface, mud tracked all
across the white terrazzo, and water is still pooled on the parquet
floor in the den where people came in and out after using the pool. He's pretty sure
that at least five of the house's six bathrooms have been puked in.
Many, many things are broken. Mostly by Logan, after
Veronica and Weevil left. People thought he was just drunk. They laughed.
He kicked out the last of the passed-out stragglers
two hours ago. And now he's just waiting. Waiting for his moment.
The front doorknob turns. Logan reaches down and
touches the handle of the baseball bat on the chaise next to him. Just
making sure it's still there.
Aaron comes in, followed by a driver who takes a
look around at the party's aftermath, drops Aaron's luggage and makes a
fast exit without waiting for a tip.
Logan's father stops dead in his tracks. He looks
like he's wondering if he came into the wrong house. "What the hell--"
he begins. "Did someone break in? Did you call the police?"
Logan stands up, leaning on the bat like a cane.
"Nah. Had a few friends over for tea and cakes."
His father stops looking concerned and starts
looking seriously pissed instead, but he does a double-take when he
gets a good look at Logan's face. "And what happened to you? Did
you get in a fight?"
Logan clicks his tongue. "Rough sex. You know how it can be with these high-school boys. So clumsy
and eager."
Aaron loses it then. He stalks closer to Logan and
yells, "You think this is funny?"
Logan shrugs. "Usually."
His father makes a grab for him. But for the first
time in his life, Logan just ducks out of the way. It's easier than he
ever thought it would be. It's like magic.
He laughs. "Getting slow, old man."
Aaron's face turns red with rage. His eyes look like
they're going to pop out of his skull. But he gets it under control,
sort of. "Be in my bedroom in five minutes. I need a drink first."
"Oh, should I get the belt, too? I don't fucking think so."
Aaron lunges at him again. Logan skips backwards.
But this time he stops a few feet away, hoists the baseball bat to his
shoulder. And holds his ground.
Aaron stops, stares at him warily.
"You know, Dad, they say the abuse thing runs in
families, right? Well, you must have reached this point with your
old man, so you know that what I'm about to say is true. And the truth,
as they say, sets us free."
"What are you talking about?"
Logan smiles. "We're done with this. Mom's gone and
I don't have to play along any more. I don't have to keep quiet
and keep the police and the newspapers out of it. But we're not going to
fight it out and find out whether or not I can take you. There'll be no quaint
little coming-of-age ritual so you can tell yourself it was all for my
own good. I'm going to make it even simpler for you." He tightens his
grip on the bat's handle. "You come at me ever again and I'll just kill
you. That's all."
They stare at each other.
Aaron drops his eyes first. He clears his throat.
"I've had a long flight. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
And he turns and walks slowly out of the room.
"Sure, Dad," calls Logan. "Whatever you say."
He laughs and heads to his bedroom, to finally get
some goddamn sleep.
The truth sets you free.
***
Epilogue; Two Months Later
Eli Navarro's done a lot of scary things in his life.
He's stolen cars worth five times as much as his grandmother makes in a
year, right out of their owner's driveways. He's been in more fights
than he can remember and he's been knifed twice. And he's seen a guy
shot to death right in front of him. Fear's no big deal, after a while.
It's just like anything else: you get used to it.
But this is taking fear to a new level, a thing
that's beyond controlling your fight/flight reflexes or wondering whether someone's got your
back.
He's sitting here with Keith Mars.
Meeting his girlfriend's father. Or, at least,
meeting him for the first time under circumstances that don't involve
misdemeanor charges.
He'd rather be back in juvie right about now. At
least there you stand half a chance of making it out alive.
And they all sit there in the little living room,
and Eli tries very hard not to think about what he and the ex-sheriff's
daughter get up to in this apartment when the ex-sheriff is out of town.
Because he's one hundred percent sure that the ex-sheriff is strapped.
Veronica asks if he wants anything to drink,
and he says "No, thanks."
"Okay," she says. "I'll get you a soda. Be right
back!"
He opens his mouth to mention that he said he
didn't want anything, but then thinks better of it. He glances over and
his eyes inadvertently meet Mr. Mars's.
"Yeah," says Veronica's father, grinning. "She
totally set you up there. She knew I'd get try to get you alone somehow,
so she's getting it out of the way up front. She's treacherous like
that." Then, like an afterthought: "And no, you don't get to agree with
me."
Eli swallows. He's going to get Veronica for
this.
Mr. Mars leans forward, rests his elbows on his
knees. "So. Mr. Navarro. Prom, is it?"
