Second Chances - 1/? (cont'd)
**********
Over the next few days, Veronica gradually fell into a routine of sorts. She’d spent the mornings at the hospital, working on her laptop while her dad underwent yet another procedure or test, then went home for lunch so he could rest. Depending on how tired he was, she’d go back in the afternoon and stay with him until dinner.
One morning, barely a week after the accident, Veronica discovered she hadn’t lost her sleuthing chops.
She was combing public records for Leslie Jones, a 30 year-old stylist from Laguna Beach, who’d just become engaged to the sole heir of a biotech billionaire, when she struck gold. An online database of marriage licenses revealed a six-month union between a then 18 year-old Leslie and one Mark Spencer, who coincidentally was also in line for a hefty inheritance, according to the San Diego society pages.
Keith’s client had specifically said her daughter-in-law-to-be had never been married.
Veronica’s triumphant whoop had startled the hospital orderly, but she didn’t care. Given the other cases she’d solved over the years, it was a tiny accomplishment - miniscule, really - and yet, she felt as if she’d solved the crime of the decade.
You still got it girl, she thought, grinning broadly.
Back at home, she called Piz, eager to gloat over her P.I. prowess, but before she could mention it, he hit her with news of his own.
“I know you can’t make it back for my parents’ visit, so I thought we could go to Oregon for Christmas. We could stay at my parents’ place - your dad’s invited, too, of course. My folks would love to have both of you, and you know my mom is just dying to meet you. She always makes a huge turkey with all the trimmings. Her mashed potatoes are the best…”
Veronica’s good mood slowly seeped away. She had no problem meeting Piz’s parents, but spending the holidays interacting 24/7 with a family straight out of Leave it to Beaver made her stomach knot.
“We’ll see, okay? I don’t know if my dad will be up to traveling, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to get the time off.”
“Think about it. You’ll love it there, I know it. My family can be a little much sometimes, but they’re fun and they’re gonna be crazy about you. We can go skating at the outdoor rink and oh, there’s a bunch of great music clubs I want to take you to.”
Piz prattled on for a few more minutes before finally pausing. “Sorry to talk your ear off. Was there something you wanted to tell me about?”
“It was nothing. I finished some work for my dad so there’ll be a few checks in the mail soon.”
Deflated, she returned to the hospital to find Keith retching over a plastic bucket.
“He had a procedure today and he’s having a reaction to the anesthesia,” the nurse explained.
When the anesthesia began to wear off, Veronica had to call for the nurse again as her father writhed in pain. Sweat broke out over his brow and he clenched his teeth, so Veronica held his hand until the morphine worked its magic and Keith slipped into unconsciousness.
She went home soon after, knowing he’d sleep through the night, now. But she was restless and at loose ends, so she decided to look for Keith’s health insurance policy. She quickly located several forms in a file cabinet in the guest bedroom. The papers appeared to be current, but the policy included a $2,000 premium and only covered 50 percent of most medical expenses.
She replaced the papers, then looked around the room, wondering where her dad stored her things. Opening a wooden trunk in the guest room, she lifted her old leather bag, turning it by its wide, studded strap. She put it back in the trunk and took out a box marked “Accessories.”
One by one, Veronica withdrew the remnants of her old life - her trusty taser, pepper spray, fake IDs and a throwaway cell phone still encased in plastic. She also unearthed a wrinkled cream-colored envelope lying under some old books. Her name was written in Logan’s surprisingly neat, slanted hand.
It was the Christmas card he’d slipped under her door their freshman year at Hearst. They’d broken up by then, and she hadn’t bothered to send him a card or even call to wish him merry Christmas. Later, she’d absently stuck photos of them - together and happy - in the envelope along with a handful of sweet notes he’d written during their numerous, but brief, courtships.
She’d left Neptune without even saying goodbye. He’d called one day shortly after she arrived at Stanford, but she didn’t listen to the message. She’d also ignored his email. Veronica told herself she was still angry with Logan for beating up Piz, for making himself a target of the Russian mob, and she was. But it was more than that - she was afraid of being drawn back to Neptune, being drawn back to him.
