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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
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