"Yeah." Eli clears his throat. "Yes, sir. Next
weekend."
Veronica's father laughs, but it's friendly. "You've
gotta tell me--how in the world did that happen?"
Eli looks at him woefully. "I lost a bet."
The older man nods. "See, that's why I never bet
against her."
"I'm trying to take it as a learning experience."
"There's not going to be any motorcycles involved in
this scenario, right?"
Eli shakes his head. "I'm going to borrow my
cousin's Corvette."
"All right." Pause. "Of course, I'll
need to jot down the tag number when you pick her up. I've still got
some friends in the sheriff's office."
Eli stares a second, then realizes the man is
joking. Maybe. He grins, to be on the safe side.
Mr. Mars nods, like that was the right response. "I
understand you're graduating soon. Got any plans?"
Just be honest, Veronica had said. It's
your best shot at survival.
"I've got some things in mind. I haven't decided for
sure yet."
"That's good. Keep your options open. You're young."
Then he gets a contemplative look on his face, and Eli braces himself
for the You're not good enough for my daughter speech. But
instead he says, "Look, Eli, Veronica's usually got pretty good
instincts about people. So I'm not going to bother threatening to kill
you if you hurt her. I mean, not that I wouldn't, I just think that it goes
without saying. But she does tend to want to see the best in people if
she can, and that's not always the safest way to go. So I'm going to ask
you to try not to let anyone else hurt her."
Eli plays that through a few times, wondering if
maybe Veronica's father knows more about what's she's been through than
she realizes.
Eli looks at the man directly. "No, sir. Not gonna
let that happen."
The older man smiles at him, and all at once Eli
realizes that against all his expectations, Keith Mars hasn't
already made up his mind to hate him. It's a strange feeling.
Veronica comes back into the room then, and hands
him a drink. Long effin' time it took to pour a Coke, he thinks.
"So," she says, "Did he at least read you your
Miranda rights first?"
"Oh, honey," says Veronica's father, "don't be
silly. I've never lost one on a technicality like that."
Veronica and her father exchange a look. And even
though Eli knows he's missing some of the subtleties of what's passing
between them, the mood in the room lightens, like some sort of agreement
has been reached.
And Veronica sits back down and slips her hand into
his.
So maybe there are scarier things after all.
***
Eli picks her up early, and Veronica smiles to be
climbing into the Corvette again.
But Eli drives in the wrong direction, down the
coast--down south, and then to the little stretch of public beach where
they first kissed. He parks. The sun is just beginning to set over the
Pacific.
"Oh," says Veronica in faux-swoon, "This is so romantic!
But, sad to say, it's not getting you out of going to the prom."
Eli smiles with his mouth, but his eyes are
troubled.
Veronica frowns. "What is it? What's
wrong?"
"It's just--" He looks at her. "Lilly used to joke
that she was going to make me go to senior prom with her. Just to see
the look on people's faces. She said it the first night we
hooked up."
It's the first time he's mentioned Lilly since he
showed Veronica the tattoo, and Veronica waits to see if he's going to
go on. It would be easy for her to get insecure about him maybe being
hung up on Lilly still, but she knows what it's like to keep something
inside for so long.
So she tries a simple question: "Where did you two
meet, anyway? I never saw you talk at school." Trying not to
push.
He slides off his seatbelt and leans back in the
leather bucket seat. "I had just broken up with this girl Teresa," he
says, and for a moment Veronica's so shocked he's actually talking that
she almost loses track of his words. He goes on: "So one night I was up
in the hills, riding my motorcycle by all the mansions. I used to go up
there to think. It's real quiet at night, you know? Nice smooth roads,
no potholes. Get away from all the traffic, just cruise real slow
through the neighborhoods. Whatever. So I'm riding along, and I stop at
a red light, little intersection out by the really big houses. And then
I see this girl walking along the sidewalk, coming up to the corner
next to me. And I realize she's looking at me. Pretty girl. And I'm
thinking, okay, this is weird, because people don't go out after dark
around here unless they're walking some big fuckin' dog, and I don't
see no golden retriever. You know what I'm sayin'?
'So I'm sitting there on my bike waiting for the
light to turn green, and she's standing there on the corner and she's
still staring at me. No other cars around. And then she walks right up
to next to my bike. Right in the middle of the road. And she knocks
on my helmet to get my attention"--He gestures with his fist like
he's knocking on a door--"like I'm not already looking right at her.
I'll never forget that. And she says, 'Don't I know you from school?'