She always thought she’d eventually get in touch, after enough time and distance had passed to quell those old impulses, but after a while it was easier to do nothing at all. Now she wouldn’t blame if he slammed the door in her face.
But that wasn’t Logan.
Abruptly, she stood, spilling the envelope and its contents on the floor. Grabbing her keys, she left the house. Ten minutes later she found herself sitting in her father’s car, across the street from a small, beachside cottage. A dark blue BMW convertible with U.S. Navy plates told her Logan was most likely at home.
She got out, and walked up the stone pathway. Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the glass door. To her dismay, a familiar, shirtless towhead answered.
He didn’t even look surprised to see her. Belching loudly, he said, “What’s this? I specifically told the agency an eager to please brunette. Why’s that so hard?”
“Dick.”
“Just kidding. Been a long time, Ronnie. I presume you’re not here to see me.” He held the door open and motioned her inside. “Hey, did you get some work done? Your boobs look bigger.”
“So do yours.”
Veronica followed him into a sun soaked living room with large windows that looked out onto the Pacific Ocean. Logan was in the kitchen, opening a bottle of beer not bothering to look up, and she took advantage of the opportunity to study him unawares.
His long face was more angular and rugged than she remembered, his golden-brown hair cropped military short. He wore a gleaming white uniform decorated with a rainbow of ribbons on the lapel and gold wings that glinted in the light. The Navy had apparently drilled all the baby fat out of him, judging by the way his uniform hung on his body, which was all clean lines and planes.
She swallowed to keep her jaw from dropping.
“Hey Logan - that girl who follows you around is here,” Dick bellowed, his voice tinged with sarcasm. He glanced back at Veronica. “Maybe I can save you some time. Whatever it is - he didn’t do it.”
“What are you … ?” Logan began, his mouth going slack with shock as she stepped into view. “Veronica …”
“Hey, Logan,” she offered, shrugging her shoulders and offering a nervous smile.
For a long moment, they just stared at one another, until Dick brushed past Logan on his way to the fridge for a beer.
“Rich. Dude. Kryptonite,” he said in a loud whisper, before disappearing down the hall.
Logan rolled his eyes, murmuring, “Sorry about that.” Suddenly, he frowned. “Are you alright? Your dad … he’s okay? The papers said he was out of ICU.”
She nodded. “He’s fine. Or, he will be. I’m planning to stick around for a while, at least until he gets out of the hospital. I heard you were in town, too, so I thought … I mean, I wanted to say hi. I - I know it’s been forever …”
He recovered from the initial shock of seeing her after all these years, but paused as if expecting more to her explanation. Slowly, when none was forthcoming, he smiled. “I’m glad you did.” He came around from the kitchen island and gave her a hug that was friendly and brief.
“So,” he said, studying her closely. “How are you holding up?”
Veronica started to brush off his concern, but as she opened her mouth, she thought of Keith’s face grimaced with pain. Her voice hitched, and she was suddenly sobbing. Mortified, but unable to stop, she covered her face with her hands. The next thing she knew, Logan was holding her.
Instinctively, she stiffened, but his arms tightened gently and she relaxed into the familiarity of his warm, solid embrace. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, and she cried harder remembering how he’d held her on the rooftop of the Neptune Grand.
“That was fast even for you two.”
Veronica jumped at the sound of Dick’s voice, and she quickly wiped her eyes, muttering, “Some things never change,” as she watched him retreat to his room again.
Logan gave her a wry smile. “What can I say? He’s loyal.”
She glanced away and took a step back, noticing a damp spot on Logan’s shirt. “God, I’m sorry. I got snot all over your uniform,” she said, flushing.
He shrugged, waving his hand carelessly. “S’alright. I do laundry now,” he replied, earning a burst of watery laughter.
Sniffing, she gestured to his uniform. “I had heard of course, but I couldn’t quite picture it...You should wear only this … like ever.”
This time, Logan flushed but there was pride in his almost bashful smile. “I just got back from the base. Have you eaten - will you let me buy you dinner?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Sure … I’d like that. Where do you want to go?”