And I'm sitting there, and I kinda recognize her now, but I still have
no idea what this rich white chick is doing even talking to me. And the
light turns green, but I don't wanna drive away because she's still
standing too close to the bike.
'So I take off my helmet. She says, 'Oh, cool,
I knew I recognized you!' And I tell her, yeah, I go to Neptune,
maybe we've seen each other around. I tell her my name. And then she
just..." A half-smile haunts his lips. "She just climbs
right on the bike behind me and says, 'My name's Lilly. I've never been
on a motorcycle before. Let's go somewhere.'"
He frowns intently. Like he's still trying, eighteen
months later, to figure it all out.
Veronica says, "That was Lilly." It's the best
explanation she can offer.
Eli nods, once and slowly. "So I tell her she can't
ride without a helmet, and she says not to worry about it, that if we
get pulled over her daddy will fix it. I try to tell her it's not just
about getting a ticket, but she doesn't care. Won't take my
helmet either. So I finally drive off, thinking I'll just cruise around
the neighborhood real easy and calm 'til she gets bored, and hope to God
we don't see any cops and she doesn't fall off and break her neck.
'But at the next stop sign we come to, she says she
wants to go to the beach. I try to talk her out of it but...you know."
"Yeah," says Veronica. "I know. Lilly was always
good at getting what she wanted."
"So I take her down to the beach. I'm still trying
to take it easy but she keeps yelling at me to go faster, and by this
point I'm thinking I either wanna marry this girl or strangle her, not
sure which."
Veronica smiles.
"We get to the beach and I park, and she just jumps
off the bike and runs off down the beach. I'm thinking maybe I'll just
leave her there, maybe better for both of us. She can call someone for a
ride home. But then I worry something'll happen to her, she's all alone
down there. And someone probably saw us riding away together, some damn
security camera or something, so anything that happens to her will be on
my head anyway. So I go down to her. She's walking around by the water
and she's all upset. Says she had a big fight with her boyfriend. I
tell her yeah, I know how it is, I just broke up with my girlfriend.
And suddenly she grabs me and kisses me. And then she laughs and
says, 'Well, don't you feel better now? 'Cause I do.'
'And so we end up sitting on the beach and talking
for a couple hours. We kissed some more. She said...she said a lot of
stuff. I used to think she meant all of it. I don't know any more. She
said she always saw me at school and wondered what I was really like.
She said we had this special connection now and it was going to be our
secret. Like, we'd see each other at school and we'd both just know.
And I'm just listening to her and smiling and nodding, thinking maybe
this girl is crazy or maybe she's on drugs, but I also half believe her,
you know? Nobody ever talked to me like that before. Nobody ever said I
was part of anything special. And she said..."
But he shakes his head, unwilling or unable to
continue the thought.
After a moment, Veronica says softly, "What happened
after that?"
"What happened? I drove her home. She kissed me
again when I dropped her off. We met up a couple times after that. You
know, in secret." His expression falters. "Then she got back
together with Echolls and she didn't want to see me any more. A few
weeks later she was dead." He stares at the dashboard like it
holds all the answers. "And I went crazy for a little while, and I had
the tat done. And that's it."
Realization dawns on Veronica. "It was this
beach, wasn't it? Where you brought her?"
He nods.
"So that night you and I came here--it was
about Lilly, after all. Kind of."
Then he looks directly at Veronica for the first
time since he started talking. "Yes and no. See, about a year after I
got the tattoo, this skinny little blond girl starts harassing me all
the time, causing trouble, getting in the middle of my business. Getting
me involved in her business, when I'm pretty sure I
don't want to be. I just keep saying yes and I don't even know
why. And the funny thing is, she keeps turning up where I don't expect
her...and after a while I realize I'm not thinking about Lilly so much
any more."
Veronica looks at him, a whole lot of things coming
together in her head in a way they never did before. She understands, of
a sudden, that letting go is a thing that only happens in stages.
"Thanks," she says. "For telling me."
Eli nods.
"Come on," she says, "Let's go do this prom thing.
Lilly would want us to."
Eli starts the engine up. He puts it into reverse,
but glances at her one last time. "No chance I could talk you out of it?"
"Well," she says thoughtfully, "Lilly would probably also want us to blow it off and spend the night in a cheap hotel room. In Tijuana." She shrugs. "I guess it all depends on how persuasive your techniques are."
"Persuasive? Baby, you know how persuasive I
can be."
She grins. "Just drive."
So he does.
***
END
***
More of my VM fic can be found
here