They ended up at Mama Leone’s, where they spent several hours catching up on the last nine years over pasta and glasses of red wine. Veronica was mildly surprised how easy it was to be with Logan again, even after so much time. She found herself telling him about her dad’s so-called accident and the white work truck that turned around to hit Sacks’ car a second time.
“Wallace was watching a baseball game with him,” she said. “If he hadn’t been there …”
“Jesus,” Logan swore. “I assume the dumbass with the badge doesn’t have a clue who was behind the wheel.”
“He refuses to acknowledge it was anything more than a hit-and-run accident, no matter what my dad or Wallace say.”
“Neptune traded one evil sheriff for another - this Lamb’s worse than his brother,” Logan muttered. “If that’s even possible. He’s been roughing up the homeless camping out in areas big-time developers have earmarked for gentrification. He also seems to have a thing for young girls.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “You know, Don Lamb was screwing Madison Sinclair when we were still in high school. I wonder if Sacks knew something about the new sheriff … “
“Veronica …”
“Relax. I’m not going to do anything. I’m just … curious.”
“And there’s that familiar chill up my spine,” he said, arching his brow skeptically. He sat up and leaned closer. “Promise me you’ll leave this alone. Bad things tend to happen when you get curious.”
“Still have that protective streak?”
“Yeah, but now I get paid for it.”
“Stand down, Lieutenant.” A small smile played on her lips, but it faded as she grew serious. “I don’t really do that anymore.”
His eyes narrowed, disbelieving. “Right.”
She met his gaze for a moment, before looking away and rolling her eyes. “Okay, maybe I have been looking into my dad’s cases a bit, but it was just to square things away so he’d have a business to come back to,” she protested.
“And?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m kicking ass.”
“Naturally.” He grinned crookedly, and when they laughed she saw a gleam in his eyes.
While they waited for their check, he asked her about work. “I was a little surprised you went to Columbia. I always pictured you in one of those blue FBI windbreakers,” he said.
“How did you know about Columbia?” she asked.
Logan shrugged. “Parker and I are still friends. You know her - there’s a reason she’s good at public relations. She talks a lot, and if you listen you pick up a few things.”
“Yeah, I just found out she’s Mac’s source of information, too. Of course if I want to find out about Neptune’s own ‘real American hero’, all I have to do is pick up Entertainment Weekly.” She leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. “Did you tell the reporter about your G.I. Joe dolls?”
He bent his head closer to hers. “Action figures, Veronica. They’re called action figures.”
She sat back, laughing. “I missed you.” The words came tumbling out before she could catch herself.
Logan stared at her for a moment. “Me too. Neptune hasn’t been the same without you,” he murmured. Clearing his throat, he added, “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the hospital. I wanted to, but … I didn’t know if you’d want to see me, and I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.”
But Veronica was already shaking her head. “No, I’m the one that’s sorry, Logan. I should’ve called a long time ago.”
“Bygones,” he said, absolving her with a casual wave of his hand.
Her eyes met his. “Nine years of radio silence and it’s ‘bygones,’ just like that?”
“Just like that,” he replied.
Despite his many run-ins with the law, the teenage venture into bum-fights, his violent tendencies and the parade of women he’d bedded, Veronica thought Logan was a far better person than her.
After he paid the bill, they left and, by unspoken agreement, strolled along the pier, still bustling with locals and tourists. They got ice cream cones and ate them sitting on a bench while looking out at the water. The inky darkness was dotted with cresting whitecaps and twinkling boat lights, and for a moment Veronica had an odd sense of déjà vu.
“You okay?” Logan asked.
She nodded, smiling. “I haven’t been here in years.”
He was quiet, tossing the ice cream wrapper in a nearby trash can. “Carrie and I came here once. She wore this ridiculous, red wig so no one would recognize her.”
“I didn’t get a chance to say before, I was really sorry to hear about everything with Carrie.”
“You mean the drugs, the cheating, the whole sordid thing?” Logan shook his head. “We had a good first year, falling in love. Then her shitty friends, the self-loathing kind of destroyed all that. You think I had demons … that last year was bad. I wasn’t her boyfriend. I was something more like a sponsor.”
“You still are, from the sound of things. She’s clean now, isn’t she? I thought you were seeing her again.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Since when do you read the tabloids? Yeah, she’s better - for now - so we hang out sometimes … She’s a lot like Lilly. Free-spirited, a little wild. Which should’ve been a tip-off, I guess.
“I tried to stick it out, but after a while - what was the point? Something was missing … a connection. It wasn’t good anymore. Even I know enough to tell the difference.”
Veronica stared at him, her mind wandering for a moment. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
They looked out at the water, sitting in companionable silence until the carnies started shutting down the rides and the last of the tourists went home. As they made their way back to his car, Veronica scoffed. “Lilly was a lot wild.”
Logan chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, she was.”
He took the scenic route, expertly navigating the winding Pacific Coast Highway with the car top down. Veronica sank into the leather seat, enjoying the feel of the wind blowing across her face and ruffling her hair. She glanced at Logan, and he turned to smile at her before focusing again on the road.
When they reached Dick’s house, he walked her to her car. “Take care, Veronica,” he said, pressing a light kiss on her forehead.
“You too.”
He started to walk away, but abruptly spun on his heel and called out her name. “Let’s not let another nine years go by, okay?”
Smiling, she strode over to him and held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
Wordlessly, he dug it out of his back pocket and gave it to her. She typed her number into his contacts list, then thumbed to his calendar before handing it back to him. He peered at the screen as she returned to her car.
“Where do you want to get drinks on Saturday?” he called to her.
“Surprise me.”
He grinned, shaking his head as he watched her drive off.
Lying in bed that night, Veronica came to a decision. Feeling at peace for the first time since her father’s accident - for the first time in years, really - she fell into a deep, restful sleep.
**********
She slept in the next morning. It was nearly 10 o’clock by the time she woke up, so she quickly called the hospital to check on her dad.
“He had a good night, Ms. Mars. He’s resting again, though, so take your time,” the nurse told her.
Good, because there’s a few things I need to take care of, she thought. But first …
Fortified by coffee, Veronica took out her phone, letting her thumb hover over a number for a moment. Resolved, she hit the call button.
“Hey Piz,” she said. “We need to talk.”
She broke up with him as gently as she could, wishing it didn’t have to be over the phone, but she couldn’t continue as they were - it would be misleading him. It didn’t matter how compatible they were, how many interests they had in common, because something else was missing. Something wasn’t quite right, no matter how deeply she cared for him.
Veronica couldn’t quite see herself with a husband, two kids and a house with a picket fence, but she still wanted a committed, meaningful relationship with someone she loved and could possibly spend the rest of her life with.
Piz simply wasn’t that man.
“Does this have anything to do with Logan?” he asked, quietly without rancor.
She hesitated. “I did see him, but nothing happened. He’s … an old friend.”
“Yeah. Look, I gotta go. Give Logan my best. Tell him I’ve totally gotten used to the loose bone fragments floating around my orbital socket.”
“Piz …”
“G-Goodbye, Veronica.”
Well, that was super fun, she thought. Sighing, she headed for the bathroom to get ready for her day.
A little while later, Veronica was driving downtown, past expensive boutiques and upscale restaurants into the industrial area, where she parked in front of Mars Investigations.
A few years after she’d left, a local developer had turned the crumbling, vacant warehouse into an office building in the hopes of cashing in on a spate of growth. But the economy had tanked and the only businesses flourishing in the surrounding neighborhood were dive bars, which meant Keith’s rent was cheap.
Grabbing her bag from the passenger seat, she slung it over her shoulder, feeling the cold metal studs digging into her skin. Once she was inside, she sat down at her father’s desk, opened her laptop and spent a few minutes online.
Next, she picked up the business card she’d left on the desk the other night. Turning it over between her fingers, she took a deep breath and reached for the phone.
“Mrs. Geller, this is Veronica Mars. I’ll take your case.”